Liza's Debt

"Here, let me help you with those," Marc suddenly rose from his chair to take the tray from me. He sat it on the table and took one for himself and handed one to me. I quickly retreated to the other chair and sat as lady-like as I could in a short dress with a couple buttons undone. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"You look really nice, tonight," Sam smiled.

"Marc picked it out," was all I could think to say.

"Thanks, Marc," Jake raised his can in a mock toast.

"Yeah, a bit more elegant than a towel, don't you think," Marc laughed.

"Well, I rather liked the towel, though," Sam said. "It had a certain 'je ne sais quois' about it.

"Wow, French! I'm impressed," I blurted.

"Four years of high-school French have their consequences," Sam laughed.

"What other hidden talents do you have?" I asked.

"From you he hasn't hidden a thing," Jake poked him and laughed.

"Yeah, you still owe me," he looked me straight in the eyes.

For the second time since their arrival I lowered my head to avoid their gaze and said nothing.

"Ah yes, the debt," Marc brought out slowly, as if remembering something with difficulty. "Debts should be paid, that's for sure."

I raised my eyes to meet Marc's. His were dancing, mine were terror struck. I couldn't bring myself to look at the boys. Marc stood up and came over to me. He extended his hands to me as if he were asking me to dance.

"Stand up, Liza," he said.

I took his hands and they lifted me to my feet. My knees were weak, nearly buckling, so I was glad for the support.

"What are you going to do?" I heard myself ask, finally. For over twenty-four hours that had been the question on my mind. Those six words should have been uttered long ago. The hours of uncertainty, dread, fear, torture could have been eliminated. But I didn't say them as a challenge or warning or protest, but as a meek interrogative. Marc had me in his hands. I felt both terror and humiliation, like a child whose fate was in the hands of others. I couldn't think straight. I didn't know what was coming, how to act.

"Shhh," he whispered in my ear as he turned me toward the boys and stood behind me, his arms folded around the front of me. "So, tell me again how this debt arose," he addressed the boys. His chin played softly on the top of my head as he spoke. His body pressed into mine and I could feel his hardness against the small of my back. My pussy twitched involuntarily at the touch.

"She spied on Sam, naked," Jake asserted himself.

My eyes grew to the size of saucers at the accusation of spying. They were turning an accident into some sort of perversion. I tried to find my voice, but Marc spoke up before I could.

"Ah, spying, was it?" Marc said flatly.

I twisted in his arms slightly and tried to see his face behind and above me. He held me tightly, though, and pinned my arms against my sides. I couldn't believe that Jake would make such an accusation. The boldness these two youngsters had shown toward me of late was beginning to add up and weigh heavily.

"And when you say she owes you, just what do you have in mind?" Marc asked.

Now, suddenly, the two on the couch lost their tongues. The former boldness vanished; they were young boys, again. Timid. They looked at each other, then at me. I thought for a moment that I sensed a way out, that this was going to blow over. I could relax.

"You think you should get to see her. Is that it?" Marc continued.

The boys were obviously afraid to answer such a direct question. They looked at each other and fidgeted in their seats. I held my breath, wondering if this was an attempt by Marc to make the boys see the absurdity of such a request, or if he was putting words in their mouths at my expense.

"Would you like for me to unbutton this button?" he said in a teasing voice as his fingers grasped the second button from the top of the dress. I gasped and brought my hand to his, as when he'd undone the top one before they arrived. "Like this?"

He'd done it. My hand again followed his movements, like I was riding a wave. I lowered my eyes to see what the boys were seeing. My dress was still holding its own, open slightly in the front to just below my nipples, which were standing firm. Marc's hand went back to my waist to join his other hand, and mine stayed on top, resting there. I was incapable of individual movement.

"Or like this," he continued as our hands went to the second-from –the-bottom button and quickly undid it.

The hem of my dress was now open to the bottom of my quivering pussy.

"Well?" he asked.

The boys showed renewed vigor, but still retained some hesitation. Like me, they weren't sure where this was going and what their participation should be. Was Marc mocking them or giving them a show?

"May I undo a couple," Jake asked, deciding to find out once and for all.

Again I tried to twist to see Marc's face, but he grabbed my wrists and held my arms firmly to my sides.

