5 comments/ 43447 views/ 5 favorites House of Desire By: Pinocchio Pauline came home from the office. She was lonely, bored, frustrated. It had been weeks since she had been on a date. It wasn't that she was unattractive; in fact she was quite beautiful, with red-brown hair, green eyes and ivory skin. The problem was just the opposite. She was so lovely that most men assumed she was already "taken", and did not approach or pursue her. As so many people have done, she turned to the Internet for entertainment and distraction, and eventually found herself surveying the porn sites. Most of these were crudely done, apparently by the semi-literate. But one site did catch her attention. It was called, simply, "House of Desire." She clicked past the disclaimers, scarcely reading them, and found that this site was unusual, due to its quality and variety. Indeed, it had an enormous array of erotica. Straight and gay, vanilla and BDSM, oral, anal—all of this and more were featured in both visual and literary formats, all presented with skill and elegance. She found herself getting lost in the website, as minutes turned to hours. While Pauline liked to think of herself as an iconoclast and not bound by convention, she found herself drawn more and more to what is so mainstream in the porn world: oral sex. She grew increasingly hungry as she stared glassy-eyed at an endless parade of fellatrices, cocks throbbing in their painted, parted lips. Her hand found its way between her legs, and she began to pleasure herself, soft moans escaping her lips—lips she wished were wrapped around a phallus. Her orgasm, when it finally arrived, washed over her, shaking her violently. Exhausted, she headed to bed, sleeping, dreaming of sex. She awoke thinking about the website. Indeed, it haunted her the entire day at work. Immediately, upon returning home, she returned to the computer, checking her email. One item in her inbox riveted her attention. The subject was, "House of Desire". Clearly, her computer had been identified, and probably spammed. But this email was not spam. It contained a local street address. She considered the possibility that it indicated the location of the place where this erotica was created. The email contained one other thing: an extraordinarily explicit image of a blonde haired woman fellating two men, their ejaculate covering her face, hair, breasts. The image burned its way into her mind. She resolved to drive to this "House of Desire", to learn its secrets, and perhaps divulge some of her own. She took the next day off from work, and the half hour drive to the address indicated in the email. The "House" was indeed a large house in a rather expensive part of town, with classic architecture and fine landscaping—as you might imagine (or hope for) in an erotic pleasure palace. She parked her blue Volvo, and walked to the front door. She rang the bell, and waited. And waited. There was no response of any kind. Disappointed and yet somehow relieved, she finally left, and returned home. But like a gambler returning to a favorite slot machine, she could not resist re-checking her email. And indeed, there was a new message from the "House of Desire". It said: We have utilized a sophisticated software program to assess your patterns of erotic interest. By analyzing those areas of our website that you have viewed in the greatest detail and taken the most time to explore, we have developed a profile of your desires, and invite you to return to our House, in order to bring your erotic dreams to life. The photo of the cocksucking blonde was also included in the email. But it was not the blonde. Pauline's face had obviously been photographed during her visit to the "House", and had been digitally substituted for that of the blonde. It was now "her" face and hair and breasts covered with cum. She had been discovered, exposed! She was filled with anger, but the anger was drowned in desire. She had no choice; she would return to the "House". The following Saturday morning she found herself driving, almost in a trance, back to the House that so fascinated her. She seemed to be observing herself from some other vantage point as she parked her car. She stepped out, wearing a clingy teal satin dress. Of course, she wore no brassiere, and only the skimpiest panties. The dress showed her hardening nipples in stark relief. Once again, she approached the front door, and rang the doorbell as her heart pounded. This time, the door opened, and a breathtaking, black-haired woman beckoned her to come in. The woman wore an outfit that was, perhaps, inspired by the classic (cliché?) maid's outfit, but this was in dark purple, not black, and far more revealing. The outfit seemed designed to draw one's eyes to her lips and exposed breasts and cunt. She said to Pauline, "We will waste no time. Come with me. My name is Sophia. We have prepared a bath." Pauline had certainly bathed before leaving her home, but she was in no mood to argue. She walked on red carpet through the dark and richly furnished living room and up a winding stairway to a large bathroom. The sunken tub was enormous, sparkling white, beautiful. The room was awash in erotic murals. Sophia told her, " When you have finished bathing, put on these garments. Then walk down the hall to the