Brian's Girls: Girl 3 - Karen
mc; g; gg; mg; mdom; mast; oral
The holidays were Karen Cartwright’s favorite time of year. The music, the lights, the decorations—her family always went all out. It always felt like such a wondrous time to her young mind.
She knew her parents were busy people. Her father owned his own company, Cartwright Irrigation, that designed and built huge canals and water gates and stuff like that. He spent a lot of time at the office and sometimes traveling all over the state to make sure that projects were getting done right. She was proud of her father, but his devotion to work meant that she didn’t see him as much as she’d like.
Her mother, too, was busy. She helped run a charity that trained people so that they would have new skills and could get better jobs. Like Karen’s father, she also spent a lot of long hours at work. And even when she was home, she was often working.
But the holidays had always been the one time of year that her parents had put in that extra effort to fill their home with love and holiday cheer. Their efforts always seemed to make the whole house seem enchanted. And every year, her family home was the location for two parties, one for her mother’s employees and one for her father’s managers and office workers. Karen could always count on the generosity of her parents and those two festive events to almost literally fill the house with the warmth of the holiday. It really showed how important the season was. And she loved that.
At least, she had until this year.
It was at the end of November—just after thanksgiving, when they would begin decorating for Christmas—that she’d overheard her parents talking about all the hassle of the holidays and how much simpler it would be if they could just put an end their annual Christmas events without adversely affecting their employees’ performance. It seemed this was an old conversation that they’d been having for years.
Karen had felt devastated. Was that the only reason her parents had these parties? Didn’t they care about Christmas? Was it all just a show to impress their employees and make themselves look like wonderful bosses? Was it all just fake?
For the last three years, since she’d turned eight, she’d been tasked with helping out. For her, this meant standing by the door, ready to take the coats, scarves, hats and any other winter clothing that their guests had donned to brave the winter weather. She performed the roll, dressed as an elf: a red and white striped top, black patent leather shoes, white knit tights and a matching skirt, jacket and hat all in green fabric with furry white trim. In the past, she had always felt pride that her parents trusted her to participate. This year, she felt like it was all a sham and that every adult was merely pretending to be happy and in high holiday spirits.
She had done her best to get out of her role this year, but her parents had laid down the law, stating in no uncertain terms that she was to do her job with a smile on her face. She had begrudgingly done so for her mother’s party on the 6th. And she had once again tried, and failed, to get out of her duty at her father’s party a week later. Which was why she had been standing in the entryway for nearly half an hour when the doorbell rang once again at about ten past six.
Her mother had swept into the entryway with a fake bounce in her step and a pretend smile on her face and greeted their next set of guests. Karen eyed the newcomers, expecting to see the usual fare; one or two adults, occasionally accompanied by a child or two. Rarely were the children younger than seven or eight nor were they likely to be Karen’s age or older—older kids stayed at home by themselves, while the very young ones were pawned off on babysitters. This time, however was different.
“Mr. and Mrs. Scott!” proclaimed her mother in a voice that sounded sincere but grated on Karen’s nerves. “We’re so glad you could make it!”
“Well, thanks for having us again this year,” replied the man, obviously Mr. Scott.
“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” said his companion, clearly Mrs. Scott.
The pair moved in far enough out of the cold winter air to begin removing their coats.
“And I see you’ve brought your children along again,” said her mother. Karen looked, but the movements of the Scott adults removing their coats blocked her view. “Wonderful! And you seem to have one or two more than last year if I remember correctly.”
“I hope that’s not a problem,” said Mrs. Scott.
“Of course not! The more the merrier,” replied Karen’s mother.
By this time, the adults had handed their coats to Karen and stepped farther into the house. She finally got a good look at the Scott children. There was one boy, a few years older than she was. He was tall, almost as tall as his father, and he had brown hair just wavy enough to be sort of roguishly messy. His features were a bit on the round side, but cute, and he carried himself with an air of confidence. His eyes locked on hers for a moment; she felt as though he was judging her worth and she experienced an irrational desire to be found worthy.
