Tonight, there was no mistaking what was on the man's mind, though. Giovanni wanted satisfaction for that cock he was stroking to hardness. That and the satisfaction of making his actors do just what he pleased.
"Where would you start this particular scene, Julie?” The Director asked. “I'm curious."
She clenched her fists. There was no breaking these bonds, no escaping whatever was going to happen next, to her or to Grigori. “I would call in a stunt double,” she quipped, never one to resist putting in a joke when she could.
Giovanni signaled to Grigori who handed him a short whip from the toy box. It looked like a riding crop, except that there was a thick piece of leather at the end. The butterflies in her stomach did instant double back flips. Perfect tens in the anatomical Olympics.
"I wouldn't dream of depriving you of all the fun, my dear. This is a flogger, if you've never heard of one. It's most often employed on the buttocks, though it has its use on other parts of the body as well."
Shivers went up and down her spine as she contemplated just what body parts he might have in mind. “I don't suppose I can talk you into filming a documentary instead?” She wanted to know. “Something on the migratory habits of sea birds, maybe?"
He wielded the flogger through the air, testing its mettle. “No, thank you, I'll stick to what I've got."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
The whip snapped on her half exposed breasts. The sting was immediate, followed by a biting hot glow. It was half pain, half pleasure. The most agonizing and arousing part was not being able to protect herself, just knowing he could do it again and again, anywhere he liked.
On her belly. Her thighs. Even her pussy.
"You will watch as I possess Grigori,” Giovanni informed her, tapping one nipple after another. “Than you will please us both, restoring our erections with your mouth and hands. You will do so knowing you will be had, by both of us at once."
She moaned, arching her back. The words, coming to her helpless ears sounded so deeply perverted, almost like a whip unto themselves. This combined with the sensations of what he was doing with the flogger was turning her into a hot, blonde, panting bitch, the very stereotype she and all her other serious minded sisters fought against.
Humiliated, unable to help herself, Julie thrust out her chest, craving another strike, harder, faster. “That feels so fucking..."
She didn't have a word for the sensations he was giving her. Instead she offered a deep groan as the flogger claimed her tits once more. It was a maddening device, not powerful enough to break skin or cause serious wounding, but strong enough to put a woman into another world, a wicked, forbidden one.
"There will be no camera to hide behind,” said Ambrosiano, snapping at her belly through the silk. “Your performance will be with your body alone."
"Yes,” she hissed, the flogger whistling in the air, kissing her body, like a demonic lover. “Oh, god, yes."
If she could she would tear off the negligee, giving him her bare skin to work over. She wanted to feel more. She wanted to be whipped till she was red skinned then made to crawl to the men, servicing their cocks, making them hard, as ordered so she could accept the consequences, surrendering to them both, in whatever orifices they wanted her.
"This next part will be torment,” Giovanni promised. “You will be kept aroused and not satisfied. You will writhe and whimper, but you will be allowed to do nothing but watch. This is your incentive. It will insure your eagerness later on."
"I want to be good,” Julie promised as he rubbed the flogger gently over her cheek.
This submissive talk was making her hot. Just as hot as what he was doing to her body.
"Open,” he commanded, reversing the flogger so that the handle was facing her.
Julie took the end of the pseudo phallus into her mouth through lips already half opened. It tasted of leather, oiled and exotic. Shamelessly, she yielded to it, letting the man know what she would do if given a chance on his cock. He pushed it deep, making her suck long and hard.
"Look at me, Julie."
She could hardly stand to. The way he looked at her, the way she saw herself in his eyes made her want to come so, so badly. He was not touching her pussy and yet something so much deeper was happening. He was having her, taking her somewhere very, very intimate.
"You are going to be the best sex I have ever had in my life,” he told her.
She flushed from the whorish praise.
"You are one of the fiercest fires, and therefore channeled, you will be an exquisite blaze.” He took the handle from her mouth and thrust it between her legs, pushing the silk between her lips. “Come,” he ordered, casually but uncompromisingly.
Julie pushed against the object, masturbating herself, desperate, hungry, half out of her mind, nipples burning, her body indeed like a crackling, incendiary blaze.
