Tuesday, June 30, 2009

A Day In The Life Of Ron Jeremy

OK, before I start I want to make one thing clear – I am a big Ron Jeremy fan. I think he is a true artist and a great ambassador for the adult entertainment industry. He has also enjoyed a career most of us only dream of - fucking some of the most beautiful and talented women in porn, Traci Lords and Ginger Lyn spring to mind.

Ron 'The Hedgehog' Jeremy walked into his LA apartment, threw his keys on the kitchen bench and reached into the fridge for a beer. He was exhausted having been on set all day although not the whole day was spent in front of the camera.

He had arrived early to oversee the scene set up and run through some last minute instructions with Herschel Savage the movies director. Then his co-star had arrived and there followed the obligatory introductions. Although they had never met she was obviously aware of Ron's work and said that she was looking forward to working with him. Ron was happy, she had a very pretty face and huge tits, and he liked working with black girls as his cum looked good glistening on ebony skin.

Then it was into costume and makeup. The plot was loosely based on one of the Star Trek spin-offs so he was dressed in a tight red shirt and a pair of tight black pants which showed off his cock nicely. Then there was the obligatory wait while the crew did the final set up and prepared the shoot. After a lengthy wait and a few jokes with the crew he had heard the call, and his co star had appeared wearing a sparkling bikini and some flashing antenna. Going through his lines one last time as they took up their positions the director called 'Lights, Camera… and Action.'

After some corny dialog about the space virgin being curious about earth men and how they reproduce he took out his penis and told her to get down on her knees. She had sucked his dick for all she was worth and soon had the massive member standing at full erection. He then stripped her and lifted her onto a control consul and ate her pussy out, making her cum. Standing up he had impaled her on his monster meat and pumped till he was ready to blow, paused and eased himself out of her spasming cunt. He turned her around, bent her over and entered her from behind, again pumping her quim until he was ready to squirt and then withdrawing - this time aiming his tool at her asshole. He vigorously buggered her, his heavy balls slapping against her clit, until he heard Herschel cry out 'OK time for the Money Shot.' Ron pulled out and she turned around, dropping to her knees He jerked spurt after spurt of jism over her face and into her open mouth. The camera panned in to focus on the white sperm dripping onto her heavy breasts and she took hold of his now drooping prick and used the cock head to rub his spunk into her tits, especially her nipples.

'Cut, nice job you two,' the director had said, and with that Ron and his well fucked co star had shaken hands and gone off to get dressed. But Ron had stayed around to watch the next scene being filmed. It was to be a threesome and he had been giving the young male stud a few pointers on doing two women at once when the time came for action. He watched as the two women had sucked cock and been fucked in turn, with more than a little lesbian cunt licking and fingering to keep the action hot. Despite emptying his nuts only an hour earlier Ron felt his cock stirring in his pants and he excused himself from the set to go and find the fluffer he had seen working the young mans dick earlier. He had found her in the makeup trailer and had talked her onto her knees in two minutes flat. She had slowly wrapped her lips around his shaft and sucked him with all the passion of a lover and all the skill of a hooker, giving him the sloppy, slutty blowjob most men only dream of. The fact that it was off camera and for pleasure not profit, and yet was as dirty as any porn film, got him off quicker than normal, and his spooge soon surged up the length of his wang, through the head of his cock, and dribbled down her chin.

After giving the fluffer a thank you cunt lapping, nearly losing his ears when she had come moaning and yelping from the intense tongue work, he went off in search of the stills guy.

The stills guy was the photographer who took snaps of the sex scenes for sale to hard core magazines, and Ron wanted to approve the sheets of pictures from the last three days filming.

Sitting in a quiet office at the side of the set, flicking through pictures of himself having sex with several women, and in particular an orgy scene with a total of eight people which had been extremely hot to film, Ron found that his unstoppable dick was stirring again. He was already squeezing his tool through his pants when he arrived at the cumshot sequence from the group fuck scene. He and another man had knelt beside a beautiful blonde and had blown their loads over her tits, while another man had jacked his load over her nicely trimmed pubes. Ron was half looking at the pictures and half remembering the moment when he gripped his meat hard and came into his pants.

Happily spent, he was just about to leave when Herschel had come up to him and asked if he was interested in casting a new redhead for an upcoming film. Grinning, the big man said simply 'Lead on buddy' and followed the director to an adjoining set. There was harsh studio lighting illuminating a stage with only a sofa for furniture. Reclining on the sofa was a naked redhead with a pretty 'girl next door' face and a lovely, heavy pair of tits. She was gently rubbing her clit, and as the two men started to strip in front of her she lifted her finger to her mouth and tasted her own sex juice. They had stood in front of her and she had sucked and stroked them both to maximum stiffness. Ron had then moved to her pussy and for the third time that day began to probe her fleshy folds, making her shudder with raw lust.

By the time he had licked her to orgasm Herschel had already spunked his nuts over her face, his first load of the day. He was standing wanking himself back to erection as Ron placed the blunt head of his cock against the girls opening and thrust inch after inch of stiff fuckmeat into her body. By the time his heavy balls were resting against the soft curve of her ass her cunny was squeezing as another orgasm shuddered through her body. He pulled his long, veiny penis almost entirely out of her slippery slit then thrust it slowly back up to the hilt. She moaned, lost in a rolling multiple orgasm. 'Gimmie some of that cunt' Herschel grunted, his prick now hard again and jutting out in front of him. Ron laid down on the sofa on his back, the redhead then lay down on him face up and Herschel positioned himself between her legs, still jacking his pecker. Herschel slid his meat into her stretched opening and she ground her pussy back, with Ron's dick resting between her ass cheeks, and his hands wrapped around her pendulous boobs.

'How about some dirty talk, baby' suggested Herschel as he frantically fucked her. Moaning and whimpering she'd started to say 'fuck me harder, yeah, are you gonna put that big dick in my ass? There's a big hard cock in my cunt, fucking me, making me cum, ah, you going to fuck that cock up my virgin ass?, ooh yeah fuck me.'

Ron had rubbed the head of his dick against her puckered little asshole and felt her stiffen in anticipation, but then put his cock up against the base of Savage's shaft and firmly pushed his dick into her fuck hole. She had given a long, low grunt and then stayed silent, only able to focus on the two cocks reaming her flange. The two men had fucked her with gusto, knowing she would soon be spent and wanting to finish themselves before she made them stop, or she passed out from the intensity of her own orgasms. Pumping her slippery hole simultaneously had got both men quickly to the point of cumming and with a yell of 'Oh, fuck yeah, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!' Savage withdrew and vigorously pumped his dick squirting jet after jet of white sperm over the girls chest, belly and pubes. With globs of spunk still dripping from the head of his softening cock Savage had moved up to the girls head, bent down and kissed her and then placed the head of his penis into her mouth. Then it had been Ron's turn and he withdrew his already spurting cock and pushed it up between her legs. His semen splashed all over her trimmed pubic hair and ran like a river down her belly. Showing considerable skill she had reached down gently and massaged the last few drips of cum from his still engorged fuck tube while sucking Savages dark dick, and licking his empty balls.

Ron had dressed quickly while the other two had stayed on the couch kissing and cuddling. 'You aren't going to fuck her again are ya?' he asked as Herschel's cock began to twitch back into life. 'I do believe no one has fucked this young lady up the ass yet' had come the reply, and b fore his own desires could get the better of him he wished the aspiring porn star good luck with the upcoming movie, and said his goodbyes.

On the way home he had stopped at his local adult bookstore and picked up a copy of an old movie he had made, one of the first. Now he sat on his own sofa, beer in hand and the video remote beside him. He had slid the tape into the VCR and was fast forwarding to about where his scene was. Pressing play an image flickered into life on the giant TV screen. Ron, twenty years younger, was slipping his cock into Aunt Peg, and smiling to himself he took a swig of beer, reached down and unzipped his pant...

Monday, June 29, 2009

A Day in the Life of a Rock Queen

June, 1968, I was tagging along on The Doors' first European tour as the unofficial Mrs. Jim Morrison. Due to my dislike of the rest of the band I spent a lot of time inside fancy hotel rooms while Jim was out around town with this girl or that drug lord. But I didn't mind. I had my own activities to keep me busy. I knew he loved me. All else was harmless bullshit. Till he came home, that is.

The second he walked in the door I could smell the whiskey on him. It was his trademark scent. Booze and cigarettes. Perhaps that is why it made me so hot. The look on his face, however, told me that we were going to argue long before we got around to making up. "What's up, Pam? Your dope dealer not coming today?" He asked, slurring every other fucking word.

Although I had no intentions on using drugs that day his attitude pissed me off enough to make me retort, "Oh yeah. He's just running late. Speaking of late, Morrison, who kept you out all night?"

If there was one thing he hated more than all else it was for me to ask about what he did when he wasn't with me. I knew that. Just to be a bitch I pushed the two buttons that would anger him most. Just as I suspected I was rewarded with a blood chilling glare. Awww...how dangerous is the temper of a rock star! "It fucking smells like sex in here, Pam. Who kept you company while I was outlast night?"

Never one to tolerate my old man's prima donna bullshit, I said casually, "I didn't get his name. He was hung like a horse, though. It was a nice change, ya know?"

It took maybe all of five seconds for Jim to move from the door to where I sat in his sweatshirt and a pair of French panties on the bed. Before I could think to fight him off, he had my wrists clutched tightly in his grip. One look at his eyes told me that this time he was out for blood. Trying not to sound scared I said in a laughing tone, "Cute, Morrison, now get the fuck off me."

This produced a cold chuckle from him as he used his body weight to knock me down into the bed. "Yeah fucking right, Pamela. You spend all night fucking some ass hole junk dealer and you think you're gonna tell me to get off of you?"

I could see it all over his face. He looked wild, crazy, like the angry rock god about to strike me dead. I had really done it this time. With one hand he held tight to my wrists while he used his other hand to reach under the sweatshirt. "You're wearing a bra. There's a fucking shock. Bad news for you, though."

What the hell did he mean by that? With his free hand he moved quickly to unsnap my bra and then he slipped it off with ease, one arm at a time. It was then that I realized what he meant to do. Using the bra he quickly tied my hands together above me head, lacing the fabric like an expert around the brass head board. "Ok, Jim, enough's enough. I'm sorry, alright. There was really no one here last night. If there was, would I have a bra on?" I asked, telling the truth for the first time since he walked in.

The slap he delivered to my now bare left tit told me he didn't believe a goddamned word of it. "Hey Pam, did your parents ever whip your ass when you were a kid?"

What the fuck? "Jim..."

"Didn't think so." He said calm as a saint. My eyes grew wide as he raised up until he was on his knees and removed that large belt that became as popular as his brilliant leather pants. Before I could get a protest out he flipped me over on my stomach, cutting off nearly all circulation to my wrists and hands, and began to hit my ass with the belt. Deciding that I wasn't worthy of the little protection that the flimsy panties had provided me he then decided to strip those off before beginning again.

God, I was so fucking wet and ready! The waiting, at that moment, seemed far worse than the spanking. "You're trembling, Pam. I'm guessing you're smack dealer never tried this, huh?" "Jim, untie me. I get it, you're pissed off. Just let me go." I pleaded. I knew I could fuck him a lot quicker if I had my hands free to tease him with.

