something pleasurable? – but as she’d learned so onerously, she restrained any outburst. Only one small scream escaped her blanched lips while a hodgepodge of uncertainties raced through her tremulous mind. Had he injured her? Was it possible to be injured by sex?
But he didn’t continue. Again he lifted off her, sliding out his long penis from her astonishingly wet vagina. Again the sensations threatened to distract, to unbalance her – and she couldn’t be distracted. It was too dangerous.
“That’s done,” he said, apparently satisfied, as he withdrew completely and peered down at the blood trickling in a thin stream over the garment’s edge. He removed several tissues from a box on the bedside table and blotted up the trace of red.
His stern visage hung over her. She quailed at his next words, “I’m afraid, my dear, that I can’t do more than what is necessary until you reach your objective. Until that time I must use other means.”
She looked up at him stupefied, with no idea whatsoever to his meaning. Again his hand went to his penis. This time though he sat back on his haunches and slid the shaft into the bunching of fabric behind her vagina, pointedly allowing her to look downward to observe his action. She watched the fabric form a stiff tube around him.
He smiled and she saw only partially disguised cruelty. “It’s a prosthesis. Until you do not have to wear the garment to be slim it is the only hole I’ll use.” He shook his head sadly, “and, my dear, until that time I really cannot touch your body unless it is encased in the garment.”
She was too flabbergasted to grasp her welling humiliation. Then, his body was on top of hers again. She lay like a sodden clay lump hearing his heavy breaths in her ear but feeling only rubbing against her pelvis and bumping against her thighs as he spent himself inside the prosthesis.
Chapter Four
The limousine crawled along the wild winding road through eerie floating grey fog curtains periodically pierced by rays of bright sunlight. It twisted and turned through rocky brown hills swamped with evergreen thickets, tall strange trees with ghostly streamers of grey-green leaves and hanging strips of mottled silver brown bark, all splashed irregularly with baby pink. From time to time, the thick green broke open to expose steep declinations painted by the sky’s blue, dropping past tiny houses and the elaborate buildings of the
University
of
California Berkeley
campus to the uneven pool of
San Francisco
Bay
. The fiery sinking sun burst through the haze in occasional glimmers of light on the dark water and the
Golden Gate
Bridge
’s orange tower tops.
Houses hidden on the hills’ steep sides grew sparser and finally, when the car penetrated
Charles
Lee
Tilden
Park
’s undomesticated periphery, entirely ceased their residence. The limo slowed and manoeuvred onto a narrow drive heading straight uphill. Karen stared out through the tinted windows, transfixed by a wall of green pines densely interwoven with the massive, many-flowered pink balls of aged hydrangeas wreathed in fog ribbons.
After several minutes, the vehicle broke free of the vertical foliage onto a flat promontory scattered with large, astonishing rocks surrounded by a multiplicity of living green shapes, textures and shades sprinkled with the pink feathery projectiles of flowering cherries. Falling off the ridge into an artful wilderness were many levels of a pink stucco and glass house under a curved green Spanish tile roof.
Michael patted Karen’s hand and her head snapped toward him. In the respite provided by the strange and beautiful landscape, she’d somehow forgotten him. “We’re home, my dear.”
It was Steve, now dressed in a white uniform, who strode down the curving stone path, opened the limo door and helped her out. Michael sounded relaxed and content, “Steve, please take my wife to her room. She’s had a tiring trip and needs to rest.” Karen looked
But he didn’t continue. Again he lifted off her, sliding out his long penis from her astonishingly wet vagina. Again the sensations threatened to distract, to unbalance her – and she couldn’t be distracted. It was too dangerous.
“That’s done,” he said, apparently satisfied, as he withdrew completely and peered down at the blood trickling in a thin stream over the garment’s edge. He removed several tissues from a box on the bedside table and blotted up the trace of red.
His stern visage hung over her. She quailed at his next words, “I’m afraid, my dear, that I can’t do more than what is necessary until you reach your objective. Until that time I must use other means.”
She looked up at him stupefied, with no idea whatsoever to his meaning. Again his hand went to his penis. This time though he sat back on his haunches and slid the shaft into the bunching of fabric behind her vagina, pointedly allowing her to look downward to observe his action. She watched the fabric form a stiff tube around him.
He smiled and she saw only partially disguised cruelty. “It’s a prosthesis. Until you do not have to wear the garment to be slim it is the only hole I’ll use.” He shook his head sadly, “and, my dear, until that time I really cannot touch your body unless it is encased in the garment.”
She was too flabbergasted to grasp her welling humiliation. Then, his body was on top of hers again. She lay like a sodden clay lump hearing his heavy breaths in her ear but feeling only rubbing against her pelvis and bumping against her thighs as he spent himself inside the prosthesis.
Chapter Four
The limousine crawled along the wild winding road through eerie floating grey fog curtains periodically pierced by rays of bright sunlight. It twisted and turned through rocky brown hills swamped with evergreen thickets, tall strange trees with ghostly streamers of grey-green leaves and hanging strips of mottled silver brown bark, all splashed irregularly with baby pink. From time to time, the thick green broke open to expose steep declinations painted by the sky’s blue, dropping past tiny houses and the elaborate buildings of the
University
of
California Berkeley
campus to the uneven pool of
San Francisco
Bay
. The fiery sinking sun burst through the haze in occasional glimmers of light on the dark water and the
Golden Gate
Bridge
’s orange tower tops.
Houses hidden on the hills’ steep sides grew sparser and finally, when the car penetrated
Charles
Lee
Tilden
Park
’s undomesticated periphery, entirely ceased their residence. The limo slowed and manoeuvred onto a narrow drive heading straight uphill. Karen stared out through the tinted windows, transfixed by a wall of green pines densely interwoven with the massive, many-flowered pink balls of aged hydrangeas wreathed in fog ribbons.
After several minutes, the vehicle broke free of the vertical foliage onto a flat promontory scattered with large, astonishing rocks surrounded by a multiplicity of living green shapes, textures and shades sprinkled with the pink feathery projectiles of flowering cherries. Falling off the ridge into an artful wilderness were many levels of a pink stucco and glass house under a curved green Spanish tile roof.
Michael patted Karen’s hand and her head snapped toward him. In the respite provided by the strange and beautiful landscape, she’d somehow forgotten him. “We’re home, my dear.”
It was Steve, now dressed in a white uniform, who strode down the curving stone path, opened the limo door and helped her out. Michael sounded relaxed and content, “Steve, please take my wife to her room. She’s had a tiring trip and needs to rest.” Karen looked
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