Parlor." She handed Pauline a dark purple costume, virtually identical to her own. Pauline did as she was asked, first luxuriating in the warm, scented water, then donning the seductive clothing. When she entered the Parlor she was startled to find that the sexual activities had already begun. Indeed, she suspected that they were ongoing, and never really stopped. Before her was a young woman on her knees, sucking cock—two cocks, in fact. It was the blonde from the email photo! Pauline was entranced. The blonde worked these men to the extremes of lust. Pauline was sure that they were handsome men, but in retrospect she could not have given their descriptions; she focused only on their cocks, and the beautiful lips wrapped around them. The blonde was now moving with furious speed, taking turns sucking one, and pumping the other with her hand. Finally both men groaned and howled in ecstasy, and the cum spurted from their cocks, flying everywhere, spattering the blonde's face, hair, nipples. Rivulets of it ran down her body. She had re-created the image Pauline had seen in the emailed photo; if anything, this display was even more cum-soaked. The blonde smiled, rose up, walked over to Pauline. She introduced herself as Anna, reached down to her right breast, and removed a large droplet of semen. She placed it on Pauline's left nipple, which instantly hardened. Pauline felt her insides go to jelly. Anna softly and briefly kissed Pauline on the mouth. Without another word, Anna turned and walked away. Sophia then approached, saying, "We have determined that while you are not a true Submissive, you have tendencies in that direction. In addition, you are both voyeuristic and exhibitionistic. However, your overarching desire is to give oral sexual gratification to numerous men. Your experiences here will be tailored to these characteristics of your erotic personality. Come with me now." Pauline followed her through a doorway into a much larger room. It demonstrated an elegant simplicity. The furnishings were classically beautiful. The lighting was extraordinary. It included colored gels strategically placed, creating highlights and shadows that brought human flesh into stark relief. In the darker margins of the room Pauline saw several couples and groups of men and women. They were engaged in a variety of sexual acts. While a number of "themes" were being acted out, most of the women were fellating one or more men. Pauline stared mindlessly at these displays. Her cunt grew wet, her clitoris swelled and throbbed; the juice soon ran down her legs. Every thought of her life before and beyond the events in the room, evaporated. Her being, her essence, became nothing more or less than the eternal desire to suck cock. Sophia led her to the center of the room. She guided Pauline up the single step, to what was, essentially, a small stage, carpeted in pale blue. A black satin pillow was on the carpet. Pauline understood. She crossed the carpet, to the pillow, and sank to her knees. The pillow was firm and comfortable. She would be able to kneel comfortably for a long time. She looked around the room. Her arousal soared as she watched a number of the men and women in the room move toward her. She suddenly realized that all of these people were here for her. The women were preparing the men for her use, and her use by them. Two of the men—strong, athletic—came forward. Their cocks were already hard, dripping pre-cum. Without a word, they thrust themselves at Pauline's face. She hungrily took one, then the other, into her mouth. She savored the velvet texture and slightly salty taste of them. Without warning, she felt a hand reach from behind her, parting her thighs. Fingers reached into her dripping cunt, probing for her clit. The fingers were soon replaced by yet another cock, fucking her furiously, as she sucked the other two men. She felt an orgasm beginning to build inside of her, but the man behind her stopped his thrusting. She felt a sense of loss, but was grateful to find that he had not left the room, but had instead come around to present himself to her lips. Sophia approached, to whisper in her ear, "We are just getting started. You will eventually be allowed to cum; indeed you will have innumerable orgasms. But not just yet." With that, the men quickened the pace of their thrusting, one in her mouth, one in each of Pauline's hands. The man on her left began to gasp as he came, his cock spraying her face and hair with an enormous load of sperm. It splashed violently, all over her. The sight of this must have inspired the man in her right hand, for moments later, he too erupted with an astonishing blast of ejaculate. She could taste herself on the third man—the one who had been fucking her from behind. He was now thrusting furiously in and out of her mouth. Finally, he came explosively against her tongue, his cum splashing into her mouth and squirting out the sides, dripping onto her breasts. Pauline was now aroused beyond what she thought was humanly possible. She became an animal whose sole purpose for existing was sex. She whimpered as Sophia and Anna pulled her to her feet, and led her away from the pillow, through a doorway, into a larger room. The centerpiece of this room was yet another exotically lit stage. There were two stout