Episode X
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
The tall, muscle blonde shimmered in the bright pool of light, sheened with sweat. Small spasms chased under her marvelously tanned skin. Her arms were raised in the open, prayer-like gesture enforced by the chains cuffed to her wrists.
The thin black necklace hung, dangling loosely from the ring on the chains joining her wrists. The loop Draped against her belly, clicking lightly against the sparse hair beneath her navel.
The wide straps buckled to her upper thighs accentuated the length and the strength of her legs.
Doralea sat in the darkness, leaning against the cool wall, every breath a consciousness endeavor.
She had been raised to such a high erotic pitch — raised and then held there for so long — that she could not come, could not think, could not move.
She sat there in the dark, breathing through her slackly open mouth, her eyes enthralled by the awesome power of the events she had witnessed and bythe blindfolded Nordic goddess bound in the pool of light in the middle of the room.
With an immense effort of will, she rose and moved deliberately to embrace the blonde, her head nestled between the tight tits.
The tits rod high, held out by the imposing pecs, sculpted by the wide-armed stance. The long legs raised the cunt so high that Doralea’s navel was tickled by the fine puff of hair accenting the protrudent shaft.
The sweat-slick skin was hot against Doralea’s shivering flesh.
The smells, pungent where she nuzzled between the twin balls of the blonde’s tits, gave her head another spin.
She was reeling.
She hugged the long body tightly to maintain her balance — and her sense of where she was.
She kissed the soft skin stretched over the inside of the magnificently erect breast.
She noticed a large bead of sweat rolling slowly down from the powerful neck, following the runnels between the chiseled muscles. Her tongue flicked out to gather it in, the acrid saltiness biting her tongue.
She again hugged the Nordic Amazon and pressed her cunt into the long leg, rubbing her clip against the hard quad of the powerful thigh.
Doralea heard a cart being wheeled down the hall. Her head lolled towards the door idly.
She started and, again without knowing why, felt the need to hide and quickly returned to sit against the cool wall.
The cart stopped outside the door, then, with a scrape, rolled in. The older woman from the steam- room, dark hair and of medium height, wheeled the cart into the light that showed into the middle of the room. She wore a bare-shouldered white linen draw which reached her ankles. It was held at the top by a cord which crossed her back, ran under her arms and in front of her shoulders to tie behind her neck. The frog which cinched the empire Wait beneath her ample breasts was the only fasting, her smooth legs, her softly rounded belly and her stiffly haired moon peeked occasionally through the full-length frontal slit.
Sandals cradled her feet and long thongs criss-crossed up her calves to stop just below her knee.
The cart carried many jars, basins, tubes and towels.
The woman in white lifted a glass full of a soft yellow liquid to the lips of bound blonde.
She drank slowly, deeply, draining the glass without taking a breath. She exhausted loudly when she was done, perhaps the shorter woman had forced her to drink a little longer than she would have on her own.
The dark-haired woman spoke softly.
“Well, Gavia, it’s nice to have you back.”
She bent over slightly and wiped a small gause pad efficiently in the hollow on the side of the tall woman’s butt.
“There is an emptiness when you are gone.”
She jabbed a syrette quickly into the meat of the blonde’s ass-cheek.
“That should come on pretty quick. Like before, you will stay completely lucid. It only works on your muscles. You just relax.”
She dropped the syrette into a small can on the cart. She guided the nozzle of a small douche bag into the much used cunt and hung the bag casually from a wide strap she placed in the blonde’s mouth.
“Bite down. Hold that.”
She continued on her business, releasing the flow and quickly sliding a long narrow basin between the powerful legs to catch the outflowing water.
A faith cent of lemon drifted to Doralea.
“OK, that’s that.”
She retrieved the strap and slipped the nozzle out with the efficient ease of long practice.
She laid th middle of a longer stick between the blonde’s teeth.
“Bite.”
She flipped the terminal D-rings over Gavia’s shoulders, to hang down the middle of her back. She hefted a large, full enema bag from the cart’s shelf and stepped behind the Hardbody. She hung it from the D-rings, putting a visible strain on her neck and jaws.
Doralea watched as the blonde shifted to accommodate the intrusion of the large nozzle past her anal ring.
When the other woman had it well seated, the flow was released and the woman stood back, hands on hips, to watch.