Again, there came that cold laughter. "Not this time, bitch. You know, there are so many things that I could do to your ass right now. Just thinking about it makes my dick hard."

His threat was not amusing. This was the man who sang Back Door Man every night to thousands of people, after all. "Jesus Christ, Jim! That's not fucking funny!" I said in the middle of yet another hard whack.

"I aint laughing, mama." He replied cruelly, tracing a finger from a steaming hot welt down to the crack of my ass. Without warning he shoved his finger into my very virgin ass. It felt hard and unforgiving as he moved it. Then, just as quick as he inserted it, he pulled it out. "No baby, I'll save that for another lesson." I sighed in genuine relief as he flipped me over so that I was once again lying flat on my back and still at his mercy. The fire between my legs grew to a boiling point when I looked at him. His gray-blue eyes were alight with passion, his bare chest (when had he taken off his shirt?)was hard and gleaming...My God, he was beautiful. And I loved him. That was my mistake. "So, you missing last night's fuck now?" He asked.

I said nothing. There honestly had been no man and one look at Jim would've erased him from my mind if there had been. But pride and left over anger kept me from saying so. Suddenly I was jolted by the unfamiliar feeling of his hand slapping my wet cunt. "What did you say, honey? I didn't catch that." "I said there was no fucking man!" I spat out, only to be slapped again. The stinging was damn near unbearable. He still didn't believe me.

"It's too late for lies now." A third, far harsher smack landed directly on my clit causing me to scream in pain.

"Morrison, why the fuck would I lie to you now?"

Thankfully he didn't respond to this with another blow to my cunt. No, he really seemed to be thinking my question through. Finally he said, "Well, then this is for not telling me the truth to begin with."

I gasped when he shoved three fingers inside of my cunt. What the hell was he doing? Barely a few seconds had passed before he added a fourth. I had never felt so full. Never so vulnerable. And then I got it. He was going to fist me.

"Jim...no...owwww......." I'm sure I screamed out a long line of obscene and unintelligible things. I felt torn in half for fuck's sake. He buried half his arm into my pussy. Just when I thought I would die or pass out, he tore his fist out of me. Once again, there was no warning or explanation.

"Now, do you want my cock, baby?" He asked softly.

Looking up at him I realized that the madness was gone. Just like that he was once again Jimmy, the man I loved, the man few people ever saw.

Although my pussy was sore, to say the least, I needed that finale release. "Of course I do." I replied in a hoarse whisper.

My heart pounded as he stripped off his famous black leather pants. Every time he fucked me I was as excited as I had been the first time. He kissed me as he entered me, soft and gentle. It, too, was void of all the anger. I knew he couldn't last for long. Not after everything he had just put me through. The power had him harder than he'd ever been.

Jim quickly switched from slow, easy strokes to hard, deep, thrusts. When I knew I couldn't hold it anymore I smiled and we came together, the electric rock god and his (emotionally) faithful queen.

Standing up to put on his clothes I saw his unforgettable smile, the one that meant he was up to something. What more could he have up his sleeve? Waiting for him to untie me I was shocked to watch him walk to the door and turn the handle. "I'll be back later, baby. You just get some rest, think about what you learned today, ya know?"

"Jim!" I yelled, unable to believe that he really intended to leave me tied up to a hotel bed wearing nothing but a sweatshirt.

His smile was one of great satisfaction as he said playfully, "Love my girl." before shutting the door.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

A Day at the Beach

"Mmmmmmm," she sighed as the fine grains of sand filled the gaps between her toes.

For a brief moment in her hectic life, Louise Redknapp's slumbering dreams matched reality. A sun drenched beach, secluded, private and edged by the bluest water imaginable. Even with her eyes closed she could sense the sunshine warm on her bronzed skin. She was sure that no one could see her, or even knew she was here, and, as such, felt really tempted to remove her top. However, she was still nervous of who could be out there, somewhere, just waiting and so her body stayed modestly covered.

*******************************

"Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful. Just look at her," said the man to his partner. Taking the binoculars from the man who had spoken the second man looked down on Louise sunning herself contentedly by the sea.

"Fuck me," he commented as his eyes roamed over her beige sports top, and focused on the zip front undone to reveal the beginnings of her cleavage. Before he handed back the binoculars he had also studied her long tanned legs covered by a wispy piece of red silk wrapped around a beige bikini bottom that was clearly high cut and could quite easily have been a thong. "That face would look good even in an overcoat," he said feeling his ever hardening erection.

"Come on let's get down there, and sort her out!"

*******************************

Louise's peace was shattered by the ringtone of her mobile phone.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, leaning up to rest on one arm whilst the other fished in her bag. "Hello?" she said, somewhat annoyed, as she flipped the phone's answering pad down. " Yeah, that's right, I'm here for two more days, and it's my own, free, time, and no, I don't want anymore bloody photo shoots. See you in two days. Bye." She closed the phone up. "Bloody managers," she said to herself putting the phone back to rest in her bag. Settling herself back down, Louise returned to her dreams.

Gradually the heat of the sun, the sea breeze and the fine sand faded into a haze as she drifted into a light sleep. Suddenly her mind's eye went dark. Something had obstructed the sun. She could still feel the warmth on her body so it couldn't be a cloud. As the shadow in her mind slowly crept to the front of her senses, she opened her eyes.

"What the fuck! Who are you, piss off and leave me alone," she shouted angrily.

A slight flick of the front man's wrist and a long, eight inch blade, gleaming and razor sharp emerged out of his hand. Louise fell silent and began to panic. When she finally found her voice once more it was less assured and reflected the fear she now felt.

"P.p.p.please, don't hurt me. I can give you money, anything. Just don't hurt me." She begged.

This only served to ignite the lust of her would be captors. As the man knelt down beside her, she felt the blade on her face as he inserted the tip inside the bottom of her left nostril. Louise could hardly breath for fear that any slight body movement on her part would result in her nose being ripped open.

"Listen, and listen well. We now own you. For the next few hours you will do exactly as we say. Understand." Louise was silent still, completely dumbstruck by her predicament. "Do you understand?" he shouted louder. Louise nodded very gently. Very slowly he removed the blade, and Louise heaved a sigh of relief.

"No, don't. You can't," she objected, as a large, thick rope was tied tightly around her right ankle. But they could and they did.

Louise still lay on the sand, although she had propped herself up on her elbows to see the thick hemp tied very tightly around her ankle.

"Stand up," came the order.

She did, nervously waiting for their next move. She was secured at the end of a ten meter piece of rope.

"What are you going to do to me?" she quizzed. No answer came, only a lecherous smile from both men. Louise swallowed, as a creeping fear overtook her. She looked stunning dressed only in her brief, beige bikini bottoms and sports top, covered by the thin sheer red silk sarong which now blew around slightly with the breeze, revealing more golden tanned thigh to the receptive eyes of her watchers.

Flicking out the blade once more the man approached Louise. She stepped back stretching out the rope to its full length until she was forced to stop. She screamed as her hair was gripped and twisted tight in his fist. She moved her hands up to stop him, but, as her body twisted along with her hair she was slapped hard on the left cheek.

"Owwwww!" she cried, then stopped abruptly as the blade grazed her face. She dare not breath as the sharp knife moved down her neck and across her shoulders. He increased the pressure slightly and nicked her skin. Louise screamed, although it was only a pin prick. A small trickle of blood ran down her upper arm.

"I could make that a lot worse," he whispered to her, "understand?".

Louise nodded.

"Good girl. Now we want you to strip. Just for us, here. Strip naked, and do it very slowly. No one will see you, there's no one here, is there, except us. That's why you chose this place. Now go on, get to it."

She could not believe it. She was shocked and frightened, very frightened.

"Louise, remove your top please," came the instruction. Remembering the slap, the knife, and seeing the large, powerful men, Louise knew she had no option but to comply.

"Get the top off, now," the man snapped. She could not believe she was about to undress in front of two complete strangers. The men could feel a stir in their loins as, looking down at the sand to avoid meeting their lustful gazes, she took the zipper in her fingers and began to slowly wind it down.

Inch upon perfect inch of golden flesh came into view as she moved it lower and lower. A great view of her cleavage and the outline of her breasts were now clearly visible. Louise paused. She knew that she had to oblige, and, in fact, the pause only heightened the eroticism of the act. Shamefully she continued until the zip became unhooked and the top parted down the middle.

"Let's see your tits in full, Louise. Off now!"

Completing the first part of her humiliation, she slipped the top off her shoulders and, taking it in her left hand, she dropped it to the sand. The men stared at her reddy brown nipples, hard and erect in the outdoor air.

"Fuck me!" came the simple statement. It said enough. She looked gorgeous.

"Your red, silky, thingy please, off!"

Louise was now truly horrified, as, semi naked, she moved her hands to the knotted sarong. Again she stalled, but only succeeded in delaying the inevitable. Tears welled up in her lovely, large eyes and her red, pouting lips began to quiver. She glanced down at her top laying on the sand.

"Come on Louise. I will count to five. If you are still wearing that thing, we will help you get rid of it. That will be much more unpleasant for you believe me!"

Louise sobbed openly now, as the man counted.

"5…..4…..3…."

Louise's fingers touched the silky fabric.

"….2…"

"Okay, okay, just don't touch me. Please." Louise accepted her fate. Her fingers pulled at the knot and the sarong just came away, floating gently down to the sand.

"Turn around. Oh yes, look at those."

Louise knew what they were referring to. Her bikini bottoms were indeed thong backed, and they could now see her entire bottom save for the small triangle of beige material as it disappeared into her pert, little arse.

Wearing only her stunning bikini bottoms, Louise faced the men once more. No one spoke, but she knew what they wanted to see, and also that she had to provide for them. She hooked her thumbs into the thin waist band of the bottoms and began to pull them down.

"Stop!" came the order. With the bottoms still in place, Louise stopped, surprised and confused.

"We'll play a little game, eh."

Louise was now even more confused.

"You will masturbate for us, with your bikini pants on, and we will time how long it takes you to come. For each minute you take we will whip your body with a long, leather whip. Understand, cunt?"

Louise reeled both from the use of the word "cunt" to address her but more so from the shocking act she had to perform and its dire consequences.

Finding her voice Louise begged and pleaded with them.

"N.n.n.no, please, you can't do …… I can't do that, I can't!"

"You will slut and you will do it now. The clock has started." With that he checked his watch and both men looked at the almost naked Louise. She continued to search for mercy, begging them, silently, with her big, round eyes.

"Go on Louise, get on with it, and stand with your legs slightly apart facing us." they ordered.

Poor, humiliated, Louise knew that she had no choice. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as a sheen of perspiration formed on her naked chest and breasts. Very reluctantly Louise reached down to her flat, tanned stomach. Smoothing it with the flat of her palm she continued down to her bikini covered mound. The men ogled her as she moved aside the thin material and moved her right hand under the hem and onto her pubic hair. For one last time Louise looked at the men, hoping it was all a joke. But it wasn't.

She cupped her now, slightly moist, pussy, then grasped her cunt firmly, massaging the lips with her fingers.

"Oh yes, go on," came a grunting sound from the men. Louise pushed down and into her mound, groaning slightly as she inserted her index finger into her slit.

