Mutual Benefits

Marta explored the room and bath, finding her dress hanging ready in the closet. The dress was an elegant cocktail number, a shiny gold lame sheath: sleeveless, knee length, close fitting waist and hips but a fuller cut across the bodice. A pair of matching strappy heels were close by. A small card was pinned to the dress stating 'No undergarments, please'. Marta spent the rest of the afternoon prepping for her grand introduction to her new patron sponsor.

*** Sir John and Iman

Marta admired herself before the full length bedroom mirror. She was a golden tour de force: gold toned skin, gold blonde hair, shimmery gold dress and heels, gold jewelry. She shimmied to see her loose breasts roll and settle beneath the golden sheath of dress. Her cascade of waist - length hair fluttered as it draped her torso. Precisely at 8 o'clock, Marta entered the candle - lit dining room to find Sir John and Iman already seated at either end of the large table.

Sir John rose to greet her at mid - room. He was dressed rather casually: maroon velvet housecoat with black trim and the embroidered family crest. He wore matching slippers. He was taller than Marta by a head. His hair was jet black and curly, full enough to touch his ears. His complexion was ruddy and his demeanor aloof.

Sir John took her hands in his and kissed the back of one in chivalrous style. He held them wide as his coal black eyes scanned her body slowly up and down, assessing his newest housemate. He held her gaze for an uncomfortably long time. When he spoke, his voice was staid despite the gentle words.

"Marta, welcome to your new home. At last, you are here and I can see you are even more immaculate in person than your pictures promised."

Marta gave a coy smile at the memory of her portfolio. 'Which of the pictures was he referring to?' she wondered. Probably all of them but particularly the fetish photos. She thanked her host for accepting her as his scholarship intern. Sir John gave a concessionary nod at that gracious reply. He was also visualizing the file photos and their insight into Marta's erotic pliability. He guided her to a place centered on the long side of the table.

Iman had been silent and still throughout Sir John's greeting and Marta now glanced sideways at the housekeeper. Contrary to Sir John, Iman's clothes were severe and constricting: black lace corset and black leather pants tucked into patent black leather stiletto boots. The corset squeezed her bountiful breasts into mounded ebony cleavage. Her hair was smoothed back into a tight bun and her fire red lips were unsmiling. Her staring dark eyes were humorless.

The food and drink were delectable, the conversation pointed and measured. Sir John and Iman inquired enough of Marta to assure she was comfortable in her new surroundings and committed to her coming year of residence.

Sir John reviewed the household rules. Marta had free rein of the townhouse and attached garden. There would be some special activities for her but they would not interfere with her education. She should use her time mainly to excel in her studies. Of course, dating and casual sex outside the household were forbidden. This was a poly - monogamous relationship: just the three of them.

Lastly, Sir John stated his ultimate rule: no masturbation. Orgasms were only to be shared in the presence of others. For Marta's coming year, that meant only with Sir John and Iman. He made her restate that rule as a solemn promise to obey.

As the meal ended, Sir John rose without fanfare. He extended his hand to assist Marta to her feet and held it firmly, eye - locking her again just as he had done during his greeting. He remembered her file where she self - claimed expertise in fellatio. He brushed his other thumb along the circumference of her mouth, feeling the warmth and pliability of her lips, imagining them wrapped around the base of his erection. Marta knew this was not a moment to be flirtatious but couldn't resist kissing the thumb pad before wetting her lips with a tongue sweep. Sir John gave his first grin of the evening.

Having established his presence and authority, Sir John led Marta from the dining room. She caught her reflection in the hallway mirrors. Her stepped gait jostled her unfettered breasts beneath the loose golden bodice. Sir John's kept his own eye on the waggle with furtive glances. Iman followed solemnly, closing the doors behind them.

They descended a flight of steep narrow stairs to the basement level. High heeled Marta stepped gingerly behind the leading Sir John. She stumbled once and he snagged her in mid - falter, his snaring hand squashing her loose boob beneath the dress. He kept that contact, righting her on the step. His hand dawdled wistfully at the soft, dress - covered contact, groping a quick squeeze. He turned and continued to lead her downward.

At the bottom, Marta beheld the extraordinary panorama. The entire basement was one open room, dimly lit and furnished like a dungeon. Conducting her to the middle of the room, Sir John let go of Marta's hand. "Our playroom" he said as he grandly swept his arm across the expanse, inviting her inspection.

