Episode V
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She lay on her back.
Her eyes fluttered open and closed.
Her right leg was kipped up to the side, her right arm laid loosely over her head. Her left leg was straight; her left hand folded lightly onto her upper breast.
She sensed she was not alone.
An intense light shone through her eyeselids.
Her eyes fluttered open and closed.
A soft, light touch ticked her left cheek. She brushed it away with her left hand. A soft, stiff rod caught her under her left wrist, lifted it away and firmly forced it to the pillow beside her head. The rod pressed her wrist inevitably into the softness and held it there long enough to communicate its intent, then left her to submit willingly.
She opened her eyes.
At first, she could see nothing beyond the light. The soft rod caressed her cheek, tracing the prominence of the bone. Her gaze followed the line of the grey rod until it disappeared in the light.
She closed her eyes.
The extremely gentle touch of the rod traced a path over her closed eyesilids, brushed her hair back, and arced around her ear. As she relaxed into this strange examination, the stiff tip softly traced the muscle on the side of her neck and circled the orb of her shoulder. As this firm touch gently followed the undercurve of the side of her breast, she became aware that the light did not beat as brightly against her eyes.
She opened her eyes.
The bright light was no longer striking her face, but had moved, following the rod. She could make out a large silhouette looming over her, guiding the smooth stiffness over her tingling skin, but she could not make out any features. She strained to see the face through the darkness, but could not. She started to sit up in her bed, only to have the rod jump quickly to the top of her sternum and force her back down.
She continued to star into the blackness, but could see nothing more than the silhouette. Once her head was again on the pillow, the rod quickly tapped a single sting onto each wrist. She took this to indicate that she was to hold, as if bound, each hand beside her head.
As she peered into the invisible face, the rod pressed into the flesh of the side of her breast. Gently, inevitably, deeply it bore in — exploring the limit of the resilience of the yielding orb. When there was no deeper thrust possible, the rod suddenly Withdrew and her breast rolled, jiggling, outward, slumping against her ribcage.
The rod traced again the lower contour of her title-flesh and again pressed in, lifting the yielding mass towards her throat. She glanced down to see the dun-capped shaft slide off the rod-tip, which flicked the erect nipple as it rolled back to its natural lie.
This was illuminated by the bright spotlight, tightly focused, covering the breast being prodded and the near slope of the other, leaving that other nipple half-lit, prominent against the dark. Here eyes, now more accustomed to the darkness – could make out several other shapes seated in the darkness around her bed. She recognized that she was being examined, and that she was expected to comply with every command silently communicated through the soft, stiff, grey rod, which continued to probe the resilient flesh-mass of her breast.
Doralea became fascinated by the examination. She watched the rod push into the title, force the flesh to stretch to its limit, then release it to slump back to rest. She felt divided from the mound, isolated as it was in the bright light, surrounded by darkness.
She watched the rod tap lightly at the erect nipple, setting ripples running through the white flesh. She watched as the rod pressed the nipple deep into the yielding mass, realizing it was her breast, her body being examined, only when she started at the pain.
Her cry of surprise was cut short by a quick flick of the rod onto her lips — the slowly fading burn was an instruction from the silent silhouette examining her.
The rod-tip dropped from her chin, rode the ridge of her throat, passed between her tits and followed her lower ribs to her waist. Watching as the rod pressed into her abdomen, testing the resilience of her belly, all the while following by the tight spotlight, Doralea was again lulled into the distant viewpoint of the spectator.
It excited her to watch this exploration and definition of a lovely female body, its nudity enhanced by the dark lines of the tightly fitted black harness.
The rod pressed against the insides of her knees, guiding them to part more widely. It traced the contours of the muscles of her thighs, stroking them firmly.
As she watched, detached, the stiff tip gently parted the outer lips of the cunt, moving along the slit without entering.
The soft grey rod hooked her knees and lifted them to her chest. She held them as well as she could, spine curved, ass and cunt upthrust and exposed.
The tip returned to trace the moistening pussy lips and press, very gently, the tight rosette of the ass hole.
Doralea bit her lip and flushed with the knowledge that the small audience was watching intently. She clutched the sides of the pillow with her hands, still held obediently on each side of her head.
