A Walk in Paradise Garden Ch. 02

Every time he said her name, she had a strange feeling she had never had before, a relaxing, a letting go, and the feeling was slowly, very slowly but steadily growing, like a rare flower getting ready to bloom. She did not understand what was happening to her, but she could not halt it. It was as if her name were a tether like the vine around her ankle keeping her connected to something inside him or to the serpent twisting itself around her neck, always threatening to strangle her, take her breath and her will.

"Now then, Danae." He took a very deep breath and let it out again. "I do not expect you to defy me or protest. If you make that choice, the serpent...." He left it to her imagination. "Also, I must tell you that we have visitors...or spectators, if you will. On the edge of that forest just beyond the tree line, i see a gathering of satyrs eager to finish what we start should I find it pleasing to allow it. So i suggest you follow my instructions exactly, perfectly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, lord." She was trembling.

"What you will do is use your fingers to play in your delicate places while I watch. We must, i fear, skip your throat right now, but trace the contours of your face, your ears, your lips, now arms and sides and tips of your breasts...." He spoke slowly, his eyes upon her. A strange tightening between her legs was beginning to tickle and grow. She frowned a little, wondering what it was, where it came from. He did not seem to notice. it engulfed the whole area, reaching toward the front of her labia and back into the divide in her buttocks vaguely. "One thing at a time. Linger. Now pinch the nipples. Make them stand erect. Yes, continue. Wake them to your touch." Involuntarily, the upper half of her body shifted luxuriously as she pinched and stroked her nipples with light fingers at his bidding. "Excellent, Danae. How do you feel?"

"Strange my lord. I do not know." She knit her pretty brow.

"I see," one corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes narrowed. "Let us discover if we can resolve that, Danae. Spread your legs for me and bring your fingers down between them to your furry little crotch." He swallowed hard as his own crotch responded to his words by swelling and stiffening. "Part the lips, Danae, and find the little ridge inside, your treasure."

She did. Her eyes opened in surprise, and she gasped, looking at him. "There," he said soothingly. "No, do not stop. This is a good thing. Move your fingers on that ridge, up and down and round it, on the tip... slowly, slowly, not too hard."

He legs began to relax and fall apart in surrender to her self-ministrations. She made a guttural sound quite out of character with her femininity but perfectly in character with her femaleness and squirmed as her fingers did their work between the lips of her softness. Her breathing was quickening.

He closed his eyes tightly and stood up. "Stop!" He took a few steps away. She did not stop, but her small hands moved faster pleasuring her clitoris, her body tense. "STOP!" He swore, and the serpent closed around her throat, drawing her attention away from her impending orgasm. He was forcing himself to breathe deeply, and she was once again writhing from lack of air to her lungs. She stopped, put her hands back to her throat trying to dislodge the snake. The hunter hardly paid attention until she began to emit helpless, desperate little squeaks, and her hands dropped to her sides resignedly, her face red. Then the serpent relaxed again. The hunter's breathing slowed as she began to get hers back, and he gathered his control again.

"What WAS that, my lord?" she asked between pants, salt tears in her eyes. "Why? Why did you stop me?" One little tear made its way down through her hair to the grass, and she sniffed.

"Clean your fingers," he ordered gruffly. She looked at him questioning still and began wiping her hands on the thick grass. "No," he snapped."Clean them with your tongue."

She obeyed. It surprised her, however, considering the source that the clear wetness on her fingers did not taste terrible, moderately salty. By this time she had become accustomed to the curling serpent, so she watched the hunter. When his eyes turned toward the edge of the trees, she sneakily dipped her finger back into her crotch to get a better taste. Yes, moderately salty. She cleaned her fingers as if they were her paws, slipping each one into her mouth and drawing it out again after curling her tongue around it.. Immortals like nymphs do not weep for long.

He returned his attention to her, now in control again, and said, "That was pleasure, Danae, and you are the first of your kind to know it. It is a gift. I stopped you because it is but the smallest taste of what is to come.". He did not share the other reason. His seed was precious like viscous gold. His intention was to breed her to him, the trumph of pleasure. But he would have to make her ready first.

All she said at first was, "Oh." But what had just happened to her, this "pleasure," made her wonder aloud, "Is what is to come like that, lord?"

He sat back down beside her. "Very like. But better. Much better." He touched her lips with one finger, tracing them back and forth lightly.

She was still for a while, letting him touch her. Then she spoke softly, breathily, "Will you show me?"

He stopped, and after a moment, the serpent unfurled its coil from her neck, slid off her, and slithered away. "I have every intention of showing you, Danae. And it will be my pleasure."

***

The group at the edge of the trees was getting impatient. Some of them were still trying to drill on the trees, but some, mostly the younger ones, had either run off in search of other nymphs or humans or, eager to achieve immediate release in something resembling receptivity, were mounting each other and making muffled night noises. There are no female satyrs, but satyrs do not discriminate.