TAKEN by FIVE: Pt. 01 - Jenny

Again, everybody was complimentary of my performance and my looks. A few of the guests even asked if they could feel my tits. They insisted they were, "wonderful, some of the finest they had ever seen." I let them fondle me—through my top, of course. My nipples stiffened up, poking out even further from under the taut fabric. It felt great and I really enjoyed the attention.

Natasha was watching me from her side of the room. She'd been skulking about, studying the walls, acting as if nobody else existed. I figured she was jealous of all the attention I was getting. She raised her hand in a gesture of solidarity—finally, some respect. She was really just holding up an empty glass. Fuck.

"So, what did you think of Igor's huge erection?" she asked in an accent as thick as, uh, a certain member I couldn't help but remember. I refreshed our drinks. I didn't answer her question. I would not give her the satisfaction. The truth is, I couldn't get it out of my mind. That cock of his was both terrifying and fascinating. Yes, I thought about it. Imagining my bald little pussy stretched over that broad head gave me shivers—the good kind!

It was as if she was reading my mind. I gave her my best, 'Will there be anything else, bitch?' look I could muster. I was still pissed at her for what she did earlier. Really, I was so angry because I knew, deep down, I loved it. Like, I got a perverse sense of pleasure from it! I mean, I even thought of disappearing into a closet for a while to play with myself.

"So you're a fan of de Kooning?" I said. She returned a look of absolute incomprehension—just as I had imagined. You are beautiful, rich, and empty-headed, aren't you? "The de Kooning," I repeated, indicating the painting she studied earlier. I even rolled my eyes a bit to express my contempt for her boorishness.

"Oh that," she replied. "Yeah, it's easily my favorite from that period. It's one of the first in the series before he married. The aggressive dismantling of the female figure, the brutal and savage delineation of form, the overall flatness with subject as background—owes a lot to Picasso, don't you think?"

"It's a commentary on the pin-up model, the post-world-war emergence of pornography. I sold it to John last year for something like seven million euros. It was a good investment."

Natasha, she's a real beauty. I shrunk by two inches as I subconsciously tried to fold in on myself. Check please, I will be going, thank you!

"You're not still mad at me for grabbing your juicy little snatch earlier, are you, my little rabbit?" she drawled and hooked a finger into the waistband of my short-shorts. This was too much for me to take. Again, I refused to answer her.

I was about to skedaddle the fuck out of there when she put her arms around me. She breathed into my ear, "Did you get as turned on as I did during our little performance?" I definitely wasn't going to respond to that. The answer was most definitely yes and she fucking knew it.

"Glad to see you two are getting along," said Mr. Masters, full of cheer as he pulled us closer in a big hug. Natasha smelled divine. Practically forced to stare down the front of her dress at those amazing breasts, I began hating her even more.

***

After delivering all the bottles, tumblers, ashtrays and various other detritus to the kitchen, I was spent. "I'm cashed," I announced. "Count me out!"

Mr. Masters wiped down the bar and shelved the booze. We were the last of the partygoers. Overheated, I decided to take a stroll out onto the deck and get some much needed fresh air.

Once outside, I noticed something was wrong, very wrong—the fucking marina was nowhere in sight! There was nothing beyond the ship's railing aside from the stars in the sky, and what I assumed was endless ocean. I had no idea we had gone anywhere. My mind began racing. My mom was going to kill me! I ran back inside intent on confronting Mr. Masters about this disastrous state of affairs.

"We're over twenty miles out, in case you were wondering," he said.

I was stunned. "But, why...?" I couldn't finish the thought. The implications were troubling—we were in international waters. I looked around for some kind of an escape.

"Amanda, there is nowhere for you to go, I assure you. If you follow my instructions, things will go well for you in the end, I promise. Now, come on over here and stand right there," he said, pointing to the floor.

Conflicting emotions whirled about in my mind as I went to where Mr. Masters had indicated.

"Get on your knees," he said.

"What?" I said, not sure I had heard correctly. I was stunned.

"Don't make me ask you again, Amanda."

I got on my knees. My head was spinning.

"Open your mouth."

I opened my mouth.

"Show me how much you love to suck cock."

"What!"

"Amanda! Don't interrupt me again with your pointless questions."

I felt a deep shame for disappointing Mr. Masters and for what I was about to do. I stuck out my tongue and pretended to suck cock. Oh god, this was so humiliating. The embers smoldering between my legs all night suddenly flared up into a bright flame.

"Now take off your shirt."

I peeled off my top.

"Be a good little girl and take it out."

I opened my eyes to see him standing before me. I undid his fly and reached in. I grabbed the base and tried to wrench it free of its confinement. I had never sucked on a cock before but found myself somehow willing. This one, however, didn't seem a proper size for my or anyone's mouth. It didn't seem reasonable. As if to prove my point, it sprang out and slapped me upside my face.

