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She tenses even more, the more I probe. A shot of brandy might do her well, but without that, all I can offer her is my tender but firm assurance that her pain will fade away. And as I expect, with little warning, something seems to let go within her, and her whimpering ceases. I shove my finger deeper, and though she gasps, she doesn’t scream or plead, or refuse me.
“See, love, you just need patience,” I tell her.
I work my finger there for some time, allowing the first sweet anal pleasures to rush over her. I think to myself how lovely they are, the wild bursts and fits of sensation that accompany such an intrusion. I almost think she’ll cum if I continue, but I want her to wait. I plan to give her much more than just this simple beginning.
Freeing her from the offending finger, and untying the scarves, she falls to the side and stares at me with her childish vacancy.
“You’ll wear these until you’re ready for the largest. It’s a matter of time and patience, but you’ll accommodate even more than this,” I tell her, showing her the various dildos in my hand. I wish I had the large butt plug that had been used on me by Cozinne, but then I’d likely scare her half to death with that. “It’s not right to deny your finest pleasures. You’ll use this one first.” My waif-like lover accepts my dictum, though I can still see a hint of fear in her eyes. Even the small finger-like dildo frightens her, though it’s hardly larger than my own violating finger. “Secure it with ribbons, ropes, whatever you can find, and by tomorrow you’ll be ready for something bigger.” I show her the next size, and her eyes grow wide. I can see her trembling. “You will do this,” I say sternly. “It will come to arouse you beyond belief; all this fear of yours is ridiculous.” She stares at me so I can’t avoid the reluctance in her eye. I can feel where she comes from, that submissive place where the simple command of a lover seems too much. But I know she can get beyond it. Though my personal experience with these matters is modest, I know these things; they appear in my writing over and over again. The submissive will at last submit. They’re bound to do so by their nature. “Keep it in, except for when you have to go to the bathroom,” I instruct her. “Feel it as a welcome friend.”
Analise nods, even though her expression implores me to reconsider.
“What is it?” I ask directly. Strangely my voice sounds more commanding than I’ve ever known it to be.
“Will you take me like this again?” she asks.
I’m amazed by her question; she’s more willing than I suspected.
“Maybe,” I tell her. “If you behave yourself.” I warn her with the inflection in my voice. The thought of her following my orders is a pleasant aphrodisiac all by itself.
I leave her unbound and free, handing her the dildo as she sits demurely on the bed. As I withdraw from the attic, I have no idea where this bond between us will lead. I remain intrigued with Analise and the possibilities she presents me, but I’m not willing to call this love. I still love Peach. I only know that I have the most compelling desire to dominate this child/woman; and she appears to have the complimenting desire to surrender.
I spend the remainder of the day at the beach. I have a sandwich fixed for me, eschewing the dining room crowd of women at the six o’clock hour. Sitting on the beach, I watch the waves. Their endless motion reminds me of a caressing lover, they remind me of Peach and what I miss about her: the jubilance of her bright face, the sensuousness of her body and the quixotic nature of her mind.
So much sexuality around me, so much sexual invention. On the one hand it seems so absurd, on the other hand so natural.
“Hello,” a voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I turn to gaze at a woman I’ve seen several times at the house. She has a pleasant manner, though I wonder at her involvement with the “rites” going on around us here. She appears so conventional by the way she dresses and wears her hair. Her gentle body seems beyond the crazy whims of sexual fancy.
“I get a little weary of the shenanigans in the dining room,” she explains to me.
Aha! I think. Even her speech declares herself.
“But then, this time of year is rare,” she says, “a most unusual atmosphere around this place.”
“You’ve come here before?” I ask.
“Several times. Anastasia revels in crudity like no one else I know. There are always surprises, a feast of decadence, don’t you think?”
Her appraisal of things certainly matches my own, even though I have no idea what she means by “feast of de
cadence”.
“I wasn’t aware of what happens here until I arrived,” I tell her.
“Oh my, then you’ve probably been taken by surprise. I can see where it might be daunting.” She’s as kind and wise as Miriam, though not as erotically appealing to me. I’m aware that there are other stories unfolding around me, and that’s comforting, even though I prefer to keep mine to myself, just as she will keep hers private.
We eat in silence for some time, listening to the ocean and watching its regular rhythm.
“The fire on the beach is splendid,” she says, “be sure to stay for it.”
I look at her perplexed.
“You will be there, won’t you?”
“I think so, though I really hadn’t made any plans.”
She smiles, and leaves me challenged by the impending future. I can’t be thinking that far ahead, but perhaps I’ll have to.
