“I’m sorry to ask you this, lover, because it sounds so clinical. But I need you to test me, to see what I can still feel, still experience. Will you do that for me?”
It had been coming since we left the hospital. In spite of our brief, passing, somewhat cruel but comical relief, I knew it wouldn’t be denied. We’d put it off, put it out of our minds, while we had our wicked fun with Toni, but now the moment was here. There was no way to delay it any more, to postpone it until a doctor visit, or further healing, or a better day. We both needed to face the issue at this moment. We needed to see what was possible for Dyana, and for us.
“Of course,” I said, as we began to disrobe.
Chapter 8 – Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me
Dyana led me to the bed, hand-in-hand. She stood there and disrobed. I waited a moment, then took off my top and my jeans. We were both standing there naked.
I leaned in to kiss her. “I love you,” I said. “Nothing has changed that.” Then I gently pulled her onto the bed, placed her on her back with her head on a pillow, and I slowly spread her legs, one at a time. I tried to avoid staring at what they had done to her intimacies. I’d seen it in the hospital; I knew what it was – what it wasn’t, actually.
“I’ve got a doll’s pussy,” she said. “Or a doll’s lack of one.”
I didn’t reply. I knelt between her legs and cupped her groin with my hand. It didn’t feel like anything I’d encountered before – maybe a little bit like cupping your underarm. My lover didn’t feel like a woman.
I was determined not to dispassionately examine her as though she were a clinical subject. I wanted to make love to her.
The area was dry, with no hint of arousal. I wanted to remedy that, so I slid forward atop her and, holding her head from behind, began kissing her as passionately as ever I had. She responded with a slight murmur and an eager mouth. When she was breathing somewhat heavily, I turned her head and started sucking her earlobe, another of her erogenous zones. She wasn’t wearing earrings so I was able to suck the soft skin into my mouth, nip at it with my teeth, and then bite it and slowly tighten the bite.
“Oh! That’s good!” She said, so I worked on the other earlobe too.
When that had been enough, I slid down and began to circle her nipple with my tongue, and then suck on it. It hardened almost immediately and my tongue could feel the bumps on her areola as it contracted with arousal.
I continued to finger that nipple while I turned my attention to her other, licking and sucking it. I felt her slowly wiggle beneath me, as she always did when she became aroused, and her murmurs of pleasure became louder. I was going to be patient; I wanted to maximize the chance for her to enjoy this, no matter what the final result was.
I kissed my way down her belly and my tongue entered her bellybutton. It was sensitive and, though I didn’t play with it much, I wanted to cover everything that I knew pleased her. I could feel her tummy role beneath me and her pelvis thrust involuntarily upward.
I cupped her pussy again. Where her intimacies had been, with no slit or lips to channel her juices it was still dry. But around her new, small, puckered orifice, it was very wet. With no labia to contain the moisture, the fluid had already dripped down from her vaginal opening and onto the bed.
I wet my fingers with her copious liquid and looked into her open eyes as I licked her essence off of them.
“You taste like … Dyana,” I whispered. “You taste like my lover.”
She didn’t say anything, but I saw her lips turn up very slightly in a nervous smile.
I bent my mouth to the smooth area of her groin, about where her hood had been. I repeatedly kissed and sucked at her as I moved downward. She jumped slightly when I reached her now completely exposed pee hole. I tried licking around it, and on it again, but I couldn’t decide if that felt good to her or bothered her. I didn’t want to break the spell by asking right then. Instead, after a little more attention there, I moved on down.
I lapped at the entrance to her vagina; I could feel the juices continue to flow as I did that. I circled it with my tongue, and she seemed to like that, judging by her needful moans. On my tongue, her new, puckered orifice felt almost like her anus, but it tasted like her pussy always had. When my tongue slid inside it, it still felt like her rear rosebud, but not as tight. I did feel it open and close slightly, over and over, as my tongue probed it.
