For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 07

(Author's note: for all those that sent kind words and wondered when or whether I would return, thank you for notes of encouragement. Being a mother, wife, and member of the workforce has kept me exceptionally busy these last few months. For those who had hoped I had written my last, my apologies for disappointing you.

As I have not written for a while, it probably makes sense to repeat the following disclaimer:

Please note this is a continuation of my story "For The Weekend", and will probably make more sense if you read that first. I like to develop plot and characters, so if you are looking for a quick read, this may not be for you. While I do my best not to test the reader's willful suspension of disbelief too much, this ultimately is a story of fantasy—some of mine, some of my husband's, and some suggestions from the readers who have been encouraging me to continue this story. This is not real-life—no one catches diseases in this world, no one gets pregnant unless they want to, no one is physically or emotionally scarred. If you are not into stories about willingly submissive women, this story is probably not for you.)

*

"Well, THAT was interesting," Anne says as we pull out of the parking lot, trying for understatement of the year.

"Mrs. Beauchemin is a dominatrix," Tim says quietly. "Karen, remember the club Ian and Andrea talked about your first weekend? She's well known there. She actually teaches bondage and domination to those who have an interest. I'm going to guess the couple in there are students."

"Did you know how she was going to demonstrate her products?" I ask.

"No, Andrea just mentioned she had taken a class or two from her. She didn't say anything about her selling techniques, just that she had a thriving business. Did you enjoy the demonstration?"

"She scared me a little bit," Anne quickly admitted. "I've never seen a guy treated like that. Do you think he was liking it?"

"I'm willing to bet he was. All doms have a release word or phrase, he could have stopped whenever he wanted."

We are soon back at the hotel, the chill air of the parking garage assaulting our legs and bare asses, the skirts too short to provide much warmth as we stroll to the elevator at Tim's pace. I am grateful we don't have to go through the lobby dressed as we are, but my relief is short-lived as we stop at the first floor to let two middle-aged men on. They both break into grins as they spot Anne and I, Tim seeming not to notice. The door closes, and we all look forward, the men stealing peeks at us and nudging each other.

"So, who won the game?" one finally asks, unable to resist.

"I'm going to," Tim tells him calmly as we stop at the seventh floor. We step off and Tim makes sure to raise the backs of our skirts as I hear the doors begin to close behind us. I feel cool air, and know the two men got a show.

Tim opens the door to our room and steps in behind us. Anne and I drop our bags and she looks at me, as if asking for guidance. I begin removing my jacket, then push my skirt down and lift my jersey over my head, revealing myself to him. Anne takes my lead and does the same, and in a moment he is presented with two naked women standing by the door.

He smiles at us, but leaves us standing there as he pours himself a drink. He does not forget us completely, and soon we each are holding a glass of wine in our hands, still standing by our discarded clothes. Tim kicks off his shoes and looks at us with a bemused smile.

"Anne, one of the things I have stressed to Karen is that she must do as I say, when I say it. I expect this from you this weekend, as well.

I bring this up because Karen forgot one of my rules when you both first arrived. She—and you—must remove your clothes when you enter this room unless I tell you otherwise. Now, you didn't know this when you first came in, but you do now, and you did the right thing just a few moments ago.

Karen, however, knew the rule, but didn't comply when her husband brought her to me a few hours ago. I have to assume she didn't feel the need to while he was here, but she was wrong. So, she must be punished." This declaration produces both excitement and fear in me.

Tim leaves us standing where we are and moves to a bag on the floor near the coffee table. After a moment of rummaging, he stands up holding what appears to be black stick with strands hanging from it. I grow more nervous—what is he planning to do with that?

He comes back to where we are standing and takes my wineglass from my hand. "Karen, go bend over the arm of the couch, please." I do as I'm told, trusting that Tim is just looking to make a point with my friend, and not really hurt me.

He moves to where I am bent over and after putting my glass down, kicks my ankles apart to open me more to his gaze.

"Anne, come here." I do not dare look, but the sound of her glass clinking on the table tells me he has taken hers as well.

