Angel, Demons Pt. 07

Her tanned skin had been massaged and oiled into a glow, her face made up to enhance her wide-open eyes. They'd glossed her pouty lips and polished the nails of her fingers and toes. When they were done, the girl looked younger than she'd ever looked, at once innocent and obscenely sluttish.

She was a little Lolita, who'd been left alone to indulge her mother's entire make up kit.

That was when they took her through a secret back door of the hotel to a special fitting room in the tent where her bridal outfit was waiting for her.

The woman designed it months ago for this one, special occasion.

She'd never seen it on the girl, as tradition insisted. But her professional inner eye had no problem visualizing her in it, over there in the shadows - down to the last delicious detail.

If indeed she was there.

A shudder ran down her back; it left a taste of nausea. Why would she be certain the girl was there, behind this forbidding shield of darkness? Maybe she ran, again. Why not? She'd done it before, hadn't she, and always when she thought she'd won her over.

So why not now?

She shook her head to chase away the vile thought, trying to concentrate again. But what if... , her mind insisted. It would be the ultimate humiliation. All these people, friends, customers for years, employees, lovers... the disaster would be unthinkable; so, don't think, woman.

Just don't.

***

A girl, a woman.

A lonely, melancholic flute sent a slow glissando into the quiet night.

Its voice sensually slid off an invisible staircase of notes - stark naked, alone. Then it once more climbed to an optimistic peak before slithering down again - how very appropriate, the woman thought.

She loved the music; it shared her mood.

"Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faun" it was - the afternoon of a faun. Sweet and soft and sensual, making the small hairs rise on her skin.

Then a sigh ran through the crowd, rippling the sea of faces.

A sudden spotlight pierced the darkness, seemingly originating between the stars. It spread from a glaring pinpoint into a silver beam that washed a body crouching on the catwalk. There were no details, no colors - just the one-sided clair obscure of the floodlight, suggesting hills and plains and valleys.

As the music rose yet again, so did the body, slowly stretching as if waking up from a long, deep sleep.

It was a girl, displaying the naked curves of her tits and hips and thighs, undulating on the tide of the music. "Oh my," the woman thought. Her lips mouthed a name, but her mind was closed.

The girl moved with the liquid music until she stood on tiptoes, both arms stretched wide.

Her body was wrapped in a tight maze of leather strips, like a cage of thin and supple bars. Her outfit was as shiningly white as the woman's was black. It also was a-symmetric. It left one tit completely free, allowing a dangling jewel to sparkle.

It also was cut up high on the branded hip, displaying the lily, outlined in glowing paint. One leg was entirely naked, the other encased in a crisscrossing of leather straps, ending in obscenely high, white platform heels.

A white, wide leather collar encircled her throat.

Her lithe, silver-lit body started moving again, lengthened by her precarious hooves. She was like a willow in the storm the music provided, her feet nailed to the floor as she gyrated, pushing out her chest, then undulating down to her ass.

Her arms were up, her hands moving like leaves.

"Come to me, little whore," the woman's hoarse voice commanded. "Please."

It was a mere whisper, but, enhanced by the sound-system, it filled the air all around, washing over the upturned faces, breaking the breathless spell.

The girl sank slowly down to the catwalk, following the music's cascading lead. Then she started crawling forward on elbows and knees, her face up, her eyes on the woman. The silver beam never left her, keeping everything else in darkness.

She was like a tiny travelling island of light.

When she at last arrived, her face was only a foot away from the woman's highly polished boots. She leaned forward, touching each toe with her tongue before resting her face on the floor.

Her back arched up, pushing her plugged ass out.

"Mistress," she mumbled softly, wanting her voice to be intimate. But her amplifying mike sent the word into the night like an all-embracing, repetitive sigh.

It blended with the echoing sighs it found in the audience.

The woman looked down on the girl. Then she slipped the toe of her right boot under her chin, lifting the face up.

"Welcome, my sweet slut, to Innocence," she said, her mike turning the last word into a repeating hiss. "It is the destiny of our journey, my beloved slave girl."

