Butterscotch Part 5 (new edit)

Butterscotch Part 5 (new edit)

Diverting her attention momentarily from the road, Tamsin smiled at me. I had seen that smile before; it was full of comfort and reassurance. Not that I needed to be reassured but life with Tamsin was full of surprises and it had become increasingly obvious to me that she felt she always needed to prepare me for the next one.

The last one had come the night before, at the close of our remarkable evening at Creatrice. She had informed me that we were to visit her grandmother at her home in the country to celebrate the old lady’s birthday. Quite a contrast between a Gothic sex club in inner London to the cottage of a grand old dame in the English countryside.

Tamsin had told me very little about her grandmother except that she was called Ariadne and that this was her seventy-fifth birthday. That Ariadne had worked for the British government in the forties and fifties I managed to extract from Tamsin only with difficulty.

“Hmmm, Ariadne Thorne. Was she a secret agent working behind enemy lines?”

“I don’t know,” Tamsin laughed, “Why don’t you wait and ask her yourself?”

“Or a code breaker at Bletchley Park perhaps?”

Tamsin glanced at me dismissively, smiled, and then slowly shook her head. I looked at her hands as they gripped the steering wheel. They were clad in black leather driving gloves, perforated with round holes through which I could see her golden skin. She wore a soft, pale vermillion cashmere blouse, tastefully adorned with a single string of pearls, and a silver and black enamel pin depicting a wasp. Her golden hair was modestly tied back in a pony tail and she wore a pair of single drop pearl earrings. A long, dark tartan skirt completed the picture of refined English elegance – just the look for grandma’s birthday in the country. But Tamsin never just dressed for the occasion, she got into character; she almost became a different person. I guess it was a game of hers and it certainly made life with her interesting not to say exciting. At the centre of it all were her alluring blue eyes – the most beautiful part of this most beautiful woman. In them lay the only hope of glimpsing her inner world.

At 4pm we turned off the freeway and passed through an ivy-covered stone gateway in the hedgerows. We drove up a long gravel driveway bordered by mature elm, beech, walnut and huge oak trees, to the top of a hill. There stood a beautiful, modest sized, two storey cottage – slate roofed, with shuttered lattice windows. Before it, a well tended lawn was bisected by a serpentine pathway of grey slate along the sides of which grew a profusion of gorgeously coloured flowers. There were roses, lilies, iris and sweetly perfumed jasmine. I paused for a few minutes as we walked up the path to take it all in.

Here aged trees cathedral walks compose,
And mount the hill in venerable rows:
There the green infants in their beds are laid;
The garden’s hope and its expected shade.

Tamsin turned and saw that I was admiring the view.

“Quaint isn’t it? Gran’s lived here since she was a girl.”

“Yes, it’s a gorgeous little place – idyllic in fact.”

She smiled at me again and the sun shone fleetingly in her eyes – the finest sapphires would have seemed dull by comparison.

At the door of the cottage we were met by a small, serious looking woman holding a very furry grey cat. As soon as she and Tamsin made eye contact the latter increased her pace slightly then bent down to exchange kisses. She then turned to me and, in a voice containing obvious pride, said,

“Joshua, let me introduce you to my grandmother Ariadne Thorne.”

“A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Thorne.”

“Please call me Ariadne,” she said smiling, in a way that seemed strangely familiar to me.

Her face was endearingly lined with age and marked with wisdom. Generally however, the years seemed to have been kind to Ariadne Thorne. She carried herself with a certain poise and dignity that was at the core of what the English call “good breeding”. But what immediately caught my attention as she looked up at me, were her blue eyes – as sprightly and clear as they must have been when she was her granddaughter’s age. Tamsin stood by her grandmother’s side as I took a step back. Suddenly I realized with some disquiet, that three pairs of piercing blue eyes were looking at me.

“Beautiful cat, is it a Burmese?” I asked, a little awkwardly as the cat’s inscrutable eyes met my own.

“Not exactly, Rosie here is a Bur-man.”

Tamsin tickled the cat’s chin and her affection was obviously reciprocated as it purred contentedly.

“Oh she’s a little treasure, aren’t you Rosie darling.”

Through the door of the cottage was a cozily comfortable sitting room. The room mostly contained small pieces of dark antique furniture while two walls were lined with bookshelves upon which were displayed a variety of leather bound volumes and antiques; mother-of-pearl boxes, Japanese ivories, lacquer-work, fans, daggers and swords. There were at least fifteen examples of swords – some of beautiful artistry and exquisite workmanship. I was impressed.

We were invited to sit down before a compact fire-place and Ariadne asked us if we would like some tea. It was 4pm – time for that most British of daily rituals; afternoon tea. Ariadne left us alone and Tamsin smiled at me encouragingly. She pointed to a large painting that hung above the mantelpiece. I was astonished that I had not noticed it before. It depicted a faintly smiling blonde woman, probably in her late twenties, wearing a dark blue military uniform with medal ribbon bars on the breast. Behind her, against a gloriously cerulean sky, the painter had fashioned a Lancaster bomber. Like a black insect of ill omen, the aircraft contrasted sharply with the beautiful, rosy cheeked picture of health that was the woman. I need not have asked who the woman in the painting was for one look at her translucent blue eyes told me that it was indeed our host. Moreover the resemblance to Tamsin was remarkable.

“There’s your answer Josh, Gran was attached to Bomber Command.”

