Bilal and Mistress Octavia Pt. 02

"And then what?" I didn't like the sound of this. What if Octavia could tell I wasn't under her spell? What if she cast it on me again? What if she could tell Marguerite wasn't a virgin? But was she? Did sucking a man's ram count? It seemed like it did, but was God only concerned with her jade gate and not her mouth? This information would have been quite helpful for me when I was courting the girls in my village who wanted to stay pure for their future husbands.

"When next we meet, I will inform you of the rest of our plan. It will not do for you to know now. Secrecy will be our ally."

"But what if-"

"I will answer none of your questions, Bilal. Your mission is clear. Return to your 'mistress' and wait for our opportunity. It is God's will, Bilal."

--

I was met with master Erasmus's ugly, red face when the barge arrived. He said not a word to me, and his only words were crude slurs to get the barge slaves to row faster. He left in a huff as soon as we arrived at the estate.

The mansion was silent inside and I carefully climbed the central stairs. The feeling was completely different from before. When I had come back to Octavia's chambers in the past I had been eager and excited to meet her. But now, each floor seemed as if I were descending further and further into hell. And I dreaded the demon who would meet me at my destination.

She was already in the hallway when I arrived. There was still a little doubt in me that I would no longer be as attracted to her. My passion had been powered to a certain degree by her seductive magic. That fear was dispelled when I broke the plane on the third floor. There she stood, regal and terrifying. She wore a blue dress that exposed her cleavage and rather than hide the hanging of her breasts, it drew attention to them. It was quite tight around her waist and contrasted the narrowness of her shoulders with the width and softness of her hips.

Her lips curled in a smile and I felt my body warm the second I saw her. "My good, obedient boy!" She took me by both hands and kissed me on the cheek. Having her this close and smelling her perfume made the lust rise in my heart and I felt my ram begin to awaken.

"I am happy to be back, Mistress Octavia." The time before, when I was under her spell, seemed like a dream to me. I remembered, but it felt almost like it had happened to another person. If Marguerite had wanted a deceiver, I suppose she had chosen the right man.

"Give me the item," she commanded, and I produced the carved box from my pack. "Do you know what this is?" I shook my head no, hoping she didn't have some way to divine my dishonesty. All she did was smile. "You'll find out."

Did this mean she would let me use it on her? My ram tingled with the thought of it. Thrusting the oiled ivory ram in and out of her jade gate after her massage. With all those ridges her rain was sure to be a mighty one. My hands trembled. I suppose I was fortunate I wouldn't have to pretend to be attracted to her.

"I shall summon you later. I have not forgotten about your reward," she ran her hand down her cleavage at the hem of her dress. "And I must say," she took a few steps closer and lowered her hand to my ram. It strained against my trousers as she rubbed it. Jolts of lust ran through my body. "I'm looking forward to rewarding you."

It was mid afternoon when I had arrived and I counted every minute. I hoped that later meant today and my mind was filled with visions of her riding me, her pendulous breasts wildly shaking. Or of my hands gripping her arse as it jiggled from the force of my hungry thrusts. I thought of the face she made when she had her rain. She squinted her eyes and sometimes bared her teeth and sometimes her jaw dropped.

I had heard once that women would fake their rain for men. It seemed a strange idea to me, yet I suppose it would make men feel more adept at love. But if a man had seen a woman's face and chest red with desire, or felt her jade gate grip and tighten around his ram, or been doused in her exquisite, aromatic brew, I don't know how you could fake all that. Perhaps the easiest lie to tell is the one that the recipient wants to believe.

As always, when Octavia summoned me, she never knocked. My door opened. I followed her and began to fill her bath. I had done this many times before and I remembered how, but I couldn't muster the same vigor to do the job that her magic had in me. I prayed that she wouldn't notice.

But I removed the last bucket from the hearth and gingerly poured the steaming water into the tub. The whole time she stared at me, and her scrutiny made me nervous. Like I always had, I began to unbutton her dress, my breath hot on her back. I trembled with desire. Having returned to my normal state, I felt a new clarity and she stood before me in that very clarity. But as I began to unbutton the first button I felt her hand on mine.

For a moment neither of us said anything. She spoke, not turning to face me. "Bilal, my most loyal servant. For a short time my body is yours to do with what you will." I sat there dumbfounded. "My only condition is that you will make my petite mort come. Now take off my dress and claim your prize."