On either side of him stood a girl. Both girls seemed to be about Karen’s age, give or take a year. The one on his left was the taller of the two, and only a few inches shorter than the boy. She had long blond hair and looked to Karen like she would instantly be one of the popular girls in school, with features that most other girls would be envious of. She was quite similar to Karen, herself, in that regard.
The other girl was shorter, by nearly six inches if Karen had had to guess, and appeared to be the younger of the two. She had short, dark brown, almost black, hair styled in a pixie cut. Her features were soft and she had a slight upturn in her small nose. The girl kept her eyes low and seemed to radiate insecurity. Both girls clung to the boy’s arms, the blond did so with confidence, while the brunette seemed to do so almost out of fear.
It was only once they had stripped off their coats that Karen could get a look at their outfits. The boy wore a nice pair of Dockers and button-up shirt. Strangely, the girls both wore outfits quite similar to Karen’s own; green skirts and tops with white fur trim and a green Santa hat to match. The outfits weren’t identical to hers, however; there was something different about theirs, though exactly what that difference was, Karen couldn’t put her finger on it.
It was only once Karen had all five of their coats weighing down her arms that she realized that there was another in the group. Trailing behind the trio was another girl who looked to be a year or two older than Karen. There were several things about the girl that Karen noticed right away: she held her coat in her arms with apparently no intention of handing it off to Karen, she had similar hair and facial features to the boy, she wore an inch wide leather band that fit snugly around her delicate neck, a leash led from the D-ring in the middle of the leather band to the boy’s right hand, and the girl was completely naked.
Karen’s brow knitted in confusion. There was a naked girl on a leash standing in her doorway. That was odd, wasn’t it? Was it odd? It seemed odd. But it also seemed perfectly normal. The other party guests had left their pets at home, but it was all right that this one was here. Wasn’t it? Yes, it was fine. She was sure it was. After all, her mother wasn’t saying anything about it, was she? What was her mother saying? She’d been talking to the two adults the entire time, what had Karen missed?
Oh, right. The boy’s name was Brian. And the girls. The brunette’s name was Abby, and the blonde was Mandy. They were Brian’s friends. And the pet’s name was Claire. She was...
What? Karen couldn’t have heard that right. Claire was Brian’s sister? That was weird. Why was it weird? Was it weird? Of course not. Why would it be weird?
And was it warm in there? Karen felt uncomfortably warm in her outfit, suddenly. Or was it sudden? What was she doing? She was sure that there was something she was supposed to be doing. Oh. Right. Coats.
“I’ll take that,” she said to Claire. The pet clutched the coat tighter, her eyes widening as she looked to Brian for guidance.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Brian responded to Karen. “She’ll need to take her own coat to be put away. My pet’s not allowed to have things done for her.” Karen glanced at her mother who nodded once. “Here,” Brian continued, hooking the leash over one of Karen’s fingers, “you don’t mind showing her where she can put it, do you?”
“Of course not,” Karen managed after a moment’s hesitation.
“I’m trusting you with my pet,” said Brian sternly but warmly. “Be sure to bring her right back.”
Karen led Claire to the spare room that had be designated the coat room. She hung the Scotts’ coats on the temporary rack and allowed Claire to do the same to hers. Again, Karen was overcome with the sensation of being far too warm. She simply had to do something or she’d be sweating through her clothes by the time dinner was served. She eyed the naked girl warily.
“If I set this down for a minute, you aren’t going to try to run off, are you?” she asked.
Claire didn’t respond, she simply stared at Karen. Karen slowly placed the handle of the leash on a nearby desk, careful to make sure that Claire knew what she was doing and watching the girl to make sure she wasn’t going to bolt. The pet simply continued to stare at Karen.
Karen sat on a chair and pulled off her shoes. She then reached up under her skirt and skimmed her tights down her legs. The air on her bare skin felt heavenly. She dropped her tights near the coat rack. She then put her shoes back on her bare feet. They felt odd without socks or tights, but she figured she could get used to them. She stood and retrieved Claire’s leash and lead the girl back to the party and Brian, never even realizing that she’d removed her panties along with her tights.
She led the quiet, subservient Claire out of the room and back down the hall to find Brian Scott still waiting near the entryway. Brian smiled at her when he saw her approaching.
