Beetlesmith's Ch. 23

The men complied with eager enthusiasm, wrapping their arms around her thighs to hold, grip, fondle, and roughly massage each of her buttocks, helping her to smear their faces with her arousal. Digging their tongues ever deeper into any hole, the men licked, lapped, and sucked her sweet nectar. Then, shifting chaotically between canal and clit, they feverishly worked their wet lips and mouths against all of her damp flesh.

Quickly, the final moments arrive where the men's pleasurable toil meets bliss.

Pushed into frenzy by their partners, the women utter a great, collective sigh just before they throw their mouths fully onto their partner's waiting cocks, and suck on his quivering meat as if it were their life's essence.

"That should be enough pushing, my love," I said to Karen.

"Are you sure? I can still feel so much needfulness and want left untapped."

"They'll get their on their own. Remember, more Eyes Wide Shut."

Sitting back in our chairs relaxed we watch it all with relaxed attention, shifting our views fluidly between the actors themselves to the selected offerings of the cameramen on the wide screens above us.

God, the women were hungry. Hungry for bliss, hungry for ecstasy, hungry to show their men how much they desire them, how much they need to taste them, and to pleasure them. Filled with unbridled needful want—to use Karen's term—to show the men they were deserving of that rich, creamy reward.

For some, their mouths tightly grip the hard shaft as they suck until their cheeks are fully sunken and hollow. Their painted, ruby lips slowly slide from balls to glans along his slickened shaft. For others, their tongues and lips dance and kiss wildly at the glans, now grown swollen and full—the color purple in full bloom, ripe as a plum with nectar just as sweet and sticky. It flows out as a continual clear trickle. They sip and lap it up with relish.

Feminine backs arch as they feel the great tide approach, and a delicate bow is formed, forcing their aching cunts off his face, and high into the air. It drips arousal as it hangs above him, taunting him to chase it ever higher.

The men lift their heads to capture her dangling peach by their lips, and once captured, they roughly bite and suck at her little pebble while slipping one, two, or more fingers deep into her dank and drenched canal, or some even deeper into her tightened ring.

Suddenly, a great stuttering moan rises from the grotto floor. The grand Sapphic, orgasmic splendor muffled only by the hardened tools still seated deep in their throats. They continue to feverishly work through the great flood, stroking and sucking along the shaft with abandon.

The men slow their pace, knowing their partner has achieved Nirvana, and that they would soon be joining them.

Then, here and there, some of the head bobbing slows, as the women match their man's languid rhythms. Moments later, the evidence of their partner's orgasm come—pun intended—stark and white, trickling out the corners of their mouths, sticky and thick, flowing down the still hard shaft and over their delicate fingers.

Still other women, allowing their inner slut to run rampant, stroke the cock an inch or two from their opened mouths, producing and procuring long, thick jets of semen that plaster them about the face. Hungry slutty tongues swipe at the dripping cum, while their fingers continue to stroke more out of him...and more...and more still.

Everyone was in spasm. Everyone was captured wholly within euphoric bliss of the moment.

Karen smiled down at what we had wrought, and commented, "God, we are good."

Denise asked, "Why always sixty-nine at the start, Tiberius?"

"Care to answer her, my love," I said to Karen.

"Tiberius and I find it to be the supreme depiction of pleasure without any regard for procreation. More so than butt fucking, I think. Sixty-nine is both giving and receiving pleasure, simultaneously. It's pleasure for pleasure's sake, alone. It's what makes us unique among all the animals of the world."

**

We had reached free flight free-for-all. The point when the members were left pretty much to their own imaginations and desires. If Karen and I have done it correctly, it will be sublime anarchy for the rest of the evening without the risk of uncontrolled violence.

Unlike the slaves, who we demanded to be fit and toned, we rarely discriminated against the physical traits or the sexual preferences of potential members. This made us unique among sex clubs. All were welcome as long as they could pay the annual fee. The super-rich to lower middle class, thin to not too fat, young to not too old, straight or gay, we accepted them all. There were, of course, a healthy smattering of the handsome and ravishing—gorgeous Georges and Janes. They were the jet setters and glitterati from around the world. Ones who would look right at home on any Hollywood sound stage. However, the majority of our members were just common folk like Karen and I.

