The Courts Of Pleasure Ch. 10

"Oh!" she gasped as he touched her, and her head flopped back in surrender. He took his time then exploring her, letting his fingers wander all over her folds, following them all the way back to her pucker, and all the way up to her clitoris. He kept squeezing her whole sex in his hand like he couldn't get enough of it.

She felt him spreading her petals, felt his fingers working back and forth between them, touching every little secret that she had and lingering over it. When he finally came to her vaginal opening he played with it forever, feeling his way in at last with long lingering probes of his finger. "You've got a tight little cunt," he murmured.

"I know," she groaned as the memory of how Cliff Murdock's huge cock had stretched her each time he had fucked her. She'd wondered if he'd ever stretch her enough. "I've gotta have this little sweetheart," the guy rumbled down at the woman lying in his lap. "Suck me while I finger-fuck her."

Vi flopped her head forward and her eyes opened, her long dark tresses falling over her bosom and the man's head. Beneath her the woman was uncovering his cock, pulling it out from beneath her bosom and stretching it up to her mouth.

Numbly Vi watched her suck its half hard length into her mouth while those fingers in her vagina commenced a maddening pump. He was back on her tits now sucking with his mouth while he finger-fucked her vagina and she had to fuck him back. "Are you going to fuck me?" she murmured.

"You bet I am sweetheart."

"Oh lordy!" was all she could moan.

"Do you want it?"

"Let me get on your lap. You can lap fuck me so everyone won't see us," she whispered in his ear as she glanced down and watched the woman pull his rigid erection from her mouth. Slipping off the arm of the sofa Vi straddled his lap and lifted her leg. Impatiently she waited for the woman to find her vagina with his erection and when she did Vi slid slowly down upon it, taking its bulk up into the full length of her long vagina as her peplos fell to her hips again in a wrinkled shroud.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she hugged her breasts up to his face and began pummeling his cock with her hips. Vi felt her mask slip from her face and fall about her neck as his groans, his gasps, his thrusts and shoves echoed through her. She stared down into his widening eyes reading his astonishment and his excitement at the revelation of the erotic beauty in her virginally youthful face. Instantly his orgasm surged out of control and she had his erection throbbing in time to the spasms of her own climax milking his cock into ecstatic surrender.

The woman laid beside them an appreciative smile upon her sumptuous mouth relishing the interval of his orgasm. In all their encounters she had never seen his surges last so long. When it was over at last the girl was hanging breathless on his shoulders, her hair in wild disarray, her gown in a shapeless drape down to her naked hips and shapely legs. F

inally, leaning back Vi looked down into his masked countenance and then she bent forward and kissed his silken forehead. "There," she said with a sweet little giggle as his softening organ slipped from her vagina, "is that what you wanted?"

Applause rose from behind her, bravas, laughter and encouragement. Startled Vi glanced over her shoulder at the gathering of spectators that had witnessed her performance. "Oh my God!" she gasped raising her mask to her face and slidding from his lap. In an instant she had grabbed her girdle and fled into the partitions, putting a dozen great paintings between herself and her audience before she even began to think about tidying herself.

She could feel his semen running down her thighs, smell his maleness about herself, and her breasts and her vulva ached from her surrender to him. Ducking into a dark recess between the partitions she ordered her gown, fastened her girdle about her waist, brushed her hair into some semblance of order with her hands, and stepped out into the corridor right into someone's arms.

"Vi!"

"Oh Sarah, thank God it's you," she gasped slumping into her lover's embrace.

"I've been looking all over for you."

"I know," she gasped.

"What have you been up to, my dear?" Sarah exclaimed taking in the girl's disheveled state.

"You didn't see me then? I just let this guy fuck me, and everybody else saw it."

"You should be more discrete in the future, dear," Sarah giggled and primped at Vi's hair. "I just got laid too, sweetheart," but it was in a booth.

"You did!" Vi giggled conspiratorially.

"He had a huge cock."

"Bigger than Cliff's"

"It felt like it but I didn't see it."

"I'm dripping with cum," Vi moaned.

"Me too but let's get something else to eat" Sarah giggled as they happened to be near one of the buffets. She picked up a pair of plates while Vi made the choices from the succulent dishes arrayed before them, and then they found a couch in a shadowed nook overlooking an utterly choice Wyeth rendering of the naked Helga seated by a window amidst wind drifted curtains.

