Juliana Ch. 08

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"I think you are ready now, Mrs. Austin."

The voice came from a distance. Juliana shook her head to clear her ears. She was still on the bed, she saw, lying naked amidst shattered pillows. Her body glowed – her crotch felt sore and was pulsing. Her nipples burned like tiny flames.

She raised her head and shoulders, resting on her elbows. The voice belonged to Dr. Charrier who still sat on the chair in front of the bed. He held the silver vibrator.

"Get into your gown and follow me," he said, rising. She hurried to keep up with him, pulling the gown closed while walking.

The room with the columns was empty.

"I leave you here," Charrier said. "You know what to do." He left, closing the door. Silence returned; Juliana looked around. The room was dark, sparsely lit by candles; the curtains were drawn. It was very warm.

She knew what to do, he'd said. Did she? Then she remembered. Her fingers relaxed, letting go of the gown. She'd kept it closed with her hands. Moving her shoulders caused the smooth fabric to fall. Exposed she smelled her sweat. She raised an arm and sniffed.

"You stink."

The sudden sound startled her. Turning, she saw a woman in the doorway. It was the woman; what was her name? Sophia. She wore the same gray suit, but the jacket hung open, revealing a gray silk bra and a bare midriff.

"I... I'm sorry," Juliana said.

"Don't blabber," the woman commented, walking up to her. Her movements mesmerized Juliana. The hips gyrated as they propelled long thighs, making one foot end exactly in front of the other. She balanced on narrow ankles and very tall heels.

"Stand straight," Sophia said after reaching Juliana. There was no 'please' or 'Mrs. Austin.' The confidence of the deep voice was absolute. Juliana stretched her spine and pushed back her shoulders. She was ready, Dr. Charrier said. Was this 'ready?' And for what?

"You left without my permission," the woman said. Her thick eyebrows rose.

"I didn't know," Juliana answered.

"You know now?"

Juliana blinked. Did she know? Was knowing required?

"I am... ready," she said. Sophia's eyes widened. Her face was maybe three feet away. Then her red mouth opened and she laughed. It was a cruel laugh – high, sharp, like glass shattering. And it lasted. The woman held her face and bent her upper body, letting the laughter slide into hysteria. She pointed at Juliana.

"You..." she tried, interrupting herself with another gale of glee. "You are... ready?"

Juliana hated the woman. At the same time she knew hate would get her nowhere. The resulting frustration sent blood to her face and chest; she felt like a furnace. What was so ridiculous about what she said?

Cool hands covered her glowing shoulders.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, still sobbing with laughter. "But you are so sweet... being ready..." A new ripple of chuckles interrupted her. Juliana just stared into the contorted face.

"Sorry again, honey," Sophia apologized. She lifted one hand from her shoulder, cupping Juliana's burning face. "You are so much like little Sarah before I broke her. God, I do wonder where Eugene finds girls like you."

The hands irritated Juliana. They felt... possessive – keeping her from fleeing, from moving at all.

"Say it again, darling," the woman said, smiling now.

"About being ready?" she asked. A hard slap hit her face, making her head swing right. The pain was intense; but it passed quickly, leaving a searing spot on her cheek – and a sudden torrent of tears.

"You know very well, slut," Sophia hissed. Woolly balls of dizziness careened through Juliana's head. "Now kneel." She knelt. She might have anyway, her knees feeling weak.

"Now lean back on both hands and spread your knees. Raise your hips." Juliana obeyed, offering her body in a high, open arch – well aware of her total vulnerability. Her head hung back, making it impossible to see the woman. Then she felt a hard-edged object run down her breastbone to her belly. Suddenly the woman's face was next to hers, her voice creeping into her ear.

"Nice girly body, Ju-lee-ah-naaah," it said. "Sixteen at the most...hm, are you even eighteen?"

"Twenty," Juliana breathed, swallowing with difficulty. The thing – it must be a fingernail – now travelled down her shaven mound.

"You could have fooled me," Sophia went on. "Budding titties, bare like a baby girl, and soooo tight too." The finger entered Juliana's slit. She stiffened. A chuckle tickled her ear.

"Don't be scared, honey slut. You know this won't hurt you. Not this – not yet." The finger found her clitoris. The trembling started. "See? Tell me you like it."

Juliana couldn't stop a moan from escaping.

"Thought so," the voice whispered.

The finger plunged in; a second finger joined the first. A third, maybe the thumb, started rubbing her clit. Juliana's arms ached from holding her up; cramps entered her thighs. But it all ebbed away from her consciousness; there only seemed room for an ever-building arousal. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes and up her inverted brow, but she didn't feel them. She gasped and moaned, but didn't hear it. She was a body, a nobody – and she was ready.