Seeing unshed tears sparkle in the girl's eyes, she removed her foot.

"Now rise to your knees, girl," she said, her voice resounding into the night.

The girl rose until she was straight-up on her knees, her hands crossed behind her back. Her black-painted eyes were wide-open, her fatly glossed lips trembled as she looked up to the woman she called Mistress.

***

A woman, a mistress.

"First," the woman said. She stopped to listen how her amplified voice carried into the crowd before going on. "First take your Master into your mouth, just as I have taught you."

A huge black dildo seemed to jump forward from the shadows of the woman's loins.

It was attached tightly enough to become part of her sleek, black crotch. The spotlight licked along its length, making highlights and shadows dramatize its size and girth.

A sigh rose from the crowd, punctuated with low catcalls and the occasional whistle when the girl reached forward. Her tongue tip touched the shining head. Opening her lips into a perfect O she pushed them slowly down the shaft.

Silence returned, only disturbed by the wet, amplified sucking of the girl's mouth, now supported by the increased pumping of an electronic heart.

The woman looked down, then rested her gloved hands on the girl's head.

"Good girl," she whispered, but not even their softest noises were private. "Sweet little slut, my slave girl."

The woman looked up from the sucking girl, letting her eyes wander over the rows of faces.

"Thank you," she said, raising her voice over the pulsing beat. "Thank you, my friends, for honoring this, our most important moment with your presence.

"Today my girl and I have reached the end of a life-altering journey."

A murmur rose; she raised her hand to silence it.

"We have passed many obstacles on our road, but also reached peaks of incredible ecstasy.

"We have travelled through deserts of hurt and disappointment, only to reach oases of boundless sensuality.

"There has been loneliness and desperation, oh yes, and there has been joy, but most of all... there is us."

She once more looked down, cupping the girl's face in her hands, smiling into her eyes.

"Answer me, little bitch, why are you here?" she then said, pulling the black Master out of her mouth. The spotlight turned a thread of saliva into spun silver, dangling from the cock's head to the girl's half-open, gasping mouth.

"Because," the girl said, her voice thick with mucus, "because I had to; I could not be without you."

The woman slapped her face; the amplified sound rang out, echoing into the crowd, upsetting them with its suddenness.

The girl didn't cry out. She just touched the spot on her cheek.

"Because," she then started over, her voice louder, "because I need to be with you. I need to... I just need..."

There almost was a question at the end, but there was no slap. There was no reaction at all. The silence almost crackled with electricity.

"I...," she began again, the single syllable hanging in the breathless silence, her eyes searching.

Desperation crept in; the awkward desperation of knowing your feelings but not the words to shape them - any words at all. But then the panic left her eyes. She sank onto her heels, spreading her thighs. A shudder passed through her. Her hands rested on her upper legs, palms up. Her eyes were calm.

"Because," she finally said, looking up. "Because I love you."

A rush of murmurs sprang from the crowd below. The woman once more raised her hand to silence them, succeeding in the end.

"You love me, honey," she then said, reaching down to cup the girl's chin, a thumb rubbing the fiery spot she'd slapped.

"Love..."

The word floated out like a sigh, traveling the night before returning to the couple on the stage.

The woman seemed in thought. Then she straightened her back, making the dildo touch the girl's face again.

"Now open your throat for your Master," the woman said.

As if launched by an explosion of electronic music, the girl's head shot forward, and her lips yet again closed around the black intruder. She sank down on it, but never stopped until her nose touched the black shining leather covering her mistress's mound.

"Sweet bitch," the woman said, letting her voice carry, overriding the tumultuous music and the girl's gagging. "Now let's tell the story of how I conceived of you; of how I carried you through an ordeal of trial and testing up to this day, the day of your birth and the day of our marriage."

The music abruptly stopped, causing the last word to be shouted into sudden silence. It ignited a sigh in the audience, growing into a wave of murmurs, whistles and catcalls. The woman lifted a hand to silence them, before she went on.

"You, my sweet slut, took my hand and held on to it in trust when we passed the cruel stages of our journey; the first one, where you conquered the utterly useless barrier of shame.

