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From: bookgirl <bonkgirl@NO-SPAMyahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Italian Odyssey - Chapter 1 (M/F, slow, humil, bond, reluct)
Date: Thu, 14 Aug 2003 08:10:08 -0400
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[Usual disclaimer: this is a work of fiction intended for adults
only...blah blah blah. Copyright 2003 by bookgirl]

The Italian Odyssey - Chapter 1

The spent the entire time during the voyage from the mainland to the
Tremiti Islands totally enthralled by the emerald green and blue
waters of the Adriatic Sea and the looming pristine rocks and
vegetations of the island of S. Nicola. My guide for the tour I had
booked waved enthusiastically, pointing to the ruins of fortifications
and towers that once housed an order of Benedictine monks who in days
gone by had controlled the entire area.

"There it is," he said.

I was smiling so much my face ached.

"It's so... so beautiful!" I cried, trying to make myself heard over
the flapping noises of the billowing sails on masts above.

"SĂŹ, Ă" molto bello effettivamente!"

Even though I had barely any knowledge at all of Italian I knew he was
agreeing with me. His sparkling eyes, half hidden behind his glasses,
lingered on me for a moment after he spoke. I blushed suddenly,
realizing he was teasing me - telling me I was beautiful. "You
Italians!" I laughed to myself. "A touch of Romeo in every one of
you!"

I had been in Italy for just under three weeks, soaking in all the
history and beauty of cities in the north. Florence had been my
favorite up until this time; Rome, with it's pollution,  decaying
dirtiness and bustling crowds the least favorite. But this was a world
away from all of that. A world away from everything!

"Not many people come here?" I asked my guide, fascinated that a place
so beautiful would not be swarming with tourists.

"No, not many," he said.

I clenched my fingers around the rails of the deck, closed my eyes,
and breathed in deeply the fresh, salty smell of the sea. It was like
being in paradise.

"Only the sailors know about this place," he continued.

I opened my eyes, nodded back to him and then resumed my little
silent, closed-eyed reverie. The thought that the great author from
antiquity, Homer, had sailed these waters during his epic voyages,
filled me with wonderment. Here I was, all these years later,
literally following in his footsteps. It was a dream come true for a
history lover like me.

***************************

The road leading up to the Abbey and ruins snaked tightly against the
sides of sheer cliffs. My heart remained firmly wedged in my throat
for the entire journey; my feet instinctively jabbing out at imaginary
brakes at every curve that my guide negotiated at speeds well in
excess of what I would have called safe. He seemed oblivious to my
terror and casually spoke about all manner of things as we sped along.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Roberto!" I almost screamed when his eyes
lingered on me for too long after saying something. He laughed,
glancing only as long as necessary to easily navigate a curve; as
easily as if the car was guided by the hand of God Himself.

The final ascent up a long, straight and very steep section, suddenly
deposited the car out onto a flat bluff. The view past the ancient
ruins was spectacular as were the ruins themselves. Roberto eased off
the accelerator and allowed the car to roll the last fifty or so
yards, bringing us to a stop right next to the only building standing
intact.

"Il abbey dei Insulae Diomedae," Roberto said, announcing our arrival
and referring to the Abbey by its original name,  Insulae Diomedae,
after the Homeric hero who is said to have been buried somewhere on
the island of S. Nicola.

"The abbey of Insulae Diomedae," I repeated breathlessly; reverently.

***************************

My guide, Roberto, spent close to an hour showing me around the ruins
outside before finally escorting me into the vestibule of the abbey.
It felt weird to be in such a beautiful, ancient place; to be the only
person besides Roberto, in such a beautiful, ancient place.

Our footsteps echoed off the old stone walls inside as we made out way
inside the building. My eyes were drawn to all the Catholic
iconography; the paint-flaking images around the walls on three sides
of the Processions of the Cross; the statue of the Virgin Mary with
the Christ child in her arms poised vigilantly off to one side at the
front near a large, marble altar. Breathtaking!

