by Poppet
The horned man bellows triumph, “Let him submit absolutely; there may yet be hope. Let him offer his cheek to the one who strikes it, and receive his fill….”Lamentations 3:29
The crowd yell back, “She must! She must! She was made for man, not man for her! Receive your fill! Fill! Fill! Fill her! Fill her! Fill her!”
The whip cracks, the drum bombards, the stamping cracks my soul, the horned man barks his scripture, “I beat my body and bring it into submission!”1 Corinthians 9:27
POW-ER! GLOR-REE!
Shaking from the depth of my aura to the tips of my spirit, the fanaticism hits me like a tidal wave of baptism, my last glimpse that of a man on the upper deck, staring down at me, tossing a coin.
Slamming skull first into the floor, the coin hits my lip, pain throbs, ebbs, pounds, the beat, the screaming violin, the gurgling woman, the shout of men, the yell of mass-hysteria… Light dims, my pulse throbs, the horned man looking at me, flicking his tongue out and gyrating it sexually, laughter, I'm on my back, I must have fainted… am fainting… am…
POW-ER!
GLOR-REE!
My ears block and a shadow falls over me.
Kenan laughs, lifting me into his arms, “Baby doll, you're a bit wasted. Let's take the party upstairs, shall we.”
I'm struggling to focus and feel high as an asteroid when he carries me up to the third floor, the staircase and paintings going by in a blur of gloom and muted color. Entering a quiet room, faint music reaches inside the plush chamber, just enough to give us the relaxation of soft music playing into the void between vague sexual acquaintances.
•
Kenan:
In Sodom there is one rule females are forced to adhere to. Women do not gain admission unless they are wearing skirts. Call us patriarchal pricks, suppressors of evolution and freedom, whatever the hell you like, but on this clause we will not negotiate. This is why. Putting her feet down and making sure she is standing, I shut the door. Hooking her throat I sling her against the wall, smirking because I know the crew are scrambling for position, aiming the cameras at us from their hidden recesses, turning sound up to catch every gasp, to harness the rise and fall of erect nipples and anticipation tenting the give in my jeans.
Running my thumb from the hollow of her throat to peg her chin up, I arch her neck so she can barely breathe looking up at me with the severe tilt. I look into dilated eyes brimming with confusion. Her inhalations are spasmodic, surrender evident in her expression. She's in no shape to fight or struggle this time. It's with ease that I slide my hand up her thigh, pulling the skirt up with the motion, exposing naked legs framed with pink edged lace.
Holding her to the damask wallpaper, pinning her with mild aggression, I shove her panties down with my free hand, gliding them to her knees, leaving them to drop when I stoop to fuck her mouth with my tongue.
Her breath is juddering into my mouth in broken wheezes, her spine arching inside my grip. Harnessing her neck so she has no room to maneuver, planting my hand between her legs, circling her sensitive clit, she's unable to withdraw so hard up against the wall and I take the precaution of silencing her voice with oral invasion, preventing any half assed objection from marring what will be the perfect take, claiming what I want, as is my birthright.
She clamps her knees together, pushing my hand deeper into the crevice, and I jam a finger inside her, abruptly ending the kiss to warn, “Do as I say and I won't hurt you. Be difficult and you'll give me a fucking good excuse to show you which gender is supreme.”
She swallows, the motion struggling under the tension I have exerted on her throat. Hazy eyes stare up at me, moisture wicking the dark eyelashes, and she licks her lips as if buying time to think. The manna has taken hold because she's too far gone to compile sentences, so she nods. It's slight, her exhalations so serrated they're making me throb.
“Right,” I smile, releasing her neck, unplugging her snatch, using both hands to shred the blouse off her. She sags heavily, using the wall for support as if the display of violence siphoned the strength in her legs, and it's with satisfaction that I notice her illiotibial muscle uncontrollably twitching.
Harnessing the back of her neck I walk her forwards, swiftly guiding her to the black clad bed. It's staged, every bedroom in this mansion is, every one created to fulfill fantasies. This room is red on black, God's favorite. I grew up in his home, I know his preferences. Red and black pillows, black silk linen, a four poster bed with curtains to match the wallpaper which is dark red silk embossed with patterns of raised black velvet.