The central furnishings were a number of restraint devices: lacquered cross frames, roughhewn wooden tables and ceiling hung chains. A cabinet stood to one side. Two walls were covered with mirrors. Mercifully, there were none of the cliché whips and paddles hung on the walls.

Sir John stepped before the awestruck Marta and shrugged off his robe. He stood hands on hips for her scrutiny of his nakedness. Marta respectfully looked for the first time upon her patron sponsor's hairy, muscular body. She was both apprehensive and delighted by his size and physique.

Iman collected the fallen robe and placed it aside. She returned wearing purple velvet opera gloves and hefted Sir John's substantial manhood to Marta's rapt gaze. Slow velvety strokes brought Sir John to a mild tumescence. His cock was long and thick, even though only half erect.

Iman rummaged in the cabinet. Sir John broke Marta's spell as he stepped behind her. Presuming her permission, his fingers glided beneath her tresses to the dress clasp, drew the zipper down to the hem and tugged the cocktail dress off her body. The mirrors reflected Marta in all her naked glory, a luminescent piece of art glowing softly in the somber dim - lit room. Sir John glanced at their reflections as he circled her and admired her smooth unblemished skin. He moved his fingertips tenderly over her neck, back, arms and hips; Marta first shivered at his touch but calmed herself as expected. Sir John peered across her shoulder and stared at her in the mirror. He cupped her fine toned buttocks, patting the supple mounds. He nodded stoically, acknowledging his approval of her figure.

Sir John's fascination was interrupted when Iman returned with a collection of black leather cuffs. He collaborated with her to choose the right ones. They tested several sizes on Marta's limbs. Finally they chose the perfect set that fit snug but did not inhibit circulation. They labeled the leather bands with a large 'M', for Marta.

Perfectly cuffed and heeled but otherwise naked, Marta was shepherded to a standing box frame. They stood her on the bottom brace and locked her spread limbs to the corners. They stepped back to admire their work, Iman resuming her velvety handiwork on Sir John's growing erection.

The dark lacquered box frame was now adored with a nubile golden girl festooned with rosy temptations. Marta's rosy cheeks blushed deeper at her growing apprehension. Her bee - stung rosy lips were pressed together in suspenseful anticipation. Her rosy nipples sported stiff dark nubs. Vaginal dew glossed her flowering rosy pudenda. Her rose - hued finger and toe nail polish glimmered in the soft light as her hands and feet fidgeted under their salacious gaze.

His contemplation of the prize displayed on the frame combined with Iman's velvet touch brought Sir John to a full standing erection. Marta observed the foreplay, expecting soon to fulfill her inescapable role in this erotic play - date.

Sir John stepped forward for a close - up carnal appraisal. He had been roused by the premature boob handling on the stairs but had postponed until now a more thorough fondling, letting his passions percolate with the memory. He cupped and bounced Marta's proffered boobs. His fingers danced about the naked globes, cupping the masses, squeezing gently, and flicking the nubs. His fertile musings on Marta's photographed mammary perfections were confirmed in the flesh. He decided he liked what he saw and he liked what he felt. It was time for the next step.

Sir John stood on the frame base, leaned in and positioned his tip at the point of insertion. He reached wide and gripped Marta's wrist cuffs for support. After a hip wiggle for a final stance adjustment, he held there with his bloated knob posed against her dewy nether lips. He leaned closer to Marta's face and took deep tongue kisses from the restrained blonde. During the kisses, Iman produced a black satin blindfold. Marta spied the approaching cloth and closed her eyes, expecting to feel the opaque cover enclose her face and ears. She waited a long moment but nothing touched her skin.

A sharp crack and a low howl from Sir John accompanied his initial push into her cunt. Marta's eyes jolted open, her mind searching her body for the forthcoming sting of the pain. Instead she found Sir John's face covered by the blindfold, his mouth open as his cry faded. She saw Iman windup her arm for another smack with the dog switch. Iman hesitated an instant, then whacked Sir John's ass. He howled again as he thrust his manhood further into Marta's moist grotto. On the next stroke, his pubic bone hit hard on Marta's matching anatomy. He blubbered as he pulled half out.

