The Elements

However, with much self-restraint, at least in Cassandra's mind, she removed the cold bottle from against her cunt, undid the screw cap, and, leaving her legs lewdly apart, poured herself a glass into a tumbler she had packed. Her excitement had caused her throat to dry, and the cool, crisp wine was delicious, so she drank too fast, emptying her glass. Immediately she poured herself another glass and drank that as well.

The Sun stared at Cassandra's wetness, and in approval continued to illuminate and heat her body. The Wind, too was delighted with her beauty, and he fluttered zephyrs over her sensitive flesh.

Cassandra sighed and dug into her bag to retrieve the packet of strawberries. They were so red and ripe, the texture delicately rough. She dipped a berry into the wine and then sucked on it, relishing the alcohol. She sucked on the strawberry as if it were a lover, gently caressing the tip with her tongue. Deliberately, Cassandra dragged the berry down her neck, and continued to her cleavage. Finally, she teased her nipples, pressing the strawberry, wet with wine and saliva, onto them.

The Sun, the Wind, the wine, and Lady Louisa seduced Cassandra to abandon herself. She brought the berry to her mouth, ate the tip, and then squashed the remainder on a nipple. The fresh juice and soft pulp spread on her breast and the sticky sensation excited her.

She imagined offering her breast to a lover's mouth so that he could savour the delicate and inebriating mixture of flavours. Incited by her fantasy, Cassandra gathered together the bits of squashed strawberry, brought her fingers to her mouth and cleaned them with her tongue.

Some of the strawberry pulp fell on the sand, waking the Earth. He now watched Cassandra, joining the Sun and the Wind in their admiration of the naked woman. The Earth, with help from the Sun, further warmed the sand beneath her, causing beads of sweat to form on Cassandra's smooth brown skin.

She reached for another strawberry but her fingers ended up in the chocolate, which had become a melted mess in her bag. She was too horny to worry about ruining her leather bag, so she licked some of the chocolate off her fingers, then impishly placed her hand on her tit, leaving chocolate fingerprints on it. Cassandra repeated the same design on her other breast. After examining the chocolate markings, she decided to draw an arrow. She started at her cleavage, ran a line of chocolate down her belly, past her navel, and ended it just above her clit. She was laughing, enjoying herself, and playfully drew an arrow head. She now had a chocolate arrow on her body pointing at her bald cunt.

Cassandra lay on the blanket again and tried anew to calm herself, but it was a lost battle. The wine's effect made her mellow and languid, yet her fervid imagination was on fire. She couldn't even say for sure if she were remembering scenes from the novel or if she were elaborating them, spurred by her own lust:

Louisa arranges a vase of red and yellow tulips on a windowsill while a friend of her lover shamelessly caresses her derriere and then forces her to bend over so he can take her from behind like a stallion. Louisa is summoned by a bell in the bathroom where she finds another house guest who steps out of the bathtub and commands her to dry him with some rough cotton towel. She kneels beside him on the floor and executes the task with scrupulous care, when, all of a sudden, he roughly grabs the back of her head and presses her face to his groin, pushing her lips towards his tumescent phallus. In the deep of the night, in the master bedroom lit by pale flickering candles, the three guests share Louisa, treating her as she needs and wants to be treated, as a submissive slut, while her lover, slumped on an armchair, watches and masturbates lazily...

Cassandra had to cool off. The intense heat, so unusual for that time of year, her immense arousal, the wine, and the Baroness's exploits had her in a frothy sweat. She rose and walked to the ocean's edge. Cassandra expected the water to be cold, but when she gingerly placed her foot in the gentle surf to test the water, she found that it was warm and inviting.

The Water smiled with pleasure, knowing that the woman would enter his domain, allowing him to envelope her nakedness and beauty. The Sun, the Earth, and the Wind watched without jealousy, and each of them urged the Water to caress and taste her curves and folds.

Cassandra waded in. The water had never been like this before. In her previous visits, she would skinny dip momentarily, enduring the cold water for a few brief minutes before retreating. However, today the ocean was unusually pleasant and benign. She went in, deep enough to cover her pinging nipples. They ached from being erect so long. But the water seemed to excite them even more. Her hands drifted to her nipples, tugging and twisting them, causing delightful synaptic transmissions to her cunt, which she began to touch and finger.