The bindings wait in place and I sit her down, lifting her by the knees and shoving her across the bed, straddling her when I strip her faster than a locust in plague.
•
Candace:
Falling with me onto the bed, he covers me with his weight, tracing soft kisses up my neck, touch frolicking across my nipples and massaging my boobs with tense fingers, kissing me until my heart is racing and my pulse is throbbing in my rigid nipples.
Sliding a slow hand up my thigh, he cups the heat of his hand over my sex. Braced on an elbow his eyes are heated with desire, his voice hoarse when he whispers, “You're horny.”
It's the warmth of his hand doing it. I can't help it.
One of his fingers slowly traces up and down the narrow strip, a lazy smile caressing his handsome face, “You are getting sticky, china doll. You are leaking my juice where it doesn't belong. It belongs on my penis, not the bed linen.”
Jesus! That's so hot!
Blinking, forcing myself to focus, I love the way he closes in, his hand holding the folds of my sex while he kisses me with such ferocity that there's no mistaking the next play he's going to make.
I don't think I care, all the sex in this place has put me in the mood and the mouth on my neck is turning my uterus inside out with need. He slides a finger inside me, kneading a knuckle on the upper wall, and all I want to do is spread my legs and beg him to do his worst. Jeez, I'm so randy that I have no shame. Another finger joins the party, his attention never wavering from my face, watching me, and I do it anyway, widening my legs and tenting them to invite the plundering penetration.
It's saying fuck me, hard, without breaking the Southern code of being a lady no matter how badly I want to crawl across the gorgeous carpet to suck his toes and ease the stress out of his tense body. And I'll give him a happy ending, cowgirl style.
•
Kenan:
The blind cannot see. As John 9 says, if ye were blind ye shall have no sin, thus we make them blind.
Gripping the wide band of satin; thick, soft, pliable; I wrap it across her eyes, securing it tight enough to hurt.
It's to keep her ignorant and spare her from incurring sin for the duration of our first fuck. The second it's in place and I have her left wrist in the bondage cuff, the cameraman swoops in from the open cavity behind the faux wall. It looks like curtains closed against the night but it hides the crew and their gear. Luke's now close enough to catch every detail in high definition.
The lights come on, burnishing skin with sexual sculpting, casting shadows with the practiced ease of the professionals, highlighting muscles, curves, hollows.
Securing her to the bed, I start posing for the digital eye.
“Trust me,” I croon, sucking her left tit with callous brutality and covering the hard nib with the suction nipple cap. It holds her nipple in the erect position, eventually it will hurt, but when the pain subsides she'll find the simple act of wearing clothing arousing. Eventually this training keeps them almost permanently erect. God likes them hard in church. Hell, we all get hard in church.
Repeating the process on the other one, I slide down the bed, fully dressed, planting my face between her legs for a good whiff of the new girl. Luke deposits the toys on the edge of the bed, just out of camera view, and I reach out and grab the dildo.
“I don't want you until you're aching, slippery, and begging. In this domain I am your master,
I am in control, and you will enjoy every fucking thing I do to you in this room. Understood?”
Her mouth grimaces and I enjoy the timbre of her voice when she bites her lip, purring, “O-kay.”
Okay is a fuck load better than 'oh hell no'.
Promising.
Covering her sex with my mouth, I take my time, tasting her, flicking my tongue under the hood and sucking softly on the hidden clit. When it rises to the probe of my tongue, I stop, knowing the frustration is all part of the game.
Lifting her ankles, I plant them on my shoulders so Luke can get a good take of the next move. Switching the dildo on, the buzz fills the silence, and I hold it to her hard clit. This is all it takes, just the mild pressure of the vibrating instrument and in t-minus sixty seconds she'll have an alluring sexual blush staining her cheeks.
And there we go.
