Eva's Education

'You're wondering if they hurt, right?' she said, smiling. Slightly embarrassed, I muttered that I supposed they must.

'They do, yes,' she confirmed, 'but they excite me too. I sometimes cum almost without touching myself. Perhaps you'd like to try some?'

'I….I…don't know,' I said, hesitantly.

'Look,' she said, 'I'm Tina, and I know you're Eva. Perhaps we can talk during the evening – would you like that?'

I looked at her, and decided that, yes, I should very much like that. I said as much, and went back to join my colleagues.

Men were arriving then, and I recognised my footballer-client, 'Ed,' together with a couple of equally well-known friends, as well as several familiar faces from television. Our hostess had pushed back a folding screen, doubling the size of the lounge, and large speakers started to throw out rock music. Almost immediately, it was silenced and Marta's amplified voice announced that food was to be found on a table at the far end of the room. The music restarted, but nobody wanted to dance just yet, and most seemed more interested in picking at the delicacies served up on the table, and charging their glasses. The men seemed to be busy watching the girls, and probably comparing notes as to which they found the most attractive. As I nibbled at the attractive array of goodies laid out, I assessed the talent. One of the footballers was dishy, in a muscular sort of way, there was a well-known rock-singer who I rather liked the look of, but the guy who really caught my eye was a tall, slim, grey haired man, probably in his early fifties, strikingly handsome, in a dinner jacket, but the top button of whose dress shirt was undone, his black tie draped casually around the collar. His deep-set grey eyes were smiling down on Tina, who was clutching his arm. My heart leapt as she steered him towards me.

'This is Eva,' she said, in English, then to me: 'Eva, you must meet my friend Hugo.'

I offered him my hand, and, rather than shake it, he pressed it to his lips.

'Delighted to meet you, my dear,' he said, 'Tina has an excellent taste in friends. I congratulate you on your dress-sense, by the way.'

I flushed when I realised that he had noticed my revealing gown, but what I tried to mutter in reply was drowned by the music, and I sensed anyway that Tina was eager to draw Hugo away to dance.

I didn't lack for dancing partners during the ensuing couple of hours, and plenty of them seemed to have massive erections pushing against my stomach. I had my arse well and truly fondled as we danced slow numbers, but I couldn't get Hugo out of my mind, try as I might. He monopolised Tina, and once, when the lights were low for a slow number, and I was being groped enthusiastically by a young actor, they passed close by, and I saw clearly that Hugo had his hand up under Tina's blouse, and was tugging down on the silver chain that connected her nipple clamps. She gave a distinct moan of pain as he did so, and I expected to see her walk away from him, but when we passed them again, they were kissing deeply, her arm snaked tightly around his neck. I was more fascinated than ever, and excused myself from my partner.

Petra saw me sat alone, and came up to me, saying, 'Come on, why don't we have a dance?'

It was all slow numbers and dimmed lights now, which seemed popular with the gathering, as the floor was crowded, but I noticed that we were not the only female-only couple dancing, as Marta was in a clinch with one of the black girls, her white dress a startling contrast to the dark skin of her lithe partner.

I found Petra's perfumed embrace surprisingly pleasant, and the feel of her long fingers around my buttocks was quite unlike the male ones that had groped me so far that evening, as she stroked me coolly, then she ssurprised me further by kissing me on the lips, first tentatively, then gently pushing her studded tongue between them, to click against my own. I responded by opening my mouth to her, and moaned quietly when she explored its interior with her questing, probing, silver-decorated tongue.

'I'd like to do that to your cunt,' she whispered lewdly.

'I'd love that,' I told her, and meant it. I had had a brief taste of Sapphic love with the rampant Trini, and was eager for more. The tenderness of a woman's touch was something no man could replicate. I felt I should never be wholly Lesbian, by any means – I enjoyed the feeling of a pulsing, live cock inside me too much for that – but, hey, life was too short for me not to sample everything, and live it to the full.

It was as if Petra read my mind, because she said, 'Let's go our own ways right now, and meet tomorrow, what do you say? We can try to get to know each other better, if you know what I mean, darling.'

So saying, she trailed the tips of her long-nailed fingers across my breasts, and I showed her just the tip of my tongue, between my slightly parted teeth, in a gesture which spoke clearer than words. I wasn't surprised that I had to go to the toilet then, to dry my sopping pussy, as juices were starting to run down my upper thighs.