“Did my little pet behave herself?” he asked.
Karen couldn’t help but glance back at the naked girl. “Yes, she did,” she said, handing the leash off to him.
His eyes traveled over her body and again she was hit with the notion that he was sizing her up—judging her. Again, she felt the need to be found worthy.
“No tights?” he asked after a moment.
She blushed at his having noticed. “It—um—” she said, tripping over her words. “—hot. I mean it’s kind of warm in here.”
“Well, you look much better without them, if you don’t mind me saying so,” he said with a flick of his eyebrows and a bit of a smirk.
“Good!” she exclaimed. Then she seemed to realize what she said. “I mean great!” That wasn’t better. “I mean—um—thanks. I’m glad you like me.” What? “I’m glad you like them!” Still not good. “I mean—” The doorbell rang. As though conjured, her mother appeared and wafted by the trio on her way to greet more guests.
Karen’s lips curled up in a nervous approximation of a smile. “—I gotta—” She hooked a thumb at the door and vainly attempted to be nonchalant as she made her way to the door to collect coats.
What the hell was wrong with her? What was that all about? And why in the world was she still blushing?
She numbly went through the motions of taking coats and hats from the nameless, faceless, non-existent guests. Why was she falling all over herself in front of Brian? And why was it still so warm in there, even without her tights? The freezing December air drifting over her legs and up under her skirt finally informed her that she had lost her panties along with her tights, and still she worried that she was going to suffer heat exhaustion. Her mother had to call her back because she’d missed taking the woman’s scarf.
In the coat room, she may or may not have hung up the coats. And the woman’s scarf lay puddled unceremoniously on the floor. Karen took a moment to fan herself, but quickly found that that did no good.
She looked down at herself. There wasn’t much more she could take off. In fact, there was only one part of her body that was still covered in multiple layers of clothing. Her brow furrowed as she debated for a moment, then, shrugging to herself, she pulled off her jacket and hat, peeled off her top and training bra and slipped the jacket back on. It was only then that it occurred to her that the jacket didn’t have any buttons or buckles—in fact, it didn’t even actually meet in the front—instead, it left a gap that showed about three inches of skin that would one day be her cleavage. At the moment, however, it was displaying nothing more than pale flatness between the two slight swells that she didn’t yet call her breasts. She worried her bottom lip, wondering whether or not she could get away with showing that much skin. Deciding it was unlikely that anyone would care since nothing was really showing, she put her hat back on and left the coat room and headed for the party.
She couldn’t believe how excited her outfit made her feel. She imagined that the eyes of everyone at the party were fixed on her—noticing just how little she was wearing, yet it seemed that no one paid her any attention. Even when her mother found her and informed her that all the guests had arrived and that she was free to go on up to the kids room as her duties were done for the night, no comment was made about her change of costume. It made her feel sexy, though; far too sexy for the kids room and the annoying immaturity of the “pre-tweens,” so she elected to remain with the adults.
Karen milled about, drifting from one cluster of guests to another, catching bits of conversations but never really staying long enough to understand what was being discussed. Eventually, she found herself sitting at the end of a couch, watching the party-goers chat and laugh and sip champagne and eggnog, while she herself felt as though she’d had a few of those drinks, even though she hadn’t.
Again, she felt the heat begin to build, but this time, she recognized it for what it was: arousal. She was feeling turned on being so scantily dressed amid the crowd of oblivious adults. She mashed her thighs together, hoping for a bit of stimulation, but after a few minutes of trying, she decided it simply wasn’t enough. She tried rocking her hips forward to gain a bit of extra pressure, while aware that it made her intentions more obvious. But again, she just could do little more than frustrate herself.
A wild, crazy, ridiculous idea popped into her head. Could she possibly use her hand? Could she masturbate in front of everyone? Someone would see what she was doing, wouldn’t they? She looked around, paying careful attention to see if anyone was aware of her. From what she could see, she might as well be invisible; the adults were so focused on their own little conversations and the next witty thing they could say that they seemed to ignore everything else. But could she really do it? It was so naughty—so risky, so dangerous. Her breaths were coming harder and faster at the thought of what it would be like to rub herself off in front of everyone. The idea was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time.
