Beetlesmith's Ch. 25

So far, Lydia is proving to be the case—reluctant and sexually dim in theory, and so far, clumsy in practice.

Yet, there was one thing I forgot about newbies that adds the greatest of spice to their sexual enterprise, and Lydia proved to be the ultimate in this, bar none. For in sex, as with music, you sometimes tap into a true hidden talent and discover a prodigy for the 'instrument' that is oh, so sublime, and dare I say it, magical. It is indeed surprising and astonishing when you unmask in the hitherto unversed, a person with a true passion for the art. There was nothing sweeter than a girl tasting dick for the first time and loving it to the extreme—and Lydia loved it all and more!

The initial sensation as Lydia pulled my cock deep into her mouth was incredible, and took me by complete surprise. "Holy fuck!" I said, abruptly

I hadn't felt anything like it for ages. Then, even after that almost forgotten sensation of having a woman completely make love to your cock with just her mouth, I could feel her descend further down on my pole, farther than anyone I've been with in months.

I heard Karen exclaim, "Dear god!"

"What?" I panted, rhetorically, and already knowing what astonished her.

"I've never seen anyone hungrier for cock. That's it baby, keep swallowing that beautiful cock. Get it deeper. That's it, deeper... Holy fuck that's deep!"

I said, laughingly, "This begs the question why you're not as hungry for cock, and why I have to search for rookie talent?"

"Fuck you, you prick. I suck excellent cock," she said, with some ire.

"Yes you do. Just not mine, anymore. But this... This I have to see."

I smoothed Lydia's hair out of the way so that I could at least see her face in profile. My cock was about half of the way in her mouth, and she was still descending down my pole. Her lips were tightly wrapped around my shaft and her cheeks slightly sunken in as she rhythmically bobbed her head up and down. I was expecting at some point to feel a scrape from her teeth. It invariably happens with all those who try to suck me off, but I never felt it with her. Not even when she had to swallow a pool of saliva, I felt nothing but the warm, wet corpulence of her sensual mouth.

Her saliva was building up again. I saw that a heavy strand of spittle was squeezed out from the corners of her mouth and slowly run down to her chin. This time Karen instructed her, "Don't swallow yet, Sunshine. Oh my sweet, glorious, Sunshine. Open your lips a little and let that drool flow out."

When she did, a river of spit flowed thickly down my shaft and over her fingers. Incredibly, as Lydia put me back into her mouth and renewed her head bob, she drew me even further in then before, and within a few moments three-quarters of my cock was experiencing paradise on earth. She hadn't gagged or choked once, and I still hadn't felt an accidental scrapes.

I couldn't take the wonderfully slow climb to orgasm any longer, and added my own subtle pelvis thrust to Lydia's bob. I almost never do this anymore, because even the slightest push with my cock gives all the ladies choking fits. Yet, Lydia accepted it all without a problem, adding cute little yummy sounds as I slowly slid my cock between her tightened lips.

When Lydia attempted to pull me in a little further, she finally met resistance and started to choke, and although she got control over her gag reflex, she didn't try advancing her mouth any further down my shaft.

Now that she knew her limits, Lydia picked up the pace of her head bob and added a stroking hand.

It was more than I could bear as I felt my climax screaming up to the point of no return.

Karen recognized the look on my face as I grunted undistinguishable gibberish, and warned Lydia, "Will's going to come, Sunshine, and it's going to be a fucking massive load. And I mean massive of biblical proportions." She paused to laugh at her tweak before finishing, "If you don't want to drown in cum, you better back off."

She didn't back off at all, and I had what felt like one of the biggest cum blasts I could remember. Nothing fazed her as she took everything I had to give.

Karen was cheering her on, "That's it baby, suck, swallow, and stroke all the scrumptious cream out of that cock."

Finally, with my orgasm all but over, Lydia pulled me out of her mouth, and proceeded to lick up any cum that still remained on my cock and on her fingers, and saying the whole time, "My Lord, I think I love dick."

"Cock," Karen corrected her, "Master prefers you call it cock, and yes, you do love it. And he loves you."