“Ah, Gavia. You must squeeze that hard. Hold the nozzle in, dear, and don’t leak, Suck it up.” She laid a hand on the deeply cut belly and another on the upper curve of that hard ass. “Take it all for me.”
The smaller woman pulled out the stress invader with a quick flick.
“Hold it in, Gavia. Please, don’t spill.”
She tossed the empty bag onto the cart’s shelf, and hefted a larger bag, with a larger nozzle. She hung that from the D-rings, putting an even greater strain on Gavia’s neck as she bit the strap hard. Her neck muscles stood out and her heart-beat was clearly visible in the arteries pulsing over her taut muscles.
Even so, the strap was pulled deeper into her mouth, stretching her lips back into an enforced grin.
Gavia rocked her hips to assist the insertion of this second enenema.
When the liquid was released, the dark-haired woman held the nozzle tightly in her ass with one hand and leaned on the bag with the other, squeezing all the liquid into the blonde’s belly.
The increased volume in the gut of the Hardbody was visible to Doralea, who sat quietly, remembering the shower when she had first come to this place.
The dark haired woman now stood behind the blonde, and reaching around, caressed her distended belly, circulation and rubbing. Then she pulled herself tightly against the strong body, crushing the bag and (and her large, soft udders) completely flat against the muscled back.
Her hands cradled the ballooned belly and she lifted herself onto her toes, trying in vain to lift her pussy high enough to reach the stem that protruded from the blonde’s ass.
She took the bag and pulled the nozzle, as efficiently as she had the first. She pulled another long narrow basin, similar to a hospital bedpan, and swung an arm from the cart to hold it between Gavia’s tighs.
“Hold. Still hold it, dear.”
She began to massage the taut abs, stretched over the ballooned gut, pressing deeper and squeezed harder with each pass.
Doralea’s hands went to her own belly in sympathy.
“OK, now, whenever you’re ready.”
The fluid hit the metal pan with a loud ringing, quickly muffled as it filled with her discharge.
The woman gently removed the blindfold and began wiping the blonde’s face with moist, thick clothes. She used two on her face, then switched to two new ones for her neck and shoulders.
She kept getting new clothes as she wiped the powerful blonde beauty down. She removed every trace of sweat, saliva, jizz, cunny-cum, douche and E-juice.
The woman shook some scented oil from a tall bottle onto her hands.
“That should start to be coming on now,” she said to Gavia.
Then she started to spread the oil over every muscle, into every cut, polishing the entire machine.
Gavia started to slump,her head rolling listlessly to one side.
“Don’t fight it, my dear. Just let it all go. Every muscle loose. The drug will win. Your mind will be alert and clear. It will only affect your muscles. You remember from before. This is just like all the other times. Relax. Don’t fight it. Welcome the waves of release.”
The woman droned on, oiling the marvelous, tanned body.
Gavia started to sway, then gradually lost all tone and slumped, hanging from her wrists, her legs offering no support.
When the dark-haired woman was satisfied, she stopped her oily massage and pushed the cart out of the way. She retrieved the large bolster and held it against the breast and belly of the suspended, drug-relaxed beauty. Straps, drawn tight and buckled around the chest and wait, held the bolster to Her torso as the woman released one wrist, holding it to control the slump towards the floor.
When the other wrist was released from its cuff, the woman lowered Gavia slowly and gentlely.
She arranged her on the bolster, face down, her head drawn over one end, her ass off the other, arms and legs loosely to each side. Her long, thick blonde hair was gathered and laid in a dense pile on the floor, its thickness blocking Doralea’s view of her lovely face.
Her goals achieved, the woman packed the cart and wheeled it back out into the hall. Doralea heard quiet voices in deleterate conversation, so she held to her place in the shadows.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Two figures entered, and quickly set to work. They were dressed in the black hooded bodiessuits wound by Noh staqehands. They carried black rods with buckles. The strap at the end of one pole was buckled to the tall blonde’s right wrist. Another strap, nestled snugly into the crook of the elbow, clamped the pole to Gavia’s forearm.
Another pole was attached similarly to her left forearm.
They removed the wide straps around her thighs. The thin straps which they buckled high in hercrotch and just above her knees, held a pair of poles to the outsides of her thighs.
