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Mary Read

By: mikado2005



I came to slowly. It was like swimming up out of a black cloudy pool towards the surface.  My head pounded and my body was sore all over. It was dark, but the rocking, creak of the rigging, and slap of the sea told me I was in the bilges of a ship. The stench of humanity, rot, and spoiled meat assailed my nostrils. Rats scurried about in the darkness. 

I remembered now: the ship on the horizon; the sea chase; the black flag with a skull and crossed sabers, and the one shot that took out our mast, dropping the gaff on me. That is the last I remember. I must be on the pirate ship. My ship must be lost. I drift back into unconsciousness not mourning the loss of a crew that shanghaied me for a year at sea.

I awake coughing and sputtering, reacting to a bucket of frigid, fetid seawater thrown in my face. I am roughly drug up a ladder and onto the pitching deck. The sun blinds me as I am thrown down to the deck. My head still throbbed and I squint up at the man looming over me.

His boot came forward and lifted my head up, "So, what have we here? What is your name son and where do ye hail from?"

I lift my head free from his boot and answer, "My name is Gillem McDonald and I'm from Charleston, South Carolina."

"Well Gillem, your captain should have known that I rule in these waters. Any tavern keeper and publican in the area can tell ye that. Your captain was foolish. If he'd hove to when we came in sight he'd be alive today. He'd be poorer, but alive. He chose poorly."

I seethe, but I am in no condition to stand up, much less stand up to this pirate. I know he is Calico Jack Rackham. He and his band of cutthroats have raided the Bahamas and East Coast of America for months now. They have been raiding cargo and fishing vessels for crew, food, and treasure. 

"Now what shall we do with you boy? I give ye a choice. Join me crew or swim with the fishes." 

A short man comes up beside the captain. A brace of pistols protrudes from his belt. "Captain, why don't you let me have him? I can think of several uses for a pretty young fella like him."

The captain and crew burst into laughter.

"I just bet ye can. If you want him, I give him to ye. Get him well enough to climb the rigging or it's over the side with him"

The look of horror on my face brought peals of laughter from the crew. I am roughly dragged below and shoved into a small cabin on the port side of the ship.  I am still too groggy to be able to defend myself from whatever this heathen pirate has in mind. My mind floods with stories I've heard of pirates' abuse of prisoners, male and female. I resolve to fight back whatever way I can.

I hear footsteps in the companionway and the door opens slowly. I brace my self to do what I can in my defense. The door opens and a pistol precedes the short pirate into the cabin.

"Be very careful me young friend. It won't bother me a wit to kill you if you cause me any problem at all. No one on this ship will mourn your passing."

I look down the barrel of the flintlock pistol and resign myself to my fate. The pirate uncocks the pistol and sets it on the bunk in the corner of the room. The man walks over and takes my face in his hand and turns my head back and forth.

"My, but ye are a pretty one."

I recoil at the touch of his calloused hands.

Don't be flinching away from me boyo. There are worse fates on this ship than keeping me company. If it weren't for me you'd be tied over one of the hammocks in crew's quarters being corn holed by the off watch. I don't think you'll find me company all that bad in comparison."

He picks up the pistol and says, "Stand up boyo. Let me get a good look at you."

I stand as best I can. I hold the overhead beams to keep from falling. I brace myself for whatever is coming. I despair at my reduced capabilities to defend myself. 

He cocks the pistol and says, "Take off your shirt, boyo."

I stare at the barrel of the pistol and slowly pulled my shirt over my head. 

He waves the pistol at me and sneers, "Now drop your drawers and be quick about it."

I steel myself as best I can and undo the rope around my waist. My loose pants drop to the deck. I wear no undergarments and my limp cock springs out a good five inches from my body. I try to cover my nakedness with my hands, but I need one hand to steady myself on the overhead beams from the rocking of the ship. I am somewhat ineffective at ensuring my modesty.

He smiles an evil smile and says, "Nice, very nice, now step out of your pants and let me look at you."

I kick my pants off my ankles and stand there. Shame wells up inside me. There is nothing I can do for myself.

"Turn around boyo, Put your hands against the bulkhead."

I put my hands against the bulkhead and wait, dreading what is to come. I hear him shedding his clothes and brace myself for the coming rape. I feel his hands run up my ass and my back. I shiver in revulsion. His body presses into mine and I notice something not quite right. Something, some things pressed softly into my back. A hand reaches around and strokes my cock.

I am pulled around by my cock to face my tormentor. What I see confounds me. An overwhelming sense of relief washes over me and I grow weak in the knees. I see breasts, soft pillowy breasts and a smiling face. My strength gives way. I drop to my knees, fall forward, and bury my face in the soft belly of a woman.

She has full pendulous breasts and slender legs. Her face, wearing a smile, is quite pleasant. I feel a stirring for her. My savior is a woman. I can't believe my fortune. My tormentor is a woman in man's clothes. I weep.

Her hands reach down and lift my chin, "Now boyo, make good use of your hands and tongue and cock. I'm Mary Read, one of two women on this crew. Please me."

I sob silently. 

"Now, now, none of that. Come with me."

She leads me gently to her bunk and sits back, spreading her legs. She points between her legs. "Now kneel down and put your face here."

She pulls my head into her crotch. I gingerly approach her, being somewhat inexperienced and unaware of what to do. I shake, partly from my injuries and partly from nervousness.

She grabs my hair and leads my head into her crotch. She spreads her legs wider and her lips open in front of me. Not really knowing what to do, I lick up one side and down the other. She bucks, gasps, and pulls my head in closer. My mouth closes over her womanhood and I lick and suck on her. She moans and tugs more incessantly on my hair.

I lick back and forth on her pussy. She moans louder. Her pussy becomes wetter and wetter. She pulls up on my hair and forces me to my feet. Her hands reach for my stiffening cock. She grabs it roughly, strokes it a few times, and her mouth descends on me.

She licks and sucks me until I am hard and pulls me down on her bunk on my back. She quickly straddles me and guides my cock into her warm wet hole. She thrusts down on me hard stretching the skin on my cock. It hurts and I lift up. She took this as excitement and slams down harder. It causes me intense pain. I yelp.

She bucks harder on me. Her lubrication works around my shaft and the going finally gets easier. I start to feel pleasure. She bucks up and down on me. Slamming onto my hard cock. She gets louder and louder.

I feel my own excitement rise. My orgasm approaches. The next thing I know is her hand grasping my hair and pulling my head back to look in her face.

"Don't you dare even think about cumming before me, boyo!"

My excitement recedes. She continues to ride up and down on me. I reach up to fondle her ample breasts. Her free hand covers my left hand and pushes it hard against her breast.

"Pinch them boyo. You don't have to be delicate with me."

I pinch and twist her nipples, softly at first then harder as she responds. Her head lolls back and she lets go if my hair. I start to slam up against her as she slams down. 

"That's it boyo. Now your doing it right. Fuck me harder."

I grab her hips and pull her down hard on my cock. I lift up, taking her with me, and roll over so she is on the bottom. I bend down and suck her nipple into my mouth and bite down hard. I pull back and slam hard into her. She grunts then moans, gasping as I hit bottom. I build a rhythm as I slam harder and harder into her.

She screams as I slam harder and harder into her, "Oh God yes, that's the way to do it boyo! Give it to me good!"

Her legs wrap around my waist and her arms cling to my back as she arches her back in orgasm. She screams in my ear and moans as I continue to ram into her.

"Oh fuck yes, don't stop!"

I keep pumping into her, feeling my own orgasm coming on. I feel my balls start to tingle. My cock seems to grow harder and longer. In one more set of massive thrusts, I cum. I pump load after load of hot cum into her. Her nails rake across my back. She screams in my ear.

We both go limp and collapse on the bunk. We lay there catching our breath and feeling the afterglow of our sex. I gently stroke my hand across her breasts.

She runs her fingers through my hair, grabs a handful, pulls my head back gently, smiles, and says, "Now all ye have to do is please Anne Bonny as well as ye pleased me and you can join the crew.

Mary Returns a Favor



Mary Dennison was too old for a schoolgirl crush, but it didn't take long for her to realize that's exactly what she had on her backyard neighbor, Charlie Kent. At first they had bonded over shared loss. Mary, at forty-eight, had lost her husband to cancer. Charlie, who Mary thought was about fifty-five, had moved into the neighborhood a few months after that, and a few months after his own wife had left him for a younger man. Their losses were different in any number of ways, but their recent loneliness gave them something to talk about over backyard iced tea.

