tagBDSMFace (Sex, Power, Love) Ch. 30

Face (Sex, Power, Love) Ch. 30

byEricDumuzi©

Anna: Priestess of Inanna

"Weddings are such fun."

Shyanne and Ashley knelt before Anna adjusting the hem of her gown and its long sweeping train of black lace. Anna stared into the distance ignoring the serving girls.

Ashley giggled, "All the pretty clothes, the pretty people, the pretty flowers, weddings are so exciting. Shyanne you're going to love tonight's entertainment. Your fuck buddy Eric is going to dance for us, dance a very special dance. You've never been to wedding like this. Anna has discovered the secret wedding rituals of the lost cult of Inanna." The devious, imperious, and cruel Ashley was positively giddy.

Shyanne kept her thoughts to herself. "Of course it won't be like any wedding I've been to. I've never been to a wedding. Nobody I knew ever got married. Marriage and married folk are in a different world. None of them would have considered inviting the likes of me to their wedding. And what are they going to do to Eric? It's his wedding, but what sort of celebration could this be? Inanna? What? Fuck the wedding, what sort of marriage will it be? Eric married to that sadistic bitch Gina? Poor baby."

Ashley chattered on, "Just smooth this last wrinkle and we are done. There. What an exquisite gown, what a spectacular train, and, oh, the bodice, the veil, everything is fineness and quality. It fits Anna's body, her spirit, and her eminence perfectly. Black satin, blacker lace, delicate, ominous, commanding, and so very feminine, it is Anna. Oh, isn't she stunning?"

Ashley's heart swelled to bursting. She held her hand to her trembling open lips as if to hold within her elated hero worship. Joyous tears sparkled in her brimming eyes. Ashley gazed up and adored Anna. Anna was splendid and mysterious, the perfect celebrant for a dark pagan nuptial. Ashley bobbled in her manic bubble, "It's the wedding of my best buddy. Shyanne, look up from your knees at Anna. This is the only proper perspective to look upon this magnificent woman."

Shyanne too stared up in awe. Shyanne had spent the night with Anna; it had been a revelation.

Shyanne had been with women before. She used Claudia just about every day, and she was on call to do Ashley at the snap of a finger. But Ashley had demanded only occasional, perfunctory oral servicing, and only to reinforce the lines of authority. Ashley was turned on by exerting power; the visceral joys of sex were incidental. That was ok with Shyanne. A lot of stuff was ok with her.

Shyanne was omnivorous when it came to sex; however, her basic preference was cock. Her first experience with lesbian sex was a bit role in a porno film. It was business. She had no qualms or regrets, but it was not something she would have done but for the money. Shyanne admitted to herself a twisted thrill with the perversion of girl on girl play, but without a warm and real cock inside, sex was not quite right. A plastic toy or a tongue just didn't do it.

As a prostitute, her clients were all men, except that she did occasional lesbian sex shows for stag parties. Shyanne thought she understood just about everything about guys and sex, but she was always a bit puzzled and amused at the way a room full of macho studs could get off watching two girls go at each other. Still she and her colleagues got good and hot showing off for the guys. Sometimes Shyanne's orgasm was actually real. It was kind of fun. Shyanne enjoyed the exhibitionism and the mindless cunt sucking, but getting sucked by a girl was just not enough. If money were not an issue (it always was), she would have stuck with cock.

Shyanne did not especially need companionship. She liked living alone. She had always vaguely imagined that she would live with a guy sometime, but she never did. For a short time, Shyanne lived with an acquaintance that was into girl on girl sex. Shyanne tried it but it didn't do a lot for her. The girl was a colleague, another whore, but a needy whore. Shyanne regretted it as soon as the girl moved in.

Shyanne let the girl suck her off each morning. The girl would crawl under the sheets and wake Shyanne with gentle pussy licking. Half-asleep Shyanne would open her legs and accept her roommate's service with passionless satisfaction. When she was fully awake, she would get up without a word, shower, and leave the apartment to get breakfast alone. The girl was too gabby and too sweet. Shyanne wanted peace with her coffee, not sugar.

Getting head was a nice way to wake to another day, a pleasant massage, but nothing more. Living with the girl was fine, convenient. She helped with the rent and having a warm body around was comforting. But eventually Shyanne's ambivalence wrecked the relationship. She just did not want to reciprocate the sex or the affection.

Shyanne just left when the girl started whining. Shyanne had a month-to-month lease and she didn't own any stuff she cared about. It wasn't like a plan as such. She was leaving a guy's place, she had cash in her pocket, and for no particular reason she told the cab driver to take her to the airport instead of home. She left town for a while and never saw the girl again. That was fine. Shyanne liked being alone just as well.

