lust-eroticphotos: The palace The invitation from the count was understood for what it was. “Private
lust-eroticphotos: The palace The invitation from the count was understood for what it was. “Private dinner for two and erotic gameplay - dress provided”. Not an invitation to refuse, the count could be lavishly generous, but perhaps more importantly, his occasions could be inventively erotic for those brave enough to take part. The butler greeted her and escorted her through candle lit corridors to her room, having asked if she needed anything, he announced with a wry smile that the staff would now leave for the night. Looking around in the half gloom, her eyes fell on her costume, laid out on the bed - Laboutin heels, stocking, a basque and most significantly, a blindfold. She slipped off her clothes and standing naked, contemplated what her role would be, what was to come. She pulled on the stockings and carefully straitened the tops, then the shoes and it was time for the mirror, to take a minute to admire herself in the towering spike thin heels, the shoes that she would surely take home as part reward.. She struggled into the basque. It was tight and brief, doing a poor job of concealing her “modesty” - she chuckled to herself at the term. Her breasts almost tumbled from the top and if she leant back slightly the small skirt fringe failed to conceal the folds of soft flesh in the gap between her thighs - no thong had been provided. So be it, no doubt the count had some plan for that part of her body, that much was certain. Lastly, the blindfold. All was now in place and she waited, standing, alone in darkness, but not for long. The count was so prompt she guessed he had watched her change. She faced him unseeing. He kissed her hand in welcome and then her neck, small talk would seem absurd in such a charged atmosphere and he simply announced “dinner”, leading her out of the room and then gripping her shoulders, he rotated her several times so that all orientation was lost. Then, perhaps as a test of submission, a slow faltering walk with arms outstretched with him calling the way from ahead. Soon she was told to stop and kneel. She could smell seafood. He pressed a morsel against her lips and she took it in, chewed questioningly and swallowed. Immediately he was ready with champagne and then another delicacy, until after some time he suggested “almost enough?”. She agreed. To complete her feeding he pushed a cylinder of white chocolate into her mouth, the connotation was obvious and she held it in her lips the way she had held the count in her lips and as he slowly worked it in and out each pass melted more chocolate until the inside of her mouth was entirely coated and an overflow coursed down her chin and dripped onto her breasts. This is good, she thought, glad she had come. Dinner was over. Helping her to her feet, he repeated the turning ritual then led her to where she knew not where, except she knew they had passed outside, as she could feel the cool breeze in the hairs on her body. Was this a public place or a courtyard? As she walked the basque fell away from her chocolate covered breasts and she moved to adjust it , but he stopped her. So as she walked, with each step her vulnerable nudity increased. After maybe 100 metres they turned left and then stopped. “remove the basque”. Slowly, hesitantly she complied, she had never felt so naked. “now we must wash away that chocolate, lean forward" Cupping her breasts in his hands he sucked and licked until most of the white chocolate was gone. Then he told her to hold her arms above her head and she gasped as cold champagne gushed over her, coursing over her now heaving breasts, her nipples hard as little rocks. “there is a table in front of you, please lean on it” She understood, this is the focal point of his game, now he is ready to take me. Placing her hands either side of the table, she leaned forward and placed her feet apart to receive him. Her buttocks raised in anticipation of the penetration that was soon to follow. Carefully, he gathered her hair behind her head and pulled it back so her mouth faced upwards and her back arched leaving her glorious champagne wet breasts hanging free. Then he began to thrust, with each thrust her breasts swung forward, with each thrust he pulled back on her hair, with each thrust she came nearer to orgasm until she forgot her misgivings and just took pleasure in the moment. There was no need to fake anything, the chocolate ritual had excited her and once aroused, being naked in an unknown place ignited her and she shuddered and moaned out her climax. When it was over, breathing hard, as passion receeded her doubts returned. Where were they? The count lifted her from the table. Her work was almost done. To her horror she heard chairs scrape back from the table she had just been pleasured at and a modest round of applause mixed with chuckles. She had been a public performance, an exhibit . “now we will walk back, you will not wear the basque” Taking her by one hand held high, like some courtier displaying a possession to his court, he walked her back towards the palace, as if on a Sunday stroll. Surrounded by her watchers, she could sense their gazes all around. At first she felt abused, cowed and betrayed but slowly her pride welled up almost like lust and she started to walk proudly with her head held high, her free hand on her hip and no attempt at concealment. If one or other of the watchers dared to touch her, she would not shy away, but rather turn to them, offering her body openly and haughtily. Daring them. As might some worshipped goddess of love. She would accept the counts next invitation. -- source link