Sherri spotted him in the receiving line.

There he was, standing out like an African Adonis. He was moving slowly towards her. Sherri held her breath. She had to meet him!

“Sherri! Sherri! I’m talking to you.” Sherri’s mind snapped out of her dreamy fog. It was her sister, Veronica. It was her wedding. In fact, it was Veronica’s third wedding.

“I need you to find papa. I can’t find him,” Veronica said.

“I’ll check on him!” Sherri said. She knew where he would be. She found him in his study with three men. They didn’t look like wedding guests. They were wearing black pin-striped suits and white-on-white ties. With papa, it was always business first, she thought.

“Excuse me, Papa. Veronica needs you,” Sherri said, as respectfully as she could. He nodded. Sherri hurried back to Veronica’s wedding reception.

A matronly woman stopped Sherri in the hallway.

“Pardon me, is this not Veronica’s fourth wedding?” she asked.

“Actually, her first was annulled. It doesn’t count,” Sherri said, smiling.

“Oh, that’s right!” the woman said.

Sherri hurried back to the reception. She was right! Sherry thought. The talk seems to be, ‘Why was Veronica wearing white on her third or fourth wedding?’ The simple answer was that Veronica has no shame! Sherri thought.

Sherri found Veronica eating a slice of wedding cake. Oh no!Veronica is going to put back on all of those thirty pounds she lost before she found Aldo, Sherri thought to herself.

“Papa is in the office, talking. He’s coming,” Sherri said, and added in a sing-song voice, “You have cake on your chin.”

Veronica frowned and wiped it away.

Sherri looked around; she spotted him on the other side of the pool. He looked in his early thirties. He was taller than anyone in her Italian family. Sherri guessed he was six-foot-four, and he was trim and fit. He was wearing a neatly tailored black brocade African-style robe that flowed down to his black patent-leather shoes. He was clean shaven, and had a sexy Obama-style haircut.

“Are you with the groom?” Sherri asked.

“No, actually, the groom is with the bride. I’m just here as a friend,” he said, smiling. “Pardon me. I’m joking of course. I am an old college chum of his, my name is James,” he said.

“I’m the bride’s sister, Sherri.”

“Yes, I spotted you in the reception line. Then you were gone.”

Sherri laughed. “It’s a long story.” She opened her purse and pulled out a blunt and placed it in her lips. He offered her a light. She lightly touched his hand, and looked into his eyes as she set her blunt aflame. She took a deep toke and exhaled slowly.

“Do you think this will work out? Oh, I shouldn’t ask that question.” He looked embarrassed.

“Don’t be embarrassed! The simple answer is: Does he have money?” Sherri laughed. She took another toke and slowly exhaled.

James laughed. “A woman cannot be too rich or too thin. Isn’t that what they say?”

“There are other factors.”

“I can only imagine.”

Sherri made a side step to put her body between the guests and James. She reached down and felt his manhood through his robe, and it started growing. “Some things shouldn’t be left to the imagination,” Sherri said, looking into his eyes.

“I would love to discuss reality with you sometime,” James said, smiling.

Sherri released his now fully erect member. She offered him the blunt, and he took it and pulled in a deep toke. She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card and handed it to James.

He looked at it. It read simply; “Sherri A.” Her cell number was below.

“I’ll call you,” he whispered.

***

Sherri got into the car with her husband, Stewart, who was fifty-five. He was thick in the middle and balding on the top. He pulled out into the street and settled down to driving home.

“Why are you so sullen?” Sherri asked. It was an accusation. She knew that her accusations always made him angry.

“I saw you talking to that... that man by the pool! You were throwing yourself at him!” Stew said.

“Settle down! You are always so jealous. He’s an old business associate of papa’s. Do you want me to tell papa you disapprove of his business associates?” Sherri knew how to get to Stew. He had no money. Papa had set him up in business, and had to rein him in once before. Sherri knew it.

“There is no need to bring papa into this,” Stew said; suddenly, his voice was different.

Sherri had all the money. If she threw him out, he would be practically penniless.

“Let’s talk about something different. Don’t you think Veronica looked ravishing in white?” Sherri said. She was teasing him.

***

Sherri walked out on the patio and adjusted a chaise lounge into the sunlight. She was going to get some morning rays. She sat down and spread her long, shapely legs on the lounge. She was thirty-nine, and the mother of two grown children. Her body was fit, her hair was dark brown, and her hazel eyes were wide-set on her narrow face. Sherri placed a blunt to her full red lips and lit it. She took a deep toke and held it awhile before releasing it through her nose.

