Safe Words 3: Angel's Grace, Chapter 6

It wasn’t a surprise that Grace would ask her to disrobe. She was here for a dress fitting, and Grace was a Mistress. The presence of the others disturbed her. When Grace asked her yesterday to disrobe before boarding her private plane, the workers were hidden from view. Today, she was plainly watched by some fashion mogul, the fashion mogul’s seamstresses, and a sexy young male attendant whose chocolate brown eyes roamed her body, eager to see her naked. The chagrin was enormous, but she challenged it—took the anxiety head on. She raised her chin to show her Mistress she was unafraid. Sure, there was a slight hesitation, but look now: her hands were moving, crossing over to clinch the cashmere sweater and pull it off her head—careful to go slow to prevent a static charge that would have her standing naked before them all with a frizzy halo of levitating, electrified hair. Sweater off and tossed to the expensive rug, she unbuttoned the cotton shirt she wore. Now her hands trembled. The girl closest to her chewed her lower lip and Angel smiled, thinking how if Grace saw her doing that the girl might be in trouble.

The room was quiet and despite the cold outside and the wintry light, the space grew from cool to warm. While they all watched silently—the younger three showing a hungry sexual look while Sarah and Grace more unruffled but pleasant expressions—Angel unzipped the skirt and let it fall, then unrolled her tights downward, removing them while she stepped out of her loafers.

Now she stood before them in her underthings, waiting to be sure Grace wanted her naked before she removed them. If she could get away without going naked, she would take it.

Grace said nothing, but gave one slow and firm nod. Angel knew what Grace commanded.

More unsure now, despite the confidence she’d begun this with, her hands folded behind and unclasped her bra. She let it fall, her eyes straying away, unable to look at her audience any longer. Her palms slid down her stomach, dipped under the waistband of the silky underpants her Mistress provided, and guided them to her knees. She stood straight as they fell to the floor, stepping out of them and covering between her legs with both hands.

Grace said, “Look up, Angel. Regard us.”

Angel’s face turned up. The hungry looks were still there. The young man fidgeted, shifting his hips, and she looked away from him. One of the girls was looking at her bare legs, the other girl, a pale-skinned Black girl with an amazing mane of thick black spirals, met her eyes and smiled. Angel smiled in return, the young girl’s act restoring some dignity.

But now, Grace said, “Hands at your sides, dear.”

She let her hands drift away from her crotch and hang at her thighs. Now her eyes rolled up. Everyone would look between her legs and they would see the haircut Skyler gave her.

Grace chuckled and said to Sarah, “I’m taking her to the salon later.” Sarah chuckled as well. Still Angel looked up at the rafters, letting everyone get the good look they wanted.

Grace’s footsteps crossed the carpet, and Angel lowered her chin to face her Mistress. Grace whispered, “They like what they see, my beautiful Angel.”

She looked past Grace to see the others coming closer. The girl with the amazing hair had a cloth tape measure.

“My goodness,” Sarah said, a certain breathlessness in her voice, “how on earth were you so lucky?”

“Angel found me. It’s like I conjured her.”

“You witch,” Sarah said and laughed, reaching out to touch Angel’s bare shoulder. “Her skin is like cream.” Sarah’s thumb pressed harder, then released and watched the spot where she’d pressed. “Strawberries and cream.”

Angel’s knees shook, and she chewed her cheek in secret small bites that she hoped Grace wouldn’t notice. Her cheeks and the back of her neck burned hot. And now her nipples rose.

Grace said, “Exquisite, isn’t she?” Then she reached for the closest seamstress and plucked a pin from a canvas band she wore on her wrist that held pins and tiny hanks of thread. “Let them rise, sweet Angel,” Grace said, turned the pin so the needle point pinched between long thumb and forefinger, and touched the white plastic ball end to her breast. She drew a circle around her nipple, the ball pressing into her flesh. “That’s it, let them grow. Show everyone your arousal. There’s power in it.”

Angel tucked her chin down to witness her nipples condensing and stretching away. The feeling was incredible. Grace turned the pin around, pinching the white ball. Angel held her breath and remained immobile as she watched the needle point touch the bud of one painfully aroused nipple. Grace dragged the sharp metal tine across the tender flesh. Angel’s eyes fluttered and her knees weakened. Grace smiled. The needle toyed with her nipple, never hurting, only delivering astounding stimulation that fogged Angel’s vision.

“There we are. Isn’t she a thing to behold? So sexual. So powerful.”

Angel forced herself to push away her cheek and be strong for her Mistress. Her nipples had hardened to throbbing stones that begged to be touched. Begged to be squeezed. Begged to be nibbled.

Sarah said, “I bet she’s wet.”

Now Angel’s knees tightened against each other. Fuck, she was wet.

“I know she is,” Grace said with distinct pride. She drew a deep, pacific inhale. “I smell her.”

The burn on Angel’s cheeks heated as the humiliation grew starker.

“She’s a virgin,” Sarah said.

“Indeed. She lubricates when she hears my voice. She’s so eager to be pleasured.”

“Grace, you amaze me. Your Angel is a treasure.”

