Mia
Trespasses
She was lying spread out like a swastika on the bed, the covers long ago thrown onto the floor, her body glistening like a dewy, tropical flower, her chest rising and falling gently. Mona had been so right--the man was insatiable. No sooner could she assuage one erection, than he had magically stirred back to life again. Over and over, Armand had proved his virility, and his depravity, by making love to her in sexual positions that again left her sore like the day before, but in a more pleasant way.
There was a new warmth between the two of them now, one that filled Mia inside out with sensations of melting caramel, of flooding passion, of smug contentment. When her lover had seen the bruises he'd left all over her body, he had gently kissed each and every one, had made love to her with exquisite tenderness, and reduced her to a weeping, drooping tiger lily, her limp petals wrapped around his neck as he kissed the arch of hers and whispered in her ear that he was sorry, and asked that she forgive him.
Now it was early evening, the sun pondering a dip beneath the horizon for twelve hours or so, and it burned brilliantly outside, filling the world with a cherry blossom pink and a honeyed peach glow.
Armand entered the room, strolling in, casually naked and completely at ease with the possibility that someone in the building across the street might be watching through their own window. For all they knew, Mona had come home and could be staring at them through any number of windows at this very minute. But for some reason, the both of them felt that something like that would never happen.
Her lover carried two glasses of California Cabernet, chilled to perfection and fruity in flavor. He brought Mia's glass to her lips and lowered his lashes slightly, smiling a little as her lips parted much as they had to to whisper his name, the cool liquid slipping past them and down her throat. She swallowed half of the wine down, and he finished his, then set the glasses aside, leaning over her and bending down to touch the nipple of her left breast lightly with his tongue. She arched up slowly, her head sinking back into the mussed sheets, her cool, slightly damp skin giving off the aroma of an orchard ripe with fresh fruit in the springtime sun.
He could make love to her in the middle of nature; he could ravish her in the middle of the street, and he couldn't give a damn how he did it or where he did it--his need for her was that strong. It had been on the verge of malicious obsession, before their confrontation just hours ago, and now it was full-fledged--but hardly so sadistic or insensitive. He could still rape her--he had a hunger for her that would ignore any "no" from her lips --and he could still torture her, but in sweeter ways than he had been doing. He would train her his own way, and damn whatever she learned from Mona. Mona was demented anyway.
"Baby," she asked softly, her throat stretched as far back as it could go, her hand reaching out for his and guiding his fingers to the cleft between her thighs, the furry mound parting its hungry lips to take in his fingers.
He let her hand guide him, as she made him play roughly with her clitoris, the little nub swelling and turning juicier as she moaned for him, without words, and melted back against the bed. He continued to tongue her aureola, slowly pressing her nipple, on occasion, back, and then forward, feeling it harden against his tongue and smiling as she caught her breath. She graduated his manipulating fingertips to entry, sliding them into her, three of them, and just letting them follow the circumference of her channel, not letting them slide in all the way.
"It's Wednesday," Mia managed to murmur, closing her eyes and seeing herself on top of him, impaled on his sex, riding him roughly with a horse's crop in her hand, whipping the outside of his thighs with it as she rode him with shameless abandon.
The fantasy dissolved into one where she was dressed in a huge gown, with panniers and petticoats, and she had flopped herself down onto an 18th century divan. They were somewhere in Europe; she wore her hair piled high atop her head with powder, pearls and diamonds to decorate it, and a mole had been painted near her mouth. Armand had fallen to his knees, dressed in the livery of a Captain of the Guard, and of course she was Catherine the Great of Russia. Between her spread legs, Armand's tongue explored her very essence, while she felt that she would explode out of her corset and her fastenings and stays, and while a beautiful young man in his own fine uniform watched. The young man ...
"What are you thinking about?" Armand breathed against her cheek, his mouth moving to the other breast as she slid his nimble fingers in and out, in and out, slowly, her breath leaving her and her mind's eye fastened upon her private fantasy.
"You and I ..." she said, breathing in as well as she could, feeling that she was really wearing a corset, "Catherine the Great, and the Captain of the Guard ... and one of your men is watching us ... while your lips and tongue do wonderful things between my thighs ..."
