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“Right now?”
“I was eighteen years and needed money for art school. I’d been accepted, but the scholarship wouldn’t cover rent in London or supplies. So I came to The Pearl and found the madam, asked her how much I could get for my virginity if I sold it.”
“Regan, if you tell me—”
“You’ll get hard on the dance floor. That’s the plan.”
* * *
As they spunaround the room, she spun the story, so clearly that he could envision it as if it were happening before him…
The client’s name was Giles Russell. He’d played rugby in his youth and inherited a fortune from his father and now owned his own team. Built like a rugby player gone to seed. He’d been handsome twenty years earlier and still had the charm.
Giles rented the Diamond Suite at The Pearl and Regan was summoned to his room around nine. The madam had dressed her in a little white frock, white lace-trimmed ankle socks and Mary Jane shoes. Giles laughed when he saw her at the door. He didn’t care about virgins. He just preferred it in the raw and didn’t want to catch anything. The dress was overkill but that was fine by him. She looked sweet enough to eat, he said. So he did.
“Right on the rug,” Regan said. “He ate me like a starving man at a feast. Dress up to my neck, face in my cunt. I could feel his tongue in my stomach, I swear.”
“Regan.”
“I was so nervous that I think I came from pure adrenaline, but I did come. Hard. He had these thick fat fingers,” she said. “I still think about those thick fingers sometimes.”
After she came, he picked her up off the rug and took her into the bedroom, stripped her naked—except for her little white lace-edged socks—and laid her out on the big white bed. He stuck his fingers in her and declared her still too tight. Didn’t want to tear her, or he’d only get one turn on her before she’d tap out.
“One turn, he called it.” Regan’s eyes glinted. “He really was a wicked man.”
He’d brought all these lovely weighted metal balls, about the size of large marbles, and he used them to open Regan’s vagina. She remembered him putting her over his lap and spanking her good and hard until her bottom was burning and red as fire. He worked one large metal ball into her, then another. She felt them nestling into the hollow in the front wall of her vagina so they would hit her g-spot and clit.
“He let me get close to coming… I was really panting for it, but instead of putting his cock in me, he spanked me again. I had to keep my legs shut tight so the balls wouldn’t come out. And the wicked part was, squeezing my legs together so tightly and being spanked like that…I came so hard I screamed. Then he took the balls out and fucked me.”
He had to go slow as she was tender, and his cock fat and blunt like a Cuban cigar. She was gripping the headboard as he worked himself into her, playing with her nipples with his free hand, playing rough—pinching and tugging on them. Her breasts ached and felt so heavy on her chest. It wasn’t enough for him to put his cock in her. He had a clitoris vibrator he used on her when he was fucking her. When she came, she said, it was like being turned inside out. Her muscles clamped down on the shaft so hard she nearly pushed it out.
“After I came, he really let himself have at me,” Regan went on. “He took my tits in his big hands and just rode me into the bed.”
All this was said as if she were reciting a recipe for scones or telling an anecdote about the time the butler lost the lid to her favorite teapot.
It was quick and hard but good. She was shocked by how good it felt to have his cock in her and him rutting on her like an animal. She even came a third time, her clit was so swollen and her vagina so open…and then the come, shooting into her, filling her until it spilled out and coated her young thighs.
Arthur’s cock was stiff inside his trousers.
“He paid for a whole week before he had to return to Sydney,” she said. “I spent most of that week naked and coming. Mouth. Arse. Every hole. I was fully debauched in one night. Lovely man. Invited him to our wedding. Told Sir Jack I was a rugby fan.”
The herald blew his trumpet and all eyes turned to the front doors, where new guests were arriving. Thank God. Arthur grabbed Regan by the wrist and dragged her toward the staff exit. She owned the hotel. She counted as staff, right? And he was certainly at full-staff.
As he dragged her away, she laughed. “Where are you taking me? Or are you just taking me?”
“I don’t know, and yes.” The staff exit led to the kitchen, but there was another door to the lobby.
“Follow me,” she said. She pulled him across the lobby toward the old smoking lounge, now a private area forVIPguests. “All of ourVIPsare at the ball,” she said, as took a keycard from her bodice and unlocked the lounge doors.
As soon as they were alone inside, Regan turned the deadbolts. Arthur took control, pushing her onto her back on a hunter green leather sofa. He opened his trousers and pulled her gown to her waist. She was naked underneath her skirt.
“You planned this,” he said.
“I wanted the waltz to be scandalous again. That’s all. And this,” she said, taking his cock in her hand. “I wanted this.”
She pulled him down onto her. As soon as the head kissed her opening, he felt her wetness and knew she was as aroused as he was. He entered her with a thrust and her slick walls parted to receive him. He came up on his knees and with one hand on the arm of the sofa to brace himself, he rode her with quick rough thrusts. She was wet, soaking wet.
She bathed his aching organ with her slick fluids. He looked at her face, eyes closed and mouth open as she took it, took him. Her breaths were shallow, fast, her breasts rising and falling, straining against the bodice of her gown. He tugged the fabric down, freed one breast and latched immediately onto her nipple, sucking it, rubbing it with his tongue. It grew stiff in his mouth and he pulled on it, licked it to make it stiffer.