As such, because our members represent a wide and varying cross section of humanity, various subcultures, manifested themselves not long after the club opened.

For example, gay members, mostly male, segregated themselves into a little clique of about ten to fifteen individuals, and set up shop in the Domitian Grotto. After a while, however, they requested their own room. I granted them their request, bequeathing a small room in the back that they equipped themselves through their own resources. They called it Pluto's Underground.

There were also about six, hard-core dykes who mostly kept to themselves, but they weren't nearly as clandestine nor demanding of their own space as the males were. As a show of equitableness, I asked them if they would like their own room, as well. They politely refused, preferring, I think, to remain connected to the main club in order to pull unwitting wives into their Sapphic web of pleasure. So instead, they took over the Domitian Grotto after the gay males had moved on to more secluded horizons.

Although I was accommodating, I really didn't care for the segregation, and told both groups to make an appearance in the Tiberius Grotto now and again, at least at the opening each night. They agreed, and did make their presence known on occasion, but it was mostly done to snag a slave for fun and games back in their lairs once the events had begun. After a while I gave up trying to coax them out, thinking them comparable to the criminal collegiums of ancient Rome, gangs who lived separate from the rest of Roman society, and keeping to their own affairs and counsel.

It wasn't long after opening night when some members discovered Abstention Punishment, also known in the old days as the 'Will treatment.' These were individuals who would try the torturous undertaking of going as long as possible without orgasming. Much to my amazement, there were a fair number who relished this particular kink. So much so, we renovated another of the back rooms to accommodate them, lining up about eight bondage tables against the walls to be used as restraint platforms.

We eventually named the room after the Emperor Elagabalus, who married Aquilia Severa, a true practicing Vestal Virgin. Both Emperor and wife lived a life of celibacy, up and until Elagabalus' assassination that is.

As for our abstainers, slaves were provided to tease the devotees' genitals with ticklers or feathers, heightening the torment. The more limber enthusiasts would be put into ankle-to-wrist restraints; thus, opening themselves fully for any type of sexual teasing and torture.

Now that the club had entered free-for-all, these various subcultures began to subdivide from the main gathering. As host, I would visit with all of these different subgroups at some point each evening, extending them my greetings and welcoming possible guests, but for now I sat back and watched sublime anarchy unfolding at my feet.

So many interesting pairings are on display tonight.

Sitting on one of the low platforms, a young woman is flanked on either side by two men. She has a leg each across their laps as she strokes their cocks, one in each hand. The men kiss, massage and suckle at her breasts in between brief nuzzles and soft kisses to her neck and mouth. Between her legs kneels another woman, who's servicing the dominant one's pussy. One of the men leans back and ejaculates. A powerful spurt arches through the air landing on the woman's thigh. The submissive woman comes off the Dominant long enough to suck the rest of his cum from his cock, before going back to feast on cunt. Her cum-covered lips and chin painting the Dominant's labia white.

On one of the monitors, a young couple is fucking doggy. She was truly in heat, wildly gyrating her hips, and rapidly sliding her pussy along his cock. He didn't thrust, letting her do all the work. Only occasionally he'd spank her ass hard, spurring her to fuck him even faster and harder. After one such spank, she slowed her pace. A trickle of wetness runs down her thighs. Turning her head back toward the man, he leans forward, and they passionately kiss as she continues her slow fuck.

My eyes shift back to the floor. I spot a mature couple about my age. He's propped up on one of the larger pillows, and she's straddling him in reverse cowgirl. Gripping her hips firmly, he vapidly and ravenously slams his cock up into her pussy. A second man, now standing alongside her, pushes his stiff member deep into her mouth. She sucks on him voraciously until he pulls out and strokes himself across her flush face. Heavy strands of cum drip off her face and onto her chest, as she sprays a heavy stream of ejaculate forward.

My eyes continued to wander around, shifting from the events of the floor to what was highlighted on the monitors, and then back again. I finally sighted them, the twins. They were taking turns passing a sizable cock between them.