Sarah nodded at the painting. "They were lovers you know. He did a wonderful series of her. I hope to God they're not lost." She glanced back at Vi. "Do you suppose all his paintings of her are here?"

"Oh yes," a male voice answered as a figure materialized from the shadows behind them. "Indeed they are."

They turned together to see a man dressed in black and wearing the cape of a magician, his features totally concealed beneath a face-mask. From its depths a pair of startlingly brilliant eyes studied each of them with an inquisitiveness that went beyond mere curiosity. "Did you enjoy the performance tonight?"

"Oh yes, it was gorgeous. I knew it would be stupendous, but it surpassed my expectations." Sarah lifted her wineglass and sipped, her eyes touching Vi's with a conspiratorial glance as the girl's features were suddenly suffused in a deep blush. "Ah," the magician returned, "I'm pleased to see how enthusiastic you are about our many entertainments, but I was referring to the ballet, it seems to have inspired a similar enthusiasm amongst many of the spectators. You must extend my congratulations to Vyrobrovna when you see her."

"We have the honor of extending The Patron's regards?" Vi asked the realization that at last she was in his presence dawning upon her.

The masked head inclined with assent. "Indeed, and I have the pleasure of Sarah Murdock's and Vivienne Valiente's company?"

The women and the girl raised their wineglasses to him in assent.

"The artist and her model I take it from what Orcutt has shown me of your work Ms. Moore," he said his gaze lingering on Sarah. "So now we come to the commission. Your work intrigues me. It holds the promise of something I find very fascinating and very rare in these times, the element of the erotic in fine art. But from what I've seen of your work it is not fully realized as yet. It's most certainly there, but I sense the promise of an epiphany something surpassing perhaps what we see at this time."

Sarah looked down and swirled her wineglass as if some answer might roil up with the aroma. "That's true. I'm searching. As for surpassing this," she glanced at the Wyeth, "it's not possible."

"We must give it every opportunity."

"This is a process of realization, it's...complicated."

"Perhaps if you were living under the right circumstances, in the most conducive atmosphere."

Sarah glanced up sharply as the first ping of alarm sounded within her. "What are you suggesting?"

"Certainly there could be no environment more suitable for what you are seeking in particular than what we have here in Bountiful-Towers. What you both have experienced tonight is but the merest taste of the knowledge you are seeking. Here you and Miss Valiente could work towards this realization freed of every care, every distraction. Let me extend this evening's invitation for the length of time it takes you to decide on the suitability of such an arrangement."

"That's very kind of you but The Court suits my needs perfectly," Sarah answered firmly.

"And I have responsibilities there that demand my attention," Vivienne added.

"But really, you have no idea of what we can offer you. I've spoken with Cliff and Zack, they are thoroughly intrigued with this proposition. In fact they are with Orcutt now visiting some of our more unique and most attractive entertainments."

"And these entertainments involve beautiful women?" Sarah probed dryly.

"Most certainly," the Patron smiled. "But I'm sure both you and Vivienne have observed our abundance of handsome young men, and beautiful young women as well, if you might be so disposed."

"I prefer to continue my work in The Court," Sarah insisted. "If my husband wants to stay here and pleasure himself with your entertainment's he has my blessing. You have our thanks for this evening's enlightenments but it's getting late and its time for Vi and I to return to The Court." "Ah, I see." In the brief and ominous silence that followed Sarah was suddenly and acutely aware of a soft amorous moan from the couch behind them which was interrupted by The Patron's acerbic, "If you wish...please wait here. I will send Orcutt to you." In a moment he had vanished behind the partitions leaving Sarah and Vivienne exchanging anxious glances amidst the lovemaking in the shadows beyond. Sarah slumped upon the couch in dismay as Vivienne seated herself beside her. "I knew just coming to the ballet was too good to be true. That's what he wanted all along, to keep us here," Vi concluded. "He can't do it, Sarah. There's too much at stake for him with The Court to risk blowing it. Mother, Coverly, everyone knows we are here. He has to let us go back."

