Phoenyx: Flesh & Fire

by Morgana Blackrose

  “Wow,” Honey gasped. She sat forward eagerly, chin in her hands. “This is gonna get good.”

  I sniffed the glass that had been put in front of me. “This is whisky and ginger?” I asked skeptically.

  Johnny made urging signs with his hand. “Just drink it.”

  I did so, and while it might not have satisfied Garbo’s Anna Christie at least it went down well with a warm kick and put a fiery lining in my stomach.

  As I watched the stage show, things began to get a little more exotic. The performers, having stripped each other down to their tiny respective G-strings, began enacting some kind of ritualized combat involving much grappling and groping, scratching and pulling of hair.

  “The physical power of man overcomes woman, but becomes subservient to her beauty in return,” Johnny pointed out. “An eternal, never-ending symbol.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Honey slurped into her cup. “Looks good, too. Gives me ideas.” She turned to me. “How’s the back, by the way?”

  I almost didn’t get her meaning at first. And then I remembered about the huge flaming bird I’d spent a whole evening having drawn on me.

  “I don’t feel anything,” I said. “Is that normal? I had expected it to hurt a lot more.”

  “Usually,” Johnny said. “But, magic ink,” he added with a wink. “It has many special properties.”

  “You know, Johnny,” Honey laughed, “just ‘cos you’re smart and cute and brilliant – and your country has turned out some of the cleverest shit ever – doesn’t mean you can fob us off with any old bull dressed up as Eastern philosophy.”

  Johnny sank back in his chair and folded his arms huffily. “Yes it does. You know how awesome I am, Honey. Don’t try to impress your lovely friend, because you’ll always lose against me.”

  She cast a long look at the stage, where the two men, having stripped the panties off the women and pinned them to the floor, were now in the process of binding them with lengths of rope. I loved the litheness of the women – their small risen breasts, finely-toned yet subtle musculature in contrast to the thick bulk of the men. It was a beautiful contrast, and yet perfectly balanced, also. A balance I’d seen reflected in Honey and her slim, athletic body – a body that I was feeling the need to see again very soon.

  “Maybe I’ll just make you subservient to my beauty then,” she suggested. She turned to me. “Hey, Phoenyx. That’s a good question. Are you top, or bottom?”

  I blinked, my usual alternative reaction to saying “Huh?” and showing myself up, yet again.

  “You mean you haven’t been pushing those buttons of hers until now?” Johnny asked, sounding surprised.

  “To be honest, I’ve been too busy pushing her little pink buttons. But now I’m keen to find out.”

  “I just go with the flow,” I said, knowing that would never commit me to anything that I may want to bug out of later, once I realized what it really entailed.

  Johnny drained his drink and stood up. “We can reconvene at my place if you want. Perhaps we can all push each other’s buttons?”

  I felt Honey’s hand crawl across my thigh.

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said, and leaned in. “Remember what I said about him, and that rope?”

  I was looking back at the stage and frowning at the rather bizarre contortions that the helpless women were now being twisted into by the rope-wielders.

  “As long as it’s nothing like that,” I said, pointing. “Looks damn well uncomfortable.”

  “There are always options,” she replied, and her hand moved up to my belly. “Maybe he’ll even let you share a few secrets.”

  Johnny bowed. “Come then,” and off he went.

  Back at his apartment, the first thing that struck me was how compact, yet orderly, the place was. It occurred to me that we in the West wasted a lot of space in our homes – possibly because we had a lot more of it to spare. The hotel room had been pretty small and basic but it wasn’t a home – however, Johnny seemed to have maximized the limited space available to him, with the help of cunning interior design.

  “Does anybody want anything?” he asked as he brought on the kitchen lights with a wave of his hand over a small panel in the wall.

  Honey sneaked up behind me and hung her arms around my neck. “This one,” she told him. “While you sit bound to a chair, forced to watch us.”

  “You know I can do escapology from rope?”

  “Who mentioned rope? I’m talking chains and handcuffs, baby. I’ve seen the contents of your wardrobe, remember.”

