She let her hand rest on the knob for a moment, before turning it slowly, so that it creaked a little. She heard a tiny moan on the other side. She grinned.
She opened the door and walked in at a normal pace, as though she were returning to work from lunch. Serena was lying beside her desk, outstretched on her stomach, staring at Alex, her lips wet from tears and pink around the black gag in her mouth. Her body glistened with sweat, and she was breathing slowly and heavily.
Alex did not look at her directly as she walked to the other side of the office. She let her coat slide off her shoulders and hung it on the coat rack, along with her hat. She wore a crisp black dress shirt under thin black suspenders and slacks, all mens' cut. It was a perfect fit on her lean, 6'1" frame.
She loosened her tie a bit, and smoothed her boyish blonde hair, relishing in each deliberately slow movement, torturing from a distance.
She walked to her desk and leaned back in her reclining chair, crossing her leg over her knee. She reached into a drawer, and pulled out a box of Cuban cigars. She took her time smelling the aroma that wafted from the box, and then slowly withdrew one cigar, and placed it between her lips. She slid the box closed, and placed it gently into the dresser.
She leaned back and pulled her Zippo lighter from her pocket. The one with the angel that looked like Serena painted on it. She let the flame stand for a bit before dipping the cigar into it, and taking a few quick puffs.
As she put the lighter back in her pocket, she made eye contact with Serena for the first time. Serena was quiet, waiting. Sometimes she was more frantic, desperate for a quick release from the torture. And sometimes she immersed herself in the games, willing herself to not break so easily.
There were times when she did break anyway, and times when she didn't. It was like a test to see how far Alex could go. It led Alex to the brink of insanity of few times. That's when Serena knew she had won, and Alex would tear her bonds off and fuck her hard, till she would end up gasping for breath after a violent orgasm, her head bowed into Serena's chest, who cradled her softly, dizzy from her own orgasms.
Alex's eyes narrowed as she stared at Serena, letting smoke drift lazily through her lips. Serena's eyes were tearing and her cheeks were flushed deep red, as she panted through the gag.
She had once divulged her love of cigars to Alex over lunch one day, weeks ago, her tongue loosened by a third margarita.
"I love watching powerful people smoke cigars. It makes me feel small, and owned. There's something so self-serving about it, so solitary."
It was before she knew that Alex had a mind like a computer, storing everything she said, waiting for the perfect time to manifest her fantasy.
Alex turned to her desk, and ruffled through a few papers, which she read through for about ten minutes. Every so often, she would stare down at Serena, who still stared up at her. Alex blew smoke over Serena, and tipped a bit of ash on her full breasts, which seemed to heave directly in response.
Alex turned back to Serena, whose small body was shaking. She looked closer, and saw that Serena's arms were speckled with goosebumps. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears.
She stubbed out her cigar in the ash tray, and slid off her seat, sprawled next to Serena. Serena's breathing quickened as Alex caressed her arms lightly. She shivered and stared pleadingly at Alex.
"It took me a while to figure out what to do with you," Alex said, letting her hand fall away. "Guess that's what took me so long." She lay on her back, parallel to Serena's body, and put her hands behind her head.
"I can't imagine what you've been through, sitting here, alone and naked and bound up like that... and not even knowing what's going to be done to you. Having to think about that." She turned her body towards Serena, facing her. Serena whimpered quietly, trying to adjust her mouth into a comfortable position around the ball gag, but it was useless.
Alex brushed the backs of her fingers along Serena's cheek. Her suffering was ecstatically beautiful to watch. She smiled widely, her cheshire cat grin that always pushed Serena further into that sublime submissive headspace, a grin evil and playful all at once.
Serena's eyes rolled in the back of her head and she squirmed a bit, moaning a bit louder. Please, she seemed to be saying. Alex had her where she wanted her. With a throaty chuckle, she rested back down flat on the floor, her head still turned to watch Serena.
"You look so... fucking beautiful..." She slowly ran her eyes up and down Serena's body, petite and curvy, soft and firm. "It makes me want to do unspeakable things to you." A glimmer of her smile returned. "It is not a good night for you, my dear."
