Sexual Dictatorship

This post started out as something completely different from the one you’re about to read. Not relevant to the post as it stands but true nonetheless.

I was thinking of a lyric from the Jam track “Going Underground”

And the public gets what the public wants
But I want nothing this societys got –
I’m going underground, (going underground)

Specifically in the context of the media and the deadly embrace that the media and its consumers are locked in. Take Max Moseley and the “scandal” surrounding the BDSM fun and games he indulged in recently. If we didn’t buy the papers that published this story it’s unlikely that his predeliction for being dominated by young women would have been public knowledge.

But let’s face it, that’s pretty obvious as a train of thought. What I did start thinking is that I used to think we live in a democracy. Freedom of expression was something that I used to take for granted. Something that my grandparents fought for, literally fought for. Recently though I’ve come to the conclusion that we live in an increasingly undemocratic society, especially when it comes to expressing your sexuality.

What would it be like to like live in a sexual oriented dictatorship, or feudal state, like the one that I wrote about in the Villicci stories?

You decide:

Villicci Part 1 of 2

The marble-white skin of Tessa’s cheek seemed to have an inner glow. Her eyes were closed, her head cradled in the chair. Her delicate lips were slightly open, picked out in claret red lipstick. Her raven black hair plaited down the back of her head, laid across her shoulder and left breast. She wore a white cotton dress, high collared and ankle length. White silk slippers peeked from beneath it at the foot of the reclined chair.

Anyone happening upon her could easily have mistaken her serene repose for sleep. But she was awake, aware, listening to the quiet sounds around her.

Look closer. Her hands were held to the chair’s arms by soft leather straps. As were her ankles. Her neck was immobile too, another strap held her there. She knew what was to come, she did not struggle, she did not beg, she accepted it, welcomed it, knew it was her path.

~~~

The city of Villicci dominated the fertile plain of the Nile delta. There was no world beyond it’s boundaries, none worth speaking of at any rate. The people of Villicci knew they were fortunate, blessed, spared the torment of the trackless, endless deserts in the wastelands. The life giving water of the great river fell as rain in mythical mountains far to the south and ran through the tormented lands of Africa. Occasionally the corpse of a monstrous beast would be washed through the plain during the spring floods. But no one ventured out to find where such animals might live, or if other such cities thrived out there.

The people of Villicci knew they were fortunate and knew their place. Each had their station, their role in the realm. To suggest otherwise was treason, to act otherwise was to invite the cruellest of torments. If one fell from grace, all risked falling into the pit that had consumed the rest of the world.

~~~

The laser crosshairs aligned with the brand on Tessa’s cheek. She listened to the sound of the equipment as it charged and readied itself. The quiet humming rose in amplitude and frequency until it exceeded her ability to hear it.

Then the searing pain, the white blizzard of sensation which tore the brand from her flesh molecule by molecule. It lasted only a few seconds but each second seemed like hours. She hardly flinched, knowing that moving would cause the machine to recalibrate and therefore take longer in its task.

