Marcel Has To Leave

Emilia was not certain how long the **** on her mouth had been going on. She was pretty sure that it had been well over an hour. Perhaps as much as two. With no clock in the basement or watch on her wrist, she could not be positive.

Then again, it could have been fifteen or twenty minutes, and the intensity of those penile probes down her throat just made it seem like a longer time. Although she seriously doubted that. What she did know was she would more than likely be quite hoarse afterwards.

But suddenly it stopped. When Pierre withdrew his stiff prick from Emilia’s mouth, Marcel did not swoop in to cram his cock into her mouth. Instead, he grabbed her upper arm and helped her to rise from the chair. She imagined he would then un-cuff her.

“If you do not mind, would you squat down, please?” he said softly in her ear. That was not what she was expecting. When she did as he asked, his hand still gripping her around her biceps, he said, “Now sit.”

Marcel’s hand holding her arm helped her maintain balance as she complied. Once she was seated on the floor, Marcel moved around to stand in front of her. With the tip of his shoe, he nudged her feet apart until her legs were widespread. The front of her thin skirt slid up around her waist, exposing her naked pussy.

Both Valets could see that her nether lips were swollen in arousal and the slit between them glistened in dampness.

Marcel went first. Placing his powerful hands on each side of her head, he tilted it back to align her mouth with his cock. As before, she did not have to be told what to do. She opened her mouth wide, offering it to his prick.

He once more entered her, aiming for her throat. The power of his thrusting caused her to lean back, her manacled arms behind her, her palms flat on the floor for support. The rhythmic gurgling sounds she made filled the room. Each forward plunge produced a loud gulping noise when the head of his dick moved past the opening to her throat.

In a few minutes, Marcel moved away, and Pierre rushed forward to take his place. With one of his hands clutching the back of her head and the other hand clenching her chin, he shoved his rigid prick in and out of her mouth. His balls slapped against her upturned chin as he fucked her throat as if it were a vagina.

When Pierre stepped back to give Marcel a go, the senior Valet replied, “I have an appointment I have to keep. But if you wish to continue to use her, feel free to do so.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Pierre re-assumed his position, and took up where he left off. As the junior Valet bucked his hips, driving his stiff one-eyed snake in and out of Pamela’s throat, Marcel climbed the stairs. “Be sure to take her and her luggage up to her room when you finish.”

“Will do,” Pierre lifted his gaze from the upturned face of Emilia to look at Marcel. All the while, his rapid jabs continued.

Returning his stare to Emilia, he watched the way his long, slick shaft slid in and out of her mouth. Saliva steadily oozed from the corners of her lips and her lower face was wet with her own spit. Her mascara had long ago been wrecked, and her mousey brown hair was damp with sweat.

Occasionally a particularly deep plunge would cause her to gag, but it did not cause Pierre to pause or even to slow down. Indeed, her gagging seemed to arouse him and each time she did it, his bucking became more forceful during the several following shoves.