"Oooohhhh," she moaned, closing her eyes as she pushed slightly against the intruding finger. She whimpered as she felt her own finger begin to create little circles inside of herself. Conscious of the need to come as quickly as she could, Louise removed her finger and sucked it into her mouth, wet it, and put it back inside of her pussy, attacking it from under the top of her bikini bottom this time.

The men went wild, frantically stroking their hard erections openly through their trousers.

Louise became more horny, as she tried to shut out the men and concentrate on the need to come. She cupped her hand over her mound and gasped as her fingers rubbed over her stiffening clitoris. She had done this many times before, but only ever privately. Teasing it further she nipped the erect little bud, and quivered as two fingers slid up into her slit. She now used her thumb to massage her clit and she could feel the heat coming. Louise gasped urgently, as her hips were grinding now in hopeless abandon against the attentions of her own hand. Her lovely, exposed bottom cheeks clenched and opened under the feel of her own touch, and she threw back her head on the verge of orgasm, when suddenly.

"Okay, okay slow down," she heard the man's voice say, as her arms were held firmly by her side.

"What are you doing, no, please. You have to let me come." Her body trembled with lust. She stood stiffly, breathing heavily as the men said nothing. They just looked at her drinking in her nakedness, sensing her sexuality. They held her for a whole two minutes.

Then. "Carry on now, you've had four minutes."

Louise was released to go back to her performance. Her urgency now increased ten fold both from the need to limit her forthcoming pain and also because of the desires now stimulated within her. She stood with her legs spread, as, once again, she cupped her own delicious mound. She was still hot.

The stunning beauty pressed her fingers desperately into the pink folds of her now very wet pussy. Her thong was dampened and outlined the details of her masturbation for her audience to see. She found, again, her still pulsating clitoris, and she nipped it, shuddering with lust.

"Oooohhhhh, yesssss," she hissed, lost in desire, as her fingers performed with a practiced expertise. Louise's pleasure rose to a pitch, as once more she brought herself to the verge of orgasm. When suddenly, once more, her eyes snapped open. Again she was held, and again the watch was checked.

"Please, please let me come," she begged,

"It makes us so horny to hear you say that, doesn't it?" one man said to the other.

"Six minutes fifty eight, fifty nine. Seven minutes. Carry on!"

Closing her eyes once more, Louise ran her hand down her body and again underneath her bikini bottoms. She had to admit to feeling more than a little horny herself at this moment, as her hand once more rubbed against her pussy. Louise inserted a finger from her right hand, then two and three and moved to cup her right breast with her left hand. She squeezed her tit and groaned deliciously.

"Leave your tits alone you horny bitch," came a shout. Releasing her breast Louise inserted a fourth finger into her dripping slit and began to frig a little harder.

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" she moaned. Pulling her pink pussy lips apart she played with her clitoris. The nub began to stiffen again and she groaned loud and long. The men watched in awe as she once more became high on the desire pumping through her glorious body. She stimulated herself to the point of no return, almost, almost, almost. Then.

"OH, FUCK, NOT AGAIN. PLEASE YOU HAVE TO LET ME COME! YOU HAVE TO!" Louise shouted breathlessly, as her arms were held firmly once more. Her groin was slick with her own juices and her light, beige bikini bottoms sported a dark damp patch, as her body trembled with desire. She felt one man caress the tops of her shapely, tanned thighs, and she began to whimper once more.

Louise was now desperate to come.

"Nine minutes, Louise, and still no orgasm."

She was released.

Forcing herself onwards, ignoring her extreme embarrassment and humiliation, Louise once more started the rhythmic action that fed her lust. She felt the surges of desire spread throughout her body as she reached the point of no return. Her orgasm was upon her, and she could not, must not, stop.

Louise fell to her knees, and this time the men did not stop her. It was as if her whole hand had disappeared inside her slit. She wanted to come, oh how she wanted to come!

"Yes, oh, yes. F..U..C..K M..E, I'm Comemingggggggggg!" and with that she did, long, hard and gloriously.

A frantic and tremendous orgasm overtook her, as she lay on the sand and writhed ecstatically until the last ounce of breath was dragged from her and she lay still, exhausted, soaked by her own juices.

The men were silent for a few minutes. The bulges at their groin giving away the turn on this had been for them.

"Fucking first class, a superb show Louise."

She could barely hear them, still lost in the rigors of her masturbation.

Louise, stunning, opened her eyes and blinked as the sunlight crept through her lashes. She saw the two men, standing, trousers removed, cocks massively erect.

"So, my beauty, what can you do about these?" said one man, referring to his blood engorged member.

"P.p.please," she whimpered, exhausted, "No more, no more. I can't." Her eyes closed again.

"Oh, yes you can, and you will. You see you currently have 11 lashes waiting for you. You now have to make both of us come, and each minute it takes you is a further lash for your gorgeous body."

Louise groaned, and screwed her eyes even tighter shut.

"So the quicker we fill you up the better for you," said one.

"You have two minutes to decide on how you want to take us," said the other.

Louise sat up, feeling the sand mixing with her sticky juices creating a painful rubbing against her thighs. But that was the least of her problems right now. She could not believe what she still had to do, and what would follow afterwards.

"So, are you ready?" came the enthusiastic request from her excited captors. Louise nodded reluctantly.

"How shall we take you?"

Louise looked up, but struggled to say anything.

"Well?"

"I will get onto all fours and one of you can take me from behind, and I will blow the other of you off." Louise could not believe she had said this and hung her head in shame.

"Great, off your go then." They watched through lust filled eyes, as Louise flipped herself onto her hands and knees, exposing her stunning bottom fully to the men.

One man positioned himself behind her. Louise bit her lip as she felt his thick cock brush against her slit. She moaned slightly, quietly, as he moved aside her soaked bikini bottoms and rubbed his stiff cock head in her juices. He massaged her moistness into his shaft making himself slick and slippery, ready for entry.

Louise braced herself. She felt her thong pulled tighter and then tighter and still tighter until she almost lost her breath. Then she shuddered as a loud rip signaled that her bikini bottoms had been torn away, revealing her well trimmed pubic hair.

"Ooohhhh," she exclaimed as the sea breeze washed over her new nakedness. Then she realized what he was doing. His cock moved off her slit and became positioned at her bottom. Finding her small hole he opened it with his wet finger.

Louise mewed in agony. "Noooooo, pleeeaase!" she objected as she bucked and writhed under the searching feel of the man's long digit. He removed his finger, only for Louise to feel the tip of his cock nudge forward.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she moaned as he slipped his stiff rod into her.

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" she screamed as he forced himself past her sphincter muscle and became fully embedded in Louise's arse.

For a few seconds he was still, while she became accustomed to her position. Then he fucked her bottom.

"OWWW,"

"OHHHHHH,"

"NOOOOOO,"

"PLEEEEASE,"

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

Each stroke brought about a cry of pain from Louise.

Her whole body shook as he rode her. Her head hung low, and her rounded, full breasts swung freely. Then she felt it. The second cock was at her head.

Looking up she saw the purple tip just an inch from her face.

"Open up," he said with glee. She did, and he sank his knob into Louise's mouth. She nearly gagged. Further and further he pushed. She was going to have to deep throat him and Louise adjusted her head and neck so she could achieve this.

What a sight she was. Both cocks now fully inside her, Louise drove them on, desperate to feel their sperm erupt inside her as quickly as possible. She bucked her bottom back and forth, containing her quiet agonies under the cock in her mouth.

Louise sucked up and down his shaft again and again.

Given the turn on the men experienced as Louise had masturbated in front of them, they did not take much encouraging to release their juice. Feeling them twitch, Louise knew they were almost there and drove harder.

Then it happened, and it happened simultaneously. The man in her arse arched his back and howled his release scratching his finger nails down her naked back. Louise yelled too and he filled her completely.

Then the second man shoved hard. Louise did gag this time and nearly spit him out. He grabbed her hair and held her head in place while he pumped his groin into her face.

Eventually, both men drained themselves and slipped out of her.

"Fucking ace Lou."

She collapsed, now truly exhausted. Spunk dribbled out of her bottom, down her thighs and also from the corners of her mouth.

"So, that took us six minutes making a total of seventeen lashes," one man said with delight.

Once more Louise groaned. "No please, I've done enough. Leave me alone."

But it wasn't to be. Louise was flipped easily onto her stomach. She was too weak to fight as the long rope was unfastened from her ankle and small ropes were tied to her wrists and ankles. Four two foot stakes were driven into the sand and the ropes tied around them.

Louise was secured,spread eagled, face down on the sand.

Her tears started afresh as she waited for the whip to fall. She had never been whipped before, and she didn't think she could stand it.

"We are going to put this on your eyes Louise, so you can't see the lash fall," one man said as her red, silk sarong was picked up from the sand and fastened around her head.

"Please," she whispered quietly and simply, "don't."

Louise heard the shuffle of clothes as the men redressed. She was left to ponder her fate as they prepared.

"W..w..ill it h..h..hurt," she asked naively.

"Oh yes, very much," came the reply.

Louise sobbed even harder. She waited in trepidation for the kiss of the leather. She waited and waited, but nothing came. Louise pulled on the ropes holding her. It took a bit of effort, but they began to come loose.

Excitedly, Louise pulled harder and they came free. She freed all her limbs and sat up.

She was alone, they had gone.

Despite her agonies and humiliation she was immensely relieved. Louise looked around, blinking at the sunlight. She saw her tattered, scattered clothes laying around her and could still feel the soreness in her bottom. The men's sperm was beginning to dry on her chin and thighs, and the whole thing seemed like a dream.

But she knew only too well that it wasn't.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

A Day & Then A Night In Schendi

The Slavers of the great port of Schendi threw a festival for the whole city, on the occasion of the groundbreaking for their new library cylinder.

Even before the Sky was streaked by rosy-fingered Dawn, on the cleared land where the Slaver library would one day stand, a good many stalls were set up to provide free food and drink. Musicians roamed the grounds playing tunes, acrobats leapt and tumbled. Mimes mimed. For those in the mood for a match of the Game, complete sets of Kaissa pieces could be gotten free from most concession stalls, along with a heavy-rence paper game board of tan and brown squares. Citizens, of all ages and all alike in their party mood, began to gather early. There was even the highly unusual sight of a black-robed member of the Assassin Caste within the throng of merry-makers.

There were several pagar kajira alcove-tipis erected for the carnal-minded. Even as the small tents were being staked and the leashed slave girls installed, lines had begun to form in front of the tipis' open flaps. The queues were made up mostly of adolescent males, young bachelors who weren't about to turn down the chance of a rut gratis with a lively kajira. Young maids strolling by in their fluttering Robes of Concealment and veils blushed furiously at the loud and lewd sounds of raw passion emanating from the long row of tipis. Older Free women, somewhat more wise to the order of the things, laughed derisively at the eager, randy youths.

Matronly amusement aside, it was, perhaps, too much to expect that any healthy Gorean male just into his first full flush of manhood could pass up the chance of furring a lively and willing pleasure silk-clad slave girl.

Even in a city such as Schendi, with an extensive Street of Brands district and above average slave population, a young man was unlikely to know the charms of a pleasure kajira, if he weren't the son of a rich house or born into a slaver family. Although the price of a good hunting sleen was many times the price of the average slave girl, owning a kolar'd slut was still an expensive proposition. Even paying for a coin-girl was beyond the normal means of the average young man just growing hair on his chin and looking to make his way in the world.