"Faster. You have to the count of ten."
She squirmed so as to make contact with her clit directly, the motions sending fierce shivers up and down her spine. It was so degrading, being treated like this, and yet she had never been wetter in her life or more fulfilled. The man was owning her, totally and completely dominating her spirit even as he unleashed it.
"Three,” he said, holding the handle still and making her do all the work.
Julie clenched her teeth.
"Four. Five.” Giovanni turned his head to Grigori, snapping out a command in Dasklovian she could not follow.
The man obeyed instantly going immediately onto the bed on all fours, his head down. Julie felt it on the horizon, the point of no return, the crest of the mountain she must peak to reach her goal ... his goal. The sight of the Dasklovian this way, about to surrender himself was just the added boost she needed. Giovanni did not have to go past seven. Right through the nightgown, she gave it up for him, the stain on the front of it spreading rapidly as she yielded up her fragrant liquid essence.
Soon Grigori would give it up, too. And she would watch.
Her orgasm was layered, Technicolor slices, one upon the other, juicy, delicious, mouth-melting. Her limbs pulled at her bonds. She was prisoner, slave of the Director's whims, but freed to soar to the height of his butterfly world to come and come and come. She screamed out this truth and moaned it and whimpered too. In the end, though, it was moonlight she returned to. In the bedroom of a long dead prince, two naked, beautiful men with her for a night of delights. Teasing tortures, and after that, she hoped, climaxes beyond her wildest dreams.
Giovanni had her lick clean the whip handle. “Now,” he told her, “it is Grigori's turn."
Julie licked her parched lips, watching him move to the bed like a panther. The Dasklovian was breathing heavily as Giovanni went to him. The Maestro teased him, dragging the black leather tassels over his back and ass. A tap to his cheek and he lifted his head. Julie bit her lip. It was Grigori's turn to suck. Giovanni made him take it deeper than her, expecting immediate deep throating. The big man's eyes slid closed in lust. He was more than ready to take inside his mouth this leather that must surely smell and taste of Julie herself.
"He is a magnificent animal, is he not?” Giovanni asked her. “You would gladly collar and own him for yourself, I have no doubt."
Julie felt a fresh tide between her legs at the raunchy idea. It was true, she did want him, totally and completely, all for herself.
Reaching around, Giovanni smacked Grigori's ass. Grigori jolted, redoubling his sucking efforts. Julie could see how swollen the Dasklovian's cock was, full and reddish purple and swaying very slightly as it moved. His testicles were full again, too, more so now than ever. Such a pity, she thought, to let such manhood go to waste. If she had her way she'd be underneath him, quietly licking the vein on the underside, delicately taking each of his balls in her mouth one at a time till he cried out in sweet pleasure. But she wasn't in charge, was she?
Giovanni was, and there was no telling what a man like him could have in mind for the night ahead. At
the present he was leaning over whispering things in Grigori's ears, spanking him hard at the same time. Grigori gurgled, the whip in his mouth, his body writhing. He was turned on, that was for sure.
"I told him he will take me in his ass. He will be fucked at my leisure like a ... what is the term in English?"
"Like a bitch,” she whispered hotly. “You are going to make him your bitch."
"Yes,” he nodded, “that is it."
Giovanni repeated the new word to the Dasklovian, chuckling slightly. Grigori drew a deep breath, making Julie shiver with need. Oh, how she wanted to be touching him now, feeling his skin, his pulse, cooling and soothing and inflaming and a million other contradictory things.
Giovanni took the whip out now, wiping it dry on the man's thick mane of hair, glorious and blacker than any midnight. Grigori arched his neck, mouth open, his body clearly yearning for some new stimulation, abuse even to end the sudden emptiness.
The man did not have to wait long. The time had come for an honest to goodness ass whipping at the hands of the Maestro. He teased him first, rubbing the tip of it over his muscular behind and flanks, making him hold perfectly still as he grazed the edges of his puckered asshole. Two times Grigori was told to spread his legs wider. The erection between them looked ready to explode any second. Julie was sure the semen would erupt with the speed of a machine gun.
