Sacred Sword Princess
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Sacred GardenChapter 5 free porn video
Push the envelope, watch it bend. - TOOL
Brenda awoke, nested in the cradling roots of the huge Maple. It was still evening and a large silvery Moon hung suspended over the pond. She gingerly arose, and instinctively sought to loosen the already slack scarf that was banded her neck. Turning to survey the tree, Brenda saw that the neon green vibrator dwelled in the nook, as she had placed it earlier. The carved wooden- appendage of the Maple was also in its original rigid position. She wondered if the recent events had really occurred, or were they the results of the tablets and brandy that she had consumed earlier.
Brenda smoothed the sable negligée along her raw upper legs and noted a sticky dampness against her skin. The pleasant tenderness in her relaxed clefts drew her attention also. Closer examination of the bark around the notch that silent libidinous tool roosted in, disclosed a blanched spattering along its surface. The shaped limb no longer was frosted with grease, but an odor of bile wafted to her nostrils as she leaned close to investigate it.
Brenda immediately felt incredibly thirsty. She decided she would refresh her parched mouth with a sweet sip of brandy. Turning toward where she knew the grassy hillock to be, Brenda cautiously negotiated the distance on aching legs, through the waist-deep billowing haze, and to shore's sanctuary.
She climbed on the leafy rise and knelt on the woolen blanket. A sip of the heating liquor and the rawness in her throat faded under its balm. Brenda took a much longer measure of the blackberry nectar to assuage her thirst, and then turned and sat to regard the Swamp Maple.
The Moon's white luster still played along the top of the swirling mists as the swaying tendrils of the haze rose and fell in a silent dance of the night. The Old Man of the Woods' imposing visage arose from the soupy fog to stretch to unknown dark heights. Brenda swilled another draught from the near empty bottle and tried to focus her thoughts in a communication to her lumbering lover. She exuded a feeling of thanks and questioned if he had received pleasure also. There was no reply.
Puzzled at the silence, and emboldened by the heady quaff, Brenda arose with a careen and started to walk to the enormous Maple. The dense ground-fog had made the leaves wet and slick on the lagoon's waterless bottom. She had to travel slowly because of the treacherous footing.
The chemicals that Brenda had ingested earlier were also at work on her in other ways. She was impervious to the night's chill and could smell the sweet aroma of her own sweat mingled with the fragrance of her recent sex. The physical effect that Brenda sensed most, was that she was getting seriously horny again.
Coolness of the night air caused Brenda's nipples to stiffly jut against the scant fabric of her nightgown. She came to a halt three feet away from the great tree's trunk. Tantalizingly Brenda struck a pose with hands on her hips and she swayed slowly as the Maple's form varied and shifted in her vision.
Thank you, she thought. You have made great pleasure for me, she continued in her attempted contact. You know me like no other ever will. (Brenda was referring to an asphyxiation fantasy that she had contemplated, but had never told another living soul about.)
"I am pleased to have pleased you, " a deep voice said from within her head.
"How did you know me so well? " Brenda whispered aloud.
"There are many signs of many desires in you. The silken boa and the way you liked its feel on your throat. The feeling of danger excites you, as does being pursued with desire. You may need your safeties also, " the Maple's clear bass lilt continued.
As her Old Man of the Woods' voice flowed through Brenda's brain, a growing arousal was reawakening deep within the junction of her thighs. " Tell me my lover, how may I know the pleasure of satisfying you?" she murmured dreamily.
Willfully, she traced her tongue along her upper lip.
A pronouncement entered Brenda's mind and it said, " Come to me. Come join with me. You know where I need you to be. Come to me. "
"This way? " asked Brenda teasingly, as she circled to the left of the tree.
"Come to me, " the tree's tone demanded.
Once on the far side of the tree, Brenda started searching for the location where she had first hoped to photograph the immense Maple from. She soon realized that because of the dense, eddying haze that was shrouding the earth, this could be difficult. Keeping the Swamp Maple as her landmark, Brenda traveled along an arc with a radius of fifteen yards and orbited the massive trunk in her search. As it stood wavering in her eyesight, the task grew to be increasingly difficult for her.
The precarious slickness of the bay's bedrock compelled the bewitched female to constantly look down, although she could not even see to her knees through the impenetrable vapor. The fog was rising also. Brenda peered towards where she believed the grassy hummock to be and found that it was either hidden, or she was lost. She tried to keep the Maple sited as a constant reference, an axis of her meandering. The Ecstasy was working on Brenda's body with an unwavering purpose, and she perceived that urgent cravings for carnal activities were steadily gaining in their insistence over her.
Brenda reached a point where she no longer had any patience, and she decided to return to the Swamp Maple's trunk and start her pilgrimage again. She squirmed with desire as she walked now. A provoking, lubricated heat was amassing in her crotch. She wanted to lie down and rub herself against the lagoons slimy bottom as an un-neutered kitten in heat does on a plush carpet.
On Brenda's fourth step her shoe's heel broke through an inch and a half of the solidly packed topsoil. She rocked her foot forward upon the pointy toe for leverage, but the sole of her elegant pump slid through the crumbling earthen shell. As the muck underneath slid over the top of her foot, Brenda looked up to see where she was from the Maple and whimpered, "... no - this won't do. This is not the same place we were before. "
She decided to pull her foot out and continue her search. In the time it took Brenda to reach those two simple conclusions, the slurping morass had gobbled her shapely leg to its mid-calf. The thick mush under the overlay of thicker dirt was at least twenty degrees warmer than the night air. It's weight soothingly clamped in upon her imprisoned flesh.
