Patience may be a virtue, but it was one that was sore tried on this occasion. Of course, time is also relative and, as I had no way of accurately marking its passing, it may well not have been that long at all before my warder eventually reappeared, but to me, lying there, hot, sweating and thirsty, my mouth crammed with that foul leather, it seemed like a lifetime.
However...
'Up to be getting then, please.' I opened my eyes, which I had long since closed again, there being only so much interest in counting bricks, to find Mr Muscles leaning in over the half door, a lopsided grin on his face. In his hand he held a metal mug, or small jug, and I could already taste the water. I hauled myself to my feet with as much dignity as I could muster and stumbled towards him, proffering my face.
It was about this time that I realised Erik's brain cells weren't in the same league as the visible parts of his body: the lacing that was keeping my face mask closed over my gag was fiddly and trying to release it with only one free hand was a non-starter, but would he admit this to himself and put down the jug? Would he fuck!
However, after several frustrating minutes the logistics of the problem seemed to permeate even his thick skull and, as he stooped out of sight to put down his small burden, I just hoped he wouldn't be that clumsy as to kick the damned thing over. Even a few minutes further delay if he had to go for a refill was now too much to contemplate.
Finally, after still more fumbling, he managed to release the lace and tugged the ghastly gag from between my teeth even as I thrust it out with my parched tongue. The water, much of which dribbled down the outside of my mask, wasn't as fresh as might have been desired under normal circumstances, but right at that moment it tasted like the finest spring water, or even champagne.
The small jug ran empty all too soon and I peered out at him imploringly.
'Please!' I gasped. 'I need more!'
He regarded me gravely and inclined his head a little. 'More in time getting you will be,' he lilted. 'First a minute waiting you should be, or cramps the stomach will be getting.' Well, I guess he had a point, but I could have quaffed a bucketful of pond water without pausing for breath, or at least, that's how I felt.
'Please?' I tried a different tack. 'This stuff...' I nodded my head downwards, trying to indicate the leather costume. 'It's so hot in here,' I continued. 'Can't you release me from this lot, if only for an hour or so? I promise I won't try to run off. In any case, I haven't got the foggiest idea of where I could run to.' Erik shook his head.
'Removing that I cannot be doing,' he said gravely, and my heart sank like a brick in a tank full of helium. 'Instructions I am having, the strictest nature of. Remaining as you are you must be.' He paused, furrowed his brow slightly and appeared to be studying me closely. Finally he nodded, as much to himself as to me, it seemed.
'Gagging you again I will not be,' he announced. 'Necessary I think it not, for the moment at least.'
'Thank you,' I said. Well, I couldn't think of any other suitable response and I certainly wasn't going to risk antagonising him by trying some smart-arsed remark; I could still taste that foul leather and it was going to take more than a few mouthfuls of water to wash it away.
'Talking though you must not be,' he added. 'Necessary only questions and answers.' He paused again, his eyes now carefully scrutinising me from the neck down to where the top of the lower door reached to just above my waist. The two neat rounded mounds that were my/Angelina's breasts under the carefully tailored leather seemed suddenly to have grown very large and conspicuous. I'd seen that sort of look in a man's eyes before and I knew exactly what it meant.
'More water I shall now be getting,' he announced, suddenly breaking free of his curious reverie. 'Then Buttercup exercising must be. Trot-trot around the yard and up the path the woods we shall be going. Legs strong we must be keeping.'
Strong? Trot-trot? In these damned boots? I'd end up with legs the size of his if this went on for much longer. On the other hand, the interior of my small prison held nothing of interest and even 'trot-trot' in weighted footwear could be preferable to the slow onset of insanity that continued incarceration would surely guarantee.
And so the next stage of my ordeal began.
To my complete relief, Erik's idea of trot-trot was fairly gentle and I guessed he must have been made aware of my weighted footwear, for he never pressed me beyond a very slow jog and even allowed me to slow frequently to a shuffling walking pace.
'Heavy?' he said, finally tugging me to a halt and pointing down at my feet.
