Message-ID: <20024eli$9902180428@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Joanna De Brito" Subject: {Joanna} The Code Of Tawr (8/10 MF caution) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990218005641.8352.qmail@hotmail.com> Standard Disclaimer: Over 18s Only. This is part eight of a serialized story. If you haven't yet read the earlier parts, I strongly suggest you go back and start there. As this is a serial I don't want to give too much away in the story codes. What I am prepared to say is that the story will be (almost) entirely MF, and that there are n/c, rape, and what are to me, macabre themes developed. Do not read if such things squick you. However, no pedo; no incest. On the other hand, if this kind of stuff turns you on: enjoy! Joanna The Code Of Tawr by Joanna (joanna_de_brito@hotmail.com) Copyright 1999 All rights reserved February 1999 Perhaps you may yet find me: I am so close; just the other side of the Portal... Part Eight I sat before my computer feeling somewhat lost, like a smoker without a cigarette. For weeks now I had come here to scheme and type and read and edit. It had become my focus; it had become my life. But now it was at an end. Paul did not want my story, did not want to hear what it had to say. I flicked languidly from program to program, idly selecting items on menus and waiting for something to excite. Nothing did. I sighed, and laid down my mouse. What was to be done? I considered Paul's rebuke, that I was, in effect, living my life through my story, that I was hiding behind it. Well maybe that is true, I thought. But it's also been a therapy. It's allowed me to work through feelings that were too sensitive to touch. Certainly it's been a crutch, but doesn't the cripple need his crutch? And hadn't I been that cripple, wounded by what Paul had done? So what now? Where was I now? Well things are getting better, I reasoned, but they're not yet right. Although I had given him that hand job in the car, even now I hadn't let him touch me. Whose fault was that? Mine or his? Well, whoever was to blame, as time passed, the harder it was becoming to change the status quo. I sighed again. If the story was my therapy, I was not done yet. I sat at my desk, a smoker without a cigarette. Well, if not for him, for me, I decided. Now was not the right time to quit. **************************************************** The Code Of Tawr Chapter Three, Part Two There was a craving in the eyes of Paul Bradley as the door opened and he saw Joanna. She was still tied as the Inquistador had commanded. From her wrists a rope rose to the ceiling where it passed over a pulley and from there dropped to a fixing bolted to the wall. She hung with her feet dangling several inches from the floor. There was nothing to take the weight from her aching and stretched arms. She was naked and her skin shone with a mixture of sticky sweat and dirt, and there was a ball gag in her mouth. But even now was she beautiful, Paul thought subconsciously, for some reason especially now. Her hair fell about her shoulders in what would in normal times be described as a disorganized heap. At this moment, though, it embodied the invitation of her enforced pose, framing perfectly as it did the open exhibition of taut breasts pulled by her bindings high upon her chest and complementing the splash of color at the base of her belly. "How long has she been like this?" Paul murmured to the veiled creature behind him. "Just under an hour," came the answer in a deliberate flat tone. "Everything is exactly as the Inquistador ordered," the lady added. He reached up and untied the ball gag. "Joanna?" he implored. "How are you? Are you alright?" "Get me down," she croaked, ignoring his question. "Please, can you let me down? My arms are so terribly numb." "Untie her," he ordered the keeper. "Untie her now!" Sharon was so apologetic. "I'm afraid I can't do that yet, sir. Not yet. The Inquistador has said she must not yet be released." "Not released? But why not? Why has he done this? What is going on? Tell me, Sharon!" "That is not for me to say, sir." He gazed expectantly at Joanna, an unstated pleading, begging her to tell him what was happening. "The Inquistador was demonstrating what was done to Rebecca," she whispered, loyalty preventing her from saying more. He didn't understand. "Rebecca?" "She has been punished, whipped, for performing her striptease a little too enthusiastically." "Rebecca? This makes no sense. I saw Rebecca only a few minutes ago. Rebecca is fine. This is ridiculous. I'm untying you." He took the rope where it was fastened to the wall, and, quickly untying it, allowed it to run over the pulley. As it unwound, Joanna collapsed grimacing to the floor and she lay there, moaning softly and in considerable pain. Her arms were