The spell is cast. (Part 2)

My skin, my body is tingling. My ass is red and warm from her hands and his eyes. My breathing is shallow. They trade places and he saunters up, ready for his strike. I brace, I breathe, I wait.
I hear them talking about me and I fight to keep my head in the room. His voice is slow, Southern honey while hers is a sharp smoke, with movement and purpose. And with all of that swirling, I hear them say I have been a good girl and I cannot help but smile. My muscles sink into the table just a little and I breathe with a little less fear.
He begins to tell me about why I am here. He moves over the story slowly, savoring it. Every word which drips from his mouth must taste like candy the way his tongue rolls over them in the most beautiful drawl.
Slowly, he pours oil over me, and I know what is next. I am giddy. It spills out like his words, flowing with all the time in the world. It leaves slicked patterns of chills over my legs are arms.
And then his hands begin to move. I am rapt in his strong, hands with their thick fingers and wide reach over my flesh. As he caresses, presses, molds and manipulates my skin, my flesh and my nerves, I feel as if I am drowning in pure bliss and I move into every stroke.
He speaks slowly as his hands work my oiled body, caressing and loosening every knot, every tightness, every slight imperfection to which my muscles cling.
I am lost in this world, my eyes sliding shut as I fight to keep them open. I am lost in a spell of whispered words, strong hands working my body, my skin still sizzling on the lingering coals of my paddling.
I lay there, slowly losing touch with my own existence as I feel my juices run down between the full cheek of my ass. I am dripping from the sensation.
This is my reward, and I am soaking in every moment of it. He speaks, his voice caressing my skin right along side his hands. It sends waves, electric floods through my body, working into the crevices. I can feel the ripples making my hips and legs and arms rock and pulse. The energy spills out of me in gasps and whimpers and moans which emanate from the base of my throat.
As my muscles lose all tension, it does not shed but shift. I can feel my cunt pulsing, tight and empty and wanting. I can feel my clit swell, throbbing and engorged.
I can feel her smile upon me, and it's a warmth which makes the whole room tingle. Her pleasure is tantamount to either of ours and it's palpable. We move, we emote, we twist, we touch to please her. And in this moment, she is pleased.
"Please" I finally whimper out.
"Yes?" He asks.
"Please may I touch my clit?" I beg, already half whimpering.
They both laugh, and I feel almost bashful. They discuss briefly, reviewing my performance for the day. I know in my heart I have tried as hard as I could have tried, and I can only hope that I have earned a reward.
When I see the vibrator come out, I almost clap with excitement. I hear it whir to life and my heart flutters. The wait before I feel it is eternal. I hear nothing, see nothing, I can only feel. The pulse emanates and returns to my clit, and every thump is powerful.
When it reaches my clit I almost scream with relief, the same as any steam-filled valve being released.
I begin to writhe almost immediately. It is so close to being too much. He holds it onto my clit in movements and pressure which begin painfully slow. It grinds down, every vibtration, every roll of the head making my clit more swollen and more at ease at the same time.
It is not long before I begin to cum to beg. I am loud, I am screaming, I am granted permission, and I am cumming for him, ruining all the precious relaxation from the massage.
I am jelly. I have no bones, no joints, no cartilage, I am simply spent on the table, breathing hard. They watch me, smirking at my predicament. At my will to move and do more to please but my body's unwillingness to ruin this feeling.
I look up and he is looking down on me, my naked body, my twitching cunt, watching me. It is his turn. He has given me the glow I now wear, and it is his turn.
She comes over, her smile letting me relax. If she is pleased, all is well.
"You've been a good girl." I nod thanks. I am still non-verbal. "Are you ready to serve again?" I nod again, feeling my lips curl into a smile.
I am rising back to life as she commands him to strip down. I watch as his cock appears, swollen and thick. I kick my lips against my will as I watch it bob and drip precum. I want it in my throat, but that is not my job today.
I have been so intent on watching, I didn't even notice she had moved close until I hear her in my ear.
"Stroke his cock." I nod as she maneuvers him onto all fours in front of me. I watch his body tense, watch the muscles flex and release. I watch as curiosity, fear moves into his face. If I had any question that he belonged to her completely, they are gone as his nerves blossom before me.
I reach forward, my lips so close to his skin I can almost taste it. I feel them brush against his tanned, taut flesh, the ridge of his jaw, the heat of his throat. I kiss, delicately, testing the feeling more I enjoy it. I am not afraid, but I am curious.
I grab his cock and feel him shudder. I exhale.
I squeeze it slowly, letting my fingers trail over the length, my thumb finding the tip - finding it wet and coated.
"You may kiss him." I nod. She has given approval. It will please her.
I continue to stroke. I pulse my hand around his cock, working my fist tight and then loose. I pump, dragging my hand up and down, squeezing and then releasing the entire way. I slide my hand to the head, pulsing around the tip, feeling precum ooze onto my fingers. The pads of my fingers find the base of the slit, just under the lip of the head and play it like a piccolo, flitting deep and soft over the soft skin.
I can still feel cum dripping out of my cunt as I lean in and begin to kiss him, tasting his tongue and finding only the sweetest Southern honey. His tongue is forceful and resigned to mine at the same time. I am kissing him and he is allowing it.
I feel him exhale against my mouth and when I look up it is clear why. She is behind him, working her way slowly into his ass. I exhale as I see her, intent and focused, fucking him, her fingers moving in and out.
I squeeze, trying to match her rhythm. I pump his cock as she works another finger into his ass. He moves against me, my lips balanced right on his pulse, which races. I watch her intently, trying so hard to be a simply extension of her control.
His moans and mine form a soft chorus of enjoyment. His cock swells in my hand as she pushes in another finger. His lips find my mouth and tear at my own. I stroke his balls with errant fingers, feeling them bulge in my small hand. My mouth finds his neck, his jaw, my tongue strokes the crest of his cheekbone.
His tanned skin is rippling over the muscles in his back. It glistens with the sweat which has sprung up. I watch his hips buck against her hand, which is pushing further and further into his ass. She is electric, radiant as she presides over this whole scene. I watch her slightest movement for cues and find his cock against with his my hand. I squeeze harder, stroking him with more urgency. As his hips move faster, I become more insistent on his orgasm. I want it. I want to see it splayed over the table, splashing and speckling my thighs.
His moans become more insistent, and ask for permission in their own right. She holds court, and all the energy in the room is manipulated by her. I can breathe only when she breathes. She is working his ass effortlessly, her focus so intent it almost hurts.
He begins to beg, and I begin to tremble. His desire is palpable. I can taste it in the sweat which glistens on his face. I can feel it in the tongue which enters my mouth. It grows in his cock, which is swollen and dripping down my hand.
She grants permission and he cums. I gasp at how his body bucks, rocks, moves, pulses, tightens, explodes. It is impressive in its power. I can feel his cum dotting my thighs. His groans make me tremble. His sighs bring me back to earth.
I re-find my place, kneeling on the table. I am ready for what is next. I am thrilled for what is to come.