Episode XVI
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Her eyes snapped open, tearing through the veil of sleep, adjusting to the dim light. Her wrists and ankles were fixed, held firmly, widely stretched.
A dark man dressed in a white suit stood at her bed, watching calmly as her wild thrashing was slowly abandoned, her condition accelerated to.
When she lay still, her sleep-dry eyes blinking to spread their moisture, the large man began to pull a cord which he held.
The cord, which was laid through a small block attached to the ceiling, pulled at her collar, drawing her neck off the bed.
He kept pulling until her arms were fully stretched taut between her shoulders and her tightly clamped wrists.
She relaxed against the leather around her neck, relieving, a little, the torsion of her shoulders.
He Pulled that slack out of her arms as well, then lashed the cord to a cleat set into the foot of her bed.
He moved to her side and reached out a large, slow, gentle hand to brush her cheek. She turned her eyes to his and felt herself pulled into their flawless chocolate depths.
She studied his eyes and the broad, flat nose between them, under the brim of a white panama. His eyes followed his fingers as they explored her face.
The thick forefinger trailed slowly across her cheek, as if mapping it for later exploration. The other three fingers dragged behind it, nails lightly grazing her skin, now tingling with anticipation.
He rested those three fingers on her chin, a tripod, which he used to steady his long pointer skirting the electric nerves around her lips.
Her tongue, of its own voltage, darted out to dampen their dryness.
He stole the mood and smelled it as a lubricant to his probing.
He rolled her upper lip back, exposing her white teeth, then let it fall closed.
He circled her mouth again, then gently, inevitably, forced his thick probing finger between her lips and into her salivating mouth.
She was distracted from the pain in her shoulders by the sensing of being slowly fucked in the mouth by the long, thick rod. It could have been a thin dick, but it folded at the joints and sought out all the spots that sang under its care.
He slowly pulled it out, then traced a wet track up, following the pronounced arc of her nostril.
He grazed a gentle pad across her automatically closed eyelid.
He circled her temple several times, then combined his fingers through her hair, tugging forcefully.
He laughed quietly to himself, stood up and walked to the foot of the bed where again he stood examining her.
“Please, my shoulders hurt,” she protested. “And the cuffs — they’re biting into my ankles.”
He looked at her, disappointed, and moved to stand beside her head.
“Doralea,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, tinged with some French colonial accent. “You should relax.”
He forced three fingers between her teeth. He stroked a few times, again fucking her still moist lips. His thumb again rested on her chin, providing a fulcrum for his thrusting.
She was eager to resume falling his fingers.
“I had hoped this wouldn’t be necessary.”
His thumb slipped off her chin; he grabbed her jaw forcedly and stuffed her mouth with the hand-kerchief he had suddenly pulled from his pocket.
The dry clothes quickly sucked the moisture out of the inside of her mouth.
He pulled the thin tie from around his neck.
“I would have preferred access to your lovely oral climate. I had some delightful plans.”
He tied the thin strip of clothes around her head, binding the wad of clothes tighter against her tongue. The soft cotton began to warm and soften as it became soaked with her saliva.
He returned to the foot of the bed; she watched him beyond the taut line pulling her neck up. His strong thumbs pressed into the ridge of her pelvis, his fingers wrapped around to crush into her soft buttons. Helifted her by her ass, and brought her cunt to his mouth.
As he stroked his tongue over her uplifted mound, she turned her ankles in the ankle-cuffs so she could set her feet flat on the bed, so that she could support her weight on them. She worked her wrists in their cuffs to support her weight on her hands and, pressing down on the collar, lifted her eager cunt against his forceful mouth.
His wide tongue spread her pussy lips as it lapped between them. He brought his tongue up to press her clip against his broad upper lip, then returned to prod among her thickening folds.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted the pain to be over.
She wanted the sodden gag out of her mouth.
She wanted him to do that again.
She wanted his tongue deep within her.
She wanted it to crawl in and wrap A spark flared in his deep eyes.
He released his grip amd her ass fell heavily to the bed. He pulled a folding knife from his pocket and opened it, head cocked to the side, eyes drilling into hers softly.
He dragged the cold knife over the skin of her abdomen. She flinched and pulled away.
