Best I made that period

She walked in and saw lines of fourteen year old boys, naked, making a bridge. They were ordered for skin color, from pinkish white to chocolate black.

She talked to the owner, after being handed a large feather.

‘You are doing well!’.

‘Thank you. Have you been here before’.

‘Two years ago. You didn’t have the boys back then’, she pointed at the naked bodies, lean, their skins unblemished. Some of them had mirrors behind them.

She was led around and stopped at a particularly well shaped boy. Without thinking, she lazily brushed his private parts with the feather.

As they walked on, behind them the boys’ penis quickly grew to its ultimate size, almost bursting, a little string of glistening pre-ejaculate coming out.

The boy himself remained perfectly quiet. Apparently he didn’t dare to make a noise.

‘You are ovulating’

‘Yes. Can you tell?’

‘I can tell by how the boys react to you’.

‘Do they attract a lot of women?’

‘You’d be surprised’.

‘It’s going to get messy though, right?’

‘Yes. It’s a beautiful site. Very endearing. They keep pumping it out at that age, it’s unbelievable’.

‘Don’t they need time for recovery?’

‘We get their heads so high, we make sure they barely need any’.


‘We have our methods. You learn a lot of tricks in this business. It’s also a matter of knowing a particular boy well. His method of processing information, how he thinks, his tastes, his fantasies, his insecurities, his dreams, his past’.

‘How do you keep them so submissive?’

‘They think they’ll die if they displease us’.

‘And is that true?’


‘Then why do they think they’ll die if they’re not obediant?’

‘We have weapons. They don’t. We are soldiers. They aren’t, and neither are their families’.

‘I would imagine there is a lot of spite in these families’.

‘Of course’.

‘Don’t they rebel’.

‘They are not soldiers. That’s their fault. Giving in to fear can come at a high cost. They are afraid of dying. We are not. We reap the reward for that’.

‘How have you overcome your fear of death?’

They were looking at some young girls behind glass now. They sat in positions that allowed for a good look at their bare genitals. There were decorations, like flowers, water basins, and animals, like snakes and butterflies.

‘By meditating’.

They looked at the goods, as they were shown to them. The girls all looked innocent, and were quiet. They looked at their admirers with quiet eyes.

‘This one. Put her on a simple chair’.

A few minutes later, the girl was sitting on the chair with her legs spread, holding her weight with her hands, her knees pointing up. Her admirer held the young legs up with her arms, her hands just above the knees, gently eating her up between the legs.

The girl tilted her head back, until it was horizontal, her eyes firmly shut. Now and then, her mouth opened. Sometimes only a little, sometimes wide, licking her lips. Then she tilted her head back and looked with unbelieving eyes to what was happening to her, scared, with a sense of defiance about her. Then she closed her eyes again, letting out a soft, childish moan. Later she had her head tilted all the way back again, eyes shut and the tongue licking the lips. Mostly she was very quiet, not daring to make a sound. Only her admirer could be heard talking,

‘you are a delicious little thing aren’t you. I’m going to blow your head up, you little demon’.

Then after a while,

‘you’re so pretty. You’re such a sweet child. You deserve to be rewarded. Such a wonderful, light complexion. Such sweet little nipples. I love to lick your little clit’.

She fingered her by moving the upper part of her index finger up and down, and addressed the owner.

‘How do you like that smell?’

Seconds later, the girl was lying on her back, on some pillows on the floor, her legs spread just a little, the knees pulled up, and her admire lay stretched on the clean, cold floor, her head between the thighs, her hands on the hips, one leg pulled up. The child head her head turned to the right, her elbows were on the floor, and her hands were on her knees, her feet rested on the shoulder blades of her benefactor. The child had a thicker pillow under the hips.

‘Can you tell her to grind a little with her hips?’

The two spoke a few words in a foreign language. Apparently it cost some effort to make her understand what she was supposed to do. Her admirer waited patiently, her tongue on the childs’ opening, catching her scent with her throat.

The owner got a little impatient, and the girl got scared. Finally she had to be forced to grind by helping her manually, and then she finally understood. The young muscles were inexperienced, but her masters still enjoyed it.

Then she sat in the chair, and took the girl with her. The girl sat on her lap, facing her, and she held her tight, one hand on her back, one on her waist. The girl had the hands on the back of her admirers head. Her knees rested on the chair. Her head tilted forward.

She was instructed to grind her master.

A major erogenous zone was discovered on her. The master paid close attention, to take note.

Apparently, the little girl loved having her belly rubbed over the soft belly of the older girl.

‘I can smell it too’, said the owner.

‘It’s amazing. She feels like a different person’.

Now the girl sat between her legs, the arched back turned towards her. The child looked to the right, the right shoulder pulled up, arms stretched and hands together, her right knee slightly higher than the left one. Her ass was pushed back, so that it touched the belly behind her. One hand was on her upper leg.

Hands stroked back and forth on her upper legs.

‘Oh, I’m enjoying this’, she said to the headmaster.

‘Take your time’.

‘Where did you pick this girl up?’

‘She came her for refuge. Her people is in conflict with the hordes’.

‘And getting slaughtered’.


‘She’s so well shaped’.

‘I’m glad that you like her’.

‘She would have made an excellent bride’, and to the girl, ‘you would have made an excellent bride. You’re beautiful.’

The girl remained quiet as always.

‘Don’t you want to say something to that?’, the owner asked, in a gentle tone as not to make her pannick.

Lips ran through her neck and hair.

‘What a sweetheart’, she whispered, ‘you don’t have to answer sweetheart’.

‘How do you like being caressed by this kind woman?’, the owner asked, ‘You know you are very lucky? Tell me it feels like. Does it feel good?’

‘She’s nodding’, she kissed the neck, bit on the strains of hair.

‘You like it when your belly is pressing against another belly?’

‘Yes you do’.

‘Say ‘yes I do’’.

‘Yes I do’.

‘What does it feel like?’

‘Like butterflies’.

‘And what more?’

‘It tingles’.


‘In my head’.

‘And we love making your head feel like that’, said the person behind her, ‘we like to make it feel like that all day long’, and to the owner, ‘god I want to kiss her face right now’.

She pulled her head towards her, and kissed the side of her face that was closest to her.

‘Do you like being kissed?’, asked the owner.


‘Tell me something about your childhood’.

The girl seemed to be thinking, but she was a little distracted, her face being kissed over and over. She seemed happy, and a little dreamy.

(Writings 10, July, 2013)

Geen opmerkingen:

Een reactie posten