Natasha's Truth or Dare

Dear reader, this story continues where "Natasha's Truth or Dare" left off.

*****

There was indeed hell to pay. I woke up late the next morning to the sound of curtains being drawn, and blinding, bright sunlight shining in my eyes. My bedroom had blackout curtains that allowed me to sleep in late. I loved my Provencal curtains with their soft lavender, pastel orange and lime green pattern from an adorable little shop called Les Toiles du Soleil in Chelsea. Getting my bearings upon this rude awakening, I saw my mother standing at the foot of my bed dressed in her workout clothes—a sports bra and running tights. She was a very beautiful woman with long, blonde hair and a hot, slim body for a woman in her early 40s who had had two kids. She gave me a very stern look.

"What's up, Mom?" I groaned, pulling my pillow over my head. I hadn't slept nearly enough, and all of the sexual stimulation of the previous night's debauchery, followed by the high drama of my mom busting me, had wiped me out. I just wanted to sleep and be left alone with my thoughts as I replayed the party's mind-bending events, my heart beating with the wonder of what I had done.

She glanced down at her watch. "It's almost noon. We need to talk before I go out for lunch with Peter Blackstone."

I nodded contritely and sat up, holding the sheet to my chin as I had collapsed in bed naked the night before.

She began with, "You are grounded, Natasha. I am just shocked and disgusted by your depraved behavior that I witnessed. Having sex with that boy in front of all those people? Do you think it's a good idea for all your friends to think about you, and talk about you, as a slut?"

I shook my head, and murmured, "I'm sorry, mom. I was being really stupid." I wasn't sorry at all for what I had done. I didn't give a shit whether my friends or my brother's friends thought I was slut. Everyone I knew was doing this stuff, if they could.

She continued, "I called your father in Paris and asked him come home early from his business trip. You are not to leave this house until he gets home and I want you to think about what you've done, young lady." With that she left, slamming the door behind her with a bang.

Oh dear, this could be worse than I thought.

* * *

I was on tenterhooks and didn't know what to do with myself until my Dad arrived home the following day in the late afternoon. He summoned me to his office after making himself a cup of coffee. He really wasn't happy to have been called home early. My mother left early from work—she manages my dad's gallery that deals in contemporary art—and she was in there with him sitting on the large black leather sofa. She was still dressed in her work clothes, a pink Chanel suit with white fringe, and black patent leather Gucci four-inch heels. The woman had style, albeit an expensive one. My brother, Gavin, was downstairs, hovering around in the living room. As a participating witness and someone who I could implicate in what had happened, I knew he was very curious about what I would say and how I would be punished.

My father, still wearing a custom-tailored tweed suit and cashmere turtle neck he liked to wear when flying, gestured for me to sit down on the sofa with my mom. He remained standing in front of his desk, his hand on his chin. He was a striking man with a strong jaw, close-cropped brown hair, dark eyes that were flashing with anger. Just as one wears one's best to a court appearance in front of a judge, I put on something I knew my dad liked to see me in. It was a short, pleated navy dress of the kind that French school girls wear, and a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar under it. It was demure in the upper body, but showed off my long legs as it was very much a mini ending at mid-thigh.

He growled at me. "So what do you have to say for yourself, Natasha?"

I shrugged, pulling my legs onto the couch and wrapping my arms around them. "We were just playing a game of truth or dare, dad, and one thing led to another. We were just having fun. No one got hurt."

He paused, distracted by the fact that he could see my ass that was pretty much naked since I had worn the tiniest g-string thong that I had. My ploy to sidetrack his thoughts was working! My mom noticed and she put a hand on my knees and pushed them down into a more modest position. She took the baton in the lecture.

"Honey, you are a very beautiful young woman. You are 18 and we haven't said to you don't ever have sex, but the slutty, depraved stuff you did at that party will affect your reputation! People will talk about you as a loose girl who sleeps around and will think less of you... Everyone loves spreading malicious gossip, and you don't want to make yourself the target of that. The slut label is a tough one to live down."

My eyes brimmed with tears and I looked down at the floor, contrite. "I just wanted to be hot for Sebastian. I wanted him to notice me and not think I was prissy."

My father barked, "Well, you certainly proved that. So what punishment do you deserve for your shocking behavior?"