"There is one place here not many tourists ever get to see," Roberto
said, breaking the spell I was under.

"There is?"

"SĂŹ," he continued. "It's a secret place right here beneath our feet!"

I tried not to laugh at his fractured English and the theatrical
flourishes of his ever-gesturing hands.

"It is?"

"SĂŹ. Follow me, please."

My curiosity had been piqued but there was no time to ask questions.
Roberto was already walking briskly ahead towards the altar at the
front of the aisle. I tried not to run as I followed; my low heeled
court shoes clip-clopping loudly on the stone floor as I trotted
behind.

"Here," Roberto said, pointing down to the space beneath the two solid
granite pedestals supporting the marble top of the altar.

"Here...what?" I asked, looking down at the floor then back at
Roberto.

"Here!" he said, his voice now raised with excitement as he suddenly
dropped to his knees and pulled back a threadbare carpet to reveal a
trap door.

"What is it? Where does it lead to?"

I was reluctant to follow but Roberto had already disappeared up to
his waist down through the floor beneath the altar. "Follow!" he
barked the order pleasantly but there was a distinct urgency.

There was a moment where I felt slightly guilty as if somebody might
suddenly walk into the abbey and accuse me of trespassing. The silvery
mop of hair on top of Roberto's head disappeared down the darkened
hole; his voice now sounding more distant as he vanished from sight,
imploring me to hurry.

I crawled beneath the altar and positioned myself feet first down the
narrow opening in the floor. I kicked around in the air and found a
step but still shuffled my foot to make certain I had a secure
foothold before making my descent. A light below suddenly shone up out
of the darkness and I realized Roberto would have a clear view right
up my skirt. Assuming he was looking in that direction. "What was I
saying? Of course he was looking!" I tried to laugh at the
embarrassing thought.

Roberto's hands glided up the sides of my legs as I stepped down the
final couple of steps. At one level I felt he was being gentlemanly in
making sure I didn't slip and fall but at another deeper level, I
sensed he was enjoying the opportunity to touch me. I shivered, trying
to convince myself of his intentions were honorable, but said nothing
of the uneasy way his touching made me feel. Once my feet were firmly
planted on the basement floor, I patted down my skirt, politely
brushing his hands away and pretending I wasn't noticing he wanted
them to remain on my hips. I detected a small laugh from him and
pretended not to notice this as well.

"Come," Roberto said. He turned on his heel and marched off down the
long, narrow corridor ahead.

I followed, ducking my head as we passed under each vaulted section
until we arrived at a large, solid oak door at the end of the
corridor.

"What's in there?" I didn't want to ask but I was starting to feel
very suspicious of my amorous guide.

"You'll see!" Roberto said, twisting a large, iron ring in the door.
The silence of the corridor was immediately shattered by the clunking,
metalic sounds of bolts unlocking behind the door. I watched nervously
as Roberto leaned his shoulder into the heavy door and, using all his
body weight, pushed it open.

***********************************

"What is this place?" I eventually asked once I realized what was
inside the cavernous chamber beneath the abbey.

Roberto was still standing next to the door, holding it open while I
nervously stepped past him into the room.

"What? You've never seen a dungeon before?" Roberto laughed heartily;
a laugh full of genuine humor. It relaxed me a little and I was forced
to laugh with him.

"Noooooo!" I said, realizing I must have sounded entirely naive to
him.

"Noooooo?" Roberto asked. The tone of his voice was filled with
playful mock astonishment.

"No," I said, not bothering to mention I had, but only in books back
home in the library where I worked.

The dungeon was certainly creepy but there was something strangely
fascinating about it at the same time. I slowly drifted away from
Roberto and began making closer inspections of all the gothic
furnishings; cages built into the vaulted alcoves around the walls;
rusted, heavy link chains and shackles dangling from above; a large,
wooden rack off to one side; and a large, solid wood pillory set on a
raised platform in the center of the room.

"It gives me the creeps!" I said, turning back to Roberto.