She tried to evade, to escape. She had nowhere to go.
She could not move, except to shift her ass against the smooth quilt.
She could not shout around the now warm and moist gag lashed between her teeth.
He pressed her nipples into her soft tits with the point of his knife. He watched the dark nub disappear into the soft flesh and grinned, his mouth narrow, cruel.
He pressed the point into the skin under her chin, forcing her to pull away, tightening the cord clipped to her collar.
Then with a deft, swift stroke he cut the harness straps away from her collar.
He traced the point along her side, tickling her ribs in a terrifying way.
She watched with panting fear ashe tapped the blade on the skin over her heart.
He lowered the cold steel to part her outer pussy lips. She shuddered as the sharp point grazed her clip.
His hand pressed her clip hard against her public bone. The knife cut the straps from the band around her waist.
She watched curiously, utterly pinned, as he cut all the harness away, leaving only the collar, the wrist and ankle cuffs and the narrow cinch around her wait.
He moved to the head of the bed and dropped another cord through a pulley.
She watched a marine clip fall, hear it bounce with a click, out of sight, on the pillow above her head.
He released her ankles, then quickly reattached each ankle to opposite ends of a long cord which passed over the cord still pulling on the collar around her neck.
He reached over her head to pull the Marine clip from her pillow and clip it to the cord yoking her ankles.
He pulled on that cord and lifted her ankles. They were pulled together,the neck-cord threaded between her legs.
She was lifted, jack-knifed, off the bed and her sharply bent torso swung heavily toward him butt-first.
He laid a massive hand on her ass to halt her swinging and she hung from her ankle-cuffs and collar, her wrists still lashed to the bed, stretched tightly down and away.
He ran his fingers along her cunt-slit, smearing the juices that were there to lubricate her clip.
“You must needs get wetter than that, loosen, lady and flow full.”
He tapped at her tight ass-hole with a thick finger, tamping a rhythm with increasing force against the patch of skin between her crotch-holes.
Overcome with the wildly massing sensings, unable to keep their sources unentwined, she slumped, her spine relaxing so forcefully that several tendons seemed to snap auditory.
He smiled, a wide grin. “Good, now isn’t that better?”
He slowly released the tension on the cords suspending her ankles and her neck.
“Easy now, down,” he cooed.
One hand rummaged among the furrows, laps and wales of her crotch as he lowered her torso until her weight was supported by the bed, rather than suspended from her neck and ankles.
Again he set to licking her cunt, pressing her stiff clip into the soft firmness of his upper lip.
Her juices started to flow freely. He lapped at them, spreading them thickly among the hot, pulsing folds of her pussy.
His tongue spread the mixed fluid down to her anus and circled the pumpered hole several times, sending electric shivers up her spine.
He returned to plume again into the puffy flower of her cunt.
He pulled his head away and stood, a hand resting lightly on her throbbing ass.
“Now, Lady you are wet,” he smiled, licking his lips. “You are tasty-wet.”
He moved to the side of the bed and released her left wrist, then leaned across under her head, through the cascade of her loose hair, to release her other wrist.
She hugged her knees, lifting herself and pressing her tits against her shins.
He returned to the foot of the bed and stood, examining her jack-knifed body.
As he slowly released the tension on the cuffs suspending her ankles, her spine rolled onto the cool bed.
After her lower torso lay on the bed, he released her ankles.
The clip which had held the ankle-yoking cord swung back behind her head. The clips which had held her ankles slide, dragging, over her belly. The small metal clips chattered against the tender flesh between her tits and fell to each side of her neck, tickling her ears as they were pulled past. A shivered rippled down each side, from her jaw to her hip.
She felt stretched, relaxed. Her spine was loosened.
He gripped the cord, pulling her by the collar, lifting her up by her neck.
She scooted her butt and tighs over the quilt.
He kept pulling until her face was lifted to his, she grabbed him around the shoulders to keep from beinghung in the collar.
He rapidly untied the tie and jerked the sodden handkerchief from her mouth.
“Now, we are done with that, no?”
He kissed her long, hard, deep – she responded, overcome with panting desire.
His hat fell off. His finger-thick, tightly-coiled black hair sat off of his high broad forehead like a thickly knit tam.