And, the rod hooked her knees, this time commanding her to roll onto her side.
Then, pressing upward against Her hips, the rod insisted that she came to her knees, raising her ass.
The rod pressed against the nape of her neck, forcing her face into the pillow. She knew, by the force of the silent command, that she was to remain thus, her ass raised to the observation of the people in the shadows.
She could now only feel the gentle touch of the soft, insisted rod-tip. It pressed into the cheeses of her buttocks; it traced the lines of the back of her thighs. It followed the cream where her ass joined her legs; it pressed, finally, again, on the sphincter and the slit.
Doralea was awake, hypnotized by the deliberate slowness, by the knowing examination, by the exposure to the shadows.
SNACK!
The rod slashed across her thrusting globes. She was started and her thighs clinched. As the burning tang spread across her ass she felt a melting flow from her belly rise to her cunt and open it puffly.
She relaxed her clenching thighs and waited for Another slash.
The rod traced the line it had cut across her butt, skipping over the crevice. Then it tapped gently several times on her everted pussy. She arched her back down toward the bed, lowering her belly and exposing her pudenda to the stiffness of the soft rod.
The light slapses of the rod sounded wetly in the silence. Doralea wanted more contact. She wanted the silhouette, unseen behind her, to thrust the rod into her. She wanted to have her puffed cunt filled. She breathed quickly into the pillow, her hands clutching it tightly.
SHNASH!
Her thighs snapped shut involuntarily, her cunt lips burning from the slash of the rod. The sharp sting spread quickly from her cunt to deep inside her.
She felt the rod insinuating between her thighs, the silent instruction to spread her knees again, to allow this violence, this assault.
She did.
She wanted to follow this path as the sharp pain faded into a fire of desire. Again, she wanted to have the penetration promised by the stiffness of the rod which again traced her burning lips.
She opened her thighs and again thrust her sex out, up and back.
The rod, however, moved to her head, smoothing the hair from one chef, touching the single tear which had squeezed out and rolled a small way down her chef.
The rod moved to her throat and pressed upward, the silent instruction to lift her head.
She was on her hands and knees.
The silhouette moved to her head and the rod reached beneath her to twaddle her hanging tits, gently and rapidlyslapping the inner slips so that they jostled side to side.
Moving again to her side, the silhouette hooked her right wrist with the rod, lifting it and laying it on back of her waist. The twist thus imported to her spine exposed her hanging tits to more prodding and to more jiggling slaps from the soft firm rod.
Her other wrist was hooked, lifted and placed atop the right. To keep from falling onto her face, she straightened up to knee on the bed.
The rod pressed on the back of her neck, forcing her to bend down again.
Her balance was difficult and precarious as she held her torso horizontal with her knees spread and her wrists at the small of her back. The rod smoothed along her throat, gently lifting her chin higher, arching her back more.
The rod returned to play at her pendant breasts — waggling them from side to side, head to belly; producing and pressing into them to the point of pain, the releasing them to swing freely beneath her.
SNID!
The rod cut singingly into the upper slope of her hanging orbs. Her back straightened and her hands instinctively moved to cover her tender title fly.
The rod hooked her wrists, guiding them inevitably back to behind her waist.
The pressure at the nape of her neck instructed her to reasonume the awkward position she had abandoned.
Again, the rod at her throat lifted her chin, exaggerating the arching of her back and exposing her dangling breasts.
Her hair fell, covering her face. She clenched her hands and her teeth and waited.
The rod touched her thighs and traced the curves of her abdomen past her navel, onto her ribs and stopped against the lower curves of her hanging breasts.
The figure beside her moved a half-step and again traced the same path from a new angle. The rod pressed the nape of her neck and pressed gently but inevitably down.
As she tried to maintain her balance her chin was again lifted as the rod guided her into the desired position.
The rod touched the underslope of her breasts, pressing then releasing. She could feel it move to her thighs and back to her breasts, and she realized it was seeking a clear path.
As she realized the target of the next blow, her breath thickened and she found herself subtly opening up to the expected assault.
Her fear of the pain seemed to fuel her pounding desire.
The rod touched her, pressing her cunt hairs into her tighs. Then it sharply snapped along the shallow curve of her belly.