"It's okay, " he said, not reassuring me in the least when he added
"You'll be safe with me!"

"This is a real dungeon?" I asked. It was a dumb question given the
fact it clearly was a real dungeon that undoubtedly dated back to the
times of the Inquisition.

"SĂŹ, it's real. You want to try some things?"

I shot a look of horror directly back at Roberto when he asked the
question. "No!"

"It's okay," he said again, repeating what was now becoming a mantra
with him that I had nothing to fear. "I can take your photo in the
stocks. Here, you get up there..."

"Roberto!" I squealed, twisting free from the grip he suddenly had on
my elbow as he ushered me up the steps of the wooden platform.

I could feel my face, my ears and neck especially, starting to burn
hotly with embarrassment. It was a strange feeling borne of the
realization that I actually had a peculiar urge to let him lock me in
the pillory. "I can do it myself," I finally said after regaining some
of my composure.

The wooden stairs creaked underfoot as I climbed up onto the platform.
I neatly placed my handbag on the floor next to the pillory and then
turned back to Roberto. "You're sure it's safe?" I asked. I was more
concerned about Roberto's integrity than the structural soundness of
the wooden contraption in front of me.

"SĂŹ! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" Roberto said emphatically as if saying it in
English would make it any clearer for me.

I watched as he wrestled with the heavy, upper wooden cross beam,
grunting softly as he heaved it high enough for me to position my neck
and wrists into the three, cresent shaped holes of the lower beam. The
wood was smooth against my skin, worn by years of use, reminding me
there must have been thousands of poor souls in the past who had been
locked into the position I was about to be locked in. The wood felt
cold and hard; unyielding once Roberto lowered the upper beam down to
secure me in place.

"I don't like this," I said, suddenly feeling a rush of panic.
"There's a camera in my handbag. Please be quick!"

"Just relax," Roberto was saying, making no effort to hurry with the
camera he retrieved from my handbag. "Smile for the little birdy!"

He said it in such a silly, childish sing-song voice I couldn't help
but laugh. The flash exploded in a glare of white light, temporarily
blinding me.

I silently endured as he took another two or three photos, moving
around to capture the sight of me from every angle. My stomach knotted
with nervous apprehension when he disappeared behind me for a second
time. "Roberto?"

He didn't say anything in reply.

"Roberto!!! What are you doing?"

Again he didn't reply but I knew what he was about to do the instant I
felt his fingers beginning to pick at the bottons of my dress. There
was only two of them, one over each shoulder blade, to secure the two
straps that held my dress on.

"Roberto!!!" I squealed again, this time more urgently as I felt the
straps suddenly loosen. Dancing on the spot trying to escape merely
hastened the fall of my dress to my ankles. I was still protesting
loudly as the camera flashed a number of times more behind me.

"I'll scream!" I tried vainly to threaten him.

"Okay, you can scream," Roberto laughed.

The futility of screaming or trying to call for help became
immediately clear.

"Please Roberto, don't do that. It's very embarrassing!" I softened my
tone, trying to reason with him as he inched my cotton briefs down off
my hips.

The sensations of being slowly bared made me twist and struggle
against the immovable weight of the pillory. "Please don't!" I started
to beg as I felt my bottom becoming fully exposed.

"Bello! Avete una parte posteriore molto bella!"

I could tell what Roberto was saying from the lecherous tone of his
voice. "That's enough, Roberto. I mean it!"

"Che Ă" una buona ragazza. Ballo per me. Mostrimi come wiggle!"

The flash of the camera behind continued, capturing the sight of my
briefs now being dragged down by gravity as I hopped and struggled to
escape.

"You have nice boobies!"

"Roberto! I won't tell you again!" I tried to sound like I was in a
position to tell him what to do. It clearly had no effect on him and I
was forced to suffer the indignity of having him grope my breasts
through my bra. "Please Roberto. You've had your fun. Let me go now."

