Renata's Vacation Ch. 07

But he had the control that age brings, and I knew I was due for more.

I 'came down' and he was still rock-hard, so I eased him out of me, pushing him gently away, then reached behind me for the spare pillow, which I whirled around and rammed under my arse, levering my hips up, and bringing my knees up, so that my arse was presented to him. I reached both hands beneath my buttocks, and pulled my cheeks apart, as Stewart knelt between my knees. The black tunnel of my anus was an open invitation for his still-hard rod, and no further beckoning was required. The secretions from my vagina had coated his cock sufficiently that he needed no lubricant, and after the first delicious agony of the entry of his knob into the portals of my arsehole, his whole length slid smoothly into my velvet sheath, which fitted him like a car's piston fits its cylinder. He groaned with pleasure as my peristaltic muscles exported him into another world, drawing him ever closer to the orgasm he now desperately had to have.

I raked his back with my long nails as he combined pumping my anus with tweaking my clitoris between a thumb and forefinger.

'Oh, Stewart, cum, now, cum, you bastard!' I yelled, and came myself, the second time in minutes, as he stiffened and shot his hot load of very liquid spunk deep into my bowels.

He lay for a few moments, to recover, then went to clean up and dress.

'Thank you,' he said, almost formally, when he emerged, then he turned to the still bound Eva, and said, in faultless Spanish,'Espero que no te castiga demasiado, nena. Gracias por llevarme' (I hope you're not punished too heavily, babe. Thanks for bringing me.)

We both watched him open-mouthed as he left the suite, then burst out laughing. I unfastened Eva's cuffs, and she joined me on the bed, where I unzipped her dress, and we made gentle love until the early hours.

We spent the next day shopping in the West End's best stores, until I feared we had bought more than we should be able to take with us, but many of the things we purchased were filmy, transparent garments, fine lingerie and jewellery, so when we returned to the hotel, we found there had been no need to worry.

The next day we flew to Amsterdam, where we had various visits lined up. First of all I picked up a rental car, another nice Mercedes, and then we drove into the city, and parked as close as we could to the throbbing vice area. I wanted to buy some equipment I couldn't get anywhere else, and soon found the specialist shop I was looking for. I quickly chose a good selection of whips, paddles and floggers, together with cuffs, ankle restraints, spreader-bars and gags. Eva admired some particularly vicious-looking corsets, and I bought two of these, as well as a variety of nipple-clamps. But thepiece de resistancewas a variation on the vaulting horse, which had a dildo protruding from it, which could be adjusted as to length and thickness, and even doubled up, so that the incumbent could be doubly-penetrated. As I was arranging to have one sent to the Club, the salesman, a go-ahead young man, suddenly mentioned that he had another line which may interest me, and produced a dining chair, similarly equipped.

'What about a set of four?' he asked, and I thought of a dinner party at the Club, and nodded my agreement with a smile.

Our next appointment in Amsterdam was to see a young American woman who wanted to come and work for us. She had written to say she was working in a sex club in Amsterdam, and had heard all about our place from a client. She said she was desperate to change her job. I liked her photo, and thought I'd take a look at her at work, without her knowledge.

I wondered if Eva and myself would stand out in the sex club, but when we took our seats, we saw we were not the only young women sat at tables in the luxurious surroundings of the club, one of the best ones in the city, with very high admission charges. Drinks were served by a waitress wearing next to nothing, and prices were in inverse ratio to the clothing.

The lights dimmed, and a statuesque and very black girl in a startlingly white teddy, panties, stockings and stilettos came onto the slowly revolving stage. She danced around a bit to one number, liberating pointed tits from her teddy, and playing about with her nipples, licking them with a prehensile tongue. Then the music changed, and she sat on an upholstered couch, and slowly slid off her white panties. Teasingly, she ran fingers through her slit, then swung her long legs around, and spread them wide, giving the audience a good look at her pink pussy each time the stage came around. She athletically threw her legs way above her head, and, putting both hands between them, pulled her labia far apart, exposing the full beauty of her cunt for all to see. Then, letting her feet come back down to the couch, she picked up a massive blue dildo which had been on the floor beside it, playing with it, sucking it, showing it to everyone, before plunging it deep into her cunt.

