Bonds Of Passion

BONDS OF PASSION A tale of love and liberation, from Elsa’s erotic escapade series By DESIREE EROTIQUE

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BONDS OF PASSION Copyright  2002 Desiree Erotique ISBN: 1-894942-15-9 Cover art by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books a division of Zumaya Publications, 2003 Look for us online at: www. Extasybooks.com www.zumayapublications.com

With much thanks to my editor, the keen-eyed and imaginative Christine Peters And my dear friend, Tina Haveman

For RL Hunt

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he rafters creaked softly, as if trembling from the refrains of their lovemaking. Elsa wanted more, but that would be selfish, and besides, if she’d learned anything under the stern lessons of Madam and the time spent in Nemi, that ultra-real world beyond the human consciousness. It waited for all mortals, but few were fortunate enough to be selected Disciples or prisoners either one. It was there she’d been taken after her recruitment into the Discipleship of Pleasure … And there, where she had been introduced to sensual delights; encouraged to pursue them without guilt or remorse. In Nemi she had come to understand that her personal sexual penchants were not only natural components of her nature, but the healthy expressions of herself. Her experience as a submissive, and particularly since being in Robert’s possession, had taught her that as a submissive, there was as much satisfaction to be taken in having the senses aroused and simmered to a chafing, relentless passion as in the strongest of orgasms. As importantly, under Robert’s sound and smarting corrections, Elsa had found welcoming alleviation to the hang-ups left over from her life on Earth. The memories of disapproval were flaking away like the last winter’s frost on the spring-warmed window. The guilt-prodding echoes of the provinciality left behind in the town of Boone held no more validity in Nemi than a spoiled child’s ranting. Now 1

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Elsa saw clearly that the all-encompassing political correctness of the American culture she had escaped was corrupt and hypocritical as any of its predecessors. She yawned and snuggled deeper into Robert’s embracing arm. Her pussy throbbed from their lovemaking; her thighs were moist and warm with their mutual fluids. He kissed her cheek, and yet exhausted, his breath stirred her from lips to clit. The mouth of her vagina fluttered languidly. But she was too tired to keep her eyes open any longer. As she fell to sleep she thought how silly all twenty-first century Earth was, with its bickering cultures evolved from religions that were totally devoid of the original messages of their founding avatars. Unlike the simple, passionate doctrines of the distant, other world, Nemi, the respective cultural mindsets of Earth affected her as only a ritual without virtue. She was grateful to be shed of them, and if she had one regret, it was that there were still so many left on Earth still enslaved. Not that all women could find happiness by the same submissive character which was natural to her; or that all men should be as domineering as her beloved. To think all avenues to happiness were paved by identical mortar was as false as the ideals her mother had embraced. However, in Nemi, men and women had the chance to find their true path to fulfillment, here there was no more shame in being a submissive woman as there was in being a dominant. She was determined to appreciate this precious gift, to know satisfaction and to attain wisdom within the confines of her pleasure. The Ur’theriem Archangel, Xaqriel, that savagely sensual being, had blessed her with more than she could ever express, surely more than even his inscrutable powers could appreciate. Robert understood it for he had been as mortal as she had, as yoked by convention as any other modern male, or at least suppressed. As sleep bore heavier upon her mind, Elsa thought of 2

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the life she had escaped from all those years before. If ever the day came when she and Robert returned to earth, she hoped they’d learned enough and were strong enough now, to scorn the expectations of society. To live as they wished, without expecting anyone to follow their own paths, and the hell with the society too shallow to condone them! She could never hope to have the blessing of her mother, Charlotte; there would be no reconciliation in that way. To know Elsa was happy in a relationship beyond her politics would certainly draw the woman’s interest, however. Her mother’s attitude toward men had only grown more paranoid since her days in the nineteen-sixtyeight ‘guerrilla theater’. Her resentment toward an America, which had never accepted militant feminism, had made her a very hostile and wounded Amazon toward all society. Not that Charlotte would ever willingly leave the safety of her mountain. After serving seven years for sending death threats to a porn actress, she had left prison and withdrawn to the seclusion of the mountain property left to her by her father. There, she, her friends, and those followers she had made in prison, formed the Sisterhood, a Neo-Dianic, all-female community. Charlotte had left the haven of her mountain in order to venture to Knoxville, and have herself artificially inseminated at a private clinic. She returned to the commune pregnant with Elsa, to never step beyond the property lines again. She was safe there from the society which had judged her, safe from men, who were responsible for that judgment. For men, Charlotte contended, had created a world in which women were treated as mere chattel. They were, Elsa had heard enough, all as emotionally apathetic and flawed as Charlotte’s father, Roger. Roger had been a republican and indifferent to Charlotte’s politics. When she joined an Anarchist society in college Roger had reduced her allowance. When 3

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she dated a member of the Black Panthers he threatened to cut off all her college expenses. But the biggest insult came to Charlotte with his death, for his will stipulated that his estate was to be divided equally between his daughter and his second wife, Mia. Roger had wed his second wife just after Charlotte graduated high school. Mia was a Sunday school teacher in the church when Roger first met her. She was an Avon sales-rep, an avid reader of romance novels, and a collector of Hummel figurines. In Charlotte’s estimation, the epitome of ignorant white trash. After their marriage the woman proved a retiring, deferential housewife … All that Charlotte would never be; all which proved and succored her father’s fundamental chauvinism. Bolstered with a circle of friends who had no better view toward men as she, Charlotte had set out to teach her daughter to scorn this so-called archetypical male and all their deceptive, decadent institutions which led to only misery. The most insidious of this institution was that of marriage. When Elsa was eighteen she turned her back on the Sisterhood and left the commune. Charlotte had shunned her ever since, even when she returned for visits. But Elsa knew that a marriage would change that entirely. It was one thing to lose a daughter one had never cared about; another for that daughter to embrace all a mother held repulsive. Charlotte would use all the powers at her disposal to coax Elsa—one way or another—into seeing the mistake she had made and return to the collective fold of the Sisterhood forever. As shrewd as she was anti-social, Charlotte would find someone else to carry out that design. Someone Elsa trusted, doubtlessly; someone who, unlike her mother, stood a chance at being as seductively convincing as Charlotte was self-righteous. Elsa heard something light on the roof of the chalet, and moments later the unmistakable heavy fluttering of wings. 4

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The Ur’theriems were the angels of Ultimate reality and Nemi’s guardians, she knew; but as much as she was indebted to Xaqriel, and as tantalizing as were the memories with him, she hoped he’d keep his lusty affections that night and leave her to relish this time with Robert. During the haze of sleep, she thought she glimpsed Xaqriel. He stood in the draping darkness, naked and handsome as always, beside the ebbing shadow of something radiantly white. As the thing disappeared, she saw that his mighty hand lay upon something solid and gleaming. Elsa neared and smiled into the comforting familiar face. His emotions were uncertain, but as his eyes lowered, she followed his gaze and saw that it was a large metal cage beneath his fingertips. Intrigued by it, and compelled by a strange, and yet familiar emotion, Elsa knelt and looked through the bars. The door was closed, past the bars she saw a tiny flicker of light hurling toward the cage. It sailed into the metal confines and erupted into a blazing bud of mingling pinks. Then the blaze imploded, drawing its hues inward to form a dazzling silver rose. Its beautiful petals pulsated and started to unfold; the whole of it swelled brilliantly and beaded over with thick dew. She heard herself gasp. “What is it, my Lord?” His velvet-smooth voice prickled her spine, “The passageway from immortal consciousness to mortal selfdoubt.” He crouched beside her and the door opened beneath the pressure of his fingertips. As she peered into the cage again, she heard a swift rustle in the air approach at her back. Elsa craned her neck and saw something white and graceful beating in the air behind her. It blinded her with its blazing sheen, and as her hands lifted to her eyes, she felt herself sucked into the heart of the rose. **** 5

