The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot & Dhi )
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Dhi on 29-08-2013, 09:38:33</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>29-08-2013, 09:38:33</strong>
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				For days the ship had circled the island to chart its coast and map the dense South Pacific jungle from afar. Somewhere within, lost to the ages amidst the ruins of a fallen civilization, was the gold of an ancient nobility. Bowls of gold, cups of gold, jewel-studded masks of gold- it was enough to make a sisterhood of pirates salivate. The mists of the waves against the verdant jungle cliffs were thick in the air as the ship made its final approach. A dinghy was ready for the two brave <em>volunteers </em>who would be the first into the hostile jungle.<br><br><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Tumblr_ll760u5qWx1qir6fro1_500.jpg)</div>Ozora's dark eyes skimmed the lush jungle through the fog, then returned to the ring of women on deck. Skirts were raised, breeches were skinned down thighs, and panting breaths were raised in disharmonious song with the reckless wet slip of fingers across sopping pink flesh. Ozora watched through the women sailors and the glistening, nectar-streaked face of the ship's whore knelt at the center of them. They were all so greedy to douse her, and Ozora could naught but watch.<br><br>Victorian stockings ran clear up one pirate's legs, and the lace bands could just be glimpsed by the way she hiked her harlequin skirt to expose herself. The pirate's hips were trembling as she strummed her clit over the crouched woman, and a wet squelch and a small part of her legs told that her fingers had gone inside. Some of them, Ozora could see from where she perched atop a coil of rope. A lovely, rosy pink pussy spread open over the ship's whore, low on naked hips beneath a tight corset still fully laced. The pirate's calloused fingers pulled fiercely up on the clitoral hood and pulled smooth her pink geranium petals so that her climax could gush onto the already doused and oily features of their plaything. <em>"Open your mouth," </em>one of them was sneering. <em>"You love that, don't you? That's what you were made for." </em><br><br>The heels of the captain thumped on the deck to draw Ozora's attention. The native girl's heart jumped in her chest, and her legs pulled tightly to her body.&nbsp; She was a striking woman, the captain- tall, all in shades of black, with her curves only hinted by the satiny interior of her unbuttoned coat. Long raven hair framed her face, French and heart-shaped, with big blue eyes rimmed by long and dazzling lashes. <em>"Enjoying the show, jeune fille?" </em><br>Ozora glimpsed back; a woman in a crimson and black doublet, with tight white breeches inverted down her thighs, was pulling the ship's whore close under her fluttering tummy. Her fingers could not stop rubbing even as she squirt, and her nectar sprinkled in warm droplets all over the whore's skin and the laps of her sisters in piracy. <em>"Look but do not touch," </em>the captain said. <em>"She is not for one such as you." </em><br><br>There was no uniform among those who flew the black flag. Each woman collected character from a hundred different ports and from the cooling bodies of slain enemies. A gauzy linen top, shoulderless and loose and translucent where it cupped the handfuls of Ozora's dark African breasts, lay unbuttoned down the ribs to let the sweat evaporate into the tropical air. A wide girdle of suede with a big bronze buckle made her slim waist seem to shrink just before the flare of her womanly hips, where gypsy skirts of outlandish color exploded into floral ruffles. They were layered, sage green over ruby red, and ran to the crest of the hip on one side, to just under the knee on the other. Finally was her pale-striped stockings, pastel violet and creamy white, and skin-tight black leather heels that her jungle-born feet did not like to inhabit. Beads of amber and volcanic glass and electrum baubles represented her every wealth in the world, still so low on the piracy ladder. "Yes, Madame Captain."<br><br><em>"Care for the professor, jeune fille. She is your responsibility now," </em>the captain ordered. The professor- it was a name only the captain still called the ship's whore. There was a shelf of weathered old books in the whore's cabin, and a writing desk where she was allowed to study when she was not servicing female flesh. In some ways they were alike, she and Ozora- they had both been plucked from another life, another world. Ozora would never admit to how well she had adapted to the adventure of the high seas; would the professor admit to enjoying her new life as relief for the lusty and hot-blooded crew?<br><br>Ozora had returned to watching the ship's whore, her sweet and angelic face glistening with the honey of the crew, and it took her by surprise when the captain hoisted her rudely to her feet. Her heels rattled across the deck planks as she was dragged bodily to the dinghy and tossed inside with a poof of skirts and an upturned heel. <em>"You will protect her with your life, if need be. Find the gold, satisfy the professor's curiosity, and make haste." </em>A bag of supplies was thrust into Ozora's arms, and another was thrown into the dingy with a roughness that made the pulleys squeak. The captain then turned her attention to the panting crew. <em>"Mon dieu, that is enough. Look at her, she is dripping. Let her gather her things and get on the boat." </em><br><br>The jungle along the shore caught Ozora's eyes as she waited, so velvety and vibrant green, so overabundant with colorful blooms that they spilled from the cliffs in garland vines. The water below was clear cerulean, and not a single pair of human prints marred the virgin white gold beach.<br><br>It reminded her of the professor's skin.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>01-09-2013, 07:43:32</strong>
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				The view beyond the crescent waves and rolling folds of blue ocean was beautiful to be sure.&nbsp; It would contain mysteries and treasures and wonders that were beyond what the professor could imagine.&nbsp; But, for all her longing to look and explore, she was surrounded by a beauty of a different kind.&nbsp; Soft, milky smooth skin instead of the rolling curves of the beach beyond, quivering mounds of fleshy bosom instead of majestic mountain peaks and the warm sticky spray of girl-cum rather than the mist of salt water striking the shore's edge.&nbsp; These were the sights she was surrounded by, forced to turn to look at with open mouth and upraised breasts presented for the next shower in a show of humiliation nearly without end.<br><br>Her hands sunk into her heavy breasts as she presented them for the next girl, already the liquid was coating her skin, dripping down to pool in the crevice of her naked legs as she knelt subserviently before the crew.&nbsp; It glistened with the girl's arousal more than the beach did with the rushing waves, her long rungs of blond hair matted to her head while the waves of it rushed past her open lips despite her attempts to drink it down.&nbsp; <br><br>To say that the journey had been a long one would be an understatement even if that were not to include the days they'd spent circling the islands, mapping the outlying landscape and charting the treacherous reefs.&nbsp; And in that time the professor had had more than adequate training to know her true title as ship's whore.&nbsp; As such, she wasted no time responding to the insulting praise from the crew members as they brought themselves to bliss before her spread lips. "Yes!" "Oh it's so tasty!" "Thank you for cumming on your dirty little whore!" and even more defiling responses that despite the long training managed to bring a blush to her stained cheeks.&nbsp; If she'd had the time to worry over such things, she might debate weather or not her responses were the trained necessity of survival, or if the eagerness and quickness with which she responded spoke to something deeper within her being that felt at home here on her knees.<br><br>But whatever the answer to that internal struggle might be, it was put on hold by focusing on having her position ready for the next girl to achieve orgasm above her and offer encouraging words of thanks through drowned lips.&nbsp; And what was left of her mind was instead occupied on the glimpse of the other beauty caught occasionally between writhing legs and the dips of the ship as the ocean rocked it too and fro.&nbsp; The beauty of the island waiting to be explored.<br><br>So lost was she that Professor Sonia Brooks, or rather the ship's whore, didn't realize the order behind the Captain's tone.&nbsp; The fact that it was an order was clear enough, and she turned to look at the approaching woman, seeming in a bit of a daze as those around her stopped, some with reluctance, others with eager obedience but none challengingly disobeying.&nbsp; Realizing her time had finally come, that for a short while she'd get to be an actual professor rather than just a name teasingly addressed to a whore by the captain made her smile even as the evidence of her shame dripped down her curved lips.&nbsp; <br><br>She rose on surprisingly steady legs, made strong from her time on sea and servicing the woman with her body, but even she felt a weakness in them from her use, and, perhaps from nervousness of the adventure to come and the discoveries.&nbsp; Discoveries that she told herself would make all that she had endured worth every second of it.&nbsp; Though as she moved to her cabin, small and confined but thankfully hers, she couldn't help but feel an odd sense of... apprehension.&nbsp; Not directed at what she was heading towards...but what she was leaving behind.&nbsp; Could it be possible she was going to miss this ungrateful, lusty crew?&nbsp; <br><br>Even as she pondered what that might mean Sonia reached down to grab her bags.&nbsp; Supplies having been packed months ago during the free times of her journey, bags rechecked so often that the leather straps were warn despite having never left her cabin and even now she felt a nervousness that she was forgetting something.&nbsp; But her excitement would not be forced to suffer the time it would take to check everything again, so instead the strap was pulled over her naked, stained shoulder and quickly she made her way to the dingy, still dripping with every step.&nbsp; She could change on the short ride to shore, besides...dressing or wiping off the crew's parting gift might be seen as an offense...one that the captain and the rest of the crew might decide to punish and thus delay her trip to the island.&nbsp; <br><br>Bending over the railing to gently let her bag be lowered into the softly swinging vessel gave the rest a farewell view of her upraised ass but after so long put on display she didn't seem to notice.&nbsp; It was not their eyes on her that made her turn a bit crimson and suddenly wonder if suffering the Captain's wrath might not be worth having had clothes on first, it was the watchful eyes of the native girl looking up at her from the small craft.<br><br>While she was no stranger to lustful looks on her naked body, judging her or craving for her, Sonia could not quite tell what was hidden within the depths of Ozora's intense eyes.&nbsp; And while she'd come to know the crew in an intimacy that only the deepest realms of passion can bring, she could claim no such familiarity with the girl before her, the only one denied use of her services on this long journey.&nbsp; In many ways, or most, that made her a stranger despite their shared lower status aboard the ship.&nbsp; But for all that, they were still crew mates, still members of the same club and still strangers in a world they were not born to.&nbsp; And so the professor smiled heartily, letting her excitement and gratefulness bubble forth warmly before moving to crawl aboard the ship.<br><br>"Requesting permission to depart my Captain?" she asked obediently.&nbsp; Even though her slender legs had technically carried her off of the ship's deck, she was still the servant here.&nbsp; And until the dingy hit the water, its pulleys detached and the oars set she was under their control.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>05-09-2013, 14:04:38</strong>
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				<em>"You shall have it," </em>came the captain's voice. The dinghy lurched down as the first slack was given, and Ozora, still adjusting to the movements of the ship, tumbled into Sonia. For a moment as the winches squeaked and the scent of the beach swelled up all around, she was not sure of where on the professor's satiny curves her dark fingers lay. The tips of her fingers curled instinctively to capture a downy softness, and she inhaled- there was the musky perfume of the crew on her, but that was only on her surface. A face slick, wet, basted with juices touched to her cheek, and-<br><br><em>"Hands off, jeune fille!" </em>Ozora's hand withdrew, and she returned to her own seat in the tiny boat. With a bounce it met the surface of the water, and released from the pulleys. Obediently Ozora took the oars, and pushed away from the hull of the ship. A world that had seemed so manageable aboard the mighty vessel was suddenly tall, and broad, and frightening, and they were only two women. Sonia was not even dressed; Ozora wore heels.<br><br>She was quiet for a time as she rowed, her face calm and inscrutable as she went gently across the water and gave her companion time to dress. It could be difficult to tell what Ozora was feeling, to watch her, and to not understand the cues of the tribe the oversexed white women had plucked her from. But as she rowed, she was thinking strategically about how to protect the professor. She could be Sonia's friend, yes- they could become the best of friends and find a mutual respect that would see them through adversity. Or, for once, Ozora could be in <em>charge. </em>There, glistening and naked and shivering from the sea breezes, was a creature who surely responded to force of personality. Ozora stole one glimpse up to the deck of the ship, and then set her eyes on the professor. She would make the scholar answer to her.<br><br>Ozora's hand left the oar briefly to stop Sonia from awkwardly dressing herself. "Wait until we are on land," she said, her voice sonorous like the low chord of a harp and lightly accented with both French and her tongue-twisting native language. Conch shells and spiny crabs scraped the bottom of the dinghy as it entered the shallow waters, and relied on the lapping waves to push it firm up into the sand. It still reminded her of the professor's skin, and the pinpricks Ozora's heels left as she disembarked to drag it up the beach were a prelude to the marks she would leave. It was never easy for the professor to dress; Ozora saw to that. As soon as the boat was secured, she began to walk, so briskly that there was scant time for more than her most intimate coverings. Ozora compensated for her heels in the sand as though she were born to wear them.<br><br>Foaming white waterfalls ran like tears down the face of the lush green mountains inland, beyond the shore. Fog clung heavy to the peaks and valleys like ephemeral tufts of cotton, rendering every surface of the jungle wet and teeming with life. Legends told that the island's natives had grown too numerous and starved, but there were birds and monkeys and fish enough to support very large predators indeed. Ozora was unwrapping a bundle of rags from her bag to inspect the flintlock pistol that was her right as a pirate. It was a long, thin, feminine thing, with a weighted knob of brass at the barely-curved stock and a flared blunderbuss muzzle for firing indiscriminate lead shot into crowds of sailors. She began to prep it as her heels dug bright green scratches into the tangled brown roots of the jungle trees.<br><br>"It is shameful, what you let them do to you," she told. "No woman from my people would allow it. English girls are weak-willed, non? Or do you like a woman to treat you this way?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>05-09-2013, 17:34:34</strong>
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				Sonia smiled happily as the captain gave her permission, glad that she had made the right choices to allow her her adventures on the island to come unrestrained by more delays.&nbsp; Though despite how eager she was to depart, even she was caught off guard by the sudden drop to the dingy into the depths of water and perhaps the softer and more luscious curves of her native guide as the two women collapsed into each other.&nbsp; Feeling such soft hands on her still naked body and the press of a face against her sensitive and soaked skin was enough to coax a gentle moan from her as much by instinct and training as it was from actual pleasure.<br><br>It still made her gasp softly as she felt Ozora pull away as if she'd suddenly become something contagious at the captain's instructions.&nbsp; It left the girl a bit flushed but she smiled gently as she managed to find her seat within the dingy.&nbsp; Idly she wondered why their captain was so insistent that the native be denied her...services but she made no mention of it, simply silently watching as they got underway.<br><br>She watched Ozora, silent in turn as together the two made their way towards the islands exterior in the small boat.&nbsp; She observed her curiously before finally rummaging through her bag to retrieve her clothes from its folds, pausing midway in pulling the shirt over her head as the woman startled her with sudden speech she had not expected.&nbsp; Her eyebrows rose into her brow and she made a small curious sound from her parting lips but all the same she obeyed, letting her arms fall back into her lap along with the bundle of cloth.<br><br>She didn't ask why this was suggested of her, assuming it to be a matter of cultural differences or perhaps something of the sea she was not familiar with. But when land finally became their companion the professor found that she was given little time to dress herself then either however she gave no thought that it might be by design as she grabbed her bag and hurriedly followed after.&nbsp; Her attempts to pull on her garments near impossible to manage without risking loosing her guide and protector so she contented herself with putting on the shirt, a task she could manage while her legs still moved, and then let the bag rest on her shoulders.&nbsp; It was just them after all, and it was obvious she was comfortable with woman gazing at her body, even if it was the unfamiliar gaze of Ozora.&nbsp; <br><br>Besides, she was too caught up in their surroundings to worry over a thing like modesty as she hungrily took in the strange world around them.&nbsp; While it was clear that even in high heels Ozora was as comfortable as she'd be in her own home, Sonia tripped and stumbled on the motionless and uneven terrain, made all the more apparent by the fact that she was too distracted with her search to watch where she was going.&nbsp; That and of course the quick pace set by the native did little to help, even if it was by design to keep her from dressing.&nbsp; <br><br>"Hmm?" she asked, suddenly distracted by the words echoing in the air, drifting as an alien presence in contrast the sounds of nature that surrounded them.&nbsp; Despite the implied insult to the comment she found herself smirking gently and shaking her head even as her eyes glanced around once more to look for some signs of civilization.&nbsp; "Oh it's not a matter of weak willed.&nbsp; I just... have no other means to get to places like this," she answered honestly before smiling coyly, "Besides...it's not really <em>that</em> bad," she admitted gently.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>06-09-2013, 18:15:16</strong>
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				The scent of black powder followed Ozora into the jungle, spiced and smoky through the heavy perfume of tropical flowers. She did not need to fire the weapon to spook the animals. "You are like the bitch in heat who is passed around the pack," she went on. Sonia's pleasant manner only caused her to press harder, to distinguish herself above the professor. "She goes where she is chased." The flintlock slipped under her belt to pull herself by the waxy bark of the trees up to higher ground, and a moment later her hand, dark like the volcanic soil that had left this land so fertile, reached down to help the professor up. Even when she was not holding the weapon, her fingertips traced the delicate Spanish filigree with a constant lover's preoccupation.<br><br>"Now it is Ozora taking you places. The captain is not in charge now. I am." Her voice was unnecessarily firm, brooking no argument, though talk like this would earn her twenty-nine lashes. Thirty would render her unfit to work. "So you will do what I tell you." Over her shoulder, her eyes swept Sonia's barely-clothed body with the same restrained curiosity she had shown on the deck, watching her sisters in piracy over the professor. Ozora was always scrubbing the decks, washing the laundry, scraping the barnacles, never partaking. If they had ever used Ozora, she had never been touched since Sonia had set foot on board.<br><br>It was hot, so very hot. The tropical sun was burning aggressive through the kaleidoscope of emerald, turquoise, and lime jungle leaves by the time they had scaled the switchbacks to the cradle of the island's extinct civilization. Every degree hotter it became, Ozora unfastened another button to relieve some of the pressure of her soaked top, and her fingers made wet streaks across the skin of her breast as she wiped the sweat away. Pillars of dark orange stone, pieced together with carved bricks that held together under their own weight, served as landmarks guiding her ever deeper through jungle that had long since reclaimed ground lost to its architects.<br><br>The native girl had never shown much interest in the professor's studies- she had never learned to read, nor wished to. When she stopped and studied the bas relief of the old stonework, it was only to occupy her mind while she sat upon an old fallen tree and panted from the heat. "Pictures of snakes," she reported, and her fingers followed the eroded detail attentively. "Snakes everywhere." Ozora's bag slumped open, and she sifted through it for potable water and grains to eat. Finally she allowed time for the professor to dress, if only because she was forced to rest. The sun would be setting soon.<br><br>Ozora took eager, breathless gulps of her water, and then drizzled it over her inky black hair to relieve the heat. Far too much came sloshing from the waterskin, but she made no attempt to conserve it as it spilled down her body and took her from steaming to shivering. After so long at sea, there was water to spare, and there would be food to eat that was not salted pork, stone-hard biscuit, or leathery cheese. She sorted listlessly through her rations, inhaled the vibrant citrus of the jungle air, and had a taste for something different. "Come here," she told the professor, "tell me what the symbols mean."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>08-09-2013, 07:36:39</strong>
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				As excited as the professor was about her discoveries and finally arriving on the island of her interest, even she couldn't help but pause at the sudden commanding and demeaning tone Ozora directed her way.&nbsp; It was such a surprise to hear it from the native girl who had otherwise been a silent watcher aboard the ship, never questioning or asserting herself, simply partaking of Sonia's defilement from afar with her eyes alone.&nbsp; Now it seemed that the freedom of their isolation on the island's shore, away from the commanding presence of the crew had made Ozora assert herself.<br><br>"I am just a bitch in heat you're right," she answered softly, letting her tone adopt a submissive nature once more despite smiling ever so softly at the girl, her excitement unable to be contained despite the new development.&nbsp; It didn't occur to her the power Ozora had just given her in turn, for if she decided to return to the ship and inform their captain of what had just transpired she could get the native girl in considerable trouble.&nbsp; Instead she simply nodded her obedience.&nbsp; If she had been willing to endure the treatment for so long a journey to reach this haven of archeological finds, she could continue doing so while actually on the island, and quite easily.&nbsp; <br><br>So the professor followed, stopping when she needed rest, or more specifically timing her rests to coincide with one find or another among the budding ruins peaking it's way through the overgrown foliage.&nbsp; Her full lips worked delicately, gently speaking to herself as she went over facts and half remembered literature.&nbsp; Occasionally she'd ruffle through her bag for notebook or reference works before moving on to the next, lightly chewing on the utensil as she moved on as a way to distract herself from the heat and the increasing curves of skin being revealed as it took it's bearing on her guide.&nbsp; <br><br>When they finally stopped, the heat and pace set wearing them both down it was with a mixture of relief and anxiety that she took her seat.&nbsp; She wanted to continue exploring, but she knew better than to push her body, and thus her mind too far where she'd not be able to identify the symbols much less make them out through double vision.&nbsp; So instead she let her muscles rest, and she finally managed to fish through her bag and pull out a pair of shorts to fit underneath the length of her shirt which had grown matted to her body from the mixture of sweat and left over female bukake.&nbsp; Part of her wanted to remain as she was, to forgo the added clothing under the heat, but in the end it didn't change if, but rather what, she wore, choosing a pair of shorts that barely peaked out past the lower hem of the shirt she'd been wearing thus far.<br><br>As she had searched through her bags she realized one distinct thing that hers was lacking...provisions.&nbsp; Her gear contained text books, notes and documents, even a few relics that she could refer to as well as travel clothes and other tools of the trade...but there was no canteen of water, no neatly wrapped bundles of nonperishable food.&nbsp; She'd not thought that far ahead, and it made her cast an enviable eye to Ozora as she watched the water cascade past her lips and through the softness of her hair.&nbsp; So distracted was she that it came as some surprise when the woman spoke again, this time not to berate or order but to ask.&nbsp; The professor blinked in surprise but was quick to rise at the command all the same, trained to do just that despite the order originating from a new source.&nbsp; Slowly she leaned over the examine the symbol indicated.<br><br>"Well the language is quite complex and I'm not through deciphering everything yet," she answered apologetically and a bit dejectedly as well.&nbsp; "But, near as I can tell, the meaning can change based on the symbols following and preceding the first," she explained pointing to the appropriate marks.&nbsp; "This one's been faded off, so near as I can tell this either means...worshiped or enslaved depending on what this mark means.." she continued, biting her lips softly.&nbsp; "Clearly whatever the repeating theme of snakes means, they were highly respected...though weather that was through fear or reverence I'm not sure yet..." she concluded glancing up to the native, curious if that would satisfy her question or not and realizing that she had rambled a bit, having found it being quite some time sense she'd said anything of any substance besides begging to be used like a whore.&nbsp; 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>08-09-2013, 18:37:40</strong>
