Punished for Wanting: Part 6 - Begging ... To Pull Out by Barrellstalk SJ

Author:Barrellstalk, SJ
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2020-05-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17: MEMORIES OF PUSSY

“Tell the Spaniard that he is going to get the chance to watch us making love,” said the Mama Priestess to the Warlord in Quechua. Her voice twinkled like chimes in the wind. Indeed, she had said those words so fetchingly that they did not need to be translated for the Spaniard to understand their meaning.

“What?” asked Curaça dumbfoundedly. Not quite sure that he had understood the woman. It could not be … could it? He was going to be able to sink his hard dick into soft, warm, feminine flesh? Finally … after waiting so very, very long! He was going to be permitted? The “yes” had not devolved into a “no?” This was not just another tease? Another torment? But, salvation?

The Mama Priestess smiled seductively at the dazed Warlord. Continuing her seduction that had started in the cold wind on the top deck of the land ship. She rose from the Spaniard’s cot. Slowly, almost majestically. Laid the empty ladle down next to the suffering soldier. And walked away from him, in minced steps with her high heels clicking mutedly on the planks of the floor and her ass swaying from side-to-side, to a second cot next to the table. Easily within the visual eyesight of the supine Spaniard.

She pirouetted slowly around – facing both of the men. Placed her hands on her shapely hips and then leisurely, ballerina-like sat down. On the cot. Her nostrils flared. Seduction softly glowed in her eyes and was written across her face.

Her tunic rode up her gorgeous thighs. She, at first, struggled to pull it down. And then had second thoughts: gathering up the garment with one hand and slowly, teasingly pulling it up … almost over her hips. Her legs opened slightly to allow the tunic its northward migration and then were primly squeezed shut. The path to heavenly ecstasy remained hidden … and forbidden.

Curaca stared at the spectacle. Affected by the tease. Her legs were lovely. Indeed, perfect. Smooth. Firm. Her high heels forced the muscles in her calves to flex, which added to the delicious curve of her stems.

“I am going to let you make love to me on this lovely bed,” she said to Curaca with just a hint of vivaciousness, patting the old army cot on which she was sitting.

A quick shadow of sarcastic humor flitted across her face. “You have not been sexually trained for a long, long time, Curaca.“ She paused and smiled at the stunned warlord. “I am going to change that.”

Her teasing was the first true sign of her resistance to Curaca‘s treason. And, the first step in her own defense.

Of course, the Great Warlord suspected nothing. He was already dreaming of sex with her. Penetrating her and then fucking her until she was raw and he was sated.

Whatever defense she could muster in this private war with Curaca, and soon with Pizarro, would rest entirely on her own shoulders. She had no societal norms to assist her. No servants to ensure that a recalcitrant male was again made compliant.

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