numb and she couldn't move them. Opening her eyes, she tried to control the conflicting emotions that were preying upon her in her weak physical state. "It was a test," she sighed, thinking of Rebecca and not attempting to move from the cold stone floor. "Thank goodness it was just a test." "You must stop this, Joanna," Bradley said, sitting beside her and trying to make her comfortable by lifting her naked body to a sitting position, his strong arm cradling her back. As he held her close, Sharon turned away self- consciously, embarrassed at the physical intimacy. "This has got to end," Paul repeated. "I spoke with the elders last night. When the Inquistador assigned judgment to you, that will have included the authority to pardon. You can undo this mess, there is still time." His appeal was met with an intransigence he could not understand. "Why are you doing this?" he pleaded. "Because it is the right thing to do," she replied with simplicity. "That's not true. We both know that you were not to blame. I raped you." She was grimacing again because feeling was beginning to return to her numbed arms; there were spikes of pain searing through them. "Why are you so suddenly interested?" she asked. "You told me that you were looking forward to the spectacle of my death. You raped me though I pleaded with you, despite knowing that for me it would be a capital offense. How can you be sincere?" "Joanna, there is much you do not know." "You even went that extra mile and made a public spectacle of me just to be sure that nothing could be swept under the carpet. That's what sealed my fate: not what happened on the mountain. What happened there could be concealed; I have... I had friends. But you drew everyone's attention, forced the scandal, there is no way back for me now." "Look, whatever I did I had my reasons. But there is a way back. I can show you." "My life is Tawr. You think I can betray him? I might gain my life, but what kind of life would that be if he were not in it?" He was dismissive. "Your life was Tawr. Tawr has given you to the fire. Tawr desires you no longer. I on the other hand, wish to rescue from the ashes. I," he stumbled over words born out of great pain. He held her more tightly. "I desire you very much." Sharon crossed to the window and looked out. Although she was listening, she pretended she was not. Joanna shuddered, remembering Paul's erection looming above her, wanting her. "I remember," she said. "But if Tawr demands my life, I have already vowed to give it." "Joanna, how can you consent to your own destruction?" "Because I have a higher conviction. I don't think you will ever understand because you do not live, you do not breathe the code." He looked over helplessly to Sharon for assistance. But she had her back to him and was not even aware of the tacit request. "Joanna, I can't allow it." "You cannot stop it." "Why not? I have already made you do something against your will. Why should I not do so again? To prevent you from committing this great self abuse." "Paul, please. Allow me to make my own informed choice. I know what I am doing. I wish I could have lived, but since that is not to be, at least let me die in peace and dignity." That riled him. "Dignity?" How can you say that? Dignity? You would like to die with dignity? If that were only true. If only you knew how I've agonized over this. Do you think that it's possible to be burnt with dignity?" He paused, looking piercingly into her eyes. They were so close to him, yet she was so far. Why was she so stubborn, why would she not yield? He had to dissuade her. Perhaps if he could make her see the reality, the holocaust ahead, she might yet give way. "To be burnt with dignity is a contradiction," he continued. "They will give you a long white cotton dress to wear to the stake: simple, dignified you may think; but nothing underneath, naked beneath. That's the way it's done, the way they will insist that it's done. They will give you no choice. Why do you think that is? Your punishment is not about giving dignity; it's about removing it. If the day is sunny, and I rather think tomorrow will be sunny, then that dress will become semi transparent in the sun. Lined up before you will be the elders, all of them. Not one will be missing. As you hang terrified they will be watching, sexually aroused; inspecting your shaking body through the transparent cloth. "And then a man in a black hood will approach with a torch in his hand. And your eyes will follow every movement of that torch, for it is the tool by which your embers will be blown to the four winds. It symbolizes more than simple death; it promises torture, then annihilation. He holds it beneath the faggots, and for a moment they defy the fire, but it is only for a moment. "The flame springs up and becomes a