Most of Shyanne's sex was professional, and so unemotional. She accepted that easily. Her life was a little lonely, but she was generally happy. The closest she ever got to someone was Eric. She gave him free sex and liked it, but they were really business partners. In time however, that partnership turned to true friendship, even an unacknowledged love, but they would never have considered living together or claiming possession of each other. Still, while neither Shyanne nor Eric would ever have said it out loud, they were soul mates. Eric was the kind of the man Shyanne dreamed of, except her dreams always evaporated with the light of day.

Living with Ashley was easy. She was occasionally cruel, but she didn't demand much of Shyanne's time. Shyanne could easily have split, just disappeared, but she surprised herself by liking the life Ashley gave her. She did not have to concern herself with money or day-to-day survival and doing Ashley's bidding was fun, weird but fun—like whipping Claudia into line.

Even though Shyanne was Ashley's sex slave, Ashley left no doubt about that, Ashley rarely abused her except for occasional verbal assaults just to show who was the boss. Shyanne contentedly agreed to the erratic cunt sucking and the constant capitulation. Equality was a corny daydream, and independence was overrated. Shyanne had always found it easy to go with the flow, and the flow had taken her to a very strange place.

Then Shyanne spent the night with Anna, and it was as if she finally remembered a critical but forgotten detail that she had lost track of throughout her life. Maybe being blackmailed into the role of sex slave had aroused some latent, instinctual impulse. Maybe she had just gotten enough time to relax and think, but Shyanne's memory was finally jogged when she encountered Anna.

When Anna asked Ashley for the use of Shyanne for a night, Ashley indifferently handed her over like a party favor. Shyanne had been somewhat frightened of Anna; Anna was rich, brilliant, and evidently superior even to Ashley. Anna was a goddess of goddesses. She was also older and exuded authority. Shyanne had always been scared of adults and never grasped that she had long been one herself.

Shyanne also was aware that Anna enjoyed physically abusing her victims. Of course, there was nothing to be done, she was Ashley's slave, and she must do anything demanded of her. She sensed that the easy flow of her life was heading toward rocky whitewater. What was that low thunderous roar up ahead? Oh well, just keep floating on. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Shyanne dutifully followed Anna to her dazzling home in the sky high above the city.

Lost in the clouds above the everyday urban tumult, Shyanne verged on panic. She glanced at Anna and confronted a starling, otherworldly beauty. Anna was aloof, cool, unapproachable—and an incarnate vision of ideal human beauty. Shyanne looked away, but alone in the mere proximity of Anna's loveliness some pillar within toppled. The simple, autonomic task of breathing became complicated. Anna seemed absorbed in some other world as she led Shyanne into her opulent home.

Anna's serene good nature further unnerved Shyanne. Shyanne was ready to accept whatever abuse a slave deserved, but Anna was unfailingly gracious. Anna treated her with respect, like an equal. Anna invited Shyanne to sit with her and offered to get her a drink. Shyanne nervously declined. She thought there must be some mistake, "Just get on with it. What's with this courtesy?"

Anna said please when she asked Shyanne to remove her clothes. Shyanne's stripper fingers shook like an artless child's. Standing before Anna, Shyanne had never felt so naked. "Now I will pay." But Anna just politely and sincerely complimented Shyanne for taking such good care of her sexy body. Anna, fully dressed, rose to admire Shyanne's nakedness. She ran her cool hands over Shyanne's skin and showered her with praise for the fullness of her breasts, the slenderness of her waist and the elegance of her features. Anna's detached critique of Shyanne's body parts was flattering, but ominous.

Anna picked up a riding crop that Shyanne had overlooked. "Now I will pay." But Anna told her that she could not use such a harsh tool on such tender skin. Anna took Shyanne by the hand and walked her to the bedroom where Shyanne saw an open chest filled with chains, leather collars, and whips. "Now I will pay." Shivers of the anticipated pain crawled across her tense skin. Anna lay Shyanne down on the bed. Shyanne felt like a specimen pinned to a laboratory table to be examined by Professor Anna.

Anna smiled at Shyanne's fear. She glanced at the chest filled with her tools of domination. "We can play with those some other time if you like." Then Anna undressed, unveiling a magnificent, but approachably human body. Anna the nude evoked erotic bliss, but her being radiated something more meaningful.

