Corky dreamed he was flying. Green, hilly countryside slipped away beneath him, heady excitement filled him. His mind reached upward and his frame followed without effort, proceeding with the effortless grace of a great fish of the open ocean. Gaining in confidence, he slid downward until he was brushing the treetops, banking from side to side for the sheer joy of his motion, reveling in the wind on his face, the gentle heat of the sun on his back.
Then, with a jolt, he was brought up short. He looked down. For the first time, he noticed that he was naked, save for a slender pink ribbon which circled his genitals and extended, taut, into the distance, holding him fast.
With renewed effort, Corky strained against the silken bond, banking frantically from side to side, but the ribbon held him fast. He realized that he was slipping backward and it occurred to him to look to the ribbon’s point of origin. On the ground, he saw three titanic figures gathered together, one pulling him in at an alarming rate. Though he strained to make out their features, the details somehow eluded him, though their voices seemed eerily familiar. Before Corky could formulate a plan of action, a great hand, pale and warm, closed about his bare midriff, fingers thicker than his arms holding him fast.
“Oh, Mother!” said one of the giantesses, “What a lovely specimen!”
“Why, thank you, Margaret,” replied the creature that held him fast. “He does look rather tasty, does he not?” As she spoke, she was passing the ribbon about him in a series of loops, binding his arms to his torso like a hapless insect caught in rings of spider silk “What do think?” she asked the third monstrous figure
“The poor thing,” came the answer, in a voice that filled Corky with a thrill of hope and longing. “He seems dreadfully frightened.”
“Ah, my tender-hearted Beatrice,” said Corky’s captor, as she bound his legs in like wise to his arms. “But you know I shall do him no harm. I catch and I release. It’s ever so much more sporting that way.”
Though her words might be reassuring, the knot she was now tying to secure the ribbons that held him fast was not. “There! “ she said, hefting him in one hand, “I think he’s ready.”
She lowered him, and he suddenly noticed that she was as bare as he—nay, more so, given the yards of ribbon that now enclosed him. She reclined now on the grass, spreading her ample thighs widely. Her daughters knelt beside her, the gentle-voiced one’s continued protestations not barring her from watching the proceedings raptly.
Corky’s sight was confronted with a great tangle of thick brown hair between the giant’s thighs. Beneath were great crinkled vermilion lips from which radiated a tangible heat and an animal smell both terrifying and seductive. In the next instant he was being pressed against that damp opening, his head passing between the lips for a moment before his moistened face was rudely shoved against a rigid clitoris quite the size of his two fists together, protruding proudly from its great wrinkled cowl.
The creature holding him released a long shuddering sigh. “Ah,” she said, “Just the thing.” Still Corky squirmed ineffectually in her steely grasp, desperate to escape the unspeakable fate that so-clearly awaited him.
“Oh, dear,” said a voice from far above, “Isn’t there some other w―” but the rest of the sentence was lost as he was plunged head and then shoulders into darkness, heat, moisture, and compression. A muffled bass drumbeat was all around him, while bands of muscle gripped his chest, then his ribcage, then his stomach as he was pushed further and further within. Occasionally, he was plucked into light and cool air for a moment, his face mashed against that ever-more-engorged clitoris at the apex, before he would be plunged further within. Now the mighty bands compressed about his hips, causing thrills of unwelcome pleasure in his rigid pego as the mighty hand manipulated him by his bound ankles. As the giant’s actions became more agitated, the dew that bedecked her yielding chasm became more copious, less viscid. Deep volcanic groans reached him as the grip upon his lower extremities became palpably less secure. Finally, with a particularly potent pulsation of her portal, he was sucked in and entirely enclosed.
Without, Corky could hear cries of dismay: “Oh! My dildoe! I have quite lost it!” and the like, but now that he was no longer being subjected to constant agitation, Corky found the environment in which he found himself surprisingly congenial. There was something comfortable, soothing even, about this hot and narrow passage. Were it not for the anxious exclamations and the bouncing about of his passageway, he might quite drift off to sleep in such a place.
He heard his captor’s voice call out to him, thick with perverse longing: “Oh little dildoe! Do come back out! We were having such fun, and I was so...so close!”
“Thank you Madam, but I prefer to remain where I am,” he called back, enunciating carefully through the enclosing layers of flesh.
“Oh, a recalcitrant fellow, eh?” came the booming answer. “We’ll soon see about that!” He felt a tugging at his genitals as the ribbon that enclosed them was seized from without, and then a terrible sharp jerk pulled him into...