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				Ozora's dark eyes were squarely on the professor's bent form as she ruminated. She quietly mapped the stretch of those shorts across the swell of Sonia's backside, and the long swathes of leg left uncovered for the night's cool temperatures. "I have seen no snakes." If she were one of the salty crew, she would simply take hold of that hovering backside, claim what the ship's whore was offering knowingly or not, and bring it to the ruffled skirt of her lap. It was instinct for all of them, to play with the pretty submissive, regardless of how they had thought themselves oriented before setting foot on the ship. She was just too willing, too tender, too enticing with her feminine scent. Ozora would get a whipping for this for sure.<br><br>Her hands were rest on Sonia's hips, and her fingers curling into the belt loops like a cat first digging in its claws, when suddenly she stumbled. The cover of leaves from the fallen tree beneath her rustled and sloughed off as the wet green log began to move, and undulate, and hunch in a way that wood could not. the forest grime shed off of wet scales as the serpentine body flexed, and Ozora sailed easily from its huge musculature when it bucked her like a wild horse. She went to the ground, dazed, her charge slipping from her fingertips. "Kak!"<br><br>Ozora was not a scholar. Her first instinct was to shoot. The black powder went off with a boom and a glow of red through dark smoke, and the somewhere under the jungle growth, there was a hiss that could only come from a snake bigger than a man. Ozora's heart stopped, and when it started again it was weaker, unable to give her limbs the strength to rise and run. It was the snake that moved first, and darted away in hasty retreat, still shrouded, never revealing its head. Ozora's bag was utterly ruined where the creature's body had rolled across it, spilling food, ripping the canvas of their shelter, cracking open the scabbard of her cutlass in three places and rendering the blade naked.<br><br>When Ozora's heels scuffed the fertile jungle soil finally, she went for the gleam of steel, in case the thing should return. An approaching thunder rumbled in answer to the crack of the flintlock only seconds ago. "Snake," Ozora gasped, in a state of disbelief- there were stories from the Brazilian slavers of anacondas, elephant killers, thirty or more meters long. Sailors had many tales, and only rarely was there a grain of truth. "No, impossible. Impossible. A demon from hell." The sun was going down, and the jungle would be plunged into darkness. Though she had lost track of the creature, the solid stone of the old Khmer temple called to her as a safe haven.<br><br>"Inside," she told Sonia, drawing on that firm tone she had established to spur the scientist into obedience. "We will barricade it."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>11-09-2013, 06:43:13</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The professor continued her quiet study of the structure, rear suspended in air with a slight curve to her back that anyone else would see as an open invitation to take from her what they wanted.&nbsp; But to Sonia, she was still ignorant that Ozora's question might have had a double purpose, specifically choosing a symbol that would require her to bend in such a way so as to study it, and as such she continued on with her soft ramblings, unknowing that her body were being so lustfully considered.&nbsp; <br><br>"They needn't be a reference to real snakes.&nbsp; It could very well be a god or goddess figure of some kind, more symbol than actuality...though it does seem odd that the image would be so distinctly serpent in nature if that particular reptile isn't a native inhabitant of the island..." she mused aloud, her ramblings trailing off as much by thought as by the sudden feel of hands on her protruding hips.&nbsp; She was about to let out a questioning sound past her pursed lips before a squeal took it's place instead as Ozora was suddenly thrown backwards, fingers still hooked lightly into the loops of Sonia's shorts and thus pulling her into an unplanned tumble as well.&nbsp; The cloth gave way with an easy rip as she fell to the floor, scrambling to her feet with the accompaniment of a gunshot that she felt vibrate through her chest more than saw shoot into the distant target.&nbsp; She turned, her hands on her chest as if that would help quell the rapid beating of her own heart as she caught quite literally the tail end of the scene as the serpent withdrew into the brambles.<br><br>Sonia's mouth worked to form words but none would come save for her panting breaths, for once not invoked by the throngs of passion but rather the woes of fear.&nbsp; She seemed more in shock, her head nodded slightly at her words until the familiar tone helped pierce the haze.&nbsp; Even so, she was slow to turn her head to look into the eyes of the native, glancing at the other woman for a lingering moment as the words were sorted through in her mind and her nod became more vehement.&nbsp; She turned, quickly going to head for entrance to the temple before stopping, turning back towards their camp to bend over and grab her bag, thankfully undamaged but still containing no supplies save her precious books and notes.&nbsp; With that in hand the professor quickly retreated within the relatively safe haven of the temple...safe at least from the storm for she doubted anything could quite keep them safe from the creature they'd just caught a mere glimpse of.&nbsp; <br><br>"There's no such thing as demons..." she refuted, though even to her the tone sounded weak and easily broken at the slightest rebuttal.&nbsp; On the other hand...there was no such thing as snakes as big as what they'd seen.&nbsp; "I...I'm going to say the implication is definitely fear..." she whispered, leaning to rest her hands on her knees, bent over again though this time not to study some artifact but to catch her breath and steady her nerves.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>14-09-2013, 16:29:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"This is time for moving, not talking!" The native grabbed Sonia's shoulder and yanked to remind her that running was much faster than crawling. In her other hand her spent flintlock was held tight, and left Sonia's books and notes behind for the coming rain. There was no shelter or cover to seek except the temple ruins. Narrow avenues bordered by tall spires approached the crumbling temple steps. Alcoves where supplicants would burn sacrifices and give prayers were now choked with spiderweb and creeping jungle vine. Ozora was reminded of the savanna of her youth as she ran through them, thick and dry as scorched grass, home to ostriches and gazelle and giraffe she might never see again. Her hand squeezed Sonia tighter, and pulled insistently to coerce her through the panic of spiny yellow spiders.<br><br>Up the temple steps, Ozora's heels clacked and chipped at the orange dried brick. She only stopped when she'd reached the threshold with what she certainly hoped was still Sonia's wrist. But the temple was breached, and the fading crimson daylight spilled in through a collapsed dome where the weight of a jungle tree had proven too much for Khmer architecture. Ozora's heart sank. There were many more entrances for a snake than there were escapes for one such as she.<br><br>The decorations in stucco on the walls became richer and better preserved, but Ozora had no interest in them. There was a crumbling hole in the temple floor, leading down into darkness, and a narrow ascending stair that continued into the most sacred chambers of the temple, perhaps into the stone of the volcano itself. They were going to need light. Ozora stopped, panting, and picked up an old dessicated vine stalk to hurriedly light it with the flint of her pistol. <em>Clack. </em>Nothing. "You know these old temples," she said to Sonia. <em>Clack. </em>Nothing. "Is it better to go under, or deeper?" <em>Clack. </em>A small spark, but the tinder did not ignite.<br><br>Coming briskly through the jungle on tropical winds was the rattle of rain falling on the lush canopy. They were cut off from their supplies, cut off from the crew, unable to signal for help. <em>Clack. </em>Finally, the wood began its slow burn, its light feeble at first as it took over over for the setting sun. Ozora swung it wherever Sonia should indicate.<br><br>Out in the rain, the serpent had returned to the scent of Sonia's bag. The armored coil of its body, cleansed a sparkling emerald by the rain, encircled the weathered old books. A hand, human, feminine, petite, scooped up one of the professor's books and lifted it curiously. It was a woman's body where the head of a snake might be, clothed in leaves and grasses, skin the rich butterscotch hue of her fellow Pacific Islanders. The whites of her dark eyes were invisible behind long jet-black lashes, and a silk curtain of inky black hair hung all the way to where the shapely curve of her hips first became freckled with scales. She opened the book, inhaled its pages, and scented her prey. The hunt was on.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>19-09-2013, 00:20:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The professor let out a bit of a squeal as Ozora's hands clasped onto her own.&nbsp; Her free hand reached out in desperation for her books or even for Ozora's own supplies but she was far too controllable both in nature and in body, and as such was no challenge to the native's insistent pulling.&nbsp; Thus all was left abandoned and she became just a carried along property like the flintlock, stumbling along in an attempt to keep up with the much more skilled and experienced movements of her guide.<br><br>Several times she wanted to stop, her curiosity slowly pushing past her own fear and shock as the surroundings became less reminders of Ozora's homeland and more area's of the professor's interest.&nbsp; She wanted to examine every symbol, every statue and every scrap of debris to satisfy her own interests, but in the end they were nothing but minor moments of resistance as she was hurried along by the native girl.&nbsp; <br><br>When she was finally let to stop, when she felt the warm flesh slip from it's demanding grasp of her hand she finally got the chance to look around in earnest...at least for a few seconds until her obvious task wasn't to identify ruins but rather safety.&nbsp; Sonia supposed she should have focused on that first, as it was her safety on the line as well as Ozora's however she was not nearly as worried as the native girl.&nbsp; The snake had been huge yes, but they were usually more subtle creatures...keeping to the shadows and their own territory.&nbsp; Even in this they were not typically defensive of the area they called home, allowing others to pass and only confronting when threatened or hungry...and while...arguably a snake of that size could find the two of them appetizing...it seemed unlikely...&nbsp; Or at least Sonia hoped so...all the same, fear was contagious and a rational mind didn't always win out against it... <br><br>Sonia glanced around steadily now with new interest, examining the structural integrity under the dimming light.&nbsp; She was not fond of the idea of their safe haven riding on her shoulders...she was an acheologist at best, not an engineer...but... "Temples are built from the foundation up...ruins that can survive this long the test of time are sturdy so...it's best to go where the elements have not likely done much damage.&nbsp; The thicker walls and more sturdier sections will be beneath us, less affected by the weather and other folliage...but there is a larger risk of us getting caved in under the weight if the rest of the structure goes..." she answered looking both ways once more.<br><br>"Of course...if the structure goes it won't matter if we're higher up or lower down...so...down... is safest," she finally concluded, her head seeming hesitant as she bit her lips, but gently it nodded it's affirmation, her body beginning to agree with her mind even if she was not fond of the darkness awaiting them, barely dispelled by new flame.&nbsp; Of course had she been able to see past the forming rains, past the distance they'd traversed and back to their camps... dark depths wouldn't have been so fear inspiring.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>21-09-2013, 23:52:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A whole row of faint stucco carvings became ruined as Ozora pulled the clinging fibers of a vine clear of the wall. She was as uncouth as any pirate. The waxy, luxurious green tendril tumbled down into the open pit to give her a means to climb down, and Ozora heard the professor's caveats as she shone her light down to check for danger. If the whole temple came down around them, would the crew come to dig them out? Or would they turn right around and find themselves another native girl, another adventurous academic with a limber mouth? The rains were starting to come in through the penetrated dome. She dropped the torch down ahead of her, and took the first slide down the vine.<br><br>Halfway down, she stopped suddenly in the pillared and echoing underhalls of the temple. Legends told that pirates had preternatural sense of danger, inherited from their rat brethren, but it was not this that had stopped her. The vine had gone right up her gypsy skirts of ruby red and sage green, right up the conflux of her thighs, and she had instinctively clamped around it. A little slower, feeling every bump and knot of the waxy waterproofed tendril, she willed herself to keep going. Keep going, and don't send shivers up the taut line where Sonia might see them- easier said than done.<br><br>Her legs had hugged so jealously to that thin vine that they were scarcely there to catch her when she finally needed to meet the ground with her heels. Crumbled, uneven layers of sandwiched brick surrounded her as she retrieved her light and her presence of mind. The roots of trees had strangled and replaced the supports in many places, making it claustrophobic and unwholesome- rather like a snake's burrow, if she had thought about it. The tightly sealed doors of the crypts of long-dead monks lay untouched for centuries, and their unclaimed spoils were too great a temptation to pass up.<br><br>After a moment of fruitless struggling to pry open a miniature tomb with the edge of her flintlock, Ozora shone her light back up the hole. "Come down, it is safe." A flutter of movement above had her rapt attention, and the torchlight vigilantly raised as she anticipated the professor's barely-clothed backside juddering down the line, her pale skin discovering how much <em>nicer </em>it felt than the coarse hemp of the ship's ropes. So curious to see Sonia's reaction to the slide down, she did not even notice the elusive movement in the periphery of her light. There was always more than one way into a snake's burrow.<br><br>It had been so long since the naga had satisfied her voracious appetites. The dark human in the vivid colors stood alone, and perhaps she would satisfy- but there was another, a flaxen-haired and exotic creature she had scented on the books, a special delicacy. A taste of her alone would be sweet, but the both of them together, in a single serving, would prepare her for the long rest of the cool season. A blissful struggle, a wrestle to submission, and then pure indulgence. Her serpentine oils were flowing just at the thought of it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>23-09-2013, 06:12:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia let out another soft whimper of protest as Ozora moved to pull the vines free of their ancient bonds, tearing away years of history and architecture that to most would look like nothing more than old painted walls.&nbsp; Her hand reached out in the air, stretching towards stopping her but falling several feet short of doing so, as if that would lend any strength to her pitiable sound; but neither would stop the determined native as she prepared the route for them at her bequest.&nbsp; Idly Sonia wondered which suggestion would have caused less damage, pulling the vines free to slide down, or trying to climb up them, kicking at the walls with pointed heels digging in to scramble up to safety...&nbsp; The thought made her shiver, but looking up above Ozora, studying the climbing columns the parts of stucco and structure undamaged by the passage of time or their own ill begotten presence, helped distract her enough that the girl had already descended down the hole by the time her eyes returned.<br><br>Hurrying the last few steps to the pit's edge the professor peered down, trying to catch a silhouetting glimpse of the girl shadowed by the impromptu torch resting on the temple floor below.&nbsp; She waited nervously for a call back or some sign that the way was clear and safe but all she got for her impatience was a trembling shake to the vine, barely made out against the dim backdrop of light and her closeness to it's swinging surface.&nbsp; Despite her sexual nature aboard the ship, she was ignorant of what such twitching could imply so without shame called, "Is everything alright?" even as Ozora was mustering her determination to continue descending.<br><br>Upon receiving no answer save for the click of heels against stone echoing up to confirm that she had indeed touched down Sonia decided to wait quietly.&nbsp; Quietly for fear of compromising whatever safety silence might grant Ozora, but not patiently as even now the professor was worried as to what destruction, what looting the girl might be reaping in her absence.&nbsp; But then again...that's what the pirates were here for.&nbsp; And she, for all her claims to academia, was no better than a scout for them to find the best places to loot.&nbsp; No, she was less than a scout, she was the ship's whore....<br><br>The go-ahead to descend interrupted her thoughts and Sonia moved to grab the now dangling and limp vine.&nbsp; Sonia looked down it's length uncertainly.&nbsp; She had seen her crew mates climb and slide and otherwise traverse the ships rope with relative ease and grace.&nbsp; And though she had watched from afar, Sonia had rarely gotten higher than her knees much less into the masts and masses of rope nets that made the upper traverse-way of their ship.&nbsp; Timidly her foot tried to wrap around the edge in proximity of what she had observed, however the rope quickly slipped away the moment she tried to put any weight on it, in the end, after two more attempts at something akin to a pirates grace Sonia gave up and simply gripped tight to the vine with crossed legs and desperate hands.&nbsp; Her eyes went wide with the first inch.<br><br>"Oh..." she whispered idly to herself, her cheeks turning a bit crimson as her mind made the connection.&nbsp; Squirming Sonia bit her lip, looking down towards the floor...now suddenly it seemed a <em>very</em> long way down.&nbsp; But, even if she would be content to hold fast there for a long while, her hands would not allow it.&nbsp; Dainty things, meant for pleasing woman's flesh and toiling away at books and scrolls, not for holding her weight aloft on a vine.&nbsp; And so she began to slip down, trying desperately to hold fast the soft moan and embarrassing mewls that threatened up her throat.<br><br>While her hands were not the strongest, her hips were.&nbsp; Legs spent tirelessly rocking and thrusting and pushing against various sexual favors and positions hugged the vine tighter into the soft folds of her nearly nonexistent shorts.&nbsp; Every smooth bump, every gentle grain and indentation felt like it was sliding between nether lips unhindered and as Sonia lost strength in her arms, needing to hug the vine towards her body just to keep from falling the extra distance she felt the vine slip in between the pillowing cleavage of her breasts as well.&nbsp; Nearly instantly, her shirt, unclasped by having no pants or belt to speak of, began to slip up her body, revealing soft white curves to the firelight below and Ozora's eager watchful eyes.<br><br>While it might help hide the crimson nature of her expression and the shameful way she was trying to hide her obvious pleasure, it did little to help with the heat pulsing through her, realizing she was giving an improvised and very unexpected strip show.&nbsp; On top if it all she now couldn't see the floor beneath her as her shirt rose higher still, bunching into the folds of her under breasts as she hugged at the rope, watching the walls slowly lift up around her, forced to endure inch after inch of vibration through her sex and up between her now almost panting bosom.&nbsp; <br><br>When her feet touched the floor she let out one final squeal before nearly falling off, stumbling back several steps and pulling her shirt back down fiercely with a bit of tear.&nbsp; Despite spending so much time naked aboard the crew, paraded around, forced to strip for their enjoyment the few times she were allowed clothes, it seemed that having them for their extended stay on the island was all it took for her modesty to return, expressed by her state of embarrassment.&nbsp; Of course, that could also have something to do with the fact that her hands needed to reach down, prying wet and stuck ends of her shorts from where they remained clenched tightly to her upper legs.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>25-09-2013, 18:31:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The fiery light of the torch had been a constant warmth against Sonia's back as Ozora had watched her descent. No sooner had she made her awkward dismount than the light came over her shoulder, and the dark fingers of Ozora's other hand clasped over the professor's mouth to contain her panting. The ruffled skirt of a knee steadied her trembling legs. Hip curved to hip, she could feel every squirm like a cheetah with a wildebeest in her teeth. She was not to touch the professor, and they both knew it.<br><br>"Shh," she urged, very faintly. Above the rain was beginning to hit the jungle in full force, tropical rains that could uproot trees under waves of mud and flush animals from the tangled roots out to sea. It was pouring into the pit through the opening above, and Ozora strained to listen over the crisp streams crackling and pooling around them. The fire of the torch flickered and shed black smoke, and her skin became freckled with cool moisture. The vine they had used to rappel down was becoming much too slippery to escape, now, and the torch would soon go out if they lingered too long in the open.<br><br>Ozora's hand relented to lead the way to the tombs she had found. "Help me to open this." The fibers of her torch were already beginning to fall apart as she deposited them in an old brazier, and the fire spread to consume the whole of it with a hellish glow that pulsed through the whole chamber. She tried a shard of brick at first, hammered into the frame of the tomb door with the butt of her musket, but all that served to do was fill the gap with shattered brick. Every brittle stick she wielded as a pry bar shattered in the stone, and without much progress save to throw off ancient dust.<br><br>When she had run out of sticks, Ozora started to remove her girdle, to use the broad bronze buckle as a pry. The suede unraveled from her waist, and the gypsy skirt went loose on her hips, dragged down to her fullest curve by its own weight. Her gauzy linen top clung wetly to her ribs and tucked higher and higher from her struggle to open the door, until she was showing her entire midriff from the bottoms of her ribs to the dimples of the small of her back. It was just as cocoa dark, just as toned and silky as the rest of her, and it was hard at work to get the tomb door open. The lust for treasure overrode a pirate's fear of danger.<br><br>Finally, the slab began to move. Soon the gap was sufficient for fingers, and Ozora was more eager than ever to unseal the monk's final resting place. The inscriptions in the stone named its entombed Son Ngoc Peangmeth, and listed his deeds and accomplishments in faded symbols. An honored warrior, friend to the king, strangler of elephants, three hundred years old at his death. with a final desperate pull, the tomb unsealed to the moist jungle air.<br><br>Light began to spill from the brazier across the old bones contained within, catching glimmers of gold, amber, obsidian, and the unmistakable sparkle of diamond. Ozora did what came instinctively and what she was sent to do: she turned up the hem of her skirt and used it as a basket to round up everything of value she could find. The cups and bowls from the alcoves. The bracelets and rings from the skeleton's arms. The golden drape from his waist. There, she paused. The entombed did not have legs. Instead, his spine and hips merged seamlessly with the bones of a python, coiled in death around the shrine that had honored him.<br><br>Ozora considered this for merely an instant before she went back to pilfering.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>01-10-2013, 18:24:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia's eyes went wide as her mouth was kept from doing so by the insistent press of Ozora's hand across her moist lips.&nbsp; She strained to look back behind her at the girl pinning their bodies together while her arousal tried to fade, no longer having the stimulation from her awkward decent but now driven to a different height by the warmth of another's touch.&nbsp; Was this to be it then, was this the moment that Ozora would choose to disobey the Captain and take what she desired from Sonia's body as the rest had?&nbsp; And...would she go along with it, submit as she always did, give in to the pleasure and the humiliation and submit wantonly, or would she stand up, threaten in the Captain's name...&nbsp; Sonia waited, listening but not making a sound, unable to hear anything beyond the roar of the rain and thunder muffled yet amplified by the surrounding stone walls and dwarfed by the beating of her heart in her ears and the warm trickle of the girl's breath over her captive ear.<br><br>In the end the decision was left unmade both in voice and in mind as Ozora withdrew, seeming either distracted or perhaps hesitant Sonia didn't know as she staggered a bit finding her support suddenly gone and her lust only now getting the chance to try and abate.&nbsp; Despite the order the professor hesitated as the fire spread across the once dark halls of the temple they found themselves in.&nbsp; Her breath caught in her throat with a gasp with the revelation of where she found herself, surrounded by the beauty and majesty betrayed better in simple stone and stucco then in all the gold and marble in the world...at least to a professor.&nbsp; The pirate clearly had other priorities as she began hastily trying to open the first place that held any promise of riches.&nbsp; But even that could not dampen Sonia's excitement as she looked around slowly, drinking everything in.&nbsp; Someone else, someone accredited and published and having the backing of powerful people could come home a famous man with a find like this.&nbsp; But Sonia would get no fame, no recognition.&nbsp; The world did not allow for a famous whore.&nbsp; The only riches she could get from this was what she pilfered.&nbsp; <br><br>Contenting herself to her fate she slowly made her way to where Ozora was just now getting frustrated at using the foliage and debris allowed her and had resorted to the use of her buckler.&nbsp; Sonia hid a small smirk at the pirates desperation, revealing that she was as much a pirate as the others on the crew, just not as recognized.&nbsp; But who knew, perhaps after her success here the native would be welcomed deeper into the fold?&nbsp; The professor's eyes were drawn to the text even as Ozora worked, catching glimpses of the inscription in between the woman's movements and the flickering shadows of fire light.&nbsp; Her eyes narrowed, having trouble focusing on the words given the inconsistent light and the way her eyes kept getting drawn to the more subtle and warm inviting curves of the woman as she worked.&nbsp; Did she know she was showing off so much more of her skin...was it for Sonia's benefit or... was it simply done out of necessity with no concern who saw?&nbsp; <br><br>With such distractions the inscription took longer than it should have, far longer.&nbsp; "It...says this man lived to be over three hundred years old..." Sonia whispered aloud against the crackle of fire and the shower of dust and rock shaken loose by Ozora's struggles.&nbsp; "I wonder if they judge years differently on their calendar or if it was a common practice for a son to inherit more than just name and position but persona as well?" she asked aloud, knowing that any response she might get from the native would not be academic in nature, but that didn't stop her from speaking aloud as if waiting for some insight from someone beyond herself.<br><br>Sonia jumped as one final pry shook the stone slab free of it's seal, casting a small shower of dust to cloud the air and a groan to pierce the otherwise quiet thudding air.&nbsp; In truth Sonia hadn't honestly expected the woman to succeed, not stone years old and sealed in an attempt at permanence.&nbsp; And not with a simple buckle.&nbsp; Hands reached for a bag that was not at her hip where it belonged and the professor whispered a soft curse at having been forced to leave it behind.&nbsp; She wanted her notepad, had wanted to capture and sketch the image of the honored warrior that lay beyond the tomb before Ozora's greedy hands pilfered it completely.&nbsp; But it was not to be, and as such she was forced to rely on her memory, and so she lifted her gaze back up, intent on memorizing every detail only to start from the bottom and move up with a start.<br><br>"T.that...what?!" she asked moving closer still, her body almost pressing against Ozora's increasingly bare one as she leaned in to examine the remains.&nbsp; She wasn't studied in the way of bones and anatomy, she was no healer or medic, but she did know some of the way things aged...&nbsp; "T.the attention to detail is amazing..." she whispered, refusing to believe that this creature had looked like this alive.&nbsp; Surely the remains were prepared upon death, merged with the remains of a snake like what they'd seen outside.&nbsp; This belief was forced into place despite evidence to the contrary... the waist matched too perfectly, the bones not quite human near the hip but also existing nowhere that she knew of on a snake... and it was all so seamless... There was no discrepancy in size or color or texture... How many snakes had they killed to find so perfect a match?!&nbsp; <br><br>"They...definitely worshiped snakes..." she whispered at last, breathing heatedly over the tomb raider's shoulders trying to make a mental note of what jewelry she had taken from where so upon returning to her notepad she might draw it accurately.&nbsp; Of course, all the academia in the world didn't stop her from hesitantly reaching out to take a few pieces of her own.&nbsp; She'd not be allowed to keep them in most like, not with a pirate crew so fond of their whore, why give her the means to be wealthy and leave their services?&nbsp; But she could still hold it for now, study it, run her soft fingers over it's intricate patterns and perhaps dream.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>04-10-2013, 23:50:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Without her girdle to keep them up, Ozora's skirts were sagging dangerously low down her hips under the weight of the gold and jewels. Her senses followed the professor as she struggled to keep her loosened garments aloft as a basket for treasure, listening to her brainstorm, watching her in her element, sharing the air her neglected arousal inhabited with deep, excited breaths. <em>Satisfy the professor's curiosity, </em>that was her mission in part. "You like this? Go on and look. I will collect the treasure." She backed out of the lonely tomb into the company of the fiery brazier, and failed to notice how the air had changed from the scent of mud and woody roots to that of serpentine musk. Water was slipping through every crevice in the carved stone as she knelt down to make a pile of stolen treasure under the slippery vine, to await a time when they could begin to haul it up together.<br><br>Ozora checked over her shoulder that the professor had not followed, that she was well distracted by the rich memorium of the naga's tomb. Out of the pile she had made, she selected a white ivory totem to claim back. The alabaster ivory was warm from her own body heat, the long shaft of a small and simple wind instrument, carved with textures of wind and clouds and engraved with the names of the spirits who answered the pipe's shrill call. Remorseful, shoulders hunched, she prepared to skim a little off the top. She used the cascading rainwater to rinse the ivory shaft down to its purest white virginity, for it was about to go inside of her.<br><br>Up her gypsy skirts, between the stripes of her long stockings, Ozora made an opening through her pink pirate bloomers, and touched the softly rounded tip of the reed to the cocoa skin of her valley. It was going to be a trial of endurance to get it inside of her. Though the native girl's nicely curved hips could handle the swivel of it inside of her, its length was problematic. Concealing it completely would mean courting her second sphincter for perhaps ten minutes of frustration, if it went up her ass. Even worse, smuggling it the other way round would mean breaching her tender cervix. But if she wanted her fair share, this was what she had to do.