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The alarm clock squawked hatefully beside the bed. Elsa opened an eye and looked at it resentfully, longing for those sweet days when alarm clocks weren’t part of her life, and routine had its own seductive charms. Then she felt Robert’s warm body close to her back and heard his deep breathing. Her desire refreshed immediately, and sitting up, she shut off the alarm and looked over at him. He was lying on his back with an arm cradled over his head, his mouth slightly open as he snored. She giggled and slowly slid the blanket and sheet down his stomach to his thighs. He did not rouse as her naked legs straddled his stomach. For several moments she admired her husband. So handsome he was to her, with his naturally tan skin and dark hair. He had recently shaved off his beard, but had left the virile mustache, and kept it trimmed thick and even. His sensual, brown eyes were closed as he continued to sleep. Balancing herself on her knees, she rubbed her hungry vagina over his stomach. Her clit throbbed as her moist pussy glazed his skin. She touched his chest hair gingerly, and giggled at the temptation to pinch his manly nipples. Oh, he’d be vexed at that! She draped over him and kissed his lower lip. “Oh, sir,” she cooed, “time to wake up.” When he only made an unintelligible sound, she kissed his mouth again, lolling her tongue over his lips. He started to snore again, so she puckered her lips and contemplated what to do. He needed to get up and have breakfast, but she loved just ogling him like this. Elsa bunched her blonde hair atop her head, and let it fall over her back. The ends fell to her hips and tickled them. She giggled softly and writhed for a time more over his waist. Then her buttocks collided with the bulge between his legs. She glanced once to make sure his eyes were still 6

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closed, then carefully reached back and stroked the tent created over his boxer shorts by his protruding penis. It was so hard! She squeezed the head lightly, eliciting a cross groan from her sleeping husband. Very carefully, Elsa pressed the draped cock against the cleavage of her buttocks. The hardness of him sent flaming ripples through her backside and up her spine. She massaged her breasts as her buttocks continued to weave the stiff cock and tweaked and pulled her nipples. She wished it was his hands that claimed them, his thumbs that pressed the aching hard buds of her flesh. Elsa was getting terribly horny, and peering at his nipples again, some carnal need pressed her to reach down. She pinched them, firmly but not cruelly, all the while still grinding her buttocks against him. She felt moisture seep from the head of his cock into the sheet between their bodies. She moaned lowly and gazed at the strong sinews of his arms. Without thinking, she clamped his nipples hard between her forefingers and thumbs. Robert made a sudden, perplexed sound and his eyes blinked open. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady?” Elsa snatched her hands away, but it was too late. His eyebrows scrunched together irritably, and catching her wrists, he pulled her down over him. “We’ve had this talk before. You know I don’t want you doing that.” Elsa’s heart pounded hard in her chest, and yet this nervousness only worked to sharpen her passion. She kissed him, hoping to mellow his displeasure; and indeed, he graced her with a soft smile. Letting go of her left wrist, he waved his forefinger before her face. “I’ve spoiled you terribly, Elsa. The next time, you won’t be able to sit for breakfast.” 7

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Her eyes lowered and she pouted, chagrined and agonized by the need welling up inside her. He kissed her, with his free hand tapped the lathered mouth of her pussy and smoothed a fingertip up and down over the hood of her pulsing clit. Elsa moaned, and drew his tongue firmly into her mouth, sucking on it savagely until he gave a reproaching sound and pulled away. Slapping her buttocks, he rolled over and spilled her across the mattress. His mouth burrowed over one breast, and he sucked with the same savageness of her kiss, scooping the nipple up with his tongue and flicking it briskly until the other breast panged for attention. When she sought to massage it herself, he pinned her hands to the mattress and suckled the side of her throat lightly. Waves of paralyzing tingles coursed through her. She was dimly aware of his hand parting her thighs, until he rubbed her clit and her passion focalized into the small organ like the heart of a candle’s flame. Elsa’s legs spread and her hips rose deliriously. At her ear Robert murmured, “Does my little sex slave need a good fucking?” “Yes, sir,” she moaned. “Fuck me, sir, fuck me, please!” To her relief he lifted himself over her and the head of his cock gouged the portal of her sex. And as she knew he liked, she burrowed her heels into his thighs and wound her arms about his firm neck. Slowly he entered her, and her pussy muscles shuddered eagerly. “My wet, wet little honey pot,” he said, kissing her again. At her imploring whimper, he fucked her hard and deep, with fast, long strokes. Her passion crested frenziedly, nearing the summit of release, when abruptly he stopped thrusting. Her eyes flew open and she pouted again, but she knew by the firm, familiar glint in his eyes there was no changing 8

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his decision. He drew his scorching hard cock out of her and sat up, pulling her up by the hands so that she sat at his side. “Suck me, Elsa,” he commanded softly. She sank to her knees and compliantly spread her lips firmly over the organ. The taste of her own juices was nectar to her senses, but even in her contrition, she marveled at how his huge cock filled her mouth. Grasping the base, she nursed it slowly, licking and sucking hard the throbbing head. When he pressed his loins forward urgently, she nursed quicker, gorging her mouth with it completely. When he climaxed his cum shot down her throat so that her spine tingled and her breast swelled with an emotion imbued of both contentment and frustration. She licked his balls and shaft clean. He kissed her brow, saying firmly, “Now let’s see how well you can behave today, and perhaps tonight I’ll give that starved pussy the satisfaction it wants. You will remember that I expect you to refrain from pleasuring yourself while I’m away?” Elsa did not know if she quite had the fortitude to restrain herself, but heaven forbid if she didn’t try. She looked up at him bashfully and nodded. The hug he gave her was solacing. Nevertheless, she had to pry her eyes away from him as he dressed for work. As she went into the kitchen to put on the coffee, she could think of nothing but his cock driving into her pussy again. It swelled and moistened for satisfaction; her thighs rubbed together wantonly as she toasted and buttered bread. Luckily, Robert called her back to ask where his new shirt was, and the naughty temptation abated a little. After Robert kissed her and drove off to work, Elsa ran to take a shower. She had to sing to keep her thoughts from giving into temptation. When she was finished and dressed, she blow-dried her hair and wove it into two long, even 9

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braids, for Robert so enjoyed seeing her hair that way. That was the least she could do to repay him for the rude awakening of that morning. She headed back to the bedroom and dressed herself in the things he had laid out on the bed before leaving: for her legs, a pair of white thigh-highs, and golden high-heeled sandals for her feet. The leather collar she wore daily was there, too, and the night before she’d polished to a high sheen the gold lettering which spelled out her husband’s name. The gold loops for her nipples were on the nightstand. She clamped them on, and their little bells tinkled cheerily. They would alert Robert of her coming to greet him when he stepped through the door that evening. The loops bit into the soft flesh of her nipples; weighty enough to keep them in a state of hardened arousal. They weren’t, of course, as frustrating to wear as the clit clamp; and Elsa had been wed long enough to know it awaited her that night if Robert suspected she’d relieved her passion during his absence. She looked in the mirror when she was dressed. But the submissive reflection brought recollections of Robert’s masterful, roving hands. Even making the bed was a torture, for the sheets and bedspread was doused with the musky smell of their lovemaking. Although Robert had told her that the housework could always wait and her painting needed her attention more, the hours seemed to just slip away in cleaning. Part of the reason was that she simply enjoyed getting the mundane routine out of the way and having a tidy place to do things that are more important. But, too, her frustrated and unabated lust needed the outlet. When the whole house was spiffy and she’d gotten a little used to the chafing nipple clamps she decided to turn her full attention next to eating before taking up the brushes 10

