A Working Holiday

He had expected a wild place and was surprised to find instead a serenity which beguiled him, as if the slightest of breezes which cooled the sweat on his brow was the gentle caress of a woman drawing him closer. Certainly there was a rugged beauty about the landscape, outcrops of rock which dated before history breaking up the terrain, but the wildness he had imagined of the weather had yet to be met; no low grey clouds scudding across mountain tops, nor briny winds rushing up from the sea to scour his face. Instead there was the clear blue sky, the warm balm of the sun, the stillness of the day, and the irony was that these things now had him more weary than any storm ever could.

He had trekked all day across the island at what he thought was a safe and steady pace, but now his feet ached each time they slapped down on the hard unyielding earth, his shoulders burned where the straps of his rucksack dug in, his spine felt as if it might crack and crumble at any moment.

"Soon," he told himself, "soon. Get yourself over the next rise and there'll be a town, a village, a pub at least where you can rest the night."

And immediately he was answering himself, his moods warring with each other, saying grumpily, "Yes! And if you hadn't lost the fucking map you'd know where that town or village or pub was!"

"The wind took it!"

"What fucking wind?"

The only wind that had come that day, a single gust that had swooped like a zephyr to snatch the map from his hand, as if to tease him, as if to lead him where it would rather than where he intended.

Steeling himself, gritting his teeth, refusing to be goaded by his 'other' self, he forced himself to make the final few steps to the top of the rise and there stopped to let out a weary sigh. There it was, no town or village or even a pub, but habitation at least. Surely a room for the night? The people of the island were reputed to be friendly, as people sharing an island would necessarily be.

*

As he drew closer to the farm he saw the figure working in the field beside it, her fox-red hair aflame in the sun, burnished like the helmet of some ancient warrior goddess. She wore a loose tee shirt, jeans, boots, her body seemed shapeless beneath them from a distance, but as he drew closer he sensed its form more clearly as she dug a fork into the ground, turning over the soil with a steady rhythmic movement. Her thighs were firm, the muscles of her arms were strong, the breasts too were firm beneath the tee shirt.

He coughed, as if embarrassed to have noticed these things, said, "Ermm..... excuse me?"

The woman paused, one foot resting on the fork, looked up to regard him. She had piercing blue eyes, he noticed this immediately, the sort of penetrating gaze which demands an answer without the need of posing a question.

She said nothing, and so it was up to him to continue.

"I was wondering if you might have a room for the night?" he said, with a nod towards the farmhouse.

"That I have," she answered slowly.

"Great!" he said, and as his shoulders slumped with relief he realised that he had been holding himself erect before her.

"But....."

"I'll pay for it, of course!" he anticipated.

"Of course you will not," she told him. "You will work for it."

"Huh? Work? But I can pay, I have money."

"And your money you can keep, I have no need of it. Work for your room or wander on, tis your choice."

He looked at her curiously for a moment and finally she smiled, he saw freckles sparkle on her face and her hair shine in the sun as she nodded to the side of the farmhouse. "You will find another fork over there. Get it and help me turn this soil, then you may have your room."

Wearily he shrugged off his rucksack, let it fall to the ground, found the fork and joined her.

*

He thought it was a field but she insisted that it was nothing more than a vegetable patch, and he soon grew short of breath as he tried to keep up with her, had to pause each time to answer her questions.

"What brings you to our island?" she asked. "Tis a strange place you have chosen to holiday."

"I guess you'd say it's a working holiday," he answered. "I'm a student, archaeology. Folk tales brought me here."

"Ah yes, there are many exist about this island," she agreed, not breaking her own rhythm, driving the fork deep into the earth, lifting up clods of it and then turning them easily over.

He took the opportunity for yet another break, said, "One tale in particular about this part of the island. The Pillar of Betrothal? The tale says that if a woman could persuade a man to rest there for just a moment then he would be hers in marriage."

"Ah yes, know that tale," she said, and though she did not break her rhythm or even look towards him he was conscious of her amusement.