It hadn't taken long for Mary's loneliness to find in Charlie more than companionship in suffering. He was a little rougher around the edges than her husband had been, but he was just as kind and thoughtful. He often did small favors for her without either asking if she would like him to, or telling her after that he had. Mary had spied him trimming the branches on her plum tree, but rather than embarrass him by calling attention to it, she had just smiled to herself.

The more he worked in his own yard and helped with hers, either secretly or openly, the more time they spent chatting, the more Mary realized that she was becoming quite attracted to Charlie. He was almost exactly six-feet tall, and he had a little extra weight around the middle, but he had a working man's strong arms and hands, and a face that was handsome with character. His eyes were blue-grey, and even through his face was generally expressionless, Mary's stomach flipped just a little every time she saw those eyes sparkle whenever walked into a room or into his yard.

She didn't think he probably noticed her much. She was a little under five-eight with wavy brown hair to her shoulders and eyes the color of dark oak. She thought her face was pretty, and she liked to add just a touch of glamor to it with the judicious use of makeup, but she was no movie star. Time and two children had given her hips a little spread, her breasts and backside a little heft, and while she worked out some to keep herself pretty toned, she knew her tummy was a little round and she was no sex symbol.

But, as time went on and she kept noticing him, and thinking about him, she also realized that she was hoping more and more that she was underestimating herself and that maybe he was noticing her, too.

It was a little before Mary's forty-ninth birthday that she realized just how much she was falling for her lonely neighbor. He was not a perpetually sad man, by any means, but Charlie's loneliness was obvious, and his self esteem had taken a huge hit from the way his wife had left him. He felt unloved and unwanted. More than that, he felt unlovable and unwantable.

Mary did not feel sorry for him, she did not pity him, but it hurt her to know that he didn't see in himself what she saw in him. It was that realization that told her she was falling in love with him. She was a lucky woman. Her husband, when he had known that he was doing to die, had been very clear that she should never feel guilty about loving someone else after he had left.

"You always made me feel like the luckiest man in the world," he had told her. "If someone else is lucky enough to have you care about them, even half as much as you've always made me feel cared for, don't hesitate. Shower them with all the love and affection you care to. It will make me happy, too."

Mary was practically glowing as she thought about showering Charlie with love and affection and her husband smiling down on her. They were not explicitly sexual thoughts, but as she lay in bed thinking about it, her hand crept up her nightgown and inside her panties. She thought of nothing more than helping Charlie realize how much a woman could want him, and knowing that her husband would be pleased with her for doing so. Soon, her eyes were closed, her back arched, and her hand rubbing her clitoris as vigorously as she could.

The longer she did this, though, the more explicit her thoughts became. Unbidden, unexpected, she was suddenly aware of true lust for Charlie. Of wanting his body and hers to join. Of wanting to use her body to help him feel good and wanting to use every ounce of her energy to show just him just how much she wanted him, body and soul. 

She'd never been a particularly extravagant masturbator, but as she thought about Charlie joining her in bed, her panties ended up on the bookcase and her nightgown around her waist. Her body thrashed and bounced on the bed as violently as if if where were actually coupling with him. One hand worked savagely between her legs. The other lashed out and clawed at the bed.

By the end, she was making noise and calling out Charlie's name. At the moment of climax, she could make no sound. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open, and her whole body locked momentarily in tension for and instant. When that tension released itself, a bucketful of fluid poured out from between her labia, and her thighs spasmed visibly in shocking reflection of the tremor inside her.

She didn't clean herself or the bed, or even straighten her gown. She simply rolled to her side, smiling, and pulled a pillow to her chest. "I'm in love again, honey."

A few days later was the eve of her birthday. She and Charlie were sitting in lounge chairs in his yard. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that was wonderfully tight across his pecs. She was wearing an orange sleeveless top that she hoped was just a shade tight on her own chest, and denim shorts that she knew showed off a whole lot of leg. Whatever doubts she had about her body or her beauty did not apply to her legs. She was very proud of those. She hoped Charlie noticed them.

"I know what I want for my birthday, Charlie," Mary said, her voice just slightly teasing.

"What's that?" he asked curiously. He'd been pestering her about it for a month.

She hoped he wouldn't be embarrassed. "I know about all the favors you've been doing for me."

"Favors?"

"The yard work. The checking on my house when I'm gone. The word to Tracy about her damn dog."

"Oh," he said simply. He shrugged. "Just trying to help."

Mary took a deep breath and prayed that she still knew how to plant ideas in guys' minds without being disgustingly obvious. She sat up, spreading her legs to the side so that she was casually straddling the lounge chair. "You're very helpful, and I appreciate the favors."

"So what is it you want for you birthday?"

"I want you to let me return the favor."

"Which favor?"

"Generally. I want to do you a favor, but I know you're a man, you're strong, and you're proud, and you'll probably argue with me and try to stop me."

Charlie actually laughed at that. "Probably true."

Mary rolled her hips subtly forward and curled her legs a little back. She was pretty sure he was watching her. "So my present from you is that you're not going to stop me."

"Fair enough." He was smiling easily. "What's the favor you're going to do?"

Mary swung her leg around, crossing right over left. He was definitely watching. "Here's the plan. Tomorrow we have lunch at my house. I know you have your meeting in the afternoon. When you get back, I'll do the favor for you. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," Charlie said. His eyes were fully on her legs.

"See you then." Mary smiled, rose, and walked home, praying that he was watching her go. If she had turned around to look, she would have seen him watching her, trying not to lick his suddenly dry lips.

There could be no usual seduction, and Mary knew that. He wasn't confident enough to be seduced. He would shrink away and hide, either literally or emotionally. She would have to throw herself at him and make sure he was so convinced of how much she wanted him that he could not back off.

The setup was simple. Their relationship would hit a new level at lunch. If he accepted that, she would throw her body at him after he got home from his meeting. That kind of thing, she was convinced, was not trashy if she was in love.

For lunch, Mary pulled on a navy skirt and a matching navy top with white trim. She wore sensible heels, but the skirt was short and the top was sleeveless. Both were tastefully snug on her curves As she looked in the mirror, she felt her husband reassuring her of how beautiful she looked and how happy she was going to make her new love, Charlie. A little mascara, a little blue eye shadow, and some wet-look lipstick, and she was set.

Charlie made it hard to hold off until after his meeting. He wore khakis that hung gorgeously off his backside, the best butt she'd ever seen a guy, she was only now realizing. He wore a simple blue polo on top, but it was really showed off his arms. Mary almost jumped him as soon as she entered the house.

For better or worse, her nerves prevented her from doing that.

Fortunately, Charlie helped the nerves ago away and paved the way for everything she had planned. Before eating,they sat down for a few minutes over iced tea. 

"You look beautiful, Mary," Charlie told her, his face expressionless except for that sparkle in his eyes.

"Charlie," she said slow, reaching out and placing her hand on top of his, "I can't even tell you how glad that you're part of my life." Charlie looked a little squirmy, but Mary charged on. She held his hand gently and looked into his eyes. "I don't think of you as just my neighbor any more."

He stood abruptly. "Mary, I appreciate it, but you don't need to be nice."

"I'm not being nice," she assured him, reaming seated to afford him as good a view of her legs or chest as he might want. "You're the nicest guy in the world, you're an amazing cook, a hard worker, and you have the cutest butt I've ever seen on a man. I could very easily fall in love with you, Charlie."

Ever controlled, Charlie just knuckled his chin and joked, "We'll see about that -- and about me being a good cook -- after we've eaten lunch."

It was hard to read Charlie. He had brushed her off, but not run away. And she was sure she had planted the seed. He was thinking about what she had said. She didn't flirt much during the meal, but immediately after, she said, "I still think I was right about everything I said."

Charlie stood to clear the dishes, but paused and looked at her. She definitely noticed his eyes drifting down to her chest and lingering there for a moment before he said, in as clearly joking a manner as possible, "If my butt's so cute why haven't you grabbed at it?"

