Cute Girls

Poppy Ch. 04

The next day, Poppy awoke to a grey-skied morning. She showered and prepared herself for the coming day, but even though her breakfast tray was there as she exited the bathroom, she didn’t see any sign of Him.

She remained on the floor, just in case for almost an hour. When He hadn’t shown up, she decided to busy herself until He did.

Finding the poetry book she had gotten from the library the day before, she sat in a large, high-backed chair in her room, nude as usual, and read. She tried not to think about yesterday, a small smile playing across her lips as she read the same page she tried to yesterday, reminding her of the time out on the bench.

She had acted like quite the randy little slut yesterday. Dropping the book to her lap, she thought about Him and His guest and the little display she had put on for them. Thoughts of her exposing herself to them and then masturbating in the chaise lounge made her smile widen, and she felt a tiny but unmistakable twinge in her sex. Mentally talking to her sex drive, she reminded it she couldn’t give in to wild passions today and must be ready for Him whenever He appeared, and turned back to her book.

She lazed away the afternoon reading and watching the angry grey clouds rolling by outside, wondering if He was ever going to make an appearance. She only stirred once, when something disturbed her, and she realized she had dozed off. Looking around she could not find the source of the noise, but noticed that a lunch tray had been brought in for her while she was asleep. Rising from her chair, she also saw that something black had been draped over the end of the bed.

Passing her lunch, she walked to the bed to inspect the black object. Coming around the side of the bed she also noticed a small box on the floor. The black object turned out to be a dress, a black evening dress, very stylish and made almost perfectly to her size. Underneath it lay a gauzy black wrap, but (she smiled) again no undergarments.

Thankfully, she noticed as she held the dress up to herself and examined herself in the bedroom mirror, the dress was not the sheer, see-through material as before.

The box on the floor contained a pair of black high heeled shoes, a very expensive, designer brand at that. She had to wonder if He might be throwing a party and she was invited. Certainly this was much dressier than the sundress that didn’t hide anything, and walking barefooted in the flower garden.

She pondered what He may have in mind for her as she walked over and sat down to her lunch. Sitting on the tray was a small note addressed to her.

Poppy, (it read)

I can’t be with you today, but I hope to be back tonight. Prepare yourself, as I plan on taking us out to dinner tonight. Dress in the clothes laid out

for you and I will be back to collect you at 7:30.

Her eyebrows raised as she read and re-read the note from Him. She could tell it was from Him, it had His scent on it and she gave it a long sniff, drinking it in. A happy grin appeared as she set it down so she could glance at it as she ate.

She was so excited, she almost felt giddy. Dinner, with Him. A night on the town, she figured He wouldn’t end it just there, then who knows what else. She could imagine anything He arranged had to be lavish and romantic. She couldn’t imagine Him doing things any other way. Other romantic ideas dancing through her head. Would He take her dancing? A moonlit walk on the beach? She would settle for a night in a cheap motel just so she could finally get some sexual relief! She laughed silently to herself, stifling the noise. She had felt the silence in the house all day gave it the feeling of an old library where no loud noises were the allowed.

How would she ever busy herself for the rest of the day though? Finishing her tray, she decided she needed to totally occupy herself, lest idle fingers and a over-stimulated sex drive be left alone unsupervised. She wanted to save herself for Him no matter what He had planned. She decided to go to the library after lunch and try finding a big book to lose herself in.

Finishing her lunch, she quietly padded to the door on the balls of her feet. Opening it silently, she strained for signs of anyone else in the house. It was at that moment she wondered if He had servants and if so why she hadn’t seen any. She felt as though she needed to sneak to the library, but had no idea what she would do if she ran into anyone, creeping around His house, totally nude.

Throwing caution to the wind, she stole down the hall, her bare feet lightly pattering on the wood floor as she hurried. Once inside she shut the large, heavy door with a thud.

Glancing through the old, cracked spines of the books in his collection, she found one she thought was fitting the occasion, Lady Chatterley’s Lovers.

Half not trusting herself not to give in to the lust-filled pages and half gleeful with excitement, she chose the book and headed back to her room.

Shutting herself off in the bedroom she curled up on the over-sized chair again and got lost in it’s pages.

A low rumble of distant thunder made her look up quickly. She realized it was 5 o’clock already and she would need to start getting ready. Laying the old book carefully aside, she headed for the bathroom and a shower. Standing under the hot spray, she thought about where He might take her. All she knew for sure was that the book had gotten her even more excited, if that was possible.

