Perversion Chapter Five The Padre rsquo s Wife
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JulianaChapter 9 free porn video
Hell, we are told, is a place of torture, where your soul is punished for the sins you commit. Those sins are plentiful and man is weak, so your chance to go there must be close to certain.
Where Juliana came from, Dr. Charrier would be considered Satan, and Juliana was more than willing to agree. She would like to see the doctor as an evil spirit bent on seducing girls into a life of debauchery. It would be convenient, wouldn't it? It would make her into an innocent victim – absolve her from complicity.
But Juliana had this little handicap – she was honest to herself. She'd always been that. Maybe it was the one deciding trait that had made her a misfit at the farm – and caused her to flee.
Taking one of her many baths to cleanse her abused body – and maybe her soiled mind – Juliana wondered if this very villa might indeed be Hell. If so, she mused, she'd need to redefine hell – and maybe she'd also have to redefine sin.
For if torture was supposed to cause misery, then why did her misery feel so much like helpless ecstasy? Wasn't sin supposed to trigger shame and guilt? Then why was it getting harder and harder to feel those things instead of just mindless exhilaration?
Juliana stretched and arched her body in the water, touching bruises and hickeys, savoring the soreness of her vagina's muscles and the stretched sphincter of her anus. Mei had her clean the insides of her bowels, lately ... an enema she called it, making Juliana hold in liters of hot water before flushing it out. Another sinful torture that refused to lead to misery.
Sin and misery, she thought. How could she ever crave for those? And what about pain?
The night before this particular bath Juliana had been invited to a dinner party. It was an event she'd looked forward to, if only to meet and talk to other women. She loved to be with them; to share information and gossip in the rest rooms. She also liked the secret fun they shared. Some of these women she knew well by now – like Ellis, the tattooed mommy who taught Juliana how not to feel alone – and how to suck cock. She often saw Selena, the butterscotch girl, and Babs, one of the tall beauties with the auburn hair. They taught her how to mix and flirt with clients while making fun behind their backs. There were girls she hadn't yet seen at these functions – like Melinda the would-be porn star, and Sarah, the petite olive skinned doll that had sucked the tall fashion model's toes.
Being with the women made her feel like a professional – as if she were part of a business deal, detached and sophisticated. Maybe it was a matter of safety in numbers. Things were less personal, less intense this way. The ironic tone-of-voice the girls used when they talked about their duties seemed to turn their performances into a play – it created the distance you feel when you're on stage or wearing a mask.
Juliana tried to act and talk like them, but she knew in her case it was an act. She wondered if she'd ever be as cool about it as Melinda or Ellis or Selena. Maybe everything was just too ... new for her. She could joke and wink and roll her eyes with the others, but when men flirted with her, her panties flooded. And when they fucked her, she dissolved into a puddle of steaming lava. Attention aroused her, and so did degradation. And yesterday night, after dinner, she learned that pain did too.
She was seated between two gentlemen she'd never met before, but across from her was Sophia, the woman she'd seen with the petite brunette – and the only woman at the table who wasn't a prostitute. She was dressed in a black suit. It shone slightly and was very tight. Her décolleté was modest, but the shining fabric modeled her chest quite prominently. She'd smiled at Juliana when they met over drinks. Juliana had been made to wear a very provocative sky-blue dress that didn't allow a bra – or panties for that matter. She'd stopped worrying about it, knowing that in the end it made no difference what she wore or if she wore anything at all.
When they met over drinks, before dinner, Sophia had leant in and kissed her on the mouth.
"So nice to see you again, Juh-leee," she'd breathed in her deep voice. Juliana hated being called that, but pronounced this way it gave her goose bumps. She'd smiled back, feeling her lower lip tremble.
"I asked Eugene to have you exclusively tonight," Sophia went on. "No need to thank me, honey." She moved in again and licked Juliana's cheek. It felt obscene and more intimate than the kiss on her mouth. Juliana shuddered and suppressed the urge to wipe the saliva off her face.
"Ex-clu-sive," Sophia repeated. "Doesn't that word have the loveliest ring to it?" Juliana knew she was supposed to agree, so she did.
"But we won't be alone, darling," the woman went on. "Certainly not!" And she chuckled, turning away to leave Juliana wondering.
"Exclusive?" Selena asked after she and Juliana had retired to the toilets together. "Well, that usually means they'll have you alone for the night." The girl pressed down her generous lips on a piece of tissue to spread her pale lipstick. She wore an off-white dress that left her entire back free.
"But she also said we wouldn't be alone," Juliana said. She talked to her reflection while inspecting the spidery line under her right eye.
"Ah, a group fuck. You've done that."
Juliana looked left to see Selena.
"Yes," she said. "But that wouldn't be really exclusive, would it?" She returned to her mirror, patting the golden cloud of her hair. Selena sighed.
