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 The Italian Odyssey

   The spent the entire time during the voyage from the mainland to the
Tremiti Islands totally enthralled by the emerald green and blue waters of
the Adriatic Sea and the looming pristine rocks and vegetations of the
island of S.  Nicola.  My guide for the tour I had booked waved
enthusiastically, pointing to the ruins of fortifications and towers that
once housed an order of Benedictine monks who in days gone by had
controlled the entire area.

   "There it is," he said.

   I was smiling so much my face ached.

   "It's so...  so beautiful!" I cried, trying to make myself heard over
the flapping noises of the billowing sails on masts above.

   "S", è molto bello."

   Even though I had barely any knowledge at all of Italian I knew he was
agreeing with me.  His sparkling eyes, half hidden behind his glasses,
lingered on me for a moment after he spoke.  I blushed suddenly, realizing
he was teasing me - telling me I was beautiful.  "You Italians!" I laughed
to myself.  "A touch of Romeo in every one of you!"

   I had been in Italy for just under three weeks, soaking in all the
history and beauty of cities in the north.  Florence had been my favorite
up until this time; Rome, with its pollution, decaying dirtiness and
bustling crowds the least favorite.  But this was a world away from all of
that.  A world away from everything!

   "Not many people come here?" I asked my guide, fascinated that a place
so beautiful would not be swarming with tourists.

   "No, not many," he said.

   I clenched my fingers around the rails of the deck, closed my eyes, and
breathed in deeply the fresh, salty smell of the sea.  It was like being in
paradise.

   "Only the sailors know about this place," he continued.

   I opened my eyes, nodded back to him and then resumed my little silent,
closed-eyed reverie.  The thought that the great author from antiquity,
Homer, had sailed these waters during his epic voyages, filled me with
wonderment.  Here I was, all these years later, literally following in his
footsteps.  It was a dream come true for a history lover like me.

   ***************************

   The road leading up to the Abbey and ruins snaked tightly against the
sides of sheer cliffs.  My heart remained firmly wedged in my throat for
the entire journey; my feet instinctively jabbing out at imaginary brakes
at every curve that my guide negotiated at speeds well in excess of what I
would have called safe.  He seemed oblivious to my terror and casually
spoke about all manner of things as we sped along.

   "Keep your eyes on the road, Roberto!" I almost screamed when his eyes
lingered on me for too long after saying something.  He laughed, glancing
only as long as necessary to easily navigate a curve; as easily as if the
car was guided by the hand of God Himself.

   The final ascent up a long, straight and very steep section, suddenly
deposited the car out onto a flat bluff.  The view past the ancient ruins
was spectacular as were the ruins themselves.  Roberto eased off the
accelerator and allowed the car to roll the last fifty or so yards,
bringing us to a stop right next to the only building standing intact.

   "Il abbey dei Insulae Diomedae," Roberto said, announcing our arrival
and referring to the Abbey by its original name, Insulae Diomedae, after
the Homeric hero who is said to have been buried somewhere on the island of
S.  Nicola.

   "The abbey of Insulae Diomedae," I repeated breathlessly; reverently.

   ***************************

   My guide, Roberto, spent close to an hour showing me around the ruins
outside before finally escorting me into the vestibule of the abbey.  It
felt weird to be in such a beautiful, ancient place; to be the only person
besides Roberto, in such a beautiful, ancient place.

   Our footsteps echoed off the old stone walls inside as we made out way
inside the building.  My eyes were drawn to all the Catholic iconography;
the paint-flaking images around the walls on three sides of the Processions
of the Cross; the statue of the Virgin Mary with the Christ child in her
arms poised vigilantly off to one side at the front near a large, marble
altar.  Breathtaking!

   "There is one place here not many tourists ever get to see," Roberto
said, breaking the spell I was under.

   "There is?"

   "S"," he continued.  "It's a secret place right here beneath our feet!"

   I tried not to laugh at his fractured English and the theatrical
flourishes of his ever-gesturing hands.