But before Tamsin could elaborate Ariadne returned, in time to see me looking at the painting.

“I see you’re admiring my portrait Joshua. It’s by Frank Wotton but he might have found a better sitter. It was a dreadfully cold day too I remember.” She glanced up at it then added, “Still, he always did a fine job painting aircraft.”

I struggled to find something to say until Tamsin came to my rescue with,

“Oh Gran, you’re so modest. You were a bigger bombshell than any of the ones in the Lancaster.”

Ariadne laughed at her granddaughter’s over-the- top flattery. It seemed that for all of her obvious dignity, she didn’t take herself too seriously. She sat down and said,

“Tea will be along shortly.”

I glanced again at the painting.

“So you were attached to Bomber Command?”

“Attached, I was virtually married to the place. My husband was already a Group Captain in the RAF before the war. So you could say I married into the job.”

“Was your husband a pilot?”

“No, nothing so glamorous. He had a desk job which he resented. Still, it kept him alive for the duration.”

I smiled and nodded. Tamsin listened to her grandmother with obvious regard. They were the only living members of their family and having only each other had brought them very close. I was pleased and rather touched. I could imagine Tamsin herself living here in just this setting when she reached her seventies.

A slight noise from the inner door heralded the arrival of tea. It was brought in by a dark haired woman of about thirty. She was slim with dark brows and fine southern Mediterranean features. She wore a maid’s uniform but there was nothing subservient about her, she carried herself with considerable confidence. The woman smiled at Ariadne as she quietly set the silver tray down. Tamsin seemed not to notice the maid at all and I made a mental note to ask her about this later.

“Thank you Lilia. You may take the remainder of the afternoon off as we discussed.”

“Thank you m’am.” Lilia spoke with an accent that I could not place. She might have been Maltese or Portuguese. She rose, turned elegantly then exited. I noticed Ariadne watching her departure with an air of approval. She then turned her remarkable blue eyes on me.

“Shall we have tea? Joshua, would you pour please.”

“I’d be delighted to.”

“I’ve got you some butterscotch Tamsin. Callard and Bowsers of course. I know it’s your favourite.”

Tamsin’s eyes lit up at the mention of butterscotch and her mouth must have watered.

“Oh Gran, you spoil me.”

“Not at all my dear child.”

And she said this with a tinge of sadness, hinting perhaps at some hidden history to which I was not privy. I had known Tamsin for a little over a month but still knew little about her. Her flat was minimalist and organized around her work for the antiquities firm of Artemisia Antiqua. Most of this work was done on-line and her flat contained few personal touches. Not so the cottage of Ariadne Thorne where every shelf and every corner seemed replete with history, reminiscence and significance.

Thus we spent a quiet, relaxing afternoon. From the west, the warm, late spring sunshine slowly crept in through the lattice windows bringing with it the fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle. From the elegant cream ware china cups there arose a rich aroma of bergamot, lemon and honey. All was pure delight and peaceful contemplation.
An hour passed as we talked of cats, gardening, the latest trends in country cooking, the Roman antiquities of Southern England and the paintings of Edward Burne-Jones. Ariadne showed me an exquisite drawing by this artist of the Pre-Raphaelite school. It depicted a woman sitting forlornly on a beach gazing dejectedly out to sea at a distant ship whose black sail was rapidly vanishing over the horizon.

“This is the Ariadne of legend, abandoned by her lover Theseus for whom she had betrayed her father and helped to defeat the monstrous Minotaur.”

From behind us a voice full of drama and emotion said,

” Where did you go? Wicked Theseus, come back. Turn your ship, one of your crew remains. Those were my words. When my voice became weak I beat my breast and mixed my words with blows. I hung my veil in a tree and waved and hoped that those forgetting would remember.”

She paused for effect and was met by her grandmother’s quiet smile. Then with tragedy and gravitas worthy of a Shakespearean actress she continued,

” Then you were gone beyond my sight and only then did I free my tears. Until that moment my eyes had been dulled by pain. What more could those eyes do than weep for me when your sails had disappeared from my sight?”

“Bravo my dear, excellent. What a pity you didn’t ever cultivate your theatrical talents.”

The old lady had spoken with a hint of irony. She seemed to know her granddaughter well.

“Well done Tamsin, was that Homer?”

Ariadne answered me instead, and not without a gentle touch of reproach.


“Of course, how silly of me.”

Tamsin smiled and there came a knock at the door. Ariadne excused herself to answer it and her vacant chair was immediately occupied by Rosie. From where I sat I caught a glimpse of long chestnut hair and heard a sweet musical voice offer its greeting. Booted feet tread the cottage floor lightly and I heard Ariadne say that she would join her visitor in a moment. The arrival seemed to have completely eluded Tamsin who was now stroking a sweetly purring Rosie.

“Oh to be a cat!” grinned Tamsin as I looked enquiringly at her and nodded towards the corridor.

“It’s probably just one of Gran’s students. She teaches piano.”

A few minutes later Ariadne returned and regarded us apologetically.

“Dear Tamsin and Joshua, you must now excuse me for a couple of hours. Tamsin will show you up to your room. Dinner will be at seven.”

I took our luggage and the birthday present we had bought up a flight of stairs to an attic room. Like the drawing room, this bedroom was furnished comfortably and had a substantial balcony. Tamsin opened the French windows and we stood looking out at lush, rolling green countryside that stretched as far as the eye could see. “This place must have changed little since the time of Edward the Confessor’, I reflected.