The twins were a pair of precocious, very beautiful identical twin sisters who went by the club names Lucinda and Lucretia. Why they even bothered with names was a mystery, because no one could tell them apart. To make matters worse, they would always dress the same, use the same makeup and perfume, and wore the same hairstyles—usually one similar to what Miley Cyrus sometimes sported, closely cropped hair on both sides of the head, while allowing the longer hair in the middle to flop over to one side. The only way to tell them apart is that Lucretia wore a small diamond nose stud, whereas Lucinda did not—or maybe it was the other way around.

They showed up at the club afterhours one day, seeing if they could work as slaves. I took one look at them and hired them as full-time courtesans of the court, and gave them a monthly stipend. It would be money well spent, for neither had an ounce of sexual inhibition or scruples, and both had the devil's own penchant for mischief.

As would be expected of twins, they were inseparable, always playing together with the members they chose. Along with the upper echelon, they could deny sexual services to any other member, picking who they would play with, rather than other way around. If there wasn't a member they wished to play with at any given time, they would just play with each other.

I tried to strongly encourage them to live up to the cardinal rule of the club—never denying someone anything—but they were steadfast in their persnicketiness. I never forced the issue. They were too valuable as club courtesans; although at times, their precocious mischievousness was sometimes more trouble than it was worth.

The one with the nose stud, Lucretia, was taking the man's cock deep, as her sister intently watched. As soon as Lucretia pulled him out, Lucinda pulled him fully in. Back and forth they'd go, unvarying until the man finally came.

They wouldn't share the prize, nor would they allow it to be wasted with garish facials. Whichever twin had him at the time the cock ejaculated, she would swallow him whole, and hold him there until he began to go soft. The cock always came out clean in the end—slickened and soft to be sure, yet clean.

Spotting another member to their liking, they quickly scampered off, zeroing in on their next target.

I didn't follow their movements, but said to Karen, "The twins are in a lively mood tonight."

"Aren't they always? Have you ever played with them?"

"No. You?"

She shook her head. "I find their overt consanguineous relationship kind of creepy. That's why I don't do much with the Grants."

"That's too bad. Lisa and Barbara are quite fun together. The mother-daughter antagonism provides a wonderful spice. I'm sure Lucinda and Lucretia can be just as dynamic, if not more so."

Couple after couple were coming again, and even more intense than the first time. Male and female ejaculate was flying everywhere and landing on everything. They were all ramping themselves up on their own, and soon, couples would merge with other couples. Twosomes will become foursomes and more, and then the more exotic, sexual appetites would emerge.

I commented with a laugh, "I think we did just right, my love. Though the slaves will have their work cut out for them cleaning up after tonight."

"Just right, indeed, look at the big screen," Karen said, breathlessly.

The image on the Jumbotron was going out as a line feed to all the subscribers of our website and to our satellite clubs. It was a close-up of a women, beautiful and petite, with strawberry blonde hair. I recognized her as one of the glitterati. The cameraman had set up a little bit behind and to the left of her head. A man, probably a glitterati as well, straddled her in the sixty-nine position. Based on the camera angle, all we could see was her lovely profile, head propped up on a pillow, and the man's smooth ass, shaved perineum, and clean, heavy balls hanging down inches above her nose.

She had a hand on each of his thighs, massaging them sweetly as she licked and gently nipped all around his smooth balls with her lips. Her mouth wandered higher, as she laid gentle licks and kisses to his clean perineum, and then it wandered back as she slowly flicked that gentle tongue against his balls again.

A hand came off his thigh, and she picked a large drop of his fluid from the tip of his cock with a delicate finger. Bringing to her mouth, she let the drop hang above her slightly parted lips for a moment. As the drop slide off her finger, producing a thin, clear, delicate thread hanging precariously between heaven and...well heaven, she put her finger in her mouth and sucked on it.

With her now wetted finger she gently rimmed the man's anus as she licked at his perineum and nipped at his balls once again. Taking her other hand away from his thigh, she began slow stroking his cock as she continued kissing and licking his balls. It wasn't long before his balls went high and tight against his thick shaft. She never change rhythm or tempo, and just let her hands and mouth dance about him unvaryingly, soft and seductive, almost romantically.

Another, larger drop of fluid formed. Picking this one off as she continued her slow stroking, she gently slipped that slickened finger deep into his asshole. Almost at the point where her finger was fully seated inside him, I saw his balls tighten again as great jets of cum shot out across her chest and stomach.

