Revealing Roni

'Me too,' I agreed, with feeling, and she laughed, then let the tip of her tongue poke out a millimetre from between her white teeth. It was as open an invitation as if she had said, 'fuck me, please, Steve.'

My wife, who was sitting beside me, leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'She'd like you to fuck her. Would you like that?'

'Yes. Would you mind?'

'Of course not, darling, just so long as James can fuck me – he so wants to.' I suspected he already had, anyway.

Roni pulled my head towards her, and kissed me deeply, probing with her tongue, then, turning to James, and reaching for his hand across the table, said sweetly, 'Would you like to come upstairs with Hazel and me?'

As soon as they had gone, I too reached across, and took Karen's slim, long-fingereed hand in mine, the dangling ornament in her pinkie a statement, I thought, if one were needed.

Karen turned then to Indira, who had been sat at the end of the table, silently observing.

'Stand up!' she told her, and the Indian girl got to her feet.

'Come round and stand by Steve, my dear.'

When she was stood by my side, her musky perfume assailing my senses, Karen looked her up and down, then said, 'You are very beautiful, Indira. Take off your panties please.'

The girl flipped open the bows which projected from the slits in her sheath, and the loose silk panties fell to the floor, so that I could see her clean-shaven mound and the start of her deeply-cut crack through the mesh of her dress. Close-up, I could also see distinctly faint red lines around her stomach and upper thighs.

'She's been whipped?' I asked Karen.

'A few days ago,' she said, licking her lips in an involuntary gesture, 'She had to be punished.'

I looked from one to the other of them, and must have betrayed my thoughts.

'The idea excites you, Steve,' It wasn't a question, 'And you're thinking you'd like to whip her yourself.'

Before I could formulate a reply, she said, 'Indira's overdue for punishment. If you would like to……'

I nodded, speechless, my cock having turned into a rigid pole – almost painful with lust.

'What would you favour, then; her arse, I suppose?' It was as if she was asking me which cut of meat I wanted.

'I'd prefer her back – it has a sort of medieval feel, I think.'

'Yes, I know what you mean. Do you have a whip?'

'We have a crop. Hazel felt it yesterday.'

'It's so nice to have friends who feel the same way we do. Now, Indira, darling, please take your dress off.'

The Indian girl reached behind her neck, and pulled down a long zipper, then pushed the mesh off her shoulders, letting it fall in a puddle about her black stilettos. She looked proud and intensely beautiful standing there naked.

I had a sudden thought. We hadn't yet put the ringbolt in the wall we had discussed the night before, and I told Karen so.

'I don't think it matters, darling,' she said, 'If we have her kneel down here,' – she indicated the carpet – 'she will be quite still.'

When I had fetched the crop from the cupboard, Karen had got Indira to kneel up on the carpet, her hands behind her head, her face passive, but somehow almost challenging. For all my fantasies, I had never whipped a girl before, and my hand shook slightly in anticipation.

'How many strokes can she take?' I asked Karen, who was standing beside me, very close – so close that her expensive perfume - Guerlain? – wafted over me.

'That depends on how hard they are,' she replied, and her hand found its way to the front of my trousers. 'That feels impressive,' she said, 'but don't waste it, will you.'

'If you leave your hand there, I probably will.' She withdrew it, and I tried to concentrate on the punishment I was to mete out, but I was within an ace of cumming in my trousers, and had to turn away, and walk around a moment, to Karen's obvious amusement.

When I was ready to start, Karen had knelt down beside Indira, and, taking her head in her hands, kissed her tenderly.

'I love you, you know, don't you, darling?' she said, then put her hand down between the Indian girl's legs, forcing her to part her knees a little.

'She's so wet,' she said to me, 'she so loves to be hurt.'

With that, Karen lifted Indira's lovely thick black mane of hair over her shoulder.

'Whip her now, Steve,' she said, and I tried out the crop, which made a satisfying whistling noise a it flew through the air.

I lashed the young Indian girl just below her shoulder-blades, and she scarcely flinched, even though I raised an instant red welt the width of her olive-skinned back.

'Oh!' said Karen, as if it were she I was whipping, as I fetched another cruel stroke, a shade lower down, and it was matched by a tiny gasp from Indira. I knew it must have stung terribly.

'Harder, harder!' cried Karen, and I put all my strength into the next blow, which landed with loud 'crack' on the girl's slender lower back. Karen then pulled me around beside her. 'Whip her tits!' she ordered, and I brought the crop down with a resounding 'swish' across the tops of the girl's lovely firm breasts. This time she cried out sharply, and Karen had my zipper down, and my engorged prick in her hand, like lightning.

As I directed my next stroke at a point below her breasts, Karen took my length in her gorgeous red lips, one hand helping her with my cock, the other down between her slave's legs. I got in one more stroke before I could hold out no longer, and came in a hot, urgent gush, deep into Karen's throat. I threw down the crop, and staggered to the sofa, where the two women joined me, one on either side.

'How are your power of recovery?' Karen asked, at length.

'Depends.'

'On what?'

'On what I'm recovering for.'

'Let's say you're recovering to fuck me.'

'I'll be ready shortly.'

And I was. Karen played with me, cradling my balls in her hand, while I licked Indira's pussy, then, when I started to get hard again, the blonde stood up and slowly unfastened the bow which held her halter-neck in place, then smoothed the gown down over her hips, revealing a thin gold chain, hanging loosely over a shaven mound, below which nestled a gold ring – she had a pierced clitoris. That did it – I was rock hard again, and the more so when she lay back on the carpet and summoned the wounded Indira to join her, the red welts from my whipping showing starkly on her body.

Indira knew her role, and found a cushion, which she put under her mistress's buttocks, then parted the blonde's legs enticingly. When I sunk to my knees, and slowly introduced my stiff rod to the very portals of Karen's glistening wet, pink cunt, she pulled me bodily down, so that I quickly entered her, right to the hilt.

'Oh, Steve, fuck me to death!' she yelled, and I knew I could make it last now, having already cum once. But after a good many thrusting, lunging strokes, I felt Indira's hands on my arse, then she plunged a long finger deep into my arsehole, and I came, again, in a steaming stream, deep within her.

'Oh Steve,' she breathed, 'That was wonderful.' I had to agree.

Later, Roni and Hazel came downstairs with James. Roni had a huge smile on her face, and James looked suitably knackered.

'Good evening?' I ventured, when we had seen our guests off into the night.

'Mmmm,' replied Roni, 'have we any of that cream, by the way, for Hazel's arse?'

Our life settled down into some sort of routine after that. My wife and Hazel delighted now in 'flashing' whenever we were in public places – we would tell Hazel to show her cunt to someone in a restaurant, and this sometimes resulted in our inviting a stranger – better still, a couple – back to our home. Hazel's anus became an agile home for my cock on many occasions, but only when Roni was present. Sometimes, however, the two of them would exclude me, and go to bed together – I didn't mind at all. Karen and James became firm friends, inviting us to their home frequently. There we played games and punished our two slaves – to their delight.