She checked her cell phone. 

Why hasn’t he called? she thought, and added,  Maybe I came on too strong. She dismissed the notion and put her cell phone down.

The phone rang. It was Veronica.

“Hi!” Sherri said.

“Hi, I’m on the way to Jamaica!” Veronica said excitedly.

“Great! Are you having fun?”

“Yes! Listen, I met this gorgeous hunk in the ship’s lounge.”

“Already playing the field? Veronica!”

“I keep my options open. We went back to his cabin and had some fun, if you know what I mean.”

“What about Aldo? How did you get rid of him?”

Veronica had a sudden vision of Aldo being pushed overboard. Her mind watched Aldo splashing around as he was receding in the distance. “He got seasick. He hasn’t been out of bed,” she laughed.

Sherri laughed.

“Just to make sure he doesn’t suddenly get over it, I slipped him a sedative.” Veronica laughed again. “I've got to go. Call you later!”

Sherri put the phone down and picked up the latest issue of Vogue and started turning the pages.

The phone rang again. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is James…”

***

Sherri looked in the mirror and put the lipstick to her lips. She wanted her lips to be bright red. She wanted her eyes to be accented with mascara, and a little bit of blush on her cheeks.

She slipped on a pair of stylish lacy-top hose, a thong, and a camisole not unlike those displayed in Vogue. Lastly, she put on a short miniskirt and a top that accentuated her 34DD’s.

She slipped into a pair of red patent leather pumps with micro stiletto heels. Lastly, she parted her hair and brushed it back so that it hung down off of her shoulders. She got into her red SL-Class Mercedes and lowered the top. It was a forty-five minute drive to the location that James had selected.

It was a café in a business district. James met her outside and escorted her to a patio, then gave her a kiss before holding the chair for her.

“Glad you could make it,” James said, smiling. He was dressed in a long flowing robe. It was tie-dyed blue and white, and was semi-transparent. She got glimpses of his loose pants under his robe. The front panel was gold with embroidery around the edges. The embroidery design circled his neck, and the cuffs of his sleeves and trousers. He wore a similarly colored hat with gold embroidery around the base.

“Oh yes! I am too. This is very nice. Do you live nearby?” Sherri asked. She sat down and displayed her shapely legs for him while he sat down.

“Yes. I live in an apartment on the fourteenth floor.

The waiter came and James ordered red wine. “The wedding was nice,” he said.

Sherri laughed. “It was more like a meltdown, you mean,” she laughed again.

“I thought the repartee by the pool was very interesting. It’s been on my mind,” he said smiling.

Sherri’s ruby red lips touched the glass. Her eyes looked over the rim at him before sipping the wine. “I captured an image of something I wanted to explore further,” Sherri said, without changing the expression on her face.

They finished their wine, and James got up and took her hand. Together they got on the elevator. They stepped off on his floor and walked to his two-level condo, which was decorated in African art and nude women. The women were in all stages of undress, and engaging in sexual activities with African chieftains.

On the floor and the walls were more erotic objets d'art such as giant phalluses and women’s busts.

James switched on a streaming video player. A 120-inch high-definition TV screen came alive with images of a tall African male and a classy blonde woman in a sensual modern dance to the rhythm of drums.

James brought her a drink in a metallic gray goblet. It was darker than any wine she had ever seen.

“What is it?” Sherri asked, looking at the screen.

“It’s a temple for preparing prostitutes for servitude.”

“Do they come willingly?” Sherri asked, smiling.

“Yes! They must willingly submit.”

“You mean they have a choice?”

“Of course. No one is forced.”

“This sounds interesting…” Sherri moved closer to James and raised her chin to him. He reciprocated by surrounding her with his arms and placing his lips over her sensual, red mouth. She opened her mouth, and he responded by pushing his tongue inside. Sherri wanted to give him the message that she was willing.

James broke the kiss.

“What’s in the goblet?” Sherri asked

“It’s a special ceremonial potion used to prepare temple prostitutes for servitude,” James said, looking into her eyes. “It is derived from blood, wine, and some roots ….” His words trailed off as if there were other ingredients that he did not want to speak.

