Free Star Slave by Nicole Dere Page A

should be so solid, and not softly yielding like her own.
    Then, suddenly, the pain flared, the torment stepped up, as Magda began to lunge frenziedly, battering her against the power of those muscled thighs, the pounding hardness of the stomach, until Felicity was crying, tears cascading from her, begging her assailant to stop. ‘Please - oh please! You’re - it’s hurting. Oh God!’
    Magda gave one last deep thrust that seemed to pierce Felicity through to her womb, and the tortured figure swamped under the possessed fury screamed shrilly. The wonderfully sculpted buttocks bunched, Magda held herself above the writhing figure transfixed beneath her, holding her weight off Felicity. Several inches of the black dildo were visible between them, spanning their heaving stomachs like some weird umbilicus, before, with a convulsive shudder, the powerful form heaved off the smaller.
    Magda gave a deep grunt, rolled away from the sobbing girl, the phallus buckled obscenely, before the large hands ripped it savagely from her loins and cast it aside, to reveal yet another covering, this time of snug satin which hugged the outlines of her sex.
    â€˜My love,’ Magda crooned, gathering the slim figure, covering her again, but this time with a purely feminine contact, all flowing tenderness, hands and lips and body caressing and soothing. The wonderful mouth held Felicity’s until she felt her lungs would burst, and her senses reeled.
    Then it left her, only to set her body afire as it traced its slow path over her flesh. It fastened on each nipple in turn, suckling until her breasts blazed with arousal, after which it moved with sweet torment down over her quivering belly. It bit and nuzzled and lapped at the conflux of her thighs and loins, before settling on the raw sex lips which still throbbed with the rough penetration they had endured.
    But the pain was soon lost in the overwhelming desire conjured by the feathery strokes of the tongue that probed her slippery folds and sought out the beating bud of her clitoris. Felicity shuddered in transported delight, her fingers lost in the thick black hair that spilt profusely over her gaping thighs and her gently undulating belly. The tongue grazed, moved, ate hungrily at her exposed core, until Felicity’s buttocks nipped ecstatically and lifted clear of the floor at the climax thundering through her, over and over, until she sank back, drained, every muscle limp. She wept in an excess of relief, and settled with total surrender into the arms and the body which cloaked her in their encompassing love.
Chapter Seven
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    Felicity guided the patient horse nervously along the woodland track. It was more than two years since she’d done any hacking, and she had never been at ease on horseback. She was beginning to regret her bravado in accepting Lord Burnopside’s invitation to ride. Even then, she had half hoped that her supposed afterthought of not having any togs would get her out of it, but his lordship had assured her that they would find something suitable.
    And they had.
    She was astonished at the snugness of fit, and the pristine condition of the clothes a maid brought to her room, right down to the calf length highly polished boots and the checked riding jacket with its nipped waist. There was even a striped silk tie and jewelled pin to go with the dazzling white shirt.
    â€˜You look splendid, my dear,’ his lordship grunted, when they met at the back of the mansion.
    She had tried not to show her anxiety, and her mount was steady enough, but she was glad that the wooded area on the sloping hill above the mansion necessitated their slowing to a walk. She had also swiftly realised how sore she was after the astonishing love play she and Magda had indulged in.
    Now, the rubbing of her crotch against the saddle rekindled her memory of the weird event. Not only the pain was recalled. To her chagrin, she felt her briefs clinging stickily beneath