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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
WANTON WINTER
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Chapter Fourteen
Our car threw up pebbles as it trundled along the gravel-lined road.
We passed shanties made of straw. An old black man sat on a chair eating
nuts. He put out his hand to us as we passed through his village. Children
scattered; I saw a girl about my age. She had high breasts, long legs, a
tattered skirt. She ran with alacrity, giggling, standing tall amid a gaggle
of smaller children who waited until the last moment to avoid our path.
Jacob watched her. Sarife saw his eyes following her and put her
hand upon his thigh. I slipped lower in the carÕs back seat, my aunt
between myself and Jacob. Rebecca put her hand upon my knee. It was
bare, white. I wore a skirt like the girl but mine was new, clean, crisp
with starch. I glanced over at Jacob. He wore jeans that were stone-
washed, faded, loose. Yet as I bent forward, looking past the swell of my
auntÕs breasts, I saw a kumquat-sized bulge in his crotch. Sarife lifted
her hand from his leg. She reached into her purse and took from it a jar of
Oil of Olay. Absently she unscrewed the lid and dipped her delicate
fingers into it. Humming softly to herself, she spread the cream with her
fingertips upon her soft palms. She had the most perfect pair of feminine
hands I had ever seen. More delicate even than my auntÕs, for she came
from a wealthy family and had never done any work at all with her hands,
so that they were utterly perfect and soft. Had I known how skilled those
hands were at inflicting pain I would have begged our black driver to stop
at once and let me out. Even here, in Western Sahara.
Sarife screwed the cap back onto her Oil of Olay and deposited the
jar back in her purse. She leaned forward. Beside our driver, on the front
seat, there was an AK-47, which Sarife had said we would need to keep
for our protection during our stay on the beach. With her soft-palmed,
sharp-nailed hand Sarife brushed dark strands of hair from her eyes,
blown by the wind, and said to our driver,
ÒIs it far yet?Ó
Our driver, a black, burly, middle-aged man, turned slightly in his
seat.
ÒA little while yet madam,Ó he answered. He flashed a broad,
white-toothed smile. One of his front teeth was missing but the ivory
whiteness of his other teeth seemed intent on making up for the missing
tooth by looking so dazzling. Perhaps it was his black skin that made his
teeth stand out so brightly. I noticed the same effect with the whites of
his eyes. They were like albumen in an egg, clear and clean. I had seen
men in the town, outside the airport, with red eyes, and was glad our
driverÕs were white. There was sweat upon his face and despite the
inrushing air from the carÕs open windows I felt my own body radiating
heat.
The sun, already low on the western horizon, sank into grass-
covered dunes. I caught a glimpse of blue between the dunes and knew we
must be close to our destination. By the time our car came to the end of
the road darkness was closing in. We got out of the car. I felt a chill wind
upon my skin. I shivered and drew close to my aunt.
ÒThere it is,Ó Sarife said. She pointed. Looming beyond a dune, with
clear blue as a backdrop, merging into the darkening sky, the sun already
gone, I saw an old house. There was a light on in one of the ground-floor
windows. Our driver turned to us and smiled.
ÒIt once Colonial GovernorÕs mansion,Ó he said, in broken English,
grinning broadly to make up for his lack of articulation.
ÒYes,Ó Sarife concurred.
ÒMy wife make it ready,Ó he said. He pointed to the glowing window.
ÒWe will not be disturbed?Ó Sarife asked. Her eyes searched the
black manÕs face.
ÒNo, no. Village all gone now. Long gone,Ó the black man said.
ÒThere will not be any visitors?Ó Sarife asked. She looked at the
AK-47. The black man was holding it now, in his hand.
ÒNo. I tell no one youÕre here,Ó he said. ÒNobody know except my
boss.Ó
ÒAnd the people. The people in the village?Ó Sarife asked.
ÒNow and then they see tourists pass by. Some stay here but others
do not, only driving, you know, to see,Ó the black man said. ÒThey do not
come out here. Bad spirit here. For Africans, not for tourists,Ó he added,
his grin wide.
ÒThen we shall have it all to ourselves,Ó Rebecca said. She looked at
me, at Sarife, then at the house in the encroaching night, the sound of
waves breaking in the distance, beyond the rolling dunes.
ÒFor one week,Ó the black man said. ÒThen others come. Already
paid.Ó
ÒThatÕs fine,Ó Sarife said. Gently she reached for the AK-47 the
black man was holding.
ÒI carry it for you, madam,Ó the black man insisted. ÒI carry
everything.Ó
We followed a path through the dunes. Someone had cut the grass
along the pathÕs edges and it lay like newly mown wheat to our right and
our left. Beyond, the grass grew unhindered. It covered the sloping dunes
and when we topped a sandy rise I saw it ran down close to the waves.
ÒOh! The beach!Ó I exclaimed. In the dusk the ocean rolled and
churned. White-frothed waves threw up plumes of salt spray. I watched
as the waves rushed in on the grass-lined sand and then retreated.
ÒCome. We must go to the house first,Ó Sarife said.
There was a basket of fruit waiting for us on the kitchen table
inside the house. A black woman met us. She was drying dishes in the
sink when we walked in and she put down her dish towel and bustled over
to us with a smile as broad and as welcoming as her husbandÕs. She bowed
slightly, to Sarife, then to my aunt. We exchanged a few words. She knew
little English, no French. We loitered in the kitchen and sampled the fruit.
The driver came in with our bags, the AK-47 slung by a strap over his
back. He set our suitcases down. He put the gun on the table.
ÒThank you, that will be fine,Ó Sarife said to the driver. She opened
her purse. She handed him several large bills. His eyes widened. He
bowed low before Sarife.
ÒI must take your luggage upstairs,Ó he insisted.
ÒAlright,Ó Sarife said. ÒBut leave the gun on the table.Ó
ÒYes, madam,Ó the driver said.
Jacob found a flush toilet in the next room and relieved himself. I
went next, then my aunt. By then the driver had returned downstairs. We
bid him and his wife goodbye. Sarife slipped away for a moment and used
the bathroom while my aunt and I and Jacob watched the driver and his
wife leave. We gazed after them, standing in the front door of the house
together, as they walked hand-in-hand over the dunes toward the car
parked at the end of the road.
ÒWell, there is fresh linen, and water available through faucets and
such from a well,Ó Sarife said, coming into the kitchen after her toilette.
ÒWe even have a refrigerator well-stocked with food, and a gas stove.
Everything but a phone,Ó she said. She smiled at us.
ÒYes,Ó Rebecca said. My aunt seemed suddenly nervous. I felt
butterflies in my tummy. Jacob, standing beside me, shifted his pose in
the doorway.
ÒShall we have something to eat first, or would you two prefer to be
married right away?Ó Sarife asked brightly. She looked at me, then at
Jacob.
ÒIÕm not hungry,Ó Jacob said.
ÒMe neither,Ó I said. I was too anxious. I clasped my hands together.
Awkwardly I grinned at Sarife.
ÒThen we shall all undress,Ó Sarife said.
The breeze lifted and blew my hair. I wore a white veil. It covered
my eyes. It fluttered behind me, a long white plume in the night. A string,
tied under my chin, kept the sea breeze from blowing my veil off my head.
Around my neck I wore a slender gold chain. Long, fine-filigreed
earrings, also of gold, dangled from my ears. The wind caught at them and
played with them and made them swing back and forth. My body glowed
white under a rising moon. I was naked, except for my veil and my
earrings and necklace.
ÒBe careful of the sword grass,Ó Sarife said, as we followed a path
through waving grass down to the beach. ÒThe blades are sharp. Do not let
them hit your legs or they will cut you.Ó
I walked holding my auntÕs hand. She wore a fuzzy white sweater.
Otherwise she was nude, save for earrings and a garland of flowers in her
hair. She squeezed my hand and smiled at me in the darkness. With her
other hand she held a flashlight, which she shone upon the ground so we
could see where we were walking.
Sarife escorted Jacob. He was naked, while she wore long black
boots which she used to stomp down errant blades of grass so that our
path to the sea would be clear. On her right hand she wore a black leather
glove. It gripped her fingers tightly. They in turn were curled around the
shaft of a riding crop. Its fringed tassel swung back and forth as she
walked.
Jacob, who held the flashlight for the two of them, was much too
hard to swing. His balls were drawn up tightly between his legs, like a
ripe orange stuffed full of juice. His penis displayed itself with manly
vigor, a tuning fork pointing toward the waiting sea.
Walking under the canopy of stars, careful of the grass, we reached
the inrolling waves. I jumped back as a wave rushed in and washed along
the sand, passing through Sarife and JacobÕs feet, wetting them. Sarife
turned her head.
ÒDo not be afraid of the water, Chloe,Ó Sarife said. My aunt reached
again for my hand, took it, urged me forward. ÒI will marry you now,Ó
Sarife said. ÒIn the water.Ó
We walked into the surf. We did not go far. The water looked rough.
Sarife said a shelf of land, under the waves, kept the worst of the
breakers back. In ankle-deep water, which sometimes rose to knee-deep,
but no higher, Sarife arranged Jacob and I so that we faced in toward the
land. The water was chilly. The house where we would honeymoon stood
gaunt and old against the night sky. Above it the moon rose, throwing a
glow into our faces and upon our bodies. Sarife bent and unbuttoned a
pouch sewn into the cuff of her boot. She drew out a small jar.
ÒI will anoint you now,Ó she said. She stood black against the
moonglow, a shadow in the night. She dipped her gloved hand into the jar
she was holding. She ordered my aunt, who now held both flashlights, to
direct the beams of them upon JacobÕs penis. My aunt did. It stood boldly
in the light. I gasped at its size as the light fell directly upon it. The
veins stood out hard and thick. They pulsed with my groomÕs lifeblood. I
could count the beats of his heart in the sharp light.
ÒYes, it is a perfect penis for a husband. Is it not, Chloe? Look how
excited he is!Ó Sarife said to me. I felt my own heart thumping in my
chest. My pussy wettened. My nipples, already stiff, seemed to scream.
ÒIt is-- it is--Ó I said, babbling, not able to answer. Jacob took my
hand. We faced Sarife and she reached out with her delicate gloved
fingers, coated with red lotion from the jar she was holding, and lightly
gripped JacobÕs tool.
ÒOuch,Ó Jacob hissed.
ÒYes, Jacob, it is fire powder,Ó Sarife said. ÒIts purpose is to
arouse your tool. We use it in India to make the groom at a wedding randy
and eager. In your case, you are quite young, so it is perhaps unnecessary.
