I say her given name. My heart leaps when her eyes meet mine. A sudden wave of guileless affection fills their blue oceans to the rim and engulf me. Oh my God, sweet girl, how far have you come in such a short time, and how deep does your undemanding love reach into my soul.
I watch the bald skull, the open childlike face, the leather-circled throat, the almost transparent paleness of her skin. It contrasts dramatically with the narrow but effective leather straps that mark my dominance and her submission, closing the gate to her garden.
"I think it is about time the world should see how far we've come, sweet li'l bitch," I say. A sudden flare of excitement washes over her face.
"Oh yes, yesss Mistress... thank you, thank you! You hear that, Brynn? Mistress is proud of us and wants the world to know..."
She crawls on all fours over to me, clutching my calves and kissing the painted nails on my toes.
Bovenkant formulier
Onderkant formulier
***
Ishtar.
Ishtar wasn't just a mere woman that I met in a chatroom; she was divine. She styled herself after the famous whore-goddess of Babylon also known as Ishtar or Astarte. In Cyberia we can invent the place we live in, any place; it just takes inventiveness and some verbal furnishing. Hers was magnificent; she lived in the Hanging Gardens, one of the Seven Wonders of the antique world. This story is about how we met.
***
The day was hot, the sun a harsh mistress sending her scorching rays down on me like so many slashes of a well-aimed whip. Why had I left the hotel's air-conditioned lobby at this godless hour of the day? Why hadn't I called a cab to take me to the nice and cool café I intended to visit? Why roam the airless maze of a souk in this foreign city? I lost my way after three corners, getting sweaty from the heat and the rude catcalls of mustachioed men and cheeky little boys. Why did I wear what I wore?
The doors were huge and old, their bleached wood riddled with spikes in an ancient pattern. They were set in a ten-foot-high red-ochre wall, crowned with layers of lushly green vines. Tall palm trees rose from behind, promising shadow. One of the doors stood ajar. I smelled cool water and heard the excited twitter of exotic birds. Forgetting everything about curiosity and the cat, I pushed the door open and crossed the dusty sill. Ah, the coolness on my face, the moist air on my skin.
The garden was different from any garden I'd ever seen. Maybe the word garden wasn't even appropriate. Through the gate I stepped on a balcony of sorts, or maybe a narrow terrace. It was the uppermost ledge of many lower ones that were connected by stairs winding down through a veritable jungle of plants, bushes and trees. The stairs connected each terrace until they reached a pool that shimmered in a deep distance.
Careful to keep my balance on the slippery steps I wound my way down to the pool, my ears filled with the sound of humming insects and twittering birds. Water gurgled, my skin was kissed by cool, moist air, my nostrils flared from spicy herbs and sweet-smelling flowers. My heart raced as blood rushed to my head, pounding in my ears. And all the time there were the almost orgasmic squeals and twitters from way down below, turning the garden into a resounding bird cage.
Swapping at mosquitos, my pale limbs gleaming with sweat, I finally reached what seemed the lowest tiers. A sparkling pool showed through leaves and flowers. I reached out to clear my line of view, and my breathing stopped. Beyond the pool on a flat slab of stone, next to a babbling little waterfall, wet, shining bodies lay entwined in the oldest of embraces. Three girls I counted, very young and completely naked. One was on her back, arching her body to the eager tongue of a lover who, at the same time, had her crotch invaded by a third girl that sat on the face of the first, arching creature.
"Aren't they sweet?" a low, breathy voice said, close to my ear, accompanied by a rustle of tiny metallic bells. It made my heart skip a beat; I almost lost my footing.
The owner of the voice was in her forties, I guessed, with black, curly hair, her skin a dark hue of olive. She was almost as naked as the girls. A ring in her left nostril held up a thin veil of gold thread, studded with tiny bells. It hung like a transparent curtain before her lower face, attached to multiple sets of rings in both her ears. Like a glittering underscore, it drew all attention to her dark eyes, made up abundantly in the ancient Egyptian way. Her long, erect nipples were pierced with gold rings that held the ends of strings of gold drapery between her mature breasts. The same material hung like a filigree fig leaf before her crotch, held up by fragile strings across her hips. Her arms and legs sparkled with bracelets and jewelry. Her hand with gold-taloned fingers rested on my wrist.
