WBDP - Brianna Delivers Pt. 12

Chantelle looked helplessly at Marcia. She'd just gone through a period of denial and like all good slaves, hated doing without. I doubted she was willing to risk two more weeks, no matter how much she cared for Marcia. I would be surprised if she didn't bust her tongue licking Marcia to avoid more.

"I can't back out now, can I, Master?"

"No, you're committed now."

Marcia thought about it. I could tell what she was thinking. She hadn't been allowed any orgasms since before supper, so she wasn't currently on the edge. Granted, she did receive some minor gratification in the process of licking the others into orgasms, smelling and tasting their arousal, and even tying her up was arousing to her. If I touched her cunt now, I was reasonably certain she'd be at least a tiny bit wet. Watching Chantelle and I have sex, might have aroused to her, or might have repressed her desires, depending on how she'd viewed being left out. I'm sure she was trying to estimate her odds of making it and wondering if there was anything she could do to increase those odds in her favor.

"Tell me when it starts," she said.

"Get on the bed, Chantelle and prepare to lick her cunt."

I'd be willing to bet the mere sight of Chantelle getting on the bed and putting her head between Marcia's legs was exciting to her. I set my watch timer to forty minutes.

"Ready, set, go." I punched the start button.

Chantelle started within a second of the word 'go'. Her tongue started lapping at Marcia's folds even as her lips started kissing and sucking at the tender flesh. Marcia tried to relax, to ignore what was happening to her sensitive pussy flesh. I'm sure she was doing the same things I tried to do when putting off an orgasm, trying to solve mathematical equations or naming state capitals or which stock symbols were for what company except her own version - statute numbers of various criminal offenses or radio codes or different brands of women's shoes, whatever would distract her mind. While she fought against her own desires, I started playing with and stroking her breasts. I could see when she started to lose the battle, she wanted to close her legs, and I'd warn her to keep them open. Or her tendons would stand out until she forced her body to relax as much as possible, but it was a losing battle really.

Chantelle was an oral adept, equally able to satisfy men or women. Her skills on men had increased over time and I'm sure her skills towards women had also improved. Her Mistress certainly appreciated her talents and she did practice pleasing women all the time. What's worse is the longer Marcia was able to resist her, the harder Chantelle tried, not wanting me to find her slacking in her responsibilities and telling Brianna to cut her off for two weeks. So the harder Marcia tried to relax, the harder Chantelle worked to get her off. I was impressed at how long my cum queen was resisting her release. It passed twenty minutes and still Marcia held out, but her abdominals were fluttering, her legs and arms and even her neck were tensing. Her nipples were diamond points, her breathing was ragged, her toes were curling. I couldn't see her eyes, but I guessed they were closed, squeezed shut in concentration, but none of it worked.

Marcia screamed, then started shouting, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, God, I'm cumming. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God," her voice rising with each word, then screaming again, mindless, unrestrained, impassioned, her back bowing, her hips arching, driving her cunt into Chantelle's face. She grabbed my hands on her breasts and squeezed down, crushing my hands and her tits equally, I think trying to avoid grabbing Chantelle's head and jamming it into her pussy. Her hips kept bucking upward, rapid fire, boom, boom, boom, like they were hinged and on a spring. Worse yet, the first orgasm seemed to open the flood gates. In the next ten minutes she had five more, one after the other, her body twitching like an aspen leaf in a strong wind. They slowed down a little after that. She only had two more in the remainder of her time, her body wrung out by the previous ones. Or perhaps, Chantelle's mouth and tongue were getting tired after working so hard for over thirty minutes.

As soon as the timer went off, I pushed her off me, knelt behind her and slammed my cock into her trembling pussy, still palpitating raggedly from her multiple orgasms. In five strokes she climaxed again, mewling hoarsely, bucking back against me, sobbing and unable to control herself. Four minutes later, she released again. My cock was swimming in her cum, hot and soupy, tight and clasping. I continued pounding her, setting off after shocks, secondary tremors from the major earthquake. Finally, I couldn't take any more and spewed into the steamy mess, adding my own fluids to her own. When I finished pulsing, I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me, collapsing to our sides.

Marcia was crying, both from the outpouring of passion, the energy expended and the realization she'd lost the test and lost it bad.

"Shh, don't cry, little slave, it's all right. Shh," I cooed in her ear.