But it is too delightful for those of us who are guests at a wedding not to
see it used. So I will, especially since, at private weddings, it is used to
bind the groom and bride in erotic love for each other.Ó
I watched as Sarife slowly spread the lotion over the knob of JacobÕs
dick. She dipped her hands repeatedly in the small jar, using as much as
she needed. She stroked it along his shaft and even pressed a big dollop of
it directly into his pee hole. Jacob became increasingly agitated. His
large hand squeezed harder and harder upon my fingers. Finally I shouted
for him to let go of me; he was crushing my fingers!
ÒShhh, Chloe. It is your turn next,Ó Sarife said. She tossed back her
hair, which was pinned up but was coming loose in the wind, and ordered
my aunt to turn both flashlights upon my pubis.
My pussy glowed in the light, a soft blonde dell of hair, a tuft of
curls grazed by the breeze. Sarife wet her fingers in the jar of lotion and
reached for my petalled vaginal mouth. I shrieked in the waves as she
touched me. Her fingers were light; the lotion was like a hot match upon
my skin.
A wave broke upon my ankles. The salt-laden air was cold. My aunt
and Jacob held my hands as Sarife delved deep with lotion-covered
fingers. I was coated, limned, violated by the pungent red powder. Itching
hot lava awakened my private. My clitty, smeared with the stuff, gave
forth a hot buzzing.
ÒAhhhh!Ó I screamed in the night. Jacob groaned beside me.
ÒNow I must awaken your bottoms,Ó Sarife told us. ÒBend forward.
Both of you.Ó
ÒNo! Not in my ass!Ó Jacob said.
ÒThe purpose of an Indian wedding is not pleasure, but complete
surrender,Ó Sarife intoned as the waves washed our feet. The water was
cold. I shivered in the night air. With Jacob holding my hand, with my
aunt urging me softly to obey, I bent forward. Jacob let go of me so that I
could take hold of my ankles. The water was wet against my hands. I
longed to lift my hands to my nest but knew, instinctively, that it was
forbidden.
ÒNow I will anoint you in behind,Ó Sarife said. ÒAs bride and groom
you will come to know each other intimately. You will experience joys
and, yes, suffering together. It is only fitting that on your wedding day
you should both be thus anointed, with hot powder up your bottoms, and
upon your loins, the most private parts of yourselves revealed and made
known to you through the erotic qualities of the fire powder.Ó
In my dell the lotion, so abrasively hot at first, was now assuming a
warm, subtle glow. It filled me and made me blush. I was conscious of
Jacob, bending over beside me, moaning as the powder insinuated a
disquieting pleasure into the long thick rod of his dick.
ÒOh!Ó I yelled, the surf breaking on my ankles, as Sarife stabbed a
finger into my bottom. My rosette resisted. But she was deft and
experienced and knew how to twist her finger to make it slip past my
sphincter.
ÒYou are tight, Chloe,Ó Sarife commented. Her voice was calm. I
shouted again, in the moonlight, my hands and feet cold but my private and
bottom too warm. Sarife dueled within my hugging rosette. I squeezed,
involuntarily, making her work to get herself into my depths. I bleated
like a lamb. My aunt laughed.
ÒThere. She is done. Now for the groom,Ó Sarife said at last. She
turned to Jacob. He offered his ass to her unwillingly, yet obediently, his
hands holding his ankles tight lest he grab his cock instead and embarrass
himself, adding white spume to the waves. She drilled him with her
gloved finger, after rinsing it in the water between his feet. Jacob yelled
like a banshee. My aunt laughed again, then covered her mouth with her
hand, embarrassed at her show of emotion. Sarife was stern. It was hard
work to get her finger up JacobÕs small behind. She told him to relax. He
asked, ÒHow can I?Ó She threatened him with the crop if he didnÕt let her
sodomize him.
After being poked in our bottoms we were indeed given the crop. It
mattered not that both Jacob and I had obeyed. Sarife used it briskly and
without anger, yet without pity too, telling us it was all part of a proper
Indian wedding. She ordered Jacob to keep his legs open, surrendering his
balls to her whim, to the whim of the crop. In the event, he was not
struck there, though it made him sweat despite the cold night air, being
forced to display himself in so vulnerable a manner.
ÒYou may both rise,Ó Sarife said at last. For a moment I couldnÕt
move. My bottom felt like a ripe tomato with the skin peeled off it. There
were tears on my face. I licked my lips and felt the tang of the salt-
enriched seabreeze upon them. Slowly I unbent.
ÒOooch,Ó I said. I let go of my ankles. My hands flew back as I lifted
my head up. I clapped my hands to my ass.
ÒYeeeoch!Ó I shouted. My hands were wet, and the salt which the sea
had left upon them stung my crop-enflamed skin. Jacob heard me howl and
stopped himself, just in time, his own hands flying back to cup his ass.
Awkwardly he held his hands out away from him. They dripped beads of
salt-laden water into the surf flowing around his ankles. How silly he
looked-- like a nude Hercules, yet afraid of his own hands! He was
desperate to soothe his ass, yet would only sting it if he tried. At the
same time he yearned to grope his penis, yet feared making himself
unmanly by spurting his load of sperm into the sea.
Sarife bent forward. She dipped a slender, bare finger into the surf
gliding between JacobÕs legs. He watched her. She looked up and smiled at
him. Then she lifted her dripping finger and placed it, ever so gently, upon
the swell of his naked buttocks.
ÒOwch,Ó Jacob protested.
ÒOh, Jacob, does this feather-light touch make you feel pain?Ó
Sarife asked. Jacob wiggled his naked butt.
ÒYes. Of course,Ó Jacob breathed.
Sarife turned Jacob so that the moon shone full against his bottom.
The red lines left by the crop were visible against his white skin. ÒOh.Ó
Sarife said, her voice soft and innocent, beguiling. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó Sarife
said. Then, showing she wasnÕt, she re-dipped her finger into the water
and pressed it again to JacobÕs behind.
ÒOUCH!Ó Jacob whined.
ÒOh, dear. You are so big, and yet your ass is so small and
sensitive,Ó Sarife said. She traced the red lines on his ass, spreading
saltwater on his wounded behind.
ÒNo IÕm not -- itÕs not,Ó Jacob protested. ÒItÕs just that you whipped
it!Ó
ÒAh, then IÕve found a way to control a man with my finger,Ó Sarife
said, and pressed her single bare finger joyfully into the flesh of JacobÕs
ass.
ÒYessss,Ó Jacob acknowledged. He thrust forward his hips as she
stabbed him from behind. His penis, hard as a rock and enflamed by the
fire powder, looked like a big fleshy spear.
ÒAnd how about if I touch you here?Ó Sarife asked, her voice
pregnant with mock naivete. With her gloved hand she reached for his
penis, caught it with a gentle touch just under the knobbed head, where
the skin was the most responsive.
ÒYeehOOOch!Ó Jacob hollared. He arched his hips more, lifting his
cock, but she followed him with her finger, tickling his penis right where
it counted.
ÒDonÕt tell me youÕre sensitive there too?Ó Sarife asked in the
moonlight. Her big Indian eyes stared at Jacob. How small his hips looked,
caught between her two stabbing hands, one single finger branding his
bottom with her touch while the other, under his cockhead, threatened to
coax his sperm into the sea.
ÒYesss,Ó Jacob whined. The foam of the sea broke upon his ankles as
the surf passed under his legs.
ÒThen I have found a way to completely control a man with just two
fingers, and for that I should receive some kind of award,Ó Sarife said.
Mercifully she let go of Jacob. She reached down to her boots. ÒDid you
know I have several pouches sewn into the cuffs of my boots?Ó Sarife
asked. ÒTheyÕre specifically made for bondage play, with little pouches
sewn into them so things can be kept on hand by a girl whoÕs otherwise
nude.Ó She unzipped a pouch and drew forth two gold rings. They were
small. They glinted in the light of the rising moon, which hovered above
the house now like a large ripe yellow fruit. Sarife tossed back her hair
and regarded myself and Jacob. My aunt held my hand. With her other hand
she softly stroked my bottom. Fortunately, her fingers werenÕt wet.
ÒIn India, we do not merely slip rings on the fingers of the
betrothed,Ó Sarife said. She spoke casually, as if explaining some tourist
attraction to visitors. ÒWe believe that the ring ceremony should bind two
lovers together, emotionally, in a way that no mere slipping of rings on
fingers can ever do. After all, a ring that goes easily over the finger one
day can just as easily be removed the next.Ó She smiled. She lifted the
rings higher, holding them delicately. She seemed to be offering them to
the moon gliding up over our heads. I shivered in the cold breeze. Sarife
looked at me. ÒChloe,Ó she said. ÒBetween your legs, there is a small,
special place. It is very tiny. But the surfeit of skin there, the little bud
which gives every female her pleasure, is just sufficient in size to permit
something to be inserted into it. Something like this.Ó She offered me
one of the rings in the palm of her hand.
ÒNooo,Ó I breathed. I drew back instinctively. My aunt patted my
bottom.
ÒYes, Chloe,Ó Sarife said. ÒYou have chosen to be married, Indian-
style, and this is how you will receive and wear your ring. Down here,Ó
Sarife said. She pointed with her gloved hand between her own naked legs,
where her triangle of pussy hair grew. There, between the lips of her
cunt, she inserted a finger and touched her spot. Her clitoris. Briefly she
rubbed it. She emitted a soft gasp, flinging her head back so that the
moonlight fell full into her face. ÒMmmm,Ó Sarife said, at last
withdrawing her finger from herself, looking at me again. She licked her
lips. ÒWhere I just touched myself, Chloe, that is where I will pierce you.
Not tonight, but in a weekÕs time, after you have been broken-in on the
marriage bed by your husband. In India, we take a week to enjoy a
wedding, saving the rather painful climax of it until the very end.Ó
Disregarding my obvious nervousness, Sarife turned her attention to
Jacob. She offered him the other gold ring, but he refused it. ÒA big boy
like yourself, afraid of a little ring?Ó Sarife teased him.
ÒWhere- where does a groom in India where that?Ó Jacob asked,
gazing at the ring in SarifeÕs palm.
ÒWhere do you think?Ó Sarife asked. Her voice was unnaturally
sweet now, saccharine mixed with arsenic.
ÒI donÕt want to know,Ó Jacob said. Sarife batted her long,
luxuriously thick Indian eyelashes at him.
