Bilal and Mistress Octavia Pt. 02

She rode me to a gallop. I hoped she would not bring my rain. I knew exactly how I wanted to rain inside her, and it was not like this. She stroked her hips, and found an angle where my ram would tickle the soft ceiling of her palace. I could tell when she found it, because her stroke became quick and short, and she closed her eyes in ecstasy.

Then the heavens opened again in a glorious downpour. Her thrusts became trembling and frantic, and I felt a warm deluge run down my thighs. I grabbed her tits again, and pinched the nipples, drawing that growling, ecstatic groan from her once again. Once her rain had ended, she sat on top of me, my hard ram still penetrating her. Her hair looked as if it had been out in the rain, and she looked quite exhausted. But I was not done with her yet.

"Now you will be my strong steed, mistress. Let's see you stand like one on the bed." She rolled off of me, and her trembling, calid body lay on the bed for a few seconds. But she used the last of her strength to get up, and stood on all fours on the bed. I stroked her sweat-covered back, "That's a good girl. Get ready for a ride."

This was what I had been waiting for. The finale in this masterpiece. I got on my knees behind her. Her glorious arse rose above me, round and brilliant as the rising sun. I shivered with delight, and felt myself short of breath. It was magnificent. I gripped each cheek and spread it. The smell was just as glorious. It was that delightful, sexual mix of a woman's arse, wet jade gate, and the sweat of our love. Her jade gate was there in her dark gully. For a second I was reminded absurdly of a horse with its own jade gate and arsehole visible. Her arsehole, too, winked and puckered. I thought back to her baths, where I had wanted to do something with it. I had never had my ram in a woman's arse before.

"Bilal, please." She groaned. The exhaustion had made her voice ragged, but her burning lust pushed her forward.

Slowly, gently, I pushed my ram against the outside of her jade gate. Her entire backside was impossibly wet from any variety of juices our bodies had leaked. It felt like magic. I felt her palace walls squeeze around my ram. I fit in snug and tight. I pushed and pushed and my ram slowly disappeared inside her. She cried out, "Yes, Bilal. Your mistress needs it. No one has ever pleased your mistress so much! Pound my moule, and make it yours. Pound it hard."

My ram finally reached the back wall of her palace, and I felt a hard clench around my ram. She pushed me, almost ejecting my ram from her jade gate. She groaned as if she were being stabbed and I felt her entire body convulse. Having not seen her face, her rain took me a bit by surprise. But I knew what to do when a woman's jade gate pushed. You just had to push harder.

"Bilal, wait." The squeezing inside her slacked a little. I didn't stop. She pressed a hand back on my belly. "Please, just for a moment." I did, and slapped her arse hard as I had done before, drawing a sharp gasp from her. But when I looked up, her trembling hand was holding the box. The very box I had brought back to her that morning. I had to conceal my excitement.

She said nothing, her breath a mess of wheezing and shudders. I opened it just as I had before. I removed the white, hard ram from the silk. Her trembling hand reached for a tiny bottle of oil. "I have other holes beside my jade gate. I need a ram in both. Please, I beg you." I had never known a woman to take a ram in both her holes. It seemed like it would hurt. Of course I had no qualms about hurting this witch.

I started pumping her jade gate, and her thick stew dripped out onto the bed. She moaned softly as I slowly thrusted. I dribbled some of the oil on the ram, and Octavia moaned again as some of the oil dripped on her arse. I gave no warning.

I pushed the ram against her arsehole and I could hear her sharp intake of breath. I pushed, fighting the tight ring's clenching. Then the ram slipped in, up to the bell end. I heard a groan between clenched teeth. Though pleasure and pain could sound similar, there was little doubt of the discomfort she felt. I paused, only thrusting my flesh ram.

"No!" She shouted, "Don't you dare stop. Ravage my arse. I want it to hurt." I had no desire to argue. Now that her back gate had been crashed, it was much easier to slide the ram in. Her arse jerked away and trembled as I pushed in inch by inch. There was the same clenched-teeth growl I had heard earlier. I started thrusting harder with my own flesh ram in her jade gate. At this point I could hear the moist squelches that came with each thrust. It was hard to keep two rhythms simultaneously, so I was a bit clumsy with the ivory ram. She seemed to care less about its motion and more that it stretched her painfully.