I whispered, "Ten spanks?"

He shook his head. "Fifteen. Ten from me and five from your mother."

I nodded and stood and walked over to his desk. "Okay, daddy. I'm sorry. I was a very bad girl."

I leaned forward submissively, folding my arms and placing them on the desk. I let my forehead rest on my forearms while my back was parallel to the floor and my ass was sticking out towards my mom on the couch. My dad took a step closer and lifted the hem of my dress and flipped it onto my back. He then took hold of my g-string and yanked it down my legs until it was around my ankles. My ass was now completely exposed to them, and my mom, from where she was sitting could probably see my pussy too.

I felt a warmth there as their eyes took in my nakeness, and a seeping. These feelings of arousal were troubling, as I was having them in front of my parents who were so furious with me. Yet feeling their gaze on my naked parts turned me on and I couldn't help it. An involuntary tremble travelled up my legs and I shook a little from the arousal.

In a loud sonorous voice, he counted, "One."

WHAP!

I shouted out as I felt first a sharp pain, then an improbable warmth, where my father's hand had imprinted on the right cheek of my trembling bottom. My mother had an intake of breath, and I could sense she was a little shocked. My dad was almost violent in the blow he had dealt the delicate skin of my buttocks. He took a moment, and asked, "Are you sorry for acting like a wanton slut?"

I nodded my head vigorously, "Yes, daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry!"

"Good, that's what I like to hear. Two!"

WHAP! He wasn't holding back his strength, and the smack he dealt produced a searing, white-hot pain on my left ass cheek. I felt tears form in my eyes and I whimpered. He continued to deliver each slap with precision, switching from one side to the other, and I started to sob and cry out. Tears ran down my cheeks and I tasted their saltiness as one reached the corner of my open mouth. I was writhing as he meted out my punishment. And my butt cheeks must have been very pink by the 10

th

spank!

There was a pause as he reached 10, and I saw daddy take a step back, looking with satisfaction at my quivering bum. Tears had wet my face and the pain was intense, but there was also a warm glow of pleasure that had been growing in intensity. I felt a strange mixture of shame and arousal, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I was getting so horny! If it had been Sebastian spanking me, I would have been begging him to shove his cock in me and fuck me. I let out an involuntary moan.

My mom came closer and lightly touched my tenderized ass with her fingers. I squirmed a little. My buttocks were very sensitive. She whispered to my dad, "She really seems to be enjoying this." I wondered if they were looking at my pussy, and whether they could see how wet the spanking had made me. I flushed with embarrassment at the thought. Dad concurred in a low voice, "Like mother, like daughter. She looks so beautiful right now."

My mother then spanked me, not as hard as my father. I cried out again, but now they were moans of pleasure. When she was done delivering her five spanks, I didn't move for a minute while I waited to see what was next. I could feel juice trickling from my pussy down my inner thigh.

My dad croaked, "Okay, we're done."

I looked back at them. They had both sat down on the sofa and we're staring at my naked ass and pussy. My dad was trying to hide a bulge in his crotch and my mother's legs were crossed and she was leaning forward, like she was trying to hold something in.

My mom whispered, "You can go to your room now, Natasha."

I blushed some more and pulled my thong back up from where it lay around my ankles, and ran to my room and stripped my clothes off. I needed to masturbate like nobody's business, but then Gavin walked in the room behind me. His pants too were tenting out from his hard-on. He unzipped and reached in.

I lay down on my bed while he stood and stroked his big dick. I grabbed my favorite vibrator from my bedside table's drawer and had an amazing orgasm as I smashed the plastic vibrating shaft against my engorged clitoris. I looked at Gavin's thick, hard cock, and I thought about Sebastian fucking me in front of my brother and all those people who had watched us. I reached my orgasm and its electric sexual ecstasy surged through me, making my body shake violently. As I came down from my climax I could hear the sound of the desk in my dad's study creaking. I pictured my mother bent over it as I had been, but my father behind her, fucking her hard. I wasn't the only one who had gotten horny. Gavin came too, shooting a few jets of cum onto the wood floor of my room.

Gavin and I looked at each other and giggled. Then he left to go clean himself up.