I licked up from her “pucker” to the top of her … of her … I didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t a pussy anymore. In that instant, I decided to call it her sealed vulva in my mind. So I licked up her crotch from her pucker over her pee hole and along the center of her sealed vulva. I licked back and forth several times, ending at the top, above where her love bud would have been.
I let my tongue circle there, sometimes lightly, sometimes pushing hard with my tongue or tongue and lips. I felt Dyana tense, as though straining in expectation of arousal, focusing her energies to what had been, of course, her most sensitive spot. I glanced up momentarily, and saw her eyes squeezed tightly shut in concentration. She was trying as hard as she could to unlock, to bring forth, to experience the pleasure she needed.
She was like me, in that she always liked a light touch on her clitoris. Of course, she didn’t have a clitoris anymore, and I wasn’t sure whether or not there might be enough nerves left to arouse her. The spot from which her clit had been extracted was now under more than a quarter inch of tissue, which had been abraded and sealed together above it. I didn’t know if Dyana would feel anything, even if some of the nerves still existed and were buried there.
After a few minutes of licking up and down and circling, I felt her relax, as she let out a breath, which may have been one of exasperation. I was pretty sure it was because she couldn’t feel anything. I needed to try something else.
This time, I slid my tongue down to her pucker, around it several times, and then within her as far as I could push it. At the same time, I reached to the top of her sealed vulva and tried rubbing, then tapping with increasing force. She had always liked it when I did that to her G-spot.
She tensed up again and I knew she was trying so hard. I knew it and it brought tears to my eyes.
I kept on. I didn’t think my tongue could reach her G-spot through her new vaginal entrance but I tried everything I could think of to arouse her there. After a while, during which time she tensed, relaxed when, I think, it became too much, and then tensed and focused again, I decided to push my fingers deeply into her new pucker.
I could only get two of my fingers into the tight opening at first, but finally managed three. There was no way she could be fisted, which I’d managed to do a couple times before.
I couldn’t tell if I’d reached her G-spot. I couldn’t feel the spongy vaginal lining designating that it was there. Maybe it was just beyond my reach.
By now, I’d had Dyana in bed for half an hour, and I couldn’t get anything to happen. I was willing to keep at this all night, if necessary. Would I be physically able? I wasn’t sure.
After I’d worked her pucker and vagina over to the best of my ability, and continued to touch, tap, push on, and play with her smooth, upper vulva, Dyana said, “There’s a vibrating dildo in the top drawer of the nightstand.”
I kept my fingers within her, because I didn’t want the contact between us to be broken. I reached into the drawer and felt the dildo. It was a long, stiff, rubber-coated one, where the tip is slightly curved to one side (to be placed on the G-spot). I took it out and put it in my mouth, to make sure it was covered with the lubricant of my saliva. I held it near her pucker, removed my fingers, turned it on, and carefully guided it into her, so that the bent tip was toward the front of her sheath. The fit was very tight.
When I thought it was positioned correctly, based on Dyana’s preference before, and my estimation of the added distance to her G-spot from her new pucker, I moved it in and out, but only slightly. When I seemed to hit the right spot, Dyana said, “There.
Keep it there.”
I continued to kiss her around her sealed vulva and on her inner thighs. I reached my other hand up to massage her nipple between my thumb and finger. I held the vibrator steady while making the tip circle a little, and varying the pressure against the front wall of her vagina.
Dyana’s hips moved slowly up and down, as she started to become aroused. I kept up what I was doing for a long time. Her hips continued to move and rotate a little, but the frequency of their movement hadn’t picked up, which usually happened with Dyana after a couple minutes of any kind of stimulation.
I shifted a little to get more comfortable, and lifted her legs so her feet were resting flat on the bed. That gave me access to her asshole, and I circled it with my tongue, probing a little within. I pushed harder with the vibrator. I tried swirling it within her. Her pelvis moved up and down, still slowly, never changing the speed of the regular motion.