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again. She fixed a salad and took it with her to the sunroom, and sat down on the sofa to eat. When she was finished, she performed the exercises that kept her pussy muscles taut, and contemplated the progress she’d made so far on her latest painting. The canvas was situated on the easel that stood in front of the French doors. The picture itself was little more than background right now, with twilight filtering through the verdant copse and blooming yellow jasmine. The fountain was only an outline yet; but the image was clarified in her brain as solidly as the real thing. When finished, she planned to keep it, though the captain at the prison Robert worked at had already hinted he was interested. She was willing to do another one for him, but this was her first work created from memory. Besides, she could always paint something earthly, and do so without worrying about having to explain to a buyer where her inspiration had issued. She set the salad bowl down on the folding table at the end of the sofa and looked out the window. The sun was bright, lazy, and made her yawn. As she stretched her arms and legs, the bells jingled at her breasts. She smiled and gingerly rubbed the sore nipples. Glancing at one of the shirts Robert had left draped over the back of the sofa, she gathered it up and inhaled the fragrance of him, still permeated in the fabric. Heavenly virile it was, and her clit quickened in response. With a sigh, she put it down and closed her eyes. She tried to ignore the pinching loops, her embarrassing hotdewed thighs. With much effort, she turned her mind to imagining the completed scene she planned for the canvas. She saw the girls lying on the thick, fern-laced grass near the fountain. Three of them, their naked limbs laced 11

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passionately about one another, their mouths parted to form lascivious, ruby portals. As she looked into the cascading water, trying to picture the delineations of the running water, something flitting in the skyline past the copse. It was so bright as to smart her eyes and whatever it was seemed to suddenly sail through the boughs, and released in a ghostly, carnal song. The husky melody wounded her with a disconcerting familiarity. Elsa opened her eyes and shivered. It was at that moment the front door bell rang. She gasped and shook her head to put away the refrains of the birdcall. But she really didn’t want to open the door either; there was too much work ahead for the afternoon. She ignored it for a minute, but it rang again, then relentlessly, a demanding recorded drone. With a sigh, she stole into the front room of the house and tiptoed to the large window that overlooked the front yard. She pulled aside the beige linen drape and peeped out to the front entryway. A gasp escaped her mouth when she saw who it was pounding on the bell button. Jamie! Elsa had not spoken with her old friend in over a year, and though thrilled by the prospect of a renewed relationship, she was hesitant to open the door. Jamie and Elsa had grown up close as sisters, raised in the same house on the isolated agricultural commune founded by their mothers. As similar as their mothers were, Jamie and Elsa had been as different as night and day when they were children. Though this made for a carefree relationship when they were young, they drifted away during their teens. Jamie shared the Sisterhood’s green-earth Neo-Dianic beliefs; Elsa preferred femininity to feminism. Jamie had reacted coolly when Elsa left at the age of eighteen to seek a life outside the commune. The subsequent visits home 12

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elicited only mockery; and when Elsa had brought Robert to introduce him to her family, Jamie had treated him with the same contempt as any of the others. He was a prison guard, a republican, and his alpha-male character complimented that reticent and feminine nature Charlotte had so long ridiculed in her daughter. The Sisterhood had come to their wedding later that year, garbed in their jeans and tie-dye shirts, and Charlotte had refused to dance with her new son-n-law. However, it was Jamie who stood up at the banquet table and made the toast Elsa would never forget. “May the goddess have mercy on you, my sister, and open your eyes to this slur you commit to all women.” It had brought a silence to the festivities. Incensed by the condescending insult, Elsa had asked Jamie to leave. Jamie obliged, and the entire Sisterhood departed with her. The last words Charlotte bequeathed her daughter before going had been the announcement that Elsa had shamed her. Now her old friend showed up at the front door. Elsa glanced to the driveway and that Jamie hadn’t even walked from the solitary mountain, but had taken the brown Ford Explorer, the only vehicle the Sisterhood owned. Well, besides her mother’s nearly expired Volkswagen van. Elsa was perplexed, and knew as well, that unless by some miracle her friend had mellowed out since the wedding. Jamie was likely to foam at the mouth to see how Elsa dressed in the privacy of her home. Robert didn’t want any of the Sisterhood in their home; that he’d made abundantly clear. Yet, as the doorbell continued to whine, Elsa tensed guiltily. Their friendship, even if it was soured now, was one of the few good memories she had from her childhood. If only she could have forgotten Robert didn’t want her 13

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to open the door to any of them! Suddenly the doorbell stopped ringing. “Elsa! Yoo-hoo!” Elsa took a cleansing breath, and going to the door, opened it enough to peer out. Jamie’s face lit up with something that reminded Elsa poignantly of the old friend she remembered. “I was starting to think hubby had you chained to the oven or something!” Elsa smiled back timidly. “Just a moment—let me slip something over myself.” “Gosh, like we haven’t seen each other naked before!” With a wink, Jamie pushed the door open and stepped past her into the house. Elsa shut the door. As Jamie eyed the front room furnishings, Elsa saw that her old friend’s taste in fashion hadn’t changed one bit in all the years since they were teens. As if trying to detract from her sumptuous figure and attractive face, Jamie’s upper body was draped in a tee shirt stamped with an eyesore Grateful Dead logo. She wore a pair of wrinkled khaki shorts that ended in shreds at her knees. On her feet were a pair of canvas tennis shoes; so filthy Elsa could only guess the original color. Above her right ankle was a tattoo Elsa had never seen before, a tiger inside a circlet of green, which was crested by a fisted feminine hand. Jamie’s strawberry-sheen auburn hair was in painful need of brushing. Her once smooth fair skin was scaly from repeated sun burns. She was still pretty, but no older than Elsa was; her neglected face was beginning to wrinkle before its time. Elsa rued this, but not surprised. The Sisterhood deemed regular grooming and the pampering of the body a custom that lesser women performed for the 14

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vanity of keeping a man’s interest. Their idea of being a real woman was avoiding women as this, and everyone else considered ‘conventionalist.’ They worked themselves to exhaustion to prove they didn’t need the outside world, especially the males that abided in it. During the spring and summer, while the children worked in the commune’s fields, the Sisters toiled in such endeavors as making cheese and berry wines, as well as bringing down timber from the woodland surrounding their farm. Not that the women had much talent for lumbering, and the perpetual structural problems with their cabin homes evidenced the skill of their carpentry. Elsa sighed to think of this, and all the things she and Jamie had missed as kids; like plumbing and trick-ortreating, school dances and immunizations. It all seemed so silly to her now. But Jamie was evidently comfortable with the lifestyle, and so she committed herself not to be rash in judgment, as her own mother had so eagerly been with her. “Interesting,” Jamie commented stringently. She was eyeing the framed reproduction hanging over the couch against the wall: a baroque image of a nude Psyche being carried off by Cupid. Jamie sniffed. “I came in to place an order at the garden center,” she said, and spinning about, the next word hung in her gaped mouth. “Good goddess! Your mother was right!” Elsa sighed, and shaking her head, gestured toward the couch. “It is good to see you, Jamie. Just be polite, ok?” She walked to the couch, sat down, and patted the seat invitingly. Jamie’s mouth still gaped and she rolled her eyes. “Look at how you’re dressed, Elsa!” “We’ve seen each other naked before, remember? This 15