'Very,' I panted. 'Yes, very heavy.' He nodded and looked almost sympathetic, but I knew it would be a waste of time even suggesting he might remove the boots for me. Staying as I was I was to be, I thought grimly to myself. Well, maybe for the time being, but then Erik's orders were probably only reinforced by money, so perhaps I could offer other inducements. I decided to go fishing.
'You will make love to me tonight?' I suggested. He looked back at me in a blank way, almost as if he hadn't heard me. I tried again. 'You want to fuck me, don't you?' Okay, it wasn't very ladylike and certainly not in keeping with the character I was supposed to be, but then I didn't look ladylike, I didn't feel ladylike and I was beginning to think this lad needed some things spelling out for him. I sort of thrust my pelvis forward and made a gyrating motion.
'Fuck?' I said. 'You know, down there, you and me?' I nodded downwards towards where his genitalia were visible as a bulge beneath the tight breeches. Was the bulge larger now than when I had first seen it, or was that just my imagination or wishful thinking. I sighed. I didn't seem to be penetrating and, at this rate, neither would he be.
'You take care of me, yes?' I said. He considered this for a moment and then nodded himself, very slowly. 'Erik in charge of Buttercup, yes?'
'Yes, Erik in charge,' he eventually replied. 'Taking care of Buttercup, you - I be doing, yes.'
'And poor little Buttercup is totally helpless, eh?' I waggled my imprisoned hands on the ends of their very short chains to illustrate my point, though it scarcely needed much illustration, in all honesty. 'So Erik can have his awful way with poor Buttercup?' I suggested. His eyes narrowed. Was I getting through? 'You know what "fuck" means?' I added.
Thinking back on the scene and situation now, it was utterly ridiculous, but now is now and then is then - and then, right then, things were just a bit serious for yours truly and everything was being seen in a different light and viewed through two small slits in that awful leather helmet mask.
We had walked/jogged maybe a few hundred yards, moving farther away from the house and gardens and deeper into the uncultivated woodlands, so that everything was now dappled sunshine and patches of deep green shadow. To describe the place where we halted as a clearing would have been going just a bit too far, but here, certainly, the uncertain track had widened considerably and there were the lopped trunks of fallen trees laying to either side of the path proper, together with a hunk of stone that had at one time possibly been intended as some kind of seat.
And here, illuminated harshly in un-shaded sunlight, was I, trying to offer myself to a man whose sexuality was still a mystery to me. Not only that, but quite how I imagined he could find me even vaguely attractive in that garb, I had no idea. Of course, in the years since I've grown to learn that there are men - and women, for that matter - who prefer their 'quarry' in just such a state; perhaps it was just some inspired guesswork on my then naïve part...
Erik stepped closer and, without warning, placed a huge hand on each of my breasts. To my even greater surprise, I felt a tingle travelling up and down my spine and that sensation in my nipples that I knew meant they were hardening like brazen little acorns.
'You want?' I breathed. I had to crane my neck awkwardly now, in order to look up into his eyes. They seemed almost blank. Then, as I waited, hardly daring to breathe, I saw a spark from deep inside and somehow everything was changing.
Ohmigod, Teena! I thought. What are you letting your
self in for? Except that I was in for about as much and as bad as I could be anyway, so what did ravishment at the hands of my own personal Viking matter? And, if I could win some sort of sympathy or loyalty from him in the process...
'Buttercup,' he whispered. 'Pretty it is you are underneath this all?' He detached one hand from one breast and used the finger to trace a delicate line down my leather covered left cheek. His gentleness was unexpected.
'Why don't you look and see for yourself?' I suggested. I paused, again holding my breath. Would he remove the mask? Would he like what he saw if and when he did?
'Forbidden,' he said tersely. Had he been tempted, if only just for a moment? 'But this...' The free hand now descended and pressed against my mound, which seemed to be burning inside its hide skin cover. 'This,' he repeated, 'forbidden has been not.' He paused again and I realised he was trying to rationalise something. Had he actually been forbidden to fuck me? Maybe he hadn't, but maybe it was supposed to be taken for granted that he wouldn't?