"That woman is crazy," she said. "How am I to know what goes on in her head?"
Sitting across from Sophia at the dinner table, Juliana met her wide smile whenever she looked up. She also felt the woman's stocking-clad foot as it ran up and down her inner legs. It didn't help that her two table companions leant in to talk past Juliana while pawing her thighs and behind. It made her feel like a lump of clay. It also aroused her, even if she tried to fight it. Her hands trembled, making the spoon rattle against her plate. She knew Sophia saw that. It caused her to blush, but what was new about that? All she could hope for was that the moisture leaking from her vagina wouldn't show on her dress. Why couldn't she wear panties, if only a thong?
As dinner went on, Juliana got more embarrassed by the minute. Between the groping hands, the caressing foot and her leaking pussy she felt herself winding tighter and tighter. A cloud of heat hung around her shoulders, choking her. At last she closed her eyes, fighting back her tears.
"Are you all right, honey?" It was Sophia's contralto voice. It sounded concerned, but when she said it her foot slipped up between Juliana's thighs, finding her soaked crotch.
Juliana opened her eyes and saw faces around her – Sophia's and the two men's. They smiled and nodded. A sob escaped her throat.
"What did you do to her?" Sophia asked the men, pushing her toes against Juliana's clitoris, rubbing.
"Nothing!" the man to her left exclaimed, taking his hand off her ass cheek at once. Both men laughed, sitting straight.
"You better," Sophia said, frowning while she smiled.
"The little slut isn't yours, she's all mine tonight. Please tell the gentleman you are mine, Juh-leee."
Juliana fought to get words out of her choking throat.
"I," she started, "I am exclusively Ms. Sophia's tonight." The toes started fucking her now. It was almost impossible to sit still. Her pussy was a swamp.
"No, little slut," the woman across from her said. She shook her head. "That won't do at all, would it, gentlemen? Repeat after me: "Tonight I am Ms. Sophia's exclusive little slave whore."
Letting her eyes fly left and right, Juliana swallowed down a lump of nerves.
"Tonight," she began, her voice sounding far away and trembling. "Tonight I am Ms. Sophia's exclusive little ... slave ... whore." Her eyes burned; tears started to flow. Sophia slowly clapped her hands. Others took up the mocking applause. Juliana stared over Sophia's shoulder into nothingness.
"Please stand, Juliana," Sophia said after the applause died down. Her foot was gone from between her legs. Juliana rose. The thin satin of her dress stuck to the seat. When she stood straight, she felt a wet spot cooling off.
"Step back and turn around, Juh-leee," Sophia insisted. "So we may all see what a horny little slut you are."
Juliana closed her eyes, feeling she might faint. Then she took two steps and turned her back to the table. Everyone was silent; everyone must be watching.
"My God, you are disgusting, Juh-leee!" A soft ripple of laughter echoed Sophia's words. "Get that dirty, soaked dress off!"
Relieved that she had her back to the table, Juliana reached behind her for the zipper. There wasn't much to hold the dress up; she was naked in a second, the sky-blue satin circling her feet.
"So much better," the deep alto said. "Now turn around."
Somehow it was less humiliating to present her naked body to the crowd than to be seen with the wet spot on her dress. Juliana didn't even wonder why that would be. She just needed to regain some of her dignity, so she did what she'd seen other do – she put one hand on a hip, while pushing the other hip out in an elegant stance.
"Ah, Juh-leee," Sophia said, teasing, "I see you're not ashamed at all about your faux-pas. Let's see what we can do about that."
The woman smiled broadly as she looked around the table. A few guests joined in with her chuckle.
"Now spread your legs, honey cunt, just enough so we can see better." Juliana's shoulders slumped as she gave up the sexy stance, placing her heeled feet as wide apart as her shoulders. She tried to forget the faces watching – and not to think about what might come next.
"Seeing how wet you are, darling, you must feel frustrated that I interrupted your little game of secret masturbation." Juliana's eyes grew dark; her arms now hung listless down her sides.
"Thank God I'm not heartless," the woman went on. "So please pick up where you stopped, honey, and never mind us watching."
Juliana hated Sophia since the moment she'd watched her manipulate the petite brunette. She'd pitied the little thing, having no idea what satisfaction could be gained from degrading her.
Now she was in the same position – asked to masturbate in front of people she knew, people that knew her. And her pussy betrayed her. It almost gushed without touching – so far the mystery of humiliation. Her knees went weak, her mind buzzed and her heart raced like crazy.
"Dessert will be served any minute now, darling," Sophia said. "Don't make us wait." There was another ripple of laughter.
Keeping her eyes fixed on her toes, Juliana brought the fingers of her right hand to her crotch. She wouldn't look up; she'd be alone in this little world, an isolated nobody. But as soon as her fingertip touched her clitoris, it released a bolt of electricity. She stiffened.