And the free sex tipis served a greater purpose than merely providing relief to aroused young men, the cultural practice all but eliminated sex-crimes on Gor.

To the delighted, if guarded, surprise of everyone, the Sun shone golden bright in a cloudless Sky on the day of the official groundbreaking for the new Slaver's cylinder. In the sub-equatorial city of Schendi it was mid-winter, technically speaking. And in winter in Schendi it constantly rained.

While it was definitely calendar winter just below the equator, it is understandable that visiting inhabitants of Gor's more temperate zones might take Schendi's hot and humid weather to be that of high summer. But the million or so permanent inhabitants of the great port city knew better. It was winter all right. A native of the region could tell the season by the tremendous amount of rainfall which sheeted into the surrounding jungle, pelted on the rooftops of the city, and flooded the flagstone boulevards and cobblestone streets.

Of course, it rained a great deal in the summer in Schendi as well, more in fact than during the so-called dry season of winter.

But, as has been stated, against all reasonable expectation, Lor-Torvis shone unchallenged on the ground-breaking festivities. It was as if the Central Fire itself graced the event. And, the commencement of the building of the grand new library/school was significant. It marked the public ascension of the Slaver Caste as a real power in Schendi, rivaled only by the fabulously wealthy and global influencial Merchant Caste of the freeport city-state.

The Assassin, a black dagger clearly tattooed on his sunburned forehead, moved smoothly through the assembled masses. A sleen in the fold. He brushed past a haruspex, a soothsayer who was working the crowd. The wide-eyed fortune teller shuddered at the passage of the night-garbed killer and gave a raspy whisper.

"Death."

At the center of the two city blocks of cleared land, Builders had erected a platform, its floor three feet off the ground. On this stage stood the Administrator of Schendi, of the Merchant Caste, and twelve others, the rulers of the families which comprised the city's Slaver oligarchy. Set atop high white poles, surrounding the platform, long silken banners streamed and snapped in the persistent offshore breeze. There were thirteen pendants in all which waved above the crowd, twelve of them were of blue and yellow and each bore the emblem of a great slaver house, from the howling Jit-Monkey of the Ushanga family to the stylized Ul of the Dhahabu clan. One pennant displayed the emblem of Schendi herself, the Scimitar of Discipline and Shackles.

But the Assassin, who surveyed the scene with the alert raptor gaze of a circling tarn, knew that by all rights there should have been another flag among the collection, the cross-bones and skull ensign of the League of Black Slavers.

It was the Black Slavers, after all, who were footing the entire bill for both the festival and the erection of the Slaver cylinder. This was an open-secret within the city. But, the Assassin noted with a small grin on his cowl obscured face that it wasn't the First-Captain of the League who hosted the event, it was the City Administrator.

Here, too, there was irony.

Until the very recent past, the Merchant Caste had been considered inferior by the High Castes of Gor. However, with the widespread and growing acceptance of codified Merchant trade law the Merchants had grown into the richest of all the castes, far outstriping the Scribes, Warriors, and Physicians. As the keepers of the only international law ever enacted on the world, Merchants had also risen to be the highest de facto caste, if judged on the amount of economic and political influence they wielded. They held the fate of entire cities in their hands and everyone knew their collective power would only grow with the coming years.

Yet, as the Merchants had been reviled in times past, they in their turn looked down upon the Slaver Caste. Indeed, Merchants considered Slavers nothing more than a sub-caste of their own. The Slavers disagreed. According to Slaver history, Schendi had been founded by slavers. Merchants had come to the port only after it'd been safely settled and the threat of attack by rain-forest tribes neutralized. In Schendi, unlike anywhere else on Gor, there were Slaver families as rich as Merchants.

Needless to say, there was a certain cultural tension between the two castes within the city-state. The presence of the Administrator was a sign of how significant was the Slaver project. His presence further attested to the rising power of the Slavers, that a Merchant was compelled to give his implicit blessing to a rival caste enterprise, a cylinder which would rise one level higher than the Merchant's own high-rise.

If the Merchants were uncomfortable with their relationship with the city Slaver Caste, their relationship with the League was far more complex. The Assassin knew, as well as the Administrator, that Black Ox himself, First-Captain of the League of Black Slavers, was the library's real sponsor.

The League, with it's eleven ship fleet, kept Schendi's sea-lanes clear of competing pirate bands throughout the year. With its year-round plundering, north and south of the Equator, the Black Slavers constantly pumped revenue into the port city's economy. Also with its looted riches, the League fattened the assets of the banking houses on the Street of Coins, not to mention their various business concerns and real-estate holdings throughout the city.

For example, the cleared land where the festival was being held had once been host to row upon row of Black Slaver owned insulae. Insulae, what on Earth would be called residential hotels, were shabbily build wooden structures meant to generate maximum profit with minimum upkeep. But the thing about insulae was that they were candle and oil-lamp lit and they tended to burn down fairly frequently. For three-hundred and fifty years the League had owned the insulae, rebuilding each shabby tenement time after time through the years. But, after the last fire, which had nearly consumed the entire two blocks of insulae, Black Ox had decided to dedicate the land, in the heart of the Street of Brands District, to the library.

Whereas most ill-informed outsiders assumed Schendi tolerated the League, either out of fear or because of the indirect protection it gained from sheltering the depredators, the truth was Black Slaver money was a good part of the riches to be found in Schendi. Far from being a necessary evil, the League of Black Slavers was a full partner in the fortunes of the city and had been for uncounted centuries. One needed to merely consider the fact that wealthy Schendi had neither a standing army nor navy, yet the freeport had never been attacked.

It wasn't the Merchants who would-be raiders feared. It was fighting the green ships of the League which jellied their bowels.

For some long minutes the Assassin studied the figure of the Administrator up there on the stage, dressed in his flowing robes of white and gold, as he recited a prepared and verbose speech. One never knew when familiarity of a certain face might come in handy. But, eventually, he looked away from the politician, the merchant wasn't the target of his hunt.

His slitted gray eyes searched the rest of the group on the stage.

At the far left, clothed in pastel-blue and yellow dyed linen Robes of Concealment and properly street-veiled, stood Uhura. She had only lately come into the stewardship of the House of Mkuku, the second best slaver market in the city. Her father had been killed during a buying trip upriver. He'd fallen overboard and was eaten by river-sharks before he could be pulled to safety. Although Uhura would never sully herself with actual hands-on capture and training of slaves, she was an expert at running a slaver's mansion and none under her employ or slave-steel doubted that she was in charge. Uhura was most definitely mistress of her domain.

The Assassin moved his glance from her, for the woman was not his prey either.

Each slaver in turn came under his scrutiny, he noted their features and looked at the next in line until he reached the man farthest to the right, R'o, Master of the House of Dhahabu. The Dhahabu market was acknowledged as both the largest and the highest quality in the city. It was also an ancient enemy of the Mkuku. The multi-generational feud between Mkuku and Dhahabu had very nearly wrecked both houses. It was R'o and Uhura's father who had stitched together a shaky truce.

Coincidentally, Black Ox was the son of R'o.

The killer looked away from the stage, his quarry was absence from that group of worthies. His gray gaze moved to the large pavilion which rose behind the stage. The great tent, its center apex rising up some twenty feet from the bare ground, was of satin dyed in morning blue and yellow-gold. The sides of the gargantuan tent were rolled up and within could be seen the numerous representatives of the lesser slave houses of Schendi. A sectioned off portion segregated the Free women and children from the men and pagar-kajirae.

Socially speaking, Free females and pleasure-silk slave girls are natural antagonists. It was best to keep them separated.

Rich food was served on silver platters, delicacies from across Gor, brought to Schendi in the holds of the ships of the League. Fine wines and paga of excellence flowed from slender-throated pitchers poured by infinitely skilled slaves. Girls danced in pits dug into the ground and sand-filled, contesting their graceful movements against one another.

On an extensive and ornately woven carpet, sitting cross-legged, was the infamous Black Ox. Exulted sat the First-Captain. He was a big man, big hands, big feet, and well over six feet tall. His skin a rich dark brown, as were his eyes. A broad nose and generous lips helped to form a masculine and handsome face. His wide shoulders were covered in a blue and yellow aba of intricate brocade. The sleeveless robe left his powerful arms bare. He wore blue trousers with yellow piping and sandals. A silver stud pierced his left earlobe. Grandiose and boisterous, he was every inch the pirate-king.

He sat before a table with the hundred-square Kaissa board inlaid in its top in gold and aged whale-bone ivory. No paper game-board for the Fleet-Master, thought the Assassin. A much smaller man, in the garb of a Poet and his dark face frowning in concentration, sat opposite the admiral.

To either side of the big slaver were the much talked about pleasure-girls of Black Ox. His blonde la en kajira behind him and to his right and his red hair la se kajira to his left. Singly, either slave was dazzling, as a set of chain-girls they were incandescent. Their white skin made them even more exotic among the varied deep hues of Schendi's majority Black population.

The blonde, Angel, had been born Free. A daughter of a Turian merchant, she'd been captured by the Wagon People of the great plains far south and inland of Schendi. Years later, she'd been recaptured, by a Bazi warrior in the pay of Turia during a raid on the camp in which she served. The warrior had been a good friend of Black Ox, when the man had died the First-Captain had taken the kajira under his personal kolar, the first girl ever bestowed that honor, and installed her into the League's pleasure garden. She'd performed for years as maid to the ransomed Ubara of Ianda before being promoted to First-girl only a few months past.

Her hair was a cascading silken gold fall of curls which draped to her ass when she stood. Angel's face was heart-shaped. Her open and expressive eyes, expertly outlined in kohl, were the sweet clarified blue of a restful Thassa. Her nose was pert. Her lips full and her cheeks held a natural-rued blush. A golden kolar banded her graceful throat, etched upon it was the legend, property of Black Ox. Her shoulders were lightly tanned, as was the rest of her red-silked petite form. Her breasts, as with most kajirae, were very full with prominent nipples. They sat high and firm on her chest. Her waist was pinched by heredity and her hips were full. Her ass, like her face, was heart-shaped. Her mons and the twin-fruit of her sex were clean-shaven, so that her well-developed clit was obvious. Her legs were coltish with soft thighs and nicely defined calves. She had dainty feet.

She was, in a word, exquisite.

Angel's demeanor never varied from soft-spoken, even when admonishing a girl under her supervision. With the Free she was shy and flawlessly obedient. Her papers stated she was of high slave heat. The Assassin could believe that. He felt the tug of the slave's sensuousness even over the distance which separated them.

The redhead, Pele, was not the shy type. Indeed, her legally registered slave heat was the highest recorded in Schendi. She was an outrageous flirt, the cause of more than her share of induced-erections among the male population of the League's hidden cylinder. Only the fact that she was the First-Captain's private stock kept her from being constantly used by the men she so easily and highly aroused.

Her red mane was a variegated voluminous war-flag, twisted into a thick braid, which fell to the bottom curves of her firmly plump asscheeks. It was rumored that she was a wild-bred passion-girl. Such was easy to believe from the haughty, almost challenging expression in her eyes. It was said that the First-Captain often used his five-bladed whip on her, so that her lithe and snowy body was oftimes covered in ramberry colored welts.