"The reason I didn't take up Mrs. Beauchemin's offer to view her cat-o-nine tails is because I already have one," he tells us. So that's what a cat-o-nine tails is, I think to myself. Another useful piece of information learned... I feel the leather strands lightly flick across my upturned ass. My mind races back to the dominatrix's description of the lines hers could leave on unprotected flesh. I shiver a bit, Tim knows I don't like pain...

He uses the same light flick on my cheeks a couple more times, more of a tickle than a sting with the force he is swinging it. There is a pause, and then those same strands are flicking between my spread legs, landing lightly against my pussy lips. The possibility he might swing harder makes me flinch a bit.

Tim chuckles a bit, then stops. "I think she's getting the idea of what this can feel like in the right hands," she tells my friend, "but I want to make sure. Here, I want you to leave a stripe or two on that ass of hers."

"I can't hurt her—she's my friend!" Anne protests, her voice full of shock and conflict.

"There's no better way for you both to learn," he says calmly. There is another pause, followed by an anguished groan, and her first blow lands on my right cheek. I jump, but realize the blow was not much more than what Tim had done a few moments earlier. He laughs. "Your arm will get tired before you leave any marks that way," he admonishes. "Harder."

Her next blow is harder, but not by much. "I'm sorry," she tells him, "I can't do it. Can I have her punishment instead?"

"As well, you mean," he says in that same steady voice. "If you can't do it, I'll have to punish you as well. Would you like that, to be bent over next to her while I use that on both of you?"

"If you have to," she says, her voice subdued, but to my experienced ear, in a play-acting tone. "But I'm sorry, she's my best friend..."

There is a pause, and I suspect Anne is about to be told to join me on the arm of the couch. "I will have to punish you," he says finally, "but I have a feeling you might enjoy it more than you should. So, both of your punishments will be determined later."

"Let's see if our shopping trip had an effect on either one of you. Why don't you both go in the other room and lie on the bed?" His tone has changed to something lighter, as if he's suggesting we see what's on TV. I find myself both relieved and disappointed by this delay of sentence.

Anne moves first, moving to the other room and going to the side of the bed before climbing on and lying back, her head on the pillow, hands folded on her stomach, legs crossed at her ankles. I straighten and join her, lying to her right, assuming the same position she has taken. Even after the past few weeks of activity, I still feel a little strange laying next to my best friend, both of us completely exposed to this man, available for his pleasure.

Tim follows us in and looks us over as he takes another swig from his glass. He smiles, and after putting down his drink, begins to remove his clothing. His shirt is first, revealing that chest full of silvery hair I have grown to enjoy running my fingers through, then his socks, then finally his pants and underwear. He stands there in all his glory, his erection proudly pointing upwards. His eyes never leave us as he begins to casually fist his cock, kneeling on the edge of the bed before shuffling towards us. His free hand reaches for my right ankle first, pulling it away from its counterpart, towards Anne's legs. I take the hint and move my other leg to expose myself fully to him. He repeats the process with Anne's left leg, moving it so it crosses mine below the shin. She is a little slower to grasp what he wants, and he takes his hand off of his hardness long enough to reach for her other ankle. She suddenly understands and spreads for him, her leg moving to the edge of the bed.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, and bends to kiss my sex, his tongue making contact with my clit. I arch my back to lift it closer to his lips, to let him circle it briefly before he runs down my slit as far as he can given the angle he is at. He straightens again and smiles at me, then bends to repeat the process with Anne. She gasps, and her hand finds mine, clutching it as she is tasted by this stranger. Satisfied, he sits back on his haunches, his cock almost flat against his stomach.

"I love the taste of a woman," he tells us. "Each and every pussy is different, but each one has its own special quality. What do you think, Karen? Don't you think your friend here tastes different than Andrea?"

"I don't know," I stammer. "I've never...done that...to her..."

Tim seems genuinely surprised. "You two spent that whole day together and you never once went down on her? Anne, you gave your friend a lick or two, didn't you?"

Anne shakes her head. "We were busy in other ways..."