Without even having consciously made the decision, her right hand snaked its way down to her bare thigh, just below the furry trim of her skirt. Her eyes darted around looking for the first sign that someone might glance in her direction, as slowly—ever so slowly—she slid her hand back up, drawing the bottom of her skirt along with the heel of her palm. Then, still wary of possible attention, her wrist curled back and her fingers dove between her thighs. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing it—the risk she was taking was enormous—but she decided it was worth it as her fingers touched her naked sex.
Slowly, her fingers stroked, slipping up and down along her damp slit, touching, teasing, pleasuring. The forbidden nature of the act heightened the feeling of the stimulation until, all to quickly, she was actually having to restrain herself from simply flipping her skirt up and stroking quickly and blatantly, onlookers be damned. But she held herself in check, aiming for a long, slow buildup that would draw no one’s attention. The problem was, the slower the buildup, the longer it would take and the more likely that she would be discovered.
But after several minutes of slowly and carefully stroking herself, she realized that she wasn’t making any progress. Her arousal level seemed to hover far too short of climax and her teasing fingers were just beginning to frustrate her.
In front of her, a group of three broke up. She froze as guests shifted, conversations were interrupted and people became more aware of their surroundings. She dared not move her hand, even to withdraw it from under her skirt, lest she attract attention. Two of the three adults headed off to refresh their drinks, while the third crossed the room to another group and clapped a man on the back and wished the rest of the group a merry Christmas. Karen’s eyes, however, were focused on the opposite side of the room that had been revealed by the group’s departure. Directly on the couch in front of her, sat Brian and his girls.
Brian sat, looking for all the world as though it were his party. On his left side, Mandy clutched at his arm as though announcing to the world that they belonged together. On his right, Abby, looking quite small and almost fearful, clutched his arm as though worried that someone might drag her away. At his feet, still wearing the collar and leash, knelt Claire. Brian, however, paid the girls no attention; he was staring directly at her. She realized far too late, that her hand was still buried under her skirt. Her pulse pounded and her heart raced. She desperately wanted to sneak the hand away, but she couldn’t seem to make it obey her commands. The realization that she’d been caught flushed through her and her fingers began moving again of their own volition.
The buzz of conversation in the room slowly returned to normal levels, though Karen was only peripherally aware of it. She seemed to have lost the power to move her eyes to check for observant adults as well; her eyes were as fixed on Brian’s as his were on hers. And still, her hand moved, slowly increasing in speed, slowly becoming more insistent, slowly driving her closer to her peak. Her pussy tingled and her body’s increasing movements served to tug on her top and put her in danger of exposing her bare little undeveloped breasts as well. She had a free hand with which she could close her top, but her very real fear was that if she moved the hand anywhere near it, it would instead dive under and start teasing sensitive nipples.
Faster and faster her hand moved. Harder and harder it stroked, desperate to coax her climax from her. More and more her body writhed and moved, causing her to slip farther and farther down in her seat, and sliding her skirt higher and higher up her naked thighs, threatening to expose her sloppy, abused cunt to everyone present. She desperately tried to restrain herself, but she was so close, now. Just a few more strokes and she would be at the precipice of what promised to be her largest ever orgasm. Just a bit more. Just a bit more.
“Dinner is served, everyone!” her mother announced from somewhere over her shoulder. All conversation stopped and attention was drawn in her general direction. All Karen could to was freeze and hope that everyone was too focused on getting food to notice her. For an eternity, she held herself on the brink of orgasm, unable to send herself over the edge, as the room slowly emptied of adults. Brian and his girls had yet to move.
By the time the last adult had left, her climax was no longer impending, it had subsided. Still, she knew it was within reach with just a little attention. Eyes still locked on Brian’s, her fingers began moving once more. Almost instantly, her arousal returned to its former heights and she was within a few strokes of bringing herself off.
Without warning, a hand grasped her shoulder. Karen’s hand snapped out from between her legs and she straightened up in her seat with a suddenness that she hadn’t thought possible.
