Chastity Chronicles Pt. 05

We were led to the elevators and Priscilla looked back toward the check-in counter. "Aren't we..."

"No, we were expected," I replied.

We went into the elevator and rose quickly.

The porter led us to our suite. The nameplate on the door declared it the Central Park Suite.

"This is my favourite suite," I said. "I love the view of Central Park."

"Oh my God," intoned Priscilla for the hundredth time.

The porter opened the door, and we entered, and Sean and Priscilla rushed around, looking at everything and out the large windows. I handed the porter a hefty tip; I received three key cards in return, and he tipped his hat and exited the suite. I turned around and Priscilla crashed into me, pressing her head into my breasts, and squeezing me tight.

Sean came out of the bedroom. "It's just the one King."

"All we need, don't you think?" I purred, holding tightly to Priscilla.

He nodded and smiled.

"Okay, we need to take a shower and wash away the airport from our bodies. Then we relax for a time. I ordered a platter of fresh fruit and juices. It should be here soon. Unpack your bags. Look around. We have all day and night to relax with ourselves. Tomorrow is the interview at ten AM. The limo will pick us up at nine. That's the only schedule we have. Three nights in New York should be enough for anyone."

Priscilla nodded her head against me. "I couldn't possibly love you any more than I do, Chastity. My heart hurts when I'm with you."

"I know, hon. Enjoy yourself."

"We will. All of us." She pulled away, but took my hands with her and dragged me across the suite. "The shower is big enough for all of us. Time to christen our stay, don't you think? You wouldn't let us join the mile high club, and I am so ready to cum right now..."

Sean was pulling off his shirt and walking into the bathroom. "It's fucking huge in here! All marble! What's that thing beside the toilet? A second toilet? Who poops together?"

I laughed and let Priscilla take care of me. She was so good to me.

* * *

An hour later, with pruned fingers, we devoured the fresh fruit and the pitchers of juices. I was pampered and fed grapes. I was enjoying this. New York had never been this fun and exciting for me. Maybe during those early days, but not since.

We dressed and took a cab first to Macy's Herald Square. Then Saks Fifth Avenue. The Met Cloisters. The Chelsea Market. And then, exhausted, we headed back to the hotel and piled all our bags on Sean and the porter and raced back to the suite. We had another quick shower and then gave Sean a fashion show of all our latest dresses and lingerie. We left him panting and sequestered ourselves in the bedroom and dolled ourselves up.

When we revealed ourselves to his scrutiny, we got the reaction we wanted. His jaw opened and closed, and his eyes flew across our bodies.

"You two are gorgeous! My God!" he said.

"Thank you, baby!" smiled Priscilla.

"Such a gentleman," I added. "Now, get changed, Sean. I'm opening the champagne. We toast ourselves in private and then go out for dinner. Reservations are at eight."

I popped the champagne and no matter how many times I see it or do it, I always squeal from the pleasant shock at the pop. Priscilla was no exception. I poured three glasses and handed one to Priscilla. I tapped the top of her glass with mine and we sipped.

"To us! And a wonderful three nights!"

"And to my interview!" she said.

"Of course!"

We relaxed on the couch and waited for Sean. In a moment, he appeared, and Priscilla and I whistled in appreciation. He looked all sorts of dapper. I had bought him a BOSS slim-fit suit, with an Eton white stretch Twill shirt. On his feet were black BOSS Nappa-leather loafers. He looked good enough to eat. His red hair capped it all perfectly. He would stand out in whatever crowd he found himself in.

He held out his silk slim black tie. "I don't know how to tie this."

I rose. "Let me."

I sauntered over to him and took the tie from his hands. I loved the feel of it. I reached up, lifted his starched collar, and wrapped the tie around the back of his neck. I glanced at him and smiled. I had done the countless times. I love dressing my men almost as much as I enjoy undressing them. Tying a tie for a man is intimate. Sexual. I took my time, but years of practice meant I got it right the first time. I smoothed it down his chest and looked up at him. I could sense his arousal. I kissed his check and then rubbed away the lipstick mark. I patted his chest.

"You look so very handsome, Sean. You are going to turn heads."

"You are going to cause whiplash," he replied. "You and Pris, both."

"That's the idea. Now, drink up! But after these, you guys are cut off!"

