Billionaire Stepbrother - Addiction: The Complete Series Page 9

  After dinner, they walked by the Champs Elysees, and Bob confessed his love for her. Sarah recognized it for what it was but didn’t care. Since Jim had died, she had behaved herself. Her only sexual release had been a few one-night stands and her daily masturbations. She convinced herself that she deserved a good hard fuck, and maybe even some love. Too bad that Bob’s wife was a frigid bitch. If she wouldn’t deliver the goods, well, then, Sarah would be more than happy to pick up the slack.

  Sarah and Bob went into a park, and she had sucked Bob, and he had gone down on her, and one thing led to another.

  Of course, she had known it would, which is why she had mentally prepared for his admission of love. She could see what was coming; it was all over his earnest, Midwestern face. She knew that he was about to tell her his dark secret.

  The air was dank and humid, and their exertions left them both feeling a bit grimy.

  Afterward, they went back to the hotel, where Bob showed his hand. Sarah felt a bit disgusted when Bob confessed he had a fetish for feet. He apologized, in that earlier he had not come when she was blowing him. She had wondered what was up when he brought her to a rousing climax and didn’t shoot off into her hungry mouth. Her own orgasm made her clench her thighs, and the spasms shot from her pussy across her buttocks, and then up into her torso. She bucked as Bob’s tongue insinuated itself into her folds, lapping up her delicious juices.

  Bob apologized, again, and asked her to let him fondle her foot. She lay back on the bed, naked except for a thong. A glass of excellent champagne helped her to deal with the incongruity of this tough man lavishing her feet with a tongue bath. Bob licked her toes and her instep. He massaged her foot, paying special attention to her ankle. She noticed it was only her left foot. She wanted to ask Bob about it, but his enormous erection caught her fancy.

  “Bob, can I suck you, while you do your thing?” she asked.

  “Sure, babe,” he mumbled as he sucked on her big toe.

  Bob’s penis was not very large, but his erection was certainly beyond average since his fantasies were being realized. She giggled a bit as she licked the tip of his prick, already wet and slick with pre-cum. Sarah loved his sweet, dripping dick and promised herself that when she was finished, Bob wouldn’t care about feet anymore. She bent to the task, sucking his cock into her mouth, blowing her sweet, warm breath across its fleshy head. Sarah stroked the shaft, working it, to make sure all the come in his pendulous balls would pump into his throbbing manhood. She wanted to assure that when he blasted out his load of hot, salty sperm she would be able to gobble and swallow every drop; she was greedy in her unbridled lust for the taste of his semen.

  Sarah always loved come. When she had been married, she would make sure Jim was well fellated, sucking him as he woke, during the day, and after they had sex. She especially enjoyed cleaning her filthy, creamy juices from his spent dick, licking it spotless. The taste of her own asshole and cunt excited her on some level to which she did not understand. One day, she fantasized that she would go down on a woman, licking her asshole and pussy. She wanted to have that tang and musky, earthy taste on her tongue. She would often stick her index finger in her own ass when making love, and then suck on it, bringing her the most exquisite climaxes.

  She thought it a naughty, odd fetish.

  Now, as Sarah continued to suck Bob’s prick, she found she was becoming aroused by his toe sucking. His tongue, as it slid between the webbing of her toes, made her shudder with its dainty, tickling sensations.

  The wetness of it was getting her off, and his noises unleashed a raw feeling that rose within her. She stuffed him deep into her mouth, opening her throat as he shot into her. His grunting noises as he spent his massive charge sent her over her own precipice, and she moaned with pleasure, gulping his spunk as it oozed out. She swallowed, and came as he massaged her toes. She fingered her clit, sending a spray of pussy juices all down her thighs.

  Bob was totally engrossed in his own pleasure, sucking her toe like a champ, while his seed leaked out into her hungry mouth. She continued to mewl and lick him clean. Her nipples were rock hard from the intensity of her orgasm, so she wiped some of the saliva and come from her lips onto them, gently squeezing and coating them with the salty mixture. This made her horny again, so she let Bob finish sucking on her toes while she rubbed her clit and sucked on his cock.