Then Mr. Masters did something truly incredible. He said, "Say, fuck my mouth Daddy."

"What? Fuck my mouth?"

"Amanda! I brought you here for a reason," he said and grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back so I was looking up at him. "Now are you going to be my little princess or not?"

"Fuck my mouth. Fuck my mouth Daddy!" I pleaded, surprised by my newfound eagerness.

"That's a good girl, open wide," he said.

No. Fucking. Way.

I opened my mouth wide as the tip of his cock eased forward. I stretched my jaws as wide as they would go! It was all I could do to keep my teeth from scraping his majestic dong. You do not want to receive a spanking now do you, har-har.

"You're doing great Amanda," he encouraged, "Just a bit further. What do you want more than anything in the whole world?"

He continued to push his cock further down my throat, which, thank god, flooded with saliva. I felt his large hand on the back of my head. With a relentless pressure, he pushed my face down onto him, easing off just in time!

"Fuck my mouth Daddy!" I proposed enthusiastically, only able to suck in a lungful of air before his hand pushed me down again and his fat cock stuffed me to the limit. This went on for a while, each time going a bit further—all the way to the very back.

"Oh, Amanda, you're doing so well, you're a very good girl. Now I want you to go all the way."

All the way. What the fuck was he talking about? I wrapped my lips around him and felt his cock slide up against the back of my throat. To my amazement, he kept probing until the bulbous head made its way past the restriction back there. He kept pushing until forehead was up against his stomach. I thought I was going to choke to death! Again, I took his tool—again and again.

"You're a natural born cock-sucker, Amanda," he panted, thrusting his cock into my face. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, even as copious strings of slobber swung down from my chin, neck, and between my breasts. My pussy ached. I felt extreme embarrassment, confusion, and most of all—desire.

With his strong hands clutching the back of my head, I was being face-fucked like a kind of sex doll. I understood then I was only a hot, wet socket used for his pleasure. I loved it. The shame I felt spiked yet again, so I slid my free hand down under my shorts and began stroking myself.

There was nothing left to do now but ride those wonderful sensations to their full potential! Once I positioned myself so—sitting on my heels, knees spread wide with two fingers flashing over my greasy clit, I was well on my way to a mind-blowing orgasm. I whimpered with delight as waves of pleasure rolled up and down my spine.

The unmistakable sound of fingernails drumming rhythmically on a leather armrest pierced my senses like a meteor—all notions of cumming came to a screeching halt. Sheer panic encapsulated my thoughts like a pulsating beacon.

I sat immobilized, like the proverbial deer in headlights. I was busted—squatting before Mr. Masters with my fingers in my pussy and his cock deep down my throat. I mean, how bad could it be?

"Don't stop on my account," said Natasha Ilyinichna Rostova.

I jumped up with an audible 'pop' as Mr. Masters' cock pulled free from my mouth. The impulse to run flashed bright in my mind but my legs refused. There was nowhere to go. I stood wide-eyed for a good minute, in shock at the realization that the sexy Russian whore had likely been sitting there for some time.

Her gaze shifted to my hand. I looked down at my dripping fingers and felt a kind of heat spread across my face.

"So, you're a lefty. Come here," she said, revealing a black leather riding-crop. She waved it about and then sliced the air with it. She had my full attention.

Mr. Masters' hands rested on my shoulders as he pushed me away. "Go on Amanda, there's no need to be afraid."

I stepped forward, eyes on the dancing whip.

"Strip for me," she said. "May I?" she asked, indicating my chest.

I peeled off my shorts and panties and shrugged. She smeared the remaining saliva left from sucking Mr. Masters' prick all over my tits. Oh, god this was fucking embarrassing.

She pinched and pulled on my sticky nipples as she rubbed the riding-crop between my legs. Oh my god it felt good.

"I like your bald little slit—very modest. Do you like it when it's dripping with your own juices? Why are you so very wet down there Amanda?"

"I dunno," I said, ashamed by the fire raging out of control in my belly.

"Do you like special attention?" she asked, making little concentric circles around my nipples with the business end of the petite whip.

I understood what she meant and yet found myself saying, "Yes, please."

"Whap!" the crop stung sharp, and then again. "Whap!" Twice more the whip whirred and white heat shot through me. Cool air from the AC soothed my engorged nipples like a lover's caress. My inner thighs became wet with arousal. Oh, boy was I ready for some fucking.

"Touch yourself Amanda," she said. "I want to watch you play with yourself some more. I want to see you close to the edge, like before." I stuck my fingers in my dripping slot and rocked with pleasure.

"Run along Amanda, go play with daddy," she said finally, giving me a final "Whap!" with the horsewhip. I turned to engage Mr. Masters.

***

Mr. Masters wore nothing aside from his dress-shirt as he affixed a camcorder to a short tripod set up on his large desk. His cock stood out broad and impressive, still pulsing from the mouth fucking I had given him earlier. The desire I felt for him at that moment was overwhelming—I was going to give it to him, all of it.