We finished the champagne, and I could see it went straight to Priscilla's head. In moments, we were downstairs and in a cab. We emerged at Smith & Wollensky, and the kids were overjoyed by my choice. I insisted Sean choose the most expensive steak on the menu. Priscilla and I ate sparingly but lavishly.

By ten, we were back in a limo. By ten-thirty, we exited at the 760 Club on 8th Avenue. By eleven, we were dancing up a storm with all eyes on us. Priscilla danced like an erotic dancer, which she was. The look of sultry pleasure on her face, the quick side look, the pursed lips, the undulating hips, drew every eye in the place. It wasn't just her dancing that drew looks, though; it was our combined and open passion for each other. The more we danced the more we made out. People made room for us and watched. I was surprised we weren't kicked out. At one point, I had two fingers deeply inside Priscilla and then sucked on them before French kissing Sean. I saw other women wet their lips, openly panting. We were naughty. We were frisky. We were having the time of our lives with everyone watching us.

I dragged us out of there and back into the limo. We emerged at Paul's Cocktail Lounge, were ushered past the long waiting line, sat at a table, and watched the disco ball light up the place. Paul and his sister were there and stopped by. We laughed with them, and I noticed Paul's sister making eyeballs at Sean. He was oblivious, as usual, which pleased me. Paul gave us a round of drinks and I didn't mention Priscilla and Sean were underaged. I doubt he cared.

We stayed for an hour and then hopped back in the limo and found ourselves at Avant Gardner. This would be the last stop of the night. We danced in the massive venue. Hundreds of bodies writhed to the music and bounced up and down in tandem. The heavy bass and lifting music fed our bodies the energy we needed, and we gave ourselves into the primal passion. I felt many hands on my ass that night. I never minded once.

And then we were back at the hotel. We fucked in the shower for an hour and then exhausted we collapsed in bed and slept like the dead.

I hadn't had this much fun in years. My last thoughts were asking myself why I had left in the first place.

* * *

I woke to a wet sound and cracked open my eyes. I saw Priscilla giving Sean a blow job. I watched until I grew moist and then threw back the covers to spread my legs to pleasure myself.

"Morning, Chastity," greeted Sean.

"Morning, Sean. Morning, Priscilla."

Priscilla popped Sean free and swallowed her spit. "Morning, Chastity. I saw you watching me blow Sean, you naughty thing. Thank you for yesterday. Last night was amazing!"

"My pleasure," I said, and then crawled over the bed and grabbed Priscilla's ass. Ever since Priscilla had opened my eyes up to loving women sexually, I couldn't get enough pussy for my tastes. Sean had agreed with me whole-heartedly. "Scootch over. Keep blowing him. I need to taste you."

Now with my head toward the bottom of the bed, I got my face between her legs to find her pussy sopping wet. I devoured her. My tongue probed deep to find more of her nectar. What a great way to get rid of morning breath.

Sean grabbed my ass, rolled on his side, taking Priscilla with him, and I moaned when he found my pussy with his mouth. In moments, we were in a circle, grinding and eating each other out.

Sean came first, which I would chastise him for later. Women always cum first. It's one of my cardinal rules. Unless the woman allows otherwise. Then Priscilla joined him. Then me. I hate being last.

"This is a wonderful way to start the day," I purred and got up on one elbow, my hand holding up my head. Priscilla's lips were glazed with Sean's cum, so I beckoned her over and she let me clean her up with my tongue. Sean had rolled back over onto his back and had his eyes closed.

"Come on, Priscilla. Let's you and I have a shower together. I need my back washed. Sean, sleep some more... oh, he's already asleep. Men." I grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed. "Come on!"

We emerged much later from a cloud of steam, our hair wrapped in thick towels and wearing plush bathrobes. I watched as Priscilla walked over to the still sleeping Sean, grinned at me, wet a finger, and sodomised Sean with it.

Sean woke yelling and didn't find it as funny as Priscilla and I did. We dragged him off the bed and pushed him, complaining, into the bathroom and started the long process of getting ready for Priscilla's interview.

Room service arrived just as Sean finished up. We sat and ate and talked about the night before. Sean showed us the stack of phone numbers he had been slipped all night long. It was impressive. Nothing gets a woman more interested in a man than seeing that man with, and making out with, two stunning women at the same time. They want that, too. Women can be that way. Catty, sure, but I just think it's part of who we are. We want the virile man for ourselves. And we sometimes will be willing to just take it, even from another woman, and damn the consequences. I'm not convinced men are wired the same way. They have this stupid 'bros before hoes' saying. Plus, men will almost certainly come to blows over something like that. Women find... other ways. Best not to talk about that.