ÒOh, but I think you do, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. She let her gaze drop to
his penis. ÒLook how hard and aroused you are. Can you imagine your
wicked big thing being pierced by a needle?Ó
ÒNo. I would never allow that,Ó Jacob said firmly.
ÒOh, but do you remember how I touched you, right here?Ó Sarife
asked. She reached out with her gloved hand. She tickled his engorged
penis again, right under the head. Jacob tried drawing back but found his
lust to be touched outweighed his desire for self-preservation.
ÒYessss,Ó Jacob gasped. His chest heaved. His small hips strained.
ÒRight here I will pierce you,Ó Sarife told Jacob. ÒRight under your
cockhead where there is just the slightest amount of loose skin. I will
hang your wedding ring here, and then little Chloe will feel it sliding up
inside her when you give her your very best fuck.Ó Sarife grinned. Her
teeth flashed white, small ominous bits of ivory. ÒBoth of you ringed,
pierced, joined in a ceremony neither of you will ever forget,Ó Sarife said.
ÒWe will do it right here, in the Colonial governorÕs mansion, where no one
can help either of you if I do it wrong.Ó She flashed us both her smile and
added, ÒBut of course, I wonÕt get it wrong. IÕm from India. I know how to
do these things. But you will both have to obey, and not flinch, and
cooperate, so that no harm comes to either of you as I stab you carefully
with my Marital needle.Ó
I shivered under the ripe moon, which now hung high above us. Jacob
shivered too. His cock trembled stiffly. I imagined the bright yellow ring
dangling off its tip in just five days; and tried to think how it would feel
to have that gold ring thrust deep inside me, embedded in the end of his
dick. We would both be impaled by it. I would sport a ring inbetween my
cuntlips that would graze his shaft as he bored into me.
ÒThere is one final touch to our ceremony this evening, that we must
all enjoy,Ó Sarife said. She reached down to her boots again. She tugged
at a zipper and opened another pouch in the leather. She drew out a tangle
of strings, of nylon swatches of fabric. She held them aloft so that we
could see them. ÒThis will bind us, physically and emotionally,Ó Sarife
said. ÒWe are in this together, all four of us, and it will allow us a
tender...Ó she paused, laughed, then continued: ÒA tender moment of shared
chastity.Ó
ÒThey are-- only swimsuits,Ó Rebecca said, gazing at what Sarife
held in her hands.
ÒAh, yes, my dear love,Ó Sarife smiled at my aunt. ÒBut how they are
used, that makes all the difference.Ó
Wide-eyed, I watched as Sarife separated a small swim panty from
the other bits of fabric in her hand. Then she stuffed the other swimsuits
back in her boot, and zipped it shut. The remaining swimsuit, the small
gauzy panty, she dangled from her fingertips. Her fingernails were sharp
against the fabric. They looked as if they might tear the wisp of nylon,
simply by holding it. But instead, with ceremonial grace, she lowered the
delicate undies into the sea.
ÒNo,Ó I gasped. I gazed at the panty as Sarife wetted it in the salt
water.
ÒYes,Ó Sarife smiled at me. ÒThey will be nice and wet for you,
Chloe. Wet with sea water, impregnated with moist salt. You will wear
them upon your hips as we walk back to the house, the salted fabric
rubbing against your bare bottom.Ó
Together Sarife and my aunt fitted me into the suit. They made me
step into it and drew the wet fabric up my legs. I watched with gasping
breath, and butterflies in my tummy, as the swim panties were drawn up
round my hips. The fabric clung to my skin. It was tight. I screeched at
the first touch of the wettened material against my poor scorched bottom.
Jacob laughed. I squirmed as they made sure that the swim panties hugged
me tightly, pulling on strings to enclose me, to suffocate my private parts
in the undies.
ÒYes, now your little fig and your peach-like bottom are protected,Ó
Sarife smirked. She looked at me. My aunt patted my salt-soaked bottom
and I shouted at the stars. ÒBut there is one more touch,Ó Sarife said,
gazing at my open mouth, at my belly, at my slim, wobbling legs. She
reached into the sea between my feet. She scooped sand from the bottom.
ÒNo!Ó I cried. My aunt copied Sarife and, laughing, they put handfuls
of sand into my panties. The grains rubbed my stinging ass. They made it
hurt more. I shouted again; Jacob laughed harder.
Sarife cleansed her hands in the sea water. She unzipped the pouch
in her boot. She drew out another panty. Its cut was different, with more
room in front, and I realized she was holding a swimsuit for a male. They
were quite-small, Speedo-sized, and as I looked at JacobÕs big penis it
was my turn to laugh, despite the gnawing discomfort of my own panties.
ÒHe will never fit,Ó I giggled.
ÒHey, donÕt think youÕre putting sand all over my ass,Ó Jacob said.
ÒYou will do just as youÕre told, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. ÒYou know our
whole game will be spoiled if you act difficult.Ó She reached for his cock
and managed to grab hold of it, despite the fact that he jumped back.
ÒDonÕt splash me,Ó Sarife said. The quick movement of JacobÕs feet had
thrown up a spray of water. Her sharp nails dug into the flesh of his penis.
ÒOW!Ó Jacob said.
ÒMy, my,Ó Sarife said. ÒYou wish to be a difficult boy, but you have
such a big, sensitive organ sticking out in front of you, that youÕre rather
like a naughty cat with a tail thatÕs too long.Ó
ÒLet go of me,Ó Jacob pleaded. In reply, Sarife dug more severely
into his cock-flesh. ÒOW!Ó Jacob shouted.
ÒYes, I do believe IÕve got the cat by itÕs tail,Ó Sarife said. She
watched as a big dollop of pre-cum extruded itself from JacobÕs penis and
fell into the sea. ÒOr, rather, a big slobbering dog,Ó Sarife laughed. Jacob,
despite the pain of her fingernails in his flesh, seemed to perversely savor
her touch. His penis, coated with the fire powder, was desperate. ÒWill
you let me put these panties on you?Ó Sarife asked him. Jacob nodded.
ÒBut I will never fit,Ó he added. ÒUnless...Ó
ÒYes?Ó Sarife asked.
ÒUnless you jerk me off, or let me fuck you,Ó Jacob said.
ÒOh, no, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. ÒThis is your wedding night. You must
save your sperm for your new bride. But weÕll do our best to jam your big
thing into these little panties. DonÕt worry.Ó
I stood watching, my legs shivering above the surf, my body cold in
the sea breeze, as Rebecca and Sarife put the swim suit on Jacob. They
had to work hard to squeeze his big penis into the nylon suit but finally
succeeded. Then they scooped up handfuls of sand and filled his suit. They
did him front and back. Jacob hollared at the feel of the sand scraping
against his ass. He squirmed as they filled him up in front, the sand
oozing with granular intensity against his balls and his fire-powdered
penis.
ÒYes,Ó Sarife said, when they were done, giving JacobÕs bulging
crotch a pat with her hand.
ÒDonÕt,Ó Jacob gasped.
ÒOh. IÕm sorry, you might cum in the sand,Ó Sarife said. Her eyes
beamed at him.
ÒYou are totally wicked,Ó Jacob said in reply. Despite his
discomfort, there was admiration in his eyes.
Sarife bent and kissed JacobÕs crotch. ÒI will keep you hard for
many hours more,Ó she said. ÒExcruciating hours, that will leave you
breathless with need and desire.Ó
ÒWhat?Ó Jacob asked. His voice was suddenly frank, matter-of-fact.
ÒI want to fuck!Ó he cried.
ÒOn your wedding night?Ó Sarife laughed. ÒDear boy, this is an
Indian wedding. As I told you, the object is not pleasure, but complete
surrender. Your body must be made to come alive on this night. All of it,
down to the last pore on your skin, but most especially the private parts,
the parts that remain concealed in civilized company. You must be made
to dwell exclusively on your reproductive organs, and on the bits of
yourself that are equally private, such as your bottom hole.Ó Deftly she
touched him on the bulge of his engorged cock, at the front of his
swimsuit. Her finger pressed upon the bulge of his penis and she said,
quietly, ÒRelease yourself into my hands and you will not regret it.Ó Then
she bent and kissed his groin and added, ÒBut at the time it is happening, I
must warn you, you may consider yourself a fool for allowing yourself to
be put through it.Ó
ÒGod-- I WANT to be released!Ó Jacob groaned. Agitatedly his hands
skirted along his swimsuit.
ÒNo, Jacob, thatÕs not what I meant,Ó Sarife warned. ÒKeep your
penis where it belongs, for now, in your swimsuit. I shall take it out later
for you, and then, as I warned you, you may regret that I have, for it will
face enormous trials. Both of strength and of pain. But for now, for a
little while, enjoy the warm, chaste comfort that the suit provides. You
are safe in there.Ó
ÒGod, I feel like IÕm going to pop right through it,Ó Jacob grunted. He
thrust with his hips but did not try to open his suit and yank out his dick.
ÒIt will hold,Ó Sarife said, stroking the nylon of his swim suit with
a finger. ÒItÕs as tough as you are.Ó
Sarife still had one more game to play in the sea. She drew a swim
panty from her boot for my aunt. I helped her pull the swimsuit up my
auntÕs legs as my aunt stood watching, clad in her fuzzy pink sweater.
When the wet panties were around my auntÕs hips Sarife let me put sand
into her suit. My aunt shrieked. I patted the suit once it was filled up
with sand to make the grains rub my aunt between her legs, upon her juicy
slit, and on the curve of her bottom. I wished she had been whipped, like
me, so that my hand on her bottom would make her shout.
Then Sarife, not to be left out, put on her own swimsuit. When the
wet fabric was smoothed tight to her skin she let all of us fill her with
sand. Even Jacob helped, his cock bulging in his wet suit like a trapped
watersnake. It was painful for me to bend over with the sand in my suit
scraping my ass, but I did it anyway, for it was fun filling peopleÕs
swimsuits with sand.
ÒNow we must go in,Ó Sarife said. She looked at me. ÒYour bottom
will be rubbed raw by the walk, Chloe, but you must endure it to show your
love for your new husband, and he for you. When we get inside I will
reward you both. I will give you each a bottom-bath, followed by a slow,
gentle creaming. It will take all night and in the morning your bottom will
have such a wonderful glow that you will beg me to mistreat you every
night, whipping you and putting sand on your fanny, so that your your skin
can feel tingly and alive in the morning.Ó
ÒWe must-- walk slowly,Ó my aunt said, wriggling with discomfort
at the scraping of sand against her own unwhipped hiney.
ÒYes. Of course,Ó Sarife replied.