The rest of Marta's party was, for me at least, something of an anticlimax, even though an aging rock singer I danced with got so steamed up that I had to steer him into the cloakroom and give him a spot of hand-relief. He came in a rapid spurt almost as soon as I had his dick out, and then thanked me as profusely as if we had made passionate love for an hour.

I was relieved when it was time to go home and to bed.

It was late by the time I got to bed, so I slept until almost midday, and had a quiet lunch alone in my apartment, courtesy of my microwave, then settled doqwn for an afternoon in front of the television. It wasn't to be, because a knock on my door announced Petra, standing there with a smile on her lovely face and a bottle of twelve-year-old malt whisky in her hand.

'What do you want to do to me?' I asked, 'corrupt me?'

'No, darling,' she replied huskily, 'I just want to make love to you.' She put the whisky down on my coffee table, and went into my kitchen in search of glasses. She was wearing nothing but a short black silk slip, and black fluffy high-heeled mules. I had slipped on a kimono in which to watch the telly, so we were both almost naked when we sat together on the sofa, sharing a glass of the smooth liqueur, neither of us quite knowing how to make the first move.

I had an idea. My interset had been piqued a few days previously when I saw in a sale of classic videos a copy of the French movie 'l'Histoire d'O' and I had bought it out of curiosity, never having read the famous book I had heard so much about. I showed Petra the case, and asked her if she'd like to see it. She said he would, very much, so I slipped it into the machine.

The atmospheric old movie soon got to us, as 'O' was transported to Roissy, 'prepared' and brutally flogged and sodomised, all with her willing consent. Before very long at all, Petra's hand was on my thigh, stroking and moving aside my kimono, so that she could work her way ever upwards, up to my waiting, rapidly moistening crack. Meanwhile, I was caresing her wonderful, heavy breasts, so much more mature than my own, with their big aureola, and hard buttons of nipples, which seemed to grow in my hands, and even more when I pushed down her slip and bent to take them in my mouth, drawing a deep moan from her throat as I rasped my tongue stud across the sensitive buds.

I opened my legs to her now, the film forgotten, as 'O' encountered Sir Stephen, and Petra used both hands to prise open my outer lips, then withdrew slightly to admire the sight of my pink pussy, thus displayed, before forcing two figers deep, deep, into my cunt, and simultaneously seeking out my clitoris with her studded tongue.

'Oh, oh, oh, Petra, darling, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!' I yelled, and a monster orgasm overtook me at that very instant, shamefully quickly, causing me to shudder and my liquid to ooze all over Petra's face and hands.

'Oh, wow!' she said, 'you did need that! Now it's my turn!'

Before I had time to recover, she had pulled me by my hair, until my head was now down between her legs, in position to repay her in kind.

Although I had just hadaa massive orgasm, I was more than ready to give my friend the climax she needed, and found her pussy warm and inviting, as clean shaven as my own, her clit slightly more prominent than mine, and her lips puffier. I suspected she might respond to something, and, as I tongued her, I rammed a finger hard into her tight little arsehole. She screamed loudly as I did so, but when I started to pull it out, she gasped, 'No, no, darling, that's wonderful, oh, oh, aargh!'

With that she came, and actually squirted copiously, all over my face and my kimono.

'O' was being whipped yet again.

A good time elapsed, and we snoozed comfortably together, not saying a word, as the film came to its end, with the pretty blonde Jaqueline being set to follow, so willingly, in 'O's footsteps.

Eventually, Petra said, 'What did you make of the film then?'

I considered my reply. 'A fantasy, I suppose, but….but, well, the proposition is interesting -' I paused, '- exciting, even, don't you think?'

'Yes, I do, but….' She started.

'But where do you find a "Sir Stephen?"' I supplied.

'Well,' said Petra, 'I've high hopes of Hugo, you know. He has certain interesting tendencies.'

'But he seems to go for Tina, doesn't he?'

'I'm never afraid of a little competition, darling, are you?' she said, with an arch grin.

'But are you really sure you are ready to go in for……all that stuff? I mean, being whipped, and….well, isn't it all a bit extreme?'

'If you trust your master and really love him -' she paused and smiled, '- or your mistress, I suppose, you can take all the pain you are given, I think. But look, I'm getting all wet again right now, just talking about it, darling.'