“Come, along, Karen,” her mother said. “Come get something to eat.”
Karen looked up at her mother, expecting to see some evidence that she’d seen what Karen had been doing, but her mother gave no indication that she had. She glanced back over to Brian to find that he and his girls were standing, presumably to join the rest of the party in getting food. Karen lagged behind, not sure if she wanted to be anywhere near the quartet.
By the time Karen had filled her plate, several of the guests were eating out on the back patio under the warmth of the propane heaters, many had found places to eat in one of the great room seating areas and the rest were sitting around the dining room table. Karen took the last seat at the dining table.
She ate a bit while listening to the people around her, and tried to ignore the call of arousal beckoning from her needy sex. She struggled to hold out, but all too soon, her left hand slipped down and the dance began once again. She inched forward in her chair so that she could open her legs without fear of someone noticing, while her fingers caressed and probed and stimulated her juice-slicked sex. More than once, she had to force herself to slow down and take it easy after either shivering involuntarily from a rush of pleasure or actually hearing the wet sounds of her fingers in her slit.
When the two people sitting across from her moved just right, she would glimpses of Brian and his girls. He was watching her intently as Claire fed him bites of food from a plate. This served only to drive her arousal even higher. She worried that she would cum suddenly and powerfully and attract the attention of everyone in the room, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop what she was doing.
She caught another glimpse of Brian. He was still watching her. What she failed to notice, was that Abby was no longer at his side. It wasn’t until the girl was directly across the table from her that she’d noticed anything had changed. The young brunette held her finger up to her lips to indicate that Karen should remain silent, then, with a huge grin on her face, she slowly dropped down, disappearing behind the table. It was seconds later that Karen felt two hands touch her, one on either knee. She nearly jumped out of her skin.
Realizing it must be Abby, Karen tried to act as normal as possible as she felt the hands slowly slip up along her thighs. They reached her skirt and kept going, pushing the costume out of the way. Then they took Karen’s still stroking hand and pulled it away from her sex. Karen felt each finger being drawn into a hot moist mouth and licked and sucked clean. She felt an odd little thrill at the unexpected intimacy of what was happening and tried her best to appear calm and collected; no one else seemed to have noticed that the young girl had slipped under the table.
Abby then spread Karen’s legs even wider and Karen felt something she’d never felt before. Abby slowly kissed her way up Karen’s inner thighs, toward her moist treasure. Karen swallowed hard in anticipation, but she didn’t have long to wait. She soon felt light kisses being placed on her most sensitive flesh and she completely failed to continue eating. The kisses were gradually replaced by soft, tender licks and agonizingly slow probing. It was all Karen could do to simply sit there and stare straight ahead with unseeing eyes.
The licks became firmer and more insistent, driving the eleven-year-old to levels of pleasure she’d never even dreamed of and soon, she simply gave in and closed her eyes, enjoying the delights of sexual pleasure the young girl gave her. Her left hand, which had never ventured back above the table, reached out and grasped the girl’s hair, trying to force her probing tongue deeper into her dripping nether regions. Closer and closer her peak came, but somehow, the girl seemed to sense this and back off, despite the insisting pressure on the back of her head.
Karen wanted to growl in frustration, but she was conscious enough to know that could be quite embarrassing, so she simply had to endure.
Far too many times to count, Abby brought Karen to the very brink of orgasm before backing off. Each new buildup seemed to take less time, until the last three all came within the space of two minutes. Finally, Abby simply pulled away and left the girl stewing, throbbing on the edge of a massive climax that she was dimly aware would have to wait for some measure of privacy. Her sex nearly vibrated with unexpended sexual energy and she actually feared that simply closing her legs might set her off. She watched as Abby surfaced on the other side of the table—her lips, nose and chin still glistening with Karen’s juices—and returned to Brian. Brian, it seemed, had been watching Karen’s building lust with a smirk on his face. Karen’s sex gave a dangerous twitch.
She looked down at her plate and realized she’d eaten next to nothing. Then she noticed that several of the other people at the table had finished their dinner and had returned to the party at large. Karen tried to force herself to eat something but the call of her arousal was just too great.