"Sure, help yourself."

Marc's answer hit me like a thunderbolt. My knees buckled, but Marc kept me upright. My eyes moistened with tears. I felt trapped, humiliated.

"It is, after all, what she owes you. We always pay our debts, don't we Liza?"

My mind raged a loud "no," my brain told me to break away, run for my life. The tears began to flow down my cheeks.

"Yes." I heard myself say. To this day I don't know how that happened. I bowed my head. I couldn't look at the young man who had risen from the couch to unbutton me. I closed my eyes.

I felt his hands brush my nipples as they went for the button. I drew a quick breath. I felt the air rush to my chest as the opening of my dress grew. The next button was near my bellybutton, and it was quickly dispatched. The dress gaped in front now; I could feel it fall away from my nipples. I opened my eyes to look. Yes, my nipples were on display. I looked up into the eyes of my tormentor. What I saw surprised me. Jake was a little boy, wide-eyed and trembling. He was shaking more than I was. There was a reverence to his stare that I'd never seen, never enjoyed since boys started looking at my chest in school.

"You want to finish the job, Sam?" Marc asked.

Sam was already standing beside me and he quickly undid the remaining buttons. My dress fell completely open. The boys were riveted on my freshly-shaved pussy.

"Wow!" they said.

I tried to bend my hips, move my legs in some way to limit their view, but Marc gave me a little shake and put his own leg between mine, forcing them apart. I got the idea without further ado and complied. I stood as straight as I could, my legs spread, my eyes straight ahead, dry now. Once I'd settled in that position and Marc felt no more resistance, he released my arms to slide the dress from my shoulders. I stood motionless, naked. The cool air played on my skin.

"Is this what you had in mind?" Marc grinned.

"Wow, this is so great," Sam brought out at last. "She's beautiful. Can I feel her smooth pussy just once?" He begged.

I gave a start, but didn't budge.

"Did she touch you?" Marc asked.

"No," Sam replied in disappointment.

"Then she doesn't owe you that."

An awkward silence followed. I just stood there as the three of them looked at me as if I were a statue in a museum.

"Hey, it's time to eat," Marc spoke up finally. "I'll put the steaks on. Liza you bring the salad from the 'fridge, and Sam, you and Jake make yourselves comfortable at the table."

I turned to Marc, somewhat amazed at my ability to do so, finally, to retrieve my dress. I thought the nightmare was over. As I turned, though, I saw my waded up dress flying toward the trashcan. He made a "basket," gave a little victory dance, and headed for the balcony without catching my eye or saying another word.

I went to the kitchen to get the salad. I suppose another person would have run to the bathroom and locked the door. Looking back on it, that, it seems, would have been the reasonable reaction to what just happened. Was I mesmerized? Was I completely overwhelmed by Marc? Perhaps I was both. Maybe, too, I was being dragged along by something inside me that I couldn't yet identify. For whatever reason, or reasons, I took the large bowl of greens I had prepared with such anxiety earlier in the day from the refrigerator and returned to the dinning room.

The boys were at the table, sitting quietly in expectation. When I came around the corner their heads swiveled toward me, their eyes fixed. I smiled. Yes, I smiled at them, even cocked my head slightly in a friendly manner. They returned my smile. Their expressions were not just friendly, but loving. Gone was the air of aggressiveness I had sensed earlier. In its place was graciousness and boyish charm.

I placed the bowl in the center of the table and turned to settle in my chair. Sam jumped to pull it out for me and held it in a gentlemanly fashion as I sat slowly onto the leather-covered seat. It felt cold and sent a shiver through me. I thought of the ice cube I saw a man in a movie apply to his lover and suddenly understood.

"Okay, the steaks are well underway," Marc announced as he came in from the balcony. "Umm, that salad looks great!"

He sat down and lifted his fork, then paused. He looked at me and smiled. I could sense his pride, his loving adoration.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," I replied.

The rest of the evening was as a dream. I floated in my nakedness on wave after wave of, well I'll just go ahead and say it, yes, worship. I enjoyed a concentrated, honest attention that only a god can know. When Marc took me after the boys left it was as never before. Marc was never as hard, our orgasms never as intense as that night. I fell asleep in his arms, having lost track of time and space.