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The willows - a costume party
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
THE WILLOWS
Copyright (C) 1986 Golden Boy
The Willows is a rambling estate somewhere in Louisiana. After you enter
the gate it seems miles to the house, kept in antebellum style and grace.
Indeed a journey to The Willows is like a journey to another century.
Sometimes at night the wind brings the faint sound of the voodoo drum from
the servants' quarters.
* * * * *
As you apply the last touch of silver gloss to your lips you lean back
and gaze approvingly at yourself in the mirror. Perfect, you think as you
look at the thin red line circling each darkened nipple. Next you apply
three long white whiskers on each side of your nose. "Meow!" You smile at
yourself and the whiskers move slightly. "Full of surprises tonight," you
say as you apply dark green shadow around your eyes and back towards your
ears. "When I take off my mask I'll still be masked." Finally you apply a
light touch of glitter high on the cheekbones in front of your ears. You
pull on the silver stockings and fasten them with garters just above the
knees. Then you go over and lift the heavy ankle length cloak to your
shoulders and slip it on. You glance at yourself in the mirror and think,
Who is that enticing creature?
Your new lover arrives looking as though he stepped out of the
seventeenth century. He is dressed in a blue velvet suit with much lace
and silk ruffles. His shoulderlength blond hair falls out from under a
large blue velvet hat with a long white feather in it. He even has on
white knee stockings and buckled shoes and he is carrying a goldtipped
cane. He also is wearing a black mask over his eyes.
He stops still when he sees you. "Enchanting," he says and bows deeply.
He steps toward you. "Pretty puss, have you done as I asked?" He slips
his cane between the folds of your cloak. You unfasten the hooks of the
cloak and open it. He gazes at you and smiles. You feel your nipples
begin to harden. He licks his finger and traces the red lines around each
one.
"Take off your mask," he says. When you do so he smiles again. "Ah,
clever puss!" he says. He takes a mask from his pocket and puts it on you.
It has no eyeholes but pads instead. He takes your hand and leads you out
into the street. You wonder if your unfastened cloak might fall open and
feel a tingle of excitement. "Step up," he says as you reach the curb and
you realize that you are entering a carriage. What else? you think.
Tonight will be a real adventure.
You have always known that the blind have their other senses heightened.
You are surprised by how much this is the case with you so soon. You hear
each sound quite clearly and distinctly: the horses hooves, the creaks of
the carriage, people talking, insects buzzing. As the sun goes down you
sense the expansion of space as sounds seem to carry farther. You know
exactly where your lover is on the seat across from you. Is that by his
body heat? Or maybe the reflection of sounds? Or some sixth sense? Your
hands press against the cool yielding strength of the leather seat as your
body enjoys the warm caress of the long cloak.
You realize that the street sounds are gone. "We are leaving the city,"
you say.
"Yes," he replies. "I have invited a few friends to my estate for an,"
he pauses, "intimate gathering."
He comes and sits beside you and cradles you in his arms. You turn your
head to kiss him but he places a finger on your cheek. "No, pretty puss,
we must not mar your artful face." He draws your cloak apart and begins to
caress your thighs very lightly. You relax and let yourself open to his
hand. He begins to trace small circles and designs on your tummy. He
tests your wetness. "So quick!" he says. He probes you deeply, gently but
with a strength which will not be denied. Your face goes lax and your
mouth opens slightly. You sigh.
You reach out and feel his hardness through his velvet crotch. He
removes your hand, kisses it, and whispers, "Later you will feel it." He
returns his attention to your thighs and sex. You don't know what to do
with your hands. He will not allow you to do anything. You rest them on
the leather seat. He makes a game of seeing how far down your thighs he
can draw your wetness. By now your knees are far apart. You feel warm and
flushed and enjoy the coolness on your legs as your fluids evaporate.
Since you must be passive you sink down into the leather and his arms and
allow yourself to drift into a dreamlike reverie. You are vaguely aware
that he is toying with you, increasing your arousal, then letting it
subside. Your body feels warm and heavy. It seems like every peak is a
little higher than the one before. You wish he would increase the tempo
but at the same time it doesn't matter. What a whore I am! you think, here
in the middle of nowhere with my legs spread wide enough to take in an
army. Your throat feels dry. "Enter me," you say in a hoarse whisper.
The carriage slows and turns. "We are here," he announces. He bends you
forward and fastens a wide leather collar around your neck. He fastens
your cloak and leads you out of the coach and into the mansion. You feel a
little dizzy and disoriented.
"Your guests have arrived, sir."