"It exists, then?" he asked. "Because if it does then I've found no sign of it today. Lots of other things, yes, prehistoric and later, but nothing that matches its description."

"Just dig if you are to earn your room for the night," she told him, and grinned. "This is a working holiday indeed."

*

They were both sweating by the time she decided the earth had been turned enough, though he more than she, and as she walked him towards the farmhouse he was aware of her feral musky fragrance. A time or two he risked a sideways glance at her, as if to search out its source, be it her armpits, her breasts, or between her thighs. Humping his rucksack along with him, though, his whole body aching from the toil she had put him through, these occasions could be no more than a time or two, the glances few and furtive.

Entering the farmhouse with her, following her upstairs to the room he had worked for, all he could do on entering was drop his rucksack heavily to the floor, then fall to his knees before it.

"Jesus!" he said, exhausted, his shoulders slumping.

"You won't find any such gods on this island, nor their sons," she told him, with a soft chuckle.

"It's tales I was looking for, not gods," he said, bending over his rucksack, rummaging inside it.

"Nor goddesses?"

He wasn't paying attention, he was too weary to take heed, did not even suspect anything until he heard her say, "I think I have you weary enough now, child."

"Huh?" he said, and as he turned to look up at her, craning his neck, he felt the collar buckled around his neck.

His first impulse was to raise his hands, to check what was constricting his throat, and as he did so she caught his wrists, drew them back easily behind him, weary he was from digging up her field. There was a sharp snap as cuffs fastened his hands together, then she came around to stand before him, the soiled work clothes removed, her muscular body totally naked. She ran her hands across his skull, down his neck, pulled him briefly into her body before pushing him away.

"Now you must really work for your room," she told him. "I will wait for you below. Mind how you go down the stairs."

By the time he had struggled to his feet she had gone. He tugged at the cuffs but they held his hands fast, he called out to her to remove them but there was no answer. Cursing silently he went out onto the landing, cautiously descended the stairs. Night had begun to fall, the hallway was gloomy, all the rooms off it in darkness but for one, from the open door of which flickered a soft warm light.

He went to this, entered, saw that it was lit all around by candles which gave off a musky pungent perfume. In their glow the woman's naked body shone, her red hair was lustrous, her smile was smug as she sat on the settee facing him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he demanded,

"My name is Korri," she answered sweetly, "but you can call me Pura Dai."

"Pura....what?"

"Pura Dai," she repeated slowly. "In my Romany tongue it means something like 'old mother', but is a term of utmost respect. And you will show me respect, won't you?"

Tugging futilely at the cuffs again, he asked, "Just what is your game?"

"Oh, it is no game. You are to work for your room as you agreed. Now come here," she said, pointing to the floor at her feet, "come here and kneel before me, sweetling. You know that you want to."

She tilted her head a little, so that he saw the smile in her eyes as well as on her lips, and strangely he did feel that he wanted to kneel before this woman, surprised himself by slowly stepping forward, then lowering himself to his knees.

"Good, I think already we have trust and obedience," she said. "But come a little closer. I won't bite. Not yet, anyway."

He shuffled forward on his knees until she reached out to touch a finger to his forehead, stopping him.

"Kiss my feet before we continue, show Pura Dai the respect she deserves," Korri told him, and when he was too slow to do so she gave a slight frown. "Please, don't make me force you. I don't want to beat you yet. I want to start with the small torments first."

Her words were hypnotic, like the perfume from the candles they dulled his senses, and as she spoke the finger she had touched to his forehead traced across his face, stroked his eyes and cheeks, gently caressed the back of his neck. Slowly his head fell, though the pressure of her fingers was only slight his back bent and his shoulders slumped to bring his lips down to her feet. He kissed each in turn, rested his cheek against them a moment, then kissed them again, running his tongue between the toes.

"Good boy," she said, and her legs parted, stretched out to either side of him. "And now a little higher, sweetling. Pleasure Korri, if you are to earn a bed for the night. Please Korri and there might be a reward."

