Which made her remember even more acutely that she no longer had that authority, as her clit swelled rapidly and the dull ache turned sharp, midway between the very edge of pleasure and way more than she could stand.
Tess found herself in a white-draped chamber built out of translucent fabric, the shadows of partiers milling about just beyond still as visible as the sounds of their mostly obscene conversations were audible, as the mingled scent of their bodies was smellable. Punishingly hot, the fabric room was lined with ticking, cooling photofloods and had a camera tripod without a camera. The fabric that formed the sides was tied very tight. There was a small garbage can stuffed to overflowing with crumpled paper towels. Some friend of Madame Iris’ had been shooting extremely naughty pictures in here.
The fabric chamber was furnished with a makeshift couch, foam rubber, Ikea-style, the kind that wasn’t very comfortable but could still hold three people, especially if one of them was willing to sit in the big hairy one’s lap, as Madame Iris did now while she accepted the leash back from Rolf.
“Well?” she asked, green eyes bright as she looked up at the faintly trembling Tess. “Show them.”
Tess took a deep breath.
She obediently brought her slim hands to the hem of her skirt and gathered it, planting her feet just far enough apart that she could lean back and expose her sex.
A wicked smile on his face, Rolf leaned forward, close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her shaved sex.
“My, my, my,” he said. “That is fresh.” He reached out as if to touch her pussy, but instead petting her thighs gently. A hot wave went through her, and her clit really began to hurt for a second; then the sharp hurt went away and all she could feel was the surrender of letting it feel good despite everything. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly. Rolf slipped his hand between her legs and tenderly petted her cheeks, her upper thighs. She gritted her teeth to suppress a moan when he began to caress her lips.
“Shouldn’t it be bandaged?”
“Not any more,” said Madame Iris. “They came off this morning. See the tape marks?”
“Ooooh, I hate that,” sighed Rolf, leaning very close, so close Tess thought he was going to lick her pussy. She had already begun to moisten to the idea when Madame Iris said, “Tess, give me your backpack.”
The swaying Tess shrugged off her leather backpack, in which she’d been carting around the Madame’s makeup and secret purchases all day. She knew the secrets were probably nasty little toys with which Madame would make her plaything’s life very, very interesting in the days and weeks to come. She was right, but her timeline was a little off.
As she perched there in Bear’s lap, Madame Iris unzipped the bag and pulled out an immaculate pair of tartan kneepads. The cool smirk Madame Iris gave her was coupled with the smoldering stare, because both Mistress and toy knew that Tess no longer needed to clash to be a dirty little cocksucker. Had she lucked into an exact match, or was this a custom job she just happened to be picking up at the fair? Either way, it was an impressive bit of fashion manipulation.
“A gift for my plaything,” said Madame Iris, her smile broadening. “Who, Rolf, is your own personal Hoover for the next—” she glanced at the elegant silver watch on her slim wrist “—seventeen minutes. Go!”
She handed the kneepads to Rolf. He accepted them gratefully and broke the plastic thingie that fastened them together; he selected one, stretched it and leaned forward again, his breath warm on Tess.
“May I, sir?” said Tess, gesturing toward his shoulder.
“Please,” he murmured, and she steadied herself with her hand on Rolf’s big brawny shoulder as she lifted her booted foot to his knee and let him slide the kneepad over it. As he slid it up past the top of her boots and then over her pink seamed stockings, almost to the little plaid bows that matched her skirt – and now her kneepads – so exactly, Rolf bent down and kissed Tess’s thigh, his skilled tongue swirling a circle that went from gentle to insistent before he’d secured the kneepad around her knee.
Tess swooned. He caressed the back of her calf a little between combat boot and kneepad, then slapped it lightly. Tess obediently lowered her foot and brought up the other one. Her left thigh got the same treatment, but Rolf lingered a bit more on her calf, bending to kiss that, which made her go all liquid before he let her lower her foot. Tess was losing it; the pain had started to go away, she suspected because her endorphins were soaring.