She put the goblet to her lips. The bouquet was wine. She let the liquid touch her lips. She let it flow through her lips to her tongue. It was perfectly chilled and tasted like red wine. She took a small sip.

“… and then the novice candidate for temple prostitute is led to the first station. Take another sip and follow me,” James said. He motioned for Sherri to follow. They stood before the mask-head of a temple priest-god.

“She takes another sip of the potion,” James said, "and then she proceeds on to the next station." Sherri suddenly wanted to obey his descriptions as if they were commands. Again she put the goblet to her lips and sipped.

“Then she is adorned with the headdress of servitude,” he said, as he placed the headdress of bones and beads on her head.

“Then she moves to the final station,” James said. His voice was deep and almost imperceptible.

It was a six-foot high erect phallus with the testes resting on the rough-hewn wooden floor. A honey-like liquid began to ooze from a hole in the tip.

“She tastes the liquid on the phallic-god and takes a sip from the goblet.” James whispered.

Sherri was strangely compelled to obey. She touched her tongue to the golden-honey fluid on the phallus tip. It was bitter. Then she took a larger sip from her goblet to wash away the bitter taste.

James moved closer to her ear. “Taste it again,” he whispered.

Sherri put her tongue on the honey-like ooze. It was not as bitter as before.

"Take another sip,” he whispered.

Sherry again put the goblet to her lips and sipped the potion.

She was beginning to feel strange. Her peripheral vision was distorted and out of focus. She took another sip from the goblet.

“Place the goblet on the table,” he whispered.

Sherri turned to look around the room. When she turned back to James, she saw a black man in a hideous multi-colored tribal mask. It was James, who surrounded her with his arms and body. Their lips met, her mouth open to receive his lips and tongue. Their juices mingled.

She trembled as his hands roamed over her body at will. She gasped when he slipped her top over her shoulder and let it fall down. Sherri unbuckled his belt and slipped his zipper down. James unzipped her skirt in the back and let it drop to the floor. He gave a kick to rid his feet of his sandals and pants. Sherri unbuttoned his robe, and reached her hands inside to touch his skin.

James reached around her body to unhook her bra, letting it drop.

His hand found her smooth, slick vagina. His finger dipped into her love canal, which was hot and wet like molten lava. He used the wetness to lubricate her clitoris.

Her tiny hand surrounded his phallus and gently squeezed. His manhood responded by growing in her hand. Knowing that she had a sensual effect on this man, Sherri began to tremble.

James laid her on the wide circular sofa. Her svelte body contrasted with the black leather. “Are you the African god who has come to possess me?” Sherri said, teasingly.

“Yes!” James said; he was serious, Sherri thought.

“Then will you hang me on your wall as a trophy?”

“Yes, but you must complete the ritual.”

“I will satisfy my African god.”

“Will you kneel before me?”

“Yes!”

“Will you obey my every command?”

“Yes!”

James lay back. His enormous phallus was standing erect, a large drop of clear semen glistening in the light like a jewel atop an idol. “Be my fellatrix. If you please me, I will allow you to be in my harem,” James whispered.

It was surreal.

“Oh yes, Master!” Sherri said.

She put her little hand around the shaman-lover’s black serpent. She pushed back the foreskin and exposed the one-eyed demon-snake ready to spit hot, sensual semen-venom.

“Suck it!” It was a command.

Sherri suddenly felt like an innocent temple virgin. Will one taste change my world?  she thought.

Her mouth covered his cock head. She was producing an enormous amount of saliva which ran down his shaft and covered her hand. Her tongue traced the underside of his cock from the hilt to the tip. Her cheeks sank in as she pulled out and sucked.

“Ohhh!” James moaned.

Sensing James’ pleasure only heightened Sherri’s pleasure. She was deriving pleasure from giving pleasure. She felt James’ hand push her off. He pushed her back, spread her legs, and lay in her saddle. She felt like an unholy receptacle ready for the evil snake to enter her being and purify her forever.

James positioned his cock at her nether lips. Her vulva was swollen and red, and her labia were extremely sensitive. Her clitoris was extended and erect.

It was like a dream, or an illusion. 

Is this real?  she thought. She imagined that he positioned his magical rod against her clitoris and rubbed gently.

“Oh!” Sherri moaned.

James worked his magic member against her clit-head. His profuse pre-cum was providing more than enough lubrication.

“Oh, James please make love to me. Make me your slave!” Sherri moaned.

“Take it, and guide me in!” It was a command.