...light and cool air. He attempted to sit up and found that he was bound to the bed in which he lay. He craned his neck. Maggie Dalrymple straddled his legs in an unladylike fashion, though this lapse of decorum was dwarfed by the one represented by her firm one-handed grip on his penis and testes. He was naked; she appeared to the eye to be fully clothed, though the feeling of warmth against his legs suggested a dearth of undergarments.
“Good morning, Mr. Brandywine,” she said. “I thought it would be nice if you and I had a chat.”
“You have me at rather a disadvantage, Corky confessed.
“Mother says power is neither so complex nor so simple as it seems,” the girl mused, tuliping the fingers of her free hand around the rubicund tip of Corky’s yard. “I wonder what she meant by that...?”
“Well I suppose she—” Corky began, but the girl gave his tender privates another distressing tug.
“But enough airy persiflage! To the matter at hand.”
Corky’s eyes moved involuntarily downward to where her two hands were at work, one threatening pain, the other dealing out pleasure, like the proverbial carrot and stick.
Maggie giggled. “You take me too literally, Mr. Brandywine. I mean the matter of your feelings for my sister, Beatrice.”
At the sound of that name, Corky twitched involuntarily. “What concern is it of yours?” he demanded.
Maggie cocked her head prettily. “A very sensible question,” she said. “After all, she’s terribly unkind to me, as well as being a dreadful old stick-in-the-mud. But I got to thinking: with only Mother and myself working on you, you’ll probably get up your nerve to flee in no more than a few weeks. With Beatrice’s hold on you, though, I can have you around to play with indefinitely!”
“Hold? Whatever do you mean?” Corky asked.
“You love her,” Maggie said.
“I...I thought I did.” Corky said after a long pause.
Maggie frowned slightly. Her gentle stroking of his penis stopped abruptly, just as her other hand tightened a hairsbreadth. “Now, you see, Mr. Brandywine, that is just the sort of ill-thought-out assertion that I am here to forestall. Such words might be very hurtful to a young lady with tender feelings for you.”
“Lady!” Corky scoffed. “Your so-called ‘sister’ is no―arr!”
For the first time, Maggie had tightened her grip sufficiently to cause actual pain. Her expression turned stormy, but her voice was cooler than ever.
“I believe that a Socratic dialogue is in order here. Do you find me to be someone who values tact more highly, or truthfulness?”
Corky drew a deep breath. “Miss Dalrymple, I have seen nothing to suggest that you have any particular fondness for either.” He braced himself for some violent and humiliating retribution for his harsh words.
Maggie, however, grinned. “Excellent! Full marks. It would be to your advantage to remain similarly forthright through the remainder of our interview. Mr. Brandywine, do you consider me to be of particularly or even ordinarily ladylike character?”
Corky glared at his tormentor. “No, I do not.”
Maggie affected surprise. “I think you are ill-serving a sweet lass who has given you a great deal of pleasure and valuable instruction. But our concern here is not my views, but your own. So, in your hard and uncharitable view, what ladylike qualities could I possibly lack?”
Corky was not enjoying this game, but her continued grip on his gonads was powerful incentive to play along. “Modesty, humility, comportment, civilized table-manners. Ability with some sort of musical instrument is desirable, though not strictly necessary; and most authorities agree that undergarments are a near-universal attribute of every true lady. Need I go on?
Far from the chastened look Corky was hoping for or the towering rage he feared, Maggie appeared to be trying to suppress a giggle. “And yet my genitals are quite unambiguously female, would not you say?”
Recognizing now the trap that she had laid for him, Corky only glared at her in silence.
Maggie batted her eyelashes. “Is your memory flagging, Mr, Brandywine? I should be happy to reacquaint you with them...” she threatened, releasing his stones and beginning to make herself busy with her skirts.
“There is nothing wrong with your female parts,” Corky conceded before his rebellious pego could stir to life at the prospect of some more face-sitting and humiliate him further.
“And yet you esteem me no lady,” the girl astride him said, her hands returning to his genitals, this time with a gentler touch. “Quick, now, what name springs to mind when you consider who possesses the qualities you set forth?” Corky pursed his lips e’en tighter.
“I believe you may have a person in mind,” Maggie said after a moment, “tho’ you may be questioning your own judgment in that regard now. You saw her in a distinctly unladylike attitude recently, doing some beastly things to a sweet and innocent girl who deserves far better treatment.”
Corky snorted.
