Isle of Lays Ch. 07

A/N: It has been quite the while since I've been able to update this story. I hope you do enjoy this chapter. Feedback is most welcome, should you wish to let me know what you think of the story so far.

*****

Sitting at naked her villa workstation over a late lunch, Charlaine savored her bowl of osso bucco, sucking the marrow from the bone as she contemplated the metrics she was setting for the wake-up call, fantasy-fulfillment scenarios and, yes, the excellent in-house service at the Odalisque resort.

The word "spreadsheet" would never be the same for her again, really. There she was with her legs spread and her pussy wetter than the warm Pacific Ocean outside her window.

Tapping on her keyboard, she entered her matrices and observations, the map of pleasure she was measuring in exact and pristine detail. So far, the Odalisque was exceeding expectations.

Switching to her email, Charlaine checked for a response to her request to observe the interview, hiring and training of resort staff and smile with satisfaction as she read the reply of Mr. Jonas Buenas, the resort CEO.

Good morning Ms. Caro,

We are pleased to inform you that your request to observe the interview of applicants, hiring process and training of the staff has been approved.

We will have new applicants arriving tomorrow morning and you can spend the morning in the interview room. Our HR chief, Ms. Candace Green, will brief you on the processes involved in interviewing and hiring applicants and on the training process at 9:30 a.m.

Ms. Green will also brief you on the traning process after the interviews and hiring process are completed at noon.

We hope your stay at the Odalisque has been a satisfying one.

Sincerely yours,

Jonas Buenas

CEO, Odalisque Resorts

She shot back a quick note of acknowledgment and thanks, and got back to her metrics and assessments. Who knew one could be so businesslike in just one's skin?

+++

Inasmuch as she was working, though, Charlaine could not resist rubbing her hard clitoris (arousal is so easy under the right circumstances, and even work can be pleasure).

Charlaine leaned back as she spread her legs in front of the blinking webcam recording her self-loving and she couldn't help the thrill she felt that someone, somewhere was getting hot and bothered watching her touch herself so boldly.

Just as she felt her orgasm cresting, Charlaine heard heavy footfalls on the carpet behind her.

"Tsk, tsk, you don't need to do for yourself, beautiful one," she heard Pietro's voice floating down through her haze of lust. "We will take care of that pampered pink pussy of yours, bellissima. Just keep rubbing lightly while Pietro takes your plate out. I'll be back to help you reach that screaming orgasm."

Pietro gave her right earlobe a long, carnal lick and a light nip as he reached across her to take her plate and disappeared as she shivered from the little erotic aftershocks.

Charlaine eased up her rubbing a bit, moving to slower motions geared toward keeping her on the edge but not pushing her over. When Pietro returned, he had Matthew with him and they were stroking one another lightly, eyeing her as if she were the most delicious dessert, ever.

Pietro set a palette with daubs of the villa's edible paints down on the desk and Matthew pulled up a calligraphy paintbrush.

"You haven't tried this, I believe?" Was Matthew's question as he dipped his brush in a daub of Strawberry Champagne and mixed it with Vanilla Creme. "Sit back, spread those beautiful thighs and let me tap my inner artist. Pietro can tell me if I mixed the flavors right after the paint dries."

Pietro took up a post behind the ergo chair, rolling it back so Matthew would have space to move a footstool he could sit on as he painted Charlaine's quivering thighs.

The soft camel hair brushed in swirls and curlicues as Matthew painted magnolias and dogwood blossoms over Charlaine's legs, and a cleverly posed nymph over her belly. Pietro kept busy by playing with Charlaine's nipples, rolling them in strong white fingers that contrasted beautifully with her golden skin tone.

"Ah, bella donna, I cannot wait to see how well the paints' flavor blend with your sweat, your musk, your slick juices. I might take all month just on that navel," Pietro whispered between nips and licks at her neck and earlobe. "I want to spear both you and that spread-eagled nymph with my cock, my fingers, my tongue. Not necessarily in that order."

"Ah, chef, leave some for me," Matthew said, looking up from his quaking canvas. "I like cherry and blueberry. You're going to have to let me taste this flower-strewn lake the lovely Calliope is dipping her toe in." Languid brushstrokes skimmed Chalaine's clit, making her draw her knees together.

Pietro's quick, light hands tap on the insides of her thighs. "No, no, no, love, you don't do that. Matteo cannot paint the lake if you shut those luscious legs."