life of its own. At first it has a childlike curiosity as the flames begin to play around your legs, they flit, first here, then there." As he spoke his free hand mimicked the movement of the flame. "At first they are slow and graceful. They don't find you, because you know the game and sway from their path, just as, yes, like that, just as you do right now from my hand. But then, as it grows into pubescence, almost by accident it misses its beat and stumbles upon skin." She had twisted from his embrace leaving her legs nearest to him. The back of his hand touched the outside of her calf and gently ran across it. She recoiled from his touch but her movement was severely limited due to the weakness caused by her bondage. "You scream. Suddenly the flame becomes more excited having discovered that it can make you dance its tune. This is a much better game. It flickers higher and faster. Who knows what tune it will choose? Nothing sedate or graceful you may be sure. Given your beauty, I think, for you it will pick a fast dance: raucous, strident and dissonant. A dance unrestrained and carnal. A flame curls its tongue around a fold of your long flowing dress and holds it fast. You scream again. The fire is aroused; it lusts for your flesh. The dress smolders and then dissolves before a fascinated audience in flames. The game has suddenly become more interesting. At last the dance has a name, and striptease is that name. Your body convulses as it tries to free itself from the burning cloth. Dancing an involuntary beat that casts the remnants of your dress to the fire. "At last you know why they make you wear the dress. So they can watch it disintegrate and burn in the flame, and ogle your naked shaking body without breaking the code. You scream and beg and blaspheme against the mighty Tawr himself as your skin begins to blister and roast. Your body will shimmy and gyrate in a manner base and obscene and you will be powerless to prevent it. "Nearby, our eminent bystanders will make a visible display of being appalled at the sound of the expletives gushing from your lips, will denounce the vitriol pouring from your mouth and condemn the obscenity of your final death-throes and thus will justify themselves and all that they have done. You will die naked and seen and shamed, for the crime of allowing yourself to be seen without clothes. Where I touched, the flames will caress. As there was no escape on the mountain, there will be no escape now. You will writhe and be raped by the flame as you writhed and were raped by me. Dignified? That dance will be anything but dignified." Joanna had been silent throughout and remained silent. Her cheek twitched; the sole indicator of the emotion she was controlling inside. "You may be right," she said at last. "That still does not mean I should betray my faith. Please, go! Get out, please! I cannot bear this any more. Just leave me alone!" "I don't think you mean that," Paul said softly. "How do you think I will feel if they destroy something so, so, beautiful?" His eyes wistfully wandered upon her nakedness as he spoke, over the rise of her breasts and the flat of her belly. "Please believe me that this is not something you care to endure," he said, his eyes finally resting at the hidden crevice near the top of her legs. "Not really. I think you would rather like to pay my price. What do you have to lose now? What can they do to you once they've burnt you? Isn't there something you wanted, but missed out on before?" She looked at him angrily, still upset, but didn't answer. "You would like to know what it would have been like," he whispered, "if you could have cum. Why don't you find out? Let me show you? What have you to lose, even if I am not as sincere as I promise to be?" "No," she said flatly. She was aware of what the Inquistador had ordered her to do, and that this was her opportunity to obey, but deep inside, her id rejected the idea, was repelled by it. How could she masturbate for the pleasure of this man? "But why not?" he responded. She shook. "Because I cannot trust you. Because I hate you, that's why. Because you are the reason I'm here. Because you raped me. Because you have taken from me everything good I felt about myself. Do you want more? How many reasons do I have to give?" "But haven't you wondered why I did those things? We'd known each other for years. I think we were friends. Weren't we friends? Didn't you ask yourself, what is making this man act like this?" "Of course I did. It's made me question my ability to judge character. But whatever the reason, I know for sure what you did to me." "During all the time we were friends, didn't you even once wonder how I felt about you being La cepern? No, I can see, I can see that you never did. Ever since I met you I've been told that you were