Anna sat on the bed and adoringly ran her hands over Shyanne's heaving breasts. She gently opened Shyanne's legs, leaned down, and tenderly kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh. Then she lay between Shyanne's legs, placed her mouth on her sex, and paid homage. Anna's lips, her tongue, and seemingly her soul licked, kissed, and loved Shyanne with an abundant benevolence Shyanne had not imagined possible. Anna manipulated, adored, and awoke Shyanne's vagina, and provoked in Shyanne's heart an appreciation of what sex was really for. Shyanne remembered that forgotten critical detail that she had misplaced in the rush of her life. Shyanne's true self awoke—cherished.

That night Anna treated Shyanne to an unknown tenderness. Anna shared the story of her life and the fairy-tale of her aspirations and dreams. She treated Shyanne with a never experienced, healing respect. Shyanne did not understand all of the sociology, anthropology, politics, and certainly not the ancient religion, but Anna took the time to explain and to teach without a lecture or condescension. Shyanne understood the essence of Anna's mind, and finally comprehended the quintessence of a sensual life. Shyanne empathized with the story of the ancient prostitutes driven into the cult Inanna for protection.

Anna told Shyanne that Gina and Eric would be married, and explained Eric's role as slave-husband. She enlightened Shyanne as to why this was necessary for Eric, and justified for any male. She explained the importance of inequity in spousal relations and tolerated Shyanne's dissent that perhaps it might not always be wrong for the male to dominate, or, worse in Anna's eyes, that an egalitarian relationship could be worthwhile. Mostly Anna made Shyanne feel loved.

Ashley came by in the morning jabbering incomprehensibly about magic, Stone Age wedding masks, and conquering the world. Shyanne understood just enough about her mistress to know she was nuts. Ashley brought along a work crew of hair stylists, manicurists and makeup artists to prepare Anna to officiate at Gina and Eric's wedding. Ashley set about the task like a foreman at a construction site. First, she set Shyanne aside ordering her to wait outside Anna's boudoir; then she began barking orders. Ashley hovered over her workers fussing and micromanaging their every move as they hustled about their business in a whirlwind of cosmetic artistry. She didn't get that MBA for nothing.

At the center of this tumult, Anna was quiet, detached, and serenely accommodating. Eventually Ashley dismissed the workers and kept Anna for herself. She loved dressing beautiful women and she would not share the delicacy of dressing Anna with her lackeys. All the while Shyanne sat beyond the door daydreaming about Anna, aching to be near the woman who had shown her the way to love herself. Behind the boudoir door, Ashley hoarded her time alone with Anna.

Finally Anna tired of Ashley. Anna handed her a vial of perfume, and Ashley sunk to her knees. Anna pulled aside fabric and opened the slit in Anna's gown from her waist to the floor. Framed in black satin the naked skin of Anna's thighs blazed white. Bedazzled, Ashley gaped at Anna's mons pubis and wept. With tremulous fingers, Ashley dabbed perfume along the soft inner reach of Anna long, succulent thighs. Ashley's usual mask of haughty assurance had melted away, her face flushed scarlet, and her nose ran like an asthmatic child's. Anna looked down on her blubbering acolyte and with a wordless glance, ordered her to fetch Shyanne. With a forlorn nod Ashley mutely answered, "Yes Mistress."

Outside the boudoir door, Ashley stood over Shyanne sitting on the floor and a bit of her arrogance revived. Fresh air and jealousy restored the rest. She kicked Shyanne and snarled. "Get up Slave." Ashley angrily shoved Shyanne through the door and flung her back to the floor at Anna's feet. Anna's agonizingly beautiful face awed the heartsick pilgrim.

When Ashley saw the love in Anna's eyes for Shyanne, her mercurial affect careened back to submissive humility, and she joined Shyanne on her knees. Together they fiddled with Anna's dress, and Ashley confided with Shyanne, "Weddings are such fun. All the pretty clothes, the pretty people, the pretty flowers ..."

Anna was not a tall woman, but somehow she loomed large. Shyanne looked to Anna's fair face, its cool purity softened slightly by the hint of peaches in her cheeks, to her eyes sparking multicolored, and to her glorious crown of strawberry blond tresses newly coifed and weaved to rise like a mountain until gracefully tumbling in a waterfall of curling lockets. Anna seemed an imposing monument of an impassive goddess.

Sheathed in form fitting, floor length black satin and glittering black lace, Anna shimmered like a black stone pillar topped by a polished marble bust. Her naked shoulders were smooth and cool as sculpted ice. Her neck and arms joined her torso with a flowing flawlessness as perfect as the unattainable ideal sought in shires of ancient goddesses. An expanse of creamy skin bloomed over the rise of generous cleavage. The delicate aurora of Anna's bosom dawned over the twinkling night of her black bodice. A hint of pink areola peeked through open lace trim and brimmed slightly over the deeply cut neckline.