Laughing at his own humor, he went to the kitchen. Knowing it was now or never to get him in the right mindset to accept what she was going to do later that day, Mary slipped out of her heels and walked up quietly behind him. Careful not to tip her presence, she reached out with both hand and caressed but did not squeeze his but. When he yelped in surprise, then she squeezed.

"Very cute," she said, before returning to the living room.

When he was done with the dishes, he came out, and he was definitely looking at her differently. He was probably confused, probably not sure what he was expected to do. Maybe he wasn't even sure what was appropriate for him to do. That's why she would remove any doubt.

Mary uncrossed her legs, and spread them just a little. She was not flashing him, but she was certainly giving the suggestion. "Hi, Charlie."

His eyes were dead center on her legs and skirt. "Hi, Mary."

She spread her legs a little further. There was a chance he might be getting a glimpse of her pink panties. "How long is your meeting tonight?"

His eyes had not moved. "Not long," he said, distantly. "I should be back by six."

"Too long," she teased him. She spread her legs a little further. She was sure that if he tried he could now see a flash of her panties.

"Probably," he agreed, staring at and between her creamy thighs. "But my job is all I have left, you know that."

"You have much more than your job, you just don't believe it yet." Mary spread her legs even more, and slid just a bit forward on her chair. There was no way he could not see the pink cotton that cradled her womanhood. In fact, she was confident that he could see a hint of her trimmed dark curls and the outline of her vulva through the thin, tight fabric. "Is this the kind of meeting that will get done sooner the sooner you go?"

"Yeah."

"Then why are you still here?" she asked with a self-conciously girlish giggle, before recrossing her legs. "As soon as you get home, there's still a favor I want to do for you, remember?"

"Yeah." He remained still. Finally, he glanced at her face, and then left without another word.

Mary hoped that this was going to work. She knew she had him intrigued. Once she got him in bed, she knew would worship his body so thoroughly that he would never think twice about it. She also knew that until then there was still a chance that he might back out. Unfortunately, the way to minimize that chance was also the way to maximize that chance. By throwing herself completely at him she would make it hard for him to resist or turn away, but she might terrify him.

But it was her only option. When she went home to change she realized that there was a damp spot the size of a nickle on the panties she's been flashing Charlie. 

"Wish me luck, honey," she whispered. "I really am in love with him."

The plan was for her to be waiting in his bed, in lingerie when he got home. Nothing more complicated than that. "Here I am, let's have sex." It was a little shocking to her that she had gotten to this point with Charlie after a matter of months, but they had been spending daily time together throughout those months. Did she love him as fully as she hoped to after it had been years? No, of course not, but in her mind that didn't make the love any less true. It was a young love, not a false one.

For her honey trap, Mary wore a sheer red nightgown with satin trim. It was somewhat dark, but it was just sheer enough that her breasts and nipples could be made out. She also wore red satin string bikini-cut panties with a tiny black felt bow at the top. She touched up her makeup, and she was ready.

When he came home, not suspecting her plan at all, she was on his bed on her side, one leg drawn up, smiling at him. He stopped mid-stride and stared at the gorgeous vision in front of him. She beckoned him to her with one finger. "Charlie, I want to do you a favor."

"What favor is that?" he asked, not moving.

She rolled up onto her knees. "I have a confession."

"Yeah?"

"I lied."

"What about?"

She dropped onto all four, arching her back. "I'm not falling in love with you."

"Oh?"

"I am madly, desperately in love with you already."

"That's my favor?"

She giggle and wiggled her hips. "Your favor is that I want to show you how much I want you, Charlie."

"You don't have to do this, Mary, I know you feel sorry for me."

Mary slid off the bed, to her feet. "Charlie, pretty women don't usually show their wet panties to attractive men out of sympathy." She slipped one strap of her nightgown over her shoulder and took a step in his direction. "And nice ladies don't wait in your bed in night gowns because they feel they need to." She took another a step towards him and slipped off the other strap of her nightgown. "And the woman of your dreams only begs you to fuck her because she wants you."

"I don't hear any begging," he joked, his ususal coping mechanism. Charlie was fighting against it, but he wasn't running or hiding.

Mary raised her arms above her head and the nightgown slid down her curves to the floor, leaving her with nothing on but panties, makeup, and a couple of very hard nipples. "I love you so much, Charlie. Please, please, please... fuck me now."

"You're insane, Mary," he said, but there was no edge to his voice, and his eyes were sparkling. 

She lunged at the older man, pressing him against the wall. She spread her legs, kissed at his neck an groped his crotch. "You almost didn't go to your meeting, Charlie."

"What do you mean?" he asked, wrapping his arms around the nearly naked woman and allowing her to play with his fully-clothed body.

"When you were staring at my panties," she said, taking his hand and pulling him to the bed. "You were about two seconds from going down on me right then."

He laughed and left her pull his polo off. "You're right," he admitted. "I almost did."

Mary smiled proudly and lay him back. Holding his down with gentle pressure, she kissed his throat, his shoulders, his well-developed chest. "Charlie you are so gorgeous it almost hurts to kiss you." She twirled her tongue around his right nipple, then his left. She sucked on them in the same order. One, two, three sucks and a gentle bite. "I know I don't deserve a man like you." She kissed down his side, over his belly, up his other side. "I know it, I really do." She bit at his tummy as she opened his pants. "But I'll earn my keep, I promise."

With an aggression even she hadn't anticipated, Mary yanked his pants and boxers off and tossed them onto the floor. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths as she stared at his manhood. "Oh . . . my . . . god," she practically cried, falling on him with open mouth. Her wavy hair fell over his lap as her lips and tongue worshiped what was an amazing piece of man. It was big, and as she tasted it and saturated it with her saliva, it got hard and hot to the touch. 

Running her tongue in circles around the head, she stared at him. "You're a big boy, Charlie."

He actually half-smiled. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it!" she exclaimed, plunging down on it. She took it so deep in her mouth that she couldn't help choking and coughing up saliva. After a few moments and sucking and coughing, she dragged her mouth slowly back up his shaft, her lips so tight that he was smeared red from her wet-look lip-stick. "I thought I couldn't want you any more than I already did," she said, nibbling on his balls, "but I have never, in my life, lusted after a cock as much as I am lusting after yours right now." She growled and took him back in her mouth. She bobbed her head rapidly up and down, hair flying, saliva dribbling out of her mouth as she sucked and bobbed, swishing her tongue back and forth. 

"Mary, I don't think I can take much more," he told her. "And I don't want to finish without going further."

She pulled off him, drooling obscenely. She rolled onto her back to wiggle out of her panties. "Charlie, please believe me that I was fully in love with you and your body before I saw your cock." She kissed its shaft again. "But, god." Another kiss. "I can't believe how beautiful and strong it is."

"There are bigger cocks."

"Probably," she agreed, running the back of her tongue down his tense vas. "But none more perfect." She gave him a couple more head bobs and then said, "I will always love my husband." She crawled up his boy, pausing to let her breasts hang on either side of his erection. "I will never love you more or less than I love him." She crawled the rest of the way up, her wetness pressed against his hardness. "If you'll accept all the love I can give, it's yours."

Charlie pulled her breasts down to his mouth. He kissed them aggressively, sucking and biting as if they were the first breasts he'd ever seen. "Mary, you have no idea."

She smiled and wiggled slightly side to side, using her breasts to play with his face. "No idea of what?"

"I'm such a pervert."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't want to know." He sucked her left nipple so hard she probably would have given milk, had she been ten years younger.

"I want to know everything about you," she promised, closing her eyes and rolling her head side to side, enjoying his attention.

Charlie gripped her ass and sucked her chest, about her breasts. "The first day I walked from my yard to yours, you were sitting in the wicker lounge of yours, and you didn't know it, but I could see up your dress. The whole reason I ever talked to you because because you accidentally flashed me your panties."




Mary Returns a Favor



"That's not so bad," she assured him, moving to his his forehead and cheek. "We've moved on from there, spent a lot of quality time without you seeing my panties."

"I've jacked off thinking some pretty obscene things about you, Mary."

She ran her tongue around his mouth. "That's not a bad thing, at all."

"You don't know the things I've thought."

"We have the rest of our lives for you to tell me or show me, if you want," she told him, kissing him and grinding back against his erection. 

"You're not like any other woman I've met," he told her without breaking their kiss.

