by Неизвестный
Xavier pushed Paige from his lap. The girl rose with good grace as Thierry delivered Giselle into Xavier’s hands. Paige didn’t go far. As Giselle sank into Xavier’s lap, Paige sank down beside him on the fallen tree.
Xavier’s closeness, and Paige’s eyes, pinned her firmly to the fabric of the night. She was a butterfly laid out on a black field. They could do as they liked with her. She wanted to say that; she tried to show it in the meekness of her gaze. Her belly was already on fire. She wanted them to lead her into temptation and to deliver her unto evil. Still a virgin – it embarrassed her. Giscard’s cowardice, his respect for her protestations of innocence, was costing her too much. No flesh was innocent. This was her education. Xavier was her priest, and she wanted him to take confession with the hard penis that she felt pressed into her behind. Her penance would be the other boys, satisfying them – even her brother, who watched her every move.
Xavier’s hand was on her breast. He had already sucked out her soul, now he explored the void. Soon he would feel the wetness that was seeping from between her legs, down to the sex that it desired.
‘Giscard,’ he called, and he motioned to the boy. She watched from her dream as a figure came out of the shadows and stood before her.
‘She will whore for you if you want it,’ Xavier said. ‘Can’t you see that, can’t you read it in her face?’
Giselle looked up and saw Giscard’s troubled eyes.
‘Don’t you want a whore of your own?’
Giscard seemed upset by the words. Giselle knew that she should be upset as well. But she wasn’t. She knew that Xavier was right. Her unused belly needed to be filled.
‘Undo his shorts,’ Xavier said.
She was being addressed but it took a moment for the fact to register. It took even longer to understand what had been said.
Xavier picked up her hand and rested it against Giscard’s belly. With thick, heavy fingers, as if she were drugged, she began to pick at the buckle of his belt. Amazingly it opened. The buttons too. Each opened, one by one.
‘Pull them down,’ Xavier told her.
She had never seen a boy’s sex before. Not close to. Not a grown boy’s sex. With both hands, she eased the shorts and the underpants beneath them down. The tube of flesh sprang free, bounding upwards, frightening her for a moment, then fascinating her. The head was rounded and smooth, the eye, a moist slit. It was so close that she felt the heat of it on her cheek.
‘What do you want to do?’ Xavier asked.
‘Touch it?’ asked Giselle, not really knowing. Looking would have been enough, familiarising herself with the strange, ugly, beautiful thing that pulsed so close to her lips.
Her fingers were tentative, her expression reverent, as she ran the tips of her fingers slowly from head to base. Further down was a tight sac of skin covered with curls of blond hair. She wondered if she could touch these too, but was too shy to ask.
‘How else could you touch it?’ Xavier asked.
She glanced from Giscard to Xavier and back again. Giscard’s face seemed to shiver as she stroked his sex. Her fingers made a loop around the girth of the tube and drew slowly downwards. His eyes widened. There was sweat on his forehead, a film that made him shine in the firelight.
‘Kiss it,’ Paige told her. She was leaning forward, close enough for her knees to touch Giselle’s thighs.
When Giselle did nothing, Paige darted her head to the exposed flesh and her tongue emerged wet and pink. The tip was pointed and flew like an arrow to the head of Giscard’s sex. It swept quickly across the moist eye and circled beneath the bulging head. The boy groaned as Paige enveloped him with her lips and Giselle felt him stiffen beneath her enfolding fingers. Looking up, she saw from his face that he liked her lips. He had never asked for this from her. It would have been a pleasure; she wanted that pleasure. When Paige removed her mouth, Giselle gave hers. The flesh was hot. Her tongue was nervous as it teased its way across the tight skin.
Giscard pulled away suddenly. She didn’t understand. He had wanted Paige. She looked at him, the hurt showing. He had wanted Paige’s mouth – she had seen that in his eyes. Why didn’t he want hers? If he thought that he was sparing her in some way, he was wrong. Didn’t he realise that to be spared this was to be deprived of Xavier? If she took his sex, Xavier’s would follow. And her mouth was made for Xavier – every instinct and nerve told her that.