<br><br>Ozora rolled to sit on her tailbone, and brought her long stocking-clad legs up toward her chest. Her silky pink walls yielded and then hugged to the ivory when she began to work it into her womanly flower. Very quickly she began to lose her breath. The storied textures of whorls and picture-words from a long dead civilization tantalized her flesh, and she swore she could feel the spirits of the wind resonating, vibrating softly, though perhaps it was only Ozora trembling around it. Her excitement pearled down the hydrophobic surface of the ivory, lubricating it inside of her and down the length that had yet to enter. "Nnh." She tickled the supple bubble of her own cervix with the wet tip of firm elephant ivory. The touch was almost unbearably intense, but she had always been curious about it. As a pirate she might be torn to bits by cannon shrapnel tomorrow, so why not? She continued to press, and nuzzle for the tiny pursed opening.<br><br>"Oh- <em>oh-" </em>she began to plea, regretting the action of her own hand as soon as the ache of stretching grew into the crushing pressure of the very tip breaching her. The pain coupled with the new form of stimulation made her dizzy, and her legs flopped down, her hips rolled forward off her tailbone. Though her hand had darted away, her squirming hips were now driving the ivory further by sandwiching it between her weight and the unrelenting stone. She need only lean forward, a little at a time, to feel it sliding into her sanctuary. Every bump of the object's tribal litany was felt anew, stretched through too tight of an orifice as it squeezed to every contour like a stressed rubber band. The intensity made her eyes water, but it was almost done now.<br><br><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/00/Ualani_kailani.jpg)</div>So distracted, she was, that she didn't see nor hear the naga slither from the subterranean roots and begin to haunt the entrance to the tomb where the professor studied. Her long, scintillating emerald body arched over the entrance, and her jet-bliack hair curtained briefly in the light of the doorway as she peeked from above.<br><br>The golden one was inside, alone. The naga peeked again, this time holding back the veil of her straight black hair so it would not give her away. Her eyes lingered on the wet cling of Sonia's remaining clothes, the tuck of her flimsy shirt under the heavy curve of her pampered breast. Exquisite. The creature waited for the distracted professor's back to turn, and then slowly, she lowered herself from the high arch of the doorway. Hands that might be mistaken for Ozora's at a touch began to smooth intimately along Sonia's flanks, and the light dimmed as the naga's body began to physically block the opened tomb with strong emerald coils.<br><br><em><acronym title="Little woman">"Strei mneak tauch,"</acronym> </em>the naga spoke in the ancient language Sonia had long studied, though it was far quicker and more tonal when it wasn't on paper. A quick blow of breath sent a honey wisp of the professor's hair launching from her ear, and the words drew closer still, moist on the tongue. <em><acronym title="Do not struggle">"Min tsaou."</acronym> </em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>09-10-2013, 00:00:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia continued on in her studies completely oblivious to her surroundings, unaware that not far off her protector was busy...ensuring that she got to keep her fair share and thus could not alert her to the new presence lingering it's way into the momentary safe haven.&nbsp; The professor was no stranger to the carnal pleasures that the native was now putting her through but such thoughts of hiding undiscovered treasure within her own eager folds did not occur to her, she'd not likely get the chance to make it to her cabin before such places were inspected regardless of suspicion of theft.&nbsp; And as such she had no clue or inclination to spy on the secluded girl, she just assumed that she was keeping watch or setting up camp or other wise pilfering through the tomb while she looked on.&nbsp; So while she was studying hips, they were not Ozora's.<br><br>Instead they were the hips of the remains, the place where man became snake.&nbsp; She leaned in closer, trying to find some flaw, some sign.&nbsp; Perhaps the tell tale cut of a surgical knife or the weathered remains of some adhesive, anything that would help prove that the thing within was not what it appeared to be.&nbsp; Of course, rationally, the professor chided herself for spending what little time she had on such scrutiny, there was no such thing, it was obviously a fake, so why find the proof that it was?&nbsp; Why not study the ancient writing, the position of the burial, the tomb itself, countless other things that an archeologist should take note of...and yet, no matter how many times she tried to make her eyes pull away, they kept gliding back for the proof that <em>had</em> to be there.&nbsp; <br><br>So distracted was she on her studies that she nearly jumped with a startled yell as she felt the hand touch her skin.&nbsp; Save for the intimate nature of it's touch she automatically assumed that it was Ozora, and her body tensed softly.&nbsp; Was this the moment then, when she chose to play her hand?&nbsp; As she rose slowly, moving to turn the first tantalizing syllable caught her ear and she paused mid breath.&nbsp; Her eyes knit together in a brief moment of concentration, first in deciphering, and then piecing together how Ozora could possibly know such an ancient script.&nbsp; Surely her tribe wasn't somehow related to these ruins.&nbsp; "How do you-" she began before being cut off as she realized her mistake, realized that the sudden darkness wasn't the fire beginning to go through it's fuel but rather something larger than Ozora could allow for was blocking her light.&nbsp; The soft, intimate touch not belonging to the native girl but instead someone else... something else.&nbsp; <br><br>Sonia yelped again backing up quickly in fear as her eyes lowered, seeming to bounce back and forth from one half to another, snake, human, snake human and back again as if each time hoping that when she made the transition she'd find the species unchanged.&nbsp; "Oh..." was all she managed to whisper, her heart fluttering in her ears as she almost stepped in with the remains of the dead warrior and sealed herself in amongst the tomb.&nbsp; The professor stopped before doing so, even in fear not willing to risk the remains from any more tampering, and not entirely sure how this creature would take to further defilement.&nbsp; "W.ho are you...what are you?!" she asked before shaking her head at her folly, taking a moment longer which felt like an eternity to her crazed state but in truth was mere seconds of rambling.<br><br><acronym title="Who are you?&nbsp; What are you?"><em>"Tae norna chea anakmean?&nbsp; Avei del anak mean aveikhleah?"</em></acronym> she began before taking another breath trying to think, do anything besides stand there helpless and scared.&nbsp; <acronym title="I'm sorry we disturbed your temple"><em>"Khnhom saok stay del yeung meankar romkhan brasaeat robsa anak."</em></acronym> she stuttered further before being forced to swallow and stop.&nbsp; "Oh I hope I said that right," she whispered more silently to herself as she tried to force her eyes to stay on that of the new entrants, searching for some sign of understanding... or if she was just going to attack.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>09-10-2013, 10:40:44</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<acronym title="Prey is always"><em>"chonorongokroh mean cheanich," </em></acronym>the serpent hissed, her mouth wet for a tasty morsel, <acronym title="'sorry'"><em><strong>"somtos." </strong></em></acronym>Even at the end of her life, cornered by a jungle predator, the professor could not escape lusty women. The naga's butterscotch hand, a hand trained to dart into water and catch tropical fish, grabbed at the first limb to show resistance. It was Sonia's wrist, and she drew it closer until the arm was taut, the veins of her wrist flush beneath the skin. At first it was her lips searching wet across the pink skin of Sonia's wrist, and then her teeth nibbling lightly to rouse the nerves, and then her tongue, tasting. No reasonable escape presented itself as she worked from palm to elbow, every inch of flesh lathered, every nuance up into her sleeve explored.<br><br><acronym title="You taste pretty"><em>"Anak phloksa rosacheate saat." </em></acronym>Her breath was hot, uncultured, bestial, full of desire with no knowledge of how to express it. Now she was running out of sleeve to roll up, and so she tore at the wrapping, shredding the cloth open from the tear Sonia had put there, sending the buttons of the ruined collar plinking into the tomb. Blushing pink skin, that was what the naga was after. Her jet-black hair nuzzled between Sonia's breasts, and she tasted. She tasted the bukkake that the professor had prided herself in letting dry on her skin. Her tongue explored, curious and titillated and swollen to softness.<br><br>The wrap of jungle leaves that wreathed her hips, where butterscotch skin met emerald scale, stretched from the fat hermaphroditic organs she'd been harboring. Now they were angry and pink and dripping with serpentine oil, ready to claim the professor. There were three, more animal than human, reptilian, blunt-headed and charactered by thin lines of flesh that would drag like probing fingers. If she had not become vexed by the puzzle of unfastening the professor's shorts, she might have had the woman then and there.<br><br>But there was a thump, and the naga retreated suddenly from Sonia's body, and hit her pretty head on the tomb ceiling so fiercely that pebbles cascaded down. There outside the tomb was Ozora, dust on her hands, a heavy stone dropped across the emerald scales of the snake's tail. It sloughed off as the naga's powerful muscles hunched, and Ozora had come much too close to drop the stone. She became surrounded by emerald scales, squeezed, wrestled to the ground.<br><br><acronym title="Annoying creature"><em>"Satv romkhan," </em></acronym>the naga seethed, but Ozora could not understand her at all. The native girl could do naught but flinch in the naga's coils as the woman's teeth drew near. <acronym title="You first?"><em>"¿Chea dambaung anak?" </em></acronym>Ozora drew in a sharp breath as the naga's nimble, plump tongue dragged across the skin of her face. <acronym title="No. Both together"><em>"Lekh teangpir ruomoknea." </em></acronym>And she drew poor Sonia closer still, as her flower-perfumed body sank down to the dull orange stone, to be the lashing, undulating, bucking bronco to the professor's cowgirl.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>16-10-2013, 16:32:34</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia had barely translated over the words stumbling in her mind by the time her wrist was snatched with a fluid motion that drove home just how hopeless a situation she was in.&nbsp; If she had barely seen the movement let alone been unable to react to it, what chance had she of escape?&nbsp; Even with adrenaline fueled strength she could not wretch her hand free of the Naga woman's firm hold.&nbsp; Her eyes were wide with fear as she tried to think of what to say beyond 'sorry', a word and feeling the snake clearly had no pity for.&nbsp; But it was so hard to focus, so hard to think in the foreign language when distracted by the creature's firm hold and the way she brushed soft lips, deadly fangs and finally long slithering tongue across the skin of her wrist.&nbsp; What was the woman doing?&nbsp; She seemed more...lustful then hungry, or rather a hunger of a different sort.&nbsp; The professor paused, surprised that it was not the instincts of academia that proved useful, but the intuition of a whore.&nbsp; A whore practiced in reading the desire in others.&nbsp; But...surely she had to be misreading.<br><br>A gasp escaped her lips as her shirt was ripped aside, revealing heavy orbs of flesh rising and falling in exaggerated height due to her feared panting.&nbsp; Held together slightly by the tattered remains of cloth not yielding under the Naga's first powerful pull but still nothing akin to covering they seemed the perfect target for the snake-woman to push her tongue across and between.&nbsp; Even if the professor might have tried to explain away the look in the creatures eyes or the way it treated her skin, the whore knew better, there was no mistaking the sudden way the woman's head nestled in to exposed bosom.&nbsp; And while the intellectual's instinct was to run, or bargain, the whore's instinct was to submit.&nbsp; <br><br>The duality of her nature trapped her motionless and still as much as the creature's iron grip on her body as her tongue explored Sonia's quivering flesh.&nbsp; She couldn't escape, she couldn't run, she couldn't hide... but... would submitting save her?&nbsp; It had aboard the ship, months of sea voyages accumulating to years of sinking to her knees to save her self at the expense of her body.&nbsp; Would it work again?&nbsp; Her eyes glanced down, catching only glimpses of the hermaphroditic nature to the creature, certainly not a good enough view past jet black hair and her own heavy breasts to see them in their full glory.&nbsp; For a minute she thought that perhaps there were more than one...but certainly that wasn't right...&nbsp; But who was to say with a creature like this?&nbsp; The question on her mind now was...if she submitted...could she satisfy?<br><br>But before she could speak, Ozora had apparently found her chance to attack.&nbsp; It could have been a distraction, a way for Sonia to run and flea, but the snake had more abilities than just her quick hands.&nbsp; Long, slender tail apparently was just as capable of holding Sonia trapped as much as Ozora even if there had been any chance of slipping past the small opening of the tomb unnoticed.&nbsp; The creature's verbalized debate rang in Sonia's ears, but it would be obvious what decision she had come to based on the position that she put the two women in.&nbsp; Sonia looked up at the native girl over her shoulders as she was rested on her body while the naga did what she wished to them.&nbsp; Her fear was evident, and so was her helplessness.&nbsp; She didn't know what to do, what to say, all her studies, all her training could not prepare her for anything like this.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>17-10-2013, 05:56:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ozora exhaled the breath she'd been holding in a vain effort to prevent the serpent from squeezing any tighter. A strong man could have the life squeezed from him by a constrictor only as thick as his wrist. It was fully within the naga's power to crush Ozora, but she only held the indignant native. Her interests lay elsewhere. "Don't you hurt the professor," she yelled, her stockings and the tops of her chocolate thighs fully exposed as her legs thrashed to find a coil of the naga to dig her heel into. That she was easily positioned and ignored was all the more infuriating.<br><br>The feeling of Sonia relaxing into submission was an instinctive pleasure to the naga, an animal designed to restrain prey until it ceased resisting. She drew the ship's whore to her lap, where she would be confronted by the cluster of organs crowded between her slick thighs, and she dedicated the necessary care to unbuttoning the explorer's shorts. Ozora was transfixed a moment, as the first button released its tension around Sonia's hips, and the naga's fingers searched down to find the fasten. Then the native kicked again, with a greater billow to her gypsy skirts than before. Why was she always made to watch?<br><br>There was enough slack to remove the garment, now. The naga's firm, toned tummy thrust up to bounce Sonia inches into the air, and that moment was all it took for her to skin every covering of the white woman's hips down her thighs in one rough, abrading yank. It turned into a tight wad of bondage, between the knees of the ship's whore, but the naga took care to slide it all the way off. She savored in Sonia's submissive willingness to take her pleasure, and it drove Ozora mad with envy.<br><br>A little slide showed Sonia to straddle the tense tangle of her hermaphroditic organs with the sensitive flesh of her valley. A soft lift up from behind urged her to lift the pleasing contour of her bottom, to take her knees atop the serpent, and to become an agent in her own penetration. Not only her penetration, but her sodomy. The oils of a slick organ pressed by the creature's fingers to fill the nook between Sonia's cheeks, to lubricate and excited with a throbbing saw. <acronym title="Relax"><em>"Lomhe kamsan." </em></acronym><br><br>The creature's breath, hot and tropical and delicious, breathed down Sonia's back as she weighted a butterscotch arm across her fair captive's hips to keep her from escaping a push from below. Once she was on the shaft, the restraint wouldn't be necessary, as the organ was too generous to slip free by accident. Hair long and straight and black cascaded thread by silky thread into Sonia's flanks and spine as the pressure built, and Sonia was made to face watching Ozora as it happened. The native seemed to hold her breath.<br><br>It might be expected that it was the center organ the naga was using to sodomize her captive, but no- it was its sister to the left. She was reserving room in her lap for Ozora.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>18-10-2013, 05:35:53</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Ozora's words pierced the fear and worry going on within Sonia's mind.&nbsp; Her eyes slowly ripped themselves from the naga woman to look in turn at the native.&nbsp; She was so concerned for her safety, the girl could have run when she saw the professor corned by the creature, instead she endangered herself by attacking, and even now she was yelling about her safety rather than giving into the instinct of self preservation.&nbsp; It filled her with a bit of shame for not having given similiar pleas earlier, but she did so now, mind made up as her body gave in, ceasing even it's instinctual struggle and tension.&nbsp; <acronym title="I'll do whatever you want."><em>"Khnhom nung thveu avei del anak chngban,"</em> </acronym>she began gently.&nbsp; <acronym title=" Please just don't hurt her. Don't hurt her and I'll do whatever you ask."><em>"Saum kreante min chhucheab robsa neang.&nbsp; Kom karchhucheab robsa neang haey khnhom nung thveu avei del anak suor."</em></acronym>&nbsp; While the native's please might have held more passion, more fervor of the moment and unhindered by the need to translate or think how to voice her desires, Sonia's had the advantage of being understood, able to be expressed.&nbsp; <br><br>And so, she became the whore again, her eyes downcast, sparing only a momentarily comforting glance at Ozora buying her protection with her body before her eyes went wide, finaly beholding the full nature of the beast whom she'd just agreed to submit to.&nbsp; Her body squirmed against the tight coils holding her steady, nervous as to just what she had gotten herself into, or rather what she had agreed to allow inside of her.&nbsp; But it was far too late for any hesitation now, and the darker truth of the nature was that this was going to happen weather she submitted or not, weather she wanted it or not.&nbsp; <br><br>Her cheeks were crimson as she watched the snake learn her way around the shorts she wore, becoming more intimate, or rather gentle in nature in comparison to the insistent pull of her upper garments.&nbsp; But the result was the same, cloth pulled asunder to reveal soft, subtle skin beneath.&nbsp; Skin spared the hardships of the sea life in favor or rubbing up against human flesh rather than rough rope or hard wood.&nbsp; Now it seemed that would be made to rub up against more soft skin...soft skin and scales.&nbsp; Her legs spread, part in instinct, part in subservience, and part because she had no choice as tail and hands worked in unison to put her into position, encouraging her to make good on her claim, to have a hand in her penetration.&nbsp; <br><br>She felt soft yet strong hands on her hips, keeping her spread over the woman's hips as the pressure built beneath her, pushing up into her, piercing her soft folds of skin to claim entrance and claim the whore as her own.&nbsp; Sonia bit her lips at first as the first tip began to spear into her.&nbsp; Her crimson blush grew deeper, trying to look anywhere else but unable to keep from glancing at Ozora, watching the reaction of the sole audience to her defilement by the snake women... defilement that went on without challenge or protest.&nbsp; Defilement that managed to encourage a small gasp, then a small whimpering moan as the length went in deeper and deeper into the folds, at first saturated by the pre and oil of the snake but, inevitably, it was joined by the defensive and aroused juices of Sonia's own.&nbsp; All under the watchful gaze of her protector.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>19-10-2013, 12:34:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The initial push of the blunt head up through the muscular ring of the professor's back door was the hardest. Once the complete lack of a taper had breached her, and all of Sonia's weight needed to glide down its slippery shaft, it was only a matter of how fast the naga wanted to penetrate. The creature's body lay back underneath her white woman, arms relaxed into the fan of her inky black hair, and she stirred the lean muscle of her serpentine body, juggled Sonia up and down with a forceful tap-tap-tap that inched like a sculptor's chisel. Deeper, fuller, through the sphincter, up into the soft and pressure-sensitive rectum, and curved deeper still.<br><br>Sharp fingernails raked a line of pink scratches at the small of Sonia's back. <acronym title="You will either way"><em>"Anak nung min kit pi." </em></acronym>Her serpentine form lunged up underneath Sonia, and forced her to clench around the member inside her, to hold on with her thighs and her hands to stay balanced on the coil of the naga's body. The arch of the naga's serpentine form was perfect, her balance immaculate, and she could wiggle for Sonia's pleasure while forcing her to clamp down for fear of falling. As much as it was for either of them, it was for Ozora's misery, to see how the professor submitted. It was working.<br><br>Ozora's heels clipped the naga's fingers when the creature reached for her, and so those were the first to go. A pastel stocking came next, first the right in one long, urgent pull, and then the left. When the dark native's legs and feet were bare under her skirts, when her kicks were deprived of their bite, the naga dug her fingers into the ruffles of Ozora's skirt and pulled. Already the skirts had sunk low on her hips. Hipbones pressed against her skin, and her tummy seemed almost concave as she breathed shallowly and the whole bundle of her skirts began to ease down along with her inverted panties. "What's it saying?" Ozora pleaded of Sonia. The native couldn't understand a single word thrown between them.<br><br>The creature brought Ozora to share her lap when the energetic arch sank down, and allowed Sonia's thighs a respite from clinging like a cowgirl to a bucking bull. The equally noodle-legged Ozora, having kicked and fought and accomplished naught but a few bruises, began to slide from an emerald coil of tail right in beside the professor. The moment when the creature penetrated her was clear in Ozora's wide eyes. Her arms clung to Sonia as the naga's butterscotch fingers stretched and shredded the pirate's gauzy top. Sharing the peak of the naga's lap meant facing one another, and when they were, Ozora kissed. Her lips were endlessly luscious and struggling to make Sonia love her best, to make her forget about the creature toying with their bodies.<br><br>Each thrust from below drove into the both of them, and sent Ozora's loving mouth skipping across Sonia's. She steadied herself with hands to the professor's shoulders. Each thrust from below drove the third organ up between them, a constant slippery slide along the top quarter of the neglected pink flower, across the clitoral hood and the mound, purely external. It almost felt soft, between the pressure of tightly huddled bodies, but it was not- it was tense with a very long wait.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>25-10-2013, 07:29:19</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia was speechless, she had the command of the naga's language but held nothing to say to the situation nor could she force any sounds past the tight lock of her throat as her tense body was lowered further and further onto the erect hilt of the woman's serpentine cock, or rather one of them.&nbsp; When the drive was full upon her body, when every inch of the curved rod was pushed up the yielding hole of her ass her problem wasn't about forcing sounds out, it was about being unable to keep them in.&nbsp; Every movement of her serpent violator sent a shock pulsing through her entire body, lighting her senses afire and igniting the squeals and impromptu moans.&nbsp; <br><br>The professor clung to the snake without any choice in the matter, legs circling around to clutch at the tail, hands clinging to scales and soft folds of human flesh, and muscles milking the cock inside of her without any thoughts as to weather it was pleasing her raper.&nbsp; The creature wasn't holding onto her, wasn't keeping her tied down but despite that freedom she was held captive all the same simply by the way she moved.&nbsp; The whore's legs were no stranger to clinging onto the folds of a woman while both she and ship bucked beneath her but neither creature of the sea could match the flowing movements of this creature of the land.&nbsp; The snake's words were more prophetic than she'd first realized, no matter what she did she would wind up pleasing this creature, body surrendered to it's whims.&nbsp; And that made her realize that her sacrifice to protect Ozora would be for naught.<br><br>Her eyes, moved to find the other woman amongst the tangles of scale holding her aloft as the creature went about finishing stripping what was left of her skirts and frilly clothing.&nbsp; Her eyes sought out those curves as they were revealed, curious despite herself, despite the situation as to what was hidden beneath such beautiful layers.&nbsp; Did they hide equally beautiful lush skin beneath, different in color but no less tantalizing, and no less able.&nbsp; They did.&nbsp; But neither whore nor curious professor was given much time to focus on what could have been a treasure but now was viewed as a dire warning for things to come, knowing that Ozora was about to share her fate, that one if not both of the remaining rods near her wet and barely brushed cunt would soon have it's way with the holes now revealed to both professor and creature.&nbsp; <br><br>"S.she's...she's saying we're her pray!" Sonia answered her, finding the statement redundant and clearly unneeded considering that the native had been watching her be violated for minutes that seemed and felt like hours.&nbsp; Whatever else might have been said Sonia could not find words for as she watched the native lowered onto the far rod, pinning the middle between wet and untouched cunts.&nbsp; Their bodies were so close, tantalizing inches apart.&nbsp; Breasts bridging the short gap between quivering flesh while even more noticeably the heat from their sex, their most primal part held apart by the rod of the middle serpent shaft.&nbsp; But than Ozora bridged what little gap was left between them, their lips.&nbsp; Breasts smashed together, arms wrapped around bodies just as legs wrapped around the third serpentine member of their sudden unplanned threesome.&nbsp; Sonia's sounds were muffled against the longing and desiring lips of the native girl as she gave her no room to lean back or withdraw.&nbsp; The sounds were questioning in nature, curious and surprised but...not offended.<br><br>Arms made longing as much from the sudden bucking ride as from lust wrapped back around the native girl, clinging to her as together the two became a single pleasure toy for the snake creature.&nbsp; Both woman taking their desires from what they wanted of Sonia's body.&nbsp; Gone was the desires of the ruins, of their secrets and the harsh walls of stone and mortar.&nbsp; Replaced were the warm folds of native flesh pressing against her own, the deep penetrating shaft penetrating up her ass, the soft folds of the woman's lips against her own, and the warm, erect rod rubbing between their barely parted sex lips.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>27-10-2013, 09:50:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The abyssal shadows of a long undisturbed alcove closed around them as the naga pressed her captives within, and the veil of her inky black hair rendered the meek firelight so faint that only the merest outline of curvy bodies could be discerned. At first, there was no mistaking which body was the naga- it was by the strength of her tail that Sonia and Ozora became packed into the holy shrine and run against the cool orange brick of its back wall. But when the creature's mouth crowded Ozora's and competed with stealing the breaths from the professor's lips, there was soon no telling them apart.<br><br>Over and under, eager tongues and pleading lips worked to pleasure Sonia's mouth, crowding for breaths sweet-scented and vulgarly gasped. A thrust from beneath crushed the delicate totems of the shrine to the softness of Sonia's bottom, and knocked dust from the walls around them with its stinging impact of flesh on flesh. A hand took one of the professor's thighs and invited it to stretch out of the darkness, into the orange light and the warmth of the brazier, and another savage thrust sent pebbles raining down onto the skin.<br><br>It was animal, without compassion or shame. At the vicious, pelvis-impacting crest of each percussion, there was a small swivel like the sea resisting the ship's wheel, a stroke with the thin lines of flesh that veined the creature's cocks, a wet and oily squirm of the organ sandwiched between the pink flesh of explorer and guide. Nothing at all was held back. Serpentine coils criss-crossed in almost a knot of tension where the naga blocked her two victims in, allowing no retreat at all, just beastly desire bearing down on them both, never a break for the breath to catch or even to recover the basic mental faculties.