Fine Italian Wine

"Not tonight!" she said and added in her thoughts "and not any other night!" She drifted off lying on her side facing Stew. Her back was still tingling.

The next morning, Stew was gone when she woke up. She put a blunt to her lips. Her mind went to James and the sensual sex she enjoyed. Her clitoris began to grow and her cunt began to get wet.

She started to dress. On an impulse she selected something that was open in the back. She slipped on a low-cut miniskirt. She slipped on a pair of sexy sandals with straps that wound up her legs. She stood before a full length mirror and whirled around. She pinned her hair up to show James mark on her neck.

"Does this make me James' woman?" she grinned.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" Sherri said.

"Hi Sherri! It's me, Veronica!"

"Oh hi, sweetie! How's the cruise?"

"It is fantastic! I met another stud in the bar and had sex with him in his state room. We danced all night."

"Oh my god, Veronica. You are a whore on your honeymoon!" Sherry giggled. "It sounds hot!"

"It is!"

"What about Aldo? Is he still sick?"

"He hasn't gotten out of bed. I suggested that go get breakfast. He just ran to the restroom and started heaving." Veronica laughed.

Sherri laughed.

"Hey listen! I found a fantastic man! I was with him all afternoon."

"Was it the man in the African regalia at the wedding?"

"How did you guess?"

"Sherri, I know you. I saw you talking to him. He was hot!"

"OK, I'm busted ... again." Sherri laughed.

Veronica laughed.

"Hey, I have got go. We dock in Jamaica tomorrow. Not much time to do ... you know what!"

"Bye sweetie!"

"Bye bye"

Just after noon a deliveryman brought a large box. There was a note attached. Sherri opened the note. It was from James.

"I want to see you again. Don't open the box. Call me first." The note read.

Sherri smiled. Was this a joke? She wanted to see James, not his box. "Damn it!" she thought.

Her trembling hands dialed her cell.

"Did you open the box?" It was James. His voice was hypnotic.

"No."

"No. What?"

"No master."

"Stay on the phone and open it now."

"Yes master."

Sherry carefully opened the box. It was clothing. She carefully spread out an African robe for a woman. Then she opened a box with gold sandals. There was a matching hat.

Another box was labeled African fragrances. She opened it on his command. Besides fragrances it contained soaps and oils.

"I want you to bathe ... not shower. Use the soap and the oil. After you dry, apply the body lotion all over your body. Then I want you to dress in the clothes that I sent you. Meet me here."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

Sherri took the bottles into the bathroom. She drew warm water. She laid the bottles out in a row on her dressing table. They were not manufactured bottles. They were hand blown and each contained a cork. She poured the a few drops from a dark green bottle into the bath. She undressed and stepped into the tub.

She sighed as she settled in. The water had a hypnotic aroma that surrounded her and filled her nostrils. She reached for the soap. It had an organic, tribal scent. She rubbed it over her body. She rubbed it over her new tattoos. It had a soothing effect.

The dress was a halter style with a very high bodice. The material was pleated. The pleats ran from the bottom of her bodice to the floor. It flared outward. It flowed down to her mid-calves but it was split in the front and back, leaving an opening very high. She tried walking. It flowed and opened as she stepped forward. Flashes of the inside of her thighs left very little to the imagination.

It had a pattern of flowers inside a design that traced around the edges.

The hat had two high points. It sat back on her head. Her hair flowed around the outside and down her shoulders. Her pumps had a leopard pattern and eight-inch stiletto heels.

She put on her regular Este Lauder™ make up with hot pink lipstick, two-tone eye shadow and dark eyeliner. She added artificial lashes on top and bottom. It gave her wide eyes a Bambi look.

It seemed like long, agonizing minute before James opened his door.

"Good afternoon," he said smiling.

"Hi James ... er ... uh ... master," Sherri said smiling and looking into his dark eyes.

She stepped inside. He closed his arms around her. She felt his mouth cover her lips. She opened her mouth to accept his tongue, and she gently pressed against it. Their essence mingled.

Sherri moaned.