Sarah picked up her wineglass, sipped and tipped the rim to Vivienne's lips. "Thank God, you're here," she sighed leaning into Vi's arms. "We might as well join the party while we're waiting." And wait they did as the lights dimmed, and the shadows deepened over the little orgies upon the couches surrounding them. "What do you suppose Cliff and Zack are doing?" Sarah mused.

"Not what I'm going to do to you," Vi giggled as she cuddled into Sarah's arms, "unless they've gone gay on us."

*****

The Gallery had held only passing interest for Cliff and Zack who were soon diverted to the nearest buffet. Eva set a fine table but the buffet at Bountiful Towers surpassed even the banquets at the Gatherings and the men browsing happily through this sumptuous cuisine soon lost sight of each other.

It was only the commotion by the elevator that diverted Cliff from his feast in a spattering of applause and cries of "brava" heralding the arrival of Katia and her dancers who graciously acknowledged their reception. They swept into the room freshened from their showers, their hair beribboned, clad in nothing but pale doeskin body-stockings, and soon arrived at the buffet. Seizing an empty plate Cliff approached Katia. "May I serve you?" he offered gallantly.

"How nice. I'm famished." she replied as he selected the delicacies."I eat light before performances, but afterwards I'm ravenous." "You were quite a hit tonight," he observed.

Katia chuckled. "Orcutt was ecstatic. It was just what he wanted for reviving these jaded appetites here. His stock will go up with The Patron and his Cornucopians, and so will ours."

"I had no idea ballet could be so entertaining."

"I took liberties with the original. But I think its what Fokine had in mind all along though he never could have offered it this way a hundred and fifty years ago."

"This is definitely the version for me," Cliff offered. "Who was the dancer with nothing but the veil?"

"That's our little Denise. Do you find her charming?"

"She has a special talent."

"Yes she does. She's our latest addition, a very good dancer with lots of sex appeal. She's young and she hasn't had much experience yet, but she has a feel for roles like the enchantress. She's our protégé."

"Well, I favored you above all."

Katia gave him a droll glance, "Did you like my costume?"

"Absolutely stunning. I have the best part of it right here." Cliff extracted the tiny thong from the folds of his toga.

"You may keep it to remember me by."

"Not that I could ever forget you, but especially not with this as a keepsake. You have another?"

"Lots"

"Too bad. "

"Do you think I should always dance without it?"

"I wouldn't miss a performance if you did."

"Perhaps some night, as an encore."

"I think it should be a regular part of your repertory."

Her eyes lifted from the plate that he was holding for her as she ate and raised to his face, the Ares mask concealing everything but his mouth and the bright blueness of his eyes. The toga, she decided, suited his robust figure, his bare bulky shoulders and strong neck, and she felt enveloped by the Ares aura emanating from him. "One must save certain things for 'special performances'," she said her eyes holding his and delicately forking a morsel into her mouth, "to keep one's repertory fresh."

Cliff focused on her mobile mouth. "I'm sure you have an exquisite repertory. The previews have been delicious. I can't wait for the main event," he added pouring a glass of wine and handing it to her, his voice heavy with expectancy.

Katia studied him over the rim of the glass sensing the same impulses rising within her that had prompted the swim and the blow-job that afternoon in the pond; the indulgence of that urge to erotic physicality that had made her a dancer coupled with the loneliness that had overtaken her since Sarah's arrival in The Court.

"Of course one needs the right venue, a setting, an opportunity," she dipped her finger in her wine and lifted it to his mouth, "to show to the best advantage."

Her libation was sweet upon his tongue and he held her finger with his mouth sucking its shape moving softly there upon him before he released her. "I think we've found it," he smiled giving her his robed arm and gesturing with the other to the recesses of The Gallery. *****

Jubilation flowered within Denise. All the weeks of rehearsal, all the years of preparation and practice had fused at last in those few glorious moments that had roused this audience to a climax of bravas and applause. She had entered into the soul of the temptress, Lykanion, and she had made this audience rapt with her display of that power.

"At last," she had told herself "I really am a dancer! And what a place to dance," she marveled as she lifted the glass of wine from the buffet, too excited yet to eat, and wandered wonderingly into the maze of pictures.