* * *

Two days later everything was forgiven and forgotten and I was allowed to go clubbing downtown the day after Christmas. Well "allowed" isn't exactly right—my parents had been invited to a big splashy dinner party thrown by Jeff Koons. They wouldn't be home until very late, so it was easy enough to assure them I would be staying home for the night with my college roommate who was coming into the City, and sneak out after they were gone. This was NYC, after all.

* * *

I had screwed up my courage and texted Theresa, Sebastian's sister, and made a date to meet at a hot new club on the edge of Chinatown and the Lower East Side. She said she would do her best to bring her brother along. I so wanted to see him again! He had flipped a switch in my psyche, and all I could think about was fucking him again. I felt like a drug addict or something.

My roommate from college took the bus into NY and came to our house. Her name was Katie Wolfer, and she was a little innocent. But we got along well and I thought I should open her eyes a little. She was a tall, leggy blonde with a very pretty face and I had mentioned to her earlier in the semester that I wanted to introduce her to my modeling agency as she could use the money. Her father had been a pilot and had died when she was just 10 years old. She grew up with a working mother on the wrong side of the tracks in Greenwich, and as such had live a pretty cloistered life, just trying to help out her mom and make things work. Her mom in the meantime had found a rich French boyfriend, and so things had gotten a lot better for them. He was very generous and put her through college. Katie eventually became a fashion model, a supermodel even, and wrote a very scandalous erotic memoir called

Cult of Beauty: The Secret Life of a Supermodel

.

We got ready in my room, and just as I had done with Alina for the party, I let Katie have the run of my closet. Coming from her modest economic background, it was kind of blowing her away. A lot of my stuff had been given to me as presents from designers or were leftovers from fashion shoots, but she thought I had bought it all, or that dad spent tens of thousands of dollars on my party dresses.

We had fun trying on a bunch of dresses and skirts and tops. We finally decided on two Versace mini dresses as she had always dreamed of going out in one—hers had a gold fringe, while mine was an orange tie-die silk dress with flowing sleeves and a silver chain belt. It was fun to make a dream come true for her, even if it was a little one. Silver strappy Jimmy Choo sandals with four-inch heels completed my outfit, while Katie borrowed a pair of light tan suede ankle booties.

* * *

There was a little crush of people on Christie Street in front of the club. But when Katie and I pulled up in our black SUV that we had gotten on Uber, and stepped onto the sidewalk (teetering slightly in our heels), the crowd parted like the Red Sea. The bouncer, who had just been beating back the crowd, waved us in with a little bow.

* * *

The club, which was called "The Molly," had once been a theater catering to the immigrants that had lived in the tenements on the Lower East Side. Now that the neighborhood was gentrified and overrun by hipsters, like everything else, it had undergone a radical transformation—but it's timeworn architecture and décor gave the club a fun, sexy vibe. Why is decay sexy in a building but not in people? I don't know. There was also a basement where the restrooms were, and corridors with dimly lit alcoves here and there in which the club owners had strategically placed settees and Victorian looking couches.

Katie and I wandered into the main room—our senses were assaulted by throbbing music and disco lights. Some people were swaying on the dance floor, but the night was still young and people wanted to get their drunk on first. The main room also had a balcony, which was designated as a VIP area with lounge beds and view on the action below. Access to the balcony was restricted by a very large black bouncer with a large ring in his nose and heavy jewelry on his fingers that would inflict severe damage if he was displeased with you. You needed to be invited up by the owner, manager, a partner or someone who was already up there. None of these were available upon arriving, so I suggested that we get a drink at the bar to start things off.

I ordered tequila shots with Mexican beer chasers (Bohemia—so much better than Corono or XX) because I really wanted to loosen Katie up. I raised my shot glass to hers.

"Truth or dare?"

Katie looked at me blankly. "Huh?"

"Two nights ago my brother and I had that party at our house that you missed. One of the boys that was there was Sebastian..."

She smiled, "The one you're looking for tonight?"

"Yes, him. So he started a game of truth or dare, that basically led to all kinds of crazy shit at our party. Have you ever played it?"

She shrugged, "I think so, ages ago. It's a kids game isn't it?"

I smirked, "No, it can be a very adult game. Depends on how you play it."

We both tossed our shots back, coughing slightly as the burn of the tequila scorched our throats. Then we slugged our beer. Katie wiped her mouth and said "Okay, I'll play. Truth."