Xavier moved abruptly, his hand as quick as a snake. He seized Giscard’s balls and pulled him back to where he had been. Giscard’s fists clenched and Giselle sensed that he would fight. Rapidly, she took his sex again and moved her head in quick circles, wanting, in her unskilled way, to make it as good as she could. She felt his relaxation and knew that he had accepted her gift. Her eyes closed and she lost herself in the pleasure of sucking. It was awkward leaning forward – her dress was restricting her. She pulled the hem upwards until her legs could move freely and so that Giscard could see her sex and know that she was showing it to everyone. Now she was like the other girls and she would belong. They wouldn’t send her out into the night so that Paige could dance for them. Giscard groaned as she opened her legs wide and crouched closer to him, driving his sex deeper, to the frontier of her throat and the promise of the tightness beyond.
She gave herself as fully as she was able. Fingers came to caress her lips. She felt them work over Giscard’s shaft too. Paige’s, she thought as they began to masturbate Giscard in long, easy strokes. When she opened her eyes though, she saw blue tattoos on the wrist that owned the fingers and sat back in surprise. There was something demonic in Xavier’s eyes. Giscard looked beaten, humiliated. But his erection didn’t fade. There seemed to be a guilty pleasure in being caressed by a boy.
The hand moved more quickly. Paige ran her fingers up the back of Giscard’s legs. She grinned as the fingers made a spear and jabbed upwards. Giselle couldn’t see what was happening but Giscard suddenly sighed and groaned.
‘Be ready for him,’ Xavier whispered.
She watched as Giscard swayed and his belly filled with deep, successively quicker breaths. He was panting and she knew that soon he would come. She had heard how it happened, how a white fluid spurted from the tip of a boy’s penis. Some of the girls in her class regularly performed this service for their boyfriends, used hands and mouth, and were drenched in the fluid that would have made a child in their wombs.
Xavier took her chin with his free hand and tipped her head back.
‘Open,’ he told her.
Feeling foolish, but also unbearably aroused, she waited with open mouth while Xavier pumped harder and harder.
‘Look at her, Giscard. Look at the virgin at your feet.’
Giscard looked and came. Thick ropes of milky liquid sprayed across Giselle’s face and fell into her mouth. Xavier pulled them together, mated sex and mouth, so that she felt the final pulses coating her tongue.
As soon as the last drop had issued and Xavier had released him, Giscard tore himself away. She tried to smile but all she saw in his face was hurt and a sense of betrayal. He stumbled away, pulling up his shorts. At the edge of the firelight, he paused to look at her in a sort of horror, then he ran into the night. Bewildered, she turned to Xavier, hoping that he would understand, hoping that he would explain what had happened.
‘Find him,’ he said. ‘Make it all right.’
She rose, picked up her shirt and hurried in the direction that Giscard had taken. In the pitch darkness, outside the circle of firelight, she stumbled as she called out his name. She passed the fishing hut and climbed the slope to the cliffs, buttoning her shirt as she went. Some instinct told her that he wouldn’t want to see her unclothed.
Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the night and the moon lit her way. She called again as she passed under the trees but there was no reply. Then, as she reached the place where the rope hung, she saw a figure slouched on one of the rocks looking out over the lake. She went to him tentatively.
‘Giscard,
’ she said softly.
His face was pale in the moonlight when he turned to her.
‘Go away.’
She hesitated. ‘Please, I don’t understand. Don’t send me away.’
He looked at her again. She saw the evidence of tears in his eyes.
‘He shouldn’t have done that,’ he stated flatly. ‘I’m not … I don’t … He shouldn’t have touched me like that.’
She understood. It was the excitement of being touched by Xavier. Another boy had made him climax. Her mouth was secondary, just a receptacle.
‘Is it so very bad?’ she asked, remembering the pleasure of being kissed by Paige.
‘I know what people will think.’
‘Xavier has a power,’ Giselle began. ‘I think that the other boys will understand that. Perhaps they would want the same thing.’
He shook his head, but seemed calmed by these words.
‘Now they will all want you to suck them.’