As with Angel, the second-girl's eyes were also blue. But Pele's were the azure of an uninterrupted morning Sky. Because of the emergence of a recessive gene in her ancestry, the girl was red-haired and blue-eyed girl despite having been born of the swarthy and black wine brunette Tuchuk, of the Wagon People. Pale-skinned, the oval-faced slave had delicately sculpted ears which were ringed with small silver hoops. Silver too was her kolar, inscribed as property of Black Ox. An aquiline nose, also properly ringed, was at odds with her full and sultry lips. Her slender shoulders were dusted with freckles. Her breasts were large, even for a kajira, but so symmetrical that they did not seem too big for her carriage. Her pale coral-nipples, seemed perpetually hard beneath her transparent red silks. There was a small tuft of hair above her mons and the swell of her glistening cuntlips. A final silver hoop graced her long clitoris. Her round hips supported a succulent ass, generous thighs and long legs.

Although her stomach didn't yet bulge, the slave was two months pregnant.

Assuredly, the sluts of Black Ox were a sight worth seeing.

The Assassin cleared his mind of the momentary distraction of the beautiful kajirae and moved quickly but unhurriedly through the milling crowd, closer to Black Ox's position.

There were many people all over the world who wished to do Captain Black Ox harm.

This wasn't paranoid delusion on the part of the good captain. As leader of the piratical League of Black Slavers he was a wanted man across the face of Gor, expect in his home port of Schendi. In the Schendi, Black Ox was a tax-paying and respected citizen. More than that, he was the only son of the powerful House of Dhahabu. As a consequence, he didn't think of himself as a wanted man, nor as a criminal. Black Ox saw himself as a member in good standing with his caste, who happened to be the leader of a large-scale and very successful slaving operation.

The fact that people wanted to kill him, that there was an ever-increasing bounty on his head with every passing year, was merely a by-product, a natural outgrowth, of his savage profession. All of which was far from his mind as he looked about the pavilion and out the open sides at the gathering.

He was well-pleased that the festival had turned out so successful, as happy as everyone else that not only had the rain had held off but that the Sky was actually cloudless and that the damp, steaming land was graced by sunshine. Colorful and raucous-voiced birds skylarked overhead, seeming as free of care as the holiday crowd below. The wheeling and diving avians kept a sharp eye out for any crumbs or tidbits that might be dropped to the ground.

The library project had grown out of the First-Captain's enforced stay in port, prompted by an extensive overhaul of his ship, while the rest of the fleet had headed north, to ravage the sea lanes and coastal settlements during the Northern Hemisphere summer. In the League, it is said, to keep a Black Slaver in port when there is booty to be had is to cage the panther. But Black Ox, a man capable of thinking as well as fighting, had managed to turn a temporary negative into a long-lasting positive.

Even more importantly, for the moment, he was winning the Kaissa match. By his calculations he'd have his opponent's home stone in check in five moves. The wagered copper bit the Poet had put up, against Black Ox's sack of twelve double-weight gold tarn pieces, was as good as in his belt-wallet. As the pirate waited for his opponent's next move, he casually held out his embossed iron cuppa for his First-girl to refill.

Then it happened.

At the periphery of his vision, he saw the wink of sunlight glint off something in the crowd outside. It could've been the chroming of light off an pendant around a sandal-maker's neck, or a spark off the enameled kolar of a fish-monger's slave. Something of no import.

However, Black Ox was a seaman. This meant that unlike a landsman, he couldn't afford to take his environment for granted, not when a change of the color of water beneath the ship's keel could mean the presence of sharp-toothed rocks just below the surface, or anomalous white-caps in the distance that could just as well be a squadron of enemy ships bearing down on his position. Decades of training compelled Black Ox to look up from the board and see what had snagged his attention. Over the heads of the crowd he saw the Assassin, thirty feet or so away, raise his crossbow and aim.

The Assassin too had seen the glint of sunlight. It'd come from a jewelry vendor hawking his wares. Just to the side of the black robed hunter, the jeweler was holding up a silver ring set with amethyst, the better to show off the stone's color for a customer. It was the lavender stone which had caught the light and flashed it from its depths. Although the sparkle had not washed out the Assassin's vision, it was dazzling enough to affect his aim at the moment he pulled the trigger of the bow.

As the bolt left the weapon the Assassin knew that the missile would go wide of its mark.

The danger plain and immediate, Black Ox was in the process of heaving himself up off his carpet when fire erupted white hot in his right arm. He looked down to see the crossbow-bolt buried in his forearm, pain crackled around the outraged nerves of the deep puncture. Blood had begun to stream ruby-red from the wound. The half-filled cup fell from numb fingers, to dully clank down onto the carpet, spilling its pale yellow contents. He growled in his throat, gaining his feet and knocking over the Kaissa table in the process, game pieces scattered to the carpet. The startled Poet fell back in surprise.

Black Ox bellowed, a primordial expression of pain and rage, as he charged forward out of the tent toward the man who'd shot him.

The moment the first errant bolt had cleared his weapon, the Assassin had begun to recock the crossbow. He quickly ratcheted the bow back to its armed position and withdrew another arrow from a quiver sewn into his robe. He did this calmly, without fear. He didn't consider escape.

For nearly two hundred years he'd practiced his craft. The Assassin was a consummate professional and once a professional Assassin had accepted coin his priority was killing the prey, not his own safety. He would fulfill the contract, then seek escape. In the first moments of confusion following the slaying he should be able to use the crowd to his advantage, to gain the vast Schendi harbor area and to stow-away on a departing ship. But first the prey must be brought down.

He was aware of the huge Black Slaver charging at him but the Assassin did not panic. He smoothly withdrew the bolt, placed it in its slot and raised the crossbow once more to his face, squinting with one eye, in a classic shooting stance. The First-Captain was dead in his sights, nearly blocking out the rest of the world as he pounded closer.

Black Ox, his mobile lips pushed back in an ugly grimace, saw the Assassin raise his weapon again. He lowered his head and broad shoulders and barreled into the would-be killer, ramming him in the mid-section. The Slaver heard the air whoosh loudly from the tackled Assassin. He also heard the twang of the crossbow fire, the bolt passing harmlessly above his back as he slammed the Assassin into the dirt.

Still bellowing, Black Ox sat on the attacker's chest and with his right arm hanging useless at his side. He clamped his big, callused left hand over the Assassin's throat.

The man coughed, then wheezed as he felt his windpipe being inexorably crushed. He let go of the crossbow and own hands scrambled over his attacker's fingers, trying to find a purchase, a way to peel back the steel grip. But it was no use, the enraged Slaver was the far stronger man. The Assassin felt panic begin to tinge his thoughts. Not only was his Primitive Cortex, his hindbrain, reacting to the contraction of his air-supply but he could feel the extreme pressure of Black Ox's vise-grip beginning to crush his windpipe. He was growing light-headed, no longer the dominant predator, the Assassin had become a caught prey-item.

By accident, more than by design, his left hand batted against the shaft of the quarrel still stuck in his opponent's forearm. In desperation, the Assasin seized the bolt. He jerked it, twisted it, grinding the arrow in the fresh wound.

Black Ox howled. It felt as if his entire arm had been dipped in acid. He could feel the bolt shaft scraping bone as the Assassin cruelly twisted the thing. But this wasn't the first life and death struggle the pirate had found himself fighting. Instinctively, he leaned forward, bringing his weight into play. Increasing the stress on the man's throat. And, while the loss of blood and shock conspired to sap his considerable strength, he was more than powerful enough to shatter something as fragile as a trachea.

The Assassin heard his own death rattle as the delicate bones of his windpipe gave way under Black Ox's assault. Over the span of his long career he had witnessed the death of a thousand of his victims, men, women and children. He now experienced for himself the sense of outrage, of feeling cheated of the days still due him.

Despite nearly two hundred years of an unblemished record, the Assassin died in shame, his prey living on.

Black Ox held on to the crushed throat for long seconds after the Assassin died. I'm alive, he thought, greatly relieved, as always after defending his life.

Pain from his stirred injury nearly made the big pirate swoon, he saw the world begin to gray over but he fought it, his instincts telling him that it was urgent for him to regain his senses. He bellowed again as he unwrapped the Assassin's dead finger's from the arrow shaft aslant in his blood-covered arm and released his hold on the corpse's shattered throat.

It was then that it registered to him that someone back in the tent was keening a high-pitched scream into the morning air. He struggled to stand, succeeding with some great effort, and swaying on his feet he turned around.

The path he had plowed open through the crowd only seconds before had not collapsed. It was as if the people were afraid to intrude upon the berserker, the way fish will stay clear of a shark's wake. With that clear line-of-sight he could see directly into the pavilion, at his carpet, at the upset Kaissa table. He could see that it was Pele who wailed.

And he could see the slumped figure of Angel draped in Pele's arms. Black Ox felt his body turn ice cold. The pain in his arm went away. The rage went away. And abject fear gripped his heart.

"No," he grunted, feeling his testicles crawl up close to his body.

He didn't remember stumbling back under the awning of the tent but suddenly there he was looking down to see Angel who had fallen across Pele's lap. The First-girl's transparent red silks had rucked up over her hip, clearly revealing the expanse of curved tanned flesh still warm but no longer animated. Her golden tresses had spread over her shoulders, with wispy strands covering her beautiful face. The ugly shaft of the crossbow quarrel protruded from her breast. The blonde had been shot through the heart by the Assassin's second bolt. Livid red blood ran from the wound.

And, of course, she was dead. No longer a vivacious and willing girl, now merely a thing.

But how can that be, Black Ox heard a voice inside his head ask. Less than a minute ago she was pouring wine. Less than a minute ago she was smiling.

At the approach of her master, Pele ceased wailing, but her gorgeous face was a ruin of grief, her mouth still formed an O, a silent scream as she helplessly looked up at Black Ox. Her lovely eyes swam in tears. The strength left Black Ox's legs and he sank heavily to the carpet, stained now with both his and the dead kajira's blood. In an unconscious gesture of comfort, he reached out and stroked the Second-girl's head. She pressed back hard against his hand, seeking security.

The Slaver was far too much of a civilized Gorean to show his grief in public. However much he might have loved his First-girl, and he had loved her with a pure clean-burning flame, in polite society a slave was merely an animal, after all. The affection for one's pets was not a thing for general consumption. An emotion display would be considered unseemly. Black Ox was a prince of the city, to borrow a barbarian phrase, and he would comport himself as such.

he lifted Angel's head from Pele's lap and lowered it to the carpet. Black Ox then struggled out of his aba, with the shaft of the quarrel still lodged in his arm, and tenderly draped the robe over Angel's supine form.

"Fair winds, sweet Angel," he murmured, so that only Pele heard.

In short order, Black Ox's arm was attended to. Under guard, the Second-girl was sent back to the League's cylinder along with the dead en kajira, and the festival continued. The excitement of the foiled Assassination, the death of the beautiful and expensive kajira only added to the excitement of the day. Black Ox had also made sure to give the Poet the purse of double-gold tarns, wagered in the forfeited Kaissa game. All would later agree that it had been a most memorable festival, one that would be talked about for years.

In the botanical gardens courtyard of the League's hidden cylinder a tower of wood, about six feet high, had been built into a pyre. Within that pyre, shroud in red linen, lie the body of the fallen Angel.