I waved at the bartender to serve us another round of shots.

"So you get one truth, but then after that we switch to dares. It's more fun. Have you ever made out with a girl?"

Katie eyes widened. "Are you gay?" She blurted.

I laughed, which caused me to snort up some beer through my nose and I had to grab a napkin from the bar to wipe myself off.

After regaining my composure, I said, "No, I'm not gay. I'm just curious if you ever kissed a girl... I'm here for Sebastian, remember? Not for you."

Katie thought for a second, then shook her head."A girl pecked my lips once at a party, but it wasn't like a big thing. It didn't bother me, but I wasn't like hoping she would do more."

I gestured for her to pick up her shot and picked up mine. We clinked glasses and sipped at the tequila rather than shooting it back this time, in an unspoken accord.

I cocked my head. "Would you?"

She blushed a little, and gave me a non-committal shrug. "I don't know. I guess, maybe. If I thought the girl was pretty and the circumstances were right."

I knew that she had experienced very little adventure in her life so far, particularly of the sexual kind. She and I had both always been good girls. It was time to change all that. We were 18, blessed to have been born pretty enough to become fashion models, and on this night, we were free to do whatever we wanted in one of the greatest cities in the world, New York City. She peered at me over her shot glass. "What about you?"

I blushed, a little embarrassed, and nodded. "The other night at the party. I snogged both Sebastian's sister, Theresa, and a model friend of mine, Alina, who was there. We were playing the truth or dare game and someone dared us to do it."

Her eyes had widened. "Oh. Did you like it? Did you do something else?"

"I ate Alina, and Theresa ate me."

Katie was agog, and said in a loud stage whisper, "Theresa really ate your pussy? You liked it?"

I smiled and nodded.

"Did I hear someone say my name?" My heart leapt in my chest, and my mouth went dry as I turned to see Theresa standing behind us flanked by her brother. They both looked stunning and I was again mesmerized by their intense sexuality—it ran in the family. I glanced at Katie and saw that she was agape too, and her cheeks were flushed. Theresa leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Then he did too. I was so happy they had come, but tried hard to play it cool.

"Sebastian, Theresa, meet my college roommate, Katie Wolfer. I just challenged her to a game of truth or dare, and was telling her about our game at the party the other day."

Sebastian grinned. "I'm in. Nothing like a game of truth or dare to spice up an evening. Hey, do you guys want to go up to the VIP lounge? The owner of the place is a friend of mine."

Of course he was

. Sebastian didn't wait for answer as his question was rhetorical and he led us right past the bouncer who waved us in. We climbed a set of spiral stairs with Sebastian leading the way, pushed through thick, carmine velvet curtains and emerged into the VIP lounge.

Sebastian picked a seating area with a couch and took the center spot, with Theresa flanking him on his right, and me flanking me on his left. He was wearing dark, waxed jeans, a collared shirt open at the neck, a jacket and loafers. Theresa was wearing a black leather mini skirt, a white silk blouse that had a plunging neckline that made it clear she didn't have a bra on, and over-the-knee, black leather boots with five-inch heels. Her long, golden hair had been pulled tight into a high ponytail that suggested a German dominatrix, or something. She was incredible.

A waitress who looked like an English milkmaid, with reddish, long wavy hair, pale skin and carmine cupid bow lips, appeared and greeted us with a toothy smile. She was really pretty and reminded me of a Karen Elson, a model I had been a fan of all through my teenage years when I was thinking about becoming a fashion model. She was wearing tiny yellow-sequined shorts that didn't even reach the bottom of her ass, a semi-transparent tube top, and high wedge sandals. She asked what we wanted. This place was hot. Sebastian asked me what we were drinking, and when I told him, he ordered a bottle of Patron and a bucket of Bohemia beer for the table. Before she left she stared at Katie and said, "Are you Doutzen Kroes?" Katie looked confused and said, "Who?" The waitress continued, "The model."

I quipped, "She's Doutzen's twin sister." The waitress giggled and went to get our drinks. I looked at Katie, "People already think you're a famous model. I'm going to have my manager get pictures taken of you next week." She shook her head and said, "I'm not nearly as pretty as you are." I pressed on the tip of her, "You're gorgeous, Katie... You just need to own it."