James broke the embrace and took her hand. He led into a room filled with masks with menacing faces that looked as if they were in agony. The scent was a pungent organic smell. He placed her in a sofa which was hewn from a log. It had brown leather cushions.

"Please have a seat," he said.

He took the same bottle and poured another drink into the same goblet. He poured another drink from another bottle into a second goblet. Sherri noticed that he handed her the first goblet.

"You enjoyed this wine last time. So I fixed it again," he said smiling. He walked over and sat down beside her.

Sherri placed the goblet to her lips and took a sip. The bouquet and taste were the same. It was beginning to grow on her. She continued to sip as they chatted. It was banter full of sexual innuendos.

He put down his goblet and looked at her.

"Put down your goblet and come here," he said.

Sherri felt compelled to obey. He started kissing her while his hand roamed freely over her body.

Sherri moaned.

"Stand up!" he said. It was a command.

Sherri stood up.

"Remove your clothes."

Sherri unhooked a clasp in front and let he dress drop to the floor. She was wearing only a thong and a bra.

"Unfasten your bra and let it drop."

Sherri obeyed.

"Remove your thong."

Sherri obeyed.

"Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I will be up in a moment."

She went to a large dark room. Tribal regalia adorned the walls. Masks with hideous faces hung on the walls. Five large phalluses stood on the floor around the bed, one on each corner and one at the foot. Sherri sat on the bed and awaited James.

James entered the room. He was nude. His shiny black cock was semi flaccid, but was still at least 10 inches long. He black balls hung low.

Sherri looked at his cock and began to tremble. She felt her cunt getting wet.

"Stand up!"

Sherri stood.

James poured some oil into his hand and delicately rubbed it on her body, her arms, her feet, and her hands. The oil felt cool and soothing to her. The touch of his fingers made her body tremble.

He laid her back on the bed, spread her legs, and mounted her. When his face was above her, he pressed his lips against her lips.

"Take it and guide it in."

She took his member and guided it as he pushed forward. She moaned as her labia opened to receive him. Slowly she felt his manhood push in deeper. She continued to tremble. Her breathing was heavy.

"Oh, James. Fuck me. Fuck me," she pleaded. Her hips met his thrust. Her cunt contracted. She wanted to surrender her being for his pleasure. The rhythmic love dance got faster and faster. She began to hear and feel drums in the distance. The drums grew loader and closer. Beat after beat penetrated to the very essence of her soul.

She felt her passion rise to a peak. She felt that she was falling in space. She was falling into a bottomless pit. Swirling ... contracting ... convulsing ... pleasure beyond her imagination.

She heard someone scream in the distance. It was an animalistic screan! It grew louder and louder. Suddenly she realized the scream was her scream. She was screaming. The pleasure was beyond her control.

Suddenly James gave a great heave. She felt like she was being filled with molten lava. It spewed into her cunt and poured over the rim like a volcano. In her mind she envisioned a white hot creampie spread out over the sheet.

James was spent, depleted of energy. He collapsed onto her tiny body. They were perspiring and breathing heavily.

James rolled over and got up and stood by the bed. Sherri looked up to see his manhood above her.

"Get up!"

She knew what to do. She swung her legs off of the bed and sat up. She took his war spear and covered it with her mouth. She swallowed the sticky, slimy man juice mixed with her own essence. She kept her eyes transfixed on his face.

Sherri milked his cock and squeezed the last remnants of semen from his hole. It tasted sexy and sensual. She swallowed.

"Come here," he ordered.

He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the tribal regalia room. He sat her down on a log-chair. This time there was no cushion. It was hard hewn wood. He selected up a long, thin black crop which was hanging on the wall.

He whipped it around, testing, and flexing it. The crop, cutting the air, made a high-pitched swishing sound.

He touched to crop to her leg. He tapped the inside of her leg.

"Open your legs."

Sherri parted her knees until the tapping stopped.

The crop tapped her butt.

"Slide forward. I want your butt only on the first six inches of the chair."

Sherri slid forward.

The crop tapped her back.

"Sit up straight!"

Sherri straightened her back.

"Why am I doing this?" she thought. She was afraid, sexually aroused, and humiliated. Yet, she felt compelled to obey his commands.