wooden poles, each carved to look like an erect phallus, and equipped with a large metal ring. Pauline kneeled as Sophia and Anna placed leather cuffs on her wrists, and then locked them to the rings on the posts. Anna said, "Now you will submit to the next phase of your experience here. There are many men waiting to use you." More than a score of men now formed a semi-circle around the bound Pauline. Sophia and Anna took the pulsing erections of the first two into their mouths, working the men into high states of arousal. Pauline dimly noticed that the floor on which she knelt was elevated so that her lips would have easy access to these cocks. The two men then moved close to Pauline's face. Sophia and Anna alternately sucked on the men's cocks and then pumped them in and out of Pauline's hungry mouth. They spread glistening pre-cum all over Pauline's face and breasts. Time went into slo-mo as the men bellowed and came, shooting jet after jet of warm, white ejaculate into Pauline's face. As the cum spattered her face and body, Pauline watched as two of the women she had seen in the shadows were now "fluffing" additional men. The cycle continued, as man after man (and in Pauline's erotically focused reality, cock after cock) was brought to erection by these unknown women, and thrust into her mouth by Anna and Sophia, until her universe was nothing but cocks spurting an ocean of cum. At some point she could scarcely remember, her hands were freed long enough to attach them to a ring mounted to the floor. Now, one man after another took her from behind, thrusting into her cunt, filling her with white goo, while still more sprayed her face and breasts and hair, and filled her mouth with their lust. Pauline's first orgasm was only the beginning of a seemingly endless succession of them. They crashed over her like waves against the shore. She came and came and came, until her consciousness drifted out of sight, into an inner realm beyond description. House of Desire Ch. 02 Part 1 Christine finally ended her engagement to Robert. In fact she broke off all contact with him. She didn't hate him. She appreciated him, and he was solicitous of her. But there had been little enough fire between them, and that had long since sputtered out. What troubled her most was that he hadn't seemed to notice. They'd still slept together; they'd still fucked. But she did it from a strange vantage point, floating off in her mind, as if she were watching strangers copulating. No voyeuristic thrill compensated for this desolation. She feared that if she tried to fix things, she would break instead. So she did her best to console him, to encourage him to find someone else, to not hurt him too badly. And then it was done. The next few days turned to weeks, sliding by in a blur. She was quite lovely to look at--a long, lithe brunette. Body like a dancer's. So it was easy enough for her to date, and she accepted invitations from men she'd met through her work selling real estate, but her heart just wasn't in it. She didn't bed them. They were all Robert's understudies. So after another bleak Saturday night at the neighborhood bar, having downed too many drinks (or perhaps not enough), she walked home, turned the key to the apartment door. Went in, and undressed. She lay in bed, waiting for sleep. A strange thought made its way into her hypnagogic state: She might find an answer in her dreams. She might find release. Then sleep took her, and she dreamed. She found herself standing at the door of a fine old mansion. Lush, colorful landscaping surrounded the place. It seemed to be in a part of town she knew, given her occupation. Perhaps she'd driven by at some point in time. She rang the bell. The door opened. She was met by an absolutely stunning woman with skin like ivory, eyes of green, auburn hair. The woman wore a shockingly erotic outfit, perhaps like a French maid's, but starkly sexual. The woman's full breasts were exposed, as was her vulva. The costume (for costume it had to be-no one would otherwise wear something so frankly seductive) colored a deep purple, served only to draw one's eyes to her mouth, breasts, cunt. The woman spoke. "My name is Pauline. I am here to guide you. This is only a dream, but there is truth in it. Come with me." Christine seemed to float through the red-carpeted rooms, following Pauline up the stairs to an opulent spa-like bath. Surrounding the sunken tub were erotic murals: women and men; women penetrated; women on their knees... Christine found herself somehow naked in the tub's scented water. The heat melted away her tension, her worries, her resistance. The tub then seemed to fade away, to be replaced by a luxurious Parlor. Somehow it seemed natural that she now was dressed exactly as Pauline was dressed. Her "maid's" costume fit her perfectly. But the scene that met her eyes took her breath away. She saw Pauline, kneeling before two men. The men were naked, their cocks throbbing. Pauline held one of the cocks in her hand, the other between her lips. Taking turns on one and then the other, her eyes were ablaze with both wild hunger and dark serenity, a strange mix of open defiance and deep submission. Their phalluses now dripping from Pauline's eager attention, the men began to rub themselves on her face, leaving