Trusting Rebekka Ch. 04

©Julia Gentile 2012

This story continues to explore my passion for beautiful women in highly charged sensual situations. It is part of a longer story and you will enjoy it more and understand the context better if you have read the previous chapters of Trusting Rebekka. There's more to come too; hope you like the drip-feed.

I also hope you like my writing style. If you do, please vote and leave comments; private or public. I love to hear about what people like, it makes the whole writing experience far more rewarding. If you don't like this story, sorry but please look elsewhere for your pleasure. There's plenty on Literotica to suit all tastes.

Love, Julia

xxxxxxxxxx

Back in my suite I quickly showered and tidied my hair, but any woman with half of Rebekka's powers of perception would know what I'd just been doing.

I thought about clothes. 'Bikini' I'd been told. I looked outside and the gardens were flooded in warm late afternoon sunlight. I was still feeling sexed up so I slipped into the cream lycra one and looked at myself in the mirror. The top was basically a bandeau, with a halter strap that clipped to a scrunch in the front. My still-hard nipples were obvious as they poked peaks in the fabric and though I pulled the material down to try to cover my boobs as best I could, as soon as I moved it rode up and left large expanses of soft curvy breast exposed.

The bottoms similarly did little to cover my ass, creeping into my bum crack as I walked, and working into my pussy slit showing a visible crease. My reflection shouted 'sophisticated-slutty' - which was just as it looked in the shop. No doubt just what the designer intended, and exactly the effect Rebekka was looking for when she chose it. I could live with that, but in the interests of decency I wrapped the matching coverall around me, slipped on a pair of mules, clattered down the glass stairs and out onto the terrace.

As I rounded the corner, three female faces turned to watch as I walked the short distance to where they were sitting at a poolside table. Rebekka's was the only one I recognised. Instinctively I broke into my best hip-sway runway walk, placing one high-heeled shoe meticulously in front of the other and sashaying towards them. The two strangers watched intently and whispered to each other behind their hands as I approached. I felt good about myself and noticed my nipples react to all the attention.

"See what I mean?" Rebekka remarked and, realising I was getting off on being watched, I strutted to the edge of the pool and back, untying my coverall, slipping it off and trailing it across the marble slabs behind me. The three women stood and applauded politely and Rebekka introduced me to them.

"Julia darling, great to see so much of you! Come and meet my friends Carinne and Petrella." We made some small talk and spoke some body language. Carinne had masses of curly blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She had a small round face with unexceptional bone structure but her skilfully-applied makeup accentuated her best features including her small but bright blue eyes.

She was wearing a clingy lilac halterneck bikini and it was obvious her body was anything but unexceptional, with small round breasts, a tiny waist and narrow hips topping off her lean legs. She carried no excess weight at all but certainly wasn't skinny. She looked delicate, but not fragile.

She remarked; "I see you like to show off, Julia, (had I overdone the slut-walk?) ... I can see why Rebekka likes you so much."

"She does?" I responded, feigning nonchalance.

"Julia, listen," Petrella added, "She hasn't stopped talking about you since she first seduced you! She does like to look at attractive women, don't you Bek!"

For the first time I saw Rebekka looking awkward. She seemed embarrassed, at a disadvantage and without her usual air of self-assuredness. Interesting.

Petrella was quite different from Carinne. Taller, more strongly built, with accentuated arm and leg muscles and an almost masculine face. But not butch at all; in fact she was a very attractive woman. The word 'imposing' came to mind. She was wearing a tight-fitting one-piece swimsuit in deep metallic bronze with alluring cut-outs in strategic places.

'Predatory', I mused, as we admired each other and exchanged smiles and more smalltalk. Glancing across at Rebekka she appeared to have been sidelined, but she acted the gracious hostess with dignity even when she was further upstaged by the distracting arrival of the Perfect Ones.

Laisha and Nassri appeared with more drinks, looking as perfect as ever, crouching gracefully to put their trays on the table then standing either side of Rebekka. They were both wearing their short white uniform coatdresses and again I pondered whether they were wearing anything under them, and if we would find out later.

I needn't have worried.

The four of us sat and chatted about everything, and nothing in particular, but as soon as the two girls had poured us exotic iced drinks containing far more fruit than liquid, they tottered on their impossibly high heels to the edge of the pool. Facing each other, but regularly looking across to where we were sitting around the polished granite table, they began to slowly and very deliberately unfasten each other's dresses.

Unbuckling the wide belts around their narrow waists then, in perfect synchronisation, slipping each button with adept manicured fingers, starting from bottom and moving rhythmically up to the top. Then Laisha turned to face us, the narrow opening down the front of her dress giving us only a tantalising glimpse of what delights lay hidden. She posed and teased us for a moment as we protested, feigning disapproval whilst thoroughly enjoying being tortured by the suspended expectation.