She took my hand and held it to her pussy and she was, sure enough, sopping wet, despite having dried herself thoroughly after cumming earlier. In no time I had three fingers deep in her pulsing cunt, and as she pulled me to her and kissed me passionately, I knew that in her mind, she was being subjected to Hugo's cruel lash.

Petra meantime stroked my all-too-ready pussy once more, and some kind of thought-transferrence seemed to be sending me images of 'O' chained to her bedroom ceiling, being lashed mercilessly, and yet looking adoringly upon her torturer. I came, an altogether more gentle climax this time, but cradled in Petra's arms, I felt really good, and didn't want the moment to end.

End it did, however, and we were busy for the next several days, with several calls being made on our time by Marta, and a few visits to offices in connection with our papers. My clients were unremarkable during this period – a couple of minor politicians, an actor, and two or three businessmen, one a Japanese with a tiny cock but a massive appetite – he came four times in an hour, and I never felt a thing. I didn't see either of the other girls during this time, for more than a nod and a passing of the time of day.

Our papers came through at the end of June, when it was getting intolerably hot in Madrid, and many people were thinking of holidays. Marta came to see us with the good news, and announced that we were going to decamp to the coast for the summer. I was delighted.

The next day saw us on the AVE, the fast train to Málaga, from where we took a taxi to Marbella, where I was to share a big luxury apartment with Petra, Olga and Tina. It was heaven after the polluted city, and we all enjoyed the beach for a couple of days, waiting for our first assignment. Marta had warned us that we could expect a change in our role now that we were legal, and could be 'higher profile,' so it came as no surprise when she came around late one evening to tell us to prepare ourselves for a party next day. The difference was that this party was to be aboard a boat, and we were to be present as 'the entertainment.' I wasn't sure I liked being regarded as 'the entertainment,' but kept my mouth shut, thinking it was all part of the learning curve.

'What do we wear?' asked Olga.

'Party gear,' said Marta, 'and decide who does a striptease to set the ball rolling, OK?'

In the end, we elected Olga as our stripper – she was a very sexy mover, and had a lovely body, and retired to bed to get our beauty sleep.

When we saw the boat next afternoon, I was staggered. It was really the stuff of movies, with salons on two floors, joined by a wide staircase like that in a stately home. Everywhere there was oak panelling, thick silver-grey carpets and soft white leather sofas. It was the last word in luxury, and the guys who welcomed us aboard, though casually dressed in fashionable shorts and tee-shirts, were impeccably behaved, all five or six of them fit-looking characters, whose background, Marta had told us, was the world of finance. Hmmm, I thought, I'll bet this lot aren't based on the 'Costa del Crime' for nothing. Surprisingly, there emerged from below decks two young women also, both attractive blondes, very American looking, with lots of white teeth and hair-extensions. They were wearing tiny bikinis.

We were shown into a spacious salon on the upper deck, just a the boat was navigated smoothly out of the harbour. We were all in 'party dresses,' mine a shimmering silver mini-dress with a flared skirt, with which I wore nothing apart from matching silver heels. The sole exception was Olga, ho had prepared for her act by wearing a demure white, pleated, knee-length skirt and blue silk blouse, over black stockings and patent heels. She looked more like a young businesswoman than anything.

A chubby maid brought us drinks on a tray, and we were each invited to sit with one of the men. I found myself beside a guy in his forties, who introduced himself as Gonzalo. I was relieved that he, at least, seemed Spanish, as several of the others appeared to be German or Scandinavian. Why this made a difference, I didn't know.

There was a low stage in front of us, and Olga stepped onto it, signalling for the music to start. She had brought her own CD.

As she started to dance, I noticed that the two bikini-clad girls were very close together on a sofa to one side, and one of them had her hand on the upper thigh of the other. Then someone drew the heavy curtains across the big windows, and shone a spot on Olga, an I could scarcely make out anyone else. My own thigh was being stroked gently by Gonzalo, who wasn't half bad, I thought, when I regarded his profile.

Olga danced beautifully, sensually, running her hands up her long, nylon-clad legs, pulling her skirt up, just revealing the tops of her stockings, the white flesh above, and, so briefly, a glimpse of white silk panties. She unbuttoned her blouse, showed them, tantalisingly, her half-bra, with her nipples perched just above the lace frill.