"The second, where you opened every entrance to your body and your mind.

"The third stage showed you how to transfigure pain into pure bliss, while the fourth taught you how to nurse a hunger that never can be stilled - and never should be."

The silence was total, except for the gagging noises of the girl's throat still fucking her black Master.

The woman stopped, allowing the girl to gasp for air before going on.

"At the fifth gate, sweet cunt, you surrendered... not because you were defeated, but because you chose to - you embraced it."

The woman smiled, undulating her hips to speed up the fucking.

Then she went on, breathing faster:

"Last week, little whore, you passed the gate of Oblivion after having been tested to the limit." Her words took on the staccato of her fucking. "You learned - to lose - your past - and live in - the now.

"You were tested to leave behind the last traces of your identity and the silly notions of so-called free will."

By now gasps of exertion crept into her voice as she sped up the fucking even more.

"You erased even the tiniest obstacles on your last few steps towards Innocence and here we are, you and me, under the awesome gate of your destination... your destiny.

"You're mine, slut. Welcome home."

As she said that, her cruel nails found the girl's exposed nipple, and tweaked it hard - sending her into an immediate orgasm.

Trumpets blared through a climax of chaotic sounds, resounding over the beach and into the star-spangled night.

The woman's hands reached out to keep the girl's shaking body up. Slowly pulling the dildo out, she watched gushes of snot and mucus run down the girl's throat, leaking on her tits.

Then she pulled her up and kissed her gasping mouth. There was musical chaos, cheering and applause around them; a sudden turmoil pierced with screams and whistles.

"I love you, honey," the woman whispered when the kiss broke. Her voice drowned in the noise. When it at last died down, she cleared her throat and said out loud:

"Now get down into your position, bitch. Show us your most glorious asset."

***

A girl, a slave.

The girl turned and went down on her elbows, raising her ass to a lovely score of pastoral music - so sweet and innocent after the chaotic explosions from before. It was like a brook, murmuring; children laughing; a little waltz dancing.

The spotlight hit the white, shining knob of her ass plug. The woman bent at her waist and pulled it out with her long black fingernails, handing it down to the girl.

She at once took it in her mouth.

The woman then knelt, laying her hands on the high cheeks and spreading them. The ass's opening yawned over the shaven peach of her oiled cunt. Lowering her face, she kissed them - causing the girl to breathe a lingering moan.

Then the woman rose again and ran the sparkling head of her dildo from one opening to the other, sliding up and down the crack as the sweetly babbling music rounded her movements, lending them a beguiling air of guiltlessness. Soft groans found their way through the amplifier. She pressed the head against both holes, but before entering either one, she once more looked at the crowd on her left and right.

"Soon this delicious cunt will be filled by the black Master she adores, while her bowels will stretch around the fat plug she is preparing in her mouth right now," she said. "Both will stretch her to her limits and she will know that from now on she is nothing but tight rings of flesh, stretching around cocks... hard, long and fat cocks that plow her every opening - and it will make her deliriously happy.

"After today she will never feel complete without them inside her. It is her fate, a fate she's been yearning for all her life, with all-consuming obsession - sacrificing all she had.

"She knows by now that it is the only way she will ever feel truly alive."

The woman reached for the plug the girl had cleaned and lubricated.

She pushed it back into the asshole, watching how the gleaming sphincter closed tightly around its flange.

The girl's sigh filled the air, dancing with the music.

The woman smiled. Then she guided the head of the dildo into her cunt, slipping it into her until every inch of the black shaft disappeared and her tight leather-clad body mashed into the girl's naked flesh. Another gasp ran its amplified course, echoed by the crowd.

The woman started a slow fuck, helped by the girl's churning response.

"Bitchchch..."

The woman's voice fell into the wet, rhythmic soundscape like a stone into a rippling pond. Electronic music picked it up, magnifying each ripple, sending it out into the night - booming, pounding.

"My sweet slut," the dark woman went on, waiting for the ripples to run their course. "Today we enter your destiny, together." She increased the fucking with the rhythm of the music, as the girl's finger reached for her clit.

