- GREG

 

IT WAS A JOKE, that was all. The prudish parsonage in Haworth, scene of all that pious repressed Victorian yearning of the Victorian Brontë sisters, not a sex scene in sight. And I was using it for one of my parties. Not only that but I planned on finding a virgin to fuck. What would they have thought?

The place wasn’t supposed to be available for private hire but with my kind of money, obstacles that are completely intractable for other people just melt away.

I paid enough to hire the place for the night, I just didn’t tell them what I planned to do there. Something told me even my money might not be enough if they knew the truth. All they knew was that I had a private birthday party booked, private catering, private security and a personal guarantee from me that nothing would be damaged. I always kept my word and they knew that. Everyone knew that.

I don’t do backstory so there’s mystery amongst my friends about why I like virgins to come to these parties. They imagine some complicated history. It's really pretty simple. I like to see the shock on their faces when they see the things my friends get up to. I also like giving some lucky girl the best night of her life, makes me smile to think of them remembering me years later when they’re married to Mr. Respectable but boring in bed. They'll never forget me.

What would the Brontë's have made of me choosing a virgin to fuck right there in their home? I doubted they’d have approved although maybe Anne would have been up for it, the little minx. Would she go for the whip or the crop on her ass? Which of the Doms would she pick? There was a literature question you wouldn't find on a degree course.

I turned up to the party with a woman on each arm but they weren’t going to cut it once I was inside. I wanted someone new, a fresh victim, someone who would look at my muscles and then swoon, even with the mask hiding my face. Then I’d have my fun with them. Then get rid of them and move on, party over.

I sent Christine to the chair, leaving her tied in place with her dress around her waist, two men playing with her nipples. Sandra, I left draped over the wooden horse, her screams echoing around the room as the whip cracked again. It was fun to watch but it wasn't why  I was there.

I saw the one I wanted when the wine was brought into the living room on trays. She caught my eye immediately. “Who’s that?” I asked, nudging Mark in the ribs.

He’d been my best friend for years and had helped organised this whole thing including hiring the staff. She was the only waitress I didn't recognise. I knew the rest of them. It was the same as last year.

The party was the exactly same format as then. The virgins would mingle with the rest of the guests, in shock for most of the evening. I would pick the one I wanted and as birthday boy, I’d take her off and indulge, be her first, leave her with a lifetime of memories while I started looking for the next one. There was nothing quite like inducting a newcomer to the world of submission.

I knew exactly who I wanted. She had just come in carrying that tray. I needed to know who she was. She was standing frozen, mouth open, eyes wild, staring at Sandra being whipped by Peter. He was making her beg for each blow.

What was she thinking as she watched? She looked scared but there was something else there. What was that? I smiled as I worked it out. She was intrigued. “The waitress, ” I said, nudging Mark again. “Who is she? ”

“Her?” Mark said, looking across at her. “No idea. I didn’t bring her. I’m guessing one of the waitresses.”

“How can you have no idea? I thought you hired all the staff for the night.”

He shrugged. “Maybe someone was off sick, I don’t know, Greg. Why, do you like the look of her?”

“Don’t you?”

He shrugged again. “She’s attractive but she’s staff, not one of the guests. You can’t just go up and ask if she’s a virgin. She’s being paid to serve drinks, not you.”

“For now,” I said with a smile. “Look at that body, just begging to be tied down and fucked."

“Hang on, I bring all these women here for you to choose from, all of whom are desperate for you to choose them and you set your eyes on the waitress?”

“It’s my birthday,” I said, my eyes fixed on her as she put the tray down in the corner. “I get to choose.”

“And you’re choosing a waitress? Someone who probably lives with her parents and would run a mile if she knew what you were thinking of doing to her? What makes her so special?”

“I don’t know. I just want her.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll think you’re falling in love.”

We both laughed. He knew as well as I did that one thing I would never do was fall in love. “I’m as likely to fall in love as I am to stop fucking around.”

“You can’t fuck around forever. Sooner or later you’ll end up married like everyone else.”

“Bullshit.”

“I mean it. One of these days you’ll fall for someone and then I’ll be getting measured up for best man suit.”

“Love is the ultimate turn off, Mark”

“I know. You keep telling me. As soon as any woman shows anything other than lust towards you, you get rid of them. You can’t do it forever, that’s all I’m saying.”

“And you’re the expert? Your longest relationship lasted a week and that was four years ago.”

We laughed again as the waitress walked back past us with an empty tray, heading towards the kitchen. I caught her arm, turning to Mark. “I choose her.”

“Excuse me,” she said, turning to look at us both, trying to free her arm from my grip. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re a virgin, right?” I asked, looking her right in the eye.

Before she answered I knew. It was written right across her face. “I’m going,” she said, still trying to pull her arm free. “I shouldn’t even be here. I had no idea it'd be like this. This is wrong.”

“That’s a yes then. I choose her, Mark.”

“I don’t think she’s up for it,” he replied, watching her trying to break free from my grip.

“Up for what?” she asked, her chest heaving, drawing my eye. “Can you let go of my arm, please?”

“In a minute. You know why I’m having this party? Look around you, you think this is some dinner party for Jane Eyre fans? It's a BDSM party and you're gatecrashing. I think maybe a spanking would be suitable punishment. So get upstairs and let’s see how innocent you look without those clothes on. I'll give you a first time to remember.”

“I don’t know who the hell you are but let me go this instant.”

I let go of her arm. “Get out of here,” I said, waving towards the kitchen. “Go back to play with your toys, the grown ups are working.”

