The new position, ass cheeks stretched taut, reminded her immediately of her spanking, and the stinging reminder left behind. And yet this seemed preferable in her mind right now-being punished over being ignored.
"Mmm,” sniffed the Director, quite consumed by the silver platters being brought for the next course. “Fish with spinach Florentine. An excellent choice."
Julie saw now how tenuous her position had become. She must prove herself doubly, drawing back the man's attention and praise. Her pulse raced-craving his eyes on her again, his voice, his commands. How had he done this-put her willingly down on the rug on all fours while at the same time pulling a metaphorical rug out from underneath her, turning her world upside down?
Julie's hands sparked with electricity as she moved over the expensive carpet. Her knees slid with excruciating slowness, her belly quivering uncontrollably. There was no hiding this way, not with her ass shaking and her breasts hanging down, aching to be manhandled. Meekly she moved and humbly, but also full of keen, feline hunger. She wanted one thing and she did not intend to be stopped. Not till she'd had her fill of both men.
The Director, however, had other ideas in mind. He had no intention of letting her off so easily. “Why are you still here?” He asked as she approached the table.
She stopped, his cold voice like a slap to her cheek. It was a wakeup call. As to how the man intended to humiliate her before allowing her to proceed.
"I would like a chance to do … as you instructed,” she chose her words carefully.
"And what is that?” He inquired coldly, still not giving her the courtesy of direct eye contact.
"To please you,” she lowered her head. “And Grigori."
He took a bite of his fish, steaming hot. “Yes?"
The bastard was going to make her spell it out. “I want to suck you,” she said, not loud enough for his liking.
"Kindly repeat yourself, for an old man,” he said, the moniker more than a little ironic in his case.
Julie decided to abase herself completely in one fell swoop. “I want to suck your cocks. Please, may I have a chance to suck you?"
"Very well,” Ambrosiano shrugged, as though the matter was one of complete indifference. “Though I warn you, I am not very much in the mood to be fawned over anymore.” He took a moment to unzip his trousers before resuming his meal.
Grigori did the same, his action drawing her full attention. Julie decided to crawl towards him first. His cock, his person, would be the touchstone, the one thing she could use to orient herself in this strange world. Everything was different down here. She felt so sensuous, so alive, so utterly female. Her body moved with what she hoped was a natural grace. She shivered to think how open and helpless she was in this position to be paddled, swatted or mounted at will.
The smells of the fish in the lemon and butter, mixed with the sauteed spinach wafted down to her nostrils. Julie was hungry. Her inability to eat her supper at the moment reinforced her sense of inequality with the men. As did their plainly visible, aroused sex organs now poking from between their legs. The tablecloth was short enough that she could see all the good parts, including the way Grigori's tanned balls were pushing out of the underwear below the base of his shaft. His testicles were full and tight, indicating yet another full load of semen waiting for release. She marveled at the man's stamina, at how he could be ready again so soon.
The Director's balls, by contrast hung low. His cock was not as thick as Grigori's, either, though it was equally long and had a lovely curve at the end. It had style, just like the man himself. He was hard, too.
Bypassing this new treat for the moment, she went directly to the Dasklovian. With an almost frightening familiarity she formed her lips to the required shape to take it deep. She closed her eyes, taking him deep. A single smooth motion to pull him to the back of her throat. Yes, oh, yes, this is what she needed. To be their little toy on the floor, a horny female pet, teasing and pleasing as they ate their dinner.
Soon different flavors came to her nose, spectacular and vibrant. The waiters must have been bringing the pasta, the sauce full of lovely spices, oregano, rosemary and basil. Such an odd mix combined with that of elemental man, heady and husky before her.
Grigori tasted good indeed, freshly scrubbed. She bobbed her head up and down, managing as much of him as she could. With training she might be able to take more. The notion gave her a tiny thrill as she slurped away. It was a greedy, self indulgent wish, even though she knew it would mean an even deeper level of subjugation.
"That is enough, Julie, you don't want him going off prematurely. We've a long night ahead of us,” said Giovanni. “You may come to me now."
Reluctantly, she popped Grigori from her mouth. He tensed himself and then released, though he made no sounds. Just as he had up to now, he was remaining passive, the Director's willing instrument.
It was Giovanni she must go to now. She turned her body to the head of the table in anticipation. Her heart beat more quickly. She'd never been with this man and she was anxious to please him in a way she had never felt before with any other. To disappoint him, to fail to be the woman he wanted was just not an idea she could bear.
Delicately, she kissed the tip of him, her fingertips brushing the toes of his shiny loafers. She wanted this man naked, very bad, wanted to see his body, to know what he could do and learn what she could do for him. For now, though, she had her place. The sex servant, performing her function, down on all fours for the pleasure of the master.
Julie slid her tongue underneath the shaft and then along the side, daring to rest her head on his thigh. She was purring.
"Later we will all three of us fuck,” said the Director casually.
She could only assume the words were addressed to her as they were spoken in English. Certainly her pussy took them that way, responding with nice little roiling waves of joy. Spasms of mystery, anticipated bliss.
I will be fucked by two men, she thought. At the same time. In Europe, in a house that once belonged to a prince. Put that in your corncob and smoke it, Iowa.
Julie wrapped her lips around the Maestro. With his narrower width she was able to apply more suction. She could not help but notice how he had been wearing no underwear. That made the act seem even raunchier. What really put her over the top, though, was when he began to talk about the act itself in front of her, asking a series of pointed, rhetorical questions.
"You're a decent cock sucker, Julie. Have you done this often to get jobs? Isn't that what they say about you Americans and your Hollywood? Did you expect that before I hired you?"
She had no hope to respond, save by savoring him all the more.
"Lucia was the finest fellatrix I ever knew. She had a way of sucking for every mood. For disdain, for remorse, passion, fury, love, even contempt and ridicule. Every argument between us ended this way, ultimately, though it might be weeks, months later. It was not submission, no, there was no true submission in her body, only a willful counterfeit. It is the same with you, as you shall eventually learn."
Julie bit down, just enough to be felt, just enough to change the pace of things.
The Maestro laughed. “The kitten has teeth. My point is proved.” Reaching under to stroke her head, he said, “Enough, your supper is getting cold."
A string of saliva ran from her plush lips to the tip of his engorged organ. From cocks to pasta, an orgy of words and sex and oregano. It felt like ancient Rome all over again.
Julie resumed her place at the table, nude, her skin covered in cool flame. The servers, appearing to take no notice, filled her wine glass and put out a fresh plate of steaming white fish, in a butter sauce, the cooked green spinach sandwiched deliciously between the flaky layers. As discretely as she could, she pressed together her thighs. The velvet of the chair tickled and the last thing she wanted to do was to be dripping on a genuine antique. There was simply no way to act normal like this, with erect nipples, a punished, tender ass and not a stitch of clothing on. What was she supposed to say … please pass the Parmesan cheese and while you're at it would you suck my tits like a maniac? Ooh, I just adore the angel hair pasta, and by the way can we please skip dessert and get right to doing the three-way nasty, pretty please?