by Susan Sass
A second garden hose was pulled up to the plaza and Faith was pleased to find that someone had thought to attach it to a warm water tap. Someone had run to the showers and several bottles of shampoo and bathing gel were being passed around and everyone was washing someone else, the mood sensual but still light and playful. Faith found herself being washed by her Master, his hands rubbing the suds across her body, chains and all, his eyes staring deep into hers and she froze, her eyes growing larger. He was completely nude and had her leash wrapped around his wrist. Again she felt a wave of the terror but it was not quite so bad. And a sudden realization shot through her. She was not afraid of him. It was his proximity, his closeness that had her twisting. It was the knowledge that she could ask him, surrender to him, lose herself in him, that what had her wanting to flee. Her eyes blinked and slid away, her body going tense.
Soon everyone was clean and the plaza floor rinsed clean. JD had stepped to the back and was standing next to Aya. His voice was low, pitched only for her ears but Faith could not help but overhear. “I had no idea she was going to do that.”
Aya’s voice was equally soft, “We owe our Marc a debt. Throwing the food was inspired. I would never have thought of it.”
“He did save the day.”
The food table had been wheeled away and a low padded platform was being set up. Layla was led to stand in the center of the plaza. Fresh and clean, her thick dark blond hair hung loose and wet down her shoulders. JD passed Faith’s leash to Aya and strode to face her. The spot light constricted to focus only on the pair and the music changed to a soft rhythmic drumming, like natives in the distance. Aya pulled Faith to follow her as she moved to sit in the big throne. Pulling on the leash she forced Faith to her knees and then to lean against her leg. Leaning close so she could speak in Faith’s ear, she whispered, “Watch closely, little slave. Watch and learn.”
JD had moved to sit down on the edge of the padded platform and to Faith’s surprise pulled Layla into his lap. He was speaking softly to her, his words only for the girl in his lap stroking her hair, holding her cradled close and sweetly intimate. Layla nodded and spoke back, soundless, her eyes locked on his face. It was like they were the only two people in the plaza. When their lips met for the first time, there was a soft sigh that rose up around the plaza, and Faith found her own breathing turning soft and deep. Aya’s voice in her ear made her jump, “Little slave, there is not a person here, slave or free, that does not want to be there in his arms.” Faith did not respond or look away from the vision before her eyes.
The pace was slow and sensual, hands stroking, Layla twisting and moaning in her Master’s arms as her body responded to his hands, his lips, his energy. When JD stood, lifting the girl and turning to lay her down on her back, a soft tremble of heat rose up in Faith’s own belly, and she clenched her knees together, her bells ringing softly as she moved. JD leaned down and slowly drew his hands down the length of Layla’s body, the girl’s body arching and rippling under his touch, and Faith felt a matching wave of tingles that ran down the length of her own body. Aya sifted and moved to put a leg on either side of Faith, her fingers on Faith’s shoulders, feeling the tremors that shook through the new slave’s frame. Aya’s voice in her ear was a hypnotic hiss, “You can feel it too, can’t you little slave. You feel his power, his love, his ownership. It fills the plaza. Look at the faces of the others; they are lost in it too.”
Aya’s hands forced Faith to look and she almost gasped at the rapt expressions in the faces that reflected the spotlight, eyes wide, lips open, leaning forward, each one completely immersed in watching as their Master pulled the girl’s hips up and slowly plunged into her depths. A low moan rose up around the plaza, matching the soft cry of happiness from Layla. Another shiver of sensation made the bells ring. Slowly the tempo began to accelerate, the two bodies under the spotlight undulating and dancing to the primitive rhythms that had possessed them. Layla arched her body, lifting her hips to meet his powerful thrusts and began to call to her Master. Her voice was sweet and pleading, “Please, now please.”
JD’s voice was a low growl, his words for her only, and for a tiny instant Layla was perfectly still, a vibrating, tense arc under him, and then she began to convulse, a soft ululating cry rising up and up. Faith felt her whole body wanting to be there with her, a soft sympathetic pulsation rising up from her very core, like her body was trying come too, but could not quite reach that peak. She realized she was trembling constantly, breathing fast and shallow through open lips. The bells were a constant tinkling in her ears.
Layla’s cries had not waned and it seemed like once released she was riding on a constant wave of her passion. Each thrust into her depths forced another wild cry of excitement. JD tensed and pressed deep, his hands hard on Layla’s body as he pumped his come deep into her. For a few blessed moments the two continued in their soft sensual movements, easing down from their heights. Finally JD pulled himself free, and gently gathered the girl back into his arms, rocking and kissing her gently, speaking again only for her ears. Only after he had held her gently for many Minutes did he pull her to stand beside him and on his cue they both bowed to their audience.
Faith flinched as the plaza erupted in applause and began to clap along too. JD bowed again and held up a hand for silence. “Our Layla has consented to give herself to all of us. Let the games begin.”