Bucking, she arches off the bed, away from the restraints, moaning a delectable coo into the taut vacuum between us. I don't do all the talking crap people expect on tape. That's what editor's music is for. The people who watch the shit I make are in it for the action, not the dialog. Sucking the end of the metal dildo, getting it nicely lubricated, I slide it in and out of her a few times, savoring the way her vaginal lips suction to it; it's meditative to watch, slow in, slow out, the lady bits turning me on, the smell of her perfume and lust hitting my sugar gene.
Satisfied that she's sufficiently lubricated I grab the We-vibe U shaped dildo. It's a magnificent invention, cupping inside her and over the clit, holding in place by pegging over her pubic mound. It snuggles in all the right places. Basically it vibrates over her C, G and O spots, priming her for when I bury salvation deep inside her pink snatch.
Turning to the camera, I strip, slowly, tensing every fucking muscle, making sure my lats flare when I bend, doing the number paying folks like to see. With a contrived chest flex I lean over her, unbinding her hands, pulling her to me, my erection so close to her mouth that I think I deserve a little treat tonight. Nudging my head I get Luke to retreat for the next act. She must believe we are alone.
•
Candace:
Coaxing me with a tender caress down the side of my face, the impression decidedly romantic, he gruffly coaxes, “Show me your moves babe. I want to feel your mouth, I want it done properly this time.” The pressure of his hand slipping to my nape pulls me in, forcing me to the lip of the bed and to the floor, the vibration attached to me constantly coercing my uterus and clit to contract in almost orgasm.
Warm hands cup my face, a tender kiss blessing my mouth while he undoes the blindfold to stare soulfully into my eyes. He glances at the attachments to my body, whispering so softly I almost miss it, “You okay with my additions, babe?”
“Yes,” I smile, finding it all kinda kinky. I'm getting an education.
His gaze traces over me, appreciation obvious, pleasing me no end. “Your mouth belongs to me now,” he smiles.
I think an angel fell and luckily for me he's not into leggy models, he's into the girl next door. Breathing is a challenge uniquely its own, the pressure of his hand domineering, guiding, pulling me to an engorged penis when he sits with me between his legs, increasing the sensation humming inside me.
The floor is lushly carpeted and spongey under my knees, and oddly I feel like I want to prove myself to him. I'm no virgin, I have a few moves of my own, and avoiding eye contact I slip the head of his erection into my mouth, sucking, running my tongue under it, around it, flicking the tip of my tongue into the opening, tasting the saltiness of precum, finding it oddly alluring.
Pulling up with a big suck of lips, I hold it, running my tongue down the underside, then back up to rim his head. Bending to softly suck the egg in the sac I savor the incredible softness of his scrotum. He's hairless, as if he waxes. Even his chest is, and he looks like he works out – daily.
Glancing up at him, gauging his reaction, I roll the tender egg gently in my mouth, stroking it with my tongue, releasing it as delicately as possible. Then I apply the capture to the other one, opening wider, taking them both with care. Releasing them I lick slowly between them, separating them with the nudging pressure of my tongue, tracing under them and flicking the tip of my tongue across the base of his shaft, where it joins his body under the sac. This is a hard cord but I know it's ignored by most women, and this is my secret weapon. It's still a part of the penis and it likes attention too.
A groan worships my ministrations and he leans back, supporting himself on locked arms. Taking his scrotum in my mouth again, I stroke up and down on the shaft of his penis with my hand, applying firm pressure, every one of my movements eliciting a reaction from the thing he clamped inside my vagina, scorching heat from the vibrator to my nipples, the arc relentless.
My veins are in overdrive, my nerves pulsing with new life, the lust in me almost overpowering, blasting my inner call girl into stroking his thighs, running my tongue up the inside of his left leg, scoring up both softly with my nails, leaving my hair to caress him when I bend back over the thick erection, taking it into my mouth, using my hair tips to tickle under the scrotum where I was just licking while I stroke up and down with my other hand, bobbing my head, sucking up and down, over and under, eyes closed, pushing my tongue deeper into his slit, lacing the rim of his head with the velvet brush of taste-buds. Pressure, friction; dedicating my focus to his pleasure. I'm dizzy and feel really inebriated, but somehow it helps make this more fun. Hands on my shoulders urge me to withdraw, forcing me to sit on my heels. I reopen my eyes to stare up at him, swallowing heavily, my breath out of control.