"Look up, girl," the voice said. "Look at us!" Of course she would say that. Juliana looked up, her eyes feverish. New waves of heat spread from where she touched and rubbed. She gasped. Faces swam in and out of her vision – fuzzy at their edges. The waves came faster now, turning her flesh into a bubbling liquid – a tropical sea that had no boundaries.
Juliana sank to her knees. A mournful cry left her wide-open mouth. She convulsed and came. And she did not stop coming until she lay on the tiled floor like a pink heap of shivering Jello.
The table was silent. All eyes were focused on the fallen girl.
"Let's skip dessert," a voice said. A bout of laughter relieved the tension.
Hands slid under Juliana's armpits, lifting her up. Tremors and after shocks still wrecked her body – she could hardly stand. Her helpers were Ellis and Selena.
"Take her out and let her rest a bit," a voice said. She recognized it as Charrier's. A cloth was thrown over her – a blanket, maybe, or a robe. When she looked up she saw Ellis's face, smiling. Selena frowned.
They took her to the lounge she knew from her first evening. It was deserted, but lighted festively with candles and lamps. Left alone on one of the couches, Juliana crouched into a fetal ball, pulling the cloth around her.
Most people see pain as a negative emotion, only meant to keep you from burning or cutting yourself. A small minority of people regards pain as an extreme form of pleasure. Which doesn't mean it can't burn you.
Juliana didn't really sleep – too many thoughts crowded her mind. But she must have dozed off, as she was a bit disoriented when voices broke the silence around her. Looking through half-open eyes she saw that most of the diners and their female companions had gathered in the lounge – smoking and sipping brandy, or bubbly wine from long-stemmed glasses.
Dr. Charrier was talking to Sophia. They seemed to disagree, but at the end Charrier shrugged and lifted his hands palms-up, in surrender.
A voice, very close, whispered for her to stay asleep. It sounded like Ellis's, but it was of no consequence; Sophia had already seen she was awake, and hurried over.
"My sweet, incredible whore," she gushed, going down on her haunches, right next to Juliana's face. Her voice was syrupy; her red-nailed fingers removed strings of hair out of Juliana's eyes. "I'm glad you rested for a bit." She raised Juliana's face with the tips of her fingers and pressed a kiss on her lips – a long, deep kiss. Then she rose again, her tight black skirt blocking Juliana's view. "Believe me, you'll need the energy, little bitch."
Sophia walked away, taking a sip from her glass. Then she turned around at the exact center of the room, striking one of her model-poses: one hip higher than the other; one hand cupping the elbow of her other arm; her glass held by the free hand – pinkie lifted. She waited to get the attention of the room, and when she had it, she clacked her tongue – twice.
"Rise little bitch of mine," she said, her deep voice edged with a new hoarseness.
Juliana looked at her. A sudden fear paralyzed her body, making it impossible to obey.
"Rise!" The word struck like the lash of a whip. Juliana slid off the leather couch, leaving the blanket behind. Standing straight, her hands clasped behind her back, she took in the half-circle of festively clad people. Sophia was at their center, two steps in front of them.
"Tell us about you, Juh-lee-ah-naaah," she said, letting the 'aaah' end in a purr. "Why are you here, naked, whoring yourself out?"
The question blindsided Juliana. She'd prepared herself for humiliating acts – licking feet, masturbating in public, anything her traitorous body might provide – and her mind could distance itself from. Anyone could store away physical abuse and keep a modicum of innocence intact, whether real or imagined.
But Sophia cut off that escape route: she went straight for the mind: why are you here, she asked, why do you accept this treatment?
Of course it was easy to answer that question by skating the surface, the safe surface. By telling her about the deal – that she was forced to do this. But Juliana knew the woman would never accept that: she wanted more, because she knew better.
"My ... my husband," Juliana began anyway. "I pay for his surgery. There is no other way. He..."
"Shut up, you lying bitch!" Sophia rushed to the naked girl and threw wine from her glass into her face. Juliana recoiled until the couch stopped her.
"I," she said, "but really, I..." She felt the wine run down her cheeks; it stung her eyes. Sophia's face was now into hers.
"You are here because you love to be a dirty, wanton whore. You need it, you relish it. Admit it! Say it."
Juliana's eyes tried to avoid Sophia's, but she couldn't. Her mind denied the woman's words, but her mouth couldn't deny what she said. The words were too close to what some part of her had known for days. Tears mixed with the dripping wine. A sudden trickle of urine ran down her thigh. The woman's hands cupped her face; her lips engulfed her mouth.
"You can say it," Sophia whispered. "Tell me and get it over with." But Juliana couldn't. All she could do was cry hysterically – gasping and sobbing with high, pitiful howls.
"Please end this," a female voice cried out.
Sophia turned on her heels as if bitten by a snake.
"Who said that?" she asked, looking left and right. "Who?" No one answered.
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