The Business of Pleasure (16 page)

‘You! Pour me some wine. You! Feed me some of these lovely foods.’

Beauty #1 put the crystal glass to my lips, alternating with Beauty #2, who fed me scallops, morsels of sweet flaky pastry, Parma ham, grapes, cubes of French cheese, in loving succession.

‘This is delicious, but I need some entertainment as well. You two!’ I clicked my fingers again, and the remaining two girls flitted up to the table. ‘I would like to watch you make out. You know what I mean? Kiss, touch each other, perhaps, if you have time, bring each other off. Can you do that.’

They nodded eagerly and I smiled to see their curves meld and their shining skins slide together as they kissed, sweetly at first, then more deeply, more passionately, the tongues colliding, the dainty hands grabbing and pawing while I ate and drank my fill.

Livesay’s sumptuously ample body was losing its coverage as Beauty #2 continued to ransack it for my meal; here and there a clutch of grapes disappeared to reveal a swell of breast, or the prawn ring around her navel developed gaps, showcasing her white, soft belly. I was beginning to want to lick it. But I waited a little longer, enjoyed the feeding fingers and solicitous lips of my handmaidens, who were now transferring the wine to my mouth from theirs, and swapping slivers of meat from between their pearly teeth. We began to kiss each other as we fed, tasting the lips and tongues as well as the salty-sweet food combinations, all three of us dropping scented kisses on to faces and collarbones and earlobes, breathing each other in and sighing as we satisfied our senses. My hands – the only ones permitted to wander – found their dewy pussies and investigated them as we disported ourselves. I lay back in my throne, allowing one girl on to my lap while the other stretched herself backwards over my belly from the arm of the chair, and all the bounty of female flesh was at my disposal, the whole world of woman lay before me.

‘Have you had enough to eat and drink, ma’am?’ one of them whispered, and I snapped back into consciousness, looking over their heads at my Entertainers, who were now writhing and twisting on each other’s fingers, biting and sucking each other’s necks, butting up against each other with aggressive arousal, almost at the point of release.

‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t think I have. Stand aside.’

The Handmaidens fell to their knees on either side of the throne, and I stood – a little shakily – to inspect the state of my pretty, ravaged centrepiece. She looked a poor display now, all sticky and patchy with juices, her edible veil half-wrenched away from that lavish body, but I preferred her like this. The candle would have to go though, and I removed it, seeing the part of her that had been concealed for the first time, in a split-crotch diamante thong. Her legs were parted and her little red clit peeked out between the paste jewels like one of the berries that topped her nipples, ready to be anointed with cream and then licked and eaten until the remnants stained my face. Oh yes, that would have to be done. But first …

I was dimly aware of the Entertainers wrestling on the floor, grunting and panting and bucking like rodeo horses, but I had lost interest in them, and just wanted a bite of my Livesay, my living banquet. I climbed on to the table and positioned myself between her thighs, bending over to take the remaining fruit into my mouth, licking each bared portion of flesh, sweeping it with my tongue, before chewing and swallowing the food. I sucked up the raspberries from each pert nipple, slowly, nipping with teeth, until they were licked into paste and she was moaning quietly, as if begging me to stop, or carry on. Then I moved down her body, munching a narrow trail around her belly button, licking the smoked salmon mousse from her shaved mons before arriving at the crowning delicacy – her unseasoned, unsauced, perfectly fresh pussy.

‘Hmmm,’ I pondered. ‘As it comes? Or with cream?’

‘Ma’am?’ Beauty #2, tremulous and eager to please, handed me the vacuum can of squirty cream, making the decision for me. I depressed the button and sprayed the stuff generously between the split of her lips until she was covered and smothered in frilly white, ready to be licked clean.

I swooped into action, scooping up the melting substance with my tongue, careless of how much of it covered my chin and cheeks, hunting down that hidden clit like a pig hunting a truffle. I curled into every crevice, lapping and licking, exhaustive and ravenous, until she was clean and her sweet, fat jewel cried out to me for attention. I gave it; I sucked that little morsel until she began to cry out. Then I took the aerosol and repeated the process all over again.

‘Messy, messy girl,’ I crooned, when, after the fourth version of this procedure, I finally allowed her to come. ‘Always such a mess, Livesay.’

