When she’d gotten him to a pitch, she took a wooden cock from the wall, one that must have been a good twenty inches. Once she’d oiled it, she stabbed it into his rectum. The captain bucked and jerked. At first I thought such rough treatment must be extremely painful, but soon he was calling her name, in the most exquisitely passionate tones.
Vita thrust smoothly and eagerly, like a man, and as I watched I could not help but feel regret that she had not been born with a penis. Indeed, I wondered if it were the same with all women. So many of my gender, it seemed, possessed marvelous energy, what was commonly called “male.” My readings, though, had enlightened me to the fact that women had, all along, owned such assertive qualities. Hadn’t the Amazons been more aggressive than any man? And what of our own Boadicea, warrior Queen of the Celts. History was full of stories of such aggressive and pugnacious female. Women like Vita, and myself, proved that the qualities were natural indeed. If we’d been born with a rod as well as a hole, why, wouldn’t we have been phenomenal!
Watching Vita work was a delight, and I learned as much observing as I had in direct experience.
The fucking went on and on and I was curious as to why the captain had not yet spent his load. I entertained thoughts that perhaps he was incapable of firing. Perhaps the cannon had suffered damage in some manner over the years. While I sat there, my cunny seeping juices and my nipples swelling with heated desire I could barely contain, this salty gentleman seemed to be containing himself quite well. Later, by accident, I discovered the secret.
While Vita worked, the bell over the door chimed. “Answer that,” she told me.
Instantly, I stood and obeyed. I parted the beaded curtain and looked out. Much to my horror, Lord Wotton stood in the shop.
“It’s a customer,” I whispered, so that Vita would hear me, and Lord Henry wouldn’t.
I needn’t have bothered. “See to his needs, or I’ll strap your behind ‘till the skin peels off!”
I gathered my wits about me and entered the shop. Lord Henry did not look surprised to see me. “Good afternoon, Dorian.
You’re looking rested.”
“Indeed. Vita is otherwise occupied. She asked that I see to your needs.”
“Ah. Smashing. I’ve come for my purchase.”
Suddenly, Vita called out from the backroom, “Take his money and give him the flogger.”
I began looking around the shop, expecting, no doubt, to find a whip with a tag naming Lord Henry as its owner. “It believe it is that one,” he finally said.
The item he pointed to lay at the end of the counter. It was a very long whip, the leather tails narrowing to points at the end. Along the way, the strands had been knotted here and there, and in places imbedded with little ceramic or cut-glass beads. It was a most gorgeous instrument, the leather undyed, raw I believe they called it. I wondered on whom Lord Henry planned to use this. Still, my curiosity was overridden by my distaste for the man, and I was eager to see the back of him.
I wrapped the item in brown paper, and he handed over the requisite number of pounds sterling. With that, he simply tipped his hat and said, “Good day.”
Just before he closed the door, though, he turned back.
“Dorian, do pass on my regards to your cousin, Dorianne. Tell her I shall be picking her up for the theater on Friday at six.”
My jaw dropped. “You have no engagement with my cousin—”
I began, but the door had slammed, and he was gone.
When I had collected myself, I re-entered the back room. The captain was on the floor on his hands and knees, blazing bottom high in the air, the wooden phallus protruding from his hole like the mast of a ship. He knelt between Vita’s legs, lapping at her cunny. Occasionally, when he got it wrong, she would kick him in the shoulder, or pound him on the back. The humid air smelt like sweat and salty sex.
I would have been instantly aroused, had it not been for Lord Henry’s dire prediction. I knew full well that he would have already sent the invitation and spoken with Miss Pruit. It would be difficult for Dorianne to avoid this engagement, but I had no intention of wasting an evening with a man I detested when I could be at another theater, watching a woman I desired flogged on stage to a heated state. A state that would leave her not at the end of her passion, but where I would begin, at the beginning.