I looked at Chantelle, her face awash in Marcia's fluids and staring at us like we were unicorns. I'm not sure what surprised her the most, the explosive orgasms Marcia had or the animalistic, rutting, fucking we'd done after. Maybe a combination of both.

"Go wash your face, Chantelle. You're a mess." She stared at us another half minute before moving to comply.

A minute, two minutes, three went by with me whispering to Marcia not to cry, it was okay.

Finally, the sobbing slowed and she whispered hoarsely, "I failed your test, Master. I failed miserably. I orgasmed eight times. I won't be able to have sex my entire next slavery. Shoot me now and put me out of my misery."

"You held out longer than I thought you would, little slave. I was impressed with your resistance."

"But I still lost."

"So tell me. In the interests of science, how was it? Was it worth it?"

"My orgasm? I don't know if it was worth eight days of orgasms, but it was the most amazing climax I've ever had."

Chantelle returned from wiping her face off and I invited her to climb into bed with us. We slid over so she could get into bed on Marcia's side. She held Marcia and kissed her and I heard her whisper softly, "Je suis désolé, mon amie." I knew enough French to know she'd said 'I'm sorry, my friend.'

"Why do you think your orgasm was so powerful, little slave?"

She thought a moment. "Maybe because I tried to resist it so hard," Marcia said. "Like when you make me cum in public, Master. I don't resist it at all, just let it wash over and through me, because it's always easier to hide my orgasm when I do. If I try to resist it, it's more powerful, and harder to hide."

"I thought it might work like that," I said. "If you fought long and hard to avoid an orgasm, it would be like a dam bursting when you did. Seems like I was right."

"Well, as good as it was, and I admit it was a doozy, Master, I still don't think the trade off of a few really spectacular ones is worth having to do without for eight days."

"You'll be happy to know then, you don't have to give up eight days of orgasms. I never planned to deny them anyway. I couldn't go without you for that long. It's ridiculous."

Marcia listened to me in stunned silence, unsure if she heard me correctly. "I don't have to do without?" She asked, puzzled.

"No. I just needed you trying really hard not to cum. I had to make the threat real. If I told you to hold out as long as you could without threat of penalty, you wouldn't have lasted as long as you did. The penalty had to scare hell out of you to be effective. In fact, you won. All you were going to receive if you survived the challenge is yours. Unlimited orgasms without requiring permission. You should be allowed to have a good time while our friends are here."

She plastered herself against me, raining kisses on my face, "Master! Oh God, I love you so much," followed by more kisses.

"In fact, you might want to start right now with Chantelle. Both of you have a cunt load of cum that should be cleaned up by a close friend, but do me a favor and turn out the light before you start, because I'm whipped and need to go to sleep."

So Marcia turned out the light and I felt them settle into a comfortable position with each other and fell asleep listening to the low rasping sounds of tongues on liquid flesh, soft sighs and quiet moans, my hand resting on a wonderful ass, and I had no fucking idea whose it was.

******

It was late when I got up. Marcia and Chantelle were still asleep, worn out as I was. I got into the shower to clean the sex sweat off and wake up more. I was close to finished when Chantelle got into the shower with me.

"You could have slept longer, Chantelle. I know you and Marcia were up later than I was."

"Mistress would be disappointed if I weren't diligently serving you, Monsieur. Is there anything which you require now?" She asked hopefully.

"I'm going to give my cock a bit of a breather this morning. It was very busy last night. I need to grab a quick bite and go out shopping for food."

"I can help with both those things, monsieur."

"Okay. I certainly wouldn't mind you making breakfast. I love your food."

I helped soap her up and wash her off because she was a damn beautiful woman and I would be stupid not to. After finishing up, I shaved, brushed my teeth, put on shorts, t-shirt and boat shoes. Enough to get by in the grocery store. Chantelle and I went into the kitchen and after I showed her where everything was, I turned her loose.

I looked at the days stock market and started making adjustments to all the different portfolios I was managing, mine, Brianna's, the college funds of all the children and potential children. Every month, Brianna was adding amounts equivalent to what she'd normally be paying all her slaves for their services reduced by room and board. All of their needs were cared for, but if they ever chose to leave, they would take something with them. Monique and Adele would both be multi-millionaires if they left, having been with Brianna for so long and helping to grow and manage her business. She'd invested wisely and the amount set aside for each slave was doubled or tripled by the growth of the investments. Even Riyuki, the most recent of Brianna's slaves had thirty to forty thousand to call her own if she left and she'd been with Brianna less than a year. By not actually paying the women month to month, the amounts in their accounts grew rapidly through the interest growth in their value. I was managing about twenty million dollars in slave benefit funds, and if I did my job right, it would be doubling every three to five years depending on market growth.