glistening decoration on her perfect skin. She looked toward Christine, and beckoned her to approach. Christine, hungry to taste these men, drifted toward them, as Pauline withdrew. Gratefully falling to her knees, with a desperate, pleading look, she parted her lips to accept the first pulsating cock. Then, to her astonishment and immeasurable grief, the scene faded, only to be replaced by the bizarre vision of a numeral, floating before her: The number "4". It was cruel to tear her from her aching need, only to find, instead, this grotesque enigma. Then she fell... And she fell...and awoke in her own bed. A deep sob wracked her body, followed by a quiet litany of them. Her tears cleansed her soul. The sin of her betrayal of herself, the sin of believing that Robert might ever make her happy, had been washed from her. So, amidst her grief, she felt lighter, more herself than she had in years. There was some solace in that. She considered the meaning of the numeral "4," but found no explanation. She showered. Still aroused from her dream, she touched herself as she bathed. She pictured herself truly taking Pauline's place, kneeling before the men, their cocks sliding back an forth in her hands; in and out of her mouth. She climaxed with her imaginary sex partners, finished her shower, and left for work. She had an appointment to show a house, in an affluent area outside the city. She met with the clients, showed the house, but in a distracted fashion. She could not drive the images of the mysterious dream house and its erotically obsessed denizens from her mind. As she drove back towards the city, she had a curious sense of deja-vu, beyond her general familiarity with the neighborhood. It seemed that her House of Desire (as she came to think of it) must be just around the corner, as ridiculous as that had to be. The rest of her day and evening came and went. It was neither interesting, nor troubling. It simply was. In her mind, the time had become merely a necessary prologue to her return to her bed, and to her dream. She ate at a restaurant, returned home, and prepared for sleep. It came upon her quickly. And to her astonishment and gratitude, she found herself again standing before the door of the House. Again Pauline bade her enter. She bathed, and drifted into the Parlor, and found herself staring as Pauline pumped and fellated the men. Pauline withdrew, and Christine took her place. Her heart raced as she accepted the men into her mouth. Their cocks were large, stretching her lips, banging against the back of her throat. As she stroked these men toward ecstasy, her own desire burned. The skin at her collarbone flushed and darkened, her nipples grew hard and pointed, her clit throbbed, and her own juices ran down her legs. A moment later, she first sensed, and then saw, that there were others in the room, who moved out of the shadows to where she could make out their forms. There were at least ten men, aroused, staring at her performance. And there were women, stroking these men's cocks. At the realization that her own desperate erotic acts were on display, she went absolutely mad with desire. She saw, in a vision within the dream, these men endlessly using her, fucking her mouth, her cunt, her tits, anointing her with endless jets of cum. In that instant, the two men she was stroking and sucking erupted, their cocks pumping spurt after spurt of warm, translucent jizz all over her face. It ran in rivulets down her cheeks, and dripped from her lips onto her nipples. Though her clit hadn't been touched, her own orgasm tore through her. Then she found herself drifting away from the house, floating between worlds. Another numeral appeared before her, this time, a "3". What could that possibly mean? She awoke in her bed. It was nearly dawn. Her body was drenched in sweat, her thighs soaked from her cunt juices. She shook, violently, for a few seconds, and then the spasm subsided. She slipped back into (now dreamless) sleep. Her alarm clock woke her. She showered, washing away the physical evidence of the "surreality" of the night before. She ate breakfast, and then drove to the realty office. On the road, unbidden erotic images flashed through her mind: Herself, on her knees, stretching her tongue to lick the underside of a proffered, erect and throbbing cock, while a group of men masturbated around her. Pauline pumping cocks in and out of Christine's mouth. And a man presenting his truly enormous cock, rigid and dripping before her eyes, demanding the answer to a question she could not hear. The images intruded repeatedly throughout the day, until she was exhausted from the effort of remaining focused on her work. The hours seemed interminable, but finally, she was done with her clients, and headed home. After a light dinner and a bit of TV, she gratefully crawled into bed. Soon, sleep brought her back to her House, to Pauline, and two additional women--Anna and Sophia they were called, perhaps--and the men waiting to use her. The image of the man with the enormous phallus had become real, at least in this dream state. He was tall and athletic, but she could not see his face, so riveted were her eyes on his dripping, shining cock. He demanded, "Christine, describe what you see!" All she could see was his cock, which seemed