Vita came with a roar. Her massive muscular thighs clamped tight around the captain’s head and she squeezed hard—that I could tell from the way his body flailed. Once she’d finished her orgasm, she marched him to a corner and shackled him to leather cuffs high up in the wall. It was only then that I saw what kept his member from ejaculation. About his cock she had placed a tight leather sleeve. The tube of hide pressed so hard, surrounded as it was by severe metal bands, that the head of his phallus was a round red ball, and his testicles two more brilliant balls, sticking out respectively at either end. Apparently the pressure kept him from coming.
“Rest a bit,” she told him, pinching his nipple hard, to which he danced a jolly little jig for a few seconds.
“Here’s the money Lord Wotton paid,” I said, handing it over.
Vita counted it out, nodded her head, and placed it in a leather box under her work bench.
“Undress,” she said, unceremoniously.
The sharpness of her command sent fear rushing through me. A whipping by this woman was both thrilling and terrifying, and I was not certain I was prepared for either emotion, now that Lord Henry had ruined my day.
While she dug around in a leather steamer trunk, I stripped the clothing from my body, resigned. A whipping would no-doubt do me good—at least it would take my mind off Lord Henry!
What she brought out was astonishing in its ingenuity.
Vita held in her hands a pair of thin leather breeches, the dye similar in tone to that of my own flesh. But what extended from the front amazed me—a leather phallus, an imitation, a composite of those I had seen, dangling between the legs.
I stood speechless for a moment or two. Finally, Vita said, “Well? No comment? Your class has never had a shortage of words on any subject.”
“It’s…it’s…amazing!”
“That it is. Now, step into this,” she instructed, holding the breeches. I balanced myself with a hand to her shoulder and stepped in, first one leg, then the other. The legs were tight, as was the part that fit my lower torso. She had affixed stays to the back, like a corset, and laced up the two rows, from just below the breast to the knees, pulling tight, until the hide pressed in on me and I could hardly breathe. This was far worse than a corset, and I wondered if the discomfort was worthwhile. But then, when she had me trussed up, I gazed down to see the life-like flesh-toned phallus, and my doubts were eliminated.
“It is truly wonderful,” I said softly, in awe.
Vita stood back, hands on the hips of her stained leather apron. She beamed like a mother who had just given birth.
I flipped the cock with my hand. The hide was doeskin, very soft. The size and shape were proper, to even a bit large for a gentleman of my size and stature. I wiggled my hips from side to side, and watched the penis sway. Truly, I was delighted.
Suddenly, though, my mood sank a bit. “It is a shame,” I lamented, “that it cannot become erect, like a real one.”
“Who says it can’t?” Vita’s voice boomed, a challenge in itself. She took from her trunk a short tube with a ball at the end. The other end of the tube she attached to the underside of the leather cock, an aperture I hadn’t noticed there. A few quick compressions of the ball sent air into the base of the phallus, which rose steadily until it imitated full attention.
I stood, laughing. I had a hard one! A glorious, realistic erection! I could now fuck Sybil Vane! And the Duchess of Monmouth! And any other female, or male for that matter, who would offer her or himself up to me!
Impulsively, I threw my arms around Vita’s neck. Suddenly my eyes filled with tears, and I sobbed out my joy. Vita was taken aback by this sponta
neous display of affection. Still, she tolerated me, or barely so.
“You’re paying handsomely. You’d best test it,” she said, and gestured with her head at the captain affixed to the wall. I hurried to him, as fast as the tight leather breeches would permit me to move.
“He’s a bit tall for me,” I said.
Vita shoved a low leather stood at me with her foot. I stood on it behind the seaman and position my new cock at his anus. Sudden insecurity took me over; after all, I’d not done this before! “Oughtn’t I to use a cream or oil?” I said to Vita.
“On him?” She laughed a hearty belly laugh. “He’s as lubricated as can be. He’s been in the pub for a week solid. By God, he’s lucky to feel much of anything. Give his behind a few solid whacks and he’ll be slippery as a pussy on a wedding night!”
Nearby, a round leather paddle hung on the wall. It was small for the captain’s cheeks, but I imagined a few well-placed ones might wake him up.