I felt a hand on my shoulder applying gentle pressure. Yielding to it, I turned to see Tamsin’s eyes aglow with their sacred flame. She had loosened her golden hair and it framed her face halo-like. But here was no angel.

She slowly undid my shirt, never taking her eyes away from mine. The inexorable magic of those eyes filled me with desire. I closed my own reluctantly and kissed her. Soon my mouth welcomed her tongue, as it hungrily sought my own. I buried my fingers in downy cashmere and felt firm muscles moving underneath. Kissing with ever increasing fervor, we settled on the bed. I removed Tamsin’s cashmere blouse and her bra, leaving the string of pearls hanging above her luscious breasts.

I paused to admire her beauty. She could have been the archetype of all the nymphs of antiquity and the fountain-head of all the poetry in beauty’s praise written ever since. But there was mischief in her eyes now, a longing to surprise me. She unclipped my belt and roughly lowered my jeans and boxers. Without even touching my cock she placed a hand firmly on my hips and took the tip of my flaccid cock between her lips. Her eyes closed and her face became a mask of concentration. She kneaded me with her tongue and lips, her head nodding slowly until, after a minute, I started to respond. I felt my erection growing as her lips rubbed it against her tongue. As always, her mouth was warm and moist. My mind wandered as I watched her at work down below; I imagined the muscles of her pussy flexing around my shaft, I imagined her pink butt, so tactile and tender to my touch and her thighs; those piston engines, powering her thrusting body as it met my every motion – matching equally my own lust for her.

These sublime images flooded my mind as I grew more and more rigid. I now felt her tongue licking the very base of my cock. I felt my balls tighten and her nose tickle my pubic hair. Then her mouth returned to sweeter pastures as she sucked only the head of my cock, flicking her lips over and over it with increasing pressure and rapidly licking its sensitive underside. She was an artist, a sculptor with her mouth and she knew her raw material well. That material was me.

Long, delicious minutes passed then suddenly, with a satisfying slurp she stopped and opened her eyes. Turning her head to one side, she glanced up slyly,

“Mmmm, I could suck your cock all day long.”

“But where would that leave your poor pussy – neglected?”


Now the faint strains of a piano from somewhere in the house, wafted into the room as though carried in on the breeze. I watched as Tamsin; gloriously bare breasted, rose before me. She was an Arcadian maenad or a tartan clad, Celtic warrior maiden about to go into battle. I sat on the edge of the bed; my cock still ramrod straight. She lightly raked my bare shoulders with her nails as I proceeded to unfasten her skirt. She had the briefest of black panties on underneath which I did not hesitate to peel off. Once these lay discarded on the floor, I pulled her closer and positioned my mouth below her pussy. She smelt sweet but with a suggestion of salt, like a sandy beach on a warm day.

Again I marveled at the golden, cloudlike wisp of hair that graced her mound; pointing towards the boundless treasures concealed just below it. I spread her pussy lips gently and my tongue soon found her clit. She was all sweetness and savour. Like a little chunk of her favourite butterscotch, the more I licked and nibbled on her clit the more delicious it seemed to become. Now she pressed my head tighter into her velvety folds. I felt her arms hugging my neck and heard gentle sighs escape her mouth. If I could have looked up, I would have seen her eyes watching my labours intently, then rolling back with relish so that only their whites showed. This was the face of pleasure that I imagined as I listened to her deep sighs and gentle moans.

After a few minutes Tamsin arched her back and I felt her legs tremble ever so slightly. I knew her well enough to know that I should now hold still. She ground her pussy against my tongue and lips and soon her entire body convulsed and shuddered. Her juices flowed and wet my lips – she tasted subtly sweet and I lapped her pussy nectar like a thirsty tiger at a forest stream.
When her sensations had subsided I looked up at her. This was her one moment of vulnerability; the one time that I could imagine her possessed some vestige of innocence. But it was a fleeting moment and now her eyes shone like burnished steel and her mouth; like a spring rose opened slowly, and spoke,

“Oh Joshua, how did you learn to make me come so?”

I smiled but said nothing; instead I got down humbly onto the carpeted floor. She lay down next to me and our mouths met. Tamsin kissed with the same intensity that she applied to just about everything. She bit my lips, rubbed her tongue against mine and opened her mouth so that I could explore her inner depths. I loved her mouth and she used it to great effect. But, as I said before, her most seductive features were undoubtedly her eyes. One look from those azure orbs made my heart race.
She looked at me once more and laid her head on the floor. I positioned myself above her and soon felt smooth, warm fingers grasp my cock and guide it home. I slowly eased into her wetness and lingered just beyond the threshold. Here I tasted her delights and my cock swiftly responded to the stimulation. In no time it was hard enough to venture deeper. I could tell that Tamsin was holding her breath as her pussy reacted to my presence. I felt her muscles tighten around my shaft and she arched her back as I fucked her – letting me in deeper and deeper. I grasped her shoulders as I thrust into her with greater and greater force. She was never one to be a passive participant and she responded by bucking, wriggling and grinding furiously against my groin.