"What is he going to do?" Armand removed his fingers, and at her desperate moue of protest, bent his head to the task that she imagined him to be doing. His hands resting loosely against her hips, he slid his tongue between her pouting labia, played determinedly and gently with her clitoris, and then dipped the tip into her soaking vagina.
"He's ..." As she envisioned it, she described it.
The young man advanced, and her eyes widened, gleaming with lust and with desire, watching as he sank to his knees beside her, his lips touching lightly her powdered, heaving breasts, his tongue sliding out to dip calmly into the slender cave between them. Crying out, she reached her hand out desperately to him and he took it, kissed it, and stood, letting her see, at eye level, the bulge in his trousers.
Armand did not look up, he was so intent on his ministrations. The young man removed his braided, barred and tasselled jacket, then his white cravat, and then undid his pants, pulling out of hiding a large and admirable weapon that gleamed a darkly golden red, its tip laden with an eager drop of arousal. Setting one knee onto the dusky sky blue velvet of the sofa, he responded to her parted lips by sliding his organ forward into the hot warmth of her mouth ...
"And do I notice?"
Armand looked up at her from between her thighs. She was gazing down at him, her breath floating out in hectic, soft little whispers, and her lips were glowing crimson, wet with saliva as she licked them again and again. The look on her face made him harden to an unbearable thickness, and he shifted against the sheets, closing his eyes at the pleasurable sensation the motion caused. Opening them again, he stared at her, fascinated, as she spoke to him, fantasized with him, so beautiful a vision, all spread out like a feast as if she were Venus herself, tempting the human male, daring him to taste the ripened sex of a daughter of the gods.
"Yes ..." Mia went on, painting a luscious mural of decadent games between herself, her lover, and a well-endowed stranger.
The young man was almost ready to explode; indeed, had already begun dribbling a slender amount of his seed between her lips and into her mouth, but he now removed himself, and bent to kiss his taste from her, licking his lips when he was done, and looking as if he liked the taste. He then sank back and knelt behind Armand, who had been watching the youngster intently as Mia sucked on his swollen rod.
Now, the Captain closed his eyes, and lifted upward, pulling open his trousers and offering his female lover a split-second glance at his formidable organ, before it sank, hot and hungry, between the folds of her flesh and into her dripping womb. The entry was exquisite; Mia sank back against the sofa and spread her legs as wide as they would go, watching with heavy lids as Armand pumped steadily into her.
Behind him, the young man, his sex slick from her mouth and ready for entry, spat thickly on his hand before taking hold of his jutting member. He guided it to the sensitive portal hidden between Armand's buttocks. Armand gave a shocked cry, deep in his throat, and gazed up at her, beautiful in his wounded male pride, face sweating and eyes wide. He was beautiful with the shame of knowing that he enjoyed a hard male organ deep inside his body.
"What does he do to me? Is he gentle?" Armand whispered, now removing his mouth and rising above Mia, his raging, frightening cock dripping already and leaving no doubt in her mind as to how much he wanted her.
"Not always," Mia began.
The young officer commenced his skilled rape slowly, letting the Captain get used to his size and his shape. The ribbed length of the shaft caused a ripple of perverted pleasure to run through the Captain, and this Catherine felt, her sex shuddering around his devoted cock, as the Captain pulled himself out to the very cap of his rigid member, and then plunged in again. He moved in harsh rhythm with the man who reached round to take light hold of his superior's testicles. After a few caresses, he reached farther, and squeezed his fingers into Catherine's sex alongside the Captain's rod. Catherine moaned, and stared down hypnotized by the vision of his slickened fingers rubbing inside of her and against the solid thrusting of her lover's engorged sex. Pulling them out finally, the soldier began to massage the Captain's testicles with the wetness coating his fingers. Unable to stop himself, the Captain gave a low gasp and turned his head to meet the parted lips of the officer. The young man gave a hot, wandering moan before thrusting harder between his victim's cheeks, his tongue sliding deep into the Captain's mouth.
Catherine watched patiently, her sex spread wide and puckering at the stuffing from her Captain, her eyes fixed to the young officer. The young man brushed away the hair from his male lover's face and kissed him, kissed him, turning her Captin into an animal of male dominance and submission, making him more lovely, more incredible to her, than ever before.
This was paramount to their relationship, Mia explained. If he continued to be a brute, a mad lothario as he had always been, and if he could also be loved to the point of submission, then their pleasure and their satisfaction would know no bounds.