  Johnny leant back against the cupboard, watching, as she explored the front of my body with her hands.

  “Yeah, I still have chains,” he said. “But I was planning on using them all on you.”

  She broke off from her fondling of me and strutted off towards him, swinging her ass under her skintight skirt as she went.

  “This is the problem with threesomes,” she sighed. “Someone tends to end up as a spare wheel.” She pushed herself against him, dominating his shorter frame with her impressive stature. She slid her knee between his legs and rubbed the toe of her boot up his calf.

  “I don’t mind being spare,” he smiled, “If it means I get to watch you two get it on.”

  She slid her hands under his tee-shirt and pulled it up, showing off a well-developed chest and abdomen. She turned to look at me.

  “Want a piece of this?” she asked me. “Look, two pierced titties, just like yours.”

  I sat down on the nearest chair and waved her on. “Go ahead. I’ll join in soon.” I was still a bit sensitive from the three-hour penetration earlier in the evening.

  Honey wiggled her way down to sit squatting in front of him. She ran her hands all over his exposed and taut body, before lowering her aim to his fly, which she began to nibble on with her teeth in a slow, almost torturous tease of zip-opening.

  “It’s funny, this – so many words to describe the same thing,” she smiled, running her fingertips over the rising bulge in his pants. “Penis is simply an anatomical appendage, as exciting as a finger or a phalange. A willy is something small and flaccid, and at least slightly humorous. Prick is the organ as viewed with distaste, perhaps with so much as to describe the entire body it’s attached to, like a dick, but more so. Phallus is a symbol of fertility, but my favorite…” she traced her finger the length of his trouser zip, “…my favorite is the cock, which is only ever the hard, real thing, unleashed and ready to dive head-first into any waiting orifice. Or hole, while I’m in thesaurus mode.”

  “I love your language lessons,” Johnny smiled. “But maybe a little practice now, and less theory?”

  Honey obliged by whipping his zip down and flicking his cock out into her waiting hand. It extended rapidly and she slid it through her fingers, rubbing her palm over its end. She kissed it slowly, gently, throwing her hair back so I got a perfect view of her oral practice, a sure sign of a pro porno performer.

  “If I had my own language, I’d have sixty-nine different words for ‘cock’,” Honey mused in between licks and kisses of Johnny’s member. “And the definition of ‘Johnny’ would be ‘hot little dude worth travelling across the world to meet’.”

  “You humble me,” he mumbled.

  Honey grabbed his shaft tight and jerked it. “Don’t give me any of that ‘humble’ shit,” she replied. “You know how good you are. I don’t need your honorable Oriental humility – I need you to be strong and dominant right now.”

  “Well, since you’re on your knees in front of me, I’d say I’m already in a commanding position.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her face into his crotch. “So fill your pretty, dirty mouth with your master’s cock, slut.”

  She replied by dropping to her knees and swallowing his whole length down her throat in one gulp. She slid back and forth on him, flicking him with her tongue as she pulled back, before diving headlong back onto him again with growls of hungry delight.

  He l
ooked over at me, his eyes widening. I smiled, giving him ‘go ahead’ gestures. This was going to get interesting. I peeled my skirt up and opened my legs to allow my fingers access to my tingling crotch.

  He stood pressed hard against the kitchen cupboard while Honey deep-throated him, working her way up and down him at the pace demanded by his hand which held her by a tight knot of hair. I made eye contact with him again and slowly rolled my skirt up to my waist. I opened my legs wider and my sticky labia unglued themselves, opening up my moist hole to his squinting stare.

  “Phoenyx is getting very turned-on,” he reported to Honey, whose cheek was currently stuffed with a hamster-like pouch of cock. “I don’t want her feeling left out tonight.”

  “Hmm,” she replied, and kept on gulping.

  He dragged her head off himself and she disengaged her mouth, leaving a goopy string of saliva behind.

  “I said, bitch – I don’t want her getting left out. So go and attend to her.”

