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Welcome to the Cardinal, Ch. 4

When you return to the main open space of the sex club, you’re less apprehensive than you were before. You wander, coolly eyeing up all the activities taking place around you. There is a low hum of music that enthrals you, a heavy base thumping through your feet. It’s apparent, but not overly loud that you can’t hear the surrounding people.

More people are in the club now, and even more are smiling at the security staff near the front door as they present their ID to gain access. A young, handsome man is standing by the lockers, tucking his wallet and watch inside, along with most of his clothes. You smile but turn away. You’ve never slept with a man, but that doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate his muscular frame. Muscles are something you’ve always liked, especially on women.

As you meander, your stomach somersaults. While you’ve plenty of experience with sexual acts, nothing you’ve done appears to scratch the surface of some of the activities going on around you. Even the gentle love-making that is taking place on the floor; you’ve never heard a woman scream so loudly before, never seen a strap-on getting pounded with such ferocity as the butch on top, her short hair damp from sweat. The butch grits her teeth as she fucks the woman harder, and the woman lets out a high-pitched squeal, spreading her legs wider and clutching her lover’s arse.

With a roar, the woman flings her head back, her orgasm overwhelming her. You gulp, aiming to quell your eagerness to be fucked by that butch, but you can’t take your eyes away. You become embarrassed before you remember that you’re allowed to watch. It’s OK. There’s no shame here, and these two wouldn’t be screwing in the middle of the club if they didn’t want to be seen.

You watch for a few more minutes as the femme on the bottom gasps and pants, whimpering in the throes of pleasure. The butch has tamed, dabbing the sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand, but she is still buried deep, rocking her hips and circling the woman’s clitoris with the tip of a finger.

“What do you think?” a warm voice says, causing you to jump.

The woman standing beside you is … intimidating. You lean your head back and lock eyes with her. You can’t be sure because of the dim light, but her eyes appear black. You swallow hard but can’t step back without reaching the wall.

The woman grins, crossing her muscular arms over her chest and leaning one shoulder against the wall while she considers you. She is topless with bulging biceps and rock hard abs, sporting a loose pair of unbuttoned jeans. A thrilling shudder shoots up your spine. Her black hair is short and spiked in a messy Mohawk, pristine and slick and delicious. You realise you’ve been standing there gawking for far too long, so you cough to clear your throat.

“Sorry?”

“What do you think?” the woman repeats, gesturing towards the women on the floor. Her eyes light up, an impish glint as she observes, angling her head.

“About what?”

“Her cock,” she says without an ounce of embarrassment. You feel embarrassment enough for three people, your cheeks heating.

“Um …”

“Want to try it?” she adds. Your gaze inadvertently falls to her crotch. The woman doesn’t miss it and angles her hips so you can see the outline of the bulge in her jeans.

“Is that …?”

“Eight inches, ribbed, and ready to go,” she declares with a grin. “I was going to head home, but I just spotted you and realised I hadn’t seen you around before.”

“It’s my first time,” you mumble. The courage you found earlier appears to have forsaken you again.

“Will you indulge me?” the woman asks. Her powerful forearms flex, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Of course, you can say no, but—”

“No! I mean, yes. Not no. I mean—” You get flustered.

“Yes or no, sexy?”

“Yes,” you reply, warmth flooding core. “But um …”

“Not in public,” she states, finishing your sentence. “No problem. Come with me.”

You follow behind towards one of the secluded chambers. The woman switches the sign on the door from “VACANT” to “OCCUPIED” and signals you inside. You’re cautious and linger in the doorway, peeking in before entering.

“It’s safe, I promise,” the woman says, clicking the door closed. There are no windows in this room and you realise she has chosen it specifically for that reason. “I’m Emilia,” the woman adds, moving closer towards you.

You introduce yourself before glancing around. The room has a magnificent queen-sized bed in the middle, with fresh sheets and lots of thick pillows at the headboard. The bed isn’t against the wall, which is a trivial observation that causes you to smile. You know how disheartening it is to hear the slam of a headboard, particularly a neighbour’s headboard and not your own.

There is a wooden cabinet with three large drawers at the foot of the bed. Emilia notes you staring at it and places her hand to the small of your back, reassuring you and encouraging you forward. Her skin smells musky, as if she’s been working out. It’s a rugged, masculine odor that makes your insides clench. You peer at the soft skin on her neck before you come to your senses and turn towards the cabinet.

“There’s loads of toys in there,” she says, nodding. She sits on the end of the bed and watches while you open each drawer, your eyes widening at the assortment of lubes, blindfolds, floggers, and other items you don’t know the names of.