A tight cap was strapped on, the strap running from her temples, under the ears, to tighten the back of the cap at the base of the skull. This cap had a pole just short of a meter that thrust back behind the beautiful woman.
The pair unbuckled the limp blonde body from the bolster and allowed Gavia to slump gently to the floor.
Doralea could now see her alert grey eyes, which followed the movements of the two as they moved around the room, clearing the accumulated debris.
Doralea held her breath as one of them moved closer to her, seeking more to pick up.
Crouching in the dark, the figure moved closer, without seeing her.
Doralea pressed her back into the wall, but she was discovered.
The masked face looked up at her own. The hidden eyes lowered in a step to her heaving breasts, then quickly down to check her pussy mound — at eye level to the croouched figure.
Then, without a word or a sign, he moved on about the task at hand.
“OK, we’re ready now,” the other one announced and suddenly a corridor of light led from the pool where Gavia lay, to a larger pool now illuminated near the door.
A large wheeled platform carrying an immense man sitting in an elaborate throne was quickly pushed into the larger pool of light by three more figures, clad in the identical black costumes, which rendered them virtually invisible in the darkness. They then joined the original two to stand in a semi-circle around Gavia, still lying limp on the floor.
As Doralea peered, she realized that the throne was made up of people, costumed and painted and intertwined in an elaborate living sculpture. Three people dressed in shimmering, blue sheer bodiessuits on their hands and knees made the seat. On each side a cord-wrapped woman on hands and knees, her head to the front, supported a fully naked remember female, legs wrapped around the supportingarms. This position stretched and trust forward their clean-shaven pussies. The huge man rested his elbows between these women’s breasts and his hands dragged casually over their cunt-mounds.
Two tall men stood, their balls tabled on the foreheads of the armrest women. They were painted blue, with yellow bars and small red circles, and a thick coil of white clothes hung from their necks, snaked around their torsos, to hang behind them from their waists.
Between them stood a woman with her hair pulled back into loose buns behind each ear, the huge man’s thick head of hair pillowed between her large, soft breasts.
A thick patch of wiry public hair pyramided up his powerfully corrugated abdomen to his deep navel. Between his legs the man’s uncircumcised cock hung flaccid over his apple-sized nuts. Even hanging half limp, his monstrous snake was the size of a banana.
At a wave of one of his huge hands, the dark-clad Noh stagehands clustered around Gavia’s limp body. However, one scampered quickly up to whisper into the enthroned man’s ear.
To Doralea’s horror, he pointed directly at her and the man’s eyes seemed to pierce the darkness.
His voice rolled like deep thunder, “Fetch her.”
The black figure sprang from the platform and gestured to the cluster around the remember blonde. One of them joined the sprint towards Doralea. She stood, quaking against the wall. The two grabbed her just above the wrist and elbow and walked her quickly across the floor. Everyone watched as she was held before the platform, the huge man looking down with deep shaded eyes.
He leaned forward to stroke her breast, to touch her tattoo. Shivers chased along her limbs. Her blood pounded between her ears. She went weak and slumped heavily in the grap of the two who held her.
The man sat back with a wide enigmatic smile.
“Down before me.”
As if weighed by his voice, Doralea was pressed down to knee on the platform, between his massive legs. The smell, the feel of her shoulders against his powerful thighs — she recognized this.
This was the man from the “Filling”.
She thrilled at the memory; her pussy puffing even more, her nipples growing harder on her ballooning tits and her mouth now filling with saliva.
She feared that she would be unable to accommodate the massive cock she now saw for the first time – it was the size of her forearm.
But, then she remembered that she already had, when driven onto it by blows on her ass.
“Dick rest,” commanded the rumbling voice.
Doralea was jerked about, handled with quick movement and made to slide her feet beneath the throne. Her elbows were on the platform; her ass was pressed between his monstrous thighs.
His balls hung heavily against her butt.
She Felt his hands delicately drawing his cock along the crack of her ass; it extended well up her spine to her waist. The women arm-rests each placed a foot on her shoulder, and her wrists were lifted to be held up by the women. Her breasts swung beneath her, hardened nipples scraping the carpet covering the platform.
“Hair.”
In response to his rumble one of the stagehands at her side gathered her hair and pulled it up to give it into his hand. He wrapped it around his cock, pulling her head up. She looked out over the scene before her.
The stage-hands dressed in black now quickly leaves to the small circle around Gavia.
