The Lover's Children

Chapter 32 – The Idylls of March #4

CHARLOTTE

Seating himself by me, my Master displays his toys. “What do you think?” Small and wickedly toothed,

it’s quite pretty: again made of the silver steel and set with a green gem, it dangles delicate strands of

chain. “I find I approve of the jewellery Richard chose for you. I bought these to match, to give you on a

suitable occasion.” He pauses a moment, pointedly testing the clamp on the tip of his little finger.

Adjusting a tiny screw, he tests again, then repeats the procedure on a second clamp, then a third…

A third?

He smiles slightly. “Come, Charlotte. You know where these are going.”

My breasts swing, heavy and full, the nipples already stiffly peaked with arousal, plumped and tender.

My Master pinches one between thumb and forefinger, rolling it, nipping and squeezing. Slivers of pain

spike through to my pussy, which pulses a hot trickle of liquid. As he slips the clamp into position, the

slivers turn to spears, lancing to my core and a continuous flow leaks down my thighs. He squeezes.

The teeth bite, and I gurgle through my gaping throat.

“Does that work for you, Richard?”

“It does indeed. But I’d like to hear more. Are you dressing the other breast now?”

“Of course.”

My Master plucks at my other nipple, fitting the second clamp, this time snapping it into place. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

My Master stands beside Richard to admire the result. “Charlotte, kneel upright. We want to see you.”

Struggling to rise, in the mirrors, I see myself; Beth still gripping my hair in a rough ponytail, her eyes

almost black with arousal; my skin, gilded by the flames and the candles; the gleam of fox at my loins.

My breasts quiver with the palpitation of my chest, the painted areolae bronzed by the light. Centred by

emerald, the chains dangle, glinting silver-gold.

Behind my reflection, Michael watches too, one hand still moving rhythmically behind Beth, the other

cupping a breast, playing with the nipple.

My Master flicks at a clamp. I yelp. “What d’you think, Richard? Michael?”

Michael’s reflection grins. “I think we all know where that third clamp is going.”

“Quite right.” My Master sits again. “Knees further apart, Charlotte.” He slides a hand between my

thighs, fingering my slick and swollen vulva. My clit aches. Inside, the vibe dances a Devil’s jig.

“Flooding, aren’t we. How much are you enjoying this, Charlotte? Let’s find out.”

He moves slowly, deliberately, to attach the third clamp. Making me wait. Fucking with my head. But my

head doesn’t have the vote.

At the vee of my thighs, he holds, poised as he flicks the jaws of the clamp open and closed, a sharp,

metallic chatter that shivers down my spine and sets my belly muscles clutching.

The fingers of one hand scissor between my pussy lips, opening me, exposing the small shaft of my

clit. At the last moment, he snaps the teeth closed.

Pain rips through me, harsh as truth, sweet as sin. Screaming, I spurt. But my Master isn’t done. With a

twist and a sucking sound, he removes the plug…

*****

MICHAEL

... James kneels back, pushes Charlotte back down, and in a smooth sequence of movements,

unzippers himself with one hand, swiping the other over Charlotte's flooding vulva and thighs, slick and

shiny with her own honey. The vibe inside her pussy hums a merry tune as, lubing himself up, James

twists out the emerald-headed plug, tossing it to one side.

He leans over her, almost on all fours himself. Fingers curled around his erection, he takes his time,

boring into her. Rocking back and forth, a little deeper with every stroke, he fills her from the rear.

Charlotte groans...

Head low, his face burning, James groans too.

I don’t give him more than two minutes…

Beth’s spine pressed to my chest, her arousal builds, a quiver that grew to a shudder as she watched

Richard fit Charlotte with the gag. I’m not sure it’s my taste, but Beth’s getting off on it big-time.

Regardless of Richard’s instruction not to come, her climax is rising. Watching James ass-fucking

Charlotte, in the mirrors, her expression is glazed.

She’s loving that…

… And with each of Charlotte’s open-mouthed cries, Beth’s pussy grabs at my fingers, spilling heated

juices over my hand.

James, buried inside Charlotte, breathing heavily, slips a hand forward and squeezes a nipple clamp.