Here was a display of power as well. Never in her whole life had she seen such pictures, such a celebration of everything that Katia had tried to make her understand with the movements of her body, movements her body had known even if her mind didn't, not yet. There had hardly been time to learn like other girls had, and no one, not even Katia, knew that she was still a virgin.

She lingered open mouthed before the paintings soaking the artist's vision into her own soul. She would be as these women, glorious in her nakedness, extravagant with beauty, sensuous in movement like this life-size pristine marble sculpture on the pedestal before her.

Denise felt the pose enter her own body, felt the chains that bound this slave girl's wrists, the way her hand covered her sex, the tilt of her head. Beyond the sculpture the partitions gave onto an open space, a circle of couches and a collection of reclining nudes, beautiful curving backs, and naked girls who looked you full in the face from their beds; courtesans, bold and knowing. She was hardly aware of the touch it was so light at first. The shiver started at her nape and trickled down her spine sending a flush of goose bumps scattering across her sides as she turned to the masked figure beside her. The harlequin in spangled tights lifted his wand to his face and studied her.

"I do declare, Lykanion, herself. What good luck," he chuckled in satisfaction. His hand resting in the small of her back descended and curved over her buttock, his fingers following her crease to the back of her leg and paused. She didn't recoil, she was used to being touched. There was no part of her body that hadn't been handled in the most intimate way in the dance, and his costume was disarming, she had danced with harlequins before.

"Anyone you know," he said glancing at the 'Olympia' before them. "I wish I did. She's lovely," Denise said simply as she took in the reclining nude's lovely pose. . "I saw you posing by the paintings. You're very good. I'll bet you could pose just like that if you wanted to," he nodded at the reclining nude.

"Of course."

"Show me," the harlequin said, "on that couch over there."

Denise studied the painting, not just the pose but the impression as well and then slipped onto the couch. "Of course you can't just stand there, you have to kneel so you can look into my face the way the artist did."

Obligingly, harlequin knelt, resting his chin upon his wand and gazed into her face. "You're really much more handsome than the Olympia," he observed but the effect isn't at all the same."

"Really?" Denise said glancing up at the painting.

"Well," he spread his hands dramatically, "look at you."

She stared down at the expanse of her figure in its blue body stocking.

"Well? Just take it off. Look at all the poses we can do, " he exclaimed waving his wand at the gallery of Olympias around them. She mused for a moment, being naked was nothing. Nudity was part of her life now. It would be fun and she might never get to see such paintings again. Standing she raised her hands to the fine zipper that held her body stocking at the back and drew it down.

Harlequin watched in fascination as she pulled the garment from her shoulders, stripped it from her arms, and began the wiggles that freed it from her hips. Her slim ivory torso emerged in the shadows, darkly nippled breasts ripe with the turgidity of youth swaying before his face, her strong hips flanking the hollows of her groin and the rise of her hairless mons over the neat folds of her vulva. Pushing the stocking down over her buttocks she seated her self and began stripping it from the curves of her legs.

"Let me," harlequin offered taking her ankle in his hand and pulling gently below the knee of her stocking. His movement disturbed her balance and she leaned back to catch herself with her hands as he stripped the stocking slowly down her calf, freeing it at last from her foot before lifting her other ankle. He held her then his eyes fixed on the revelation of her vulva as he spread her legs.

Shock seized Denise for the moment but behind him the Olympia stared down into her face with her bold knowing expression. 'So this is what it is like to be a courtesan' Denise thought as she read the intensity in what she could see of the harlequin's face. "What a delicious pose," harlequin exclaimed as his free hand moved to the inside of her other knee and opened her unresisting legs still further. "Lean back, my dear."

Denise dropped to her elbows the movement lifting her hips and bringing the full extent of her sex to view while she studied the eager fascination leaping into the eyes behind the mask and the excitement in the quivering lips below it. She was like the girl in the painting now and the bouquet in the maid's hands behind the girl was a tribute to her own beauty. "You have more to show me don't you?" harlequin breathed thickly.

Denise nodded silently, unsure of what that might be as she glanced at the painting again.

"Then do what I tell you," harlequin ordered. "Put your hand over your sex." She obeyed, her fingers gathered and closed over her delta just like the girl in the painting. "Put your forefinger on your crease." "Here" she asked.