“Have you tried all of them?” you ask in astonishment.

Emilia chuckles. “Nah. There’s a few things in there I won’t try.” She shrugs, and you’re slightly surprised. This strong women looks like she’d try anything.

Emilia grins again. “We don’t have to like everything. There’s no shame in admitting if something isn’t for you. Likewise, there’s no shame in admitting if something is for you, even if you don’t think it’s common. Most people have a fantasy that they haven’t divulged to anyone.”

“Really?”

Emilia nods. “Yeah, absolutely. Don’t be nervous. Is there something you want to try?”

“What if it’s one thing that you won’t do?”

“So what?” she asks. “We’re both adults and I’d tell you. No harm, no foul, and no hard feelings.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Emilia waits; she realises you’re working up the courage to reveal what you want from her. You can tell she’s impatient, but she’s respectful. The silence lengthens until you take a deep breath. From the swell in her jeans, you’re pretty confident she’ll grant your request. “Will you fuck me? With um … your …” You trail off.

“My cock?” she asks, her dark eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice trembling. You draw another breath and let it out gradually. “I’d like you to fuck me like that woman was getting fucked out there.” You point to the door and Emilia nods, looking you up and down again.

“On the floor?”

You laugh and shrug. “Maybe. But the bed looks more comfortable.”

“I agree.” Emilia laughs with you, and for the first time, you acknowledge the slight English twang in her accent. “Come here, sexy.” She spreads her legs and you approach, standing between her knees. She wraps her arms around your waist, her eyes drifting over your hips. “Have you done this before?”

You shake your head. “Not even with a man.”

“Me neither.” Emilia smirks. “Women are better with them.” She winks, and another surge of adrenaline fires through your chest. You place the heels of your hands on her stout shoulders, palms gliding over her smooth skin. You trace each line of muscle and grip her biceps, squeezing lightly.

“You’re incredibly strong,” you murmur.

“I run the gym downstairs,” she replies.

You’re about to scratch your nails down her back when your eyes widen. This is another one of the infamous managers of the building, about to fuck you senseless. Or at least, you hope so.

“Don’t be shy,” she whispers, her voice dropping. “Perhaps I can coax you to the gym sometime with a personal workout regime.”

You roll your eyes. “It’ll have to be very good,” you tease.

“Oh it will be,” she growls. “I promise.”

Your nerves are all but gone as you lean down and press your lips against hers. The kiss starts soft, her lips wet and tender, more so than you expected from this forceful woman. She exhales heavily against your mouth when you scratch those nails up her back and she grabs your arse, dragging you closer between her legs. You feel the hard edge of her cock beneath the denim of her crotch, your yearning rising.

“Do you have a safe word?” Emilia asks between kisses, becoming steadily faster.

“Adventure,” you gasp.

“Lovely.” She startles you when she stands up, and you wrap your arms and legs around her. She whirls around and practically throws you onto the bed, pouncing on you as soon as you land. The breath leaves your lungs, her tongue fighting against your own, and a subdued moan echoes around the room.

“Oh—”

It appears that Emilia has lost her patience when she suddenly tears your T-shirt off, completely in two, so that it is nothing more than a scrap of fabric beneath your back. Your eyes widen at her power, her intensity, her furious energy, but you are not scared. You know she will not hurt you.

“Fuck,” you groan, unable to soothe your quickening pulse when Emilia tugs at the waistband of your jeans. She yanks them off, her own eyes expanding at your black lace lingerie. She slows for a moment, admiring the garments, caressing the edge of your panties with her thumb.

“Those are too pretty to tear,” she murmurs, unable to look you in the eye. Her chest is heaving, a translucent sheen of perspiration gathering on her collarbone. Her nipples are hard, and you don’t stop to think before you take them between your fingertips and pinch.

Her mouth opens, a fire lighting up in her eyes, before she says, “I’ll borrow something for you to wear after we’re done. I’m sorry about your T-shirt.”

“It’s fine,” you say, and Emilia doesn’t have a chance to respond before your grab the back of her head and pull her towards you. Your lips crush together, arousal flooding your pussy, which is already soaking through the lace between your legs. You can feel it.

Emilia slips her hands into your underwear and carefully removes them, putting them aside. You shuffle down the bed, spreading your thighs, eager to have her inside you. You hear the waistband on her jeans being moved, feel her wrist between her legs when she reaches for her cock, taste the coffee she had this morning on her tongue. You moan again when she nudges the tip against you.