to grow, as the room and the men and the women, and everything else seemed to fade away. The absurdly large penis towered over her, now. It somehow morphed into something else, entirely: a tall and slender tree. Christine then sank into a deep, dreamless sleep, where she could escape, for a time, from this seemingly impossible riddle. She awoke the next morning, surprisingly refreshed. She'd arranged to take a few days off from work, so she'd slept in. It restored her energy. She showered, and had breakfast. As she ate, she almost absentmindedly began to think of the series of dreams. She wanted to dismiss the whole thing as the product of a lurid imagination. The images that came at the end of each dream were incongruous, preposterous: A "4," a "3," and a tree. "Four, three, tree." That rhymed, but still made no sense. But the thought struck her: "It wasn't a broad tree like an oak or maple. Surely the phallic shape means something." As a real estate agent, she knew not only houses, but landscaping as well. She knew her trees. This one was a poplar. Thoughts of the images ran through her mind like a mantra: "Four, three, poplar; four, three, poplar, four three..." She stopped, caught up short. In an instant, she knew the answer: "Four, three, Poplar. 43 Poplar Drive." It was an address! It was an address in the very area in which she'd been showing real estate, two days earlier. No wonder she'd thought the House of Desire must be just around the corner. In truth it had to be. She dressed in a clingy purple satin blouse, short black skirt, and high heels. She wanted to look as whorish as possible when she arrived at the House. She felt like a cum slut. It was time to make that a reality. Part Two Christine packed a few essentials for the time she planned on spending at the House. She didn't bring many clothes. She locked the apartment door, got in her car, and headed out of town. She began to feel some trepidation. What if this turned out to be an illusion-or a delusion? Poplar Drive, she knew existed. But was there really a number 43? And even if there were, there were no guarantees that the House, as she'd pictured it, really existed. But the only way to learn the truth was to go, and see for herself. The neighborhood seemed very familiar as she turned onto Poplar. The street looked right. The "vibe" was right. And then, she saw it. The House was exactly as she'd pictured it in her dreams. She pulled into the long driveway, and parked her car next to a blue Volvo (a car usually associated with people who want to play it safe, she thought, wryly). She stepped out of the car, carrying her small travel case, walked up to the door, and rang the bell. Pauline opened the door, dressed exactly as she had in the dreams. Christine felt her legs go rubbery for a brief moment. At last, she knew it was all true. And she knew what awaited her inside: an ocean of cum. Pauline said, "Welcome, Christine. We have, of course, been expecting you. Come with me." Christine stood at the threshold for an instant, and then stepped inside. No going back, now. "How do you know my name?" she asked Pauline, as they walked. "Different people find this House by different routes. I was invited via email. Your invitation was more direct, more intimate. That you are here, is all that really matters." They walked through the corridor, and up the stairs to the bath. Christine already knew the way. She shed her clothes, slipped into the tub. The fragrant waters relaxed her, just as they had in her dreams. Looking at the murals, she felt a heat beginning to build in her cunt. She left the tub, dried herself, and donned the "maid's" outfit, as she knew she was expected to do. Pauline then led her to the Parlor. It had begun. Pauline moved from her, crossed the room, and approached two men. They were fit, naked, and rapidly becoming aroused. Pauline embraced them, first one, and then the other. Then she stood between them and began stroking their cocks. The response was rapid. Christine hungrily eyed their rampant erections, but continued to watch and wait. Pauline sank to her knees and began to suck cock, first one, and then the other, as a look of pure bliss came over her face. The men began dripping pre-cum, and painted Pauline's face with it. Christine felt reason slipping from her. The outside world no longer existed; it never had existed. This was the universe, entire. It was made of sex. Pauline continued to stroke and suck the men until finally, she withdrew, allowing Christine to replace her. With gratitude she never thought herself capable of feeling, Christine sank to her knees, and took hold of the men's cocks. They tingled in her hands, as she pumped them, staring at one and then the other. The pre-cum ran down her wrists. This was too beautiful to be real, but real it was. She took one and then the other into her mouth, licking, sucking, pumping. Their juice was all over her lips, and then she too became their canvas, painted with shining, silvery streaks. She grew wilder, an animal grunting and gasping as the men pumped in and out of her mouth, banging the back of her throat. Then she remembered the others from the dream-more men aroused and ready, moving towards her as Pauline and Anna and Sophia stroked them. They were attractive, though that