Sherri took his magical morphing serpent and aimed it at the soul of her pleasure. James pushed, and both felt Sherri’s vagina release.

Sherri moaned as the torrid tool penetrated the depths of her pleasure pit. He began a rhythm which Sherri sensually mimicked with the thrusts of her pelvis. Their tempo became faster and faster.

She felt it rising out of her clitoris. Like a vortex with her clitoris in the center. Swirling... spinning... like a whirlwind. Higher and higher she ascended. Her vagina was like liquid fire. Her mind suddenly snapped back to reality. James’s cock was exploding inside of her. She imagined hot, steaming lava!

“Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!” Sherri screamed, her vagina contracting.

James moaned.

Slowly her fire cooled from white to red hot. His cock remained stiff inside of her.

Sherri felt pleased. Pleasure is giving pleasure, she thought. Her only thought now was to give James pleasure, with no assurance that he would reciprocate.

James pulled out of her and stood up, then reached for a blunt and lit it. He took a deep toke and exhaled slowly. Sherri closed her eyes.

“Get up and clean my cock!” It was a demand which Sherri was eager to obey. She got on her knees and placed his slick, slimy cock head in her mouth. The taste was a sensual mixture of semi-sweet cum and raw female cunt. The memory of this moment and taste of the sex was to be seared into her mind for a lifetime.

“Get dressed, and fix your makeup too.” James demanded. Sherri obediently dressed and fixed her makeup. She started to comb her hair.

“Comb your hair straight back!”

She combed it straight back, but it looked a mess. James took a long, gray linen cloth from one of his art displays. He wrapped it around her head and over the lower portion of her face. Only her eyes were uncovered. James led her out. They got on the elevator and got off in the parking garage.

He walked up to his gunmetal gray Mercedes and stopped. “Open my door,” he commanded.

“What?” Sherri said.

“You are my slave. Open the door for your master.”

Sherri obeyed. James sat down, and she closed his door and walked around and got in the car. It seemed so natural.

There was no other action she could have taken once she heard James’ voice give a command. She got in and closed the door.

“Pull your skirt up and show me your cunt,” he said.

Sherri pulled up her skirt, revealing her lacy-top hose and her pink, slick womanhood. He drove for a while to a strange place and parked on the street. “Open my door!”

Again she got out and opened his door.

He took her hand and led her into a tattoo parlor. James removed the portion of the cloth that covered her face below her eyes. They sat down and waited while the tattooist finished another customer. The other customers stared at Sherri. A reddish blush glowed on her cheeks.

“You look fresh-fucked. Do you feel ashamed?” James said to her loud enough for everyone in the shop to hear.

“No. I don’t feel ashamed of being fresh-fucked,” she said. “What are we going to do?” Sherri whispered.

“Don’t talk. I will decide what you do. You will obey,” he said.

The other customers watched Sherri and occasionally glanced at James, who sat stoically. Finally, the tattooist escorted her to the table which was in full view of all the customers.

“I want this woman to bear my mark. It will be a tribal mark on her lower back. I want a special mark on her back, and my initials on the back of her neck. I want a stud in her tongue and barbells through her nipples,” James said.

It was a veritable market basket of tattooing. The tattooist knew it was a big order that would make him a lot of cash. It was late afternoon before he finished.

***

James dropped her off at her Mercedes. Sherri drove home with her new skin illustrations tingling, her tongue feeling strange, her nipples numb, her cunt dripping cum, and her clitoris stiff and sensitive.

Sherri arrived home and went straight to her bedroom. She removed her clothes and stood before the mirror. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue. It was a stainless steel stud and was far enough back that it was not noticeable.

“Hi, my name is Sherri. Hi, my name is Sherri. My name is Sherri,” she said, to test her speech with the tongue stud. It made her speech difficult. She was dropping syllables. It sounded sexy, she thought. 

Now I’ve got to work on it,  she thought. She didn’t care if Stew discovered it or not. She had no shame.

She turned to get a look at her lower back. The multi-colored tribal weave looked sexy. She raised her hair and used a hand mirror to get a good look at the initials on her neck. She saw JM in green letters outlined in red. Then she noticed that further down her back was his special mark, “I Fuck”, in vertical scrolling letters. The lettering went from between her shoulder blades to the center of her back! 

" Oh! My god! How can I ever wear anything backless in public,” she exclaimed. Her mind retraced the event. 