When he rolled off her, she played with his cum for a bit. Picking some off her, and letting it hang off her fingers as thick strands before sucking it off.

The man moved around and buried his face into her pussy, as another man replaced him in the choice spot, straddling her head as well.

"That was amazing," I commented with a heavy sigh. "Maybe we should put her on the dole along with the Vestals and the twins. We could use her talents as a regular."

I expected at least a small comment from Karen, but when I didn't hear anything, I turned to look at her.

She sat trembling, staring intently into the grotto. Her hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair, as small beads of sweat formed on her face and forehead. In days long past, I would have thought she was deep in the throes of the 'elixir shakes.'

Bending close, I whispered playfully in her ear, "Frenzy? Already? The evenings only just begun."

She ignored my comment for the moment, and screamed, "Slut!" She then commented in a raspy tone, "You do this to me."

"I may have pushed a little bit hard in your direction, yes."

When the slave arrived, Karen lifted her tunic above her waste, sat on the edge of the throne and jutted her pelvis well forward. In a husky voice of full throated arousal, she commanded, "Eat me, Slut!"

As the slave went to work, Karen said to me, "It's not fair you can do this to me, but I can't reciprocate."

"All's far in love and orgies. Remember, you threw down the gauntlet tonight. Anything goes. Is it my fault I'm too powerful for you?" Kissing her hand, I added, "Though you have other ways of controlling me. With your smile, your laugh, a gentle kiss, and mostly with that look you sometimes radiate; the one that makes my brain soft and cock hard. The same look I'm seeing on your face now, and turning me into your devoted servant."

Leaning over to me, she kissed me hard, and then huffed out, "God, I love you."

She went back to staring at something in the grotto as the slave continued to work her tongue into Karen's pussy.

I followed her eyes to see what held her in such salaciously, rapt attention.

Close to the edge of the cushioned part of the grotto, right before the marble walkway, a very large and fit man was playing with two women. He was one of the muscle-heads—as I call them—well-toned body builder types, with broad muscular shoulders, massive arms and thighs, and washboard abs. The two women, a blonde and brunette, were laying on top of each other, face to face, wildly kissing. He pounded first into one pussy, and then into the other, alternating back and forth between them at regular intervals. The brunette I'd seen before, but the blonde was unknown to me. She looked remarkably like an actress I liked.

"Well I'll be damned. Is that Charlize Theron?" I asked Karen.

Karen wasn't listening. She wasn't even watching the threesome anymore. She was deep in the outer limits, and had eyes and ears only for Slut.

Karen laced her fingers in the slave's hair, pulling the young one's mouth even tighter into her groin. "Look up at me Slut. Eat my cunt and look up at me. Oh yes. Oh, so pretty. You're so pretty...with your big brown eyes...that cute little...nose...and oh so...tender lips. Oh fuck me! Here it comes! Here it comes! Here it...Jesus fuck me twice!"

Just before Karen's dam broke, Denise leaned close to her ear, "I told you it wasn't a mistake acquiring her. You owe me big."

Karen only produced a deep rumble as thanks, and began curling up into a ball, bringing her legs up and her head down, as multiple, orgasmic waves washed over her.

The sloppy, soggy sounds of Karen's ejaculate were loud and prolonged as the slave continued to work deep in Karen's pussy with a ravenous tongue and mouth.

Finally, Karen's body relaxed. Tapping the slave on the head, she commanded weakly, "Enough tongue my slutty cunt. Fetch us more wine."

Just as she was about to dash off, I said, "Wait. Come here, Slut."

"Yes, Dominus," she answered, her face glistening from Karen's heavy arousal.

"Just a kiss, my sweet."

I tasted her and Karen. Drawing her in, she deepens the kiss. Opening her mouth wide, she sucks in my tongue with a greedy appetite. Her hands fidgeted about, exploring haphazardly across my tunic. When she finally finds my cock, she emits a sharp intake of air, as if pinpricked. Her eyes went wide and I felt her tremble as a large, unexpected wave slammed into her.

Breaking off the kiss and taking her hands in mine and off my cock, I say, "Mmm, that's just a taste for now. The rest for later. My wife tastes wonderful on you. I hope to enjoy more of that tonight. Now go fetch wine."