A single tear welled in her eye, not from the pain, but a lament for the passing of her old master and her old life.

~~~

Tessa sat in the cloisters of the library, repository of all the knowledge of the old world. The cloisters were a colonnaded gallery around the perimeter of an immaculately tended garden. A fountain played in it’s centre, white marble paths criss-crossed its lush green lawns. It was peaceful, restful, a place to contemplate, to reflect and in Tessa’s case, prepare herself for her new life.

There was a noise from above her, something landed on the tiled roof above her sending a cloud of dust and sand cascading down from the rafters. She stood and stepped out into the garden, avoiding the worst of the debris. Looking up she could see a young blonde haired man, around her age running across the orange tiles. The roof was steeply inclined and the inevitable happened. He slipped and rolled off the roof into a clump of neatly trimmed shrubs.

Tessa went to his aid. What emerged from the bushes was a vision of masculinity. His blonde hair almost shone, crystal blue eyes sparkled in the bright sunlight and his broad shoulders and powerful exposed forearms made Tessa think only of one thing. That he should take her in them, now.

But what was she thinking, in a few short days she was to be owned by her new master, as yet unknown to her but chosen by her previous master before his death. The thoughts that played in her mind were sinful. Worse, the feelings that filled her head, her heart, her sex were depraved, animal.

He held her in his gaze. Could he see the desire in her? He was smiling, seeming to drink in the sight of her. Did he know she wanted her to hold him, crush her against his chest, grab her ass with his hands? Could he see her imagining him tracing the outline of her breasts with his tongue, his teeth grazing her nipples? Her mind raced, her pussy pulsed …

Voices, loud and commanding broke the spell he cast on her. She pushed him into the deepest thicket of bushes and held a finger to her lips. Six city guard burst into the cloister through a side door, swords drawn. The commander, a gaunt woman with cruel fiery eyes shouted to Tessa, “Where did he go?”.

“Through there”, said Tessa before she could stop herself, indicating an open door on the west of the garden. What was she doing? The man was obviously a fugitive, and she was aiding him. Now as guilty as he was. She waited until the guards were out of site and dragged her blonde angel through the quieter corridors of the library to her cell.

She closed the door behind them and turned to admonish the stranger for getting her into so much trouble. Hoping he would explain how it was all a mistake and a few well chosen words would sort out the …

She found herself kissing him. While he did not object it was her kissing him, passionately, hungrily. The door had no lock but she wanted him. They would be heard in the silence of the cells, but she wanted him.

She could feel he wanted her, his hardness pressing into her. His hands grasped her shoulders and pushed her towards the bed. She reached up behind her neck and untied the chord which held her dress in place. She shrugged the cotton over her shoulders allowing it to fall to her feet. He took her in his arms and carried her the last few steps to the bed. Never taking his eyes from her he lay her on the rough straw filled mattress and divested himself of his blue cloak and sword. He unbuttoned his flies to release his manhood. Veined and pulsing it waved proudly in front of him.

She hungered for it, her sex demanded it. She wanted to be filled by him, the knowledge that when he did she was as good as dead, guilty of breaking all the most sacred codes of Villicci.

He pulled her to the edge of the bed by her ankles and knelt, his cock hovering at the entrance to her pulsing shaved pussy. She glistened with the torrent of sweet fluid the excitement had brought to her swollen pink labia.

She felt him enter her sex, and the guilt passed. Inch after inch was slowly pushed into her, filling her, stretching the walls of her vagina. A raging sexual animal replaced the guilt transforming her form a quiet supplicant slave girl into a wild and wanton creature. Her eyes glinted and bored into his, urging him to fuck her as hard as he could. No words were spoken, the look in their eyes, the sounds and the smells of their bodies were more than enough to guide them.

He drove deep into her, hard and brutal. She savoured every thrust, every violent collision of his pelvis with her buttocks. The rough, dry straw of the mattress was driven through the worn ticking into her back scraping the skin, penetrating in places, the discomfort adding to her rapturous appreciation of his cock.

Her hand clawed at him, leaving wheals in his arms, and one scratch down his face narrowly missing his eye. She flinched and returned to reason momentarily. Fear was in her eyes and dread at what punishment her master would inflict for lashing out at him.

But he was not her master, smiled at her a lustful smile and carried on the assault on her pussy.

Then she came, not with her masters permission, but at the command of her own inner animal. The creature she had trained, the beast within her that had been trained so well by her old master.

Oh how she came. A tingling in her stomach, a smouldering fire bursting from her pussy. The conflagration spreading across her skin, up her spine and consuming her whole body. She shrieked, though not too loud, her training did not desert her entirely. And as the sound formed on her lips he came too pinning her to the bed growling triumphantly.

They lay together on the bed their energies spent, bodies hot from the exertion and warm from the feeling of guiltless release.

For Tessa the guilt returned as she began to dream …

To be concluded …