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New!Gallery New!Stories
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The Forces of Nature Chapter 1: The beginning of a sci-fi thriller You may be somewhere in the future, or somewhere in the past, perhaps in another world where the forces of Dominance and Submission have not fully run their cycle, where gender issues still control the mind-set, and Mother Nature is still at work with her evolutionary skills. With that in mind I must explain the progress of mankind here on earth in 2152 A.D before you begin reading this manuscript. To start, a definite pecking order does exist! Through these thousand years or two, Dominants have remained as they always were: beautiful, demanding, arrogant, and cocky; each as individual as ever, each as different as a snow flake, their own person, their own Master or Mistress. Mother Nature seems to have been relegated a secondary status by these gorgeous beasts that have raised their collective middle finger at her attempts to alter them in any way, telling her in no uncertain terms to “fuck off”. Next exists an odd and very small assortment of groups comprise no more than 7-8% of the world population. There are genetic She-Males, Lesbian Amazons, and Sexual Robots, more about these groups later. So of course it was easy for Mother Nature to look down at us submissives and have her way so to speak, and as you would expect it was the boy subbies whose bodies were wracked by the biggest transformations. We are all smooth bodied now with only hair on our heads that grows quickly to shoulder length when training begins, and is allowed to luxuriate more still when we enter into the ownership of a Master or Mistress. My own hair is a luminous golden color that I keep tied back with a blue ribbon off my face. The boy’s pectoral muscles had become bigger and more defined and those of the girls had atrophied since births were now all conducted in a laboratory setting and lactation was a thing of the past. All our nipples had lengthened and plumped taking on the appearance of juicy grapes or olives as might be expected from sexual organs with no other function than to be deliciously sucked or cruelly tortured. Our bodies have become leaner and tighter through diet and nutrition, waists smaller, shoulders wider, and hips finding their own degree of roundness and fullness so that we, boy and girl submissives alike have morphed into like sexual beings molded to satisfy the lusts of those we serve. We have maintained our individuality of facial differences yet are overall perhaps paler of skin with very high cheek-bones that we keep decorated with the subtlest hint of rouge. I can see from pictures in history books that our eyelashes are longer than our descendents and our lips fuller and drawn in an eternal pout. My guess is that we move with a more suggestive gait than generations past rolling our hips and buttocks to spark the fires of those who own and control us. Mother Nature has allowed us all to maintain the sexual differences that lie between our legs as an expression of individuality allowing a Master or Mistress a variety of cocks and pussies for their enjoyment. The preferred ratio of S to D established by the World Council is 4:1 The anus now referred to as rosebuds remained tiny and tight yet the lips are puffier with a pouting gape that seemed to beg for penetration. And nature had provided them with a gland that excretes a slippery fluid each with its own unique fragrance, fitting an orifice that was used for the sexual satisfaction of others and for that purpose only. My own fluids are reminiscent of chocolate covered cherry cordials and during coitus the whole room takes on the fragrance of an old-time candy store. Diet and nutrition by that time had reduced all body excretions to pure liquids and a subbie needed only an occasional refreshing douche to remain clean and fragrant. So welcome to my time and place. It’s a land where your sexual self will come to life with Technicolor clarity. That is if you are a D! Welcome a boy or girl to your lap while you continue reading. Let your hands play over their nipples and between their legs and if you become a little too aroused, well, they are there to serve!
