Render to Caesar

She kneeled at the feet of the lycan, head in his lap, as he whispered in her ear, “I want you on the cross on the stage.”
She somehow managed to contain the shiver that ran up her spine, but not the rush of blood that rose to her face, and not the sudden perkiness of her nipples.
The lycan was hungry tonight, and his food was her display.
She rose from her knees on unstable legs, the events of the night were catching up to her.
The shower, the boots, the cab ride, all played in her mind as she steadied herself.
When she turned she felt the claws on the back of her legs, and heard his chuckle above the Garbage track through the speakers. Her knees buckled slightly and her reward for her discomfort was the other clawed hand on her neck and teeth in her back. His reward wafted up to his nostrils, knowing that the flood would soon come.
He released her then and watched her compose herself for the walk to the stage.
She smiled to herself, knowing just how early this night was, and just how many scenarios her discomfort were creating for him. Then she saw it. There were two. Two crosses on the stage, but he’d not specified which one.
As she turned to get clarification, she was face to face with Sir.
“Nicole, I want you to ride my fucking machine”, he said. Matter of fact, not a question, not a request, a statement of fact.
She was silent, a rare feat. She looked past Sir to the lycan, who’d risen and was approaching. Bold and dark, with his hand on his whip, she felt herself contract involuntarily, hungry for what she wanted, fearful of what would come.
Was the symbian not enough? Was the cab not enough? What else did he need before he took her back to the hotel?
Even in her platform boots he was bigger than her. On tip toe she barely reached his ear to whisper; “Sir wants to see me on the fucking machine”
He strode past her to inspect the equipment, majestic and mysterious. She stood in place, after all she’d not yet been summoned, and watched as Sir, and the owner, and the lycan plotted her next public display.
Her heart raced and her breathing was shallow. She was unsure if she was fearful or aroused, but on nights like this, one should ask is there truly a difference?
He extended his hand, “lube”. She complied at once producing a tiny bottle of Astroglide that was now only a quarter of the way full. The bottle that had still been sealed when they left the hotel. Her thoughts turned then, remembering that it was the only bottle she’d bought, and knowing that it would not last through the rest of the nights activities.
“How many condoms do we have left?” Three she answered, as she handed him two.
As the men prepped the machine, she felt the fabric of the chaise. CLOTH!
When the lycan turned she said, “We have a small problem, that is a cloth chair.”
He turned back to the men and while all that was said avoided her, as she looked at the covered and lubed phallus, she managed to hear: “Let her squirt, fuck it.”
Sir left them then, and she turned to the lycan.
“You can’t put me on that thing, like that. Is there plastic?”
The lycan conferred with the owner, and a green lawn and leaf bag was produced. She looked up at the lycan, unsure, but he nodded. She suspected that it would not be enough, but arguing was not an option. Instead she whispered, Do you have a preference?
“How do I always want to see you whore?” was his response.
She approached the chair and kneeled. She pulled up her dress, and positioned her ass so that it was facing Ceasar, and the crowd.
Warmth flooded through her, as she mentally prepared for her next performance, knowing this would be better than the last.
Ceaser, the fucking machine, mounted her, slide inside her with ease.
A soft moan escaped her lips, as she adjusted her hips to take more of him, arched her back to accept him, and then……they turned him on.
The machine was quiet, but powerful. The stokes were long, and full, and within a minute she was cumming. Softly and quietly, barely perceptible, except for the lycan, who watched with his fangs bared.
She was dripping, as she was soothed by the power of Ceasar. She relaxed more and allowed her body to find his rhythm. Soon they were in concert, the whore and her machine, writhing and grinding and pounding, and then……it stopped.
The machine had stopped.
She knelt there open and exposed, her mechanical lover deep and hard inside of her. Her pussy rippled over Ceasar, contracting and releasing, needing him to stroke her again.
The owner and the lycan checked the cords and connections, and soon Ceasar was riding again.
Her lust by now was boiling, and she dug into the chair further with her knees as she pushed back, angry at the machine for leaving her wanting. And the first wave came. Ceasar may have been electric, but he is built like a man.
And as every man before him, he slowed as she gripped him and bore down. She could not make out the words of the owner, but could sense the concern in his voice. Ceasar was relentless, not limited by his own nerve endings. He pushed and turned and pushed and turned as she gripped him tighter, and and tighter.
“No it’s her” said the lycan, and at the end of the sentence, Ceasar was expelled and her fluids rushed out, not as a geyser, but as a warm soft rinse over his tip, over her lips and slowly down her thighs.
She gnashed her teeth and wiggled her ass, yelling more, and she was obliged,
Ceasar went back to work, in her swelling pussy. Forcing her back open, taunting her as his stoke remained steady, remained on rhythm, and remained inside of her.
Then came wave two.
The lycan was waiting this time, and when Ceasar was expelled again he caught her juices in his hand. He reinserted Ceasar immediately as he lubed her ass with her own cum, and inserted two of his fingers.
And then they were all one. Her, Ceasar, and the lycan. Their own rhythm absent from the music, as her body was stretched and pounded and displayed. For all to see what a hungry little whore she was. And the evidence kept coming in wave after wave, sometimes in rinse, others in WHOOSH!, until her knees started to give out and her lust pooled inside of her leather boots. Her lust trickled off the green plastic onto the floor. Her lust left her spent, and glistening, and open.
Her lust that left her pouting, as the lycan said she’d had enough and it was time to clean up now. 20 minutes after she first felt Ceasar parting her lips.

About Aphrodite Brown

Aphrodite Brown is the owner and creator of Vizionz from the Bottom. Vizionz is a life and culture blog covering all aspects of life from pop culture, to politics, to parenting, with an extra heavy dose of alternative lifestyle & sex positive living.
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