He laughs. "Well, I'll have to see to it that you both get a taste of the other this weekend. But for now," he says as he moves to lay beside me, between my body and the edge of the bed, "I think its Karen's turn to make me cum." His strong hands roll me on to my side, facing Anne. She rolls a little on to her side, her head turned on the stack of pillows towards us, unashamedly hoping to view the coupling about to take place beside her. Tim's cock is jabbing between my asscheeks, poking against my still closed thighs. I take the hint and lift my leg to allow him access. His hand comes across my arm to grasp my breast, and his cock now slides between my lips. He seems in no hurry to insert himself into me, though.

Anne's free hand has strayed close to her sex, seemingly unaware that she is lightly stroking her waist as her eyes travel from my neck where Tim is nuzzling me, then on to his hand as it teases my erect nipple, and on to where his cock emerges and disappears from between my legs as he thrusts.

From behind me, Tim notices the downward progression of her gaze, as well. "Put me in her," he growls from behind my ear. Anne's eyes fly to mine for a moment, then returns to where his cock is sawing between my lips. Her hand leaves the circling of her hipbone and slowly moves between my legs, the palm pressing against my own nub. My hips jerk instinctively at the pressure, trying to get all of my nerve endings involved. I feel her hand flex as Tim withdraws slightly, and then his bulbous head is at my opening, Anne's fingertips brushing my lips as she pushes him into position. With a thrust, he buries himself in me. I moan softly, breathing "so nice," to the man behind me, to the woman in front.

Anne doesn't remove her hand from us, continuing to press against my clit with the heel of her palm while her fingers occasionally brush against my spread lips as she strokes and tickles the cock and balls pleasuring me. From behind my ear, Tim sighs contentedly and continues to work my breast and nipple, stroking, then kneading, then pulling, then stroking again. I am dimly aware of Anne's other hand finding its way to her tits as she lies facing me, eyes focused on my hips as I twitch to meet Tim's thrusts.

Through my half closed eyes I see hers come back up my body, searching for mine. We look at each other and smile, and she brings her lips to me, our kiss gentle at first, building as our tongues find each other and begin to dance. The feel of a male hand on my waist pulling me onto him, taking me, using me, while a woman's lips and hand offer another sensation altogether is absolutely delicious. I lose track of time as we all move together.

I am beginning my final climb to climax when Tim's thrusting becomes more urgent, so much so that Anne's hand begins to lose contact with my mound. "Do you know what I'm going to do?" he asks in a low voice.

I break my kiss with Anne and nod my head. "Mmm-hmm," I moan.

"Tell your friend what I'm going to do."

My orgasm is building. "He's going to cum..."

"Where? Where am I going to cum?" He teases me by abruptly stopping his motion and withdrawing his cock until the head is nestled just inside my lips.

"My cunt, my cunt, he's going to cum in my cunt," I squeal as I thrust my hips back at him, desperate to slide him back into me. I know he likes me to call it that, to use that raw, sexual word, to hear it come from my prim and proper lips.

"Good girl. Beg for it."

"Please, please cum in me! Cum in my cunt, fill me up, please, I need it!" Through half open eyes, I can see Anne looking back, her expression one of lust and anticipation.

And then he is back in me, resuming his assault on my pussy, his thrusts quick and violent. I sense, rather than see, that Anne's hand has moved to her own sex while the other works her nipples. Her eyes are wide and focused on me, and her mouth is formed into an 'O' as she watches me expression change as my excitement builds and my body used.

With a final thrust, Tim tenses and pulls my hip so hard I'm sure I'll have a bruise in the morning. He looses himself in me and I can imagine each spurt splashing into my womb, filling me as I begged him to. The eroticism of the act puts me over the edge, and my hand flies to my clit to finish the job. Anne has already begun her orgasm, and is starting to come back to earth as I leave my senses. I am dimly aware of two hands gently stroking me as I return, one callused and strong, the other soft and gentle.

We all lie in these positions motionless for some time, Tim not even bothering to remove his cock from me, instead allowing it to just soften and retreat from my cunt on its own. Anne and I eventually open our eyes and smile at each other, both a little embarrassed over what has just happened. She moves closer to me and snuggles while Tim continues to hold me from behind.

We are beginning to doze when Tim rolls off the bed and moves to where the liquor bottles sit. He grabs a glass and opens the ice bucket, then frowns. "Hmmm, getting low here." He takes the bucket into the bathroom and we hear the sound of water and ice being dumped into the sink. He returns shortly, completely at ease with his nudity, standing at the end of the bed. "Need some more ice. There's a machine just down the hall. Anne, can you go get some more for us?"