Her wails increase, perhaps in protest, probably with arousal. James grins and gives the other nipple a

squeeze. Charlotte screams and bucks, and he jolts with her…

Clenching…

… then, eyes raising ceiling-ward, lips wording silently...

Fuck...

… he drops forward over Charlotte, grinding, hips spasming.

Beth convulses against me. Richard is watching. Beth’s on a one-way trip and he knows it. His mouth

quirks as he speaks. “Elizabeth, you may not climax.”

Too late...

Beth Comes.

Jerking behind Charlotte, she claws into her hair, yanking her head back...

She’s gonna fucking scalp her...

… but I join in the party, locking an arm around Beth, hand-fucking hard, pressing my free palm against

her belly as I scrape at her g-spot. She convulses against me but isn’t going anywhere as she bawls

her way through orgasm.

James, blowing air, relaxes, resting forward on both arms. But as Beth calms too, sagging into my

embrace, Charlotte blows.

Withdrawing completely, James chuckles as a scarlet-faced Charlotte howls and spasms. Her belly

ripples and abruptly, the vibe pops out…

*****

CHARLOTTE

My volcanic core convulses, ejecting the vibe into my Master’s waiting hand. Through my searing

climax, I hear him laugh before he rams his fingers into me, plunging deep, hand-fucking my clutching,

clenching cunt.

Richard’s voice, “How’s she doing?”

“About a Richter seven or eight, I’d say.” Then, shifting to knead at my g-spot… “Let’s try for a nine.”

I buck and would drop back to hands and knees, but my Master loops an arm around my waist, pulling

me in tight, restraining me as he rubs at my inner walls, ruthlessly drawing out my ecstasy, my agony,

my glory and the gurgling wail which is the only sound I can make through my shackled jaws.

Too much…

Too much.

Waving my arm, trying to slap down on the bed, I can’t reach the mattress. Instead, I catch my Master’s

thigh, thumping down. It’s clumsy, not what I intended, but he immediately withdraws his hand and

unclips the clamp from my tortured-ecstatic clit.

The release is excruciating and unbidden, another scream emerges from my throat. But taking me in

his arms, my Master supports me as I drop limply back against him, lungs pumping, heart hammering.

He kisses my cheek, takes hold of my wrist. “Your face, Charlotte, is a good match for your hair,” he

murmurs.

Peeling my eyes open, he’s right. In the mirrors, I’m flaming. Not just my face. Breasts, belly and

thighs, my skin is brilliantly scarlet. His fingers still on my wrist, it dawns on me he’s checking my pulse.

After a moment, he releases my hand. “You’re fine, Charlotte. Tell me. When you slapped down then,

were you amber or red? Do you need to be released? Slap once for amber, twice for red. Catch your

breath if you need to.”

I inhale…

And again…

… then slap down. Once.

He kisses my cheek again. “Good girl. It’s time for you to pleasure your other Master for the evening.

Richard, where do you want her?”

“Kneeling on the floor please, James. By the side of the bed.” I’m a bit wobbly, but with my Master

guiding me down from one side, Michael helping at the other, I find myself face-to-groin with Richard

and his massively erect cock. Purplish now, veins bulge blue. The head is glossy, seeping precum.

He towers over me. “Can you handle a deep throat, Charlotte?”

Michael speaks for me. “It's not something we've done often, Richard. I’m not sure James has ever

done that with her.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I understand.” Richard palms my cheek. “Are you happy to try, Charlotte? You can support yourself on

the bed. If you slap the mattress, I'll withdraw immediately.”

I want to swallow. I can’t. I settle for drooling and nodding.

Breathe...

Again...

Richard cups the back of my skull, his hold on my head supportive rather than restraining. “The gag

looks good on you, Charlotte. Perhaps one time Michael and I will share you and Elizabeth together,

your mouths and throats presented like that.”

He guides himself one-handedly. There’s no nudging at my lips. No persuasion or seduction. My

gaping mouth presents as wide a target as he could wish. Huge, hot, hard and soft together, oozing

salty-sweet, his cockhead slides over my tongue, presses inward.

As it meets the back of my throat, resisting my urge to gag, I force myself to relax, will my throat to

open for him.

Richard eases forward…

… then back again… “Charlotte, breathe.”