Free Beauty's Release by Anne Rice Page B

private, secret parts shocked her.
    But now one of the women forced aside the others, and, as she took hold of Beauty’s nether lips, she peeled them back harshly. Beauty twisted and arched her back. She felt she was being turned inside out. And she moaned as the fingers pinched at her clitoris, folding back the little hood of flesh that covered it. Beauty could hardly control herself any longer. She sobbed, and her hips rode up off the silk of the pillow and remained suspended in the air by virtue of the tension in her.
    The crowd of women seemed to grow quieter, more fascinated. Suddenly one of the wives took Beauty’s left breast in her hand and removed the little gold clamp, and scratched at the marks left in the skin and then played with the nipple roughly.
    Beauty shut her eyes. Her body had no weight. It had become pure sensation. She worked her limbs in the hands that held her, but this was not true motion. It was pure feeling.
    She felt the woman’s hair fall down on her naked chest. Then another woman had taken the clamp from her right breast, and she felt hot playful fingers examining her there also.
    Meanwhile the hand that widened her vagina continued to probe, to feel beneath the clitoris, to pull upon it. The juices exploded inside, and Beauty felt them trickling out, and she felt the hot fingers examining the moisture.
    Suddenly a wet mouth closed on her left breast. And another on her right. And both women sucked hard as the fingers pinched at her pubic lips. And Beauty was no longer conscious of anything but exquisite desire rolling up towards the long-awaited orgasm.
    At last, she went over the edge, her face and breasts throbbing with fire, and she felt her hips go rigid in the air, her vagina convulsing on the emptiness, grasping for the fingers that stroked her clitoris as she felt it grow harder and harder.
    She cried out—a long hoarse cry. And the orgasm went on and on, the mouths suckling her, the fingers stroking her.
    It seemed she would float forever in this sea of tenderness, this sea cf delicate violation. And as she sobbed shamelessly, not conscious now of any injunction to be quiet, she felt a mouth close on hers, she felt the cries taken into another.
    Yes, yes, she said mutely with her whole body, the woman’s tongue going into her mouth, her breasts exploding as they were bitten and licked, her hips lunging as if to swallow the probing fingers.
    And then as it overflowed, as it passed out of her with a thousand rippling reverberations, she felt herself embraced by the softest arms, kissed by the softest lips, the long delicate tresses veiling her.
    She breathed deeply, whispered aloud, “Yes, Yes, I love you, love you all.” But the mouth was still kissing her, and no one heard these words; they, like all else, were mere glorious, sensual reverberation.
    But her Mistresses were not satisfied. They would not let her rest.
    They took the pins out of her hair and they lifted her.
    “Where are you taking me?” she cried out before she could stop herself. She looked up, trying frantically to catch the lips that had just withdrawn from her mouth. But she saw only smiling faces.
    She was carried across the chamber, her body shocked and throbbing still, her breasts aching to be suckled again.
    And in a moment, she saw the answer to her question. A finely made bronze statue stood gleaming in the center of the garden: the statue of a god, it seemed, with knees bent and arms outstretched to the side, and head thrown back in laughter. From its naked loins jutted a cock, and Beauty knew that they meant to impale her on it.
    She almost laughed in her happiness. She felt herself placed on the hard, smooth, sun-warmed bronze, dozens of soft little hands supporting her. She felt the cock enter her wet vagina, her legs winding over the bronze thighs, her arms up to go around the neck of the deity. The cock filled her, stabbed at the mouth of her uterus sending a new contraction of pleasure through