Soon Nassri moved behind her reached over her shoulders and grasped the lapels of Laisha's dress. She gradually eased it open at the front and slid it down her arms to reveal a tiny white bikini of the sort for which you 'pay more and get less'. Laisha's miniscule costume consisted only of a few narrow straps that just about held together three tiny scraps of semi-sheer fabric. Two (almost) hid her nipples and one, if it covered anything at all, it would be only her clit and labia and very little else.

Her appreciative audience applauded as she paraded around our table before returning to her place with her back to the pool. But this time her partner in this erotic performance was facing her.

Nassri stood with her back to us and her feet slightly apart as Laisha returned the compliment, taking hold of the lapels of her coatdress and parting it down its front opening. The difference was that this time we could not see what she was, or was not, wearing under it. Well, not until her accomplice pushed it back off her lean shoulders and all the way down her slender arms.

We all gasped when we saw her back; smooth, taut and almost naked but for a few white twisted cords knotted together between her shoulder blades and on her hip-bones.

Her tight rounded bum cheeks looked amazing from where I sat but Petrella whooped in protest, insisting that the beauty turn around to show off what she was hiding.

After a few coy glances over her shoulder and some whispered words of encouragement from Laisha, Nassri pirouetted on her white platforms to face her assembled group of admirers.

We could now see Nassri's bikini in all its seductive minisculity. It's two narrow triangles of semi-transparent white fabric, which moulded tightly around her conical boobs and did not even attempt to conceal her nipples, were held together with cords that wrapped around her ribcage and over her shoulders.

Her bikini bottoms consisted of two more similarly sheer and clingy triangles, held precariously in place by more soft cords knotted on her hip-bones. One which similarly failed to cover her ass and one at the front that did its best to hide her trimmed pubes, but little else. She saw me admiring her and briefly struck her provocative hands-on-hips pose and pouted me a wet blown kiss.

That's when I realised I had my hand over my left breast and I was absent-mindedly squeezing it through the thin fabric of my bikini top. I took my hand away but Laisha just smiled and encouraged me to carry on: "Don't be shy, it's why we're all here, right?" and she made a sweep of her hand around her audience. I glanced at Petrella sitting next to me and she also had one hand on her boob. She was unashamedly pinching and rolling her nipples making them poke hard and proudly through her swimsuit. She saw me watching and licked her lips and winked. She also nodded in the direction of Petrella who had one hand on the table but her other was buried between her legs. She had her eyes half closed and didn't notice me watching as she made rhythmic circles on the prominent mound beneath her scanty lilac bikini bottoms.

I wasn't able to see what Rebekka had been doing but it must have been bad! Nassri strode up to her and took hold of both her forearms, holding them tightly. Laisha picked up the belts from their coatdresses from where they lay discarded by the pool and to my amazement, she and Nassri used them to tightly bind Rebekka's wrists to the arms of the heavy wrought-iron chair on which she was sitting.

Rebekka did not struggle nor object. In fact, she seemed to enjoy being restrained and she made only token noises of protest and indignation.

Nassri wagged a slender finger left-and-right at her employer. Then realising I was watching with incredulity, Laisha explained in her seductive accent: "Rebekka, she say us: Not letting her touching, only watching. Rebekka, she likes watch sexygirls, yes?" whereupon the two Perfect Ones started to perform what I can only describe as a highly-charged and supremely erotic lap-dance.

Carinne and Petrella both smiled when they saw the curious look on my face, but they both appeared quite relaxed about the whole thing, as though this was quite normal.

This all began to make sense. Masturbating me in the art gallery in front of all those people. Buying me sexy clothes to wear. Her stunningly beautiful house. Surrounding herself with the even more stunningly beautiful women. Yes, Rebekka is an aesthete and a voyeur. She likes to watch, and she can afford to indulge her pleasures and passions by buying whatever and whomever she chooses.

In a way she'd bought me, but I was having such an amazing time, why not repay her with a little fun and entertainment? Rebekka is a voyeur of the highest order, and I'm an exhibitionist at heart. A perfect match, I mused.

Rebekka tugged at the belts around her wrists, but from the way she watched the girls' performance, she was loving every moment. They posed and pouted and pirouetted and gyrated in front of us. Their bodies, their expressions, their movements and their gestures all shouted 'fuck me', which no doubt was exactly what Rebekka wanted to do.

But she couldn't.

All she could do was to sit.

And watch.

Carinne winked knowingly at me and Laisha turned up the volume of the concealed music system. Petrella stood up and took my hand and, feeling increasingly aroused by Rebekka's self-imposed captivity, I stood too and joined in with the sensual rhythms.

Petrella, Carinne and I began swaying together and matching the other girls' expert and intensely sexual performance. Soon we were touching and caressing each other's faces and bodies; my nipples were rock hard and obvious under my bikini top and I could feel my pussy engorging and flooding with my sex juices. The more aroused I became, the more erotically I danced. I could see that Petrella's nipples were at least as erect as mine. She saw me watching hers and began to play with them through her swimsuit, then reached forward to pinch mine, rolling and teasing them until they throbbed and ached. I put my hands on Petrella's boobs, squeezing and rubbing them through her suit, feeling her hard nipples against my palms.