Chapter 2: A Day of Miracles and Wonder The training academy was located in an idyllic out of the way village far into the country and away from any other activity and I was greeted by a far different sight than the dungeon complex I had been expecting. The school buildings were actually cottages with sloping slate roofs that were built in a circle around a central courtyard that contained a flowering garden and an old fashioned wishing well. Each cottage housed another discipline of study and each was painted a different pastel color, lemon, lime, orchid and so on. The doors and windows all were brilliant white and each cottage was surrounded by a wooden picket fence of the same color. The overall effect was an atmosphere of comfort, a place cozy and inviting rather than dark and sinister. I timidly entered my first class, an all-day two part study of Mistress Anatomy divided into a morning lecture and an afternoon “hands-on” workshop that was being taught by a severe yet lovely looking Woman named Ingrid. Five students were already in attendance and had assumed the S position #1, kneeling with their heads touching the floor and their hindquarters high and open. As I walked behind the line I couldn’t resist glancing down at the display of budding pink sex. Ingrid walked to the front of the room with her wide hips working under a pair of very tight very low-slung leathers trousers. She moved with a long confident stride of a Mistress who fully understood the strength of Her power and I felt humbled immediately. “Well my darlings’ she said, “Shall we begin. She pressed the button of a remote control that dimmed the lights and projected a three-dimensional tapestry of the female vagina on to the class room wall that caused the little girl subbie kneeling next to me to start to giggle uncontrollably. The teacher smiled, “every semester seems to start the same”, she added lifting the girl up by her collar and turning the culprit over her lap to deliver a blistering spanking while the rest of us fidgeted with slack jaws and open mouths! During the entire morning session my eyes darted between the drawing on the wall and the subbie girl who now stood in the corner of the classroom with her hands on her head. Ingrid’s voice droned on about pleasure spots; labia, mons pubis, clitoris. The drawing was interesting, the girls sex more interesting still. It peeked out from between her thighs with a glistening intensity that I found both arousing and intriguing and without motive or intention I found myself licking my lips and moving my hand between my legs in a most unseemly fashion. Of course my wandering eye caught the attention of Mistress Ingrid. Now you must remember that the first part of my life was spent in “fast forward” leaving me with no memory of what may have happened or where it may have taken place. So when Ingrid took me over her lap, it was in effect, the very first spanking of my life. You remember the first time, don’t you? The majesty, the romance! The memory of her wide warm lap thrills me to this day. Even the stinging little warm-up hand spanking excited me, made my blood flow with a new intensity. Then reality slapped me in the face, well not quite in the face. Ingrid chose a long-handled hairbrush and delivered a toasting to my rump that I remember to this day. She laughed and scolded as I squirmed and whimpered then stood me against the wall on display to the remainder of the class. During the rest of the morning three others were punished, two pretty boys with soft round bodies, and a Butch-looking girl with wide shoulders and devastating hazel-colored eyes. Mistress Ingrid had taken control of the class and by lunchtime everyone knew it! We were all at rapt attention when the afternoon class began and Ingrid removed her trousers. She was a mature woman of some forty years with delightfully plump buttocks and thighs, yet kept her pubic area smooth so that she had a strange “little-girl” look that we all found exciting. She sat down on a straight backed chair and spread her thighs open then scanned the room with her piercing eyes. “You darling” she said pointing at me, “come along, show me what you have learned”. I crawled quickly to the flower at that alter and was soon experiencing the first mystery of Woman with lips and tongue.
