Chapter 8

I looked up from my book and kneeling at my feet. I saw Agnes in the perfect submissive pose. She was naked and kneeling with her knees spread, open hands on her thighs and back straight. I could see that her pussy had a sheen of wetness which made it look slick and inviting.

“What is it, Slut?”

“Sir, your Pet is needy. She needs your attention.”

Since Agnes had seen my display of dominance when we visited with the Prince of Wales, and I had subjugated one of his mistresses, she enjoyed it when we played D/s roles. I must say I was not displeased with that turn of events.

“Can’t Pet see that I’m busy?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Sir. Maybe you should punish me, Sir?”

“Stand up and come closer, Pet.”

As she stood in front of me, I reached up to her gorgeous tits and fondled them. I bounced them in the palm of my hand before pinching her nipples between my fingers.

“Mmm, yes that feels so good, Sir. It makes my pussy tingle when you do that.”

“It does? Let me check. Spread your legs for me.”

As she obeyed I pinched her pussy lips and rubbed them together causing her to moan. She was so horny that they slid smoothly and wetly against each other. I parted them revealing her tight pink orifice which begged for my fingers.

“You are not to cum until I give you permission,” I said as I slid my fingers into her. I massaged that juicy hot pussy making her whole body shudder in response. When I felt her juices flow in response to my fingering I took her and placed her across my knees with her ass facing me.

“Okay wench time to punish you for disturbing my reading!”

“Oh, please Sir don’t hurt me,” she pleaded. I could detect her giggle though I could not see her face.

I caressed her beautiful curved ass cheeks warming it up with my hands as she squirmed on my lap. Her belly pressed down on my cock which rose to meet the challenge. She chuckled as she felt my member pressing into her. “Stop it!” I growled.

“Stop what, Sir?”

“Stop delaying your punishment by getting me all excited.”

With an aggrieved tone, she said, “But Sir I’m just lying down across your lap. Is that getting you excited?”

“You know it is you little slut,” I said as I raised my hand and started spanking her butt. I landed ten smart spanks on each cheek and by the time I was done both her cheeks glowed with a lovely rosy tinge to them.

I parted her legs and felt her pussy which was sopping wet with her juices literally dripping from her.

“Thank you, Sir,” I deserved that she sniffled.

I just picked her up and carried her to the bedroom in my arms and lay her down across the bedspread. Placing a pillow under her hips, I parted her thighs and looked down at her.

“Cock your legs back and keep them spread. Time for me to use that tight little pussy of yours to relieve the tension you have caused my cock.”

“Yes, Sir. Please use my pussy it’s yours to use as are all my holes, Master.”

I hastily removed my clothes, knelt between those slender thighs and plunged my cock into her. Her legs wound around my hips pulling me tight into her. Her lustrous dark eyes were gleaming with delight as I thrust in and out of the tightest warmest pussy I had ever enjoyed.

She started to moan, and I warned her, “Don’t cum till I tell you that you may. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir. My love and my Master.”

Her breasts were against my chest as she parted her lips and kissed me. I could feel those hard nipples against me and her soft tongue exploring my mouth. My cock throbbed in her depths as I felt the glans rubbing against her cervix. I was on the point of cumming.

“Now! Cum now,” I told her.

I felt her whole body quiver under me, and my cock was awash in her hot cum as she moaned and writhed. My own ejaculation followed, and stream after stream of my seed bathed her pussy.

After we both were through, we just lay there snuggling. Agnes nuzzled my neck and whispered to me, “What were you reading that was so riveting?”

“Love for Sale, it’s a history of prostitution through the ages.”

“You seemed lost in thought, what was going through your mind?”

“I just thought that it’s a very complicated subject. In all sexual relations, there is an exchange between both parties. They each receive something from the other so where is the line between a woman and man who are married and a prostitute with her client. Both situations seem to me to be quite similar.”

“So, where do you place love in that equation?” She asked.

“What’s Love Got to do With It. as goes the song? I am starting to see that there are two elements involved. One is love, but the other is lust. I love you beyond all others but I can still lust for others they are not mutually contradictory.”

“Darling, I can see that you are becoming a wise man.”