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is hardly…” “Hardly humane! Don’t you see what kind of sicko you’ve bonded yourself to, Elsa?” “It is my choice, Jamie. I broke the bonds of the commune, of the lifestyle my mother and your mother raised us in. They chose the lifestyle they wanted, and now I’ve chosen mine. And you’re just going to have to be woman enough to accept that.” “Woman enough?” Jamie folded her arms and stared at Elsa, her mouth turned up in the same condescending smile she’d had when Elsa announced her acceptance of Robert’s marriage proposal. “Your mother is regrettably right,” Jamie continued. “You have forgotten what it’s like to be an empowered woman.” Elsa smiled. “Really? I left on my own, made my way in a world alien to all I knew. Without the help of anyone. I discovered my own needs and desires, and proved strong enough to pursue them. Just what our mothers did. The only difference is that I won’t try to force my lifestyle on anyone else—and especially not my children. This is empowerment, Jamie.” Jamie’s eyes rolled again and she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “What propaganda has that pig been feeding you, girl?” “Oh, please, Jamie! You know me; you know what I sought in a man long before I was married. Be my friend, like when we were kids. I accept you, you accept me. No judgment, no quarrel.” Jamie walked to the couch, squatted at Elsa’s feet, and patted her knees. “We were ignorant children, then. Look at me! I don’t need a man to make me feel secure!” Elsa smiled and touched her cheek affectionately. “No, no, never that. You have the commune to shield you from 16

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the world.” Jamie’s mouth pursed to make a hard caricature of a smile. “I’d hoped not to find you this way,” she sighed. “Unfortunate.” Her eyes trailed over Elsa, taking on an odd gleam. She blinked sympathetically as she said, “You may have been a fool, but providence was gracious to bring me here today.” The nape of Elsa’s neck prickled. “What did you really come by for?” Jamie sat down beside her. “Charlotte wants an explanation … for all this. Why you renounced us all.” “Well, hell, all she has to do is remember my wedding.” “Oh, when you told me to leave. And why—for wishing you your senses back?” Elsa took a long breath, pushing her mounting impatience aside. “Look, why don’t we just put an end to this? Let Mom deal with her insecurity over my lifestyle choice, and you just accept my happiness?” “Happiness? You’ve got to be kidding.” “I am happy, Jamie.” Jamie snorted and patted Elsa’s thigh as if she were an ignorant child. Her eyes batted as she contemplated Elsa again, and the warm, moist pads of her fingers trailed Elsa’s flesh. “Well, Charlotte is convinced you’ve been brainwashed. She’s ready to have the committee take a vote tonight on whether or not to simply take you out of this suburbia doll house and have you exorcised of this man’s propaganda.” Elsa felt as if she’d just swallowed a boulder. Neither of their mothers had ever been above employing dirty methods to validate their dogma. Whether it was phoning in bomb threats to strip clubs or mailing death threats to fashion models, once their fanatical emotions were roused to what they deemed a worthy cause, there were frail limits 17

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to what they would do. “You’re talking illegal abduction plain and simple.” Jamie offered another smile, this one even more condescending than before. “Seeing you now, dressed up like ‘sex-slave Barbie’, I understand Charlotte’s shame.” Elsa’s patience at last snapped and she jumped to her feet and pointed to the door. “Look, if you are too intolerant to accept me as I am, go home, Jamie. I had enough of Mom and her browbeating and threats to last a lifetime. Go hide yourself at the commune. While away your time eating bean sprouts, or send another hate letter to Penthouse. Just get out of my house and leave me alone.” Jamie stiffened and the sunburn paled in her face. “You make fun of me, you trifling little housewife! Make fun of me and you’re mocking the proud women who have set the model for all women who seek liberation from the yoke of male oppression!” She stiffened and narrowed her eyes on Elsa hatefully. But her voice was imperiously calm as she recited one of Charlotte’s familiar laments, “You are a traitor to your gender, Elsa!” Elsa said nothing, but narrowed her own eyes. Jamie rose slowly, and suddenly her hands shot out and she clamped Elsa’s arms. Before Elsa could think, Jamie pulled her off the couch and threw her on her back to the floor. “I wasn’t kidding, sex kitten. There’ll be a vote this very night! And if they decide to bring you in, what little is left to that mind of yours will be cleansed of the propaganda that has ruined your senses. They’ll see to it you bow to the goddess Diana, willingly, penitently, and never again shall you know pleasure at pain’s biding … except, perhaps, for the guilt you’ll rightfully carry while reclaiming your emancipation from slavery.” Elsa’s heart thundered angrily above her fear. She stood 18

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up from the floor and slapped Jamie’s face before even realizing she had. “I said get out!” Jamie’s lips pressed together tightly and she shoved Elsa again; so hard this time Elsa stumbled over the magazine rack on the floor. With a hiss, she got to her feet and ran at Jamie, yanking a handful of hair and kicking her shin. Jamie squealed out and slammed a fist into Elsa’s throat. She fell onto the floor, woozy and hurting too much to breathe. But when the black dots dispersed from her vision she screamed and bolted up, and slammed her weight into Jamie so that the girl fell into the couch. Elsa thrust a knee into her weighty breasts and volleyed Jamie’s forehead and temples with her open palms. The slaps resounded against Jamie’s roar, and Elsa backed off, panting, ready to run to the telephone if she still refused to go. Jamie bowed over, rubbed her head with her hands, and shuddered several times. Elsa was shocked at the tearful sound that erupted from the girl. She hadn’t heard Jamie cry since they were only tiny things. “Jamie,” she stammered, and approached her gently and touched her shoulder. “Oh, sweetie, please!” Jamie’s feet shot forward and the soles of her shoes landed straight into Elsa’s stomach. The breath was knocked from her, and raising her eyes, she saw Jamie rise up. Before the girl could touch her again Elsa struck out with an elbow, striking Jamie’s jaw with a flat crack. Jamie’s head snapped to one side and Elsa snatched her hair and pulled her face back. She glared into Jamie’s eyes, more dismayed and angered than she’d ever been in her life. “Get out of my home, damn it!” Jamie’s clenched fists shook at her hips, but her mouth curled up in a malicious smile. 19

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“I’ll be happy to, and give my favoring vote at the assembly tonight, along with my personal observances of this lifestyle you lead. It should help stress the point that, indeed, fast action is required in your situation.” Elsa bristled at once with alarm. As difficult as it was to believe Jamie had become so ruthless, she knew somehow that her old friend would carry out this threat. Even stronger than her fear of being kidnapped and brainwashed for the sake of her mother’s vindication, she worried what terrible schemes Charlotte would next carry out upon her hated son-n-law. Letting go of Jamie, she shook her head awkwardly, convinced all she needed was the right words to dissuade Jamie, to blink out the mad lights that danced in the girl’s blue eyes. What those words were, however, Elsa could not imagine. “I can, of course, keep my silence,” Jamie grinned with a leer. “At the right price.” Elsa blinked, stunned. “You want money?” Jamie rolled her eyes again and tittered huskily. “I wouldn’t take anything that chauvinist pig earned. But have no doubt the Sisterhood will come, in stealth and without being seen, and take you away. You’ll be put in a small shed with a very bright fluorescent tube burning day and night, with only the sound from a pair of speakers set outside to keep you company. Hour after hour you’ll listen to the Sisterhood’s Creed and passages from The Feminine Mystique blaring through the timbers. And we both know I’m not exaggerating here, don’t we?” Elsa refused to nod, though she knew this was no meaningless threat. Her heart fluttered and she tried to think of what she could do. Even if she succeeded in getting to the phone and calling for the police just to scare the girl off, Charlotte would only take such an action as 20