I looked deep into her eyes and saw there a smile of thanks, a glint of gratitude. She then wrapped her long legs around the small of my back and prepared for the concentrated onslaught of my cock. We had talked about how hot it made us both to kiss and fuck at the same time, so now as I lay pinned down by her legs with my hips working furiously to propel my cock into her pussy, I plunged my tongue into her mouth and tickled its every secret place. She grasped my head and pressed me closer. At times like this I felt like a machine that was built for no other purpose that to bring pleasure to this woman.

Hard and fast we breathed and I saw the outline of Tamsin’s ribs as her chest rose and fell. It was time for a change. I rose slightly and pulled out of her. She continued to kiss me and I felt her hand grasp the base of my shaft and slide up and down its whole length. She loved the slippery smoothness of my cock once it had emerged from her pussy and I enjoyed the variety of this added sensation. For several minutes we lay up against each other and kissed. My hand then found a generous handful of her tender butt cheek. I kneaded and teased it, massaging her sweet little hole in the process. Every inch of this woman was pure poetry – a tactile symphony of flesh.
I rose with sweat dripping from my chest and placed my hands on her hips. She got up onto all fours and I ran my fingers up and down the space between her butt cheeks. I found her hand reaching up from between her legs,

“Save that for later, right now I want you back in my pussy Peach.”

“Your will is my command”, I thought, as she found just the right alignment to return my glistening shaft to its rightful home. I grabbed her shoulders and straightened my back, allowing the maximum amount of energy to reach my hips. Then I fucked her, imagining techno music, heavy with base was playing in the background. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump …..Mmmm, this was music to fuck to. Romance has long had its soundtrack, now in the 21st century; electronica is the music of sex.

Before my eyes Tamsin’s back was a serpentine coil sheathed in golden silk, her ribs pulsed, her shoulders rocked and her head nodded as she thrust her pussy ever more forcefully onto my cock. I felt myself becoming harder and harder until, after one last supremely executed stroke, I came.
I wrapped my tongue around my upper lip and threw back my head. My hands sank into the sleek skin of Tamsin’s hips, my breathing stopped and I pumped shot after delicious shot of cream deep into her.

My mouth watered as I commenced breathing again. I felt myself slowly leaving the depths of Tansin’s body and I opened my eyes to see her slinky, feline form approach on hands and knees. I smiled, exhaled deeply and lay back against the side of the bed. Like a curious cat she sniffed and purred contentedly as she sat down beside me. She ran her strong fingers through my hair and kissed my cheek tenderly. Against the silence of the room we heard the melodious strains of the piano from below.

“C’mon Joshie, my Cheshire, let’s shower and dress for dinner.”

At precisely 7 pm we went downstairs for dinner. We were met by our host in the little drawing room and there, sitting in the armchair by the window, was the woman with long chestnut hair. She was tall and broad shouldered with lustrous dark eyes and a dreamy look about her as though she had at that moment been contemplating some great work of art. Luxuriant cascades of chestnut hair hung around her shoulders and she wore a necklace of natural turquoise matched with black. She was beautiful in a dramatic way; like the tragic heroine of an eighteenth century Gothic romance. She now looked round as we entered and gave a polite smile.
Although Tamsin saw her, she did not seem to be overly surprised by her presence. After a brief moment of awkwardness the woman rose.

“Joshua, Tamsin, this is Juliet; one of my students. Juliet, this is my granddaughter Tamsin and her friend Joshua.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last Tamsin. Ariadne talks about you all the time.”

She spoke softly and with a northern English accent and her voice had a slightly theatrical air about it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Juliet.”

Tamsin was all smiles and charm but I couldn’t help thinking that her greeting was offered with somewhat less than full sincerity.

After I had grasped Juliet’s hand and greeted her, we were led in to dinner. Ariadne Thorne’s dining room was as cosy and quaint as the rest of the cottage. We sat down at a sumptuously set table complete with polished crystal and Wedgwood Patrician ware. My next surprise came when I realized that Ariadne’s beautiful maid Lilia was to serve us. She brought in wine followed by Vichyssoise, then a deliciously aromatic joint of roast lamb. Dessert consisted of fruit and a fine trifle, to round off a perfectly traditional English roast. To begin with there was little conversation and our host seemed to prefer it that way. The traffic of unspoken communication was considerable however; particularly that between grandmother and granddaughter on one side of me and, teacher and student on the other. Most of it was too subtle for me to comprehend but the strong bond that existed between Tamsin and her grandmother and the great fondness and respect that Juliet obviously felt for Ariadne were both obvious. Perhaps Juliet wants to become a concert pianist, I thought, and she is here to take a master class. The piano must be more than just a hobby to her.

Tamsin and Juliet seemed to become more and more relaxed in each other’s company as the evening wore on, to say nothing of myself. Our host was the epitome of graciousness and; at length, the conversation became more animated as we all spoke of gardening, cats, music, sailing and art. It turned out that Ariadne was a water colourist and she promised to show us some of her work at her nearby studio the next day.

After Lilia had cleared the dessert dishes, Tamsin excused herself and followed her into the kitchen. They returned with a dark chocolate gateau and we celebrated Ariadne Thorne’s 75th birthday. The evening ended soon after ten with a few cold glasses of Veave Clicquots and some hundred-year-old brandy. We bid our host goodnight and soon after, Juliet too retired to her room.

We closed the door and went to bed. I could tell that both the long day and our exertions earlier had worn Tamsin out, so she kissed me goodnight and soon fell asleep.