<br><br>A hot froth of serpentine cum sloshed from the naga's trapped organ like uncorked bubbly, wastefully excessive and slathered viscous from body to body and across the shrine stones. The same gooey filling out of all negative space pushed inches into Sonia, but then was forced back out at the naga continued to uprear into her. The rain had ceased, not an inch of mouth nor throat was spared from glistening spit, and the naga was content to go on, buffing either woman's tender anal ring to the glossy smoothness of river stone.<br><br>Maybe it was an accident of Ozora's searching fingers that brought a stone tumbling down from the alcove archway, but the clock of the orange stone across the naga's butterscotch shoulders was a sudden punctuation to the struggle. The creature's flesh and blood body was nowhere near as armored as her emerald tail, and she collapsed to the ground, all tension gone. The naga's body still swelled with unconscious breath, but Ozora might soon put a stop to that. The dark native girl found the swimming image of the floor with her hands and knees, and rocked to disgorge the naga's fat organ from herself. It was a long and humiliating process, like a knotted dog.<br><br>Her fingers brushed the hair from Sonia's face between tugs to free herself. It took the breath from her as she finally began to make wet and slippery progress. "Still," she grunt, "in charge here."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>29-10-2013, 07:00:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The world rocked and twisted and turned as Sonia caught only fleeting glances of it from around Ozora's frame and through half lidded eye.&nbsp; That they were moving was obvious, she could feel it between her legs, she could feel it deep inside of her bowels and she could feel it in the way that the native's soft, warm body rubbed against her own.&nbsp; But that they were changing locations was something that she didn't notice until she felt the cold, unyielding feel of a stone wall press against the bare of her back.&nbsp; So opposite was it from the warm skin and even from the scaly flesh that it shocked her mind into a momentary awareness.&nbsp; Her back arched, pulling away from the cold surface and seeking refuge into the warmth of the two lovers.<br><br>She became keenly aware of the fact that it was her attention that was being vied for, lips pulled insistently from one pair to another, tongues forced down against her lips and into the recess of her throat to mingle with her own and even the warmth of breasts and erect nipples pressing into her own became near indistinguishable from each other.&nbsp; There were differences of course, the tastes being the most obvious but steadily it was becoming harder to use that sense alone as the flavors mingled together within her mouth.&nbsp; Beyond that there was the feel and the scent and even differences in the way nipples and hands gripped at her body but such things took concentration, concentration she was in quite short supply of at the moment.&nbsp; Able to tell or not, Sonia couldn't afford to hold back lest the mouth currently making use of her lips be the naga and not that of her protector.&nbsp; As such no matter who currently won the race to her body, she did her best to welcome it with eager lips and an even more eager tongue.<br><br>While lips and warm skin might be hard to tell in the near nonexistent light, there was no denying who was the owner and wielder of the lengthy girth stretching out her insides.&nbsp; Every twitch and turn easily felt even through the consuming animal thrusts from the monster-girl.&nbsp; Every drive invading so deeply and without restraint into her smaller body with a passion and drive that few could replicate.&nbsp; That coupled with the rod keeping Ozora and she inches apart and spearing along the length of womanly sex that cared not for the circumstances only the pleasure it could take from them and it was leaving the whore little need to pretend, little thought as to trying to pleasure her lovers in turn and instead doing so more out of instinct.&nbsp; <br><br>It wouldn't be long.&nbsp; Wouldn't be long before the whore's body forgot who, or what, was giving it such physical bliss, wouldn't be long before residual pain faded, yielding to the more consuming presence of pleasure demanding to be experienced in it's full.&nbsp; And it wouldn't be long before that pleasure brought Sonia to her own ultimate bliss.&nbsp; And the snake seemed to have no problem reaching this point, muscles inhumanly strong and possessing of a stamina equally unheard of seemed relentless.&nbsp; Able to continue even after the woman's fluids had flowed out, filling inside of them, spreading inside of Sonia's internal crevice and filling any space that might be left vacant.&nbsp; And still there was more, as ropes of the serpentine slime coated skin, mixing with remnant rain water and the more current coating of hungry saliva.&nbsp; <br><br>The amount of light was minimal in the new section they were brought for their sacrifice, but it was enough to reveal Sonia's glistening skin, coated in ever complex sheen of crossed patterns marking her sexual use for any to see.&nbsp; Perhaps it was the sudden added lubrication, easing away any remaining discomfort of the oddly shaped cock within her, or maybe it was the simple heat filling her up from inside out, spearing into her the wrong way and giving her a new sense of fullness, or maybe Sonia had just been worn down from such a long, brutal series of thrusts, but whatever the case, the naga brought her to the edge and throws of her own orgasm.<br><br>Sonia was not the fighter, was not the protector.&nbsp; She had confined herself to her fate, submitted fully to it and as such had no knowledge of the loose stones above.&nbsp; Nor did she even realize that the naga had fallen victim to them thanks to Ozora's hands.&nbsp; So consumed was she by her own orgasmic pleasure that she barely felt the thrusts finally yield, the spear buried to the hilt inside of her, sealing remaining juices while her own coated the member nestled between spread lips, keeping her spread so her sexual fluids could flow and spray almost as if by design.&nbsp; <br><br>The sudden soft embrace of hands along her strands of hair was the next real sensation she felt.&nbsp; Slowly the rest faded into view.&nbsp; The naga, laying across the ground, Sonia's body nearly pinned by it's girth but most definitely held captive by the deep invasion still holding firm within her ass.&nbsp; Slowly more and more came into view, watching as the naked, wet form of her protector struggled to get free of her own impalement.&nbsp; She watched for a moment, still panting, whimpering her bestial pleasure as she settled down from her orgasm and sank back into true consciousness.&nbsp; It took her a moment to realize why Ozora was struggling so, why her movements seemed so labored until she managed to make jellied leg muscles push against the unconscious snake.&nbsp; Only then did she realize the full entrapment of her situation.&nbsp; And her own humiliating journey began, made more embarrassing by the fact that she was still throbbing, still whimpering with soft sounds as her sensitive body was made to endure even more from her own escape.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>29-10-2013, 16:23:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The satisfaction when Ozora finally popped free took her elbows out from under her. Head down, panting, she returned most of what the naga had pumped into her across the creature's butterscotch lap and emerald scales. Her hollowed and weightless hips toppled from their high angle, and the search of her hand across the stones might first have been mistaken for reorienting herself with up and down. It was not- she was fishing for her heeled shoe.<br><br>One sleek black heel at the end of a nude and glistening leg pressed down at the naga's lap as Ozora stood over the professor. The organ within her moved by the nestle of its exposed length between hard sole and heel. If she twisted, there would be a lot of blood and a severe injury to the creature, and Sonia would be free. Ozora was still panting, her dark shape loomed over Sonia and her slippery arms wrapped around the woman's body, as she considered this. She thought about the crew's appetite for Sonia, and about the naga as a distraction for them. It would probably backfire. It was probably going to backfire, and the result would be just one more crewman to fuck the ship's whore.<br><br>Ozora gave a sigh of disgust and moved her shoe away. She spooned her hot skin against Sonia's back to manually help her work free. "It will come loose," she soothed, "you will be fine." Her dark fingers cupped the insides of Sonia's thighs and urged her legs to open. Huddled and slippery over the monster's unconscious body, she strummed the wet flesh of the white woman's well-trained pink pussy to masturbate her. The more slippery, the better- her fingers were not shy about coaxing out a sliver of honey, and painting with it down the tightly locked perineum. All around the stretched ring of muscle, she slathered Sonia's fluid, a little bit at a time. A dart of her playful fingers at a time, an almost playful wet whorl around the obstructed anus at a time.<br><br>The heat made her sweat. She needed to clutch to Sonia's body to lift, and make sure no tiny slack was wasted. Her fingers paused on the faint pink scratches of the professor's trials aboard the ship, the evidence of their haphazard attitude toward their well-educated sex toy. It was a duty the professor never seemed to shirk, except when she had come out here with Ozora, and begun to act modestly. Ozora's fingers curled unnecessarily into Sonia's heat, and her breath hovered so very close to the woman's neck. But it was no longer the heat of the moment- now she would be willfully disobeying the captain's orders. She held her kisses at bay, no matter how they burned to escape her satiny lips.<br><br>"Almost." Ozora was tense and her arms sliding across Sonia's ribs and breasts for purchase, her fingertips blanching pink thighs where she grasped. A little bit of savagery was necessary, and she spared the ship's gentle whore from having to find that part of herself. With an obscene squelch and release of creamy naga cum, she freed the professor of the final inches, and shared her breath of relief. "Yes, good. Up you go. Leave me with her."<br><br>There was time, while Ozora gathered the vine necessary to lash the naga to a branch two people could carry, for the professor to get her archaeology on. The native was not interested except to admire her company. She dressed, and re-fueled the fire for Sonia to see by, and stood watch over her, as was her duty. By the time the bound and gagged serpent first began to stir and find the knots of a trained sailor most unyielding, the early red dawn of the tropics was creeping down into the subterranean chamber. "If you were an explorer in Zanguebar," she posed, "and if I were a free woman, and you, a free woman...would you want me then?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>30-10-2013, 05:36:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia tried to avert her eyes as Ozora came free of her captor, tried to give her some form of dignity as the juices inevitably came free of their imprisonment within her.&nbsp; But even so she found her eyes drawn to the other woman as she went about searching for her lost heel of all things in favor of her clothes or other covering.&nbsp; But, as her mind was clearing, she was beginning to remember more and more detail of the encounter.&nbsp; The silky smooth dark hair, the slick oily liquids, the nibbling, biting feel of teeth and tongue... and Ozora's kiss.&nbsp; So soon into the orgy and the woman had simply kissed her with such wild abandon and passion.&nbsp; Why would she do that?<br><br>Realizing that Ozora had found her shoe and her footing Sonia again averted her gaze before her spying could be noticed and refocused on the task at hand, the humiliating and degrading task.&nbsp; One that Ozora seemed intent to help her escape from however little did she knew her help was as much a hindrance as a boon.&nbsp; Her milky smooth flesh rubbing up against her own, soft breasts press against her back in an all too vivid reminder of their ordeal and the passion held within.&nbsp; And then there was her hands, so commanding and dominating even while holding every intention of helping her.&nbsp; In the end, for as much as she helped pull, for every inch she gained was made more difficult because her attentions made her muscles tense, squeeze down on the shaft spearing her as if the naga girl were still awake to feel the attention.&nbsp; And something told her that despite the creatures state of unconsciousness her twitching wasn't going to help make the woman's bestial cock any softer.<br><br>In the end the strength of two women proved stronger than it's depth or the pleasing muscles of the whore and she came free both with an audible pop and a whimpering squeal.&nbsp; Panting she clung to the stone floor, finding her self feeling...surprisingly empty as the juices rushed out of the now vacant hole, leaving her even more weightless.&nbsp; Though weightless or not, her shaky legs held no desire to try and hold her aloft.&nbsp; So she crawled the remaining few feet before collapsing against an inclined edge, catching her breath and finally allowing her body to settle down.<br><br>She watched the woman curious as she went about tying the creature up.&nbsp; It was a wise precaution but... to what ends she couldn't help but wonder.&nbsp; Surely Ozora wasn't planning on taking her back to the ship...right?&nbsp; Shaking her head she realized that as much as she was sought after earlier, now she was essentially being ignored, left to her own recovery and devices and perhaps her own studies though the thought of academia was a distant buzz against the torrent her body had undergone.&nbsp; As such, when he legs worked, when she trusted herself to stand it was not to study but to dress.&nbsp; At least...that had been her plan, returning to find the tattered remains of her clothing essentially useless in the naga's haste to free her of them.&nbsp; The end result of her attempts to don them anyway left her barely covered in half tied off strips, but it was something.<br><br>The darkness wore on, absent not through the cover of rain clouds but through the natural passage of night.&nbsp; Neither whore nor professor could find sleep that night.&nbsp; Whore too consumed by what had happened, what her body had undergone while professor was too consumed by the discovery.&nbsp; A monster...an undiscovered species, and based on the temple one with a rich and long history and complex culture.&nbsp; It was the find of a life time!&nbsp; And so, with sleep illusive, and the whore's services no longer needed, the professor reluctantly resumed her own work.&nbsp; Not realizing that night had turned to day she was startled by Ozora's sudden question, her mind taking a moment to shift from the ancient language to that of their common tongue, and taking far longer to decipher the meaning behind those words.&nbsp; A night with no sleep after such...vigorous activities and then constant study had not left her mind in the most...reliable state.<br><br>"Hmm?" she asked more of instinct than a need to have the question repeated.&nbsp; "But we're not free women," she posed, not contemplating the deeper nature that might lay behind such a question.&nbsp; "I imagine if our lives were so significantly different that that would be as well?" she offered with a light tilt to her head, yawning now that her mind was robbed of the complex problems keeping her awake.&nbsp; "Though...want you how?"<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>30-10-2013, 13:06:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Never mind." Ozora regarded the fair woman miserably through her fingers. It had felt like a very straightforward question, and so perhaps Sonia had not wanted to truthfully answer. Through the smoke of the brazier, black and woody-scented, the woman who had only hours ago felt like soft clay in her hands seemed ephemeral and beyond touch. Perhaps it was the most she could hope for to become a fully privileged pirate, and purchase her time with the ship's whore like any other hot-blooded woman among the crew. It gave her something to strive for.<br><br>With the red dawn, Ozora began to come and go from the ruins as the professor was at her most sleepy. She retrieved their supplies, her charge's soggy books, the actual rope. Her diligent slave labor aboard the ship equipped her with a knowledge of how to crane the bound naga up from the tomb, and there was time for the professor to nap as she did just that. Rope and pulley and pitons driven into the ancient stone provided one sweat-drenched native to lift the flushed and unhappy serpent up from the depths, so they could carry her back to the ship. The creature mumbled at her gag, but even were it removed, Ozora could not understand her at all.<br><br>All of the heavy work, that was what Ozora did, and nothing less. One trussed serpent was ready to transport. The shredded bag was mended skillfully, and gold and jewels loaded into it- what she couldn't slip gaudy over every finger, or hang around her neck, or keep secret inside of herself. By the time the professor seemed rested, the slippery vine they'd slid down had been replaced with a comfortable rope seat, equipped to buoy Sonia gently up to ground level. The comfort wasn't a part of her duty, and neither was it to add Sonia's notes to her own carried burden. The captain only feigned interest in the professor's research to get to the gold. It was for Sonia's benefit that she tucked the weight away in her bag, and nobody else. Ozora could not even read.<br><br>"English girl. Time to wake." A not ungentle nudge rolled Sonia's seemingly boneless shoulder once the work was done, and the signal fire was lit, and Ozora was washed and groomed. A trio of fuzzy sweet tropical fruits were laid before her, such a rare treat at sea that if they weren't devoured here and now, they would surely be confiscated. "Your clothes are ruined. You are very pink down there. We will tell the captain how the beast fucked you, okay? We do not need to tell her I touched you." Ozora bit into a fruit of her own, and droplets of sweet tropical nectar freckled her dark jaw. Though her need for the fruit was intense, her eyes were cunning on Sonia. The native was a pirate like any other, looking out for herself now. "If I get punished, then I will not be there to protect you next time."<br><br>"Come sit in the seat," she urged, "I will lift you up. Then we will carry the creature back together."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>31-10-2013, 05:42:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia opened her mouth to speak, her hand reaching out as if to comfort Ozora but both stopped midway in their task as she realized she had nothing to say and knew not what sort of touch she should give.&nbsp; Clearly she'd upset the woman but she as to how she was unclear.&nbsp; And she feared that saying anything further in way of apology would only convey her ignorance and most likely insult the native further.&nbsp; So she held her tongue and let her hand drop back to her side with only an apologetic smile lingering on as her native companion went about her own tasks.<br><br>The ruins were fascinating, holding far more interest now that she knew the references to naga were not legend of gods and goddesses but real beings with actual desires and actions and motives.&nbsp; But even that could only keep a mind clouded by sleep vivid for so long.&nbsp; And so with some reluctance she laid herself asleep, her eyelids taking a while longer to finally lower as her eyes defiantly skimmed the blurry walls before sleep took her.&nbsp; And though she did not recall upon her awakening she was sure that her dreams carried more of the ruins as well.&nbsp; Ruins and snakes and women trying to take her lips for their own....<br><br>Sonia let out the groggy moan of a woman who still wanted sleep as her protector woke her.&nbsp; At first it was the slow wakefulness, the kind that was gradual as mind and body fought for control of rising or falling back into sleep, but she jumped with a start noticing the decided absence of their captive.&nbsp; Her head swiveled quickly looking for some unseen attack, seeming not to realize Ozora's calm on the situation, or rather not understanding it until she saw the remains of the pulleys and the latter left for the two of them.&nbsp; Clearly the woman had been busy while she'd been sleeping and she gave a sheepish smile to the woman as she went further to bring her the delicacy of island fruit for breakfast.&nbsp; <br><br>Sonia took a bite from the fruit, and her worries and a lot of her tension evaporated away.&nbsp; The explosion of fruit and flavor upon the second bite melted away the remaining aches and she cooed leaning her back against the stone curved wall.&nbsp; How long had it been sense she'd had such a delicacy?&nbsp; How long had she felt anything under her tongue that wasn't the warm flesh of a woman or the food meant for the cold storage of a ship's hull?&nbsp; <br><br>She looked up as the woman spoke, watching her over the curvacious fruit as it sunk into eager lips and over far more eager tongue.&nbsp; She found herself nodding, needing a moment to finish her latest mouthful before answering.&nbsp; "Oh of course, don't worry it was clearly the naga," she agreed.&nbsp; "I wouldn't get you punished...you...you saved me.&nbsp; And I never thanked you..." she concluded looking abashed.&nbsp; Perhaps that was what had been bothering the woman last night.&nbsp; "Thank you...for coming back for me with that rock...and then getting her again.&nbsp; You saved us, thank you.&nbsp; I'll be sure to tell the Captain how amazing you were at your duty to protect me.&nbsp; It's the least I can do."<br><br>Once done Sonia moved along with Ozora towards the opening of their cavern.&nbsp; She glanced at the seat indicated and up at the intricate workings of knots and ropes that made up the pulley.&nbsp; She knew it to be sure and safe, but that was not why she hesitated...there was no need for her to be hoisted up like so much cargo, not with a perfectly good rope ladder there for her to use.&nbsp; But would she take it as an offense if she refused.&nbsp; She still didn't know what had made her so... dismissive but she didn't want to do anything further to upset her.&nbsp; So she sat, watching her as she did so.<br><br>"Umm...why are we taking the creature back with us?" she asked curiously to bridge the silence that might threaten to ensue.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>31-10-2013, 07:59:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ozora's heels nestled into every rung of rope as she scampered up the rigging she'd made. Even with Sonia's attempts to prevent a silence, she was still quiet, and focused on her work. A harsh mistress had trained her not to let chatter happen while there was lean muscle to dedicate to the task at hand. From the ledge above, she looked down on the heavenly body seated in the improvised swing, and for a moment she did not move the rope at all. Then she began to pull smoothly, one hand over the other, and the winch happily supported the professor's curves without losing a beat.<br><br>"The beast is valuable," she answered once Sonia was at the very top, and only a step down from the harness awaited her. "And the captain will see her, and not think us liars, and know your story is true. Maybe she will make me a full crewman." Ozora didn't explain why this was important to her- she had been kidnapped, and lamented her freedom, and resented the crew. The most sensible thing to earn would be her freedom, and not a place on the ship.<br><br>When they were ready to break camp, Ozora helped the professor to carry one heavy end of the naga's stake over her shoulder, the way the hunters of the savanna would return with a slain gazelle, or the women would make intelligent use of their body mechanics to endure the crushing weight of water pails miles from lake to village. It was a long trip through the morning sun back to the white gold beach and the waiting dinghy, but the professor would be able to enjoy a nice curl up in bed to nurse her aches. For Ozora, it would be right back to work.<br><br>~ ~ ~ ~<br><br>The crew was gathered there on the deck when the dinghy was finally hoisted up from the cerulean waters, and the cargo of priceless loot and one captive monster were unloaded for the amazement of Sonia and Ozora's betters. They prodded at the frightened naga, and with the same cruel spirit they also prodded the professor. A crowd of them surrounded her, and peeled away her tattered clothes, and there were strong, determined digits fingering into every soft orifice of her body. <em>"Are you hiding any more from us, goldie?" </em>Though the professor had only been gone a day, her many lovers' cradling, groping hands already missed her dearly. <em>"I've found your pretty little cervix. Who's got longer fingers than me?" </em><br><br>Ozora answered to the captain while the crew held Sonia to the oiled deck and played treasure hunt with her pink pussy. Ozora told the story in her simplistic grasp of English as she watched Sonia's arms pinned behind her back, her legs splayed, greedy fingers searched up into her small hole sometimes two women at once, as though there really were something to find up there. They were not going to let the professor her go until she broke down and quivered, and for all her cunning and bravery, she was dragged back down to the role of ship's whore. A short skirt eclipsed her vision, and she was made to service a woman perched atop her face like a proud hen.<br><br><em>"You did well, jeune fille," </em>the captain was saying to Ozora. There was a pause, which Ozora allowed herself to hope might be filled with promise of a promotion. It was not. She was still a slave, and Sonia forbidden to her. <em>"Our next stop will be in the Gulf. You will accompany the professor there as well. We should arrive in three days' time." </em><br><br>Ozora nodded her understanding as she helplessly watched the tanned and firm-bodied ship's crew blanch Sonia's soft flesh in their grasp and run teasing tongues along her flesh. Three days of this- three days of being bunked right next door to the ship's whore, and hearing what they told her to do, how they disrespected her, and the angel's sweet moans as they did. It was going to be a long voyage, alone in her cot, with only her dark fingers to bring her relief.<br><br>In truth, not <em>only </em>her dark fingers- there was that ivory totem she'd swiped, too. It did have a pleasing texture to it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>01-11-2013, 05:48:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia nodded to Ozora, smiling her thanks as she stepped off of the vine made seat.&nbsp; In truth quite grateful not to have to test her legs on the ladder.&nbsp; While she was quick to recover from sexual exploits due to having a lot of practice and very little time allotted for recovery she was feeling better...however the recent encounter had been an extreme case and her legs still felt a bit more jellied than normal and she was not looking forward to the trek back, especially carrying such a large creature between them.&nbsp; She started a bit, the surprise as to Ozora's wishes evident in that moment, having falsely assumed that the native would wish for her freedom rather than the status of a pirate.<br><br>"Well I'm sure you're well on your way to that as it is, you're already allowed a lot more freedom than I," she assured with a smile and assuring voice only one truly ignorant of Ozora's real motives could summon.&nbsp; "I'll be sure to put in the good word for you with the captain, granted mine might not mean much but...it's the least I can do," she continued as they began breaking camp.&nbsp; Still, there was something troubling her as they began their trek down the slope, snake held aloft between them.&nbsp; It didn't take much to realize it was the naga that was the source of her worries.&nbsp; The creature had taken something from her to be sure but...it was also something she gave up on a regular bases if not in as bestial a mannor.&nbsp; Still...the naga had been revered here, valued as a queen or goddess perhaps, definitely a creature of power and influence if nothing else.&nbsp; And here they were confining her to the life of a slave.&nbsp; Slaves making another into their rank.&nbsp; It didn't seem right somehow.&nbsp; But what could she do...Ozora was right, she was valuable, and the crew would not believe their story without her in their clutches, and if they didn't believe such a tale Sonia's...condition would undoubtedly be blamed on her protector to whom she owed a lot.&nbsp; <br><br><acronym title="I'm sorry."><em>"Khnhom somtosa,"</em></acronym> she began softly to the bound creature.&nbsp; <acronym title="I won't have much influence where we're going, but I'll do what I can to make sure you're not treated too poorly..."><em>"Khnhom nung min mean itthipl chraen del chea kanleng del yeung nung noh te bonte khnhom nung thveuavei del khnhom ach thveu ban daembi thveu aoy brakd tha anak kampoung minban pyeabeal phng der ban techtuoch..."</em></acronym> she assured with a gentle smile before repositioning the burden of the shaft on her shoulder and made no more protest in hauling the snake back to the ship.<br><br>~ ~ ~ ~<br><br>True to her earlier predictions, Sonia held no influence among the crew when she was finally brought back on board.&nbsp; The captain didn't bother to ask her of the journey or to hear a report or even ask if she was alright, simply allowing her hungry crew to have her.&nbsp; And have her they did, her clothes, tattered though they were becoming disheveled and torn beyond any form of repair now, leaving her once again the naked and helpless whore, not to the naga, but to the lusty crew.&nbsp; Her legs were spread, her arms pinned, her body pressed against the smooth planks of the deck by the far smoother feel of body and feminine hands groping over their rediscovered toy.