I let him have it, first paddling one cheek till he danced that simple jig again, then gave the other equal treatment. He was already a shade of purple, and my ministrations did not affect his shade one iota, still, the stinging leather must have awakened something. The captain danced for me, exciting me, until finally he thrust out his behind and I steered my new cock into the proffered canal.
The soft leather sailed in smoothly. The captain moaned as I entered, and that sound was followed by cries of, “Fuck me hole! Fuck it good and hard, mate! I’ve a yen for a rammin’!”
Fucking the good seaman was a pleasure. I found my hips thrusting like a man’s easily, and I imitated the consistency of rhythm which I had seen in Vita’s strokes. The captain shoved himself back onto me. If only that rod had sensation, I might have felt him contract around me. Still, I knew from his sounds that he was enjoying this, as much as I was. And my mind drifted to Sybil, and Gladys. How I would relish fucking those two beauties! My fantasies gave me added enthusiasm for the job at hand.
I ploughed deep into the captain’s behind with an energy that could not be contained. Over my shoulder, I called to Vita, “Can’t you release his cock? I’d like to see him come.”
“Oh, he’s already come alright. Men like it up between the buttocks. They’ve a special button in there that we females don’t possess.”
“But I want to see him shoot,” I cried, breathless with so much energy expended.
Vita shook her head and scowled darkly, annoyed at such childish demands, and also, no doubt, from whom she considered a frivolous customer. Still, I expect I was one of her better paying accounts, and she knew the advantages of indulging me. She stood behind me and reached around both myself and the captain. Truly, the feel of her well-muscled arms, her chest and stomach and hot crotch pressed against me…it only added to my excitement.
She worked from feel, releasing the bands and then the leather holder that kept the captain’s cock in check. No sooner did she have it in her hand than his creamy liquid shot up his shaft and covered the wall. With it came a great shout of satisfaction. It was all I could do to cease my thrusting, for I longed to watch his ecstasy unfold. Ecstasy that had come about at my hands. Well, perhaps hands was not the exact appendage of the body responsible.
I pulled my cock from his ass slowly. The flesh of his back was flushed as red as his whipped ass. His body trembled slightly, as if this release had come after many months of built-up tension.
Vita instructed me on cleaning the phallus, and oiling the leather to keep it subtle. While I did this cleaning and oiling, she had the captain on his hands and knees, cleaning up his emission with his tongue. Meanwhile, she gave me a severe lecture.
“You’ve a good strong cock there, and it should last you many years, if you treat it properly. Your style isn’t bad, but you’re in need of discipline, I’d wager. Besides with me, have you had one up your bottom?”
“A few,” I admitted.
“And why not your cunt?”
“Never!” I spoke a bit sharply, and I knew she noticed.
“Well, that’s your failing, then, insisting on remaining a virgin. Your experience is narrow. You should take a lover or two, get some experience. I’m not much for men, but the odd one has a trick or two in his pants. Of course, I wouldn’t make a habit of one.”
I nodded politely, but had no intention of having any man enter my cunny. What was the point? I had all I needed with the women I knew. And besides, now that I had a phallus of my own, I could function in either role. Being taken by a male vaginally may have entertained my fancy at one time, briefly, but it was far from my thoughts and desires now, and seemed insignificant in the grander scheme of things. But rather than argue with Vita, I simply thanked her for the cock, paid extravagantly for it, and made my way home to my bedroom, for I wanted to experiment.
That night, I crawled into the attic. As I practiced inflating and deflating the penis, as I thrust into a pillow, as I sat on the phallus, letting it slide deep into my own behind, the portrait Basil had painted of Dorian stared down at me. Why, oh, why was it taking on such a strange dimension? I could not be certain, and meant to examine it properly in the daylight, but for all intents and purposes it seemed to me that the picture was turning. What it was becoming, I could not say, but one thing was clear to me. It was no longer a picture of Dorian Gray.
