Chapter 3: Steamy Confessions
The air in the marble changing room still vibrated with their energy. Seraphina looked from Ricky’s exposed, absurd body to her friends. A silent, greedy communication passed between them. “This room’s getting stale,” she announced, her voice cutting through the humid silence. “We’re taking this to the sauna.”
Delilah stubbed out her cigarette in a crystal ashtray. “Good idea. I’m sweating like a pig.” She didn’t bother with her skirt, simply gathering her discarded top and slinging it over her shoulder.
Sabrina stood, her movements lazy and satisfied. She gave Ricky’s hair a rough, almost affectionate tug. “Up, pet. You’re not done.” She and Delilah each hooked an arm under his, hauling his trembling, half-naked form to his feet. They marched him, his pants still bunched around his ankles, through a discreet cedar door at the back of the changing area.
The heat hit them like a wall. The sauna was a small, square chamber lined with glowing, fragrant cedar. A tiered bench dominated the space, and a bucket of water sat next to a hot stove piled with rocks. Steam curled and thickened the air, blurring the already-golden light.
“Now,” Delilah said, releasing him to fetch a champagne bottle chilling in a niche. “We’re going to have a proper drink.” She poured a generous glug directly over her left breast, the liquid sluicing through the valley of her implants and down the slight, unnatural slope. She stepped close, the heat of her body mixing with the steam. “Lick it off, groundskeeper. Every drop. And don’t waste the good stuff.”
Ricky leaned in, his tongue catching the sweet, icy bubbles as they traced the curve of the saline-filled sac. The texture was wrong, too firm and yet somehow yielding at the edges. He lapped at her skin, the champagne and her sweat a salty-sweet mix. She cradled his head, sighing dramatically. “See, Sabrina? He’s a good little sponge.”
“He’s about to be a good little cock-stand,” Sabrina muttered. She pushed him backward until his legs hit the lower bench, and he sat with a jolt. She didn’t bother with preamble. Straddling him, she positioned herself above his throbbing length, her enormous, heavy ass hovering just over his thighs. She looked over her shoulder, a wicked glint in her eye. “Hold onto something, runt. This might rattle your bones.”
She sank down onto him in one slow, inexorable motion. A choked gasp tore from both of them. He was buried inside a devastating, velvety heat that seemed to have no end. Her body swallowed him, an engulfing, muscular pressure. Then she began to move.
It wasn’t a rhythm. It was a seismic event. Her hips pistoned back and forth, her gigantic, fleshy derriere slamming against his thin thighs with a loud, wet, rhythmic slap-slap-slap that echoed off the cedar walls. Each impact jolted his entire frame. Steam plastered her hair to her neck and back. She grunted with each descent, a raw, animal sound. “Fuck… yes… that’s the fucking spot…” she chanted, her voice guttural and lost. “God, you’re a… a freak of nature…”
Delilah watched, idly trailing a finger through the champagne on her other breast and sucking it. Seraphina remained standing near the door, a cool, detached observer. She slipped off a bejeweled leather flip-flop.
Ricky’s hands fluttered, unsure where to land, finally gripping the bench beneath him, his knuckles white. His head lolled back, overwhelmed by sensation. Seeing this, Seraphina stepped forward. “Too eager,” she said, her voice flat. Her flip-flop came down in a sharp, stinging crack on his exposed scrotum.
He yelped, his body tensing. Sabrina moaned, “Oh, that made him twitch!”
“Control yourself,” Seraphina commanded him, tapping the flip-flop against her palm. “You’re a service provider. Maintain a steady pace.”
He tried, his thrusts becoming more measured, though Sabrina’s frenetic bouncing dictated the true tempo. The sauna heat intensified everything—the smell of sex and sweat and cedar, the slick sounds of their joining, the brutal percussion of flesh. Delilah grew bored of her own game. She came over, her massive, sagging breasts swaying, and simply pushed Ricky’s face into her cleavage, smothering him in soft, saline-filled flesh and the cloying scent of her perfume. “Mmm, better,” she murmured, holding his head there while he struggled to breathe.
It didn’t take long. Sabrina’s movements grew frantic, her moans sharp and punctuated by curses. “I’m gonna… you little freak, I’m gonna…” She slammed down hard and froze, a long, shuddering cry tearing from her throat. She collapsed backward against him, her full weight pressing him into the bench, her giant ass finally still.
For a moment, the only sound was the hiss of the rocks and their ragged breathing.
Sabrina rolled off him with a wet, slick sound, sprawling on the bench beside him, spent. Delilah released his head. He gasped for the hot, steamy air.
Seraphina dropped her flip-flop. She looked at the three of them—Ricky dazed and glistening, the two other women languid and satisfied. A different hunger, less violent but no less possessive, settled on her face.
“Group hug,” she said, her tone suddenly sugary sweet.
They converged on him. Delilah cupped his face, kissing him deeply, her tongue pushing past his lips. The taste of champagne and cigarettes filled his mouth. As she pulled back, Sabrina was there, kissing him sloppily, her tongue licking across his teeth. Then Seraphina, her kiss more controlled, a mockery of tenderness. They took turns, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, their hands roaming his skinny chest and shoulders.
“Our good boy,” Delilah cooed, before spitting softly on his cheek.
“Our secret,” Sabrina whispered, spitting on the other side.
“Our perfect, nasty little pet,” Seraphina finished, letting a thread of saliva drip from her lips onto his chin.
They smiled down at him, a circle of manicured, predatory affection. They kissed each other then over him, a casual display of ownership. The steam swirled, wrapping them in a private, corrupt world.
Sabrina traced the head of his still-wet, still-hard cock with a single fingernail. She smiled, her eyes glazed with a new idea. “You know,” she said, her voice a low purr in the steam, “the annual Founder’s Gala is next week. Our husbands will be so, so busy.”
Delilah’s eyes lit up. Seraphina’s cool smile widened into something truly devious.
Ricky’s heart, which had begun to slow, hammered against his ribs once more. The contract, it seemed, was far from complete.