"Yes, Mistress Octavia," I said. My hands trembled with each button. I couldn't even wait until I had all the buttons off. As soon as my hands could fit inside I rubbed her smooth back. I heard a soft sigh of pleasure from her, then I felt my head lowering and my lips kissing the exposed flesh of her back. It was the strangest feeling. I hated and even feared her, but those other emotions were trivial compared to the mighty lust I felt. I had seen this woman's naked, exquisite body so many times. I had touched her over and over. Yet none of it compared. I touched her now truly free of everything. There was no coercion. No magic. No limits.

I pulled down the sides of her dress, exposing her soft breasts. My eager hands circled around her body and I pressed her into me. My ram felt as if it was on fire, and I pressed it against her arse, involuntarily thrusting it. There was a little chuckle that was cut off by a gasp as I squeezed her heavy breasts in my hands. I had touched them during her massages, but it was in service to her. Here I could do whatever I wanted and I kneaded them like fresh dough. My fingers found her thick nipples and I pinched them. Hard. "Yes," she gasped and grinded her arse into my ram. I felt the fluid flesh of her tits between my fingers as I squeezed them. So this was what a mature woman's tits felt like in the throes of passion. She pressed her arse back again and I would realize I would have to pace myself if I were to last for any length of time.

So I backed away with great difficulty and continued unbuttoning her. She turned her head and I could see the smirk at the corner of her eye. Did she mean to cheat me of my prize? To make my rain come quickly so I would be left flopping and gasping? If only I could rain like a woman. They could do it over and over, the ecstasy washing over them like a sandstorm. A man's rain came like a viper's strike. Sudden, rapid, and wet. But then a man was spent and his ram was like wet pasta.

I continued button by button and came to the cleft of her arse. I always savored this part, when you could smell a woman's passion as her dress came off. And indeed, Octavia's wet musk enchanted my nose with its sweetness. I gripped her full moon arse before her dress even hit the floor. My lust made me reckless, and my hand made a mighty crack as I slapped her arse with my open palm. She yelped, and a red welt in the shape of my hand appeared on her arse cheek. I felt a jolt of fear as I realized what I had done. "You naughty savage!" she moaned. I slapped her arse again, this time with the other hand. Her moan was louder this time.

Gripping her hips, I turned her around to face me. I took in her body, feeling as if I were seeing it for the first time. Her hanging, heavy breasts with her large luscious nipples. Her lined, soft belly. The forest on her jade gate, shot through with the same silver streaks as the hair on her head. Her hips and thighs, thick and soft like a goddess of sex. Magic or not, every fiber of my being wanted her, and I wished I could penetrate her so deep that my ram would come out her mouth. She gripped my shoulders, and our lips locked violently. As familiar as I was with her body, this kiss was almost unbearable and my ram throbbed. She was an aggressive kisser, and her tongue invaded my mouth as if it were her ram and my mouth were my jade gate. But I pushed back into her. She wanted fervor. She wanted fire. A soft whimper escaped from her mouth as my tongue pushed into it. I could smell her lips and mouth, and our teeth clicked with our overzealous passion. We parted momentarily and I heard a groan from her. She hadn't expected this kind of passion from her slave.

I remembered what an old madam of a whorehouse in the capital had told me. The best whores not only pretended to be in love with the men, they convinced the men that they had fallen in love with them. The concept had sounded foolish to me, but I was here to convince Octavia that my lust and passion were more powerful than her magic. I had to show her that I really and truly wanted her. But remembering the evil woman that she was, our love making felt more like a duel. Yes, I wanted her body, and I wanted to make her explode with her petite mort. But this was like sleeping with a scorpion in my bedroll. I hoped that the fire of my lust wouldn't make me careless.

My hands dug into her hips, and she yanked down my trousers, freeing my aching ram. Her hand closed around and I jerked away. Not to tease, but so I wouldn't wash her away in my rain. My ram bobbed and bounced as she tried to catch it. "My, aren't you the feisty one? Have you forgotten that you belong to me?"

"But Mistress Octavia, you said that your body was mine to do with as I pleased. Surely it's your will that my passion guides me." This was another moment of surprise for her. With my constant submissive attitude, she didn't expect the other me to emerge. All she could manage was a smile to cover her shock.

