CHAPTER 122: THE GIRL WHO WAS HUNTED - CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHARLOTTE

My Master smiles, and leaning forward, draws his tongue between my lips, full length, from cunt to clit.

Convulsing, I howl. He circles my clit, winding it into spirals as my pussy clenches and clutches,

desperate to be filled. Then, dropping down, he plunges deep, his tongue dancing inside me as I wail

and moan, spine and thighs straining as I arch up from his shoulders.

Grinning, Michael straddles me, nudging his cock to my mouth. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s hear you

make that noise again.” And as his shaft pushes towards my lips, my Master swipes out inside me,

sending my inner muscles into spasms. I fling my head back, my mouth opening wide as I yell.

“That’s just what I had in mind,” says Michael, pushing his seeping cock-head between my lips. “Now,

look at me. I want to see that expression James was talking about.” Briny-sweet pre-cum trickles

across my tongue, the musky perfume of his groin flooding my nostrils as my voice is abruptly cut off by

the cock gagging me.

I want to buck and jerk as my Master tongue-fucks me. His mouth fastened around my pussy now, he

laps and licks, cleaning me out as I flood scalding juices. The tension rising in me, in belly, cunt and

thighs as, my orgasm coiled tight, it readies to spring loose.

Michael, using my mouth to pleasure himself, pushes his hard cock inside, almost to gag point, before

withdrawing, he allows me to swallow, then pushes in again. My jaws stretched achingly wide, I can’t

work him. Instead, wrapping lips over teeth, I simply accept him, pressuring the ridge of his cock-head

as he works himself on me.

He locks eyes as he face-fucks me. “Not today,” he says, “But one day, I’m going to try deep-throating

you, just to see how it works out. I’d really like to push my cock in all the way, hilt myself to your lips....”

Head tilting back, eyes squeezed shut, I bawl out my climax as my pussy goes into convulsions. My

hips trying to buck as my Master pins me, he holds me tight as he rides my orgasm, my cunt

shuddering into his mouth.

Michael stares down at me. “I love watching you come….” Then he breathes deeply, visibly containing

himself. “I’d love to just spill myself inside you right now, but….” He groans…. “…. Oh, what the hell…”

and hot cream floods my mouth, splashing to the back of my throat, before, pulling free, he spurts his

last over my face. “I love watching you lick my cum off your lips too,” he says. “Go on. Lick yourself

clean.”

His eyes are deep, intense, as I wipe my tongue over my mouth, sucking at my lips, revelling in the

taste of him. Then as the moment passes, his face softens again. “I’ve missed this, you know; the

sheer fun of being with you.”

My Master has withdrawn and is now repositioning himself, his thighs between mine, cock nuzzling at

me. Michael casts backwards, smiling as he sees. “I think your Master wants to fuck you now.” I can’t

see him, but I hear a rustle, and the rip of foil.

Michael unstraddles me, sitting to one side and pouring himself another glass of wine. “I’ll enjoy

watching you fuck together,” he says as, my Master, nudging inside, and then penetrating me, I swing

my hips in and up, to wrap my legs around his waist.

My Master; my first man, and whom, I later realised, I loved almost from the day we met. He bought me

at auction; he paid for me, and he took me, with my virginity, but did it so thoughtfully, and with such

care, that I, without knowing at the time, became his from the first. I do not believe he knew then it

either. But later, I understood that I had fallen in love with him, and he with me.

And I met Michael only a day later…. and in time, I fell in love with him too.

And now my Master, pressing in, begins to move within me, easily at first, thrusting only lightly, and I

move with him, matching my rhythm to his as our bodies meet. Stroke for stroke, I rock with him, my

hips angling to take him deeply within me. He doesn’t smile, except behind his eyes, but his lips brush

with mine as he takes me, claiming his own, his body dancing inside mine.

And now, he thrusts harder, pistoning me, his shaft slicking in and out of me, ploughing in, driving deep.

His breathing is heavy, his forehead forming beads of moisture, chest glistening with sweat. Ramming

hard, he gifts me this pain/ecstasy which I crave, and of which, I never tire.

His climax is violent. Stiffening, he erupts inside me as, every muscle tensed, shuddering and groaning,

he pours himself into me. Head dropped beside mine, he pants, and gasping, flops atop me.

As his breathing slows to normal, looking up again, he blinks as Michael thrusts a glass of wine at him.

“Um, yes, thanks. Just give me a minute.”

He rolls away from me, staring at the ceiling, then his eyes slide across to mine, then Michael’s. “You

two good now?”

Michael meets my eyes, then, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I’ll have that wine now.”

We sit together, we three, simply enjoying each other’s company again. This is how it is meant to be,

with our shared warmth, love and companionship.

*****

Later, dressed, and the three of us sharing a meal together in the lounge, Michael has an air about him

of…. what? He starts speaking, pauses, then starts again.

He’s nervous?

“Charlotte, er…. with everything that’s happened, Christmas has kind of been and gone without us. I

wanted to give you a home for Christmas, and I’ve not been able to do that. And I didn’t want to get you

clothes or jewellery or perfume, because I know that things like that don’t mean anything to you. But I

did want to give you something special, something that counts for you.”

Hesitantly, he slides an envelope towards me. “For you.” There is…. an expectancy, about him.

My Master looks intrigued. I glance up at him and he shrugs. Whatever Michael’s gift is, my Master is

not ‘in on it’,

I open the envelope. It contains two pieces of paper, both scanned copies of an original. Staring at

them, for a few moments, I don’t understand what I am looking at.

Then the haze clears….

The first: ‘This is to certify that on this day of 14th April 1992, Frank Conners did join in lawful wedlock

with Michelle Kimberley.... by mutual consent before witnesses….”

The second: “This is to certify the following record of birth…. Name: Jennifer Conners. Sex: Female.

Name of Father: Frank Conners. Maiden Name of Mother: Michelle Kimberley….”

I stare at them, my eyes filling. After a minute, I gasp, finding myself releasing breath I didn’t know I

was holding, and I just sit there, not knowing how to react.

Michael looks worried. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d be pleased….”

“Oh, I am, I am.” I stutter…. “How…. Where?”

My Master’s voice is irritable. “Am I permitted to see what all this is about?”

Silently I pass the documents across the table to him. A brief glance and his eyes widen.

“I know that it matters to you, finding out where you come from,” says Michael. “And after what

Klempner said to you about your mother, I thought it was even more important.”

Tears streaming down my face, I simply nod. He continues. “I had trouble tracking down the records

because of course, all that area has been levelled, and I didn’t know where old documents were being

stored. And so old as that, they’d not been digitised either. But with Klempner dragging your mother’s

name into things, and his obvious interest in you, Will Stanton had good cause to, um, assign

resources, to tracking down the information.” Content © 2024.

“One thing’s clear from this.…” says my Master. “Whatever the truth of the whole thing, Klempner lied.

Your mother and father were married. I wonder just what it is he has against you? Or perhaps against

your mother and father?”

“I thought about that too,” says Michael. “A grudge against the parents, taken against the child?”

I finally recover my words. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.” I fling my arms around him, and now, Michael’s

eyes flood.

The door buzzes, and without waiting for a reply, Richard enters, followed by Beth. “James, I just

wanted to go over….” He pauses, surveying the scene; my tears, Michael’s glossy eyes, my Master’s

frown. “Um, is this a bad time?”

“No,” says my Master. “No, not at all. You’ve just caught us at, um, a bit of an emotional moment.

Michael just gave Charlotte her belated Christmas gift.…”

Richard, lips compressed, looks disapprovingly at my Golden Lover. “And she’s crying about it?”