The second Tess’ foot was down, Madame Iris pulled the leash firmly, and Tess was down, too, legs spread and face inches from Rolf’s good-sized cock, which he’d slipped out of his jock strap in the split second when Tess was between standing and kneeling.
Madame Iris kept pulling steadily, gathering the leash around her hand in the way one might for an errant dog, reeling Tess in until the slut put her lips on the glistening head of Rolf’s cock. He had been in the sun all day and the heady scent of it had been a bit much for her in the instant before she put his cock in her mouth. But in the instant after it, she let everything go away, and the smell of his cock became like an elixir, as the taste of his already leaking pre-come got her drunk faster than a concession booth packed with $8 beer. She began to suck his cock.
Rolf’s fingers caressed Tess’s face as she bobbed up and down on his cock, his shaft parting her lips wide, for it was a fatty. The feeling of cock laid fully against her tongue was something she had missed in recent months; Madame Iris’ strap-on was a very satisfying alternative, but hazelnut and toasted almond, as Madame Iris often observed on related but different matters, were never quite the same.
Perhaps most thrillingly, Madame Iris had orally trained Tess the way she never would have let a boyfriend do it. This was evidenced by the fact that without being told, Tess took a deep breath and relaxed her throat on the downstroke until her lips curved deliciously around the base of Rolf’s thick cock. She’d never been able to do that before, and the feeling of having him all the way down sent an involuntary tightening through her sex, which had stopped hurting even a little bit as her arousal mounted.
She was so excited to have done it that she stayed down for long, long time, long enough to realize that while she found it a hell of a lot easier to deep-throat a dildo than a cock, there was something uniquely satisfying about that long, low sigh of absolute pleasure that came from Rolf’s lips as her own lips settled down at his base.
Having taken a deep, deep breath and being very well trained by Madame Iris, Tess didn’t feel a need to come up for air right away, so after the long sigh there was a moan, an “Oh, yeah,” a longer sigh, a laugh, three laughs, and a kind of whooping sound and the slap of a high-five between Rolf and Bear, which would have been fucking bizarre if they were two straight guys and really wasn’t any less so since they were gay.
When she finally came up, gasping, Bear was the one who purred, “Iris, I thought you said she was bi – I’m sorry, that is a fag. That girl is a fag.”
“At this rate,” sighed Iris, “you’re going to try to take her home.”
“Yeah, bring the van around, will you?” sighed Rolf, which she responded to by surging back hungrily onto his cock, working her head around in a big circle and listening to Rolf moan as her tongue pumped against him. She took him again but couldn’t stay down as long this time, her throat aching. It didn’t matter; her agenda had been achieved, and everyone was most impressed.
The last time she had sucked cock Tess had been completely untrained; now, she instinctively took the position she imagined would be expected: hands soft on the recipient’s thighs, legs spread, back arched, ass pushed up as high as it could possibly go, high enough in fact, that she could feel the stretch of the position in her swollen clit. Her knees settled deliciously into the firmness of the new pads; this was a premium pair, and it aroused Tess no end to have her Mistress spend so much to ensure her comfort while she was being a slutty little cock whore.
Her lips glided up and down over the shaft o
f Rolf’s cock, leaving a faint foamy lipstick smear on his mocha-colored cock. She alternated deep thrusts to the back of her throat and deep throats into it with long sessions of stroking her lips and flickering tongue up the underside of Rolf’s shaft. He seemed to like it all, but particularly the fact that Tess was doing it so eagerly, murmuring to her that she was a good little cock-sucker and that she obviously had professional training, by which he meant, she thought with pleasure, that she was a whore.
Tess was so lost in the pleasure of sucking Rolf’s beautiful cock that for a few minutes she forgot entirely that Madame Iris was watching and, she hoped, getting off on it.
When she glanced up she saw that Madame Iris was indeed getting off on it; she was kissing Bear deeply, and his hand had found its way between her legs, tucked under her patent-leather skirt into her thong panties.