Slowly he lifted his head, ran his lips along her smooth calves, and then to her firm thighs, planting kisses along the inside of each. Both her hands were now on his neck, the fingers kneading his flesh, thumbs brushing his ears, and he began to ache for her, to hunger for her.

"Slowly, sweetling! Slowly!" Korri said, holding him fast when he tried to bury his face in her groin. "Pura Dai will take her pleasure from you slowly."

Inch by inch, only as she permitted, he kissed his way up her thighs, licking at them, nipping the flesh lightly between his teeth, all the while feeling the warmth of her cunt drawing closer.

"I think I am wet for you now," Korri finally told him. "Will you taste me, sweetling?" she asked, her hands drawing his face further forward.

His nose nudged her cunt, as musky and fragrant as the candles which perfumed the room, he felt how moist the lips were and tilted his head a little, stuck out his tongue to lick along them.

Korri shivered and sighed, said, "Ah! Yes! And now you may work with a little more fervour."

His mouth wide as if to devour her, as if his hunger for her was insatiable, he fastened his lips on her cunt and washed his tongue across it, first lapping at it, then probing inside it. His body twisted and writhed as he fought to get deeper inside her and Korri raised her legs to wrap her thighs around him, gripping his head in the tightest of embraces. Having to gasp for air had him licking all the more avidly at her, his teeth were grazing her cunt and she could hear him sobbing as he sucked at her, lapping thirstily, his saliva mixing with her juices.

'"That's it, sweetling," Korri said. "Drink me, drown in me, make me come all over your face. Now! Make me come now!" she demanded, and her body twisted on the settee, taking him with her, turning him painfully so that his cries filled her cunt.

Her body bucked against his, thrust against him hard, once, twice, a third time, as if she was fucking his face much as he would no doubt like her to fuck his cock.

*

His whole body was trembling when Korri finally released him, as she parted her thighs he slipped from between them and fell to the floor.

"I think you have earned your shelter for the night," she said, smiling down at him, and she rested her bare foot on his thigh, began to rub it back and forth, gradually moving up to his groin where she felt his swollen cock pressing against his jeans. "But you are so hard, sweetling. Does pleasuring me excite you that much?" she asked, her foot moving in slow circles.

He groaned, opened his eyes, and in them she could see his need for her.

Korri leant forward, resting her elbows on her knees so that her foot pressed harder against him. "And what of the reward I suggested there might be?" she wondered. "Would you like that?"

There was a gasp, as if in anticipation of the pain her foot on his groin might be about to cause him, but as he answered her with a weak nod she removed her foot, sat back.

"Then now comes the next test of trust and obedience," she told him. "I am going to remove your cuffs, but only so that you can undress. Once you are naked I want you to replace them. Yourself. You will do that for Pura Dai, won't you sweetling?"

"I will," he answered in a whisper.

"Good. Then stand and give me your hands."

He rolled onto his belly, got to his knees, then his feet, stood with his back to her so that she could remove the cuffs. Then he began to undress as she had instructed, slipping off his shirt, bending to remove his boots, his socks, his jeans and shorts. Korri said nothing as she watched, but when he was finally naked before her, and replaced the cuffs without being reminded to, she permitted herself a satisfied smile.

Reaching out, she stroked the palms of his hands, ran a finger down his spine and was pleased to feel him shudder. Stroking his hips, his buttocks, she then slipped her hand between them, with a fingertip found the puckered hole of his arse and pressed lightly against it.

"Ever had a woman's fingers inside you, sweetling?" she asked, and on feeling him flinch she chuckled softly, said, "Mm! I would guess not! Oh what delights you have in store for you! Small torments are to come!"

Her fingertip moved in gentle circles around his hole, softening it, relaxing it until it began to part for her. Then she increased the pressure, parting it wider until it would admit her finger, which she slowly pressed forward.

"Be still!" she snapped, slapping his arse with her other hand as he rose on tiptoes. "Tis nothing but a delicate lady's slender finger! You may yelp like a pup when I invade you with something more substantial, like a carrot or a parsnip! Or..... but no, we will save that surprise!"