She was silent as he looked at her. She couldn’t say that she wanted that. She didn’t know if she did. The thought that Xavier would enter her mouth was overwhelming; that she did want. But the other boys, her brother amongst them? She didn’t know.
‘Is that why you never tried to make me do it before?’
‘Everything that you do for me you have to do for them!’ he said in a burst of anger. ‘I want you for myself.’
‘Then we should leave the island and never come back,’ she said without conviction.
He looked at her derisively. ‘Neither of us want that.’
She drew nearer to him. ‘When we are away from here, I will be yours alone.’
‘A whore of my own!’ he said, spitting out the words as if they were poison.
‘Someone who won’t say no.’
She saw his eyes flare.
‘If that is what you want, I’ll take you back naked and open your mouth for each and every boy. I’ll come for you every night and bring my friends!’
His rage shocked her and she stepped back.
‘Will you say no to that?’ he asked.
A tear eased from the corner of her eye.
‘If you hate me so much, I’ll go, and you can forget me.’
‘I don’t hate you. Don’t you understand? I love you. That is why I don’t want to see you on your knees in front of anyone who wants you!’
She sighed.
‘It’s all gone too far.’
‘Tell me that you don’t want Xavier and we’ll leave.’
She looked at him steadily, unable to lie.
‘Tell me!’ he said again.
‘You wanted him,’ she said softly. She saw shock in his eyes, then rage. He jumped to his feet and she backed away, but not quickly enough to avoid a slap across the face. It was her turn to be shocked. Seizing her, he pulled the shirt from her shoulders and tore the skirt downwards, tearing the waistband. When he stepped back, her naked body was quaking and the tears were coursing down her face.
‘Then it will be me who gives you to him.’
He took her hand and pulled her roughly down the slope. Twice she fell. Branches struck at her nakedness, the pine needles stung and made her cry out. Giscard was beyond pity; all sweetness was gone. He seemed mad to her and she was frightened. As they drew closer there was the sound of raised voices and laughter. She saw Joan chasing Thierry around the fire. She saw him dodging and laughing as the girl tried to hit him. They froze as Giscard dragged Giselle into the light of the fire. All eyes were on her as she was thrown at Xavier’s feet.
‘Tell him what you want.’
Giselle looked from Giscard to Xavier. She was gasping for breath and half-blinded by tears.
‘Tell him!’
She shook her head, and began to curl into a ball.
Giscard fell to his knees and took hold of her ankles, pulling them wide. When she struggled, he slapped her across the face. It was harder than the first slap, even more shocking because it was calculated, cold-blooded. She lost the will to defend herself and became rigid. He spat on his hand and smeared the wetness between her legs, then began to undo his shorts. It felt as if she had fallen into a nightmare. The boy who pulled his erect sex into the light of the fire had the appearance of Giscard, but Giscard was never like this, never so cruel, never so full of hatred. He took her wrists and pinned her hands above her head. His mouth took her breasts and bit as his sex nudged between her legs. She struggled, and he bit harder.
‘You want this. It can be easy or hard,’ he hissed in her ear.
His sex lodged in the wet slit, the head nudged forward and found the beginning of the virgin passageway. This quietened her, like a knife at the throat. Fear and disbelief staked her out like a blood sacrifice.
‘Now say it!’ he shouted. ‘Say that you want them all.’
His sex was pressing hard at the membrane which had sealed her innocence since birth. His eyes blazed. It shouldn’t be like this. It had always been soft in her imagination. The boy would be tender. There would be intimacy and trust. But then she turned her head and looked at Xavier. He watched like a statue from the vantage of the fallen tree. She had his attention now. She had everyone’s attention.
‘I want it,’ she said with a sudden surge of strength and, before Giscard could move, she jammed her pelvis upwards, hard, impaling herself. The membrane tore and she screamed but her eyes never left Xavier. She heard Giscard call her a bitch and then felt him pull out. He struggled to his feet and she looked up in fear as he towered over her with clenched fists. The hatred in his eyes had become contempt. She knew that he would never forgive her. She had robbed him of the chance of taking her virginity. She had given it instead to Xavier. She had given it with her eyes – Giscard’s rapidly shrinking sex had merely been the tool, his rage the mechanism.
