12 Labors of Hercules, Caged Pt. 08

Richard was about to explode. The redhead was amazing at licking his cage, and Teresa was twitching every muscle in his pussy as he ate her with all the energy he could muster, but the strongest thrill came from that phone call.

His wife, usually so shy and vanilla with friends, was now talking openly about the fact that she was masturbating while watching him being tortured by two female PhDs...

The thought sent him into a hypnotic state. He decided that Teresa deserved more than a normal licking: after all, it was a "First Time" for him too, the first time he was pleasuring a woman at an altitude of ten thousand feet. perhaps he could have aspired to a membership in the Mile High Club?

Levering his arms tied behind his back, and moving his neck muscles, he began to lick the outer lips and clitoris and then penetrated as deeply as he could with his tongue. Teresa's gasps let him know that this was the right way, but he knew to avoid haste.

He removed his tongue and started again from the outside, giving the inner parts only an occasional lick. Teresa moaned and panted like a hind in heat.

He opened his eyes and was thunderstruck by the sight of her nipple, pierced by a silver piercing on which a blue stone was mounted.

His cock became even harder inside the limited space of the cage: Skye noticed this and began to stroke the base with her tongue, like a woodcutter chopping down a tree with an ax.

Moans and groans from him mingled with Teresa's growls until she screamed an even louder cry. She sat violently over his mouth, forcing him to impale his tongue deeper and deeper, and came vehemently, shaking all over (he opened his eyes and saw her pierced nipples quivering: an image he would never forget).

Skye paused to watch Teresa come. Meanwhile, both Cathy and Barbara gasped, each on one side of the phone, both staring at the orgasm Richard had given Teresa without receiving anything in return.

After Teresa began to shake, Miss Cathy also came with a powerful orgasm. The idea that Richard was so willing to put up with any tease to make her come, excited them all as hell.

All of them? Well, no, not all of them. Cradled by a lullaby of moans and groans, Emily had fallen asleep.

§ Chapter 25 -- A Safeword must be respected, always.

Teresa, her face all hot, looked questioningly at Barbara, as if expecting her to intervene to wake Sleeping Beauty.

Instead, it was Skye who spoke, pulling her mouth away from poor Dicky's cage.

"But maybe that's what freedom really means, isn't it? Emily is free to fall asleep and ignore him in his cage. We are not four servants, condemned to serve him 24 hours a day.

Miss Cathy has made it clear that we are free: only he is a prisoner, to expiate his behavior.

I wear high heels now, but not for him: for me. In my suitcase, I have even higher heels.

If I were forced to wear heels, I would rebel, and rather than obey, I would walk barefoot. In fact, you are both barefoot at the moment, because it is your choice, it is comfortable, and you are comfortable. He on the other hand is barefoot because he has received an order and is forced to obey."

Barbara nodded calmly, Teresa recovering her breath after panting.

Skye added, "In my suitcases are some clothes that a man might find sexy to look at. I will wear them because I like being sexy.

I also have my make-up box, not by obligation but by choice: I wear very little make-up (just the eyes) but it's the make-up I like.

On the island, there will only be us, and the service staff: if you see me in heels and make-up, it's because I like it, not because I'm obliged.

You understand me... Miss Barbara... because when you play the part of the Dumb Blonde, you have to wear proper clothes and proper make-up - like a smart actress playing a retard, like Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump.

But on the island you don't have to act, we all know you are a smart and ambitious scholar, and we appreciate and respect you for that.

If you want to wear fancy clothes, you will, if you want to wear comfortable trousers and T-shirts, you will, so much so, from the way poor Dicky reacts, it will only take a look or a nipple to turn him on... without the need for us to dress up as Leather Dominatrixes in Mask and Cape, or walk around the house in stiletto with a hissing riding crop..."

"Snort!" Emily's sleep was silent but rarely interrupted by a light snore.

"And Emily can sleep if she wants... even every night if she wants. We are not servants.

We are not obliged to tease him. If it happens - like now on the plane - it will be fun and I will always be in the front row.

But we can also let him rot in his cage every night, and each goes to sleep in our own bed." %%%

Richard noticed that with this oration to his traveling companions, Skye - like Ulysses with the crew - was persuading them all to feel free not to tease him.

At the same time, he understood that in that way, Skye was giving him a break, to catch his breath after the labor of giving Teresa an orgasm. Perhaps Skye was more generous than it had seemed...