But then to my shock, the walls of her jade gate closed around my ram again and she let out a mighty roar. From the back I could see the muscles in her neck clenching. The ivory ram was in as far as it could go, and it was stretching her mightily. Again she quaked, and I felt myself close to my own rain.

This was how I wanted it. Her majestic, round arse in front of me, white and shining. The vapors of every hot hole and every stew in my nostrils. And to top it all, her bestial groans and thrashes. With her rain came my own. I threw my head back and I pumped my hot rain into her jade gate. I clenched every muscle in my body. I felt as if my soul was leaking out through my ram. Our cries mingled and then we slouched like soldiers on a forced march.

"Take it out, Bilal. Please." I pulled the ivory ram out and we collapsed in a heap on the wet and aromatic bedsheets. She gripped the ersatz ram in her trembling hands. Her mouth moved, as if to say something, but she gave up, and simply turned her green eyes toward mine. "That was... adequa..." She shook her head and mustered a weak smile. "That was heavenly." Even a tigress could be tamed if a man knew where and how to touch her. "I've never felt like that. Not ever." She leaned on her side, her hanging breasts dangling sideways. "Thank you Bilal."

--

We lay in bed for quite a while after that. This room was indeed a strange and unsettling place. There were many more taxidermied animals, aincluding a frightful monkey clinging to a branch. There was also a demonic shrine made of some kind of black stone. How could she sleep here? "I must say, Bilal. I am surprised."

"Why is that, Mistress Octavia?" I felt guarded now that I had the clarity of mind that a man's rain brought. I certainly hadn't acted like a slave during our lovemaking. I could hope that she would think I had guessed her desire and just followed it, but certainly she was sharper than that.

"Who are you, Bilal?" It seemed the witch was back. A question like this was a test.

I rolled to the side and looked her in her green, flaming eyes. In this place one never truly dried, but her skin was no longer drenched in the sweat of our passion. Her face was relaxed and blank. "Why, madam, I am your loyal servant. Have I displeased you in some way?" Later in my journeys I would join a troupe of actors. I suppose this was when that particular talent began to glitter.

"When you took your reward, I thought you would stuff your queue into me and be done within minutes. The hungry looks you gave me were not those of a chaste suitor." She smiled her predatory grin, "Or a passionate lover who would take his time. No, when you came here I knew immediately you were a perverted rake. Or at least I thought." People, especially women, often assume when a man is passionate he is only interested in rutting quickly and then moving on, like a stray dog. And of course there are many, many men like that. To me, the carnal act of love is an art form, and not something to be rushed.

Then the realization hit me. She thought she would simply have to tolerate our lovemaking, not enjoy it. It was her gift to me. The reality of it wasn't quite that. "Mistress Octavia, I am here to please you, even in the ways of love." Again, I felt the deadly viper in the bed with me. "I have watched you closely in the short time we've been together. I am a passionate man, and I realized that though you wanted a slave in your daily life, you did not want one in your throes of passion." It was a common thing. Many dominant, assertive men wanted a woman who would dominate them. Love is a strange thing, and our deepest, darkest impulses can take over.

Did this answer satisfy her? "You struck me, Bilal." The viper coiled and I tried not to show fear. "You pushed me and bit me. That's not something a slave does to his mistress." There was no doubt in my mind that she had enjoyed those things. I felt my ram hardening remembering.

"Please forgive me, my mistress." I got out of bed and got on my knees in front of her. My half-stiff ram flopped absurdly, and I saw Octavia's eyes jump to it. "My only desire is your happiness. If you are displeased with me, I will gladly submit to any punishment. Please, make me worthy! Please!" I forced my voice to crack. The fear was certainly real, though I had no remorse.

"Get back in bed and be silent, you fool!" Was this enough? "Yes, Bilal. I was pleased with your lovemaking. It was simply unexpected. Perhaps you'll need more frequent rewards." It seemed her smile softened a bit. I climbed back into bed and there was a pitched tent in the bed above my middle. Again, Octavia couldn't keep her eyes off it. But she made an effort to be stern. "Tell me about your trip to town, Bilal."

This settled it. She was definitely suspicious of what had happened. "My mistress, I went to the tavern and bought your special toy. I am very grateful that you allowed me to pleasure you with it."

"Yes, yes. I am aware of that. Tell me what else you did."