She climbed on top of Serena, and grabbed the small of her back with one hand, lifting her off the floor. With her other hand, she pulled the ball gag out, wiping the spit off Serena's gasping mouth with the back of her sleeve.
Alex kissed her deeply, still holding her back while her free hand roamed Serena's full breasts. Alex brought her face to them, reverently massaging each one with her tongue.
Serena's head was back, her body tensing up, her hips bucking wildly.
"Please, touch me Master, please," she whined, panting. "Please, please..."
Alex dropped her and stood up abruptly, leaning against the edge of her desk. She looked down at Serena, who was still pleading, writhing around her ankles. She was sticking her ass out. Alex laughed, resting a foot on Serena's ass, holding it firm in place.
"Is that supposed to tease me? Fool me into giving in?" Serena shook her head.
"No, I promise," she said.
"I think it was. I think you know me too well, little one. You know what that plump little ass does to me."
"I didn't, I wasn't," Serena stammered. Alex sighed and crossed her arms. She brought her foot to Serena's mouth, pressing the gleaming black dress shoe against Serena's lips.
"Stop that, or you will find your mouth less free than before." She took about a minute to enjoy the sight Serena's beautiful face, half covered by her narrow tipped, long shoe. She made a mental note to remember to wear clean shoes at a future date, ones that could be stuffed in Serena mouth, after she was done licking them clean.
She removed her foot and leaned down, resting her arms on her knees.
"I'm sure if you were in control, you'd be able to use that against me." She traced a few circles with her finger around Serena's clit, avoiding direct contact. Serena's moans had raised an octave.
"But you're not. And I don't like to be toyed with. Especially not by my toy. That's why we have punishments, little pet." She let her finger slip inside Serena, who shrieked and thrashed wildly. She sounded like she was trying to say something, but it was too hard to hear amongst the shrieking and crying.
"What's that?" Alex said, slowly dipping her finger in and out. "I can't hear you, you'll need to speak a bit more clearly. You just sound like a whining puppy with those little noises."
"Come," Serena gasped. "I want to come, Master."
"Who wants to come?" asked Alex, feigning confusion. She leaned her back against the leg of the desk as she continued to torturously tease Serena.
"Your pet, please. Let your pet come, it wants to come, please, it'll do anything..." Serena fell quiet, except for her shallow, quick breathing which she couldn't control.
"Anything, huh." Alex let her finger dip down to Serena's ass. "I think I'll let the anything part come before your orgasm. What do you say?"
Before Serena could open her mouth, Alex had stuffed the ball gag back in, threw Serena around and fastened it from behind.
"You knew it never mattered what you had to say," she hissed, her face right next to Serena's ear. "I'm going to teach you to appreciate an orgasm tonight."
Serena shivered. She knew what that meant. It was for when Alex wanted to watch her lose all semblance of self control, any dignity or composure, reduced to a panting animal that would sacrifice itself just to come. She should have guessed, when Alex had kept her waiting so long. Tonight would be a lesson in patienc
e, with the cruelest of teachers.
The End.
The Moon Goddess Festival
The night before the moon goddess festival, I lay in my spacious bed in my grass-roofed hut. Despite the breeze, it was a warm night, and I stayed on top of the sheets, running my hands very sensually over my nude body, visualizing and savouring all that had happened since I came to the tropical island of Vahinaki and was chosen to become the Matuatele. My whole body, my whole being, was trembling with anticipation.
I am honored as a living goddess in a Polynesian community of women, a matriarchal society based upon pagan, female-centric sex worship.
How delicious. And even better than I could have dreamed since receiving a three-year, $100,000 grant from the University of Washington to complete my Ph.D thesis in anthropology.
In just a year, I had already lived out many of my most decadent, self-indulgent, and kinky fantasies in a public setting, with beautiful, pliant native women.
There was my favourite slave, the buxom Mahina, with whom I had lain on a hillside, lapping at her cunt as she tasted mine, until two svelte moon goddess dancers came by to watch and slid sweet red berries into my slit for Mahina to devour. There was Mahina's friend, Halia, heavily pregnant and rejected by her female lover...until she came to the Matuatele to beg for my favor, and I rewarded her with my goddess tongue, knowing she too would become my slave in time.
