Gym Shoe

by Ivana Chopski

  Karl was closing the barn door, after checking up on his livestock in prelude to turning in for the night, when his friend, Josef, came dashing down the dusty lane that tied his humble hut to the road.

  ‘Karl! Karl!’ Josef yelled.

  Karl ran out to meet Josef, halting the panting young man in his tracks by firmly grasping his shoulders. ‘What is it, Josef?’ he asked, as his friend fought to regain his breath.

  ‘D-did Bridgette… go to the monastery tonight?’ Josef finally gasped, his frightened eyes searching Karl’s.

  Karl nodded. ‘Yes. She had some sewing to take to the brothers. She often mends their vestments.’

  ‘Oh, merciful God!’ Josef wailed, staring blindly up at the starlit heavens. ‘I-I was in the monastery just now – bringing the monks some meat they had purchased from me – and I heard… I heard…’

  ‘What did you hear!?’ Karl demanded, roughly shaking his friend.

  ‘I heard… screams coming from the cellar – where the Inquisitors do their wretched work!’

  Karl’s massive, muscular body went rigid. ‘Bridgette!?’ he hissed through clenched teeth.

  ‘I-I think so! Yes, I think it was the voice of your betrothed…’

  Karl swept Josef aside with one of his tree-trunk arms, his sky-blue eyes gone cold and bleak as winter, giant hands clenching into battering-ram fists. He raised up his mighty arms and bellowed, ‘Nooo!’

  Ever since the papal bull against witches had been unleashed in 1484, a savage wave of brutality and misery had engulfed the Low countries, sweeping up wrongly-accused young women in its crimson tide, leaving their battered bodies in its bloody wake. And now the terrible fanaticism had claimed Karl’s beloved, whom he well-knew to be no witch.

  Muscled arms pumping and powerful legs churning, he set off down the lane, racing out into the moonlit road for the monastery that lay a mere two miles beyond. His soul could be damned to the everlasting fires of Hell and back, for all he cared, before he’d let any Inquisitor torture a false confession out of his fiancée.

  The monk ruthlessly penetrated Bridgette’s asshole with his cock, shoved recklessly forward, sinking hard, unyielding meat deep inside the whimpering girl. And when his balls bounced against her ravaged butt mounds, and he was fully-buried in her hot, tight hole, his crooked mouth dropped open in exultation.

  He moved his hips, slowly at first, surging his heavy cock back and forth in Bridgette’s gripping chute. His brother beat her shuddering cheeks in time to the thrusting, handprints showing white on the seared flesh and then fading, and then not fading at all, as the fucking went faster, the blows raining down quicker. The one monk pounded Bridgette’s ass with his cock, the other with his hands, sweat pouring from their cowls down upon the blasted flesh of the assaulted girl.

  Faster and faster they went, harder and harder, the obscenely wet splashing of heated flesh against heated flesh filling the mouldering chamber. ‘Let the scalding truth of your sins reveal themselves!’ the fucking monk howled, rocking the girl with his cock, splitting her in two.

  Bridgette moaned, screamed, banged her fists on the wooden bench, one monk pumping and one monk smacking her butt, the both of them, the all of them, in a frenzy now. The fucking monk grunted, gasped, his flapping balls boiling out-of-control and blazing white-hot fire into Bridgette’s being. He jerked with the wicked intensity of his savage orgasm, the girl’s sucking ass draining his spurting cock.

  ‘Fill her with the cleansing seed of the Lord!’ the other monk wailed, before sinking his teeth into the bountiful flesh of Bridgette’s shivering buttocks.

  The taller monk pulled out of Bridgette with a pop, and staggered backwards, empty, his cock flopping its uselessness. He grabbed onto the cruel iron gate for support, slicing open a finger on one of its sharp lances. His companion quickly yanked his own robe up and steered his iron rod into the gaping opening between Bridgette’s blistered ass cheeks.

  Then, all of a sudden, the cellar door burst open, was smashed clear off its hinges, and Karl stumbled into the sunken, dank chamber. He gazed in horror at his beloved bent over the bench, her buttocks flaming, the obscenely-engorged cock of a monk oozing inside her. ‘Step away from her, you unholy bastards!’ he roared at the stunned disciples.

  They stared at the sweat-soaked colossus, watching in awe as he rushed forward. Karl seized the shorter monk by the back of the neck and jerked him out of Bridgette’s ass, preparatory to flinging him against the ancient stone wall and splitting his head open.

