Ursula Diehl was intrigue by his bulk and those green eyes. The man was in the guise of an Arab slave trader, or so her husband, Donny, had surmised. The black iron shackles and the whip hanging from the thick leather belt at his waist provided their usual lure and drew Ursula near. She took the empty seat to his right.
The billowing robe did not hide his grand size any more than the two day growth on his face masked his beauty. Ursula smile as he came to her aide and brought the chair close to the table. When he caught sight of the leather chaps and her bare bottom, Jonathan looked away, to the elegant table Kara had set. The chaps were belted to Ursula's slim waist open at the front as well.
"Is that all you're having?" he asked.
Conversation came with some difficulty. He was not practiced at making small talk with a nearly naked woman.
"Aren't you hot in that get-up?' Ursula countered impatiently, loudly. Donny had been badgering Ursula about her eating habits on a daily basis as she struggled back into a size six after dealing with size twelve for six months following a traffic accident on New Years day.
"I am sorry," Ursula said in response to the stunned looks from around the table.
"And yes," she said to Jonathan, "This is all I'm having."
Ursula stared across the room where Donny was busy with Gayle and Connie, sincerely troubled by her own reaction to Jonathan's question. It wasn't like Ursula to be rude, certainly not to a man as attractive as Jonathan Edwards.
Jonathan watched the woman moved her garden salad from one side of the plate to the other and delicately sipped a white wine. She fiddled with the bright gold chains that came out from beneath the short white top covering her breasts. Out of the corner of his eye Jonathan followed the glitter to the top of the black thong that covered the low hump between her muscular legs. It was a small smile she offered when their eyes met.
Jonathan wolfed down the meal. Ursula's soft sighs added to the nervousness her bare abdomen caused.
"Excuse me," he said without looking down; he'd already seen too much. He hurried away trying his best to keep his eyes on the path ahead.
"My nipples and pussy lips are pierced and chained together. Find me later and I'll let you tug on the chains. I'd like that," Ursula said
Ursula's eyes were not the only ones to follow Jonathan up the stairs.
Rita Cerrone saw she was the eldest of the guests that night. She noted the interest her young man attracted.
"So what are you waiting for?" Angela asked.
"I'm not as brave as all these lovely young women," Rita admitted as they watched Jonathan go.
"Well, if you don't make a move, Ursula is going to take him as her own tonight. We'll both be disappointed.
Jonathan was not expecting anyone to come in behind him. As was usually the case, he left the door unlocked as he went about his business. Rita hesitated until curiosity got the better of her and the door swung inward. Jonathan had the woolen robe lifted up to his belly.
"Let me help," Rita said as she stepped up behind him and took him into her hands. He had his wits about him and was nearly done when the heat of her small hands stiffened him sufficiently to stem the flow.
"You are lovely," she whispered into the robe covering his back. Rita backed away and pulled Jonathan along. She made herself comfortable on the edge of the tub and took him into her mouth.
The one thing I'm really good at, she chastised herself silently.
Rita cupped her palms to the backs of his thighs and forced him deeper until the blonde hair on his belly tickled her nose.
"Let's go back before they come looking for us," she said afterwards. "I don't want anyone to know what I've done to you."
"Then don't tell anyone." Jonathan answered. He took a step in her direction and reached for the hem of the dress.
"Not in the bathroom," Rita said, prying his fingers from the latex.
They made their way down the stairs and found themselves alone in the living room. There was a fire burning in the hearth and Kara had picked the room clean of china and crystal.
Rita walked around the cocktail table to the center of the living room, and pulled at the hem of her dress. Slowly she peeled the latex away from her damp skin. By the time she'd finished she prayed he was as ready as offered
"Tell me what to do," she asked. She shifted her weight from one shoe to the other taking in the ardor she saw in his eyes.
While examining every inch of skin he found the Cesarean scar on her belly but the bangles on her wrist kept her attempted suicide her secret. Years ago, Rita reminded herself.
Twice, Jonathan had studied the painting of Angela bound and beaten. He was convinced the artist had taken the image from a real time view of the woman. He was sure that Angela was still capable of submission in spite of her aura of superiority.
Rita too had been mesmerized by the paintings in the foyer. She imitated Angela's posturing with the help of Jonathan's warm hands on her bare back. The unladylike poise parted her lips and exposed tender flesh to the flames licking in the hearth. She placed her hands there to protect the lily that bloomed below her belly.
He wasn't completely satisfied with the arrangement. Rita was much too relaxed, at ease as she squatted seductively at the center of Angela's living room.
"Get closer to the fire, Rita," he asked of her and she complied.
Jonathan was now free to perform his own rituals and disregard any protest while Rita balanced her weight uneasily on the soles of her shoes. When she looked away from his intense gaze she caught sight of her flower glistening in the flicker of the flames moist and swollen.
"Please don't hurt me," Rita asked.
Jonathan took the whip and the shackles from his belt then stripped off the belt, the burnoose and the robe beneath.