"That's because when you met me you met the woman of your dreams." Mary lifted herself up, using two fingers to hold herself a bit open. She then plunged down on him, spearing herself on his hard, hot desire, twitching her hips at the lowest point. "And it turns out you're also the man of her dreams."

"You're incredible," Charlie said, his voice muffled by their passionate kissing. His hands rubbed all over her hips and backside. "And by the way, you have a really cute butt, too."

Mary moaned into his ear. It was so tempting, she sucked on the lobe. "I'm glad you like it."

"Like it?" Charlie laughed. "You don't want to know some of the things I've thought about your butt when I'm jacking off."

"Oh, but I do." She moaned again and then kissed him. She'd never had a man as big or as hard as Charlie and she could feel how wide he was opening her up. Her lubricants were dribbling steadily out out, all over her own thighs and his lap. It was very wet down there.

"I swear I'm not a peeping Tom," he grunted.

"But?"

"But sometimes when you're on your treadmill in your sun room, I watch from my porch, and I jack off looking at that amazing ass of yours."

"My god, Charlie." Mary kissed him hard and reached underneath herself to claw at her own breasts. "Don't hold back. I don't care if you last long tonight, I just want to make you cum."

"Don't worry," he replied, giving her a love mark on her throat. "I'm not gonna prolong this for either of us."

Charlie remained on his back beneath Mary, but he took charge. He clutched at her hips to lift her just slightly. He used his back muscles, to straighten flatten out the angle her body on top of his, and then he changed his stroke. He angled himself so that he slid, almost parallel to her body, through her bush, over her clitoris, into her wet slit. The friction of her bush and the unique angle of entry made it incredibly exciting for him. The angle and the clitoral stimulation had the same impact on her.

Mary was usually slow to orgasm. She had very good climaxes, but they usually required some buildup. But it wasn't more than a few strokes of his large, strong hadron from this angle before she found herself suddenly tipping over the precipice. She gasped and sunk her fingernails into his shoulders.

He kept going.

Mary could do nothing more than hang on to him and mutter obscenities.

Charlie did not slow down.

She began begging him to stop. "I can't take any more. I can't take any more. Please stop."

Charlie slammed himself far up inside her, so hard it jarred her spine. She'd never felt anything so deep within her. His shaft filled her so completely, that she felt every twitch and spasm as he shot what felt like at least a dozen times. 

Groaning, she rolled off him. Her vulva was a mess. Red and swollen. His semen poured out of her. "So much," she said, in awe. And then she looked Charlie's face and he was not expressionless. He was starving. She curled up against, and knew that her husband was smiling, too.



Mary Returns to Sato's Studio



This is a sequel to "A Letter to Mary," which, in their infinite wisdom, the editors chose to bury in the category "Letters and Transcripts."



It had been several weeks since Mary and I spent the weekend together. In fact, for a period, we had no communication of any sort. Assuming that she was still coming to terms with her memories of the time that we spent together, especially our visits to Sato's studio, I decided to wait for her to renew our relationship. On the one hand, in our conversations prior to our meeting, she had unequivocally expressed her desire to spend a weekend devoted to hedonistic activities. On the other hand, I was not sure that she had anticipated the extent to which she would have to abandon all semblance of modesty and relinquish control of her body into not only my hands but also those of strangers. Surely, she must have wondered at her own compliance in Sato's obscene display and Yoko's skilled manipulation of her most intimate erogenous zones. My hope was that she would find that her feelings of the shame associated with these memories were amply compensated by her memory of the pleasure that her self-immolation had afforded her. Indeed, I harbored the hope that, after sufficient time, she would recognize that the shame had been an integral part of the pleasure, at which point she might choose to immerse herself again into a world in which gratification of her carnal instincts takes precedence over all other considerations.

Determined that the decision should be hers alone, I refrained from contacting Mary and was resigned to accept her choice, whatever that might be. Nonetheless, on the chance that she would eventually want to again indulge her sexual fantasies, I engaged in a little research. It is clear to me that Mary is fascinated by her own body and enjoys having that body made to perform to its full potential. Although she is no masochist, she knows that to achieve its full potential, her body must endure a certain amount of suffering, and, as she demonstrated during our weekend together, she is willing to accept suffering if it enables her to reach her goal.

While browsing the web, I came across a video which shows a young woman being relentlessly stimulated by an array of strategically placed electrodes attached to her body. The woman is lying naked on her back on a table to which a steel frame is mounted at the corners. Both her arms and legs are connected to this frame so that she cannot reach the electrodes with her hands and her legs must remain raised and separated in a way that leaves her crotch blatantly exposed and available. From the anguished expression on her face and the contortions wracking her body, it is obvious that her attention is entirely consumed by the stimulation that she is receiving. What is less obvious is whether what one is watching is a woman in torment or a woman in the throes of ''la petite mort.'' In either case, the resulting image was compelling and one which I would very much like to see Mary reproduce.

About two months after our weekend together, Mary at last sent me a message in which she indicated that she would like to renew our relationship and was ready to engage in further exploration of her fantasies. Having done my homework, I was well prepared and sent her the link to the video that I had seen, asking her to view it and tell me what sort of experience she thought that the woman in it was having. The next day, Mary wrote back that she had watched the video and come to the conclusion that the woman's contortions were expressions more of sexual ecstasy than of agony. As she put it: there were no tears, only a sequence of multiple orgasms. In addition, she said that she found the woman's contortions displayed her body in manner which was both beautiful and profoundly moving. Emboldened by her response, I asked her if she thought that she might like to find out herself what that woman had experienced. Two days later, Mary wrote back that, if I thought that I could arrange it, she would be willing to play the role that the woman had played in the video.

Not knowing where else to turn, I somewhat hesitantly called Sato's studio to ask whether he knew of a place that had the requisite equipment and expertise for this sort of thing. To my relief, he was neither shocked nor surprised by my inquiry and said that his own studio catered to people seeking this source of sexual gratification. Further, he recalled Mary and our previous visits to his studio and said that he would be happy to have an opportunity to renew his acquaintance with Mary's body. However, 

he expressed concern that Mary have no illusions about what she would be subjecting herself to. I tried to allay his fears by explaining that, having watched the video I had sent her, Mary could have not help but understand what she was getting into. Apparently satisfied by my answer, he agreed to provide the services that we were seeking. Our conversation ended with his telling me that he would send me a list of instructions detailing the preparations that Mary would have make prior to our visit.

I relayed all this information to Mary, including Sato's list of instructions. Mary wrote back that the more she learned the more she was determined to carry the plan to completion. Nonetheless, because she was expecting her period soon and did not want to take a chance on its spoiling her experience, she would postpone her trip until the weekend after next.

Just as on her previous visit, I met Mary at the airport. As soon as I saw her, it was clear to me that her state of mind was quite different from what it had been when she arrived the last time. The look of excited anticipation that she had had was replaced by one of considerable apprehension, and the provocative outfit that she had worn had been replaced by a sedate skirt and sweater. No explanation was needed to account for these changes. I could well understand that Mary had spent a lot of time contemplating what lay ahead and that to proceed required all the courage that she could muster. Nonetheless, as I learned when we got to our room at the hotel, even if she had anxieties, she was stalwart in her resolve. As soon as I had closed the door, she began preparing herself for our return to Sato's studio. Meticulously following the instructions which Sato had sent, she divested herself of the skirt and sweater in which she had traveled, thereby revealing the fact that there was nothing under these banal garments other than her own pink flesh. After giving me the opportunity to visually appreciate but not tactically examine what lay beneath, she reminded me of the restrictions that Sato had placed on her sexual activity during the day preceding her appointment. Namely, although mild stimulation was permitted, and, in fact, encouraged, consummation was to be avoided. For this reason, she announced that, after taking a warm bath, she would limit our sexual activity to foreplay.

Mary spent more than half an hour in the tub, and, by the time that she reappeared, I was pleased to note a marked diminution in her earlier tension. Wearing nothing but a turban improvised out of a towel wrapped in her damp hair, she exuded a sense of confidence and contentment that had been missing before. Positioning herself in front of the mirror over the dressing table, she rubbed hair with the towel while rotating her lower body in a subtly provocative manner. Watching her, I could not help wondering what thoughts she was having. Was she trying to imagine what that body would look like when it was forced to perform wild gyrations rather than the languorous undulations reflected in the mirror? If so, how should I account for her apparent confidence? Was it an expression of pure bravado or of insatiable curiosity? Well aware of the effect that she was having on me, Mary invited me to join her at the mirror. Happy to accept, I approached her from the rear and, reaching under her raised arms, placed my hands on the deliciously available breasts whose reflected image seemed to be beckoning for my attention.