The Water saw the woman's exposure, saw her open and ripe sex and stroked it along with her, feeling and tasting her essence as she bathed in his element.

She could have climaxed in the water, but Cassandra again exercised some self control, came out of the water and walked across the sand. Water drops clung tenaciously to her skin. Sand coated her feet and covered the back of her calves as she walked. The breeze was gentle enough to agitate her nipples, but not strong enough to cool her. The sun continued beating down its heat.

Cassandra flopped onto her back on the sand, next to her sheet. She could not rein in her imagination; she could not suppress the wild course of her fantasies. But in fact, she could, if only she exerted her willpower, but why should she?

Why repress herself in such a place, in such a moment? After all, she was alone and she came here to indulge herself. The only witnesses to her sensual abandonment were the elements who loved her and who knew her intimately: Of all of them, the ardent and mighty Sun was her favoured, and she craved for his eyes to set upon her body.

Cassandra lay on her back, absorbing the Sun's attention, his rays, his heat. She was feverish with thoughts of Louisa and her slutty behaviour. She was especially aroused by the description in the story in which the men, all four of them, take rapid turns vigorously fornicating with the Baroness. This takes place one afternoon in the library, on a couch. Lady Louisa is called to attend and simply told to undress. Then, without ceremony, she is instructed to lay on the couch and to prepare to receive each man. And she obediently does. The first is Jeremy, youngest son of the Duke with whom she had once had a brief affair. As they copulate, the Baroness notes that Jeremy resembles his father in many ways. After that, she loses track, not caring who is upon her using her sex for his pleasure, aware only that she is an object of desire and lust, and that is all that matters.

The men take turns ejaculating their seed into her womb, and after collapsing upon her, she supports their entire weight while feeling their manhood soften within. But no post-coital bonding takes place. Instead, abruptly, each rolls off her, vacating her well-used sex momentarily until the next one mounts her, crudely inserts his hardness, making her writhe in lust, and fornicates with her until he too erupts inside her.

It goes on that way, with Louisa losing count, concentrating instead on the desire that she evokes from each man, enjoying her power in inciting their repeated arousal and milking it from them one by one. The Baroness wonders: Have they completed two or three circuits with me? No matter—she is satiated, as are they.

When they finish with the Baroness, her vault brimming with an earthy melange of their manly essence, they abandon her, discussing their latest investments as they walk away. Cassandra was struck at how Louisa cherishes the fluids brewing inside her, how she keeps lying on her back, and, not wanting to spill their precious sperm, how her knees remain elevated while she places her hand over her sore, raw sex to keep their collective seed inside her.

That part of the story drove Cassandra wild. She was with dizzy with craving, and her swollen, overheated cunt was fermenting with readiness.

Cassandra opened her thighs, eventually widening them so that the soles of her feet were together and her knees flopped to the sides. She was gaping in this position: The Sun could now see all of her secrets. The Wind, too, fluttered about her sodden blossom, savouring her smell and taste. The Earth, also, could sense her need and continued to warm her body from beneath. Water drops still clung to Cassandra's skin, so that the Water was able to savour her taste.

She touched herself, but she avoided her clitoris, knowing that she'd explode upon contact with it. Not yet. Cassandra wanted to draw out the luxurious sensations of arousal, more intense than any that she had had for some time. Her hands slid along her hips, then moved down to stroke the prominence of her buttocks. Her fingers then inched up from beneath her elevated thighs to her cunt. She imagined a lover watching her while she indulged in wanton display. Her fingertips fluttered about, lightly touching her smooth outer labia. After a brief debate, she pulled apart her hands, opening her cunt to the scorching eyes of the Sun and the other elements, showing them her core, inviting them to kiss her in her most secret of places.

I want to be horny like this forever.

She held herself open for a while, but then Cassandra's touch went for her centre, her finger easily sliding between the slick, thickened lips. A second finger joined in, and then a third, as deep as she could insert them.

In no time Cassandra's knees rose into that oh-so-familiar position. If a passerby were to stumble upon her, even from a distance there would be no mistake as to what she was doing.