The last image Rita saw was Jonathan standing long and tall and proud with the coiled whip in his hand. He came around and placed the blindfold Kathy Jorgenson had left on the table over the fear he saw in Rita's brown eyes.
"Please, Jonathan," she asked a second time. He said nothing to console the terror that clutched at her heart.
She stiffened her spine and waited for the sting. But Jonathan had no intention of marking her beautiful flesh. He resumed his examination tweaking her nipples and moistening the bud at the center of her flower with his saliva. Rita rocked unsteadily on five inch heels. He brushed passed Rita and ran his fingers over the small of her back then lower between her cheeks. The touch brought a shutter.
"Please be gentle," she said loudly for she had tasted the length and the breadth of Jonathan.
"If you must hurt me use your fingers," she asked while his fingers wandered and titillated.
"It's no longer your choice," Jonathan responded.
Bare footfalls on the stairs signaled the otherwise silent approach of two women to whom Jonathan had not had the pleasure of an introduction from the playrooms in the basement. Connie and Gayle slowed at the sight of Rita Cerrone pinioned before the hearth.
Someone's there, Rita told herself while she quietly endured the embarrassment
"Who was it?" she finally asked believing by the silence that closed around them that they were again alone. They were not.
"There's no need for you to know, Rita."
He cast the whip aside and went for Rita's mouth. She was waiting for the harsh touch of the leather on her small breasts and his sweet kiss was a pleasant surprise.
"Take off the blindfold," Rita asked when he stopped for a breath.
"No. We'll leave it," Jonathan said sternly. He was standing over Rita now and could not resist the temptation. He took a step closer and Rita obliged his cavalier behavior for a time before turning her face away.
"Not like this," Rita complained.
She's free for the taking, he reasoned. He positioned himself on the gray carpet before Rita and nudged her ankles apart while the flames roar in his ears. With firm hands under her arms where she was wet with sweat, he brings Rita close to the fire. Her calves are silky and tense against his thighs.
I may never be with her this way a second time, he reminds himself while Rita hovers over him precariously, immodestly.
His hardness pleases Rita as she glides the slippery cleft over the length of his passion. They miss the mark though, and she feels him flicking at the base of her spine.
"No," she gasps. Her plea will do her no good she understands, if he's of a mind for the tighter of the two openings.
I shouldn't be here, she thinks.
"Love me," she whispers, "Please."
It's a reasonable suggestion given her present circumstances, she thinks. If he could see my eyes, he'd understand. The way Andrew saw them that last time.
Jonathan scrunches lower and moves away from that place. He slithers across the carpet at the instant Rita losses her footing and her balance. She falls and their movements impale Rita onto the whole of Jonathan with one fluid stroke.
"Oh, god," Rita cries out.
Jonathan believes he's caused her pain as she falls heavily against his thighs. His hands are on her small firm breasts to stop her from falling into the flames. When he feels her spasms reverberating through his hips he understands it's more than the pain that brings tears from her brown eyes and the cry from her lips.
"Not so fast, please," she whispers as he attempts to lift her bodily from his cock. She seeks to regain her equilibrium. Without a free hand to help Rita rocks wildly from side to side until Jonathan takes her by the waist. They continue thrashing until Jonathan explodes and in an uncontrolled release spills his semen in a series of pulsating spurts deep in her vagina. He thinks to ask if they should have taken any precautions but it's already too late for thoughtfulness.
Too old, he tells himself as he tries to reason away the possibilities. He reminds this is yet another thought he will never speak out loud to Rita; bad enough the woman thinks of herself as too old. That is if I have another night with Rita.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asks instead.
"Yes, more please."
Jonathan moves over Rita at a snail's pace with caresses and kisses that bring her blood to a boil. He moves toward the center of her desire. Rita is hopeful as a firm cock brushes against her thigh. He takes her slowly once more and then again and finally brilliant lights flash uncontrollably behind Kathy's blindfold.
Jonathan removes the blindfold and lifts Rita. Cradled in his strong arms he carries her up the stairs to one of four guest bedroom.
Energized by the view of Rita ass-up on the bed Jonathan sinks his cock into Rita's cunt and rubs her long and raw. The sight of Rita face down on the pillow with her beautiful bottom rising up to meet his gaze provokes Jonathan. From the vessel where he spewed his seed twice he now satisfies his thirst. Rita has never known a man to be so insatiable yet so giving. But she wants no more.
"Enough," she complains softly to the pillow where she rests her face while he does the unspeakable.
"Never enough," he whispers into her flesh. His breath and his voice reverberate deep into her body.
"It's useless," she tells him, believing her words true until he's on her fresh and strong and able swiping his tongue from stem to stern, from her perineum to her clitoris.
And finally he overwhelms the doubts that have haunted Rita for the whole of her fifty-six years.
And finally with his tongue drilling into her asshole, Rita Cerrone feels whole.