Chapter 2

We stood for a moment in the red penumbra of the tent, me contemplating the six bodies before me, Claude, I suspected, measuring me. I turned to him.

"Which one?" I was a bit amused myself at the slight quaver in my voice.

"Which one would you like?" He swept his hand in an arc, bidding me choose. I looked right for just a moment, glancing at the tall blonde. Not yet, I thought. It seemed too much, just now. Better to start smaller... I smiled at my own weak wit, and pointed further left.

"That one. She should do nicely, I think." The tiny blonde's eyes glared fiercely, and she strained to loosen her bonds. Beautiful, I thought. Such eyes... Claude clapped his hands briefly and gave an approbatory chuckle.

"A perfect entry model, you'll find!" He laughed again.

Her blazing blue eyes swung on him. I was taken a bit aback. Wildlings do not know Common... She was merely following our by-play, surely. Our intent must be plain, given the setting. Claude strode toward the frames holding the girls, and I forgot my misgivings. From a large pack beside the flap he had retrieved a number of items. He quickly gagged each of the bound women. Then, grasping the frame from which my choice hung, he wheeled it to the back of the tent. I allowed myself a moment to admire the ingenious design of these racks, as he locked the wheels, and tilted my chosen specimen back, so that her head now rested just higher than her feet, just inches over waist-high. I smiled as Claude stepped away and handed me a black leather case.

"I believe you will find these adequate to the task. I wish I could offer more, but the demands of portability..."

I hefted the black case. It seemed much too small, much too light. I recalled the large armoire that could barely contain all my equipment back home. Still, it would have been churlish to complain. I let the case fall open. I should have known, I suppose, after all the surprises this man had provided this day, but still, I had not expected what was within: the case was a marvel of compact design. There were paddles of several sizes, an assortment of short-handled whips, and a large selection of all that I loved - things that would prod, pinch, sting, slap, tickle, cut... things that would now allow me to get from the tiny blonde beside me the reactions that would make my own blood roil with joy.

I set the case down beside the rack, and walked between her legs. Those blue eyes followed me apprehensively. I could see the muscles in her thighs tense as she attempted to bring her legs together and keep me from her cunt. All she could do in her position was swivel her hips in short arcs, occasionally tilting her pelvis; in no way inconveniencing me. I paused for a moment to watch her efforts. She was a magnificent creature. Without a reference point one might think her a medium-sized woman, so perfectly proportioned were all her parts. I had to remind myself that I had had such perspective, and that I knew her to stand (or hang) just under five feet. I watched her breasts shift, peach-sized, on her ribcage; her abs worked frantically under her skin. Yes, she was a beautiful woman. Her lips worked around the black leather cylinder of the gag, but she could only summon a muffled mewling that was surely inaudible beyond our little red Heaven. Beside me I heard some of the other Wildlings whimper in response, but I did not turn. I kept my eyes locked on hers, and reached slowly towards her groin. She spotted the motion, lowered her eyes to follow my fingers, and redoubled her struggles. I watched her face for a moment, then glanced down to the taut-thrumming tendons in her thighs. I let my index slowly trace the left one, feeling the smoothness of the skin, the pulsing heat, the frantic shifting of flesh as she put the last of her energies into escaping my touch. I let my palm rest on her inner thigh as she slowly came to a rest, the futility of her efforts apparent to her at last. The soft flesh betrayed none of the struggle just past. Only a slight sheen of sweat marked its passing. I ran my hand over her thigh, down to her knee, then back up. My goal must have been apparent, but she remained very quiet, her eyes once more locked onto mine. I threaded my fingers through her mons' covering, then paused at the top of her slit. I squatted slightly as I brought my other hand to rest next to the first, and peered intently as I spread her labia. They came apart with moist reluctance, which I at first ascribed to the heat of exertion. When my hands had pried her apart a little further, however, I watched, astonished, as a thick strand of lubrication slowly seeped from within and fell onto the rug. For a moment I hoped, incongruously, it wouldn't stain; then I allowed myself to be astonished at the clear signs of her arousal: not only was she freely exuding lubricants, but her pretty pussy was thickly engorged, an almost bruised red in color. And at the top of her slit, darker than it had been when I'd glimpsed it earlier, was her very large clit, pulsing visibly in rhythm with her heartbeat. It extended at least an inch past the retracted hood, and it was not smoothly featureless like most I had seen: it had a clearly differentiated glans, like a tiny penis, and its coloring darkened perceptibly towards the tip. The hood, and the labia beneath, were surprising neat and delicate, like a child's mouth. She had a very small vagina, I observed with pleasure, and the anus, barely visible below whenever she unclenched her buttocks, was a tiny dark-coral iris, almost too delicate for the uses I expected to put it to. I kept her open with my palms, but allowed my right index to contact that handsome clitoris. It was very warm and slippery, as I expected. I was surprised to actually feel it twitch, quite separately from the violent spasms of her renewed attempts to dislodge me. There was no way I was going to be denied, though, I felt almost feverish with desire, my vision tunneling tightly in on the delightful sight before me. I let my nail run lightly from clit's base to tip, gathering in its course a fat drop of frothed cream that dropped slowly to the floor. The fate of the carpet was no longer of much interest to me. I saw her vagina clench and unclench, pulsing violently as I touched the cleat, as if trying to scream the pleas the mouth above could not get out. I smiled at the sight, and settled back on my heels, reaching for the toolcase beside me. I grabbed a long, shiny-silver speculum, and slowly inserted it into her. She jerked at he cold touch, and I could see her head jerk above me, as she tried to see what I intended, her view obstructed by he own body. I pried those tender pink lips apart, smiling at the sight of the heaving ridges of glistening muscle that came into view. I wondered for a moment as her secretions seemed to thicken perceptibly, then set the speculum to keep her open, and reached for the case again. Many of the tools, of necessity, were smaller than I would have expected of their kind. At some point that might prove vexing, but I was happy at the moment to find an exceptionally small strap, perhaps six inches in length, of well-oiled black leather. I grasped the handle, and raised it to where she might see it. Her eyes widened anew, and she struggled again to twist her exposed genitals away from me. I let the strap rest on her while her pelvis bucked through its limited range of motion, so she might feel how futile her struggle was. Then with just a quick flick of the wrist I brought it down on that exposed clit. The sound was very satisfying, louder than I would have expected from such a small tool, and with a clear wet note that spoke of her unexpected arousal. I quickly stood up to watch her face, as her thighs suddenly went rigid and very still. And yet again I felt my mouth gape open in astonishment, as I beheld her flushed face, wide-open eyes, quivering nostrils, mottled chest... in short, as I watched my intended victim begin twitching through a violent orgasm.