  Finally, she had managed to exhaust herself, and they both lay there, spent. The sounds of Paris echoed across their room.

  The next four days were a whirlwind of sexual decadence and indulgence as they were whisked away by Reighland’s people to their rendezvous with erotic pleasure.

  All of the invitees were escorted to a French chateau. Beautiful Lipizzaner stallions marched along a track, cutting regal figures. The grounds sported topiary, and ponds that had fountains spraying water high into the clean country air. The landscape was immaculately manicured, and the entire estate smelled of royalty. The furniture was genuine and antique, and priceless.

  The business people had come from many varied companies, at Reighland’s express invitation, and expense. He was known to use these to recruit allies, and strategically created arrangements that could benefit his empire.

  Bob and Sarah found their enjoyment managed by an army of servants. As with the others in the party, valets were provided for the men. Early each morning, after a sumptuous breakfast, the men and women would be divided into two parties. The men would leave to play golf on the private course, or hunt fox, or play tennis or badminton while discussing ‘business.’ They would smoke enormous Cuban cigars, or Turkish cigarettes and bandy about phrases like “mergers and acquisitions”, or “arbitrage” as if they actually knew of such things. Reighland’s agents were sure to take notice of anything that could be beneficial in negotiations, especially any tendencies toward a given vice.

  The women were given private spa treatments, luxurious scrubs and facials, manicures and pedicures that felt divine. They drank cucumber water, ate finger sandwiches and were totally pampered during the day.

  A complete 17th-century wardrobe was provided, to set the mood. The women and men looked elegant, and completely fell into the mannerisms and chivalrous behavior they thought required. Those who knew the language almost entirely reverted to it, tossing their eloquence in the face of their companions.

  It became a game of cordial one-upmanship, as each couple took turns demonstrating that they were indeed a valuable addition to the court. Friendly rivalries were set up, and Reighland’s people took great pains to assure that no one felt hurt or out of place, in spite of any mean-spirited jabs by the others. It was interesting to watch, as the table captains, concierge, hostesses and wait staff curtseyed, and behaved obsequiously, but never bitter nor anything other than entirely subservient.

  Alcohol flowed freely, and the vintages served at dinner were rare and delicious. Foie gras, truffles, and roast swine were fed to the attendees. Champagne, cognacs, and other aperitifs loosened tongues and lubricated the business of which Reighland was most interested. He found out the soft spots of each person who was there and filed it away for future reference. Of course, he was always the genteel host; he never seemed threatening, or intimidating. His charm allowed him to sway even the most skeptical among them as to his good intentions.

  At night, the pools were illuminated from within, and swan, ducks, and geese roamed the ponds and lakes. Romantic grottos and gazebos dotted the estate, allowing for sensual interludes, trysts, and even solitude if so desired. More than one pair or trio took advantage of the situation to bond even more closely.

  The events were informal, at first. They became more and more regimented as the night of the Grand Ball approached. Those who had been to a Ball regaled the others with hints and shortened versions of its grandeur. They assured the others that they were in for the experience of a lifetime. Even the Romans didn’t have anything like it, they bragged.

  Every day, Bob and Sarah spent the time apart enjo
ying the largesse and hospitality of their host, with little regard as to what was really going on in their relationship. Each night, after the dining and partying, they collapsed into their feathered, four-poster beds, and made passionate love. Bob’s toe sucking almost always culminated in her sucking him off, and then they would fuck for hours, before finally drifting off to an unworried slumber. The sounds and smells of the French countryside lulled them, easing their minds and bodies to a rapturous tranquility.

  As the parties got wilder and more elegant, they found time to escape into the occasional isolated grotto, or they would fuck in the garden maze. If a servant or groundskeeper were about, then they must have been very discrete. Neither Bob nor Sarah had ever spied anyone else when they were engaged in their frantic, needy couplings. They would fuck like animals, and then regain some composure as they walked out from a gazebo where only moments earlier, Bob had stuffed his turgid penis far into Sarah’s willing asshole. He would shoot her full of his salty, ropy come, and she would quickly suck him clean.