The dusky Sky was bruising purple toward true night when all of the dozens of pleasure kajirae of the cylinder filed singly into the courtyard. Each carried a small unlit brass oil-lamp. Known as the Ravishment Lamp, or lamp of love, the spouted lantern was traditionally lit in the sleep-chamber when a master wished to thoroughly use his slave girl. The lamp was as much a symbol of a pagar kajira's enslavement and devotion as was her kolar.

As the slaves entered the courtyard and crossed the flagstones they moved to the pyre before pouring a dollop measure of the oil from their lamps onto the wood. The oil had been scented for the occasion with Angel's signature perfume, so that the wood, and hence the night air, carried the dead girl's bouquet.

After silently, gracefully, performing the ritual of oiling the wood, the assembled kajirae arranged themselves into three concentrate circles around the pyre, the most senior and favored girls composing the inner circle, the newer and less skilled chain-daughters forming the outermost. They all knelt into their nadu, except for the Second-girl. Pele lit her lamp with her master's fire maker. The new and well-clipped wick caught the flame and she steeped from the inner-circle to the pyre.

"Tal, sister," she whispered, with wet eyes, as she looked at the shrouded figure.

She and Angel had never been friends.

After her owner, a First-girl is absolute ruler over her master's pleasure garden. A slave-ubara, as it were. To maintain a razor-edged sharpness among the girls demands a certain amount of ruthlessness. More than once Pele had felt the authority of Angel and she had naturally enough resented it. As the only two girls to wear Black Ox's personal kolar they couldn't help but be competitors. The fact that the First-Captain had chosen to honor Pele by breeding her with his own seed had not made the First and Second-girl's relationship any easier. But, Pele felt, that competition to strive higher in their master's eyes had made them both better kajirae. And for that she was both grateful and respectful to her former mistress.

"You always served with fire and perfection. May you sit by the Great Mother's side."

Then she touched the short fire of the lamp to the doused wood. There was a soft whump as the flame caught in the flammable oil. In the suddenly brightened courtyard, Pele returned to the three-rowed circle, passing among the kneeling kajira, lighting the lamp of each. The scene was other-worldly, the slave girls in their fluttering silks seeming more beautiful spirits, drifting in the night, than actual flesh and blood beings. Their very postures bespoke their wretched sorrow.

As far as the rendering of the dead, the Gorean axiom is to burn or bury the Free, to throw the criminal and slave to the sleens. In the aftermath of Angel's slaying, Black Ox had turned that saying on its head. In the afternoon, after he'd returned to the League's cylinder from the ground-breaking festival, he'd gone down to the Iron Pens and had personally, one-handedly, savagely chopped the Assassin's body into small chunks with an ax and kicked them into the fighting-sleen pit.

The act hadn't dampened his sense of bereavement even a little bit. He hadn't expected that it would. The loss of Angel was an open wound he expected would never truly heal. Under the archway of the courtyard, he stood with a vast, whistling emptiness inside.

Beside him stood an old woman. She was Kauahae, the former Ubara of Ianda.

Decades ago, long before he'd become First-Captain, Black Ox had kidnapped her and brought the woman to the cylinder, to hold her there until the Ubar of Ianda forked over the ransom for her. He never had, instead the island Ubar had installed a younger girl in his Free Companion's place and moved on with his life. After a few months the naturally gregarious Ubara, lonely for company, had moved out of her suite of rooms and into the Pleasure Garden with the kajirae. She had resided there ever since. Both she and Black Ox watched the pyre's flame climb high into the night. They didn't step into the courtyard proper because they were Free and the funeral was for a slave, something that was beneath their official notice.

"Angel was the best abigail I ever had," the ancient Ubara, sniffed. She dabbed at her red and puffy eyes with a handkerchief. "No maid at my court was half as accomplished."

"I'm sure Angel would feel there could be no higher praise," Black Ox said, his deep voice thick and raspy.

"I think as well that she would be happy to know that her death aided her master in some small way to defeat an enemy bent on killing him."

Black Ox shook his head in the negative, as he adjusted his arm in the sling, gingerly flexing his fingers. "No. I wasn't the Assassin's target."

The Ubara frowned as she looked up at the Fleet-Master. "I don't understand."

"It's simple. I was looking directly at the Assassin when he pulled the crossbow's trigger. He wasn't aiming at me. He was aiming to my left. The urt intended to kill Pele," he said, nodding toward the Tuchuk girl who knelt now, back in her place unmoving, near to the roaring flames.

The Ubara frowned behind her gossamer house veil. "But why would anyone hire an Assassin to kill a slave?"

"Because she is unique, because she is the only slave who carries my child, my potential heir." Again his glance went to the Second-girl. "Whoever sent the Assassin didn't want me dead, they wanted me to suffer."

"Ah," the ubara nodded. "Unusual motivations, if true."

"Aye. Not the normal course of things to be sure. Not the way men usually do business, neh? It denotes a certain subtle, feminine turn of mind. Don't you think?"

The ubara's first thought was that the Admiral was implicating her, then she realized his true meaning. "The Lady Uhura?"

"Aye," Black Ox confirmed, the firelight reflected orange on his dark face. His lips were compressed into a thin line. "She's no more forgotten that her brother died on my knife than I have. And now, with her father gone and Uhura in charge of her house, she seeks to balance the scales. She must've heard about the child, of my affection for Pele. Her only mistake was being too devious, she didn't send the Assassin for me. She's missed her opportunity and now its my turn."

The ubara sighed, briefly fluttering her thin veil. "So you take up the feud again."

Black Ox shook his head once more. "No. Neither my house, nor the city's Slaver community in general can afford such a destructive conflict at this time. But life is long, great lady, and somewhere in Time I'll find my chance for vengeance. In the meanwhile, I'd prefer that Pele not know she was the intended victim."

"She won't hear it from me," said the old woman. "But I'd wager she's already figured it out for herself. That girl is a thinker, as quick-witted as any I've known. Free or slave."

Black Ox gave an affirmative nod. "Aye, that she is. Before her, I'd never found another I'd even considered fit to mother my children. Free or slave, as you say."

His dark gaze settled once more on the kneeling kajira, highlighted by the lamp in her hands and pyre's flames. "She's precious beyond price to me. This I say without shame, I'd have preferred that the very rock of the Sardar Mountain have crumbled into dust before witnessing the evil day that took away my Angel. But, better that the stars themselves snuff out before Pele is taken from me."

The Ubara remained silent, accepting the honor the First-Captain bestowed on her, by allowing his true feelings to be expressed. And she knew that Uhura, of the House of Mkuku, was doomed.

With nightfall came the end to the brief spell of fair weather over Schendi. Tendrils of cloud crept into the Sky, masking the three moons and erasing the hard glint of the Galaxy's countless stars. As the kajirae, the Ubara, and the First-Captain stood vigil, the rains returned in quiet patters, the warm drops hissed into the flames of the pyre.

Night wept over Schendi and the fallen Angel.

Friday, June 26, 2009

A Cold Reading Turned Hot

Mike tossed the issue of Variety on the small table beside him and looked at his watch. It was an old issue he'd read before, anyway. The casting agent seemed to have forgotten their appointment. He glanced at the bored receptionist, wondering what he should do next, when the door to the office opened.

"Mike..." A thin, middle-aged man glanced at the photo and resume in his hand, then looked up again. "Bine?"

"Bean. It-it's pronounced 'bean.'"

"Yeah, Biehn. Got it. Come in." The man quickly disappeared into his office. With a last glance at the receptionist, Mike followed him inside. The casting agent quickly closed the door behind him. "Sit down," he said, indicating a black, leather sofa in front of a wet bar built into the wall. He dropped the photo and resume on the huge wooden desk, plopped into a leather chair and leaned back.

"You wanna do a cold read or you gonna do a monologue?"

Mike shrugged. "Whatever you want."

The agent looked him carefully. "I just might take you up on that. Why don't you do a cold read, then?" He handed the young man a well-thumbed script. "This is the picture. Your agent tell you about it?"

Mike nodded as he flipped the pages. "He told me who's in it, the director, stuff like that."

"Good, good. I like an actor who comes prepared." Something about the way he said it made Mike flinch, but he shrugged it off. "So read. Start on that page and just read till I tell you to stop. The character is a psycho, a stalker, got it?"

Mike nodded. "I think so. May I--?"

"What? Oh, sure, sure. Look it over first. Take all the time you want. Then just jump in."

"Thanks." Mike glanced it over. A psycho. A psycho in love. A guy with big impossible dreams of getting a woman he could never have. Mike suppressed a sardonic smile. What was that like, he wondered, thinking about the busty blonde who'd just moved in down the hall from him. Then he focused again.

He nodded to the agent, then began to read. It felt good. It felt right. He kept his mind focused on the words in front of him and kept reading. He moved around the man's office, taking advantage of the space. This scene was loaded with sexual suggestions and Mike put everything he had into them. He had to be doing well - the man had yet to stop him. He'd been to auditions where he barely got to read a sentence, but this guy was letting him read the whole thing! As he neared the end of the scene, he began to wonder if he should just keep reading when finally the casting agent stopped him.

"Good job. Real nice. You did some nice stuff there." The agent paused, studying him. Mike waited, looking outwardly cool even as his heart was hammering in his chest. "You could be the one."

"Thank you," Mike said evenly.

"Take your shirt off. Let's see how you're built."

He hesitated a moment. His agent had said nothing about this.

"Kid, this is a visual business," the man added impatiently. "Now let's see."

Slowly, he pulled his shirttail out of his jeans and carefully unbuttoned his shirt. The soft, woven cotton slipped down one arm and was tossed onto the black leather couch behind him.

"Nice...nice," said the older man, nodding appreciatively. "Turn....Yeah, very nice..."

Mike closed his eyes, trying to ignore the leer in the man's voice. The casting agent stood and moved closer, till the young actor could feel the man's hot breath on his bare shoulders.

"How bad you want this role?"

"I don't really--"

"This role has nudity in it. It has sex. Can you do sex?"

He nodded, unable to find his voice, as a hand slid up his back.

"Show me," the older man said, sliding his hands over the smooth, muscular shoulders.

Mike turned his head, startled. "You-you want me to--?"

"I can do a lot for you," the man purred. "Introduce you to all the right names. Get you in all the right doors." He squeezed Mike's shoulder. "Can make you a big man in this town." His hand slid away and he moved behind the desk again. "But you gotta show me you can hack it."

Mike shook his head and started to turn to retrieve his shirt.

"Look, kid, right behind that door you came in there'll be another actor who maybe wants the role more'n you. And for guys like you, there's--" He pointed out the window at a Jack-in-the-Box sign across the street. "We understand each other?"

The young man swallowed. "What do you want?" he asked softly.

The agent smiled, displaying a mouthful of expensively capped, perfect teeth. "I wanna see the rest of you. I told you--there's nudity in this project." He poured two glasses of whiskey from a decanter and handed one to Mike. "Here, this'll help."

Mike swallowed the burning liquor quickly. He glanced down at the waistband of his jeans and slowly, carefully he unbuttoned the top of his jeans, his fingers shaking slightly. He looked up and saw the lustful gleam in the agent's eyes. Quickly he looked down again as he unzipped his fly and eased his jeans down over the slim hips to his lean thighs. When the man said nothing, he continued, easing his briefs down, too. Finally, the last of his clothes joined his shirt on the sofa. He felt the cool air of the room's air conditioning against his skin.

"Turn," the man ordered.

