A Chamber of Delights (20 page)

They took no notice as he entered the room, although Gael saw Sophie’s eyes flick in his direction before she picked up a plate of cakes and handed them around. ‘Have some cake, ladies,’ she said in a falsely bright voice. ‘My mum made it this morning.’

Anastasia took a bite and closed her eyes. ‘Scrumptious, my dear. Really scrumptious. I love homemade goodies.’

As Markwell closed in, Fiona was the closest. He stood behind her armchair looking down.

Ignoring him completely, Anastasia munched her cake. ‘Remind me to get the recipe before I go, Sophie. I’ll give it to my cook.’

‘And mine,’ Boo joined in.

Without warning, Markwell took hold of the back of
Fiona’s chair. She squealed as he tipped it. He had it on its back in a second, Fiona’s legs in the air. Now she lay looking up between his legs. He knelt on the head of the chair, his testicles swinging just above her face.

Fiona’s skirt fell about her hips, her pink, lacy panties coming to view. The black hair of her pubis poked clearly through the lace as a beam of sunlight struck the scene.

‘Have you seen Martin Frobisher lately, Anastasia?’ It was Melindi, scowling hard at Anastasia who was staring at the man drawing off Fiona’s knickers to bare the upturned furrow of her sex.

Anastasia shook herself and looked at the enquirer. ‘No – I think he’s in Barbados for the summer. I . . .’

Fiona squealed as the man spread her legs, opening her up to his gaze. And as she lay looking up at his ridged penis, he put his lips to the mouth of her sex and sucked it.

Gael tore her attention away from the scene and fixed her gaze on Sophie. The maid was staring at the man mouthing the whole of Fiona’s sex, making her wriggle with the sensation and evoking little moans of pleasure from deep down in her throat.

‘Sophie! Pass the biscuits, please.’ Gael nudged the maid. ‘And is there any more tea in the pot?’

Sophie shook the pot and then her head.

‘Then go and make a fresh one, will you?’ Gael prompted, trying to divert the girl’s attention from the way Hilton Markwell was stretching Fiona out to lick her deeply.

Sophie pouted and looked at Melindi for support. She clearly didn’t want to leave. Markwell was now running his mouth up and down the inside of Fiona’s leg. Then he started taking lip bites at the widely stretched hollow between her vulva and the tight skin of her thigh. The frilly inner lips of her sexual purse were pulsing pinkly. And the clitoris, which Gael had sucked on during that
mad time of the shower party, was standing proudly from its hood.

‘Do as you’re told, girl,’ Melindi snapped at Sophie. ‘There’s nothing to interest you here.’ Then Melindi turned to Boo. ‘How’s your mother keeping these days, Boo? Is her arthritis any better?’

Sophie picked up the Georgian silver teapot and moved towards the door. But Markwell abandoned his first catch and tackled her to the floor. The teapot rolled away. With Markwell hugging her legs, Sophie was flattened under him, her ski pants dragged down her thighs. She landed stomach first over a padded footstool, her bottom bare, the lips of her vulva showing between her legs. Gael saw she was moist and felt her own nectar welling between her legs.

As Sophie tried to rise, Markwell bit her bottom. She wriggled hard, but Gael thought that it was mostly for show and not because she didn’t want to be taken strongly by this animal of a man.

‘I saw Olga, Lady Swaningham in Harrods on Tuesday,’ Anastasia piped up brightly, taking another éclair.

Melindi turned to her. ‘And who’s the cow screwing at the moment? Last time I saw her, it was some Italian millionaire.’

Anastasia shrugged, trying not to stare at Sophie and the man. Gael could hardly take her eyes off them either. As he pushed her over the footstool, his penis was poised to plunge.

‘Do you know Olga, Gael?’ Anastasia clearly asked to divert Gael’s attention, but she would not be diverted. With Markwell’s bottom to them, his balls bobbing between his legs, he wouldn’t know that they were all anticipating his thrust and imagining how it would feel in them.

Sophie gasped as the phallus drove in hard. She moaned as she felt its length. He withdrew and charged again, so ardent in acting out his dream that he was
clearly oblivious to the five pairs of eyes watching each swing of his testicles, and every dynamic thrust of his straining cock.

With his hands in the hollows of Sophie’s back, he braced his weight on his arms. Now he began to flex his hips as he drove into her.

His motion became rhythmic.