“Agnes, you are the one who has taught me that lesson. If I had not learned, I would be a mass of jealousy waiting to explode. When I see you in the embrace of another man or woman I know you satisfy your insatiable lust, and still I know you love only me.”

“Very true, John. What has that got to do with prostitution?”

“I just wondered if a prostitute felt only lust or nothing. Perhaps she even fell in love with her client.”

“As you know I have had that role at times in my history. I can tell you it can be all three or any combination thereof. John, until now our sexcapades have had the purpose of you having different experiences with a variety of women. How would you feel in assisting me with a seduction of my own?”

“Who’s the lucky guy? Should I feel jealous?”

“No silly it’s a woman or rather a young girl.”

“Now who would that be?”

“I’m keeping that as a surprise as you will have to help me this time. You’ll be the bait.”

“And I’m just supposed to sit and watch?”

“No, dear, you will get to participate if we do it right, but first Tango lessons.”

“Tango?”

“Yes, Tango. Since you are interested in prostitution, legend has it that the Tango originated in the brothels of Buenos Aires.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Now time to get rid of that extra fat you have been collecting sitting down and reading all day. Stand up!”

“Okay, now we can’t turn you into Antonio Banderas or Al Pacino but who knows you might yet have undiscovered talents. Now let’s start with the embrace.”

“That should be easy,” I giggled.

“No! You ass, get your mind out of the bedroom. Here stand in front of me. Now place your hand lightly curved around my back. Higher and stop clowning. Back not the backside. Now hold your arm to the side and bent at the elbow. I will place my hand in yours. That’s it, now don’t clutch at me.”

“Agnes, this is going to be difficult. I keep wanting to poke my erection into you.”

“Okay, I guess we had better put on some clothes. I keep wanting you to do that also. You would never learn, and I won’t be able to teach you.”

We spent the next several days dancing together for two hours a day. Agnes drilled the beat into me, and at night I would find myself counting the steps and rhythm of the Tango to put myself to sleep when Agnes did not exhaust me.

Tango is a simple combination of two slow walks and a Tango Close. The five steps are counted “Slow, Slow, Quick Quick Slow,” resulting in a total of eight counts. She drummed that rhythm into me daily. I found that instead of walking I was now gliding all over the place.

One day Darcy my uncle walked in on me as I was prancing around the living room. He shook his head and muttered,”Ah! Tango,” and walked out to return to his quarters at the other end of the book.

Finally, Agnes was satisfied. She confessed to me that I had graduated from looking like an elephant doing the waltz to the point where most women would be happy to do the tango with me.

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” she announced.

“Where to my love?”

“John, where do you think Tango would be a useful skill of seduction?”

“Argentina?”

“Yes, Argentina.”

We arrived at the Alvear Palace Hotel in a remise, a privately owned car used as transportation for hire. When I saw what taxis looked like I was glad we had chosen this form of transportation. A doorman in a uniform reminiscent of the Hungarian Hussars welcomed us and called two bellboys to help us with our luggage. When I say, bellboys, I mean just that as they could not have been older than thirteen years old.

The drive through the city had surprised me. This did not resemble my concept of a South American city. Our driver provided us with a guided tour as we drove up the Avenida 9 de Julio. He pointed out the Opera House which he proudly proclaimed to be larger than the Paris Opera House and the Scala de Milan. He showed us the Casa Rosada, the Argentinian White House in pink, and other landmarks. The city was more European than South American.

When I commented to Agnes about this, she told me to look around me. I noticed that the people also seemed more European than Latin. She told me that the Italian, German, British and East European people formed the majority of the population which is why I saw so many blue-eyed blonds.

The hotel lobby was majestic, and after registering, we were escorted to our suite by the concierge. We were Sir John and Lady Agnes again. When I asked Agnes why we had adopted our British personae, she explained that the Argentines were envious of America’s role as a significant power and more sympathetic to Britain.

Like all the hotels Agnes had booked us in, this one reeked of opulence. Our suite was magnificent, and once our luggage was deposited, we got out of our traveling clothes and relaxed.

I looked out of the window and was confronted by the view of mausoleums. We were overlooking the Recolletas Cemetery burying place to the upper crust of Argentina. There were no headstones but acres of crypts which were the size of small houses. I began to get an idea of the incredible wealth that existed here.

