Lara on Holiday Ch. 01by0131aj©
Lara wondered what it was like back home in Spain. She had come to Scotland on holiday and had never known a storm like this. The fork lightning, which lit up the sky was so different from the sheets of lightning she was used to at home. The wind was howling and, even in the car, she and her husband could feel its strength. The rain was just pouring down; it was falling in torrents and she wondered if they would ever find their destination.
She stared out into the dark and was amazed how beautiful yet dangerous the storm appeared. She could hear the thunder as it rolled across the dark sky, bringing an even heavier burst of rain and topped with another shaft of light splitting the sky. She was thrilled by the storm, its very violence all she had hoped for. She didn't want to admit it at that moment but she knew her knickers were wet as the menacing storm infused every cell in her body.
Her husband was trying to force the car by sheer will power through the tempest and, at last, they saw the signs for the castle. They had been invited to dinner by the local laird and his wife and they were not going to let a storm get in their way. They drove up the long tree-shrouded drive and wondered how they were going to get out without risking a total soaking.
Just at that moment a tartan-suited butler appeared at the large wooden doors and indicated they should stay where they were. He quickly produced a large golf umbrella and staggered out to the car to collect their luggage. At the same time, he handed Lara's husband another umbrella and shouted through the noise of the storm that they should get in as quickly as possible.
Before her husband had even had time to say thanks the man was emptying the boot of the car and hauling their overnight case out and running for the sanctuary of the door. Her husband told her to wait where she was and he would come round to her side of the car to protect her with the umbrella. Lara had other ideas.
She threw open her door and stepped out into the maelstrom. Her thick, dark hair was instantly plastered to her head as the rain poured down on her, soaking her to the skin in moments. Lara didn't mind; she lifted her face to the clouds and let the cold, Scottish rain batter her gorgeous face before her husband grabbed her and pulled her under the umbrella.
"What do you think you are doing? Are you mad?"
Lara didn't have an answer. She just knew she wanted to feel the ferocity of the storm. Holding her around her soaking waist, they ran together for the door and erupted into a huge, fire-warmed hall. Her husband lowered the umbrella and handed it back to the butler with thanks. The man wondered why he had bothered when he saw how wet the woman was but nodded courteously and led them through to meet their hosts.
They were show into what looked like a large library which was, once more, warmed by a large log fire. The butler introduced them by name, even though they had not told him, and they were greeted by a very elegant couple; both tall, he sitting by the fire in formal evening along with his obligatory tartan trews while she stood facing them, an elegant mistress of the castle and all she surveyed. She was dressed in a long, black evening gown and, Lara guessed, must be somewhere in her mid fifties.
"Lady MacDonald," she said with a warm smile extending her hand. "I imagine you would like to freshen up after your journey. I must apologise for the weather but I am so glad you could make it."
She instructed her butler to show them to their room and Lara realised she would be glad to get out of the soaking wet clothes which now clung to every inch of her gorgeous body. The laird had also seemed to notice her curves but just smiled from his place by the fire and watched them leave the room. Turning to his wife, his smile was replaced by an evil grin.
"I think you'll have fun with that one."
Leading them up a long, winding staircase, the butler informed them that they other guests were already preparing for dinner but they had sufficient time to shower and dress. Throwing open a heavy wood panelled door, he carried their case into their room for the night and left them to their preparations. Lara walked around the room in wonder, the walls covered in paintings which were, she imagined, originals. The room was opulent, to say the least, and Lara looked forward to seeing the rest of the castle after dinner.
In any other circumstances she and her husband would have taken their time to shower and prepare for such a dinner but they didn't want to keep anyone waiting so had a quick wash then got dressed. They had been warned that this would be a "black tie" affair and so they had brought Lara's evening gown and her husband's dinner jacket as advised.