‘She’s your whore,’ Giscard told Xavier savagely. ‘Take her.’
She lay open-legged in the light of the fire. Her hands were still and quiet behind her head. Her newly opened sex gaped wide. There was absolute silence. For a terrible moment she thought that Xavier would refuse her. A sudden movement from the other side of the fire caught her attention. It was Jean, standing up, undoing the buckle of his belt.
‘If you don’t want her, I do,’ he said, through clenched teeth.
She wanted to say no, tried to say it in her face when she turned back to Xavier.
‘Oh, I want her,’ Xavier replied, ‘but you will be next.’
He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the tight, tanned muscles of chest and abdomen. There was a tattoo that she had never seen before, a pair of crossed torches in the centre of his chest, blazing as if they were the fire of his heart. He stood and pulled his trousers down. His sex was hard, curving upwards like a scimitar. A golden snake had been engraved on the tall column and seemed to dance in the light of the fire. When he knelt between her legs she was aware that every part of him was hard. The beauty of taut muscles and stretched sinews made her feel weak. His hands, as they ran along the insides of her thighs, were like polished steel. They dug beneath her behind and lifted her easily so that only her shoulders were pressed to the sand and her sex was an open wound for him to explore.
She groaned as his tongue entered and arousal flared in her belly like the torches on his chest. Savage words formed in her throat. The night had her now; she was its creature, dark and lost, willing and easy. She was aware of faces around her, coming closer, of expressions of envy and desire. The soil of the island abraded her shoulders as Xavier’s tongue explored her wounded belly. There were murmurs from the watchers, a joke and low laughter as she strained upwards to open herself more fully. Xavier was crouched over her like a wolf gorging itself at a kill. When he released her, his mouth was covered in virgin blood. The faces moved back a little as he stood, respectfully giving him room. Giselle, looking up through half-closed eyes, was aware only of his hardness. He loomed over her like an executioner’s sword, ready to slice away all remaining innocence.
There was a flush of pleasure as Paige knelt by her side. The softness of the girl seduced her and Giselle’s mood changed. Now she was on the other shore of that vast lake of desire. Here were all things feminine; petal-soft kisses, moist heats, enveloping mists of care. Paige kissed her with a tenderness that made Giselle want to weep, made her want to be an infant in her mother’s arms again. The rapacity of men, the hardness of rock, which had seemed so desirable a moment before, was suddenly a sharp threat. Xavier, as he took his sex and worked it around the entrance to her belly was rapist and assassin. Giselle reached out and took Paige’s face. She had never felt such a desire to belong. She would be a votaress of the goddess’s order, a worshipper of the goodness in Paige’s smile.
Then Xavier brushed the head of his sex over her clitoris. There was a spasm in her belly, sharper than the stones that desired her, more compelling than the soft kisses of Paige. The conflicting desires bisected her. She was suspended over the dark lake, torn between the desire for a woman’s tenderness and a lust for the penetration that would break her to pleasure.
Xavier let her down to the ground slowly. Her body fell open as she settled to the soil. Paige fastened soft lips on her breasts. Jean knelt on the other side and ran his fingers down her cheek. He was naked and erect. Paige whispered for her to look, to see her brother’s desire. Giselle looked, and wanted him – wanted them all. She wanted to be enough for any who came to her. Her hand went to Jean’s lap and lightly brushed the hard flesh – the caress of waterweed across smooth stone. She saw him tense, saw the involuntary tightening of his abdomen and the upwards thrust of his sex. She smiled, letting him know that she would welcome him as more than a brother. Xavier slipped his sex home, but lodged only the head. She turned to him with the same smile, letting him know that she was also his. He asked her if she wanted it, and she nodded. He buried himself with a quick thrust and she twisted like a fish as the pleasure stabbed through her. Her groan was the groan of someone who has waited too long, the groan of the believer when their god finally answers them. She wrapped her legs around his behind and held him strongly, so that he would never quit her. Jean pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth was penetrated as swiftly as her sex. Her brother’s tongue writhed and stabbed. Paige bit into her breasts making her doubt the kindness of women.