  Then, they would stroll nonchalantly back to the periphery of the party, Sarah’s smile as that of a canary-eating cat, all the while, Bob’s semen leaking from her gaping holes. She would taste him in her mouth, his issue coating the insides, the funky musk still in her nostrils. They would each select a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, and toast their naughtiness. Then, she would relish the taste of the champagne washing her lover’s spunk from her tongue, and deep into her.

  Finally, the day of the Grand Ball had arrived. Everyone was all atwitter at the excitement, and no one who had not participated could imagine the incredible amusement of the others. It was to be an initiation night, and the new inductees were in for the most marvelous and debauched enticements that could be had as a human being.

  The day passed quickly as the groups were separated, and then each guest individually costumed for the best dramatic effect.

  After the previous days’ activities, careful considerations and consultation had been had at the highest levels and the correct decisions made to assure the ultimate enjoyment for each attendee. Those whose proclivities tended to the extreme were to be decorated and escorted to the Dungeon. Some, who had expressed their reluctant attraction to others of their gender, were to be corralled and then whisked away to private theatres where they could explore their feelings in safety. Others had been noticed to enjoy the company of both sexes, and a large open room was being prepared for the inevitable orgy that would culminate in the climax of the festivities.

  Sarah was taken by her handmaidens, shortly after seven in the morning, to begin her preparations. Bob grinned at her and told her to be careful, as she was going to need her strength for the fucking marathon he had planned for her after the Ball. He was entirely ignorant of the impending sexual ordeal toward which the both of them were unwittingly being maneuvered.

  Sarah spent the day relaxing in the warm Jacuzzi baths. Her ass ached slightly from the last night’s anal pleasures, even though Bob had been gentle. She grimaced a bit, reminding herself that the discomfort was her own fault for having had him stuff a convenient dildo far up her ass, at her most animalistic intensity.

  She had even begged him, she recalled with a grimace. Not too smart of an idea, she admonished herself.

  Now, the warm water and scented oils felt marvelous, as she rubbed her bottom across the smooth porcelain of the tub. She arched her magnificent cheeks, massaging herself with a luffa. She switched to a scrubbing implement that was oddly firm and shaped interestingly for the task at hand. As she inserted the pliable tool into her pussy and ass, it expanded and contracted, pulsing in her holes and she could feel some manner of cleansing lotion exuding from pores on its smooth surface. She masturbated herself to a strong orgasm in the Jacuzzi, immersing her head under the bubbling waters as she came to stifle the scream of pleasure that burst from her lungs.

  When she emerged, two ladies in waiting held warm, soft towels for her. They enveloped her body; they gently dried her and helped her get herself organized. They seemed totally oblivious to her recent passionate outburst, and wrapped her long, wet hair in towels. They gave her a robe, which was sumptuous and wrapped her in luxurious sensuality.

  Then, amid sips of organic green tea, flavored with natural honey from an obscure species of bee, they asked her to choose from a series of high colonic options.

  She read, amused, as they went about their chores. Small wafers, subtly flavored with hints of nutmeg and cloves, sated her palate as she perused the offerings. She finally decided on a mix of scented oils and rosewater, and lay back to enjoy the procedure.

  After the enema, she showered, and two of the women waited for her to emerge. They then took her to a salon, where her hair was styled and arranged to most accentuate and flatter her face. She drank mineral water, and ate small sandwiches that were filled with exquisite mixtures of crushed olives and peppers, and other Mediterranean delicacies. She was kept on the edge of hunger, but not to the point of discomfort.

  A seamstress was brought in after noon. They discussed the upcoming Ball, and she was shown samples of material and color swatches that had been selected for her. She primped and preened for an hour or so, asking the other ladies about various combinations. They dutifully replied, and were able to respond with enthusiasm.

  Sarah might have been astonished at the level of professional effort it was taking to guide her to choices that were absolutely pre-ordained by their watching her for the last several days.