&nbsp; They wanted her to quiver and whimper and moan, and she did these things as much for their benefit as from instinct and actual arousal and lust.&nbsp; The naga had managed to excite her body, give it a bestial form of pleasure in it's own raw way, and yet with months at sea her body had also grown accustomed to the groping, raping hands of the crew.&nbsp; And it was clear that it missed them whatever Sonia's thoughts on the matter, fingers coming free wet with her juices, holding only the strands of sexual fluids between their fingertips rather than any attempt at theft... though perhaps that was the treasure they were looking for as it didn't seem to stop them from searching further.&nbsp; <br><br>Sonia's moaned protests that she didn't steel anything and that she'd missed them and the simple whimpering moans as familiar hands made their way over her soft flesh were soon muffled by one of the crew placing herself over the whore's lips.&nbsp; Professor, searching through the ancient ruins with her mind turned to whore, searching the wet crevices of the woman's pussy with her tongue in mere seconds.&nbsp; She was theirs, three more days until the next island she was theirs.&nbsp; <br><br>But her thoughts were not solely on pleasing the woman or even the pleasure running through her own body, nor were they on thoughts of the islands, either past or future destination.&nbsp; No, her lingering thoughts of sanity and decorum were of Ozora, she must remember to tell the captain that she had saved her, done her job far above what was expected and her recommendation that she become a full member of the crew as she wished. The native girl deserved to have what she desired after all, whatever that may be.&nbsp; Surely she'd have the chance at some point in their journey...perhaps after wearing the captain out enough when she took her turn with the ship's whore.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>01-11-2013, 07:35:55</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The brig was now home to a frazzled and irritable naga, and so Ozora made a special effort to avoid being sent there over the next few days. She was ever so diligent, and ever so subservient, and despite Sonia's new efforts to get closer, Ozora avoided the professor like a ninja. They could not be together, and Ozora could not claim the reward she most wanted. Becoming locked in the brig would result in not being able to sit down for a week, and it wouldn't be because of any lash.<br><br>The weather grew less humid, but no less hot as the ship coasted on a swift wind for the Gulf. The rain barrels could not be left out on deck, or the sun would evaporate it all to zero. Most of the hours were spent for Ozora keeping the deck's planks from succumbing to salt water dry rot, knelt on the hot deck, massaging the whole ship with sponge and fungicide. For Sonia it was not much different, as keeping cool meant many baths for the crew per day, and every tanned woman wanted to be sponged by the fair Englishwoman's soft hands in a wood washtub, and every woman also wanted a happy ending. It was enough to make the fingers ache.<br><br>On the evening of the third day, there was a candlelit dinner in the captain's private cabin. The professor had been the captain's own privilege for the whole day, and it was the captain's indulgence to keep her toy naked, oiled and slippery, outfitted with a collar and chain so she could be led around the cabin like an animal. It was in this state, told to kneel beside the captain's supper table and eat from her dish on the floor, that she was in when Ozora arrived to answer the captain's summons for dinner.<br><br><em>"Come in, jeune fille," </em>the captain bid her. <em>"Close the door behind you." </em><br>Ozora tried to give Sonia the dignity of not noticing her, but she was very shiny, and that attracted the eye.<br><em>"Sit. You are welcome at my table tonight." </em><br>Cautiously, Ozora stepped past the chained academic and sat down across from the captain. A plate was prepared for her, fresh swordfish, green vegetables, and soft bread darker than the skin of her palms. She was allowed to take hers like a woman, while Sonia was made to eat from her dish. The native clearly did not understand this relationship they had, but she did not question it.<br><em>"The ruins the professor must be taken to next may only be reached by undersea cave. Do you swim well?" </em><br>"Yes, Madame Captain. I learned to swim in native Africa." Ozora kept glimpsing the professor, despite her effort not to. The captain picked up on this.<br><br>A black glove cradled Sonia's head and urged her to duck under the wood of the table, between its hand-carved legs. <em>"Professor, you are making our guest nervous. Come under the table, between my knees." </em>The captain's lap was a velvety heaven. Black suede boots, garnished with buckles of silver, were a noblewoman's luxury. Tight leather breeches, giving the full supple feel of her shapely legs, parted slightly to allow the professor a shadowed place to rest her head. And the lining of her coat, luxurious satin, promised to wrap the woman up like a princess if only she dared to pull an unbuttoned edge over her nude form. <em>"Do you have <strong>feelings</strong> for the professor, jeune fille?" </em><br>Ozora thought on this a moment while she deigned to nibble. Her legs were wary of Sonia under the table, unsure if she wanted the professor to touch her or not. "I love all the ship's captain and crew."<br>The captain laughed. <em>"A good answer! You are too clever to remain obedient to me. When all this is done, I shall have to find you a new home." </em><br><br>This was what Ozora had wanted. She steeled herself, and while the captain was amused, she voiced her request. "I wish to become a pirate. Madame Captain. It is in my blood."<br>The captain had already heard this request whispered to her by Sonia's lips. She did not answer Ozora. Instead, she spoke to Sonia through the wood of the table. <em>"Do you know that you can make this native squirm, professor? It gives me strange pleasure. I want you to tease her beneath the table. You have my permission to make her cum, but not quickly. I want to see if she can finish her supper." </em><br><br>The shiver that ran up Ozora's spine made her fork rattle on the plate. Her knees tensed defensively in her gypsy skirts, but what could she do? They were both slaves. She would obey.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>02-11-2013, 06:35:25</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The whore did not avoid the brig with the same vehemence that Ozora did.&nbsp; In truth, she sought out time there, not on the same side of bars of course, but safely separated from the creature and yet still able to converse with her was what she wanted.&nbsp; Able to perhaps don the roll of professor even if for only a short while and even if while confined to nudity or whatever scantily covering outfit the crew would allow her.&nbsp; But it would have been something, a few bare minutes to ask of the naga's culture, of their history and religion and what life had been like when those temples had been more than ancient ruins.&nbsp; <br><br>But it was not to be, nor was her attempts to converse with Ozora any more successful.&nbsp; The native had her duties, and Sonia soon discovered her own did not leave her much time for either of her own desires, put on hold per the desires of the crew.&nbsp; While months aboard the ship traveling had seen some time to herself, sparse and sparing perhaps, the three days saw far fewer times for such selfish indulgences.&nbsp; The woman it seemed had missed her even if it was for that one day, and they were not fond of loosing her again within three days time, determined to make nearly every moment she had in their service.<br><br>So, in some ways, being called for the day's duties with her Captain exclusively were a blessing, freeing her from the tireless retinue of woman and focusing instead on a single one.&nbsp; One that could tire, if not easily, but also had her own whims and desires to satisfy.&nbsp; And one who had complete and utter control over her.&nbsp; Her captain, her mistress, her owner.&nbsp; And so she found herself once again nude, cleansed with oil and bound by collar and chain like a common bitch.&nbsp; <br><br>Food was a luxury in many ways.&nbsp; Of course delicacies like the fruit Ozora had fed her on the island did not often last months on sea as opposed to foodstuffs that could weather the changing weather and temperatures.&nbsp; Fish and the abundance the sea had to offer was always a plenty providing the catch was good, but it was not for this that Sonia found food a luxury, it was because she was often not given the same portions as the rest of the 'working' crew.&nbsp; And often, what she was given was in...unique ways.&nbsp; Eaten off of the woman's body, or in this case, out of the Captain's bowl.&nbsp; But Sonia didn't complain, food was food, and she needed every morsel.&nbsp; But that didn't stop the small blush from coloring her cheeks past their oily sheen as she noticed the native girl watching her obvious defilement.&nbsp; Watching the professor on hands and knees eating from a bowl.&nbsp; <br><br>So it was with as much relief to Sonia as it was to Ozora that the Captain order her beneath the table.&nbsp; There she could listen unhindered by pretending she was not.&nbsp; She was happy for the native, assuming that the girl was going to get what she had wanted finally.&nbsp; For what other reason would she be invited to the captain's chambers and given a place at her table if not to welcome her to the crew?&nbsp; Her surprise was evident as their conversation progressed, the small sound escaping both her lips and the edges of the table she was held beneath.&nbsp; <br><br>Surely the captain was misunderstanding.&nbsp; Ozora would want to be a pirate for many reasons, any other reason than to gain access to her services surely.&nbsp; She must have misconstrued her request that Ozora be made crew or misread the native's own hints and vices.&nbsp; She understood how well people of different cultures could be misinterpreted.&nbsp; But...they were both slaves, and to protest or try and explain the captain's mistake would only provide time for one or both of them in the brig with a very vengeful naga.<br><br>So she crawled forward under the table, abandoning the warmth of the captain's thighs in favor of Ozora's own.&nbsp; The table allowed little room for her to look up, no sliver of length for her to catch a glance from Ozora though she knew not what they might exchange through such a moment.&nbsp; In the end all the slow attempt had managed was to brush her further up the length of Ozora's legs, cheeks brushing against soft skin, nuzzling the length of beautiful skirt higher and higher up her thighs.&nbsp; <br><br>Ozora had seen if not fully understood Sonia's skills as a professor.&nbsp; Had seen her decipher the symbols, translate the naga's alien language and further make sense of the sporatic clues the ruins left behind.&nbsp; Now she got to experience her skills as a whore.&nbsp; Sonia was not fully used to drawing out her physical pleasure.&nbsp; She was passed around often, each crew member given little time to fully enjoy the rise to climax because another was eager to take her place.&nbsp; It ensured fairness, but it also meant that taking the time to bring out the full pleasure of such services was a rare treat that few but the captain got to fully enjoy.&nbsp; And the captain granted this to Ozora now through Sonia.<br><br>And she was talented, hands caressing the length of cool skin, marking the trail of her fingers to bring all the more focus towards where this was all heading.&nbsp; Hands slowly brushing legs apart, giving way access to the jewel nestled between them and it's barest covering.&nbsp; Her fingers continued to tantalize and draw attention to her senses, igniting nerve endings before focusing them.&nbsp; And then she leaned forward, skilled fingers moving aside coverings with only the gentlest grazing of flesh over flesh before lips and tongue followed in more earnest.<br><br>Most let the hands stop when the mouth had reached it's prize but Sonia did not give into that.&nbsp; While she did cling, did bring her head in deeper, press lips and tongue and softened flat of teeth against Ozora's wet lower lips with greater intensity, they did not remain.&nbsp; They rubbed and massaged and worked at soft skin, keeping sensitive but not taking away from the true build of pressure emanating from her purring tongue, gradually growing in intensity and skill, drawing it out.&nbsp; Building it up only to give a small break, a gap in the pattern or moment to catch the barest half of a breath to let it settle down if only incrementally before bringing it to a new height.&nbsp; Doing as ordered, everything she could to make the native squirm before bringing her to her peak.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>03-11-2013, 11:00:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The smooth chocolate of Ozora's legs went tense as the professor exposed them, and became so shy that her shoes began to slip from her heels. She could not see Sonia, could not anticipate what she was doing, and that made it so much more intense for her. What made it unbearable was the watching captain, and knowing that she was not supposed to enjoy this too much. Her body squirmed beneath the table for Sonia, completely at the professor's mercy. Not just as a whore, but as a pleaser of women, she was very skilled.<br><br>For the first few minutes Ozora composed herself very well, and focused on the task of her supper. She willed her mind not to be led by Sonia's teasing down a guided tour of the true sensitivity of her inner thighs, but of course, it was not only up to her mind. Her exposed womanhood, dark cocoa lips that gave way to pink flesh so vivid and vulnerable like an opened peach, responded wetly to Sonia's teasing. The first morsel of swordfish was speared onto her fork just as her labia were being taken into Sonia's lips, and the delicate, three-part tug of the swordfish into her mouth mirrored perfectly what was happening below, juices and all. <br><br>Briefly, she met the captain's eyes, and saw in them the knowledge that Ozora would soon break her focus. She could intuit, from the captain's eyes, that she was not allowed to climax. It was a challenge of willpower, which Sonia was not allowed to be aware of, made all the more cruel by the professor's playful determination to bring Ozora off. Her resolve began to erode just as the pawing of Sonia's fingers drew her linen top tight and low against her dark breasts, and as the fingertips could be seen climbing, grasping, hungry for Ozora's broad hips, the native's elbows went firm against the table and her hand waved in an unseen signal for Sonia to <em>wait, please, wait. </em><br><br>Ozora's dark eyes rolled up under her lids, and her fork scratched desperately against the plate before rattling from her fingers. "Ah-" Her posture sank way back in her chair, until the dutiful bulge of Sonia under her skirts was visible for the smiling captain. It was no longer about saving face, but now about fighting back orgasm, retreating into her tiniest corner of lucid thinking, even as her whole body felt perfectly balanced on the sticky, nimble roll of Sonia's tongue. The pleasure crashed on her, lept at her like stalking tigers from every direction at once and sucked the breath out of her, and she began to judder unladylike in her chair.<br><br>The captain took poor Ozora by the hair and brought her down to the surface of the table, where a dagger pinned her collar there. The force of it would have driven the air from her lungs, were she not already breathless with release. If it was meant to ruin her orgasm, it did not- she kept on shivering under the captain's fingertips, without any stimulation at all, moistening Sonia's brow with the rain of her tiny warm droplets. <em>"Remove your clothes, jeune fille," </em>the captain instructed.<br>"Y- yes, Madame Captain." It was tight and awkward to unfasten her linen blouse while her breasts were crushed to the table, but she managed. She shed her shirt with a squirm, and stripped away the layers in hot shame, still delirious from Sonia's pleasure. Her shoulders twinged, as she was exposed the way she would be for a whipping.<br><br>When Ozora was completely nude, the captain began to douse her with oil. All along her toned dark limbs, under the hidden recesses of her breasts, from determined throat down to the shy toes that now seemed to want to wear heels, she lathered Ozora's body the way she lathered Sonia each week. Ozora's breath caught desperately in her throat, and the captain did not console her. <em>"The professor will remind you of what it means to be obedient," </em>she told. <em>"You will spend the night here, and leave as you are come morning." </em><br><br>A collar was fit around Ozora's throat, and the chain of Sonia's lead was fed through it, so neither woman could be more than scant feet from the other. When the professor stood, she would need to stand, and when the professor knelt, she would have to kneel. Since Sonia's place was now at the floor with her dish, Ozora found herself lying on the floor, panting softly, as the captain blew the lights out. She could hear the blue-eyed captain undressing at the edge of her luxurious bed, and waited, there in the soft moonlight, for some cue from the professor on what to do.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>04-11-2013, 06:42:52</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia was truly and completely ignorant of the contest being waged just above the table.&nbsp; In truth it would be Ozora's lack of response near the beginning that drove Sonia with all the more motivation for her to continue, to grow more bold and determined to bring the woman the pleasure which in Sonia's mind the native had earned by getting that much closer to being full crew member.&nbsp; And so she continued, eyes closed to focus on the feel of the woman's skin beneath her lips and tongue, what made the flesh quiver and produce the most juices against her lapping taste buds, it was these that she repeated.&nbsp; Paying so much attention to the wants her body betrayed she made no notice of what her mind might try to signal her, no notice of the hand waving her off or urgent looks shot towards the cloth bunching around her head as it dove in for it's quivering prize.<br><br>So when Ozora lost control, when it seemed that the captain had won, Sonia thought it as a win for her and Ozora, the captain having no part in their own vie for pleasure wrought and pleasure gained.&nbsp; She continued, pushing into the woman more urgently, following the shakes and writhes of her body so as not to loose her prize, preventing any shake of hips or leaning within the chair to rob a single lick of the momentum she had earned so hard to build, ensuring that Ozora would reach her peak no matter attempts from either native's mind or captain's blade to do otherwise.<br><br>And it seemed in the end Sonia was the only victor, smiling her success at giving the woman her prize while her lips dripped with the evidence of her victory.&nbsp; She licked them now, tender tongue pleasing her own skin and absorbing the all consuming flavor of native.&nbsp; A rarity as much as the fruit she had given her on the island.&nbsp; She pulled back, knowing the captain might decide to punish if she sought the initiative to drive the woman to second peak, pulling out from under the table only now to realize more had been going on than she was made aware.<br><br>She did not speak, would not be allowed to if she tried, but her confusion was evident.&nbsp; It was suppose to be a welcoming moment, one of happyness where Ozora got what she wanted...instead she was forced to shed her beautiful clothing far past what Sonia herself had removed.&nbsp; Her eyes widened further, recognizing the same careful and all consuming touch of the captain's hands as they carried the oil over the native's now nude flesh.&nbsp; Why...why was she being lowered to her rank?&nbsp; What had she done, what had either of them done wrong?<br><br>Sonia wanted to protest on her protector's behalf, to be the one to protect her from such a fate, but in this she was powerless.&nbsp; There was no rock she might find, no clue hidden within an ancient language... she was a slave here, and a slave could do nothing more than tilt her head back to make it easier for her mistress to fasten their chains together.&nbsp; Binding the two in metal as much as they had been bound in danger upon the island.&nbsp; Sonia wanted to hide her face in shame at first but she was not given the chance to fully do so given the shortness of the chain.&nbsp; Soon she realized she wanted to apologize to show her ignorance in the matter but that too was denied her in it's full as no sooner did the expression mount her face than it was hidden by the retreating lights.<br><br>In the still quietness of the approaching night all sounds seemed to grow louder by comparison.&nbsp; The gentle creaking of the ship as it was rocked by the night's waters, the scuttle of the crew caring for it's voyage above as they made way with their tasks, the cloth rustling free from the captain's form, and the panting breaths lingering from Ozora's orgasm.&nbsp; Sonia knew there would be no chance of speaking, of asking what had happened or why without the captain knowing...so she kept quiet.&nbsp; Save to make the chains gently clink together as she rose to her fours, taking a gentle step forward to ever so slowly take away the slack between their bound collars.<br><br>Sonia's place was at the foot of the captain's bed when the lights went out.&nbsp; She was a bitch within these walls, on all fours with the collar firm around her throat.&nbsp; But she was also a slave, and a slave needed to be close to receive her mistress' orders...in either case the place of both were near the bed, able to crawl under covers if pleasure or warmth was wanted in any way.&nbsp; And it seemed, this night she was to have company, making her movements hesitant and unsure... in part she didn't want Ozora to know of her world here, what she went through and submitted to, and in part she merely wanted to make the experience as easy as one could for the newcomer. <br><br>Moonlight crawled over her nude and glistening form as she led the way, glancing back now that they could see each other, if ever so gently, in the waning light.&nbsp; Now she got her apologetic and questioning expression in, if only for brief seconds before her path took her out of the direct beams.&nbsp; She curled up against the cold once at the foot of the bed, knowing that by design Ozora would need to rest near her...but the choice as to weather that was at the far end of the leash or as close as two bodies could was the Native's call.&nbsp; Or perhaps it was the Captains if Sonia's services were required.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>04-11-2013, 15:53:34</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				At the foot of the bed with her partner in chains, Ozora acclimated to her new slippery texture by finding the links of the chain between them could not be grasped, the foot of the bed did not wish to prop her up, and depending on the professor for any kind of leverage was completely out of the question. Anything that did not fit securely and fully in the close of her fingers would squirt from her grasp. How Sonia had managed it, she did not know. There was some resistance, as she pulled with her slender neck to bring the chain taut, but that was utterly fruitless. Even if she were considerably stronger than Sonia, her neck was delicate and tired easily.<br><br>Above in the moonlight, the captain sighed in contentment and spread her arms across the satin pillows of a burgundy and black bed suitable for a very wicked princess. <em>"Ah, marvelous." </em>For a time she enjoyed the warm night air on her naked skin, a sculpted tribute to the form of Aphrodite laid on sheets the color and soft down of a giant rose bloom. <em>"Professor," </em>she said finally, <em>"Our savage guest has admired your talents as a recipient, but not from your own perspective. Let us ratify that. Come up on the bed, my pleasure toy." </em><br><br>Ozora was forced to climb with Sonia, and meet the sensual pace she crept. Rather than test the length of the chain again, she moved shoulder to shoulder with the professor, a frequent slippery brush. The captain's hand brushed the skin of Sonia's face. <em>"Give me the same as you gave the savage," </em>she demanded, and the uniform line of her legs opened to reveal her fully shorn and waxed pink slit, dormant, clit a small and nearly bloodless pink that would need considerable teasing before Sonia's skilled mouth could truly be felt. Sonia had already done a wonderful job of pleasing her, and this was only excessive.<br><br>The chain would not allow Ozora to stray far, once Sonia set to work, and so her head rest on the captain's thigh, an unwilling audience to her tribute. She had seen Sonia servicing the crew before, but never so close that she could admire every paced movement of the professor's tongue. She could hear every wet sound, scent it, even taste it in the air. A thigh twitched under her ear, and the captain moaned. With her dark fingers toying in the links of the chain, she became slowly entranced by the movements of the professor's throat, the cluck of her eagerness. The juices beading on the flesh made her mouth water, but if the professor were to look over, Ozora would staunchly close her full cocoa lips and refuse to accept a taste.<br><br>The captain's thighs began to rise, and the bed creaked lightly under her arched back. <em>"Mm, yes. I feel your need to please me. Be bold with your tongue, my meek little schoolmarm. Your place is to serve a strong woman, isn't that right?" </em>The chain jingled with Ozora's silent indignation, but the captain remained calm and placated. <em>"The day your breath stops smelling of cunny will be a cold day in hell." </em><br><br>When Ozora could stand it no longer, she recoiled with the chain to physically pull Sonia up from her task. Rather than let the captain go on degrading the professor, the native put her head down in Sonia's place, and took over licking. Her mistakes, of course, were in thinking the captain would not know the difference, and in believing that the professor did not <em>want </em>to do this, and wouldn't soon be joining her side by side, two tongues on the same cunt.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>05-11-2013, 06:06:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia glanced back gently as she felt the slight resistance to the chain about her neck.&nbsp; It was odd, feeling her pull at it rather than have her body be the item dragged by an insistent tug of her mistress.&nbsp; Despite her hurry however she did not do the same forcible pull against Ozora, letting her acclimate and get used to the idea if such a thing were possible.&nbsp; But she did lead onward, providing a constant tension to the chain until the native relented, following her as best she could to the foot of the bed.&nbsp; And while the oil seemed design to hinder even one as adjusted to it as Sonia she managed to guide the two of them to the foot of the bed.<br><br>Of course their time there was limited, even more than usual in Sonia's case as the Captain had summoned.&nbsp; And Sonia moved up onto the bed, not able to do her usual jump as such a quick movement would undoubtedly jerk painfully on their connecting collar and so she was forced to crawl up slowly, oiled fingers slipping over silken sheets proving far more difficult a climb than she was used to, battling her own balance of weight and that of Ozora's to make the height.<br><br>Once there she smiled apologetically to Ozora in the dim light as their shoulders brushed against each other and occasionally hips pressed against the trailing skin of her captive native as she settled into position between the captain's legs at the order, not wishing to linger any longer given the delay Ozora had already forced she started to work.&nbsp; <br><br>Sonia had a talented tongue, practiced in the foreign and ancient languages to be sure, but beyond that having build a high stamina, forced to please one woman after the next after the next for months meant servicing for extended periods on only her second woman proved little problem.&nbsp; Sparing only the bare second to glance at Ozora, glad that the night hid her blush and expression for once she lowered to begin again.&nbsp; <br><br>Ozora had felt her skill, now she got to witness it, watching her technique, watching her coax the captain to slow and ever building heights of pleasure, coaxing the price free from it's protection with arousal brought on by only hinting and tantalizing touches rather than a full onslaught, that was saved for after, after she'd coaxed it further and let her lips finally reach it's prize.&nbsp; <br><br>In some ways Ozora's curse to watch from afar was a blessing Sonia had not realized until now.&nbsp; She knew the native had undoubtedly seen what she was forced to go through aboard the ship, it was impossible not to given the way it was paraded about.&nbsp; But if Ozora saw the way her body reacted, it had been from afar before.&nbsp; If she seemed turned on or excited it was only natural given the way her body was touched and used.&nbsp; But here, now, to have no hands pleasing her, no body rubbed up against her or pleasure zones of her own stimulated, and yet still be aroused by no more than some demeaning words held a humiliation all it's own.&nbsp; She found herself grateful, both for the dark, and that the oil hid the obvious state of her arousal between her legs with her rear raised high while her mouth remained lowered.<br><br>She didn't know why she held any residual instinct to hide the truth.&nbsp; The captain certainly knew this to be her place, not solely by design but in large part by choice, by unconscious desire of her body to submit.&nbsp; The rest of the crew knew too, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ozora thought her captivity held...no interest to Sonia who was a slave to their desires alone and nothing of her own whim.&nbsp; A fact that became obvious as she felt herself nearly pushed aside so that Ozora could take her place nestled between the captain's legs.<br><br>The whore let out a surprised gasp, her eyes wide in the moonlight as she looked down at the native girl, her mouth working with no sound as if in part still pleasing an absent woman though in truth she had no idea what to say or how to say it.