Why did I do it? What was in that goblet? Was I drugged?  Sherri concluded that she was completely aware of what she was doing. She went to her medicine cabinet and found her home drug test package. She carefully took the test. It was negative.

Her mind went to the wonderful, sensual love making. She reached for a blunt and lit it. She took deep drag and exhaled slowly. As she thought back to James, her hand went to her clitoris.

***

That evening Stew was absorbed with a baseball game and beer. She sat on the couch and read Cosmopolitan. She thought about showing him her tongue stud, but decided against it. She went to bed at nine o’clock, and Stew came in at ten. He put his hand on her thigh in an attempt to cuddle. Sherri shoved his hand back.

“Not tonight!” she said, and added in her thoughts, and not any other night! She drifted off lying on her side facing Stew. Her back was still tingling.

The next morning, Stew was gone when she woke up. She put a blunt to her lips. Her mind went to James and the sensual sex she'd enjoyed. Her clitoris began to grow and her cunt began to get wet.

She started to dress. On an impulse she selected something that was open in the back. She slipped on a low-cut miniskirt and a pair of sexy sandals with straps that wound up her legs. She stood before a full length mirror and whirled around. She pinned her hair up to show James' mark on her neck. 

Does this make me James’ woman?  She grinned.

The phone rang. “Hello?” Sherri said.

“Hi Sherri! It’s me, Veronica!”

“Oh hi, sweetie! How’s the cruise?”

“It is fantastic! I met another stud in the bar and had sex with him in his state room. We danced all night.”

“Oh my god, Veronica. You are a whore on your honeymoon!” Sherry giggled and added, “It sounds hot!”

“It is!”

“What about Aldo? Is he still sick?”

“He hasn’t gotten out of bed; I suggested that we go get breakfast. He just ran to the restroom and started heaving,” Veronica laughed.

Sherri laughed. “Hey listen! I found a fantastic man! I was with him all afternoon.”

“Was it the man in the African regalia at the wedding?”

“How did you guess?”

“Sherri, I know you. I saw you talking to him. He was hot!”

“Okay, I’m busted... again.” Sherri laughed.

Veronica laughed. “Hey, I have got to go. We dock in Jamaica tomorrow. Not much time to do... you know what!”

“Bye sweetie!”

“Bye-bye”

***

Just after noon a deliveryman brought a large box. There was a note attached. Sherri opened the note, which was from James.

“I want to see you again. Don’t open the box. Call me first.” The note read.

Sherri smiled. Was this a joke? She wanted to see James, not his box. Damn it! she thought.

Her trembling hands dialed her cell.

“Did you open the box?” It was James. His voice was hypnotic.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, Master.”

“Stay on the phone and open it now.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sherry carefully opened the box. It was clothing. She carefully spread out an African robe for a woman. Then she opened a box with gold sandals. There was a matching hat.

Another box was labeled 'African fragrances'. She opened it on his command. Besides fragrances it contained soaps and oils.

“I want you to bathe... not shower. Use the soap and the oil. After you dry, apply the body lotion all over your body. Then I want you to dress in the clothes that I sent you and meet me here.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

Sherri took the bottles into the bathroom. She drew warm water. She laid the bottles out in a row on her dressing table. They were not manufactured bottles; they were hand blown, and each contained a cork. She poured a few drops from a dark green bottle into the bath. She undressed and stepped into the tub.

She sighed as she settled in. The water had a hypnotic aroma that surrounded her and filled her nostrils. She reached for the soap, which had an organic, tribal scent. She rubbed it over her body. She rubbed it over her new tattoos; it had a soothing effect.

***

The dress was a halter-style with a very high bodice. The material was pleated. The pleats ran from the bottom of her bodice to the floor. It flared outward. It flowed down to her mid-calves, but it was split in the front and back, leaving a very high opening. She tried walking. It flowed and opened as she stepped forward, and flashes of the inside of her thighs left very little to the imagination.

It had a pattern of flowers inside a design that traced around the edges.

The hat had two high points. It sat back on her head, and her hair flowed around the outside and down her shoulders. Her pumps had a leopard pattern, and eight-inch stiletto heels.

She put on her regular Este Lauder makeup with hot pink lipstick, two-tone eye shadow and dark eyeliner. She added artificial lashes on top and bottom. It gave her wide eyes a Bambi look.