Chapter 3: A Day of Miracles and Wonder (Continued) We all crawled between her legs eager to please and I learned that glorious mystery that makes Woman the ultimate power on earth: the mystery of the multiple orgasms! How could man have ever thought he might reign supreme with that puny explosion that molds his every thought, while Women can relax to find their joy whenever and wherever they choose? Ingrid moaned and quaked, shimmied and slithered through orgasm after orgasm. She held our heads in her soft little hands whispering direction after direction: “Yes. There you little darling, right there. You little beasts are so divine”. We crawled away with shiny beaming faces after each had brought her climax several times, them collapsed into a heap of wet smooth flesh. We fanned her, fed her cool drinks, gathered warm towels and warmer cloths with fragrant soaps and cleaned her, every inch. When the bell rang to end the school day Ingrid hugged us all, pinched our nipples, and called us darlings again. It was a wonderful day with more surprises yet to come. Outside the building a commotion was stirring and we all ran to see what was a most singular and exciting spectacle. A boy, a beautiful blonde boy, was being driven into the courtyard by an Amazon warrior with a stout wooden paddle. I sighed at the sight of him! He was slender and long waisted, muscular yet round, the perfect melding of the sexes, an Androgynous prince of a boy. His buttocks were already screaming red and his cheeks wet with tears when the Amazon turned him over to the Magistrate who denounced the boy as a runaway and subject to further punishment and even exile. A runaway, what did that mean? What could he be running from or what might he be running towards? The boy was trussed to a bench on a revolving platform that doubled as a merry-go-round in better times. His chin rested on a little platform so that everyone could see his shame as he traveled round and round and I swear I have never seen such clear blue eyes or such full sensuous lips. He smiled at me, through his gag, through his agony he smiled at me and my heart fluttered. And when the platform had swung round I found myself staring at his gorgeous buttocks, his long muscled thighs, and the most delicate, most delightful rosebud I’d ever seen. My temperature rose several degrees, my heart thumped and my cock began to bob uncontrollably. Might I ever possess such a boy? The thought was blasphemous. I was a born and bred a submissive dedicated to bringing sexual pleasures to others not to seeking my own joy. But what might it be like to lie with him? How would his smooth flesh feel next to mine, what might it be like to mount him, to enter him and find release? Just as these disturbing thoughts were coursing through my brain a hooded disciplinarian stepped on to the platform wielding a whippy taming stick fashioned from the limb of an ash tree. He couldn’t, he mustn’t whip the boy further, his hind quarters were already swollen and steaming from the Amazon’s paddle. I stepped forward not knowing or understanding my motives or intensions but driven by something inside me to go the boy’s defense. I felt a hand holding me back, soft, yet very strong. “Don’t be a fool”, she said, and I turned to the most exquisite looking woman I had ever encountered. That she was a Mistress was unmistakable, but there was more to her, there had to be more. Don’t ask me why. Till that episode I had never thought anyone needed to be more than a “D”, more than an “S”. Yet my feelings for the boy had sparked something and for some odd reason I felt the woman understood what that might be! She clipped a leash to my collar and tugged. “Come along, be quick”!
Chapter 4: Discipline and Desire She led me out behind the school buildings, over a narrow twisting river, into an older part of the village that seemed at once in the throws of decay and rebirth. A high brick buildings in need of some repair towered over us and with a little tug at her leash I was led to the door on the left. It was a heavy glass door covered on the inside by a maroon velvet drape similar to those often used to cover caskets and I wondered if it were there to shield prying eyes from some horrors within. She placed a large golden key into the notch and moved a noisy deadbolt lock. The room was a monochrome tapestry of whites and blacks with an occasional shock of red; a large leather chair that occupied a space against the wall, wooden paddles painted a vibrant crimson. Mistress too was part of the tapestry; flawless ivory skin, a one-piece black body shaper, and the tiniest display of red undergarments. She led me to a white punishment bench facing a large mirror at one corner of the room. I obediently took position allowing my knees and elbows to slide into little confinement slots while she wound several straps over my wrists, ankles, and back till I was completely and hopelessly at her mercy and mesmerized by her intoxicating scent. As she stooped and bent securing my bonds my eyes darted from her to the mirror trying desperately to glimpse every tiny detail of her beauty. Her exquisite cleavage caused me to salivate; the majestic sweep of her