Marta saw the next whip swing coming and unconsciously recoiled from the impending drubbing on her pubis. Sir John was unable to follow in time and his cock nearly fell out. Iman noticed Marta's reaction and stopped the attack to correct the unintended consequence. She pressed the switch against Marta's butt cheeks to move them forward.

"Brace your hips, my dear. Sir John likes to feel each lunge bottom out. Close your eyes if you must or I can blindfold you if you prefer. Either way, play your part properly."

Marta murmured a promise to do better. She strained against the cuffs to give Sir John fuller access. The crack of the switch, the howls and the repeated deep thrusts continued unabated. Iman varied the timing so that Sir John and Marta could not anticipate the strikes.

She felt his knob punch against her cervix with each stroke. Sir John may like to feel each lunge bottom out but Marta found it less than pleasant. Her pubis throbbed, her cervix was sore and the dark scene and surroundings were disrupting her knack for achieving the orgasm that she had been told to share with the others.

Iman watched Marta's breasts jump with each lunge of the blindfolded Sir John. The sweaty mounds bobbed up her chest in a liquidly slosh and rolled down when they settled. 'Poor Sir John', she thought, 'he's missing the thrill of seeing those splendors in motion'.

Sir John's cries and breathing amplified with each smack. Finally, on a particularly solid hit, he stiffened his whole body upward and powered his manly pulses deep inside his newest scholarship intern. He shuddered out the following volleys. When his balls were empty, Sir John floated down slowly from his mind blown high and then hung exhausted from his perch. Marta clung to her restraints, squatting down slowly, following Sir John's sagging hips and holding in his ebbing cock. His erection further faded and finally fell out. His copious cum dribbled out onto Marta's alabaster thighs.

Sir John smiled when the blindfold was removed and Marta's flushed face was before him. He pecked fondly at her sweat stained lips. Stepping down, he re - donned his robe and ascended the stairs alone to his room.

Sir John had picked Marta from all the available candidates and he congratulated himself on an excellent choice. Marta was the perfect counter - balance to Iman: pure white versus blue black, soft toned body versus sinewy muscles, naive demeanor versus severe temperament. He reminisced on her candidate portfolio and the fetish portrayals. His previous intern had departed a month before Marta's arrival. He had pondered impatiently during the interim, conjuring inventive scenes for Marta to coax out his cum and entertain the bi - sexual Iman. The waiting had been torture for him.

But the waiting had been worth it. Their just concluded first encounter had been impressive and promised much more to come. There was a giddy joy in Sir John's heart. This was going to be a very good year.

After Sir John had ascended the stairs, Iman surveyed the exhausted blonde. Marta's hair was disheveled and sweat - platted to the temples and cheeks of her lowered face. Marta was unresisting as the black woman pressed the end of the dog switch against the side of her limp boob. The orb was well formed and pliant. Iman used the crop to lift the other from below. The rod indented the weighty flesh but the mass held its youthful roundness. Iman smiled. Sir John was going to love finding dynamic amusements for the blonde's fun - bags.

Iman dismounted Marta from her perch and removed the cuffs. She stored them in a drawer marked 'Marta', conveniently available for next time. She handed the weary girl a sheer translucent wrap.

Marta felt Sir John's drying spunk sticky between her thighs. Her pussy was sore yet tingled with need. She loathed sleeping alone at any time but especially now with her sexual angst peaked and the prohibition on masturbation. With head bowed, Marta picked up the gold lame dress for her trek back to her room.

At the foot of the stairs, Iman stopped and whispered "Don't fret, my dear. Tomorrow night we will do something different. Maybe strap you to a table and use some vibrating toys so Sir John can watch your titties dance."

Iman mused on Marta buckled down tight, head tilted back over the edge, a vibrator stabbing her orgasming pussy while Sir John's thrust deep into her inverted throat, his balls beating against her nose. A shiver ran up her spine in anticipation. She motioned Marta upward ahead of her as she continued her assurances.

"You should dream tonight of powerful orgasms; maybe tomorrow those dreams will come true."

Marta's hips undulated under the sheer taupe cover as she scaled the flight. Black skinned Iman savored the view of Marta's ivory white ass mounted on cum dampened legs and sequined heels. She was intrigued by the show. But she was also patient and disciplined; Sir John expected that of her. She would wait a fortnight for Sir John to drain his month - long pent - up lust into his newest intern. Then Iman would assert her claim to a fair share of the pink and golden booty. This was going to be a very good year.