By nine, we were back in the limo. By nine-thirty, we arrived at the building the magazine was housed in. It had been months since I had been here. I paused at the entrance and looked up. A deep feeling of unease washed through me, and I felt like running. Priscilla looked back at me with a wondering look. I reminded myself we were here for her, and I braced myself, smiled, and took her hand.

We strolled through the lobby and took an elevator up to the twentieth floor. The magazine leases two floors in total. The upper floor being management and the executive core. The floor below us houses the worker bees. The main receptionist met us when the elevator doors opened, air-kissed us, gushed over Priscilla, managed to touch Sean's ass, and brought us over to my corner office and took coffee orders.

As we walked through the corridors, many faces came out of the offices to greet me. I had many friendly colleagues here, and it was pleasant to see them again. Most did not know my past here, but knew only the persona I presented to everyone. I brought Priscilla and Sean into my office, and they gushed over my view of Central Park and the west side of Manhattan. I need to see the green of nature. It calms me. All the other views are of meaningless buildings. Sure, New York is beautiful. But once you've seen the Empire State Building, the Freedom Tower, and the patina of the Statue of Liberty, once, you've seen it. They won't change. Central Park changes with the seasons. It's beautiful.

The receptionist arrived with our coffee, and with our thanks left, closing the door behind her. No sooner had the door closed, then there was a soft knock.

"Come in!" I said.

The door opened and there stood Marcie LaGrange, owner of the magazine and my once my best friend. Now she was just a friend, barely. She smiled at me. "Chastity, so good of you to grace our offices once again. It's been too long this time."

I rose and went around my desk, both hands outstretched and air-kissed on both her cheeks. "Marcie, so good to see you. You still look stunning."

"Why thank you, my dear. You look positively glowing. Have you found someone?"

I looked over at Priscilla and Sean. "You might say that. Marcie, please meet Priscilla and her boyfriend, Sean."

Marcie went over to the clearly nervous Priscilla and took her hands and air-kissed her, too. "Priscilla, so nice to finally meet you in person. I've been looking forward to our interview. You could be a model, you know. You have the bones for it. Such a gorgeous, expressive face. And you must be Sean." She turned to Sean, and this time gave him a hug. I knew that move. She wanted him. She always wanted what others had.

She stepped back to take us all in. "Welcome to New York! How was last night?"

Priscilla's face lit up. "So wonderful! Chastity made us feel like celebrities. It was a night to remember, right Sean?"

He nodded. "It sure was."

Marcie beamed at all of us and then reached out and took Priscilla's hand. "Come on. No sense in waiting. We can get this interview business over with."

She dragged Priscilla out of my office, Priscilla looking back at me in fear, and I smiled at her departing figure. Marcie loved putting people off balance. I had warned Priscilla. The interview was all on her now.

The door closed, and Sean started immediately pacing in my office. I watched him for a time, bemused by his antics. I sipped my latte and then ignored him. I swivelled my chair and looked out over Central Park. I knew Priscilla would get the job. The day the magazine overrode one of my hiring choices was the day I quit. Priscilla didn't know that, and I would never tell her. Still, if she completely tanked the interview, Marcia would let me know and we would discuss it. I had no worries. Priscilla really had an eye for artwork. I know this might sound simple, but she had taken one brief glimpse at the artwork in my condominium and knew at once they were originals. That had set off my interest metre. Then her portfolio had confirmed it.

She had an eye for art. A very good one. And in the art magazine world that meant the difference between being bottom ranked and top ranked. She would make the magazine money and that was all that mattered.

Marcie would hire her and then challenge her. She would be sent somewhere in the world to follow a lead on a new artist. Her article would be scrutinised, and if she were successful, she had a job until she tanked. It paid extraordinarily well. With bonuses. Sean and she would go from poverty to a lavish life-style. I would remain with them to make sure they stayed grounded and then I would gently pull away from their lives.

That was my life, after all. And theirs.

An hour later, Priscilla came rushing back into my office. Her chocolate cheeks blazing red from her interview. I knew the look. More importantly, I knew the happy, holy fuck look on her joyous face.

