Bilal and Mistress Octavia Pt. 02

My tongue entered her wet mouth, and the physical touch sent my heart pounding and my cock fully erect. We parted for a breath. "Marguerite, this is wrong!"

"You can't back down now. You came here, you told me the bawdiest part of the good book. Don't think I didn't see how you leered at me on the ship. You wanted this," she pressed her tits against me again. "And you'll get it." She vigorously grabbed my hands and placed them on her heaving tits. I could feel the hardness of her nipples through the fabric of her dress, and she attacked my lips once more. Mistress Octavia had said no whores. Vestals were a different matter, though they came with a host of other troubles. I pinched her erect nipples between my thumb and forefinger and she let out a contented sigh.

We filled each other with the wetness of our mouths and the hot breath from her nose made me red hot with passion. There was nothing for it. Sin or not, I had to have her. Her tits were large and firm in my hands, and I squeezed and pressed them. As I did this, I subtly tried to find a seam of her dress. The damned habit was in my way. She rapidly spun away, and evaded my grasp. I was surprised at her agility. "Shame on you Bilal. Trying to get me out of my habit. It's staying on." More games, but the games were what I loved. I hungrily charged toward her, but she pushed me back to the bed.

She spun toward me, and her dress flared. Her arse was only inches from my face, and to my great shock, she lifted her skirt. Her naked arse was much like I had imagined it, round and firm and white. I saw the tiniest tuft of golden hair between her closed legs. I could smell her wetness in the zephyr of air that came out from underneath the skirt. My hands brushed her arse, and she darted away again. Her skirt fell back over her arse, but she shot backwards into me and spun, landing in my lap. She had the moves of a dancer, not a vestal. She straddled me, and our kisses were wet, sloppy and hot. I squeezed every part of her body I could reach, and I felt her legs and arse grinding against my ram. "God is watching, Bilal. He sees your sinful ram. He sees in your mind and sees what you want to do to me."

"Marguerite, you made a vow to God! You're as much a sinner as I am! Even more!"

"How dare you?" she jerked her hips, and I gasped at the feeling on my ram. "You presume to talk to me about God!" She jerked again, and I felt dangerously close to my rain. "When I'm done with you, you'll know what it feels like to know God!" Her hips gyrated one last time, and I was on the edge of my rain. But seeing the expression on my face, she quickly stood. I thrust up my hips, but was far too slow.

She lifted me up again, and this time her hand closed around my ram. It was as hard as the ersatz ram I had in my pack. "So you're going to violate your vow to God?"

"You don't know the first thing about me and God, you randy goat." With that she pulled down my pants. My ram burst forth, like Colette had when I fed her.

"A vestal like you has no idea what to do with a ram! I bet you've never even seen one!"

She didn't answer, but maintained eye contact with her icy eyes. She lowered down on her knees. She opened her mouth, her eyes freezing me in place. Her snaky hand wound around my ram. I said a silent prayer in my head. There was no way God was pleased by this. Still staring at me, she pushed my foreskin back and twirled her tongue around my ram. Again I wondered what kind of perverted vestal this was.

I tried to speak, but her tongue teased my bell end and all I could muster was gasps, groans, and curses. "Bilal," she said between licks, "such language in God's house. Have you no respect?" Again I tried to answer, and again she licked the length of my ram like a bear with a honeycomb. My rain was close now. "Are you going to get my habit and hijab filthy? What a sinful man. Taking advantage of a vestal virgin like me. Do you feel the hellfire Bilal?" I felt the fire, and perhaps it was infernal.

Her head sprang back with the same alacrity her body did. "The fire is coming for both of us! But you're the one who seems afraid." I thrusted my ram forward. "Do you want it or not?"

She crept forward, mouth gaping and wet. My ram disappeared into her mouth, and I convulsed as she sucked and licked. I had only had a few women take my ram in their mouth and it had never been like this! Marguerite wanted this. She didn't feel pressured or even did it wanting to please me. Her eyes never looked away from mine, and instead of ice there was fire in them now. My ram trembled in the warm juices of her mouth. She began to bob her head, and her mouth made obscene slurping sounds like a boot stuck in the mud. She pressed her head in, and her eyes watered as my ram slid down her throat.