Chapter 16
Two female slaves came up and knelt before JD and Layla. Each one began to gently clean the person before her, licking and nuzzling as they fed on the sweet nectars of the previous union. JD stroked the hair of the girl who was cleaning him and pushed her face away, guiding her to Layla and backed away from the scene. Aya stood, handed him Faith’s leash, and moved to stand behind his chair. The audience seemed to relax and there was a general buzz as they began to speak to one another, moving around the perimeter of the plaza to get a better view as the two women lay Layla back down and began to make love to her. Faith watched with wide eyes as the three naked women appeared to meld and writhe in complex knots. Then her attention was pulled to one side as she noticed that many members of the audience were touching each other, leaning against each other, caressing and kissing.
She flinched and almost jerked away when JD first touched her, his fingers casually exploring the tangled braids left from the food fight and improvised shower, then caressing her ears and neck. Soon the touches, gentle and neutral became part of the scene unfolding before her eyes and she found herself arching her neck and almost purring as the soft tingles ran down her spine. As long as she was not looking at him, kept her eyes on the women, it felt right, more than right, it felt good, relaxing.
The movements of the women on stage were becoming less languid, their bodies tense and almost struggling with one another, and then as one surrendered and cried out, it seemed to push the others over the edge and they all seemed to pulsate as one. Faith swallowed down a lump in her throat as she watched them, holding and rocking together as a single entity, soft wet lips trembling, smiling, kissing gently, seeming loathe to let go, to finally pull apart the bond that had grown between them.
The hands on her, his hands on her, worked at the base of her skull and then down her shoulders, and then Faith found her wrist being lifted by the chains that fastened to her bracelet. Slowly he reeled into her hand up over her head into his lap and caught it there, holding it in his, caressing her palm, massaging her fingers. Faith let her body lay loose and passive as she watched the girls untangle and kiss each other good bye and then walk away from the stage leaving Layla alone in the spotlight, curled on her side, soft and spent.
Suddenly the music changed to loud pounding rhythms and the spot light slipped to one side and swung wildly around the plaza, searching for the next players. Faith could not help but jump as two wildly dressed huge black men charged screaming into the plaza. They were carrying shields and spears, had feathers sticking up out of their hair and had brilliant paint stripes and dots on
their faces and bodies. They charged around the plaza brandishing their spears threateningly at the audience, shouting in strange gibberish. At first she did not recognize Wilson and when he rushed at her, Faith squealed and to her own amazement found herself scrambling up into JD’s lap in terror. He wrapped his arms around her and held her safe, laughing at her sudden panic.
The two African warriors continued their prowl around the plaza, repeatedly howling and charging at the audience members. Each time the screaming, laughing slaves would fall back in feigned terror. Suddenly their gaze fell upon Layla huddled alone and vulnerable on the center of the stage. Suddenly they stiffened and crouched low, creeping toward the girl. Layla was game and began to shake her head in protest, sliding backward off the platform away from her pursuers. Turning she tried to run away but her escape was blocked and she was chased back toward the stage. Over and over she tried to elude the warriors but each time she was intercepted and harried back at spear point until she was trapped.
Suddenly conscious of her nudity and his, Faith tried to slip out of his lap, back to her place at his feet. Laughing and shaking his head, JD kept his grasp on her. The throne was wide, and the seat soft and padded. There was more than enough room for her to sit comfortably in his lap. Again there was a flood of fear, to be so close, his skin next to hers, his scent filling her nostrils. Faith could feel her body turn tense and wooden but the screams of the drama unfolding before them drew her eyes.
The warriors were prodding at Layla’s body with the tips of their spears. Soon they threw down the spears and seemed to be struggling with her. It was a stylized dance where one would grip her and then almost toss her to the other, pushing her back and forth turning her and twisting her, holding her against them, grinding their bodies against hers. Finally as one held Layla from behind holding her arms, the other lifted her legs and thrust into her, shouting a shrill ululating war cry. His body gyrated and jerked as he plunged his cock deep within her, and Layla let out a long keening cry. But then the one who had been holding her arms pulled her away, and turned her abruptly and took her in turn. Again there was the struggle, the apparent tug of war between the warriors as each vied to take her and keep her from the other, their bodies crowding close. It was an amazing combined sexual ballet and mock battle. The two large black men were strong enough to lift and manipulate Layla effortlessly, lifting her to slide down onto hard cocks, thrusting violently, trying to keep her. Layla’s cries reached a fever pitch, she seemed to be caught up in a constant fugue of orgasm, her head tipped back, her mouth calling out her unrestrained excitement.
Each time Faith watched Layla impaled she felt her body tense and shudder in response. Woodenly rigid she huddled in JD’s lap, trying to shrink up as small as she could. She was intensely aware of the his bare skin next to hers, his arms supporting her, his breath stirring the hairs on the back of her neck. When she felt his lips touch the nape of her neck, she tensed and then shuddered as the tingles cascaded down her back. The sounds of the bells seemed to reflect the sensations that were shooting through her skin. When he pulled her to lean against him she found she could no longer fight it, resist, and sagged softly against his chest, but she did not take her eyes off the scene.