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further justification for her vile plan. “Yes, you can still influence my vote, submissive little housewife.” Elsa stared at her mutely and Jamie continued. “Instead of an unpleasant reunion with Charlotte, you could simply give me that carrot you held out in front of my eyes for so many years.” Elsa was confused. “What are you talking about?” Jamie made a mockery of a pout, and reaching out, flipped the bells of Elsa’s nipple clamps. The rude touch made Elsa’s breasts twang painfully. Elsa’s impatience flared and it took all her restraint not to strike the blackmailing Jamie. “Tell me exactly what it is you want.” A brazen smirk lit up Jamie’s face, and her eyes pored over Elsa’s body in a way that was discomforting. Elsa frowned and folded her arms over her breasts. Jamie laughed. “Why remain a man’s whore, when we can share so much, Elsa?” “I am no one’s whore,” Elsa said hotly. Jamie laughed suddenly, grabbed Elsa’s arm, and pulled her roughly down onto the couch. Before Elsa could think, Jamie tore the loops off her breasts and threw them into the carpet somewhere. Elsa’s hands flew up to shield her panging nipples. Jamie glowered at her arrogantly. “The goddess Diana gave men as our resources, like livestock and timber. And you know as well as I, that no woman can know lawfully, let alone, satisfying pleasure except with another woman.” “My god,” Elsa hissed, “not even my mother uses that hateful religion to closet her penchants! So much for the courageous Amazon!” Jamie slapped her with a chapped palm. 21

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“You were always the most hateful of teases,” she sneered. “But time for teasing is over!” Elsa could hardly believe what she was hearing. Tease Jamie? Why, she hadn’t even known until now the girl had any desires for her. Tears welled in Elsa’s eyes, for she could not forget how close they’d been once. Why, if the girl had just told her, well, who knew what might have happened? Not that she was in love with her, but she had loved. If it had been affection Jamie needed, or even someone to demonstrate that she was desirable, Elsa would have been more than happy to have been there for her. Jamie knelt to the floor, and her fingers roamed up Elsa’s thighs, stroking the tender flesh above the stockings. “Does this scanty little wardrobe make you feel more exposed than without anything at all?” Elsa flushed tensely. Even if she could have replied to the baleful girl, she would have refused. She bit her bottom lip as Jamie curled the thatch of fair hair at Elsa’s pubis. Jamie’s eyes were glazed and brazen as she purred, “Oh, yes, I am sure it does.” She parted the nether folds of flesh, and Elsa’s face scalded as Jamie massaged the rosy inner lips between her thumbs. Elsa flinched. She’d been with other women, but never blackmailed into it. “No, please,” she whispered. Jamie bowed her head between Elsa’s thighs and breathed on the delicate hood of her clit. With a flick of Jamie’s tongue, the tiny organ roused. Jamie licked it, igniting a blaze deep inside Elsa’s pussy, which by right and consent belonged solely to her husband. Elsa shuddered regretfully; fearing that even against her will, the pleasure she felt was a betrayal to him. And when she tried to dart away from the probing tongue and massaging fingers, Jamie clenched the roots of her pubis hair until she sat still. 22

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“Much better,” Jamie murmured and yielded her hold. “Now, spread those lovely legs.” Elsa’s heart beat wildly as she obeyed. Jamie buried her face deeply against her sex, and sucked on Elsa’s clit until it pounded against her ravenous lips. Using her tongue, Jamie drummed little coaxing circles about the organ. It billowed and throbbed under the pressure, and to her chagrin, Elsa felt her fluids flow. Jamie touched her fingertips to the moist lips and pressed her forefinger through the pulsating fount. Elsa gasped and flinched again, but Jamie slid in a second finger. Vigorously, she stroked the silken orifice, as with her lips she continued to suckle the quaking clit. Elsa sighed tearfully against the mounting pleasure; her head sank back on the back of the sofa. How she yearned to touch and grope her own raw, taut nipples. Her wet pussy almost rose to her violator as the tormenting fingers plummeted again and again. When Jamie’s knuckles pressed against her pulsating, needy core, Elsa moaned. She blushed, but her shame did not stop her hips from moving in rhythm with the fucking fingers. She panted and moaned; her clit throbbed wildly toward climaxing. Just as she reached the threshold of an orgasm, Jamie looked up and drew her hand away. Elsa’s eyes widened. Her heart pounded as she watched Jamie cast off her tee shirt. Her breasts were immense, milky orbs, her aureoles huge beige saucers about her nipples. Jamie yanked down her shorts and grabbed one of Elsa’s braids. “Kneel!” Elsa complied, trembling, and Jamie pressed her chin up so she was staring into the strawberry auburn hair between Jamie’s thighs. Two moist, crimson lips puckered through 23

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the copse, perfumed with the heavy musk of Jamie’s passion. Jamie stroked her fingers through the curls and brushed a thumb against Elsa’s lips. “Service me,” she said huskily. Too intimidated to protest, Elsa unveiled the wet pussy lips. Jamie’s enormous clit beat bulged like a glistening stone. With a regretful pang in her breast, Elsa clasped Jamie’s hips firmly and kissed her heated flesh, and darted her tongue over Jamie’s clit. It quivered and Jamie moaned softly and let go of Elsa’s braid. While Elsa darted a finger, then a second through her slit, Jamie gathered up her own breasts in her hands and suckled the great nipples like lollipops. Elsa delved further into the pussy and hearing Jamie’s lusty sigh she began to thrust her fingers in and out as deeply and methodically. Jamie moaned and her back arched, her nether muscles contracting against Elsa’s flesh. Jamie’s hips strained to meet each penetrating stroke. “Faster! Deeper!” Elsa complied, obediently, and Jamie writhed. Her juices lathered down Elsa’s hand and her flesh dotted with sweat. Sensing the woman was reaching a climax Elsa fucked her even harder. Jamie let out a wanton moan and her pussy constricted savagely. She shuddered as the orgasm continued, and looking up, Elsa saw Jamie’s mouth had drawn up in a tight little bow and her face was the same hue as her flushed pussy. “Oh, sweet Diana!” Jamie uttered weakly. She clenched both of Elsa’s braids in one hand and sank back on the couch. She was smiling, but her eyes glimmered greedily. “You’re coming back with me today,” she said. A quiver of ice bolted through Elsa’s stomach. “No,” she pleaded, “you promised!” 24

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“Promised? There were no promises made, traitor. But I’ll promise now to make a good report of your husband to Charlotte, if it’ll keep the tears from ruining that sweet face.” Elsa gasped and sought for words to plea with, but the arrogance beaming in Jamie’s face confirmed that there was no chance Jamie was going to change her mind. “Now,” Jamie said, “kiss my feet.” Aghast, Elsa shook her head. It wasn’t enough for Jamie to blackmail her, now she would demand a physical pretense of the fealty she had pledged willingly to her husband. Tears singed the corner of Elsa’s eyes. She closed them then and remembering that vile little remark Jamie had made about providence, prayed now that Jamie’s hard heart would simply stop pumping. The next instant she heard the knob of the front door turn. Jamie gasped as the door opened. Elsa looked and saw Robert walking in. Jamie pushed Elsa away and jumped to her feet, snatching her shorts up just as he slammed the door. “What the hell is going on here?” He approached them on heavy feet and looked down at Elsa sternly. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The tears spilled down her cheeks now, and the reassuring solidity of his face silenced the fear Jamie had brewed. “She came to say I’d be abducted, sir, and brainwashed by the Sisterhood, unless I complied!” His dark eyes bore down on Jamie. “You blackmailing harpy!” Jamie’s face was blanching now, yet she managed to 25