Conscious of the restrictions that Sato had placed on us, I began slowly. Cupping their undersides, I gently massaged those firm mounds of succulent flesh. I had always enjoyed molding Mary's breasts like a baker kneading dough. Her breasts are wonderfully malleable, and she derives great pleasure from their manipulation. Circling them around their base, I pressed my fingers together to force them forward so that their nipples were presented in the way that mother presents hers to a suckling child. In response to the pressure behind them, her already erect nipples became even harder and her aereolae expanded. At the same time, Mary allowed her back to slump against me until, with her buttock was pressed against my crotch and her hands resting on the back of my neck, she was espaliered to my front. I knew that she was tacitly begging for attention to her distended nipples, but I ignored her plea and continued palpating her breasts, manipulating them so that their intricate web of mammary ducts would exert a steady pressure behind the nipples to which they lead. As her nipples swelled, she ground her hips into my groin but resisted the temptation to either voice her growing frustration or to withdraw her breasts from the source of that frustration. 

In the past, Mary and I had experimented to find out if she could be induced to reach orgasm by the stimulation of her breasts alone, and on one occasion we had succeeded. What we had learned from that experiment was that the resulting orgasm was of a distinctly different nature from those which she had during intercourse. On the one hand, it was both mellower and more protracted. On the other hand, it did little to take the edge off her desire for further sexual gratification. For this reason, I decided that using her breasts to give her an orgasm would not violate the spirit of Sato's instructions. With this in mind, I finally released her right breast and placed the palm of that hand directly over the nipple of her left breast, which I continued to squeeze with my other hand. By moving my hand a circles, I forced her distended left teat to rotate on its moorings, causing Mary, as she told me later, exquisite sensations that emanated from her nipple and coursed down a path that terminated in her vulva. Warning her that I intended to continue this insidious form of torture until she achieved orgasm, I watched with fascination Mary's body respond and finally prepare itself for orgasm. At the onset of her climax, she emitted an anguished cry of frustration as she pressed her crotch down on my fully erect but unavailable penis. By way of compensation, I captured her nipples between my fingers so that she would be stretching them each time that she pressed herself against my groin.

Not wanting to diminish my own excitement about the events scheduled for the morrow, I refused Mary's offer to provide me the release that I had provided her. Instead, we went out for a light dinner at a local restaurant. Had it not been for the attire that Mary chosen, our meal would have been rather bland. However, to my surprise, she chose to wear a wrap around skirt, a semi-translucent blouse, sandals, and nothing else. As a result, I was confronted throughout our dinner by the scarcely veiled outlines of her erect nipples and, when she shifted her legs, an occasional glimpse of her naked thigh.

We returned to our room late enough to get ready for sleep. Both of us were excited about the events scheduled for the next day, my excitement unalloyed and Mary's mixed with apprehension. Thus, sleep was slow in coming, and, when it did, Mary's was frequently interrupted. Nonetheless,

when I woke the next morning, Mary's final preparations were already underway. I found her in the bathroom, where she, in the tub, she was assiduously removing her body hair. Normally, Mary kept her vulva and armpits shaved, but, in accordance with Sato's instructions, she was now removing the sparse hair that covered her torso. When I appeared, she asked me to shave the valley between her buttock, shifting to her knees so

that that region was made available to me. Presented with Mary's luxuriously padded buttock spread before me, I was happy to oblige. After lathering the delicate flesh out of which the unwanted strands of hair grew, I carefully applied Mary's razor to a portion of her anatomy to which she would have difficulty applying it herself. Needless to say, I had never performed this service before, but, drawing on the experience of having shaved my own face for many years, I believe that I performed it with reasonable skill and minimal damage.

The next step in Mary's preparations was one that I knew she would have preferred not to take. Namely, Sato insisted that her bowels be thoroughly purged when she arrived, and he had even specified how she was to accomplish this. Namely, she was to first give herself an ordinary enema to clear her bowels. Once they were clear, she was to repeat the process, this time with sudsy warm water which was to remain inside her for five minutes. In order not to add embarrassment to her discomfort, I retreated

to the bedroom so that she could carry out these intestinal ablutions in private, but, to my surprise, Mary soon joined me there. I had heard the toilet flush, marking what I interpreted to be the conclusion of the first enema, but far less than the prescribed five minutes had elapsed since then. The explanation was that, after absorbing the second enema, Mary had looked down at and placed her hands on her abdomen. To her astonishment, what she had found there struck her as quite beautiful. Filled with soapy water, her bowels had pushed her lower belly forward so that she resembled the statue of a medieval Madonna. Pleased by the effect and not knowing how else she to spend the time before she could relieve her bowels, she had decided to share the image with me. After approaching the couch on which I was lying, she took my hands in her own and placed them on the inverted bowl into which the region between her waist and crotch had been transformed. I too was entranced by its shape and texture and was happy to spend the next several minutes tracing its contours with my fingers.

Once Mary had completed her second enema, she had completed the instructions that Sato had given. Thus, the next time that she emerged from the bathroom, it was to dress for the trip to our appointment. On the way, we stopped for a perfunctory breakfast, hers, in accordance with Sato's demands, consisting of nothing but liquids. Upon our arrival, we were greeted by Yoko, who, as always, was exquisitely dressed in a kimono that, though modest, subtly displayed the appeal of her petite figure. After we entered, Yoko escorted us to a reception room, where she indicated that I was to sit until I was asked to join them. She then took Mary by the hand and led her away.

Quite some time passed before I was summoned, and it was not Yoko who summoned me. Instead, my guide was another one of Sato's female staff. Without a word, she brought me to the room in which Mary had had her introduction to shibari. This time the center of room was occupied by a large table surrounded by several pieces of sophisticated looking electronic equipment, and lying naked on her back in the middle of the table was Mary. Her hands were held on either side of her head by padded cuffs, and a harness attached to her thighs supported her legs, which were bent and spread. Her bonds were carefully adjusted so that, although she could neither use her hands to protect her body nor move her legs to reduce her blatant exposure, she had considerable mobility. Having watched the video that had inspired our return to Sato, we both knew that she would soon be exercising that mobility.

Considering her situation, she looked remarkably calm. There was a contented smile on her face, and, in spite of the constraints imposed by the cuffs and harness, her body appeared to be completely relaxed. Perhaps the reason for Mary's composure was the presence of Yoko standing bare breasted at her head. With her kimono bunched around her waist, Yoko was

lifting Mary's head with her hands and swaying back and forth, caressing Mary's upturned face with her breasts. Whenever one of Yoko's nipples grazed Mary's lips, Yoko would stop her rocking to give Mary time to suck that nipple deep into her mouth, and she would not resume until Mary had

released her nipple. I suspect that, as long as she had access to Yoko's breasts and nipples, some primordial instinct would make Mary feel secure and prevent her mind from dwelling on the fears that might otherwise have occupied it.

The scene I beheld reminded me of our first visit to Sato's studio, the one on which Yoko had solicitously leaned her unfettered, bare breasts over Mary's thoroughly bound but equally bare orbs, and I was reluctant to disturb their blissful state. Thus, I simply observed the sensuality of their activity and appreciated its aesthetics. After several minutes, my reverie was interrupted by the appearance of Sato. All business, he hardly acknowledged my presence and, like a surgeon entering an operating theater,

headed for the table on which he would exercise his skills. Yoko immediately withdrew, leaving the stage to her boss. Given free access to Mary's front, Sato set to work. He began by systematically placing pads to strategically chosen locations all over Mary's front. On the side of the pad touching Mary was a thin metal plate which made direct contact with her skin and would be held in place by an adhesive substance. On the outer side was a short electrical connector. I was struck by the care with which Sato chose where each pad would end up. Before attaching a pad, he would palpate in the vicinity of its eventual destination. Thus, when he was placing pads in Mary's armpits and groin, he would search for the spot where her lymphatic nodes are closest to the surface; when the target was her abdomen, he would seek out specific muscle groups; and when he turned his attention to her breasts, his used her fingers to locate her mammary glands. When he was done, Mary's torso was adorned in a rather pleasing manner with an array of small white pads that traversed her entire torso in a symmetric pattern.