He ran his hands sensuously up her flanks as Charlaine relaxed her legs and molded her breasts, circling her nipples and giving them a swift little pinch that made her pussy gush and her knees fall back down on the ergo chair's armrests.

Charlaine felt the faintest wet pressure of the brush swirling around the bud of her clitoris and her pelvic muscles clenched, her cunt spasming, begging for release and a low moan issued from her throat.

"Please, let me suck your cock, Pietro, I need to put something big and juicy in my mouth," Charlaine turned her head to the chef, her pupils dilated in extreme arousal as her personal trainer continued to sweep his tints along her labia minora, majora and all over the hood of her horny little clit.

And so went the body painting session, with Charlaine pumping the chef's monster cock as she sucked desperately on what girth and length she could take down her throat. Matthew continued painting the sky and clouds on her chest, flicking her nipples with the paintbrush's wet tip, circling areolae and moving up to her neck until he'd completed the pastoral scene straight out off a Greek urn, in living color.

As Charlaine lay spread on the chair like a drying canvas (one that, quite contrarily, would always sport a wet spot), Miguel and Jamaica came in to look at Matthew's painting, admiring the skill the man had applied to the edible artwork.

"I believe you just earned a reward, Matthew," Miguel said, pulling the other man's cargo shorts open and pulling out his hard cock, spreading Matthew's pearly pre-come over the plum-colored head with a casual thumb and firmly stroking that darkling penis like he owned it. "I also believe Charlaine would love to see you under my hands for a bit while she lets your magnum opus dry."

"Oh, man, go for it," Matthew answered, jerking his hips forward and back to the rhythm of Miguel's pumping hand. "You know what makes me hot." Matthew groaned and ground his ass against Miguel's crotch as the butler bit his earlobe and Jamaica joined the fray, pilling the ottoman over in front of Matthew, bending her nude body over it and licking lightly at Matthew's engorged cockhead.

"Do you like watching two men going at it, Laine?" Miguel's question was husky, dark. "Masarap ito, Laine. It feels so good to have someone handle you like this, knowing just where to squeeze and where to tease, where to stroke and where to lick. Do you want me to fuck Matthew? Give you a show? Bend him over and ream his ass while Jamaica here sucks him off? And Matt here knows how to keep the hard-on solid for a long time. His vocals are exquisite. I can even smack his ass just for you. He likes that, does our Matthew."

Charlaine felt her nipples begin to tighten, and the throb in her cleft pulse in her ears as roaring arousal zinged over every nerve ending that camel hair brush touched. There must be something else in that paint, something that makes me feel the brush strokes over and over again, she thought, not taking her eyes off the tableau of lust unfolding before her.

She raised and lowered her hips from her soaked seat, her legs acting as levers. Charlaine was loathe to spoil the paintwork on her skin. She looked toward Matthew in a silent plea.

Between groans of pleasure and gasps of surprise Jamaica slipped a slim, oiled finger into Matthew to massage that erotic walnut called his prostate.

Matthew drew in a shaking breath under the carnal onslaught, met Charlaine's eyes and spoke. His voice was rough and his breathing coming in hard pulls, each sentence was punctuated by grunts and wordless cries of pleasure and pain: "Squeeze your cunt muscles, my sweet slut. Make yourself come without touching yourself, you dirty girl. You know how to do that. I'll only come when you do and my balls are aching so much now."

With that Matthew threw his head back as Miguel pushed him forward and thrust hard and deep, drawing a sharp, hard "FUCK!" out of Laine's personal trainer and driving the man's cock deeper into Jamaica's mouth.

"Jamaica is lonely, Matthew, look how her pussy pulses," Miguel said as he pumped his fat length into the personal trainer's grasping asshole. "Rim her asshole, Matt. Finger-fuck that juicy peach of a pussy. Rub her clit and tongue fuck her ass."

Matthew complied, his movements almost as savage as his passion, leaving a bite on each of Jamaica's caramel ass cheeks before plunging his tongue into her welcoming darkness.

Jamaica mewled and writhed under Matthew's onslaught, something that made Matthew's muscles tighten even more, so that every group stood out against his dark chocolate skin, under a sheen of the sexiest sweat.

Miguel's eyes met Charlaine's as he grabbed Matthew by the neck and pushed the personal trainer's face harder against the chambermaid's ass and pussy. Miguel swiveled his hips, eliciting a harsh shout from Matthew that made the chambermaid shiver and groan around the cock she was slurping and deep-throating.