***

It seemed like long, agonizing minute before James opened his door.

“Good afternoon,” he said, smiling.

“Hi James... er, uh... Master,” Sherri said, smiling and looking into his dark eyes.

She stepped inside. He closed his arms around her. She felt his mouth cover her lips. She opened her mouth to accept his tongue, and she gently pressed against it. Their essence mingled, and Sherri moaned.

James broke the embrace and took her hand. He led her into a room filled with masks with menacing faces that looked as if they were in agony. The scent was a pungent, organic smell. He placed her in a sofa which was rough hewn from a log. It had brown leather cushions.

“Please have a seat,” he said. He took the same bottle and poured another drink into the same goblet. He poured another drink from another bottle into a second goblet. Sherri noticed that he handed her the first goblet.

“You enjoyed this wine last time, so I fixed it again,” he said, smiling. He walked over and sat down beside her.

Sherri placed the goblet to her lips and took a sip. The bouquet and taste were the same. It was beginning to grow on her. She continued to sip as they chatted. It was banter, filled with sexual innuendos.

He put down his goblet and looked at her.

“Put down your goblet and come here,” he said.

Sherri felt compelled to obey. He started kissing her while his hands roamed freely over her body.

Sherri moaned.

“Stand up!” he said. It was a command.

Sherri stood up.

“Remove your clothes.”

Sherri unhooked a clasp in front and let the dress drop to the floor. She was wearing only a thong and a bra.

“Unfasten your bra and let it drop.”

Sherri obeyed.

“Remove your thong.”

Sherri obeyed.

“Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I will be up in a moment.”

She went to a large dark room. Tribal regalia adorned the walls. Masks with hideous faces hung on the walls. Five large phalluses stood on the floor around the bed, one on each corner and one more at the foot. Sherri sat on the bed and awaited James.

James entered the room. He was nude. His shiny black cock was semi flaccid, but was still massive. His black balls hung low.

Sherri looked at his cock and began to tremble. She felt her cunt getting wet.

“Stand up!”

Sherri stood.

James poured some oil into his hand and delicately rubbed it on her body, her arms, her feet, and her hands. The oil felt cool and soothing to her, and the touch of his fingers made her body tremble.

He laid her back on the bed, spread her legs, and mounted her. When his face was above her, he pressed his lips against her lips. “Take it, and guide it in.”

She took his member and guided it as he pushed forward. She moaned as her labia opened to receive him, and slowly she felt his manhood push in deeper. She continued to tremble. Her breathing was heavy.

“Oh, James! Fuck me. Fuck me,” she pleaded. Her hips met his thrusts. Her cunt contracted. She wanted to surrender her being for his pleasure. The rhythmic love-dance got faster and faster. She began to hear and feel drums in the distance. The drums grew loader and closer. Beat after beat penetrated to the very essence of her soul.

She felt her passion rise to a peak. She felt that she was falling in space. She was falling into a bottomless pit. Swirling… contracting… convulsing… pleasure beyond her imagination.

She heard someone scream in the distance. It was an animalistic scream! It grew louder and louder. Suddenly she realized the scream was her scream - she was screaming! The pleasure was beyond her control.

Suddenly James gave a great heave. She felt like she was being filled with molten lava. It spewed into her cunt and poured over the rim like a volcano. In her mind she envisioned a white hot lava spread out over the sheet.

James was spent, depleted of energy. He collapsed onto her tiny body. They were perspiring and breathing heavily. He rolled over and got up and stood by the bed. Sherri looked up to see his manhood above her. “Get up!”

She knew what to do. She swung her legs off of the bed and sat up. She took his war-spear and covered it with her mouth. She swallowed the sticky, slimy man-juice mixed with her own essence. She kept her eyes fixed on his face.

Sherri milked his cock and squeezed the last remnants of semen from his hole. It tasted sexy and sensual. She swallowed.

“Come here,” he ordered.

He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the tribal regalia room. He sat her down on a log-chair. This time there was no cushion. It was hard hewn wood. He selected up a long, thin black crop which was hanging on the wall.

He whipped it around, testing and flexing it. The crop, cutting the air, made a high-pitched swishing sound.

He touched to crop to her leg. He tapped the inside of her leg. “Open your legs.”

Sherri parted her knees until the tapping stopped.

The crop tapped her butt. “Slide forward. I want your butt on only the first six inches of the chair.”

Sherri slid forward, and the crop tapped her back.