Giovanni was much harder on him with the flogger than on Julie. This was due, she was sure, to his strength and sex and also to the fact that the hind area was much less sensitive than was the torso. At any rate, the man's skin began to redden after just a few well-placed blows. Grigori's fine ass continued to twitch, even as Ambrosiano reared back his arm for each delivery.
Grigori was digging into the bed covers with his fingers, a sign of his self-imposed helpless. His nipples rock hard, too and his face was contorted into a most complex expression of pain and lust, his handsome features held in place by discipline the likes of which she could hardly imagine.
Unlike herself, this man could fight back. And yet he was taking it, aroused to torturous ends, his pelvis rocking automatically with the mounting assault. Clearly he wanted it, like she herself did, but he had to be straining, too, with every fiber of his being against the need to push things along to the sex.
To watch him it was as if the cock was already imbedded, his glut muscles clenching and unclenching, his thighs were rock hard with tension.
Giovanni himself was poetry in motion, his chest rising and falling manfully with the exertion, his own muscles tightened to sinewed cords designed to take the breath of any blushing maiden. He was the very epitome of raw, economical manhood, the very essence of sculpted statue beauty, meant to take at a touch the ripe softness of womanhood.
For variety, Giovanni whipped the man's back, spreading the flogger across every inch of him. The Dasklovian's ass had already turned to scarlet. Julie wished she could kiss it and give comfort. Was he feeling what she was-this sense of total abandonment and sexual frustration? She could not reach her own pussy, could not get herself off and neither could he-not as long as he chose to remain like this, a virtual slave to the Maestro.
"Let us see if he is ready to beg,” announced Giovanni. He put his hand on Grigori's back, his other holding the leather stranded flogger, rubbing it up under his belly as he asked the question in Dasklovian.
Grigori replied in a long string of words, vrastoya prominent among them. Ambrosiano showed no mercy, flicking the leather strands across the man's cock. Julie could see Grigori was fighting the urge to move or to react in some way.
"He must be broken,” explained Giovanni. “Stripped of all willpower. He will take his penetration as a slave takes on his master."
Julie held her breath. The great Maestro was coming back over to her. “We need something for lubrication,” he smiled cagily. “Do you have any suggestions?"
She knew immediately what he had in mind. “Signor, please don't..."
He ripped the gown open from the neck, just as Grigori had with the other one earlier. “I will,” he defied, making handfuls of her exposed, captive breasts. “Because I can. Are you sufficiently wet, my lovely wench, or do you need more of a whipping?"
Julie hated that he could do this to her. “I don't want to feel this,” she said foolishly.
"Yes you do. More than anything.” He bent and bit her nipple. “Admit it."
She moaned out loud, so terribly confused as to good and bed, pleasure and pain. All she knew was that she was not ready to quit yet, all her protests aside. “Yes,” she cried, the word stretched into a snake train of sound.
"Bene,” he murmured. “Bella ragazza."
Julie came against his fingers, a tiny little ripple of a climax as he took away a finger's worth of her pungent sex fluid. He had called her beautiful and for once in her life she was believing it.
Her fresh come was delivered straight to Grigori's ass. Giovanni parted the still red cheeks, smearing it at the entrance to his narrow, puckered channel. Twice he went back to Julie for more, each time inducing fresh spasms in the woman.
On the third trip, he used her cream to lather up his own shaft. Julie licked her lips, longingly. In vain she pulled at the cuffs still holding her wrists and ankles. This was indeed the torture he'd promised it would be. And more.
"Such a patient little thing,” he touched his fingers to her lips teasingly. “Waiting your turn so well."
She sucked at them, cleaning her own juices away.
"Enough,” he denied her. “Now you will watch again."
Grigori was still breathing quite heavily. Giovanni climbed behind him on the bed. Grigori's ass was still deliciously pink. He'd been subjected to corporal punishment and now he would be invaded, taken to a place of intimacy she had only ever witnessed between a man and a woman.
