Indian
Her master had been her first partner and he had introduced her to pleasure she’d not thought possible.This night, she saw three of the four guests were men she’d never seen before. Her fear showed in her eyes, in her posture, and she held her ground only because to run would lead to a whipping and because the smile on her master’s face seemed to tell her everything would be OK.Everything was not OK.She never understood her master’s actions. At his urging the guests took each woman repeatedly and roughly. They paid no attention to Sandrine’s cries and the entreaties by Juliette. One of the men who had taken her more than once that evening returned to dine with her master a few weeks later. After the meal they summoned Sandrine to the small parlour where the two men sat in front of the fire with their whiskey.Inevitably Sandrine was invited to join the visitor on the small sofa he occupied, and it was but a moment until the visitor put down his whiskey and turned to her and kissed. That's what he had said. Wait until the wind stops. One leaf clung despite growing in deep shadow, the edges of it a tremor in the breeze. Perfect, unfolded and opened toward her.She heard branches crack beneath his feet. Closed her eyes. He took her right foot. Tied it to what she could not tell. Stretched her legs apart. Tied her left foot so that she could not move. He took her arms, pulled them above her head, parted them and tied her wrists. Expertly, softly yet secure. Her back arched. She could not move. No limbo.Her belly rushed. Her labia began to swell. Her lips pumped as she rolled a wet tongue around the surface of them as if to signal the wetness between her legs. Waves of anticipation arched her back..She opened her eyes in instinct. No wind. And he was inside her. She was opened and his cock had pressed hard up inside her body, his movements slow and decided. In penetration he paused to press against her clitoris as if he had a woman's body. In her passivity she felt.
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