She made sure to shave everywhere and wash her hair. Getting out, she thought about styling it differently, but she knew He liked it the way she had worn it the day she got here so she decided against it. She dried her hair, brushed it several times into place and applied a little eye makeup. She knew He preferred a natural look.

Walking naked from the bathroom to the bed, she found a black garter and a pair of nude-toned stockings had also been laying under the black wrap. She slid on the stockings, becoming more nervously anxious as the time drew nearer. Putting on the garter without panties seemed strange, but it was what He wanted and she dutifully obeyed.

The dress fit her perfectly. She didn’t really need a bra, the dress giving her some support, and since she wasn’t overly endowed she didn’t need much. A quick spritz from one of the antique perfume bottles on the vanity and she slipped her feet into the high heels, finally draping the wrap over her shoulders.

Looking at herself in the mirror she could hardly believe the look. Very sophisticated, yet sexy. Going without panties also gave her a thrill. She knew He would know but that no one else would. Fussing with her hair, trying to waste those last pesky minutes, she jumped at the soft rap on the door.

Opening the door, He stepped in. He was dressed in a formal suit, looking impeccable and smelling even better. He smiled widely at her, glancing up and down her form as she turned slowly from side to side with one knee forward showing off, her head lower.

“Very nice,” He said in reply. Still feasting His eyes on her, He stopped at her face. “Poppy, I can think of only one more thing that would complete your ensemble. If you would permit me…..?” He said drawing His hand from behind Him revealing a long, maroon colored, velvet box.

Her eyes began to widen, and she quickly turned her back to Him. Standing in front of the mirror she watched as He opened the box behind her, and withdrew and item. She closed her eyes in anticipation as she saw His hands begin to raise over her head. She felt the tickle of a necklace encompass her neck and His soft, warm hands connecting the clasp behind her.

“Open your eyes,” He softly whispered into her ear.

The first thing she saw was the large diamond pendant that hung from a delicate gold chain around her neck. She couldn’t help but gasp. She wanted to thank Him, to throw her arms around Him and hug Him, but she held her place.

“Do you like it?” He asked in her ear again watching her in the mirror. Tears of joy welled in her eyes as she nodded. “Well, then, since you look perfect now, I think we should be on our way.” He said, presenting His arm for her to grasp and leading her out of the bedroom and outside to the car.

The restaurant was busy but not crowded. Almost all of the tables were filled, but there seemed to be a unspoken rule against disruptive noise and everyone spoke in hushed tones so as to not disturb the atmosphere.

Perhaps it was the large, scalloped-backed chairs that were seated at the tables. Poppy noticed no table had more than two chairs and that the high curved backs gave the couples privacy and kept them centered on each other. This was a place for lovers.

He, of course, ordered for her, making an excellent choice. The food was phenomenal. She had never ate this well, or this much rich food.

“I have a little surprise for us after dinner.” He said to her as the dinner plates were removed.

She couldn’t help but smile and bounce her foot in excited apprehension. She almost called the maitre de over with the check herself.

Back in the car, she could barely sit still. He chuckled and placed a warm hand on her leg. Used to His touch, she looked to him and smiled back.

“Nervous?” He questioned. She debated whether or not to play coy and not answer, but in the end she nodded.

“Excited?” He asked. She turned to Him and gave Him a glance as if to say ‘What do you think?’ Suddenly, she felt His hand start to slip up her leg ever so slowly. She crossed her arms in mock defiance determined not to show a reaction. His hand moved incredibly slow. She turned away, feinting disinterest, but had to bite her lip.

Purposefully, He used only the slightest touch of His fingertips to trace up her thigh past the stocking-top, pulling her dress higher as He went. Touching the bare flesh of her leg were the stocking ended gave her a shiver, but still she pretended He wasn’t driving her nuts. As He got high enough to see that she, indeed, wasn’t wearing panties, she had a playful surge of bravado and crossed her legs. She still wasn’t looking at Him, and for a second, she hoped she hadn’t crossed the line.

Instead, she heard His low chuckle.

“Okay, little one,” He said. “I’ll leave you alone, for now.” with another chuckle.

Watching out the car window, she saw them pull down a busy city street. She knew this area was touted as being a playground for people with too much money, several prosperous night clubs and casino/hotels were located here. She saw they were slowing as they came up to a neon-lighted club front.

Club Blue was glowing from the sign above the door in dignified blue letters, as the car door was opened. A uniformed doorman took her hand as she stepped out and onto the curb.

She really didn’t see Him being the nightclub type, but she got the idea this wasn’t the typical bass-thumping nightclub.