So...
My crotch area was actually covered and protected by a sort of strap arrangement, which ran between my legs and was buckled somewhere behind me. This was presumably so that I could be allowed to answer calls of nature before they became screams, but it also meant that, whilst I was unable to free myself, I was readily available to anyone who held the key to the small lock that secured the buckle. And Erik, as my minder, shepherd, whatever, had a copy of that key.
I felt awfully naked as the strap dropped away, revealing a narrow strip of me that contained two of my most personal orifices. The gentle breeze felt cold against my exposed flesh, a complete contrast to the heat that was being generated from somewhere just within those pouting lower lips.
What on earth, I thought vaguely, was up with me? It was one thing to try to curry favour by offering the charms of a body that was mine only temporarily, but did I really have to be reacting like a bitch in heat.
'Oohh, yes,' I heard myself groan, in Angelina's girlish little voice. Was the supposedly prim little Angelina ancestor some kind of raving nymphomaniac in reality? That conflicted with all the fleeting dream images I had of her, but then what trust should we put in dreams?
Dammit, his finger was probing inside me now and already I could feel I was sopping wet and trembling at his explorative touches. I heard this keening little wail and realised it had come from me, and then there were two fingers in there, filling me, stretching me, probing for a clitoris that was only too willing to respond.
Automatically, I tried to grab at his breeches, forgetting momentarily that my hands were both useless inside the gloves and leather mitt extensions and well restricted by the short chains between my wrists and waist. All that happened was that leather covered paws slid uselessly over leather covered male hips. I groaned and stretched upwards, my lips seeking his, but all the time hampered by the fact that there was only a narrow slit opening over them.
Erik, however, seemed little worried by this fact and a long tongue slid inside my mouth without any second bidding, pressing my own tongue back and almost choking me in its insistent eagerness. I moaned and tried to draw my breath in through my nostrils and the two tiny apertures that sat beneath them. The hissing sound that this produced apparently served only to increase Erik's ardour.
A hand snaked out, the arm encircling my waist, crushing me too him and instinctively I tried to curl one leg about his, the weighted boot temporarily forgotten. And then I was somehow on my back, laying on a carpet of grass and soft ferns, my legs spread crudely apart, my hips raising towards Erik as he fumbled with the belt and fastenings of his breeches.
For a second or two that could have been eons, I feared his eagerness would get the better of his dexterity, but such was his determination that I suspect he would have ripped the trousers off had the buttons or whatever not suddenly yielded to his clumsy efforts. He thrust the black hide down his thighs and I swallowed and gulped in awe at the massive organ that was revealed, huge already, even though I could see it was not yet fully erect after the constrictions of his clothing.
'Oh my-y-y-y-y!' I heard myself moan, as I stared at the approaching monster through slit eyes as well as slit eye openings.
He wasted no more time and, before he'd even dropped to his knees between my thighs his shaft was well and truly ready. I expected no foreplay and got none. In an instant he was upon me, guiding himself between my slippery lips, forcing them apart with his sheer size until I feared that my poor flesh must tear, but no, the elastic tissues responded, yielding to form a close gripping sheath about his throbbing pole, which then slid home unceremoniously until his pubic bone collided with mine.
Romantic this was not, but for pure animal based lust, the next few minutes will probably remain seared in my memory as certainly as I felt myself impaled upon something that surely most women will only ever encounter in their wildest fantasies. Thrust after thrust threatened to tear me apart, but now more mentally than physically.
I writhed and bucked, growling and howling, shrieking carelessly as I surrendered myself totally, knowing that my orgasm, when it arrived, as surely it soon must, would hit me with a wave as destructive as that from any nuclear blast. Lights exploded everywhere, rockets screeched their way through my head, huge seas crashed upon rocks: my world turned red, then purple and lightning tore across before my eyes. Blue, gold, lurid greens - a whirling, swirling mayhem of impossible colours and then I was lost, cast helplessly into a vortex of self-sating lust, plummeting in a headlong helter-skelter drop into one final, softening cushion of black velvet oblivion.