We made our way up over the grassy hillocks that ran along the
beach. We walked carefully. The swordgrass was sharp and the sand in
our suits made each step an experience. My aunt moaned at the feel of the
sand against her pussy; I did too. Even Sarife could not walk without
emitting a moan as the sand in her swimsuit bit into the soft fruit of her
sex. Jacob, with his big penis trapped in his suit and coated with sand,
groaned loudly. But despite having the free use of his hands he did not
expose his cock. He was obedient, and I admired him for it, pausing beside
him in the grass to give his big masculine body a kiss.
ÒYou are being very good,Ó I said to Jacob.
ÒIÕm a damned fool,Ó he answered. He palmed my bottom.
ÒDonÕt,Ó I gasped.
ÒIÕm going to do more than touch it,Ó Jacob warned me. I blushed. I
moved away from him.
ÒNot yet youÕre not,Ó I said.
ÒKeep walking, both of you!Ó Sarife snapped. ÒYou will kiss when I
permit it, and not otherwise.Ó
ÒYouÕre a meanie,Ó I pouted.
ÒYou two would be rolling in the sand in an instant if I didnÕt keep
you apart,Ó Sarife said. She snapped the whip at my ass.
ÒDonÕt!Ó I cried.
ÒThen keep walking,Ó she urged.
Sarife led us to an outdoor shower, along the side of the house.
There we pulled down our suits and emptied them of sand. But she would
not let us remove them. So, still clad in wet swimsuits, we made our way
into the house.
What a strange quartet we made, as we stood again in the kitchen!
Sarife had made us shower carefully; my white veil was still dry, as was
the fuzzy pink sweater my aunt wore. As for Sarife, sheÕd had no way to
keep the shower water from running down into her boots, carrying streaks
of sand in the rivulets, and she now sat down and removed her long boots
from her legs. Jacob stood cuddled in his bikini briefs, his cock strangled
inside them, throbbing mightily against the enclosing nylon.
ÒHave some more fruit,Ó Sarife said casually, glancing up at us as
she pulled off her boots.
ÒIÕm-- IÕm still not hungry,Ó Jacob stammered. He gazed at SarifeÕs
bare feet, newly released from her boots. She wiggled her toes. He stared
at them with his mouth open, nearly drooling.
ÒJacob, are you a foot man?Ó Sarife asked. Her eyes were wide. Her
lips stayed apart as she finished her question and she ran her tongue over
her lower lip.
ÒI- I donÕt think so,Ó Jacob said. His cock strained hard against his
swim briefs.
ÒDo you wish your penis was free, like my toes?Ó Sarife asked him
with chuckling eyes.
ÒYes,Ó Jacob gasped.
ÒIf you lick my feet clean IÕll let you expose your naughty penis,Ó
Sarife suggested. Her voice was lilting, soft, with a sly hesitance to it,
as if she feared his mouth gobbling at her small toes.
ÒArghgh!Ó Jacob groaned. He yanked down his swim trunks and, at
the same time, dropped to his knees. With his hands still on his trunks he
leaned forward, bent low, and grabbed at SarifeÕs toes with his teeth.
ÒYeeooch! DonÕt bite them, Jacob!Ó Sarife cried. Jacob closed his
lips over SarifeÕs toes on her right foot and began sucking, hard as a
hungry baby. ÒMmmmm,Ó Sarife moaned. She extended her leg. Jacob kept
his mouth hard upon her foot. His head moved with her foot. At the same
time his hands clutched at his penis. He seemed desperate to rub it, but
instead held it by the root, as if clutching a stick shift with both hands,
down at its base.
ÒI can think of better places for his mouth than a foot,Ó my aunt
sighed. With her fingers she plucked at her swimsuit, drawing it away
from the cleft of her pussy. She let go. Her swimsuit snapped back into
place. Sarife, meanwhile, rubbed her bare belly. Her hands dipped lower
with each circular motion. I frankly diddled myself in my slit, unable to
watch Jacob without feeling thrills of excitement.
ÒEnough,Ó Sarife said, seeing my naughtiness. She kicked at Jacob.
His mouth fell open and he fell back. She stood. Jacob thrust his face to
the floor and tried to kiss her again. She walked away. Jacob followed
after her like a dog, his nose to the ground, as if sniffing a trail. ÒWhat
men will do for love,Ó Sarife laughed. She gazed back at Jacob. Her long
dark hair swished along her back, a rope of desire. Jacob, on his hands and
knees, stopped crawling. He blushed. ÒGet up, silly!Ó Sarife commanded.
She snapped her fingers at him. Her long nails glistened in the light of a
single oil lamp that burned on the kitchen counter. ÒPull up your
swimsuit,Ó Sarife said to Jacob. ÒDo you think youÕre in the company of
boys? We are girls. Ladies, in fact. Do not rudely display yourself to us
like that!Ó
Hastily Jacob pulled up his briefs. It was difficult for him to get
himself back in his trunks and he winced as he managed it. ÒGood,Ó Sarife
said approvingly, when he was covered up. ÒNow stand like a man and turn
on some more lights for us. Do you know how to operate an oil lamp?Ó
ÒUh, I think so,Ó Jacob said. He was dazed, all his attention still on
his massive, pent-up groin.
ÒGood. IÕm glad you learned something in Boy Scouts,Ó Sarife said,
guessing, or perhaps only teasing. ÒLight up the kitchen for us so that we
can see, now that your penis isnÕt sticking out to annoy us. Then get a
knife out of the silverware drawer and cut up this fruit for us. The
papaya, and the coconut. Have you ever sliced open a coconut before?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Jacob said.
ÒVery well. ItÕs good I had you pull up your suit,Ó Sarife said. ÒWe
wouldnÕt want your new bride to be deprived of her connubial bliss. Cut
open the coconut. You shall both drink its milk and eat its white flesh.
The coconut is especially valuable in producing an abundance of sperm and
eggs.Ó
Jacob walked to the kitchen counter. His gait was awkward. ÒA lot
of good that will do me,Ó he groused.
ÒYou will have plenty of opportunity to pump forth your seed,Ó Sarife
said, gazing after JacobÕs small butt as he walked. ÒBut control is
important. A marriage can be ruined not only if the groom is late, but also
if he comes too soon.Ó
ÒThis is torture,Ó Jacob groaned, and opened the silverware drawer
and pulled out a big knife. I gulped. Sarife had big rolling bosoms that
jiggled whenever she spoke and I had a sudden, Halloween 13 vision of
Jacob taking revenge on her tits. But although he did give her bosom a
sidelong glance as he returned to the kitchen table, he set to work
whacking away at the coconut with his knife.
ÒVery good,Ó Sarife said, when Jacob finally managed to get the
coconut open. He was inexperienced and the coconutÕs milk spilled over
the table, but she seemed not to mind. ÒNow take off your swimsuit
Jacob,Ó Sarife said. Jacob obeyed. When he was free of the thing she
ordered him to give it to her. With her fingernails she tore it open, after
first cutting a small hole in it with the knife. She ripped it to shreds and
dropped it on the floor. ÒYou will swim naked for the rest of the week,Ó
she informed Jacob.
ÒHot dog,Ó Jacob said. But his eyes gazed anxiously after the suit,
which lay in a small, wrecked pile of nylon upon the floor. Milk from the
coconut dripped off the end of the table and fell in drops onto his
discarded suit. His balls hung full and tight between his legs. Did he see a
dangerous allusion in the torn suit and the fulness of his reproductive
equipment? I did not know. Still holding the knife, Sarife beckoned to
Jacob. He walked over to her. With the curled finger she had used to call
him she now took hold of the thick knob of his penis. She brandished the
knife at his manhood. Jacob flinched.
ÒYou are quite big, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. She gazed at JacobÕs
member. Then her eyes rose slowly up his flat belly and over his lightly
haired chest. Finally they settled upon his face, and she smiled at him.
ÒAs for me, IÕm afraid I donÕt have big muscles like you,Ó Sarife said.
ÒEverything IÕve got went into my bosoms.Ó She laughed. ÒLook how big
they are-- and how skinny my arms are! ItÕs unfair, donÕt you think?Ó
Jacob said nothing, his eyes on the knife. It flashed in the light cast by
the oil lamps. ÒNow I realize you could have your way with all of us,
Jacob,Ó Sarife said. ÒBut I want you to put yourself in my hands. As you
are doing now.Ó She gave a smirk. Her eyes fell again to his cock. ÒPlease
be obedient and do just as I tell you. I promise IÕll reward you-- in due
time, and with much better rewards than you could ever get by taking
what you want.Ó She bent and kissed his cockhead, right on the tip. She
extended her tongue and grazed his pee hole with it. ÒYes,Ó she said, her
voice a sigh. ÒGood. You did not try to thrust yourself into my mouth but
let me come to you. See? I like your pee hole, Jacob. I like the taste of it
upon my lips. And I like many other things too, things too dirty to
mention. So if you will be good, despite being so strong and capable, then
I will see to it that you get to have all the nasty, dirty rewards that I
know men long for when they see sweet innocent girls like us.Ó Her eyes
flitted to Rebecca and I. They were full of mischief, sparkling, as if she
half disbelieved what she was saying, but loved how it made JacobÕs penis
throb in her hand.
ÒIÕll- IÕll try,Ó Jacob said.
ÒGood,Ó Sarife smiled. Her gaze returned to his cock. She bent her
head and kissed it again. It was a long kiss, and Jacob cried out as he
struggled to contain himself against the fluttering of her tongue. Her
breath coaxed hotly upon his knob. Her mouth yawned wide with beckoning
surrender.
ÒUnnhhh!Ó Jacob yelled. His hips lurched back, then thrust forward
again, as if eager to pee.
ÒYes!Ó Sarife announced, suddenly, breaking contact with him, even
letting go of his cock. For a moment we all watched it. Its stiff length
shook with his pulse. I was sure he would spout in her face but somehow
he held himself back. ÒVery good!Ó Sarife said at last, and looked up into
his eyes, when it became apparent that he would not squirt. I felt myself
breathe a sigh of relief. Jacob looked down at his dick as if observing a
foreign object. ÒAre you surprised that you didnÕt cum?Ó Sarife asked.
ÒYes, I-- IÕm still hoping I wonÕt,Ó Jacob confessed. His voice was
nervous and his dick remained stiff as a petrified fire hose. A dollop of
pre-cum oozed from the tip. Sarife touched a finger lightly to JacobÕs pee
hole. She scooped up the pre-cum. She popped her finger in her mouth.