I sat back on my heels, looking at her, all purple and orange with fruit stains; the leftover foodstuffs jumbling across her skin.

‘Girls,’ I said to the four lissom beauties, who had been watching the performance raptly. ‘Dinner time.’

It was a wonderful sight; the four sheeny-skinned nymphs devouring what was left of the banquet from Livesay’s flesh; Livesay, tossing and squealing as if being tickled to death. They plunged their mouths into her pussy and over her breasts, squeezing and suckling until their pretty faces were smeared with the evidence of their depravity.

I caught Redvers in a longing over-the-shoulder look and pushed her bottom with my foot, forcing her back to the scrubbing.

‘You don’t get treats, Redvers, you nasty little slut. That’s not what you’re here for. But actually, while the others are busy, perhaps I can find another use for you. Why don’t you kneel down here and show me how good you are with your tongue. Not talking – I don’t want to hear you talk. You know what I mean?’

Slightly abashed, she nodded, but she was so relieved to be taken off floor-scrubbing duty that she scrambled between my knees without further bidding, lifting up my gown – underneath which I was naked – and bringing that smooth, lovely face up between my thighs, which she kissed shyly as a rather charming and submissive preamble.

‘I like that,’ I approved. ‘A little initiative can be a good thing.’ Redvers – the real Redvers – had said those very words to me on occasion, the condescending bitch. I patted false-Redvers’s head and shifted my thighs, the better to accommodate her darting tongue. I leaned back, watching Livesay yield to the eight fluttering hands and four greedy mouths of the Beauties, while Redvers attended to my pussy with such finesse and sensitivity that I had to think she must be a professional.

My words, when they came, brokenly but forcefully, were in Polish, while my spendings flowed into Redvers’s grateful face. She bobbed back and looked up at me, a little fearfully, as if she was worried that I might be cursing her in my mother tongue.

‘No, Redvers,’ I panted, pitying her for that brief moment. ‘That was good. Thank you.’

Livesay was now stripped of all edible matter, her body gleaming with the combined saliva of the diners; that well-licked clit all swollen and stiff between the sparkly strands of the split-crotch thong.

‘Let’s take a little break,’ I suggested, drowsy after the good food and better orgasm. ‘Some of you girls can dance? I did order some music, I think.’

As if by magic, from a gallery to the side of the room, a string quartet struck up some gracious music from times past – waltzes and foxtrots – while the four Beauties coupled up and took to the floor. Livesay lay on the table, almost asleep, while Redvers was permitted to bend over and watch the display while I fondled her magnificent backside, making plans for it which grew wilder and lewder as the dances mutated from respectable ballroom to lascivious tangos and lambadas, the girls pressing closer, spinning and wheeling each other around the room in poses that stopped only micromillimetres short of sexual penetration.

‘Redvers,’ I whispered eventually, my senses reignited by the behaviour of the girls on the dance floor. They seemed to have turned the dancing into some kind of Roman orgy, and were kissing and caressing in a big scrum at the centre of the floor, all arms and legs and tiny scraps of lacy silk. ‘Fetch me my whip and my strap-on.’

With careful consideration of her padlocked ankles, Redvers rose to her feet and went to a cherrywood chest in the corner of the room, withdrawing from it a martinet whip and a large dildo attached to a leather harness. Eyes downcast, she bore them to me, not even glancing sideways at the gasping ball of womanhood that rolled around the centre of the floor.

‘You, Redvers, need to be punished,’ I told her, my eyes narrowed, head full of a flashback to that awful Thursday morning at the Redvers abode.

‘I know, ma’am,’ she said meekly.

‘Bend over the end of the table.’

I snapped my fingers at the bawdy quartet, and at the recumbent and half-asleep Livesay, all of whom awoke from their stupors of lust and sloth to focus on me once more.

‘More play to come later,’ I promised. ‘But first we must all take turns to punish Redvers here. She has been a very, very bad and nasty girl, and I want you all to give her ten good lashes with the whip. It isn’t a very terrible whip – you won’t damage her. But you can lay it on as hard as you like. I want that bottom bright red by the time we’ve finished with her. Livesay, you may start.’