The phone was blinking. It was Cathy. "Sorry girls, I dropped my phone while I was cumming and couldn't interject, though I heard everything."

Cathy spoke very slowly as if she was out of breath. Teresa and Barbara exchanged a look of understanding: the two of them knew from common experience that, after a deep orgasm, it often takes several minutes before they can speak intelligibly.

It was likely that in the spasms of masturbation, Cathy had lost her grip on the phone, and only managed to get up after several minutes.

Slowly, as if each sentence cost her effort, Miss Cathy said, "Miss Skye has perfectly nailed the target.

I have no orders to give YOU.

My orders are to be obeyed only by Richard.

If you are not in the right mood to tease him, then you have all the freedom to do something else rest, go to the beach by the sea, have a drink at sunset, or sleep early. Academic research must take precedence."

Richard relaxed. He looked one by one at his colleagues, his tormentors, the four nymphs, the four angels his wife Cathy had sent, to tease and to teach...

Richard tried to relax by thinking about something else... even though the smell of Teresa's pussy lingered on his upper lip and nose... In the Iliad, Hector's wife was called Andromache: a name meaning "She-Who-Battles-With-The-Men". On board that plane, Barbara's wife should have been called Andromache. The one in the myth had, as a characteristic adjective (or Norse kenning), «with fragrant breasts»: some critics thought it was the scent of milk, with which she fed her son. But others thought it might be a personal characteristic of hers. Richard thought that Teresa's pierced little tits gave off a very sweet smell and that Miss Barbara must be very happy to have such an affectionate companion.

Lying on the floor, Richard gazed at Teresa's pierced nipples... Skye's sweet hair... the serene movement of Emily's soft tits as she snored... then he stared at Barbara's now bare toes, and something irrepressible snapped in him.

Good thing they had taken the gag off him, otherwise he would have had to knock, and perhaps he was too flustered to pull it off.

"Brazil! Help!

Girls I'm serious!

Yellow!" Richard exclaimed, closing his eyes so as not to see.

They all stopped all action immediately.

Teresa jumped up (she was still straddling his chest), Barbara knelt down to help him "Richard! What's the matter, Professor?" and Skye was beside her "Is it cramped? Are you in pain?"

Cathy watched from a distance, suddenly called back to reality after her orgasm. What's going on? A part of her brain was delighted by the immediate reaction of the girls: they had all immediately stopped all play and trickery and had been industrious in helping him. Good girls - they really were angels. And Yellow only meant a pause, if it was something serious she would have said 'Portugal' in a red uniform. Cathy's brain was quiet, but her heart, however, was not: what would happen if he had a heart attack, ten thousand feet away, among four half-naked schoolgirls and with a compilation of porn clips on the video? Luckily Cathy's brain rejected these ideas in a split second.

Richard kept his eyes closed and gritted his teeth.

"Excuse me... I'm so ashamed... this is so stupid of me..."

Skye assumed the most professional tone possible (as much as that could be possible from a girl who held in her mouth balls and the cage of the man she would now like to rescue), and stated, "Mr. Professor... Richard... we are on pause. There is no danger. Everything is fine. Just answer me yes or no. Are you in physical pain?" "No..."

"Do you want us to release you, do you want us to lift you up to stand on the chair?"

"No... I'm fine... this is such a stupid thing, but I can't go on... I'm so ashamed..."

Skye looked at the cage, searching for some clue: but there were no bruises or wounds. She had licked and sucked him, but had avoided biting, she was sure, and she could see no wounds. What on Earth could have happened? 'Mr. Richard, sir... that's the way you have us scared. Barbara, you're the only one dressed, give him a hug and try to comfort him..."

"Stop!" said Richard.

Barbara stood still... she thought back to everything she had said on the plane flight but she didn't feel she had said anything particularly humiliating. What had triggered this reaction?

With a sigh and keeping his eyes tightly closed, Richard said... "I have a real phobia... caused by the sight of red lacquered nails... I don't know why. I've been told it could be childhood trauma or a reminiscence of reincarnation, or trivially because it looks like blood. I don't know. Forgive me, it's something I'm very ashamed of."

Without even a moment's dismay, each of the girls comforted the professor. Teresa hugged him, taking care not to scratch him with her piercings, Skye stroked the back of his hand whispering 'calm down, relax, everything will be fine, there we are, relax'.