But I leaned into her, and my ram pushed into the soft flesh of her belly. I kissed her again and shoved my tongue into her mouth. Her protests were muffled, but I kissed down her neck and onto her chest. I attacked her nipples, using teeth and tongue and lips all together. She shuddered, and let forth an incoherent groan. "You dirty-" but I bit her nipple and her words were eclipsed by a yelp.

Then I pushed her back into the door of the room. For a brief moment I saw something in her eyes. A flash of fear perhaps? I didn't care. She stumbled and nearly tripped as I unlatched the door and we surged out into the hallway. "How dare you, you filthy-" but I plugged her mouth with my kiss and again her words were snuffed. We lurched across the hallway, and she banged at me with her closed fists as I pushed her with a crash into the door to her room. My hand sprung forward, and I defeated her blows with a quick but precise rub to her pearl. I had brought her to climax so many times that I was like a warrior protecting his home terrain from invaders. I knew every secret, every peak, every hole. Her pearl was already engorged with her own sinful lust and her head rolled back. I used the other hand to squeeze the dough of her tit and roll her nipple between my fingers. She moaned in pleasure, but I still wasn't done. I brought my mouth down to her other nipple, bit, and pulled. Her moan was rapturous, and I knew with the flood inside her jade gate and the writhing of her body that she had had her petite mort. But there was no way this could be the last.

I turned the latch to her bedroom door and she couldn't even protest in her paroxysm of ecstasy. We tumbled inside. She had told me in no uncertain terms that I was never allowed in here. Another risk, I was daring her to stop me. I had never seen this place before and I truly didn't have a chance to see how bizarre it was. There were luxurious carpets covering the floor, most likely the very kind they made in the capital city. Her bed had a crimson canopy and sheets. I spied the box with her ivory ram on the bedside table and hoped that I would get a chance to stick it in one of her holes. But If I reached for it, she would know. There were paintings on the wall, but I was too engrossed in my task to notice much else.

I shoved her back onto the bed, and she came crashing down. She crawled back as I had when I met Colette. "What kind of slave are you?" she chided. "To treat your mistress so..." but she was smiling. "What are you going to do to me, you foreign savage?" I silently marched forward, my ram pointing at her like an iron-tipped spear. Her eyes darted from my ram to my own eyes. On the bed, her tits hung into the crooks of her arms and her dimpled legs jiggled with her excitement. Her eyes were wide, and I couldn't tell how much was fear and how much was lust.

"I'm here to take my reward, madam. You would be a cruel mistress, indeed, to deny that to me." I came to the edge of the bed, and I put my hand under her chin, lifting her gaze to me. "I will have my reward, Mistress Octavia." With that I grabbed her leg and spun her body so that her legs were facing me at the side of the bed. Taking the other leg, I spread them apart. All Mistress Octavia could do was gasp and gape. Her jade gate was wide and hungry, and I could see it glistening with moisture even through her forest. The old witch wanted this.

I knelt in front of her, but not in deference. I licked the inside of her leg, and slowly made my way up closer and closer to her shining treasure. She stared at me the whole time, and I could feel shudders through her body with each lick. "I will eat my fill as part of my reward. I smell the aroma of your baking tart."

"I baked it just for you Bilal. Come catch its dripping honey on your tongue, savage."

As I approached her jade gate I could indeed smell the aroma of her passion. She was wet as the monsoons. I was now close enough that her forest mingled with my mustache and I brought my hands up to either side of her jade gate. She moaned softly and bit her lip as I placed my hands to either side of her bush and spread her open like a blooming rose. My face was mere inches away from her gate now. But I moved my spreading hands away and rubbed the insides of her thighs, kissing where my hands went. She stared tongue tied and incredulous.

I approached her jade gate again, and she held her breath as she watched. But just as I was about to kiss her rose petals I kissed her soft belly. Come on you old witch, I thought. I'm going to make you beg for it. I pinched a roll of fat from her belly and licked it as if I were licking gravy from a spoon. My hands traveled up her belly and kneaded her doughy tits. "Bilal, you-" but I pinched her nipple hard and her words were swallowed again by a groan. Then as she threw her head back in rapture, I pounced on her jade gate, licking the length of her valley. She groaned even louder this time, her mouth dropping open like a snake. Her back bowed as it did during her massage. She was close.