“Push it all the way into me, then in and out,” she asked, and I did. The frequency of her pelvic thrusts increased with the rate at which I fucked her with the vibrating dildo. I thought she was getting closer. She was definitely still oozing arousal fluid from her vagina.
This went on for another long time. She didn’t seem to be getting any further along, any closer to climax. “Get the big rubber thing, then move the vibrator to my rosebud,” she suggested.
“The big rubber thing” was an extra-large, penis-shaped dildo that was still in a wrapper; we’d never used it in our sex play. It could be strapped on or used by hand. I got it out while trying to keep her stimulated with my lips on her nipple. I wet it with my mouth, withdrew the vibrator, and watched her pucker stretch to its maximum as I pushed and rotated the large dildo against it. I was unable to get it into her. Her new pucker was too tight; she was too sealed up. I took a smaller one out of the drawer, wet it, and was able to carefully push the smaller penis dildo into her vagina, but it was very snug.
I had the penis all the way into her and was moving it in and out. She began to move her hips in time with my thrusts. I gradually opened her anus with the vibrator and carefully pushed it into her. With the two sizable devices within her, everything was now as tight as it could be.
“It feels good,” she said, “thank you, lover.”
“Are you close?” I whispered. I was afraid to do anything lest I spoil the delicate mood balance where we were at the moment.
“Not yet,” she told me. Maybe there was a little hope and anticipation in her voice.
I kept my mouth busy around her groin but I concentrated on the two probes I was using on her. By now, we’d been making love for about an hour. Before they had cut her, she could have climaxed five times or more in that hour.
I continued another half an hour. I left the probes within her and tried kissing her lips and sucking her nipples again, to expand the arousal in the hopes of moving her along toward climax. When her nipples were maximally hard again, I continued with the in and out of the dildo, and probing her rear entrance with the vibrator.
I was afraid she was going to get sore before she came. I was probably more afraid that she wouldn’t cum at all – maybe never again. I redoubled my efforts, as best I could. I was getting tired and we had been at this for over two hours. Before they butchered her, I could get her to cum in as little as a minute of not-very-intense foreplay. In particular, if her hands were in my short hair, it drove her crazy.
That thought gave me an idea. Her hands had been on her breasts, playing with her own nipples and massaging her smallish orbs. I reached up and moved them down onto my head. They rested there for a moment. Then, as I turned back to the devices I held within her, I felt her fingers go into my hair at the scalp and slide up the short locks, over and over again. The pace of her pelvic thrusts began to increase. She was calling out, “Oh, oh, oh …” in time with the thrusts.
I thought she was going to cum. I thought for the next half hour that she was going to cum. Then I thought for the next hour that she was going to cum. It wasn’t happening.
I had one more idea, “After you cum, you can buzz my hair like Toni’s,” I told her breathlessly. I realized I was actually getting wet at the thought of that. What the hell did that mean?
She quickly began to thrust and moan more rapidly. For another half hour we kept this up. Dyana was sweating all over. My muscles were cramping and I didn’t know if I could even unfurl my fingers from around the dildo and vibrator. But we kept at it; we kept at it until … until …
Until Dyana finally wailed, “I can’t do it!”
She began to cry, her body wracked and heaving in deep, mournful sobs.
“Lover?” I had stopped but hadn’t removed the probes.
“I can’t try anymore!” She cried in despair. “Take them out. I can’t do this. At least I can’t do this now.”
We’d been at it for three and a half hours. My instantly-aroused, quick-to-cum lover couldn’t climax. I didn’t know if she ever would again.
It didn’t appear that she would with a woman. Maybe a man could manipulate himself within her vagina better than I could using the dildo – maybe a real penis would work with or without the vibrator. Or maybe not.
We talked about this and cried for hours more.
I got up in the morning and felt angry at the world, and everyone in it. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t mature, but it was how I felt. Unfortunately for her, on my way to my little cabin, I happened to run into our cutely buzzed Toni in the tight corridor. I stopped to talk to her. She looked like a young woman stuck in shock. Her mouth moved but no words came out. She nervously ran her hand over her short buzz, causing the bristles to ripple like a fine pelt. I noticed her eyebrows were, perhaps, a token amount thinner. Given the mood I was in, that was not acceptable. I was determined to take my frustration out on gullible, loveable Toni again. I made her follow me to my cabin.