I felt her tongue twirl around my engorged head once more. Then, like a lightning strike, my rain was upon me. My breath quickened and my mouth opened and shut like Colette in her bloody rage. But she was just as fast as before and spat out my ram. The air felt freezing on my ram after her hot mouth. It twitched and pumped and I felt my blood catch fire. "Heavens, Marguerite, my raaaaaiiiinnn..." And like a wayward goat's udder, my ram shot rope after rope of my white, sticky rain. I bucked and pulsed. Just as it had in my dream it landed all over her. It was impossible to control myself. Did she know this would happen? The stuff got on her hijab, down the front of her habit, on her face. She even deftly caught some of it in her mouth. Her smile indicated she was fully aware of what she had done.

Then I felt another great rapture inside my mind. But instead of intense pleasure I felt intense clarity. It was as if a raging storm had cleared. All the things that had happened between me and Octavia came into sharp focus. The horrifying ritual, the frightful third floor landing, her twisting me around her finger. She wasn't who I thought she was. She was an evil woman, who had used me as a pawn in her scheme. She used her body and all its whiles to keep me obedient and pliable. But all this time I had been doing her dark bidding.

My mind descended into a great confusion and I fell back on the bed, my eyes wide and my head spinning. Through my blurred vision, I saw Marguerite above me. She had removed her hijab and was scrubbing my rain out of it. Her short, golden hair flowed freely. I convulsed like a startled caterpillar. Then I felt her hand on my shoulder. Taking a few deep breaths, I steadied myself. What a rain!

There was a look on Marguerite's face. She was satisfied, but not just in a carnal way. There was smugness there. "Well, I guess that answers my question." She said.

Her question? My question had an answer too. "You're no vestal!" My consciousness began to fade back in and I was a bit more aware of my surroundings. "You've done something to me!"

"No, Bilal. I've undone it. You were under a spell. I could tell as soon as I asked you about the estate. I knew that an emotional shock like this would break you free. When you're magically bound to one person, pulling that bond good and hard will sometimes break it." How did she know? My mind did feel different, and I saw Mistress Octavia for who she really was. "There's a witch at Fontaine Estate."

"How do you know all this? Who are you?"

She inserted her hand in one of the elusive seams of her dress and pulled out a small medallion. As she leaned closer to my face, I got a better look at it. It appeared to be a common silver coin at first, but as I looked I saw the symbol on it. It was God's Holy Sun, just as all churches had, but in the middle was the All-Seeing Eye of the Patriarch's Holy Inquisition.

I must have shown my fear and amazement. "So you do know what this is. The Inquisition has long suspected that there was a witch here. The viceroy fell ill last month and the plague of mosquitoes in the city is taking its toll. The mosquitoes are so bad that even the outlying plantations have problems just as severe as St. Tremay. Cases of swamp fever have tripled. Are you familiar?" I shook my head no, "Swamp fever takes hold of you like the worst fever you've had. You shake, your body feels sore, and you're tired in your bones. Many die."

I was still trying to take it all in. She was an inquisitor! If she found me too sinful she could kill me right here. I saw no weapons in the room. Even having been tainted by Mistress Octavia might make me guilty. "Marguerite, please help me. Get me out of that estate. Octavia Fontaine is a frightful woman! She practices black magic! She-"

Marguerite held up a hand. "You can tell me all this in good time. I can see that you're overwhelmed by what has happened tonight. You could be very valuable to the Inquisition, Bilal. If you are a true believer and a man of faith, you have nothing to fear from me." She leaned back, and continued wiping off her habit. The sinful vestal who had stood before me was gone and in her place was a hard, stern agent of retribution. I shivered. "You will stay the night in town, and tomorrow morning I will question you. You may be able to help the inquisition in other ways, so be ready to do your part for God and the Faith."

I rose, stunned. "I guess this is goodbye for now. How will you find me?"

She smiled, but didn't answer. I turned to leave, "One more thing, Bilal." I stopped. "What we did was purely for the purpose of breaking that witch's spell. There is nothing between you and I. Is that clear?" The rain covering her clothes and skin seemed to disagree, but I would be a fool to give an inquisitor trouble.

"Yes, perfectly."

--

The next morning I left my room at the inn and bought some cannabis at the tavern on the bottom floor. I had no fear of standing out. After all, I wore fine Vaulish clothes and my mustache and nose were the only things to give away my nationality. And anyway, bustling port cities like this saw foreigners all the time. With the Amano close by, a Kashaki was almost commonplace.

