She had just finished undressing and drawing a bath when the feeling came on her once again. Now, she found herself lying back on the large bed, her nude body flushed with warmth even though the air in the hotel room was crisp, almost to the point of being cold. She closed her eyes as she tried to relax.
Relax.
What a laugh. Like that was really going to happen.
She could never relax when she had been rewarded well, and last night her gift had been the sweetest yet. It wasn’t unusual for her to keep reliving the moments of pleasure until the tickle finally faded away; she knew that from her past experiences. But this time the feeling went far beyond any of those that had come before. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure how much more of this she could stand.
Still the tickle blossomed, even as it had this morning and the night before. It was getting late, and she was aching with soreness. Nevertheless, she knew she would have to meet its demands.
She had been at this off and on for the entire day, whenever she could that was. There had been an unproductive business luncheon that kept her from tending to her desires, and that time had been no less than maddening. Then, there had been that annoying little man who took up her afternoon. Maybe she should have gotten his name and put him on her list. He certainly deserved a good beating.
But now she was sequestered here alone, and there was nothing to get in her way. It was a relief to finally be back here in her room.
She heard her stomach growl, and she remembered that she had not even taken time to eat. It was something she knew she desperately needed to do, especially with all of the rum she had been drinking. Maybe she should order room service? No, maybe not. She didn’t really have an appetite even though her stomach audibly told her she should.
Right now, however, the nagging itch inside her belly was the greater force. And, as had been the rule of the day, it was insisting that it be scratched.
It didn’t matter. There would be time for eating when she got home. At the moment, there was a different hunger that needed to be fed.
She heeded the call and her hand slipped down yet again to begin attending to its needs. She knew it wouldn’t take much. Just a light tease and her recent memories would be more than enough to feed its wants.
She felt herself smile as the scene started to replay. Behind her closed eyes, she watched as the events of the previous night unfolded in vivid remembrance.
His humiliation and servitude were the appetizers, tickling her deep within.
As he crawled about on all fours, snuffling like a pig…
As he snorted while she sat astride his back and rode him like an animal…
As he licked the shiny patent leather of her shoes and hungrily kissed her feet…
His torture was the dinner salad, making her shudder with delight.
As she pulled hard on the leash with her knee in his back, listening to him gurgle and gag…
As she viciously lashed his body with a leather belt until he bled…
As she ground out burning cigarettes against his back, savoring the sickly sweet odor of burnt flesh…
His fear was a delectable morsel, making her heart race.
As he finally understood that his safe word was falling on deaf ears and meant nothing to her…
As he gagged on the washcloth and apple she shoved so deeply into his throat…
As he finally realized that, to her, this was no game, it was real and forever…
His pain was a savory main course, taking her to the brink and holding her there.
As she placed the cold steel against his genitals…
As she castrated him like the farm animal he had become…
As she held open his eyes so that he was sure to see the bloody jewels she was displaying for his benefit…
And finally, his soul… Oh yes, his soul had been dessert, filling her with heavenly pleasure.
As she sat astride the black pig and told him that they loved him…
As his eyes begged her to let him live…
As she drew the knife across his throat and offered him to Ezili…
She could still taste the sweetness on the back of her tongue, and she wanted to savor it forever. She let out an involuntary whimper as the latest orgasm took hold, and she shuddered as it drove through her abdomen and up her spine.
After a few moments passed, the wave of pleasure began to subside, and she sucked in a deep breath then let it out in a contented sigh. The tickle was still there but no longer pushing her toward the brink, as it had been earlier. Still, she had a distinct feeling that she wasn’t finished with it yet. She just hoped that it would at least be a little while before the next demanding itch made itself known.
She pulled herself upright and trudged naked through the room, stopping only to pour a measure of rum into a tumbler. Picking up the drink, she took a sip as she wandered into the bathroom, then she perched the glass on the edge of the tub.
Standing before the mirror, she gathered her waist-length, fiery auburn hair atop her head and carefully pinned it in place. Once the loose Gibson-girlish coif was secure, she grabbed a towel and rolled it into a cylinder as she stepped over to the tub. She gently lowered herself into the milky water then adjusted the force of the whirlpool jets to suit her liking.
She took another sip of the rum and tried again to relax.
Yes, now Ezili should be pacified.
She had sacrificed a black pig just as she had been asked.
Of course, Ezili had no tongue and therefore, no voice, so it had actually been Miranda who told her of the demand. It wasn’t unusual for Miranda to speak for Ezili. That was how it had always been.
She let out a resigned sigh.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew full well that Miranda wanted the sacrifice as much as Ezili. Probably even more. Miranda always wanted a sacrifice, she just wasn’t usually picky.
But then, Miranda always gave the sweetest rewards in return.
She bent her knees slightly and slid lower into the tub, letting the water climb over her chest as she slipped the rolled bath towel behind her neck. She closed her eyes and tried to relax again, but this time a perplexing thought crossed her mind.
It was something, much like the tickle, that had been nagging her all afternoon.
The pig’s public name had been Calvin Hobbes. She knew this beyond any doubt.
She just couldn’t figure out why the name Rowan kept running through her brain.
Wednesday, November 9
9:53 P.M.