But her fingers weren't enough. She removed her hand from her steaming cunt and hurriedly grabbed the banana. Its tinge of green and firmness told her that it was underripe, which suited her perfectly. Quickly, she took the fruit and positioned it at her opening. Its tip was pointing upward, and Cassandra anticipated how gorgeously it would scratch the itch at the top of her cunt.

The Sun, Wind, Earth, and Water were aroused by Cassandra. Each lusted for her, but they continued to gaze in admiration as she exposed herself to them. Now she was about to satisfy herself for them, and they watched with anticipation.

Shamelessly, Cassandra eased the banana inside her slit. With no restraint it slid in and out, and she enjoyed the friction and the sensation of being filled. Her smooth cunt welcomed the organic dildo, and she felt like a primitive woman who took her pleasure spurred by her animal instinct. The only remains of the social life were the images floating in her mind: the picture of Louisa and her wild romp in the library of the noble country house. Heavy curtains, rows of elegant volumes, mahogany pieces of furniture, costly carpets, colourful tapestries, an imposing chandelier. And yet a sophisticated Lady turned herself into an obedient maid who lay on a couch and offered herself to four arrogant men to discharge their semen inside her hole.

Cassandra closed her eyes and concentrated on her pleasure. She imagined Louisa's lover, the last of the row, ejaculating inside her with vigorous thrusts while shouting obscenities. The idea of being in Louisa's place, insulted as a street whore, her cunt brimming with spunk, brought Cassandra near the edge.

She pumped the banana vigorously and jerked her hips to feel it deep inside. She thought of her smooth vulva and longed for it to be eternally inviting, attractive, and desirable. She opened her eyes and craned her neck to stare at her pouty lips embracing the banana pumping her cunt. She felt so wanton and lusty, and for an instant it was like she watched herself from outside: a woman lying on her back on the sand, her thighs open, her cunt filled with a banana. At that moment her orgasm began, and she erupted fiercely, engulfed by waves of pleasure.

Panting and moaning, Cassandra rode the waves of gratification until they subsided and a mellow, warm sensation invaded her limbs. Completely relaxed, she was immersed in a dreamy state, so she remained in the same posture for long, beatific moments: eyes closed, legs open and bent at her knees, the banana protruding obscenely from her cunt.

The elements watched her with their ardent eyes. They knew how much Cassandra loved them, and how eager she was to offer herself to their senses. Before they had only ever seen her naked, but now that she had pleasured herself for them, they were mad with lust and wanted desperately to have her.

It was then that a cloud appeared, obscuring the sun. Cassandra wasn't sure, but thought that perhaps a small tremor had jostled the ground beneath her, which she found amusing, given the intense orgasm she had just experienced. But the soothing breeze had also stopped. She thought this strange, so she raised her head and looked at the water while keeping her body in the same position in which she had masturbated. She was dumbfounded, for she had never seen anything like it before. The ocean was like a mirror; not ripple could be seen on it.

Cassandra suddenly had a feeling of being watched. She turned her head to the left, and in the distance a man stood at the edge of the dune, perhaps two hundred yards away.

She was startled, paralyzed by surprise. Her heart thumped, yet she was even more astounded when she heard him calling someone and saw another man emerge from the bushes, and then another from elsewhere, and then one more. It was immediately obvious that they had positioned themselves strategically, blocking her exits other than the ocean. She was trapped. They started walking, albeit slowly, in her direction, closing in on her. And although she wasn't sure due to their distance, the men appeared to be naked.

Panic rose within her, petrifying her. Cassandra only barely remembered to breathe as the men steadily approached, closing their circle on her. She wanted to get up and run, but couldn't.

They were headed towards her, of that there was no doubt. And there was a troubling confidence in their unhurried gait. They continued their approach, never taking their eyes off her. All four of the men appeared young, in their twenties. They were also sporting erections. As they walked their cocks waved menacingly back and forth, occasionally slapping against their abdomens, and their heavy balls swayed with their steps.

