Black Iris: Chapter Twenty-Seven
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Kweena and I are holding hands, giggling, frolicking across City Hall Plaza. When we reach an open area, we stop. She takes what looks like a small make-up mirror out of her bag, opens it, and presses a button. A yellow ring of light on the device begins flashing. She looks up at the sky as the eerie hum of a theremin fades in. There’s a blinding burst of white light.
Now we’re in a Gothic sex dungeon with stone walls, a low, cobwebby ceiling, and a craggy cement floor. Artificial torches on either side of the entrance cast a purple glow on the various BDSM contraptions in the room. I recognize some of these from porn, such as the St. Andrew’s Cross, the stock, and the sex swing. Some of the devices, I can’t make heads or tails of, and appear to be designed for beings with more than four limbs.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Kweena asks. “I can show you some of the other rooms.”
“No, let’s stay here. I’ve always wanted someone to ride me like a horsie.”
She kisses me on the cheek and straps a bit gag to my face. “Remember, our safe word is ‘meowzers.’ Obviously, you won’t be able to talk, but just think it and I’ll hear you.”
I nod.
“Play ‘Blorgle’s Seduction,’” she says to nobody.
Spooky music featuring instruments I don’t recognize and a Gregorian-sounding chorus chanting in a language that isn’t Latin begins playing through speakers my ears can’t locate. Kweena shimmies into the middle of the room and starts unbuttoning her shirt. Her hips sway unnaturally, like demons in a Japanese horror film. Her blouse comes off, followed by her bra, then her shoes, then her skirt.
Then her skin.
The body underneath is similar to a human’s, though her real skin is gray like brushed steel, and her head is large and bulbous like the man in The Scream. Her shiny black eyes are the size and shape of kidneys and her ears look like empty pistachio shells. Her mouth is barely bigger than a coin slot, though she has luscious purple lips drawn around it with lipstick. Strangely, her real body is not naked. She’s wearing a leather bra and panties, a Muir cap, and pumps with six-inch heels. How she managed to conceal all these layers is beyond me. I also wonder what she would have done if I had chosen a different room because this outfit has a very specific context.
She takes a riding crop from the wall and slaps her palm with it. “Take off your clothes and get down on all fours.”
I oblige.
She climbs on my back and kicks me in the ribs, and I proceed to prance around the room. Knee pads would have been nice, but at least she’s not wearing spurs.
“Faster,” she says, smacking my ass with the crop.
My prancing becomes trotting. As I drag myself across the cold floor, my legs mop up dust like a Zamboni cleaning an ice rink.
“Faster!”
This time when she hits me, it tingles. I begin scuttling back and forth from one end of the dungeon to the other, feeling like Battle Cat from He-Man.
“I have the power!” she shouts inside my head.
My dick begins to swell, and she somehow knows, and I somehow know she knows.
She pulls back on the reins, and I stop. “Now it’s time for Catherine the Great to fuck her stallion.” After dismounting, she removes the bit from my mouth. My tongue is tense, and my gums are sore. I move my jaw in a circular motion to stretch the muscles.
When I go to stand up, she grabs the scruff of my neck and holds me down. “Stay!” She can’t weigh more than 75 pounds, yet I couldn’t budge her if I tried.
Slipping out of her panties, she pulls me towards her pussy, which so perfectly resembles a flower that even a bee couldn’t tell the difference. Instead of two lips, there are nine juicy folds of flesh enveloping her hot hole like petals dripping with morning dew. Something that looks like a pistil protrudes from the center. Assuming it’s her clit, I probe it with my tongue.
Her ass clenches. “Damn, that thing is like steel wool.”
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. Want me to stop?”
She smiles. “No, I can take it.”
I lap gently, doing the Karate Kid lessons. Paint the house. Paint the fence. Wax on, wax off. It’s hard to gauge her enjoyment because I have no understanding of her physiology, but her breathing grows heavy as a human’s does, and I hear a dull thumping that could be a heartbeat. The pounding grows faster and louder until I no longer hear the music. Her grip on my fur tightens as though she’s trying to squeeze me out of my skin like she did her own. She lets out a screech like a boiling lobster, and my ears flatten against my head. Thick, white liquid sprays out of her, frosting me from head to toe.
“Good kitty,” she says.
She releases me, and I collapse onto the concrete.
“Now, it’s your turn.” She opens my legs and crawls between them. “I have a special tongue, too. Would you like me to use it?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Her mouth stretches wide enough to swallow a softball, and a fluorescent yellow tongue rolls out like a carpet. It moves with the dexterity of an octopus arm, probing my dick, teasing it, coiling around it. Luckily there are no suction cups. Once I’m at full mast, she adds both hands to the mix, twisting in opposite directions. Her tongue retracts, and her lips form an air-tight seal around my tip. As she draws air in through her tiny nose, her whole head deflates until I see the impression of a skull on the surface of her face. This is what every horny teenage boy hopes it will feel like to fuck a vacuum cleaner before they find out the hard way that it doesn’t.
After 45 seconds of this, I feel the orgasm building up inside me. Right before I get to the point of no return, Kweena pulls away.
“Now, now. Do you really think you deserve to cum already? Do you think you’ve earned it?”
“No, Mistress.”
“No, you haven’t. And you need to be punished for your insolence.” Her tongue comes out again, creeping towards my cock like it has a mind of its own, stopping just a millimeter before it makes contact. It moves all around it without touching me and then retreats back into her mouth. She teases with just her fingertips, tickling so gently it feels like a slight breeze. My cock twitches and Kweena laughs.
“You like these hands, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“I know you do. They’re just like human hands, only stronger.” She grabs me with both of them and begins stroking forcefully — starting slow, then building speed. I take a deep breath as I move once again to the brink.
Again, she stops before detonation. “Not yet.”
I’m panting now, unsure if I can hold back. She squeezes the base of my cock until the head turns blue and holds it until I regain my composure.
“Shall I switch back to my mouth for a little while?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
This time, her mouth is softer and looser. Instead of sucking, she slurps, gliding gently from tip to base. I caress her face, and her head feels like a giant breast. Below her neck, she feels human. Her clavicle, her shoulder blades, the small of her back.
Like an oncoming sneeze, the urge to explode hits me out of nowhere. She feels my body tense and speeds up her head-bobbing. When the moment comes, I dig my claws into her haunches. Blue liquid pours from the wound.
“Bad kitty,” she says after she swallows my load. “Look at this mess.” She stands up and cracks the riding crop on the bench. “You’re going to clean it up with your tongue.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Her blood tastes like cough syrup. There’s also some of her cum on the ground, which tastes like buttermilk.
“Good kitty. Now you can — ” Her head tilts as she notices my still-raging boner. “Huh. Looks like you’ve got some mojo left.”
I’m just as surprised as she is. My cock usually shrinks down seconds after orgasm.
She smiles. “Shall we keep going, then?”
“Definitely.”
We proceed to fuck for hours, trying every position, every BDSM gadget, and every weird piece of furniture. We both cum multiple times — I lose count after seven each, but that’s just because I become too light-headed to keep track of numbers. All the while, I stay as hard as a rock, and she stays sopping wet. The carnality ends only when our bodies are too exhausted and drained of electrolytes to continue.
The last image I have is of me drifting off to sleep with my face in Kweena’s flower.