The lighting changed, tightening onto her languid form and the hands grasped the poles extending from her limbs and lifted her. Music began to play and a song was sung.
The hands moved Gavia through a dance following the story of the song and the rhythm of the music.
They used the poles to flip her arms and legs and guide her spine and head.
Doralea recognized the Bunraku puppet.
An extremely thin woman, her chocolate skin covering just enough muscle and fat to keep her knees and elbows from knobbiness entered.
A tight doe-skin halter with dangling feathers and hanging bead-strings bound her high tits. A short, tight rawhide wrap-around skirt girdled hips.
She danced to Gavia and began rubbing against her like a cat. She laid her cheek against Gavia’s thigh, held open widely by the black-clad Bunraku puppeteers.
She dragged upwards, keeping her cheek pressed against the blonde’s tan skin, and adding her neck, her shoulder, her breast, her belly, as she slithered up Gavia’s body.
She humped the powerful thigh, then turned and offered her ass, as if to a man. The puppeteers obliged her indicated request and it appeared to Doralea that Gavia was pumping a long cock into the thin woman’s ass.
The man in the throne slowly stroked his cock, still holding Doralea’s head, pulling if more sharply up. She was quivering now, continuously, too highly charged to come, to tightly wound to relax.
The scene before her (the thin woman acting like she was getting an ecstatic reaming, Gavia a thickly drugged puppet, the two of them locked in a complex erotic dance) and the tableau of the throne, (now imagined, based on her memory and current sounds and feelings) continued to push her towards her culminating climax, yet she could not come.
As the man pumped his cock with her scalp tethered by her hair, she was pushed and pulled and her swinging breasts slapped together, and, occasionally, scraped the rug harshly.
The thin woman now assumed a limbo-style posture, play-legged and leaning back, nearly horizontal. Gaviafs puppeteers lifted one of her thighs high, her foot dangling from the knee, positionod her over the dark head and the woman began to chew her cunt shaft.
They moved the blonde forward slightly and the dark woman mouthed between her ass-cheeks.
The thin woman’s small, doe-skin covered tits were captured between the powerful thighs and Gavia’s cunt was ground into them, squeezed and gyrating.
The womanreached up to use the blonde’s shoulders as grips, the long dark fingers standing out in contrast to the rich tan.
Gavia was dragged down to straddle her waist.
From Doralea’s point of view, it seemed that the dark, wide-spread legs, displaying a bright pink gas flashing beneath the black curling hairs, belonged to the tall blonde.
Suddenly, the dance changed and the dark woman was standing behind Gavia, reaching her arms around, her hands flitting lightly over every inch of Gavia’s torso. Her fingers pinched hard and pulled up a tight patch of skin, then released it to glow red and moved to a new patch. Again and again the dark, dancing hand plucked at her breasts and belly, until they had quite her torso with a blazing pattern of red marks.
The thin woman spiraled away, dancing out the door.
The puppeteers danced Gavia to the throne.
Doralea could see that the grey eyes still sparked through their drugged languor, and Gavia smiled in her lassitude.
The puppeteers draped the heavy form along Doralea’s back. Her hair was released by the huge hand, but was still trapped between the blonde’s body and her own back.
Gavia’s cunt was pressed against the back of Doralea’s head and she could tell, from the sounds and the pounding of the Blonde’s chin against her ass, that the puppeteers were filling her mouth with the giant cock.
Her head was swimming and now, with the added weight of the tall blonde, her breasts were mashed into the carpet. The woman had released her wrists, but still she was pinned.
Abruptly, the huge man began to thrust upward into the drug-slackened mouth, finally stiffening, and Doralea could feel his balls pulse with his powerful climax.
She felt much of his come flow down to her ass; apparently Gavia was in no condition to swallow much of it.
The puppeteers flopped Gavia back over to her place. They laid her face-up on the bolster and unbuckled their poles; leaving her drawnarms akimbo.
The man pushed Doralea off the platform with his foot; she crumbled willingly onto the floor. She was in a daze, her heart pounding in her head, her own breath loud in her ears. She watched as Gavia’s wrist cuffs were reattached and the thin black chain was lowered to where she lay. The collar was attached and the puppeteers wheeled the platform out the door, with its living throne and the huge man who sat on it.
Leave a Reply