Free Intimate Exposure by Portia Da Costa Page B

she couldn’t suppress her own will.
    Returning her attention to the corseted woman, Vicki saw that a man had joined her in the limelight. He was lean and blond and wore leather jeans, a heavy belt and high boots, but nothing else. With almost languid assurance, he reached out and roughly handled the woman’s bare breast, twisting and tweaking the nipple just as Red had handled her own. Unsurprisingly, his victim wriggled, and Vicki’s own hips were suddenly energized too. She shifted her thighs uneasily in her chair, acutely aware that Red was still watching her. It was difficult to tell which was most arousing—observing the video or being observed herself.
    Feeling those demonic eyes track her every move, she set aside her cup. She might as well have been drinking pond water now.
    The slave must be moaning. The young woman’s lips were parted, but there seemed to be no soundtrack. The loaded silence only intensified the action. It also meant that if Vicki made even the slightest sound herself, Red would hear it.

    More men now moved forward, fondling and groping the submissive en masse, their greedy fingers cruising all over her body and slipping into the most intimate areas, making her rise even higher on her toes.
    The young woman was being handled like a stock animal. She ought to be experiencing the depths of shame, but the expression on her face was rapturous. Her painted mouth was slack with desire, and she was slowly tossing her head from side to side.
    “Would you like that?”
    Vicki’s gaze flew towards Red, a hot flush staining her cheeks. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be felt up by a whole tribe of men, but her body still reacted, heating up and stirring.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Why don’t you touch yourself and see?”
    Here we go again.
    Adjusting herself in the Loom chair, she plucked at her kimono. Then suddenly halted.
    Her inconvenient stubborn streak flared again. These games were always all one-way. She was the one who was showing everything. She was prepared to play along with Red’s desires, because they were hers too. But she was also curious. The man sitting just a few feet away was exciting and bizarrely beautiful in his own massive, primal way. She wanted to see more than just those strongly molded, slightly hair-fuzzed calves.
    “Why does it always have to be me doing all the showing? You’ve seen my breasts and…and my sex, but I haven’t seen anything of you.”
    Red chuckled, and his tongue flicked out over his lower lip as he grinned.
    “I thought you wanted to play games of submission, Vicki? As a rule the master only reveals himself when, and if, he chooses to. You shouldn’t really have a say in things.”
    Vicki held his gaze. And smiled. The merriment in his bearded face was infectious.
    “I’m not an O, Red. That’s not really me, and I’m only a learner anyway.” Her heart thudded, daring flared up. “Go on, cut me some slack… Just show me some flesh, and I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on and do exactly what I’m told.”
    “You’re impertinent, and you’ll be punished for this—” he paused, still smirking, “—but because you’re a very rare and special woman, I’ll indulge you.” Laughing softly and shaking his head, he reached for the sash of his robe and unfastened it. Quirking one dark brow, he flipped the white garment open.
    The image on the television faded from Vicki’s consciousness. Who even cared what was going on? There was nothing she wanted to look at now except Red’s body.
    His chest and torso were solid and powerful, but unable to help herself, she zeroed in immediately on his cock. And gulped.
    He was a tall man. Well over six feet. And his penis was in proportion, maybe more so. He wasn’t erect yet, but even just perky, it rested against the sculpted musculature of his thigh, large and latent. Vicki swallowed again as she imagined him inside her, stretching her every which way as he thrust and thrust and