I was startled when a man in a wide-brimmed hat appeared before me. He had on a black cloak with fur gloves. Hot attire for this part of the world. But when my gaze rose to the man's face I could see it was Marguerite. She sat across from me. "Bilal, I trust you slept well."

"I'm caught between a slave-driving witch and a licentious inquisitor. How do you think I slept?" It felt good to finally speak freely and honestly.

"It doesn't matter. But we need privacy. We shall go to your room."

"My, Marguerite. So forward. Don't you want to get to know me? Maybe buy me lunch."

She stared in my eyes for a moment, "Fine. Order what you like." She passed a handful of copper coins across the table.

I wasn't even hungry. They still had lots of greasy sausage, but there was also fresh, roasted meat. I ordered the meat with bread. I was used to the finest food, but I wasn't about to say no to fresh meat. "This is pork, yes?" I asked the tavern keeper.

He laughed. "Sure sure. It's one of the big, scaly pigs from the swamp. It will eat you, if you're not careful." I made a face and went back to my table. What would Colette think? Perhaps this was one of her relatives. Marguerite watched me closely. I'm not usually a self-conscious man. One can hardly be and make a living performing in front of a crowd. But somehow she was different. Inquisitors had the tracking skills of a hound and the strength of a lion. I remembered her agile moves during our lovemaking. I've always felt speed was better than strength. Of course I had neither.

"Like what you see, vestal?" She needed me, so there was nothing she could do about my flippant attitude. I intended to cooperate with her, out of fear more than anything else. "Now you're going to take me upstairs and get even more out of me. I have a whole new load of rain ready to go. Where will you want it this time?"

When you've been frustrated for a long time, but you can't act against the source of your frustration, it comes out on others. My awakening to my reality made all of Octavia's abuses seem fresh, and I was certainly smarting from them. Marguerite was only doing her holy duty, and to be honest I was quite thrilled to finally have some fun with her. But I was taking my time, feeling my foul mood.

"I told you before, my actions were of a practical nature. If not for them, you would still be at the service of your witch. Be glad I'm not actually a vestal. Defiling one is a serious crime. If you don't make yourself useful to me, I can certainly bring those charges. My patience is finite." She was barely older than me, but she spoke like the veteran of a hundred witch hunts.

I shrugged, "I don't suppose I have a choice, then. Come. I might even let you play with my ram when we get there." There was a flash of anger on her face, but she got up and followed me.

Like in her quarters one of us sat on the bed and one on a chair. She had positioned her chair between me and the door, which had me a little worried. Again, I saw no weapons on her, but it is said that inquisitors have many places to hide their weapons. It was pouring again outside to match the gloom in my heart.

"Now, you're going to tell me everything you can about Fontaine Estate, and the Fontaines. Tell me what you know about the witch. All of it. You were under her spell, so she would certainly trust you with all kinds of things."

"And betray her trust? Aren't you going to make it worth my while?" I leered at her, but it phased her not at all.

"Do you know what an iron maiden is, Bilal?"

I shook my head, "Is that what they call you?"

"How about the rack? Ingenious device."

This one I had heard of. They used it in the padishah's dungeon. It was a bed with ropes and a crank that would pull a man apart, but slowly. I began to doubt the wisdom in my attitude. My facial expression betrayed me.

"The Inquisition is not afraid to use less subtle methods. After all, what is one man's agony next to the will of God? It is standard to start with simple questions, but if you prefer to skip that step..."

Would she? It seemed I had fallen with another spider in the woodpile. She had fooled me for weeks on the ship. She had even given her own body to trap me in her clutches. I decided that maybe it was time to change my attitude.

I took a deep breath. Then I told her everything. Master Erasmus's whip, the conditions the slaves lived in, even my encounter with Colette. Then there was Octavia. I felt my ram stiffen talking about her baths and massages. I still wanted to be inside her and feel her juices drip down my legs, spells or not. I told her about the ritual, but left out the part about my assistance, other than carrying her bags.

She listened closely and asked questions here and there. There was no point in lying. I felt like I could be absolved of any guilt since I was being controlled by Octavia's magic. I wanted to see her brought to justice too, the wretched witch. Though I hoped to have a chance to collect my special reward before I did.

