On the Beach, Part 9

Previous episodes.

Tara finds herself consorting with a group of libertines who seek to plumb the depths of her sexual nature. In the previous chapter, we learned that Tara shows signs of the qualities of a Vessel — a person who seeks fulfillment through being empty, and filled. In this chapter, Elie forces her to confront her true desires.

Wine flowed, as did spirited talk. Asha rubbed her pussy until she came, her whimpers of bliss giving me shivers. Even in orgasm she seemed graceful. Asha chased her orgasm by going down on Avril with a tenderness only a lover could conjure, and followed that with another round of shameless fingering and a second orgasm. Avril mounted Lars and fucked him, and then Asha, Lars and Avril entwined together. Mouths, tongues, cock, assholes and cunts all were liberally shared between them.

Elie held me and we watched them fucking one another. I felt safe in his arms.

“Do you want to join them?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “Maybe. Maybe soon?”

Elie nodded, and teased my nipple between his fingers.

“Do you want to join them?” I said. “I don’t want you to miss out on my account.”

“I will stay with you, tonight,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

Elie smiled, and ran his fingers through my hair. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, my dear Tara.”

Perhaps he did.

I was bleary with wine and weary from almost drowning. I watched the orgy unfold as a ghost might attend a cocktail party. I let my head rest on Elie’s thigh, and in a sleepy haze I suckled his cock. I’m not sure if he came, or if it were a dream that I felt his cum on my cheek.

When I awoke, the sun streamed through the window. I was in a large bed, in a high-ceilinged bedroom with tiled floors and a lofty, Arabesque-inspired ceiling. I was naked, and in the summer heat I’d kicked off all of the bed clothes. Elie, also naked, lay next to me. Handsome, fit. His body like a god. He had a beautiful erection that simply begged for attention.

I lounged against him and slipped his cock into my mouth, slurping on his bulging tip lazily, tasting the slick soapiness of him on my tongue. He groaned and stirred, running fingers through my hair.

As I sucked him, I reflected on the night before. It seemed like a dream. It seemed like nonsense. I wondered about this group of friends, and if I’d fallen into some kind of a sex cult. Perhaps I had.

Gradually, I took more of him in my mouth. My lazy ministrations became more focused as I stopped teasing and started to work toward the goal. I bobbed my head, grasping his hilt as I took him deeper, my lips and tongue working his shaft, saliva dribbling down my chin. He moaned, lifting his hips. His abs flexed. Oh, Jesus, those abs. My pussy was wet and tingled with hot need. Elie had let me sleep last night, but I hoped he would fuck me this morning.

“Wait,” he said.

I looked at him, wiping my mouth with my arm, hating to stop. He was close, I could tell. His cock was so fucking stiff and wet. Oh God, I wanted to straddle him and ride.

“We are going to try something,” he said.

He knelt and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He pulled my head back. I gasped.

“Tell me what you are,” he said. His voice was soft, but still urgent.

He started stroking his impressive cock directly over my face.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you?” he said, pulling my hair.

“I don’t know,” I said, genuinely confused.

“Spread your legs,” he said and I did.

Elie stopped stroking his cock long enough to slap my pussy, hard. I shrieked, clamping my thighs together. My cunt sparkled and pinged.

“Jesus Christ,” I swore at the pleasure-pain in my loins.

Elie started stroking again. “Tell me, Tara, what are you?”

“I don’t know,” I moaned. “What do you want me to say?”

“Spread,” he said. Again, his hand left his cock long enough to give me a stunning slap that left my pussy prickling and my body writhing under him.

“Oh, fuck.” I squirmed and wriggled.

“What kind of woman lets a man do this to her?” Elie said, stroking his cock just an inch from my nose. “What are you?”

“I’m a… a slut?”

I sensed he wasn’t asking me to talk dirty to him.

“I’m a slut,” I said again, more definitely.

He pulled my hair and smiled. “Own it,” he said. “What defines a slut?”

I gasped, intensely aroused. My nipples, my pussy, my skin all sparkled with a need to be touched.

What defines a slut?

“Sex,” I said. Sex. A hunger for sex.

He stroked his cock right in my face, tugging my head, forcing me to arch my back. I could see every vein, the way the skin bunched beneath his palm. He dripped slime on my cheek. His palm made smacking noises around the cock-head. It strained, ready to empty its payload onto my face.

A shudder ran up my spine. “I want you.”

Apparently, that wasn’t what I should have said.

“Spread,” he commanded. I winced, but obeyed. The slap made me writhe, lightning charging up my spine.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I said, shaking. I feared another smack on my tender folds, yet the pain lit a fire between my thighs.

“Go deeper,” Elie commanded. “What are you?”