Suddenly, Cassandra realised that her thighs were still spread open and that the banana was still lewdly wedged within her. And it was obvious that the men had seen this. Finally, she snapped out of her state of disbelief. Quickly she rose—the banana plopped out of her cunt and onto her batik, with most of the yellow fruit glistening with her juices—and fumbled with her clothing. But to no avail: She couldn't get anything on.

"Fuck! My phone—where's my fucking phone?!" she screamed.

In a panic, she turned her bag upside down and shook it. Finally it fell out. She grabbed it, pressed 9-1-1, but then her heart sank: She had forgotten to charge it last night. The phone was dead.

She could hear the men laughing.

Oh God, I'm so scared.

Cassandra frantically scooped up her belongings. Flight was her only thought. Some of her things fell, but she didn't care; she just wanted to get the hell out of there. But where? She was encircled and at least a brisk two-hour walk from the nearest road. They were sure to catch her.

A low, melodious voice calmly called out:

"There is no point in running. You are surrounded, and we would catch you in any case. And if we have to chase you, then it will not be nearly as pleasant."

His words petrified her. Cassandra stood, frozen, clutching her things against herself in an attempt to hide her nakedness.

They reached her finally, encircling her. Cassandra, although scared, still had some of her wits about her, so she made mental notes of their physical features for the police report she feared she would soon be filing.

Three of them were Caucasian. The fourth man was black, short, and heavy; he also sported a thick curly beard that matched his afro hairdo. All four had abundant body hair and all appeared muscular and fit, even the heavy black man. Their ages were hard to gauge. On one hand they seemed young, in their twenties, yet on another they seemed ancient, almost timeless.

One man, the one who called out to her, was taller than the others; his cohorts constantly glanced at him, waiting for his next move, suggesting that he was the ring leader of this awful invasion. Unwillingly, she admitted that he was handsome: He had blonde hair, the face of a predator, the body of an athlete, and his bearing seemed firm, but also elegant.

The other two Caucasians were of average height and build. One of them was red haired and had a weather-beaten face not unlike a sailor; his blue eyes were sunken within a well-creased face. The other had long jet-black hair that went down to his shoulders. His hair was wet, greasy. But his eyes were what stood out most to Cassandra—they were pale, vacant, lustreless, what one would describe as fish eyed.

Cassandra noted all these details, but against her will, her eyes kept darting back to their prominent, menacing phalluses. Cassandra tried to avert her look, but their tumescence was impossible to ignore—all four of them were very well endowed, and all four of them were fully erect.

The tall one spoke. "We were watching you. That was quite the show. Very enthusiastic." His voice was deep, composed, unhurried. His enunciation was perfect, with a noticeable lack of contractions in his speech.

Cassandra felt herself redden even more as her mind replayed how only moments ago she was in such bliss, lying on her back, under the belief that she was alone—naked with the Sun—in her special place, manoeuvring an elongated fruit within her cunt until she exploded in ecstasy.

Oh God, did they hear me moan and scream? Cassandra wondered with humiliation.

But any embarrassment was far superseded by the sheer terror of her immediate situation.

The tall man then spoke to his partners in another language. It was unfamiliar to her; she couldn't understand a word of it, but even more vexing was that she couldn't even place it. Cassandra couldn't speak French, German, Arabic, Hebrew, but she could identify them. Yet the language these men spoke was utterly unrecognisable, which added to her anxiety.

One of the other men replied, laughing, and came up to her. Cassandra tensed, awaiting an assault. But he smoothly took her bundle of belongings from her.

Cassandra was momentarily relieved that she hadn't been attacked, but she immediately cupped her hands over her sex to shelter herself. She awkwardly adjusted her arms to cover her breasts, to hide her jutting nipples, all while keeping a hand over her vulva. Her nipples were erect and hard, sending continual tingles throughout her body. Cassandra was ashamed at her body's betrayal: She was shocked and distraught at the wetness and heat pouring out of her, bringing her close to tears. How could her body react like this?

Suddenly, to her horror, the banana fell from the bundle that the man had taken from her. The fruit embedded itself in the sand, comically straight up and down. All of the men burst out laughing. Impossibly, her face flushed even more. The man who spoke English picked it up and held it in front of her face. Meanwhile, two of the other men were busy spreading out her batik.