Lara was excited and more than a little nervous as they made their way back down the staircase and saw the other guests, two more couples, turning their heads to greet them. She noticed that they were all a bit older than she and her husband; they were both thirty five years old while all other guests seemed to be about the same age as their hosts
This time they were greeted by the laird and, taking Lara by the hand, he introduced them to the others in the room, Mr and Mrs Wallace along with Mr and Mrs Simpson. They were offered the choice of champagne or whisky, and though Lara had never tasted it before, she wanted to blend in with the other guests and was handed a heavy crystal glass with a few inches worth of the golden liquid. She sipped at it and even that tiny amount, numbed her lips and burned its way down her throat. Trying hard not to cough, her face reddened but she managed to keep it down.
As they mingled among each other, Lara's fears that she would not be understood disappeared. She found that they could understand her English perfectly well and she found that the whisky made her even more confident in speaking this foreign language. If anything, she believed she was speaking it better than the other guests who were obviously locals and were continually slipping in local words and phrases that she had never heard before.
As they were led through to the dinning room, her husband whispered into her ear that she should slow down on how much whisky she was drinking but Lara was enjoying herself now and the meal passed by in a blur of rich food and more alcohol. Each time she took a drink of her whisky, her glass was refilled and, when the men excused themselves to accompany the laird to his study where they would be served brandy and cigars, Lara realised she was glad she was not the one who had to stand up. All the feeling in her legs seemed to have gone and she held on to the table to make sure she didn't fall to the richly carpeted floor.
"Well now that the men have gone to do whatever it is men do in my husband's study, shall we play some cards?"
Mrs Wallace and Mrs Simpson seemed only too pleased to begin their parlour games and Lara simply nodded her head. Lady MacDonald was handed a deck of cards on a silver platter by one of the maids and expertly shuffled them before dealing out the cards. Lara looked on in bemusement as a few cards landed in front of her. She picked them up as her host announced they were playing poker. Lara had never played before but was too embarrassed to admit this and simply tried to follow what the others were doing and saying. Her whisky glass was filled once more and Lara began to think her husband might have been right.
After a few moments, they all had to show their cards and Lara was amazed and overjoyed to find out that she had won.
"Well done, dear," smiled Lady MacDonald and the other two women offered their warm congratulations. "Now, shall we make it a bit more interesting? Let's say that each time someone loses, they have to pay a forfeit? Everyone up for that?"
Mrs Wallace and Mrs Simpson nodded eagerly and when Lady MacDonald looked to Lara she didn't think she could do anything but agree. After all, she had just one the first game; it seemed easy. And how difficult could the forfeits be anyway? She was dealing with a member of the aristocracy, after all, and two respectable pillars of the local community. Lara smiled back to her host and agreed to pay any forfeits that should come her way. That's when things started to go wrong.
She lost the next hand very quickly and Mrs Wallace suggested that she should have to give each of them a kiss. Lara giggled at that, like a schoolgirl, struggled to her feet then walked unsteadily round the table to give the other two guests a peck on the cheek. When she came back to Lady MacDonald, however, the older woman turned her head just as Lara was about to kiss her and there lips met. The shocked woman tried to pull away but her host had grabbed her hair and she realised she was going nowhere. As the older woman kissed her passionately, Lara felt her hot tongue invading her mouth and, instinctively, she kissed her host back.
Her head in a whirl, Lady MacDonald released her and she stumbled back to her seat. Her legs were like jelly but they weren't numb any more because she could feel her thighs trembling and her pussy leaking out. She had never kissed another woman before; she had never really kissed anyone but her husband before and now she was reeling from the effect that kiss had had on her.
Lady MacDonald simply smiled and dealt the next hand but Lara could not concentrate for a single minute and lost before she even knew what was happening. This time it was Mrs Simpson's turn to name the forfeit and she smiled sweetly at the unsuspecting woman across the table before announcing,
"I'd like to see her tits."
Lara nearly laughed out loud until she looked around the table and saw that no-one else was laughing. Instead the three older women were staring at her with what could only be described as hunger in their eyes. She tried to explain that she wasn't that kind of woman and that there must be something else she could do.
At that Lady MacDonald rang a bell on the table and one of the doors behind Lara burst open. She began to turn her head at the sound when her view was blocked by two maids standing behind her. Before she knew what was happening, her hands had been grasped and tied to the arms of the chair.
"Please, no, let me go. Lady MacDonald what is the meaning of this? Let me go."