Mike swallowed, then turned, trying to avoid looking in the man's eyes. He knew what he would see there and it made his stomach cramp. The man moved closer.

"Yeah," the casting agent said softly, his desire obvious as his eyes lingered over the young actor's groin. "You got a lot of assets. I see star material in you. You work out, don't you?"

Despite the circumstances, the young man could feel his face color with a tinge of pride at the compliment. He nodded. "Pretty much."

"Yeah, I could tell. Here. Have another drink; you look a little cold in here. Damned air conditioning...Football?"

Mike nodded again, his skin starting to prickle with the cool air in the room. "And basketball."

"Yeah?" The agent dropped his voice. "Maybe we could go a little...one-on-one...sometime..."

'Not a chance,' the young man thought even as he said "Yeah. Sometime."

"How about...now?"

Mike shook his head and turned to retrieve his clothes. "Look, I'm not gay..." The man merely shrugged in response. "And I don't-"

"Don't what? Don't wanna be a star? You getting a lotta phone calls now, kid?"

"A few."

"Really? From who?"

"Okay, well, one or two, but-"

"'But' nothing. Doesn't have to be that way. Nice, young stud like you."

Mike bristled. "I came here about the part. Now do I get it or not? Anything else you want, you can buy on Sunset."

"The kid's got balls," the man grinned. "Not that I hadn't already noticed." He moved closer. "Y'know what I want? I want somethin' only you can give me. I want a few minutes of your time...and I want this..." His hand moved slowly over the smooth curves of Mike's small, tight ass.

"Please," Mike said softly. "I-I can't."

"Sure ya can!" The man was massaging his shoulders now, talking in a soft, smooth voice. "There's just me and just you here. You be nice to me, and bingo, bango, bongo, you got a role your buddies back in acting class'll be droolin' over. Here, have another drink and we can toast your success."

Mike swallowed his third drink quickly. The room was getting warmer and he was starting to relax a little, in spite of himself. "How--?"

"Right here," the agent said, tapping the desktop. "Just bend over for a few, then you can put on your clothes and start figuring out how you're gonna handle stardom.."

Mike swallowed the lump in his throat that seemed to choke him. He hesitated fro a long moment, then slowly bent over until his chest pressed against the shiny, cold surface of the desk, his fingers gripping the smooth edges.

"Spread your legs. Wide."

He bit his lip to hold back a groan as a firm hand reached between his legs to cup his lightly-furred balls. The man reached into his desk drawer for a moment, fumbling for something. Mike raised his head and turned to see the agent take out a condom and small tube of Vaseline. He turned his head again, and rested his cheek against the desk, trying not to think about what was about to happen.

He could hear the man fumble with his zipper, hear it unzip behind him. Clumsy fingers greased his entrance with the warm, slick Vaseline and he grit his teeth.

"So tense," the older man said softly. "I ain't gonna hurt ya. I like you. I wanna help you, remember? Relax, so we can both enjoy it."

Mike tightened his grip on the desktop's edges. He wanted to change his mind, to punch the guy in his leering face, to grab his clothes and run out of there and never look back. But he couldn't. This role, this part, it was a lot, it was everything. Big name stars, a famous director, and a major motion picture. And him as the star. The Star. It could change his whole career, his whole life. Taken that way, five minutes didn't seem like a big trade for a whole lifetime. And the liquor helped.

Something hot and rubbery pressed against the cleft of his buttocks. He clenched for a moment, then forced himself to relax. He wanted to get it over with. He wanted the man to stop talking to him and just do it and be done with it.

There was a pause and the prick that poked at him was replaced by a finger, pushing gently but persistently into him. He bit his fist, groaning at the intrusion.

"Easy, kid..."

A second finger joined the first and scissored him open, stretching the ring of muscle till it relaxed a little. He gripped the desk's edges again, his knuckles white. He could imagine how he looked, bent naked over the desk, his torso spread along its surface as the casting agent prepared him.

A moment later, the rubber-covered head pressed against his anus again, more determined than before. He felt the puckered opening give as the man paused, the head of his cock now inside the young man. Hands massaged his shoulders.

"Relax..."

As his body accommodated the girth of the agent's penis, he felt it enter his virgin channel, then pause again. He was surprised at the fullness he felt as the man waited for him to get used to it.

"Ooooh, kid..." the agent groaned. "You're so hot, so tight inside...."

Mike closed his eyes tightly, squeezing out a couple of tears as he did so. His anus burned at the invasion. God, make him get this over with!

Slowly, rhythmically, the man began to fuck his ass. His hips moved slowly at first, nearly pulling the young actor off the desk and pushing him back down with each stroke. Slowly the pace began to increase, the casting agent drawing almost all the way out, emptying the young man, before thrusting into him again as he moved closer to his own climax. Mike could no longer hold back; his groans now in a rhythm with the man's thrusting.

The long, deep thrusts began to stroke along his prostate, eliciting a new response. Mike's body shivered all over as the man seemed to find a pleasure spot deep within him. Despite the pain and the shock of what he was doing - HIM of all people - his body seemed to have decided to enjoy it. His mind whirled in confusion as he longed for it to end.

The agent's breathing had become faster and more labored and Mike knew the fucking was finally nearing its conclusion. His own breathing had also quickened and suddenly the room seemed filled with bright pinpoints of light. He heard the man draw one huge gasp, felt the body behind him stiffen, and then a pulsing around his rectum as the man came within him.

The casting agent collapsed along the naked young man's back, as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Ah, kid, you're a better fuck than I could have imagined. The best fuck. I knew you had potential the moment you walked into the room."

Mike stayed as he was, his eyes still squeezed shut as the man slowly withdrew his softened prick from the young actor's body.

"You can get dressed, kid."

"No...not yet."

"Somethin' the matter?"

"No...Please...Just-just give me minute, okay?"

"Why? I didn't hurt you." He grabbed Mike's shoulder and pulled him to a standing a position.

Mike blushed with shame as a thick pool of come was drying on the desktop. The agent grinned.

"You're all right, kid, you know that?" He grabbed some paper towels from the wet bar's sink, handing a few to Mike to clean himself up. The agent wiped the desk, and tossed the crumpled paper along with the used condom into the wastebasket. "Now get dressed."

Mike pulled his clothes on with shaking hands. The casting agent was pouring another drink for each of them. Mike shook his head at the proffered drink.

"I got another appointment."

The agent grinned. "Sure you do."

Mike hesitated at the door, his hand on the doorknob. "The part. Do I get it?"

The man grinned wider. "I'll send the contracts over to your agent. You're gonna be a big star, y'know. I can always tell."

"Yeah. And thanks."

The agent winked. "No. Thank YOU."

Thursday, June 25, 2009

A Cold December Night

I remember that cold December night just like it was last night and I am sure I will remember it like that for the rest of my life. My band, Jadestone Doll, was just starting to make a name for itself in the Twin Cities. We had just been signed to a small record label and we had earned a small cult following. None of this however even compared to the opportunity we would be presented with next, the chance to tour with my personal idols, the band Queens of the Stone Age.

In the first couple of months of the tour I was very stand offish. I tend to get more shy than usual when I am around people that I feel are way better than myself. This personality flaw of mine kept me from getting to know the guys of Queens of the Stone Age in the way I would've liked to. Other than a few exchanges of small talk, I usually shied away from them when they approached me.

During the first week of December we had the luxury of staying in a nice hotel as opposed to the cramped tour bus and I had decided to relax in the hotel bar all by myself. I had been in there for about an hour and was feeling quite pleasant from the two screwdrivers I had enjoyed when in walked Queens of the Stone Age's guitarist Troy Van Leeuwen.

As our eyes met and he started walking towards me, I became all excited and jumpy. I knew that since I was a bit buzzed that I would have no problem talking to him. He stopped in front of the empty barstool next to me and kindly asked,

'Is this seat taken?'

'It is now, have a seat Troy' I said with a smile.

'I'm glad I caught you in here Tiff' he said as he sat down. 'We've been on tour together for two months and you haven't really spoken to us. Joey thinks you're a snob.'

'I am not a snob, I'm just really shy.' I told him.

'Yeah that's what I figured; you seem too nice to be a snob.'

'Well to be honest Troy, it is more than shyness. You guys are my favorite band, I completely look up to all of you and I'm afraid of saying something stupid.'

'Look Tiff, we may be good musicians, but we are just normal guys like everyone else.'

I smiled comfortably at his reassuring statement as the bar tender approached us.

'Ready for another screwdriver?' The bar tender asked.

Before I could reply, Troy chimed in.

'Yes she is, on me, and I'll have a jack and coke.'

I turned to him with a puzzled look on my face.

'Jack and coke huh?' I questioned 'I would have thought you'd drink something more sophisticated.' I said looking at Troy who was well known for being the rocker that always wore a suit and tie.

'Like I said darling, I'm just an average guy on the inside.'

After a few more drinks and laughs, Troy turned to me and said

'Let's go take a walk in the courtyard.'

'I don't know Troy. I'm pretty drunk. I don't think I will be able to walk straight.'

'Don't worry Tiff; I will be there to hold you up!'

We left the bar and went for a stroll in the hotels courtyard. As I suspected, I couldn't walk straight. Of course it didn't help that I was holding onto Troy and he couldn't walk straight either. Before we knew it, we both tripped over each other and fell in the grass with him slightly on top of me. We laughed and giggled over our sudden drunken folly and before I knew it, my hand seemed to acquire a mind of its own. My hand reached up to him and started caressing his cheek in the way a lover would.

The frolicking dance in his eyes faded and a serious romantic look replaced it. Suddenly his eyes began to close and he was lowering his head towards mine. That is when I realized that something unbelievable was about to happen. He was going to kiss me! I was actually about to make out with the infamous Troy Van Leeuwen!

I held no resistance as his open mouth touched mine and our tongues greeted each other with their first hello. As our lips made love to each other my mind drifted off into a dream. We kissed long enough for Queens of the Stone Age's song 'The Blood Is Love' to play in my head in its entirety. He broke from our kiss and lovingly rubbed his nose against mine.

'I'm sorry; I just had to taste those full lips of yours.' He said as he looked into my eyes.

'Oh yeah? And how did they taste?' I asked

'Sweet like an apple. You should've warned me of how infectious your kiss is.'

'I didn't have the opportunity to warn you now did I?'

'I guess you didn't.' Troy replied.

He gave me one more wet kiss and helped me up to my feet.

Troy walked me to my hotel room door where we shared another deep kiss after making sure that we were alone in the hallway.

'Are you going to invite me in? Troy asked while looking at me with the most adorable pleading puppy dog eyes.

'Troy, I would like to but I don't want to be seen as that kind of girl.'

'What kind of girl?' He asked.

'You know; the kind of girl that puts out right away.'

'I understand and I don't want you to be that kind of girl either.' He said 'But I defiantly want to kiss you again sometime.'

'You will Troy.' I gave him a wink and retired to my room for the night.

For the next two weeks Troy and I became tour companions and also carried on a torrid make out affair. We tried to keep it as secret as possible. We'd sneak off to hidden rooms backstage after shows. We'd have secret rendezvous in restrooms and behind trees at venues. We thought we were doing a good job at staying secret until just a few days before Christmas when we were caught red handed.