"I GOT THE JOB!" she belted, and I winced at the volume, but rose quickly and met Sean with her and we hugged as one unit. "I GOT THE JOB!"

She wanted to kiss me, I could see that, but I had warned her not to. She kissed Sean instead. I saw Marcie stop in my doorway and I peeled myself from the couple and joined her in the hallway.

"Walk with me," she said and started walking.

"So?" I asked.

"You were right. Again. I should never doubt you. But this time I did, to be honest. Some poor girl from a shitty city in the middle of nowhere? I had my doubts. But she has the gift. Just like you. She'll go far. I just hope we can hold on to her."

"That will be easy. Just don't do what you did to me."

She stopped and glared at me. "I did nothing. You did it all. It was who you were, for God's sake. Don't blame anyone but yourself."

"That's bullshit and you know it. You made it all possible. Pushed me. It nearly destroyed me."

She sighed and massaged her temples, having heard this all before. There was no convincing her. "We'll just have to disagree. Again."

I knew this was going nowhere fast. "What's next?" I wanted our conversation to focus on Priscilla. Not on me and my past.

She hesitated and then blurted. "I have a small party arranged this evening in our boardroom. All the executives will be there to meet and greet our newest hire." She walked away.

My thoughts immediately went to Roger, Marcie's ex-husband. He was the reason I had left New York, and she knew it. She had been the one to push him on me. The one sole reason we were still friends was that she hadn't even known just how depraved Roger could be. When she finally experienced it, she had divorced him. She still refused to believe what happened between me and him. That's what hurt me the most.

I still blamed her. She had set it in motion and to this day had never apologised to me for it.

Fuck her, I thought.

"Will this be a typical one of your parties?" I asked, knowing the answer.

She stopped and turned to look at me. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Sean and Priscilla are naïve. Innocent. I don't want them broken."

She raised an eyebrow. "They're adults. Let them decide what's right and what's wrong."

"Wrong being the most important word in that statement."

She blew out an exasperated breath. "Only to you, Chastity. Only to you." She turned and walked away. "It starts at nine! Clothing optional!"

I lowered my head and clenched my fists. I should just take the kids and leave, but I knew part of the hire was seeing what Priscilla was capable of. You might not like this, but the art world is about as liberal as you can get. Free love. Free sex. And a lot of it. Especially at this level. And so much drama.

Our magazine covers the elite of the art world. My success was in finding the not-so-famous and exposing the world to them. Making more elites. And more money. Everyone loves the Cinderella story, and I excelled at being the Fairy Godmother. And I brought them into the fold of the magazine and the sex parties and the drugs. Most burned up like tissue paper. Some persevered. Some thrived.

Artists love deeper than most people. They are attracted to one another. Marcie and Roger had created a den of depravity here in the offices. I had once fucked everyone on this floor at least once. Never the women, though, not until Priscilla opened my eyes. I had never craved that, though to be honest, I had probably done something at least once. The problem is that I have no actual memories of most of my time here. Those days were a long-protracted blur of drug-induced haze. It ended with Roger, my self-prescribed rehab, and then fleeing to Centreville, USA.

My sexual desire fled with it, and I never went looking for it. Until Petey appeared right when it had come flaring back. Now I stood in the hallways I had always dreaded returning to over the years, and this time I was like a former alcoholic being handed a drink.

I'll be frank for a moment. Roger and a few of the other men in the office went too far with me one night, alone in his office. I had surfaced from a drug induced haze to find them lined up to sodomise me. I was naked, covered in cum, and my ass burned like someone had shoved a hot poker iron in there. I struggled to get off the desk, but Roger held me down. I pleaded with him, but he just laughed at me. The look on his face was not a pleasant one. A woman from the office came in and I pleaded with her for help. She was high and laughed and skipped out.

I was in there for over an hour, no longer high, getting reamed by man after man. When they left to find fresher ass, as they put it, I curled up and cried. Marcie found me there. I told her what happened. She blew it off, saying it was nothing out of the ordinary. That's when our friendship ended. Days later, I recognised my fault in this. I had allowed things like that to happen to me before, but never to that extreme. I recognised I was nothing more than a piece of ass to the men in the place. And the women had no proper respect for me as a woman. New York had swallowed me and shat me out.