Entering the lavishly decorated entryway, it reminded her of a 1920s gentleman”s club. She could see several square tables, all with long white tablecloths and small lamps with blue shades, along the walls out in the low-lighted main room. The walls were decorated in blues and large, old fashioned portraits. The light buzz of chatter and the occasionally laugh filled the air barely over the melody of a small orchestra up at the front of the room. The center of the room was a dancefloor with a ornate pattern of different types and shapes of exotic woods.

People of all sorts seemed to frequent the place, several of different nationalities, but all seemed to have one thing in common, they were all rich. She could see in the low light expensive suits and women laden with jewelry. Everyone also seemed to be enjoying themselves.

She saw at one private table a man and a woman in the throes of passion, he aggressively kissing her neck. Poppy stared as she saw the man slide his hand in the woman’s designer blouse. She noticed Poppy watching and smiled slyly. The woman stopped the man, whispered to him, and indicated Poppy. The man then glanced in her direction and also gave her a smile while both of them looked her up and down. He made comment to the woman, who winked at Poppy.

Poppy was startled, and looked away shyly. Suddenly, He was there and took her hand and led her toward the long oak bar. He ordered them drinks as He watched her watching the other patrons. She noticed some couples stand up together and lead one another to a carpeted staircase that led up to balcony.

She stood gaping as she saw a couple sitting at another table close by. The woman had slid her chair closer to the man and the two were practically side by side. By the rhythmic hand motions the woman was making in the man”s lap, she was obviously getting to know him better. She was concentrating on what she was doing out of view, but Poppy noticed the man was looking back at her. He was a large man, dark complexion with black, slicked hair and mustache, possibly of Arabian decent, wearing a white tuxedo jacket. He beckoned her to come to his table.

Poppy didn’t dare, and gave a small shake of her head to the man. She reached forward and placed her hand on His arm to indicate she was with Him. Feeling her touch, He turned to face her and noticed her gazing over His shoulder. Turning, He saw the couple at the table just as the woman slid off her chair and under the tablecloth while the man smiled and waved in recognition of Him.

Raising His glass in return, and He smiled back. Taking Poppy’s hand, He brought her forward for the man to get a better look. The man nodded vigorously to show his approval and even gave a thumbs up.

“This is a place where people with the same…tastes, can meet and converse.” Turning back to her He explained. She grinned in surprise as she saw a tall shapely blonde woman greet a tall shapely redheaded woman at the door and the two kissed. It was a much more passionate kiss than two women normally trade when seeing each other. Eventually the two broke their embrace and joining hands, headed for the stairs.

“Do you see anyone you like, Little One?” He whispered playfully in her ear as He leaned in from behind.

She whipped her head around so quick she got a crick in her neck. Wide-eyed, she looked directly at Him. What did He mean?

“Look around, see if you find someone that interests you.” He said, as He pointed around the room with His glass. Studying her expression, He could read her hesitation.

“Shall I choose for you?” He asked. She lowered her head.

Glancing around the bar, He surveyed several of the women. Poppy”s heart began to pound. What did He have in mind for her? Obeying Him at His home was no problem, they were home. She could relax. But now, here, they were out in the open. What would He make her do?

She watched Him examine the other patrons for a long, agonizing minute, then turn back to her.

Using the hand His glass was in to point with, He grasped Poppy”s arm and turned her gently.

“What about her, Little One?”

Poppy raised her eyes to follow His direction.

She sat alone at a table near the railing separating the seating area from the dancefloor and was a bit older than Poppy, probably around 35 if she had to guess. Short, reddish blonde hair that swept upward, with large dangly earrings. The woman had a bit more makeup on than she needed, and Poppy thought it may be to try and hide her age. Poppy thought she was attractive, but still didn”t know what He had in mind with her and this woman.

She had on a creme colored silk blouse with a necklace of large black beads. Poppy could also see a couple of large rings on the woman”s hand as she waved her cigarette around while talking with a younger woman leaning on the railing. With the low-cut neckline of the dress the younger woman wore, Poppy could tell the older was looking down, watching her breasts. Suddenly, the younger leaned in further, the older leaned toward her and the two kissed as the younger departed.

“Tell her, Poppy. Explain that you are attracted to her. You are in training and you ask that she assist me in your training.” He told her. She steeled herself, wanting to please. “Go, now.” His hand was on the small of her back and He lightly gave her a push.

She actually needed it. Mechanically, she walked toward the woman, at a total loss as to what she would say to her. Halfway there, the woman looked up and saw Poppy walking her way. Perhaps it was the terrified look on her face, or some hint of an attraction, but she locked her eyes on Poppy, watching her until she stopped right next to her.