Pietro resumed his place beside Charlaine, taking a can of whipped cream and making three-dimensional clouds with it over the ones Matthew had painted on her breasts.

The sensation of cool cream was light, erotic to her already pebbled nipples. She arched forward in the chair, her open mouth caressed by her chef's wet penis head. She suckled Pietro, mimicking Jamaica's oral action on Matthew and squeezed her pussy's inner walls in a quickstep version of her daily Kegel exercises.

"That's it, cara bellisima, squeeze that pussy muscle, faster and harder" Pietro said above her. "Show us all how you can make yourself come, hands-free. Keep sucking me, just like that. Your mouth is heaven and I can't tell you how good it is to fuck heaven."

All the moaning and grunting was pushing Charlaine to her bliss. The orgy before her was making her cunt pulse almost uncontrollably as she sucked Pietro, enjoying his salt and musk on her tongue, in her mouth and rasping softly against her tonsils.

There it was, Charlaine's first "look-Ma-no-hands" orgasm amid all the cries of completion. Her fresh flow of creamy come ran down into the seat, spangled her outstretched thighs. The villa was silent as its five occupants rested and caught their breath and have some of the bottled water Miguel had set on a nearby coffee table.

Miguel rose to clean himself off and Matthew stretched, his eyes hot and on Charlaine.

"I believe we have a feast of fruit sitting in that ergo chair," Jamaica said with a sultry smile and splayed legs. "Would you like us to clean you up, Laine? It would be such a pleasure."

+++

Still painted like a sensual mural, Charlaine walked toward the luxe master bath of her villa, ushered there by a smiling and cheerful Jamaica. Charlaine had wondered out loud how the eyelets in the showers would be used while she caught her breath. She'd not seen any bondage equipment in the bathroom save those eyelets.

Miguel had entered the bathroom first, along with Matthew, who wore a grin and nothing else. Charlaine heard snicking sounds reverberating through the bathroom, the sound of the showers being run and shut off and very raunchy male laughter.

"Yes, I think that will do very nicely," she heard Matthew's voice drifting out of the master bath against a backdrop of buzzing and chuckles and the faintest rattle of chains. "She will love this."

"A blindfold is in order, I believe," Pietro said behind Charlaine. It was the last thing she heard before her eyes were covered in a black silk scarf that had been folded over and bound behind her head.

In short order, Charlaine found herself walked into the huge shower and bound spreadeagled. Her wrists and ankles were wrapped in soft cuffs that felt like they were made of padded terrycloth over something solid and unyielding, like metal welded to the chains hanging from the eyelets.

There she was, presented like an exotic dessert, or a piece of erotic sculpture. Charlaine could feel the intent scrutiny of her household staff, feel their breaths on her neck, her back, her throat and, goodness, her wet, throbbing pussy.

The paintbrush swept her skin again, right above the Achilles heel of her left leg, swirling, swiping its way from the outside in, approaching the apex of her thighs and bypassing her throbbing center to swirl and swipe its way in a reverse path down her right leg.

Another paintbrush wended a meandering stroke, then a quick one on her buttocks, first the right, then the left, then it dipped slowly up and down the cleft between, stopping shy of her puckered, clenching asshole.

They pinned her hair up and painted her back and the nape of her neck, the lobes of her ears. Charlaine made sounds caught between laughter and groans and the five paintbrushes began to move with more pressure and speed. One of the brushes went to her slit, perhaps to retouch the paint that had run with her come.

Suddenly, two hungry mouths descended on her breasts, while someone licked at her earlobes and neck, sucking hard, then nipping a gentle bite that gave her a flick of pain that made her legs shake.

Large hands, probably Pietro's, pulled her thighs apart and a hot tongue laved her labia, delved into the folds between majora and minora, licked around her clitoral hood but left that hard little knot of nerves and flesh waiting, wanting—until he blew on it and her knees shook some more.

The licking Charlaine was getting pulled the sweetest sounds from her throat, but she truly unleashed her vocal power when someone pulled her ass cheeks apart and rimmed that pulsing rosette just as a wet painrbrush began lightly whipping the very tip of her clit.

"That's it, sweetie, come for us," Matthew crooned into her ear, licking and nipping a path of fire between the sensitive spot at the juncture of her shoulder and neck and that erogenous zone at the very tip of her earlobe. "We love making you come undone for us."