JD’s hands were hot upon her body, sliding across her skin, toying with her chains. Faith’s Mind was a confusion of frustrated need and fearful denial. A thousand thoughts filled her head with confusion. It felt so good to be held. She wanted him to let her go. His arms felt so strong, so safe. She wanted him to stop touching, to touch more. What if he went further? What if he didn’t? It was too much to think about and she found all the words slowly fading, muting, and subsiding as her body began to demand more. When JD’s had slid around and cupped a breast, gently playing with a bell, all her Mind said was ‘yes, oh god, yes’ as the sensations shot through her belly directly to her hot throbbing clit. But she remained silent and did not take her eyes off Layla and her ravishment.
The music seemed to get louder and faster, the spot light began to strobe, the movements of two warriors morphing into a retina searing series of still images. Wild eyes rolling in ebon sockets, white teeth gleaming in frozen snarls, Layla’s fair skin and hair contrasting sharply with their dark limbs and hands. The music reached a deafening crescendo and then suddenly the lights were off, the music cut and to Faith’s light dazzled senses the darkness and silence were absolute. Suddenly bereft of the refuge of the spectacle, she peered in frustration out at the darkness. And when a warm hand slid down her belly to stroke the soft smooth skin of her inner thighs, she did not fight it. She just slid down in his arms, going limp and passive. The only sound in the plaza was her soft groan of surrender.
There was one last primitive shriek and then the spot showed both warriors supporting Layla in their arms, bowing to the audience, the crowd stood and screamed in a wild ovation, but Faith did not see it. Her eyes were fast closed, her attention had imploded, not longer did the images sear into her visual cortex, it was all sensation now, the sensation of hands, skin, breathing, smell. Without thought she floated as she rode the waves, tossed on a storm of need. The strong warm fingers continued to gently stroke, tease, spreading apart those soft smooth lips, finding the very center of her whole existence. Faith lay limp, only partially aware of where she was, who she was with, all her being focused on the way it felt. Oh god, it felt so good. All she knew is that she did not want it to stop, that she wanted more. She did not even notice that she had spread her legs or that her hips were moving, her breath coming in soft whimpering gasps. She was totally oblivious that her arms were wrapped around him, clutching to him fiercely, her face burrowed into his chest. Then just as she was teetering on the brink, her whole body rigid and trembling, the touch stilled. The fingers still lodged in her cleft stopped their regular, hypnotic irresistible dance and Faith hung there for an instant and then she convulsed in his arms, struggling to thrust her hips at him to attain that last tiny little push. But the fingers refused to give her what she wanted.
Twisting in agonized need, Faith tore her face from his chest and wailed at him, “Oh god, don’t stop. Please, for the love of god, please.”
His face was unfocused, blurred by the tears in her eyes, but his words were clear in her ears, soft, deep, compelling. “Faith, I am not your god. I am your Master. You must beg me for this.”
There was not an instant of hesitation. Like a prisoner finally given the magic key to escape their doom, Faith embraced the word, “Master, yes Master, please, please Master,” and was instantly rewarded, the fingers gripped that pearl at the very core of her being and the light exploded in her head and then the light expanded and met the heat and pleasure surging up from her cunt. They collided, combined, and rebounded. Once the damn had burst the deluge swept over her, through her, drowning her, and yet buoying her up.
With each surge, each shuddering paroxysm, his voice throbbed in her ears, “Good girl, good Faith, good slave.”
Slowly Faith became aware of where she who she was, where she was. His arms held her, cradled her, and he was imperceptivity rocking, soothing her. Someone was sobbing softly and Faith realized it was her. The fingers did not persist; they asked nothing more, just cupped protectively around the throbbing mound between her legs. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she swallowed down the sobs and tentatively shyly peeked out from behind shelter of her eyelids. His eyes were there, inches from hers, warm, approving, staring deep into her soul. One last time, he whispered the words just for her, “Good girl,” and gently leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. When he lifted his face up from his benediction, Faith saw Aya watching from her place, standing behind their Master’s throne, and their eyes met, and Aya s, a soft enigmatic smile that sent a soft lance of confusion through Faith’s heart.
Faith’s eyes slipped away from the dark unreadable expression of her Mistress and sought out the refuge of those gentle happy emerald green eyes so close to hers. There was a kind of safety there. A sudden jarring
blare of a siren made her flinch and gasp, the crowd roared with laughter, and her Master’s eyes turned to the plaza and he was laughing too, long, loud, relaxed, uninhibited laughter. Faith turned to look and was instantly laughing with him.
Chapter 17
Layla was half sitting up on the padded platform, her legs spread wide, her mouth open in shocked surprise. The doctor was up there, rushing about pushing an absurd wheeled examination table around the plaza, it had revolving red ambulance lights on poles at the front, gynecological stirrups on the back. But he was not just pushing it around, he was chasing tiffany as she dodged, screamed, and tried to keep from being run over. The doctor was wearing a huge messy wig with one of those old silver round things on his forehead that Faith remembered seeing from silly cartoons about doctors. He had a huge messy fake mustache, a long white examination coat with pockets bulging with various objects that flew open as he ran, and little else beyond a pair of black socks held up by garters. Tiffany was wearing a parody of a tiny little nurses outfit that had the bodice unbuttoned and was too short to cover up her cute little bottom and a pair of white high heels that made her teeter and careen around the plaza as she tried to escape the ‘crazy doctor’.