"You are so eeeeasy," the voice murmured. "You are amaaazing." Juliana came. A geyser of heat exploded from her shaking body – again and again. She cried out and the arch collapsed.

A hand pulled her up. She felt like a puppet, trying to control her wobbling knees.

"Well," a voice said. "You are quite the little slut, aren't you? Look at you. Wow." Juliana shook her head, as much as to lose the buzz as to deny the qualification.

"You are not?" Sophia went on. "Then please explain to me: I only pointed at you and you came like crazy."

Juliana looked down at her feet, past her still aroused nipples. The woman was right; she really had no control over her body. Did that mean she was a slut?

"Sorry," she said. Suddenly the woman hugged her. Her fire-red mouth swallowed hers with a kiss. Silk-clad breasts nudged into Juliana's sweaty body. The action overwhelmed her. Shocked stiff she just stood gasping when Sophia let go. The woman grinned.

"Now you do me," she said, sitting down on the throne-like chair, shirking up her gray skirt. "Kneel." Juliana knelt.

The woman's thighs were long and pale and smooth. When she spread them Juliana saw she wore no panties. There was a black patch of hair right over her slit. The inner lips were visible. At the top she saw a pink protrusion sticking out – like a baby's finger.

"Come and taste me, darling," the woman said, sounding friendly. She slid her ass cheeks forward, spreading even more. It was an obscene sight.

Juliana shuffled closer on her knees. She smelled perfume, mixed with a musky scent. When she was within inches, hands closed over her skull, pulling her against the hot, moist crotch.

"So you do this for your poor hubby, you say?" Sophia asked, pulling Juliana's face up and down her vagina. There was no way she could have answered. When she opened her mouth, it was filled with flesh.

"You are a good girl, you know? Being a whore for hubby."

Juliana was grateful when the soft thighs closed over her ears and she couldn't understand anymore what was being said. A whore, she said? Maybe she was a whore, but a whore for her husband? That sounded so... wrong... so hurtful.

She started licking the fleshy folds; they tasted salty. Working her way up, she reached the clitoris. It was stiff like an aroused nipple... or a very small cock. Wrapping her lips around it, she started sucking. The thighs opened again. The crotch gyrated against her face.

"Good little whore," she heard. "Harder." And "Bite it!" Bite? Juliana let her teeth scrape softly over the knob. A hand pulled hard at her hair. She let go and looked up, feeling the juices cool on her face. She saw Sophia's dark eyes burn above her now bare chest.

"Bite me, you stupid cunt," she hissed. "Bite hard. Make me come!"

Did she want to be hurt? Was she crazy? The hands pulled Juliana's face to the woman's crotch again. She closed her teeth around the clitoris and bit down. Then she pulled it back, stretching it.

Sophia howled. Her fists drummed on Juliana's shoulders. Suddenly a fan of juices hit Juliana's face and throat and chest. A series of convulsions caused new waves of juice gush out of the pulsing vagina. Thoroughly soaked Juliana sat looking – amazed, overwhelmed. Then the hands gripped her again and smothered her against the soft, drenched crotch. The thighs closed, and Juliana was virtually strangled. She couldn't breath. She struggled, but the thighs didn't open.

The hot, soaked flesh pressed into her nose and her gasping mouth, choking her until she stopped struggling. She hung limply in the vice, her body jerking with spasms.

The knees opened. Juliana fell down to the floor, unconscious.

***

We despise repetition. We admire originality and the glitter of individual genius. Repetition, we say, is stupid; it only leads to more repetition. Thinking so, we ignore that it's ruling our every-day lives – and we underrate its calm, eroding powers.

Juliana remembered being picked up by someone. She recalled how a robe had been wrapped around her bare body. How hands supported her on her journey back to her room – walking on weak, rubber legs.

She remembered leaning against cool tiles while hot water rained down on her. Hands washed her hair and soaped her skin. The waterfall seemed to never end, but then she was in bed, sitting up.

John was there, the butler, and food was there too. The smell of meat caused a slight nausea in her stomach. She picked at the vegetables and ate some salad. She drank a whole carafe of water.

"You must eat," the butler said. She knew he was right, but she couldn't. Then he brought a bowl of cut fruit. She could eat that. As a matter of fact, it was delicious.

When everyone left, she pulled up the blanket and slept – but not for long.

The faces were pink blobs floating in semi-darkness. They were male, and she knew some of them. When a hand pulled down the blanket, others reached for her breasts and her crotch.

"Good night, Mrs. Austin," a well-known voice said from the foot of her bed. "So sorry to disturb you."

The men chuckled. She heard the thin fabric of her nightie tear. She didn't resist when her legs were spread. She arched her back when a finger entered her. She moaned when her nipples were tweaked. And she stopped moaning when the first hard penis slid down the curve of her tongue.

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