   "It is?"

   " S".  Follow me, please."

   My curiosity had been piqued but there was no time to ask questions. 
Roberto was already walking briskly ahead towards the altar at the front of
the aisle.  I tried not to run as I followed; my low-heeled court shoes
clip-clopping loudly on the stone floor as I trotted behind.

   "Here," Roberto said, pointing down to the space beneath the two solid
granite pedestals supporting the marble top of the altar.

   "Here...what?" I asked, looking down at the floor then back at Roberto.

   "Here!" he said, his voice now raised with excitement as he suddenly
dropped to his knees and pulled back a threadbare carpet to reveal a trap
door.

   "What is it?  Where does it lead to?"

   I was reluctant to follow but Roberto had already disappeared up to his
waist down through the floor beneath the altar.  "Follow!" he barked the
order pleasantly but there was a distinct urgency.

   There was a moment where I felt slightly guilty as if somebody might
suddenly walk into the abbey and accuse me of trespassing.  The silvery mop
of hair on top of Roberto's head disappeared down the darkened hole; his
voice now sounding more distant as he vanished from sight, imploring me to
hurry.

   I crawled beneath the altar and positioned myself feet first down the
narrow opening in the floor.  I kicked around in the air and found a step
but still shuffled my foot to make certain I had a secure foothold before
making my descent.  A light below suddenly shone up out of the darkness and
I realized Roberto would have a clear view right up my skirt.  Assuming he
was looking in that direction.  "What was I saying?  Of course he was
looking!" I tried to laugh at the embarrassing thought.

   Roberto's hands glided up the sides of my legs as I stepped down the
final couple of steps.  At one level I felt he was being gentlemanly in
making sure I didn't slip and fall but at another deeper level, I sensed he
was enjoying the opportunity to touch me.  I shivered, trying to convince
myself his intentions were honorable, but said nothing of the uneasy way
his touching made me feel.  Once my feet were firmly planted on the
basement floor, I patted down my skirt, politely brushing his hands away
and pretending I wasn't noticing he wanted them to remain on my hips.  I
detected a small laugh from him and pretended not to notice this as well.

   "Come," Roberto said.  He turned on his heel and marched off down the
long, narrow corridor ahead.

   I followed, ducking my head as we passed under each vaulted section
until we arrived at a large, solid oak door at the end of the corridor.

   "What's in there?" I didn't want to ask but I was starting to feel very
suspicious of my amorous guide.

   "You'll see!" Roberto said, twisting a large, iron ring in the door. 
The silence of the corridor was immediately shattered by the clunking,
metallic sounds of bolts unlocking behind the door.  I watched nervously as
Roberto leaned his shoulder into the heavy door and, using all his body
weight, pushed it open.

   ***********************************

   "What is this place?" I eventually asked once I realized what was inside
the cavernous chamber beneath the abbey.

   Roberto was still standing next to the door, holding it open while I
nervously stepped past him into the room.

   "What?  You've never seen a dungeon before?" Roberto laughed heartily; a
laugh full of genuine humor.  It relaxed me a little and I was forced to
laugh with him.

   "Noooooo!" I said, realizing I must have sounded entirely naive to him.

   "Noooooo?" Roberto asked.  The tone of his voice was filled with playful
mock astonishment.

   "No," I said, not bothering to mention I had, but only in books back
home in the library where I worked.

   The dungeon was certainly creepy but there was something strangely
fascinating about it at the same time.  I slowly drifted away from Roberto
and began making closer inspections of all the gothic furnishings; cages
built into the vaulted alcoves around the walls; rusted, heavy link chains
and shackles dangling from above; a large, wooden rack off to one side; and
a large, solid wood pillory set on a raised platform in the center of the
room.

   "It gives me the creeps!" I said, turning back to Roberto.

   "It's okay, " he said, not reassuring me in the least when he added,
"You'll be safe with me!"