She sucked it and smiled at him.
ÒIÕm sleepy,Ó I said. I looked up at my aunt.
ÒYes, me too,Ó Rebecca said.
ÒOf course. We must get to bed,Ó Sarife said, pulling her finger from
her mouth.
We walked up an old flight of stairs. We went in pairs, Sarife
holding JacobÕs hand and my aunt holding mine. Sarife carried an oil lamp
so we could see. The stairs creaked under our feet.
ÒOh! Be careful,Ó Sarife said, glancing over at Jacob. She looked
down at his crotch and asked, ÒIs the walk making your testicles bounce
too much?Ó
ÒUh, no,Ó Jacob replied.
ÒGood,Ó Sarife said. She gave him a smile. She tugged on his hand,
tossed back her hair, and led him up another step.
The stairs creaked again. Sarife looked once more at Jacob. ÒIs our
walk making your penis swing too much?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Jacob said again, looking rather puzzled. Sarife leaned over
and stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek.
ÒGood,Ó she said again. ÒI want only the very best for you, Jacob,
even if I must be rigorous with your training.Ó She gave him a
mischievous smile, then glanced back at my aunt, who, IÕm afraid, was as
unaware as I was of her plans.
We mounted the rest of the stairs. At the top of them Sarife looked
at Jacob again, both into his eyes and at his exposed genitalia, and asked,
ÒDo you need to relieve yourself before I put you to bed?Ó
ÒUh, sure,Ó Jacob said. He turned as if to embrace Sarife, but she
drew quickly back and touched a cautionary finger to his cock.
ÒNot that sort of relief, Jacob,Ó Sarife smiled. ÒSimply an emptying
of the bladder. And number two, if you must.Ó
Jacob said nothing. His face was haggard. He had been through a
great deal, and I had been too, and it was amazing that either of us didnÕt
just tell Sarife to go jump out a window. Yet he let her curl her finger
around the flange of his cock, taking as much of him as she could manage,
and lead him by his big prick down the hall to the bathroom. My aunt and I
followed. Sarife had the lamp. We would have been left in the dark if we
did not.
The bathroom looked as if it hadnÕt changed since the 1890Õs. There
was a toilet with a tank over head, with a chain dangling down that Sarife
held with her small hand, waiting while Jacob peed into the bowl. Nearby,
next to a small woven throw rug, which was in the form of an oval, stood a
large, claw-footed tub. There was no shower attached to it but nearby a
fire burned, in a small brick fireplace. The fire must have been started
this afternoon by our black chauffeurÕs wife. It was nearly out now, but a
few embers still glowed amidst the hearth. In addition to starting a fire
for us, the woman had stocked the bathroom with piles of folded towels
and several fresh bars of soap. I saw bubble bath too, in a plastic bottle
that was new and still sealed, and a large scrub brush whose bristles
were straight and firm.
Above the fireplace hung a tin bucket. It had water in it and I
guessed that hot water was provided this way to the bath, by a bucket
heated over the flames.
FLUSH! Went the toilet, Sarife pulling upon the chain, as Jacob
finished peeing. I was next. I sat down and looked at them all with big
eyes as I emptied my bladder through my rolled cunt lips. Sarife smiled at
me, at my panties pulled down to my ankles, at my hands that worked
quickly to wipe myself when I was done. I was careful not to pleasure
myself on my fingers, Sarife standing over me and watching my every
movement.
ÒRebecca. Stir the fire,Ó Sarife said. ÒI want them both to have
baths before I tuck them in for the night.Ó
ÒAlright,Ó my aunt said. We were salty from our trip to the ocean. I
knew she must be pleased to finally take off her sweater and enjoy a full
bath. She walked to the fireplace, pulling her sweater off as she walked.
I watched the rolling of her hips. She was as aroused as I, but holding her
desire within herself, not letting it show, except for an exaggerated
motion of her hips.
We waited for my aunt to fill the tub. It was a slow process. First
she stirred the fire and put on more wood, from a small pile of unburnt
logs lying beside the hearth. When at last the fire grew tall, and the
flames heated the pail hanging in the hearth, my aunt tossed the heated
water into the tub. Then she ran more water into the pail from the tubÕs
faucet and again hung the pail over the fire. We waited for it to warm,
Sarife gently stroking JacobÕs penis, I myself crouched on the floor,
slipping my hands up and down along my splayed thighs and secretly
touching myself with my fingers. My aunt, for her part, rubbed her belly
as she stood over the fire. I knew she wished her hand was a little lower,
down where her pubis grew. Sarife did the same, palming her own flat
belly, desire in her eyes, the flames of the fire lighting our faces, making
our bodies glow.
We bathed together. There was little room in the tub for all four of
us but we were too eager to take turns. We bumped each other in ungainly
ways that proved amusingly erotic. A tit bumping with fulsome, stiff-
nippled thoughtlessness into a face, a nipple teasing parted lips; JacobÕs
cock banging into all of us. With excited hands we washed each other.
Fingers skimmed over backs and buttocks, and lingered to the point of
crisis between encouragingly parted legs.
At last, still short of the satisfaction we all craved, we stepped
from the tub.
ÒGood. I am glad none of us came,Ó Sarife said, still exerting her
willpower over us. She handed us towels. ÒLetÕs dry each other with the
same reserve,Ó she said. Carefully we did so; again the comedy of open,
eager legs dueling with fingers ensued. All of us dried JacobÕs cock for
him, even after it was already free of water. I was afraid he would loose
his sperm into my towel as I covered his dick with it and rubbed, but he
managed not to. He was like Hercules enduring the seven labors, except it
was three girls with three towels, and many fingers. My own pussy
yearned for fulfillment but I had to settle for the satisfaction of Sarife
and my aunt towelling me between my thighs.
There was a low wooden bench near the tub. When at last there
could be no argument that we were dry, all of us having towelled each
other to excess, Sarife made Jacob and I sit on the bench. She gave me
lipstick and a brush and told me to do my hair and my makeup. She handed
Jacob a small hand held mirror to hold for me. He aimed it at his dick and
showed me the reflection; he was too big for the mirror to reflect his
entire length at once and we both laughed at this.
ÒBe good, children,Ó Sarife said. She made Jacob hold the mirror to
my face, so I could brush my hair and apply lipstick. Then she turned and
stood with my aunt before a mirror hung over the bathroomÕs sink and
together they made each other up. I snuck a hand across JacobÕs leg and
touched his dick. ÒChloe! Do not!Ó Sarife scolded. Her back was to me but
she could see me in the mirror over the sink. Quickly I withdrew my hand.
Jacob scowled, but held the mirror up to my face as Sarife wished him to.
Free in our nakedness and yet all prisoners of SarifeÕs imaginative
designs, we walked to the bedroom. As we went down the hall Sarife,
holding our oil lamp and JacobÕs hand (his cock lewdly pointing the way),
said:
ÒYou have both had a long night. Much has been asked of you. You
were married in the waves and each given a taste of the crop. Not to be
cruel, of course, but to make you remember that a marriage is not only
shared bliss but also shared suffering. You were shown the rings that you
will be pierced with, at the end of the week, to make your marriage
complete.Ó
I flinched upon hearing that, for I had forgotten about the rings.
Sarife had her head half-turned, saw me blanch, and said, ÒYes, Chloe.
Your little pleasure bud has given you much enjoyment. But now you are
becoming a married woman. You will no longer be a mere girl at the end of
this week but a woman with a husband. They can, if you do not already
know, be both a trial and a blessing. To symbolize the dual nature of
marriage, your clit will be pierced. You will be made to feel pain where,
previously, you have felt only pleasure. You will feel the weight of the
implanted ring, pulling upon your small bud, where before you were free.
Imagine how a child will weigh in your belly! The weight of a ring hanging
within your clit is nothing compared to that. Yet having a ring implanted
in your clitoris will serve as a good introduction to marriage and
motherhood. The pain will hurt, but not like giving birth. The heaviness of
the ring will perhaps discomfit you but not like a baby in oneÕs womb.Ó
We passed through a doorway, Sarife leading us. Within was a
nineteenth century bedroom. The bed was large. A small stairstep led up
to it, for it stood high off the floor. It had brass rails at its head and foot.
The brass was newly polished. Someone had turned down the comforter.
It lay in quilted folds at the foot of the bed, exposing the bedÕs sheets.
They were crisp, white. Twin pillows waited at the head of the bed.
ÒI want you both to make yourselves comfortable,Ó Sarife said. ÒLie
down on the bed. Enjoy its softness. Kiss if you like. Touch each other; be
free in your explorations of each otherÕs bodies.Ó She grinned. ÒYou may
even be rude if you like. I wonÕt mind, here in your bridal bedroom.Ó
I looked at Jacob. There was anxiety in his eyes. And no wonder;
lying upon our wedding bed, black against the soft whiteness of the
sheets, were several ominous-looking objects.
ÒSarife-- what are those?Ó I asked, pointing.
ÒOh,Ó Sarife said. She smiled and looked at the things on the bed.
ÒPresents. Wedding presents.Ó
On the bed lay these items, which Sarife now gazed at with
innocuous eyes, as if every bride and groom should have them: a leather
paddle, a whip with thin, knotted cords, and several fire-blackened and
hardened birch rods tied with a bow. I felt a gasp escape me as I observed
them. Lying with them was a bit, made of rubber. It had long black
ribbons attached to it so that it could be secured around oneÕs head. Jacob
trembled as he stood with his hand still in SarifeÕs, his ass lightly
streaked from her crop, his penis displaying itself with randy ardor. I
could still feel the imprint of SarifeÕs crop on my own bottom and loathed
the thought of getting into a bed that seemed to require more.
ÒWhat? Do you hesitate?Ó Sarife asked. Her eyes glowed with
merriment. I guessed she must have known about the things on the bed
even before she brought us here. And something else too: lying next to the
bed, on a table covered as if ceremonially with a white towel, were two
bowls. Each was made of china, and painted with pretty flowers along its
sides. Each was filled to its brim with water. And lying in each bowl was
a long glass squirt tube. A heavy rubber bulb was fitted to one end of the
tube. At its other end, angled into the water, each tube tapered to a small
nozzle-like opening.
ÒWe-- are to be douched?Ó Jacob asked uncertainly, his hand clasped
by SarifeÕs, looking at the bowls.
ÒI suppose so,Ó Sarife said. ÒThere is a bowl for you, and one for
your bride. His and Hers. IÕll do the honors. Why donÕt you lie on the bed
on your belly and spread your legs for me?Ó
ÒNo way,Ó Jacob said. Sarife laughed.