“Like this,” he smiles, holding my head between his hands, his fingers reaching to my nape, his thumbs planted in my cheeks. “Open wide little doll.”
I do as he instructs, opening for penetration, my skin burning with instant shivers when he buries his thumbs into my cheeks, forcing my jaw to lock open. He stands, vicing my head, thrusting slowly in and out of my mouth. It's automatic to rest my hands on his clenching tush, loving the simple sensation of skin against skin, his girth and length a challenge for my small frame. My mouth doesn't open that wide, not without the help he's giving it.
“Breathe through your nose, let me feel that soft tongue, keep your lips on me.”
He's pushing so deep into my mouth that I have a flitter of apprehension, my heart bashing in my chest, filling my ears with a frenzied pump. Running my tongue in flicks, swishing it from side to side, it's hard to keep my lips tight with my mouth so widely stuck open.
“Take me deep, and hum,” he commands, his voice throaty and coarse. Staring up at him, at the lock of hair flopped forward onto his forehead shading his eyes, I frown, unable to speak, the buzzing in my vagina teasing me as much as my mouth is teasing him. “Humming stops you from wanting to gag, it also feels fucking hot.”
Oh, okay then. This is like doing yoga of the mouth, the concentration to keep my lips on him, moving my tongue and humming, is more multitasking than I'm used to when giving head. He lets out an encouraging moan when I start humming, his pace increasing, the thrusts in and out of my mouth getting deeper, and there's not enough room in my mouth to accommodate him.
Kenan guides me in and out, his hands reining my head so efficiently that I can't pull back, pumping me over his slick erection. I hum harder whenever he thrusts to the back, holding to his legs for stability, closing my eyes, surrendering to the sensation of his gasps, the aggression in his hold. There's something seductive about a man who knows what he wants, who knows how to direct, who widens my boundaries because he needs me to give him more than I've ever given. It's liberating, and instead of feeling like a prostitute I am immensely proud of myself. Stabilized, accustomed to the rhythm, I pick up a bunch of my hair again, tickling behind his scrotum with the impromptu paintbrush, humming, staring back up at him, loving the expression of elation on his face.
It takes me by surprise when he pulls out abruptly, spurting hot cum on my chest, his hands smearing it al
l over my boobs as if marking his territory with it. Sagging onto the bed to lean over me, he pulls my face with the pressure on my nape to kiss me so hard it leaves me dizzy. My jaw hurts. Coiled over me, giggling under his breath with self-satisfaction, he hoists me up onto the bed with such ease that instead of feeling like a plump woman I am like a child in his hold.
Landing on the soft linen, the rush of movement leaves the room pinwheeling because I'm on the teetering edge of severely smashed. He prowls over me, securing the blindfold back on, and snares my wrists above my head. His hold is strong, binding.
It's sexier with the blindfold, leaving my imagination to go insane with anticipation of his every movement. The vulnerable position makes me ache, deep deep inside, the movement of his skin rubbing over mine creating a sensitive inferno chasing through me.
He pulls the clamp out of me, the stimulation on my tingling clit gone, the lack of movement and snug heat making me instantly empty and wanton. Knees push my legs wide and his hand probes my sex.
“You are so wet. Look at this, your lips are sticking together and you're leaking again.”
He makes it sound like I've sinned. What did he expect was going to happen when he stuck a vibrator over my clit and inside me. It's left me so damn desperate that I squirm, clamping my legs around his body, urging him closer, to give me the same satisfaction I just gave him. A warm deep voice croons against my temple, “Tell me what you want. Tell me exactly what you want.”
“You… inside, deep.” My voice is as shaky as my legs, as my contracting vagina which continues to spasm out of control. I need it so bad. I need a hit, I need the high, I need to be full so deep that I struggle to breathe. I want his heat, his weight, his anger, his rage, his penetration.
Flipped over without warning, the ring of metal when my arms wind a metal circle across the rod above the bed which my restraints are tied to, he orders in the harsh voice. “On your knees. If you move I'll slap your arse so hard you won't sit for a week. Understood?”