What was that about? Tess didn’t have the faintest idea that Iris was into guys – but then, when she’d started the morning the last thing she figured was that she’d end the day by sucking cock.
Tess concentrated on sucking, knowing that they had limited time and fearing, deliciously, the wrath of her Mistress if she failed to satisfy Rolf fully. She could tell he was going hot and heavy; he’d probably been half-hard all day, from the liberal flood of pre-come that glided easily down Tess’s open throat.
In between her up and down motions, Tess glimpsed Madame Iris reaching into her bag and coming out with a pink smoothie, which Tess didn’t recognize but which clearly wasn’t brand new, given the fact that it was not packaged and already had batteries.
“Do you know how to use one of these?” Madame Iris asked Bear breathily, grinding her ass up and down on his cock.
He grinned. “I can certainly give it a shot,” he said, and clicked it deftly on with his thumb, at the same time working the settings dial with his index finger and pulling Madame Iris’s thong to one side as he lowered the vibe.
Tess’s mouth at that moment was suckling gently at Rolf’s balls, mostly because she was afraid from the sound of his moans and the quantity of pre-come that he was about to shoot, and they still had, what, eleven minutes or something? Rolf seemed to like the sensation, but Tess had never really used her mouth on a guy’s balls before, so she was so immensely enjoying her experimentation that she almost didn’t realize it when Madame Iris said quickly: “Not me!” and let out a long, low, laughing sigh of pleasure as Bear chuckled and slipped out from under her.
It all came on her in a whirl as she licked her way back up to Rolf’s cockhead, working her lips around the tip as Bear knelt down beside her and moved the buzzing vibe to her clit. She felt a wave of terror – ow, this was going to hurt – and then just let go as she sank into the pleasure of it.
The vibe touched her swollen, pierced clit with an impossibly gentle pressure. It didn’t hurt at all, except that it felt so fucking good that she wanted to cry, and when in her sudden and powerful arousal she tried to deep-throat Rolf again, she choked, because she was sucking air in great gasping sobs while she mounted toward orgasm.
Tess always went off like a rocket when she’d been teased for so long, and she hadn’t been allowed to get off since the piercing – partially it was piercer’s orders, but mostly, she thought, because Madame Iris was anticipating this moment.
Climaxing, Tess had to take her mouth off of Rolf’s cock, letting out great shuddering groans and not even caring that people on the other side of the fabric could assuredly hear her.
She came so hard she almost forgot she was sucking cock, but the snaking of her Mistress’s hand through her hair reminded her, and Tess felt the fingers of the Lady’s other hand gently curving around the base of Rolf’s cock as she guided Tess’s mouth onto the head. Tess began to suck again, and Madame Iris seized Rolf’s prick with both hands so she could feel it pulsing as he came.
Tess went dizzy with the hot spurt of come onto the back of her tongue and down her throat; she didn’t gag or choke, but took it all, or as much of it as she could, drooling the rest on Madame’s slender fingers.
When she came up, breathing hard, her chin was drippy and her clit was hurting, overcome by the post-orgasm sensitivity that made that vibe the most awful thing in the world. Bear withdrew it and clicked it off; he leaned in close to kiss Rolf, then Iris.
“Very good, Rolf,” purred Iris. “Nineteen minutes.”
“I would have come sooner,” sighed Rolf. “But the little slut seemed to be enjoying herself so much.”
“Let’s give Arty back his photo studio,” said Madame. “Drinks at the Stallion?”
“But of course,” said Rolf with a smile down at Tess. “Just one blowjob doesn’t break in a pair of kneepads.”
The trio laughed. Madame Iris and Bear high-fived each other, which was weird, but not really that weird, Tess decided – all things considered.