   "This is a real dungeon?" I asked.  It was a dumb question given the
fact it clearly was a real dungeon that undoubtedly dated back to the times
of the Inquisition.

   " S", it's real.  You want to try some things?"

   I shot a look of horror directly back at Roberto when he asked the
question.  "No!"

   "It's okay," he said again, repeating what was now becoming a mantra
with him that I had nothing to fear.  "I can take your photo in the stocks.
Here, you get up there..."

   "Roberto!" I squealed, twisting free from the grip he suddenly had on my
elbow as he ushered me up the steps of the wooden platform.

   I could feel my face, my ears and neck especially, starting to burn
hotly with embarrassment.  It was a strange feeling borne of the
realization that I actually had a peculiar urge to let him lock me in the
pillory.  I can do it myself," I finally said after regaining some of my
composure.

   The wooden stairs creaked underfoot as I climbed up onto the platform. I
neatly placed my handbag on the floor next to the pillory and then turned
back to Roberto.  "You're sure it's safe?" I asked.  I was more concerned
about Roberto's integrity than the structural soundness of the wooden
contraption in front of me.

   " S"!  Yes!  Yes, yes, yes!" Roberto said emphatically as if saying it
in English would make it any clearer for me.

   I watched as he wrestled with the heavy, upper wooden cross beam,
grunting softly as he heaved it high enough for me to position my neck and
wrists into the three, crescent shaped holes of the lower beam.  The wood
was smooth against my skin, worn by years of use, reminding me there must
have been thousands of poor souls in the past who had been locked into the
position I was about to be locked in.  The wood felt cold and hard;
unyielding once Roberto lowered the upper beam down to secure me in place.

   "I don't like this," I said, suddenly feeling a rush of panic.  "There's
a camera in my handbag.  Please be quick!"

   "Just relax," Roberto was saying, making no effort to hurry with the
camera he retrieved from my handbag.  "Smile for the little birdie!"

   He said it in such a silly, childish sing-song voice I couldn't help but
laugh.  The flash exploded in a glare of white light, temporarily blinding
me.

   I silently endured as he took another two or three photos, moving around
to capture the sight of me from every angle.  My stomach knotted with
nervous apprehension when he disappeared behind me for a second time. 
"Roberto?"

   He didn't say anything in reply.

   "Roberto!!!  What are you doing?"

   Again he didn't reply but I knew what he was about to do the instant I
felt his fingers beginning to pick at the buttons of my dress.  There were
only two of them, one over each shoulder blade, to secure the two straps
that held my dress on.

   "Roberto!!!" I squealed again, this time more urgently as I felt the
straps suddenly loosen.  Dancing on the spot trying to escape merely
hastened the fall of my dress to my ankles.  I was still protesting loudly
as the camera flashed a number of times more behind me.

   "I'll scream!" I tried vainly to threaten him.

   "Okay, you can scream," Roberto laughed.

   The futility of screaming or trying to call for help became immediately
clear.

   "Please Roberto, don't do that.  It's very embarrassing!" I softened my
tone, trying to reason with him as he inched my cotton briefs down off my
hips.

   The sensations of being slowly bared made me twist and struggle against
the immovable weight of the pillory.  "Please don't!" I started to beg as I
felt my bottom becoming fully exposed.

   "Bello!  Avete una parte posteriore molto bella!"

   I could tell what Roberto was saying from the lecherous tone of his
voice.  "That's enough, Roberto.  I mean it!"

   "Quella è una buona ragazza!  Ballo per me.  Mostrimi come wiggle!"

   The flash of the camera behind continued, capturing the sight of my
briefs now being dragged down by gravity as I hopped and struggled to
escape.

   "You have nice boobies!"

   "Roberto!  I won't tell you again!" I tried to sound like I was in a
position to tell him what to do.  It clearly had no effect on him and I was
forced to suffer the indignity of having him grope my breasts through my
bra.  "Please Roberto.  You've had your fun.  Let me go now."

