His Master's Voice #3 (The Dollhouse Society) by Jay Ellison

Author:Jay Ellison [Ellison, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Courtesan Press
Published: 2017-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER EIGHT

My conversation with Sasha put everything in a brand new light, I admit. When I stepped out of the kitchen, I felt different. More empowered.

I thought about my present arrangement. Master could do anything he wanted to me—yet I still had the power to stop him. With a word, a tap, even the blink of an eye. In all the weeks we had been together, played together, he had never, not once, forced me to do something I felt uncomfortable about doing. He asked my color—constantly. He fretted over me, probably more than he should.

He’s a Dominant. It’s in his nature. Maybe not the words I thought I wanted to hear at the time, but they made perfect sense to me now. Being a Dominant wasn’t strictly about power or bending others to his will. For Master, it was about being a protector, as well.

It was nice not feeling so incredibly nervous anymore, because when I stepped into the parlor, I saw the gentlemen were feeling much more amorous now. Some of them had claimed their courtesans. Others had switched things up a bit. But all of the couples were incredibly sexy to watch.

Sasha was lying on Master’s divan while her Sir dribbled drops of wine down the center of her body, edging ever closer to her wet, eager pussy. Mr. Eisenberg then dipped his head and licked away all the droplets. Some rolled downward and wound up wetting the cleft between her legs further. He eagerly licked those up, as well, lapping gently and gracefully at the outer edges of her swollen labia before parting the folds to twitch his tongue over the bright, pink, rose-like center until Sasha was moaning and writhing deliriously on the divan.

Other couples were engaged in similar acts—the girls loving on their respective gentleman’s cocks or the gentlemen feasting at their courtesans’ pert nipples, lower bellies and pink, swollen sexes. I refused to call it porn because it was too beautiful and sensual for that.

“Lord Byron’s hot little goth boi,” I heard Mr. Harrison say from behind as he took me by the shoulder and turned me around. He was so blond and devastatingly handsome, with a delightfully sinister Australian accent. It took everything in me not to start fanboying like crazy.

He pushed some hair behind my ear before clamping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me to him so he could kiss me. His lips teased the corners of my mouth before his tongue parted my lips and plunged inward forcefully. He swiped it along the edges of my teeth, his tongue piercing clinking against the enamel. His other hand slid boldly down the slope of my back before cupping my bare ass and squeezing the firm flesh. The pressure made me moan deliriously. Despite being incredibly frightening—he was like underground music royalty!—he was also surprisingly gentle, as if he knew he was merely borrowing me for the night. “Come and pleasure me, kitten,” he said, leading me over to the wing chair by the fireplace.

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