buttocks caused my pulse to beat faster and faster. She stooped to check the tightness of the straps and her legs parted to reveal a flower clothed in red nylon, a flower that surely only grew in Eden. She stood behind me for a moment seeming to evaluate my person then said in no uncertain terms; “You’ve been bred perfectly for life as an “S”, your buttocks are the perfect target for a “D’s” strap, the perfect cushion for their thrusts”. Then she picked up several items and walked to the front of the bench to address me. “But I saw something in your eyes, something dangerous. In spite of millions of controls in the birthing process, some aberrations still appear, some mutations, and I must rid you of those traits”. She continued, “I saw your eyes when you were watching the pretty boy, you were born with the ability to love, the ability to care, and those traits have long ago been discarded as useless and troublesome”. She began lacing a harness between her legs, bringing a strap back and up, cradling the curve of her buttocks securing it to an eyelet at each side, It cradled a huge black phallus. “I’m going to whip you severely and give you a disciplinary coring darling. The process should rid you of any further indiscretions. If it does not, you may be found out, beaten senseless, or exiled to a hell of place, a bowling alley in a city called Parma! She took her position at my rear and brought the first strap down smartly and a red stripe rose to the surface. The curly-haired Mistress whipped me with a quiet indifference, moving from strap to paddle, each implement a little heavier, a little harder, till all I could do was whimper and buck my hips vainly trying to avoid the blows. Her breathing quickened and a delicious sheen covered her ivory skin and I stared at her image in the mirror wondering what and who she was, convinced by now that she had come from another world; an avenging angel or a beguiling Goddess. The strap fell to the floor and she was quickly at the petal of my rosebud. I breathed very deeply, then exhaled in a mournful sigh and felt my petals gape open to receive her. She rode me with long hard strokes, painful, pleasing, and by the time she was finished I was thoroughly milked, limp, useless, the perfect “S”. She moved to the front of the bench smiling now, “See what you’ve done” she said, removing the black body shaper and standing in front of me in delicate red lingerie. My eyes dropped to her center where the red nylon was unmistakably darker than the surrounding fabric. She moved forward, “know my scent”, she said, “know my scent and always fear it” I breathed deeply pulling her into me, wanting to have her with me forever. She pressed against my face, wet and musky, the folds of her flower velvety, pungent and precious. Then when she pulled back my lips were coated with Goddess dew, a strange and all too intoxicating nectar. I wanted at once to lick my lips and taste her goodness, yet stopped knowing if I did that I may never have that taste again. Twilight darkened the apple blossom trees beside the crooked river as I limped away from that meeting wondering what it had all meant but anxious to heed her words and return to the village and offer myself to eternal submission. I looked back once from the center of the bridge on the river and saw her watching me with a sad mournful expression. A large warm tear dropped out of the corners of her eyes and slid down that lovely face. I wonder to this day if that tear was shed for me, or for her. I wonder to this day if she may also have been a mutant!
Chapter 5: New and Exciting Revelations On my way back to the training center I heard a commotion coming from a seedy looking café and stopped to watch the enfolding of a very bizarre event. The café was one of those old fashioned leather bars where boys go to be boys, to primp and posture in outlandish costumes in hopes of a new sexual episode. By the time I looked inside, a Master in leather chaps and boots had been placed over the knee of a Sex Robot and was being soundly spanked with a wooden paddle amidst jeers from the audience and his own vehement protests. The Robots had been designed and developed hundreds of years ago during the STD plagues to provide safe and satisfying sexual release. The idea was an excellent one till corporate greed came into play and the World Mart[1] commissioned companies in Section C[2] to build cheap product that proved to be programmed defectively. Hardly a day past that another episode didn’t begin the nightly news, but for me this was a first time experience that I will always remember. I moved into a dark corner of the room to join a small group of timid submissives. A lean and pretty boy with freckles smiled at me and leaned forward to whisper, “he’s my Master” he said, “I’m terribly frightened”. The Master kicked and cried and bucked his hips while the wooden paddle reddened his small muscled ass, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the spectacle, for some reason I loved seeing him tamed, reduced to tears. My hand dropped down behind the boy to cup his ass, he winked at me for encouragement. “Don’t be scared pretty boy” I said, “all things happen for a