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CH 11
Lila awoke startled; the aroma of freshly made coffee on her nose, yet, Manu was lying beside her, still asleep. She rolled off the bed, the heavy rings on her breasts swinging painfully, and walked to the kitchen area. She found Aisha there, preparing breakfast for them.
“The sheik sent me to help you out,” the chubby girl said.
“I see,” Lila answered suspicious of anything the sheik did.
Aisha knelt in front of Lila, “I am to remain with you and Master Manu, and to assist you until…” her voice faltered, “the end.”
Lila’s face could not hide a frown, “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes,” she murmured almost to herself.
The kneeling slave girl looked up at her, a question in her face, but Lila did not translate the Latin phrase.
“Did he want to plant a spy on us!” she said angrily.
Aisha brought her face to the ground, “Mistress,” she cried, “I am to report on whatever I see, true, but you can always restrain me elsewhere, blindfold me or cover my ears; I cannot report on what I haven’t seen or heard.”
The crying slave girl kissed Lila’s feet, her tears falling on her toes, “I am afraid of the sheik. I am not like you. I am not a good slave; I am always afraid. Please don’t send me away.”
Lila bent down and pulled Aisha to her feet. She hugged the sobbing girl to her chest, even though the rings in her breasts hurt her.
“It’s all right,” she comforted her. “You will be OK.”
Aisha, calmer now, served the coffee, “I fear he will kill me. I wish I could be as docile as you are.”
Lila sipped at her coffee, “It is easier, perhaps, when you know your destiny.”
When Manu arrived Lila explained what Aisha was doing there. The two lovers sat at the table drinking coffee while Aisha knelt as far from them as the room allowed; she asked permission to turn her back on them, despite the disrespect this represented, so that she would not see what they were doing, trying to give them the most privacy.
“I want you to do something for me,” Lila asked.
“Anything.”
“I want you to have anal sex with me.”
Manu stared at her, surprised, “You want that? I thought you did not like it.”
“I don’t,” she whispered, “It is uncomfortable at best and quite painful at worst.”
“Why then?” he said, perplexed, “I don’t understand.”
Lila answered, “Before I die, I want to do it, with someone who loves me; just this once.”
“Didn’t your former master love you? I think he did.”
“I think he did too,” she touched his arm. “Not as much as you, of course, but he did.”
“He never used my ass; only the men he gave me too did,” she concluded.
He took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly, “As you wish.”
They shackled the kneeling Aisha to a wall in the torture dungeon, and left her there, smiling at them.
Manu kissed Lila on her lips not realizing that the slightest touch on her heavy nose ring would bring tears to her eyes. Nevertheless, when he tried to pull back, her arms around his neck brought his lips back on to hers which parted to receive him. Her eyes smarting from the pain, her tongue sought his and brought him down, on top of her, crushing her breasts with his body.
He felt the thick rings on her breasts, and knew the pain this embrace was causing his beloved. He also knew that her arms around him squeezed them even tighter, and that the expression of his love mattered to her more than any pain the rings caused her. Her breath, hot on his ear, he kissed her neck and made his way down to her chest.
Avoiding the rings, he kissed her nipples, and squeezed the breasts that so filled his dreams. His hand slid to her shaved pussy and found her already wet. Her hand wrapped around his cock, feeling his passion. She turned around, not releasing him, and lay down, prone, on the bed. He took a tube of lubricant and squeezed a large glob of jelly on her rear entrance. Lila sighed, excited, squirming in pleasure at his touch, and in pain at the touch of the rings. With one hand on her crotch, teasing her petals open, he inserted one finger into her ass. Lila pushed back against his hand, coaxing him deeper and, at the same time, squeezing the base of his hard rod. His finger went in, all the way to the knuckle, massaging, stretching, slowly, carefully.
She responded to his hand, gushing moisture, a whimper on her lips, not of pain, not entirely.
“Another,” she gasped.
He removed his finger and inserted the tip of two, flowing around her puckered hole, slowly, rhythmically. Her breath, deep, even; her pussy, despite her cruel mutilation, responding to his hand, rewarding him with a river of juice.
“More,” she demanded.
A third finger joined in, and her ass stretched, relaxed, to accommodate him.
His cock quivered in her hand; still he delayed, teasing, coaxing her ass. His lips on her neck nibbling, his breath burning.
“Now. Do it now.”
He mounted her back, her hand guiding him into her dark tunnel. He tried to enter her slowly, to let her tight ring accept his girth; her moans, not only of pain fired his lust, his need. He pushed harder, only to stop at her squeal of pain. But it was too late for him, too late for her, he could not stop. He tried. He slowed his thrust.
“Do it!” she panted, “Go!”
He could hold back no longer. His cock buried itself into her ass. His thrusts met hers, her screams now fueled his ardor; he pumped deep, he pumped fast. When his spunk filled her bowels, his scream of pleasure matched her scream of, not only pain.
Her arms wrapped around his waist behind her, holding him in her rear, her head turned to meet his eyes.
“I always thought it could be like this,” she said. “Thank you.”
In the dungeon, kneeling, Aisha’s cheeks glistened with tears, not only of sorrow; no, not only of sorrow.
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