She slowly stood, being careful to ease her chair back so that it didn’t accidentally overstimulate her and trigger her climax. She tried to think of anything else: schoolwork, Christmas, snippets of overheard conversations... nothing seemed to keep her mind off the impending orgasm that somehow still seemed to be hovering just one or two strokes away.
She skirted the party, headed for a nice, secluded room with a nice, sound-deadening door so that she could finally achieve her release when she was waylaid by both Abby and Mandy.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” asked Mandy in an almost sing-song voice.
Startled by the suddenness of the appearance of the two girls—she hadn’t seen them approaching—she stammered while casting about for a good answer. What she managed was, “Um, nowhere.”
The two girls shared an overly obvious conspiratorial look.
“Ha!” exclaimed Abby, with no apparent regard for the attention she might attract.
“You’re sneaking off to find a place to diddle your skittle,” ribbed Mandy. Karen was too shocked at being caught, despite knowing that both girls likely knew what Abby had done under the table, to find any humor in the statement. Abby snickered, though, then offered one of her own.
“Paddle your pink canoe.”
“Caress your crease?” suggested Mandy.
“Double-click your mouse?” said Abby, giggling.
It finally registered with Karen exactly what they were talking about. She quickly searched the nearby adults for any sign that they’d heard but found none.
“Stop it!” she demanded in a harsh whisper. “I’m not—I wouldn’t—”
“Yes you would,” said Abby.
“But you can’t,” said Mandy. “Actually, we can’t let you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Karen. She sounded almost hurt. She was so desperate.
“Oh, don’t worry,” soothed Mandy. “We wouldn’t leave you hanging all night.”
“We just have to get you ready,” added Abby.
And with that, the two girls took her by the arms and led her off, out of the great room and down the hall.
“Get me ready?” she asked, confused. “Ready for what?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” said Mandy cryptically.
The pair led her down past the coat room and all the way to her parents’ room. Without so much as a moment’s hesitation, Mandy opened the door that Karen knew should have been locked for the party and the two pulled her inside, closing the door behind them.
“First things first,” began Mandy, seeming to appraise the older girl like an artist eying a block of marble. She reached out and pulled Karen’s top completely off. It happened so suddenly that Karen hadn’t had time to stop her. However, she squealed in shock and covered her bare chest with quickly crossed arms. Immediately, her hands found her tiny breasts and began to caress them. Mandy seized her hands and pulled them away from the sensitive flesh.
“Uh, uh, uh,” she scolded gently but firmly.
Abby, while Mandy still had Karen’s hands occupied, took a hold of Karen’s skirt and yanked it right down, leaving the twelve year old naked but for her hat and her shoes, which, it seemed, where next.
“Shoes,” commanded Mandy.
“But—” began Karen.
“Off!” demanded Abby.
“I—” Karen tried again.
Instead of saying anything, the two girls pushed Karen back hard enough that she backed into her parents’ bed and fell back. Quicker than Karen could regain her feet, each girl had grabbed a shoe and pulled it off.
“Hey!” Karen managed, feeling a bit embarrassed by the fact that it seemed as if she were more upset about her shoes being removed than the rest of her stripping. Before she could complain further, however, there was a quick knock at the door. Karen gulped in a breath and held it as the door swung open revealing her own mother. Her eyes went wide as she began trying to stammer an explanation of some kind, but all that passed her lips were incoherent sounds. She watched as her mother stepped inside, closed the door behind her and crossed to Mandy.
“Here you are,” her mother said as she handed the blonde a spool of Christmas-red, satin ribbon. “I knew we had some.” She then turned and captured Karen’s face in her gentle hands, smiling somewhat wistfully and pulling the girl to her bare feet. “Oh, look at you.” Karen couldn’t help but blush at being so exposed under her mother’s scrutiny. “My little girl... All grown up...” She dropped a kiss on Karen’s forehead before pulling her into a hug. The bit of stimulation coming from her still-excited nipples brushing the top of her mother’s blouse was enough to reignite the threat of impending orgasm. But before it was enough to actually bring her off, her mother disengaged and, after gently squeezing her naked arms, turned and left, leaving Karen confused but still needing to cum. Before she could gain her bearings, however, the other two girls had advanced on her, Mandy having pulled an arms-length of ribbon off the spool.