14.
I gradually regained my senses, or what tattered remnants remained of them. I was lying, still flat on my back, my legs still wide apart, my chest and stomach rising and falling slowly as oxygen began to find its way once more back into my ravaged system. Warily my eyes flickered open, to be greeted by the sight of Erik, standing casually between my feet, adjusting the buckle of his belt and looking for all the world as if nothing whatsoever had happened.
Dimly I thought that this approach might not, after all, be quite the ideal; winning Erik's sympathy, trust, or confidence this way had sounded so obvious, but now, now that I had made my opening gambit, I was far from sure. If I didn't succeed soon, the likelihood was that he would reduce me to a total physical wreck and yet he himself seemed not to have even raised a sweat.
'Up to be getting,' he instructed me, the flicker of a smile crossing his features. Easier said than done. I tried rolling sideways in order to allow myself the luxury of some partial leverage from one hand, but my arm and shoulder simply refused to respond to the messages my brain was frantically trying to send them. With a grunt I fell back again, feeling as if I knew how a fish out of water must feel as it lay floundering on the deck of a trawler.
'Can't,' I managed to gasp, shaking my head hopelessly. 'Can't... do it!' I closed my eyes and tried to suck in more air, but my chest felt tight and my head had begun to throb. 'Sorry,' I muttered, too exhausted and weak to care whether he accepted and understood my apology. Apparently he did.
I felt myself lifted bodily and planted onto numb feet, the legs between them and my still pulsating body wobbling and threatening to give out on me at any moment. Desperately I tried to shuffle into a more stable stance, but I no longer had the strength to move in the weighted boots and would have fallen flat on my face if Erik had not been waiting and anticipating just such a thing. One powerful arm thrust beneath mine, gripping me tightly and holding me against his side like a useless rag doll.
'Thanks,' I managed. It sounded stupid to my ears, but Erik apparently appreciated my gratitude.
'Of it nothing to think,' he said. 'Soon it is better you will be feeling.' He half turned me, so that now I was looking up into his face again and I saw he was grinning.
'You like Erik, no?' he asked.
I swallowed and managed to nod.
'Then we do again,' he announced. I felt my stomach turn a somersault
and my sudden apprehension must have shown in my eyes, for my huge Viking's grin widened still further and he let out a gruff chuckle.
'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'Do later, not now. Well exercised now, Buttercup is, think I.'
'I can't, honestly,' I groaned, when Erik tried to get me to begin the journey back. 'Please, just a few minutes. I need to get my breath back.' Which was a lie, because my breathing now seemed to have returned to something approaching normal, yet still my legs refused to function properly. Taking even one step was beyond me.
In the end, Erik solved my perambulatory quandary by the simple expedient of throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me back. Again, hardly dignified, but I was past caring, other than to feel grateful that my legs weren't going to be asked to perform the impossible.
Back in my stall I lay in a crumpled and exhausted heap and tried to think again, but my brain refused to progress much further than attempting to analyse Erik and my body's reaction to him. With a superhuman effort, I managed to tear my thoughts away from the actual sex and concentrate instead upon Erik himself and his position in this muddled mess of a jigsaw.
It appeared that Hacklebury must be able to carry out the threat he had made regarding the big Scandinavian, but that was probably based upon his superior wealth, authority and possibly numbers of men available to him, for there was no doubt in my mind whatsoever that in a one-on-one confrontation, Erik would be able to crush Greg like an egg. An image of that flitted through my mind and brought a smile to my face beneath its mask.
Presumably - and it could only be a presumption - Greg paid Erik a decent amount to do his dirty work for him. The next question therefore had to be: how much and how willing would Erik be to risk losing that money on the gamble that I (as Angelina) might make it worth his pecuniary while if and when everything worked out to my advantage?
Teena Thyme Page 13