Gradually her finger slipped in up to the knuckle, she gave him a moment or two to accustom himself to the sensation, then began to slowly pump in and out.

She heard a low rumble in his throat, asked, "Is that nice, sweetling? Nicer than you thought it would be?"

"It's-" His body began to move on her finger, with her finger, his breathing was low and shallow as he said, "It's... nice, yes!"

"Then let us have another finger inside you," she said, and before he could protest she had a second finger in him, was prising him wider, caressing inside him.

He sighed and he purred, like the pet she would make of him; his head was bowed, she guessed his eyes would be shut and his cock would be hard. While her fingers continued to fuck his arse her other hand crept around him. Yes. He was hard, his cock was jutting out stiff and erect. She closed her fingers around it, ran them lightly along its length, felt the tip already dripping.

"Your cock is weeping for me? It cries for Pura Dai? Ah, how sweet!" Her fingers slipping from his arse, her other hand tugging at him, she said, "Turn to face me now. I would read thine eyes, see the need in them and whatever else there might be."

His eyes, as she had guessed, were closed, for it was the first thing men thought to do when they felt the need to fight back an orgasm, or to welcome one. She squeezed his cock, cupped his balls, ordered him to open his eyes.

"You want Pura Dai, don't you?" she said, smiling up at him, her eyes fixing on his and holding them. "You ache for her, you yearn for her. You want to give yourself to her, you want her to take you. Is that not so?"

He nodded, but this was not enough for Korri, with both her hands applying pressure she said, "Then say it is so!"

"It is so!" he gasped.

"What is so?"

"I yearn for Pura Dai, I ache for her. I want to give myself to her, I want her to take me."

"Good!" said Korri, getting to her feet, smiling into his eyes as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Then we will bring fulfilment to your wish, make it a fact that can never be refuted. Come with me, sweetling."

Her hand on his erection still, using it to lead him, to guide him, she took him from the room and along the darkened hall. Opening a door just before the kitchen, she switched on a light to show a flight of stone steps leading down to what he assumed would be a cellar.

The room he was led down to was low, wide, it might well have taken up the full length and breadth of the farmhouse, but for the moment the greater part of it was curtained off, drapes of heavy red velvet falling from ceiling to floor.

"What is beyond is for you to see another time," Korri told him. "For the moment regard this," she said, and nodded to her right, drawing his attention to the only object on view.

It was a rectangular block of stone, about the size of an easy chair, its sides rough but the top smooth, gently contoured, and at its centre a polished protuberance which rose some three or four inches.

It was ever so slightly curved, like a banana, like a....

Before he could dwell on the matter Korri had turned him, so that his back was to the object, and with her hands on his shoulders she began to walk him slowly towards it.

"Your arse is still supple from when I fucked it with my fingers?" she asked, and slipped a hand down to check, parting him once more with her fingers. "Yes, I think so."

"What-?" he wondered, as he felt rough stone against the back of his legs.

"Your Pillar of Betrothal, what you were searching for," she told him, grinning, as with one hand she pressed down on his shoulder, with the other positioned his arse. "More accurately known on the island as the Pillar of Belonging, or the Pillar of Submission. Come sweetling, sit. Belong. Submit."

"No!" he said, panic in his voice as he felt the stone phallus press against him.

"Yes," Korri insisted, now using both her hands to force him to sit. "You know you want to, you know you need to."

His cries reverberated about the room as he was impaled on the phallus, his back arched, his body tensed, his eyes filled with tears. But as his cries subsided he then became aware of Korri making soft comforting noises, making promises, making demands of him, and when he opened his eyes he was smiling through his tears.

"You belong now, don't you?" Korri smiled back, kneeling before him, taking in her hands the cock which had never before felt so hard.

"I belong," he agreed.

"To who?" she prompted, bringing his cock closer to her mouth, her tongue flicking out towards it.

"To Pura Dai."