Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl by Lizbeth Dusseau Page A

her flaccid breasts and squeezed them tenderly. Denise, eyes closed, moaned at the pleasurable sensation of the caress of her mounds. She felt Tamara’s thumbs delicately flick her nipples, causing them to rise to tautness. Tamara was now sitting on the table next to Denise’s hip. Holding the breasts firmly, she leaned over and whispered softly soothing words into the young woman’s ears.
    The restful pleasure of the massage had turned into a surge of incipient lust. Before she knew it, Denise’s distended slash began to moisten. She raised her head in ineffectual and desultory protest. When Tamara placed her lips on her teat, sucking at it soothingly, Denise laid her head back and succumbed, letting her passion build.
    Tamara let her hand flow across Denise’s belly and stroked the insides of her thighs. She shifted breasts and evoked a moan from deep within Denise’s throat. Denise felt the old lady’s sensitive fingers explore the outside of her sex, deftly intruding between the engorging lips. The old lady allowed a finger to stray into the wet gash and trace a line up the entrance of the girl’s sheath to the little, hard button on the top.
    Denise sighed as her clit was enflamed by the woman’s touch. She sighed again, as two extended fingers delved into her womb, pressing on the sensitive roof of the canal.
    Slowly, but surely, the old lady urged the young woman to pleasure. Denise’s thighs shuddered and she dug her heels into the table. Her breath was coming in heavy gasps as her passion began to overtake her. As she felt her cunt tingle and throb with impending orgasm, Denise thrust her hips at the hand that was exciting her. When she came, she came with her whole body, rocking and shivering with delight. Pulse after pulse of warmth flowed over her. She cried out, her exclamations of ecstasy muffled by the leather plug that filled her mouth. The old lady was murmuring in her ear, urging her to release.
    Finally, the throes of pleasure subsided. The hand slowed its ministrations. Tamara was stroking Denise’s hair gently, soothingly. Denise looked into her captor’s eyes with gratitude. Tamara drew her hand from Denise’s womb and waved it under her nose. The pungent smell of her own discharge sent one more shiver of pleasure through the girl.
    Tamara’s act of sexual service on Denise put the woman’s other actions in a whole new light for her. Following the carnal massage, the old woman took Denise to the bathroom to bathe her. Every touch of Denise’s flesh by the strange woman was latent with sexual possibilities. As the woman bathed her, stroking the soapy sponge over her breasts and loins, Denise felt a slight arousal. When the old woman leaned against her back while brushing her hair, the warmth of her body echoed in Denise’s loins. Even the little pats and simple caresses heretofore thought of as a mere foible of a slightly mad woman were now all possible precursors to lust.
    When the bathing and other toiletries were done, Tamara had one more thing to do. She had Denise lay back on the edge of the large and deep marble tub and spread her legs widely. Involuntarily, Denise’s cunt began to glisten with anticipation. The young girl’s rear was hanging just over the edge of the tile, her heels by her thighs. Tamara had a bowl of hot, steaming water and a small brush. She tossed a bar of soap into the bowl and swirled the brush around until a thick white lather erupted. She then took the brush and applied the lather to the delicate blond bush that surrounded Denise’s cunt. She produced a straight razor from her pocket and, unfolding it, began to sweep great swatches of Denise’s pubic hair away. Denise’s view was of the ceiling as she felt the fine edge of the razor drag across her skin. Her arms were uncomfortably crushed behind her back, but she dared not move lest the old woman be put off her stroke.
    When Tamara was done, she rinsed Denise’s loins with a hose and then dried them