The room was warm and I could see a butter-hued full moon from the window. It was a clear, still night and I wondered what history the cottage had seen in the long years of its existence. Ariadne had mentioned that it had been built in 1767. My mind wandered as I gazed at the old rafters; cut from ancient oak and the walls hung with paintings and engravings of tumultuous battles and long dead men of circumstance.

I got up quietly and went to the window. Outside was a substantial balcony and beyond; Ariadne’s beautiful garden, as picturesque by moonlight as it was by day. I became conscious that I was totally nude but what did it matter, the house was so still and neither a leaf nor a petal moved out in the grounds.
I glanced at Tamsin, now blissfully asleep; she was as beautiful as ever. I yawned and decided that the evening’s mixture of brandy, red wine and French champagne was finally having an effect on me. Pulling back the covers, I let my eye wander down her side where just the hint of one of her exquisite breasts was visible. I felt protective of her as though I was a hunter from an age long past, watching over his sleeping mate. “How little people have changed over the centuries,” I reflected as I turned out the lamp. The semi-dark was oddly comforting and I looked again at some of the features of the room revealed by the moonlight.

It must have been just past midnight when I fell asleep because I recall hearing a faint clock chime from somewhere below.

Some hours later, I opened my eyes and felt strangely awake although the room was still bathed in soft moonlight. I rolled over and glanced at the floor. There I saw the silvery outline of the window panes but with an unexpected change. I looked up and there against the regular grid of the window, stood a tall silhouette. My first instinct was to reach out to Tamsin. Finding the space next to me empty, I smiled and must have said something like, “Come to bed honey.” But the figure did not move. I looked at it again through the semi-darkness and this time noted that there was something unfamiliar in its outline. It was clearly a young woman but her face was veiled in darkness and only when she moved slightly did I get the impression that something black obscured her face. Was she wearing a mask?

Knowing Tamsin as I did, this did not greatly surprise me; it was just the sort of thing she would do. But then my heart skipped a beat when I saw a second figure slowly come out of the shadows. This newcomer was clearly also a young woman and when she appeared the original woman casually made eye contact with her. They did not speak but both now slowly advanced towards the bed where I lay. They soon stood over me, looking down through masks which hid every feature of their faces except for two pairs of glistening eyes – eyes made even more lurid by the moonlight. I looked from one to the other with a mixture of apprehension and expectation.

Only then did I realize that both women were totally naked. They wore elaborate Venetian Carnival masks; the first depicting a cat; complete with ears and whiskers while the other, wore a furred red fox mask with a sharp muzzle ending in a shiny black button nose. “The Cat” reached down and pulled the bed clothes aside and both of them looked up and down my naked form. They then looked at each other. “The Fox” now took my hand, held it firmly and pulled. I stood up and both women took a step back.

Was this some ritual, some initiation rite? If so, what was required of me to pass it? As though in answer, both women then slowly turned and took a couple of steps forward. They both had exquisite bodies and long hair, but one had much lighter hair than the other. “The Fox” was the taller of the two and she had a pair of heavy, slightly divergent breasts, while The Cat had beautiful pointed breasts with rose bud nipples. I struggled to make out their skin tones in the moonlit gloom but it was bizarrely like looking at a scene from black and white art film. They led me to the corner of the room where The Cat reached up to touch something on the wall. Almost silently and to my great surprise, a section of the wall slid away to reveal a small metal room. The Fox stepped into the room and I felt a slight pressure on my back as The Cat bade me follow.

Why I trusted these two naked, masked women that had appeared from nowhere in the middle of the night I do not know to this day. The fact remains that at this point, I was more intrigued than frightened. As soon as I entered the metal room with my two captors, a dim light turned itself on in the ceiling and I felt the floor drop gently. We were in an elevator. I guessed that this was the means by which they had entered the room but the realization did little to reassure me. Why did the house of 75 year old Ariadne Thorn in the English countryside need secret elevators? Furthermore, who were these women and what did they want with me? I would discover the answer to the last question soon after the elevator came to a gentle stop. I guessed that we were three or four floors under the house and the quality of the air has changed; it felt artificial.

The elevator door slid smoothly aside and I saw a long room with a low ceiling. The air was warm and suffused with a rich smell like cloves. At the far end there was a low couch covered with what seemed to be furs. It was to this that I was gently led. I sat down of my own accord, feeling the pleasant soft texture of the furs against my skin. I looked at the two women. They stood next to each other impassively for a moment, and then I noticed them both smile. But these were not smiles of reassurance.

With lightning fast motion The Cat leapt onto the couch and pinned me down. I was too stunned to react and could only marvel at how strong she was. The Fox meanwhile, produced a pair of hand cuffs from nowhere and clicked them onto my wrists. I didn’t struggle but merely tried to sit up. My captors however had other ideas and I felt strong hands push my body down.

The Cat then sat by my side and looked deeply into my eyes as she proceeded to stroke my chin teasingly. Her beautiful breasts were only inches from my face and I saw that she had large dark eyes to match her raven hair – was this Ariadne’s maid, the beautiful Lilia? I could not be sure. And was ‘The Fox’ Juliet, the music student? Wishful thinking perhaps.

