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“To take me out.”
“Oh. When?”
“Tonight.”
“Are you going?”
“Of course.” She took off her shoes and threw them in a corner. “He’s fascinating, but you already know that, don’t you? The man captivates my roommate, sometime lover, for days, and then turns around and asks me out like it’s no big deal. I love it. What a scoundrel.” Martine retreated to her bedroom, from where Tessa could hear her tearing through her closet. “You got yourself a real bad one this time,” she called out. “I’m really surprised that you’re handling this so calmly,” she added with complete admiration.
They had a common temperament, she guessed. And strangely, the idea of the two of them together excited her and she couldn’t deny the pleasant sexual churnings in her belly, even if didn’t like that fact.
Martine returned to the room wearing a pair of leather pants, buttoning her red leather bustier around her breasts. “Besides,” she went on, “the idea of your sitting at home pining for him while we dance the night away… I find that a perfectly shameful, but fitting thing to do. It’ll piss you off, won’t it?”
“You know, you are really dreadful,” Tessa exclaimed.
“Oh, I am, I know it.” Martine suddenly changed her look, staring right a Tessa’s crotch with a bewildered expression. “Where’d you get those shorts?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I know they aren’t yours.”
“Maybe I bought them.”
“Did you?”
“No,” she admitted, “Miles gave them to me. She looked down at shorts as if she’d forgotten she had them on.
“Take them off,” her roommate ordered.
“Why?”
“Take them off, I want to see your ass.”
Tessa looked at her, knowing th
at she could refuse her demand; but as usual, it didn’t seem important to deny Martine her wishes. The command could easily have come from Miles—perhaps he’d told her to inspect her ass. Then, the demand would be as much Miles’ as Martine’s.
Sighing wearily, Tessa tugged at the waistband of the snug shorts and pushed them over her hips until they dropped to her ankles. Between her thighs, the silky hairs of her pussy gleamed for Martine to see, but this was nothing new.
“And your shirt, take it off, too. I want to see what he’s done.”
Why would she ask this? What was the purpose other than the raw eroticism that seemed to have been so deliberate on Martine’s part and tacitly accepted by Tessa. It was obvious, her nakedness and her display of it was exciting them both.
“Turn around.” Martine couldn’t stop, and Tessa obeyed, showing off her buttocks, and what was left of the bruising cuts. There were still at least a dozen clear spots where the nasty buggy whip had marked her skin, which Martine gazed at, Tessa waiting for a typically critical remark.
“He got you good, didn’t he?” she finally said admiringly. Tessa nodded. She was becoming damp between her legs. Whether it was the memory of the punishments, or revealing them to someone else, the careful examination was provoking in her a gnawing desire to have sex.
Her arousal must have been obvious for Martine wasted little time taking her roommate by the hand, and leading her to the couch, where she pushed Tessa belly down, so that her bruised butt was available.
“Oh, my, perhaps I should have whipped you myself. Stripes like these must have been welts to start.” Martine’s hands massaged the punished bottom, only to find Tessa responding, hips grinding erotically into the couch. “You little slut, this turns you on, doesn’t it?” She stroked the skin, and pinched it where it looked most sore.
“Ooooo, ouch,” Tessa seethed quietly, though her bottom continued to gyrate—she didn’t want Martine to stop.
Grabbing a pillow, Martine shoved it under Tessa’s groin so that her rear was bobbing high in the air. Slipping a finger between her ass cheeks, she prodded deep into Tessa’s rear cleft, the prone sub responding, parting her legs and raising her ass, so that her lover had better access to her sex. A single finger pushed against her asshole.
“Did he fuck you here?” he asked.
“No.”