When I mentioned this to Agnes she said there was an expression used at the time ‘Rich as an Argentine,’ however, there was incredible poverty also. She added cryptically that this was one reason she had chosen to come here, but refused to elaborate.

Supper time finally arrived at ten o’clock, apparently the earliest time that supper was served. My stomach was grumbling. I asked Agnes whether the food was spicy and she twittered that it, in fact, was the opposite of spicy. When I asked her what I should order she said to ask for a lomo with papas provencal.

“What the heck is a lomo?”

“Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong.”

“Not so far,” I answered.

“Oh! Also, order a bottle of Argentinian Cabernet or a Malbec. Let the sommelier choose which he thinks most appropriate.”

My curiosity as to what we were going to be eating was answered when the waiter served our meal. Apparently, a lomo was a whole filet mignon strip, and papas provencal were French fries sprinkled with what seemed to be parsley. He divided the lomo into two portions a smaller one for Agnes and a larger one for me.

The food was outstanding, and the wine was a perfect complement to the meal.

As we ate, Agnes would cast glances around the room and in particular towards the bar at the rear. Finally, her face broke into a smile. I glanced in the direction she was looking to see a young woman taking a seat at the bar.

“Is that our prey, darling?”

“Yes, don’t stare at her yet.”

As we finished our meal, I heard the unmistakable sound of a bandoneon, the essential concertina-like musical instrument indispensable to all tango orchestras.

“Agnes, is the young woman a prostitute?” I asked.

“Well yes and no. She wants to be a ‘mina.’ That is essentially a kept woman or mistress to a wealthy man. She has not yet met that person, so she hangs out at bars and dance halls waiting for her opportunity and being sampled by men she chooses as possible prospects.

Tonight my darling we will both sample her. I want you to invite her to dance and then bring her back to the table. Do not proposition her. I will have the concierge send her to your room after I leave, and you dance with her again for about half an hour longer. You will tell her I have to go to meet some old friends and you will go to the room. Understood?”

“How could I not understand such explicit instructions, boss.”

“On your way my ever gallant Lothario.” She said smiling at me.

I walked over to the bar and sat next to the young lady in question. Mustering my best Spanish, I asked for permission to sit next to her.

“Con Su permiso.”

She turned to face me, and after looking me over, she smiled and said, “Encantada.” Delighted.

In truth, I was enchanted. The young woman was delightful with her blond hair piled on top of her head and sparkling dark eyes. Her red lipsticked smile revealed pearly white teeth. This girl was beautiful and probably not much older than eighteen.

“Senor is English?” She asked.

“Si,” I answered with a smile. “How can you tell?”

“It is the accent, Senor. Do not worry I know the English language.”

Her accent was pure BBC English. She handed me her dainty hand and introduced herself. “Eva Duarte is my name. And you?”

“Sir John,” I replied.

She giggled girlishly and said, “Oh! You are the first English Lord I have encountered. I am so honored.”

“Don’t be. We put our pants on like all men, one leg at a time.”

She smiled flirtatiously back and asked, “The same for removing them?”

I blushed and asked her if she would be willing to dance with me.

“Senor, I do not foxtrot as the English do.” She answered.

I stood and helped her to her feet and led her to the dance floor.

I took the classic Tango position, and her eyes went wide. “You know the Tango?”

“A bit, Senorita Eva. I will try not to crush your toes under my big and clumsy feet.”

She was taller than I expected her to be and her red tango dress was slit to permit freedom of movement and to reveal a set of sensational legs. She flowed around the dance floor in my arms and inspired me to feats I had seen but not yet tried. When she lifted her leg at one point, I slid my hand up her thigh to support her and discovered the softness of her skin.

The dance over I invited her to the table where Agnes was sitting. When I introduced her to Agnes, a faint pout showed on her lips. This was rapidly replaced by a smile when Agnes explained that she was going to her friends and would see me in the morning.

After she left we danced a few more dances before I presented my excuses telling Eva that the trip had fatigued me and that I hoped to see her again. She smiled at me gave me a light kiss on the cheek and told me she hoped so too.

I returned to my room where Agnes was waiting for me.

“What now?” I asked.

“Patience. Good things come to he who waits. I can see from that bulge in your pants that you are as ever ready.”

“Well she is delectable, and I would not hesitate to sample her charms.”