  He twisted her around by the head to face me, a considerable feat due to Honey’s height difference, and her clear unwillingness to be parted from him at that moment.

  “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view,” I said, unwilling to get anybody upset. But Johnny had decided that Honey was going to please me now, and I didn’t want to argue.

  He strode off to one of the wall cupboards behind me while Honey wiped her chin on her arm and stood up.

  “Get back on your knees!” his voice barked over my head, and she did so hurriedly, her eyes betraying a slightly wounded look. Perhaps she would have been better off not trying to wind up the master of rope bondage, I thought. Or perhaps, he was also scoping me out.

  Honey crawled towards me from the kitchen, looking up at Johnny as he advanced. He appeared at my side, his cock still sticking out of his pants like a quivering sexual antenna, and handed me a chain, and leather studded collar.

  “When the slut comes to you, put this on her and control her as you will. She’s yours to command. I may offer suggestions, but you, Phoenyx, will be satisfied by her. Do whatever you will to achieve your wishes – that is the only rule.”

  “Time for a safe word then, huh, Johnny?” Honey asked when she was half-way across.

  He stamped over the wooden floorboards to her and wrenched her head back. “The slut will do what it’s commanded to do. It will not speak unless addressed, and then only in brief – it will not waffle, or bore its Mistress. It will obey all commands to the letter. Last warning: I shall not intervene again, for I am the divinity who looks down upon the acts of mortals. And if I do, it shall be to administer the punishment of heaven, not mere scolding. The slut’s safe word – should it feel the need to crap out of this gentle overture, and humiliate itself further – is Gekkei.”

  He moved in behind her and ripped her skirt up, then slapped her heartily across her bare ass. She shuffled the rest of the way up to me and I gently put the collar on around her neck, lifting up her hair to get it in place.

  “Beautiful,” I whispered to her.

  Johnny just stood behind her, arms folded, a dark grin on his face. He caught my anxious glare and winked: it’s just a game. My experiences with Mrs. Groenenberg told me that playing in character was the best option for everyone concerned. I’d always wanted to be a performer, after all. To be someone; or to be someone else. Tonight, I would be the tool of Johnny’s lofty desires, and Honey’s Mistress – at least for a little while. I knew she wouldn’t hold it against me.

  I gathered the leash tight in my hand and pulled her face up towards me.

  “You’re mine now, slut,” I told her. “And you’re going to do exactly what I tell you. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  I looked up at the smirking man. “For God’s sake, Johnny – I thought you had this one trained?”

  He stifled a hearty laugh. “Perhaps, I leave the final training to you. I see she has picked up bad habits since we last parted. Discipline becomes slack if not practiced regularly.”

  “We need to work on this then, don’t we? Sort this wayward bitch out.”

  I looked down into Honey’s goggling eyes. Her mouth was half-open in astonishment; yes, Phoenyx had just turned a little nasty. It was Mrs. Groenenberg I could thank for that.

  “Take your skirt off,” I ordered, and yanked the chain a little. She quickly did the business with the hip zipper and rolled it down her thighs to crouch there, bottomless, a mere two paces away from my waiting, glistening pussy, wide open and enticing, but still untouchable until I said so. “Right off,” I went on. She shifted on to her side and pulled the garment away with a very ungraceful fling, so far removed from her usual nightclub striptease technique. Honey wasn’t enjoying this little situation Johnny had pushed her into, and I suspected there’d be some fiery words about it later beyond my earshot.

  She reclined below me, her cock half-extended and twitching. I pointed to it.

  “Tuck that thing in between your legs,” I said. She stuffed it away and clenched her thighs together, narrowing her loins to a perfect feminine ‘V’ with only her little wisp of strawberry blonde hair visible swirling under belly.

  I sat back and lowered the leash a little, extending the range of her freedom.

  “Yes, you make a good girl,” I said. I pulled on the chain and drew her closer to me. “So I think you deserve to get fucked like one.” I lifted the chain and forced her up further, raising her ass into the air. I lifted my leg and ran the tip of my heel down her spine, all the way down to the top of her ass crack. I pressed the back of the spiked heel against it, then angled downwards so it poked her in the balls. She grimaced but kept her composure.

