Helena Robertson - Mousse

“Oh,” says Monique, “no, you should not. It is wrong, you must not-leave me alone.”

But she does not really resist when the two nervous hands lift her cardigan up, and free the two breasts. A warm breathing on her skin, a mouth that seizes her nipple. An intense sucking. Monique protests a little bit, just for decency's sake, and lets the hands that have already lifted the skirt high above the waist, caress the buttocks and then the belly, the crotch.

She pushes away from him.

“No, not that! You are exciting me, and what would Darcourt say?”

She takes him back to the sitting room, and leaves enough disorder in her attire so that everyone will understand… her breasts are sharply pointed under the cardigan. She serves some more liquor while the two monks are speaking confidentially together.

Shortly afterwards, the other monk, taking advantage of the fact that Max is showing some drawings to his colleague, asks Monique to show him to the bathroom. They have hardly reached the stairs, when she feels two hands caressing her bottom, uplifting her skirt. A mouth glues itself to her flesh, in long warm kisses. She lets the man take her in his arms, the cardigan is rolled around her neck, and two hands caress the opulent teats. Soon after a mouth sucks at her nipples.

Once again, her buttocks are receiving the caresses from nervous hands. An inquiring finger is titillating her asshole while a penetrating forefinger seeks at her sex. She feels suddenly under her hand, along her body, that the monk is placing his erected prick. She takes the shivering rod between her fingers and caresses the tool while the man masturbates her passionately.

The monk suddenly glues his belly to hers, and tries to insinuate his prick between her legs.

“No, no, not that. I am a virgin.”

He stops, surprised, and his fingers checks that revealed particularity. She twists, surprised by that unexpected contact, and she turns around. He leans her against the wall and suddenly she feels, to her surprise, the prick sliding between the globes of her buttocks like a plough. She feels the hard texture of that muscular flesh. He whispers ardent words by her ear, one of his hands caressing her breasts, and the other one alternating between her ass and her sex.

“Let me slide in you. Just a little, nothing. Yes, just a little…”

She shakes her head…

“No, leave me alone. Are you insane? No!”

But she desires to be ass fucked by that man who does not seem to be really master of his senses. She tries to move away, and only succeeds in presenting her teats to him.

He immediately sucks greedily at the nipples. While he caresses her, he places his prick between her fingers. She enjoys caressing that hard and soft flesh. She presses the cylinder and caresses the round head; she feels the pulse in it. The balls are round and full, the hair hard and curly. She feels desire in her veins. If he could only guess it. He becomes demanding, bends to suck some more at the tense flesh of her bosom. The prick slides away from the finger's embrace and that breaks the enchantment. All of a sudden she is ashamed, and she fixes her dress. He follows her downstairs, in silence.

In the sitting room, nobody is paying attention to them, but at a glance at Max, she realizes that he was not expecting them that soon. She is disappointed, and nervous, she does not serve properly; soon she breaks a glass and answer Max's reproach very roughly.

Then everything moves fast, like in a dream. She sees the room turn upside down, feels Darcourt's arm around her waist, and then she felt Max's powerful thighs paralyzing her, and her skirt lifted up. Her bottom was revealed in the sunset light. The two monks were staring at the offered bottom, the closed thighs, and the propped buttocks. Already she was slapped on her fanny. She moaned and cried-was it pain? shame? pleasure? or merely surprise? She never knew it.

“No, no-not that, Darcourt. Are you out of your head?”

But he would not listen to the young girl's supplication, and would go on with his spanking of her rotundities. Oh, it was not a hard one. He did not want to hurt her, but simply to bring her to that state of excitement that he knew so well, so that she would become his thing, and also his guests' thing. He did not know whether she would let foreign pricks penetrate that perfect bottom, but he wanted his guests to take pleasure, at least intellectually, in contemplating her delicate charms. And the slapping went on, only punctuated by her cries and the sighs of desire of the men, contemplating that beauty maintained between Max's knees.

Soon enough the bottom was red. An intense warmth irradiated her body bringing a new excitement to it. Her pulse was beating hard at her temples. She resisted for a long moment the order that he gave her to open her thighs. And she only gave up when her flesh could not take the pain any more. Then, like a dismantled puppet, she opened and revealed to the men her splendid little pink slit, with her puckered asshole, like some mysterious fruit laying between the two globes of her buttocks.

Silence came again, and Monique enjoyed the sensation of being admired like a caress on her unveiled femininity.

Max said: “I hope that you will forgive her little misfortune… And I also hope that you think that she was punished severely enough?”

“Yes, my friend, that little girl paid enough for that menial sin, her flesh is burning enough (she felt hands on her buttocks) but, to my humble opinion, she deserves little mortification that will persuade her of the importance of the mistake that she committed. What would you think if we asked her to serve us another glass of that delightful liquor in the attire of our good mother Eve?”

“That is what I call a good idea. Did you hear my child?”

“Oh, not that, I do not accept. Now Dar-court hear me. I refuse. Oooh, Oooh, enough, enough, no, I hurt too much… enough… Aaah, yes, I will…”

The blows were falling on her buttocks, fast, hard and dry… And the bottom was twisting in all directions, without great care of the suggestive visions that it allowed when the legs were accidentally opening.

Max stopped spanking, his hand burning.

“I will,” she repeated weakly, completely subdued. But I would like for you to turn all the lights out.”

“Did you hear?” asked Max to his friends with a queer smile.

“Yes for this time we accept that the penitence shall be effected in such a way.”

Max moved away from her. Her pulse was beating hard at her temples. She pulled her skirt down, but she was already feeling the pleasure to show herself naked to those men.

“Come now little girl, pour us some drinks, and do not force me to remind you of your promise.”

Max took his friend to one corner of the room, still lit by the sunset. They sat on low chairs. Monique went to the shade at the other end of the sitting room. They heard the whisper of the silk against her skin, and guessed the pallor of the naked body in the semi-darkness. The tinkle of glasses, and soon the magnificent body, with its arrogant breasts hardly moving when she was walking came to them. She served them one by one, experiencing a wonderful pleasure in showing her body to those excited men whose eyes were examining each detail… each contour.

She showed them everything, she drank with them, her belly level with their face so they could see her flesh palpitate. Even Max was under the charm. No one dared to try to caress her, or even to move toward her. She went back in the shade and got dressed again. She came back with them and took her glass; she sipped it, and said:

“I am sorry but I will have to leave now or I will be late for dinner.”

“Already?” said Max, “why not stay for dinner with us?”