Sato stepped back to contemplate his creation and explain his intent. Speaking for Mary's benefit more than my own, he said that he would start by teaching Mary's muscles to respond to electrical stimulation. During this phase, he would use only those electrodes which were attached to her

abdomen. He anticipated that it would take at least ten minutes for her muscles to learn how to derive pleasure from their stimulation. At first their response would be to clench in an spastic and somewhat painful attempt of resist what was happening to them. However, they would soon learn how to accommodate their stimulation and to contract in unison with the waves of current passing through them. At that point, the pain would recede and be replaced by the pleasure not unlike that of a ballerina who, after submitting her body to her partner, knows that it is performing in concert with his.

Understandably, his explanation had produced a look of considerable apprehension on Mary's features, a look which Sato chose to ignore. Instead, he deftly attached wires to the ten or more electrodes in Mary's abdominal region. That done, he turned his attention to the machine from which the wires ran and started turning knobs. Shortly thereafter, Mary's abdominal muscles began to twitch, and as he continued I saw that his prediction had been correct. Mary's initial response was to clench every muscle in her abdomen, and once she had done so, it seemed that she had lost the ability to unclench them. Her face was a mask of pure anguish, and beads of sweat began to emerge from every pore of her body. Without asking Sato's permission, I moved to the position at Mary's head that Yoko had occupied. Leaning over to bring my face within inches of hers, I asked if she wanted to abandon this harrowing experiment. A wan smile of gratitude appeared on her features as she shook her head and, through gritted teeth, whispered that she was determined to have her body learn the lessons that Sato intended to teach it.




Mary Returns to Sato's Studio



Even as she was whispering these courageous words, I could see that her body was starting to come to terms with the stimulation that it was receiving. The knots of bunched muscle were disappearing and being replaced by sheets of sinews that ran along sculpted contours from her pubis to her waist. At the same time, their initial immobility was being replaced by rhythmic contractions that produced a subtle but distinct pattern that displayed both the strength and the distinctly feminine curvaceousness of her lower body. I soon realized that Sato's was orchestrating a symphony for which Mary's abdomen was the orchestra. By modulating the current applied to the individual pads, he was creating waves of stimulation for Mary's muscles to surf. When he saw that her tummy had learned how to ride these waves, he began playing her body like a musical instrument, making changes in the wave pattern to produce corresponding changing in her undulations. I was pleased to note that as her body learned how to adapt, the expression on Mary's face evolved from one of pain to one of intense concentration. In fact, she too was staring at the sensual dance that her abdominal muscles were performing and, in spite of the toll it was exacting on them, seemed to be appreciating their performance.

Not wanting to exhaust her at this early phase, after a few minutes Sato lowered the current to a level at which Mary's muscles would remain taut without too much exertion. Her body, which she had raised so that it ran like a plank between her shoulders on the table and her legs suspended in their harness, slumped to a supine position. However, her rest period was not one of total relaxation. Besides the fact that her stomach continued to respond to the pulsing current applied to it, Sato was taking advantage of her relatively quiescence by connecting the pads on her breasts and those in her groin and armpits. Once those connections were made, he moved to the bottom of the table, carrying with him a pair of rods. The first of these rods was rather short and had a bulb at its end. Prizing open the crack between Mary's suspended buttock, he daubed her anus with a generous dab of ointment before slowly inserting the bulb into her rectum. The bulb must have been at least an inch in diameter, but the ointment eased its passage so that the whole procedure was over quickly and caused Mary minimal discomfort. The second rod was of a more intricate design. The rod itself was about ten inches long and slightly flexible, but its daunting feature was a solid looking egg shaped structure at its tip. Spreading Mary's labia with the fingers of one hand, he inserted the rod to the hilt with his other hand. Because her own secretions were already in full flow, again this intrusion caused Mary little or no distress until the egg reached the end of her vaginal channel and came into contact with her cervix. She had assumed that, once the rod was embedded, Sato would be satisfied. Thus, she was taken aback when he continued manipulating the rod, shifting the egg until it was firmly lodged at the entrance to her uterus. Although I imagine that her uterus had had similar experiences during gynecological exams and intercourse, I could understand that there must be a world of difference in her mind between a standard medical procedure or coitus and what she knew to be the diabolical purpose of Sato's probing.

At last satisfied with the position of the egg, Sato leaned back and, from between her splayed legs, told Mary what was in store for her. His plan was to start by activating the rods invading the front and back entrances to her body. Based on past experience, he predicted that at first she

would have a hard time coping with the intensity of sensation that they produced. Because he wanted to make her concentrate on those sensations without distraction, he would wait to activate the pads on her breasts, armpits, and groin until he was confident that she could accommodate the additional stimulation without diminishing the benefit of the continuing stimulation of the probes buried deep inside her vagina and rectum. After returning to his panel, he picked up a couple of transmitters, one in each hand. Pointing the one in his left hand at Mary's crotch, he used his thumb to slowly turn the dial on that transmitter. As he turned further, Mary's eyes and mouth opened wider and wider. At the same time, her pelvis rose from the table and her gluteal muscles contracted in a way that produced deep hallows in her usually lush buttocks and brought her bald pubis into stark prominence.

Apparently responding to Mary's distress, Yoko attempted to give her solace. Bending over to bring her bare breasts close to Mary's face and cradling Mary's head in her hands, Yoko tried to console her by assuring her that she would not only survive but even learn to find pleasure in what her bowels were being forced to endure. After planting a loving kiss on Mary's gaping mouth, Yoko went to the end of the table where Mary's lower body was suspended in a tense, frozen state of immobility. Placing a hand in the hallow on each side of Mary's buttocks, Yoko stroked the rigid muscles there while urging Mary to try relaxing them. Whether it was Yoko's guidance or simply that the spasms in her bowels began to recede, I had no way of knowing. Whatever the reason, within a few seconds, as evidenced by the return of her buttocks to its normal, generously rounded proportions, I could see that Mary's gluteals had released their grip.

When this occurred, Yoko transferred her hands to the apex Mary's pubis, which she gently rubbed with the heel of her palm.

None of these proceedings escaped Sato's watchful eye. As soon as he saw that Mary was no longer in distress, he began turning the dial in his right hand. I had anticipated that the activation of her vaginal probe

would be an even more traumatic experience for Mary than that of the one in her rectum. Thus, I was surprised when quite the opposite turned out to be the case. As Sato increased the strength of the current, Mary's body rose in an arch supported at one end by her shoulders on the table and the other by the harness on her legs. However this time, instead of the uncontrolled spasm that the bulb in her bowels had caused, her rise was wonderfully graceful. Unable to articulate her emotions, Mary closed her eyes and emitted a sequence of guttural moans which could only be interpreted as expressions of incomparable ecstasy, albeit an ecstasy

resulting from an nearly intolerable mixture of pleasure and pain.

For several minutes, Mary hardly moved. During this period, Yoko continued her stroking of Mary's mons and extended it to include the crease between Mary's labia through which Sato's electrode protruded. With great delicacy, Yoko spread Mary's labia to expose her clitoris. After teasing that nub of erectile tissue from its hiding place, Yoko ran a finger back and forth over its surface. It was clear from the expression on Mary's face that she was acutely aware of Yoko's activity, but her body did not seem to be responding. Thus, I was unprepared when, without warning, she thrust her pelvis in Yoko's direction and rotated her hips in

a manner that left no doubt about its meaning. In spite of the gadgets mounted on and inside her body, not to mention the presence of Sato and Yoko, she was in the throes of an orgasm that consumed her entire being and made her oblivious to all else.