  He would have done so, but was arrested by the frantic voice of his fiancée.

  ‘No, Karl!’ she shrieked, twisting her head around. ‘This is how I want it! This is why I come here!’

  He froze. One look at her and he knew he would spare the depraved monk’s life. Bridgette’s desperate, indecent words sunk like lead into his fevered brain. He gazed into her shining, brown eyes. He smelled the musky scent of her dripping cunt assailing his flared nostrils, her burning bottom still undulating with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

  Now he knew why she was the way she was. He now knew the mystery of the unnamed illnesses that always followed her visits to the monastery and kept her hidden from him for days afterwards. Now it all began to make some sort of sick sense.

  ‘This is how I want it!’ Bridgette shrieked again, dark, ravenous, orgiastic lust contorting her angelic face.

  The Landlady

  by Primula Bond

  ‘I’ve come about the room.’

  I look at the pretty girl hovering on the doorstep and find myself crossing my arms, just like a cartoon landlady.

  ‘I thought with a name like Robin that you’d be a boy.’

  The girl blushes all the way from her throat to her freckled cheekbones. She shifts her backpack about. I can see her breasts jiggle under her pink vest.

  ‘You’d rather have a boy, Mrs Mason?’

  ‘Wouldn’t we all, Robin.’ I can’t help smiling. She takes that as an invitation to walk into my hallway, dark after the brilliant sunshine. ‘Oh, wouldn’t we all?’

  But she doesn’t smile back. Her shoulders slump. The backpack slides off, thumps to the floor.

  ‘You OK, love? Want some water or something? It’s a bloody heat-wave out there.’

  She nods, glances up the stairs. ‘I’m just tired, Mrs Mason.’

  ‘Linda.’

  ‘I had to leave my other place in a hurry, you see. So could I just see the room?’

  I push her gently ahead of me, and follow her up the stairs. I’ve rejected all the other females. I want a hunky lad, his first time away from home, perhaps needing some TLC. Male company for me. I’ve fantasised about our little life, about casually leaving my bedroom door open, letting him see me naked. I’m in very good shape. What red-blooded male doesn’t lust after big tits and juicy hips to grab? Forty might seem old to him, but I’d show him how good an older woman can be. Maybe I’d share wine with him one night, let him talk, maybe about his mum. I’d say things to heat him up. Make him forget all about his mum. I’d watch him go up to bed, then follow, tiptoe into his room, push aside the duvet, spread myself over him, slide onto his young, stiff prick before he can stop me. Oh yes. Make him feel reallyat home.

  I certainly don’t want to find myself mothering some bra-less waif with a long red plait and, admittedly, I now notice, very cute buttocks twitching in those cut-off shorts.

  ‘So what went wrong?’ I ask, showing her into the bedroom. ‘Was your last landlady horrible to you?’

  Robin wriggles on to the bed and blushes again. ‘Landlord. Yes and no.’

  I sit down beside her. ‘Go on.’

  ‘He tied me up.’

  ‘That’s terrible! He kept you prisoner?’ I bite down on my lip, tasting blood. I find myself staring at the girl’s breasts, straining at her vest, and my own nipples go hard. ‘Should we call the police?’

  ‘Not prisoner, exactly. I mean, I was free to come and go.’ Robin shrugs, leans down
to rub her thighs. Suddenly she’s the cool one, and I’m hot and bothered. ‘It was only at night, when I got home.’ Robin glances up at me. Her blue eyes are glittering.

  ‘You poor love.’ I grip the edge of the bed. My stomach draws tight. ‘Tell me everything.’

  ‘It just happened one evening. He was putting up some shelves in my room. I lay on my bed. I was knackered after work.’

  ‘Like you’re tired now?’

  She leans back, pulling her legs up. Our arms brush. ‘I must have drifted off, because when I opened my eyes again my wrists were tied together, just like this –’ she joins her hands and lifts them in the air. Her pert tits lift up, too. ‘And the odd thing was, it was kind of – relaxing. Knowing I couldn’t do anything. He was standing at the end of the bed, stroking the inside of my leg.’ She lowers her arms, and stares straight into my eyes. ‘I know I should have been scared, Linda. But it was turning me on. And he said it was only a game.’

