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Does she remember?
Does she remember what remembering is?
Is there, anywhere in her candy cotton mind, even the slightest shred of memory left?
Ah yes... at night... or is it night? Dreams. Floating images, colours, sounds. A blonde woman, tall, well dressed. Heels clicking on the marble of a corridor. Mirrors, elevators. High glass walls looking out on sky scraping horizons. Shapes and colours, no names, no understanding.
Shapes and colours swirl in the eye of a hurricane. All images sucked into a roaring hole of utter oblivion.
The concept of yesterdays is gone. The mere idea of tomorrow is non-existent. It is hard enough to grasp the present, the integrity of her flesh. Hard enough to trust this centrifugal maelstrom of feelings and emotions. This constant arousal, this aching lust. Electric currents jab at her. They make her skin ripple, her spine arch.
There always is the hunger, the need to taste the white slimy cream. To swallow it and paint her face with it. To feel it spurt over her tits and belly. The scent of it, the taste.
There is the craving need to quench the fire in the central void of her being. There are the gaping throats of her flesh. She wants them filled, stretched to the limit. She wants them drowned in boiling liquids, seep with juices, leak with come. Come, the magic word... cummmmmmm.
She is always almost there... her weak hand claws to reach. To reach he edge, eternal edge, oh god get me there... there. Her nails scratch, cruel irons bite her flesh. There are the throbbing nipples, screaming clit and sobbing cunt lips. Painnnnn, sweet pain of flogging, piercing, burning. Push me over the edge, pleeeease now... pleeeeease, sweet pain... make your daughter come.
She is a shivering mass of jelly, a panting creature of sobbing misery. She begs for release. She begs to find the flashing release, the volcanic explosion into the eternal bliss of oblivion.
But no, the eyes say. Noooo, sweet slave, the eyes say. The emerald jewels, guardians of denial. Nooooo...
Cracked nails claw, mouth drools. Night falls, darkness swallows. Cold stone kisses burning skin... oblivion... sweet wave of oblivion.
(October 18th, 04.12 p.m.)
The huge door creaked open. A black silhouette stood exposed against the gray, cool afternoon light. The warm air inside the stables curled around the motionless figure. It had come in from the cold. Tiny wisps of breath escaped the slit in a tight black leather mask. Only red shining lips were visible as they whispered..."Dzjinnaaah..."
A shard of autumn light spread as the door opened. It reached the iron cage and streamed inside. There it engulfed a milk white body clenched as a ball in the middle of the cage. A naked girl lay pinned down by chains. They ran from cruel bracelets to large rings set around.
A bowl lay empty but for a few crumbs. Another bowl had been licked clean. There still was no movement from the pale, tied woman, even when the whisper insisted..."Dzjinnaaaahh..."
Was she asleep, locked in a dreamless void? Was she exhausted from the horrible ordeals that seemed to visit her so relentlessly lately? Or just spent from the strange and alien orgasms that wreck her body, induced by such surprising agents as pain and humiliation? Or was she still in shocked stupor because her proud golden hair had been taken? She had been left here naked and exposed, totally defenceless and open to whomever or whatever fancied her body and soul.
"Dzjinnaaaahhh... why don't you give in?"
The leather woman took soundless steps towards the cage. She bent like a cat Her covered eyes hungrily took in the vulnerable form. She crouched towards the pale foetus in the golden splash of light.
"Why do you hold back from me what is mine, Dzjinnaaah?"
"I know all about the eager way you masturbate when I am away. The way your fingers pull at your nipples until they stand out aching. The hungry way you spread your shaven cunt. The urgent need you display when you hump your swollen clit against your impatient hand. Why, Dzjinna? I told you not to. I instructed you not to. I trusted you..."
(October 24th, 07.18 a.m.)
Highly polished patent leather mules disturbed the dust and straw on the floor. They made them swirl in golden clouds as the black dressed girl slipped into the barn. The soft sigh of her heavy silk gown mixed with the click of heels. Until they stopped.
The lock's chain rattled. The iron-bar door whined open. The girl in black silk walked to the sobbing girl kneeling naked on the floor. She sank to her heels. Her gloved hand cupped the bald skull to turn the face towards her.
Long lashes cast their shadow over tear stained cheeks. Softly a satin thumb caressed them to wipe away the spilt moisture.
"You'll be punished, my love. Oh certainly, again and again. But not now. Not now. You must be thirsty... let me get your bowl."
The woman rose, holding the empty bowl. She stood immobile for a while more, contemplating the silent form beneath her. Then she turned on her heels and walked to one of the horses' stables.
A soft whinnying welcomed her as she opened the half door. She calmed the black stallion inside by patting its back. Her voice was soft and muffled when she talked to the brute. She held his face and talking softly into his ear. Then she lowered herself beside him and reached between the hind legs. She produced a long, limp member. It was pink and shining where it slid out of its black, furry envelope.
Slowly her gloved hand stroked the horse's penis into stiffness. She made it grow until at least a foot and a half of throbbing meat filled both her hands.
Again the animal started to fidget nervously. It danced on its elegant legs. And again she talked and caressed it into silence.
Then she took a glass vial from a shelf. She made it slide over the penis's purple head, already catching the first clear drops of precum.
One hand held the vial, the other kneaded the heavy balls. She encouraged the brute with her singsong voice. His nostrils spread, his eyes rolled back. And with a sudden gush fat creamy strings of sperm shot into the glass. It squirted once, twice and on until the vial almost brimmed and she had to take it from the bobbing phallus. Long easy strokes extracted the last drops. Then she held up the vial against the autumn light to see it being more than half full.
She kissed the horse. Then she took the vial and the bowl back to the slave girl in her cage. The girl rocked slowly on her knees, head down, eyes closed, hands into pathetic fists.
Her black dressed young mistress crouched beside her. She showed her the vial and its steaming content. The girl did not seem to react. A soft satin hand was propped under her chin to make her watch how the fragrant cream was being poured into the bowl.
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