He wanted me to discover something. What am I? Who am I?

“Let go,” he said. “What defines a slut?”

“Sex,” I said, repeating myself. “Fucking. I don’t know.”


I cried out, writhed with an agony of pleasure, as he slapped my cunt. My thighs closed involuntarily.

“Open,” he said again, not done torturing my poor flower. I did as he said, and writhed with yet another stinging slap to my tender bits. “Hold your thighs open and accept the pain,” he said.

Oh my God. Oh my sweet Jesus. Those words. They did something to me. I parted my legs, bared my pink to him. My body tensed, anticipating. The slap, a whimper. Another slap. My cunt, humming, buzzing, agony. I forgot myself and focused only on one thing: keeping my shuddering thighs open so that Elie could lash my cunt. I wasn’t Tara anymore. I was cunt and agony. Cunt and heat. Cunt and hunger.

Then just Cunt.

“Oh my God,” I sobbed as the truth rose to the surface through a haze of pain and bliss and desire. “Oh my God.”

“What are you?” Elie asked, gently slipping two fingers into my soaking wet pussy.

“I am cunt,” I moaned.

“Say it again,” he said, fingering me tenderly, pleasure swirling in my belly.

“I’m cunt,” I said.

“Anything else?” he said.

“No. Just… cunt.”

It made so much sense to me in the blinding clarity of that moment, how enlightenment was somehow hiding in the dizzying, slick ache between my thighs.

He scooped me, kissed me passionately on the lips, still sliding his fingers in and out of my pussy.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You’re starting to understand. Lose yourself and you will find yourself.”

I moaned.

“Do you want my baptism?” Elie said, squeezing his cock, milking it toward the purple tip.

“Yes,” I said, without a moment of hesitation.

Elie took my hand and guided me off the bed.

“Kneel,” he said.

I got to my knees, naked and vulnerable before him.

He put both hands on my head. He let his cock rest on my forehead, hot and slick. The tip lay atop the very center of my forehead: my third eye. It didn’t feel sexual (despite his dick on my face) but more like I was being inducted into a sorority, or being knighted by the Queen.

“Tara, I can guide you if you will trust me.”

“I trust you,” I said solemnly.

“I want you to turn yourself over to me for a while. Your body, your soul, your will. Together we will explore these desires of yours.”

“Okay,” I said.

I smiled. It was strange to have such a serious conversation with his erection resting on my face.

“I will ask you to do things that will make you uncomfortable, do you understand?”

“I like being uncomfortable,” I said.

“There’s a difference between running naked through the woods and what I will ask you to do.”

I let out a deep breath. “Elie, if you tell me to do something, I’ll do it.”

This was a game, a sex game. If there were anything that I understood, it was how to play the game.

“Your body will belong to me, for whatever end I please. Do you accept this?”

I paused. My nerves fluttered. “Yes,” I said.

“I will humiliate you. In public. Will you accept it?”

I buzzed. “Yes,” I said. What had my games been other than a flirtation with humiliating myself?

“I will share you with other men and women, strangers perhaps, at my whim and not yours.”

I hesitated, but Elie’s bold plan had a heady momentum, and it both aroused and frightened me. I nodded.

“Tara, I want you to really hear me. I will offer up your cunt, your asshole, your mouth, to men and women you don’t know. Will you accept this?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling a definitely tightness in my chest.

“Is there anything I can ask you to do that you will refuse?”

“Why don’t we find out?” I said.

Elie smiled. “I think you’re ready. Tilt your head toward me,” he said.

He lifted his cock from where it had been resting on my forehead. His juices had been leaking onto my skin leaving a dewy patch on my third eye. The spot tingled.

Elie milked his shaft, the tip pointed at that point on my forehead. I closed my eyes.

“Tell me what you are,” he said in a voice thick, straining against his desire to come.

I said the words like a prayer: “I am Cunt.”

With a groan he ejaculated. Hot streams rained down on my cheeks. I gasped, opened my mouth and kept my eyes pinched shut. When he was done I laughed. His cum was everywhere: pooling on my cheeks, in my eyelashes and caught in my hair. He let go of my head. I knelt with my face covered. The moment felt perversely holy, like I had indeed been baptized by his jizz.

“Now you belong to me,” he growled.

I was totally at peace. I smiled and licked the cum off my lips, blinking. I vibrated inside. I had found the answer to questions I didn’t know I had been asking. I laughed. Joy.

Elie handed me a towel.

“I know you want to come,” he said. “I’m going to withhold that from you.”

I was quivering with desire, aching to feel him inside of me, to feel his fingers on my clit, but I nodded.

“I trust you,” I said. “Show me the way.”

7 thoughts on “On the Beach, Part 9

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