Bells

byvoluptuary_manque©

Deserea looked out the car window feeling slightly dazed. She sat very still trying to keep the tiny gold bells that hung from her necklace, bracelets, anklets and earrings still. Every time she shifted the slight "ching" reminded her of the other bells on the belt that circled her slender hips just above her mons and those that dangled unseen from the silk loops around her erect nipples. These, in turn, would remind her of the narrow oxblood silk band that ran down over her sex, up between her buttocks and down front and back over the metal-lace. With her full, kissable lips painted to match her breechcloth and the rest of her professionally made up face, Deserea would have felt very sexily turned out under the concealing caftan if only she wasn't sitting in the back seat of her parents' Jaguar. They were going to a party, a party of her parents' friends, a party of middle-aged professional people and she was dressed like a fantasy harem girl!

Unable to remain perfectly motionless, each small squirm or shift she made rubbed the rough silk against her newly bare pussy or pulled on the captured nipples of her C-cup breasts. The arousing sensations fought with her embarrassment and left her feeling oddly conflicted about the coming evening. She was repelled, yet increasingly excited by the thought that her parents, of all people, regularly attended "that" kind of party and that they were compelling their only daughter to accompany them. Who would have thought that dropping out of college could have such an unsettling result?

Deserea had dreaded breaking the news to her mother at Winter Break that there was no returning to the prized university she'd attended the previous fall. Still, her mother had almost always been patient and understanding with the angst Deserea had managed to display in excessive amounts all of her life and so she'd hoped that the plea of "personal, really personal, reasons" would be sufficient. It wasn't. At rare times the patient and understanding mother she was used to would suddenly be replaced with a figure that seemed more like an avatar of Gaia or the Mother Goddess herself. Victoria Smyth-Jefferson would lift her chin, raise one eyebrow and drive a lightning glance from her golden eyes into Deserea's dark brown ones and suck truth out of the girl.

And so she'd been forced to explain that she'd fallen with "the wrong crowd". Not a bad crowd, mind, just . . . the wrong one. It was a crowd where the girls spent all their waking hours either trying to hook up with boys or telling, usually in the most unflattering terms possible, about the boys they'd hooked up with the previous night or weekend. And those unflattering terms they used on the boys were, Deserea had to admit, perfectly apt! The entire bunch seemed to consist of losers and users and not much else and Des simply could not return. It wasn't her lost virginity that mattered so much but that it had happened so trivially. That hurt.

"You do know that one of the reasons you were sent to a Catholic girls' high school was the hope that you would get enough theoretical knowledge of sex from the older students to protect yourself from this sort of thing?" Victoria queried.

"Uh, I guess I never thought of it that way, Mother," came the trembling reply.

Deserea pushed out a full, lush lower lip in hopes of sympathy but began to suspect that she wasn't going to get any. It was the way her mother's impressive cleavage rose and fell along with the tapping of the elegant long nails on the onyx desktop that made the girl's stomach start to butterfly.

"But at least I haven't caught anything or gotten pregnant!"

Victoria's face softened just a bit. "I suppose that is something in your favor but I am disappointed that you chose to play with boys rather than meeting men. We shall have to correct your view of the opposite sex, child, before you reach womanhood."

Her mother reached out and gently took Deserea's dark jaw in her caramel-colored hand and lifted the girl's eyes back to her own.

"And just what kind of woman will my little girl become, hmmm? We will have to give that some thought, your father and I."

The next morning Deserea was sitting in one of their Maloof rockers sipping a morning espresso as her father prepared to leave for the law firm where he was a senior partner. Charles Smyth-Jefferson wore his tailored three-piece suit and Borsolino hat the way a lesser man might wear an ermine-trimmed robe and crown. It was, in addition to a world-class intellect, the almost overwhelming confidence he radiated that had sent him sky-rocketing to the pinnacle of his profession and of the city's social order. Why he had no ambition for political office baffled many but in the face of the man's sometimes withering glance, none had dared to ask. Now he turned his gaze onto his youngest child.

"You and your mother are going out today," he rumbled with crisp diction, "and whatever she decides to do, you will not question nor will you argue. Understood?"

"Yes, Daddy!" Deserea adored her tall, dark, broad-shouldered sire and from infancy had simply accepted as natural law anything he said. Whatever he and her mother had in mind for their daughter was now going to happen and she would simply have to endure it, no matter how unpleasant it might be. Deserea felt that she had screwed up badly and was going to have to pay for her errors.

