clothes. She licked her lips. Swallowed exactly three times. Shook her wrists out another five. She wanted terribly to just pull the strip off the smear and lay it directly on her tongue, needed it so badly that the rasp of her tongue against her palette brought shivers of goose flesh to her shoulders. She let them come. She let them travel down her back and legs. It was part of the ritual, this feeling of desperation, of delaying until she couldn't stand it anymore, until the tremors reached her toes where they turned to cramps that made her instep curl upward.
That was the sign. She imagined herself an expert diver gasping for breath before plunging headlong off at 20 foot diving board, dragging in air at the last second. Her fingers did the rest without conscious thought. Then the tremors, the inevitable shift, the one she'd been waiting for when the tremors changed to a shiver of pleasure so delicious she lost whatever breath she'd been able to take in, slipping as though into a bath of perfectly warmed oil where every movement was lubricated.
Moments, or hours later, left with the fuzzy feeling of ecstasy, but with the hot slippery feeling easing away, she realized she wasn't alone. A snake of dread crept up her spine, but the bliss enrobed it with oil, let it leak away through her toes. Something fired in her brain, snapping like an electrical current mating with earth.
She mumbled one word before the fog glazed over her consciousness.
"No."
It seemed that the someone had decided her panties were keeping her from enjoying a full state of bliss, then he decided that her breasts needed to be mauled and bitten, that his partner's erection needed attention.
Something might have niggled in the back of her brain, that she didn't want this, that if it weren't for the godspit she'd be fighting these two off, but that little tickle evaporated quickly.
It came again, yes, once more as she felt herself being lifted onto her knees, her backside pulled straining into the air, and this time she fixed on it. She tried to hold onto the thought, struggled to keep it as a coherent focus, telling herself that despite the bliss, this perception of danger was more accurate than the limp feeling of complacency she felt.
There was a new stink in the grotto, one of sweat and musk. Somehow she knew that the bliss didn't come with such a horrible smell, that she shouldn't be gagging on cock or being slammed into from behind. Even as she fought her way to the surface she felt her scalp burn as bits of hair ripped free and her chest heave as she gagged again.
She tried to scream around the smothering fullness of flesh. Instead, all she was capable of was squeezing out a few impotent tears. Her lungs lit fire in her chest.
Just as she began to find the wherewithal to beat against the form in front of her, it inexplicably disappeared. Her mouth was freed, gaping open as her lungs expanded. She sucked at the air, swallowing down great drafts of it, shuddering as she did so, scrabbling for the sleeping bag beneath her with her fingers. She heard sounds of struggle outside, and in the next instant the hips that had been marauding her were yanked away as well and she collapsed onto her belly, chest still heaving.
There was this odd sense that she was teetering on a very thin edge. The bliss called her from one side, even as pain and terror tried to pull her back its way. She stretched her arms out beside her, not sure which way she would fall, but certain she would. She waited, breathless.
Fingers closed around her bicep. She turned her head, thinking she might still fight her way through the fog, find a way to fight against what was surely coming next. All she could register was a shadowed face, the scuffle of boots against cement. Several grunts rumbled through the night air around her.
The hulking shadow reached in for her. "Are you all right?"
Was she? She wasn't sure what the correct answer was.
"They're gone," he said.
She searched
That was the sign. She imagined herself an expert diver gasping for breath before plunging headlong off at 20 foot diving board, dragging in air at the last second. Her fingers did the rest without conscious thought. Then the tremors, the inevitable shift, the one she'd been waiting for when the tremors changed to a shiver of pleasure so delicious she lost whatever breath she'd been able to take in, slipping as though into a bath of perfectly warmed oil where every movement was lubricated.
Moments, or hours later, left with the fuzzy feeling of ecstasy, but with the hot slippery feeling easing away, she realized she wasn't alone. A snake of dread crept up her spine, but the bliss enrobed it with oil, let it leak away through her toes. Something fired in her brain, snapping like an electrical current mating with earth.
She mumbled one word before the fog glazed over her consciousness.
"No."
It seemed that the someone had decided her panties were keeping her from enjoying a full state of bliss, then he decided that her breasts needed to be mauled and bitten, that his partner's erection needed attention.
Something might have niggled in the back of her brain, that she didn't want this, that if it weren't for the godspit she'd be fighting these two off, but that little tickle evaporated quickly.
It came again, yes, once more as she felt herself being lifted onto her knees, her backside pulled straining into the air, and this time she fixed on it. She tried to hold onto the thought, struggled to keep it as a coherent focus, telling herself that despite the bliss, this perception of danger was more accurate than the limp feeling of complacency she felt.
There was a new stink in the grotto, one of sweat and musk. Somehow she knew that the bliss didn't come with such a horrible smell, that she shouldn't be gagging on cock or being slammed into from behind. Even as she fought her way to the surface she felt her scalp burn as bits of hair ripped free and her chest heave as she gagged again.
She tried to scream around the smothering fullness of flesh. Instead, all she was capable of was squeezing out a few impotent tears. Her lungs lit fire in her chest.
Just as she began to find the wherewithal to beat against the form in front of her, it inexplicably disappeared. Her mouth was freed, gaping open as her lungs expanded. She sucked at the air, swallowing down great drafts of it, shuddering as she did so, scrabbling for the sleeping bag beneath her with her fingers. She heard sounds of struggle outside, and in the next instant the hips that had been marauding her were yanked away as well and she collapsed onto her belly, chest still heaving.
There was this odd sense that she was teetering on a very thin edge. The bliss called her from one side, even as pain and terror tried to pull her back its way. She stretched her arms out beside her, not sure which way she would fall, but certain she would. She waited, breathless.
Fingers closed around her bicep. She turned her head, thinking she might still fight her way through the fog, find a way to fight against what was surely coming next. All she could register was a shadowed face, the scuffle of boots against cement. Several grunts rumbled through the night air around her.
The hulking shadow reached in for her. "Are you all right?"
Was she? She wasn't sure what the correct answer was.
"They're gone," he said.
She searched
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