tendrils snag in his hold and his gruff voice whispers softly, “The chain is long, you have plenty of room to maneuver, but if at any time you start to regret this, call for me. Understand?”
Shit! What does he know that I don't?
Feeling my way up his forearm I fold my hand over his, “I'll be okay.”
“ Garth leave, you know what you have to do,” orders a cold nasal baritone from my left.
He gives my head a quick squeeze of reassurance before releasing me, the sound of a door thumping closed in a dull shuck enough to sever my taut nerves.
“Hello Delilah.”
I sit, folding my legs so my calves are underneath me, “Hello.”
“No names will be mentioned within this chamber. Three men will join you shortly. They will be left alone with you for twenty minutes. In that time I expect you to use every sense at your disposal to identify each man without sight or sound. At the end of this preliminary test ten men shall enter this room. You will then identify your master by smell and touch from the line up. If you cannot identify him you will be escorted out. Your interview terminated. Understand?”
“ Yes,” I nod, stress clogging my voice.
“ I remind you that you have signed the non-disclosure agreement. You may not speak of your initiation to anyone, ever. Not even other initiates. Do I make myself clear?”
“ Yes sir,” I nod, wringing my hands, wishing they hadn't forced us to cut our nails beforehand.
“ Very well. Good luck, I shall return in twenty minutes.”
Silence pervades for fathomless moments. Anxiety is making me bilious. Twisting one of my brunette locks around my finger, I wait the interminable time before a palm skates callused heat up my leg. It has no compunction whatsoever as the hand rams a finger inside me.
A chest covered in stubble rubs against my back and my jaw is clasped in an iron grip, twisting my head to the right, unhinging my closed lips and pressing a soft rigid appendage into my mouth.
Overwhelmed with the stealth attack of too much strength, I try to kneel off my legs, reaching out in the imposed dark to touch the man in front of me, which is hard with the cum leaking on my tongue while the dude harnesses my face without allowing me to shift.
It all feels too much like guerilla assault for it to be pleasurable. There is no warning, or provocative teasing, it's coordinated rape. Without losing his momentum the penis plunging into my mouth moves with my body when it's lifted, staked from below with an erection so thick I gasp shock in strangled discomfort. The sandpapery chest scrubs my spine when the third contender shoves inside me, the mystery men double tagging me.
How do I know who the master is? Who is in control?
The only man I can smell is the one whose scrotum is slapping my chin, his flavor coating my tongue and cheeks while my jaw aches. His hold is brutal and his technique savage.
Closing my eyes against the eye watering, I'm shunted into deep throating enigma A while enigma B bullets inside my body with the force of a jackhammer, the friction turning me on while burning me up, if only I could breathe I might enjoy it.
Feeling my way around the body shoving meat down my throat, I feel the scar inside his left forearm, the stubble embroidering a thin line along his jaw, the nodule of the bridge of his nose.
I collapse, losing my balance when he withdraws as suddenly as he invaded, using his orgasm to apergillum my face in hot slimy jizz.
Desperate to figure out who the 'master' is, I grope about, feeling for the other bodies, doing my best to touch them, to map their flaws and features while gripped tight in biting fingers as the rodeo rider stiffens, grinding so hard into me from behind in a seizure of ecstasy, his grunt primal. So primal in fact that I wonder if he's human.
The chain. The master would own the chain!
Fumbling on the slippery surface I feel for the links, pulling and tracing, like a rope climber hauling herself out of the ocean I
Shit! What does he know that I don't?
Feeling my way up his forearm I fold my hand over his, “I'll be okay.”
“ Garth leave, you know what you have to do,” orders a cold nasal baritone from my left.
He gives my head a quick squeeze of reassurance before releasing me, the sound of a door thumping closed in a dull shuck enough to sever my taut nerves.
“Hello Delilah.”
I sit, folding my legs so my calves are underneath me, “Hello.”
“No names will be mentioned within this chamber. Three men will join you shortly. They will be left alone with you for twenty minutes. In that time I expect you to use every sense at your disposal to identify each man without sight or sound. At the end of this preliminary test ten men shall enter this room. You will then identify your master by smell and touch from the line up. If you cannot identify him you will be escorted out. Your interview terminated. Understand?”
“ Yes,” I nod, stress clogging my voice.
“ I remind you that you have signed the non-disclosure agreement. You may not speak of your initiation to anyone, ever. Not even other initiates. Do I make myself clear?”
“ Yes sir,” I nod, wringing my hands, wishing they hadn't forced us to cut our nails beforehand.
“ Very well. Good luck, I shall return in twenty minutes.”
Silence pervades for fathomless moments. Anxiety is making me bilious. Twisting one of my brunette locks around my finger, I wait the interminable time before a palm skates callused heat up my leg. It has no compunction whatsoever as the hand rams a finger inside me.
A chest covered in stubble rubs against my back and my jaw is clasped in an iron grip, twisting my head to the right, unhinging my closed lips and pressing a soft rigid appendage into my mouth.
Overwhelmed with the stealth attack of too much strength, I try to kneel off my legs, reaching out in the imposed dark to touch the man in front of me, which is hard with the cum leaking on my tongue while the dude harnesses my face without allowing me to shift.
It all feels too much like guerilla assault for it to be pleasurable. There is no warning, or provocative teasing, it's coordinated rape. Without losing his momentum the penis plunging into my mouth moves with my body when it's lifted, staked from below with an erection so thick I gasp shock in strangled discomfort. The sandpapery chest scrubs my spine when the third contender shoves inside me, the mystery men double tagging me.
How do I know who the master is? Who is in control?
The only man I can smell is the one whose scrotum is slapping my chin, his flavor coating my tongue and cheeks while my jaw aches. His hold is brutal and his technique savage.
Closing my eyes against the eye watering, I'm shunted into deep throating enigma A while enigma B bullets inside my body with the force of a jackhammer, the friction turning me on while burning me up, if only I could breathe I might enjoy it.
Feeling my way around the body shoving meat down my throat, I feel the scar inside his left forearm, the stubble embroidering a thin line along his jaw, the nodule of the bridge of his nose.
I collapse, losing my balance when he withdraws as suddenly as he invaded, using his orgasm to apergillum my face in hot slimy jizz.
Desperate to figure out who the 'master' is, I grope about, feeling for the other bodies, doing my best to touch them, to map their flaws and features while gripped tight in biting fingers as the rodeo rider stiffens, grinding so hard into me from behind in a seizure of ecstasy, his grunt primal. So primal in fact that I wonder if he's human.
The chain. The master would own the chain!
Fumbling on the slippery surface I feel for the links, pulling and tracing, like a rope climber hauling herself out of the ocean I
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