She fucked herself with the monster for some time, either having an orgasm, or simulating one pretty well, then she threw the dildo to the floor as the music changed to a stronger beat. A voice-over announced, in four languages, that it was time for the first audience participation of the evening, and that Mandy would be coming around to 'relieve' anyone who needed her services. One of the languages wasn't Spanish, so I translated for Eva, as 'Mandy,' now wearing long white gloves, but otherwise unchanged in her teddy and stockings, stepped down off the stage, followed now by a pretty little Chinese girl in a black mini-dress and stilettos, carrying a box of tissues and a bucket. Instantly a dozen men's hands went up, and Mandy went to the nearest one, aa florid man in his fifties. The spotlight followed her as she sat in his lap, and the microphone picked up her broken English: 'Ooh, what a big boy!'

The audience laughed and applauded as Mandy dropped to her knees, deftly pulled out the man's rampant erection, stroked it expertly a few times, and then made sure that her Asian companion caught his cum with equal expertise, and rapidly wiped him clean. She repeated this a dozen times, amid much hilarity from the friends of the various 'victims.' It was a slick act.

There were several short striptease acts after that, all quite good, and an artistic live sex act, which was not so good, in that it was too obviously simulated, then we had an interval, during which a reasonably good meal was served.

'I hope this is going to be worth waiting for, after all this,' I said to Eva, as we finished our coffee.

Dimming lights announced the restart, and the act we had waited for. On to the stage came the young American girl, Jessica, a twenty-year-old from California, and she looked every inch Californian, with chestnut hair just more than shoulder-length, a superb complexion and perfect figure.

She was dressed in what appeared to be the 'uniform' – a teddy, though black this time, with matching panties, stockings and stilettos. She danced around to the first number, like her predecessor, levering heavy breasts out of the top of her teddy, and causing a good deal of commotion when she descended from the stage and enveloped the bald head of a nearby spectator in her ample cleavage.

Back on stage to coincide with a change to slow, sensual tempo, she sat on the couch, and eased off her white silk panties, to reveal a pink slit with a large gold ring dangling from her clitoris-hood, from which hung a chain some three inches long. The spotlight picked up the glint of a stone set in a clasp at the end of it. Jessica played with this for a while, rubbing it around her puffy labia, and, legs wide apart, thrust first two, then three fingers, deep into her cunt. Spinning athletically around, she now knelt on the couch, and spread her arse cheeks as wide as she could, then picked up a string of green plastic balls, the size of ping-pong balls, from the surface of the couch. Under the spotlight, she showed them to the audience, and then started to feed them, one-by-one, into her anus, which seemed to suck them into its waiting maw like a venus flytrap. There were five balls on the string, and Jessica fed them in and then pulled them out, with maximum drama, probably faking most of the ecstasy they gave her well-used arsehole.

After this, she threw the toy aside, and a drum-roll announced the main event of her evening. Men who were so inclined had previously purchased tickets for a lottery, and now it was to be drawn. The pretty Chinese girl came out on stage, with an old-fashioned top-hat, and held it for Jessica to take out a ticket. When she had done so, and the number was announced, there was a big shout from somewhere behind us, and a thin guy in his forties came dashing down the aisle, amidst a mixture of whistles, jeers and applause. The Chinese girl took him by the hand and led him away through a door backstage, and music played. Jessica meanwhile got to her feet and did another slow, sensuous dance. She was good – I wanted her myself, and wondered briefly what it would be like to whip her. I thought her body would look lovely with some stripes, especially as she herself had written to me, expressing an interest in coming to work for us. I wondered if, like me, she needed to be hurt and humiliated, to feel the agony that leads to ecstasy.

Another change of music fetched me out of my reverie, and the Chinese girl led the guy out on to the stage, now dressed in a maroon dressing-gown. He approached Jessica, who sidled up to him, and rubbed her body against him in a wonderful, slow, caress. She wriggled and squirmed her way right down his body, until her face was level with his penis, which now stood out rigidly through the join in his dressing gown. She took him in both hands, skilfully making him look bigger than he was, for the audience's benefit, then took him briefly in her mouth, earning a round of applause as she sucked him and licked his length. Deftly, she produced a condom from the pocket of his dressing gown, and, using her mouth, slipped it on to his weapon, almost before anyone had realised what she was doing.