scarcely mattered, now. Christine was on fire. They were watching her; they were all watching her! She was surrounded with gasping groaning men, ready to give her what she desperately needed. Then the cock in her mouth twitched, swelled, and exploded, the first jet hitting the roof of her mouth. The man withdrew, to spray cum on her face and hair. The sight of this sent the second man over the edge, and he shot spurt after spurt of jism on her tits, on her face, and on her lips. The taste of the men's sperm mingled on her tongue, arousing her more, though that scarcely seemed possible. Sophia, Anna, and Pauline stepped back, as the group of men advanced. The men touched Christine everywhere, stroking her face, kneading her tits, her ass, probing her cunt, working her clit. Her insides melted, and she whimpered, uncontrollably. Pauline then approached, and she told Christine, "Masturbate for these men. Show them what a true slut you are! You came here to taste their cum." Then she whispered, "They will give it to you." Christine, still on her knees, worked her fingers furiously in and out of her slit. She looked up at the men, with the drawn, glassy-eyed look of a woman consumed with lust. "Go on!" she screamed. "Give it to me! I want it all over me! I want your cum! I want it everywhere!" The men gathered around her stroking their throbbing, pulsating, dripping, glistening cocks. It was all she could see. The men gasped and grunted as they came, one after another and sometimes in groups, on her face, in her hair, on her tits, on her belly, on her back. Others rammed their cocks in her mouth. She couldn't hold all their jizz, and it ran out the corners of her mouth, dripping, coating her tits, her belly, and finally her pussy. Her mind raced, as time slowed. She watched sperm fly from one cock after another, drifting (as it seemed) toward her waiting mouth. She caught it on her tongue; it fell across the bridge of her nose; it coated her lips, her cheeks, her ears. She hoped to drown in it. She howled like an animal as orgasmic waves washed over her. She heard a voice screaming in ecstasy. It was her own. Finally, the encounter was done. The men left. Pauline and Sophia helped her to her feet, supporting her as they walked to the bedroom that had been prepared for her. They helped her remove the maid's outfit. The cum still dripped from her body, still mingling with her own juices. "You will sleep this way," Pauline instructed. "--To remind you of who you are." To be continued... House of Desire Ch. 03 Christine awoke the next morning, her face, her hair, her body, her maid's outfit all caked with dried cum. And so she knew her adventure from the previous day and night had been no dream. She was still in the House of Desire. The realization returned her to a subtle state of arousal. A blonde woman in a maid's outfit identical to her own interrupted her thoughts. "I am Anna. It is time for you to bathe. Then you will have breakfast. You must regain your strength for today's activities. You must be ready..." Anna led her to the bath--the same opulent room where she'd bathed the previous day. Anna helped her strip off the debauched costume, and drew the bath. Before Christine descended into the tub, Anna kissed her firmly on the mouth. Christine had never thought of herself as being bisexual, but the strength and passion of the kiss caught her off guard. Perhaps there were additional possibilities. For now, she stepped down into the tub, and let the warm, scented waters pull all tension and care from her body, from her soul. She drifted, erotic thoughts mingling with random, soft images of summer days, of old friends and lovers. Anna gently washed the cum and sweat from Christine's body and hair, and then led her to a shower where Christine rinsed herself. Anna brought out a huge purple towel, and wrapped it around Christine's body. As she dried her off, Anna touched Christine's face, shoulders, breasts. Anna told her, "Follow me; it's time for the morning meal." Christine was taken aback. "What will I wear?" she asked. "You will wear nothing," Anna replied. Breakfast seemed casual, ordinary, in a way. The men and women she'd given herself to the previous day were there. The men were dressed neatly, but casually--slacks, shirts, and so on. The women were all in maid's outfits. Everyone ate--eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, even granola--and conversed, laughed, told stories. But that very ordinariness of the behavior contrasted with the absurdly suggestive maid's outfits--breasts accentuated, cunts exposed. Christine sat among them, hungry, and she ate well. At the same time, she felt humiliated, singled out in her total nakedness. She resented it; it aroused her. After breakfast was done (the "maids" cleared the dishes, of course) everyone relaxed. The casual chatter continued. Christine joined in the conversation, almost forgetting where she was, why she was there, her nakedness. In the midst of the banter, one of the men abruptly turned to her, and asked, "Did you enjoy sucking my cock? Did you enjoy all the cum?" This sudden turn of the conversation shocked and embarrassed Christine. She felt her cheeks flush. She wanted to turn away. And yet some more defiant part of her spoke. "I did. Every cock. Every