"Sorry if I startled you," she said. The flimsy gold curtain moved with her breath, causing another echo of sweet metallic music. Her fingertips were cool on my skin; I didn't know what to say. On the slab of rock one of the girls cried out in climax, followed by another. Through the gold, chiming curtain I saw a smile.
"I... I...," I said, a thousand miles away from my self-assured self. The woman nodded and once again smiled, tapping my wrist.
"I understand," she said. The rippling curtain stretched her voice into a tingling rustle again, like the silver tail of a comet. "I'm such a poor hostess, am I not, tendresse?" she went on, stepping even closer, mingling the jungle's fragrance with her deep, musky scent. Her face came very close now, jangling jewelry and all. Her dark eyes held a sudden sparkle, her hands cupped my face, adding confusion to self-consciousness. "Here you are, all hot and uncomfortable. Why don't you take a dip into my refreshing little pool?" Stepping back, she turned to the water, opening her arms in an inviting gesture.
The pool was tempting; dark and mysterious where the shrubs and trees cast their shadow, sparkling like silver sequins where the sun kissed its surface. Every square inch of my sweaty body begged for it; every pore gasped to be blessed by its sweet, cold kiss. But could I, here, now, among strangers? Naked strangers, to be sure, but...
The woman smiled; then she clapped her hands, making all her bracelets and baubles ring. Wet splashes resounded as all three water nymphs dove from their slab of rock into the pool, swimming my way as they squealed excitedly. In a ball of gleaming limbs, they clawed their way up the terrace, sending a moist cloud of splattering raindrops my way. Their hands followed, fingers undoing buttons and tearing clingy wet fabric off my limbs, until I stood naked in a veritable bird cage of squeaking girls. They touched my pale skin with their dark, tanned fingertips, eager eyes taking in my body. Hands were everywhere, on my tits, my belly and my ass cheeks. Moist bodies glided along mine. Young firm titties, lips and even tongues slid over my skin. My body ignited with arousal; I could hardly breathe. Then, like a teeming swarm of naked limbs, we all fell into the pool. Cool, cool water closed over my head.
One can swim with dolphins; one can swim with seals and whales, but believe me, it is nothing compared to swimming with three naked girls in a secret oasis under the glaring sun of a sleepy desert town. Their cool, slick bodies slid by like golden eels, the electric variety. They held me and caressed me, plunging and diving around me with their slippery thighs and slithering bellies. There was a green world under the surface full of muffled noises, breaking open whenever my head returned to the sparkling sunlight and the twitters of my companions. I saw glimpses of the woman on the terrace before being pulled down again. Flashes of her standing, watching, as her one hand pinched a nipple, and the other rubbed her slit vehemently.
Of course, we ended on the moist, warm slab of rock beside the waterfall. And of course, I was overwhelmed by tongues and fingers. Wet kisses turned into open mouthed invasions; fingers caressed my slit and my asshole, followed by slobbering lips and probing tongues. Finally, I just laid there, absorbing the sun and each and every one of their attentions. I became a will-less, shivering heap of jelly, feeling as if each of my screaming pores had a hidden, tiny clit.
How does one orgasm in such a situation? One doesn't. Or to be sure, one doesn't stop climaxing, which might be the same. At some moment, my body must have started exploding, and it must have stopped doing that at another, but I never knew. Maybe I stopped being conscious. I guess my body took over. I kept feeling every touch, every emotion. I laughed and cried, sobbing through incredible sensations. I sucked on nipples and tongues, clits and fingers and toes. I squirted and pissed; I felt like a volcano spitting lava until the last searing flames left my body and I just laid there, shuddering, exhausted, empty. From a green darkness came a voice, breathy, hoarse and wrapped in a cloud of soft jingling.