Chapter Sixteen
Friday evening, after feigning illness and retiring to my chamber, I dressed as Dorian. Inside my trousers, I wore the leather pants and cock. Into my pocket, I slipped the hose and pump. Then I headed out to the theater.
That hideous man was selling tickets again, and recognized me immediately. “Back for another gander, gov’nor? That’ll be two guineas tonight, as we’ve a full house.”
“I want the box again,” I declared.
“Certainly, sir. Only an additional six pence.”
I knew I was being robbed, but handed over the money, then dismissed him as he tried to escort me to the box. The performance of The Taming of the Screw was just getting underway. Within moments, the annoying Kate was having her bare bottom paddled with a baking pallet by Petrucio, much to the delight of the crowd, and to my own delight. Kate was played, of course, by Sybil Vane. She looked fetching as the rebellious creature in need of discipline. Watching her caused the wetness to seep from me and the leather pants kept all the generated heat in. It was not soon enough that the performance ended and I was knocking at the dressing room door.
Sybil admitted me instantly. Tonight, we were alone, far more to my liking.
She wore a frilly purple corset, with heavy dark stockings attached to the garters. Her dark hair was pinned up, but for a few wisps which had come loose, and her face was awash in greasepaint. Only the look in her violet eye reassured me that all was as it had been before.
Tonight, perhaps because of the leather cock, I felt far more self-possessed than the last time. This new role, of dominator, suited me. Since Sybil could not speak, there was little need for discussion, and I promptly took her across my knee.
The over-the-knee position has a charm of its own. Having her already reddened bottom across my lap, her torso pressing into the phallus, which I’d inflated prior to entering her dressing room, and that phallus pressing into me… Every pound I’d paid Vita had been worth it. She’d constructed this apparatus so that the cock base pressed into my vulva. I knew that as I fucked Sybil later, the cock would be massaging me as well.
“Sybil,” I explained, “you shall receive a proper thrashing, then a proper fucking. Is that understood?”
She nodded meekly, but the insolent sparkle in her eyes was an assent that encouraged me to hasten.
I commenced spanking her with my hand, rubbing each cheek after every three or four smacks, then starting again. The heat on my hand felt delicious. I so enjoyed her smooth, hot bottom.
Now and again, I’d slip my fingers down the crack to tap at her bottom hole, then further to feel the seepage at her cunny opening. She was very r
eady, but I honestly could not resist further stimulation.
I pulled the belt from my waist and folded it twice, then used it to smack her rear end soundly. Sybil loved it. She writhed and squirmed against my lap, unwittingly pushing the cock base against my clitoris. As she rose higher, so did I. I strapped her harder, and she squiggled faster, stimulating me further. It was when I felt myself on the edge of a climax that I placed her on her hands and knees on the floor and took up a proper position behind.
Entering Sybil was bitter sweet. I loved the look of my flesh-colored leather phallus sliding between her bright red lips, twinkling in the candlelight from being covered with her moisture. The sad part of it all was that the cock had no sensation, of course, although the stimulation to my clit was wonderful.
Her behind, swaying and jiggling as I thrust in and out, was pleasurable to behold. I grasped her dear hips and thrust to my heart’s content. What an abundant behind! So round and full and voluptuous. So red!
Sybil was ready, and came quickly. While she orgasmed, I continued to fuck her, giving her more and more. The pressure on my clitoris had built to intensity, and I wanted to climax with her, but that was not possible, as she’d already come. I paused briefly, wondering just what to do next, when suddenly her bottom began to press back against me, her ass cheeks pumping rhythmically, and I took the hint.
I commenced fucking her again and, wonder of wonders! Sybil Vane managed to orgasm a second time! And this time I came with her! Indeed, it was magnificent! The sensations that rode my body must have been in hers also—they seemed to jump back and forth between us. I kept up the thrusts until I was sated, me moaning out my pleasure, Sybil’s expression non-verbal but physically powerful. I had sated my love!
Darker Passions: The Picture of Dorian Gray Page 8