forbidden, that it was wrong to think of you the way a man normally thinks of a woman. I was told that you were already promised to this mighty deity, Tawr. How do you think that made me feel as I came to know you and came to love you?" Sharon coughed, but didn't look round. "Paul, you have no right to think of me like that." "But why not? Who says I have no right? The code? Who wrote the code? Some predecessor of the Inquistador on a flight of fancy? You've been brainwashed, Joanna. It's no easy matter to counteract indoctrination from birth. I still don't know whether I'll succeed. I knew I had to unbalance your way of thinking, make you question every principle you had ever been taught, make you feel things you had never felt. I had to tap into a side of your being that was so deep and dark that you would never admit to anyone, not even yourself that it existed. "I did that by raping you. Why is it that you condemned yourself to die? You admitted it to the Inquistador. Do you remember what you told him? You said that you enjoyed what happened. As violent and horrifying as it was, you found having to submit totally to someone you trusted, and yes, even now I think you do trust me, unbelievably exciting. "I know you find that thought repulsive, but for better or worse it's a chink in the door of Tawr's hold on you and I intend to push that door wide open. Life is for living. Most people just seem to take their life and do nothing with it. What part they don't use for sleep or work, they spend in eating or else waste. I was told that what I wanted was unavailable: that you were promised to this thing, Tawr. I went out and unpromised you. I wanted you and I took what I wanted." Her eyes wavered for just a moment, but her voice was still icy. "Then you stole. You say you regard me highly, and I must believe you since you say it. But how can you tell me that on the one hand, while on the other you trample on that spark that makes us unique? Trample on the most basic of human rights? Do I not have the right to be wrong? If I believe in the code, yearn for a ceremonial gown and take seriously my responsibility as a La cepern how can you snuff that out? You stole my virginity; that was mine to bestow as a gift to Tawr, even to a man if I so chose, but you stole it and I can never reclaim it. I am civil with you because that's how I have been told to be in adversity, but whatever you may have intended, this is why I hate you." He retaliated ardently, resolutely, passionately. "You accuse me of stealing. But you are being robbed of something just as valuable. Why do you suppose the Inquistador is so decided that you must die?" He waved away her protest. "I know, it is you that made the decision, but it was him that set you up to it." "It was because of what I did, what you did." He contradicted her. "It was because you might be pregnant." She laughed derisively. "You are wrong, and I can prove that you are wrong. The Inquistador isn't worried about pregnancy because he will know that it is impossible." "It's not impossible at all." "It is. As a La cepern I will have been prevented, at birth, from ever bearing children." It was his turn to laugh. "So that is what they've told you, is it? And where did this priceless piece of nonsense originate?" He noticed that brief look of uncertainty again, but then it was gone. "What are you trying to say?" she asked. "The Chief Priestess told me. Why would she lie to me? You are saying this to weaken me!" He reached across and pulled her to him, she tried to resist but it was only half hearted. He sat by her side with his arm round her shoulder and spoke confidentially, his voice reassuring and paternal. "Listen, Joanna. There is something important I need to tell you. Sometimes there are things that we never get told, sometimes because those that do know feel that we will not cope, sometimes because we are happier not knowing, and sometimes because knowledge imbues power. For instance, if you were to ask a little boy where babies come from, maybe he would say that storks bring them. His parents don't tell him the truth either because they are embarrassed by it or they think it unsuitable for his childish ears." He took a deep breath before beginning again. "You were never tampered with as a baby, and as far as I as a non- practitioner can tell, you are as able to have children as anybody else, La cepern or not. Don't interrupt, it is true. The Chief Priestess has jumped to a wrong conclusion. The reason that La cepern never conceive is not because of anything to do with them. It takes two to make a baby. The problem is not with the La cepern: it is with the Galsip men folk. You see, they are sterile." The idea was ludicrous to her and she was suitably contemptuous. "Sterile! But that is rubbish! If all the