Barbara stood up and stepped back. She was aware that she was the only one with red nail polish, certainly neither Teresa, (who had short nails without polish, to feed her image as a massive lesbian) nor Skye, who wore emerald green nail polish to match her shoes. Ah! The shoes! Before the shoes covered her nails, now she had taken them off to embrace Teresa, and she had not imagined that she would provoke such an intense reaction.

Barbara had polished her nails that morning, it seemed the perfect choice to look like a Blonde Bimbo in the eyes of airport bartenders and perfume shop clerks... but she hadn't thought it would cause that level of reaction.

From a distance, Cathy's voice intervened to comfort her. "Dr. Bach, please make an effort to keep yourself comfortable. It's just a little phobia of my husband's, he's always had it, they say since childhood. It's not your fault... doctor B... Barbara. Believe me." Then, turning to Richard, she said, "Are you OK, honey? Do you want the girls to uncuff you?"

"No, no, everything's beautiful, I'm happy, and a few minutes ago Miss Teresa seemed to be enjoying it so much... I'd like to keep it up forever. But... Miss Cathy..."

"Call me Love, Sweetheart: we're off the Play."

"Cathy... please... tell the girls to forgive me, and to continue... I beg you..."

"Girls: please. Help Richard raise his torso and at least give him something to drink. So... perfect... thank you, Teresa, I couldn't have imagined a more generous solution." Cathy smiled: Teresa, though tired after her orgasm, had slipped behind Richard's head, lifted him up by his armpits, and held him from behind, silently stroking his hair, slowly. Skye had helped her and was now offering the straw of a juice... pineapple, by the color.

Four torturers as well as four angels...

§ Chapter 26 -- When two odd sponge socks triumph over stockings

As he caught his breath, sipping the pineapple juice, Barbara went out of his field of vision and returned shortly after, having fully regained her usual cheerfulness. "Look, Professor Richard, sir! I found some sponge socks in my suitcase and covered my toes! I promise that as soon as we land I will remove the nail polish... the hands I can do now, but the feet are more complicated... I solemnly promise that I shall be hiding my hands behind my back, as a good slave must do: you can open your eyes now!"

Richard opened one eye, fearfully, but all was true: Barbara had hastily put on two odd-colored terry socks (one white and one blue) and was holding her elbows behind her back, like a schoolgirl in detention.

"How do I look in socks, Sir? Do they look good on me with blonde hair?" she asked jokingly, winking like a blonde bimbo and showing off her innocent and harmless foot.

Richard laughed. He laughed sincerely, from the heart. He had never used a safeword in his entire life (except for a moment at the Barbecue), and now he had used it for a stupid reason he was so ashamed of.

"Sorry, I thought I would only resort to safewords in case of cramps or severe pain in my wrists... I feel like an idiot."

Skye kept stroking him but she couldn't let him feel stupid, and said, turning to the girls so he wouldn't feel under attack:

"Girls, the use of safewords is not limited by anything. It is impossible to tell what element triggers a reaction in a person under stress. It can be a word, a name, or a date; it can be a mention of Halloween, a trauma, or a trip. It can also be something that everyone else doesn't give importance to even a smell or the taste of food."

Barbara sat in the chair behind Richard, and (without being seen by him) was removing the nail polish from her fingers, and nodding with conviction. Ever since she had undergone the removal of a breast, there were so many elements that triggered painful memories in her: a certain tree on the way to the hospital, a certain smell of a specific disinfectant, a certain color of the walls in the surgery room. Barbara had tried to fight those memories, like the phoenix tattooed on the flat scar above her heart: but they resurfaced at the most unexpected moments.

Barbara noticed that Teresa was crying silently: tears the size of clear cherries protruded from her eyelids, unmoving. Her Tracy was crying because of her... Skye didn't know it, but both of them had struggled so much with memories and trauma... a tear descended from her left eye and fell on the tissue above the scar, where there used to be a proud nipple and now there was only a tattoo.

"No one may see me cry!" pondered Barbara. She banished the thoughts and said, in the most cheerful voice she could manage, "Wow, little Dicky, you ate Teresa's pussy so well, now she's crying! OK, you made her wet, but that's not the right way, you know?" and laughed loudly.

Teresa laughed too, and

Skye looked Richard in the eyes as she handed him the straw to sip the pineapple juice. "Just, tell me you want to be set free, and I'll set you free, Richard."