She was surprised to discover, when her mother came downstairs that punishment didn't seem to be in the offing. "There will be a Gathering tomorrow evening and you will accompany us," Victoria announced between bites of fresh croissant. "Therefore you and I will spend the day in preparation. A visit to Mario & Gina's is in order and then we will go shopping." Mario & Gina's? The most exclusive day spa in the southern half of the state? Deserea knew her father was very well-off but had no idea that her mother could loll away the hours is so decadent a manner.

And apparently Victoria was a regular at the spa because they were welcomed warmly and by name upon arrival. Deserea, especially, was the center of comment and compliment by the attentive staff. She was beginning to feel that perhaps nothing "terrible" was going to happen to her, after all.

The visit began with a sit in the sauna where the heat and steam began to relax the girl from her earlier anxiety; though sharing the hot room and cedar benches with her naked mother was a little disturbing, at first. Where Deserea was sylph-like and slender, her mother was deep bosomed and broad hipped, a perfect and perfectly luscious size 16. Other women might have wanted to reduce that size but Victoria, once nude, swayed like an ancient Hindu temple dancer, her DD breasts bouncing liquidly and her flexed thighs seeming always about to break into the most lascivious dance imaginable.

After the sauna came a facial, a manicure and pedicure, the hair relaxation and installation of a long braid so that her locks now came clear down to the dimples above her ass. This was followed by a whole body Brazilian waxing! The sharp sensation of every hair below her eyebrows being pulled both hurt and stimulated the girl. So did the amazing thought that her mother; her mother, was smooth "down there" and apparently had been for years. Victoria then announced that for the finale, a long massage was in order. The attendant's fingers worked magic up and down Deserea's spine sending her into a languid sense of relaxation. The little Vietnamese masseuse then rolled the girl onto her back and worked her magic on the front side for a while until, when it seemed that she was finished, she casually reached down and gave Deserea's large, dark nipple a slow, twisting pull.

"No, no! I don't go that way!" protested the girl, but her mother's voice cut her complaint off in mid-stream.

"Des, Jasmine is the best there is and worth whatever tip she wants. Today it seems she wants you . . . so lie back and enjoy!" Remembering her father's orders to neither question nor argue, the girl apprehensively did as directed. To her astonishment, Jasmine unzipped her crisp, white uniform and, letting it drop to the floor, stood completely nude. Climbing up onto the massage table she lay full length on Deserea's body, pressed her lips against Des' and forced her tongue between them. Between fierce kisses she took the girl's breasts in both oily, slippery hands and began to twist, tug and knead her nipples until they stood straight up. As Jasmine writhed atop her, an electrifying warmth spread down Deserea's body to the joining of her thighs until she clawed at the small woman's back and her juices began to flow. The moisture combined with the massage oil and the masseuse's own fluids to make an exquisitely slippery blend that only added to the girl's heat. Blood rushed into her nether regions and out of her brain as she let go of all thought and released herself to glorious sensation, panting and moaning with desire. After squeezing, pulling and slapping the mahogany globes back and forth, Jasmine next sat up, spread Deserea's unresisting thighs wide, lifted one over her shoulder and slid between them. Scooting forward and displaying remarkable flexibility, the panting masseuse managed to seize an erect nipple in her mouth (and bite down hard enough to make the girl cry out) thrust her hips up and down, pounding Deserea in a frenzy of frottage.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, God! Oh! Ahhhhhhh . . .!" they screamed in duet as the orgasm swept over them and subsided into whimpers of relief.

"My little chocolate bar, you really are the most delicious thing," Jasmine purred when they both regained their breath.

She pulled a light blanket over Deserea and let her slip into happy slumber. Just as the girl drifted off, she heard Jasmine leer and quietly announce, "Now I'm going to have your mother!"

Over lunch, both women regarded each other with satisfied smiles as Victoria explained,

"You see, dear, this nonsense of gay vs. straight is unnatural. The terms 'homosexual' and 'heterosexual' didn't even exist until the late 19th Century and the prejudice against same-sex contact didn't exist until the 14th. No one even knows how it came about. Other mammals and many birds swing both ways and there is no reason why people shouldn't as well. I love your father dearly but wouldn't want to give up Jasmine for all the tea in China . . . or Vietnam, as the case may be."

"Does Jasmine understand all this?" queried her daughter. "She seems to be kind of . . . single-minded?"

