Black Skies Ch. 02

"Keep sucking," he told her, trying to get the new mass to catch fire. Mathilda took an extra deep breath as a result, and almost fainted trying to hold all of it in.

Extremely giddy, she started laughing at how clumsy she was. A sense of childlike glee overtook her, filling her with optimism and imperviousness. Her high-pitched laughs sounded almost orgasmic, affecting the demeanor of the two men, pricking their senses.

She was splaying herself out, rolling around and stretching so violently she almost split her dress seams. All of the kinks and aches in her body were gone, replaced by a firm suppleness and warm pleasantness.

The soles of her feet felt tickled by a new sensation. Without looking, she kneaded her feet on the material like a cat would do with her paws. She crossed her hands behind her head, supporting its weight, before she felt a pair of hands grab her ankles and move them to the side. She arched her head up and saw that she had been rubbing her feet against the big man's pants, and had come dangerously close to his crotch.

"Oh!" She blushed, covering her mouth. To her dismay and delight, he held her feet up with his hands and examined them, speaking in astonished Chinese.

"He says your feet are very delicate," the middle man translated.

"Oh, thank yOU AHHH" she screamed laughing as he squeezed the toes between his fingers. With a focused look in his eyes, he began massaging the balls and soles of her feet, relieving some very old aches.

"How did you know my feet hurt? Oohh.." she writhed. He moved to her heels, then ankles, then calves. He was sitting up now, and holding her feet in his lap, roaming up and down with his hands.

Every time he touched her soles, an arc of sensation would hit her square in the tailbone, triggering the very sensitive organs near it. Venal pleasure turned carnal, but Mathilda's proper judgment had vanished two pipe hits ago. She started splaying her legs apart, just barely bucking her hips up to coincide with the short bursts of pleasure. The shopkeep gave her the pipe again, torturing her with yet another dose of the drug.

Mercifully, he lay the pipe aside after she finished. Any more would simply be wasted at this point.

Mathilda writhed and started to whimper, relishing in the bit of pleasure she was receiving, but ultimately wanting more. Her entire body felt uncomfortably hot, and she fidgeted with the top button of her dress. The shopkeep mistook her intention and quickly undid the rest, opening up her dress and exposing her bare bosom and stomach.

The laborer at her feet ceased his ministrations and drank in a deep look. The innocent way she tried to cover herself with her hands made his arousal worse, not better. He tugged at the hem of her dress, pulling it towards him.

Not wanting it to tear, which would leave permanent evidence of her misbehavior, Mathilda escaped her sleeves and lifted her hips up so that he could slide the dress off of her.

Now she was as naked as Eve in the garden. And just like after Eve ate the fruit, Mathilda vainly tried to cover herself. A thin white arm folded across her breasts; a pale, delicate hand over her womanhood. She made a sad expression with her innocent green eyes before she closed them, unable to bear even her own nakedness.

The muscled laborer resumed his skilled work, turning her feet into receptacles of pleasure. The other man got behind her and started melting down the resistance in her stiff shoulders. Vigorous and caressing sensations ran down her spine in both directions, and she dropped the arm covering her breasts, letting it fall into her lap with her other hand.

"Oh...Oooh..." she moaned softly, rocking back and forth with her chest. Her prim, apple-sized breasts jiggled, taunting the men with the sight of her delicate pink nipples. Pour a little sugar over them and they were two strawberry candies.

Mathilda felt something warm secreting from her sinful spot, making her wet lips stick to the floor. The only time she oozed like this was for Tom, her fiancé whom she was mindlessly betraying.

The pair of hands that were working on her shoulders and back leapt forward and grabbed a tit each. "Nooooo!!" She helplessly cried out before until his skillful fingers made Mathilda relent even her breasts to the men. Thumbs and index fingers pinched and kneaded her stiff peaks so delightfully the poor missionary girl feared for her virginity. As long as the hands (and other organs) stayed away from her vulva, she could let the men continue working her and making her feel good.

But then a nagging guilt started to burrow into her.Am I being selfish? They took me in, gave me food and warmth, and now they're sending me to heaven. It's only good manners to give them something in return. But I can't betray Tom. What do I do...

She looked again at the pipe. It got her this far. Maybe it would hold the answers. At the very least, it would make her feel less bad about her decision...

END OF CHAPTER TWO

A/N: Yes, Mathilda gives them anal. Ha, ha. Naïve Christian virgin giving up the butthole cliché.

On a serious note, sorry for the late update, guys. I had left this installment hanging for a while, and by the time I had gotten back to it, I had mostly forgotten the alternate history timeline of the Crimean War that I cooked up. So I had to re-read the first chapter.

But stay tuned! The next chapter will have dirigibles and Tesla coils and all that good steampunk jazz. And sodomy. Peace.