Maggie leaned forward, her hand still busy on Corky’s thickening cock. He could feel her hot breath on his cheek as she spoke: “But you must realize that, between sisters who believe themselves to be in private, standards of decorum are oftentimes relaxed. And though she was awfully unfair to me, I have found it in my heart to forgive her.”
Corky was once again silent.
“Or perhaps it wasn’t her conduct that offended you so, but that that pretty prick she has between her legs. Awfully rude, was’n’t it, arcing up like that to violate my poor mouth? Oh! you’re terribly hard of a sudden, Mr. Brandywine. What were you imagining when mother brought you off in the closet, you naughty man? Fucking my mouth or taking Beatrice’s prick in your own?”
Corky’s hips were moving in little involuntary jerks by now, while the head of his cock gleamed with a fat drop of lubrication. Noting the fact, Maggie scooted down until her lips pouted a scant inch from his bobbing rubicund tool. “Ooh! Mustn’t waste any of that lovely fluid,” she said, and his cockhead was engulfed in delicious warm wetness.
A moment later, her face was inches from his while her hand beat a steady rhythm along his straining shaft.”Oh, Mr. Brandywine,” breathed Maggie, “it is quite delicious to have you at my mercy like this. Here.” She slipped a hand beneath her skirts, and did something that resulted in a deep exhalation and an intensification of the already-noticible flush about her face and neck. The hand emerged gleaming with fluid and she passed it beneath his nose, filling his head with a sharp and heady scent. “See how ready you’ve made me? Shall I fuck you now? I want to very much, you know.”
“No!” Corky gasped, “Don’t!”
She cocked her head inquisitively. “Whyever not? Don’t try to tell me I don’t make you randy, ‘cos I know for a fact that I do,” and she squeezed his prick so that he groaned aloud.
“It’s not right!” he insisted.
“What’s wrong with it?” she prodded patiently, like a school mistress guiding her student through his sums.
“Your virtue,” Corky said. “I wo’n’t take advantage...” His voice trailed off in the face of Maggie’s giggling fit.
With effort, she suppressed her mirth enough to speak. “Think harder, Mr. Brandywine,” she insisted. “Why shouldn’t I put this lovely cock to use satisfying my poor swollen cunny?”
Corky desperately shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to figure out what to say, His body arched upward against his bonds as he strove to master the forces contending within him. “It would―”
When he realized what he was about to say, his face paled, his body slumped to the bed. “It would pain Beatrice,” he whispered, half to himself.
At once Maggie released his penis and sprang off of the bed. “Very good, William” she said warmly, and kissed him on the cheek. She reached out and tugged at his bonds, which fell away readily, then swept out of the room in a swirl of petticoats.
Corky remained spread-eagled, lost in thought while his erect penis bobbed with his pulse.
An hour later, dressed and scrubbed, Corky stood at the door of Beatrice’s bedroom. His knuckles were aloft, poised several inches from her doorframe. He stood thus for some minutes, unmoving. Finally, he drew a deep breath, and rapped gently at her door.
A moment later Beatrice opened the door, red-eyed and sniffling. She started in alarm at the sight of Corky. “Mr. Brandywine!” she exclaimed. “I―I’m so sorry...” her voice trailed off, her eyes welling with tears.
“Whatever for?” Corky said gently.
“For, for not being what...For not...” The girl’s jaw worked silently as she tried to gather her thoughts.
“You weren’t terribly forthcoming with me, Beatrice,” Corky said with a small smile, “but I forgive you for that.”
Beatrice shook her head in dismay. “Do’n’t say that, Mr. Brandywine, “ she pleaded. “You can’t forgive me for being a monster, an abomnimation.”
“Abomination,” Corky corrected her, “ and I do’n’t.”
Beatrice nodded minutely. It was only what she expected.
“There’s nothing to forgive. I love you as you are, not despite it.”
Beatrice took a moment to absorb this intelligence, “Oh, Mr. Brandywine, you are a great good man to have such compassion for so wretched a creature as myself.”
Corky sighed. “Beatrice, I love you as a man loves a woman, and I want you to be mine.”
Beatrice stood thunderstruck, her mouth and eyes wide with disbelief. Corky stepped up to her, leaned down and kissed her tear-damp cheeks, then her yielding mouth, which soon was heatedly returning his kisses.
They clung tightly to one another there in the doorway, Corky losing himself in the yielding heat of her skin, her tantalizing spicy scent. Then she drew back and, taking him by the hand, led him to her bed where she sat and looked up at him expectantly.
Corky took her shoulder in his hand and she gasped at the force of his grip. Eyes burning, he forcefully pushed her back into a recumbent position and sprang atop her, pressing his weight down upon her as he covered her face with burning kisses once more. “Beatrice,” he murmured, “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, and now I mean to have you.”
