The Retreat: Opening Night

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The pine-lined gravel road is charming but the bumps make sipping the last of his whiskey difficult. He gazes out the limo’s window at the trees and the stars, ignoring the chatter of the two girls. This place seems quite remote for a party.

“I heard the theme is an inside joke between the two of them. They’re so perfect together!”

“You know they hardly see each other and they’re both fucking people on the side,” the other remarks.

“Such a Debbie Downer,” the first girl scolds. “I don’t think that’s true. Their chemistry… Damn. And they’re both so dark and mysterious. I wonder what she’ll wear.”

“Black like the rest of us, I imagine. She is an attention whore though…”

“Quit being such a brat, darling. I’m sure she’s a lovely person,” he interjects.

“You’ve never met her?”

“Not really, no. We attended the same… function once,” he explains cryptically, musing about a beautiful redhead on a stage. “Liam and I have known each other for a while though.”

“Are we here?!” Her excited motion causes a blond tendril to escape her updo as she gets a better look at the lodge looming before them. The sharp roof disappears into the night sky and the large double doors beckon. The driveway wraps around a fountain and their driver parks to let them out.

Each woman hooks an arm through his as they climb the steps onto the expansive porch. Soft light pours out onto their feet as the doors open. The view inside is breathtaking. The lobby stretches up floor after floor toward arched ceilings. Balconies surround it and an oversized fireplace sits at the far end.

People mingle about, all dressed in black and wearing masks. The threesome affix theirs to their faces too. It’s nearly impossible to tell anyone apart but the anonymity is intoxicating. The guests cluster in small groups, observing more than talking… waiting.

A woman in an exceptionally ornate mask flits about among the masses. Her red lips are visible below the gold that covers the upper portion of her face. Scarlet feathers fan out like a fiery crown. She’s wearing black like everyone else but she still stands out. Her fair skin peeks out and teases all over – the high slit up her thigh, the plunging neckline and deeper Eryaman Escort back, the cutouts near her ribs. She ascends the stairs and is lost to view for a while.

The music quiets and the crowd finds the hostess perched on an upper level, hands on the banister, regal as ever. She’s removed her mask to address her guests.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please? Thank you all so much for joining us on opening night. Liam will be arriving in a few minutes and waiters will be around with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Afterwards, please feel free to explore. Your guest cards will give you access to most of what we have to offer. For more exclusive access, membership cards of various levels can be purchased. Thanks again, and enjoy!” And with that, Greta dons her mask again.

He is struck by her confidence – so different from the timid girl he saw the first time. That was a long time ago though. Now she owns this mysterious place. The queen of her own kinky castle.

His thoughts are interrupted when a drink is thrust into his hand and one of his dates suggests he tries some stuffed something-or-other. The two girls are babbling again – who’s wearing what, who came with whom, blah, blah, blah. He’s tired and the guest of honor hasn’t even arrived yet. He scans the room for the mysterious former Mistress Phoenix. If only he could’ve seen that edition of her…

A rush of excitement brings him back and he stifles a yawn. Liam walks through the huge double doors and immediately smiles and shakes his head in amusement – a rare look for the stern businessman and harsh dominant. When he hooks his finger towards Greta, motioning for her to come down from her perch, the crowd chuckles.

Envy rushes through him as she descends the stairs gracefully, wishing she was coming to him. The room is quiet enough that he can hear her heels click while he becomes mesmerized by her thigh playing peek-a-boo through her dress.

“To Greta and to The Retreat,” Liam toasts simply once she reaches him and they both have glasses. A chaste kiss on her cheek. They’re so private now, a shame really.

Once the couple is attached at the hip, he loses interest. He has two Sincan Escort lovely ladies to attend to. They haven’t even noticed they’ve been neglected. The bubbly blond, Ella, smiles at him over the shoulder of a young gentleman who’s twirling her around the dancefloor. Aleena hasn’t strayed far. Her eyes narrow as she looks over her glass at him with an outstretched hand asking to dance. She tosses back the rest of her champagne and takes his hand somewhat reluctantly.

“When are we going to explore?” she purrs into his ear.

“With or without Ella?”

“Your choice. I like her. She’s just a bit… energetic.”

“She makes me feel old,” he admits.

“Then let me make you feel young again.” She nibbles on his ear for emphasis and the two leave the dancefloor for one of the dark corridors.

The lodge is richly decorated in dark, warm hues and intricate original woodwork. Rugs and paintings are all over, most depicting semi-nude subjects. Each solid wood door they pass is closed and labeled.

“I heard each one has a different theme,” Aleena tells him. “And the deeper you go…” She stops at a door and smiles back at him.


“Wax?” she asks hopefully.

“Makes sense.”

“Well, try your card.” It’s the most excited she’s sounded all night. The card reader shines green and the door clicks.

The room twinkles as if lit by hundreds of candles. The floor and furniture all appear to be rubbery and expertly protected by removable covers. There’s no fabric, no pillows, nothing flammable, yet the room is soft and cozy… warm.

“I don’t even know where to start…” he mutters in awe of the glass shelves lining the entire room – candles and containers of all shapes and sizes; brushes, feathers, ladles, and dripping tools; oils and massage stones. It’s all illuminated by small flickering electric lights that bounce off the glass and mirrors around the dim room.

“I know where to start,” she says as she slips out of her dress, laying it neatly on a bench by the door where she’s already kicked off her shoes. She taps a control panel a couple times until soft music plays throughout the room and then Etlik Escort stretches out on a low cot, watching him intently with her chin on her folded arms.

“Are you going to be nice and still for me?” he asks as he passes a display of restraints.

“I’ll manage.”

“We’ll see about that.” He carefully selects a handful of tall, thin candles in reds and purples. Their labels range in intensity from medium to high. He’s going to make her squirm.

He deftly gathers her hair into a bun to keep it safe from the wax and fire. Once her back and shoulders are vulnerable, he lights the first candle and watches the wax begin to pool. The first drops land on his arm as a test. The gentle heat makes him shudder with anticipation.

He begins near her left shoulder blade and she jolts a little as the warm liquid patters against her skin. He crosses her body at an angle so that the trail of wax ends on her ribs, a few drops trickling down near the underside of her right breast. Left breast to right hip. Left hip across the top of her plump bum, eliciting a gasp, ending on her thigh. The first color.

The next color lays just below the first, already creating a beautiful pattern.

“Feeling artsy this evening?” she teases, feeling the deliberation with which he is applying the wax. The methodic caresses of the stripes are far more relaxing than just dripping it randomly.

“I have a beautiful canvas.” He switches to a candle with a higher melting temperature and she moans when she first feels its sting. His pattern continues across her back and she tenses as he makes his way down towards her ass.

He admires his work in the quiet room before holding the candle above the middle of her left cheek. The wax runs down her bum like streams down a mountain, regretfully causing an imperfection in his pattern, but the whimper as it dribbles into her crack makes his cock stir.

He pauses, giving her time to speak up if it’s too intense, but her body relaxes. He covers her ass in wax, watching it bounce so perfectly when she flinches or squirms. When there’s not a speck of skin to be seen, he resumes his design on her back, making her moan in delight.

“I need you to take care of something before we return to the party.” She can hear the grin in his voice and obediently pops her head up. He feeds her his cock slowly.

“I’ll send our compliments to the lady of the house.” Her nether regions clench at the click of the camera. Such a showoff. They both are.

And they both know they’re not leaving without purchasing a membership.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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