men were sterile then there would be no children at all!" "My poor naive Joanna! You really do have no idea! Why do you think you were to be sent through the Portal? Why do the Galsip people sacrifice so many of their fairest daughters to Tawr? Why do they offer their children to the Orders, when they know that at their bloom they will forfeit them forever? It is not simply blind devotion! It is because Tawr bequests fertility. In return for his many brides Tawr provides the precious sperm that prevents extinction of the Galsip race. Everybody knows, apart from those in the Orders themselves. But nobody says. It is a public secret." "But that is preposterous! Children can't be born like that! You are lying!" "Of course I have given you no reason to trust me. I didn't expect you to believe me, why should you? But it is the truth." She hesitated, biting her bottom lip. "If it's the truth, then there is even more reason why I must burn. If what you say is true, and I don't believe it, then Tawr is father to us all. And if I displease him, would he still give us our children? How can I take that chance with the future of my people?" He listened with sadness, holding her close. "And nothing I say makes any difference?" She spoke more softly, though still with resolution; the inner ice had melted. "No. I am quite determined. Tawr has always been good to me." He groaned. "Then I shall waste my words no longer. The Inquistador said I would be wasting my time. He warned me that whatever I did, whatever he did would make no difference, that a La cepern will always listen to the code. He proved that to me yesterday with Rebecca. I was wrong to dispute with him. If loving you means allowing you to exercise your free will, then I shall argue with you no longer. I don't understand your thinking, but the decision is yours. Your final kiss will be from the tongue of fire." She shivered at his prediction. She was fearful, but content. "Thank you, Paul." She cuddled up to him. "You say you love me. There is a way you can prove it. Something you could do for me before you go." "Please, tell me." "I find it hard to say..." She bit her lip through embarrassment. How could she tell him?" She looked across at Sharon who was still by the window. She was leaning against the sloping ceiling, her face carefully averted from them. "Please, Sharon. Could you leave us awhile? Could you sit outside?" Sharon nodded sympathetically. "Of course." She then spoke to Bradley. "Just knock when you want to leave." They both watched her go, closing and locking the hefty wooden door behind her. "Now, what do you want of me?" Paul asked. Again, Joanna nervously bit down on her bottom lip. Eventually she spoke, her head was lowered to avoid any eye contact. "The Inquistador has said," she began at last. "That I must masturbate in front of you." He could not believe what she had said. "The man is despotic!" he exclaimed. "Where does it say that in the code? He makes and breaks the rules to his own whim! You must not do it, Joanna." "Please, you said you would allow me to exercise my free will." "But this has as much to do with my free will. He is simply humiliating you. Can't you see that? And he's using me to do it." "I know, but for once, please do this my way. You humiliated me on the mountain." "I know. But that was for a reason." "Please, you will make it much harder for me. Wouldn't you like me to masturbate for you? Doesn't the idea excite you? I would have thought that you would have found the prospect very arousing. I'm sure many men would." "Of course it would be exciting, I can't deny it. It's not that..." "It's the thought that I'm under compulsion that you don't like?" "Well, yes, I guess." "But, no, that can't be right. In fact I think that you would consider it erotic that I should be forced to make myself cum for your pleasure rather than my own. I think you would find arousal in witnessing my most private moment. Please, be honest. Admit this is true." "It is true," he agreed. "But I also have the power of reason and conscience. Whatever I may desire, this is wrong." "But it would be a terrific game. You taught me to play, remember. We get so serious about matters of no consequence, you said." "I was drunk. It was a stupid remark." "It was not stupid. It is true. Please play this game with me." He thought, then nodded reluctantly. "If that's what you want." She smiled wanly. "Thank you." "What do you want me to do? I've never been asked by a woman to watch while she does, does that." "I don't know. I've not done it before either. I don't just mean I've not done it in front of a man. I mean, this is the first time. Help me! Will you please help me? " He had not considered that she had never masturbated. Didn't everyone do it? "You've never played with yourself? I