Fleeing From Her Mistress

She held the new girl's silk clad tits. She watched the nipples swell at the centre where the ring's imprint shone. She felt the arousal like the new girl felt it. And she pushed the new girl's fat glossy lips into a pout.

"Welcome, pretty new Kristie", she purred. "Please help stupid old Kristie. Don't you ever leave her again. Not ever".

***

The club's bar was bustling with people.

Blue curtains of smoke billowed under tiny spotlights that swarmed the ceiling. Jazzy music filled the semi darkness. It seeped into its deepest niches.

At least twenty sets of eyes flashed in her direction. They took in every outrageous inch of her body. She almost felt their caressing touch. A million tiny bumps rose from her skin.

The heavy bar had a horseshoe shape. There was one empty leather-and-brass stool. She walked over to it, conscious of her tits and ass at every careful step. She climbed onto the stool. Her tube skirt slid up two inches. It exposed the paleness of her skin.

Many eyes had accompanied her until she sat. Then most of them returned to where they had dwelled before. But a few never left her. These were set inside the skulls of three young male Caucasians. They usually followed the instructions of a swelling organ between their thighs.

Yes, Kristie knew what a nice girl like her was doing in a place like this. And yes, she'd love a white wine and ice, please. And thank you for all the sweet compliments. And no, she did not smoke. But she giggled.

One of the three was a freckled redhead with a great smile and wide shoulders. It was with him that she shared the first dance, and the feel of his promising bulge against her thigh. But before his hand really reached her ass, he was politely tapped on his shoulder. His small, olive skinned buddy took over. He might be smaller, but his bulge seemed more aroused. Or maybe he already was much bigger to start with.

Kristie rubbed into it. She felt a lovely glow spread from her crotch and all over her body. He was a great dancer too. She was rather disappointed when the chubby blonde guy took over. He was a talker, not a dancer. She had to fear for her almost unprotected feet.

They returned to her stool. And she knew it wasn't only the ice in her wine that seemed broken. The tiny circle around her shrank to a solid wall of male flesh. It seemed to sprout branches. They touched her in a million places. But she mostly felt them where her curves were. She smiled to let them know she knew. What the heck. And the branches sprouted even more fingers. They covered her with a magnetic shield of caresses.

Oh God, she loved this. She wriggled. And she spread her thighs as far as her tight skirt allowed,. She felt a warm dry hand slide up her inner thigh. Another hand had long since cupped her right silver tit. A third one even slipped inside the top to rub a shrieking nipple. She closed her eyes and moaned. Then she lifted her ass.

She allowed the hand to crawl all the way up to her drenched cunt.

The only one who could see her, was the lady bartender. She understood perfectly well what was going on. Kristie knew her. She was a member of the same fitness club she went to. They had made love a few times. If the girl was surprised to see her with guys, she never let on. She just winked and went on with her business.

The third wine was her fifth of the last two hours. A sweet slow dizziness spread over her like a moist blanket. She slid off the stool and bid the wall to open. Then she started her way to the restrooms. She reached those after a few less elegant stumbles. In one of the stalls she pulled her skirt up and sat down on a toilet bowl. She released her bladder with a sigh.

My God, Kristie. Ah well, it's fun, isn't it?

She dabbed at her crotch with a soft piece of toilet paper. She drew threads of crystal clear juices. Aaaah, so wet she was. This new Kristie was a little wet slut, indeed. Grin.

She let down her skirt and flushed. Then she walked back into the powder room. The blonde bartender stood at the centre.

"Hi, Kristie," she said. "My, girl, you are having fun."

"Hello, Melanie". She made Kristie grin.

"For a self proclaimed lesbian you see a lot of guys," Melanie said.

"Jealous?" Kristie asked. She tried to sound playful.

Melanie did not laugh. She stepped aside to allow Kristie to wash her hands. After that Kristie passed her to find the exit. The girl rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Go home, Kristie. Believe me, these guys will hurt you."

Kristie shrugged her shoulder free. She snapped:

"Don't you tell me, Melanie. You don't know me."

And she walked into the bar again. The trio of guys cheered her return. They had been biding their time, nursing their aching erections.

Half an hour and two more wines later she sat in the leather sports seat of a black Porsche. It raced through the empty streets, followed by a Mercedes convertible. The penthouse was at the top of a posh condo on the beach. She had often admired it whenever she passed by.

The guys were all over her, even before they went into the elevator. Her silver top got torn up before she could get out of it. The olive guy had his monster inside her cunt before she could take off her skirt.

***

At last the first rays of a new sun licked the walls of the penthouse. Kristie lay spent and spread-eagled amidst a heap of sheets and pillows. She snored softly. The sperm on her skin and hair already started to congeal. Her open lips blew tiny bubbles of slime. Trickles of cum left her reddish cunt lips. And the tight star below it.

A soft lining of snow laced her nostrils.