by elle`attend
FOR MATURE READERS ONLY
“Come in, Jolie darling…”
Beatrix Mackay watched closely as the two women led my innocent young girlfriend into the room between them.
These women could have been the twins of the two holding me propped unsteadily between them, but for hair color and a few other almost insignificant physical details. All were young, no more than twenty-five, and uniformly lovely, dressed in skintight, form hugging black leotards with high french-cut leg openings that exposed generous expanses of rock-hard cheek. They all wore identical military style three-quarter combat boots with rolled black socks, and soft, black pigskin wrist gloves. Their hair was cut to a uniform length of about an inch over their entire head, and waxed so that it stood straight up, and bristling, with a single hank left at the back, just long enough to twist into an abbreviated pigtail that curled at the napes of their necks. As they drew nearer, I noted a small blue-black tattoo high on the upper left arm of each, but I could not make out what the tattoo depicted. I could also discern the faint outline of small slightly raised circles beneath the tautly-stretched lycra across their bosoms. Nipple rings, I thought to myself dizzily, though I had never in my life seen such things, outside of a single porn film that my husband and I had watched one evening in a fruitless attempt to fan the flames of our guttering physical relationship.
Images of those robotic women from that movie passed fleetingly across my frantic mind again, as Jolie and I were each led to the large, slate-black table that dominated the center of the low slung, windowless room. The table reminded me somewhat jarringly of the lab tables in Chem 101 my freshman year at Smith. I tried to make eye contact with Jolie as we approached this slab of ebonite from opposite sides; what I could see of her eyes led me to the conclusion that she was in even worse shape than I, if that were possible. I whispered her name once, looking for any sign of recognition in her eyes…and found none. She stared dully across the table at me with blank, unseeing eyes, her full, pale strawberry-tipped breasts rising and falling irregularly with her labored breathing, and her body glistened dully in the dim light with the same glaze of sick perspiration that veneered my own. I found myself staring stupidly at her breasts. I realized that I had never seen them before.
She’s much bigger than I had imagined, I thought ridiculously.
Shortly after that, everything spiraled into a surrealistic blur, a Fellini-esque excursion into the darker corners of the human soul. A sort of ‘Therese and Isabelle’ with bondage, and without the heart; set to a pounding, soul-shredding techno soundtrack.
My ‘handlers’ turned me away from the table, and hoisted me unceremoniously onto the chilly slate top. As I gasped at the shock of the cold surface on my bare bottom, one of them wound thin leather straps around my ankles, tying them together and leaving the long ends trailing from them. The other wove another long rawhide strip efficiently into my hair, after first fashioning it into a long, crude ponytail. Each then took a wrist, and wrapped still other slim straps around them. Then they spun me slightly on the slick tabletop, swinging my legs up on it so that my feet were pointing toward one end of the longitudinal axis. I came face to face with Jolie then, staring blankly at me, her feet pointing toward the end opposite mine, her eyes less than a foot from my own. There were straps on her wrists and ankles, too, and in her hair as well.
“Jolie,” I whispered softly again. No response. Her eyes were flat, lusterless; it was like looking at dull gray stones at the bottom of a still pool of water.
“You fucking monster,” I hissed, not able to see Mackay in the darkness, but wanting her to know the depth of my contempt for her before she murdered us both.
“Hurry up,” I heard her voice, flat and emotionless, float across the hot, pulsing air of the cramped chamber.
The drone-women quickly concluded their tasks now. Two at each end of the table, two for each of us. I saw the one behind Jolie’s head reef cruelly on the thong wound in her hair, heard her cry out in pain a nanosecond before my own scalp blazed and my own head was cracked hard against the table. I was still seeing stars as I was rolled onto my side, and found my face pressed almost up against Jolie’s sweat-washed, faintly freckled thighs. I watched numbly as hands threaded the thong tied into my hair between Jolie’s thighs, and at the same instant I felt the cord secured in her hair being slipped between my own legs and pulled viciously, slicing into my already swollen sex, crushing her nose and mouth against my labia. An instant later, my own hair screamed at me, and my own face was buried in Jolie’s humid, throbbing auburn cunt. I felt the cord being tied off, anchoring my mouth at the entrance to her body. I moaned in spite of myself.
The collision of our bodies was electrifying – hot wet flesh against hotter, even wetter. I came almost instantly, the drugs doing their work most efficiently. I think that Jolie came as well, although I couldn’t swear to it; couldn’t swear to anything other than my own staggering orgasm at that particular moment. I screamed, I know that, and only averted burying my teeth in Jolie’s warm, pulsating pussy lips by the slenderest of margins. I panted harshly as my arms were dragged roughly above my head, the lengths of cord about my wrists first threaded through a ring at the end of the table, then tied to Jolie’s ankles. I felt my legs being stretched out now toward the other end of the table, tensioning me as tautly as a violin’s ‘A’ string. I knew that Jolie’s wrists were being tied to them in a like fashion. I felt her sob against my own leaking, throbbing pussy.
That was all it took.
I came again, nearly crushing her skull between my strong, ex-dancer’s quads as I did. I banged my ankles and wrists against the tabletop as much as the bindings allowed, and ground my hips relentlessly against Jolie’s poor face, unaware, uncaring of any damage I might be doing to my young friend. I felt her sweaty breasts heaving against my own slippery belly, felt her hot breath on my genitalia, the smells and sounds and feel of her, of us, deranging me utterly. We were like a beast, a single ravening entity that must satisfy its bestial cravings, no matter what the cost. I buried my mouth in her fragrant crease and began lapping at her furiously, as if I would tear her clitoris, or my own tongue out by the roots.