I just laid on the bed motionless with my eyes closed. I felt Lydia shift, and then caught the strong sent of her arousal as she straddled my head. Opening my eyes, I came face to face with her dank mish. I teased at the succulent arousal beading on her thick, inner labia with my finger. Because of her large, protruding belly, I couldn't see her lovely face or the half-lidded, smoky allure that must embody her eyes, yet I asked rhetorically, "Hmm, I wonder what we should do next?"

Lydia's answer was deep and throaty, and full of lust, "It's my turn, William."

As I wrapped my arms around her heavy thighs, sinking my face full into her drenched pussy, Karen stroked and sucked me back to full hardness. Then, she and Lydia rode me, face and cock together, for all it was worth.

**

We spent the next day and a half with her preforming every sex act three people, one cock, and a warmed zucchini could do. Moreover, with each new depravity we taught her, her inner light diminished, lumen by lumen, until nothing was left but a low, soft glow of weak radiance, looking similar to dying embers of a spent campfire.

Surprisingly and frustratingly that's where her inner light would stay; although greatly diminished, the fire wasn't put out altogether. No matter how hard Karen and I tried, we could never completely extinguish the flame. As a consequence, Lydia would always be a danger, for all that low, inner glow would need to send it blazing again would just be the right kind of breeze.

I took one last stab at extinguishing it. We were well into the second day with her, and I was holding her just at the point of orgasm as I pounded roughly into her cunt. Simultaneously, I pushed boundless thoughts and feelings of endless love and friendship that would be hers if only she would comply.

I asked, as her mind and body strained against the endless feelings of love and lust, "It's time to decide, Sunshine. Pleasures like this and more are but a simple yes away. Come with us. Be a part of us, forever."

She hesitated giving me an answer. Between her phlegmy moans and the loud sound of my pelvis smacking into her ass as I pounded into her, she finally uttered, "I-I s-said I-I wa-wa-wanted to st-st-stay f-friends. I-Isn't th-th-that e-enough?"

"No, Sunshine. To be with us, wholly, and share in all of the joys of our life, you must cut all ties with your past."

She hesitated, again. "I-I d-don't un-un-under-st-st-stand," she finally answered.

I abruptly pulled out of her, leaving her in unfulfilled anguish.

"Renounce your past and join us in the future," I demanded.

I stared at her long and hard, but she never would commit. Her old ties were too strong for me and could not be broken. I would need more time to complete this task, and quiet that inner voice urging me forward.

To garner the time I would need, I remembered the old Sicilian adage: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

As Karen and I dressed, a look of heartbreak was stamped across her face, as she cried, "I thought we were friends. I thought you loved me. Why are you leaving me?"

"Yes, we love you Sunshine, but we have to go. All good things come to an end...and all that nonsense."

"But when will I see you again?"

"That's up to you." I wrote down our address and put it on her night table, and said, "I'll leave this up to you. Come to that address tomorrow if you still want to be our friends."

"But... I can't leave my family and friends. And I won't leave my church."

I kissed her gently, soothing her battered spirit, and then said, "For right now, all we want is your friendship and love. That's all. Those other things we'll just put aside for the time being."

On the drive home I could tell Karen was frustrated with what happened. "Any thoughts?" I asked her.

"Well yeah! I mean, I don't understand anything that's been going on. As pleasurable as it was, what the fuck were we really doing these past couple of days besides fucking her? If it was so important, you could have just made her do whatever you wanted with a snap of your fingers."

"Unfortunately, I can't with her. This is a decision she has to make on her own, and without coercion from me, you, or from anyone. Free will, it's a bitch."

"And what if she doesn't show tomorrow? Then what?

I shrugged my shoulders, and answered, "Then I fear she will always be a danger to us."

**

Lydia, of course, showed up at our house the next day. After hugging her a greeting, Karen and I introduced her to everyone, saying we were all family, now. We kept things chaste, treating her like a daughter, and emphasizing that our friendship with her wasn't built on sex alone, but was based on the pure love we had for her. We also kept things honest, and told her we were opening a club soon—making no bones about what kind of club it would be—and that we wanted her to be a special member. All she said was that she would think about it. Neither of us mentioned her needing to renounce her former life.

The club opened the next week and Lydia was there dressed out in a white tunic and stola. She quickly became popular and was a favorite among most of the men.