Grace’s eyes met Angel’s, and a joyous feeling blossomed in her chest. A connection between them protected her from harm. Grace cupped her neck, the long fingers and warm palm of her Mistress racing Angel’s heart and flooding her with delight.

Grace’s hand slid down her body, caressing her bare breasts, swooping over her tummy. Grace’s two middle fingers pushed over the scratch of her shorn pubic hair and slipped between her folds. “So wet,” she whispered, then raised the fingers to show the crowd the shine of her dew. She touched the finger to Angel’s lips then, and kissed her softly while they all watched.

Grace smiled, showing perfect white teeth, then tonguing away the sexual wet of their kiss. She stepped back and looked between Angel’s legs. She tut-tutted and said, “What did he do to you, my Angel?”

Angel pushed her knees together, trying to hide the shame of her uneven haircut.

“My man shaved her this morning. I think he may have used garden shears.”

Sarah chuckled, and so did the two girls—whose cheeks also showed a blush of arousal. The boy’s jaw muscles flexed and his eyes studied every naked part of her.

“Whatever he did,” Grace continued, “he tells me this sexpot orgasmed while he did.”

No one laughed, but there was a collective inhale of breath, like shock and passion combined. Angel closed her eyes.

“He tells me she touched his cock afterward. Her orgasm wasn’t enough, she wanted more. She wanted his cock. What did you want to do with it, Angel?”

Her teeth chattered, and her jaw trembled. The shame was huge and her eyes swelled with tears. “N-nothing,” she murmured.

“Nothing? You only wanted to see it?”

She nodded.

“You didn’t want to touch it?”

“I— I t-touched it.”

“You did. I know you did. Are you a bad girl?”

Angel shook her head.

“Did I ask you to touch his penis?”

“No. No, Mistress.”

“Then you are a bad girl. I punish bad girls.”

“I’m a good girl,” Angel whispered.

Grace came nearer. “Is Skyler’s penis large?”

Angel shrugged, eyes roaming around, looking above everyone’s heads. Then she nodded.

“I thought it might be. Did you like it?”

“I don’t know.”

Grace chuckled, crossed her arms, and strolled closer to Sarah. She said to Sarah, “I think my Angel likes big cocks.”

The girl with the hair chewed her lower lip and smiled.

Grace said, “Angel, do you like a big cock? Angel?”

Angel met her Mistress’s gaze. Grace enjoyed this.

She blinked in rapid flutters and felt wet in her lashes. She shrugged again, an anxious knot almost closing her throat, just at the collarbone.

Grace said to Sarah, “What’s his name?”

Sarah said, “Diego,” and Grace and Sarah half-turned to regard the tall young man.

“You say he’s large.”

Sarah said, “Long. I said he was long.”

“Show us, please.”

The young man was quick to undo his belt and unbutton his cotton chinos. He drew down the fly and pulled out his penis. Before revealing it to all the women, he tugged and stretched it, letting it go then to swing from the V of his unzipped trousers.

“It’s nice,” Grace said, then turned to face Angel. “Do you think it’s nice?”

Angel looked at the girls, who all looked at Diego’s penis, then at Sarah, who smiled slyly, then at Grace.

“I asked if you thought it was nice.”

Angel looked at the young man’s penis. The swaying stopped. It was long and brown, the head a slightly rosier version of brown. It moved on its own now, not swaying, but twisting and swelling.

“It’s nice,” Angel said.

“Is it large enough for you—or do you prefer them larger?”

“I don’t know,” Angel said.

Grace half-turned to Diego again, arms still crossed. “Diego, take your clothes off and have a seat on the chair there by the tea set. Lift the chair to sit in front of the table.”

Diego kicked his pants off and unbuttoned his shirt, and threw it to the floor. He was tall and lean, with big hands and tanned olive skin. His muscle showed under the skin with every move he made, walking naked with his long dick swinging, wearing only a few leather bands and braided cords on his wrists and the socks with navy and pink stripes. He lifted the upholstered chair and carried it around to the closer side of the table to set it down. He turned and sat with his legs open, hands on the curved wooden ends of the chair’s arms, his cock laying on the padded seat.

“Take those socks off, please,” Sarah said, and Diego did so right away, finger prying them away before resuming his royal pose.

Grace and Sarah stood on either side of Diego. Grace said, “Angel, come to me and kneel before this young man.”

Her body tried to move, but there were dissidents: her feet stayed planted on the fine cashmere rug.

“Angel?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said at last, her voice pinched tight.

She strode to Diego, naked, hands stroking the opposite arms, the urge to flee and dart for the door and ask Skyler to drive her home so strong in her mind she actually emitted a quiet whimper.

Take me home, Skyler, I want to go home. Home, like all the way in Illinois home.

But still she strode toward the young man with his big penis out.

“That’s far enough,” Grace said.

Sarah said to her girls, “Come around here. Come, stand behind the chair and watch.” The girls scooted on loafers to the far side of the chair, each of their heads looming behind Diego as witnesses.

“Excellent,” Grace said. “Now, Angel, lower before him. Kneel between his open legs, ass on your heels, hands on your knees.”

She whimpered again, lowered slowly before Diego, eyes on his penis that had grown larger, lengthening, rising from the chair’s Chinoiserie cushion.

Grace asked her, “Are you ready to begin?”