When her orgasm subsided, Mary's lowered her body back to the table. Looking down at her panting frame, Sato smiled and congratulated her on what he predicted to be only the first of several orgasms that she would have before her visit was over. While she was still recovering, he went back to his panel and activated the pads which he had not as yet brought into play. Beginning with the ones in her armpits and groin, he slowly

increased the current, producing a distinct twitching in those regions. His next target was her breasts. Initially, the stimulation coming from those pads seemed to intended to provide unalloyed pleasure to which Mary breasts and nipples responded by swelling a little and acquiring a darker hue. However, she soon learned that there was a price to pay for her pleasure. Namely, each of the pads mounted on the soft undersides of her breasts was a miniature spark plug that, at unpredictable times, discharged, imparting a shock to the network mammary ducts just below the surface of the breast to which it was attached. Although these shocks were not severe, they were sufficient to keep Mary in a constant state of tension, wondering when and to which breast the next shock would delivered.

While Sato was making his preparations for Mary's next experience, Yoko, after covering her nakedness by retrieving the upper portion of her kimono, left the room. When she returned, she was accompanied by three other members of Sato's staff, two young women and a young man. These new

arrivals arranged themselves in a circle around the table on which Mary was struggling to cope with the recent changes that Sato had made to her circuitry. When she became cognizant of their presence, she turned her head toward Sato to ask why they were there. Sato answered by telling her

that there were two reasons for their presence. First, he wanted to deprive her of her last vestiges of modesty. Secondly, like a master craftsman who is responsible for the training of apprentices, he wanted them to learn how to manipulate the female anatomy in ways that give pleasure to both her audience and, though at a high price, to the subject herself. He then turned to his young disciples and described what they would be seeing. By carefully modulating the charge being sent to the devises in Mary's rectum and vagina, he would induce her uterus to contract in much the same way as it would during partuition. Although no fetus was involved, these contractions would grow in intensity and exact an enormous toll on both her uterus itself and the ligaments supporting it. When this occurred, he would have them examine and palpate Mary's writhing abdomen so that they would know what muscles were involved and marvel at

the strength of the structure out of which they had entered the world.

Having finished his lecture, Sato turned his attention to the tools at his disposal. He began by increasing the current flowing to the pads on Mary's belly, bringing it to approximately the same level as it had been before he introduced the rods into her nether orifices. When her stomach muscles were once again dancing to his tune, he armed himself with his transmitters, moved to a position at the end of the table from which he would have an unobstructed view of Mary's vulva, and started rotating the dials with his thumbs. Like a robot under its operator's control, Mary's body re-assumed the arched position in which she had had her orgasm.

However, this time, the situation was entirely different. For one thing, Yoko had been replaced by strangers, none of whom was likely to provide her the comforting service Yoko had. Further, Sato had no intention of letting her off as lightly as he did last time. After getting the dials set with his thumbs, he moved his right hand so that his forefinger rested on a button that he had not as yet employed. The instant that his finger depressed this button, Mary emitted a heartrending cry followed by wild gyration of her hips, gyrations which continued well after Sato released the button.

By way of explanation for what they had just witnessed, Sato told his young assistants about the egg shaped object lodged at the entrance to Mary's uterus and the shock that Mary's uterus would receive from that object each time that he depressed the button on his transmitter. He predicted that it would require at least five or six shocks to induce Mary's uterus to contract in the way he wanted it to and asked that they be patient. Without concern for Mary's suffering, he depressed the button repeatedly, each time eliciting a plea for clemency from Mary. However, her pleas fell on deaf ears. Sato had a goal, and, if achieving that goal required Mary to suffer, then suffer she would. Watching his determined face, I was reminded of a man trying to start a recalcitrant automobile: the button being the ignition key and Mary's uterus being the balky engine. Finally, the engine caught, and, once it did, it required only occasional encouragement to keep running.

Although I commiserated with Mary's plight, I could not help admiring the performance to which she was treating her audience. A steady flow of undulating waves passed over her taut lower belly. At the same time, her harnessed legs spread to reveal the changes that were taking between them. Particularly dramatic was the swelling of the entire region around her vulva, which, bathed in copious secretions, resembled an overripe fruit. So overwhelmed was she by her ordeal that I could not tell if she was aware of the examination that Sato's students were making of her. Once the rhythm of her contractions was well established, they took turns running their hands over her undulating belly, and one of the young women extended her exploration to include the intricacies of the obscenely exposed layers of pulsating flesh at the entrance to her vagina.

I am not sure exactly how long Sato's anatomy class lasted, but he eventually dismissed his students and reduced the current being applied to Mary's body. After the students had left, he made a few more adjustments and announced that he had accomplished his mission and would leave Mary in Yoko and my hands. Being uncertain what was expected of us once he was gone, I was relieved to learn that Yoko did not share my uncertainty. As soon as the door closed behind Sato, she disrobed and climbed onto the table. Straddling the arch formed by Mary's body, she lowered her buttock until it made contact with Mary's belly. Once it had, she slowly transferred her weight to Mary, thereby gently guiding Mary's torso back to the table top. When Mary was back on the table, Yoko leaned forward so that her pear shaped breasts hovered over Mary's. By rocking her body,

Yoko set her own breasts in motion, maintaining them at a height so that only her nipples touched the body below them.

Mary had recovered sufficiently to be conscious of and grateful for the comfort Yoko was affording her. However, I doubt if she was able to appreciate how sensual and beautiful was the image that she and Yoko were creating. Crouched as she was over Mary, Yoko presented me with a example of femininity which, considering her slim frame, was remarkably sumptuous. Her hips flared out from her wasp-like waist, and the firm cones of her breasts swung back and forth in what looked to me like an seductive invitation to have someone arrest their motion. Beneath her, Mary's body was equally enticing, but for entirely different reasons. Ironically, whereas the position of Yoko's diminutive frame maximized her feminine attributes, Mary's much more generous contours were minimized by a combination of her supine position and the visible strain that her incessant stimulation was putting on them. As a result, the curvaceous Mary might have been mistaken for a female bodybuilder, whereas no such mistake was possible when looking at the rounded contours of the otherwise tightly strung Yoko.

After a while, Yoko sat back, carefully positioning her buttock on Mary's belly to avoid the pads there. She then removed the pad that had been delivering the shocks to the underside of Mary's left breast and re-attached it, this time directly to the areola on that breast. Once she had repeated the same process on the other side, she leaned forward again, pressing her own pert breasts against flattened Mary's ones and sealing the fronts of their bodies together. Yoko then told me how to increase the frequency and intensity of the shocks, shocks which would now be sent directly to the most sensitive spot on each of Mary's breasts. As soon as I had followed her instructions, a renewed tension was evident in Mary's body. Not only were her nipples were being zapped several times a minute, but between discharges her anticipating of the next shock meant that she was in a constant state anxiety.

Yoko's plans were unclear to me until I overheard what she was whispering to Mary. Her goal was to force Mary to have an orgasm without lessoning the tension that gripped her body. According to Yoko, Mary's body would struggle to reconcile the pleasurable sensations she would be giving it with the painful ones that the electrodes were delivering, a reconciliation which, when it occurred, would result in Mary being unable to distinguish between the two. At that point, Yoko promised Mary that she would experience an orgasm that would make her grateful for the suffering she was being forced to endure, suffering that, in the end, had contributed to the intensity of her experience.

Yoko next reversed the direction in which her body covered Mary's. Thus, her buttock now assumed the post that her breasts had occupied and her head was supported in the V between Mary's thighs. Tipping her head forward, Yoko brought her tongue into action. I had never imagined that witnessing the act of cullingus could be a source of erotic, much less aesthetic, pleasure. Indeed, I had always found the thought repugnant. Nonetheless, the sight of Yoko perched with her haunches hovering over Mary's breasts and using her educated tongue to give Mary's painfully taut body pleasure was an image of enormous erotic and aesthetic appeal. I was particularly captivated by the way that Mary's belly was responding. Instead of holding it rigidly static, she was moving it in the same sensuous manner that she does when we have intercourse. The fact that her abdominal muscles remained clenched and clearly visible only increased the eroticism of the image by emphasizing the depth of her submission to the demands of her libido.

When Yoko sensed that Mary was approaching a climax, she lifted her head long enough to tell me to increase the strength of the current going to Mary's vagina and rectum, thereby prolonging the time that Mary would have to spend precariously suspended between heaven and hell. Throughout that time, her body was continuously wracked by convulsions that traveled in waves, starting at her head and progressing down her torso until they culminated in powerful bucking thrusts of her pelvis.