guess not. I keep forgetting the code. You need to find somewhere comfortable. I'll get Sharon to find you something soft that you can sit or lie on." He knocked on the door, and when Sharon opened it he spoke quietly of their need. She left them and when she returned she was carrying a large duvet type object, which Paul took from her. He waited until she had gone before placing it on the floor. "Sit down," he said to Joanna, indicating the seat. She sat awkwardly with her legs tightly closed shut. She was stiff and tense and held her arms across her chest. "Relax," he told her. "As you said, of what great consequence is it that I am here? Experiment; caress yourself, what feels nice? Allow your hands to wander wherever they wish to go. Give them freedom. Allow them to find their own way." She began to do so, but she was still self-conscious. Her hands were obviously avoiding anywhere faintly erogenous. "Touch your breasts," he ordered her. She leant back on the duvet trying to make herself comfortable, cupping her breasts in her hands. There was nothing she felt less like doing than this. All feelings of arousal that she had felt on the mountain had vanished. She felt conspicuous, embarrassed and foolish. "I can't," she cried finally. "I just don't feel that way at all." "But you will," Paul said. "Remember the mountain. Remember the feeling you had with me inside you. Don't deny it; you've admitted that you deserve to die because of those feelings. Allow them to do some good, remember how it felt, use that energy to help you now." "Please" she said. "I think it would help, could you let me see your cock again." "What?" Now it was his turn to be uneasy. "Please will you make it go hard. I know that will make the difference." She watched as he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his penis. It was fairly hard, but not solid. She gazed at it open mouthed, rubbing herself for the first time with spontaneity. "Stroke it," she said. Please stroke it. Make it like it was." She didn't take her eyes from him. If this was what it took to make herself hot, then for him, for Tawr, this she would do. She placed the palms of her hands in front of her breasts, then allowed them to graze her nipples. Gently, slowly she moved her hands back and forth. Although she felt no sexier than before, she felt her nipples begin to harden and extend, to reach forward to greet her palms. He was looking at her. He felt torn, guilty, at the feelings she was stirring within him. He wanted her, but wanted her to be willing. We are a strange species, he considered, to find eroticism in what we do not have. Consensual partners find titillation in games of rape whereas he had already played the rapist, and even now possessed Joanna under terms of coercion: how he yearned to feel her willing embrace. Joanna was working hard to find the magic spark that would light her fire. Looking at his cock she imagined him spurting his load upon her, feeling his sticky cum upon her body. Her hands moved a little faster over her nipples, and contemplating her thought she began to open her legs, wider, till they were gaping apart. He was certainly watching, looking at her there. Was this the first time he had seen a woman in this way? Masturbating for him, totally exposing herself to him, exposing her emotions and sexuality as well as her body. Was she his first like this? She began to grind her hips from side to side, while still massaging her nipples with her hands, gently squeezing both nipples and the breasts themselves. She allowed her fingers to wander lower, across her stomach, then beginning a great circle circumferencing the spot upon which he was concentrating as he pumped his erection. "Please," she gasped, remembering the Inquistador's instruction. "Describe what you'll see tomorrow. Me, in the flames. Dancing for them. Tell me how I cavort." "I can't," he said, freezing in his movement. "It's obscene." "I need you to," she lied. "I need to talk about it. For you to talk about it. I must talk to cope with my fear." He was doubtful, and she appealed to him again. "Please. This terrifies me. I have to talk and listen in order to confront what will be." "Later," he said. "After. This isn't the moment." "No, now," she demanded. "Please!" "They are all around you," he said unsteadily, beginning once again to stimulate his cock. "There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of people in the square. They have all come for one purpose, and one purpose alone. Because they know they will see a woman, naked, dancing in the flames. "At first you know the crowds are there, how could you not know, for the people are everywhere. They inhibit the way you talk, you cry, you move. But as the flames begin to kiss, your terror blinds you. You hear them, see them