Chapter 6
Each time it was the same.
She was nude and helpless, her supple body limp and her knees trembling. She looked down at the tiles on the floor of the bathroom and she could see Pericles' bare foot on the closed seat of the toilet. His toenails needed manicuring. She felt completely submissive, a totally dependent sex object. If someone from the women's magazines could see her now they would not be able to believe their eyes. Still, it was the most satisfying sexual ritual she had ever experienced, even with Roger who had made love to her with skill, vigor and tenderness. But it had been straight, dull, conventional coitus ... the woman on her back with her legs apart, the man kneeling in front of her with his erect penis inserted in her vagina. Then lots of movement.
Certainly what Pericles had taught her on his yacht that time was bizarre, exotic, forbidden. But she had loved it and now it was the way they satisfied each other.
She felt his finger between the cheeks of her buttocks, spreading the vaseline around her anus. Next he would put his middle finger into her anal cavity and lubricate her rectum. God, how she adored it. The next thing would be the enema.
Claire Clayborn, once destined to be the First Lady of the United States, the idol of millions of American women and the secret object of their husbands' erotic daydreams, rich, beautiful, cosmopolitan, liberated, lay like a sack bent over the thick, strong, nude thigh of Pericles Vasilli-kos as he spread the cheeks of her bottom and prepared to give her an enema. It was to clean her out in preparation for the next step in their sensual charade, but she loved one aspect of their lovemaking as much as she loved the next. And so she eagerly looked forward to feeling the hard rubber nozzle slip inside her.
Bent over as she was, feeling his strength, she felt like a little girl across her father's knee waiting to be spanked. She wished one day Pericles would spank her, just so she could feel humiliated and degraded and feminine and sexy in another way. Not that she disliked what Pericles was about to do to her. Far, far from it. She adored it. But she would like to be beaten, like a true Mediterranean wife, just to feel what it was like, to feel even more submissive than she did now. No one had ever spanked her, not her father and not Roger. She wanted to feel a strong, relentless male hand cracking across her bare bottom. She knew he spanked his daughter, Tina, because he had described to her in great detail one day a thrashing he had administered just the previous evening to the uncovered buttocks of the dark-eyed beauty. She had secretly thrilled as he related to her what he had done and how Tina had reacted. Shortly after that he had introduced her to the forbidden pleasures of what he called "Greek love", a passion that was ancient in the time of the original Pericles and had survived the collapse of civilizations.
She felt the enema nozzle slip into her anus and she tensed with pleasure, giving a little shiver. And she felt the moisture begin to form between her legs, in her pubic area, making the very tops of her thighs sticky and then the first wafting traces of her vaginal fragrance drifted up into her nostrils. With Roger she had been ashamed of her strong, feminine odor and had tried to hide it with creams and lotions and sprays, but Pericles adored it, loved to burrow between her legs and inhale it, as though he were sniffing the most luxurious of gardens. In fact, he called it his garden as he stroked and kissed and fondled it.
The warm, soapy water flowed inside her and she relaxed, letting it take hold of her and soothe her.
"Is that enough, my pet?" Pericles said.
"I ... I think so," she said. "Maybe you'd better stop."
"Of course," he said, cutting off the flow of water and easing the nozzle out of her rectum. She felt as though it were a hard penis being withdrawn from her womb after expelling its soapy semen inside of her.
Pericles lifted the toilet seat and she sat down. Again, she'd never have dreamed of sitting on a toilet like this in front of Roger. But with Pericles it was the most natural thing in the world. He even enjoyed watching her, listening to the sound of the water being ejected from her body.
"Is it all out?" he said. She had forgotten in the weeks they had been apart how charming and sweet and solicitous his smile was.
"Yes," she said. She smiled up at him, loving him.
Later, she was on his huge bed, in the position he had placed her in, on her knees with her cheek low against the single, satin-covered pillow, her buttocks sticking up in the air in a way that Roger and the women's magazines would have found ridiculous and degrading. But she liked the feeling of degradation, of humiliation and helplessness, of submission to this strong, kindly man.
The cheeks of her bottom were taut and spread apart and her anus was completely vulnerable to him. Again he had the jar of vaseline and he was spreading it around her anal crevice, finally pushing one finger through the iris-shaped orifice which dominated the center and greasing the soft walls of her rectal passage.