reason, and you’ll quickly be claimed by another”. The Robot picked the Master up by the waist band of his chaps and deposited him tummy down over a high round barstool. Everyone grew very quite and inched closer and closer to the pair, all eager to watch what proved to be a magnificent deflowering. The Master cried one more time, “you can’t, you can’t”, then moaned helplessly as the Robot mounted him with a splendid cock that began moving in and out while rotating around to the right in a magnificent corkscrewing. After only a few dozen thrusts the Master’s hips began to jerk in response to the invasion, he began to sigh and I remembered the words I had read in a philosophy book by a learned Mistress. Perhaps it was true, perhaps all men needed to be fucked. “Come with me” I said to the darling boy, then took his hand and led him out of the building and back down towards the crooked little river. We stood in the shadows of a fragrant apple tree embracing and kissing with our cocks rubbing against each other till he pulled back with a wide-eyed look. “We can’t , we mustn’t, if we’re caught we’ll be pilloried and paddled”, and I answered with a clarity that surprised us both. “Darling we’ll be paddled anyway, it’s a way of life for us” then I pulled him down to the soft warm grass and we coupled. I took his cock in my mouth and he took mine while nature provided a symphony of lust. The orchestra was a collection of crickets and tree frogs and a wise old owl adding percussion and as they played our passions built to a crescendo then spilled over into a bliss neither of us had ever known, the bliss of mutual orgasm. I remained awake for hours that night in my little bed thinking about all the wonders that I’d seen and experienced over the last few days. The beautiful runaway boy flashed before my eyes. How gorgeous he had been in his bondage, how sorrowful! Next the beguiling Mistress who’d given me such a divine whipping. The image of her behind me, allowing herself plenty of room to soundly whack my chubby derriere with that disinterested looks on her face thrilled me. What had she said? I was a mutant, capable of love? What was love and why was it so bad? Would I ever experience such beauty again or was she just a dream? I closed my eyes tightly and licked my lips trying to vainly to relive her scent and taste. I’d watched a Master spanked and fucked as easily as any submissive and finally experienced mutual orgasm during a celebration of boy candy on a beautiful warm night. What did it all mean? I heard the rustling of sheets from another bed and looked into the bright green eyes of a red haired slave girl who smiled, then turned her back to me so that I could admire her backside and the swelling lips of her sex that peeked out between her thighs. My cock stiffened and I felt a new and sensuous thrill. What does it all mean?
Chapter 6: I proved to be an enthusiastic and capable student and loved my training and the wonderful D’S who served as our instructors. The Masters and Mistresses kept our passions at a fever pitch with frequent stroking and petting so that when we were called on to serve them we responded with an enthusiasm that heightened their release. Of course by now I had learned the mystery of mutual orgasm and was left empty and frustrated. It was part of that issue that came to question in a class called the Ethics of Submission. During the opening lecture the Master stated that we must all give ourselves to the pure ideal of submission, that one Master is all Masters, and one Mistress all Mistresses. He continued saying that even if an “S” were blindfolded and heard the snap of a “D’s” finger he or she would ideally drop immediately to the knee to worship cock or pussy with an unbiased enthusiasm. By this time I had been tamed and trained by many including the bewitching curly haired Mistress who had delivered my most opulent spanking. I somehow knew from somewhere deep inside me that this wasn’t possible, at least not for me. I would always respond differently, suffer more, and offer my buttocks more passionately to one than to another. I raised my hand slowly and began speaking in a very timid voice. “But what of us” I asked, “surely we feel differently about each “D”. “It seems only natural to respond to one with a greater desire, one who you may care about and perhaps wish to share in their joy”? A deadly silence fell over the room as I uttered those words and the Master face turned sullen with an ashen glow. He pulled me up by the ear and marched me to the front of the class depositing me tummy down over his desk while he rolled up his sleeves and took hold of a very stout wooden paddle. The rest of the class stared back at me with an odd fascination in their fearful eyes. But one student was smiling and I recognized her as the red headed girl subbie who had winked at me in the dormitory. The Master reared back and I groaned under the hard smacks of his paddle while the reddened muscles of my buttocks contracted and released helplessly under the assault. He was so busy he never saw the red headed brat teasing me and to protect her I raised myself up on my tiptoes and arched by back very hard so that the Master