She was trying to be strong but in her mind she was scared. She had had a lovely evening until that point. Why was it turning out so badly? She had more things to worry about though as each of the young maids pulled her black dress down over her gorgeous tits and left them there for all to see. She could see her nipples growing; she could feel the damp patch in her knickers growing too but she knew she didn't want any of this. She struggled to free herself but the more she struggled, the more her breasts shook wildly and she stopped as she realised the three older women were enjoying the show.
"Now, dear, don't be a poor sport. You lost the game and had agreed to pay your forfeit so fair's fair. I must say though, you do have incredible breasts. If you agree to leave them on display during the next hand then I will allow you to be untied. If not then I'm afraid the binds will remain."
Lara knew her host was paying her a compliment but it only seemed to heighten her humiliation and she tried on last time to free her arms. The two women across the tale simply stared at their topless competitor and, secretly, couldn't wait for the next hand to be dealt. There was no way Lara could agree to keep her tits out for these women to ogle at and she pleaded with her host again.
"Please, ma'am. I don't do this kind of thing. Please let me cover up."
In answer, Lady MacDonald dealt the next card which, seeing as she couldn't reach her cards, Lara lost. Now it was her host's turn to decide on her forfeit and Lara dreaded what was coming next.
"I think I'd like to see this beauty's pussy, wouldn't you, girls?" Mrs Wallace and Mrs Simpson were practically licking their lips as they saw their host ring her tiny bell once more.
Before Lara knew what was happening her high-backed chair was tipped back from behind and she felt her legs go up in the air. She gripped the arms of the chair tightly but, rather than falling back quickly, the chair was slowly eased to the floor by the same two maids who had bound her wrists. As she tried once more to escape, kicking her legs wildly, she realised that all that happened as a result was her loose-fitting dress fell backwards and soon her legs were totally exposed.
"Thank you, dear, that makes things considerably easier," smiled Lady MacDonald. She signalled to her maids who grabbed one of Lara's legs each and tied them to the legs of the chair. The frightened woman looked up from the floor to see the three older women towering above her.
"Now let's have a look, shall we?"
The three women stood back as the maids rustled Lara's dress around her waist and exposed her tiny knickers. The tiny white thong elicited a gasp of pleasure from Mrs Wallace and Mrs Simpson. One of the maids, a pretty young thing with blonde curls escaping her maid's cap, leaned forward and took hold of Lara's only protection.
"No!" she screamed. "Leave me alone! Please don't do that!"
But her position was helpless and her resistance was futile. Tugging back the tiny piece of white cotton, the maid revealed Lara's moist pussy and she blushed in embarrassment. She couldn't believe the evening had turned out like this, topless and showing off her pussy.
"Very nice, dear; very nice indeed. Time for another hand, ladies," and the three women retook their seats at the table, continuing with their game. Lara lost, obviously, as she was still tied to the chair which was still lying on the floor and couldn't even see the cards that were pointlessly dealt her.
"My turn, my turn!" shrieked Mrs Wallace like an excited schoolgirl. "I want to see her lying on the floor."
Lara thought about that one for a moment. After being forced to expose her gorgeous tits and after having the three women, not forgetting the two maids, have a good stare at her pussy, lying on the floor didn't seem like too much of a problem. She really shouldn't have had so much whisky.
"Well, my dear, do you agree? If we untie you, will you lie on the carpet as Mrs Wallace has asked?"
Lara would have agreed to almost anything to be released from her binds so that she could cover her breasts again and force the maid to remove her hand from her knickers. She nodded and she got her wish. Her chair was righted, her arms released and, as the maids undid the ties at her ankles, she pulled her dress back up over her chest. How she wished she had worn a bra tonight but it was too late to worry about that now. Getting unsteadily to her feet, she lay down behind her chair on the thick carpet and wondered why such a strange request had been made. She was about to find out.
It was actually quite comfortable lying there on the thick carpet and Lara again began to feel the effects of the whisky washing over her. Just as she began to relax, however, the two maids pinned her to the floor, holding her shoulders firmly against the carpet and Lara found she could not move her upper body once more.