  The use of my name makes us feel close. I put my hand on her arm, and start to stroke it. But I feel anything but motherly. Her skin is soft, and warm, with golden hairs glistening under my fingertips. There’s a strip of brown belly between her vest and the button of her shorts. ‘For it to be a game, Robin, you have to enjoy it.’

  Robin nods. She leans towards me so that we’re nearly nose to nose. Her tits poke through her vest, dangle down. She crosses her legs Buddha-style, and her shorts dig right into her crotch, outlining the crack. I stare at it. Fine if it was a boy’s crotch. You can stare them into an erection, but I’ve never stared like this at a girl’s cunt. I am imagining the puffy lips under there, probably waxed and totally bare. A little slick of dampness over the soft skin, maybe, from walking through this heat. From sitting close to me on this bed.

  ‘That’s just it, Linda,’ she whispers, glancing down to where I’m looking. She wriggles slightly, parting her legs even more. Is that a very faint whiff of female scent? My heart starts thumping. She smiles again. We’re so close I can hear the moisture as she stretches her mouth, licks her teeth. ‘I did enjoy it.’

  I try to snatch my hand away, but she pulls it into her lap. Into her crotch. I can feel the warmth and dampness through the denim. I can’t breathe now. I want to see what’s under there. Can’t even think about a young stiff cock now. Just a young, soft cunt.

  ‘I liked being helpless like that, you see. It’s like being a toy. He just did what he wanted, just undid my shirt at first, pulled down my knickers. That made him hard. That’s when I realised it was fun.’

  She’s staring over my shoulder now, dreamily, rubbing my hand up and down her crack.

  ‘Go on.’ My voice is husky with lust now.

  ‘He didn’t touch my tits for ages, or, you know, my – here –’ She presses my hand so hard that my knuckles grind against her, pushing between her pussy lips. ‘until I was gagging for it – and then he showed me his huge, hard cock and he –’

  ‘I still don’t get it, Robin!’ I hold my hand up to stop her. ‘You’ve run away from there. You’ve come to me.’ I need to regain some kind of upper hand here. ‘So did he hurt you?’

  ‘Oh, hurting me was the best bit! When he smacked me.’ She jumps off the bed, dances across the room, juts her hips from side to side like a Cheeky Girl and smacks herself on the bottom, pat, pat, then harder on each thigh, making the flesh wobble. My mouth drops open. There are two red, hand shaped marks on her skin. ‘You wouldn’t believe how good it felt. That smarting, stinging feeling. Then the warmth, spreading through you. You can’t wait for the next one –’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ I sniff and cross my legs primly. ‘That kind of punishment is plain weird.’

  So why is my pussy wet?

  ‘Not weird! Wonderful! Christ, I’ve been dying to tell someone!’

  She’s vibrating with energy. No wonder that dirty old man salivated over her night after night. She’s gorgeous. Those jutting breasts, those obscene shorts leading the eye straight to the cleft between her legs. She looks good enough to eat. I shift about, my pussy lips rubbing urgently together under my tight black skirt. Robin’s nipples are taut against her vest. Mine are hard against my sweater.

  Robin comes and strikes a pose in front of me as if she’s about to give a lecture. But all I can look at are those nipples. ‘He knew exactly what he was doing, you see. The funny thing is, that the tighter he ties you, the more powerless you are, and the better it feels. The ties leave pink bracelet marks round your wrists, so you’re reminded all day when you’re at work, and no-one will know. ‘

  Robin giggles and bends to snap on the bedside light. Her back is to me and I can see the curve of one sex lip bursting through her shorts.

  ‘Go on, tell me what he did to you,’ I say, grabbing her and pulling her back to me. ‘Show me.’

  She smiles again, one hand on her hip. ‘OK. But you’ll have to do it. Tie me up.’

  I swallow hard. Her crotch is on a level with my eyes. ‘What with?’

  ‘How about your stockings?’ She bends down, slides her hand up my leg under my skirt. ‘I know you’re wearing them, even in this heat.’

  She’s right. Still looking at her I cock my leg and slowly peel down my stocking. My face is burning, my stomach tight with excitement. Robin is watching me, her cat’s tongue slicking over her lower lip. I hitch the tight skirt up towards my own crotch, and Robin’s eyes gleam, but we don’t speak.

  When I’ve unrolled both stockings Robin lies down on the bed, spreads herself open, and waits.