had a perfect jutting round target for his wallops. She licked her lips, sucked on her index finger, and then ran the wet digit over the swollen nipples of her tiny breasts. She giggled at my discomfort, and then spread her thighs slightly apart giving me still another look at those priceless jewels. Her right hand dropped to her knee then began an agonizingly slow journey back up, red nails scraping over plump ivory thighs decorated with as many freckles as is the evening sky with twinkling stars. She parted the velvety folds of her sex with a finger then moves it up from top to bottom till it shined with moisture, then sucked the finger again. By the time my punishment was ending I was stiff and aroused beyond belief. I crawled to kiss his boots and beg for the honor of sucking him, and of course he denied me and I spent the remainder of the day bound in the hallway so others could see my shame. As classes ended that day all the students filed by me, most of them lowered their eyes quickly to the floor and scurried away. But some spoke to me, scolded me, even pinched my nipples or gave my buttocks an open handed slap. They all had that same wry smile on their faces as the red head who was the last student to stop. She stood on my side and straddled my thigh then bent forward and kissed my cheek. Her tongue played at my ear while she pressed against me, very wet and very warm. She whispered, “there are many of us darling, be careful, be very careful”!
Chapter 7: When commencement finally arrived, I stood proudly on the auctioneers block while he droned on about my good features, as well as my bad. “Turn around boy,” he commanded and slapped each cheek of my buttocks till they bounced and jiggle for the audience. “Sturdy rump this one”, he said, “capable of receiving several paddlings a day, with very little bruising; now bend over darling”. I could hear the chairs moving as several jockeyed into position to get a closer look. “Wonderfully snug rosebud with a well trained little muscle. Been there myself several times, haven’t I boy”? I nodded in agreement but refrained from adding that the gentleman was less than adequate and possessed a measly little cock He turned me back to face the audience. “The boy never quite mastered the gag reflex though, and has a tendency to scrape his teeth over cock or clit, needs more training there so the purchase price includes a set of designer paddles from the House of MLD”. The little turntable I was standing on began to rotate as the bidding began and those in attendance as well as those watching through satellite connection placed their money and when it was over I was the property of the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Not beautiful boys, mind you, like the little runaway blondie who had captured my heart, but a real man! He was mature, somewhat over 30 years in age, lean yet muscular, with wavy chestnut colored hair and eyes as dark as coal. He wore his silk shirt opened to display a gorgeous chest colored bronze from the sun and pierced nipples as big as grapes. When he moved it was with a feline grace that accentuated his lower body that was clad in snug leather trousers that hugged his little buttocks and outlined a mouth watering basket. His velvet collar went easily around my neck and he took me in his arms embracing me as tightly as he would a lost child. Then I felt his hot mouth on mine and it was unlike the mouth of any other man I had known, full of molten passions that filled me with desires. He attached his leash and led me into another part of the auction hall where another purchase stood collared. She lowered her green eyes demurely in respect to her new Master, but I could almost detect a wry little smile on the red haired brat’s face, and when he turned his back she pinched my cock and giggled softly. He led us outside into the sun stopping for a moment to pull our arms back behind us to tether our elbows with leather twine. The Master lifted our chins with his hand. “Always present yourself proudly, heads up high, shoulders back squarely so that your nipples stand at attention. Meet the gaze of strangers confidently, show them your sexuality”. The Master reached between my legs to stroke my cock and ran the index finger of his other hand between the folds of the redhead’s sex. When it had found the warmth he scraped it slowly upward till it was generously coated with her honey, then placed it into my mouth to lick clean. I was quickly becoming addicted to the taste of pussy and had fallen in love with both my Master and the redhead. We continued our journey choosing the winding red brick road that led down to the little crooked river stopping only once to watch a pair of pretty girls being pilloried and paddled by their Mistress. I loved them both immediately, loved their tears and the little squeals they made when the broad paddle met their precious little behinds. Everything about the day had been sensual and perfect and there was more to come. We crossed the little bridge and walked to the glass door covered in velvet, the same glass door I had entered before. I was at the castle of the curly haired Mistress, wondering what was going to happen!
