Buying the Virgin

Chapter 24: The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Twenty-Four

Michael is trembling, his heart drumming against my chest. He lifts the front of my pullover and, his

cheek resting on my breasts slips a hand down between my legs to tease my clit from hiding. The

blankets fall to one side for a moment, exposing my breasts to the bitter cold outside, and causing my

nipples to harden deliciously, puckering to stiff nubs.

Behind me, my Master is kneading and massaging my ass, his fingers digging in deeply, and with

ravishing bites from his fingernails, pulling open the cheeks. A single finger circles my rear entrance,

working me, relaxing the muscles before gradually easing inside.

My pussy is burning, clutching and jerking, and my hips are a-tremble. Michael eases his fingers in

further, scissoring open my labia with parted fingers, and stroking my pulsing sex.

My Master lifts my leg, then eases it forward to rest over Michael’s thigh, allowing them both easier

access to me, from front and rear, then slips a second finger inside me. Still working me gently,

stretching the skin and the ring of muscle, he makes circles with the fingers, widening me further. A

momentary wet chill tells me he had lube with him - in his pocket? - before the two fingers continue

their orbits and are joined by a third, stretching me wider and more open all the time.

Finally, the fingers are withdrawn, and I feel him close up behind me again, probing at me with his

cock-head.

He plunges deep into me and with a gasp, I release the breath I’d not known I was holding. The sound

of my own blood rushing in my ears, I wail in time to his thrusting, to the rapturous pain of his

penetration of me.

Michael is working my clit to the rhythm of my Master’s thrusting, with each thrust, tweaking my bud

hard enough to match the incandescent pain of my Master’s fucking. The pain shoots through my core,

and juices flow freely over my thighs, coating his hand.

With a grunt and a gasp, my Master comes into me, grinding his hips against mine as he pumps and

shudders his release. He almost growls his climax, the sound of it vibrating through me.

He does not withdraw. His softening shaft still inside me, instead he wraps his arms around me,

reaching to lift my leg further, supporting me, splayed open for Michael. Completely pliable now, utterly

placid, I simply let it happen. My two lovers may do what they will with me. I am theirs completely.

But within, the pain still shimmering through me from my Master’s work, consumes me. I want to be

fucked again, now by Michael.

With the easy access given him by my Master, Michael plunges two fingers deep into my sodden cunt,

pushing hard inside, reaching forward and scraping over my g-spot. His other hand continues its

ravishment of my tortured clit. I want to purr, gasp and scream all at the same time. What comes out is

a kind of spluttered yell as waves of electric pleasure ripple through me, in an excruciating climb to

orgasm.

With a savage convulsion, I come and as climax surges through me, I feel the heat of my pussy

flooding, scalding juices washing over my thighs as my cunt and belly throb and pulse. Almost before it

dies away, Michael is inside me, his exquisite cock spearing me deep and hard, stopping only as it

strikes my inner walls. Again and again, he impales me, slamming in hard enough to hurt, but my still

simmering orgasm takes the pain and gives me only desire, a sheer lust for more of this. I want only to

be fucked, impaled over and again until this man has fulfilled his need inside me.

Vice-like, my cunt clenches and clutches around him until, with a hoarse cry, he presses deep into me,

hips quivering and jerking, muscled thighs taut against me. I can hear his hammering heartbeat, even

over the howl of the blizzard outside.

As he relaxes and draws back, my Master also withdraws his now flaccid cock, releases my straining

leg, and I ease aching hips back into line. Michael kisses me, then lying limply against me, falls almost

immediately asleep.

My Master whispers from behind, close by my ear. “Are you alright Charlotte?”

“Yes, Master. I am always alright with you.”

*****

I wake to air crisp, and bitingly cold, still layered between my two lovers. The windows are completely

frosted over and, when I scrape at the frost with a fingernail, I realise that they are still white on the

outside. For a moment, I panic. Are we buried under the snow? But then I recover myself. Brilliant

morning sunshine shines whitely through. It is no more than a covering.

Sure enough, when Michael tries to open a door, we discover that the car, whilst half-buried in snow, is

by no means inescapable. Brushing frozen snowy chunks away, from where they drop down inside, he

peers through the small gap of the semi-open door then snaps back around to me. “Get your clothes on

Charlotte. There’s a snowplough and people out there.”

My ‘clothes’ do not take too much getting back on. The only thing I removed in the night was my

panties. Finding them is more of an issue in the tumble of our bedding. Nonetheless, in the confined

space I locate them, then struggle them on, as a voice shouts out “Hey there. You folks okay?”

My Master makes a quick check of my state of dress and then winds down a window, more flurries of

snow trickling over the edge as he does so. Sticking his head out he yells back. “Hi there. Yes, we’re

fine. We could just use a little help to get out.”

*****

Back at the railway station, my Master bends to kiss me on the top of the head. “See you soon I hope

Charlotte. Sorry it didn’t work out this time.”

“It wasn’t your fault Master. And yes, of course you will see me soon.”

I turn to Michael, who looks as though he is about to burst into tears. “You too Michael. I’ll look forward

to seeing you again soon.”

“Soon,” he says. “Yes, soon.” And wrapping his arms around me, he kisses me full on the mouth, only

reluctantly breaking away, as my Master taps him on the shoulder.

“She has a train to catch, Michael,” he says softly.

Brimming with a surge of affection for my golden-haired angel “No Master, it’s alright. I have a few

minutes.”

Stroking my fingers over his lips “Yes Michael. Soon. I promise. I need to visit my family now, but in the

New Year perhaps? Before I go back to college?”

He brightens visibly and looks over at my Master. “New Year?”

“Perfect!” he replies. “We’ll see you in a couple of weeks then, Charlotte.”

Turning to go to the station, I smile, reflecting that it looks as though it will be a good Christmas and a

very Happy New Year.

****

And so, it is Valentine’s Day, and who would I spend it with except my Master and Michael?

“Charlotte.” says my Master. “You look like trouble, trying to find somewhere to happen.”

I suck in my cheeks, trying not to giggle. I’ve always detested giggling girls and am determined not to

be one of them. But behind me, I hear a low chuckle from the rear seat of the car.

Michael places a hand on my shoulder. “He’s right, Charlotte,” he says quietly. “What are you thinking

about?”

I turn to see his face, smiling. “What do you think I’m thinking about, Michael?”

He grins. “Aaahhhh…. Good.”

I wonder where we are going this time; my Master, with his dark, lean saturnine looks and a voice like

wild silk. And Michael, stocky, muscular, blond, my Golden Angel, who loves me.

“So, what are we doing today? Where are we going?” I ask.

My Master glances at me from his driving. “Back to our old place Charlotte. Where you and I first, um,

consummated, our agreement.”

“The apartment? The place with the beautiful mirrored room?”

“That’s the one. And I’m glad you like the mirrored room, because that’s where Michael and I planned

that we all would spend our time together this visit.”

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In the apartment, warm, cosy, beautiful, I have a long soak in the bath.

Taking my time, I dry my hair, brushing it until it falls around me in a soft red cloud. I put on my makeup,

my eyes very dark, lips red to match my hair.

Then I dress as my Master requested.

Wandering through to the mirrored room, I find Michael there.

“Only you? Where is he?”

He smiles, twitching his lips in humour. “Arranging something.”

“What?”

“A surprise,” says Michael softly. “Make yourself comfortable. We’ll be back in a little while. Why don’t

you entertain yourself?”

He passes me a package, expensively gift-wrapped and be-ribboned. “What is it?”

“Open it and see. It’s from both of us.”