“What’s going on?” Karen asked. “What are you two going to do?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” responded Mandy.
“Not really,” said Karen.
Abby giggled. “What time of year is it?” she asked as Mandy slipped the loose end of the ribbon between Karen’s legs.
Distracted as she was by what Mandy was doing, Karen wasn’t sure what Abby was getting at.
“Winter?” she asked, confusedly.
“It’s Christmastime!” the ten-year-old said with all the excitement of her age.
“And what does that mean?” asked Mandy who had wrapped the ribbon around Karen’s waist and up to her chest and continued to wrap the older girl up in a pattern only she knew.
Again, Karen wasn’t sure of the point.
“Um,” she said as she thought about it. Well, they were at a Christmas party after all. “Parties?” she ventured.
“Try again!” Abby said, giggling again and helping pass the spool of ribbon around Karen’s back even as she restrained the naked girl’s arms to prevent her self-stimulation.
Karen’s eyes followed the spool around her chest, back down to her hips and back between her legs.
“Decorations?” she asked.
“Nope,” said Mandy as she changed the direction of the spool once more. “What else?”
Karen was finding it had to concentrate. The smooth satin of the ribbon teasing her overstimulated sex was driving her to distraction; at this rate, she wouldn’t need her hands to climax. She wondered for a moment what they were talking about before her addled brain supplied another answer.
“Presents,” she said.
“Finally!” exclaimed Abby as Mandy snipped the ribbon from the rest of the spool with a pair of scissors from her mother’s vanity. She began tying a large decorative bow directly between Karen’s two satin-covered nipples.
“That’s right,” Mandy said as she tied. “Christmas means gifts. So, we’re giving Brian a gift.”
The two girls stood back and admired Mandy’s handiwork as Karen’s self-consciousness began to rise under their gaze. The ribbon between her legs which had been inching her toward orgasm while she was being trussed up, now served only to slow the ebbing of her arousal.
Karen caught her reflection in the mirror over the vanity. The ribbon covered her sex and crossed over her non-existent hips almost like a thong, but then it ran up the middle of her tummy to the bow on her chest. From behind the bow, the ribbon crossed her chest, covering her still-hard nipples and diving under her arms to her back only to loop up and around her neck. She was covered, but with the ribbon being only a little more than an inch wide, she was only barely covered.
Apparently pleased with what they saw, Mandy removed Karen’s hat, then each girl took one of Karen’s arms and led her out the door. As they walked, the gentle movements of the ribbon began to stimulate Karen’s sex once again, edging her peak ever closer. But something in her hyper-aroused mind recalled the end of their conversation.
“But I don’t have a gift for Brian,” she said as her pussy twitched.
“Oh, sure, you do,” said Abby.
“But when I said we are giving Brian a gift, I meant the two of us,” said Mandy. “And your parents, of course.”
“My parents?” asked Karen, confused. “What gift. And what do I have to give him?” She didn’t remember getting him anything.
At that point, they’d reached the end of the hall and the great room. The party was still in full swing. Brian still sat on the same couch with his pet still kneeling at his feet. Karen’s sex gave another dangerous throb.
“The gift we’re giving him,” answered Mandy, “is you.”
“And the gift you’re giving him,” said Abby, “is your virginity.”
The trio crossed over to Brian, who stood as they approached. The sound in the room dropped until all was quiet and Karen became increasingly aware of just exactly how she was dressed in this room full of strangers who all now seemed intent on watching her.
“So beautiful,” said Brian. He reached up and caressed her—fingers sliding over exposed skin and satiny ribbon. The feeling of the ribbon on her sex kept Karen on a knife-edge.
“Merry Christmas, Brian,” said the two girls.
Brian took one of the tails of ribbon from the bow and pulled. Karen seemed unable to move to stop it as the bow untied and the ribbon slipped and fell away, removing the last vestiges of her modesty. He took her hands and sat back down on the couch, drawing her down along with him. It was as she straddled his thighs that she realized he was now nude from the waist down, having been stripped, perhaps by Claire.
