Chapter 34

Of course, all of the thinking Emily felt she had to do didn't prevent her from wanting to be fucked by Priscilla that night. Besides, she always had a clearer mind when she wasn't distracted by sexual needs.

Instead of going to the mansion, however, following dinner near Carmel Valley, they went to Priscilla's penthouse in the Astor Place Towers, where Emily was now getting what she needed in order to clear her mind…

On all fours on Priscilla's bed, with Priscilla's hands tightly gripping her haunches, Emily moaned as the strap-on dildo was eased into her vagina, her walls spreading apart to accommodate it.

It was a doozy…among the biggest Emily had ever taken, but earlier, when Priscilla had presented her with several options for attaching to the harness, Emily had chosen this one because her carnal needs were strong enough that she wanted to feel herself pushed to limits tonight.

"Nnnnnggggh!" she grunted as the dildo moved in deeper. Priscilla was taking her time with inserting it—whether out of just trying to be gentle, or just as a way of exercising her control, Emily didn't know.

Finally, Emily felt Priscilla's pelvis against her ass, and she let out a breath. The dildo was all the way in now, and it had been a long time since her passage had been this stretched.

"Oh fuuuuuuck…" she moaned, her head tilted down, and her chin on her chest.

"Good girl," Priscilla cooed. "You took it all. I'm pleased."

Emily's clit went bam! Her vagina also clenched around the massive rigidity filling it.

"I'm glad," she murmured, her voice strained.

"Ready?" Priscilla asked.

"Ready," Emily told her, her pussy tingling with even more anticipation.

"Do you need a safe word?" Priscilla asked. There really shouldn't be a need for one, she considered. Emily wasn't tied up or otherwise restrained, and if she wanted to stop all she would have to do is pull herself away.

"Fuck you," Emily said. "My safe word is keep going."

Priscilla laughed.

"Oh, I do have so much fun with you, Emily Bacon," she said.

And then she started fucking Emily with the strap-on.

"Oh, Jesus!" Emily squealed when it began, the long and girthy toy thrusting back and forth in her pussy. "Nnngh!...Mmmmph!...Nnngh!...Oh, fuuuuuuck!...Mmmmph!"

She clutched at the sheets, and felt her dangling breasts swaying as Priscilla drove the dildo into her repeatedly. She had already been quite wet before the toy had been inserted, and she now felt her inner walls lubricating her passage even more, some of it spraying out of her and onto her thighs with Priscilla actions.

She heard Priscilla let out a sexy moan.

"Oh, fuck, babe," Priscilla gasped. "The harness is fucking hitting my clit!"

Emily couldn't respond with words. Priscilla wasn't taking it slow and easy on her. She was pounding the large dildo into her the way Emily liked it: almost brutally fast.

"Oh fuck!" Priscilla cried out. She started fucking Emily even faster, and even through the delights and the pressure Emily was feeling in her pussy, she knew what Priscilla was doing.

Sure enough, only a handful of seconds later…

"FUCK, I'm coming!" Priscilla shouted.

Hearing that set Emily off.

Her pussy exploded in a titanic orgasm that made her unself-consciously scream, tilting her head back as she did so. The pleasures wracked her core so intensely that she started feeling a tingling in her arms, as though they were losing circulation. As usual, her pussy flooded, and because Priscilla was managing to still fuck her even through her own orgasm, Emily felt her arousal sloshing around inside her passage, while much of it was also dripping out of her.

When the orgasm began subsiding, she could feel the next one waiting in the wings, ready to make its debut.

She didn't care how sore she'd be tomorrow after this ravishing from the huge dildo, there was no way she was going to stop this. So, she decided now was the perfect time to use her paradoxical safe word…

"Keep going!"

***

It took a couple of hours before they got their fill of each other. When Priscilla had the last orgasm of the night, and was lying on the bed panting and whimpering, Emily lay beside her, face down, hugging a pillow to her chest.

She was still shaky and tingly all over from her own climaxes, and was glad for a respite. Along with Priscilla, she was also uttering soft mewling sounds as her core still felt the aftereffects from the pleasures she had been given.

She turned her head to the right so she could look at Priscilla beside her.