Carinne was now standing behind me and reached around my hips, caressing my abdomen and grinding her pelvis against my bum. Then she moved her hand down to my bikini bottoms, cupping it over my pussy mound and making delicious circular movements over my clit. I was so turned on, and I knew it was mostly because I was being watched.

I moved my hands down to Petrella's bum and began kneading her firm cheeks. She kissed me passionately on the lips whilst Carinne nibbled the side of my neck and gyrated her slim body against my back. Then we swapped positions, with Carinne facing me and Petrella behind her, sandwiching her slender body between us. Carinne's tongue invaded every corner of my mouth and her hands were all over me, sometimes sensually brushing over my bare skin, then urgently grabbing at my breasts and my bum, sliding her hands inside my bikini bottoms and pulling me hard against her, driving her pelvis into my pussy mound and humping against me. Petrella had her hands over my boobs now and was massaging them until I thought my nipples would cut through the material of my top, they were so hard.

I would have quite happily let them pleasure me right there in front of the other women. In fact, I would have adored having them watch me being stripped naked and fingered, fucked, licked and sucked to a massive climax that I knew was bubbling up only just below the surface. I looked across at Rebekka. Her face and body streamed with perspiration and her hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks. Her mouth was open and her eyes were glazed and dreamy. She had her legs spread wide apart and a huge dark, damp patch on her bikini bottoms told its own story. The certain knowledge that she was getting off on watching me and was probably as close to orgasm as I was thrilled and excited me. But knowing I could cum whenever I wanted to but she couldn't aroused me so much more, especially as I knew that was what she wanted too. I felt horny, selfish, slutty, wild and wicked, and I was loving every moment.

I had just reached around Carinne's narrow back to find the clasp of her bikini top when the intensely erotic atmosphere was shattered by the clatter of heels on marble and Veronique's voice announcing that the meal was ready. Veronique and another woman arrived wearing figure-hugging ultra-short strapless dresses and carrying large trays of exotic food and drinks.

The peace was further shattered as Nassri and Laisha screamed and dived into the pool together.

"Come and join in us, get some cooling-off!" Laisha called out in her version of English. "You all ladies are too hot!" (she was right about that, for sure) as they emerged from the water like legendary watergoddesses. Their white bikinis were now virtually transparent and clung closely to every intimate feature of their incredible bodies. Not that they had hidden much even when they were dry. Their nipples and pussy slits were clearly visible and no doubt this was entirely intentional; they paraded past Rebekka and bent down to pick up their towels giving her (but sadly not me) a full view of their asses and no doubt their barely-concealed mounds.

I thought about diving into the inviting water but knew that would extinguish my pent-up passion so I decided to sit and simmer as the delectable Veronique placed some equally-delectable morsels on the table where Petrella and I were now sitting.

Veronique leaned forward and whispered in my ear: "I'd rather be eating you." and laid plates of delicate fish dishes and exquisitely prepared seafood on the large marble table. I pouted a kiss at her; Rebekka noticed, and tugged at her restraints.

Veronique got the message and casually released the belts around her arms. Rebekka rubbed the life back into her limbs but otherwise made no reference to her ordeal. She didn't even put a hand between her legs, presumably also wanting the feelings to simmer gently rather than be brought to a head. And everyone else carried on as though this was normal. I assumed it was, and tried to ignore my state of horniness for a while.

The fourth woman was introduced to me as one of the city's best female private chefs. Ah yes, Natalie. Plain. Not ugly. Not pretty. But in most ways just ordinary. Average height, brown hair, pale skin, unremarkable legs. Unremarkable everything really. Except ... her very remarkable breasts. Oh wow. I looked across at Veronique who earlier had mentioned her 'other qualities', which I had taken to mean her culinary skills. She smiled back at me, knowingly.

Natalie was wearing a white close-fitting dress similar to Veronique's, and she had left several buttons undone at the front. She was obviously wearing a bra underneath, but her breasts were ... well: incredible, magnificent, impossible to ignore and, erm, huge. I could only guess at 36G. And firm too, judging by the stupendous curvy cleavage she was displaying. She saw me ogling. I apologised, but she said: "Don't worry about it. I like the attention. Anyway, they've been a part of my life since I was 14 so I'm used to it. At least I never have to pay for my own drinks," she joked, adding, "and before you ask, yes they are real. 100% home made. Like this meal." This last remark cleverly defused the situation and all 8 of us sat around the big table to eat a delicious and imaginative array of hot and cold dishes with premier cru wines followed by desserts to die for.

We talked together for a while like good friends, about religion and politics, about food and clothes and shoes, but no-one mentioned sex or hedonism or exhibitionism. But the body language followed a different agenda, and roving admiring eyes gave away our inner intentions and desires. Desires that I hoped would be fulfilled as the evening unfolded. We were going to a club, if I recalled correctly, and I had slinky new dress to wear. With nothing underneath.

--------------------------------------

Well, how was that? Did you enjoy the story? If so, please leave your vote, and a comment if you would like to. I always respond to all contacts and feedbacks.