"Thank you Mathilde. No, she will keep her cloak on for now."
He leads you into a large room. "Hello, Johnny!" several voices call
out. "Hi, Johnny," a short man's voice says nearby. "Your friend is
quite lovely, and such a becoming flush! You will introduce us later."
"Of course, Count," he replies. They begin to chat. You hold onto your
lover's arm and begin to wonder how much you can tell about the room and
the guests. There is a feeling of space in the room and you can identify
one other group of guests talking. It seems to be two men, one quite
young, and a woman with a gravelly voice.
Your lover turns slightly. "Thank you, Mathilde. Everyone, dinner is
ready. If you will please take your seats." He leads you to a chair and
says, "Mathilde will feed you."
By now you are feeling left out of things. You reach out and find your
lover's hand. "Can't I take this off now?" you ask.
"Be patient, my dear, all in good time."
"But...."
He places a finger over your lips. "Wait until I introduce you," he
says.
Next you feel a spoon at your mouth. "Open up," says a strange female
voice on your right. Mathilde. She has an accent.
"Are you from the West Indies?" you ask her. Soup spills on your chin.
She wipes it off and returns the spoon to your lips. You open your mouth
and take the soup. Again you do not know what to do with your hands. You
put your left hand on your lover's knee. He squeezes it and places it in
your lap. A distressing feeling of helplessness comes over you. You feel
like tearing away from the table and running away, but where would you go?
Johnny is talking with someone else. You wonder if you are going to cry.
Mathilde pats your forearm. "It's all right, dear. Don't worry. Here
is a nice big shrimp. Open up." You take the shrimp and begin to chew.
You start to feel better. Johnny squeezes your left hand. Then he
caresses your cheek.
You calm down and eat dinner. You notice that there are five people
talking, but that they are spaced out around the table. The scrape of
utensils on the plates sometimes comes between the speakers. There are
four more silent people at the table! Are they all blindfolded like me?
you ask yourself.
Johnny stands. "Before dessert allow me to introduce our guest of
honor." He takes your hand. "Please stand, my dear." Polite applause
around the table. "Come with me." He leads you to the center of the room.
He unhooks the front of your cloak. You begin to feel quite giddy. He
grasps your wrists firmly and deliberately raises them high above your
head. The front of the cloak opens. A murmur of appreciation fills the
room. For a moment you imagine an auditorium of people admiring your
naked form. You flush. Your lover has let go of your wrists but your arms
stay raised. You cannot move, but you wouldn't if you could. You feel
helpless and wanton at the same time.
He reaches behind you and pulls the cloak more open on the left side,
fully revealing your breast. More murmurs. "Perfect," someone says. He
begins to tease the nipple, to pull it and twist it. It hardens. Then he
does the same with your right breast. People are talking, someone
chuckles. Your lover cups your mound and kisses you. Applause.
"It would please me if you would stay as you are for a while," he says.
"Do you consent?"
You manage to nod your head.
"Do you consent?"
You nod again.
"Say it. Do you consent?"
You lick your lips and swallow. "Yes," you whisper.
He fastens two wide leather cuffs to your upraised wrists. They seem to
be connected by a chain which he fastens to something hanging from the
ceiling. You are pulled upwards until your heels leave the ground, then
let back down until some of your weight is on your feet.
"Please. Come and inspect her perfect beauty."
How did this happen? you ask yourself. Here I am dangling blindfolded
from the ceiling in a strange house before a bunch of strangers who are
about to inspect my body! My mother didn't raise me for this. The funny
thing is, I don't feel helpless now, I don't even feel afraid. Well, just
a little. What I feel is excitement! What a whore I am!
You feel the presence of people around you. The Count says, "Look at
those beautifully formed breasts. How prettily they jut out when she
hangs." Someone weighs your right breast in his hand. Another hand
strokes the outside of your left thigh. Hands begin to rub your whole
body.
"Let me look at this cunt," says the woman with the gravelly voice. Two
thumbs pull your lips apart to reveal your clitoris, then her right thumb
probes inside you. "She's very wet, Johnny." Laughter. Your head is
ringing.
Someone lifts your robe behind and begins to stroke your buttocks. He
explores your crack and presses his finger against your anus. "Oh Johnny,
you must let me have her ass!" He presses harder but your sphincter is dry
and it hurts a little.
"No," you murmur. He pushes in. "No." You shake your head. "No."
He moves his finger in circles inside your ass while other fingers play
with your nipples and stroke your clit and cunt. A tongue licks your
stomach. Please, no. I don't want to come, don't let me enjoy this. No.