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smirk. “She pleaded for it, you stupid pig!” Robert’s face flushed angrily, but his words were even, “I will always believe my wife, Jamie, and I’d have to be more stupid than you to believe a member of the Sisterhood would enter this home for any decent motive.” Jamie’s mouth pressed into a line of glowing white fire. Suddenly she leaped forward, clawing at his face with what nails her fingers had. Robert grunted and brought his hands up between her forearms and flung them apart. She screamed, and he backhanded so that she spun away from him and tottered over the couch. Jamie spat out a curse word, but before she could turn he shoved her down onto the couch atop her still naked breasts. Seizing her arms, he pinned them behind her, and taking the handcuffs from his belt, manacled her wrists together at the small of her back. Then he slid her back so that she kneeled over the seat, and pressed his hand over her back to prevent her from rising to her feet. Jamie grunted hatefully. “I’ll report you, you bastard!” “And tell them, what? You’re already on probation for threatening a clerk at the electric company, and for vandalizing and defacing public property along with half the damned Sisterhood. Do you really think Elsa will have trouble proving her charges in court?” Jamie hissed, bringing a humorless smile to Robert’s face. He wrenched her shorts back down and kicked her legs apart. He regarded her bared vagina and patted her still throbbing clit with his forefinger. Jamie stiffened and growled. Robert responded by slapping her sodden pussy. Jamie’s teeth bared, but Elsa could tell by her frustrated frown and the sway of her hips that mounting passion had blended with her repulsion. Robert’s voice was thick with his own distaste, “Men are only stupid, loathsome beasts to the Sisterhood, aren’t 26

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we?” Elsa watched as he opened the fly of his pants. Pushing down his shorts, Robert clenched his cock and pressed the head of it against Jamie’s thigh. He stroked the shaft so that it stiffened into a thick, scarlet javelin that hammered against her flesh. Jamie muttered testily, and yet her back arched upward and her sex strained toward him. Elsa’s heart accelerated with worry; but when Robert looked to her, she understood at once that he held no desire for the hateful woman bowed before him. The smoldering passion burning in his eyes were for her alone; and under his imperious discernment, her desire for him stoked more fiery than ever. He looked down at Jamie again, and smacked the fount of her pussy with his iron-hard organ. But Elsa caught the guile underlying his voice as he inquired, “Want me to fuck you, Jamie? To glut that drenched pussy for all its worth?” Jamie’s eyelids half closed. “Yes! Do it, screw me!” Robert made an amused sound and grasped her wide hips. He stroked her clit with a fingertip, once, twice, so that she moaned decadently, just before grasping her ass cheeks firmly. He pried the fleshy buttocks apart and aimed the head of his cock to the opening of her anus. Jamie’s head jerked to one side and she looked at him suspiciously. “Wait, what is it you’re doing?” No sooner had she uttered the question than Robert’s back straightened and he plowed into the tiny orifice. Jamie pitched forward with a shriek. She tried to lift herself up from the knees, but Robert clamped her hips securely with his hands and began to pump her anus. Jamie yowled through her teeth and her fingers at her back curled into claws. She spit out a vehement thread of obscenities, to which he answered by grabbing her hair back like a rider taking the reins of a horse. 27

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“Doesn’t feel so good to be used against your will, does it?” Elsa was shocked, grateful, and vindicated. Even so, she couldn’t help but take pleasure in ogling her husband’s flexing sinews and taut buttocks as his cock thrust in and out of Jamie. While Jamie endured her merited reward, Elsa’s lust heightened. She settled on one hip and spread her legs, and glided her fingertips across her damp, starved sex. Her nipples swelled again and her clit quickened. This she massaged eagerly, until suddenly her husband shot her a stern look. Immediately, she bowed her head and closed her flaring thighs. Jamie lay quailed over the couch cushion, the sulky purse of her lips the only indication of her ire and abashment. Robert humped her with a rocketing force. Then, after a grunting final lunge, he withdrew and yanked his cock with one hand until his cum spilled out over Jamie’s backside. He smiled humorlessly, and with his right hand, pulled Jamie’s hair until she rose to her knees. With a rough tweak to her nipples, he stood and drew his shorts and pants back up. When he was dressed again he helped Elsa to her feet and kissed her tenderly. “Are you alright?” She nodded, smiling and accepted his embrace happily. Eyeing the humbled Jamie, she asked him what he planned on doing with her. “She can go back to the commune,” he said. He touched Elsa’s nipples. “She took off your clamps? Well, we’ll find them later. Right now, pick up the bitch’s clothes.” Elsa retrieved the garments from the floor and watched as Robert unlocked the handcuffs from Jamie’s wrists. He spun her about, and she at once threw her arms about herself modestly. Her face was flushed; her mouth pinched and hard, but she would not raise her eyes. 28

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“Throw them outside,” Robert told Elsa. Elsa caught Jamie’s eyes widen and all the color drain from her cheeks. But Elsa could feel no sympathy for her now, and as she tossed the items out the door some of the pain Jamie had instilled in her vanished. Robert spoke coldly to Jamie, “Tell Charlotte and the rest of those harpies at the farm, I’m not without friends over at the police department. The commune will be watched, and no one is going to break into the sanctity of this home, nor kidnap my wife or scare her into leaving. “People in this country are getting fed up with those who abuse our rights, Amazon. Whether birthed from religion, politics, or supercilious gender philosophy, terrorism just isn’t going to find the tolerance it once did. So high-tail it back and tell Charlotte she’d better call off her bitches if she gives one iota about keeping them from facing legal charges.” Jamie exhaled and looked to the door. Her chin rose proudly as she curtly swept her hair back over her shoulders; her pace assured as she walked past them to the door. As she turned the knob and drew it back an inch or two, she looked back at Elsa defiantly. “You’ve blown your chance for liberation, traitor. Don’t ever come crying to me when your slavery finally dawns on you!” Elsa felt a twinge of pity for her old friend. “Jamie, you can’t liberate those who are already free.” Jamie snorted and stuck her tongue out at the two of them, then flung the door open wide and bolted out. She slammed the door behind her so hard it banged against the frame and swung ajar. Moments later Elsa listened as the door of the Ford slammed as well, and the engine roared. The tires screeched as Jamie pulled out of the driveway and backed out into the street. 29

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Robert walked to the door and closed it gently. After turning the bolt he came back to Elsa and drew her into his arms. They were constant, these familiar, loyal arms; his unconditional devotion far stronger than any threat Jamie or the Sisterhood could ever offer. “Are you sure you’re ok? She didn’t hurt you?” “No,” Elsa whispered. “Thank god I finally decided to take that overdue afternoon off.” She hugged him savagely, appreciating him more than she ever had. Yet, she knew an uncertain regret, as if there was something she could have, and should have done. And as if sensing her thoughts, Robert whispered, “I don’t blame you, sweetheart, and don’t blame yourself for what that woman did. To do so will only leave your mind open to another, more insidious form of rape.” Elsa nodded. He was right; her mother had raped her mind via guilt repeatedly when she was too young and vulnerable to see past or flee from the propaganda. She liked who she was now, and secure in her lifestyle choices—a consensual submissive to her loving man. She had embraced the strength her mother had always rejected: to live her life as she wished, and to do so without seeking to tell other women how to live their own. Robert smiled down at her, stroked her cheeks, and kissed her again. His taste filled her, weakening her legs and fanning the lust that had abided with her since the first time they’d met. “You realize, though, I haven’t forgotten that I told you never to let her in our home.” Drunken by his masculine scent, she nodded gleefully, not understanding the implication of his words until he took her hand and led her toward the couch. Her breast thundered with a new fear as he sat down and pulled her 30