   I was by now becoming extremely worried.  The heat of his body enveloped
me, pressing down on my back as he embraced me from behind.  The size of
the bulge in the front of his trousers was unmistakable against the backs
of my thighs as he squeezed against me.  I desperately wanted to flee, but
I was trapped.  I instinctively clamped my thighs together and tried not to
think of what he could do to me.

   "Oooh!  Your nipples!"

   "Please stop, Roberto.  I really mean it this time!" I was begging now.

   "Your nipples are so ...  so stiff!"

   I felt a sudden, crushing feeling of guilt knowing that he was right and
that his mentioning of it only added to the tingle they were being aroused
by.

   "No they're not!" I mumbled, knowing it was a lie.

   "They're not?"

   Roberto was mocking me again.  I squirmed and tried to shake free from
the firm grip his fingers had on my swollen, sensitive nipples.

   "No." I blushed.

   "I think they are.  Let me see..."

   "Please, no, Roberto!"

   It was too late.  His fingers had already unhitched the clasp of my bra
and it dropped silently to the floor in front of my feet.  I cursed myself
for having worn the strapless garment while my whole body broke out in a
rash of goosebumps.  But for my shoes, I was completely nude, and Roberto
continued to photograph me in my most embarrassing moment.

   "Roberto?"

   I called his name a second time when I heard him walking back down the
stairs to the platform we were on.

   "Roberto?  What's happening?"

   "You just relax," he was saying from somewhere down on the floor behind
the platform.

   I remained in a state of panic until I heard him returning back up the
wooden stairs.

   "You look so nice!"

   His voice behind sent a chill up my spine, as did the feeling of his
hands grabbing my ankles, lifting my feet to remove my discarded clothes
that had puddled around them and removing my shoes with them.

   "What are you doing, Roberto?  Please!  You're scaring me!" I said,
genuinely frightened and feeling completely naked and vulnerable.

   "Relax," he said again.

   I found it impossible to as he coiled a rope around each of my ankles
and then proceeded to drag my feet apart.  I resisted as best I could, but
my struggles were useless against his strength.  Further and further I was
spread until at last he hitched the ropes to eyebolts in the floor and
secured me in place.  The camera flashed a couple of times again as if to
remind me of the predicament I was in.

   "Your pussy is very wet!"

   "Roberto!" I gasped, banging my shoulders hard on the cross beam as I
jumped forward trying to escape his wriggling finder that had at that
moment plunged unexpectedly into me.  "Roberto!  Stop that immediately!"

   I felt overcome with dread, wriggling and twisting in every direction as
I tried to escape the probing of his finger.  It was obviously an easy
matter for his finger to remain inside me and eventually I was forced to
stop moving in the hope he would withdraw it himself.  But he didn't. 
Instead he used the moment to finger me more vigorously, adding a second
finger to scissor and twist as he mauled and groped me.

   "Yes, very wet..." he mumbled.

   "No!  I'm not!  You're wrong!"

   Even before the words finished tumbling from my mouth I realized he was
right.  It was so incredibly embarrassing and humiliating, especially the
sounds his fingers were now making inside me.  A squishy sound,
unmistakable as the sound of my wetness.  I could even smell my arousal
now, and this horrified me.  The heady, base sexual scent mixed with the
jasmine-like floral aroma of my perfume.

   "You look good enough to eat!" Roberto laughed, ignoring my feeble
attempts to deny my arousal.

   "Ooooh!  Roberto!  Stop it!" I shrieked, climbing up onto tiptoe when I
felt his fingers suddenly replaced with his tongue.  His hands clamped
firmly on each of my cheeks while his mouth - his breath hot and humid
against my defenceless pussy - clamped over my clit.  I felt so confused.
He was raping me with his tongue and yet I couldn't stop the surreal,
perverse feelings of pleasure that instantly swirled through my body.  The
sounds of him slobbering hungrily behind as he devoured me filled me with
dread as did the thought I might actually orgasm as a result of his bizarre
tongue lashing.  I called for him to stop, over and over, but each intoning
of the word came out sounding less and less convincing.  "Oh my God! 
Please stop!" I gasped and shuddered like a quivering mess after his hot,
wet mouth and tongue unexpectedly pulled away.  I was left for a moment
knowing my pussy was now gushing with the juices of my arousal; the
coolness of the dungeon air accentuating the tingling, not fully satisfied
sensations of my clit.