“Do you want lube?” she asks.

“I don’t need it,” you reply breathlessly.

Emilia grins. “OK. Tell me to stop if you need to, all right?”

You nod, clutching her arse and tugging her closer. You’re getting desperate. You need her hard cock deep inside you, fucking you fast and leaving no room for tenderness. You’ve always wanted a hard fuck, but all of your previous partners weren’t willing. You appreciate that they didn’t want to hurt you, but sometimes … Just sometimes …!

Emilia thrusts inside you and you let out a wanton cry. You tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes shut as she begins to move, pulling all the way out before pounding back inside. Your legs quiver and your heart hammers in your chest. Your pussy stretches, every inch of that pliable ribbed rubber filling you, fucking you, owning you.

“Fuck,” you repeat, digging your nails into Emilia’s arse. Her skin is clammy beneath her jeans, the rough denim against the sensitive skin on your inner thighs sending you to new heights. “H … H …”

“Say it,” she purrs, her teeth grazing the tendons pulsing wildly in your throat.

“Harder,” you groan.

Emilia kneels upright, grabs the back of your thighs, and presses your knees to your shoulders. She angles the strap-on further downward, pushing so deep inside you that you forget where you are. Once again, you’ve forgotten your name.

The slap of Emilia’s hips between your legs is exciting, your wetness multiplying every time she sinks deeper. She lets out a low groan when she picks up speed. Her bare breasts move on her chest with her pace, her neck tensing and the veins throbbing in her strong forearms.

“Tell me to fuck you,” she says, panting.

“Fuck me,” you reply obediently.

“Tell me to fuck you harder.”

“Fuck me, h-h-harder,” you stammer, barely able to get the words out when Emilia grabs the tops of your thighs and jerks you closer. Kneeling between your legs, she puts your calves over her shoulders, holding your hips steady.

“Shit.” You throw your head back and another moan bursts from your mouth. Every movement of Emilia’s cock inside you is exquisite, your inner muscles clenching rhythmically around her. You know it’s impossible, but it feels like Emilia is swelling inside you, pressing against your G spot.

Your groans fall quiet, the only sound Emilia as she gets more enthusiastic at your impending orgasm. She fucks you harder still. You long to watch the flex of her muscles and the droplets of perspiration on her brow, but your eyes roll into the back of your head when you’re pushed over the edge.

Your throat burns while you scream, a full-body orgasm wracking every inch of you. Every muscle contracts, your insides tightening in a manner you’ve never felt before. You’ve never been fucked by a woman with a strap-on, but you already know this is far from the last time you’ll do it.

For a long minute, Emilia continues to thrust, pressing every inch inside you, right up to the hilt. The rubber is slick, drenched, coated in your juices, which you know are flowing to the blankets beneath your spread thighs.

Eventually, Emilia slows and gently withdraws. You instantly miss being filled by her. She chuckles as she wipes her forehead and kneels upright, catching her own breath. “How was it?” she asks, ostentatiously holding out her hands.

You laugh out loud. “Amazing.”

She winks. “Told you. Wait here for two seconds.” She leaves the room and you’re left momentarily confused until she returns and holds out a clean folded T-shirt. “Sorry about that,” she adds sheepishly.

Emilia buttons up her jeans before scanning the room for the rest of your clothes. You slip them on after she hands them to you, throwing your ripped T-shirt into the bin, and then you comb your fingers through your hair to tame the wild locks. You have a definite bedhead, which isn’t surprising having just been fucked on your back.

Emilia takes a moment to freshen up, utilising some hygienic wipes to clean her strap-on. She quickly strips the bed, dumping the pile of sheets and bed covers into a basket by the door, and then she presses a button on the wall.

Your sex throbs when you stand up, gingerly walking towards the door. Emilia wriggles her eyebrows, holding the door open. When you turn, you notice that Emilia keeps the sign saying OCCUPIED, however a small amber light has lit up above it. Before you can query it, Althea appears behind you.

“Still here, toots?” She beams. “And you’ve met Emilia, lovely.” She walks past and into the chamber, picking up the laundry basket. “Fancy hanging around a bit longer and I can show you around properly? Or if you fancy something to settle your nerves after this fireball—” she nods her head in Emilia’s direction, “—maybe a stiff drink might be in order. You can get something in the nightclub or the casino.”

Published by tjdallas

Hi, I'm TJ, and I'm a Scottish sapphic erotica and romance author.

One thought on “Welcome to the Cardinal, Ch. 4

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