drop of semen. I want more." Anna rose from the table. "Come with me," she instructed. Without uttering another word, Christine stood, and followed Anna out of the room. They walked down a hallway, back to the Parlor. Anna told her, "Now I will bind you to a chair (she indicated a high-backed chair, sturdily built, and well padded, with a subtle paisley brocade). Christine protested. "Anna, I've never been into the bondage thing." Anna said, simply, "You do not know yourself." Christine felt a surge of desire. She would accede. She sat in the chair, as Anna bound her, using soft, padded ropes that would hold her firmly without damaging her skin or restricting circulation. Her legs were held apart. Anna left the room. Christine was left to wait and wonder what these people had in mind for her. She entertained fantasies based on her first experiences at the House. Would men use her--use her mouth, her breasts, her hair, her body, as mere things in which or on which to ejaculate? The thought excited her tremendously, despite her misgivings about being immobilized, and she soon grew wet between her legs. Then the men appeared in the room. Anna, Sophia, and Pauline soon followed. They still wore their purple outfits. The men were dressed as they had been, during breakfast. Christine became quite self-conscious, her own nakedness seemed out of place and strangely lewd amid these clothed and costumed people. The three women began to caress and arouse the men. Erections sprang up everywhere, as the women began to fellate, stroke, and fuck the men. Christine found her desire rapidly rising. Her juices flowed as she watched the orgy unfolding before her. The women were penetrated over and over, cocks in their hands, cunts, mouths. They climaxed repeatedly as the jizz poured over them. As Christine's lust grew, she began to feel uneasy. It seemed that everyone was utterly ignoring her. She felt increasingly lost, alone. The previous day, she had been the focus of everything, the star of the show. Now she seemed to be nothing and no one. Grief mingled with desire, and tears ran down her cheeks, even as her juices pooled beneath her. Finally, when she thought she could bear it no longer, a man emerged from the group, and approached her. He was strong, dark-haired, athletic. He did not introduce himself. His erect cock was enormous. Incredibly, she recognized it. It was the one she'd seen in her dream! He presented it to Christine; it throbbed and dripped before her eyes. She was desperate to touch it, to stroke it, and especially, to take it into her mouth. The man instructed her. "Tell me what you want," he demanded. "I want you," she answered. "That's not good enough," he told her. "TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!" She grew more desperate. "I...I...want you. I want your cock. I want to feel it throb in my hands, and pulsate in my mouth. I want to feel the warm cum jet from it. I want you to use me, to force me to do whatever you want. I am here to give you pleasure." He eyed her for a moment, then with the hint of a sly grin, turned, and began to walk away. "Please!" she screamed. "Please don't go. What must I do to touch you, to feel you, to taste you? I'll do anything! I'm begging you... Please." He again held the throbbing phallus before her. To her now frantic eyes, insane with desire, it was more than a cock. It was COCK. It was every cock, every man, and every thing. "Tell me what you see!" he demanded. "Your, cock!" she answered. "Tell me what you SEE?" he demanded again. "It's your cock!! My god! Won't you give it to me?" she sobbed. "That's right," he told her. "What do you see, Christine?" he asked yet again. And she finally understood. "It is my god... it is my GOD. Let me worship it!" He moved up closer to her now, and slid it into her mouth. A look of pure bliss came over her face, as she felt it glide past her lips and across her tongue, banging the roof of her mouth and the back of her throat. Anna untied the ropes from Christine's hands. Christine now was able to hold and caress her sacred, dripping deity. As it pumped in and out of her mouth, Anna thrust her fingers into Christine's cunt. She kneaded and stroked the clitoris. Christine began to moan, to buck, straining against the restraints that still held her to the chair. Pauline and Sophia continued to service the other men in the room, but Christine barely noticed them. The cock in her mouth was ready to explode, synchronized with her own approaching orgasm. "Oh, my god, oh my god," she mumbled, as the cock slid in and out, faster and faster." The man quietly told her, "Cumslut, take this communion," as his seed erupted into her mouth. In that instant, her own orgasm ripped her apart. She became truly nothing, truly everything, as her mind drifted away, at home, at last, with the divine. House of Desire Ch. 04 Pauline sensed a change in the mood of the House. It had somehow grown darker. Autumn approached, and with the diminishing days came a darkening of desire. Christine's abject pleading for cock was, perhaps, a harbinger of things to come. Or perhaps the shift was just in Pauline, herself. She had spent three weeks in the House, using up nearly all her vacation and personal time from work. Quite a vacation! It had most certainly