She was conflicted, of course, between what she was doing at Roman Wilderness and its contradiction with those religious underpinnings that so guided much of her former life. Yet somehow, she convinced herself through feats of extreme mental gymnastics that she was really doing the Lord's work at the club. It's what Karen referred to as the Florence Nightingale persona, people, mostly women, having the overriding desire to help everyone, even at great peril to themselves. Lydia had the trait cold, for she saw many at the club who needed her help.

Her decision to become a member was also aided by the fact that she now identified in many ways with Mary Magdalene, the whore who eventually become a devoted disciple. Lydia fooled herself into thinking she was going through her whore phase, just as her idol had once done.

We often fool ourselves, just as I did about the nature of the elixir, and we are always conflicted by what we know to be right and wrong, and what we most desire. Lydia's desire was to feel unconditional love, and she got that at Roman Wilderness. That is, from everyone except me.

For the past year I've kept my distance from her. I wasn't mean or harsh about it, and I was always friendly with her during chance encounters in the Pleasure Grotto, but I did project an air of aloofness toward her when it came to sex. Lydia knew I was treating her differently than all the other members, and she thought she knew the reasons why—that last bit of commitment that I demanded from her, and which she could never bring herself to make.

Every evening when she was at the club, she would think about what I was doing and why. Every now and again I'd catch her staring at me, or glance over at me as she serviced another member, and always her thoughts landed on a growing sore point with her: why not me?

I became an obsession with her, and as time wore on that obsession occupied much of her conscious thought. And that was the real reason I didn't play with her at all this past year, because I wanted her obsessing on me and what I was doing to her, because the more she obsessed on those things, the less she thought about where she came from and who she was before we met.

In essence, her past would become more distant in her mind with each passing day, while her newfound friendships would take center stage in her life.

Obsession and time would do for me what I couldn't on my own: extinguish her flame.

********

I awoke from the past to raucous cheering, and to the still incredible feeling of Lydia sliding my tool deep into her throat.

Comically, the cheering was coordinated to Lydia's rhythms—such an erotic metronome.

Each time she descended on my pole, pulling my cock deeper into her throat, the crowd would gradually increase the volume of their hoopla into a loud crescendo, only to be disappointed and gradually quiet themselves as Lydia had to back away.

By now, Lydia had gotten serious about her task and had shifted so that she was up on her hands and knees. From this position, she could use her legs as leverage, pushing herself forward and forcing my cock further down her throat. Unfortunately, the theory of the technique was better than in practice—she wasn't having much success.

It seems my cock as the only one that would trigger Lydia's gag reflex, and it would occur when she got me in a little over three-quarters of the way. We spent a lot of time in those two days a year ago trying to find a way around it, but Lydia could never get me passed that point before the retching began. The same problem was manifesting itself today.

Damn, if she wasn't giving it the old college try, though. Keeping her lips tightly clamped around my shaft, I would feel her shift her weight forward and gently pushing with her legs. Slowly I'd feel my cock going deeper into her mouth, then down into her throat. Smooth as silk at the start, and very encouraging.

Of course, I could hear the increasing cheers from the audience as my cock disappeared further inside her. Louder and louder, making a long, protracted, "Whooooaaa," sound as my member slowly disappeared from veiw. Then Lydia would hit the mark, the gagging would ensue, and the crowd produced a long, protracted, "Awwww," sound as Lydia backed away. Undaunted, Lydia would pause a moment to let the reflex subside, and then take a single, deep breath of air through her nostrils before pushing forward once more.

This went on for some time with the pattern pretty much unvarying. So much so, I could feel Lydia's frustration as little progress was being made.

I had a nice, erotic view of her pear-shaped ass, which was just on the left of me and about level with my chest. Slipping a hand between her thighs, and feeling the incredible wetness and heat almost flowing out of her pussy, I teased, "It's a good effort, Sunshine, but I think I'm too much for you."

Panicked, she quickly snapped her head around to respond, and leaving a large trail of drool from my cock to my stomach in the process. "I almost have it. You can't give up now. Just let me keep trying."

"Sunshine, you've been trying for almost fifteen minutes. If you haven't gotten it by now, I doubt you ever will."

"No! Please! Just a few more tries. I can do it!"

Along with the frustration, I could feel a thought growing delightfully stronger within her. One born from her still low self-esteem: if I fail at this then I'm a total failure, and everything bad that people think of me will be true.