   "You are very tasty." There wasn't even the hint of a lie in what he
said.

   "Roberto?" The sound of his zipper being lowered alarmed me.  A moment
later and the feeling of his cock, stiffly erect, dancing between my spread
thighs had me shaking uncontrollably.  I knew what was about to happen and
knew there was nothing I could do or say now to stop him.

   My head swam with dizziness and confusion as I felt Roberto's cock glide
easily up into my pussy.  He speared me so effortlessly it took my breath
away, driving deep as he did in one, long, slow stroke until his cock was
fully seated inside me.  I could feel my pelvic muscles contracting and
relaxing around the girth of his cock.  It was a reflex action and one I
was unable to stop, even if I wanted to.  But I didn't want him to stop. 
It was such a weird feeling I barely have the words to describe it.  Being
locked naked in the pillory as I was, so totally helpless and defenceless;
the bizarre surroundings of the dungeon around me; this virtual stranger
behind me with his cock buried deep inside me; thoughts drifting back to
the days of the Inquisition when the dungeon might have been filled with an
audience eager to see some heretic punished and raped ...  it all combined
to send me into a swirling world of giddy delight - a delight I'd never
before experienced.

   "You're enjoying this, aren't you!"

   I refused to answer knowing the only word I could think of was yes and
that if I said no, the denial would only serve to make me more aroused. 
Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to forget about everything except the
sensations of pleasure Roberto's deep, slowly pistoning strokes were giving
me.  I was already orgasming.  Not a single orgasm but ripple after
unstoppable ripple of orgasmic delight.  It had me off in a place where
nothing mattered.  Time ceased to exist and I wanted it to continue
forever. Roberto's unexpected withdrawal came as a shock once I realized he
hadn't simply withdrawn so he could impale me again with the full length of
his cock.

   "Open up!"

   I was still in a daze when I opened my eyes to see Roberto, his cock
glistening with the manifest signs of my juicy pleasure, standing in front
of me.  I wasn't sure what he was wanting until he waved the thing
dangerously under my nose.

   "I can't do that..." I was about to speak when he forced himself into my
mouth.

   I was immediately gripped with a panic; a fear that I might suddenly
choke as he filled my mouth with his foul tasting cock.  I desperately
tried to breathe through my nose as he proceeded to drive himself into my
mouth as he had done in my pussy.  I tried turning my head away but it was
impossible to break free.  It was as if he had me pinned in place on the
end of his cock and any turning of my head simply afforded him the
opportunity to find ways to drive himself ever deeper into the back reaches
of my mouth.

   I gave up trying to scream and sucked like my life depended on it.  Not
because I wanted to, and I felt repulsed by the thought I was sucking and
swallowing my own juices, but because I now just wanted it finished.  I
sucked frantically, even moaning past his solid cock-head in the hope he
would ejaculate quickly.  It seemed to work and, more suddenly than I had
anticipated, I felt the insides of my mouth rapidly filling with something
hot and salty.  It caught me by surprise at first but as my cheeks
ballooned to accommodate I realized I had to swallow and swallow quickly if
I didn't want to drown in Roberto's filthy jism.  I gulped and gulped - a
feeling of nausea as I felt each and every large globule slide down my
throat to be accepted into my stomach.  Like an oversized, gluttonous meal,
I swallowed and swallowed until I felt certain my mouth was cleared.  I
felt disgusted with myself.  The look in Roberto's eye, when I finally
looked up at him - his cock still in my mouth but softening - made it clear
this was only the beginning of an odyssey of Homeric proportions...