&nbsp; Why was she doing this?!&nbsp; D.did she want to, did she want to pleasure the captain, to be another whore aboard the ship with her?&nbsp; But Sonia had thought she wanted to be a full crew member...so why do this?&nbsp; Was it to meet those goals, or perhaps...was it to spare Sonia from needing to do so?!<br><br>No matter what she thought, what reasons she came to, there was too much of a gap in her knowledge to know.&nbsp; Whatever the case in the end it didn't matter however, she was going to get her in trouble as the captain had given no orders for a switch or permission for Sonia to stop.&nbsp; And...if she were being honest with herself, Ozora had robbed her of her treat.&nbsp; And so, timidly at first, but with growing enthusiasm she leaned back down, cheek brushing against the native's own, well oiled skin making it easy for her to make her way back in, if albeit with company.<br><br>Tongue reached out, having a farther length to reach, but getting their with no less skill.&nbsp; Tongue lapped against not only wet folds of cunt lips and erect clit but now foreign tongue as well.&nbsp; Or perhaps not foreign, she'd tasted that tongue once before on the island, and while it had been days past and then her taste had had to compete against the naga's own, she still recognized it's scent and taste, now mixed in with the captain's juices.<br><br>It didn't take long for Sonia to get more insistant, cheek pressed tightly against cheek, lips brushing both Ozora's own and the nether lips of the captain, tongues intertwining not inside cheeks but rather against wet cunt and occasionally slipping past those lips inside and tantalizing the budding clit.&nbsp; It was certainly not Sonia's normal touch, this held more...passion, more desire and more chaos, but still a determination to please.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>06-11-2013, 12:43:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The same insistent firmness that the professor pressed cheek to cheek was matched by Ozora in a futile attempt to nudge Sonia aside with her slippery body. Her whole marshmallow-soft mouth tried to encompass the captain's hairless pussy so that Sonia could have none, but her lips were too sensitive to Sonia's intruding licks, and she was chased from the eager pink flesh, only to rally and return with another swoop of her fierce tongue.<br><br>If it excited the captain to have two women competing to give her head, Ozora was not motivated by that. She was not motivated by the hissed breath or the spasms of curvy thighs, or the warm little gushes of excitement that painted her dark jaw as glistening as her oiled body. Ozora's frictionless fingers grasped the chain that united her to the professor, and tried to physically pull her fellow slave away. All it served was to bring them closer together, so that she was inhaling the professor's warm breath and digging for the same pink pearl in a smothering, polishing spiral of tongues.<br><br>Her hands, too, swept without purchase across the body beside her. She seemed to think that the curve of Sonia's breasts would give her leverage, but she was so supple, so yielding to the pet of fingers, that all her strong hands could do was slide and stroke and tweak across the nipples like the drag of slippery satin cloth. Some of what she was tasting, when she tried to tickle Sonia's mouth away with kisses, was herself. Most of it was the captain, who was very wet, and becoming very slippery herself from the pair rocked back and forth between her thighs.<br><br>When it didn't work to replace Sonia, Ozora made up her mind to share this humiliation with her. Though she did not love the captain, she was randy enough after her sexless voyage to devour most any pussy put in front of her. Her technique differed from the professor, who seemed to intuit the sensuality of textures and small touches, to excite with subtlety and then cup a building pleasure with exciting nastiness until a woman's excitement spilled over like an overfull stein. Ozora was more the hunter, flushing out, exposing the vulnerable tissue to Sonia's gentleness, pressing with organs that were not meant for firmness against glands that drained euphorically from a firm touch, urging with silky drags of her plump lower lip, demanding that the captain cum.<br><br>And she did, with a gentle undulation and a stretch of one honey thigh proud over the bed like the ship's firm mast, a curl of her toes. The captain did not make a sound save for the skritch of her nails into the bedsheets, and instead it was Ozora who gasped out when the captain's sacred squirts blessed her and Sonia both, over the brow and the bridge of the nose, high, tense, warm and watery. When the blue-eyed captain exhaled, she was in bliss, but it did not affect her mood. She always wanted to be left alone right afterward, and her legs nudged the pair from her lap as she lowered the mast to sleep. With a corner of the bedsheets claimed for herself and the professor, Ozora was all too happy to let unconsciousness claim her, too.<br><br>~ ~ ~ ~<br><br>Morning didn't come with any dignity. A fresh coat of oil was applied to the captain's slaves, and Ozora and Sonia both were led by a boat hook to their shared chains through the crew, naked, Ozora ashamed and attempting to cover herself, taking halting little steps that left her vulnerable to the incessant tug of the chain. There was no authority vested on the native this time when they were loaded together into a dinghy, and given nothing but oars to row.<br><br>The captain pointed out across the Gulf waters, such a jewel-like color of turquoise that even the rough marlstone mountains of the coast, tawny and chipped as if by God's chisel, were beautiful beside it. <em>"The water here is shallow, only thirty meters. Your cave is out there somewhere, professor. Beneath the tide, and quite a swim. No place for your books, I'm afraid." </em>Once again, the dinghy was lowered down to the water. As it disconnected and listed to find its own buoyancy, the closeness to the turquoise water revealed great expanses of coral and silvery arrowhead-shaped fish as big as a man's torso.<br><br>Ozora began to row. "You got me into trouble," she said with a huff.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>06-11-2013, 22:51:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia felt lost, her mind held no reason or understanding to what was happening or even why, but beyond that her body was lost as well.&nbsp; Her tongue and lips lost amongst the folds of one wet flesh or another depending on which was closest and weather or Ozora was retreating or invading in on the argued territory that was the captain's inner thighs.&nbsp; But beyond that Ozora's protests confused her in their almost clumsiness, was the press of cheek and tongue meant to push her away or an attempt to draw her in with more fervor, was the tug on the chain about their necks meant to facilitate this or meant to drag her away like a bitch that had gotten into food that was not her own, and were the groping, brushing hands on her body meant to push her away or to stroke and build her arousal further?&nbsp; <br><br>Such answers should have been obvious, but Sonia was in no state to rely on the professor's intellect, the whore instead gripping for control of the answer.&nbsp; And after a while longer it seemed to be right as Ozora's movements no longer suggested reluctance or a desire to dominate and capture but rather to share, tongues and hungry mouths working in an odd tandem on the woman who was both their captain and mistress at the moment.&nbsp; If the two of them fighting for their spot on her wet folds, competing for who would get to pleasure her hadn't managed to get the Captain off, it seemed that the two of them working together would certainly do just that.&nbsp; It wasn't much longer after Ozora gave up fighting that the captain gave in to their pleasure and began covering them in the rewards for their efforts, soaking them far more than the oil had.&nbsp; Sonia had been ready, practiced in reading the way the captain's body moved and the responses felt against her tongue and as such her mouth was still held open, sexual juices pooling within her maw while overflowing and running down her neck. She let her eyes remain closed as she swallowed and felt the unmistakable push to leave their Captain be.&nbsp; Ungrateful or simply unconcerned with them after this point made no difference as Sonia withdrew along with the native girl to their now shared corner.<br><br>The chains ensured that they stayed close, bodies occasionally even touching in the night only to brush off each other in an oil-induced slide.&nbsp; Sonia's partner or competition in the sudden sexual exploit seemed content to fall asleep after her exertion on the Captains unsuspecting body but Sonia could not fall asleep so easily.&nbsp; To say that she too was exhausted was an understatement, but her mind had long sense learned to take advantage of what times she got to herself with any kind of lucidity.&nbsp; But she could not bring herself to think of tomorrow's ruins or the secrets they would hold...instead she found her eyes glancing to Ozora, watching her steady breathing moving her oiled skin reflecting the gentle moonlight and rocked by the movements of the ship.&nbsp; She seemed a much greater mystery at the moment, one that left her confused until sleep too took her.<br><br>~ ~ ~ ~<br><br>Mornings never came with dignity for Sonia, but she did perhaps bear them with more pride, than that of the newly placed native.&nbsp; Sonia did blush, couldn't help but do so, but the color to her skin could be as much from arousal as embarrassment.&nbsp; She made no move to cover herself as she'd learned long ago that there was no point to that and would earn only more humiliations.&nbsp; In truth she would have cautioned Ozora against moving as she was but for the moment the crew certainly seemed to be enjoying her attempts loving the impromptu double feature to this morning's parade.&nbsp; And beyond that her protector had yet to say a single word to her, she didn't feel like breaking the silence just to warn her that there actually were more humiliating things the captain might inflict on her.&nbsp; <br><br>Even so, it seemed to take a much longer time to reach the dinghy.&nbsp; Perhaps it was the slower pace set by Ozora's halting movements or perhaps the Captain was moving slower to draw it out, or maybe Sonia was just feeling this moment with all the more intensity living it vicariously though the native's virgin experience to it, remembering the first time she herself had been stripped and paraded naked among these leering women.&nbsp; The difference was though that Sonia's legs seemed only to glisten more with oil of a different kind under the treatment.&nbsp; <br><br>The professor made no attempt to speak, to ask for her books anyway or ask for a way to waterproof them.&nbsp; A whore did not speak to a ship's captain about what could or could not survive the dangers of the water.&nbsp; And while they would be missed, as would her clothes, she understood.&nbsp; The boat was pushed off and again the silence waned, until Ozora finally broke it.&nbsp; And what she said made Sonia jump with startlement, her head snapping from the picturesque waves to the girl moving the boat through them.<br><br>"I wha-?!" she exclaimed, surprise making her forget that she was technically still with a superior, even if the native's state of dress didn't indicate that.&nbsp; She steadied her voice though her hand still gripped the edge of their small vessel tightly.&nbsp; "I was trying to help you," she answered, apology touching her tone despite her best efforts.&nbsp; "I told the captain how you risked your life to save me, how you're the reason they have us returned not to mention the gold and a prize as valuable as the Naga... I told her I thought that you'd be a worthy addition to their crew.&nbsp; I was trying to thank you...I...I don't know why she did what she did but it wasn't my intention..." she tried to explain.&nbsp; For some reason she didn't like Ozora being mad at her.&nbsp; If she made the crew mad they could take it out on her, and would, and that made her fearful of it, but with Ozora it was different..it wasn't the repercussions...she just didn't want her mad at her for it's own sake.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>09-11-2013, 11:05:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Why did you tell her that?" Ozora squint, though the bright arid sun was partly to blame for that. With each sweep of the oars she leaned way back, and the chain between them rattled taut and pulled the professor to her. On the backstroke slack returned to the chain, and she leaned forward, having to avoid bumping her head to Sonia's. The absurd dance of it made it difficult to stay upset, but Ozora managed. "Now she thinks we are plotting something, and I will never be a crewman." When she bowed forward, the sun's reflection on her skin highlighted the faint scars of lashings past on the toned muscle of her back. She did not understand any better than Sonia the mindset of the captain.<br><br>The oars stopped as the shadow of the rocky, mountainous coast gave some relief from the sun. In the shade, Ozora picked out schools of slender azure and carnation fish, in constant motion like illusions of color dancing over the stationary coral. For the first time, she fiddled with her collar in an attempt to break free. The tough leather was much stronger than the delicate skin of her throat, and the loop for the lock was threaded deep into the material with no weak joint her frustrated fingers could find. It did not help that she was oiled from head to toe.<br><br>"We will have to swim to find it. Swimming is very tiring work." She was acutely aware, when her futile wrestle with the chain brought Sonia's head to her breast, that the chain was given a length that would make oral pleasure uncomfortable and awkward. Two more links, or even one more link, and being bound this way wouldn't be so bad. But the captain had deprived her of that possibility, and now, it seemed, the professor was to be a tease as well as an obstacle. "Maybe it will be best if you hold onto me, and let me do the swimming." But that was easier said than done, as the oil made her hard to pin down. It would take determined clutching to keep hold of a swimming woman as slippery as a fish.<br><br>The tap of an oar eased the dinghy among the marl rocks, shaped by eons of tides into the color and texture of smeared peanut butter. With care not to list the ship Ozora peered over into the coral jungle that lined the shallow bed, and she had never seen such busyness, such teeming life. Even in the jungle, where the animals were beyond counting, human presence could frighten them to scarcity. Here the fish were so dense that they did not even comprehend her form when she reached down into the water, and closed her hand at an elusive shape. The tickle of their energetic bodies bumping against her made Ozora tingle. "Tell me when you are ready. We must go overboard together."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>12-11-2013, 07:58:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia opened her mouth to protest further but than closed it.&nbsp; She was getting a head of herself, despite everything that had happened, Ozora was still her superior, short distance though it might be, it was still not her place to argue.&nbsp; She wanted to, to tell the native how foolish that was.&nbsp; Why would the captain believe that she'd plot with the ship's whore of all people?&nbsp; Besides...what was there even to plot about, Sonia had no pull or sway.&nbsp; She'd only wanted to help Ozora...to help her reach her goals to thank her...but clearly she'd made a mess of it.&nbsp; So instead when she opened her mouth, it was not to protest but to apologize, "I...I'm sorry.&nbsp; I was only trying to help...I won't say anything more if you don't want me to...but if I can make it better let me know and I will," she conceded, head bowed even as it was forced to bob back and forth while she rowed.<br><br>The whore let the matter drop seeing as how it seemed Ozora was wishing to get back to the task at hand.&nbsp; She considered offering the native her services, perhaps promising that she wouldn't tell the Captain no matter what the native did to her or how she touched her but she thought better of it.&nbsp; It would be a pitiable prize, and only reminder her what honors as a crew member she undoubtedly actually wanted.&nbsp; Besides...when the Captain had ordered her to please Ozora she seemed intent not to enjoy it to it's full.&nbsp; Sonia clearly wasn't what the native wanted so she kept quiet.&nbsp; Even so...the professor, beginning to emerge the closer they got to their destination, had to wonder...why had Ozora joined in pleasuring the Captain last night?&nbsp; Had it been an attempt to get back in her good graces...or something else?&nbsp; <br><br>The rowing continued, Sonia having fallen into a steady progression of leaning back and forth in unison with the native's movements and beginning to get lost in her own thoughts of both ruins and how to repair the damage she'd cost.&nbsp; As such it was with a start that her protector announced that they need swim and brought her out of her thoughts with a small sound, a sound soon muffled as Ozora's stopping through off her instinctual rhythm, plunging her into the girl's neckline with a blush as her cheeks were enveloped by the native's warm flesh.&nbsp; Pulling back Sonia gave an apologetic smile before nodding as she glanced out across the waves.&nbsp; Her own mind working out the complexities of trying to swim while still chained and quite heavily oiled.&nbsp; Despite her practice with moving about and gripping onto things while being so slippery she wasn't entirely sure how well everything would work while within the water's own sliding grasp.&nbsp; But she nodded.<br><br>Whatever her thoughts or ideas were, she felt voicing them would be of no help so instead she simply answered, "A.a'right...though if you need me to take over feel free to let me know.&nbsp; I'm not so bad a swimmer either," she assured before glancing down at the native girl's naked body once more biting her lips, "Umm...would it be easier for me to cling to your back then, or to your front?" she offered, knowing that each had it's own potential rewards and hindrances.&nbsp; Idly she had to question the Captain's choice of leaving them chained...if they did find treasure on the other side, how would they get it back if they could barely get there by themselves?&nbsp; But that was for another time, right now they need figure this first dilemma out so slowly she moved closer to the edge of the boat, careful not to pull Ozora over the edge or otherwise capsize them as she slid into the water, keeping her upper body nearly half in while she waited for her protector to join her within the gentle waves.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>14-11-2013, 21:03:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ozora sank into the water beside the professor and turned her naked back to the woman. The gentle bob that kept her at the surface slid body against body as she urged Sonia's arms to wrap around her. Full, dark breasts, buoyant in the water, lost the tension from their under-curve and became only soft and malleable to the touch, that much poorer of leverage for oiled hands. Ozora's arms stretched out so that her shoulders, her flanks, even the collar of her shared bondage could become handholds as well. "When I get tired, I will let you pull me. I can swim for an hour at least."<br><br>A deep breath, exaggerated so that the professor could breathe in with her, and Ozora submerged. The harshly bright Persian sky gave way to depths of turquoise, and the kaleidoscope of colorful fish haunting the coral forest. Ten meters passed like molasses when Ozora first began to move against the swarms of fish, and their slippery, energetic bodies graced her own in shy and tickling darts. Soon she had a taste for swimming among them, and the remaining twenty went in one quick plunge against the living resistance touching from all sides, slithering, swatting, pecking, undulating. At times she caught sight of a rheumy, uncomprehending eye, or a flash of scintillating scales, but it was easier to focus on the coral below than on any individual fish among the thousands in constant motion.<br><br>Broad umbrellas of sheltering coral stretched below Ozora as she reached the reef. Timid fish took shelter beneath the shelves of coral arranged like tree fungus, and deeper still, through the maze of tangled stalks and to the very silt and sand, eels the pebbly color of white noise grew plump on plentiful catch. Ozora's dark fingers clasped around a great golden ridge of coral, jut like a stegosaurus plate from a rolling curve of the sand, and used it to pivot toward the myriad of caves that riddled the porous undersea walls, dozens beyond measure. Her body was taut and confident, still thrilled by the freedom of the open water, even though air would be running short for the both of them.<br><br>Rather than following the light back to the surface, Ozora followed her ears, and the echoing gulp of water into an empty space. Up into one of the caves she went, pulling Sonia along. The only light was below, from the azure glow of the sun through the Gulf, as she broke the water's surface into a dark pocket of air, a cave only large enough for a few minutes' rest. Intense compressed air filled her lungs with every deep breath, and her body heat evaporated. "I see nothing," she panted, "Only caves and more caves, endless caves." Something down in the water, suckered and unctuous, was investigating her leg. She kicked it away. "Do you have a better plan than to check every one?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>15-11-2013, 05:47:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia had intended to keep a gentle hold on the woman, to keep her body at enough distance to allow her full range of motion, but as she first timidly wrapped arms about waist and felt the slip of oil and water nearly repell her hand away she realized such intent was not to be.&nbsp; Her grip tightened, pulling her body against Ozora's own, her own large and near buoyant breasts pillowing out against the curves of the native's slender back while hips found the gentle fullness to her rear.&nbsp; Her legs kicked to keep her afloat and had to again find and match the other woman's rhythm so they were not constantly hindering each other and submerging both before they were ready.&nbsp; Her arms wrapped underneath Ozroa's own, hands running over the fullness of her breasts and squeezing them together with her forearms as she struggled to find the right hold that would see them through this.<br><br>She whispered an apology as she found the right balance, bodies rubbing together at the slightest movement, but for the moment holding firm.&nbsp; And then they were taking their first deep breaths and submerging beneath the waves.&nbsp; Sonia soon realized that her ability to match her ride's leg movements when standing stationary was an impossible task to replicate when they were beneath the waves and instead fighting the near unpredictability of the current.&nbsp; So they too were forced to wrap around Ozora's waist, crossing over to seal her now spread thighs against the woman's rear as she did her best to be unccombersome in the impromptu deep sea pony girl.&nbsp; <br><br>Despite the difficulties and her fear that she was being much more of a burden than she was worth to her protector who was already angry with her for her earlier involvement Sonia found the water's wonders to be a deep treasure.&nbsp; The salt stung her eyes at first, tears lost to the water's abyss before growing accustomed and slowly finding a focus all their own.&nbsp; She would have gasped at the simple wonder if her breath had not been so forcefully held within her breast.&nbsp; She had always loved swimming as a child, but she'd grown up near the docks of her city, where swimming was not encouraged both for it's dangers and for the darkness to it's waters.&nbsp; Despite those warnings, or perhaps because of in her youth, she'd taken time to travel it's surfaces...dreaming of one day being a place as free and open like this where the waters ran clean of human involvement and the fish were curious enough to brush against skin and nibble upon.&nbsp; Sonia found herself smiling beneath the waves, water and beauty sapping away her worries for the time being.<br><br>She looked down at the sway of hair inches from her face as Ozora pushed and pulled them along the seabed, reading the currents and following her well honed instincts among the coral.&nbsp; How often to as a child had she dreamed of sharing this hidden world with someone?&nbsp; Living on some secluded beach, fresh water and warm sun to melt troubles away, warm flesh and passionate embraces to flourish her body...and of course remnants of an ancient civilization to keep her mind active.&nbsp; It was a pity that Ozora was so unhappy with her, or rather not interested in her as this might have been an ideal place to...&nbsp; She shook her head slowly, blond hair of her own swaying in the water.&nbsp; More childish thoughts, whores did not get moments on the beach that did not involve women taking pleasure from her body.&nbsp; So instead, she'd focus on the ruins...or unfortunately lack there of as their search had just started and they need come up for their first gulps of air.<br><br>Sonia still marveled though despite herself, watching the swaying web of light dance across the ceiling of rock formations just barely above them.&nbsp; Slowly the professor shook her head to Ozora's question.&nbsp; There was equipment for such things, mirrors and ropes and other devices meant for searching out caves from the safety of a boat, but only the most well funded of expeditions and trained scientists had access to them, Sonia of which was neither.&nbsp; Her benefactors saw her on her knees rather than safely searching with frivolous machinery.&nbsp; Sighing she turned her mind to a more...practical solution, one that two naked women chained at the collar could accomplish.&nbsp; "We should be able to spot the ruins themselves...with this kind of current and the changing tides, artifacts of some sort have surely made their way to the mouth of the caves.&nbsp; I'd suggest keeping your eyes out for anything hand crafted, small utensils, statues or idols perhaps?" she offered with a small shrug.&nbsp; "I'll keep my eyes open and I'll..." she trailed off looking at the tightly held grip she maintained over Ozora's bust.&nbsp; "Umm, I'll squeeze in the direction I see something," she concluded almost apologetically.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>18-11-2013, 01:40:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It sounded like a sensible idea to Ozora. She nodded in deference, not seeming to notice the professor's embarrassment. Just as a whore surrendered control of her body, a slave's body belonged to her mistress. It didn't naturally occur to Ozora that Sonia was not her mistress, and that perhaps she oughtn't grope- or then again, maybe she did realize, but allowed it regardless. As a whore the professor's body was very popular among the crew. As a slave Ozora's body was not. She was whipped, she was tossed to the floors, she was trod on, but fondled she was not.<br><br>Another deep breath of their private cave's limited oxygen, and she sank below the lapping water for another tour of the brilliant colors of the reef. She was looking for things deeper down, maybe half-buried in the silt or reclaimed by coral tangles. Her movement was gentler this time, and she grasped the stiff and spiny coral to find her way. Fish darted from the coral castles through her dark fingers with a tickle that made her cringe. When a slippery black eel came out in a long stream of sinewy motion, <em>then </em>she recoiled. But it was more afraid of her than she of it, and it disappeared again into another burrow.<br><br>Seeing the drab silt through the cloying color of the reef was easier said than done. Ozora was peering through the shadows, and trying to follow the idlest tugs of the professor's hands upon her oiled body. Left? Was that a left? By the third time she'd gone chasing after a little tightness in Sonia's grip, she was learning to ignore the grasping pressure into the tissue of her breast. When it was a true squeeze, she supposed, she would be able to tell the difference. And if it was followed by a frantic kicking, that probably meant the professor was drowning.<br><br>She was sifting into sand of endless softness and depth with a broken horn of coral when the shadows changed. They had been fluttering, chaotic, cast by hundreds and hundreds of tiny fish so dense that only the barest flickers reached the bottom, like the jungle floor under dense canopy. Ozora only noticed those barest flickers when they stopped. A shadow was moving over them. It was large, and opening, and reaching in every direction at once. In the time it took her to turn around, there was nothing to be seen except the frenzy of little fishes. Had the professor seen anything? She lacked the vocabulary to ask, except to point toward the surface.<br><br>Air was running low. Her muscles ached for oxygen. Ozora lost her place among the coral to swim for the honeycomb of sea caves, and took precious dizzying moments to discern which contained the plink of water into open air. When finally she emerged into a pocket of breathable air, she was gasping, and pulling herself up the craggy rock to ensure that Sonia got plenty of air, too. It was a larger cave, nearer to the surface, with dozens of tiny crabs clinging to the stone, nibbling at moss. They scuttled away from her hands as she climbed until the water was no longer making Sonia's body weightless. There was a sense, an irrational sense still too vague to mention, that there was something hunting her.<br><br>"There are fish everywhere I try to look. We should blow them all up and save ourselves this trouble." Having neatly sullied the professor's romantic vision of her, Ozora took a deep breath, listened for Sonia's, and then dropping back into the Gulf's soothing embrace. Hopefully this time the professor would spot something. Ozora was becoming increasingly nervous.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>19-11-2013, 05:38:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia nodded, taking her next deep consumption of breath before the fresh sting of salt water burned her eyes again as Ozora took them back into it's chaotic beauty.