He allowed her to sit on the edge of the bed While he bent to retrieve the white panama.
He released her collar from the cord and chafed her shoulders as she sat, awake with the retreating pain.
“I have to go – to the – to piss.”
Gripping her elbows, he helped her to her feet and led her to the bathroom. He guided her, turned her and set her on the seat of the commode and stepped back. He stood watching, arms folded, as she sat nervously on the cold seat.
She could not release with him there.
“I can’t. I have to, but I can’t. Not with you — here — with you here.”
“Pity,” he shrugged. And he left.
Afterwards, while she was wiping her dampness from between her legs, he returned and watched that ritual. She was embarrassed at how uncomfortable she felt under his scrutiny.
He took her hand tenderly and led her to the room with the hot tub.
He helped her lower herself into the water, almost too hot.
“Whoooo.” Then she inhaled deeply, slowly. “Shhh – hah ha hah.”
She sank slowly in the density, hot water, her butt bobbing against the bottom, boobs floating just below the surface.
The curly-haired boy who had served between her legs at dinner came in with mugs of hot cocoa, farthed with thick cream.
The boy then stepped into the water, straddling Doralea, and tilted the mug into her mouth while the man in white watched.
It was delicious, nearly too hot, nearly too thick, nearly too rich.
She caresed the backs of the boy’s tights with both of her hands.
His dick stood stiffly over the water, his balls below the surface, bouncing lightly against her belly.
She squeezed his ass and pulled him towards her. His balls floated between her breasts, now bright pink with the water’s heat.
The boy set the half-emptied mug behind her head.
She examined his pink pole with its darker knob, the pale blue veins convolving the column.
She heard a sound and turned to see the brown man begin to remove his clothes, setting They carefully on a shelf.
The boy reached down to brush her hair off her damp forehead.
She watched the man disrobe, her right hand idling on the rampant cock between her tits.
Long, smooth muscles chased under the clear, brown skin, like massive snakes lazing through thick delta gumbo. The contrast with the white cotton of the suit set the rich darkness of his skin in boldant relief.
He had the body of a swimmer, a walker, the muscles tightly packed, but not bunched or deeply cut. His belly was softly padded and his ass was tight and high. His thighs wereNearly as thick as his waist and his calves stood out full and round.
Naked, he slowly lowered himself into the hot water, making scarcely a ripple.
He seemed to float, drifting to bob against Doralea’s relaxed, attentive body.
He lay on her left side, his right arm cradling her neck and cushioning her head against the wooden deck-edge.
He reached out to stroke her hand, guiding it along the youth’s shake.
He watched her as her attention returned to the cock.
His huge, dark hand dwarfed hers on the pale, slender rod.
The arm behind her head lifted her face to the boy’s dick.
The man pressed down on her hand, guiding the cock to her mouth.
He bounced the boy’s dick against her lips, rotated the head around her hot mouth.
Her tongue thrust out to tap against the boy’s knob, then curl around his shake, pressing the soft tube on the underside into the stiffness.
She was eager to please this strange, gentle, independent, large, scary man.
He clamped her head in the crook of his elbow and squeezed her onto the thin cock. She acquired to his control.
He released her and laid back to watch, delighted, as she worked the youth’s dick between her lips. She pulled back and licked along the shake, her eyes seeking the deep brown of the man’s as her tongue scooped beneath the pale shake of the bed.
Soon the boy’s nuts drew up, his ass tightened and he thrust his dick forward.
Doralea took his pulsing rod between her lips and sucked it deeply in.
The boy panted, “I’m going to come!”
The man reached calmly out and clamped his thumb on the underside of the young cock, choking off the flow.
“Leave now, and send the food.”
The boy left, anxious as if in relief, dripping water to darken the wood of the deck.
The large dark man rose to stand, water dripping off his thick, pendant cock. He helped Doralea to stand, her cunt hair glistened with pearls of water.
Hehugged her to him, her head pressing against his chest, the water lapping between their thighs.
He guided her to climb out of the tub and stepped out of the steaming water himself.
He walked her to a built-in bookcase and turned her, so that her back was against the shelves.
Laying a hand on the shelf beside each breast, he pressed her to the wall.
Her spine lay along a vertical shelf support.