Mouth Congress
Auparishtaka
Kama Sutra
Prevalent in India since ancient times (an ancient Indian work on medicine some 2,000 years old describes a wound being caused by the teeth to the lingam), oral sex gets a complicated and slightly ambiguous treatment in the Kama Sutra. On the one hand, it is a pleasurable sensation that leads to sexual release and mental health. On the other hand, it says it is not a good thing to have oral sex with your wife, or to kiss the mouths of those who you go to for oral sex if they are unclean. However, the Kama Sutra goes on to mention that many of the ancient religious texts say that a cow’s udder is unclean except at the time of milking, which means that during loveplay, everything is allowed. Homosexual men were the appropriate givers of oral pleasure in ancient Indian society.
The Tale of the Mouth Congress
as told by Thomas S. Roche
Dharma is better than Artha, and Artha is better than Karma. But Artha should always be first practised by the king for the livelihood of men is to be obtained from it only. Again, Kama being the occupation of public women, they should prefer it to the other two, and these are exceptions to the general rule.”
The Kama Sutra of Vatsysayana (Burton translation)
Many years ago in the land of Alaritramishi in today’s Sharashura province, south of the great mountains where the great Lasharka River meets the endless ocean in a fertile river delta, there lived a prince named Alari-Tasharik who, instructed in the teachings of the Thinkers at a young age, sought to live a virtuous life. You might say he had mixed success.
Though he did not want for any material possession while he was growing up, Tasharik was known throughout the court of Alaritramishi as a troubled youth. From an early age, he sought the wisdom of books over the pleasures of the court, and many said he was destined not to be Rāja, or King, but to be a holy man.
Tasharik was very unlike his father, Alari-Lashrim, who placed the pursuit of kama over dharma and artha. Lashrim’s indulgence in the rich foods and wines provided by the agricultural wealth of the Lasharka delta was well known throughout the region, as was his love for the tactile enrichments of rich clothes and furnishings, scents, baths, intoxicants and the performing arts.
Speaking of performing arts, Lashrim quite notoriously brought women from many lands to perform for him; their sensual behaviours were on display at his court revels as well as in more private surroundings.
King Lashrim died when Tasharik, or Rik as he was called by those very few in his inner circle, was nineteen. Lashrim’s early death, many said, was owed to the king’s indulgence in sensual pleasures, and certainly the scene of his passing was a lascivious affair, though it could certainly be said that Lashrim died with a smile on his face.
Despite Lashrim’s many rumoured and claimed offspring, Rik ascended to the throne peacefully. This was a testament to the goodwill of the citizens of Alaritramishi, as well as the fact that Alari-Tasharik alone had been the son of Shanri-Al, Lashrim’s first and favorite wife. Shanri had died when Tasharik was twelve, many said from her own over-indulgence in kama: the queen also died with a smile on
her face.
That his father and mother had both died without achieving the fourth goal of life, moksha, or liberation, was of great trouble to Rik, and he promised himself that he would not fall prey to their weaknesses. Had not the Great Thinkers, whom Rik admired so profoundly, said that dharma, or virtuous living, was superior to artha, or material success, and that kama, or sensual pleasure, came third? The Great Thinkers had also stressed in their teachings that artha was the first duty of a king. In any event, by almost anyone’s reckoning but his own, Rik had already achieved the goal of virtuous living. But the unhappy youth could not see it.
He concluded that his only virtue as king could be the enrichment of his people, whom his father had taxed heavily to strengthen the richness of his trade and support his indulgences. He would further artha for his people, as the Teachers have said a great king should do.
Rik’s first act was to banish from his household all those temptresses who had so tempted his father. Providing moderate quarters for them on the outskirts of the city, Rik staffed his house instead with eunuchs purchased from the Sholal-Shoshara region, famous for their discretion and obedience. More importantly, they would provide no temptation for the new king to stray from his works of public good.
Lashrim’s many concubines were unhappy with this, but we’ll get to that in a moment.
Rik restructured the payment of taxes and redirected the monies that had previously enriched his father’s court into great public works. His people became rich, but the land still richer, as the agricultural wealth of the valley grew into legend. Known throughout the world for producing delicious foodstuffs, the land and its people were greatly enriched by trade and, even with the restructured tax base, the land’s king also grew enriched.
The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Thomas S. Roche Page 6