&nbsp; If the fact that the water was consuming, the fish persistent and the corals cluttering weren't enough to make such a search seem impossible the fact that Sonia still found beauty in it certainly made the task more difficult for her.&nbsp; It was hard to focus on the details, hard to look for the single smudge when the canvass was vast and the story it told encompassing.&nbsp; <br><br>In truth Ozora, meant to protect and confiscate treasure from ruins that didn't interest her was more adamant at finding this particular ruins than the professor was.&nbsp; Her own eyes were wondering over the different kinds of fish as much as trying to see through the overgrowth form some treasure she knew would only wind up being salvaged and sold with no respect.&nbsp; In the end the need for air and her ride's sudden pointing, sharp turn nearly jarring her off of the woman's oiled body, woke her from her reprieve, reminding her why they were really there only to need to resurface for air once more.&nbsp; That was going to be an increasing problem as the more times they rose for air Sonia knew her breath was going to become shorter from both exertion and simple strain.&nbsp; A fact she knew well, if not from being underwater but certainly from drowning in a much different type of liquid while held between wet legs.&nbsp; She couldn't waist their time looking at fishes, they had a task to be with, so when she managed to catch her breath it was with a firmer resolve that she nodded.<br><br>"They're just curious," she assured, suppressing a small giggle.&nbsp; While her comment was obviously not intended as humorous and was in truth an expression of her frustration, Sonia found the woman's response...strangely enduring.&nbsp; "They'll scatter once they're more used to us I should think," she assured once her lips no longer curved in a way that would betray her hidden tone.&nbsp; <br><br>And once more they were in the depths of the water.&nbsp; One oblivious to the fears of the other, but now watching for things of more worth than fish and corals.&nbsp; Her eyes had grown used to the fish, following their patterns and movements, knowing when to look over one of Ozora's shoulders or the other, this time not to follow but rather to avoid them being in the way.&nbsp; She knew too what to look for, while certainly not versed enough in the fluid dynamics of how such items would be carried, she knew what shapes to look for, when a curve was too perfect to be naturally occurring or an angle too sharp or even a color too reflective.&nbsp; But to reason that within her mind was not to make the search easier.&nbsp; And as such, when the first glint of something she thought might be the jewel they sought caught the corner of her eye Sonia was already feeling the need for air burn into her lungs.<br><br>But she didn't want to risk loosing her eye lock on where she had momentarily seen a possible clue.&nbsp; So she squeezed, not the squeeze of a woman holding on or adjusting to the changing current, but rather one of direction, fingers sinking almost eagerly and perhaps under different circumstances pleasurably into the woman's breast.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>20-11-2013, 22:34:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ozora was beginning to feel the burn without oxygen, too. When she followed the professor's direction, she overshot the glimmer and pressed on to the caves again. She had not seen the object at all, but was only vaguely guided by Sonia's squeeze as she searched for their next source of air. It was only by chance that she swam down the particular cave she did, as there was no echo to draw her there. There was no echo because the cavern it opened into was much too large for a small sound like the gentle rhythm of water to travel back.<br><br>She could see, when she burst from the surface of the undersea passage into eagerly breathed air, that they had found something. Terraced pools of water descended like stairs to a small lake of rippling black water, lit by yellow glow from above. The black lake was pierced by a spiraling column of natural stone worked by tools into windows and doors, but the platforms that once made it navigable were long rotted or corroded, leaving it a mystery out of reach. Ozora was immediately struck by how stupid it had been to come without rope, bound together, helpless against the environment.<br><br>Careful with both her own safety and the professor's, Ozora let herself down the first terrace and into another deep pool of water. Just as the maze of caves honeycombed the exterior, there were dozens of dead end caves here in the dim light promising to lead them astray if they ever hoped to escape. By the third terrace, the water could be felt to grow warmer, as warm as a heated bath, returning all the body heat the cool sea had stolen. Ozora's fingers began to fidget with where her collar loosened from the heat, but there was still no way to remove it, and the polished chain might as well have been indestructible.<br><br>"Is this the right place? It looks good enough to me." For a while, she crossed her arms along the lip of the terrace pool and rest her muscles in the warm water, enjoying the plentiful oxygen. Her arm tucked in just a little for the professor to join her in gazing at the inverse tower. Her dark eyes were drawn up toward the light, yellow like gold and shining from the highest and most elaborate doorway, bordered by carvings of pre-Islamic kings and a busty owl-winged goddess. Ozora was looking directly at the goddess' closed fists, wearing the yoni symbol of a woman's womb like bracelets, but the symbology was lost on her. She was only wondering about what treasures may lie tantalizingly out of reach, and how to reach them without the help of the captain or crew. "How well do you climb, English?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>22-11-2013, 06:49:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia tilted her head to let her eyes watch the object she sought, watch as Ozora swam over it oblivious to it's location as she sought out the oxygen their bodies both craved.&nbsp; She longed to reach down and grab at it, so close, within her finger's touch, but to do so she'd have to let go of her protector.&nbsp; And if she did that, she'd slide free, and the chain would pull tight, and likely it would mean the drowning of both of them by the time they figured out how to reunite through their panic.&nbsp; The thought made her cling to the woman all the more firmer as she swam into the nearest cave entrance, again finding precious air for them.&nbsp; Even if they didn't find the treasure, so long as Ozora could find that Sonia would count their trips under as a success.<br><br>But it seemed that this time their success was twice fold as Sonia's gasp was both that from the intake of oxygen from her desperate lungs and the intake of the sight by her eyes.&nbsp; She found herself nodding almost before Ozora had completed her question.&nbsp; Even if this wasn't the exact place, it would undoubtedly lead towards it.&nbsp; And regardless, even if she wasn't loath to try and sink back into the darker depths of the sea, she still wanted to explore these ruins.&nbsp; And the deeper the two of them went, leaning against the new found edge, her body sliding along the length of the native's own when her arm tucked in, desperate for a better view that desire only grew stronger and more resolute.&nbsp; <br><br>"This'll do nicely," she answered, listening to her soft voice trail along the cavern's edges.&nbsp; Her eyes tracing the same statues, taking note of the symbols and the meanings of the position, ignorant of what treasures might be pilfered this time, by intention.&nbsp; She forced her eyes away from the statues and glanced to the native once more, trying to hide the fear budding inside of her.&nbsp; A fear not born of climbing, but of the statues.&nbsp; Considering their last...adventures, the statues and symbols there had proven to speak more of the future than the past.&nbsp; And while the owl-winged woman were hardly that threatening...it was still enough to rush a shiver down her spine despite the warmness of the water.<br><br>"Climbing?" she asked looking up at the obvious destination Ozora had in mind.&nbsp; "Well...OK I guess, while I had the chance to swim, besides jumping the roofs in the slums back home...not so much.&nbsp; But besides..." she trailed off carefully moving her hand to the edge they found themselves on, testing how well the oiled and wet hands clung to the surface.&nbsp; "Besides our predicament...if one of us falls," she continued her eyes lowering to the chain bound between them with a bit of a pout.&nbsp; Oh why did the Captain have to leave them chained?!&nbsp; Especially on this particular island.&nbsp; She was half tempted to return and ask it's removal so they could come back and salvage properly but... the thought of returning empty handed sent a shiver of fear through her far worse than that of the statues.<br><br>"Perhaps we can find some other way up that's less dangerous?" she offered, but not sounding too hopeful.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>25-11-2013, 01:21:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"If we had rope, we could get up there." Ozora was enjoying her hot bath far too much to stir from that position at first, and she endured any tug the professor gave the chain like a beast who refused to move. "This is always the kind of thing she is making me do. Scrub the deck without a brush, jeune fille. Wash the clothes in this dirty water. Work harder on half rations. Maybe it amuses her, or she thinks I speak with spirits to work magic." Usually she did rise to the challenge, but this time she was chained to Sonia. Was this meant to divide them? To make her resent the soft academic? Rather, each brush of her own fim shoulder against Sonia's as the professor kneaded the porous rock reminded her of how desperately she wanted that woman for herself.<br><br>"Maybe there is something on the other side." The warmth of the bath clung to her, relaxing, throbbing, as she braved the cavern air to slip down to the next terrace. Her arms came up to help the professor down next, but she was so slippery- they were both so slippery, that holding Sonia's body meant pressing firmly, almost pinning her against the rock as though she somehow meant to mount her. "Mh." Even so, there was slippage- of slender arms into the open air, of knees through thighs, and the last few inches onto the rough stone when finally they were together on the last terrace step before the dark pool of the underground lake.<br><br>The water was warm here, too. Delightfully warm, almost too warm. A dark film covered her to her heel when she stirred the water with her toes. It brushed off easy to a slide of her fingers, soft like the finest ash, a luxurious color like the deepest, richest shade of midnight red rather than the flatness of black. "Something in the water," she announced, more disappointed than concerned. Worse was that it made her feel even more unctuous and slippery than she had before. "There is a narrow path. We will walk it, it is no more difficult than finding your balance on a ship." But just saying that, Ozora missed her heels. Only the day before she had resented any kind of shoe.<br><br>Similar to the way Ozora had led the way beneath the turquoise water, she turned her back to the professor and ushered the woman's pink hands to her full cocoa hips. To balance with Ozora she was encouraged to physically feel the shifts of balance at her fingertips, not just observe them from the length of the chain. She began to sway with the first steps, maybe more than she did naturally, accentuating every step so that the professor's hands could feel them all the way up her dark legs. "I will watch the edge. You keep your eyes open for a way up."<br><br>The curve of her hips was not just body temperature, but hot from the bath, the heat of intense desire. A tension drew her thighs in taut when the firm edges of the professor's nails graced her, so teasingly close to her pleasure nerves, in the forbidden, squeamish region low beneath her navel and between the bones of her hips. For once she did not resent the oil as she felt Sonia's fingers stroke without purchase to keep her grasp. Oh, that was heavenly! The pirate focused her tunnel vision on the narrow shelf of rock ahead of them, and did not see at all behind them. She did not see the black sucker-lined tentacle rise out of the water behind them, or perceive when it began to follow and haunt Sonia's ankle. When it wrapped and began to climb, only Sonia was aware of it. "Keep up, or we will fall in," Ozora urged.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>03-12-2013, 06:10:36</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia inclined her head from where it rested against her arms leaning over the edge of the pool to take in the native as she spoke of her tasks aboard the ship, and the way the Captain seemed intent to make it more difficult.&nbsp; She felt a bit abashed for having never noticed the woman's plight before now.&nbsp; The ship's whore had no shortage of such assignments and bars placed on how it must be done, but those had often been sexual in nature or otherwise meant to entice those watching her.&nbsp; It hadn't occurred to her that Ozora would be given such menial hindrances to her work for no apparent reason, and discovering this, she was feeling even worse for apparently damning the woman to a worse fate aboard the ship.&nbsp; Especially considering that her only goal had been to help elevate the native higher and she still did not see what politics she'd missed to cause just the opposite.&nbsp; "Must be tough," she whispered as a response with a gentle smile, not sure what comfort would be welcome from one such as she, the instrument that could have been salvation turned into the instrument of her remaining just as she was...&nbsp; Would such a woman want pity, or sympathy, or merely someone to nod and listen along as she relented her burden onto understanding ears?&nbsp; Or would she want nothing to do with her?<br><br>But such comfort, whatever it might be, would be short lived, as Ozora was nothing if not dedicated.&nbsp; Perhaps she still held longings to be made a crew member, or perhaps it was simply the draw of gold, but Sonia soon found herself urged out of the water's warmth and down the steady incline to the next pool beyond.&nbsp; And while Sonia had lingering thoughts that climbing might still prove a possibility, such hopes soon vanished as she tested her oiled bare feet against the slippery wet rocks at even the slightest of inclines.&nbsp; It felt like gravity had increased it's hold on her as strongly as friction had relented it's own and her precious balance was thrown asunder leaving her a helpless woman in Ozora's welcoming arms.&nbsp; Sliding their bodies together, pressing into the heat of each other's body while the lingering rush of the hot spring tried to escape into the open air.&nbsp; <br><br>The professor clung to the native tightly as her feet finally touched the same level as the native's own, melting their bodies the rest of the way into each other as if from the embrace of lovers, well oiled lovers who's bodies constantly needed to tighten it's grip in order to ensure the other could not escape.&nbsp; And while perhaps the intent was more benign than that, it still left them clinging to each other for a short time as Sonia rediscovered her balance and gently let her arms slip out from around the native's own, and the fullness of their breasts to slowly part way with only the gentle caress of a nipple to linger before together slipping into the next pool.&nbsp; Somewhere Sonia imagined the Captain was enjoying herself immensely for the situation she was forcing on the two of them.&nbsp; And idly, she couldn't help but wonder, which of them was getting punished, and for what?<br><br>And yet still there was naught to do but soldier on.&nbsp; So Sonia spared Ozora yet another one of those small smiles, the kind that said she didn't know what she was apologizing for or even if she needed to, but if there was something and she did, then it was there.&nbsp; She found it a bit strange, any other woman might find the excuses for the way their bodies need coalesce as something pleasant and thank the Captain for arranging... but somehow the professor doubted that Ozora saw it in such a way.&nbsp; So instead Sonia busied herself with brushing off the gentle film that had begun to tantalize along her skin, curious yet equally clueless as to what it might be, or what the slippy residue left behind as she rose again out of the water might do.&nbsp; And yet again, their bodies were forced to take on that of impromptu lovers void of the actual intent...but perhaps not the heat.<br><br>Sonia's hands clung, or rather slid, around the native girl's ample hips.&nbsp; Following the sway of them by brushing further along her waist line towards the inner of her soft thighs or lagging behind to the fullness of her rear all in an attempt to find a hold that continued to allude her with every step.&nbsp; And that spoke nothing of her eyes, while not directly suffering the same restraints placed on it by the oil, they always had trouble not taking in sights when the chances of being caught were null.&nbsp; As such, they lowered rather than raised, following the curving brook of Ozora's spine down to where her hands rested on dark hips or the sway of her ass as she took one balanced, almost cat-like in it's litheness, step.&nbsp; She pulled her gaze away, forcing it to follow the much harsher curve of stone and dripping water, but the distraction proved great quite often, again drawing her eyes.&nbsp; Even when she strained her head back, letting the top of Ozora's head fall completely from her sight in attempt to find their way up, her hands saw what her eyes no longer could, knowing the sway and curve, her mind's eyes filling in the gaps until imagination no longer proved enough.&nbsp; <br><br>Perhaps the professor missed their chance to ascend under such distractions.&nbsp; She'd never know for certain despite her attempts to recover her tracks when she gained the wherewithal to look back up, but she did for certain miss the presence of the tentacle looming behind her, drawing ever closer and closer to it's pray, bridging the distance between them and the pool they'd left behind.&nbsp; So, when it's slimy surfaced touched her skin, she jumped with a shiver rushing up her spine, nearly loosing her footing right than and there.&nbsp; She paused, glancing down between their close knit bodies, assuming the touch to be that of some vegetation wrapping along her ankle, but as it began to ascend higher she soon discovered that her captor was no simple seaweed.&nbsp; Her squeal echoed across the confining canvass walls, her arms clinging tighter to Ozora out of instinct as she fought the urge to kick her leg out, a move that would surely see them plummeting back into the watery depths.&nbsp; <br><br>"Something's got my leg!" she quickly informed, as much a cry for help as the desire to inform her protector of her plight.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>07-12-2013, 02:46:03</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Several kinds of aquatic predator seemed to reach for the professor at the same time. The octopus arm coiled thick and jealous to her leg lifted, to deprive her of her leverage, while the squishy spade of a squid tentacle clapped flush against her delta like a dark and mottled bikini bottom. Suckers in the gripping pad attached, not only to the skin but to the delicate pink tissue. Milking, insistent suction coaxed her to double over, and the pincer of an enormous crab claw bit into the metal chain to drag both women into the dark water.<br><br>It was not deep, near the edge. Ozora tried to rise to her feet in the thigh-deep water, but could only rise to a bend before the chain grew taut. The dark water was dripping off the pale skin of a curvaceous woman tightly spooning the oily professor, her webbed fingers stretched across Sonia's mouth to muffle her cries like a dental dam. Just under the surface of the water, the rhythmic squeeze of a gripping pad sucked in fourteen different places all in rows and columns up and down the professor's pussy, urging her to swell, maybe to be ready for the uncountable mass of thick tentacles swarming where the creature's legs ought to have been.<br><br>"Professor!" Ozora could not see her, through the oversized claw that pincered the chain. All she could do was add her blindly sliding hands to the already overwhelming slides and squeezes and gropes climbing up Sonia's body, and feel between slick and heaving breasts for the rhythm of the professor's heart. Dark chocolate fingers grasped to pry away a loving tentacle from Sonia's shoulders, but Ozora's digits merely slipped and flicked across the tips of the professor's breasts again and again. "I'm here, I've got you," she pledged, despite the futility of her gesture.<br><br><em>"Professor?" </em>the creature parroted, but not in Ozora's thick Zanguebar accent, but in Sonia's own mother tongue of English. The British had been here before, but there was surely no sign of them now. <em>"Are you a learned woman? Maybe we can come to some agreement, yet." </em>Ozora's fingers clutched around the claw dividing her from the professor, and pulled to separate the halves. The claw pinched a little tighter in response, and the native had to yank free her fingers or else lose them. The metal links warped, and one snapped, a thread away from separating the two women.<br><br>Strong octopus arms hugged Sonia's thighs, opened them, stretched them up toward the orange stalactites to expose her to the squirming in the water. It wasn't all the creature's tentacles and Ozora's struggles. There were eels, too, sinewy and strong, unafraid of human contact. <em>"Whether you've come for treasure or just to explore, I'll give you enough to whet your appetite. In return, you will carry my eggs in your warm bodies, and I will not devour you." </em>A tentacle slapped wet to Ozora's face and hugged to give her fingers something else to struggle against.<br><br>Slowly, languidly, the creature's fingers relented from silencing the professor with her webbing and gave her opportunity to answer. Tentacles slipped from her arms, to give freedom back to her hands, for all the good that had seemed to do Ozora. <em>"You will need to open your ass for my pets to widen you. If you don't, then it will be up to these clawed fingers of mine. I doubt it would be very pleasant for you." </em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>13-12-2013, 05:34:09</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The professor was confused, this much was in of itself an understatement.&nbsp; Of course there were other, more obvious, and forceful emotions pushing their way through, accompanied by the undeniable pleasure suddenly forced through her body, but even as her heart thudded in her ears from panic and her cries of fear and pleasure were muffled by the hands covering her lips, confusion was definitely the rational emotion struggling for control.&nbsp; Once the initial vertigo of falling into the river and the fear of striking the shallow water was replaced with the soft features of a creature, spooning her body and enveloping her, and once she saw that her protector had made the same fall unharmed, or at least felt that she was by the way her hands struggled to gain a hold of her still slippery form and her cries, only than did the professor's wide eyes try to peace together what was happening, to try and pierce through the fog of confusion and fear.<br><br>It seemed to her, that she was at once, being molested by a variety of sea creatures, all moving with the coordination of a hive mind.&nbsp; But that seemed impossible, of course, no more so than what she was beginning to realize as the truth, that all of these different parts were connected limbs of a singular being.&nbsp; A being even now covering her mouth with long fingers while tentacles and eels and other extremities played havoc with her body, making it more and more difficult to try and think by the second.&nbsp; It felt like the entire crew had somehow crammed in between her legs to suckle at her skin and milky thighs, focusing on the rosy lips and clit nestled within.&nbsp; And while she had serviced the crew all at once on multiple occasions, it never quite reached the intensity that a single pad pressed between her spread legs like so much clothing in their snugness.&nbsp; So simple, yet so intense was the pleasure that it was turning the muscles in her twitching legs to jelly and threatening to do the same to the professor's mind, reducing her to the wanton whore quite easily despite her fight against it.<br><br>Ozora's cries helped pierce the sensation, as did the brush of desperate fingers against her slippery skin barely felt and barely noticed against the symphony of tentacles drawing her attentions of which even one her protector seemed unable to free her from.&nbsp; She tried to call back, to at least let the native know that she was alright, or at the very least, alive, but her cries thus far had been muffled, and even if they changed from moaning or panicked screams to the focused effort of saying the native's name, the end result was little more than a purr past the webbed fingers.&nbsp; <br><br>And than a new voice spoke, somehow cutting past Ozora's cries without speaking any louder.&nbsp; Most likely because of how close Sonia's body was pressed against the woman's own.&nbsp; But despite the shiver it sent down the whore's mind, the professor was even more confused.&nbsp; She -and it was undoubtedly a she now- could talk?&nbsp; And in her own language and accent no less.&nbsp; A sentient being, so unlike the naga in that she had never heard of such a creature existing, even in legend, and yet...as the woman continued to brush her words along Sonia's neck she realized...the two creatures were very much alike in intent.&nbsp; <br><br>Again Sonia found herself realizing that her sexual talents would serve in getting them out of this situation.&nbsp; And it seemed like an easier decision this time than last, as this... sea chimaera wasn't just offering a chance to live in exchange for the women's cooperation, but rather as guide to riches and the heart of what the professor sought within these caverns.&nbsp; It seemed a good trade...of course, the difference there being that this creature seemed to actually want to impregnate her...&nbsp; The thought made her shiver, used as so much an incubator for some unknown species...bringing more of the&nbsp; monstrous creatures into the world.&nbsp; And that wasn't to say how the...birthing process would begin or end...&nbsp; <br><br>And yet, despite the similarities Sonia could draw between this creature and the naga before her... she found herself comparing the creature to that of the crew more than the naga.&nbsp; This woman had perked up so readily at finding out that Sonia was educated.&nbsp; It had made her instantly desire to lay eggs within her, to use her for her sexual appetites.&nbsp; What was it about her knowledge that made others seek to dominate her in the most humiliating of ways.&nbsp; And of course...what did it say that the whore was aroused by it as well?<br><br>Sonia took in her first true breaths of fresh air as the woman removed her threatening fingers from over Sonia's plush lips.&nbsp; She gasped and panted, and yet, lingering moans escaped through as well.&nbsp; And despite her fear of rebuke, her first words were for Ozora, assuring the woman that she was, for the moment, unharmed.&nbsp; That done, she turned her head, best she could, pulling lightly against her languid restraints to try and get a look at the creature holding her captive.&nbsp; But, with her body so fervently pressed against, most of her view was left to be by inference of what she felt against her naked form alone.&nbsp; But what she did glimpse made her gasp and squirm all the more.<br><br>"I..I'll do whatever you ask...just please don't hurt her," Sonia answered, her heart pounding in her ears, the lingering part of her rational mind that had been trying to solve the mystery of the creature in the background screaming that this was a bad idea did nothing to stop her from thinking of Ozora first this time.&nbsp; In part to make up for their last encounter, and in part trying to make up for her mistake with the captain.&nbsp; Whatever the case, her hands slowly lowered from their attempts at freeing herself or reaching out to the native in turn, and sank beneath the water to where even now her legs were being held spread.<br><br>The crew and Captain had made use of her ass before, and even if they had not, her recent adventures with the naga would most likely have seen her through carrying out this creature's orders.&nbsp; For once on this mission however, the Captain's very thorough use of oil came as a benefit.&nbsp; Allowing her fingers to slip in to the warm folds of her rear.&nbsp; One finger from each hand, then two, and on second thought adding a third from each to spread her hole wide to the water's warmth.&nbsp; It did little to help the cries if pleasure wringing up her body and out past her throat, now no longer muffled and obvious for the two woman to hear but it couldn't he helped.&nbsp; Not anymore at least.<br><br>"W.will...will this do?" she managed, her words soft and timid.&nbsp; This was different, different than the naga taking what she wanted regardless of if it was offered her in exchange for anything.&nbsp; This was fully giving herself over.&nbsp; Actively participating in her defilement.&nbsp; And while it was not something the Captain hadn't asked of her before, it still sent her body heated up far more than the warm waters or the smooth skin of the creature could account for.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>18-12-2013, 05:04:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ozora was more civil when the tentacle abated and allowed her to breathe. The armored claw became her support in the water, to prevent her from bobbing so low that the held chain became tight around her throat. "Eggs?" She was distressed, disgusted, but rallied herself. "Your eggs will never be safe in the professor. Her body is used all of the time." There was no genuine concern for the creature's eggs, but there was a genuine spite in the ease with which she sullied Sonia's good name to a complete stranger. "Use me, instead. I will carry your eggs."