“I too, darling!” she replied. “I am yours!”
Corky proceeded to put his newfound knowledge of female undergarments to use, and, in a few minutes, Beatrice was stripped to her linen drawers, though a few buttons had fallen victim to his haste and inexperience.
He pushed her down on the bed once more and they rolled together, his hands roaming the hot skin of her bare back, her legs wrapped tightly about his waist. Corky edged lower on the bed and worried at the dark little buds of her nipples, watching her face intently to learn which caresses were most efficacious. Soon he had her squirming wildly beneath him, hugging his head to her bosom and gasping at each gentle nip.
He sat up between her widespread legs and she twined herself around him, plucking at his cravat with one hand. “So many clothes,” she complained. “Wo’n’t you undress for me, William?
“You’ve already had a good look at my parts,” Corky reminded her, bringing her knees together and putting his hands to the drawstring of her drawers, which he began to untie. “Now I propose to catch up.”
“Oh, William!” she cried, gripping his wrists desperately. “No! I can please you without you having to endure the sight of my.... I know I can.”
Corky drew breath and looked her hard in the eye. “I wish to get a good look at your lovely cock, Beatrice. To hold it in my hand and kiss it with my mouth. “
Betrice gasped at his words, and her soft little bosom heaved.
“Now,” Corky continued, his demeanor hardening, “ Do I need to pin you down and rip your drawers off to achieve that goal?”
She averted her eyes and flushed, but a shy little smile flickered across her mouth, and she said, “that might be agreeable at some point...but tonight I sha’n’t resist if it is truly what you desire.”
“Raise your hips, darling,” he urged her, and she arched up off the bed, whereupon her drawers were tugged down and kicked off to lie in a puddle at the foot of the bed.
Corky gazed in rapt fascination at the slender member bobbing before his face, gently arcing upward towards his ladylove’s soft belly. Beneath, her plump little cods shyly nestled in her crinkled little sac, the whole thing neatly framed by a little pad of glossy dark hair. It was a moment before he noticed that Beatrice was watching him intently, her brow furrowed as she bit anxiously at one knuckle. He realized that she awaited his verdict with all the dreadful anticipation of a prisoner in the dock at Assizes.
“You are exquisite, Beatrice,” he murmured, and took her cock into his hand, startled at her heat, the slender rigidity of her little wand. A breathy moan passed from her as he tightened his grip. He could feel her pulse pass through her cock as the rubicund head swelled before his eyes and a drop of clear fluid appeared at its vertical opening. His mouth was watering. “I’m going to suck your cock now, Beatrice, “ he announced.
“Oh my goodness, “ she gasped, and the drop at the head of her cock swelled and ran down onto his knuckles. Her hands gripped his head, her fingernails scritching deliciously at his scalp. “you mustn’t! It’s too wicked! Too―”
And she seemingly lost the power of speech as his mouth closed on the swollen head and he commenced to suck. Her fingers tightened in his hair as he ran his tongue down the underside of her sensitive organ. He sucked in a trance of pleasure, his fingers wrapped around the base of her tool, until she was bucking her slender hips against his fist, letting out sharp little yelps with each spasm of her body. With effort, she pulled his mouth off of her and gasped, “Please, William, undress for me?”
Corky stood and began to pull off his garments. Beatrice watched from the bed, slowly stroking her saliva-slick member as his form was exposed. A tiny moan escaped her as he removed his drawers, exposing his own erect cock. “I want you inside me when I spend,” Beatrice requested.
“Soixante neuf?” Corky said hesitantly. “I believe I can―”
“No, I...” Her voice dropped to an almost inaudible level. “I want you to take my...bottom hole”
Corky felt a surge both of excitement and uncertainty at this prospect. “I’ve heard mention of such things,” he confessed, “ but I’ve little idea of how one goes about it.”
She sprang on him, covering him with joyous kisses. “Oh, William, darling,” she cooed, “this shall be so lovely! I’ve longed to have your delicious thick affair up my fundament!”
“You have?” Corky said, amazed. But she was already at the dresser, rummaging through drawers
She withdrew a jar, which she handed to Corky before springing onto the bed. “Smear some of that pomade onto your fingers,” she urged him. As he complied, she laid back and brought her slender thighs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in an approximation of the fœtal position. Corky’s eyes were drawn to the dark pucker thus exposed at the base of her hips. “It’s so small!” he exclaimed.