He began to pant.

Five fingers slipped between the folds of five, wet, swollen furrows.

Gael was sure that he was coming. The excitement of the scene and the wriggling, clamping pressure of Sophie’s purse seemed to be bringing him off. She sighed, half glad that the charade seemed to be played out, half saddened by the fact that she probably wouldn’t experience him. But she might take him aside alone before he left. She might tow him up the stairs to her bedroom. She was still frustrated at the way Flanders had stoked up her passion before he had abandoned her. The cold-shouldering that she had had from Sophie and Melindi had made her need warm, naked flesh against her own, now even more than ever.

Sophie was pushing back at him as he charged. His anus seemed to wink as he pulled and thrust. Sophie was panting harshly now, partly because her belly was pressed so hard against the stool, and partly, Gael judged, because of her rising need.

‘Fuck me, you brute,’ she gasped as he slid eight inches of curving flesh between her sucking labia again. ‘Yes. Oh God, yes.’

Gael remembered her role. ‘Did anyone see who took Francine home after the party?’ she said brightly.

‘She went off with some creature who Nicky Sanders dragged along, I think,’ Boo said as she watched intently as Markwell increased his stroke.

‘Did you see Mandy on the stairs with those four blokes?’ Fiona chipped in.

Markwell was thrusting into Sophie so hard that her buttocks swelled and bounced to every thrust. Gael was sure he would come very soon.

‘I saw one man standing over Mandy with his prick in her mouth, while she pulled two others off and had the fourth licking at her pussy,’ Anastasia said dreamily, her dress up around her thighs, her hand between her legs. The other hand massaged one large breast through the thin material of her blouse.

Fiona had recovered from the licking. She had righted her chair and was kneeling in it, her bottom still bare, her knickers in shreds on the floor. Her labia were slick from the licking as she thrust them out, her eyes fixed on the man plunging into Sophie.

Suddenly he put his head back and closed his eyes. His back was bowed, his penis thrust as deeply as it could be inside the panting girl. Then he let out a groan.

At first, Gael thought that he had climaxed. Then she realised that it was a cry of frustration. She knew how it felt not to be able to come despite an aching need and the pounding of her sex upon the phallus of a man. Surely, she thought, he must be feeling the same as his foreskin strained when he thrust to the fullest extension of his cock.

‘Have you ever had a gear stick up your cunt?’ Anastasia volunteered, trying not to notice as Markwell withdrew his penis from its hairy, thick-lipped prize. His eyes were ablaze with energy. Glazed with the moisture of Sophie’s excitement, his penis steamed in the heat from her body and the temperature of the sunny room.

Gael turned to Anastasia. ‘You weren’t caught by that guy in the Ferrari, were you?’

She grinned then turned as Sophie turned and grabbed Markwell’s penis hard. ‘What the hell are you doing? I need you, you bastard. Don’t stop now.’ As she tried to grip his penis, all she succeeded in doing was to pull the foreskin over the glans before her fingers slipped
off. The foreskin slid back slowly to expose the swollen head again.

Without any heed for Sophie’s plight, Markwell rose and took a couple of strides to where Anastasia sat munching on another éclair.

He thrust her back into the settee and pushed her dress up to her thighs. He dragged her panties off her with such force they tore. Then he hooked her under the knees and pushed her legs back to her breasts.

‘I understand that the Van Hagens are having a do at Bramwell Castle on Saturday. Anyone going?’ Anastasia asked. Then she sucked on the éclair as Markwell forced her legs back, showing a mass of reddish-brown hair. It formed a beard which ran down the edges of long and prominent sex lips, and finished in a whorl about her anus.

With hardly a pause Hilton Markwell aimed the head of his penis into the beard and pushed. Gael watched with fascination as the shaft was engulfed. It was as if some hungry animal hiding in the thicket had been lying in wait. Now as it gobbled, the eager shaft was gone.

Gael looked at Melindi and whispered, ‘Christ – did you see how she swallowed it?’

Melindi grinned. ‘She’s the most voracious woman I know, darling. And she looks so innocent too. Many a man has been quite surprised at the way she sucks him in and devours him whole.’

Anastasia wound her legs tightly around Markwell’s hips. She clawed at his flanks, pulling him on to herself. The éclair stuck out of her mouth like some chocolate phallus, its cream spread out around her lips.