  ‘Tie me tight, like he did.’ Still she’s licking her lips. ‘I want you to hurt me.’

  ‘I don’t know –’

  ‘Please, Linda.’ Robin pouts like a spoilt child. ‘I want you to see what it’s like. You can be my mistress.’

  Her firm breasts jut upwards, the nipples already elongated and taut. So that’s what the landlord saw, captive in his back bedroom. Sex on a plate, but not with a whore. Oh no. With a perfect angel. My little dolly, to play with whenever I like.

  Barely thinking, I push her vest up first, to see those juicy breasts. See what the sleazy landlord saw. My pussy clenches, sending shivers right through me. That fresh, nubile body begging him to punish her. He must have thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

  Suddenly I know what to do. I grab Robin’s arms, wind the stocking round her wrists, and lash them to the rounded bedpost of the childish single bed.

  Robin yanks at the restraints. ‘Oh, they’re very tight, Linda! I can’t get away!’ She starts to toss from side to side, her breasts wobbling delightfully, the nipples hard and red, the muscles in her arms straining. ‘He didn’t do it this tightly –’

  Anxiety flashes through me, but then I see how Robin’s tongue flickers with obvious pleasure as she struggles. As she flails about Robin kicks me hard, and a burst of energy surges through me. Quickly I unzip and yank down her little shorts, moaning with pleasure to see the soft crack, not waxed and bare as I’d imagined but with a neat line of pubic hair running over the crack. My own pussy contracts with savage desire. I tie the other stocking round one of her ankles and tie that to the bed. If I leave the other one free she can still offer me her bum.

  ‘What are you going to do to me, Linda? Are you going to keep me here all night?’

  Her bottom is rolling now, squashing against the blanket, lifting frantically to show the black seam between the cute butt cheeks.

  ‘Would you like that? But oh dear, I’m not a man, Robin. I can’t fuck you like your landlord did.’

  I stare at her, spread-eagled on the bed, legs wide open, struggling, whining.

  ‘You could find a way to fuck me. You know, use something. You could be him.’ Robin gasps as she continues to thrash about, rubbing herself eagerly up and down the rough blanket. ‘But I want it to turn you on, Linda. I think you’re a goddess.’

  My arm comes up and I slap Robin hard on the rump. The prime, tender flesh ripples under my hand. Robin squeals. �
��So stop moving, young lady, while I decide what you deserve.’

  ‘I’m not a young lady. I’m a filthy little tart! That’s what he told me.’

  I smack my hand down again, loving the sharp sound ringing out in the little bedroom, loving Robin’s responding yelp. She jerks off the bed, then I smack her again. ‘Keep totally still, filthy little tart, otherwise you’re in trouble.’

  Robin goes rigid, exaggeratedly obeying orders, and I stand over her, enjoying another surge of this strange new unaccustomed power. It bunches up inside, spiking through my cunt to make it throb with wanting.

  ‘This is going to be so good, Linda,’ Robin murmurs into the thick silence.

  I shove one knee between her legs. Robin lifts her bottom off the bed, pushing her puffy little pussy at me. I stroke up her thighs towards it. Her skin is so warm. I push my fingers up towards the deep crease waiting there, tangle them in the soft bush. My own pussy is really wet.

  With one hand buried inside her, I slap her other cheek again, feel the skin go hot. Christ, I’m out of breath. I unzip my skirt and fling it to one side. My knickers are soaking now. I whip them off too, and there’s that horny smell again, my own this time, so intoxicating.

  I lean forwards, pull Robin’s thighs further apart, and now I can see the secret slit, the vivid red promise as the sex lips open, and without thinking I nudge the tip of my nose in, forcing the lips further open, feeling the warm wetness on my face. A ripple of delicious shock goes through me to inhale another woman’s scent. This must be what animals in the jungle do – but do the females go round sniffing each other’s bottoms?

  Robin’s sex feels like silk against my nose. I’ve never kissed another woman before, let alone licked her cunt. I let my tongue slide over the slit, feeling Robin tense and shiver as I sweep once, twice, up over the furls of her sex, feeling the bump of the little clit. I rub my hand against my own pussy, scrape one finger against my own clit, everything contracting and squeezing urgently to come, now, straightaway. But it’s too soon. I snatch my hand away, and start tasting her again, lapping like a cat cleaning her kitten, making the girl twitch and groan with every stroke.