Roland DeForrest - The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey

Instantly the wide, heavy door opened inward and they stepped into the flagstone-paved entry. The door was closed behind them by a thin man dressed in formal butler’s attire. Silently he led them down a nearby hallway into an antique-furnished reception room. Flocked gold wallpaper and crystal chandeliers aglow with lighted candles added a festive atmosphere to the room. The hall door shut behind them and they were alone. From somewhere deep in the house, a Chopin piano etude filtered to them. With keen anticipation they stared at one another and waited.

“Welcome, my beauties,” a deep female voice greeted them with a thick Russian accent. In surprise, Honey whirled around just in time to see a secret panel closing in the wall behind the unexpected arrivee. The woman was huge, well over six feet tall and weighing at least two hundred and fifty pounds. In spite of her large proportions, she possessed an hourglass shape emphasized by a tight black Merry Widow corset. Her mammoth breasts overflowed the tight covering, and on her hefty thighs, black garters held up black net stockings. Her lower legs were encased in knee-high, laced-up black leather boots with stiletto heels. In one hand she carried a short riding crop and in the other a goblet of an odd-colored liquid. It was impossible for Honey to discern what the gargantuan woman’s face looked like, for it was covered from brow to just below the nose with a full black leather mask. At once Honey was intrigued, and she felt a delicious tingle rising between her legs.

Disa stepped forward as if greeting an old friend. “Madame Nadezlida Filaretovna, I would like to present a dear friend, Honey Wildon.”

The woman strode to them with surprising grace, her large round hips swaying like a chorus girl’s. “Are you Honey Wildon, the writer?” she asked in a gruff voice quite at home in the lower registers.

“Yes I am,” Honey hastened to say.

“No writers allowed,” the madame said, and turned to Disa with a friendly grin. “But you, my sweet, are always welcome.”

Honey pulled herself up to her full height. “I am not here as a writer,” she protested. “I came to ask you a personal favor.”

The beefy madame swung her masked head back to stare openly at Honey. “I do not trust the duplicity of writers.”

“But I assure you on my parents’ graves, I have not come here as a writer but as a woman who needs your help.”

“ My help?” the madame questioned in obvious amusement. “All my people come to me for help.”

Honey smiled warmly. “But I do not seek sexual help, only information. About one of your regulars. Henri Bouscaral.”

In the holes of the mask, the madame’s eyes narrowed. “I never divulge anything about any of my clients.”

“Even if it might mean saving an innocent child?” Disa broke in, all golden charm and enticing persuasion. “Honey, show Nadez the photo.”

Hastily Honey displayed Dirk’s snapshot of Kolina and explained her fears that the girl had been kidnapped and was being held against her will by Henri Bouscaral. The madame looked to Disa for confirmation. “Is this true?” she asked. Disa agreed readily, adding that she wouldn’t have brought her there if Honey were not trustworthy and loyal. The madame eyed Honey with new appraisal and took a sip from her long-forgotten goblet. “If you want information, you must pay dearly for it.”

“Anything you ask,” Honey replied, opening her purse.

The madame laughed heartily. “Not with money, but with your body. You must prove to me that you are truly an aficionado of all kinds of pleasures. Only then will I speak of Henri.”

Honey tossed a titillated glance at Disa, who shrugged, smiling her agreement. “It seems only fair, Honey. Madame, I will leave her in your very capable hands and go myself to partake of your palace of fine arts.” She hurried to the hall door and threw a wink at Honey. “Enjoy yourself, liebchen . I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” With that she exited.

Honey shrugged at the huge madame and decided what the hell. There was very little that she hadn’t tried, and even less that she hadn’t enjoyed. “Where do I begin?”

“By stripping at once.”

Honey, eager to prove her worth, pulled her Pucci dress over her head and stepped out of her heels, displaying her perfectly formed breasts with a bold grin. “What next?”

As if surprised at the suddenness with which her request had been met, Madame Nadezlida Filaretovna stared at the flawless body before her. Her eyes widened with wonderment in the mask holes, and a stubby pink tongue ran over her thick lips. Slowly, deliberately, she made a complete tour around Honey and returned to face her with a pleased grin. “What a pretty package you are, my sweet. A welcome addition to any house. Follow me.”

Knees quaking with anticipation, Honey managed to move after the heavy body crammed into the tight corset. Nadez touched a concealed release in the gold-flocked wall, and a hidden panel slide back noiselessly, revealing a narrow passage. The big woman squeezed into the opening, and Honey followed. At once the panel closed behind them. A flight of stairs led downward, and the farther they descended, the warmer it became. On a lower level, the madame stopped, turned to her captive audience, and pulled a small half-mask over Honey’s face. “This is your first test. Remember, I will be watching your every move.”

Honey smiled gamely. “I’m looking forward to proving my worthiness.”

Nadez pushed a spot on the wall and another panel opened. Honey stepped through the doorway and found herself in a steamy communal shower. People were soaping and lathering each other’s bodies, the men’s pricks as hard as the white bars of soap, which were in plentiful supply. Almost immediately, Honey was surrounded by slippery, rubbing bodies. She was sandwiched between two men-one tall, with a rigid cock the size of a good-sized cucumber, the other short but possessing an even larger tool, fat and brown like a potato. The men soaped her ripe body with loving care, not missing a centimeter of her fair skin as they slid their hard members up and down her limbs. Loving the tactile sensation, Honey returned their amorous attentions and, grabbing their cocks, jerked them to an easy climax.

She eased away from them and, pushing through the wet tangle of human flesh, exited the shower at the far end, to find herself in a warm room whose walls and floor were covered entirely in soft gray carpet. Thick white towels were folded neatly on a bench next to a standing young man whose towel was draped over his stiff pole as if it were hanging from a special wall rack. Playfully she grabbed the towel from his pleasing prick and began drying herself. The masked young man slipped behind her and gently bent her forward over the bench. She gasped with pleasure as she felt his hot, hard meat slip with ease into her still-wet channel. Simultaneously toweling her luxurious locks dry, she pushed back onto his driving dick and felt herself rocketing upward into the fleecy clouds of lustful enjoyment. She placed her hands on the bench and, her breasts swinging beneath her, rode his pounding peter for all she was worth. Soon he creamed into her with such a load that she felt her ditch overflowing. He pulled out and patted her ass with a friendly “Thank you.” She swung upright, still unsatisfied, and wiped the damp towel between her legs.

The other door leading from the gray-carpeted room brought her into a dimly lit corridor of many doors, each containing a small sign labeling the room behind it, as well as a small window through which one could view a portion of the goings-on. Brimming with curiosity and unfulfilled desires, she made her way down the hall, glancing both at the signs and through the small windows.