The redhead was lying on her back, with her right arm thrown over her eyes, and her lips parted as she continued breathing heavily. Emily watched her small breasts—which almost disappeared when Priscilla lay down—rise and fall, their nipples rock hard and lengthened by their rigidity. Her long legs were still spread, their knees pulled up, and her feet flat on the mattress. Priscilla's thighs were becoming a weakness of Emily's. She adored them, and even the tiniest glimpse of them through a slit in a dress made her lick her lips.

She licked her lips now, in fact, realizing how wet they still were with Priscilla's most intimate essence, thanks to just having gone down on her. She uttered a tiny moan as the taste of Priscilla in her mouth was recharged by what she was now licking off of her lips.

Eventually, Priscilla did lower her knees and lay her legs flat on the bed, and then the two of them remained side by side, not speaking, for quite a while. Emily figured it had to have been close to half an hour. Enough time for Emily to begin thinking about…other things.

Particularly, a logistical problem that had been puzzling her since her conversation with Priscilla in the Bentley en route to Carmel Valley.

"How are you planning on putting the painting back into the museum?" she asked, still hugging the pillow and looking at Priscilla.

Priscilla had said in the car that if The Young Shepherdess were returned where it belonged, that it would remove the one barrier preventing them from being together.

Or words to that effect.

But how would that be achieved?

She watched as the corners of Priscilla's mouth turned upward slightly in one of her patented smug smiles.

"I have no idea what you're referring to," Priscilla said.

Emily rolled her eyes but decided to plough ahead anyway because it really was an intriguing problem.

She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

"I mean, you'd have to get back into the museum…" she began, picturing the steps in her mind, and basically just spitballing ideas, "…with the painting." She paused. "Of course, I would suppose that you wouldn't be the one bringing the painting back. No doubt you'd hire another person or another gang of criminals to do that for you. But the problem is that the museum has beefed up its security, so…"

How would anyone get in? Even to put something back?

Lydia Gennaro, the museum's director, had been in touch with Emily as recently as two days ago to get an update on the investigation. Emily had given her a rather boilerplate verbal report, only mentioning that she and the police were actively looking at persons of interest, and pursuing a lead that reached all the way to Prague. When Lydia asked if Priscilla Kroyn had been of any help with her art world contacts, Emily had only stated that Priscilla was proving to be of value to the investigation, without naming her as the suspect.

During the conversation, Lydia had also detailed all of the new security measures now in place, and which Geneva Excess and the other insurance companies which indemnified art works in the museum would require in order for coverage to continue after such a robbery.

There was no way that Priscilla could use the old thieves-disguised-as-security-company-personnel trick again. What's more, no one was allowed to be left alone in the IDC room any longer, to possibly fiddle with the alarm and camera systems. One of the museum guards would always have to be present.

Breaking in at night—while something that was never easy to do in any museum—was now even more difficult at the San Diego Museum of Art, according to what Lydia reported, so Emily couldn't imagine how any lackeys working on behalf of Priscilla would return The Young Shepherdess after the museum was closed.

"Are you planning on using sleeping gas to knock out the guards at night?" she asked. She had meant that facetiously, but once she had said it, she realized that she wouldn't actually put it past Priscilla to come up with such a scheme.

"That's not a bad idea," Priscilla said flippantly. "How much sleeping gas do you think someone would need to pull off something like that?"

Emily scoffed.

"Fine…whatever!" she muttered. "I know you're not going to tell me! It also wouldn't surprise me if one of your subsidiaries was a sleeping gas manufacturer."

"You know…" Priscilla began thoughtfully, "…I think one of my subsidiaries is a sleeping gas manufacturer!"

Emily rolled her eyes.

"You know, you would make a great secret agent for this country!" she exclaimed. "Nobody would be able to get you to spill any secrets."

"Hmm…maybe I am a secret agent," Priscilla said. "And The Young Shepherdess was part of a larger, more sinister plot against this country."

Emily frowned.

"Wait a minute," she said. "You mean, you wouldn't be a secret agent for the United States?"

Priscilla waved her hand dismissively.

"This country causes enough trouble in the world," she said. "No…I'd be a secret agent for Switzerland. They can not only kick America's ass in all of the important winter sports, but they also make really great watches that I collect."

Emily sighed.

"You are so weird!" she exclaimed.