I looked down to find the Fox kneeling by my side. Her hands reached up and I almost winced as I felt her seize my cock. A giggle escaped the lips of The Cat as The Fox lowered her face onto my nether regions. I soon felt her tongue lapping at my shaft and her lips grasp the head of my cock, play with it then return to my shaft. The Cat meanwhile sat sedately next to my head. She looked down at me with almost otherworldly eyes. These were not the eyes of Tamsin, the goddess, but rather the eyes of some seductive demon from the abyss. I had always found a woman’s eyes arousing and those moments that I spent gazing into the Cat’s onyx eyes had a profound effect on me. I felt my cock begin to come to life as the Fox, unseen below, now put both her hand and her mouth to good use.

Handcuffed and on my back as I was, I could hardly move so, with considerable effort, I relaxed. The Cat moved her hips closer to my face and I felt her velvet soft hands press down on my shoulders. With the grace of a dancer she opened her legs, placing one of her feet by my shoulder. I could now see her dark slit, crowned by a neat dark triangle. I looked up at her face and masked though it was, I saw a glimmer of emotion as she slowly nodded. My mouth began to water as The Cat maneuvered herself onto my mouth.

Slowly I started to lick her fleshy pussy. I could not part her lips myself but after a few moments of being teased by my tongue, The Cat obliged. She had long fingernails coloured a pearly violet and as she spread her labia I saw her clit. I always long for this precious little object which exists for no other reason than to give a woman pleasure. Now here it was; ripe and tasty, deliciously salty and all mine to eat. The Cat obviously appreciated my efforts for she began to moan and sigh as my tongue and lips got their fill of her little bliss button.

If my hands had been free I would have kneaded her amazing breasts that swung tantalizingly above. But for now at least, they were well out of my reach. The Cat breathed harder and harder and ground her pussy into my face with growing abandon. I heard her moan deeply three or four times and then she rose, leaving my mouth wanting more. I opened my eyes to see The Fox working intently on the head of my cock; her saliva dripping down my shaft. I was as rigid as I could possibly be. I wanted to tell them but I felt myself so much in the possession of these mysterious masked women that I chose to wait and see what they were going to do next.

An instant later I found out. I saw black object descend from the ceiling on two chains. It was a cylinder of what appeared to be leather; about a foot tall, with metal studs, loops and straps. I watched intrigued as both my captors opened the many straps and catches and maneuvered it towards me. Now other chains with leather cuffs at their ends came down from the ceiling and these were attached to my thighs and ankles. Was I to be a sacrificial victim in the orgiastic rites of Cybele or tortured until I gave up my secrets? Well, I didn’t have any secrets and as far as I knew, no one still worshipped the Pontian goddess Cybele – or did they?

My masked captors took under a minute to strap me in. The belt was remarkably comfortable and flexible but just as this thought crossed my mind I heard a mechanical click above me and felt the chains began to ascend. I was hoisted upright then back, until I was clear of where I had lay. At first I found it difficult to keep my balance but slowly I grew accustomed to the sensation of my feet not touching the ground.
The Fox and The Cat looked on; poised, amused and more than a little self-satisfied – as though they were standing on a stage awaiting the audience’s applause.

Finally the well oiled mechanical apparatus in the ceiling stopped. As it did so, my two masked nymphs approached. My waist was now at about their eye level. This is what it must feel like to be a side of beef, I reflected with some amusement. The Fox took hold of a thick leather cord which was attached to the side of the belt. She pulled it forward and opened her mouth. Remarkably, my cock was still semi-erect; so good was the job she had done on it earlier. Now The Cat joined her and soon one woman then the other was licking, sucking and nibbling on me. The women were obviously enjoying their task and soon they were taking it in turns to lick my shaft, my balls and the sensitive area behind them. I hung my head back and enjoyed the resulting riot of sensation. Never before had two women given me head and with such joyous abandon. With one mouth working furiously on each side of my shaft, I soon felt the tension rising in my spine. I tried to distract myself then finding this impossible I said,

“Ladies, I’m afraid you’re going to make me come.”

Without uttering a word they stopped, leaving my rigid cock pulsing and glistening with their combined saliva. I saw them both smile and as though they had just received some telepathic signal – or perhaps some electronic cue. First the Cat, then the Fox lay back on the bench of furs. They started to caress each other. They kissed tenderly for several minutes and soon the Cat had spread her legs. The Fox did not hesitate to dive between them, spread the Cat’s lips and eat her pussy. The Cat placed one exquisitely manicured hand on the Fox’s head and I watched as her hips shook with pleasure. From time to time the Cat would look up at me as I swung gently back and forth on my chains; a look of cool detachment in her eyes – and what eyes they were – beautiful and mysterious behind the mask! Now the Cat flipped onto all fours and the Fox resumed licking her pussy from below. I ran my eyes up the Cat’s long smooth legs to her round butt.

The Fox gripped one of her friend’s butt cheeks and spread it, revealing a beautiful perky, pink hole. I felt a tingle in my loins and kicked forward slightly so that they would notice me. But all I got was a casual glance from the feline then the girls moved to each end of the bench and proceeded to lick each other’s clits. Soon both were moaning and I could see their thighs, glistening with sweet nectar from their pussies. The spectacle below me was incredible; two perfect bodies moving in unison; legs, arms, hands, mouths, asses, breasts and pussy – all working their erotic magic. And all the time, their masked faces adding to the arousing mystique. But the whole arcane scene was tantalizingly out of reach.

Suddenly I heard a click from above and found myself being lowered gently. Whoever was working the controls obviously had a light touch.