Like a warrior in the bushes I ambushed her pearl, finding it stiff and ready. Her breath was shuddering uncontrollably now and her legs squeezed around my head. But again I fell back and I bathed her petals with my tongue. The look on her face was priceless. She was unused to not being in charge. She whispered, "Bilal, I need my petite mort." I simply stared at her, and kissed around her jade gate. "You must..." her face was red, her hair disheveled, and sweat dripped down her neck. When my lips met the flesh of her thighs I could feel them burning up.

Then I kissed up her belly again, dragging her soaked jade gate against my chest. Her face was slack and confused. I rolled her nipple in my finger again, and though I heard the sigh of pleasure, her face was desperate. I softly licked the other nipple. My eyes met hers, and dared her to say anything. "Bilal. I need it." She made a few heaving breaths. "Bilal, please." All her sorcery and dark powers and she had to dig deep in her spellbook to find this most basic of magic words.

And like that it was as if a dam had broken. "Please Bilal. I need it. I need you." Her eyes were glassy and her body trembled with frustration. "Your mistress needs you, she begs you to give her what she needs."

Silently, I reversed course and kissed back down to her jade gate. Her expression was hopeful, but anxious. Would I really give it to her? I spread her jade gate once again and snaked my tongue from my mouth. But then when I was just an inch from her pearl, I backed off. Her face fell and she bared her teeth in frustration, but as she did, I darted down. A wise man once said that in battle you must do exactly what the enemy expects you not to do. I wonder if he knew it was the same in carnal acts as well. I flattened her pearl with my tongue, and let it flop back and forth under its pressure. What came out of her almost sounded like a growl, and she lifted her hips off the bed, trying to bury my face in her wetness. This time I was glad to oblige.

The long, low, feline growl kept coming from deep inside her and her trembling jade gate flooded with the waters I had been thirsty for. How could a woman fake this? She rained and rained, and her growl turned into something more like a staccato bark. Her jade gate dripped on the bed. I circled my arms around her thighs and buried my face inside her. My tongue flapped her jade gate, like a thief picking a lock. Yet her rain still came. To rain like this... A man's easy, violent rain was both a blessing and a curse.

But I wasn't done with her jade gate. I felt her cool a bit, like a red-hot iron brought out of a blacksmith's fire. Her whole body was slick with sweat, and her heavy-lidded were locked on me. Tremors traveled through her body as I polished her pearl, but not quite the quakes I had brought earlier. She gasped in surprise as I slid my finger into her true gate and stroked the velvety ceiling of her palace. She cried out again, and I could see she was struggling to say something in her own language, but nothing but incoherent wails came out. The storm clouds were on her horizon again.

I spoke as my finger stroked her velvety inside. "Now, madam. You see good things come to those who wait. And the anticipation makes the rain come all the harder. I will take care of my mistress. She has but to trust me."

"Bilal, please." she whispered.

But I went at her pearl again, using my lips to suck it this time. There was lightning in her eyes this time as her rain came again, soaking my face. A string of curses in her language emerged from her mouth and her back arched. She bared her teeth and her body shook. It was indistinguishable from agony. Little death, indeed. She panted and hooted and her body rocked with the storm of her passion. Like a good servant I kept her ecstasy going.

Finally her body cooled, and she sat there looking as if she were just chased by a bear. She shuddered, short of breath and sweating. "It seems my mistress is tired. Can she continue? Don't worry, mistress. Your steed is here. You have but to mount him." I rose, my ram flopping in its hardness and lay on my back next to her. I had waited so long to see those liquid tits bounce. I just hoped I could hold out long enough.

She scrambled on hands and knees toward my body, and seized my ram in her slick hands. She carefully maneuvered her jade gate on top of it and let it disappear inside her. I could hear the trembling in her breath. Her tits hung down over me, and she began to ride. Her round hips pumped. They were thick, and surprisingly strong for a woman her age. In her vertical position all the sweat dripped down her. Her breasts flapped with her bounces, flying up, down, and sideways. That, along with her large, brown nipples had a hypnotic effect on me. I had seen nothing like it and was entranced. The sweat on her tits splashed and I felt the drops fall on my chest and face. Her belly also shook like thick cream.