been a desperately needed change for her, but it was anything but restful. She'd lost track of how many orgies she'd participated in, how many men she'd fucked, how many cocks she'd pleasured, how much cum she'd worn on her face, on her breasts, and how much she had greedily swallowed. Her maid's outfit now seemed to be a part of her. Her real life was in the House; her activities outside were the fantasy. So it did not come as a surprise when Sophia approached her, saying, "We have a new member at the door. Young, beautiful, voluptuous, with hazel eyes, pale skin, and dark hair. We have photographed her, and emailed to her a number of photos of you servicing the men. We knew she would be back. She wants to take her place among us, to be on her knees, and used as we are used. "Go now, and greet her. Her name is Angela. You will instruct her." Pauline was unsure of her ability to fulfill this task. Surely, there were others more experienced, who would be better suited. Sophia, herself, was the obvious choice. But Pauline was willing to make the effort—indeed it was necessary if she was to remain in the House, and in addition. she knew somehow, that this was the next step in her own training. This realization made the sense of her own dark need grow stronger. Pauline walked down the hallway, and opened the door. She said, "Welcome, Angela. My name is Pauline. You will come with me. We have prepared for you, a bath." Angela was indeed lovely, oddly shy, but determined as well. She wore a clinging black sweater that accentuated her breasts. The young woman began to protest, saying, "But I bathed, right before I came here." Pauline was stunned to hear herself chastising Angela, saying, "You will do what is required of you here, or you will leave, now. That is your choice." The words stung the young woman. She said, only, "I will follow you." She followed Pauline to the bath, and drank in the scents, colors, and eroticism. While bathing, she seemed lost in thought, her eyes glassy with her growing curiosity and desire. Then Pauline helped her from the tub, helped to dry her, and handed her a maid's costume. "Put this on," she said. I will lead you to the Parlor. Angela did as she was instructed. Her arousal played over her face as she entered the room. The area beneath her throat flushed, her nipples hardened, her cunt moistened as she surveyed the scene. Three women, whom she would later know as Anna, Sophia, and Christine, were servicing dozens of men, pumping and sucking their rigid, throbbing cocks. Angela murmured as much to herself as to Pauline, "This is what I've wanted..." And so Pauline directed her to a pillow on the carpeted floor. Angela eagerly dropped to her knees, and parted her lips in anticipation. A man approached, but to Angela's disappointment, he presented himself to Pauline. Pauline reached for his cock, and stroked it. He moaned under her ministrations. She dropped to her knees and fellated him, his tool rapidly becoming rigid, as her mouth slurped and sucked on it. She admired her handiwork: the erect shaft glistened, darkened to a purplish red, the veins that ran along it an echo of its owner's muscled physique. It enthralled her. Then she rose, accompanying the man as he walked toward Angela. The young woman wet her lips, nearly drooling in anticipation. When the two arrived before her, Pauline grabbed the throbbing erection, and thrust it into Angela's hungry mouth. Pauline was astonished by her own ferocity as she did this. She was filled with a mixture of power and lust unlike anything she had ever felt before. Angela eagerly sucked cock, as Pauline pumped it in and out of her mouth. Another man approached Angela from behind, insistently moving her forward onto her hands and knees. He abruptly penetrated her from behind, ramming himself into her cunt, fucking her furiously. He was the first of many. It wasn't long before the cock in Angela's mouth exploded, sperm flying all over her face. The man who had been in her mouth was quickly replaced by another. Angela now understood the rhythm, and happily accepted the next phallus, and the next, and the next. Pauline felt an orgasm steadily building in herself as Angela's face and hair and tits were repeatedly spattered with jizz, her mouth filled with the white cream. And so it went, with Pauline the artist, Angela the canvass, as load after load of cum flew all over the woman on her knees, directed by Pauline's expert hand. Pauline began now to understand her own transformation. She had become an instrument, not only for men to use directly, but an instrument by which men could make use of other women. It seemed the ultimate betrayal of her own sex: becoming a mere thing for the pleasuring of men, and for the facilitating the men's use of other women for yet more pleasure. With every jet of semen on Angela's pretty face and body, Pauline was erasing her own identity. Together with all the women in this House of Desire, she was awash in lust and mindless sex, engulfed and consumed by an endless hunger, used again and again, and aiding in the using of others. She existed only in her relationship to cock, and derived all power exclusively from it. Finally, her orgasm washed over her, though her clitoris had not been touched. Her submission was now complete.