She stamped her foot. She actually stamped her foot. I felt my cock twitch at the sight of her tantrum.

“I am not a child.”

“Then stop acting so shocked when someone talks about sex. I’ll give you a choice. Stay and we fuck or go back to your dull little life and forget what you saw here. Up to you but I’m only giving you five seconds before I make up your mind for you.”

“I can’t believe you think it’s all right to speak to someone like that.”

“Time’s up. Adrian, get rid of her.”

The doorman was over in a second, leading her away as she continued to protest. I managed not to laugh until she was out of sight.

“Did you see the look on her face when you asked if she was a virgin?” Mark said, a smirk playing across his face.

“Hang on,” I replied, digging out my phone. I rang one of my people. I had a group of staff available twenty-fours a day at a moment’s notice to do whatever I asked of them. I never knew their names, just their voices. “Mr. Osborne?”

“Do me a favour?” I said down the phone.

“Of course, Sir.”

“There’s a woman just leaving the kitchen of the parsonage at Haworth. I want her name.”

“You’re kidding?” Mark said next to me. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

I shook my head, muting the phone for a second. “I’m not done with her yet. No one says no to me and gets to just walk away.”

“I’m telling you, you’re falling in love like a normal person.”

“That’s enough of that bullshit. I just want to fuck her and I always get what I want.” I returned to the call. “Get back to me as soon as you have something.”

“Within an hour, Sir.”

They were as good as their word. My phone rang while I was outside getting some air. Ever since she left, my interest in the other guests had died down. It was like I’d been eating and everything was fine and then something had interfered with my tastebuds and what had tasted great was now dry and flavourless. I’d tasted her and nothing else would compare until I got a chance to finish the meal.

I needed to taste her again. Nothing was going to be good enough apart from her. I wanted her ass under my hand, her pussy spread open for me to run my tongue down, my cock choking her while she gagged. I wanted to be her first and I wanted it to be the most intense experience she would ever have, leave her begging for more, like they all did.

“What have you got?” I asked when the phone rang.

“She’s called Rachel Murphy, aged nineteen. Lives in New York.”

“Good work, are you sure?”

“Simple reverse image search online based on the CCTV still we hacked from the parsonage. Matched to a social media profile image with one hundred percent certainty, Sir.”

“Anything else? What’s she like? What’s she doing in England?”

“According to her updates, she’s here on vacation. Latest post from twenty-three hundred hours stated ‘About to land. Can’t wait to meet my tour guide from Writing Wanderers tomorrow to get going. Bucket list about to be kicked over the horizon. See you all when I get back!’ Prior to that, she took a flight from New York to Manchester. She’s over here for a fortnight. Do you want the full file?”

“Email it to me. Interests?”

“Nineteenth century literature with a special mention for Charlotte Brontë, medieval monastic architecture, Wordsworth poetry, Roman Britain.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“A lot of likes from an Ian Costigan.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No sign of that on her page but his profile’s set to private. We’re working on getting access to confirm.”

“Good work.”

I hung up. So she was a history and book geek. That could work. I knew a bit about such things and it made it easier than finding out she was into some band I’d never heard of or a TV show I didn’t watch. I typed in Writing Wanderers into the Internet and started reading the page that popped up. Literary and historical tours of the country with a personal guide. Interesting.

“You coming in?” a voice asked. I turned to find Mark on the doorstep. “Only Veronica’s started her strip show. She’s doing things with glowsticks I didn’t know were anatomically possible.”

“In a minute,” I said. “I have a name.”

“What, for your new love?”

“Don’t call her that.”

“So what is she then, your latest victim?”

“That’s more like it. She’s Rachel Murphy and she’s on a tour of the country with her own tour guide.”

“You’ve got that look on your face. You’re up to something, Greg. What is it?”

“Nothing much. I just think she might need a new tour guide if hers suddenly cancels without warning tomorrow morning.”

“Why didn’t you just take her upstairs and fuck her while she was here? Why all this dancing about? No one would have stopped you.”

“Do you know what happens if you force open a chrysalis?”

“What?”

“If you force it open, the butterfly inside it dies. You can’t rush nature. If you leave it and wait and watch, you see the butterfly’s full beauty as it emerges in its own time.”

“And she’s the butterfly, right? So what are you going to do, just watch and wait?”

“There is something you can do with a chrysalis. You can nurture it, you can give it the right environment to encourage it to open quicker.”

“And that’s what you’re going to do?”

“Exactly.”

"Rather than drag her upstairs."

"Exactly."

“Why her though?”

I shrugged. “No one’s ever refused me. I'm intrigued. I want to know why.”

“I get it. You want to fuck her because she refused. You just want the challenge of seeing if she’ll do it.”

“Maybe I do,” I said, hearing the cheering from inside as a glowstick flew out of the window and landed on the grass next to me. “Maybe I like the fact she only saw me in a mask. Slight adjustment in my voice tomorrow and I’m a tour guide taking my paying client to some of the most romantic places in the country.”

“And then fucking her in them? Come on, let’s go in before we Miss. the end of her act. I paid good money for this for the birthday boy and you’re missing it all to mope over a waitress.” He shook his head. “I never thought you'd fall for a waitress.”

“I never thought you’d fuck a Greenpeace activist.”

“In my defence, she was pretty hot once you moved her dreadlocks out of the way.”

Laughing together, we headed back inside, me ducking as another glowstick flew past me. Veronica was in the middle of her act and normally I’d have enjoyed watching but not tonight. My mind was elsewhere, thinking about nineteenth century literature and the woman who loved it enough to travel halfway across the world for it.