ÒAre you afraid I might hurt you?Ó she asked. Still holding JacobÕs
hand, she touched his flat belly. She ran her fingers lightly down to the
root of his stiffly exposed penis.
ÒI know you would,Ó Jacob said.
ÒDo you think IÕd squeeze as much water as possible into your little
ass, to see if you could take it?Ó Sarife asked. Her hand played along the
length of his cock. JacobÕs ass tensed. The steely white mounds drew
together until his butt crack was nothing more than a tightly compressed
line. His ass cheeks looked like two small fists balled together, they
were so small.
His cock, on the other hand, sticking out rudely in front of him, was
as big as a donkeyÕs. My aunt and I were impressed by the contrast.
Despite the presence of the wicked things on the bed we found ourselves
skimming our fingers in our slits, our flat bare bellies indrawn and tense,
our naked bosoms quivering in time to the palpitations of our hearts.
ÒYes,Ó Sarife said. Her fingers worked with coaxing pressure upon
the stiff knob of JacobÕs dick. She squeezed; he groaned. I feared he
would spurt in her hand, coating her fingertips with his seed. Surely he
couldnÕt take much more!
ÒYou will lie on your belly, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. ÒOn the bed. You
will feel as comfortable as you can, given that this big rod of yours will
be pressed between your belly and the sheet. You will lie still; any
excessive movement might cause your cock to feel pleasure, and put a wet
spot on the clean linen.Ó She smiled. She looked at the bowls on the table.
ÒMeanwhile,Ó she continued, Òas you lay there, with your bride beside you,
I will attend to your bottom. I will fill it slowly, each squirt deepening
the pressure in your colon. Imagine how it will feel: your penis crushed
beneath you, the weight of your body bearing down on it, while your
backside is filled, so that the weight of the water in your rear end adds to
the pressure on your dick!Ó
ÒNo,Ó Jacob groaned. Sarife gave him a squeeze on his cock which I
took as being admonitory, and continued,
ÒThen, Jacob, do you know what I will do, as you lie upon those clean
sheets, smelling how new and crisp they are, how freshly laundered? I
will apply the implements on the bed to your bottom. With the water still
in it, of course, your cheeks clenched together so that you do not soil the
sheets. I will apply each of the implements in turn to your naked ass.
First the paddle, with its warm, splatting smacks, which will make the
water in your belly shake and quiver. Then the whip, its tails seeking to
penetrate your tightly compressed cheeks. Finally the birch rods, hard and
black, the nubs digging into your flesh, leaving their mark upon you so that
everyone can see that you are a firmly broken-in husband.Ó
ÒNo,Ó Jacob cried. He spoke through gritted teeth. Sarife, with
gentle fingers, fondled his cock.
ÒOh, but I insist, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. ÒI am only the bridesmaid, or
perhaps the pastor, but I think I can insist on such things, can I not?
Surely if I am the pastor I can. Look how you throb in my hand! Even as
you feel afraid, you feel also the challenge of it, do you not? Is there not
a strange pleasure in seeing if you can endure it? Yes I know you have
already endured much but you have survived, Jacob. Each time, where
other men would have lost themselves, you have managed to hang on to
your seed. That is quite an accomplishment. Now do this one thing more,
for me. I will dress up for you if you will lie on the bed for me. We will
even take breaks. We will stop in the middle of it and you will be
permitted to get up, to have lemonade. I shall have Rebecca mix lemonade
for us and bring it up to the bedroom. We will pause for crackers and
lemonade. It will not be a torture, Jacob, though it could be, if one wished
it to be. Instead it will be a test. Each stroke will be carefully applied. I
will wait after giving you each one so that you may fully absorb the effect
of it; feel it, savor it, perhaps. And each squirt in your bottom will be
slow and deliberate. How you shiver as I describe it to you, Jacob! Am I
not the perfect dominatrix? Imagine anyone else serving you lemonade
half-way through your torture! Ooops! I said I would not call it that. Get
on the bed, dear, and tell Chloe to join you. I will bind you both with cords
so that you can more easily bear what is given. Now I command it: get on
the bed, Jacob! Chloe! Take your husbandÕs hand and let him lead you to
your bridal bed.Ó
With Rebecca impelling me with a hand in my back, with Jacob
reaching for me and taking my small hand in his large one, I was led to the
bed. I went with faltering legs. I was frightened and they knew it; yet
they were too excited by what Sarife had offered to say the obvious thing,
which was ÔnoÕ. Instead I was made to mount the steps to the bed. With
trembling legs I walked up the small stairs. My bottom wiggled. Jacob
palmed my backside to push me along.
Sarife took the implements off the bedsheets. Jacob made me lie
down. He himself lay down beside me. We kissed. Our bellies pressed flat
to the sheet. Our arms encircled each otherÕs waists. Our faces pressed
together, sharing a single pillow. Our bottoms mounded behind us, white
flesh offering itself to the night. Then Sarife separated us and made us
lie apart, each to our own pillow, but with our legs spread wide, so that
JacobÕs ankle overlapped mine. Sarife and Rebecca tied us down this way.
My wrists were bound. JacobÕs were bound also, and then our ankles.
ÒOh, Jacob,Ó I moaned, when we were both tied spread-eagled to the
bed. My belly felt cool against the bedsheet. I wondered how his belly
felt, with his big cock pressed hard against it.
ÒI love you,Ó Jacob breathed to me.
ÒGag them,Ó Sarife told my aunt.
ÒOh, I do not wish--Ó I protested. But my aunt fitted a black rubber
gag between my teeth. She bound the gagÕs ribbons to the back of my head.
I squirmed. She slapped my bottom and told me to lie still.
Jacob was next. I watched him open his mouth and accept the gag.
He did not protest. He let my aunt fit him with the thing, and I was
reminded of a horse being bitted. When the gag was in place he looked at
me, and it felt very odd, lying there with him beside me, my new husband,
both of us bitted and waiting for obscene things to be done to us, to be
shared by us. In our bridal bed.
Sarife walked over to a dresser by the far wall. She opened a drawer
and delicately picked through things within it. They were bits of lingerie;
all for show, none of it practical. She found a bra she liked. She walked
back to the bed, fitting it to herself as she walked. It was purely
decorative. It had no cups, only the frilled black outline of a bra, with a
ribbon tied gaily between her bosoms. She had my aunt fasten its clasp.
They paused to kiss after Sarife had been fitted into the bra. Their
fingers sought each otherÕs nests. They wet their fingertips in each
otherÕs quims and then, in a moment of pure abandon, made each other
taste herself by putting their fingertips to each otherÕs mouths.
ÒMmm, I am wet,Ó Sarife acknowledged, licking my auntÕs fingers.
ÒYes. Me too,Ó Rebecca answered.
ÒGloves. I must have gloves,Ó Sarife said.
ÒShall I dress also?Ó my aunt asked.
ÒIf you wish,Ó Sarife said. ÒIt is fun to wear pretty things for a
game of torture. It makes what must be done seem less severe.Ó
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said. She was clearly in thrall to SarifeÕs abundant
imagination and would do whatever she asked.
ÒLook in the dresser. See if you cannot find something for yourself.
Something silky and soft. I do not like wearing leather and such for a
beating. The whip is harsh enough; let them feel my silk-enclosed fingers
upon their asses between whip strokes, to know that I love them.Ó
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said. It was almost a moan. She put her hand
between her legs.
ÒDo not touch yourself excessively, Rebecca,Ó Sarife warned. ÒNone
of us must enjoy ourselves until Jacob does. It is the least we can do for
him, controlling our own desire until heÕs spurted forth his seed.Ó
ÒYes,Ó my aunt agreed. She withdrew her hand. I saw reluctance in
her eyes. A mirror poised near the bed showed me her face. She looked at
her fingertips. ÒDo you think--Ó my aunt asked.
ÒWhat? That he will sperm the sheet?Ó Sarife laughed. She was
walking back to the dresser to find something for my aunt to wear, and
gloves for herself. ÒI hope not,Ó Sarife said. ÒHeÕs not a little boy
anymore. HeÕs a groom. HeÕs too old for such things.Ó
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said.
Gloved and wearing a bra that did more to show off her breasts than
conceal them, Sarife used the glass squirt to fill JacobÕs bottom. When he
had received an injection she returned the squirt to its bowl. She filled
mine. I twisted my hips but she slapped my ass and made my aunt hold my
bottomcheeks open for her. The squirt was pressed to my rosette. I
resisted. I mewled in my gag. I bit into it, hard, when my hole finally
opened for her and I felt the squirt slide into me. Its passage was smooth.
Sarife had taken care to put vaseline at the tip and along its sides. It
drove into me, stretching me, and just when I thought I could take no more
Sarife squeezed the ball at the end of it. Its burden of fluid was forced
into my bowls. I cried out; the gag muffled me. I felt a heaviness in my
colon, pressing against my belly, swelling my ass. Sarife laughed. She
slapped my bottom and the fluid jiggled within me.
ÒThat is but one squirt, dear,Ó Sarife said. ÒYou will take many more
tubes of water up your fanny before you are truly full.Ó
Jacob groaned like a tortured soul in Hell. Not only was his cock
erect, and trapped under his hairy belly, but he now suffered from the
weight of water in his bowels, adding to the pressure upon his cock.
Sarife smiled, her eyes glowing, and turned her attention once more to my
betrothed.
ÒNow, Jacob, I must truly test your fitness to be ChloeÕs husband,Ó
Sarife said. ÒAt weekÕs end you will both be fitted with rings that will
permanently alter you. That is the moment when you will truly be
married, Indian-style. When your ringed penis penetrates ChloeÕs newly
ring-laden vagina. That is the moment, not before, though it is fun to
speak of you two as already being married, now that youÕve both shared
the pain of my crop in the waves. But, to be technically correct, it is not
until your penis thrusts in Chloe, both of you fitted with marital rings,
that you are well and truly joined in holy matrimony. In the meantime we
must see that you are a first-rate husband, by your ability to contain your
desire within your balls, not releasing it until the appropriate moment.Ó
It was then that I heard the dry rattle of a cane being drawn from a
tube. I turned my head and saw that an old tube, holding an ancient-
looking cane, was bolted to the floor near the clothes closet. I bit my lip
and wondered if black villagers had once felt that cane upon their behinds.
No, I decided. Perhaps other implements had been used on them, but this
was a bedroom cane. It had been kept in the bedroom by the Colonial
governor for use upon his wife.
