Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 96271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 24
Ilsa
I tried to find something to look at that was not Leo Aetnaeus’s cock moving in and out of my body, and discovered that the restraints and the cushion under my head had conspired to make that essentially impossible. I was required to watch. I understood, with a clarity that arrived alongside a fresh wave of tears whose cause I still couldn’t identify, that making me watch my pussy being shared represented part of the point.
I had not noticed Giovanna in several minutes. She came back into view then, as Leo Aetnaeus began to fuck me in earnest.
My mistress, the bellatrix, had stripped down to black lingerie—a lacy bra and thong that somehow managed to look both professional and much too sexual, the lingerie of a liberated woman who had chosen it knowing exactly what the day would require.
She moved with her usual practiced grace, coming to the bench and then without warning swinging her leg over it and over me. Before I had fully understood her intention, she had settled herself above my face, her thighs on either side of my head, the cushion under my head keeping my face precisely where she so clearly wanted it.
“I will evaluate your mouth, now that your master has tamed it with his phallus. You must ask to climax,” she said to me in the professional voice, as if she were reminding me of an administrative procedure. “You will not come without permission.”
Then Bellatrix Hestiaea lowered herself, and I had no more opportunity for scholarly observation. I whimpered as I scented her, her pussy wet through the lacy fabric that rubbed against my lips and my nose.
“Bruno.” Henrik’s voice, from somewhere to my left, carried a collegial quality as if he meant to raise a point at a meeting among equals. “I’d ask you not to come inside her. If you would.”
A pause, in which the only sounds were the leo’s rhythm and Giovanna’s breathing, which had changed its normal rhythm to something less controlled.
“Of course,” the Guardsman said. His voice had become rougher, and I felt the change in his rhythm—a slight deepening and quickening, as if the request had paradoxically increased his urgency. “Thank you for the reminder that the Sons of Odin’s bed thralls serve for more than pleasure. For breeding as well.” A thrust that made me sob against Giovanna. “Our tradition is to put initiates on contraception.”
Giovanna moved her hips. I whimpered, looking upward at her flat belly, her lacy bra and doing my best to breathe. The air that came through my nostrils was heady with the musk of my mistress’s need, and I couldn’t help licking and licking, suddenly desperate to please.
I felt myself detach from my body again and rise above the scene somehow, almost as if I could lift myself into the invisible lower branches of a tree… the tree, even. I saw myself, still weeping as my mistress pleasured herself against my face… as her master the leo fucked my sore pussy… as my Viking Herra and his faraway chieftain stood by, observing… all of it to assess my progress into the dark world of their ritual dominance and my submission.
The tears… I understood them, for an unmeasurable moment at least. I didn’t weep from fear, pain, or any sadness… I wept from sheer excess of emotion and sensation. Part of me even wanted to say, insanely, that I had started to cry out of happiness… joy, even… to have a master who had given me, and kept giving me, what some essential element of me, body and soul, had always needed.
I watched Giovanna’s hand move between her thighs. She posted up an inch or two, then pulled the gusset of the lacy black thong aside. I sobbed at the sight of her bare pussy, the wrinkled hood of her clit, as Leo Aetnaeus’s grip on my thighs tightened and the thrusting of his rigid shaft grew harder and faster.
My mistress’s sex descended again. She presented her clit to my tongue, and I did my best to serve her well. It was very different from serving Henrik with my mouth, but at the same time there was something parallel in this shameful duty: the simple, degrading fact of submission, of being made to give pleasure with my face to the dark, forbidden part of the body of another person—a person who held authority over me, and would punish me savagely if I failed to serve well.
The leo thrust hard. I cried out into the bellatrix’s sopping pussy. Her hips jerked, driving herself against my face, and then she came with a sharp, controlled sound from high above me. Her thighs tightened for a moment, and then she lifted herself away and I could breathe again in the way that breathing is only truly appreciated after its temporary absence. Giovanna kept her hand on the bench beside my head, steadying herself, and I felt her composure reassemble in the quality of her weight and her breath, professional again almost immediately.