SNUD!
The underslope of her breasts was the target. Her spine curled. She felt the singing fire spread throughout her torso, igniting her loins. She began to pant and understand.
She wanted more.
She wanted to be filled.
She wanted to be slashed again with the stiff, soft rod.
She wanted the sparks thrown by the quickly fading pain to burn her — to consume her with desire.
She wanted the attention focused on her to eruptinto an orgy of…
The rod pressed firmly between her scapulae, instructing her to lay her body down onto the bed again.
She lie there, face down, panting for breath and heard shuffling feet on all sides. The rod was laid gently along her spine, resting on her wrists. She took it to be a signal to remain prone and unmoving.
As she heard the feet moving further away, she realized she was being left alone — abandoned by the shadowy throng — her fires unextininguished.
In the silence of the room, she burned.
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She heard the sound of water falling into a bowl.
The rod was lifted and a sponge began to move between her shoulder blades, cleansing and caressing.
Her hands were gently lifted and laid at her sides. The sponge moved gently and wetly over her back.
And, she heard the water fall into the bowl. And her legs were gently washed, heel, calm, knee and thigh.
Then her arms were lifted and gently laved./p>
Her ass was next, the globes rubbed gently with the rough sponge, then forced apart by its thick, heavy wetness.
Water dripped over her asshole and into the wetness of her puffy cunt.
Then the wrist near her baby was raised and lifted and she was rolled onto her back.
She looked up and saw the sponger for the first time.
A lovely girl, with curling black hair tendrilling about her Shoulders. Her mouth was shaped like a Scythian recovered bow. Her wide shoulders supported her soft-ball size tits and slim arms reached again to the bowl of water.
Doralea watched as the sponging began at her throat and moved to her tits with gentle roughness.
The sponge was refreshed and her ribs and belly were next attended to.
As the beauty squeezed the sponge into the bowl again, Doralea examined her.
A light skirt stretched across her wide hips, her flat belly echoed by her flat ass. Her navel was deep, and her thighs were long and firm.
Thesponge touched Doralea’s cunt and rubbed between her lips and roughed her clip.
The girl squeezed out the sponge and then returned to rubb the puffy lips of Doralea’s still throbbing pussy.
She pressed against it and the girl laid it between her thighs, hard against her crotch.
She leaned over Doralea’s supine body, her breasts held firm against her own ribs. With her finger she traced the lines the rod had left on both the upper and lower breast slopes.
The dark-haired beauty leaned further, her black tendrils falling to cover her face and brush excitedly over Doralea’s burning skin.
She licked along the welts the rod had left on the tender white flesh and Doralea closed her eyes and arched upward to encourage the cooling tongue, her breasts heaving.
Then the trim beauty rose and poured oil onto Doralea’s throbbing skin. The oil cooled immediately, but as it was rubbed in by confident hands it began to tingle. The more it was rubbed, the greater Doralea’s desire to be rubbed.
The oil was poured onto her hair-covered mound and began to drip slowly through the hair and cool the hot, puffed outer lips of her cunt.
The confident fingers stroked and cracked and produced the oil into the eager flesh, spreading the tingling desire between her tights and down, to press into the crack of her ass.
Her pussy and her asshole began to burn with the same tingling desire as her tits and belly. She pressed against the hand between her tighs, which refused to enter her, but remained, maddeningly tracing the outer rms of cunt and ass.
Her lovely tormentor’s other hand toyed as maddeningly with Doralea’s tits and throat.
Doralea was panting and placing beneath the gentle ministers of the dark-haired woman, but, as she approached the threshold of orgasm she was abandoned.
Her eyes snapped open and she saw the slender woman returning, a strip of sky blue silk in her hand.
She lifted Doralea by her wristsand swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Then, while she sat, her oiled skin shining in the dim light, the woman tied the silk band around her head, covering her eyes.
Doralea heard the bowl picked up and listened as she walked across the room and out the door.
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She sat, blindfolded and alone, on the edge of the bed, and waited, her skin burning.
She adjusted her ass on the bed, her spine undulating in accommodating response.
She could still feel the bite of the soft, firm rod and the light burn of the oil. She sat, attentively anticipating the next event in her as yet unpredictable new life.