Chapter 05 Tatiana

*** Beauty Contestant

Ben wandered to the great room for the ritual greet and mingle before taking his undisclosed sex partner to bed. Only three of the scholarship interns were present. Ben resigned to wait for his senior intern to arrive and reveal her choice for his nighttime mate. After some small talk, the others informed him that Tatiana had scheduled herself for tonight but wanted to surprise Ben. They said she asked him to meet her in the master suite. She wanted to make an entrance. It was an unusual request but Ben trusted her judgment. He trudged the stairs and hallway alone to his room, an unusual circumstance for his nightly stroll to bed. He walked through his door to an exciting vista.

Tatiana stood in stage smile pose wearing her beauty contestant finest. She was decked out in silver heels and a matching floor length body molding gown. Her hair and makeup were perfect. She held a large bouquet of flowers and the light glinted off her keepsake tiara crown. A satin ribbon sash declared her Miss Columbia.

Ben was surprised by the unexpected role play but was eager to play along. He liked what he saw and was eager for the scenario to unfold. Like all men who watched televised beauty contests, he had fantasized of subduing one of the crown - hungry cock - teasers. Instead of the usual masturbation to the on - screen images, this time he was going to ravage the winner in real life. His thoughts were disturbed as Tatiana initiated the banter.

"Oh my god. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am so happy" she began.

"Not at all' played along Ben. "You are exotic and sexy. It was easy to get the other judges' votes when I told them of your promised post - pageant thank - yous."

Tatiana nodded at Ben's sage handling of the negotiations. "That was a brilliant turn around. I would have fucked all of them before the contest. Silly me."

Ben was quick on the uptake; he quoted the hooker's adage about pre - payment.

"You know that the perceived value of the services to be rendered is greater than the perceived value after the services are rendered." Wisdom dispensed, he continued. "As head judge, I claimed first spot in your after - event datebook."

Tatiana nodded her understanding and placed her flowers in the side table vase. The body molding sequined gown articulated her graceful hourglass body beneath. She turned to Ben who admired her creamy cleavage elevated by the strapless bodice. She strolled to the side of the cushioned wooden chair and gave a showgirl arm sweep, inviting him to sit. Ben dropped his shorts and shirt before obliging her invitation. A red velvet cushion occupied the floor between his spread knees and thereupon kneeled the still fully gowned Tatiana.

She took liberties, fingering his thickened cock, kissing and touching his inner thighs and scrotum as Ben enjoyed the down cleavage view. She paused to touch her exquisite necklace.

"These are genuine pearls I wear for competitions" she said. "But don't you think a string of sperm pearls would look much better on my neck?" she implored.

Ben looked in her make - believe beseeching eyes. There was no script here so he adlibbed "If you deep throat me first, I might consent to garnishing your breasts."

Tatiana became uneasy. It was one of her few life letdowns. In fact, she had never been able to get a man past her gag reflex. Ben knew her trouble and was challenging her to leap the barrier. She knew she needed to try, again.

With a deep breath, she opened her mouth and went down on Ben as far as she could. When his tip touched her tonsils, she gagged and drew back. Ben remained seated and patient for your next try. Another deep slide, another reflex. This wasn't going well.

Tatiana needed a break but sought to concentrate on Ben's pleasure. Instead of another futile thrust, she rolled her head and slid his shaft and knob against her inner cheek to caress its lateral side. Her tongue fluttered about his penile skin, seeking whatever nerve clusters she could happen upon.

Ben watched her frustrations and genuine efforts to regain the initiative. He understood her desire to please him. Her tongue, cheeks and palette scoured his cock; it really was exciting to watch and feel. He could have forced the issue, so to speak: jamb her head down and pierce her throat. But that would not give her the pride of self - achievement; it would be a forced solution. Traumatizing the scholarship interns was not in Ben's nature.

Tatiana's mouth was a flurry of motion, her bobbing tiara skittering the soft light. Ben liked the sensations but the night was young and he figured there were other parts of this scene to explore. He slowed Tatiana's moves on his prick and drew her face upward for a gentle loving kiss.