When I had told her everything I knew the candle on the bedside table was burning low. Marguerite sat back to think. For a few moments the only sound was the roar of the rain on the roof. Finally she spoke, "If what you say is true, then we're very close to bringing this witch to justice. I will have to form a plan. Thank you for the information, Bilal. But tell me, why are you in town now? I would expect a witch to keep someone with her secrets closer."

"She sent me to pick up an item. It's nothing."

"Show me it."

It was too embarrassing. I felt awkward enough carrying this weird, deviant thing around. Not that I was opposed to deviance, but I knew that Marguerite would judge me on it. "I haven't got it yet." She just stared at me and folded her arms. "What? I told you I don't have it yet!" She fingered the dagger on her boot. "Fine, damn you!" I took out the carved box and produced the white abomination that Octavia had sent me to fetch. Marguerite only barely reacted. The subtlest of smiles crossed her mouth for only a second.

"And this... toy is for her personal use?"

"My, my, no, Marguerite. It has just been too long since I've had another man's ram up my arse. She got this for me, the sweetheart."

"So it's for her personal use then?" What an insufferable woman. All I could do was nod my head, exasperated. "Very well. You may put it away."

"I'm glad to have this over with. But what do I do when I come back? Octavia's spell no longer holds me prisoner. Won't she know?"

"Oh no, no, Bilal. This is far from over for you. You're a mole for the inquisition now, our man on the inside. You must stay in town at least until tomorrow. By then I will tell you how God will use you."

"Tomorrow? But Octavia will miss me. I'll be in trouble when I get back." I was sure Octavia would be fine with me taking a little longer, with the amount of money she had given me. I was almost as afraid of the inquisitor as I was of the witch. Did I have any hope of escaping? They spoke of bounty hunters. Were slavers really willing to pay to find a lowly slave? But by this time I wasn't just a lowly slave. I was Mistress Octavia's special slave.

"Tomorrow, Bilal. And I think you know better than to try to run from either of us. The safest choice for you is to help me and serve God."

--

But it turned out that I didn't even have to wait for tomorrow. Marguerite came with the light of the moon. Truthfully, I didn't know if she had climbed in through the window or picked the lock on the door. "Wake up, Bilal."

I was on edge enough that night that my sleep was restless and late coming. My head swam with the remnants of an unpleasant dream that had faded too much from my mind to remember. "Marguerite." I sat up on my elbows and took a deep breath. "You can't even let me sleep the night?"

"Be silent and listen. You were eager to leave yesterday, and you will be allowed to after you agree to my plan." Did this woman ever sleep? She was alert and energetic.

"Agree? Do I actually have a choice?" But my resistance was quite worn down by this point. I had thought all night about if I could actually escape. Even if Marguerite decided not to chase me down, I was certain Octavia would want her favorite slave back. Even if she could ensorcel another slave, I knew too many of her secrets already. She must have had great confidence in her magic to even let me go into town.

But Marguerite ignored my question. "You will return to Octavia, and act as if nothing has changed. You must convince her that you are still under her spell, so you must continue following every order and satisfying her every desire. She may appear repulsive to you now, but for the sake of God's will on earth you must play along." I thought of the dangle of Octavia's tits and the soft curve of her belly, but said nothing. This might not be quite as hard as I expected. I hoped I wasn't blushing.

"So that's all? Just go back to her and live out my seven years of servitude?"

"I haven't finished. I have discovered the nature of Ocvavia's power and her servitude to her dark master. Soon she will perform a ritual. This is a ritual of extreme importance to her. She must perform it to keep her magic, and indeed her life. She will need an essential component, and that is how we will strike."

I stared dumbly at her, "We?"

"She will need to sacrifice a virgin to see her ritual through. This will be my opportunity to insert myself into the estate." I couldn't hide my laughter, "Bilal, there is nothing funny about this."

"A virgin?" I laughed even harder. "Your mouth isn't even a virgin, let alone your jade gate!"

"If you do not take this seriously, Bilal, then it will fail and you will die. My amorous history is none of your concern. I have taken all facts into consideration and my purity is irrelevant to the success of this mission. As I was saying. She will send you into town to find a virgin. I will don my vestal disguise and accompany you back."