He tried to pull away from her, but she had him fast. He struggled and pushed at her hard, drawing out of her at last. Pushing her legs down roughly, he sat astride her belly and ripped her blouse apart. Then he took each breast in his hands and began to knead.

Now it was she who struggled to be free of him as her
nipples swelled from between his wide-spread fingers. But he pushed her down uncompromisingly. Now he snatched the éclair from her mouth. He slid it over his cock like a chocolate-coloured condom. Then he rose and drove the éclair against her mouth.

She took it in and began to suck on it. Encompassing his penis, it seemed to give great pleasure. Gael watched as the brunette widened her legs again. The lips of her vulva began to tremble. As she stretched her legs as widely as she could, it gaped. Then it closed tightly with the spasms of her orgasm. As it closed, the lips were engulfed by the hairy mass, only to reappear as it opened up once more.

Now the éclair had gone. All that was left of it was a chocolate coating on Markwell’s penis. Anastasia gobbled at this as greedily as the mouth between her legs had done on his cock. She licked it hard, trying to scour every smear of chocolate from its length.

He pulled her head to make her take him in.

Sophie stood at the end of the settee, scowling.

Gael was fascinated by the whole affair. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought that this charade would turn out quite like this. She had not noticed Melindi for some seconds. Only when the supermodel rose and stripped herself naked before them all did she see the light of lust in the jet black eyes.

Melindi was magnificent as she stood before them looking down on Anastasia gobbling at the man. Her wonderful breasts were caught in a beam of sunlight, the nipples highlighted strongly, the undercurves perfectly spherical. Melindi thrust her pubis out. She always did so when she was aroused. It was as if she was pushing forward for contact rather like a man would flex his hips to thrust his cock inside her quim.

Melindi picked up a short whip from under her chair. Gael hadn’t noticed it there. What she did notice now as Melindi bent, were the purple lips of the girl’s sexual
purse. Melindi had the largest and most luscious vulva Gael had ever seen. She had often wondered how the model had walked the catwalks so elegantly with such a purse of flesh between her legs. But Melindi had told her that was her greatest asset. She could feel herself at every stride. She could feel the leaves of supple flesh working together, slipping over each other in the rich lubrication in which the sensuous sexual mouth seemed always to be bathed. She said that it made her sexy and alluring. That allure transmitted itself to the men in the audience, and it was they who bought the clothes, thinking that their wives would look as sexy as the supermodel did.

The whole of Gael’s body trembled as Melindi straightened, raised the whip above her head, her breasts tightening. They hung silhouetted against the light. Then Melindi struck.

The lash landed across the thighs of the recumbent Anastasia, making her raise her hips.

Now Melindi lashed at the back of the man. This only made him take the mouth of the brunette more ardently. Then suddenly he pulled his penis away. He turned and caught the whip as the lash came down. He pulled it hard, taking Melindi off guard. He reached out and toppled her, sending her sprawling on the carpet. In a fraction of a second he stood astride her, his legs apart, the veins in his penis even more prominent than before. From Gael’s position low down on a sofa, the profile of the man’s erection was classical. It erupted from his scrotum in a long, hard curve, the tip of it almost rising to his navel. As he lifted the whip, his phallus strained. Then he brought the lash down across Melindi’s belly.

She yelped and tried to rise, but he pushed her down with his foot, placing it hard on her pubis. Then he lashed again, making the thongs land in the valley of her breasts.

Melindi’s nostrils flared. She made a valiant effort to rise.

He moved his foot to her mons and pushed her down. When she looked up at his rearing phallus, her legs were open and her belly panted with exertion. Or was it with excitement, Gael wondered. Why had the woman taken the whip to him? Had it been because she had wanted his attention? Or was it because she liked dominating men and wouldn’t sit there meekly, waiting to be taken at his whim? But he had turned the tables. He was dominating her. With his large foot on her pubis, much of his weight bearing down on her, the man was her master. What would he do with her now?

The moment was taken over by Sophie. With a howl she leapt at him. She sprang on to his back and tried to pull him off Melindi.

He simply threw her into the Chesterfield. Then, before she could overcome her surprise, he flattened himself on top of Melindi. He forced her arms back hard above her head. Pushing at her ankles with his feet, he widened her legs. Then he was in her, thrusting strongly, his eyes staring into Melindi’s eyes, his lips only an inch from hers.