“Sit up straight!”

Sherri straightened her back. Why am I doing this? she thought. She was afraid, sexually aroused, and humiliated. Yet she felt compelled to obey his commands.

The crop touched her cheek. “Look forward. Don’t turn your head,” he ordered.

The crop touched her chin. “Raise your chin. Keep your eyes forward. Don’t move them.”

She raised her head until her eyes were level. She could no longer see the floor.

He walked behind her.

SLAP! The crop came down on the back of her chair. It missed her, but she was startled. She started to turn her head, but corrected herself.

“Don’t ever turn your head! Keep looking forward.”

She heard footsteps walking away. They became fainter until the sound disappeared. Suddenly there was silence. Time passed. She had no idea how long she waited. It seemed like hours. She dared not move her head or shift positions.

Her vagina was wet with semen. A new flow of womanly passion juice joined the semen in her cunt, and she suppressed the urge to go into uncontrolled trembling. Despite the extreme treatment, her passion was rising. 

If this is pleasing my master, it is pleasing me, she thought. Her cunt began to flow. She felt an orgasm sweep over her, but resisted the urge to moan or tremble. She suppressed everything except the sensual enjoyment of her orgasm.

***

Sherri heard footsteps approaching behind her. She felt joy! Now her master was coming for her. Suddenly, she realized that there were more than one set of footsteps. Was it two sets? Was it three sets of footsteps? She was almost trembling in anticipation.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped. She could hear breathing.

“Stand up! Don’t turn.” It was James. He offered her the goblet. It had been refilled. “Drink!”

Sherri took the goblet and put it to her lips. Again, the bouquet and taste was the same. She swallowed it down without moving her head. Someone took the goblet.

“Walk!”

Sherri obeyed. A series of taps with the crop told her which way to go. He directed her back up the stairs to the bedroom. The second person – or was it two persons – followed behind. She could not see them.

Once in the bedroom, James placed a blindfold over her eyes.

“I want you to give pleasure with your body only. No other senses other than your touch can be allowed. You must give pleasure with your soul!”

He laid her on the bed and spread her legs… 

***

Sherri took a drag from her joint. Her headlights parted the darkness ahead of her car. The wind was blowing over her face. She glanced in the mirror. Her head was covered by a tribal headdress. She looked down at the flowing robe she was wearing. It was different from the one she'd worn to James’ apartment.

When she arrived home, the lights were out. She glanced at the clock. It was one o’clock!

She quickly undressed and walked into the bedroom. Stew was snoring. Sherri slipped under the covers and went to sleep with an aura of sex surrounding her, and cum oozing out of her vagina and anus.

***

She awoke when a ray of sunlight flooded over her face. Stew was gone. She got up and stretched. She was nude.

She walked to the mirror. A colorful tattoo covered her right shoulder. She looked at her hands. Henna designs covered the backs of both hands. She looked at her body. A floral vine started at her hip and wound its way down her right leg. It stopped on the flat surface atop her foot.

Sherri gasped. Her mind raced back. She remembered James taking her to the tattoo parlor. She remembered lying on the table. She remembered the sound of the needle.

She looked, and the tribal dress and hat were lying in a heap in the middle of the bedroom floor. 

Poor, dumb-ass Stew, he never notices anything except golf, sports, and his job, she thought.

Sherri started to step into the shower but changed her mind. She made a bath. Like a ritual, she opened the bottle of oil and let several drops flow onto the water.

She stepped into the bath and reached for the soap. She bathed and stepped out, and then dried herself and applied the oil to her body. It was soothing as before.

She quickly combed her hair back like before. She carefully applied her usual makeup. She put on her regalia and sandals.

In a short time, Sherri was standing in front of James’ door. She pressed the button and waited.

The door opened. It was James.

“Hello! I did not expect you.” He was dressed in tribal regalia.

“James! Please, Master - I want to know what was in the goblet. Please, Master,” Sherri pleaded. She got on her knees and bowed her head.

“Get up!”

She arose, expecting to be thrown out. Instead, he took her hand and led her to the bar, where he picked up the bottle and placed it in her hands.

Sherri took the bottle and looked down. The label was in English. The name was an Italian word she had never seen before. Below it was the year; she immediately recognized the year as the same as her birth. In small lettering below were more words. She strained her eyes to read the tiny letters. It read; 'Fine Italian Wine'.

Continued