Approaching the End

Very slowly, I gained awareness of my situation.

I was floating. Literally, nothingness surrounded me. I was not supported by anything. Nothing touched me. I could feel neither air nor water, so it did not make sense that I was floating. Without any wings, how could I maintain myself aloft? It was confusing.

I was aware of my lengthy hair essentially standing on end. Somehow, it seemed to be floating outward from my head - not in any particular direction, but in all directions, drifting, each strand pointing out directly from its anchor in my scalp.

Eventually, I realized that I was naked. Normally, that would have scared me, for no one other than a trusted doctor had seen me naked since I was a baby. But somehow, this time, it did not scare me.

Lethargic, I floated. In time, I slowly opened my eyes to see nothing at all, only a complete absence of light.

Logic defied the situation. I raised my arm, moving my hand in front of my face. The act of moving my hand was like trying to pull a large boulder through a vast pit filled with molasses. When my hand finally was positioned before my eyes, I could not see it.

I could not understand what was happening to me. I was not certain that I even wanted to understand what was happening to me.

I felt it: a hand, nudging my left leg aside. My right leg received a similar treatment. Yet both touches were barely felt, both movements barely registering with my brain.

A warm sense of moving air flowed between my legs. Then I felt it again. Then again. Again. Again. Yet again.

That was when I realized that I was definitely not alone.

While my mind struggled to come to terms with this, to find a way for me to escape this bizarre existence, my body remained inert, the caresses upon my thighs barely felt.

In my twenty-five years, so one had ever licked me in such a private place, yet my mind reasoned that that was exactly what was happening to me when I felt something warm and wet slowly move up along my sacred entrance. I panicked, yet my body was almost immobile - the only reactions I could make in my lethargic state were to arch my back and inhale a little faster.

The licking continued in earnest, and even though my senses were quite dull compared to normal, I was aware of things I had never felt before: forbidden things, things which only the most steadfast of lovers are ever permitted to do.

A tear welled up in my left eye, then trickled down my cheek. I was a bad woman, allowing a complete stranger to see me naked, to lick me in my most private of places, and I deserved to be punished. I had not even allowed my boyfriend to see me naked, had barely even allowed him to touch my breasts through my clothing, yet a stranger was treating me to the sins of the flesh, and I was powerless to stop it.

Further, my body was reacting despite the desperate screams inside my head. I had no control over the situation, I felt no love for this complete stranger who I could not even see, yet my muted senses were reveling in the illicit pleasures being inflicted upon me by the strange tongue.

...and the strange fingers, prying open my body and slipping inside me.

The illicit pleasure grew, magnified, blossomed. My tears fell faster. My breathing quickened. My heartbeat resonated in my ears. My exposed chest heaved, and not just because of my silent sobs. I was an unwilling participant in my own doom, and even though I tried to squirm away or push the stranger away with my hands, I was unable to move as my mind commanded - my only movements were those initiated by the pleasure coursing with increasing speed through my shameful body.

Something cool dripped upon me, upon my left breast. More drips befell me until the nipple was completely coated with the sticky substance. As the drips began to fall upon my right breast, my left breast felt warmer, and the nipple began to tingle. Slowly, the warmth increased; slowly, the tingling became more intense, and soon my right breast and nipple began to follow the same warming path.

And still the strange tongue and the strange fingers continued to perform the strange acts between my legs. The pleasure between my legs and the pleasure upon my breasts seemed to meld into a single sensation, a sensation which was forbidden to me, a sensation for which I could be killed and discarded and forever labeled as a societal deviant, a defect, an infidel.

...a wild woman.

And I could only endure the pleasure... and weep over my impending execution.