I was by now becoming extremely worried. The heat of his body
enveloped me, pressing down on my back as he embraced me from behind.
The size of the bulge in the front of his trousers was unmistakable
against the backs of my thighs as he squeezed against me. I
desperately wanted to flee, but I was trapped. I instinctively clamped
my thighs together and tried not to think of what he could do to me.

"Oooh! Your nipples!"

"Please stop, Roberto. I really mean it this time!" I was begging now.

"Your nipples are so ... so stiff!"

I felt a sudden, crushing feeling of guilt knowing that he was right
and that his mentioning of it only added to the tingle they were being
aroused by.

"No they're not!" I mumbled, knowing it was a lie.

"They're not?"

Roberto was mocking me again. I squirmed and tried to shake free from
the firm grip his fingers had on my swollen, sensitive nipples.

"No." I blushed.

"I think they are. Let me see..."

"Please, no, Roberto!"

It was too late. His fingers had already unhitched the clasp of my bra
and it dropped silently to the floor in front of my feet. I cursed
myself for having worn the strapless garment while my whole body broke
out in a rash of goosebumps. But for my shoes, I was completely nude,
and Roberto continued to photograph me in my most embarrassing moment.

"Roberto?"

I called his name a second time when I heard him walking back down the
stairs to the platform we were on.

"Roberto? What's happening?"

"You just relax," he was saying from somewhere down on the floor
behind the platform.

I remained in a state of panic until I heard him returning back up the
wooden stairs.

"You look so nice!" 

His voice behind sent a chill up my spine as did the feeling of his
hands grabbing my ankles, lifting my feet to remove my discarded
clothes that had puddled around them and removing my shoes with them.

"What are you doing, Roberto? Please! You're scaring me!" I said,
genuinely frightened and feeling completely naked and vulnerable.

"Relax," he said again.

I found it impossible to as he coiled a rope around each of my ankles
and then proceded to drag my feet apart. I resisted as best I could,
but my struggles were useless against his strength. Further and
further I was spread until at last he hitched the ropes to eyebolts in
the floor and secured me in place. The camera flashed a couple of
times again as if to remind me of the predicament I was in.

"Your pussy is very wet!"

"Roberto!" I gasped, banging my shoulders hard on the cross beam as I
jumped forward trying to escape his wriggling finder that had at that
moment plunged unexpectedly into me. "Roberto! Stop that immediately!"

I felt overcome with dread, wriggling and twisting in every direction
as I tried to escape the probing of his finger. It was obviously an
easy matter for his finger to remain inside me and eventually I was
forced to stop moving in the hope he would withdraw it himself. But he
didn't. Instead he used the moment to finger me more vigorously,
adding a second finger to scissor and twist as he mauled and groped
me.

"Yes, very wet..." he mumbled.

"No! I'm not! You're wrong!"

Even before the words finished tumbling from my mouth I realized he
was right. It was so incredibly embarrassing and humiliating,
especially the sounds his fingers were now making inside me. A squishy
sound unmistakable as the sound of my wetness. I could even smell my
arousal now, and this horrified me. The heady, base sexual scent mixed
with the jasmine-like floral aroma of my perfume.

"You look good enough to eat!" Roberto laughed, ignoring my feeble
attempts to deny my arousal.

"Ooooh! Roberto! Stop it!" I shrieked, climbing up onto tip toe when I
felt his fingers suddenly replaced with his tongue. His hands clamped
firmly on each of my cheeks while his mouth - his breath hot and humid
against my defenseless pussy - clamped over my clit. I felt so
confused. He was raping me with his tongue and yet I couldn't stop the
surreal, perverse feelings of pleasure that instantly swirled through
my body. The sounds of him slobbering hungrily behind as he devoured
me filled me with dread as did the thought I might actually orgasm as
a result of his bizarre tongue lashing. I called for him to stop, over
and over, but each intoning of the word came out sounding less and
less convincing. "Oh my God! Please stop!" I gasped and shuddered like
a quivering mess after his hot, wet mouth and tongue unexpectedly
pulled away. I was left for a moment knowing my pussy was now gushing
with the juices of my arousal; the coolness of the dungeon air
accentuating the the tingling, not fully satisfied sensations of my
clit.