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over his knees. Her arms fell over his left leg and her belled nipples chimed over the carpet, as her high-heels dangled over the other side of his lap. With his left hand, he caught her braids back and held tightly, as with the fingers of his right he stroked her from the top of her spine down to the tip. He patted her buttocks and the heat of his palm made them tense nervously. “Jamie’s responsible for what she did,” he told her. “But you were disobedient to open our door to her.” “Yes, sir,” she said miserably. His palm patted her more firmly. “There’ll be no more opening the door to the unwanted, will there?” “No, sir!” “There better not be,” he said. He raised his hand high and brought his outstretched palm down smartly across her buttocks. Elsa whimpered fretfully, but the sound held no power over his resolution. He punished her thoroughly with smart, even blows that made her plunging breasts jiggle and her feet toss. Soon her buttocks were searing, but on and on the punishment continued. When her backside throbbed entirely she couldn’t help but cry out, and pitched her hip to the left in an attempt to escape his hand. Her attempt accomplished nothing but to make his delivery even brisker and more determined. The sound of her correction resounded upon the walls. She cried now, as much for having displeased him so, as for the splaying pain itself. “Are you going to obey me concerning who comes into this house,” he asked, his palm still cracking loudly over her buttocks. “Yes, sir, oh yes!” Robert dealt out another swift volley of spanks before his hand quelled. Still holding her braids firmly, he touched her swollen pussy lips. She knew she was slick, and 31

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blushed behind her tears, and as he began to fuck her with one finger, her back arched and her heated sex rose pleadingly toward him. She moaned softly, her nipples hardening to aching pebbles as he teased her with deliberately slow, teasing strokes. When he withdrew at last, her pussy muscles pulsated madly, and he gave her fount a quick spank that sent a current of fire into her needy clit. “No, oh, no,” he whispered in a husky tone, and letting go of her braids, set her on her feet again. She stood before him meekly, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Now, you will march straight into the sunroom and paint, while I go wash the filth of that woman off.” Elsa’s suffering lust made her voice quiver, “Yes, sir.” She went straight to the sunroom, and once there, massaged her sore behind. Her buttocks scalded against her hands. But she had little time to feel sorry for herself as she heard Robert coming through the hall on the way to the bathroom. She threw on her smock and rolled the vinyl table containing her supplies toward the easel. As she started to stir the oils, the last remnants of the ugly, painful incident with Jamie transposed to her work. The brushes moved as if by the will of something beyond her scope; executing the delicate yet bold strokes she had tried to attain for many years. When Robert came in after a time she had to pull herself out of the magical state she’d been swept. She stepped away from the canvas and looked at the picture she’d finished, truly looked at it, and gasped to realize it was completed. Not only completed, but exactly what she’d dreamt of conveying; flawlessly and without hint of embellishment or 32

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understatement. “Pretty,” Robert mused. He laid an arm about her shoulders and kissed her cheek. She nodded silently and smiled. But she could hardly take her eyes from the scene: the lush woods; the clear sparkling fountain; the nubile girls lost to everything but their impassioned liaison. In the sky that peeked through the branches lusty Ur’theriems glided on their ethereal wings. The silken petals of the jasmine seemed to be unfolding right before her eyes. Through the trees, she spotted an image she’d somehow forgotten she’d included. It fascinated her, drew her attention from all else. Four Nemian guards; two pairs, passing the other as they walked through the verdant shades. The pair headed away from the fore ground carried an empty cage between them. The other two carried another cage. This one was not empty, however, but was occupied by a kneeling girl. Elsa drew closer and scrutinized the picture. The girl peered back over one shoulder, her sunburned brow was furrowed angrily and through her breeze-tossed auburn hair, Elsa saw her lips were open in a mortified circle. Jamie. “How fitting,” Robert said steadily. “Ironic, wouldn’t you say?” Elsa grinned and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “Oh, more so than you know right now. You stay and put your John Hancock to it and then go wash up. I’m going to watch a little television before I start dinner, so behave yourself. I mean it, no playing with yourself.” She looked at him and blushed under his inflexible regard. “Yes, sir.” 33

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“Oh, I found these.” He raised his hand and unfolded his palm, revealing her delicate golden nipple clamps. “Don’t forget to put them back where they properly belong after you’ve bathed.” Robert grilled up a couple of chuck-eyes to go with his blue-ribbon winner potato salad, and Elsa’s favorite bread, Texas toast baked with Parmesan. They had dinner on the sofa in the sunroom that evening, and Robert told Elsa all the latest gossip from the prison. Elsa had plaited her hair again after her bath, and while they ate he stroked the length of the two braids, occasionally giving her hips a playful swat with the ends. She knew instinctively as well as from experience that after her punishment he’d forgiven her for letting Jamie in. If he spanked her again it would be for a completely unrelated indiscretion. When the meal was over, Elsa took the plates into the kitchen. She threw away the scraps, filled the dishwasher, and cleaned the counters. She had just finished drying the hexagon island and put up the towel when Robert came up and folded his arms about her. He drew her back tightly against himself and nestled his mouth into her collarbone. He kissed her leisurely, inciting a fiery breeze coursing through her. Elsa whimpered lustfully. Her ass danced against his crotch and she felt his cock rise under his pants to poke stiffly against her buttocks. Robert cupped her breasts with his hands, and kneaded them slowly. He flicked the clamping loops lightly, only enough to make the bells jingle brightly and her nipples to bulge within their golden restraints. Elsa moaned and lifted her face to him. He kissed her upturned mouth, inhaling the last of her tortured composure so that she could no longer resist begging. “Take me, sir, take me, please!” 34

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He rocked his loins against her deliberately. “Is this the way a slave-girl speaks?” Elsa murmured an apology. In truth, she was lost to all but his taste and the feel of him pressing against her. He growled softly into her ear. Lifting her by the waist, he set her upon the island on her belly. Her sore breasts dangled over the far side between her draping arms, and her feet swung between the island and her husband. He stroked her legs, from the bands of her thigh-highs all the way to the straps of the high-heeled sandals. So smooth was his touch her flesh tickled. As he rose up again he traced the swollen mounds of her vulva with a fingertip and suckled the delicate flesh between her buttocks and thighs. He slid two fingers into her pussy, jolting her entire sex with ravenous fire. Elsa’s feet beat the air fretfully, and laughing tenderly, he drew back his hand and gave her several light spanks. “You are my love, Elsa,” he said, “whether in this world, the next, or any place else.” Her breast panged joyfully, but before she could reply, she heard him unzip his pants. He opened her thighs far apart and pressed his cock to her pussy. The enormous head pressed tensely against her drenched fount. And grasping her hips, he penetrated forcefully. Elsa gasped at the molten fill of him, her sex rising as far as it could to meet his hammering thrusts. Her body rocked as his pelvis pounded against her, her nether muscles molding about his plunging cock as if it were a returned and welcome part of herself. Elsa’s clit swelled and riveted, and when she climaxed the tiny organ seemed to shatter between them both. A moment later Robert’s loins lashed harshly against her opened thighs and he made a soft moan as his cum flared deep into her vagina. Elsa’s climax was long and totally satisfying. When the 35