Then, reversing 'standard ' striptease procedure, she slowly reached up under her skirt and pulled down her panties, still not revealing her shaven pussy, but letting her audience have the erotic knowledge of her nakedness. Then she turned her back on her audience, and raised her skirt slowly to her waist, showing the high arch of her garter belt, so that her round buttocks were fully revealed. With both hands, she prised her arse cheeks apart, showing everyone the proud prelubricated gape of her arsehole, into which she inserted her bunched fingers. They slid smoothly in, as all the men gasped, and I couldn't resist reaching over to feel Gonzalo's cock. It was rock-hard, and he was huge! I pulled it out of his shorts in an instant, and started to give him a hand-job, while Olga went on with her act, now removing the rest of her clothes.

Gonzalo pushed my head down in an unmistakeable non-verbal request for a blow-job, and I acceded to his demand, finding his cock pleasing in my mouth, and he moaned with pleasure as I deliberately traced the length of his shaft with my silver stud. His eyes never left Olga, though, as she was now naked, and, perched on an upholstered stool, was masturbating with the help of a huge glass dildo. As she pushed the corkscrewed instrument into the gaping hole of her cunt and moaned theatrically, my charge's cock leapt in my hand and I felt his whole body convulse as he came in hot spurts, deep in my throat. When I had licked him dry, and tucked his now-flaccid cock away in his shorts, I smiled at him, and said, 'Now you've done it! That's spoiled your afternoon.'

'Don't you believe it,' he said, 'get your sweet little pussy ready – you're going to be well screwed before an hour has passed!'

He was quite right, in fact, and then he had Petra as well, before we docked, while I was attending to his friend Manolo, an act in which the two lesbians joined in, just to show that they were really into equal-opportunity stuff. It was quite a party.

We all needed a couple of days to recuperate after the boat-party, and spent them on the beach, and shopping at the nice boutiques which abounded around the smart marinas.

I found I was enjoying the communal life in our apartment, and when Petra asked me if I minded if she slept with me, I thought I should faint from sheer happiness. The air-conditioning kept my room pleasantly cool, and we explored each others' bodies hungrily each night, sleeping together, our passions spent, our bodies entwined as one, often until ten or eleven in the morning, when one of the others had to come and wake us, which often ended in a hilarious pillow-fight.

Marta summoned us all into the lounge one afternoon and, looking a bit diffident, said, 'I've been asked to provide three girls for a special kind of weekend.'

'What kind of "special?"' Tina, the most senior of us, wanted to know.

'Right up your street, Tina, I should have thought,' replied our boss, 'but I don't know if any of the rest of you are in to that sort of thing – I'm sure you know what I mean.'

We all knew what she meant.

'You can count me out, that's for sure,' said Olga, a look of distaste on her pretty face.

'I'm up for it,' said Petra, her big blue eyes sparkling.

'You can count on me too,' I heard myself saying. It seemed like a chance to sample something which had long fascinated me – ever since, in fact, Petra and I had watched that film together.

'Are you sure, darling?' Petra was asking me, looking concerned, 'you've never experienced anything like this before, and…..and, well, I just don't want you to be hurt, you know.'

I looked at her, and a thought-tranference passed between us. She knew what I was thinking at that moment – that being hurt was what I most wanted, what I wanted to feel, to know how my body would respond. I felt, at that second, closer to Petra, than I had ever felt, or probably should ever feel, to anyone, in my whole life. And she could feel it too.

'I'm quite sure,' I quietly told Marta, 'when is it to be?'

'The day after tomorrow, at nine in the evening, after you have dined,' she said, 'I will fetch the clothes the three of you are to wear, and take you to the venue. You will need nothing else.'

That night, Petra held me close and said, 'You really sure about tomorrow, darling? Only I couldn't stand to see you hurt – unless, of course, it's what you want, my love!'

'I want to be like you, Petra,' I told her, 'I've scarcely thought about anything else since that time we watched the film together.'

She kissed me then, and we spoke no more.

Marta came just before dinner next day and helped Tina and I put our long hair up – Petra's blonde hair was short. After dinner she told us to undress and gave us each a short silk slip and a long fur-trimmed negligee to put on. My ensemble was white, Petra's red and Tina's black. We were each then given a pair of staggeringly high matching stilettos, and regaled with long pendant ear-rings. Over our negligees we donned capes that made us giggle, as we thought we all looked like Batman, to cover us decently as we were ushered out to our waiting transport.