The Maestro worked slowly, teasing the man's asshole a while before attempting insertion. Grigori was a rock of endurance, though the motions of his spine gave some indication of what he might be enduring.
"He is going to take it all the way,” predicted Giovanni, lining up his pointed cock with its intended target.
Pressing one hand to the ass of the more muscular man, Giovanni made the initial connection. “Grigori, vrastoya,” he declared, making clear his intent to conquer.
Grigori made the attempt to relax his anal muscles. The shaft was moving in under great pressure, the white haired Director's face locked in determination. Julie drew a tiny, ghost-like breath as the curved penis began to disappear into Giovanni's hole. He pulled back a little and then moved forward, trying to build up momentum. With each forward push he made it a little deeper. His face softened in pleasure, even as Grigori's showed the mixed feelings of fullness and invasion.
He was being had, used in the ass. Fucked by another man.
Grigori made a grunting sound and pushed up. Giovanni grabbed the man's waist with his hands, steadying himself for the counter thrust. The cock was more than half gone. Would he make it all the way? Giovanni wanted it and Grigori, too. They were two male animals, sweat beading on their skin, their hair like wild manes of black and white, sleek muscles reflected in the moonlight. The vampire and the werewolf, she thought.
True to form, Giovanni bore down, biting into the neck of the stronger Dasklovian man. Grigori cried out, but not in pain. The pace was furious, the unleashed power awe-inspiring. Giovanni wanted total possession, and he was claiming it, his hand on the other's cock, milking it. Would they come together? It was going to be soon, very soon. The sinews on both men's necks looked ready to pop. Their nipples were fully swollen, their balls ready to explode. No more words, they were reduced to a language of grunts.
"Oh, yes,” cried Julie. “It's so good. So fucking hot."
Giovanni reared back. Was this the moment? No, he was withdrawing. But why? He couldn't stop now!
Smacking Grigori's ass hard, he issued an order. The big man rolled onto his back, toppling heavily. Spreading his massiv
e thighs, he exposed himself. His arms were over his head, wide apart. She thought Giovanni intended simply to suck him off, but as she watched him move his limbs, spider-like, she saw it was mutual pleasure he had in mind. Each man's head was over the other man's cock. They were going to fellate each other.
Grigori opened wide. Julie felt a delicious tugging at her pussy as he consumed the coating of her own juices from off of Giovanni's shaft. An entirely different feeling came over her as she watched Giovanni take Grigori's cock. She was a bit jealous, but also wickedly excited. To see those world famous lips, doing something so forbidden.
Damn, he was a good cocksucker, too. He was working the shaft deep, lubricating it well, providing all the suction to make Grigori arch his back and clench his fists. They were fused so well, nearly the same height, the coronas of their hair covering each other's crotches completely, their healthy, greedy bodies wanting so much more.
They were deep throating each other, gurgling, swallowing each other like only men could do. It was enough to make Julie think maybe men were better for each other. And yet she needed in this scene, so bad. They might reduce her to a whimpering puddle, but she'd take it, whatever they gave.
Never had she seen a woman enjoying cock sucking like these two. A pair of lions, they started rolling, twice switching positions. Giovanni was briefly beneath and then back on top again. Their hands were grappling for any flesh they could find. Ass cheeks to hold and squeeze. And balls to glom onto, pulling the testicles closer to slap against their cheeks.
At last, when the pressure could build no more, they wrapped their arms hard and tight about one another. From lions, they converted to hissing, electric snakes, convulsing, perfect muscles rippling, bare flesh undulating. Their spines arching, calves flexing, biceps curled. Inseparable, primal, lust driven to the marrow.
Grigori began to spasm first. He was coming ahead of Giovanni, though the older man was not far behind. He, too, was showing the telltale signs, buttocks raging, body contorting. They sucked at one another's sexes, drinking down the warm, thick fountains of life. Actively they worked on swallowing one another's loads, continuing to lick at each other as their erections subsided. Julie felt the pinging in her stomach as she realized that all too soon those cocks would be hers to reawaken. And then, once she had done so, these wild beast men would be turning their predatory energy in her direction.
Captured!--On Film Page 9