Chapter 8: The door opened to a garden of earthly delights and wicked pleasures; slender boys covered in silks and jewels with bracelets on their arms and legs and rings decorating their fingers and toes, leather-clad “D’s” breathless and beautiful, She-Males caught somewhere in a twilight world of uncertain sexuality. The curly-haired Mistress was tightly bound in a Merry-Widow corset that punished Her tiny waist and accentuated the magnificent swell of Her hips. She smiled at us and walked forward with a lither sensuality, her stiletto heels clicking on the parquet floor. I couldn’t help but to look down at Her center where eight satin garters decorated Her ample thighs and the flower of Her womanhood was covered in crimson silk yet seemed to be pulsing and alive. “Welcome home my little mutants,” She said hugging us all. My look of confusion brought a smile to Her face. “You poor boy, poor confused boy’, and then the redhead began to speak. “We have the ability to love darling, the ability to care and to want to possess. These characteristics were supposed to be cleansed from our systems by selective breeding and still they exist and flourish”. The Mistress spoke again; “I saw it on your face when the runaway boy was returned, I see it now as you look at the brat and at your Master. The curly-haired Mistress put Her arms around my Master’s neck and kissed him passionately and I knew they too were mutants of their own kind and the thought of two such beauties coupling filled me with joy. “We meet here several times each month,” Master said, “To celebrate our unfulfilled longings and to offer ourselves to romantic surrender”. The Mistress took his hand, “Come with me darling, I’ve a bed covered with pink rose petals, spread my legs, devour me and don’t stop even when I scream”. My stomach lurched and my face flamed as I watched them walk away, both so elegant and graceful that I hungered to possess them booth. My imagination raced to a vision of the naked Mistress lying supine upon a bed of roses with silken cushions heaped beneath her hips and her head hanging to the side so that her hair spilled down in a swirl of brunette curls. Her eyes were shut tight, her mouth open wide in a silent cry of pleasure. Tiny breasts thrust up, the nipples dark and pointed, responding to the masterful touch of Her lover. He lay between her spread thighs with his head lowered, his tongue licking hungrily at Her exposed sex. I felt shameful with arousal my face hot and damp with pinpricks of perspiration as he rose to his knees and entered Her with a satisfying grunt. The brat saw my excitement and took hold of my cock leading me down a labyrinth of dark corridors lit only by old fashioned small wattage incandescent lamps. Figures lurked in the shadows where cubicles lines each side of the hall some with open doors others closed with the sounds of sex emitting from them all; squeals, moans, and the slap of wet flesh. Hands reached out from everywhere pinching and petting us till we both came close to swooning and feinting into unconsciousness. We entered a cubicle furnished with large silk pillows and ripe with the scent of sandalwood where the redhead laid down spreading her legs and beckoning to me. “Lick me boy, lick me properly or I’ll fetch a bundle of thorny branches and whip you”. I smiled at her words and she smiled back knowing that either would please me to no end. I knelt teasingly letting my lips move up slowly and softly on her soft inner freckled thighs high enough so that she could feel my warm breath on the lips of her pussy, then retreated time and again till she grabbed my hair and pulled me to her center. I pushed slowly past the warm pulsing muscle of her sex with my tongue thrilling at her vital wetness and smokey tasting fluids till I felt her hips snap in rhythm to the plays of my tongue. Waves of passion seized her, ebbs and flows that thrilled me with the thought that I was thrilling her, and when I felt a body spreading my thighs I didn’t have to wonder, everything had become all so wonderful and all so predictable. The runaway entered me fiercely, the beautiful blondie, the boy princess who was destined to be my sexual prisoner and I was destined to be his. He reached around to stroke me and the three of us found our joy…just as I hope you had found your joy fondling the pages of this manuscript. The End
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