I had her sit on my bunk while I sat on a stool in front of her and plucked away at her brows. Several times I thought the stinging was gonna make her get up and leave, but trooper that she is, she stuck it out. By the time I finished, she had a thin line of rounded, archless brows, at most no thicker than two or three hairs. I felt better, having altered her to my liking. It was mean in a way – in every way if I were honest - but satisfying. She looked at herself in the mirror and I thought she was gonna start swaying in shock for a moment there. Her eyes got big and round and they looked bigger and rounder with her brows that way. I did think she looked better and told her so. Maybe she believed me.
I smiled at her with cruel satisfaction as she numbly stepped out of my portal and went on her way.
Later that day, I confessed to Dyana what I’d done to sweet, dedicated, unfortunate Toni. Since we’d (I’d) been rather ruthless in our treatment of poor Toni, I suggested that she’d paid her dues, and we should name her to the lead team, to represent all the undergrads. Dyana heartily agreed. I tracked Toni down and told her the good news. Seeing her smile of excitement, I thought we’d mostly made up for what we’d done to the redesigned coed, who had happened to be in the wrong place at the right time for us.
**********
Dyana and I waited another week, thinking – hoping - that maybe she only needed to heal further before we would be successful. Meanwhile, the dig was getting more interesting and occupying all of the days and most all the evenings. By late evenings, I was exhausted and crashed alone in my little cabin. To her credit and understanding, Dyana graciously accepted the reality of my daily near-exhaustion and need for rest. I’m sure she didn’t feel slighted.
The whole team worked half a day Saturday and took the afternoon off. All the rest of the team and most of the crew went into Alexandria for sightseeing, dinner and an evening of fun. As a diversion from Dyana’s troubles, she and I had been working on Toni all week, trying to persuade the tender, innocent undergrad to take a leadership role and get a tattoo while they were ashore. We tried our best to link the two. Did you ever hear of a whipping boy? Th
at was the person in the middle ages, who suffered the punishment the clear and present heir had earned for [mostly his, in rare circumstances, her] violation of expectations. The whipping boy was an abjectly pitiful soul, who lived an overall pleasant life, until some event really pissed off the powers that be, and caused him [or much, much less often, her] to suffer the punishment that the true heir deserved. It was kind of like if your child does something awful, and you beat your best friend in response. That best friend would be the whipping boy.
No, I don’t get it. I was born near the change of the 21st century millennium, after all.
So back to Toni, our favorite victim, our whipping boy [girl]. Dyana and I got Tex in the frame of mind that Toni was terribly timid (she was), really wanted a tat though she wouldn’t acknowledge that fact, and maybe he could help convince her to get inked while they were in Alexandria. We knew the big guy had eyes for Toni, and that he liked tats because he already had half sleeves on each arm.
Unabashedly, we played on what turned him on, and on what we wanted to happen to our eternal victim.
We’d see what happened after they returned. I briefly thought Tia might be disappointed in the way I was treating sweet Toni, but I also decided she might find it both amusing and a proper process for making Toni a complete woman in our erotic definition of that description. I did think Tia would understand my need for a semi-comical diversion, even one that was a little sadistic.
Much, much later, in my confined cabin, Tia did appear, actually holding hands with a nicely buzzed Toni. At first, Tia’s expression was pleasant and understanding. I tried to call out to her, but she didn’t seem to hear me.
Her expression became inscrutable. In the fuzzy background behind her, I saw an African girl, maybe six or eight years older than I. The girl was lying in something like a hut or a cave, her eyes filled with fear, her legs spread.
I remember that I screamed at that point, and the entire vision dissolved into nothing.
Destiny Taken (Destiny Lost Book 1) Page 13