Sarife bent the cane in her small fists to test its strength. It did
not break. It was old but still retained some of its flexibility. She
swished it through the air. Beside me, Jacob flinched.
ÒYes,Ó Sarife smiled at my lover. ÒHow large your balls look lying
there, between your legs.Ó She extended the cane with one hand and poked
at JacobÕs testicles. ÒDoes that hurt, dear?Ó she asked. She poked him
again. ÒHow about that? What if I bring this cane down hard and fast on
those twin eggs of yours, in your tight sac? Would that cause you to mess
the clean sheet you are lying on?Ó Sarife laughed. ÒNo, I am not cruel,
Jacob, though I confess a slight wish to be. How lovely to have my way
with a man, to be a GovernessÕ wife and bring my favorite black slave up
here to my bedroom, to whip him in my bed?Ó Again she laughed. ÒTo
think that might have happened, when the poor Governor thought that this
bedroom cane was reserved exclusively for him, to use upon his wifeÕs
bottom!Ó
I blanched. I yanked at my bonds and wondered how Sarife could have
managed to share my fantasy regarding the old cane. I had not thought of
the slave in the bed of the GovernorÕs wife, but the thought of the
Governor himself caning his wife had occurred to me. I realized that I was
now, quite possibly, poised just as she had been, when she had received
canings on her bottom from her husband. And Jacob, was he positioned in
the bed just as the black slave would have been?
ÒI could sit on your bottom, dear Jacob, and bear down on you and
wiggle my ass, but that would surely make you cum,Ó Sarife said. ÒYet I
must add more weight to your butt, to test your ability to keep your sperm
in your balls.Ó She gave the cane another swish. ÒYes, this will do,Ó
Sarife said. ÒQuick, refined, biting into your ass and putting weight upon
it, but then springing away, before you spend. Each stroke will give you
just the briefest increase in the weight you are now feeling upon your
cock, trapped there under your belly. The rest will be up to you, Jacob.
DonÕt squirm. If you wiggle around the friction and pressure will surely
make you cum. Endure each stroke of the cane manfully. Let the weight
fall on you but do not let it break your will to resist. Keep yourself still
so that the movement of your body will not cause you to spend.Ó
Sarife looked at my aunt. ÒThere are better ways to spend an
evening, but I canÕt think of them,Ó she laughed. My aunt was less jubilant.
ÒPerhaps having a cock up inside of us?Ó Rebecca asked.
ÒOh, how droll,Ó Sarife said. ÒIt is much more fun to torture a man
than to simply let him take you. I think I should have enjoyed the
Inquisition, if they had let ladies be the Inquisitors.Ó She tossed back her
dark hair and looked again at Jacob, lying nude and powerful on the bed, his
legs and arms pinned down with restraints. ÒIn your case, dear Jacob,
there is nothing I wish to procure from you. No confession, no
ejaculation.Ó She giggled. ÒRather, I am testing your ability *not* to
ejaculate. You are not to offer something up to me, but, rather to keep it
in. And that goes for your bottom as well, which I see you are keeping
tightly compressed so that you do not soil the sheets with that enema I
gave you. Ah, how odd it will feel when I strike you, dear boy, feeling that
water in your ass jiggle around in your colon. Water in your colon, sperm
in your balls. And, no doubt, pee in your bladder. You are quite the
container, are you not, Jacob? We shall see how well you hold it all in as I
flay your bare behind with this cane!Ó
I heard a clock ticking somewhere. As the minutes passed Sarife
applied the cane with discreet skill to our bottoms. It is odd to speak of
such a thing that way, and as I lay there, tossing my head and moaning
through my gag at each bite of the instrument, I did not think of it that
way. But afterward, reflecting much later upon it, I realized how skillful
she had been in torturing us. At the time it seemed as if the beating was
just pure unadulterated sadism, the cane flashing down and searing my
flesh, leaving a bright red line where before my skin had been white and
perfect. Only later did I realize how each stroke was carefully measured
and placed, care taken that no two strokes should overlap, lest the risen,
scorched skin be made to break. She did not wish to ÔdrawÕ, as it is called,
when the cane tears open the flesh and brings forth blood. It was not a
penitential whipping, as one reads about in old books. We were not real
slaves, nor were we nineteenth century prisoners. Instead our caning was
meant to arouse the flesh, to cause every square inch of it to come alive,
so that all our thoughts focused on that one part of our body which we
often spent no time thinking about at all: our bottoms. Indeed for many
days afterwards, whenever I sat down, I was reminded of SarifeÕs cane.
Now and then Sarife would put down her cane, only to take up a glass
squirt. She would use this to inject more water into our flaming bottoms.
Unfortunately the water was needed on the outside of our bottoms, but
instead she pumped it into our guts. I felt my own insides swell as she
added squirt after squirt; how cruel it was for her to add a little at a
time, caning us inbetween, rather than just filling us up all in one go and
then letting us go and relieve ourselves in the toilet!
At last, mercifully, my aunt spoke up. She insisted that we had had
enough, that any more would be a true agony, one beyond the limits we had
set for ourselves in coming to this mansion. It was, after all, to be a
wedding.
Sarife relented. She let my aunt take the cane from her. Rebecca
laid it on the dresser. Then my aunt got on the bed and untied my wrists. I
had to go to the bathroom very badly and as soon as Rebecca had freed my
hands I tried to get up. Alas, my legs were still bound. I had to wait for
Rebecca to untie my ankles. Sarife did not help; she brooded by the
dresser, wishing she could still use the cane on us. She did not think we
had had as much as we could bear. She wanted to push us to the very limit
of our endurance. From the state my bottom was in, I was quite positive I
had had enough!
Not bothering with my gag, which still wedged itself tight and snug
in my mouth, I ran down the hall to the bathroom. I was in such a state of
distress, my guts swollen with the water Sarife had forced into them,
that I had no thought of waiting for Jacob. I plopped on the toilet not
quite in time; a dribble of discolored brown drops showed on the floor,
like a trail left by a wounded, bleeding animal.
When Sarife came into the bathroom to check on me, I was wiping
myself. My bottom hurt but even then I realized it was not as bad as I had
imagined. I had difficulty passing the toilet paper over my swollen
buttcheeks, but my insides were okay, like the lungs of a runner after he
has run a race, exhausted but more alive from the effort of what theyÕd
endured.
ÒAre you alright?Ó Sarife asked me.
ÒI- I cannot wipe,Ó I told her, reaching underneath and behind
myself, my bottom horribly tender.
ÒIt will last for a few days,Ó Sarife said. She looked in the mirror
and checked her hair, fluffed it. ÒIt is nothing,Ó she said. ÒI am not
worried about the state of your behind, where the cane struck it. Your
colon is what I am asking about. Do you feel you had a normal bowel?Ó
ÒNo-- it was watery,Ó I said.
ÒOf course it was watery!Ó Sarife laughed. She finished primping in
the mirror and turned to me and said, ÒIf you can complain about it then
you must be alright. I didnÕt think I overtaxed you but I thought IÕd ask.
You are fairly new to such things, are you not?Ó
ÒYes,Ó I assured you.
ÒIn time you will be able to hold more in your bottom,Ó she said.
ÒFinish playing with your ass and get up. And flush-- I think I hear Jacob
coming. He will not want to find a full toilet.Ó
Hastily I finished wiping myself and sprang up. I yanked on the
toiletÕs overhead chain. It flushed. Just then Jacob streaked into the
bathroom, his big cock waggling, and he sat down on the commode with an
eagerness that set even me to laughing.
We watched Jacob empty himself. It was awe-inspiring, for his
penis was erect and would not hang down in the toilet bowl. Instead it
stuck out over the seat, dripping pre-cum, even as his butthole released
the water in his ass.
ÒChloe. Come over here to the sink,Ó Sarife said when we had
finished enjoying the odd entertainment of watching Jacob defecate. ÒI
want to wash your bottom,Ó she told me. ÒI will prove to you that I am not
simply cruel. I can be kind too.Ó
ÒI do not need my bottom washed,Ó I said. My aunt, who had walked
into the bathroom as Jacob unburdened himself, snapped her fingers at me.
ÒChloe!Ó she said. ÒDo as you are told.Ó I was surprised at her
sharpness. Later I realized she had to keep me submissive, for if I
rebelled, Jacob might, and then all bets would be off.
With our bottoms left wet, so that they could enjoy the coolness of
the air more completely, we walked downstairs. We drank lemonade in the
kitchen. My aunt and Sarife sat at the kitchen table but Jacob and I
remained standing, our bottoms too pained for us to sit. Jacob displayed
his penis as he drank his lemonade. I stood with my legs apart, my hungry
sex wishing it could connect somehow with JacobÕs erection. Sarife held
her riding crop in her hand.
ÒRelax, Jacob. You look so distressingly hard,Ó Sarife laughed.
ÒI cannot,Ó Jacob answered. He looked down at his penis.
ÒAnd you, Chloe, are you equally excited?Ó Sarife asked me. I
touched a finger to my cunt.
ÒYes!Ó I said. My voice came out almost like a screech, for the
brushing of my finger upon my cunny caused me to rise on my toes.
ÒDo not masturbate, Chloe. It is not seemly,Ó my aunt said. I drew
my finger away. I clutched my lemonade glass with both hands.
ÒWe shall go upstairs in a minute and continue our game,Ó Sarife
said. ÒYou will both need to be gagged again.Ó Sarife fingered our gags,
which we had removed to drink. They lay on the table next to her glass of
lemonade. ÒYou will be blindfolded also, this time, for you will lie not on
your tummies but on your backs. It is your loins that I wish to dwell on
this time. I do not want your eyes to reproach me,Ó she smiled.
ÒWill you be wicked?Ó I asked. I do not know why I said it. It
sounded like an invitation. At the same time I stuck out my hips, as if to
offer my bush to her, though in reality I was merely frightened.
ÒYes,Ó Sarife said, lifting her glass, taking a sip, at the same time
extending a finger and touching me right where my aunt had just scolded
me for touching myself.
ÒNo!Ó I shrieked. Yet I did not close my legs, or bat at her hand with
my own, but instead I jutted my hips out more, and widened the stance of
my legs.
ÒGood,Ó Sarife said. Her finger caressed my sex lips, very lightly,
less a touch than a whisper. ÒYou are progressing, Chloe,Ó she said. ÒYou
see the benefit of my training? You see how it makes you a better bride?
At the beginning of this night you would have clapped a hand to your pussy.