She recalled all that she had read and heard and thought and dreamed about that new life — and she felt her breath drawn deep and slow. And she felt her pussy, still wet and puffy.
Hurried steps crossed the floor and stopped in front of her.
She heard quick breaths.
A breathy male voice spoke, “Doralea, I’m going to make you come. Three times, more, over and over. You’ll pass out.”
His hands gripped her knees and spread them apart; his feet nudged her apart.
“Leave them there, leave them spread, wide, I wanna look at yer beaver.” From lower down, he had gone down to his knees, “Beautiful.”
She was excited to know that he was looking at her so deeply, so Intimately.
His hands stroked her cunt hair, “Lovely, lovely, soft and springy.”
A finger probed her puffy pussy-lips, stroking along the sensitive crevice, tracing the wet flesh.
“You like that, eh? I can feel you getting wetter. I can feel you — hunnh.”
He quickly forced his finger deeply into her, his knuckles hitting her bone.
He curled his finger over and pressed against the spot behind the root of her clip. Then he rolled that aching bloated nub with his thumb. She shivered, her mouth lolling open.
“Yes, you love it. You do.”
He abandoned her so quickly she felt like he hadpulled her off the bed.
He hadn’t.
He stood up and grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her head. He pulled her forward and pressed her face into his crotch, the coarse hair tickling her nose before it was mashed against his pubic bone. Then he pulled her back, bending her face upward.
“Get ready, Doralea, suck it, suck it good, then I’m gonna ram it down your throat.”
His cock bounced lightly on her lips. She started to lick it, feeling the stiffness, the hardness, the soft skin he held her firmly away from himself, so that she had to stretch her tongue to touch his dick, and her throat tightened with the extension.
“Yes, lick it, do it.”
He started to rock her head by the hank he held and her tongue followed the thick ridge on the underside of his cock. His knob tapped her nose and he rocked her forward, and down, burying her tongue between his balls, his knob bouncing against her forehead,
He did this several times then pulled her off the bed by her hair, forcing her face into his belly, her knees barely touching the floor.
He pulled her up, dragging her throbbing body against his, until his cock pressed into her tits.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging them to support herself on his hips. He started rocking his pelvis like he was fucking her chest. His hard bones rocked and mashed into her tits, he still held her, hanging from her hair.
“Yaagh, baby. You’re gonna come, get really wet and sloppy, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll lose it — I mean you’ll pass right on out — then I’m gonna come so much, fill you with so much come it’ll pour out your ears, baby. The last thing you know’ll be my jizz comin’ out yer mouth from your cunt.”
He pulled her up to kiss her on the lips. Her arms sliding up his back to ring his chest hugged him and squeezed her breasts against his rough chest hairs.
Her feet were now on the floor and he was only slightly taller than she; their legswere the same length, so that his balls were pressed against her eager, seeking clip.
She rocked her pelvis as if they were fucking.
He laughed, “Yeah, yeah, you want it, you want it bad. I know. And I know you like it rough, too.”
By the hair he spun her around. He pushed her quickly across the room and didn’t stop, or even slow down, until he had rammed her against the wall.
He forced her so tightly onto the cold loops and rings that their pattern was impressed into her warm soft flesh.
He laid his body against her back, his cock naturally finding the split of her ass.
He pulled her hair back and down, raising her chin and pressing her throat against the wall, the skin of the back of her neck bunching into a pair of rolls.
Resting his chin on her Shoulder, he leaned close to whisper in her ear.
“First, I’m gonna tie your hands — ” he grabbed one wrist and pulled it out to her side “– way up over your head — stretch you so hard you’re gonna be on your toes, or maybe even a little higher.”
He released her hair and grabbed her other wrist, extending it to that side.
“Then, while you hang there, I’m gonna slap yer butt, spank your ass so hard, and so long, that your gonna come just from that. Then I’m gonna turn you around and go after your tits.”
He released one wrist and grabbed the tit on that side, hard.
“Go after ’em so hard yer gonna scream while I beat ’em, pinch and bite ’em, suck ’em till they’re huge and red and aching — y’ll come again — drippin’ all down yer thighs and on the floor.”
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