Drool leaked from her chin, sparkling where it fell on the catwalk.

"When I told you a long time ago," the woman proceeded, "that this last stage was called Innocence, you wondered why.

"Now you know, don't you?"

The girl's groaning, wordless comment extended into a sigh, flushed out by the music.

"Now you know," the woman went on. "You had to return to who you were - the innocent child that trusted her body over her confused mind. You had to become this child again that knew shame nor guilt.

"The child that just wants to pleaeassse."

A long moan sang around the woman's last words, extended by a weeping guitar.

The girl's body humped back and forward now, her movement picked up by the music. Rivulets of juice ran down the insides of her thighs.

She had a fluttering orgasm; then she had another and another.

They increased in force and number until there was no beginning or end to her coming. Her body was a constant riot of spasms, following the rhythm of her convulsing cunt, the staccato of her moans and the pounding heartbeat of the music.

"Darling cunt," the woman cried out, breathing hard now. "Tell me you are my slave, my wife and my property.

"That you are part of me, like my arm or my leg is part of me. That you will take care of my needs, all my needs, even before I know I have them.

"That you will be my responsibility for as long as we live."

She sped up until her crotch was a blur. Then she cried out:

"Tell me with your body!"

Her breathing quickened with the pounding of her hips. Her own orgasm was close now. Through the roaring of her blood she heard the girl scream.

Then the world exploded.

***

When the lights returned to the woman's eyes, she found herself on top of the girl, whose spent body lay curled like a fetus.

A hazy odor of sweat and sex hung over them. Her arms and legs still shook with spasms as she collected them under her. She found the girl's mouth and pressed hers on it - sliding on the slippery remains of snot, juices and saliva.

She cupped the girl's head with both hands and they rose to their shaky knees, kissing - mouths wide open, tongues dancing.

Only then did she hear the cheering that washed over them like a breaking wave.

She embraced the girl and a sudden urge to laugh overwhelmed her. The spark of it jumped to the girl, making her giggle too - then she laughed as uproariously as her lover, her wife, her Mistress.

Hugging tightly, kneeling against each other they laughed until tears ran down their faces. All stress left their bodies. They kissed and laughed and cried and laughed, feeling the anguish and fear of years flooding from their bodies.

They didn't see how their audience had risen from their chairs, picking up the laughter as they crowded around the catwalk - their arms reaching, their hands touching.

The models from the show, still in their outrageous outfits, thronged around them, touching, congratulating, kissing... and laughing.

Everybody laughed.

Cheers rang, shards of congratulations mingled with cries and whistles. Then the woman stepped forward on her wobbly legs, pulling the girl with her.

"Friends," she said, hoarsely, feeling the sweat run down her body, "friends of so many years. Thank you for being here with us at this incredible moment. You have no idea how much this means to my wife and I.

"Thank you!"

Her words were drowned in more cheers.

The woman looked fondly at the girl in her arms, kissing her yet again. Then she took a step away and, pointing at her with both hands, she said:

"You may fuck the bride."

The End.

***

An epilogue, of sorts.

The story of the woman and the girl ends here.

I call it a true fantasy and I guess it is. But I do understand how this might confuse you. How could a story be at once true and a fantasy? Which part is true and which is fantasy?

And does it matter?

Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. But yes, a fantasy it is, and true as well. Even though in 'reality' it never ended like the story did.

I met the girl on a chat site, and maybe that is as far as the truth goes. Because, you see, until today she and I never met. We were just two names typed on a screen and hurled at each other through cyberspace. She never knew more about me than I allowed her to know; on the other hand, I also only knew what she told me.

Our chatting went on for years.

It happened at random; we never made appointments, there was the time difference and there were the hazards of business and travel.

We met in a 'fem-only' room that was open to the public and in 'private rooms' that could only be visited by people who knew their name.

The room we visited most, was the apartment of the story. The public room was the club. They were no genuine rooms, of course, just little boxes on a computer's monitor, but everything you read about in this story happened there.