Troy and I had snuck into a conference room at the hotel we were staying at that night. We were both desperate with need for affection with one another and eagerly started exploring each other with our hands as our tongues once again greeted each other with their special hello. Suddenly the door knob started to turn. Troy and I both gasped in unison as we realized at the same moment that we had been so anxious to be together that we had forgotten to lock the door.

In walked a man that I had lusted after even more than I did Troy, Queens of the Stone Age's ginger haired lead singer Josh Homme.

'Hello Troy!' Josh said with a sarcastic tone in his voice.

Josh then looked me up and down before saying 'Hello Tiffannie.' With a lowered tone in his voice.

'Hi Josh, I guess you caught us.' Troy said shamefully.

I couldn't stop staring at Josh; he was just too perfect of a male specimen for me to look away. He caught me staring and winked at me to let me know that he noticed.

'You know, you two aren't fooling anybody.' Josh spoke 'Everyone knows that you have a thing going on.'

Troy and I just stood in silence not knowing what to say in our defense.

'Don't worry about it, no one cares,' Josh said breaking the silence. 'I just followed you here because I wanted to ask Troy up to my room for some tequila. You can come too Tiff, Do you like tequila?'

'Yes, I love tequila!' I replied.

We then followed Josh to his hotel room.

Josh had the most beautiful hotel suite. Besides the huge king sized bed, the room had its own little living room area complete with a cozy sofa set and a killer entertainment system. He motioned for Troy and I to have a seat on the sofa as he grabbed the tequila, some shot glasses, and a small bowl of lime slices from the kitchen area. He sat next to me on the sofa and filled the three shot glasses to the brim with the precious liquid gold. We grabbed our glasses downed our tequila after merrily clinking our glasses together. Josh and Troy both downed their shots with ease but I cringed as the sharp liquor burned my throat. I wasn't used to drinking hard liquor, especially tequila.

There was a reason why I usually refrained from drinking tequila even though it was my favorite. Tequila makes me looser than a cheep hooker. 'Tonight will be the night Troy finally gets laid' I thought to myself. After about five shots each, the three of us just sat still, pleasantly buzzed from the cactus juice, starring at some late night movie on cable. Troy was on my left, Josh was on my right, and I was sandwiched on the sofa between these two glorious men that I admired so much.

I turned my back to Troy and laid on his chest with my head resting into his neck. Soon I felt his warm lips moving their way seductively up and down my neck. I closed my eyes taking in the pleasurable sensation of Troy's tongue dancing on my neck. The alcohol had numbed my inhibitions and for awhile I had forgotten that Josh was on the sofa too. As soon as I remembered that we were in Josh's room, I opened my eyes and glanced in Josh's direction to find that he was facing Troy and I, enjoying the romance novel that was being acted out right before his eyes. I didn't mind Josh watching at all, in fact, it made me even hotter. Our eyes met and I gave him a horny smile. He continued staring at me with a serious half lustful, half drunken stare and I wondered if he was even fully awake. That wondering faded quickly when Josh reached for my right hand that was sitting next to his leg on the sofa.

I sat there quietly in awe as he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it like a gentleman. He continued to worship my hand, taking his time and care to kiss, lick, and suck each finger. He would look up at me with that serious facial expression every so often for a moment as he did his work, then he would focus his full attention back to my hand. Once Josh had felt satisfied that he had worshiped every inch of my hand, he began to work on the rest of my arm, allowing his tongue to frolic on every single inch of my fair skin on the way up.

I couldn't believe what was happening to me! Troy was still behind me kissing my neck and Josh was beside me, worshipping my hand and arm. I was so hot that I couldn't stand it and my unworshipped hand had found its way under my skirt, rubbing the outside of my black silk panties.

Josh had worked his way up to my neck and was kissing the sensitive area of my neck just like Troy was doing to the other side. Then suddenly I had felt that Troy had stopped kissing me. Both Josh and I looked over to see that Troy was watching Josh as he joined in on the fun. Josh decided to test and see how much Troy minded if he joined in. He grabbed my chin, pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth. After kissing me for a minute, he looked at Troy to see if he was at all bothered by the kiss. Troy wasn't bothered at all; in fact he showed that he was turned on by the show by rubbing the bulge that was forming under his slacks.

Josh pulled me away from Troy and onto his lap, holding onto my sides underneath my shirt. He took a moment to look into my eyes and caress my sides up and down before he pulled my lips towards his and we began to make out while Troy watched. I was so turned on that I began to grind into Josh's lap, stimulating my panty clad clit against his awakened cock inside his jeans. Soon we could no longer concentrate on kissing and just moaned into each others mouths.

Josh became enraptured in pleasure to the point where he could no longer keep his mouth on mine. He broke away and laid his head on the back of the sofa and continued to moan. Troy decided this was a great opportunity to join in and helped me remove my shirt and bra. As I continued to dry fuck Josh, Troy sucked on my nipple as if he hadn't eaten for days.

After a few minutes of this, Josh climbed out from under me, pulled me from Troy's grasp on my nipple and off of the sofa. By my hand he led me to the bed, sat me down at the end and stood directly in front of me. I needed no further instruction as I fumbled with his zipper and revealed his throbbing eight inch cock, one of the biggest I had seen in quite some time.

I looked up at him playfully as I teased the underside of his head with the tip of my tongue. However Josh was way too horny for silly games and he grabbed the back of my head and forced the entire length of his cock down my untrained throat. I had never deep-throated a man before but I had no problem giving my number one idol my best effort. It was so exciting to feel his dick flex and stiffen in my mouth.

Just as my gagging was starting to subside, I felt something tap against my cheek. I looked over to see Troy standing there, naked from the waist down, holding his cock in his hand eagerly waiting for his turn. I stroked Josh lightly with my left hand so he would not feel ignored and I took Troy into my mouth. Troy's cock slipped in easier as it was an inch shorter than and not as thick as Josh's monster. Not to mention, my throat had been properly stretched and prepared by deep throating Josh.

I took turns pleasuring my two favorite men by making love to one cock with my mouth and then the other. I was more pleased by seeing how happy I was making them than if they were playing with my pussy. But that wasn't enough for me; I wanted to offer them my entire body. I decided that I wanted them both inside me at the same time.

I stood up from the bed and helped them out of their remaining clothing. I then did a little strip tease dance for them as I slipped out of my skirt and panties leaving my knee high leather boots on for a stimulating visual effect. Since Josh was the biggest between his legs, I decided that he would be in my pussy since I certainly didn't want that big thing taking my anal virginity.

I stood in front of Josh and pushed him backwards with one hand in his chest until he stumbled on the bed and lay down on his back. While looking at him with an evil grin, I straddled his mid-section and eased myself onto his cock, guiding it in slowly with my hand. I groaned in pleasure as I felt his thickness fill me completely. I sat straight up on top of him and closed my eyes as I took in all the feelings that overwhelmed my senses as I rode the entire length of his cock.

I came out of my short trance remembering that Troy was still left unattended and I didn't want him to feel neglected. I placed a couple fingers near my wet hole as it was being violated by Josh's cock and collected my wetness on my fingers and lubricated the puckered virgin hole of my back side with my own fresh pussy juices. I then looked at Troy and beckoned him to come hither with my forefinger. As he approached me I leaned forward so that my ass was pushed out, letting him know that he was welcome to enter. Consequently my huge double D breasts were smashed into Josh's face and he eagerly sucked on them, until he realized that Troy was about to attack me from behind, so he sat himself up as much as he could to watch the invasion.

Troy lubricated himself by spitting on his cock and rubbing it in a bit and then approached my awaiting hole. He helped me prepare for the painful sensation by teasing me to help me relax. He ran his cock up and down the entire crack of my ass and then placed it against my asshole and wiggled himself just enough to tickle it. After he felt that I was as ready as I'd ever be he slowly e ntered inside. The pain was almost more than I could bare and I almost wanted to call the whole thing off. Yet the need to be ravished by these two beautiful men was greater than any pain I could ever feel and it gave me the strength to pull through. Within minutes the entire length of Troy's dick was enveloped in my ass and he began to gently fuck me. Josh lay back down and I really went to work rocking back and forth between both cocks. I could feel their cocks rub together inside of me through the small tissue of flesh that separated my asshole from my cunt and it was this sensation that made me start to lose control.

I felt the beginning of my orgasm and I started having visions more powerful than any acid induced trip. Every color of the rainbow exploded in my head and I was overwhelmed by visions of stars and fireworks. It was at this moment that I realized that something deeper was taking place here. I was not fucking these two men; I was making love to them. I was deeply and truly in love with each one of them and being graced with the opportunity to be with them at the same time was a gift. This realization sent me over the edge and I heard my own voice as if it was coming from somewhere else, screaming out loud with the most intense climax I had ever had in my life.

Troy responded to my orgasm with his own and I could feel his cock convulse violently in me, signaling to me that he was about to empty his seed into my ass. Even though my orgasm almost left me with no strength, I continued to buck wildly, paying more attention to him than Josh, so that I could help finish him off. Troy's face stiffened up and turned red. With three short hard thrusts he exploded and came violently in my ass. I swear I had never heard a man call out so loudly as he was cumming before. This pleased me because I knew I had done well to please him. He removed himself from the chain and went to clean himself off in the bathroom.

After a few minutes Troy had came out of the bathroom and dressed himself. He approached me while I was still impaled on his band mate's cock. No words were exchanged between us as he sweetly kissed me with a kiss of thanks and proceeded to leave. Leaving me alone with Josh. Josh was in an alcohol induced state which made it hard for him to climax. He could tell that I was exhausted from my orgasm and flipped me over on the bottom and allowed me to rest a little bit as he climbed on top of me and continued to pound away at my pussy. Once I had regained my strength I had him sit up and I sat on his lap just as we were when we were making out on the sofa, only this time we weren't dry fucking. He really was inside me as we kissed and licked each other passionately.

It was in this position that all this sweet passion made me climax again. I threw my neck back and listened to the erotic sounds of Josh's groans as I let loose my fluid cum juices upon Josh's still rock hard cock. Even though Josh still hadn't cum, I could go on no longer I was completely spent. I was a bit disappointed since I didn't have the opportunity to have Josh's cum in or on me, however Josh was quite tired himself and we both collapsed and fell asleep in each others loving embrace which was quite satisfying to me.

In the morning I woke up to a glorious surprise. Josh was kneeling over me, jacking off with his cock pointed at my breasts. I was so happy; I would finally get the prize I was denied the night before. I reached my hand under him and felt up his hard balls and asshole as his fist pounded away at his shaft. When I knew he was nearly ready to release I pressed on the tender patch of skin that covered his g-spot which made him shake just before he exploded. Ropes and streams of cum blasted out of his cock onto my breasts, neck and chin. The upper part of my body was being bathed in his sweet jizz.

After he was done, he gave me an even bigger surprise. He knelt down and licked every drop of cum off of my breasts. I had always dreamed of a man doing that to me but never met a man who was secure enough in his manhood to taste his own seed. With his juice still in his mouth he kissed me, sharing the taste of our lovemaking between us. It was the most romantic thing I had ever experienced.

That was the only time Josh and I would ever be intimate. Troy and I continued our love affair throughout the tour. After the tour we tried to stay in touch but both of us became too busy to keep up and now only see each other for fleeting affairs and romantic long distance phone calls. Every holiday I get a card from Josh and he always puts in a note that he can't stop thinking about that cold December night. I can't stop thinking about it either.