“Yes?” the woman said to Poppy after a minute of silence.

Poppy fumbled with the words He had given her.

“I am in training. I need…I’m here to find someone to help…He sent me here to ask if you would help in my training.” She stammered. She looked down after she finally got the words out, waiting. Poppy felt the woman looking her over with an almost hungry look. Finally she replied.

“You are very attractive. What’s your name?” she said with a sidelong glance

“Poppy, ma’am.”

“Cute and courteous.” The woman rose. “Lead the way, Poppy.”

Poppy walked in front of the woman, leading her back to His table. She knew the woman was watching her from behind.

As the two of them reached the table where He was seated, she stopped along side Poppy and grabbed her butt, giving it a quick squeeze.

Poppy stood watching as He made introductions and the woman sat in the circular booth next to Him.

Only when told, did Poppy also sit.

She felt in a daze. Not only did it appear that another person was joining them, but it was a woman. What would He make her do? What would He let her to do to Poppy?

She sat in the booth, eyes lowered as the two of them sat chatting quietly.

This new woman didn’t seem to be His type. He sat, upright and dignified, calmly and quietly talking in His deep voice. She was giggly and loud, obviously after a few drinks, and leered at Poppy as they spoke.

Poppy couldn’t hear what was said, but she knew He must be telling her all she had done so far and explaining what He wanted from her.

Not long after joining them, she was tugging on His arm, anxious to leave. Evidentially, between the alcohol and the talking, she was horny and interested in getting the party started.

Poppy tried to play along, she walked behind them, feeling forgotten, out to the car. The doorman opened the door for them all, and the woman got in first sitting in the middle of the back seat. He sat on her one side and Poppy squeezed in on the other.

On the trip back to His house, the two continued to chat and laugh. Poppy sat back, dutifully ignoring them.

At the house, the three got out together and walked to the door. Once He had let them inside and shut the door, He interrupted the woman with a raised hand and turned to Poppy.

“Poppy, you know the rules, now that we are back home.” He indicated to her bedroom. She knew what he meant and walked to her room.

Once inside, she began to undress, carefully laying the clothes back on her bed. Promptly she appeared at the doorway nude, nervously fiddling with her hands and looking at the floor.

“There is my Beauty.” She heard Him comment with pride. She took no comfort in it, however. She felt embarrassed and a twinge of jealousy as she stood there letting them gawk at her. The woman had come forward and joined Him, looking her naked form up and down.

“I’m sorry to do this, my dear Poppy,” He reached into His jacket pocket and removed a silk scarf. Reaching forward, He tied it around Poppy’s eyes, blindfolding her.

“There now,” she heard Him say. “Poppy, lead the way to the Playroom.”

Walking in front of them, naked, she heard whispers and a giggle from behind her. She remembered being taken to the Playroom only a couple of days ago. It was were He kept all his restraints and toys and it was were she had been tied to a table and endured a glorious fucking from one of His machines that slowly pushed into her anally.

Again I “enjoyed” an awfully strong-tasting pussy, the smell and taste of her urine harsh and brackish. For several minutes the athletic black woman worked on my face, as my mistress gave me another fucking with the dildo, before removing it with a plopping sound from my soaking pussy.

Then my first hour of punishments was over. The two women knelt and removed my wrists and ankles from the straps which had imprisoned them, and I was allowed to stand and walking around, rubbing life back into my hands and feet.

After this, Patricia pointed to a piece of metal equipment on the table on the opposite end of the sun lounger. “Get it, Charisma,” she ordered and the black woman moved to the table.

“Now, my darling,” she said, smiling at me, “it’s time for your outdoor pillory. You see, the one inside is a bit too big to bring out here, so I’ve gone to great trouble to get a new pillory – one for your tits. Isn’t that kind of me?”

I looked at the sinister piece of equipment and the evil look on Charisma’s face as she approached me with it in her hands.

Somehow kindness wasn’t the word I had in mind.

To be continued.

Some four or five minutes into the exercise, Karla’s body started to writhe in her bonds as the delights of her orgasm began their first low, slow surges, then she began to buck and heave in the flogging frame as the orgasm got closer and closer.

Finally, she could do nothing to stop the flood of orgasmic delight from engulfing her and with cries of “Yes, oh yesyesyesyes, I’m cooooming” she writhed and thrashed to a threshing, thrashing Big O.

As she calmed down, and Patricia stood up and planted a long slow kiss on her agent’s mouth, Charisma and I removed her from the flogging frame.