Either way, it made no difference to me now.
**********
So this is what they mean when they say ‘time stood still’, I thought dreamily.
My tongue was lazily traversing Jolie’s salt-sweet, coppery tasting groove, darting inside occasionally like a lazy bee searching for the still-sweeter nectar that lay closer to the stamen. I droned softly, buzzing my lips and tongue against her pliant sex, giggling like a cum laude graduate of the local home for the terminally bewildered. My soft laughter turned to a shuddering, rasping gasp as I felt Jolie’s lips close over my swollen, aching clitoris, sucking it avidly into her hot mouth again, running her tongue salaciously around the base as I began to vibrate in a lower location, and in a much different register.
The things that they taught nice girls in school, these days.
The staccato rap of heels crossing the floor roused me from my nearly delirious reveries, and my delicious explorations of the depths of woman’s depravity, both my own and Jolie’s. VanJolie’s. JolieVan’s. I rolled an eye lazily upward, never taking my tongue from Jolie’s delectably sweet meat.
“It’s gratifying to see you two girls playing so nicely together.”
I heard Mackay’s contralto laugh burr softly, and bit down inadvertently on Jolie’s tender inner labia. She gave a muffled little cry, and nipped my clitoris with her teeth in response; I shivered again, and withdrew my tingling tongue from her softly weeping slit. She gave another hoarse moan, grinding her face into my crotch, and was still for the moment. My jaws ached awfully, and my tongue felt as if it had been nailed to a board in the hot sun for days to cure.
“Four-fifteen…nearly eleven hours! You girls are close, aren’t you?” She laughed again, running that cool, dry hand over the curve of my hip, my skin tacky now with dried salt from my sweat, and the stray exudates from our marathon evening of cunnilingus. She slid her hand slowly, lasciviously around to my belly, then insinuated it between Jolie’s momentarily idle mouth and my sopping bush, sliding a finger along my own slippery groove, exploring me at her leisure. Hazarding a glance out of the corner of my eye at Beatrix Mackay, in her expensive aqua silk frock and diamonds, her eyes turned pensively heavenward as she explored the inner me, I had the suddenly repellent image of myself as a nasty parlor game at some fancy dress affair for ob-gyns of the idle rich. I shivered once in revulsion, then lay as still as I possibly could, not wanting to give her even that small satisfaction.
“You say your husband has lost interest in you? Astonishing.” Mackay slipped her finger, still coated with my sticky honey, into my mouth. I closed my eyes as I suckled at my own tastes on the monster’s finger, not wishing to witness my own degradation. I swallowed hard.
“Men,” she chuckled throatily.
She moved away then, and I heard the soft tread of rubber-soled boots approaching the slab. Fingers worked quickly and efficiently at the knots securing our bodies to the table, and to each other. My agonized shoulders, and neck screamed in protest as they were loosened from their constricted positions; but still I kept at Jolie, my mouth and my nose buried in her comforting, fragrant muff. Hands worked the thong loose from my hair, and pulled me from her at last. I gave a small cry of despair, like my daughter used to when I took her from the breast. I was rolled onto my back, and felt Jolie shivering beside me as she was released as well. I lay still, panting softly, staring up into the blackness above me. A pale silver moon suddenly interposed itself between the darkness without, and the darkness within me.
“Feeling a bit better, are we?” Beatrix Mackay bent low over me, her smooth, unlined face looking shockingly youthful, almost girlish. Her silver hair was swept back behind her right ear, and diamonds the size of small almonds dangled from her lobes. Her luminous green eyes seemed to glow in the semi-darkness of the chamber, like a hunting lioness’s. I blinked blearily at her, wishing her in hell, and myself elsewhere.
“I thought that this might take some of the starch out of your stays, darling,” she purred, running one of those terrifyingly dead-feeling hands of hers along my ribs beneath my left breast, fondling it, slipping her cool, dry thumb beneath the fold of flesh, then raking all of her nails maddeningly along the sensitive underside of it. My skin rose in gooseflesh, and that galling tickle started up again between my still-tacky thighs. A low, animal growl of warning issued from my throat …
“Oh, very good,” she breathed, her eyes locked on mine and dancing with merriment; never wavering, boring into my skull, into my soul it felt as if. “We’ve touched a nerve already, I see. This may take much less time than I had first anticipated.” She smiled at me then, giving my tit an affectionate little squeeze. The blackness swept over me, engulfed me.
With a snarl, I went for her pale, perfect throat.
Screams and shouts erupted all around me, as if all the devils of hell were calling me home. Hands tore at me, nails raked my naked flesh, fists pummeled me, booted feet lashed out at my ribs. But I held her throat fast in my trembling jaws like grim death, feeling the richly hydrated skin breaking beneath my teeth, tasting her warm sweet blood as it filled my mouth and cascaded over my chin, drenching her sixty-five hundred dollar Versace original with gore. I shook her like a terrier playing with a rat, chuckling insanely deep in my chest. I heard another shout, this time from somewhere to my left, and then my world imploded into shimmering shards of brilliantly colored crystal, that retreated from me at the speed of light down a mile-long kaleidoscope. I dove after them, down and down, sobbing as if my heart would break for their beauty, and their loss…
**********
© MEB 2002