Punishing Mahina in public for transgressing the sanctity of my chamber, whipping her in front of the village women with a jade butt plug thrust deep up her ass...that was a wonderful moment. And then my preoccupation for the last week: teaching Mahina's 19-year-old daughter Ailani and her 21-year-old friend Noelani -- the younger sister of Halia -- all about the delicious pleasures of sex between women.
On this very bed, we had all lain together naked the night before. I reclined in the middle, in true goddess fashion, my body turned toward Ailani's, kissing the tall, coffee-skinned girl deeply and breathing in the sweet fragrance of her long, dark hair. Noelani -- all warmth, giggles, and flashing eyes -- was nestled up against my buttocks from behind, stroking and kissing my body while I made out with Ailani.
"Make the Matuatele feel good, baby," I told Noelani between kisses. "Touch my beautiful pussy now, sweetheart. Don't be shy. Put your hand on a real woman's beautiful pussy -- just like I showed you on the beach yesterday. Lick your fingertips for me now...oh yeah, you make me so proud. I want you to rub me good, Noelani. Put those fingers together and rub down in a nice, diagonal line right across your Matuatele's wet clitty. Oh shit...that feels so lovely. Oh yeah, Noelani...rub me off so that I come hard, so that the whole fuckin' village can hear, while I suck your best friend's tit into my mouth..."
Tonight the girls were sleeping on separate, woven grass mats at the foot of my bed together. I could hear their gentle, contented breathing, and I was tempted, but I needed to save my strength for the moon goddess festival. At last I fell asleep myself.
During the day, all the women were busy preparing the village for the festival. Outside each hut, a small, stylized wooden idol was placed. The statuette depicted the moon goddess, her breasts proudly thrust outward, holding up a perfectly round white quartz stone, polished to a glistening sheen. Around the pole honoring the moon goddess in the village square, small pyramids of fresh fruit and vegetables were erected and wood was stacked in preparation for the sacred bonfires.
In the morning, canoes arrived from the nearby island of Nukunga, and the menfolk who lived there took the youngest girls away for the day. This ensured that the festival could unfold in the traditional spirit, the spirit I desired -- a bacchanalian, anything-fuckin'-goes orgy for women exclusively.
I had heard the tales from the women of the village council, but never experienced it myself. I could feel the excitement mounting as I walked around the village to inspect everything and confirm it was in order. Women approached me, eyes downcast in even greater submission than usual, eager to kiss my hand or foot in passing. "Thank you for representing the moon goddess here on earth," they murmured. I rode high on the sensation of power as I gracefully accepted my due.
Strolling back toward my hut, I smelled the delicious feast of pork with fresh pineapple slices that my slave Mahina had spent hours preparing. I would need plenty of strength for the excesses that were to come. As I entered, I noted with pleasure that my slave had also laid out my ceremonial robes for the evening: long, white, flowing, breathable silk adorned with depictions of the moon in her various phases, and the word "Matuatele" embroidered in small gold letters around the hem. A long slit, designed to showcase my legs tantalizingly, completed the ensemble.
Mahina was kneeling, nude with a collar around her neck, next to the table where the food awaited. Without a word of thanks, I sat down to enjoy myself and feast on the food I deserved. It felt good to see my slave knowing her place, getting the real goddess ready for the festival of a lifetime.
At length, I plucked a roast plantain from my plate, and without making eye contact with Mahina, held it out for her to eat from my fingers. When she had finished, I told her: "Go find the girls. Tell them to join me for dinner."
Mahina replied, "Of course, Matuatele." She left the room on her hands and knees. Minutes later, Ailani and Noelani hurried in, both decked out in floral-patterned sarongs. I cast an admiring eye over my young proteges and indicated they could sit at the table with me.
"I'm nervous about tonight," said Noelani, licking pineapple juice off her fingers. "Never before have I attended the festival."
"It's the same for me," Ailani said, her dark eyes flickering with concern.