Karla smiled at us, and in turn kissed both Charisma, then me before announcing, possibly with only some slight exaggeration: “Thank heaven we did that down in this lovely padded parlour or I’d have been heard in fucking Dover!”

The next day, Karla was off to London with the disc which she dropped off at Patricia’s publisher. Some months went by, and then, in the depths of winter, my employer announced that we were off next week to The Savoy for a series of press conferences, a publisher’s launch and cocktail party all to herald her latest history – Torment at Trafalgar.

“We’ll stay in a suite – or rather, I will,” announced Patricia. “Charisma, you and Penelope will share an adjoining bedroom. I’m sure we’ll all have a lovely time.”

Having checked in, Charisma and I made sure our employer’s suite was fully stocked with champagne, spirits and beer to cater for the copious capacity of the press. But first there was a BBC TV crew, which drank only orange juice, followed by another from team from some commercial channel.

Next came he press and magazines, which made up for the lack of intake by the TV crews by making serious inroads into the bubbly and booze provided by myself, Charisma and a stunningly-attired Karla. Their combined thirsts, the agent assured me, was “par for the course”.

By 5 o’clock Patricia announced she was “talked out about fucking Trafalgar” and took a bath, while Charisma and I had a quick, but passionate, sex session before we showered together and got ready for the publisher’s launch of Torment at Trafalgar.

The function in the hotel’s Siemens Room was attended by about 50 or 60 people and the man from The Times Literary Supplement immediately tried to launch himself on me. He was a tall, grey-haired and hawk-nosed old codger of about 60, but Charisma rescued me and introduced him to one of her dark-skinned lady friends. Later, I noticed he was talking intently to her in a corner, stroking her lush, leather-skirted bum.

But to be fair, The Times had been very kind to my employer’s latest historical offering. The review in the TLS noted: “Her latest tome reveals a wealth of historical research which only adds to the torrid tale. Although the ’steamier’ scenes were perhaps a trifle too detailed for this reviewer, they will no doubt increase the pulse rate of her many millions of fans around the world.”

The Daily Telegraph, while somewhat more censorious, surely added to the book’s readership when it noted: “Vivid descriptions of intensely erotic tortures for some of the male - and female – protagonists, make for somewhat disturbing reading, a comment which will make not one jot of difference to this remarkable author’s huge readership.”

The Sun had taken a somewhat raunchier tack. “Phew, wotta scorcha!” its reviewer had panted. “Floggings, punishments, hot sex and steamy nights as Horatio takes on the appalling Frog navy. Don’t put it down – it’ll burn the furniture!”

Speaking of The Sun, an oleaginous little photographer carrying what looked like to be a hugely expensive camera, persuaded Patricia to pose between me and Charisma for the paper’s gossip column.

As we stood closely together on a little stage at one end of the room, he lewdly called out: “Come on, darlings, show us a bit more cleavage!”

The picture eventually appeared in one of The Sun’s gossip columns – but isn’t the paper one long gossip column? - under the heading “A trio of bodices we’d like to rip”. But I do have to confess we appeared to have acceded to his request over the amount of cleavage on show.

Finally, the speeches had been made, the last hangers-on drifted away, including the Times Literary Supplement man cuddling up to Charisma’s friend, and Charisma and I flanked Patricia as we made our way back upstairs.

Outside her suite, Patricia said: “OK, Charisma, come in with me. Penelope, I want you in my room in 10 minutes – naked.”

In my room, I stripped off but kept my high heels on, checked my watch, had a quick vodka and tonic from the room bar, and opened the door to my employer’s suite.

There, in the centre of the large suite, side-by-side stood Patricia and Charisma, both naked like me, both with high-heeled shoes on their feet, like me.

Patricia was holding a cruel-looking little leather lash. In her other hand was a copy of what appeared to be Torment at Trafalgar.

I moved forward and stood in front of her. Patricia gave me a broad smile and held the book out to me. “Here, my dear,” she said, “this is a little gift for you.”

I took the book and opened it. The inside first page had a scrawled inscription: “To my divine researcher, Penelope, all my love, Patricia.”

“Turn to the dedication page,” said Patricia, as she bent the lash, flexing it into a sort of u-shape.

I read the dedication: “To Penelope, without whose assistance and inspiration this story could never have been told.”

It was so sweet, what could I say?

The best I could manage was a rather feeble cliche: “How can I ever thank you?”

Patricia looked at Charisma and they both smiled.

“Well,” said my employer, “for starters you can get down on your knees ….”

Tags: Fetish, Story