"Theoretically she does," responded Victoria "but not personally, not yet. I'm just waiting for the proper moment to turn your father loose on her. That will convince her, let me tell you! He is the most delightfully virile man . . . And now, let's go shopping!" The shopping, it turned out, was to be done in the local Little India part of town in a shop that looked like many others, full of brass tables, carved elephants and gewgaws of many sorts. Ms. Smyth-Jefferson hardly slowed down upon arrival, as a cell phone call from the Jaguar had the proprietor waiting for them at the door. He bowed them into a cool, dark inner room and brought out black, velvet lined boxes of what looked superficially like the brass belly-dance jewelry in the front but which gleamed with that unmistakable quality of real, high-carat gold.

"These are just what I want, Rajeev," Victoria murmured, "Visually, that is. However, the sound must be right as well. They will be no good for dancing if they only rattle and tinkle a bit. We must be able to hear them ring!"

"Ah, Ms. Smyth-Jefferson that is a problem I knew you would be concerned about and which I have, after some investigation, solved." Mr. Singh smiled through his black, curly mustache and beard. He opened another box. "Here," the man offered, "We have bells that are of true instrument quality bronze but which have been plated with 22 carat in just the correct amount to make them gleam but not with so much as to dampen the sound. Listen!" Rajeev took out a string of the little bells and holding them up near his turban, shook them gently. Deserea felt that somehow a band of fairies had wandered into the shop just after them. Ching-a-ching! The sound was brilliant, nearly intoxicating.

"For a most reasonable fee, we can substitute all the original little tinklers with these real bells and the effect should be electrifying."

"Rajeev, you are a complete scoundrel and the greatest salesman on the planet! Fortunately, you are unique, as well. If there were many more like you Charles would take away all my credit cards and I would have to work for my money!" Victoria smiled.

"Please do as you suggest but make sure they are delivered tomorrow morning, eh? We will want the necklace, a 34" belt, two different sets of earrings and matching bracelets and anklets. And just put it on the house tab. Charles knows what I'm doing today so it won't come as any surprise when the bill hits the bank."

"Madam," the jeweler intoned as he bowed, "Your wish is our command. Expect a currier no later than 9:00 am. That should give you plenty of time for tomorrow evening."

Deserea sat quietly in the car as they returned home. Deciding that a comment was neither a question nor an argument she blurted out, "Mommy, you just dropped over $130,000 in hand-wrought gold!"

The answer came as a sigh. "Deserea, my love, it simply has never sunk into your lovely little head just how good a lawyer you father really is, has it? He can easily take off for weeks to fly-fish with his friends and the retainers fees from people and businesses who want to make sure he's on their side can support us in luxury. Remember the York Financial collapse and settlement, the one with that horrifying number of zeros in the total value? Your father's fee for managing to salvage the company and satisfy the creditors, (without hurting anyone's pension fund, may I add) came to 1%. If he handed over the firm to McAllister and retired this afternoon we could continue to live the same way we do now and still be richer next year than we are today. Yes, I know exactly how much I spent and so will Daddy. We also know exactly what we're doing. What did he tell you this morning, neither question nor argue?"

"Yes, mother," replied her daughter and that was the last word.

As the memories faded, the Jaguar pulled up and parked in an almost painfully respectable neighborhood. The Smyth-Jefferson's disembarked and strolled casually to a house that was distinguished for its subtle Japanese landscaping and for its forecourt that completely obscured the front door. When the door was opened, the reason became obvious as before them; laughing with delight and clad in not one stitch more than Deserea had on under her caftan was Elizabeth Oppenheimer, her Advanced Placement English teacher. Ms. Oppenheimer was notorious for her insistence on proper deportment in the classroom and the sight of her near-naked body almost made Deserea faint. Not that there was anything wrong with the body. It seemed that under her severe blouses and skirts, Ms. Oppenheimer kept herself fit and trim, but still . . . her teacher?

"Darlings, you've arrived at last! We're so very glad to see you!"

With a ringing flurry of her own bells, Ms. Oppenheimer launched herself into Charles' arms and planted a long, hard kiss on his mouth while running her hands down his neck and across his shoulders.

Deserea remembered her mother's admonition, "At the Gathering you will be greeted by every member with a kiss and a caress. It will be neither a clumsy grope nor an impassioned fondling, it will be an affectionate caress and you will either respond in kind or with a little flirting. I normally use the former on the women and the latter on the men but the choice is yours."