"And then? Does the rape go on?" Armand's voice was a soft whisper, his breath hot across her lips as he pulled out of and then pushed back into her..
Mia sighed, her hips rising to welcome his own animalian thrusts, which seem so uncivilized and to which she would like to teach patience. Her lips met one nipple, and she tugged on it with her teeth, making him groan her name, and he continued to thrust, bracing himself above her, and she continued her fantasy ...
After the young man was through with kissing, he pushed the Captainforward, and Catherine welcomed his devastated body, his shaking torso, felt his lashes flutter against her skin, as she watched the young man fuck him ruthlessly. The boy's hips rotated and rocked arrogantly, his face wicked and intent on the picture of the man that he was violating and the woman that watched. The orgasm did not come for any of them. It was as if they had all silently agreed to prolong the pleasure until they absolutely could not withstand any more.
So the young stud pulled out of the Captain, who slowly raised his humbled body up and away from Catherine. Regaining his composure, he turned to stare at the young man, who merely smiled, then took the older man by the hips, pushing him down. Resting her hands lightly, comfortingly, on her lover's shoulders, Catherline watched the beautiful young man bend his head to the level of the Captain's hard sex and press his lips insistently against it. The older man reached out to take the boy's head as the hot mouth took him in, guiding the boy as Catherine took one of the Captain's hands and brought it to her sex. She pressed it into and against her, the delicate flesh growing more and more sensitive by the sight of the two men together. The youth's mouth, his teeth and tongue, claimed his superior's hot cock lovingly, perversely, making the older man tighten his abdomen in denial of the pleasure and clutch at the dark curls of the boy's head as if to pull him away, or maybe, push him closer ...
"And do we come? Do I spill myself into his mouth?" Armand murmured hotly, his lips against her ear, and Mia felt tears of pleasure run down her face, her cheeks flushed and her body on fire, as she gripped the sheets and spread her legs as far out as they would go, feeling her lover sink deeper and deeper into her until it seemed they were a two-backed beast, one ferocious animal, one united, salacious monster.
"Yes," Mia replied, her mouth meeting his, and she told him the ending as she felt her body build against the pressure.
The Captain of the Guard finally pushed the boy away, and before the youth could protest, flipped the officer around and mounted him in one swift motion, groaning his satisfaction as he pumped within the moist little orifice. The youth had no choice but to collapse beneath the assault. He gave a wild moan and a gasping smile to Catherine, before bending his head forward to explore her gaping lips with his own jeweled pair. From behind and beneath, the Captain's large, nimble-fingered hand began fondling the boy's cock, and all three of them closed their eyes. The Captain thrust firmly between the reddened buttocks of the officer, groaning and panting hard, his hand squeezing and massaging the young man's hungry flesh, until finally, inevitably, the three of them came, a pile of flailing limbs.
"Wouldn't the boy have left a mess?" Armand's voice was slurred, his sex still spasming inside of her own.
Mia laughed softly, limp and glowing beneath her lover in the aftermath of their own orgasm, and stroked the length of his side as he rolled back upon the bed. She lay spread out atop him, her head nestled in the crevice of his chest, his sex pressing wetly against her abdomen.
"Of course. But it's the point of every fantasy to ignore such details ... unless you have a thing for it. Maybe, it would have mattered if you couldn't stand such things, or if you actually liked to lick it up ..."
"You're disgusting." He squeezed her bottom, and kissed her temple. She smiled against his steadily rising chest.
"You didn't say that when I had him raping you." Armand made a sound of concession.
"You're right. But then again, I had a thing for that, as you put it. But not for licking things up."
"If it were between my legs? Or in my hand?"
She looked up at him mischievously, and he closed his eyes. She could tell he didn't like to think about it, because he was still a little uncomfortable with the truth. Before, it had been him who did the sodomizing, and Vincent had never had the chance to repay the injustice. But in her fantasy, it had happened, so it might as well have been the truth, because Armand had shared it with her. Now he had to admit to the fact that he liked being the victim of both women and men, equally as much.
Finally, he let out a deep sigh, and gave his answer.
"Yes. Yes, anything, of course. You've taught me a lot, Mia, more than even Mona could do. But let's leave it at that, for now, shall we? I think you've put me through enough tonight."
"Yes, Captain." Smiling, she closed her eyes and took a nap.