I tried to stall, "The tavern had some of the strangest food. Alligator meat! Can you believe it, mistress? I thought my food was going to eat me!" I rolled toward her, and subtly allowed my ram, which was as hard as Octavia's glare, to brush her thigh.

Her mouth opened, and there was a brief pause before she spoke, "I mean what else did you do? Umm..." she took a deep breath. "Who did you talk to?" I could see lust overtaking suspicion in her eyes.

"Well, there was the tavernkeep," I leaned my ram just a bit closer. Octavia's mouth opened, just barely. "And of course the man who sold me that ram..."

"Matis." Her breath was husky.

The wetness at the tip of my ram made it glide easily along Octavia's inner thigh. I felt the soft brush of her forest against it. "I paid for a bath at the inn, but I turned down one of the whores there when she offered to assist. It felt good to be wet and clean." But by then she had stopped listening. Gone from her face was her suspicion, and there in its face was dewey-eyed desire. Her face glistened in her moist passion.

I rolled over, and I placed myself between her legs. My ram wobbled, touching her thighs and her belly. "But it seems the time for talk is over." I grinned. I brushed my ram on her forest, and she tipped her hips toward me. There was nothing she could say now. Her lips quivered and her eyes shone.

I pressed my ram into the outer gully of her jade gate. She was wet as the muddy estate grounds already. She moaned softly and moved her hips so that my ram slid along her slit like a bolt in a crossbow. She was ready for me to fire, and thrust her hips, hoping to force my ram inside her. Of course I was too quick for her, and pulled it back, dripping her aromatic brew back down on her. Her face wore a shocked expression, and a chuckle escaped her mouth. I suppose my diversion had worked.

Now that I was on top of her, the sheets were pushed up and I could see her zaftig body spread out before me in all its glory. Again, I was fascinated by her tits. They jiggled and flowed as if they were made of liquid. First they were in the crooks of her arms, but they bounced and flowed with her movement. I slid one hand up and squeezed a breast. It was exquisitely soft, and I felt the fires of lust consume me. With a quick thrust I tapped my ram against her belly. It hit with a wet slap. "Don't deny your mistress what she wants. What a disobedient slave!"

"Anything for my mistress," I replied. I thrust my ram into her. With one mighty thrust the entirety of it went into her sopping jade gate. There was an audible squelch, and I could immediately feel the water of her passion leaking out. The heat of her body surrounded it, and I felt the walls of her palace greedily grip it. We both cried out, but hers was much more fervent, almost a scream.

"Bilal, you... You filthy..." but I silenced her with a gyration of my hips, and my ram began to thrust in and out of her. She was unable to finish her admonition. My thrusts became long and rhythmic, and my hand pinched and rolled her nipple. Her face twisted with shock and desire, her eyes and mouth wide open. I leaned back, rubbing the soft ceiling of her palace with my tip. Her body trembled when she felt me hit it. "Yes, Bilal. Yes right there. My moule needs it. You're pleasing your mistress." I figured I could obey her for now, and I could see the heat rising in her as I plowed her field.

I pushed and pushed. Octavia tilted her hips so that my ram could more easily reach her special spot. I looked in her eyes, and I could see the coming flood. I, too, was close to my rain. Lovemaking like this was blunt and unsubtle. It was not my preference, but I was tired and had a purpose other than pleasure. Her warm, wet walls slid past my ram, tickling me. Then I saw the look on her face. The loss of control. The muscles in her belly tightened and I felt that special push inside her jade gate. "Bilal, heavens, please! My petite mort is almost here!" So was mine, and my thrusts became fervent and uncontrolled.

She threw her head back, and bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. I could see the muscles in her incandescent red neck stand out. She let out a groan, like a wildcat in the woods. I, too, felt myself pushed over the edge. My ram tingled, almost painfully. Then with the familiar thump thump thump of my rain, I shot my hot gift into her. I had never filled a woman up twice in a row like that. There was certainly something about Octavia. It was there even without her black magic.

--

The next few days were not like the previous days when I had been charmed by her. I saw cracks in her facade. Though she was ravishing and her body was heavenly, I could see the cruel woman she was through her words and her face. She also behaved differently toward me. The way she would stare at me, the way her mouth cocked when she spoke to me. The ivory ram was out during the massages, and her rain was torrential each time. She even once had me get up on the table and mount her as I finished. It was easy for me, since I was painfully hard every time I got to touch her.