You would have denied me. Yet now you part your legs more widely, and
urge me to poke you. When at last I permit Jacob to plunge into you, there
will be no refusal on your part. You will be fully open to him and you will
greedily accept him, as a bride must if she is to be impregnated and bear
young.Ó
Sarife took her finger away from me. Its tip was wet with my
juices. She touched JacobÕs member with it. He shivered. He thrust forth
his penis to encourage her to clasp him. She did; my juices mingled with
the pre-cum drooling from his penis tip.
ÒYes,Ó Sarife said. ÒIn you there is also not the slightest denial,
Jacob, despite how I mistreated your bottom, and pumped your ass full of
water. You see? In pain there can be enormous release. You will discover
this absolutely when at last you are required to thrust yourself into your
new bride. You will rape her, Jacob, with a savagery that you will later
regard as astonishing. But despite the ferocity of your attack she will not
be hurt, for by enduring my torment she will be utterly open and able to
receive you. Yet still sweetly tight, for she is only 13.Ó
Sarife let go of JacobÕs cock. Disappointment showed in his eyes.
Abjectly he tried to follow her hand with his dick, sticking his hips
impulsively out as far as he could as her hand retreated to her lap. My
aunt, sensing we were to go upstairs again, stood up. She picked up the
gags off the table.
ÒAre you finished with your lemonade, Chloe?Ó Rebecca asked me.
ÒYes, auntie,Ó I said. She walked round behind me and made me open
my mouth and stuck the gag into me. I coughed. Sarife reached for my
glass and took it out of my hands. She set it on the table next to her glass.
My tongue was pushed back as my aunt shoved the gag deeper into my
mouth. I coughed again.
ÒDo not resist, Chloe. Open your mouth wider,Ó my aunt said. I did.
She fitted the gag all the way into my mouth and then tied the ribbons
attached to it behind my head. Jacob watched, his own mouth open, his
penis drooling. Sarife reached out and caught a drop of JacobÕs pre-cum as
it dripped towards the floor.
ÒYou need a gag for your dick, to stop you drooling so much,Ó Sarife
laughed.
We went up. Our feet made the stairs creak anew. The motion of my
hips made me wince. The skin of my bottom was tight, enflamed. With
difficulty I lay down on my back on the sheets in the bedroom. The soft
sheets were harsh against my tender ass. Jacob lay down beside me; we
kissed. His cock bumped my thigh and he almost spurted himself onto me.
ÒLie apart!Ó Sarife scolded. ÒThe time is not yet ripe for your
coitus. I must test you a little more. Just a little more.Ó My aunt
crawled onto the bed and separated me from Jacob. She made us put our
hands up over our heads. She tied our wrists. Then, her lovely ass
inspiring Jacob to arch his hips with desire, she crawled down to the foot
of the bed and bent and tied off our ankles.
Our legs were tied in wide vees to give Sarife complete access to
our vulnerable privates. JacobÕs cock stood up like a flagpole, despite the
fear in his eyes. My cunt was a palpitating zone of arousal. The folded
lips grew very wet, even as my limbs, bound with cords, shook with
nervous anxiety.
ÒAh, how randy they both look!Ó Sarife exclaimed. ÒAfraid, yet not
afraid, for each one displays loins that are wet with desire. Chloe, how
sweet and small your sex looks. How unabashedly you lie there with your
legs spread, your hips gently rising and falling in invitation. My dear girl,
I cannot satisfy you. Why do you offer yourself to me so completely? I am
female like you, with the same lusty wet lips as you have. And your aunt
is just as bereft. Yet you strain in your bonds, stretching your thighs,
offering the swollen flower of your cunt as if we could give you the
penetration you so desperately seek! Ah, well. I shall do my best. There
are things that I could use, I suppose. Perhaps a stick, or a bottle. Or
maybe a coat hanger? Will you lie there like that, desperate and yearning,
when you find that Jacob has made your tummy swell with his seed? Oh,
you will swell much more when he has given you his emission, than you
ever did with that water I pumped into you.Ó
Darkness enfolded my eyes. My aunt blocked out my view of Sarife
with a black cloth. Gently she lifted my head and knotted the cloth. All
the while I was conscious of my sex, how it was sure to be mistreated,
yet how kind and soft my auntÕs hands were as she wrapped the blindfold
over my eyes!
Jacob was next. He tried twisting his head away. He did not want to
be blinded. His dick was so huge, so vulnerable. To not be able to see
what Sarife had planned for it frightened him. My aunt struggled but
finally managed to wrap a blindfold around his big head. She kissed him
once, assured him he would not be injured by what Sarife had in mind for
him.
ÒHave we earplugs?Ó Sarife asked. ÒI should wish for them both to
concentrate exclusively on their privates.Ó
ÒOh,Ó my aunt said. ÒI want Chloe to be able to hear me, if I need to
speak to her. Perhaps I will need to ask her to nod, to tell me sheÕs
alright.Ó
ÒWell, Jacob is older,Ó Sarife said. ÒAt least plug up his ears. He
has the penis anyway. It is him I lust for most. Do hurry, Rebecca! Even I
cannot resist temptation forever. Looking at that big penis of his makes
me want to abandon all pretense of torture, and ride him like a whore!Ó
My aunt found a pair of earplugs in the dresser. She put them in
JacobÕs ears so that he would be forced to concentrate entirely on his
dick. It was engorged, I guessed, for that had been its condition when last
I saw it. I was sure he had not yet spent for all our attention swirled
around JacobÕs penis. He was our reason for doing what we did. His
endurance enthralled Sarife. A lesser man would have spent long ago,
would have ended our game. But somehow Jacob hung on, so that we could
torture him all the more!
ÒYes, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. ÒDownstairs I said your penis needed a
gag, it was extruding so much pre-cum. Now I think I have the answer.Ó
I heard a match being struck. Then a sound as of beeswax taking
fire.
ÒOh, surely he shouldnÕt have that!Ó my aunt gasped.
ÒA little hot wax for his pee hole,Ó Sarife said. ÒIt will keep him
from messing our bed.Ó
ÒBut it will hurt!Ó my aunt screeched.
ÒA little,Ó Sarife said. ÒBut this is a candle that burns at a low
temperature. He is a man, anyway. Men are strong, are they not?Ó
ÒDo not drip it on his balls,Ó my aunt said.
ÒDo you fear killing the sperm?Ó Sarife asked.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt gasped. I heard Jacob grunt beside me, like a man
feeling the first blow of a whip.
ÒTut, how you squirm, Jacob,Ó Sarife said. I sensed she must be
dripping wax on him now. Conversationally she said, as if discussing
something while mixing tea, ÒWell, I see your point, Rebecca. After all,
the balls extend and hang below the male so that the heat of his body
doesnÕt kill off his sperm. But look how swollen JacobÕs testicles are.
How full he is! Surely a little hot wax on his balls wonÕt kill all his
sperm!Ó
ÒNo!Ó my aunt cried, but it must have been too late, for I heard Jacob
utter, through his gag, a most excruciating moan.
ÒFear not, darling,Ó Sarife said. ÒI shall remove this wax from you,
after it has dried. ThatÕs why I have my riding crop. It will fleck off the
wax as I strike your loins with it.Ó
And so our night progressed. A foley catheter was pushed into
JacobÕs pee hole (after the wax was removed) and Sarife and my aunt
amused themselves with watching Jacob pee. The yellow fluid, I was told,
could be seen sprouting from JacobÕs penis, but confined in the clear tube,
and running down the line to a clear plastic bag.
Sarife and my aunt also applied Òlove lotionÓ to JacobÕs penis. First
they pulled out his foley catheter, and set it on the floor. Then they
spread the lotion all over his dick. They used their fingers, feeling the
throbbing of his pulse under his skin as they worked. They took his pulse;
holding his cock and counting. When JacobÕs dick was smeared with the
lotion, gleaming stiffly in their hands, they blew on it. Their breath
caused an agony of heat in JacobÕs organ. He writhed on the bed, twisting
his hips and cursing my aunt and Sarife behind his gag. They took pity on
him. To cool him, they licked the lotion off with their tongues.
ÒIt is hot,Ó my aunt confessed to Sarife.
ÒYes, it burns the tongue,Ó Sarife said. ÒBut it is a good burning, and
no worse than hot coffee.Ó
ÒI should like to get a drink,Ó my aunt said.
ÒOf course,Ó Sarife agreed. ÒWe shall slip away for a moment, and
have more lemonade.Ó
They did leave, and when they came back I sensed they had shared
more than just lemonade. There was a calmness in their voices. There
was a sureness in their touch which had not been present before, when,
aroused as Jacob and I were, their fingers had trembled upon my skin.
The torture continued. A small penis whip was used on Jacob.
Sarife did not apply it to his vulnerable balls but instead confined its
blows to the rigid stem of his cock. It hurt, as it was intended to, leaving
bright lines on JacobÕs shaft. But it did not injure, for Sarife applied it
with care, using it only to stimulate Jacob to heights of arousal that even
he had not known he was capable of.
At last my new husband could stand no more. Suddenly, as my aunt
was trying to put the foley catheter back into his dick, he spurted. It was
a monumental spurt, I was told, his cock erupting with sperm as if he had
switched from peeing out urine to peeing out sperm. Thankfully his sperm
shot into the foley catheter. The sheet was not soiled.
ÒAh, he is growing limp,Ó Sarife sighed.
ÒHe is young. He will be up again in no time,Ó my aunt said.
ÒPerhaps. But I am growing tired,Ó Sarife confessed. ÒBring off
your niece with your fingers and let us sleep.Ó
I heard her tread upon the floor. There was a brushing back of linen,
as of drapes being opened.
ÒSee? It is already dawn,Ó Sarife said. I heard her yawn. ÒCan you
finish your niece?Ó she asked.
ÒY- Yes,Ó Rebecca said.
ÒGood. Then do it. She must have some satisfaction. It is a pity
there must needs be a bride at a wedding. I should like to have only Jacob,
if I could. Jacob, would you marry yourself? Ah, he is gagged. But how
handsome he is. Rather like Narcissus, donÕt you think, Rebecca? We
should marry him to himself, and work him every day, letting him be both
bride and groom. Perhaps tomorrow we will try just that, sticking a dildo
up his ass!Ó
Beside me Jacob groaned. I sensed he disapproved. But then my
auntÕs fingers, invading me, caused me to lose all track of what was going
on around me for the next several minutes.
I fell asleep after I came, still bound and blindfolded and gagged. I
had a marvelous sense of being utterly without guilt.
30
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