Lithely, she led him to the couch, and knelt down in front of it, spreading her arse-cheeks wide with both hands. The dark tunnel of her anus was an open invitation, as she looked back over her shoulder, her tongue jutting out slightly between her white teeth in a lewd expression of desire. He was wild with passion for her, and wanted her as he had never wanted a woman in his life. He blotted out the audience effectively – his need over-rode all that, and drove his weapon into her arsehole, not caring if it hurt him or not. It didn't – hers was a velvet sheath, which caressed him, and drew him deep into her, and....and, oh, Christ! He just didn't give a fuck about the audience, or anything, as he thrust against her pulsing arse one last time, almost lost consciousness, and spurted, long, and hot, deep within her.

He pulled out, and dragged off the wretched condom, as the audience clapped. Erik stood there, feeling shagged out and foolish, until the Chinese girl came and rescued him, escorting him off to change.

There was another act to come, but I'd seen all I wanted to, and just wanted to talk with Jessica, which would have to wait until after the show. I took Eva for a drink.

We were waiting at the stage door when Jessica emerged, big sunglasses on despite the darkness.

I approached her.

'Hi, Jessica!'

'Hello,' she said, 'you're not a randy male, and you don't look like a butch dyke, either, but I'm bushed right now, so I don't wanna talk, right?'

'Good speech you've prepared,' I said, 'but I'm Renata, from Spain – you wrote me last week.'

'Oh shit,' she said, 'and now I've put my fucking great foot in it, and blown it. Oh shit!'

'Come on,' I said, 'if you're not too tired for a quiet drink, that is?'

She looked thoroughly embarrassed, but tagged along, and we found a quiet café, where I told her more about our Club. She listened, her interest growing as I told her about our dress-code, and a little about our clients. My impression was that, in line with the tone of her letter, she was fascinated with the concept of punishment – whether she would enjoy its physical aspects remained to be seen. I put this to her, and she looked at me almost imploringly as she asked me to let her have the chance.

'I'm all excited just thinking about it,' she said, 'it's what I've dreamed about for a long time.'

In the end, I gave her my card, told her to give notice to her current employer, and email me when she had a starting date. Then I would send her travel arrangements. She looked overjoyed, and virtually skipped out of the café.

Next morning, we were due to leave for France, and I had a fairly long drive ahead. We didn't check out until around ten, and it was almost ten-thirty by the time I was driving out onto the motorway south, through the featureless Low Countries, with Eva trying her best to navigate beside me.

Our destination was a chateau in Northeast France, close to Sedan, the owner being a close friend of Doña Francisca, and distantly related to Mario, the owner of my Club. We had been invited to spend 'a few nights' there, which made me nervous, but Doña Francisca told me that the owner, le Comte d'Issoire, was an 'indulgent gentleman,' who surrounded himself every summer with some of the most beautiful people in, and out of, Europe. My curiosity was piqued, and Eva couldn't believe she was going to stay at the castle of a real, live Count.

'We're not, if you can't fucking well find it!' I told her, as she turned the map upside down for perhaps the fourth time. It was getting dark, and the forests seemed to close in on us. Then, all of a sudden, I spotted a rusty iron sign, pointing to the chateau, half-hidden by an overgrown bush. We turned down a rutted track, and bumped along for two kilometres, when it opened out to a huge vista of lawns and a lake, with a great, grey mansion standing four-square in front of us, rows of vehicles parked outside.

Nobody came out to meet us as we unloaded our cases, and we wheeled them up a ramp to the massive double door, where I pulled an old-fashioned bell-rope.

After a moment, a Judas door opened in the main door, and a uniformed manservant came apologetically to help us in.

'You will be Miss Renata!' he said, in English, 'I expected you earlier. I am sorry the Master and Mistress are not here to greet you. They are dressing for dinner, you see.'

He trundled my huge case in and a young girl, in maid's uniform, appeared to take Eva's luggage.

The servant said, 'I am Jean-Pierre, and am at your service, but Marianne here will attend to most of your needs. We'll see you to your rooms, and then perhaps you would like to prepare for dinner? We dine at eight.'

I glanced at my watch. It was already seven-fifteen, which left us very little time to unpack, let alone change, and look our best. Jean-Pierre saw my concern.