But I stood by for Marguerite's plan to roll into action. Octavia had forgotten about her suspicions or at least assuaged them. I kept up my duties of following her about like a puppy, bathing her, and pleasuring her. I truly could have lived this way for the rest of my life, a man kept by this lustful and darkly beautiful witch. But the thoughts of swamp fever crept into my head, and I felt guilty.

One day I could feel there was something not quite right about her. She lacked the vigor that she usually had. Her words with me were short and for the first time she didn't have me bring her rain after the massage. She just went straight to bed after. Of course she was not a young woman. But for someone like her this had to be more than simple illness or old age.

She approached me one night after she had had her massage. I thought she had gone to sleep, but she appeared at the door in her nightgown with a candle. "Bilal, I have another task for you." Her eyes flickered with the light of the candle. She almost seemed as if she had aged. "It is the most important task you will ever perform for me. Few of my servants have ever had this honor."

I got out of bed, and stood to face her, "Yes, Mistress Octavia, what is it?"

"I must perform another ritual just like the one you made possible. But this one will restore me. I am not well, and the magic that sustains me is ebbing."

"Mistress, are you dying?" I drew on that fantastic acting talent deep within me.

She gave a weak smile. "You will complete this task, and you will be more honored than before. You will have the same reward you received, but you can claim it any time you want and I will be willing to satisfy you in arcane and depraved ways." She took a deep breath. " Here is this vital task you must do for your mistress."

--

The task was just as Marguerite had said. Octavia needed a female virgin. She didn't specify an age, which turned my stomach when I realized the implication. But she recommended a vestal. She didn't send me with any weapons, but simply some money. This was wise, since the only way I could bring someone back to the estate would be through deception, not force.

Marguerite appeared at the church even faster than she had before, and she was playing the young vestal again. I knew I had to keep a straight face, but the idea of a worldly woman such as her as a chaste holy woman made it hard. Then again, she was perhaps closer to a vestal than immediately obvious. She was devoted to God, and made sacrifices in her life. Rumor had it that inquisitors had training that would kill many of them, and they could not have any real connections outside the Inquisition. No family, no friends. It seemed like a sad life to me.

When we were back in her quarters her demeanor instantly changed. "So the witch has sent you back. Is she ready to move on to her next ritual?"

"Well, it's fine to see you too, my sweet. Yes, Octavia has sent me to find her virgin, just as you said. Does that please you?"

"Your attitude certainly does not," her mouth formed a straight line. "I am your only way to freedom, and indeed survival." I shook my head, though she was right. This anger was for Octvaia. Mostly.

"She said you would need to come after sundown."

"Yes, yes. I know. We will arrive after sundown. I will be a vestal here to administer last rights to the lord of the estate. She will bind me and bring me to the place of her ritual, most likely the standing stone where she performed the last one."

"Do I heroically cut your bonds so you can smite the witch?"

She simply rolled her eyes. "She will tie me to a stone, or more likely a tree. She will start the ritual. You will have a part to play, but you must wait until the ritual begins."

"And then I cut your bonds an-"

"Be silent! I will escape from the bonds on my own. Inquisitors are trained for such things. Your task will be to read."

I stared at her, "Read?"

"Yes. The greatest weapon against the Adversary and his servants is the word of God. Even in the hands of one such as you, they can disrupt their plans. You can read, can you not, bard?" I nodded. The nerve of this woman! She produced a copy of the Good Book and opened it to a marked page. On the page a passage had been outlined in ink. I knew this story. It was actually one of the more famous ones.

The first padishah, called St. Salah, was just on the edge of forging the empire in the Holy Land from the ashes of the heathen kingdoms. His victory seemed imminent as the last heathen king had converted and submitted to him. But the Adversary had other plans. He sent his servant, Iblis, to possess the king of Sabarak, a neighboring kingdom that had been neutral in the conflict. He also sent nine times nine times nine demons to possess the king's soldiers. The army invaded, and the padishah's army lost battle after battle. That was, until the angel Qamark told him of the kingdom's demonic powers and St. Salah decided to lead the next battle himself. The battle raged, and eventually the padisha found himself face to face with the foreign king. He could see Iblis in the man's eyes, and called upon God to exorcize the foul creature. The words had their effect, and the demon was cast down into the maelstrom where he has plotted man's demise ever since.