"Breakfast is ready, Monsieur," Chantelle said. "Should I wake Marcia?"

"Let her sleep for now," I said. "She wouldn't be sleeping this long unless she was very tired."

"Oui, Monsieur."

Chantelle had whipped together omelettes with two kinds of cheese, scallions, tomatoes, sausage, with some kind of sauce over the top, served with wheat toast. I almost ate Marcia's share it was so good. By the time I finished up, I could hear the shower running in the bathroom, so Marcia was finally up. She came out looking and smelling clean and fresh and eminently fuckable. Of course, the opposite was also true. She would be fuckable if she were tired, sweaty, dirty and bedraggled. She kissed me, kissed Chantelle and sat down.

"Thank you for letting me sleep. I was exhausted. My orgasms last night really took it out of me," Marcia said. "Is there any food left or do I need to make myself something." She glanced pointedly at my empty plate. "I'm starving."

"You're welcome. I almost ate your omelette, though, sleepyhead. It's so good, but Chantelle saved you some."

"Oui, mon amie. I put some aside. Give me a moment to warm it up," Chantelle said. Thirty seconds later, a plate was placed down in front of Marcia, along with a glass of orange juice.

Marcia pulled Chantelle down for a brief, passionate kiss. "Thank you, Chantelle."

"You're welcome," Chantelle replied.

"Chantelle and I are going shopping for groceries and supplies," I said. "You're welcome to join us if you wish, or you can have a few hours to yourself, little slave."

"If it's all the same to you, Master. I might go back to bed. I still feel sleepy."

"You're choice."

"Have fun. Wake me when you get back and I'll help put food away."

"Get dressed, Chantelle. We'll be leaving shortly." She disappeared in the bedroom.

While she was dressing, I grabbed two large coolers on wheels and a smaller one without and put them in the car. There wasn't enough ice in my freezers or at the clubhouse for our party tomorrow, so I'd have to buy about 200 pounds of the stuff, some today and some tomorrow. Chantelle joined me wearing a very colorful crimson skirt with embroidered flowers of various colors and a bright yellow top with matching embroidery. It looked very Caribbean and as we drove to Costco, I asked her if it was a gift from her parents.

"Oui, Monsieur. Maman et Papa sent it to me on my last birthday."

"How old are you now, Chantelle?"

"Twenty-eight, Monsieur."

"You're a very lovely woman, Chantelle. Lovely on the inside as well as out. Marcia and I care for you a great deal."

"Merci, Monsieur. I care for you and Marcia also. You are very nice and kind and understanding, and very good lovers. May I ask how old you and and Marcia are?"

"I turned the calendar on forty my last birthday. Marcia is thirty-five."

"You are a young forty, Monsieur."

"Good genes and a wife who cares enough about me to make sure I improved my health."

We arrived at Costco and I told Chantelle we would get the paper supplies, utensils, meat, cheese, sodas and wine here. We'd go to another store for the produce, and any other products Chantelle thought she would need for what she'd be making.

"How many people are you expecting to the party, Monsieur."

"About 150-200 people spread out over two different time periods. I'm guessing thirty-five to fifty in the afternoon, the retired residents and the people working the night shift and the majority coming after work, starting to arrive around six to as late as eight. We have the clubhouse from two to ten. We have to be out by eleven when the pool and clubhouse are supposed to be clear."

"So we need about 25% of the food for the afternoon and 75% for the evening. Good to know. We'll need some large bowls to serve with. How many do you have?"

"What do you mean by large?"

Chantelle held her hands out.

"I might have three bowls that size."

"We shall need maybe ten to twelve. They sell large plastic bowls, punch bowl size, at various places, if they do not have them here, we can go to a party store."

Chantelle handed me a large flat cart and she took one of the basket carts.

"Come, Monsieur. We have a lot to buy."

"Are you sure we need both carts?"

"Oui, Monsieur. I do much of the buying for Brianna. We are talking a lot of people. We might have to drop this off before we get the rest."