Livesay, her nipple pastes sparkling, clambered from the centre of the table and took the whip in her hand, frowning at it as if unfamiliar with its design – which she possibly was. All the same, she took her station at Redvers’s rear and began to flip it through the air, laughing with exhilaration as each thin strip of tail caught the unfortunate maid’s bum, flecking it with pink. The Beauties, sniggering and nudging one another, queued up for their turns behind Livesay, who had an unexpectedly powerful arm and was opening the batting very creditably, causing Redvers’s breath to hitch and her fists to curl and uncurl.

It was lovely to watch, and as each girl wielded the whip hand, the beautiful slut-maid twisted and turned, growing increasingly uncomfortable, but knowing that she had no other option than to keep that pert bottom thrust out for more stinging kisses, until my pleasure was satisfied.

Once all five girls had had their chance of whipping poor Redvers, I stepped up, first taking a little time to feel the heat and tenderness of that abused flesh.

‘How sore that must be,’ I said soothingly. ‘Is it very sore, Redvers?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good. And it’s about to be sorer.’

I did not stop at ten strokes. I kept on until I had lashed the need out of me. Redvers was a good submissive – perhaps a true masochist – and although she wailed and begged, she did not use the safeword, but let me have my way until her arse was red and hot as flame, tight and swollen to the touch.

‘Good girl, Redvers,’ I finally managed to breathe, exultant and almost giddy with the power of my emotion and my lust for her. ‘You have done well. Livesay, hand me the strap-on.’

I donned it with fleet fingers, wanting to plunge into her, to violate her in every way, and I wasted no time in penetrating her to the hilt while she thanked me, over and over, in her breathy, hoarse voice. I gave her first a few hard thrusts, then I unbuckled myself and passed it over to the next girl.

‘You may all fuck her with this,’ I told them. ‘When you have given her as much as you can, come to me.’

I took the candlesticks from the candelabra while Livesay bucked and surged into Redvers’s juicy pussy.

‘Come on, Livesay,’ I ordered her, lying myself down on the table on my stomach, so that I faced the bug-eyed, puffing Redvers and could watch her expression as she was fucked with the strap-on. ‘Come between my legs and do your worst with one of those candles. If you can eat my pussy at the same time, I’ll give you a five-star recommendation on my customer feedback form.’

She did it too. I had to get up on my knees and bend forward, but she slid her artful little face down underneath me and clit-licked for England, while the candlestick sawed lazily back and forth in my pussy. Beauty #1 abandoned the strap-on and passed it to Beauty #2, leaving a vacancy. ‘Come and fuck Livesay with a candle,’ I invited, and so we went on, until five of us were arranged in a long line, all frantically fucking with candles apart from me, who enjoyed the receipt but not the gift, and was too busy making sure Redvers knew she was being watched in her humiliating position to bother with anything else anyway.

Redvers, exhausted and shagged to mush, her face as red as her arse, begged for mercy as Beauty #4 began to lose steadiness and grind to a final halt.

I had come three times myself, and could no longer support myself on my elbows, so I asked Livesay to put away her tired tongue and retract the candle, while we all took a long deep breath.

‘How about a bath?’ I finally suggested, once my brain was engaged once more. ‘All of us together? There is a wonderful, huge hot tub in the next room.’

The girls, some still sprightly, some barely able to walk, followed me into the adjacent chamber and disrobed, joining me one by one in the fragrant milky waters, sinking with sighs into the bubbles.

I poured us all a glass of champagne and sat back for a speech.

‘I would like to thank all of you for taking part in this. I have showed you a side of myself that rarely comes out – a side I am maybe not so proud of, but which needs its release now and then. Thank you for helping me to achieve this.’

The girls all simpered responses of the ‘it’s a pleasure’ variety.

‘Really?’ I asked, turning to Redvers. ‘It was a pleasure? Even for you?’

‘I work in a BDSM dungeon club,’ she said, smiling, and her face looked calm and beautiful now. ‘I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it. You would make a fantastic pro-Domme. Have you ever considered that line of work?’

‘I don’t want to whip men’s hairy bums,’ I declared, to general giggles and raisings of glasses. ‘Not for a million pounds.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ she conceded. ‘I bet you could get a few private clients though. Lady clients. Wealthy lady clients.’

The way she put the emphasis on the word ‘lady’, coupled with the significant look, made me stop and think. She was trying to tell me something. What was she trying to tell me?