Next she felt herself being eased over on her side and she knew it was time for her to rub the vaseline onto him. She caught her breath, as always, as she felt the thickness of his shaft. It was like the root of a gigantic tree, weathered and gnarled and strong as limber wood.
She took a large gob of the sticky jelly in one hand and with the first two fingers of the other spread it liberally over the huge, golf ball head of his rod, then down the length of it, luxuriating in the feel of his thick, wiry, tough pubic jungle at the base. She could feel him tense and grow even harder as her hand traveled up and down his erection, apportioning the gooey stuff generously over its thickness. She shuddered with delicious trepidation at the thought of taking all of that huge mass of cartilage and flesh into her narrow behind, and as always she felt a flutter of panic, afraid that she wouldn't be able to accommodate him and he would hurt her terribly, split her, tear her asunder.
"Pericles?"
"Yes, my sweet?" he said, straining to keep his voice under control. "Would you beat me."
"If you deserved it."
"Why haven't you ever beaten me."
"It hasn't been necessary,'-' he shrugged. "How would you do it?"
"I don't know, my darling. It would depend on the circumstances. Most likely on your pretty backside with a stick or with my hand."
"No man has ever hit me," she said.
"Americans," he said, as though that explained the whole thing.
"What do you mean?"
"Americans are obsessed by their mothers. They don't beat their wives because they think it would be an insult to their mothers," he said. "But of course that is foolishness. Women are happier when they are beaten. Wives, daughters, servants. They want to feel that a man is stronger than they are, which of course he is. They want to feel he can protect them when they are threatened. Therefore, a beating makes them feel more comfortable, even though they are sore for a few days. It tells them their man is strong, and it also tells them he cares enough about them to beat them and therefore he cares enough to beat anyone who threatens them. It is very primal. If you'd like I'll let you provoke me tomorrow and then we'll go off in the woods and I'll cut a switch and thrash you."
"Pericles."
"Yes, my sweet?"
"I think I'd like that," Claire said.
"Then we shall make a point of doing it. Tomorrow," he promised. "But for now we have more adult things to think about."
He took the satin pillow from under her head and brought it down to the middle of the bed. Knowing what to do without being told, Claire rolled over on top of it, on her stomach, with the pillow just under her pubic triangle, the bushy blonde hair rubbing up against the shiny, soft material, and her bottom raised up with the cheeks spread and her lubricated anus exposed.
She spread her legs.
She could feel him moving in behind her, on his knees. Then the huge head of his throbbing shaft was touching the sides of her anal crevice, rubbing up and down. She could feel lubricated surface moving against lubricated surface. Making love with him was like doing anything with him. Easy. No friction.
Then the large knob was touching the clenched muscles, testing the resistance, measuring her tenseness.
She felt the sudden flood of panic again. He would split her in two if he tried to put that thing into her. She had to resisit the urge to turn over on her side, roll off the bed, run.
Now he was pressing and straining, spreading the soft, comfortable, determined little muscles to make room for his vibrating rod. The vaseline helped, making everything slide, easing the force with which he persisted and shoved forward.
She felt him enter her, just the enormous tip of him at first, then more of him and still more until she thought she was dreaming and he would impale her like a victim of the Crusades. Then he stopped and he was completely filling her, more than filling her. She felt her anal muscles straining to take him stretching like rubber to be able to accept his stiff hugeness and thickness.
"How does it feel, my darling?" he said.
"Fine."
"Am I hurting you?"
"No. But don't be too fast at first," she said. "Let me get used to you."
"Of course, my darling," Pericles said.
He withdrew very slowly until just the tip of his erection was inside her, then pushed back in. It went in easier this time and she could feel his wiry pubic hair brush up against the tender cheeks of her buttocks. The hardness of his penis filled her and she felt her anal muscles close around his enormous shaft, gripping it and trying to draw it deeper inside her rectum. Every nook of her dark tunnel was touching him, gripping him, and she loved this quiet feeling before the storm, with him nestled inside her, not moving, only vibrating when she contracted her muscles to feel him even more.
"I ... I think it's all right now," she said. "I think I'm stretched enough."
"Do you want me to say the words?"
"Oh yes, darling," she murmured, "tell me how you're fucking me."
He began to move in and out of her now, each time with greater facility as her muscles expanded to take him and then contracted around him when he was completely inside her. As he increased the speed and urgency of the thrusts Claire felt his firm stomach muscles slapping against her bottom and his pubic thatch now seems to scrape against her tender skin like the electric touch of a brush.