Sad that she never got over that fat-girl image she has of herself. Moreover, all those months of benign neglect on my part and obsession on hers were about to pay off.

"Okay, but you're too uptight, Sunshine. I don't know if it's the crowd or the pressure, but I can feel it. Let me help you a bit. Put that pretty plump pussy right over my face."

She was quite deft for a big girl, and easily straddled my head without letting my cock fall out of her sweet mouth or kneeing me in the face.

As I let her go back to the struggle, I licked and kiss all about her pussy, focusing more on her labia and opening rather than her clit.

My god, what succulent fruit I indulged in. Her aroma and textures against my nose and tongue was unmatched by any in the club as I feasted on her. The best word that I could conjure to describe her cunt was juicy. Along with that rapture was the erotic warmth of her great tits pressing into my stomach, and matched by the warmth of her mouth on my cock, and together, creating perfection in its most sublime state.

Spreading her buttocks to reveal a very tight anus—pristine territory. She never did care for butt fucking. That will also change tonight.

Wetting a finger with her arousal, I gently pressed on and massaged her tightened ring. Her thighs quivered ever so slightly at the feeling and she let out a low moan from around my cock.

"Slut!" I said loudly, so I could be heard over the spectators' continued crescendos, "Come here and bring lube with you."

In no time, Slut was kneeling near my head, bottle in hand. "Yes Dominus?"

"Help me relax Lydia so she can finally complete her task, lube up your arm and fist that plump pussy."

It took Slut a few minutes to thoroughly grease up her arm, and then begin work it into Lydia's cunt. It took her another few minutes for her to gradually slide it in up to mid-forearm.

Having a bird's eye view—or really, worm's eye view—I directed much of the slave's actions as I occasionally nibbled at Lydia's clit.

"All right slave, make a fist and pump that dripping pussy like we talked about. Slow and steady always wins the race, and makes a dripping snatch explode with pleasure."

As prelude, Slut patted and then kissed Lydia's rump ever so sweetly, and whispered, "For all of us chubby girls," before beginning her rhythmically slow, deliberate thrusting.

Lydia moaned loudly around my cock, and briefly stopped her sucking to enjoy the euphoric glide of Slut's arm.

In between nips at her clitoris, I teased Lydia, "I know what that must feel like. Though her arm is much smaller, I bet you can still feel what it was like for us when we first met." Then, I commanded, "Go a little deeper, Slut."

She pulled out to her wrist and squeezed another generous amount of lube on her exposed arm before plunging it into Lydia's cunt up to the crook of her elbow. She jiggled her arm around a bit to loosen Lydia's walls some, before she continued her slow pumping, wrist to elbow.

Lydia's legs jiggled and quaked in ecstasy as a sweet mixture of lube and arousal dripped down along her inner thighs to her knees. And again she momentary stopped her sucking to selfishly relish all of Slut's splendid arm.

I smiled to myself. "It's has been a long time for us, hasn't it?" I felt Lydia's body twitch in surprise, as my commanding voice broke through her euphoric state. "So, so long, and you still haven't answered that important question of mine. Moreover, during our long hiatus, I've thought on your hesitation to answer me. I've come to realize that your inability to answer me is somehow tied to your inability to pleasure me the way I want. It's as if you are holding these things back from me on purpose since they seem inexorably linked. Is this a game you're playing?"

She was about to respond but I cut her off. "No my sweet, the time for talk is over. When I ask you again, you will not answer with your voice. I will tell you how to respond. And until that time, you will continue to suck my cock until I come, or until I tell you to stop."

I spread her buttocks wide and tickled her asshole again with a wetted finger while Slut continued her slow, tortuous pumping.

"Yes, it's been so long for us, and in all that time you needed me to come to you, but I wouldn't. So you sought refuge with Gregor.

"A little deeper still, Slut."

Slut pushed in her arm well past her elbow, and continued pumping.

"And I understand. You realized just what having a four-finger cunt means, and without me to give it satisfaction, you needed Gregor. And Gregor treated you like a lady, didn't he? He never beat you or whipped you like he did the other devotees. He just fucked you sweetly, like a lover would, and making that four-finger pussy quake. Unfortunately, Gregor is not even a third of the man he was. Fate, and misplaced color, has seen to that.