She rolls off the bed and takes the bucket from him. "Yes sir," she says, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Do you have a robe I can use? I didn't bring one this weekend..."

"Oh, I don't think you'll need one. The machine is just down the hall." I can see she is hesitating, unsure what to do, and the sexual blush on her chest is replaced by the redness of her cheeks. She finally steels up her courage and moves out of the room, heading for the doorway.

"Alright."

She disappears around the corner and Tim turns to me. "Why don't you wait at the door for her? We wouldn't want it to shut behind her, now would we?"

I get up and follow her to where she stands looking through the peephole, trying to determine if there is anyone out there. With a deep breath, she swings the door open and peeks into the hallway, head swiveling back and forth, looking for bystanders. The coast is clear, and she bolts through the opening to the right at a run. I can't resist taking a look, and pop my head through the opening, doing my best to use the door as a shield for my modesty.

Anne is halfway down the hallway, looking at each doorway as she passes, looking for the open area that contains the ice machine, her ass bouncing a bit as she runs. She reaches the end of the hallway and turns back, resuming her panicked tiptoed-jog as she heads back to the doorway I am peeking out from. Her breasts make irregular orbits and bounce off each other as she hurriedly retraces her steps, again checking each doorway for the missing appliance.

My position behind the door leaves my ass exposed to Tim, and he does not miss the opportunity. I feel his finger reach between my legs to pull some of his recent deposit from my pussy towards my anus. I stiffen, but do not move. "Tell her it's the other end of the hall," he says from behind me, beginning to work his cum around my tight ring.

"Down this way," I quietly hiss, not wanting to draw the attention of the guests in their rooms. She looks at me, eyes wide with panic and excitement, and moves even faster, her tits flailing wildly as she carries the bucket in front of her. Anne passes our door, eyes flitting towards us as she passes in the hopes she will be called back in. Tim says nothing at her approach and passing as he slides his thumb into my ass. I only flinch a little at the invasion.

"Spread your legs," he commands, and I do my best to comply while maintaining the view of my friend's progress. Anne has reached the open area to the right of the bank of elevators and disappears from view. I hear the machine begin to fill the bucket as Tim's finger finds my other opening, both digits easily sliding in and out of me. Another sound now comes down the empty hallway—the sound of an elevator tone announcing its arrival on this floor.

The sound of the ice hitting the bucket stops as well, and Anne's head appears from her doorway. She stares at the elevator door, the red call light brightly lit above it, then to where my head still sticks out from safety. I can tell she is debating whether she can make it back to the room before the elevator's arrival cuts off her retreat.

Her question is answered in the next second as the door begins to slide opens. Anne's head quickly ducks back out of my sight, but I linger for a moment, a part of me wanting to see how this will play out. A middle-aged couple steps out of the car, both dressed in evening attire, obviously coming back from a night on the town. They step out of the car and are even with the open area where my naked friend is trapped when they both look up from their steps and focus on me peering around the door. The need to remove myself from their gaze outweighs my desire to observe Anne's fate, and I move back inside, not quite closing the door as I straighten up a bit to let it swing by me. Tim's fingers are still at work inside of me. I hear the sound of the couple walking by our room, followed a moment later by an electronic lock being swiped and a door being opened, then closed. I move quickly to resume my watch for Anne, swinging our own door open just as she appears in front of it, clutching the ice bucket and breathing heavily.

I straighten again, keeping my legs spread for Tim's hand, and swing the door open. My position does not allow her to enter enough to close the door behind her, and Tim's hold on me does not allow me any freedom to back up. We all stand there for what seems an eternity, Anne unsure how to ask him to move enough to let the two nude women in front of him get out of the open doorway. She finally holds out the ice to him. "Your ice...sir?"

His fingers leave me and takes the ice, then moves away. I take a step backwards and allow Anne the space she needs to close the door, which she does very quickly. Tim, meanwhile, comes back carrying our glasses of wine, which he hands to us. Anne gulps hers, trying to calm her nerves.