The crop touched her cheek.

"Look forward. Don't' turn your head," he ordered

The crop touched her chin.

"Raise your chin. Keep your eyes forward. Don't move them."

She raised her head until her eyes looked level. She could no longer see the floor.

He walked behind her.

SLAP! The crop came down on the back of her chair. It missed her, but she was startled. She started to turn her head but corrected herself.

"Don't ever turn your head! Keep it looking forward."

She heard footsteps walking away. They became fainter until the sound disappeared. Suddenly there was silence. Time passed. She had no idea how long she waited. It seemed like hours. She dared not move her head or shift positions.

Her cunt was wet with semen. A new flow of womanly passion juice joined the semen in her cunt. She suppressed the urge to go into uncontrolled trembling. Despite the extreme treatment, her passion was rising.

"If this was pleasing my master, it is pleasing me," she thought. Her cunt began to flow. She felt an orgasm sweep over her. She resisted the urge to moan or tremble. She suppressed everything except the sensual enjoyment of her orgasm.

Sherri heard footsteps approaching behind her. She felt joy. Now her master was going to come for her. Suddenly, she realized that there were more than one set of footsteps. Was it two sets? Was it three sets of footsteps? She was almost trembling in anticipation.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped. She could hear breathing.

"Stand up! Don't turn." It was James. He offered her the goblet. It had been refilled.

"Drink!"

Sherri took the goblet and put it to her lips. Again, the bouquet and taste was the same. She swallowed it down without moving her head. Someone took the goblet.

"Walk!"

Sherri obeyed. A series of taps with the crop told her which way to go. He directed her back up the stairs to the bedroom. The second person – or was it two persons – followed behind. She could not see them.

Once in the bedroom, James placed a blindfold over her eyes.

"I want you to give pleasure with your body only. No other senses other than your touch can be allowed. You must give pleasure with your soul!"

He laid her on the bed and spread her legs....

Sherri took a drag from her cigarette. Her headlights parted the darkness ahead of her car. The wind was blowing over her face. She glanced in the mirror. Her head was covered by a tribal headdress. She looked down at the flowing robe she was wearing. It was different from the one she wore to James' apartment.

When she arrived home, the lights were out. She glanced at the clock. It was One O'clock!

She quickly undressed and walked into the bedroom. Stew was snoring. Sherri slipped under the covers and went to sleep with an aura of sex surrounding her and cum oozing out of her cunt and ass.

She awoke when a ray of sunlight flooded over her face. Stew was gone. She got up and stretched. She was nude.

She walked to the mirror. A colorful tattoo covered her right shoulder. She looked at her hands. Henna designs covered the backs of both hands. She looked at her body. A floral vine started at her hip and wound its way down her right leg. It stopped on the flat surface atop her foot.

Sherri gasped. Her mind raced back. She remembered James taking her to the tattoo parlor. She remembered lying on the table. She remembered the sound of the needle.

She looked and the tribal dress and hat were lying in a heap in the middle of the bedroom floor.

"Poor dumb-ass Stew," he never notices anything except golf, sports, and his job," she thought.

Sherri started to step into the shower but changed her mind. She made a bath. Like a ritual, she opened the bottle of oil and let several drops flow onto the water.

She stepped into the bath and reached for the soap. She bathed and stepped out. She dried herself and applied the oil to her body. It was soothing as before.

She quickly combed her hair back like before. She carefully applied her usual makeup. She put on her regalia and sandals.

In a short time Sherri was standing in front of James' door. She pressed the button and waited.

The door opened. It was James.

"Hello! I did not expect you." He was dressed in tribal regalia.

"James! Please master. I want to know what was in the goblet. Please master," Sherri pleaded. She got on her knees and bowed her head.

"Get up!"

She arose expecting to be thrown out. Instead, he took her hand and led her to the bar. He picked up the bottle and placed it in her hand.

Sherri took the bottle and looked down. The label was in English. The name was an Italian word she had never seen before. Below it was the year. She immediately recognized the year as the same as her birth. In small lettering below were more words. She strained her eyes to read the tiny letters. It read, Fine Italian Wine.