Charles' obviously shared his wife's preferences, for he returned Ms. Oppenheimer's touch by running his hands slowly down her ribs to her waist and bare hips, lingering there until the hostess turned her attention to Victoria. The women embraced warmly, stroking the undersides of each other's left breasts to more tinkling and then her previously fierce and stern teacher turned her attention to Deserea.

"Dearest little Deserea! It's wonderful to see you here. Now quick, out of that cover and let me see your body."

Stunned, the girl unzipped the caftan with shaking hands and handed it to her mother who was already out of hers. Now all three women stood regarding each other wearing nothing but makeup, jewelry and a silk band between their thighs.

"Lovely, just lovely," murmured Ms. Oppenheimer, "you are obviously your mother's daughter. Where else could you have gotten such elegant breasts and thighs? Turn around and let me see your bottom . . . delightful!" she exclaimed, giving the bare ass a pinch; "My dear, you will be the hit of the evening. Oh, Victoria, did I let you know that Sonya McAllister has brought Justin? She says that he has made good progress in his muscle control and will need a surrogate to complete his training. Perhaps the two of you have already discussed . . .?"

Justin McAllister? Oh, God, no! Her father's major partner's son was the shy, gawky and prodigiously talented captain of their high school's swimming and water polo teams and had been since his sophomore year. All expectations were that the rippling McAllister muscles would be representing the US at the next summer Olympics but for unstated reasons, Justin had shrugged off the multiple offers of athletic scholarships and stayed at home to attend Junior College. And now he was here at the Gathering and there was no way Deserea could avoid being seen by him, nearly naked, in public. Given the probable course of the evening she might even be expected to . . .

Ms. Oppenheimer was still speaking to Deserea, "First, dearest, my name is Elizabeth and that is how you address me. All the women address each other by first name and the men formally. So your mother is Victoria and your father Mr. Smyth-Jefferson. The only exception will be Justin, whom you will mostly keep away from until his training is complete, and Master Harold, our senior adept. Now take your luscious little self outside where the food is and meet everyone else." A gentle push on her butt propelled the girl out into the huge, tree-sheltered yard. She didn't notice that the conversation behind her had dropped in volume but doubled in intensity as the adults conferred.

And as (bad) luck would have it the first people she met under the gas heaters and between the fireplaces were the McAllisters. Sonya was a tiny, birdlike woman whose pixie-ish little breasts still stood high and proud on her ribcage. She was a couple of years older than Deserea's mother and it was almost impossible to believe that this animated sprite was the mother of four strapping sons, of whom Justin was the last. She trilled a happy, Hungarian-accented greeting and kissed the girl soundly, cuddling her face as she did so. Deserea responded in like manner then turned to Angus McAllister. It was obvious where Justin got both his height and his shoulders but where the boy was lean and six-packed, his father was massive. Angus had been a near professional quality rugby player in the UK before coming to the States to attend law school and to end up as senior partner to Mr. Smyth-Jefferson. He still looked as though he could still run over anyone unlucky enough to get between him and the goal. He, too, kissed Dezzie soundly and warmly while running his huge hands down her back and over her buttocks. The girl decided that perhaps a little flirting was in order so she winked and stuck out the tip of her tongue at him before turning with sinking heart to their son.

It was in that moment Deserea realized that just perhaps she wasn't the most put-upon person there. If anything, Justin was more embarrassed and unsure of himself than she was. He tried to kiss her on the mouth but missed, hitting her left eye instead. His attempt at a caress consisted of taking one of her hands in both of his and holding it while gawking at her helplessly. Suddenly her heart went out to him and her loins melted. The poor boy was well known to be very shy outside of a pool and now he stood, flaming with embarrassment, in a backyard of nearly naked women. Worst of all, one of them was his mother! Deciding that firm action was needed here, Deserea took both of Justin's hands and placed one solidly on each of her ass cheeks. Then, throwing her arms around his neck, she pressed her bejeweled body against his and kissed him long and soundly rubbing her gold-adorned nipples across his bare chest. She felt his manhood rise through the baggy pants that all the men seemed to be wearing that night and responded by grinding her pelvis against it. As moisture began to dampen the silk between Deserea's thighs, Sonya gently placed her hands between the young people and pushed them apart.

Report Story

byvoluptuary_manque© 6 comments/ 21346 views/ 2 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

Next
2 Pages:12

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel