Chapter 29: Cleaning Up His Mess
The taste of himself on Georgina’s skin was a bitter, salty tang that clung to the back of his throat. He worked diligently, his tongue swiping broad strokes and then delicate flicks until every glistening trace was gone from her wrinkled flesh. The plug inside him seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, a constant, humiliating reminder of his position.
“Good boy,” Georgina murmured, her voice devoid of warmth. She patted his head like a dog. “You’re a quick learner when properly motivated.”
Margot knelt beside him, her eyes dark with a fierce, possessive hunger. She cupped his chin, her thumb stroking his cheek. “See, darling? Doesn’t it feel good to let go? To just… obey?”
Before he could form a thought, let alone an answer, Georgina’s hands were on his hips, turning him roughly. “On your back,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. He scrambled to comply, the cold stone a shocking contrast to the heat of his own skin. The change in position made the plug shift, pressing directly on that bundle of raw nerves, and a choked gasp escaped him.
Georgina loomed over him, a silhouette against the flickering candles. She hiked up her sensible skirt, revealing sturdy hips and plain, white cotton knickers. She didn’t remove them. Instead, she simply pulled the gusset aside, exposing a thatch of grey hair and the dark, glistening flesh beneath.
“You’ve had your appetizer,” she said, her knees settling on either side of his head, blocking out the light. “Now for the main course. You’re going to eat my cunt until I tell you to stop. And you’re not to come. Do you understand? Your pleasure belongs to us.”
The scent of her, musky and deeply female, filled his nostrils. It was overwhelming. He felt a primal panic, a desire to twist away, but the weight of her held him fast. He felt Margot’s hands on his thighs, spreading them, her touch both a comfort and a further chain.
“Do it, Rupert,” Margot whispered, her breath hot near his ear. “Make her wet. Show her what a good tongue you have.”
He tentatively lifted his head, his tongue darting out for a first, hesitant lick. Her flesh was surprisingly soft, the folds yielding. He found a rhythm, lapping at her, his nose buried in her coarse hair. He could taste her distinct, sharp flavor, so different from Margot’s.
“Harder,” Georgina grunted, grinding herself down onto his face. “Use your fucking tongue, man. Don’t be shy.”
He obeyed, plunging his tongue deeper, fucking her with it as best he could. He focused on the little nub at the top, circling it, sucking it, as Margot had taught him years ago in their own bed. A low, guttural moan rumbled from Georgina’s chest. “That’s it. Right there. Don’t you stop.”
Margot’s hands wandered up his torso. He felt her lean over, her breasts brushing his stomach, and then her mouth was on his cock. She took him deep, her throat working around him, the wet, sucking sounds a lewd counterpoint to his own muffled efforts. The dual sensation was unbearable. The plug, Margot’s mouth, Georgina’s cunt on his face—it was a sensory overload that threatened to shatter him. He bucked his hips instinctively, but Margot held him down, her grip firm.
“I said don’t you dare come,” Georgina snarled, her thighs clamping against his head. The pressure was immense. He redoubled his efforts, his jaw aching, his tongue feeling thick and numb. He licked and sucked like a man possessed, driven by the need to please, to survive this exquisite torture.
Georgina’s body began to tense above him. Her breathing became ragged, sharp inhales that hitched in her throat. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair, holding his face hard against her as her hips began to stutter and jerk. A long, ragged cry was torn from her, echoing faintly in the stone-walled room as she ground herself against his mouth, her climax washing over her in violent waves.
She stayed there for a long moment, panting, her weight heavy on him. Finally, she pushed herself up, her knees cracking as she moved off his face. She looked down at him, his mouth and chin slick with her release. “Adequate,” she pronounced, wiping herself with the hem of her skirt.
Margot released his cock with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the swollen, purple head. She was grinning, a wild, triumphant look in her eyes. “Your turn, my love,” she purred. “But not like that.”
She moved, positioning herself over his hips, facing his feet. She lowered herself onto him in one smooth, agonizingly slow motion, sheathing him completely in her wet, tight heat. He cried out, his back arching off the floor. The feeling was immense, overwhelming after the edging.
“Look at him, Georgina,” Margot moaned, beginning to ride him, her movements slow and deliberate. “Look at my husband’s cock buried inside me. In your vestry.”
Georgina, now sitting on the wooden table, her legs swinging idly, watched with a clinical interest. “A fitting use for the space.”
Margot’s pace quickened, her body slapping against his. “I can feel you,” she gasped, leaning forward, bracing her hands on his thighs. “I can feel you so deep. Oh god, Rupert.”
The plug, her tightness, the raw visual of his wife being watched by this other woman—it was too much. The coil in his gut, held taut for so long, finally snapped.
“I’m… I can’t…” he stammered, his eyes squeezing shut.
“Look at me!” Margot commanded, and his eyes flew open. She was staring down at him, her expression feral. “You come when I tell you to. You come inside me, Rupert. Now. Fill me up.”
Her words were the final permission. With a guttural shout that was half-sob, he erupted, his orgasm tearing through him, violent and absolute. He pumped into her, his vision whiting out at the edges, his body convulsing uncontrollably on the cold stone floor.
As the last pulses faded, he lay there, utterly spent, a hollow shell. Margot collapsed forward onto his chest, her own quiet moans of satisfaction muffled against his skin.
The only sound was the sputter of a dying candle and Georgina’s soft, approving chuckle from the shadows. “Well,” she said, her voice cutting through the heavy silence. “I do believe we’ve finally found a proper use for the collection plate.”