"Do you want to have your hard little nubbin sucked and licked while Pietro fucks you, sweetness?" The question came from Miguel, who'd taken his mouth from her left breast and whose fingers were busy caressing both her nipples now that he'd licked away the whipped cream.

"Yes, oh, yes, fuck me and suck me, please." Charlaine threw her head back against Pietro's shoulder as he rubbed his cock up and down her slit.

"I love how wet you are, Laine, my goddess," Pietro murmured in a low growl against the nape of her neck, his tongue tracing the thrum of her arousal along her carotid artery. "Ah, to bury myself in your tight sheath. Heaven. But first..."

Charlaine heard a low buzzing sound and felt her ass cheeks being spread by small, dainty hands as Jamaica licked blueberry paint off her upper thighs in hot little laps.

Charlaine's anus got another licking, with the licker's groans (was that Matthew?) vibrating against the little hole—vibrations that were replaced by the slickness of lube and a slim metal vibrator that was slowly fucked in and out of her asshole.

The chef stood behind Charlaine again, grasping her shoulders as he slowly inched his way into her clasping pussy. Both her breasts were getting suckled hard now. Two tongues were flicking at her nipples as Pietro slowly fucked his way into her pussy.

She thrust her chest out as far as she could, pushing her ass out at the same time as Pietro withdrew his cock. She wanted to be filled to the hilt and did not want him to go.

But she wound up thrusting her hips forward as she felt a warm breath blowing on her mound, felt the tantalizing flick of Jamaica's tongue fleetingly skim her slit.

Pietro untied the blindfold then, just when Jamaica began to suck harder, lick with more force and Charlaine saw herself in the shower's mirrored wall being pleasured by the villa staff. Their hands skimmed her fever-hot flesh as Pietro held her up with an arm around her waist.

Each one looked her in the eye as she gazed, heavy-lidded, into the mirror, licking away more of the edible paint as she shook and orgasmed once, twice, thrice, her coming so intense no sound issued from her throat.

Then they turned on the shower and Jamaica began to soap Charlaine and kiss her deeply, a mulatta hand firmly entrenched in her hair to hold it up under the searing heat of that kiss.

Matthew came up from behind and began to soap both of his "dirty girls" and fuck Jamaica from the rear as she kissed Charlaine.

Ohmygod, I should be sore, Charlaine thought to herself. But they've been very good at this—no soreness. I'm actually hungry for more.

They let Charlaine loose from her bonds and they finished their shower, with the men stroking themselves and the women kissing and rubbing their cunts on each other's thighs or pleasuring each other with handheld shower heads as the men stroked them softly on their breasts, their ass clefts, the clitorises they could catch.

It was all very leisurely now, very relaxed and Charlaine exited the master bath knowing the blinking green light over the topmost showerhead meant they had pleasured more than their little orgy group.

+++

"I want to try the ulog, Miguel," Charlaine said as she relaxed even more under Matthew's massaging hands. The sharp scent of rosemary oil and bergamot woke her senses. "I wonder if they have those huts open in the evening?"

The chef, chambermaid, and butler were back in their clothes and sitting on the chairs surrounding the bed as Charlaine reached the end of her shiatsu session.

Miguel gave her a long look and smiled. "The ulog is usually at night, sweetness. We can have you kitted out and in a cottage in no time. Is there anyone in particular you'd like to have in there with you?"

"I think I like the idea of sex with strangers, perhaps a warrior like the legendary Lam-Ang," Charlaine mused. "You said my preferences would be posted outside the doorway, right? That should be plenty safe."

"You'll have that, and Matthew and myself outside the hut, ready to assist you if needed," Miguel said. "We can keep busy outside on this clear summer night quite well. If that's what you want, then Pietro can prepare your dinner and pack a food hamper to take with you to the ulog."

So Miguel and Jamaica decked Charlaine out as a tribal maiden, wrapping her hips in a length of heavy, hand-woven fabric in primal shades of black and red, put a plumed headdress on her head and fastened belled anklets and bracelets where they belonged and put a collar of beaten gold in tribal designs of lizards and sun disks around her throat.

Pietro placed the food hamper on the living room table and held her cheeks in his hands: "Bellissima, donna, you are every inch the highland princess now. This is one of the most romantic fantasies in the Odalisque and we have chosen a magnificent warrior prince for you."