  Reighland’s operatives knew, down to the most trivial details, her preferences and her tastes. They had compiled a detailed dossier on her psychological triggers, and had examined what events in her life could be mined for their emotional impact. They wanted her to be completely at ease with the process, but also pliable and amenable to their suggestions. This was his great secret - Reighland built his relationships with total and ruthless manipulation that was by degrees insidious and ingenious. He had a masterful knowledge of what made people tick, and could instantly react to any situation to best maneuver himself to come out the winner. Sometimes, very rarely, a variable was missed, and he would have to regroup and recalculate the odds and value of a particular interaction. But, inevitably, he moved his board pieces to crush his opponents. He could always find an angle that would provide a place to insert his prying probes, and once he had gained a foothold, no matter how tiny, he would leverage that advantage to an ultimate victory.

  Sarah had no idea that she was being completely played, and that the outcome was almost a certainty. That she was not alone in this was by design. All of the guests were each being catered and prepared so that the evening’s event would come off without incident and to the most perfect degree possible.

  After a light lunch of tiny seafood coupled with an exotic green salad, some lightly seasoned breads and a glass of fine Chablis, Sarah was escorted into a massage room, where she was treated to the sight of a team of masseurs. There were two beautiful women and one gorgeous man, whose shirt was open to his waist. His chiseled muscles and six-pack abs reminded her slightly of Jim. She thought this man was probably someone who had seen military service, but his tattooed arm was marked with a tribal symbol that didn’t seem at all regulation.

  She was asked to strip, and then made to lay on the table. The women began anointing her with scented lotions and oils, while the man asked her some questions. An unusual odor of sandalwood and patchouli floated in the room, but there was no sign of any incense.

  She dozed slightly and felt one of the women massaging between her buttocks, gently exploring her secret, private places. She thought maybe she should be shocked, or at least embarrassed, but she gave herself over to these intimate pleasures. She smiled and relaxed as the women walked in front of her, and stripped each other naked, slowly and sensuously. The man offered her a joint, and she toked in relaxation as he stroked her hair, whispering into her ear.

  “What is your greatest pleasure?” he as
ked.

  “Sucking your dick,” she giggled, as the weed affected her mood.

  The man smiled and continued to stroke her. Each motion of his hand made her feel more and more relaxed. She thought she had never been so relaxed, in her entire life. She felt open and vulnerable and wanted the wonderful feeling of safety and security to continue.

  As she watched, the two women began to rub the essential oils on each other, paying attention to their pert, pink nipples. They were both brunettes and had beautiful, womanly bodies. One of them had a short tuft of black hair topping her slit; the other was shaved smooth. A tiny bit of her labia protruded, the barest dark pink line limned against her tanned skin. Sarah could see all the details of both women’s bodies, as they kissed and let their tongues roam each other’s dainty, pouty mouths. She could see how the one would let the other lick and suckle her tongue, lavishing it with moist strokes.

  Sarah felt the warmth in her own loins and rolled over on her back. Now, the women were upside down, and she could look straight at their plump asses. They moved closer to her, showing her their inner thighs as she stared up at them.

  One was a bit taller, and the other only a bit plumper. The taller one moved her manicured fingers to the other one’s mound and gently stroked her bald cunt. Sarah could see a bit of moisture appear on the tall one’s finger, and the other woman moaned softly, biting her lower lip. She kissed the tall girl, letting her tongue flow all the way into her warm mouth, withdrawing and shoving back in, again and again, as the woman’s fingers stroked and rubbed her clit. They lay on the floor, scissoring each other as they grappled and writhed.

  The taller woman’s hand moved into the other’s slick pussy, and then pinched one side of her labia, gently caressing her flowery folds. Sarah could see the girl was becoming very wet, as the hand and fingers became soaked with her juice. Sarah licked her own lips, wanting badly to taste that nectar. She could smell her sweet, musky tang, so enticingly close to her own face. She arched her head towards them, aching for them to move just the barest distance to her. She stuck her tongue out, daintily, moving it in the air, imagining that she was tickling the plumper girl’s clit. She wanted them to make the final move but was almost at the point where she was going to take command of the situation. At least, that is what her fevered brain was telling her…