"Do you like the feeling of my cock in your ass-hole?" Pericles whispered, his body leaning on her now as he bent forward.
"Oh yes ... yes ... yes..." she whimpered, arching backwards now in rhythm with his forward motion.
"Am I filling you? A I tearing you apart?"
"Yes darling," she moaned. "I've never been so filled by anything in my life as I am by your gorgeous prick. Oh fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
"Do you like to be fucked in the ass."
"More than anything!" she cried. "Oh I love it!"
"Better than being fucked in the pussy?"
"Oh God yes, my sweet. Tell me what you're doing. Say the words to me," she said, her voice catching as he began to push in with even greater force, banging his pelvis against her buttocks. She could feel drops of perspiration falling lightly on her back from his chest, like rain, and she could smell her own anal fragrance drifting through the room.
"I'm fucking you in the bottom, pushing my big, swollen cock right up your tight, sweet, soft little ass-hole," he intoned, breathing hard.
She stiffened with excitement at the sound of the words and arched her back and elevated her behind to be able to take even a quarter or an inch or a half inch more of him.
"I'm filling your ass with my prick and it's getting bigger every second. Before long you won't be able to take any more of me, but I'll keep on swelling anyway, and when I come I'm going to flood you, drown you with my hot juices."
Feeling her rise to the peak of ardor and excitement he reached around her waist and put his finger between her legs, slipping it into her soaking vagina, shivering with pleasure as the eager lips closed around it.
"Oh my God!" she cried as she felt the finger ease inside her vulva lips and brush against her clitoris, teasing it as it stiffened and reached out like an antenna, crazy to be touched again.
"Yes, Pericles," she cried. "Move your finger around in my cunt. Massage my little clit ... oh ... ooooohhhhhhh ... yes, my darling, like that like that like that...."
Expertly he probed and tickled and teased and caressed with his finger, continuing to plunge in and out of her anus at the same time, until he had her almost at the point of orgasm.
"Are you ready to come, my sweet?" he said. He was in absolute command of the situation, of her, of her body and her emotions. Despite the great difference in their ages he was the strongest, most virile, most commanding man she had ever met. He dominated her completely and she loved to feel humble and degraded and submissive in front of him, loved the humiliation of having him inside her bottom while it was stuck up in the air the way it was. She felt humble and at the same time tootally secure.
"Yes! Oh yes! Make me come!" she whimpered.
He moved into the last phase of their bizarre lovemaking as easily as he would shift the gears of an automobile, altering the strokes of his penis to make them longer and slower and at the same time increasing the movement of his hand in her vagina, working up to a white hot rhythmic friction. It was almost as if he dominated her so completely he could pick the exact moment of her orgasm and she gave herself up to him completely, letting him do what he wanted to with her body, content in the realization that he would satisfy her beyond her fondest and wildest hopes and dreams.
Then it was happening. He had chosen the moment and she felt her body bucking and twisting beyond her control as the gushing flood picked her up like a twig and carried her along in its boiling, teeming waters. She felt the juices shooting from the very depth of her, moving like heavy surf, while at the same time his trembling rod began to stiffen and pulsate and then his own lava-like sperm came pouring out in gasping, jerking jets, splashing against the mysterious walls of her rectum and flowing downward, oozing by the thickness of his shaft and the pressing tightness of her own soft, clutching muscles.
The two of them stiffened for a climactic moment, like statues locked in an embrace, and then she felt his weight limp and heavy on her back and for a moment she thought he was unconscious until he started to ease his softening penis from her rectum.'
"No my sweet," she protested. "Leave it inside me. I want to feel it in my bottom even though it's soft."
"Of course, Claire darling," he laughed, knowing that she was completely won over to his taste in lovemaking. Even his first wife had stiffened with fear and distaste when he wanted to make love to her in the Greek manner and had only let him do it after hours of argument and pleading and anger on his part. Here was a blonde goddess who liked it as much as he did and he looked forward with enormous pleasure to the hours they would spend together, just like this, locked in a position of love that was as old as civilization.
"Oh my darling," she whispered, smiling at him over her shoulder as they eased onto their sides. "I adored it. It's the only way I ever want to make love."
He stroked her back and moved his hand around so that it was cupping one of her generous breasts.
She moaned as he ran his rough thumb over the nipple. Miraculously he felt his rod begin to stiffen again inside her soft anus. It hadn't happened this quickly for years.