"You are very tasty." There wasn't even the hint of a lie in what he
said.

"Roberto?" The sound of his zipper being lowered alarmed me. A moment
later and the feeling of his cock, stiffly erect, dancing between my
spread thighs had me shaking uncontrollably. I knew what was about to
happen and knew there was nothing I could do or say now to stop him.

My head swam with dizziness and confusion as I felt Roberto's cock
glide easily up into my pussy. He speared me so effortlessly it took
my breath away, driving deep as he did in one, long, slow stroke until
his cock was fully seated inside me. I could feel my pelvic muscles
contracting and relaxing around the girth of his cock. It was a reflex
action and one I was unable to stop, even if I wanted to. But I didn't
want him to stop. It was such a weird feeling I barely have the words
to describe it. Being locked naked in the pillory as I was, so totally
helpless and defenseless; the bizarre surroundings of the dungeon
around me; this virtual stranger behind me with his cock buried deep
inside me; thoughts drifting back to the days of the Inquisiton when
the dungeon might have been filled with an audience eager to see some
heretic punished and raped ... it all combined to send me into a
swirling world of giddy delight - a delight I'd never before
experienced.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you!"

I refused to answer knowing the only word I could think of was yes and
that if I said no, the denial would only serve to make me more
aroused. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to forget about
everything except the sensations of pleasure Roberto's deep, slowly
pistoning strokes were giving me. I was already orgasming. Not a
single orgasm but ripple after unstoppable ripple of orgasmic delight.
It had me off in a place where nothing mattered. Time ceased to exist
and I wanted it to continue forever. Roberto's unexpected withdrawal
came as a shock once I realized he hadn't simply withdrawn so he could
impale me again with the full length of his cock.

"Open up!"

I was still in a daze when I opened my eyes to see Roberto, his cock
glistening with the manifest signs of my juicy pleasure, standing in
front of me. I wasn't sure what he was wanting until he waved the
thing dangerously under my nose.

"I can't do that..." I was about to speak when he forced himself into
my mouth.

I was immediately gripped with a panic; a fear that I might suddenly
choke as he filled my mouth with his foul tasting cock. I desperately
tried to breathe through my nose as he proceded to drive himself into
my mouth as he had done in my pussy. I tried turning my head away but
it was impossible to break free. It was as if he had me pinned in
place on the end of his cock and any turning of my head simply
afforded him the opportunity to find ways to drive himself ever deeper
into the back reaches of my mouth.

I gave up trying to scream and sucked like my life depended on it. Not
because I wanted to, and I felt repulsed by the thought I was sucking
and swallowing my own juices, but because I now just wanted it
finished. I sucked frantically, even moaning past his solid cock-head
in the hope he would ejaculate quickly. It seemed to work and, more
suddenly than I had anticipated, I felt the insides of my mouth
rapidly filling with something hot and salty. It caught me by surprise
at first but as my cheeks ballooned to accommodate I realized I had to
swallow and swallow quickly if I didn't want to drown in Roberto's
filthy jism. I gulped and gulped - a feeling of nausea as I felt each
and every large globule slide down my throat to be accepted into my
stomach. Like an oversized, gluttonous meal, I swallowed and swallowed
until I felt certain my mouth was cleared. I felt disgusted with
myself and the look in Roberto's eye, when I finally looked up at him
- his cock still in my mouth but softening - made it clear this was
only the begining of an odyssey of Homeric proportions...

--
ser-en-dip-i-ty (n) The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by
accident.

"You don -(TM)t reach Serendip by plotting a course for it. You have to set
out in good faith for elsewhere and lose your bearings
serendipitously." - The Last Voyage Of Somebody The Sailor (The
Sindbad Saga)

http://profiles.yahoo.com/bonkgirl

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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