"Wait, my friends. You may inspect her, nothing more." The hands stop
caressing you. The finger remains inside your ass.
"I wonder how many fingers she will take," says the man behind you. He
reaches around with his free hand and inserts three fingers inside your
vagina.
"Ooh, I bet I can get my whole hand in!" says the woman. As they slide
their fingers in and out of you you become dizzier and dizzier and let more
of your weight hang from your wrists.
The woman, you can tell her by her nails, tries to insert her finger into
your mouth. I'm not a horse, you say to yourself, and clench your teeth.
She pinches your nostrils shut. You hold your breath until you feel like
you will pass out. Tears come to your eyes. Then you have to gasp. She
keeps her grip on your nose and pulls your jaw open. You no longer resist.
Suddenly all the hands are pulled away. You dangle exhausted. Then
different hands slowly stroke your cheek and hair. They pull your chin up
and someone tenderly kisses you. Your lover! He licks your lips and then
runs his tongue along your teeth. You open your mouth to suck him in. You
move your body towards his. He continues to kiss you deeply while his
hands brush your hardened nipples. A moan fills your throat from deep in
your chest. He reaches down and presses and strokes around your clitoris.
You are vaguely aware of your body as it begins to jerk and sway.
"Come, my friends. Mathilde, prepare our guest and bring her to us."
You are left alone in the room. You slump exhausted in your bonds. You
are content to hang there and rest. Content. Funny that I should feel
content, you think, but I do.
Mathilde comes and takes you down. She removes your cloak, shoes and
stockings and wipes your body with a cool wet washcloth. She refastens
your wrists behind you and presses a small rubber ball into your mouth.
You are past resisting. She ties the gag behind your head, forcing it a
little deeper into your mouth. She fastens a leash to your collar and
leads you down a hallway. She stops and then removes your blindfold. You
blink, your eyes quickly adjusting to the dark hallway. You are standing
before a large wooden door.
Mathilde, you now see, is a short Black woman of about sixty with her
hair pulled tightly back on her head. She opens the door and leads you by
the leash down a dark winding stone stairway. You feel awkward with your
hands behind you and try not to stumble. Mathilde keeps a steady pressure
on the leash but does not hurry you too much. Down into the dungeon, you
think. Corny but true.
You stop before a massive wooden door with a heavy circle of iron for a
handle. Mathilde slowly pulls it open and leads you inside. Instead of a
dungeon you see a large sitting room dimly lit by torches on the stone
walls. A carpet covers the floor except for a ten by ten area in front of
the fireplace, which has a small fire in it even though it is summer. The
room is cool from being underground. You see four people seated in chairs
on the perimeter of the open area in front of the fire. Someone is
kneeling beside each of the chairs, except one, to which Mathilde leads
you. Without being told you kneel beside it while she hands the leash to
your lover. He takes it without looking at you.
He is watching the spectacle before the fireplace. A tall skinny young
man with dark features a large nose and a prominent Adam's apple is
standing beside a large wooden X cross. Strapped to the cross upside down
is a young smallbreasted woman. You cannot see her face as it is encased
in a leather or rubber mask. Her pussy has been shaved. You can make out
red stripes across her stomach and breasts where she has been whipped or
caned. He reaches out and slaps her crotch. A low moan escapes from the
mask. "This always makes her hot," he says. He probes her vagina and she
moans again. "Would anyone care to inspect her?"
A figure rises. It is a tall redhaired woman of about fortyfive or
fifty, dressed in a mans suit. You watch with fascination as she examines
the stripes, handles the girl's breasts, and feels inside her pussy. That
could be me, you think. Fear stabs your breast. That will be me, someday!
You become aware of your bonds, of the leather collar and cuffs, the leash,
the gag. You shake your head. No one notices. Your lover watches the
scene before him raptly. You hang your head. What have I gotten myself in
for? you think. How did this happen?
Some time passes before a loud pop makes you look up. The skinny kid has
opened a bottle of champagne. He reaches into the girl's pussy and
extracts two ice cubes. Holding her twat open with one hand he pours
champagne into it. It froths and runs down her belly. The redhaired woman
greedily fastens her lips over the girls crotch and laps up the liquid; she
licks it off the girls belly and breasts, then looks at the kid
expectantly. The young man looks at your lover, who rises and goes to the
girl as the woman returns to her chair. The young man takes two more ice
cubes out of the girl's vagina and pours in more champagne.