Mary had to wait at least ten minutes before she was granted the sexual relief for which she had been valiantly striving, but, when it at last came, the pleasure she derived more than compensated for the delay in its arrival. Nonetheless, by the time that the final convulsion had run its course, she was gasping for air, dripping with sweat, and utterly depleted. Knowing that they had done their work, Yoko had me switch off the current to all the electrodes attached to Mary. Once I had complied, Yoko again reversed directions and hugged her body to Mary's, using Mary's sweat to seal them together, a seal that she did not break until Mary's breathing returned to normal. 

When Yoko dismounted from the table, she fetched a couple of bath towels and bade me help her wipe away the pools of sweat in which Mary was bathed. In the process, we removed most of all the pads on Mary's front, but Yoko told me not to disturb to rods in her vagina and rectum. Once Mary's skin was dry, Yoko first sprinkled it with a fragrant powder. After spreading the powder into a smooth, even film, she poured body oil on top and massaged the mixture deep into Mary's receptive pores. Since she performed all these services while completely nude, I had another opportunity to appreciate her trim yet invitingly feminine figure, a figure that, under other circumstances, I would have been sorely tempted to explore.




Mary Returns to Sato's Studio



However, it was really Mary to whom I was beholden. She had allowed me to witness the harrowing ordeal to which she had submitted herself for our mutual pleasure. Thus I was glad to see Yoko collect her kimono and prepare to depart. On her way out, she stopped to give Mary a warm kiss, and at the door she turned to tell me that I had in Mary a remarkable woman who deserved to be rewarded for the sacrifices that she had been making for our benefit.. 

I was more than ready to follow Yoko's instructions, but I was somewhat at a loss as how to proceed. My role thus far had been that of spectator, and, although I had not played active part, I had been in a continuous state of extreme excitement for nearly an hour. My instinct was to drop my pants and, as soon as possible, embed my painfully erect penis inside Mary proffered body. However, my desire to obey my instincts was tempered by my recognition of Mary's understandable exhaustion. Thus, I first went to the end of the table that supported Mary's head and bent over to ask what form she would like her reward to take. Groggy, like someone emerging from anesthesia, she smiled and said what she would like best is to have the surrogate penis in her vagina replaced by a real one. Happy to oblige, I went to the other end of the table and removed the electrode that my penis would be replacing. I also intended to remove the one invading her rectum and unharness on her legs, but, seeing my intentions, Mary told me to stop. I next took off all my clothes, climbed onto the panel over which Mary's pelvis continued to dangle. I was prepared to enter her, but just as I was about to, Mary again interrupted me and asked that I hand her the transmitter that controlled the bulb which was still in her rectum. When I expressed surprise, she gave me a sly smile and explained that she wanted to have me experience what it was like to have an electric shock applied to an erogenous zone. Although I would not get the full effect, she was confident that some of the electricity would penetrate to my penis through the thin wall separating her rectum from her vagina.

At last free to satisfy the craving that had been steadily building ever since the evening before, I drove my rampant penis deep into Mary's welcoming vagina. Within seconds I was ready to ejaculate, but when she felt my penis pulse in preparation for ejaculation, Mary turned the button on the transmitter so that it released a jolting shock in her rectum. As she had predicted, her perinial membrane afforded my penis only minimal protection, with the result that I was temporarily denied my much anticipated relief. Clearly enjoying my dismay, Mary told me that she intended to delay my gratification for as long as she could so that I would learn about the bitter sweet frustration of having someone else in control of the most vulnerable part of my body. True to her words, Mary kept me on the verge of orgasm for a full five minutes, and, when I was finally able to ejaculate, she made me do so while the bulb in her rectum was on full power.

Once I had recovered a little, I returned to my feet and released Mary from her bonds. As had been the case at the end of our previous visit to Sato's studio, neither of us was inclined to indulge in light banter. We took advantage of the shower in the adjoining bathroom, dressed quickly, and hailed a taxi to take us to the airport. At the departure gate, we stood for quite a while simply staring into each others eyes. Finally, Mary nodded her head, whispered that she had no regrets, and headed for her plane.



Mary' Revelation



We were in bed early one night when I chose to bring up Mary's mention of Bob's name in an erotic description of her watching neighbors through our kitchen window.

I said Mary, "How did you know his name was Bob?"

She replied, "John, believe me when I say I was going to tell you, but promise you won't doubt my love for you after what happened."

Regardless of what she meant I agreed. I would never doubt Mary's love.

"John, it was about a week before you caught me watching them making love that night. I knew her name was Linda from talking to her in our garden. It was a hot day and she asked me in to have coffee. We were sitting there making conversation when she got up and made a phone call in the other room. I couldn't hear her except she mentioned my name. It could have been Mary's here but I'm not sure. When she got back and sat down she had a smile on her face. She looked right in my eyes and said."

"Mary, we know you watched Bob and I making love. There was a light somewhere and we could see your silhouette in the kitchen window."

"John, I couldn't speak out of shame. I put my hands over my face and I'm sure my face was red. I thought back and remembered the night the light was on in the bathroom with the door partly open. I told Linda I was so sorry and I think I was almost crying. Linda came over and sat next to me on the love seat. She put her arm around me and said,"

"Dear girl, look at me. It wasn't offensive at all but actually turned us on. We were moving in two days but if it had not been for that something hot might have happened. We had no idea you were so inclined but saw gentle movements and were convinced you were touching yourself."

"John, I was relieved and even a little turned on remembering some of the nights I had watched. Linda must have sensed this because she pulled me close and kissed my cheek. You know I am not attracted to women but I relaxed against her and put my arm around her. John, she began stroking my arm and whispered in my ear," 

She whispered, "Mary, you are a very attractive woman."

"John, Linda kissed my neck and her hand moved to my breast. I can't explain but it felt nice. She kept it up then went under my blouse. She was pinching and caressing me there. Then for some reason I looked up, Bob was standing in the doorway, and John, he had an erection. I could see the outline in his trousers. He had been watching. No way of knowing how long but it was obvious he was aroused. Soon Linda pushed my bra up and her contact with my skin and nipple caused me to put my hand over hers to increase the sensations. Oh John, I was actually turned on. She undid a button on my blouse and started sucking my nipple. And Bob knew, he was staring at us. I couldn't believe what happened next. He unzipped and took it out. I couldn't take my eyes off it. He just held it in his hand making small up and down strokes.

John, he had me wanting more. He came closer and said, "Mary, let me see them."

"I knew what he wanted but couldn't move."

He whispered, "Oh please Mary, please." His eyes were pleading.

"John, I wanted him to see. I pushed Linda back, pulled my blouse and bra up and was bare for him. I was cupping myself, as an offering. He moved closer."

His eyes became dreamy and he said, "Oh Mary, they're beautiful."

"And John, he started stroking himself and just staring. It was sticking straight up. Oh John, I wanted it. I needed it so bad. They had me so aroused that in my mind I pictured holding it. I couldn't sit still and Linda sensed my need. She started lightly grabbing and pinching my shorts down there. I desperately wanted more and was arching to be rubbed but she kept teasing. It was maddening but increased my arousal."

Then Bob told Linda, "Pull her shorts down."

"I tried to object but she reached up and slowly pulled them down. I lifted my hips to assist until I was completely exposed to their eyes."

Bob moved closer and looked right at me. He kept saying, "Yes, yes, oh Mary so hot, it's so sweet." 

"He started really stroking and squeezing himself. And Linda was making butterfly kisses down there while I was arching up, reaching for more. John, Bob and I were looking into each other's eyes. I knew what he wanted but Linda began licking me." 

"Seeing that, Bob took Linda by the hips and went into her. She was moaning and her hips were moving. Then she held me open until my little thing was standing up. And she took it in her mouth. She was sucking and licking. The feelings were beautiful, I began moving up and down seeking release. I remember saying yes, yes, do it, please don't stop. I was so close and it was contagious. Bob began rapidly thrusting in and out. John, so help me it was heaven. He groaned, then Linda and I stiffened. I remember saying Oh my God."

"John, hold me down there and do me like Bob did Linda. Just thinking about it has me on fire." 

After hearing all that I was almost beyond control. I thrust upwards, reached around and held her with my fingers squeezing and rubbing.

Mary gasped "Yes, yes, oh John, now, now, oh my God!"

It was wonderful, the magic happened for me too. The French call it the little death and beautiful agony and I can only agree.