"No, Miss Skye, thank you, no. The cage will stay closed, the handcuffs will stay closed, I will sip this pineapple, and then each of you will sit on my face to get licked, or you will torture my cock every which way... from this moment on, it's Greenlight, like your beautiful emerald shoes, like our beautiful Ireland."

Skye gritted her teeth, exhibiting a wicked grimace. Her eyes gleamed as Dicky finished his juice.

She waited, then in a smug voice told him, "Do you like my heels... slave? And do you like it if I call you a SLAVE? Take a good look at my little shoes! These I am wearing today, are just open-toe sandals with just a tiny ankle buckle, convenient for the airport. But I am a woman of many surprises... I have in my suitcase other even higher, black stiletto shoes that would drive even a seasoned veteran actor of dozens of fetish movies crazy. And I also have thigh-high stockings, if one night there's a thunderstorm, I might even wear them to turn you on... I know in what way, you men drool looking at a redhead wearing stockings... (smirked).

Maybe one night in the future, today or tomorrow, I might decide to put on a fashion show for you, wearing all my sexiest shoes, what do you say... slave?"

"That would be wonderful, Miss Skye."

"What if I took advantage of that situation to tease your caged cock? Uh... from the way it wobbles, I can see that idea is successful..." giggle, giggle.

With one little tap of just a toe, Skye teased the head of the cage, just to see it shudder again.

§ Chapter 27 -- "may I release your husband, ma'am?"

Now that the alarm had cleared, Skye did not want to appear lenient with him: and with Teresa semi-conscious from orgasm, Emily asleep, and Barbara busy with her nails, the whole burden of Dicky's teasing fell on her shoulders.

Suddenly the Cavalry had arrived: Miss Cathy came to her rescue. "You know, Miss Skye, the thing that most excites my lovely husband is to narrate him a fairy tale in which he is a hero of Greek mythology.

You could try, for example, telling him that right now he is Andromeda chained in front of the beach and that she is the sea monster coming to eat his testicles.

Or, if Gender Bender doesn't seem appropriate to you at the moment, you can tell him that he looks like Prometheus chained up as his punishment for giving Fire to humans, and you are the female vulture sent by the gods to eat his liver until it grows back... or, to eat his dick, until its growing shall smash the cage and achieves a full erection..." (a stifled laugh came out of the phone).

In Richard's brain the wheels were whirling "Damn, my wife knows me really well!" At the mere mention of Andromeda's and Prometheus's enthralled names, the rhythm of his breathing immediately changed: and his previously flaccid cock was already beginning to struggle, seeking an erection.

Skye stood up, and grasped her right knee with her hands: letting her foot swing, she allowed the heel to wander momentarily over his caged cock. It throbbed involuntarily at her mischievous touch.

"Wow, Mr. Dicky! I see you really like my heels!

How would you like it if I ordered you to lick them?

If I ordered you to follow me crawling on all fours?"

Richard did not speak. The emotions were too mixed. Embarrassment at having used the Safeword, pride at having made Teresa come (and right before the eyes of his own wife Cathy, and her wife, Barbara!), desire triggered by Miss Skye's lustful gaze... he would have liked to lick her until she came too, but he was uneasy because he didn't know what reaction she would have. Richard bit his lower lip to keep from speaking, but Skye noticed and laughed.

"Ah, so you don't want to talk, very clever, I see you have learned your lesson against Mansplaining well. There are many ways to use your mouth, and I don't feel like hearing you speak today. If Miss Teresa supports you, are you up to licking my ankles... Dicky?"

As an answer, Richard extended his tongue and thrust his neck forward, to lick the freckled ankle of the red-haired Scot. With that movement, he knocked Teresa off balance, who let out a moan: not unlike those caused by the orgasm just before.

Barbara intervened to protect her Teresa. "No-no, Mr. Dicky, I don't like it at all that your hands, albeit wrapped in the luxurious Air-Aeolus headscarf, are so close to my Teresa's pussy... that pussy is ours, private property, I erected a fence and dug a turf to demonstrate my possession.

And you have had the trimmed fence in your mouth, and licked the turf for a long time, so, you should be aware, ha, ha!

But now let me take her place... Teresa is tired and needs rest. I promise you will not see my hands... I will stay behind you, out of your sight."

Richard remained tense, his neck straining towards Skye's ankle. Teresa moved slowly to reach an armchair and get some rest: her place was taken by Barbara, who, as promised, kept her hands on the floor, out of his sight.