no longer. Modesty is gone, decorum is dead, inhibition has flown. You slave for the fire; he is your master, you know no other. He choreographs every movement, every nuance, every inflection, for him you degrade yourself absolutely. "As the crowd knew that you would, as I know that you will. You will shake and convulse without control, your open pussy glimpsed whenever your legs kick out from the flame, your breasts bobbing..." He stopped. He was rubbing his cock furiously. His gaze was upon Joanna, sitting upon the mattress, she was fingering the area between her splayed legs. His breathing was intense, his face flushed and discomposed. The Inquistador had said that she would wonder whether his excitement would be from her nakedness or from her torture. However, she did not wonder, she knew by the detail, by the way he spoke, in the lust he displayed, that he was aroused through the contemplation of her torment, by the mental image of her writhing in the flames. But at that moment it was of no consequence. She was enjoying the unmistakable excitement in his voice, the smell of his body, and, yes, dare she admit, even the erection he stroked. She was enjoying them, and was being warmed by them. Her finger was wet with the lubrication of her pussy. It was her payment for the effort she had expended. That sweet smelling finger caressed her clitoris and kindled the flames of her lust. Her legs were immodestly open as she panted and sucked and openly bared her arousal. She wanted him to desire her; she wanted to excite him with a dissolute display. She concentrated upon his pulsating erection, it was pointing at her, wanting her, desiring her. His hand gripped it at the base and continued to rub up and down. There was chemistry between them as they each watched, gaining arousal from the increasing signs of excitement and wanton display of the other. Joanna knew he was close, his breathing was rapid and his cock was pulsating. Suddenly, he stopped and just held his cock tight as it began spouting his seed. It erupted in several large spurts followed by a series of smaller ones. At the sight of his climax Joanna felt herself also begin to cum, the ripples flowing through her from the epicenter where her finger worked at her clit. She waited for her orgasm to overwhelm her. For a while thereafter they just watched, the one the other as they recuperated. "What's wrong," Bradley asked, sensing disappointment in her demeanor. She was hesitant to make any admission. Then she explained, "I don't know. I thought it would be better, that there would be more. But it doesn't matter. Please," she said. "Please will you give me a cuddle." He wiped the spunk from his tool and came and sat beside her, putting an arm round her shoulder. "Not like that," she said. "Properly." They lay upon the duvet, holding each other close, enjoying the affinity that nakedness brings after lovemaking. They held each other for an eternity, comforting and being comforted. When it was finally necessary to say goodbye, it was with greater understanding, and not without emotion. Later, Sharon returned with a change of clothing, and she brought proper clothing rather than prison garb. "The Inquistador said you could have whatever you wanted," she informed her. "After all, he said, it is her final night. So I went back to your quarters and got these from your room." "Thank you," Joanna said. She looked at what Sharon had brought and quickly dressed. "Be positive," she thought to herself. But the words were hollow and empty. "Tawr will help me be strong," she thought. "Tawr knows best." END OF CHAPTER THREE **************************************************** "Why don't you just do it?" Sharon asked. "You hedge and shuffle and you're no further forward at the end than you were at the beginning." "I know," I groaned. "I want to fuck him. I know now that I'm ready, but whenever we're together I tense and chicken." "But you're a woman and he's a man. Why don't you let nature do its part? If you dress sexy and alluring surely he'll make a pass, and then all you do is respond." "I did that when we went to the Triticco on Valentine's Day! What more have I got to do? I went without underwear; I gave him a hand job on the way, yet when we got back he didn't so much as kiss me. After the affair with Rebecca I told him not to try anything and he's taking me at my word!" "Interesting," Sharon said. "I wouldn't have thought he had the control. In that case you'll just have to make your invitation more obvious." Easily said, but how? I thought back to what I had so recently written in the current part of my story. "Sharon," I asked. "I have an idea. But I need you to help me." The Code Of Tawr End Of Part Eight Part Nine ....Next Week! -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----