What had I let myself in for. I was thinking a bunch of hamburgers, hot dogs and chips. Apparently what Chantelle had in mind was a lot different.

"We will start with the dry goods, Monsieur; plates, cups and utensils and work our way to the perishables."

She headed for the grocery side of the store, going unerringly to the aisles for what we needed. She grabbed two bags of 150 plastic plates, two hundred drink cups, two hundred plastic wine glasses, three hundred large napkins, three hundred forks, spoons and knives. She also found the large serving bowls she was looking for and got a dozen.

"Why so many plates and utensils?" I asked, "we're only expecting two hundred max."

"They are disposable, Monsieur. People will throw them away and realize they are still hungry and take more. They will tend to hang onto the cups and some will drink out of the cans and bottles so we can get away with less. Unless you want to offer another Nyotaimori, we'll need it all."

We stopped by the soft drinks and we picked up a case of Diet Coke, case of Coke and a case of Sprite, three cases of water, three cases of Corona. My flat cart was rapidly filling up. We went to the meats and Chantelle started by ordering 50 pounds of Jumbo Shrimp and 50 pounds of mixed sirloin and New York strip steaks.

"Chantelle, I can't afford to feed 200 people steaks and shrimp. I'm thinking of hot dogs and hamburgers."

She grinned at me, pulled out a credit card saying, "Corporate Credit Card. Do not worry, Monsieur, you are taken care of. Brianna wishes to pay. We will still get hot dogs and hamburgers."

While they were filling the steak and shrimp order, she picked up two, ten pound packages of hamburger meat and thirty hot dogs and several packages of bacon. I went to the cheese section and got 50 slices of cheddar and 50 slices of American. After we got our meat, she stopped in the wine section, picked up 12 bottles of various reds and 12 bottles of various whites and a case of champagne. On our way to the register, she grabbed four huge bags of potato chips and four of corn chips. When the cashier rang up our order, it was over $1900. The shrimp was $350, the steaks were $250, the champagne was $740, the wine averaged around $12 a bottle, so another $290, and the other stuff made up the balance. Other than furniture, cars, diamond engagement ring, house and my last Mac computer, I'd never spent so much in a store before. Thank you, Brianna.

Chantelle was right. Our purchases filled up the car. The meat went into the coolers until we could get it home, the drinks filled up the trunk and Chantelle still had a small box of stuff on her lap. I went home and pulled into the garage. I carried the case of champagne in and set it in the hallway. I went into the bedroom to wake up Marcia and found her using her new Womanizer, enjoying an orgasm.

Laughing, I said, "I thought you were going to take a nap, little slave?"

Marcia got a guilty look on her face briefly, then laughed with me. "I did nap, Master. You were gone for almost two hours. I napped for an hour and then I was sitting around with nothing to do. This seemed like fun."

"I'm sure. You'll have to show Chantelle your new toys later. In the meantime, you need to start making some room in the refrigerator. We have a shitload of stuff. Throw out anything you don't think we'll need for next week. We got so much food, I'm not sure we have room for it all."

Marcia reluctantly put her toy back on the charger, wiping herself and the toy to remove some of the visible remains of her orgasms and came into the kitchen.

"What on earth did you get?" Marcia asked, forgetting the Master.

At the same time she asked, Chantelle came in carrying 25 pounds of shrimp. I just pointed. "Plus more shrimp, steaks, hamburger, hot dogs, wine, champagne, chips. The bill was over $1900."

"Sam! Shrimp, steaks, champagne; what were you thinking." Forgetting the Master again. I'd remind her later.

"Not my idea. Brianna paid for it all. I've got to get the rest of the stuff, so get busy."

Marcia started cleaning out the fridge while I went out for more things, Chantelle assisting. Several cases of beverages later, Marcia had enough cleared out, we could start putting the meat and shrimp in cold storage. We left the chips and other non-perishables in boxes stacked in the entry to bring to the clubhouse tomorrow. I made a couple phone calls to neighbors to borrow their gas grills, because I would now need more than mine and the two tiny charcoal grills by the clubhouse. I had a lot of extra propane gas I'd kept for hurricanes which I promised them for use of their grills as I wasn't going to haul it to California with me, nor the grill either for that matter. Maybe make a sign offering a free grill to whoever needed one when I was finished with it tomorrow.