He thrust a thigh against her groin and the support pressed into the crack between her ass cheats.
He stroked along her arms, laying them out along a shelf just below her shoulder height.
She shifted her weight, moving her heels back against the lower shelf.
With quick, deft moves he locked her wrists into clamps built into the shelf.
Her hands, set off from her arms by the wide dark metal, appeared as icons set in the niche of the shelf.
He stood back and looked at her, evaluating.
“Very nice. Lady, very nice.”
He reached out to touch her several times.
His fingers palpated her left title. He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. His palm pressed flat on her belly.
Through it all, his eyes probed, devouring her body.
He stepped back, head tilted appraisingly. His eyes never ceased their probing.
As he toweled himself dry, she shivered as the water dripping from her skin traced glittering rivulets over her delightful form.
He continued to watch her as he began to put his clothes on, the briefs, the trousers, the loose shirt, the vest and jacket. As he tied the thin tie, the door opened behind him. The girl who had served Magya at the feast stepped in, dressed in a white, single-piece, toga-wrap and carrying a tray.
Without turning he spoke to her, “You are early, wait.”
She nodded, unseen by him.
She stepped back to stand against the wall, near the door.
The man stepped up to Doralea and, grabbing her head, gave her a deep, rough kiss; she responded with like password. He pulled away and reached behind her head to pull a stick from the shelf.
In the center of a long thin leather thong, an elaborately lacened sinnet stood out thickly. This was forced swiftly between Doralea’s teeth and the ends of the thong were fixed to the shelf.
Her head was trapped, pressed back against the hard wood by the thick gag.
The dark brown man Stepped to one side and touched a catch on the wall.
The shelf unit rotated and carried Doralea and the brown man into darkness.
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Gavia hung by her wrists and collar in her traces, blindfolded in the dark.
A frog-lantern set on the floor shone on her, lighting the underside of her tits, her throat, her jaw. Shadows were cast upward against her tanned skin.
Three figures surrounded her, striding her with broad strokes. Their bodies were cloaked in floor length robes, their faces masked in deep hoods.
The brown robes reminded Doralea ofa painting of a Franciscan studying a skull.
The three moved slowly, deliberately, as if they were nearly exhausted. The many dull wide rectangular welts fading beneath the sweat sheening Gavia’s delectable body showed that they had been at this for some long time.
The blonde head snapped under each blow of their combined assault, long hair whipping out, piling deeply on her shoulders and tits and sliding haltingly along her sweaty curves.
Doralea gasped behind the gag, started and astonished.
The dark man beside her quickly pressed the back of his hand against her pinioned mouth, a warning of the slashing backhand that could have been used to silence her.
Doralea understand and watched in heavy silence.
Each blow had a seismic effect on the blonde: ripples spread through the thin, soft pad beneath her skin; longer shudders traveled along the hanging frame, stretched in suspension; every muscle spasmed, hands, belly and ass clenching, tits jouncingand head tossing; her entire body swung freely, her feet just off the floor.
Finally, she hung exhausted, barely able to flinch, under the steady rain of the strokes.
Her head hung down, still.
Her hair was wetly pasted to her blow-darkened skin in chaos swirls.
The three, having exhausted their own punishment ardor, withdraw, taking the lantern and closing the door, plunging the room into total blackness.
Doralea heard the brown man stride across the room to the panel of switches. She tried to adjust her head to gain some comfort, but the thick sinnet and the thin leather thong hold her immobile against the shelf, her arms held tight along it.
A low glow crept slowly into the room from many hidden sources.
Doralea saw the brown man on the far side of the room, beyond Gavia.
They both watched the limp blonde body hang, occasionally glancing past her, to appraise the other’s reaction, then back to where the Nordic beauty hung, breast heaving in a fatigued effort to breathe.
He touched a lever and the motors hummed, setting Gavia on her feet. She was still limp, too limp to stand.
The brown man stepped to her and patted the side of her ribcage, behind the tits which were pointed to Doralea.
The Hardbody responded, her head snapping up and to the side, seeking contact.
The man opened his fly and pulled out his cock, fully turgid and lifting forward.
He stepped up behind the bound and blindfolded goddess and slapped her ass a few times with his thick, half-erect cock.
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