Anna ignored the attending girls at her feet and admired herself in a full-length mirror. She critically appraised her maids' work and assessed the visage she presented, assuring that her physical presence struck the measure of awe appropriate to a ruler of souls.

Watching herself in the mirror Anna turned to admire the sinuous curve of her back plunging down the deep cleft of her gown to reach the alluring cleavage between her finely toned buttocks. Then Anna stepped toward Shyanne and looked down on the slave. A shapely leg stepped through the deep slit opening down the front of the gown.

Anna scrutinized the adoring devotee at her feet. She stepped closer and pulled the gown aside to reveal both legs. Anna shifted nearer still to stand within inches of Shyanne's face. The gown now opened at her waist and plummeted down the sides of her bewitching legs to trail behind in a long lacy train. Anna stood high upon a pedestal of silver shoes. Her broad snowy hips were fully exposed. A triangle of black lace veiled Anna's mound, and a few light red hairs curled through the scant, gossamer thong. Shyanne stared at Anna's womanhood bulging behind the scrap of diaphanous fabric and saw through the mask to something divine. Shyanne's breaking heart caught in her throat; she did not admire; she venerated. At this proximity, Anna's scent was thick and sweet, dizzying and overwhelming.

Ashley whispered, "Yes Shyanne, tremble at her feet; she is your ruler. Anna, may I allow our slave to kiss your foot?" Anna cast down an indulgent smile and stepped back so that her legs disappeared into the folds of satin. Ashley put her hand behind Shyanne's head and gently directed her face to the floor at the hem of Anna's gown. "Down Shyanne. Slip into the temple door and pay your respects. Kiss her foot, and breathe the air in the temple. Pray."

Shyanne entered the darkness under Anna long black gown. Anna's scent closed on her, clung to her skin, filled her head, and twisted its way into her core. Equilibrium weakened, failed utterly, and tears swept Shyanne. She felt a fool. She already lay flat on the floor or she would have fallen. Shyanne adoringly kissed Anna's foot and licked the heel of her shoe. Rivulets of tears ran about her face, her heating brow wept sweat, and a tingling simmer seethed within her body. Sun-heated berries melted in her mouth. Shyanne became a super-saturated cloud bursting with sweetness yearning to rain upon the earth.

The air within Anna's gown was not air. It was sultry ambrosia, a lure, a drug—a substance to be absorbed not breathed. It gratified; it compelled. A narcotic fog spun a satisfying suffocation into Shyanne's lungs, blood, and brain. Just as consciousness threatened to dissolve into the viscous sweetness permeating the darkness within Anna's gown, Anna stepped over Shyanne, and with a soft rustling, she floated away.

The train of Anna's gown passed over Shyanne like the shadow of a dark storm cloud. The cool air of Anna's boudoir bathed Shyanne's face. Anna's scent still clung to her, but now she could breathe, barely. Shyanne sipped air, but was left wanting. She felt she might suffocate, but she suffered no fear, no panic. It was just the opposite. A breathless rapture coursed in Shyanne's blood, an otherworldly, ecstatic radiance promised paradise.

"There is no need to breathe. I am a translucent cloud in a perfect blue sky. I am air itself. Air need not gasp for it own essence." Shyanne looked to Ashley's face. "Why speak? She knows me. What is this beauteous thing, my love?"

Within Anna's spell, even Ashley could empathize. "Is the temple air too pure? Don't fear; you will recover. Anna is a resourceful woman. She will do anything to amplify her charms. What you just experienced was not Estee Lauder. Anna will not even tell me what that perfume is, or where she gets it, but it is a nectar fit for a goddess. I am sure it is custom made by a chemist, but is it from a formula of the ancient cult or is it modern biotechnology? Anna is silent. I've developed a slight tolerance so when I apply Anna's perfume I no longer faint from the orgasms. Anna herself seems quite unaffected; it is all quite mysterious. I still attain the most intense orgasms from simply breathing her scent and looking into the whiteness of her thighs." Ashley's words passed through Shyanne unnoticed.

Shyanne stared upward as if to the sky, but she did see, rather she felt an ineffable emotional mist moving within, beyond. Her breast heaved as if to inhale, but she did not breathe. Shyanne did not need oxygen. She swallowed to hold Anna's precious vapors within, to bar entry of diluting, prosaic air. Shyanne's crotch burned, her brow blazed, and a hot flood of passion burst between her thighs. Shyanne curled into a ball and writhed in an involuntary orgasm more pure than any she had ever known. She reached down, grabbed her crotch and realized she had wet herself. She gasped, fresh air flushed her lungs, and she cried for what was expelled.

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