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~ Saint Agnes ~
Hagiography or autobiography ?
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Helene is taken yo the"cheikh Omar Al Bechir's" tent: a large mirror, rich persian carpets, cushions and silky bed shining in the light of the lanterns, a burner scattering a benzoin scent. But Helene doesn't see anything: they have blindfolded her eyes and the leash is hooked to the top of the tent.
She can't see anymore that I'm here: I am surveying my "slave", standing, her legs gently spread, as they ordered her: - you stay here, standing, with your thigs spread. Don't speak, don't move. Your Master will come when he will want. Helene is waiting for the cheikh's visit. Sometimes she moves a bit and her jewels sparkle in the warm light and they slightly tinkle. I can hear her rapidly breathing. I know her mind is filled with wait, impatience and with the confused pleasure of dread |
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I let the time flying away. For Helene, minutes probably go like a snail. The few 20 minutes, I stay here, looking at her, listen to her, silently adoring her, are hours. Then I go and get Ariane/François. I need a man for my plan. A man Helene doesn't know. She jumps when we enter the tent. Yes, sure I did, I'm dressed like an arab princess. |
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Before I step down in favour of Ariane, I play a bit with the crop. I caress Helene with the tip, I gently but firmly touch her little sensitive places. She fidgets, makes some"Oh ! " and "Ah ! " |
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| Then the "seven veils dance" begins. I start the dance removing the first veil and let Ariane continue. |  |
Little by little, he undresses Helene, he removes her veils, her belt, her gown and the heavy pectoral. Every time he touches her. His caresses become more intent, more virile, when he pushes his crotch between Helene's buttocks, when he puts his erected member in her chained hands. |
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Now, Helene is persuaded that cheikh does exist: she has been undressed by him, touched by him. She felt her member with her fingers then she has been tied, spread on the silk bed, a cushion raising her pelvis, exhibiting her sex.
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In front of me. She trembles when I pour me a glass of champagne. Well, for me... Rather for Helene, because I let the champagne drip on her breasts. |
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- No ! Ah ! It's cold! Then I pour the champagne on her womb... - Uuuuuuuh, she makes
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... before I drink, I lap it on Helene's naked skin. When I start to nibble her nipples, to suck them, she recognizes me. -Aaaaah... Oh ! Agnes ? You are Agnes ! You... Don't ! You've no right ! - I can do whatever I like, I bought you and you are my sexual slave. - Ooooh ! Perverted ! Lecherous ! You are a... Agneeeeeees! |
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Later, Helene recovers from the "shock". She sights, she stretches then she throws herself on me, trying to punch me. - Stupid thing ! You are a stupid thing ! I you could know what I felt. The fright I had. I burst out laughing while I immobilize her arms... - I know all that. sais tout ça. But I know that you don't get bored inside the crate, for example. And in the preparation room ? Mmmm ? ... while I bend her on her back and... shh !
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A lttle later on ,
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