I laid a comforting hand on both of them. "This is my first time too. You're going to have a wonderful time. How many girls your age can say they have served as the handmaidens of a true goddess? Stay close to me, and always remember to do what I say."
The rites began when the sun slipped below the western horizon. The women of Vahinaki assembled on the beach in the warm night as the full moon cast her bright, shimmering light across the still sea. Each wore what she desired, from light sarongs and skirts to freshly made grass skirts, like the 20 drummers who delivered a steady yet deliciously sensual undercurrent for my opening incantation.
Surrounded by flickering torches, I rose from my carved wooden throne and raised my arms toward the sky before the watching eyes of the Polynesian women. "Hear us, O Moon Goddess! We praise you for your light, for your beauty, for your rhythms that carry us through the years. As we worship you tonight at your sacred festival, we worship every woman and the power she holds within. We worship ourselves!"
Except for the torchbearers and drummers, every woman prostrated herself on the sand at my words. "Hail the Moon Goddess! Worship the Matuatele!" they chorused.
"Tonight, bless us, O Moon Goddess!" I continued, striding slowly over the sand, hypnotizing the women with my voice. "After a year of hard work, we come closer to you with a night of infinite pleasure. We celebrate your goodness in different ways, some submitting, some rising up and becoming even stronger. We celebrate our voices and our appetites. And in keeping with our carnal nature, we celebrate our bodies -- our breasts, our buttocks, our wet yearning cunts -- and we have no shame whatsoever!"
The Polynesian women were electrified. "Worship the Matuatele! Worship the Matuatele!" they chanted. One tall woman stepped out of the crowd and pulled her sarong down to her waist, fully exposing her dark-tipped breasts in the moonlight. "I have no shame!" she cried. She threw a wreath of flowers toward my throne as I remounted it. Two 18-year-old girls -- incredibly excited -- tore off their grass skirts and began to dance sensually in front of me, touching, swaying, and kissing. The volume of the drums increased.
I waved my hand, and Ailani and Noelani, among others, quickly grasped the carrying poles attached to my throne and lifted me up. "To the square!" I commanded. "Let there be dancing for all!"
Beneath the pole of the moon goddess, I joined the village women -- hundr
eds of them -- in uninhibited, sensual dancing. Next to the bonfires, beautifully trained dancers gyrated in intricate patterns, while I led the singing of lascivious, ancient Polynesian songs that celebrated the wantonness of women.
I opened up my robes and began to play with my now-thoroughly aroused cunt right in front of the crowd, encouraging others to do the same. I snatched up fresh berries and tropical fruits from the pyramids honoring the moon goddess, hungrily thrusting them into my mouth, squeezing their juices over my tits and inviting Ailani and Noelani to come and lick it off like the good girls I had made them into.
It was exciting to see one of my favourite villagers -- a 47-year-old, round-hipped seamstress with a sweet, shy smile -- aggressively approaching another woman, flirting and daring with her eyes, caressing her own breasts, thrusting her half-exposed crotch in an unmistakable gesture. She'd been too shy for too long, but at the festival of the moon goddess, she could finally get the girl she wanted.
As the drums reached a crescendo in the full moonlight, I realized there was yet another ceremonial task for me to perform. I reached deep into the right pocket of my robe, and produced a conch shell modified to serve as a horn. I blew hard into it, and the high, full, golden note brought everyone to a standstill.
"To the houses of pleasure!" I cried. "Let each one satisfy her lust to the full."
With amazing swiftness, brought on by the incredible intensity of our ritual, the women moved off beneath the moonlight toward the large huts that had been set up in a circle around the village for this night.
Each house would hold an unforgettable erotic memory for the Matuatele that night.
I took Noelani to the House of Punishment first. I felt very aroused and aggressive, my nipples standing out through my robes, and that sensation became almost overwhelming when I contemplated the kinky training that I wanted to give Noelani inside this dark house. Beyond her giggles and sweet demeanor, there was something I sensed inside her -- a latent streak of delicious, mistress-like cruelty and decadence, much like the one I'd learned to cherish in myself. It was time to bring it out of Noelani.
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