Strange Days Pt. 05

We did not kiss. Oddly, I felt that would be too intimate. As much as I might pretend, we were not in love. I gazed down at her beautiful face, flushed and dappled with perspiration. She opened her eyes just once, staring into mine for a few seconds. I would have given up everything else just for that. She had never looked so sweet, so fragile, so vulnerable, so exquisitely gorgeous. I felt closer to her than ever before, and more, I knew, than I ever would again.

As I felt the rush of my semen into her, I started to lose momentum, but her climax was just beginning. She wrapped and squeezed her legs around mine, to clutch me so I could not withdraw. And once depleted, I lay still in her grasp, on top of her, inside her, for ages. We didn't speak. I turned my head to one side and rested my cheek on her forehead. It was hot and damp. I could feel her heart pumping, through her breasts. But her nipples had subsided.

Laura had not used lubricant. I don't know if that made it harder for her. But her responses were real, the pleasure she felt was not a put-on. She wasn't the type to fake an orgasm. And I would have been insulted if she'd tried. So I was glad, and not just out of masculine pride. I was happy that I could give her at least a moment of true ecstasy.

The Temple of Laura had been breached, but not desecrated.

I could have insisted that she stay in my bed until morning. I didn't; but neither did I want the night to end. I asked her to kneel and I tied a blindfold around her head. I left her there as I went out to shower and change into fresh clothes. The rest of the girls were sleeping in the darkened hut -- or, more likely, lying awake listening to us in silence. I returned for Laura and guided her across the compound to the mess hall. It was just before midnight. There were a dozen or so guys at the tables playing cards, served by two slaves. I sat near the doorway and Laura knelt at my feet. Juliette brought us two mugs of steaming cocoa. She looked tired. She beamed when I said "Thank you."

I placed the mug in Laura's hands. She sniffed the aroma and let the steam waft over her blindfold. She took a sip and sighed.

My fellow masters paid scant attention to us. Those who did took one look at my little slavegirl and her body still glistening with sweat. It was a cool night so her skin hadn't dried. They all then offered me nods of approval. Some of them would, sooner or later, also taste the sublime delights that Laura had to offer; but for now she belonged entirely to me.

In the morning, she knocked on my door and politely asked if she might retrieve her "pussy rings". I didn't volunteer to re-attach them, and she didn't suggest it. And she never looked me in the eyes again, as long as we were in the Commune. The brief connection we shared, when I lay with her, would not be repeated. I knew that, and accepted it. She continued to serve and obey me, as she did for all her masters. And I had sex with all of the slavegirls in my hut, as was my right and my duty. Yet I felt that, with Laura, I was back in the place where I'd been during all those years when she was untouchable.

Still, with those experiences now behind me, I can look back at that night for my sense of closure. We are both married now... to other people. We reunite occasionally, for coffee and reminiscences, but we have not met each other's families, and likely never will. I don't know if her husband knows anything about her adventures as a slavegirl.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Our time in the Summer Commune was far from over, some parts of the journey just beginning.