The women now rose from the bench and approached me. I could see their wet chins. They smiled at me in turn then slowly proceeded to release me from my bonds. When they had done so, the Fox turned and lay down on the furs. I met the Cat’ eyes and gave her a searching look but she made no response, simply guiding me towards where the Fox lay. What a sight! She had a beautiful, flat midriff that met perfect hips between which lay a delicious dark slit.

By this time my cock had reached that state of permanent erection – so great was the sexual aura that these women generated. As I slid between the Fox’s legs she reached up to caress my shoulders. My cock cut through her pussy like a warm knife through butter and although I am usually a gentle lover, the surreal nature of the situation made me forget myself. I grabbed the Fox’s shoulders and thrust into her as hard as I could, feeling the very back of her cunt. She responded by arching her back and wrapping her legs around the small of my back. I thrust into her hard; feeling my hip muscles flex powerfully as I propelled my cock into her soaking pussy. At last, loud moans began to escape her lips as she came. I slowed my thrusts to let her orgasm subside then leaned forward gripping the back of her shoulders and stretching the skin. I thrust again and again looking up to see the Cat watching me with dark, spectral eyes. The distraction was welcome and I found myself smiling at her sardonically as I thrust even harder into her friend. It was as if to say, “Just wait, I’m going to fuck you next.”

At last my spine tingled, my hips tensed and my ass tightened – all combined as I shot a hot squirt of come deep into the Fox. I breathed hard, groaned and dug my fingers into her shoulders. Then I pulled out and collapsed.

I rolled over only to find that the object of my exertions had slipped away. She had resumed her former position licking the Cat. The only difference was that this time they were inches away from me. I watched them intently as my spent cock lay down to recuperate. To say that these women had beautiful bodies would be an unjust understatement. They were more exquisite that apple buds in spring, more beautiful than the dreams of poets. I reached out to touch the Cat’s hip, feeling a little cautious. She turned and smiled. I felt encouraged so I ran my hand down her legs and across the Fox’s back. Meeting no resistance, I grew bolder and parted the Cat’s ass cheeks. There I could see the Fox’s tongue flicking in and out, round and round her friend’s pussy, then forward to her clit. There was plenty of room so I licked and nibbled too, kneading her tender butt. My efforts were obviously welcome and soon the Fox and I had brought the Cat to a shuddering orgasm. Long tender minutes passed which I spent caressing their shoulders, supple arms, legs and breasts. I licked the Cat’s nipples until they were erect and hard like tightly curled rose buds.

An hour must have passed and I now felt a hand close around my shaft and tug it. I was surrounded by so much exquisite flesh – a feast for the eyes and for all the other senses. I could not help but grow hard again. One good fuck should always prepare you for the next and I was now more than ready.

I gripped the Cat’s wrist and felt momentary resistance; this was a woman who was used to being in control. But we were past niceties and the situation that I found myself in was not of my making. I guided the Cat onto all fours, marveling at the beauty of her back, her shoulders and particularly her cascades of dark hair. I now felt a gentle hand rub the underside of my shaft, pushing it up gently. What regard this woman had for her friend’s pleasure! While she was doing this I spread the Cat’s butt cheeks revealing her tight little hole. I let one hand wander into her dripping pussy and rubbed some of her juices onto the tender skin of her butt. I felt my mouth water and I licked my lips – I was literally drooling before the perfect arch of this woman’s thighs, hips and buttocks. I could quite happily have knelt there; poised at the gates, and admired the palace for a long while but my cock had once more reached its full potential.

Now The Cat made a sensual movement back causing the head of my cock to cleave her fleshy lips. I grasped the length of my shaft and rubbed her lips with it, then rubbed it up and down her luscious slit. Her pussy was very different from the Fox’s; with fleshy lips hanging like ripe fruit. I put a hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder ad thrust into her. She was tighter that the Fox but no less wet. I thrust my cock into her velvety depths at every angle but mostly so that the underside of my shaft rubbed the top of her pussy.

My thighs began to slap against her buttocks audibly as I pulled her by the shoulders back onto my groin. I looked up at the ceiling, across to the shadowy walls then back at the object of lust before me. Soon I felt a hand rub the inside of my thighs and reach up to cup my tight balls. Gently the Fox ran her fingers up to the sensitive areas around the base of my balls. I parted my legs to let her in and then, to my surprise I found her head on two cushions beneath me. There she licked my inner thighs, my balls and the rim of my ass. The sensation of her warm tongue against my balls and of her fingers rubbing my ass as I thrust into the Cat was unbelievable. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply; taking in the delicious musky aroma of sex that now filled the room. I increased my speed and felt my cock enter the Cat’s pussy to the very hilt.

The nimble Fox had meanwhile switched to licking her friend’s clit and, in the intervals between my long thrusts; I could see her tongue at work between the Cat’s legs. I smiled and shook my head at the sheer beauty of the erotic manifestation before my eyes. I slapped the Cat’s ass then grabbed her buttock – the tender tactility of her flesh against the warmth of my palm was enough to push me over the brink. With my knees firmly planted in fur and my fingers buried in flesh I grit my teeth and came.

I’ve never been inclined to pull out of a woman at this most intimate time, so now I let what felt like the entire contents of my balls shoot into the sweet depths of this mysterious Cat. I saw her onyx eyes as she turned – momentarily bright with joy, then she regarded me with cool detachment. “So!” I thought, “I’ve made an impression on you.”