'You don't need to unpack,' he said, 'Marianne will see to that. Just get out what you wish to wear, and attend to yourtoilette.' He spoke in rapid French to the maid, who nodded subserviently.

'OK,' I said, not really liking the fact I was being pushed around a bit, ' what do you suggest we wear?'

'Ah, Madam,' he said, 'I should say definitely long. And, if I may so remark, it will not be difficult for either of you to achieve elegance. May I also say that most of our lady guests tend towards the provocative. I trust that is helpful, madam.'

'Most helpful, Jean-Pierre, thank you,' I said, and translated for Eva.

We were taken to adjoining rooms, rather stately and old-fashioned, but with en-suite bathrooms, perfectly equipped, and both with huge four-poster beds and views out over vast lawns and formal gardens. I thought I could well stand this for a few nights. While the maid Marianne hustled around hanging up cloths in a massive ok wardrobe, I chose a favourite long grey silk halter-neck gown, with a tight skirt. The top allowed my breasts enough movement to strike the 'provocative' note Jean-Pierre had mentioned, and I quickly pinned up my long black hair in an attempt at elegance. I wore long silver drop ear-rings and silver stilettos with metallic heels. Next door, Eva was in a quandary, so I helped her choose. Her young body looked good in almost anything, but her blonde hair was particularly suited to black. I picked out for her a form-hugging long black lace dress she had brought. At the club, she might have gone naked under it, but here we knew no-one, and I suggested a black half bra, over which a half-moon of her auroelas showed tantalisingly, and tiny black lace panties, tied at the sides with huge red ribbons. When she wriggled into the tight dress, the effect was terrific – the bra showing interestingly through the lace, and the red ribbons an invitation to divest her of the panties. I told her to leave her hair loose, then stood back to look at her.

'I just want to fuck you myself,' I told her, 'you look stunning, Eva!'

'Oh, Miss Renata,' she said, 'but you are so very beautiful – I could never be as elegant as you.'

'Come on,' I said, looking at the time, 'we'd better go and face the music.'

Hand-in-hand, we negotiated the long corridor to the entrance hall, and followed the sound of voices, through double doors, into an enormous banqueting hall.

With ten minutes to go to dinnertime, people were milling around, and the hostess, whom I knew from a photo Doña Francisca had shown me came over to greet us effusively. Jean-Pierre had been quite right! She was dressed in a sheath of white silk, into which her curvaceous body appeared to have been poured. It covered her from neck to floor, complete with long sleeves, but she couldn't have been wearing a stitch under it, so tightly did it mould her and caress her. She had short black hair and sparkling dark eyes, and might have been anywhere between thirty five and fifty five. She told us to address her as Fifi, though I knew her to be la Comtesse d'Issoire, and she whisked us off to introduce us to so many people that I didn't stand a chance of remembering them all. Nearly all the women seemed to be beautiful, and they were, without exception, sexily attired. Many of the men, by contrast, were older, but two or three, in particular, were extremely dishy, and I thought Eva was about to faint when she was presented to the son of the Count, whose name was Robert, and whose blue eyes undressed her unashamedly. His sister, Monique, who stood beside him, was equally impressive, darkly beautiful, wearing a fishnet tube-dress and nothing else, and parading her body with arrogant haughtiness. She made me think, as did any such young woman, of what a joy it would be to see her writhing and struggling, bound and begging for mercy from my cruel whip. She saw me looking at her, and lowered her eyelids in a look of recognition, of awareness that I had seen her sexuality. In that look that passed between us I knew we should meet.

Fifi introduced me to her husband, the Count, distinguished and sixtyish, with greying hair and little English, then to a whole host of guests, the men in dinner jackets, the women in a vast range of exotic evening wear, from almost completely transparent harem pyjamas, to the most expensive Versace backless creations. One young woman wore a stunning black velvet dress that was really two halves, joined only by a gold clasp at the waist, demonstrating quite clearly that she wore nothing underneath. Many had transparent tops, whilst many others had skirts slit to the waist, revealing either tiny thongs or nothing at all.

Perhaps forty people sat down at the great table, and dinner was served by the uniformed servants – I counted five of them in all, and no sign of either Jean-Pierre or Marianne, leading me to wonder just how many staff they employed.