Fanchon's Book(59)

"Mmm?"

"Stop what you're doing and listen. This is me Kristi. Remember what I told you? Go do it now. Get into the bathroom and wait for me. Shut the door and turn the light on and get yourself ready. Understand? I want you to be ready for me!"

"Umm… I-yes… "

"Go now. Right away. Run!"

I heard it. Every word; oh, monstrous, monstrous! but the contact was broken and the bedsprings creaked Rosalba's exit and the relenting flesh against my lips cushioned but no longer curbed; it shifted obligingly, a tender cheek-caress, and then the soft buttocks spread and settled in a thickly fluid motion, molding themselves to my features and covering my face like hot candle wax melting down to overflow and absorb its sconce. And the prize was mine, the prize I had lusted for so unswervingly-and with it came the miracle, ah yes, maravillosa! the external buzz had given way to an internal throb that was infinitely superior. As if my thrusting tongue had plugged me into another current, opening a brand-new circuit of sensation.

But the sensation wasn't mine alone; I could feel her body quivering in excitement, stirring into action, claiming and clenching my tongue in a convulsive muscular contraction that set the surrounding skin twitching consensually. It went on with concentrated tenacity, fiercely amorous-squeezing, pinching, squeezing-a caress designed to cosset and chastise (and certainly to cherish!) all in the same instant. Like a confident and conclusive sign of proud possession, a show of ownership.

And I was glad to be owned. So impossibly fantastic! I had my tongue shoved up my maidservant's backside, a despicable act, surely, simply disgraceful for a woman of my station in society; and yet now-even in this flash-span of lucidity-I found only bliss in my topsy-turvy world. Fanchon loves Kristi. A slave to my servant. Let her own me, then. But of course! How could I be other than what I was?

The contraction ended. But the exquisite yoke of bondage remained firm, and I continued my kiss gratefully. I was too hot to quit now And so was she, luckily. Hot. Too hot to get up and leave me. She squirmed a little and then inched into the beginning of the familiar rocking movement, extending it gradually, exaggerating the arc: a sweeping undulation that soon had the entire length of fleshy cleavage rubbing over my nose and mouth in a rolling glide. Rolling, rubbing, bearing down in rampant intensity-as though she had some sort of prodigious irritation, an inflamed itch that needed scratching all the way from coccyx to clitoris. Only the unguent-slick seepage of her sex-stimulated flesh saved me from being pulverized. I couldn't breathe. But I loved it, all of it, even the oppression, the smothering ecstasy of her violence, and I managed to get my lungs working after a while, alternately snuffling and gasping for air in the split-second of semi-freedom at opposite poles of the pendulum swing. Until the time of culmination drew nigh; the lurch, the telltale inner rumble, the spasmodic distention-and my passion-crazed little joy rider stopped suddenly and sagged and cupped my face deep in her dilating vulva. I wallowed in it, prolonging the fever-pitch of the peak moment, sucking and munching madly in a raging compulsion to provide the utmost of pleasure above and beyond the ultimate threshold.

The peak moment, her peak moment. And mine too. Simultaneously. Predictably. Divinely. In its own mysterious manner, the arcane alchemy never failed.

She slid from her perch and patted my smeared eyelids dry. Then, blithely, with barely a break for rest and rehabilitation, "Fanchon, you ought to see this. Come and watch."

"Hmm? You-you want me to… "

But she was already flitting across the floor. Racing to keep her date with Rosalba. I shuddered at the thought and whimpered in exhaustion, but I knew I had to follow her. To watch it-obediently-because she had told me to. And to see it for myself, once and for all, to satisfy my queasy curiosity.