  “Johnny – I mean, O Heavenly One – would you like to give this nasty little bitch what she needs?”

  He didn’t need any further encouragement. He flipped open his belt and dropped his pants to the floor, wriggled out of his top and strode up behind Honey. I was amazed at the beautiful tone and symmetry of his body – the sculpted muscles which almost shone in the light, like the oiled-up performers at the nightclub earlier. And in the dim amber glow of his lamp, he truly looked like the divinity he had claimed to be.

  He knelt down behind Honey, who still lingered in mid-air, suspended at the end of my leash. I pulled her closer in to present Johnny with a more accessible angle of approach. Her chin rested on my thigh and she looked up at me, almost pleadingly.

  “Well, this is going to get good,” I smiled.

  Johnny spat on his palms and slid one hand between her legs. He grabbed her cock from behind and levered her up by it, causing little gasps of surprise and discomfort to escape from her parted lips. And then with a grunt and a growl, Johnny was inside her, pushing her face into my belly with the impact. She squealed; half in surprise, half in delight.

  “Now let him fuck you like the slut you are,” I told her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against my thigh, breathing deep and inhaling the scent of my growing lust. A dirty smirk had begun to unwind across her face and the pink tip of her tongue slid from between her teeth, teasing me, enticing me. Her face slid back and forth on me in time with Johnny’s short, measured strokes, his movements almost ritualistic and controlled by heavily audible breathing. With one hand gripping her ass cheek, he held her cock and balls in a tight grip in the other, squeezing them, and pulling on them.

  The muscles in her back and shoulders tightened visibly as Johnny hammered her deeper, beginning to speed up his pace. I brushed a loose frond of hair back from her face and traced my finger over her perfect skin, stroking her lips. Her tongue came out further to meet my finger, drawing it in to her mouth to suck it up to the knuckle. Her cheeks puckered as she did so and then she opened her eyes again, staring up at me from beneath big heavy lashes. A small tear formed at the corner of one of those bright brown eyes, although her body language said that she was definitely enjoying her cur
rent situation. She must have been a beautiful boy, I thought to myself, and wondered what she looked like before her transition. I would have loved her so, that much I knew.

  Johnny’s hammering had become quicker, shifting to double-time. I could see that he was close, and Honey was looking rather ragged as she thrashed around on the end of his relentless attack.

  “Special finishing move: Iko Climax!” he bawled, and yanked his cock out of her with a grunt. Honey’s eyes widened in shocked expectation, and then he battered his organ against her ass cheeks – first right, then left – with sharp slaps which actually made her wobble. On the third strike he came hard, spraying her ass and lower back with his cream. And at the same time, he yanked her cock and made her wail like an abandoned dog.

  She buried her face in my inner thigh to stifle her warbling moans of desperate, delirious delight. I heard a sharp sucking sound as Johnny pushed himself back inside her ass again while he worked her cock and balls with both hands.

  “Are you satisfied with the slut?” he asked me. “It doesn’t look as though you’ve started to enjoy her yet.”

  “I have simple pleasures at times,” I said. “Just having her before me was a delight.”

  I could see her straining at the leash to get her tongue into the middle of my wetness, but I was merely enjoying the show, and the feelings of exalted power it brought. And I was, after all, still rather raw from the epic fucking earlier that evening. When I looked down again, I saw that Johnny had procured a length of thin, white rope from somewhere and was now tying off Honey’s balls and cock in a series of expert knots.

  “Oh,” she moaned when he was finished.

  He took his palm across her ass. “Stand.”

  She did so, pulling the chain through my hand to its fullest extension, and I paled at the sight of her bound genitals as they appeared in front of me. That had to hurt, surely? But the look on her face, as she smiled down at me, said otherwise.

  He caught a hank of her hair and pulled it, straining her neck hard against the leash.