Looking up, frightened, she saw Mrs Wallace approach, smiling, but it was not a smile that Lara cared to see. The older woman was hitching up her long dress and stood with her feet planted on either side of her captive. The poor woman could see the Scottish pillar of society's large knickers and feared what was to come next. She didn't have long to wait.
Mrs Wallace knelt down on top of their guest, her knees placed either side of Lara's head, her large arse sitting on the Spanish woman's chest, and pulled her sopping knickers to the side. Lara tried hard not to look at the woman's hairy cunt but her long hair was trapped by her captor's knees and she couldn't turn her head more than an inch in either direction.
"Now, my dear, if you would be so kind, I want you to make me cum."
"No, please, no. I've never done that to another woman. Please don't make me. Please!"
Once again she heard the tinkle of Lady MacDonald's table bell and the two maids approached their prisoner. Lara was trapped but, when she felt the two younger women tugging at her dress, she struggled with all her might. Mrs Wallace, though, was a heavy woman, solid, and she was not going to be dislodged by Lara's efforts alone.
Trying hard not to give her tormenters the satisfaction of seeing her cry, Lara stopped thrashing around and could do nothing to stop herself being undressed. She was still determined not to lick this old woman but Lady MacDonald had other ideas and ordered her maids to get into their new position. After fully removing their prisoner's dress and tossing it aside, they lay down on either side of the Spanish woman. Each taking one of her luscious breasts, they held them in their hands before bending their heads to lick Lara's lovely nipples. The maids smiled at each other over the body of the prone woman, sucking on her hard nipples, enjoying every moment of their evening's "duties".
Lara loved having her nipples sucked but not like this, not by two strangers, not by two women, not with another woman's pussy inches from her mouth. She was grateful only that her knickers were still in place but she knew that the tiny white thong she had chosen for tonight wasn't covering much, especially as she also knew it was soaking wet. Once again, though, Lady MacDonald took control of the situation.
"Now, my dear, be a sweet and do what you have been asked. If you don't, then Mrs Simpson will have to lick your pussy."
The other dinner guest appeared at Mrs Wallace's shoulders, grinning down at their captive companion; she didn't seem too upset at the thought of tasting Lara's sweet juices. In fact, she looked as if she was going to do it whether Lara did what she was told or not.
"Please, ma'am, please. I've never done anything like this before. Please don't make me. Don't make me lick another woman."
Taking this as a refusal to comply with the rules of the game, Lady MacDonald knelt down between Lara's smooth legs and, putting her fingers under the waistband of the poor woman's soaking knickers, she pulled them down with one single tug. Lifting them over Lara's helpless feet, the lady of the castle took a moment to savour the sight once again of the Spanish woman's gorgeous pussy, looking forward to the time when it was her turn to taste it.
As the maids continued to suck and play with Lara's fully erect nipples, Lara knew that she was becoming aroused. She could no longer control her naked body and she shivered at the thought of Mrs Simpson and Lady MacDonald peering down at her pussy. With every second that passed, she could feel her arousal building, and she was shocked and ashamed that it was other women who were having this effect on her.
Still refusing to even look at Mrs Wallace's pussy as she tried to rub her juices over Lara's chin and firmly closed mouth, she felt her legs being lifted and then lowered again, aware that someone was now between her legs, their mouth inches from her pussy.
"Last chance, my dear; are you going to eat Mrs Wallace for us?"
When Lara shut her eyes and refused to even answer, Lady MacDonald smiled to her accomplice and gave her assent. She felt the other woman wrap her arms around her legs in front of her shoulders, kissing her on each of her smooth thighs and caused Lara to struggle once more. With Mrs Wallace sitting on her chest, the maids holding her down as well as playing with her breasts and Mrs Simpson now holding down her legs she realised, in dismay, that she was going nowhere.
And yet, what Mrs Simpson was doing felt incredible. The woman's wet tongue licked up and down their prisoner's trembling thighs, causing Lara to moan in unwelcome pleasure. She knew that her body was betraying her again; she knew the noises coming from her mouth were telling her captors lies but she knew, more than anything else, that she was not going to escape this female rape.