Brenda braced with her other leg in resistance and she felt the ground quaking like a pond of magma during volcanic tremors. As Brenda attempted to free her trapped leg, her other highheeled foot pierced the yielding crust. With her shoes on Brenda found herself sinking rapidly. Her toes were held pointed downwards in them, which caused them to knife into the lush bog. Brenda held her legs rigid and spread her raised arms outward as she struggled to sustain her balance. Random bubbles arose from the pitfall's lower reaches to rupture with small gurgles upon its melting surface. The sucking mire inhaled the ambushed damsel's calves and pressed its insistent surface along the backs of her knees. Brenda dared not move a muscle for fear that she would be drawn even more rapidly into the depths of the swaying quagmire.
The rolling crusty surface was gradually dissolving for an area of several yards around her ensnared body. It emitted a thicker haze, as the mire's sealed in heat met with the chill of the night. The thick slimy sludge that had been heated by the Sun for weeks was reaching to enwrap Brenda's straining mid-thighs with a relentless licking avarice. "Nooo! Not like this, " she pleaded, "He'll never find me here in time! "
The tepid wet earth continued its consumption of her tormented flesh as it sucked her into its deadly abyss past the gauze rickrack on her silk negligee. Brenda felt the pasty warmth of the silt as it greedily swallowed her upper thighs and breathed its heated haze on her hairless mound. In spite of the peril, a shudder of arousal coursed through her.
She came to the conclusion that holding her legs rigid and straight was not slowing her entombment, so she relaxed her aching thigh muscles. Brenda must have shifted her weight as she rested, because her feet instantly changed the direction of their descent. They began to plane out in front of her sinking body like they were on runaway water-skis.
Brenda's torso tilted back almost forty degrees and she instinctively thrust her palms behind her to support her fall on the deteriorating sod. The gripping bog engulfed her hands and bracketed her wrists like snug slimy manacles. Brenda tensed her posture again while her mind raced for an avenue of escape. The panting prisoner dreaded the risk of submerging swifter into the foul hazard, if she should try to pull them free.
Brenda's buttocks were cradled by the conceding morass and she could feel its warm embrace along her flanks. The trapped woman's quivering love tunnel was drawn away from the mire's surface when she had been lurched backwards. The heated humus pit was still devouring her body and Brenda felt her forearms penetrating the morass's spongy surface as she tried to hold herself up. She had reclined backwards to a sixty-degree pitch as the bubbling mud consumed her locked elbows. The clutching fen pushed along Brenda's tensed hocks and had hiked her nightgown to the middle of her left hip, baring her smooth genital triangle to the swamp.
The sinking captive looked over her heaving bosom and observed the unrelenting marsh, as it made its mist shrouded advance over the tops of her trembling thighs and licked warmly at the hairless gates of Brenda's vagina. With racing heart, she felt her shoulder straps slide from her tensed shoulders to come to rest on her upper arms. In her struggles, Brenda had almost forgotten her earlier feelings of arousal. Yet the cravings lurked subliminally in her consciousness. A tingling tightness welled forward from her tummy and radiated downward to her lap with requirement of being satisfied.
If she could have freed her arms from the mire's persistent hold right then, Brenda would have had to touch herself at that gratifying moment. The inability to do so added to the mounting pleasure that was moving through her. The heated muck drew Brenda deeper into its confinement. She could feel its warm massage on her engorged clitoris as it concealed her ravished vulva. Brenda inadvertently flexed her buns under the steamy strokes of the marsh nudging her piqued pussy into the slurping slough. The heavy, buttery resistance of the feeding earth seemed to feel so delicious upon her body. Then, she slowly began humping against the weight of the slimy soil. Brenda knew that it caused her to sink faster, but she couldn't contain herself.
Yet the sinking woman was aware that she needed to escape the seductive death trap and she also knew that she didn't have the power to do it on her own. Brenda looked upward through the fog's swirling shroud and focused on the silhouette of the towering Swamp Maple. The Old Man of the woods was her one hope. "Where are you? "She cried.
Looking down again at her submerging body, Brenda watched in detached fascination as the insatiable soil flowed over her thrusting hipbones. An old Grateful Dead dirge, Blues for Allah, was playing in her memory. The warmth of the gluttonous ooze clenched at her mid-biceps and Brenda could feel the thick soupy sludge as it bubbled against her lower back.
In a final effort to delay her demise, Brenda contacted her abdominal muscles in a crunching exercise motion, hoping to sit-up and out of her plunging descent. With a grunt she won an inch. Then two inches of her arms were pulled from the sucking grasp of the rich mud. Brenda's silky negligée had migrated down her straining chest and only her nipples, firmed by arousal, retained its position. The increased pressure her struggles placed on her hips drove them deeper into the moist swill, and the lukewarm slime rolled over her laboring tummy. Brenda's stomach muscles burned in the effort, when a sudden cramping caused her to yield.
To her astonishment, as soon as Brenda relaxed her effort, the percolating sludge drew her arms back into its quaking possession nearly to the armpits. Warm humus pushed along the bottom of her billowing ribs and Brenda's shoulder blades dimpled into the shifting soup. She could envision the moist, black soil, as it pressed its way into her body, through the sanctioning lips of her libidinous pussy.
Under the influence of the Ecstasy the trapped woman could feel the slurping ooze, as it became familiar with every submerged pore on her body. The fertile aroma of the steeping peat rose so strongly in the wavering mist that Brenda seemed to taste its rich bouquet. She looked skyward once more and focused on the form of the immense Swamp Maple. "You want me? Here I am! Come on and get me!" she announced thickly.
Myra
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