You prefer not to watch your lover put his mouth to another woman's pussy
and look to your left. A short balding man with dark hair and a black
moustache, probably the count, is sitting in the next easy chair. Kneeling
beside him is another woman with her head encased in a mask. Her arms have
been secured behind her in some kind of sheath. A rope tied to a ring at
the end of the sheath lifts her arms up toward the ceiling and forces her
head forward and down. The strain must be terrific, you think, and notice
the strain in your jaws from the ball gag. You clench your teeth against
the ball for relief.
You feel a tug on your leash and stand up. Your lover removes your gag
and you work your jaws reflexively. He caresses your face and looks at you
lovingly. So like a little boy, you think.
"You may go if you wish," he says.
"What will happen to me if I stay?"
"Nothing you do not consent to."
"And the other," you cannot say slaves, "the others?"
"Nothing they do not consent to. Will you stay?"
"I'm thirsty," you reply.
He leads you by your leash to a table with a candelabra in the center and
on which have been laid cheeses, bread, caviar, and various wines. "What
goes well with rubber?" you ask.
He laughs and kisses you. "Oh, pretty puss, you are so lovely!"
He pours you a glass of rose and lets you sip it. You become aware of
your hands cuffed behind you. You sip some more wine. You rub your body
against his velvet suit and nuzzle his ear. You feel your nipples harden.
You whisper, "Take me to the bedroom and undo me. I know how to please
you." You twist so you can tug his coat with your hands.
He laughs again. "A tempting offer. Do you want more wine?" You look
at him.
He grins. "Very tempting. Later, perhaps. But you can please me now.
Kneel. Kneel or I shall have you whipped."
His tone startles you. You kneel before him and look down. Presently
you feel a tug on your leash and look up to see his manhood limp before
your eyes. He grabs your hair and pulls your face into his crotch. He
slaps your buttocks with the end of the leash.
You take him into your mouth and feel him begin to grow. You feel
awkward without the use of your hands. He strokes your hair and slaps your
behind again with the leash. It stings, nothing more.
No, that's not so. You begin to feel a warmth in your pussy and somehow
it seems connected with the slaps. His rod is almost hard now and you pull
your head back until just the glans is inside your mouth. You begin to
circle it with your tongue and he slaps you again. A shock wave travels
through you to your cunt and it contracts. He slips out of your mouth.
"Pay attention cunt!" He rams himself back into your open mouth as he
brings the leash across your buttocks again. This time it hurts. But you
still feel it in your cunt, which contracts again.
He takes your head with both hands and fucks your face furiously. You
begin to feel dizzy and your eyes start to tear. He slows down and
releases your hair. You alternate sucking with flicking your tongue from
side to side. He rests his hands lightly on your shoulders.
Your cunt still tingles and you wish he would slap you again. You take
him in as far as you can and nip him with your teeth as you pull your head
back. He digs his fingers into your shoulders as you circle the glans with
your tongue again. You suck hard and slip your mouth down his shaft.
"Oh Jesus!" He starts jerking back and forth and his hot sperm shoots
into your throat. You feel a tingling in your nipples and a warmth in your
cunt. It is too much for you to swallow and some of it dribbles from your
mouth. You pull your head back and he shoots into your hair. You swallow
again and lick him clean. He strokes your hair gently.
He looks down at you and grins contentedly. You lick your lips and
smile. He lifts you to your feet and strokes your face. You gaze into
each other's eyes. He kisses you lightly, turns you around and unfastens
your cuffs from each other. He pulls you back against him and whispers
into your ear, "I need you so much."
Again a feeling of contentment fills you. You gaze with detachment at
the scene before the fireplace. A woman with long dark hair has been
suspended by her waist so that she is horizontal, face down, and her arms
and legs have been stretched wide to the side. Something -- weights? --
hang from her large breasts. A man is standing between her legs and is
unfastening his fly.
"I must see to my guests," your lover says, and leaves you. You turn to
the table and spread some cream cheese and caviar on a small piece of rye
bread. A voice makes you turn your head.
"Excuse me."
A young woman a little taller than you has come up beside you. She has
the round features of the Welsh with large blue eyes. Her hair is pulled
back in a pony tail. She is hunched slightly forward. You see that her
wrists are cuffed and attached to broad black leather thigh cuffs. You
look at her bald snatch and the thin pink lines crisscrossing her belly and
small breasts and realize that she was the one on the cross. "You are very
beautiful," she says.
For a second you do not realize what she said. "Oh! Thank you." You
gaze at her marks. You open your mouth. "You were...."
"I was the chalice," she says. "When you were displayed after dinner,"
she looks at you with moist eyes, "I wished it was me. I mean," she drops
her gaze, "I am so small." She looks up to see you staring at the stripes
across her breasts. "You may touch them," she says.