"Come over here, Amanda. Put your hands on the desk as you look into the camera. Are you my little princess today?"

"Yes Daddy, I'm your little princess," I replied in earnest.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to fuck me, Daddy. I want you to fill me up and make me cum," I said.

"Look into the camera as you tell everybody how much you enjoy getting your tight little hole filled."

"Yes Daddy!" I pleaded, longing for him to ram it home. I wanted him to invest me with warmth and comfort, hard and deep. When the tip of his rod touched my cervix, I said things into the camera I had never even imagined. Mr. Masters wrapped a hand firmly around my neck as he fucked me from behind. I came hard and loved every minute of it!

I could feel every ridge, every protrusion, from the wet friction as his broad steelhead made its way into the restrictive channel of my cunt. There was no time to think about my hymen, nor any concern given for my virginity as I backed into his thrusts.

He rammed me onto his cock. Without missing a beat, he stuck two fingers in my slippery asshole. It was shocking at first, him double penetrating me that way, but then it felt fucking amazing. I came a second time. I played with myself as Natasha grabbed fistfuls of my hair and rammed my mouth onto him. I lay on the desk—a naked puddle.

"Come over here Amanda, and get on your knees," said Mr. Masters.

Natasha knelt on his other side. We licked his cock up and down, sometimes taking a wicked moment to brush our lips and tongues together. I was super horny again within minutes. Natasha held his dick in her dainty hands and jerked him off with practiced skill.

"Open your mouth little princess," said Mr. Masters, clearly on the brink of orgasm. I readied myself as he deposited what felt like a gallon of hot cum all over my face. I felt like such a dirty slut!

***

My mind wandered and I realized what I wanted was to put my head on Natasha's lap. As her green cat-eyes bore into my own, her hands would begin exploring every inch of my body. I had to think about that—was I becoming a lesbo? For the most part, we talked about sex and the ways in which I excelled at it.

The big leather couch in John's office was hopelessly comfortable and the thoughts of Natasha's caresses intoxicated me. I imagined her long, delicate fingers sliding into me and shuddered.

I was about to nod off when Igor appeared, improbably carrying cigars, a tray full of sandwiches, a fresh carafe, a manila envelope, pillows, a pair of reading glasses, a pitcher of ice water, a large fluffy cat and my ruined dress. He dropped the cat, handed the carafe to Natasha, the dress to me, and the envelope to John. I raised my empty glass and stared at her.

I downed the drink, looked down at the dress and felt a sense of awe. The alcohol burned my throat and spread its heat throughout my belly something fierce. The rip that had run up the one side for much of its length was gone, completely mended.

I looked to Igor in amazement. He in turn looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It struck me then, "Did you sew this?" I asked. His face flushed telling me that yes, he had. I took Natasha's glass and sipped on it—yuck!

"Igor is very talented, Amanda," said Mr. Masters, displaying his wolfish smile. "He can fix most anything. Or, if you prefer, have somebody say, torn apart, limb from limb. He's good at that too. Natasha has talents as well. Friends like these are one of the many benefits of being part of my group."

I was transfixed by Natasha's full breasts pushing against the thin fabric of her evening gown when, out of the corner of my eye, a small flying object appeared. I snatch it out of the air a split second before it struck me. I was indignant for a second until I realized it was a set of keys—to the brand new BMW I had delivered earlier.

"So you have a way home," he offered, handing the envelope back to Igor. Inside, I discovered paperwork, two crisp hundred-dollar bills, and a phone. "Gas money," said Mr. Masters.

"Before you leave, I have an offer I'd like to present to you. First, however, there is a room set aside for you, so you will get some rest. It is late and you've been drinking. We are serving brunch in the dining hall in a few hours—I expect to see you there. Also, you had best call your mother."

He gave me a minute to absorb the import of all this. With relief, I noticed the marina sliding into view in the morning's orange-violet light.

"We three are a part of a larger and much more powerful group." He continued. "Within this larger organization, I am known as 'Number Five'—my true identity unknown to the others," Mr. Masters continued. "We depart again soon and I propose that you come with us. You are a beautiful, bright girl and would be a great asset."

"Keep in mind, your obligations will include things carnal in nature. I imagine you have an interest in continuing your education. Your salary will cover university expenses and so much more."

I knew a bit about the way things worked and chose to keep silent. It was crucial to appear indifferent in such matters. Inside, however, I was a wreck. I struggled mightily to come to grips with these revelations. It would mean giving up my old life entirely.

"See you in the morning, darling," said Natasha before bending down and kissed me full on the mouth. "I'm going to bed, it's been fun. I'm all in boys!" She sashayed elegantly to her room.

I followed after her, but not before thanking John Masters and Igor Vasiliy Chyornoborodov for one hell of an interesting evening.