“That’s why you’re going to be stretching it for me, darling.” Beatrice explained. “Put your fingertip against it. Oh! That feels so lovely. You’ve got me so excited, William—will you think me quite awful if I frig myself?” She wrapped her hand around her cock-stand and commenced to slowly stroke it.
Guided by instinct, Corky commenced to rotate his finger about the little knot of muscle he had found, smearing the pomade into the soft and wrinkled skin. Beatrice had begun to rock her hips against his hand, her little rim pulsing so that her anus nipped gently at the tip of his finger.
Taking the hint, Corky pressed a bit more firmly, and his fingertip sank inside her to the first knuckle. Beatrice gasped and shuddered. “Oh! Slowly, William,” she pleaded, her hand on her own prick accelerating.
Nonetheless, the preponderance of the motion was Beatrice’s, as she arched her hips ever upwards, swallowing more and more of Corky’s digit between the trim cheeks of her bottom by minute increments. Finally, his hand was pressed against the soft flesh of her posterior, the snug ring about the base of his finger giving way to yielding softness and intense heat within.
“Another,” Beatrice pleaded, and Corky slowly withdrew his finger and pressed two together against her slick passageway. She bit her lip and whimpered as the little portal gave way, her brow furrowing in some intersection of delight and distress as clear fluid ran from her cock to make rivulets along her knuckles before beading on the pale skin of her belly.
When his knuckles had once more found the cheeks of her bottom, and she had rotated against him for some minutes, she caught his gaze with her great dark eyes and entreated him, “Oh, William—make haste now and take me—I’m longing to feel your lovely cock splitting me open!”
When Corky had positioned himself on the bed, Beatrice rested her ankles on his shoulders and scooped pomade out of the jar, then smeared it generously over his rigid prick, which she pressed downward until its head nudged against her tender iris. She met his gaze and nodded slightly, her arms twining about his neck. Her breathing became shallow and rapid as the pressure of Corky’s tool against her bottom-hole increased until the gates were breached and the head surged through her portal. She let out a wail, her fingernails digging painfully into the flesh of his back “Oh! Hold there, William,” she insisted, and pulled his face down to cover it with burning kisses.
“Now f-f-fuck me,” she whispered into his ear, her voice catching on the forbidden word. “Very slowly.”
Corky began to rock his hips with minute motions, his attention divided between the volcanic heat that engulfed more and more of his cock, and the acute examination of his love’s face as he monitored her responses. Pressing on at her moans and pausing at her occasional winces, he soon found himself buried to the hilt in Beatrice’s bottom. The fierce grip of her sphincter surrounded the base of his prick, rhyming somehow with the fierce grip of her arms about his neck. He could feel her cock throbbing against his belly as he rested inside her.
Now her hands found his hips and urged him to begin thrusting inside her bottom, first very gently, then harder until his thighs were striking the cheeks of her bottom with an audible smack. Her mouth fell open, her brow furrowed. Soft cries issued from her mouth with each stroke inside her sensitive bottom hole. A puddle of slickness spread across their bellies as her cock oozed fluid from its tip.
Corky propped himself up on his arms for better leverage, and Beatrice took her cock in her hand and stroked it rapidly, her moans becoming longer, her motions more frantic. Corky’s cries joined hers as they neared a mutual crisis. “Are you going to spend in me?” Beatrice whispered urgently. “Are you going to fill my bottom with your precious fluid?”
“Yes!” Corky gasped. “I’m going to—” and a thought struck him. With a Herculean effort of will, he ceased his thrusting, nestling deep inside her while his prick clamored for further friction. Beatrice looked quizzically at him, pausing her own stroking as well.
“Beatrice,” Corky said. “When we spend, your mother is going to burst into the room, is’n’t she?”
Beatrice pondered this question for a moment while she caught her breath. “It would be like her,” she conceded, looking downcast. “Oh bother! What are we to do?”
Corky stroked her cheek reassuringly. “I confess I do’n’t know,” he said, “but between the two of us, I’m certain we shall think of something.”
And he began to move his hips once more, soon reaching the short digs that marked the onset of his climax. Beneath him, Beatrice was flushed, her face shining with her exertions. As the head of her prick swelled and darkened, her bottom pulsed, tightening on the base of his his cock to an almost painful degree. Excited beyond endurance, Corky groaned and released his own tribute within his paramour’s bowels, Her own climax imminent, Beatrice paused for a moment in her stroking to savor the sight.
Behind Corky the door slammed open. Beatrice’s eyes met his, and gleamed with secret mischief.
END Chapter 7