We rested beside each other for what seemed a long while. The masks remained firmly and inexplicably in place and I felt as if I was in the company of a pair of lionesses; beautiful and unknowable, whose hunger, for the moment at least, was sated. Curiously, I felt no desire to see their faces, lest the spell should break. I wondered for a minute what else was in store for me this night, then I had the thought that this unique opportunity might never present itself to me again. So after an hour or so of rest; during which time the Cat seemed to have fallen asleep in the midst of the furs, I stroked the Fox’s black hair. She smiled at me with bright eyes and gently bit the fingers that I used to part her lips. I lay beside her and ran my hand down her sides remembering the excellent use she had put her tongue to on my balls. I smiled at her. Were words appropriate in this nether world of pleasure? Well, I’m a gentleman to the last, so I asked her,

“My beautiful Fox, I want to fuck you in the ass.”

Her eyes widened slightly then, for a long moment she looked at me impassively and did nothing. Then, as she nodded her head slowly, my cock was already pulsing with expectation.

She rolled over and propped her self up, leaning back towards me. I wasted no time in spreading her firm, tight butt cheeks and massaging the entrance to her inner depths. My mouth filled with saliva as I lowered my head towards her. Her skin had the wonderful aroma of jasmine and my senses found a delightful musky sweatiness there too. I let my tongue flick over her sweet little hole and I ran long lines of saliva up and down her crack. I felt her moan softly and begin to sway back and forth against my tongue. How engaging and obliging she was. What a wonderful world it was that had such women in it!

After several minutes I felt her pull gently away and she turned to kneel in front of me. Her hands rubbed my cock as her eyes looked deeply into mine. What were they saying? “I’m giving you a treat because I like you.” I hoped that it was something like that. I lay back and breathed deeply. After a moment I felt her lips lock onto the head of my cock while her hand pumped the base. I alternately flexed my thighs and relaxed them; enjoying the building tension in my loins. What a day! I had fucked three beautiful women in one day – just imagine!

The Fox’s lips were pure delight and soon my cock was once again ready to serve. I took it out of the Fox’s mouth and paused to marvel at her beauteous form. Her every curve was perfect; from her slightly pointed breasts with their dark nipples to her supple curves and perfect lines, hers was a body to live and to die for.

I took hold of my shaft and slowly ran the head over her chin, down her throat, then zigzagged it between her breasts; leaving a glistening wet streak. I had marked her as mine. I stood up and led her towards the wall where she stood with her back to me. I started licking her shoulder then gradually kissed my way down the length of her spine finally entering her butt. She reached down and grasped one of her butt cheeks and pulled it slowly aside. This was all the invitation that I required. My cock slid into her with little resistance and I immediately felt her muscles tighten around it then relax. I kissed her shoulder which she seemed to like then I thrust into her; gently at first; feeling her butt continue to relax and tighten. As I fucked her ass, so her ass milked my cock. The sensation was pure magic.

With each thrust that I gave her she thrust back. Her fingernails were clawing the fabric of the walls and as I continued to fuck her behind, she pressed herself up against the wall. This gave me a great deal of leverage and I felt myself gradually and inexorably reaching the point of no return. I reached forward and cupped her breasts with my hands; she leant back and squeezed my cock with all of her muscles. In that final timeless moment I felt as though I had inserted a steel rod inside her. Then there followed wave after wave of the most profound pleasure as I unloaded the last of my come into her. A while later she pulled gently away, leaving my cock spent, exhausted but still erect.

I knelt down and my head dropped; I was sweating profusely and still breathing hard. A moment later I noticed that she was gone and that there was no sign of The Cat either. So there I was; naked and all alone in this strange, soft room beneath the house of Ariadne Thorne who might have been the architect of it all.

The lights dimmed. The room was warm and cozy. After a cursory investigation I discovered a small refrigerator in the corner and helped myself to cool spring water. I settled down on the fur covered bench and soon fell asleep – I was exhausted after all!

I must have slept soundly for hours and when I at last awoke it was to see a spray of blue cornflowers. I squinted then realized that I was looking at the frilly edge of a cotton bedspread. I was in bed in the very room where I had been with Tamsin on the evening before. Had it all been a dream? Surely not. Had I drunk something that caused me to hallucinate? Also doubtful. What then had taken place and, more to the point, why? I turned sharply and there saw Tamsin, as radiant as ever and sleeping soundly. It was 8:30 am and after going over the incredible events of last night in my mind countless times, I was totally at a loss.

An hour later we were all at breakfast on the back porch: the lovely Juliet with her long, chestnut hair; our venerable host Ariadne Thorne, formerly of RAF Bomber Command; Tamsin, beautiful, wild and mysterious; the ravishing maid Lilia serving us breakfast, with her hair glistening in the morning sun. Finally, Rosie the cat who had perched on a chair all of her own to watch us with all-knowing azure eyes.

I looked at each of the women in turn and they looked at me, we chatted and ate but nothing betrayed them; not one word, not the merest look or the slightest gesture. It was yet another exciting mystery to which I had been privy, at least in part, and for that I was grateful.

After breakfast we looked over Ariadne’s watercolours for an hour and at length, Tamsin and I said our goodbyes and got into the car. On the long road home she was all smiles and small talk. I had developed a slight strain in my shoulder muscles and upon noticing me rubbing them she said,

“I hope the girls weren’t too rough on you my darling.”

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