Hands guided her into position and aimed his rigid cock at her dripping entrance. Hands lowered her body until the head of his manhood slipped inside her. The knowledge that she was about to give him her virginity in front of a room full of adults who all seemed only too eager to watch brought her to the very brink. But it was him thrusting his hips upward, shoving himself through her cherry and all the way inside her that tipped her over the edge.
She screamed.
An hour or more of constant sexual stimulation without release caused her climax to explode within her, making every nerve ending in her body become erogenous. Every inch of skin tingled. Every muscle contracted. Her very bones cried out in ecstasy. It was the most powerful and longest lasting orgasm she’d ever had in her young life.
And then he thrust again. And she was unsure if she’d had yet another orgasm or if he’d just somehow redoubled the last.
Every stroke—every twitch—every thrust inside her caused the waves of euphoria to continue unabated. It crashed into her, emptying her mind and washing away everything but perfect bliss.
And still he fucked her. Quickly. Deeply. Powerfully. Her climax—or series of climaxes—continued until she no longer had the strength to hold herself up. She collapsed forward onto his chest even as her exhausted muscles kept spasming.
And still he fucked her. Her poor abused sex screamed at her from over stimulation, turning pleasure into pain as she became hyper sensitive. She had to simply endure it, though, as she lacked the strength to do anything about it.
And still he fucked her. Neurons fired in her brain in previously unheard of patterns, as her undeveloped body attempted to cope with the sensory overload of too much sexual pleasure. Eyes unseeing—mouth drooling—vocal chords making noises far too primal for intelligent translation.
And still he fucked her. Her overloaded brain finally gave out and she slipped into unconsciousness.
She woke. It was a minute or an hour or a day later. She had no way of knowing. She only knew that he was still beneath her, still thrusting up into her once virginal sex. She was still weak, but she clasped onto him as though her life depended on it. Her cunt grasped and clenched at his stroking member as though trying to keep it inside her for as long as possible.
Her little nap had served to reset her arousal somewhat, so that she was slowly ascending to another climax. This time, she enjoyed it even though she wasn’t able to participate all that much.
Finally, just about the time she had reached her last—and less devastating, though still very enjoyable—orgasm, he reached his and she could feel his pulsing cock spewing his seed deep inside her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she ran the risk of getting pregnant. But at the same time, she knew that it didn’t matter if she did or not. She was Brian’s now, the same as Mandy and Abby and Claire. Well, maybe not the same as Claire. But, still, Karen was his. She belonged to him. And as she sat there, kneeling over his naked thighs, with his slowly softening cock still buried to the hilt inside her, she knew that she would always be his.
And that was OK with her.
After allowing her to rest for a few minutes, still impaled on his cock, Brian lifted her off of him, by her waist, and spun her around so that she collapsed—legs spread lewdly—on the couch next to him, his cum seeping from her now gaping cunt. She suddenly became aware that there was still an entire room full of adults who had witnessed her deflowering, some of whom had actually applauded after their mutual climax. She knew she should have been embarrassed—even mortified—but all she really felt was a kind of peaceful belonging.
She looked over at Abby and Mandy, with whom she knew she now shared a kind of kinship, to find them smiling back at her. It occurred to her now why their Christmas outfits were a little odd: they were imaginary. The two had been as naked as Claire all night long, but no one had noticed their nudity. She wondered if the guests now saw her clothed the same way or if the actually saw her nude, though she couldn’t actually bring herself to care one way or the other. For now, she was sated, she belonged and she was happy. And that was really all that mattered.
As the party wound down a few hours later, Karen was given permission by her parents (as though it mattered) to leave with the Scotts. Her father pulled Mr. Scott aside and informed him that he would be given a nice promotion and, along with it, a healthy raise. Mandy whispered to her that it would mean that they could move to a larger house; Brian’s room was becoming rather crowded. Karen didn’t really care. She was Brian’s. She would stay with him forever. No matter where they lived.
It turned out that Christmas, at least for Karen, still the best holiday of all.