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spasms began to wane in her nether mouth, she threw him a bashful grin. “Oh, sir! I’m head over heels about you!” He lifted her to her feet, turned her about, and drew her into his arms. “I prefer heels over head, but I’m happy either way, as long as you love me.” She hugged him tightly, adoring the feel of his heartbeat against her cheek. “I can’t help but love you.” When they had gone to bed later, Robert removed the loops from her nipples and unbraided her hair. He pulled her down to the mattress and gazed at her, combing the rippling blonde locks through his fingers. “I love you, Elsa. I don’t say it enough, but I do.” She nodded. “I know. But it is nice to hear.” He kissed her locks in his hand and then her ear. His mouth browsed over her face so that it tingled, and deftly to the cleft of her throat. As he gathered her breasts into his hands and nursed them, Elsa thought how dear he was to her. A powerful lion tamed only by his love for her. Elsa’s hands moved under his belly, stroking the soft, thick hair. His cock was half erect, its skin languid silk to her touch. A droplet of cum seeped out of the head. She grasped the base of it while he fed on her breasts, and weaved her hand up and down the shaft, compelling it until it was as stiff as a steel poker and the head throbbed against her fingertips. He murmured her name and threw her arms down suddenly. “Spread those delicious legs, Elsa.” At her compliance, he turned and lowered over her with his head nestled between her legs. He gently unfolded her nether lips with his thumbs. His tongue furrowed through the tender flesh and dipped into the sore fount. As he began to fuck her with his tongue Elsa peered up at his looming 36

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cock and touched the balls. Her light touch made him quiver. She licked them, savoring the musky smell, and pulled the hardened organ to her lips. They suckled one another into a slow but fervent arousal. Robert’s tongue moved from her pussy to her clit, flicking it with ever demanding pressure, and then back it cruised to her pussy. Elsa’s hips swayed anxiously as she sought to focus her attention on him. His hips moved up and down with careful thrusts so that his engorged cock pounded perfectly through her lips. She could not speak if she tried, and this sense of stifled pleasure worked to intensify the joy his skilled mouth invoked. His lips drew tight about her clit, he bit it gently, suckled it harshly, drawing the flame of her abandon completely into the organ. She climaxed hard, so that her consciousness abandoned her for one delirious moment. When it returned his pelvis was riveting hard now over her face. She moaned steadily as his cock hammered her mouth. He kissed her clit once, then again, just before his cum erupted. Elsa shivered under its force, and massaged his tense buttocks as the salted ambrosia coursed down her throat. Moments later he knelt beside her. He inclined his head and laid it down between her breasts. His eyes closed and his voice was sweet contentment as he repeated that which was an intimate jest between them, “I shall have no slaves before you.” Elsa stroked his upturned temple. “And I shall have no masters before you.” They laughed together and Elsa kissed the crown of his head, not as a gesture of subservience, no, but as with her subservience, for the mere contentment to do so. Sometime in the night, Elsa woke up. Robert was sound asleep beside her and she kissed him, lightly so as not to 37

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disturb him, and got out of bed. She was impelled to leave the room, and walked through the house, feeling a growing odd emotion wash over her. She got a drink of water and brushed out her hair, which usually quieted her nerves when she was restless. But like lust wedded to sadness was the emotion. And that she couldn’t identify it made her all the uneasier. Walking into the front room, she turned on the overhead light. She took the magazines from their rack and paged through them. But nothing caught her attention thoroughly or bored her enough to ease the disturbing emotion. After a time she put the magazines back, and started to roam again. She wandered through the house, making mental notes of the groceries that were low. She even went to the kitchen and jotted them down on the notepad she kept just for that. When she was finished, she went to the laundry room and sorted out the clothes from the hamper that were due for washing. She heaped them into the basket and set this on top of the washer. Her mind was numb, and everything her eyes met seemed somehow faint and fragile. The walls, the appliances, the light switch, the rack with the detergents, all these things seemed so insubstantial suddenly, as if she were to reach out and touch something her fingers would simply glide right through it. She tried to shake off the silly feeling and walked some more, at last coming to the sunroom. She flipped on the floor lamp just inside the door and looked around. All silent, sweetly fleeting the objects seemed that met her gaze. The new painting beckoned silently from the easel. She yawned as she walked to it, and as her eyes lifted to the canvas it seemed the colors of the objects in the room cringed shamefully beneath the vibrant hues of the painting. 38

Bonds of Passion

As pleased as she was with what she’d done, the unexpected finishing touches still mystified her. Thoughtfully, she regarded the girl being carried away in the cage. Had it been some fancy of her subconscious that locked the image of Jamie within those bars? Was it an act of retribution, maybe an artistic way to exercise Jamie consummately from her life? Her breathing grew rapid as she contemplated the entire painting. Her breasts warmed and her pussy started to chafe with renewed passion. No, she thought, it is more than that. She remembered then Robert’s odd response when she expressed her surprise at the unexpected inclusions of the guards and cages. She scanned the picture for them, and to her shock, she couldn’t find the pair of guards approaching with the empty cage. Her skin crawled with goose flesh. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. Looking again, she gasped to see a splash of white glowing in the woods. It swelled and grew brilliantly white, and began to move in the picture. It careened through the heavy branches and suddenly propelled straight off the canvas. Elsa fell back upon the fading sunroom, and the flawless white bird flew straight into her chest before the next breath filled her lungs. The painting vanished from sight, and the furnishings of the room and the room itself was swallowed by draping darkness. **** Elsa was panting, her skin drenched over with perspiration, when at last her eyes focused. Beyond the bars she’d glimpsed through before she saw Xaqriel. He was crouched before the cage, striking a stout cane against the palm of his hand. Elsa knew she knelt in the cage now. She wondered if Robert was still asleep, and the memory of 39

Desiree Erotique

his handsome face made her eager for him again. Insatiable he’d made her, and how she loved the sweet torment of the perpetual passion he commanded. Despite the intimidating cane and the stern regard of the Archangel, she reached a hand down between her thighs and cradled her vagina. It flamed under her rapidly stroking fingers, and her heart beat so intensely her very nipples vibrated. The Archangel’s voice was divine approval, stoking her desire and validating her love for Robert with its immortal knowledge. “Now you know assurance of yourself—here and in that place?” “Yes,” she moaned. He told her to draw her hand from her sex or he would whisper things into her beloved’s ear. Things that warranted chastisements, and that chastisement would come, severely so, whether she sought it or not. She obeyed, but not without frustration. He unlocked the door and allowed her to crawl out of the cage; Elsa glimpsed a flash of white in the draping darkness. But she was tired as Xaqriel lifted her and carried her back to the floor in the chalet, and laid her down next to Robert again. She felt the Ur’theriem kneel beside them both, and her heart raced as she wondered what Robert would say or do if he awoke to find the handsome Archangel. Sweet, decadent images crossed her mind. But Xaqriel only touched her face. His affectionate sigh breezed over her and her beloved. “Sleep well, Elsa,” he said. “And forget not what you’ve discovered.” She shook her head, and couldn’t be sure if he heard her voice or not, “So many strange things, Lord, more than you know.” “Ah, but I do know,” he responded. “Fret not now, and 40

Bonds of Passion

be content to know that the tale of that wounded creature you saw, can wait for another dream in which to unveil its story.” He kissed her brow, and his affection burned more brightly now than his familiar, perpetual lust. She heard him rise, and when she looked, she saw him receded back into the Nemian ethers. She smiled drowsily and closed her eyes. “Not that I need know its story,” she whispered, “for I am home, and that is all that matters.”

To be continued…

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