You reach out and gently press her stomach where several pink lines
cross. "Doesn't it hurt?" you ask.
"Not now," she replies. "And when I am, uh, excited, it's not like pain
at all. Anyway, he only caned me lightly. Sometimes...."
You look up. Behind her you see the skinny young man approach the
suspended woman's face. He has a large penis; it looks nine or ten inches
long. He presses it into her mouth.
"But I'm glad," she says.
You look at her.
"To wear his marks." She pauses. "You don't understand," she says.
"How do you feel when he makes love to someone else?" you ask her.
"You mean like now?" She smiles and tilts her head back slightly. "From
her he gets a little pleasure. From me he gets everything."
"But he can do what he wants with her," you begin.
"No! She belongs to someone else. I belong to him."
Your lover comes up and takes your hand. "Come. I want to show you
something." He leads you out of the room into a dimly lit hallway. How
big is this place? you wonder. He opens a small door on the right and
reaches inside and turns on the light. You peer into a small room with
what looks like riding gear hanging on the walls. He leads you inside.
"So you wanted to give me a tour of the utility room, did you?" you say.
Suddenly you embrace him and press yourself against his velvet suit. You
rub your face against his silk lace front. "I've got you now," you say,
"I'll never let you go." You squeeze him. You look up at him. He seems
confused.
You push away from him and start out the door. He grabs your arm.
"Wait," he says. You look at him. He still has a confused look. Some of
your makeup has smudged on his shirt. He releases your arm, then takes
your hand. He looks down at it and in a low voice says, "Don't leave. I
need you." He raises his eyes to your face.
You touch his cheek. He relaxes a bit. "Now," you say, "what did you
want to show me?"
He straightens up. He removes your wrist cuffs. "Turn around," he says.
He pulls your hands behind you palms together and slides a leather sheath
over your arms. He straps it around your shoulders and laces it up tight,
drawing your arms towards each other and pulling your shoulders back. It
feels snug but not uncomfortable.
He snaps your leash back onto your collar and leads you down the hall.
At the end a door opens into a darkened room. He leads you inside and
closes the door. He flicks on the light and you are almost blinded. Each
of eight walls is completely mirrored, as is the ceiling. He comes up
behind you and places his hands on the outside of your shoulders. He bends
down and places his cheek next to yours.
"Look," he says. "You are Venus."
You see yourself and several reflections of yourself. Yes, you think, no
arms. Just like the Venus de Milo. Your shoulders are pulled back and
rounded voluptuously. Your breasts are pulled up and out. A glow
surrounds you. Yes, you think, like a goddess.
He reaches his arms around you and slides them slowly up your
stomach to your breasts. He kneads and rolls your nipples
between his fingers. You close your eyes. "I haven't enjoyed
your ass yet," he says.
He steps back and produces another ball gag, slightly larger than before
with a leather strap. You open wide to take it in your mouth. "Do you see
how it enhances your beauty?" he asks.
You look at yourself. All your whiskers are gone by now of
course. How can this be beautiful? you ask yourself. It looks
freaky. In the mirror you see the glow in his eyes. Well, it
does provoke a kind of bizarre fascination, you decide.
He covers your eyes with a soft leather blindfold and walks away.
Something is attached to the end of your arm sheath and you find your arms
slowly pulled upwards. You lean forward and bend your knees. It feels
like your arms are pointed straight towards the ceiling. There is a little
strain in your shoulders but not much.
A hand begins to caress your behind. A lubricant is smeared into your
crack. Then something made of rubber or plastic is forced into your anus.
It is tapered and feels like it widens to about three inches. You step
slightly forward but you cannot escape. Past the wide part it tapers
quickly back to about one inch. Your sphincter contracts and holds it snug
inside you. It is uncomfortable but not terribly so. It has straps
attached to it and these are pulled up from behind and fastened around your
waist. Then a thick dildo slides into your cunt; a spongy attachment at
the base presses against your clitoris. This also has straps and is
fastened to the butt plug behind and your tummy straps in front.
Hands stroke your back and play with your nipples. You are uncomfortable
but begin to feel a rising excitement. You try to contract your cunt
muscles around the dildo but it is so thick you cannot do much. You hear a
click and feel a tingling in your rear. It's a vibrator. You feel it in
your pussy as well. Then another click and the dildo begins to vibrate. I
don't know if I can take this, you think, as your whole pelvis begins to
melt.
Your lover whispers into your ear, "Enjoy, my sweet."
THE END
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