Free Obsession (9780061887079) by Gloria Vanderbilt

leave notes for me everywhere explaining where you are just in case I come for you.
    Though the magician performing at the magic show may be rather pedestrian—producing the usual rabbits and nosegays out of ostensibly thin air—you will, I guarantee, enjoy yourself immensely, in spite of the collar you are wearing, which is itching, even irritating, your neck. On balance, your mood will be good and you will smile and be eager to cooperate when the magician picks you from the audience to help him perform his trick. I have ordered him to whisper to you on stage, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” and don’t be put off by the heavy white makeup he is wearing, which might makeyou apprehensive; once it’s removed, he can be trusted. As you enter the casket he will mutter, “Cooey-gooey conga” and a lot of other gibberish as you feel the casket spin like a wheel until suddenly you will find yourself deposited back on the stage, but no one is applauding, because you are clearly in another place than the one you were in before you entered the casket, and, as you look out into the audience, you find it too to be not as it was before. You may be surprised to find standing beside you not the magician—but me. You will long to ask how I made everything happen, including the new audience—what my connection is to this magic show, do I know that it is me myself? But you will remain silent because you want to have your pussy licked so badly you think you are about to faint with longing, and don’t want to risk irritating me with idle questions.
    â€œHeel,” you’ll hear a voice say, overjoyed to discover it is mine; you will happily get on your hands and knees as I tell you, “Now do what you’re supposed to do”—turning my back I’ll bend forward over a chair, rest my arms on the seat cushion, as your hand slaps my bottom until spots of pink appear, which you’ll lick and soothe until the heaven of your face finds its way tight up against my tulip, your tongue at last doing what it is supposed to do, seeking deeper up inside me.
    Nadine will appear from nowhere to reward you with a special treat, circling your nipples with her finger, expanding pleasure by taking a breast into the lovely wideness of her mouth while squeezing the nipple of the other with her fingers into a tiny bud of pain as your pussy honey creams with anticipation.
    But suddenly we will be interrupted byMaja, of all people. How like her not to miss an opportunity to appear center-stage when festivities are about to peak. Startlingly dressed in a vermillion robe and cape similar to that of a cardinal or archbishop, twirling jeweled fingers in arabesques around her head, she will produce a galaxy of bursting stars, from which a naked girl will appear. The audience, clearly delighted, will applaud. At once I will notice the chain circling her waist is the very one I had made for you in Florence by Bucellati, a chain of such delicacy it is invisible, on which hangs the golden key bearing my name. How the hell did she get it? Certainly not from you? The girl will diffidently stand back as Maja brings her forward to introduce her as Phoebe. I observe a somewhat awkward maiden with eyes, feline, opalescent as green grapes and such exquisite features nowonder Maja considers her a prize. Her hair, a startling shade of amber, cascades, a waterfall of silk, down her back as I remove the invisible chain and attach it onto the leather collar around her neck, which for some reason displeases you. Phoebe’s mons has enormous appeal as Maja has wisely left it unshaven and it presents itself a tuft of amber softness. How thoughtful of Maja to imprint your crest of bee and crown placed on her flesh, precisely at top of the V where the mossy tuft begins.
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    Here Priscilla is unable to continue….
    â€œI’ve had enough of this,” Priscilla shouts.
    â€œAs you wish.” I