<br><br><em>"Of course you will," </em>the creature answered quickly, <em>"you both will, if you wish to live. I have <strong>more</strong> than enough eggs for the both of you." </em>Her webbed fingers smoothed back through Ozora's wet hair, and Ozora was miserable with the sensation, the corners of her mouth tight. <em>"You're going to look so beautiful and radiant stuffed full of eggs. You'll help to usher in a new generation for my people." </em>The slick, blunt nose of a living eel was exploring Sonia's opened hole beneath the surface of the water. Though it must have ached to close, the eel was shy, taking its time, nosing at the exposed pink tissue as though it weren't sure if it truly wanted to be inside of Sonia. Of course it oughtn't- it was a live animal, a strong and sinuous creature made for burrowing through powdery silt with wild, thrashing vibration. Of course it oughtn't slither up into the professor's ass.<br><br>The pressure increased as the eel's head made the plunge to become tightly wedged within the professor's walls. With no other way to make progress, it began to gyrate, twirl, dance, with muscles whose power could be felt throughout the woman's hips. The eel's body was made for this, climbing by undulation, and it was going deeper. The water churned from the lashing of a tail that splished when it broke the surface. <em>"I noticed the way you were eyeing those carvings," </em>the creature said, her strong octopus arms preventing the professor's legs from responding even an inch, hoarding every flex of the muscle for herself. <em>"Are you a scholar of religion, perhaps? Or of ancient kings?"</em><br><br>The pad of her tentacle began to peel away from where it nursed Sonia's pussy to a tingling plumpness. A dozen rounded sucker marks left on the skin, mapping out exactly where the suction had happened, flanking the clit like the five points of a star but leaving the swollen organ wanting. <em>"Here I am both Goddess and Queen. See how my subjects obey me." </em>A second eel nuzzled the electrified pleasure nerves of the professor's slit, and it needed no help to get inside of her. The tissue was made to stretch just as the eel was made to bury its tapered head. Even as its sibling was wriggling a membrane's breadth away, the eel smeared affectionately in search of her opening, and at an unexpected moment popped in its widening muzzle. <em>"Mortal men have dreamed of this kind of power since the first beast was leashed." </em>And it occurred to the creature, in that moment, that what she held in her armored claw was a sort of leash. She ignored it. An intelligent mind was in far greater demand here than a mere slave.<br><br>When the armored claw relented, and Ozora's oiled body slipped atop the professor's, the native's eyes were drawn to the links in the chain where the creature's pincer had damaged it. Only a thin ribbon of metal still held the link intact, and if Ozora's fingers were not so slippery, if she were suitably determined, maybe she could free them. Her dark fingers clasped around the weakened link to conceal what she was doing, and to reassure the professor that she would not abandon her to this fate, her full lips pressed to the panting pink of Sonia's mouth, still tasting of seawater. It was a warm, wanting kiss, searching for the same feeling on the professor's lips, and the creature took notice.<br><br><em>"Oh, how sweet," </em>the creature purred, her pale lips close to Sonia's ear and warming it with her breath. <em>"Is this dark woman your lover? Open her for me, if you would. I promise not to hurt her." </em>Ozora's kiss relented, and her big brown eyes were so close that every tiger stripe of the iris, every pool of color that lent to the overall chocolatey warmth was laid bare even in this half-hidden light. Then Ozora's eyes turned away, down her shoulder, and permission was implied for the professor's fingers to dig into her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>23-12-2013, 06:35:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia couldn't help but look at her protector with shock evident on her face as the woman spoke.&nbsp; It wasn't that she spoke so brazenly about her use aboard the ship, it was that Sonia was able to see past the ruse well enough to know that yet again her companion was trying to protect her from harm.&nbsp; And considering that they largely found themselves in this precarious situation though fault of the professor's on top of it, and yet she still tried to offer herself in the whore's place.&nbsp; <br><br>But again, their captor seemed content to ignore both of their please to spare the other in exchange for submission, and in truth, why would she grant such a request when she clearly had the upper hand.&nbsp; Besides, even if the native had had a valid reason that the professor should be spared, or a logical way to talk the creature into choosing just one, it would most likely be for not anyway considering that in Sonia's eagerness to spare Ozora such a fate the professor's fingers were already in the processes of exposing herself.&nbsp; It was hard to negotiate the release of something already submitting after all. <br><br>In truth, Sonia wanted to call out to Ozora, to tell her thanks for the attempt or try to convince her to spare herself but the whore hardly trusted opening her mouth much farther.&nbsp; She was still a panting, moaning mess from the way the tentacles' suction were playing havoc on her pleasure center.&nbsp; And that was to say nothing of her sensitive, stretched opening feeling the shy explorer investigating her offering.&nbsp; And then, timidness replaced by determination the whore felt the creature make it's true drive up inside of her, wiggling and churning about inside of her in a way that, for all her experience as a whore, she had no real comparison to make to any previous encounter.&nbsp; Having an eel try to swim up her ass, was most definitely a first.<br><br>Her fingers were pushed aside quickly, unable to resist the wild thrashing that forced it's way deeper inside of her with every powerful swish of long tail.&nbsp; Even if she could find a better purchase against the insistent creature, she didn't have the strength or the attention for it.&nbsp; Her body shook with the eel's progress, marking a visible connection between splashing tail and writhing human body.&nbsp; Her bit lip came free as her head leaned back and her pure, unmuffled cry echoed about their cavern, sounding pitifully whorish to her own ears as it returned.<br><br>And soon, as her first cry died down, settling into an attempt of managing her sounds to a dull thunder, she felt again the voice of her captor speaking into her ears.&nbsp; But this time it was not of degradation, admiring her body as an incubator or promising to use her to it's full, now it was the type of talk the professor would be interested in.&nbsp; Hearing of civilizations long lost, discussing her areas of interest and passion, and otherwise engaging in a scholarly conversation about the ruins surrounding them should be a dream come true to the professor.&nbsp; But, for all the temptation, even such a promise could not coax the professor to emerge when the whore was in such a state.<br><br>She could barely keep from simply moaning louder in a response, could barely form words on her wet lips and twisted tongue much less think of anything logical to respond.&nbsp; Her legs were tight and tense against the unyielding hands holding them in place, leaving her upper body to writhe above the water and her cries to give little doubt as to what was happening beneath the rippling surface of the water.&nbsp; And that was before the aching need rushed through her body once the tentacle and it's suction cups had removed themselves from her inner thigh.&nbsp; A need that was satisfied in large part be a second eel, taking her near wanton desire for attention and burrowing in as eagerly as his companion next door.&nbsp; It was well that the woman seemed content to continue talking, as Sonia was most definitely robbed of her chance to answer under the new assault.<br><br>Soon though, her moans were muffled anew, her own green-blue eyes opening wide to look into the tigerlilly pools of the native's own.&nbsp; Even if the water were not reflecting on the almost matching color of her own iris, gently making her eyes waver uncertainly, the question in them would be obvious.&nbsp; And it was not the question that Ozora answered, it was not askance of permission to follow orders...it was asking why again, when caught in such a moment, the native chose to embrace the whore in such a way?&nbsp; It went against the other signs leading up to this point, not moments before she had so easily degraded her -even if that was an effort to save her- and now...now she chose to be intimate again?&nbsp; Even if Sonia's mind had been working fully and her body not so...distracted, she doubted she could reason through such a puzzle if she had all the time in the world.<br><br>But time was something in as short an abundance as mental capacity at the moment.&nbsp; But one thing Sonia was able to latch onto, one thing that slowly allowed her to regain control of her otherwise twitching hands, and that was the creature's promise that Ozora would not be harmed.&nbsp; Perhaps it was folly to believe such a creature, but, if it was a chance, it was not one that Sonia was willing to risk loosing, and with Ozora's implied consent...she had no choice but to let her hands sink deeper beneath the water, resisting the temptation to interfere or aid the writhing creatures within her own body, and instead, seek out her companion's.&nbsp; Her soft, oiled fingers found the curve's of the native's rear easily, as much from instinct as being able to follow the long lines of her slender legs.&nbsp; They hesitated there, groping at her full ass seeking purchase and perhaps building up the reserve of strength needed to carry through before her fingers slid in deeper, meeting over the apex of her opening.&nbsp; As gently as she could manage with her twitching fingers and far more shaking body, she sought to push them in just as she had done moments before to her own, letting the mix of oil and water ease her progress before finding enough depth to begin pulling, slowly, apart.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>28-12-2013, 23:15:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ozora's fingers worked at the frayed chain with the same euphoric, post-exhaustion strength that the professor used to leverage open her tense and disobedient back door. The professor's slippery digits had to court her, grasp and rub for purchase, and awaken a primitive need before the muscle ring would dilate. And though it was still only a pinhole on the whole curvy breadth of Ozora's dark hips, an eel found the target. "Nh." The native's teeth raked her lip, her body rose over the squirming mass of tentacles restraining the professor. Between Sonia's hands the greasy eel began its inexorable burrow, swatting away the professor's helpful fingers with the boundless, thrashing energy of its tail. "Oh no," the native huffed, her eyes nearly shut, body tense and high to draw the chain taut between them. The last threads of the damaged link snapped, then, and Ozora crested atop the professor with a joyous cry before she, too, was becoming entangled and claimed.<br><br><em>"My apologies, professor," </em>the creature was saying, <em>"I must prepare you a little more. These eggs, you see, are fairly large. Not too large for a woman of your lovely proportions, but you must be acclimated." </em>An octopus arm grasped the tail of the eel buried in the professor's bent posterior, and began to pull. The eel did not want to be pulled out. It fought instinctively against being grasped from behind, and its panic was a crazed, intense tremor unmatched by anything rational. The eel's tongue darted at its surroundings, which were the internal walls its churning had worked over. Its resistance could be felt pulling deep, like wet suction running up the professor's core. Gradually, and only by the sea witch's inhuman strength, the wriggling eel was pulled out again. it launched away into the water, away from the splashing and the jerking motion of human limbs.<br><br>An octopus arm followed to caress the aching gape while the second eel still flipped like a beached fish within Sonia's womanhood. The tapered tip of the creature's tendril unfurled to penetrate the shocked sphincter, and pressure followed as it thickened quickly. Soon it was filling the professor out snugly with compressed and firm cephalopod flesh. The very tip curled playfully around inside like a lolling tongue, wet, delicate, tracing. A little tickle preceded every forceful push to work the fat girth a little further up the orifice meant only for exit. <em>"But what does an intelligent woman see in a brute like this? You and I, we could stimulate one another. It's so rare I receive intelligent company." </em><br><br>Ozora was held over Sonia at the height of her bliss, pinned by tentacles with her back in mid-arch. Her dark legs were too slippery to really injure the professor's body as they squirmed to try to defend her lap from rubbing, probing, stroking tentacles, but there would probably be purple bruises blooming on the both of them. "No, not like this," Ozora pleaded with the very tips of her breath, the broken chain a glittering noose dangled from her tense and panting throat. Sonia was made to witness the reaction of Ozora's body to this teasing, making her anxiety palpable in whimpered protest and oily, barely-restrained jumps of her lissome legs. <em>"The last guests I had were very rude. Their bones are being picked clean in the depths." </em><br><br>Ozora's knees locked together over the professor as the creature inflicted on her an unwelcome climax. "Ahah~" she purred, her rebellious strength turned to goo, an explicit demonstration on the unfurling of a female orgasm for Sonia to witness. The native's chocolate thighs were fluttering butterfly wings, taken by delicate little spasms on the whims of the breeze. Her washboard tummy was tense as marble, but still moved from the tighter-than-tight contractions beneath the surface. The captain had deprived Sonia of being able to feel them up close, and now the sea witch had, too. "I'm sorry," Ozora told the professor, "I didn't mean to." Though emotionally exhausted, her legs were still made to squirm from the eel tail now worn like a part of her body. It was wagging like a happy puppy, but Ozora was mortified.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>05-01-2014, 08:03:10</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia's fingers were timid at first, testing the ease with which they could comply with the creature's orders and Ozora's unspoken consent.&nbsp; But she quickly realized that timidness would not get the job done, and so slowly, apologetically, she let her fingers become more assertive in their desire.&nbsp; Eventually persistence gave way to stubbornness and she managed to pierce the woman's hole enough for the eel to lay it's own claim to it.&nbsp; She gasped, feeling the thing's insistence dwarf her own eagerness to pierce the woman's body in it's inhuman thrashing and she saw her own reaction to it mirrored in the native's eyes as they locked.<br><br>With her task done, Sonia's mind held nothing else to focus on, no mental task to perhaps dim the elation coursing through her veins and no sooner had her fingers parted the native's skin was her eyes loosing their determination and instead glazing over.&nbsp; The body was pushing aside the desires of the mind, leaving her a moaning mess that belied the creature's words of her having any intelligence as she spoke on.&nbsp; Still, as stuborn as the body was at insisting she give up all rational thought and simply enjoy the process of being bred her mind did have things to grasp onto as well.&nbsp; Perhaps not as strongly as the tentacle grasping into her rear or the riveting eel in her sex or the feel of Ozora's own thrashing, oiled body pressing against her intermittent around her captor's tentacles.&nbsp; <br><br>As such she came in and out of focus as either her protector or her imprisoner spoke, trying to focus on one signal or the next, clawing at the moments of lucidity with much more desperate fingers then those that had submitted Ozora to the same treatment.&nbsp; The creature was making her an offer of sorts, at least she thought she was, and given the predicament she was not one to insult the woman but she was hardly in a state to reply with any eloquence or political correctness but something told her that simply moaning would not produce the best of results either.<br><br>"I..I..." she tried speaking for the first time in what felt likes ages.&nbsp; Her words were more moans than not but she tried to push past that.&nbsp; If her tone couldn't help but sound like a wanton whore, perhaps at least her words and syntax could.&nbsp; "I'd be tempted but.. nhnn... my interests cover a great many societies... not all of which can be studied here..." she began before her eyes returned to focusing on the native girl.&nbsp; She should say something more, try to defend the woman's own honor or otherwise assure the woman that she was a dear companion not so easily dismissed but...something about the woman was distracting her.<br><br>The nature of her moans seemed...apologetic, remorseful even?&nbsp; Emotions that made no sense here, at least, not belonging to the woman victimized by her own ward in assisting the creature to avail her body to the eels.&nbsp; But it was another mystery of the woman, one to add to the collection formed on their journey, and one she'd have to devote more time to once she had her mind back.&nbsp; If she had her mind back.&nbsp; "And I would not so soon forsake my companion.&nbsp; She's been invaluable too me so far," she added, her words loosing focus as much as her mind was despite the desire to put some assertiveness to them.&nbsp; <br><br>The professor had had her say, now the ship's whore wanted hers.&nbsp; Sonia's moans grew louder again, loosing what little diplomacy she'd managed to muster and her eyes went from semi-lucid to rolling into the back of her head as her own body shook and writhed against the native's.&nbsp; Had she been able to focus, she might have seen more in the clues of Ozora's temperament and expression, but at the moment, Sonia only had attention for the way their bodies pressed against the tentacles separating them and the all consuming thrashing of the separate creatures within her holes.&nbsp; In the end, Ozroa's orgasm only managed to herald Sonia's own, close on it's heels, and coursing heatedly through her entire body.&nbsp; Wet walls squeezing in rough spasms against the beings invading her insides and warmth flooding into the water of her own making.&nbsp; Sonia felt her legs rub and brush along the smoother skin that was undoubtedly human and she managed to open her eyes to see Ozora's plea once the pleasure receded enough for her to speak.&nbsp; <br><br>She didn't know what the woman had to be sorry for, or why such a negative emotion could follow such an obviously intense orgasm, but Sonia said the only thing that seemed natural, that seemed to fit.&nbsp; Simply, "It's OK."&nbsp; Her words a whimper, a bit slurred from tongue and lips that had yet to regain control, but they smiled drunkenly at her companion, comforting her in the only way she could.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>15-01-2014, 20:51:01</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				When Ozora was allowed, she crowded very close to feel the violence of orgasm course through the professor's body. Her fingers sprawled across flickering hips, her cocoa-dark lips pressed to a spasming shoulder, and she blocked out the sensations of slithering tentacles, lapping water on her skin, the buzzing eel thrashing within the muscles of her own hips. There was something sacred about the ship's whore, something that pulled Ozora to possess her, even in the face of danger, even in the onslaught of forced bliss designed to make the toes curl. Tentacles slithered up and down where her toned tummy sandwiched to Sonia's, depraved, primitive stimulation, coupled with such deep and thick penetration that it showed either an ignorance or a carelessness for internal anatomy. In spirit, , though, she was with the woman whose brow hers touched.<br><br><em>"If you owe her such a debt," </em>the creature mused, completely in command of her faculties, not even out of breath as tentacles tightened across limbs and swiveled up into the tightness of Sonia's poor bottom, <em>"Then I will accept your company in exchange for her freedom." </em>With a wet, sucking pop, an octopus arm vacated the professor's backside. The last sucker clung to her tissue, only releasing its departing kiss when the creature gave it a sharp tug. Then a second tentacle, perhaps a little thicker than the first- these things were so difficult to tell, and so intense as to be immaterial- crushed for entry. What had been so firmly packed before was stretched a little further, so that the climax just moments prior was not allowed to snuff completely. The tentacle jerked with a living electricity into Sonia's responsive body to reignite the dwindling flame. <em>"You will stay, and she will be freed. <strong>Unforsaken.</strong>" </em><br><br>Through the haze were the presses of Ozora's lips, relieving the heat beneath the tender skin of Sonia's throat with rings of moisture, accepting the professor's feverish passion into her own lips. "I won't leave you," she murmured to the throat she was kissing, so soft and resonant that it was felt through the taut skin and into the membranes of the ears, more than it was heard. Her kisses traveled from the tense collar, up the slope of a shivering shoulder, along the fine chin panting for breath, attuning herself to the pleasure Sonia was feeling in lieu of her own. The appendages binding them together tightened, first from the creature's squeeze, and then from gravity. They were being lifted from the water, like fish in a net.<br><br><em>"You must see the treasure room to appreciate how your intellect could be satisfied in a place like this." </em>At those words, treasure room, Ozora's kisses paused. She breathed, in and out on the corner of Sonia's mouth, and became dimly aware of the dark surface of the water shrinking below as the creature scaled the porous stone pillar without need for handholds. Octopus arms became firm as stone as they contorted to the intimate curve of the stone, and wrapped into the hollows of windows to chambers long abandoned. The suckered pads of squid tentacles gripped the stone where it was smoothed by tools centuries ago. A crustacean claw, much too strong to touch the professor's fair body, bit a notch into the highest ledge to pull the three of them into the highest chamber of the tower.<br><br>The eels slipped free and tumbled to the dark water below as the golden light of the highest chamber washed over them. The treasures of Persian kings and Mughal shahs sparkled in nests of coins, untarnished gold. Near the crests of each golden hill the mints were old Greek and emblazoned with the lost Library of Alexandria, but as the creature's tentacles disturbed each pile, she uncovered the coins of places that had never existed; the truesilver of Plato's Atlantis, and the stone tokens of biblical Cush. Professor and native alike were deposited before the mildew-etched altar of the shrine's sacred relic, a golden hilt with a sword-blade of shaped fire, the flaming sword entrusted by Yahweh to guard Eden. Ozora warmed herself beside it with a naked shiver, oblivious to its nature.<br><br><em>"Mmh." </em>The creature crawled, slipped, and draped herself over a hill of creatures. A body both blue as the cloudless sky and grey as a sunless winter heaved with exertion, full and pregnant breasts pooled into every facet of the cool jewels beneath her. <em>"One shouldn't exert oneself like this. We will have to do the oviposition up here. Very soon." </em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>18-01-2014, 20:33:56</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia's eyes snapped to attention as her mind clicked on.&nbsp; Her body had been lost completely to the sensation of tentacle, eel, and native all competing for her attentions and consuming her with pleasure.&nbsp; But what managed to bring her back from the depths was this new offer, and as such her head inclined at an odd angle, wanting to look at the woman kissing her neck even while her body didn't want to pull the sensitive skin away from such tender affections that proved to be a gentle arousing lust against the tempest.<br><br>A chance to get Ozora out of here, free of this, free of her.&nbsp; All she need do is have the strength to sacrifice herself like Ozora had proven capable of doing up to now.&nbsp; She could do that, could agree and let the woman escape.&nbsp; So why was her mind having so much trouble giving that simple answer.&nbsp; Was it because she feared to live here without human contact, having only this monstrous woman as a companion?&nbsp; Or was it because she feared what fate would befall the native girl when she returned to the ship without her ward?&nbsp; She wished such a question came when she had full use of her faculties, when she wasn't distracted be the sound of her own whorish moans and the sensations that caused them.<br><br>But whatever her answer might be, Ozora gave hers first, almost whispering it along her neck, felt as much as heard.&nbsp; Her eyes went wider, her head tilting to look at her, full of wonder and confusion.&nbsp; Why...why would she say such a thing?&nbsp; Why not chose escape, why not ask her to make the deal?&nbsp; <br><br>Then the water began running down their bodies, dripping off of them like the small tendrils of a lovers fingers into the watery depths below.&nbsp; Their bodies hugged together, embraced by the tensile force of the tentacles encasing their bodies as they were lifted up.&nbsp; <br><br>The eel wiggled free, it's thrashing, desperate need to bury inside of her unable to fight against the force of gravity until it became another splash beneath them.&nbsp; Without it's insistent need, the feeling of the tentacle making it's way unapologetic into her became more intense, but so too did her awareness as the scenery changed.&nbsp; Using the moment to try and think clearer but even then it alluded her until they finally made their way into the chamber.<br><br>Then, for a brief tenure, the sensations to her body took a back seat to her mind.&nbsp; One by one she started cataloging what she saw, taking in one treasure after another with the greedy eye almost as lustful as the tentacle still embedded inside of her.&nbsp; By the time her mind placed some of the treasures belonging to one of the lost ruins of Alexandria she was beginning to loose count and soon knew that she could spend years here before she saw all there was to see, much less placed together how it managed to arrive in one place.&nbsp; It was quite literally a holy grail of her study, and so impassioned was she by it she half expected to find that here too somewhere amongst the treasures.<br><br>Sonia too cradled next to the native, basking in the warmth of the sword.&nbsp; Her body pressed tightly against her own as much by choice as by the tentacles still directing their tour through the treasure room.&nbsp; Her eyes lusted after the treasure, to see that was clear if any were to look at her, shining through to make it's presence known amongst the more bestial lust that resided there.&nbsp; <br><br>Before her choice had been an obvious one, allow her body to be defiled with eggs in exchange for her life and the life of her protector.&nbsp; But now, her choice was not so easily made, and despite her desire to peruse the treasures about her, her eyes sought out her fellow captive.&nbsp; What of Ozora...made free, that certainly was in her benefit even if it would demand of her to go back alone.&nbsp; And what of her earlier devotion to not leave her?&nbsp; If they both stayed, would she be as content to remain among these ruins and treasures with nowhere to spend her gains?<br><br>What would her answer to be?&nbsp; When she turned to look at the woman approaching them, taking in her full visage for the first time, what would she say?&nbsp; The creature spoke, Sonia, left to her thoughts as she tried to reason her situation out.&nbsp; One of few words, preferring to reason first and speak when she was certain, it was a way that fit her well when aboard the ship when her mouth was used for other services and her thoughts were not valued only her acquiesces.<br><br>"W.what about you?" she asked gently, her words soft and still not entirely free of the moans that had gripped her so utterly earlier and even now could not fade completely as the creature readied itself for the breeding that was to come.&nbsp; Her eyes were pleading as she looked now at her protector, unsure and questioning.&nbsp; That she was tempted was obvious, part of her wanted to stay, part of her wanted to leave, part of her wanted Ozora to do one of those options either with or without her.&nbsp; For the first time, her desires were not aligned and focused.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>26-01-2014, 20:14:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I need you," Ozora admitted, with the professor's weight pressed against her, her own breath too slippery to quite catch. The creature was cresting a hill of gold and supporting her curvy form on uncounted strong tentacles, in order to reach up and illuminate Sonia on the significance of the runes carved into the stone. She was too preoccupied to see the gentle way Ozora's fingers guided under the professor's chin to usher her into a kiss, or the way her lips pressed. "Mmh." There was so much riding on this kiss for Ozora. Words often failed her, and her own fickle mood often betrayed her, so maybe the only way to express her feelings was to kiss Sonia like this.<br><br>She was perfect. Her fair skin was a beautiful tapestry for Ozora's fingers to explore in every detail, in search of secret little places to call her own- ticklish or tender spots that had maybe gone untouched by the selfish hands of the ship's crew. It seemed unlikely that any part of Sonia had gone unconquered, but the feeling behind Ozora's fingers was different. Under the warm firelight of the sword of Eden, her cocoa hands cradled and caressed Sonia's shoulders, the nape of her neck, up with fingers curled tight into that gorgeous blonde hair, her nails rest against the skin that told a kitten to relax and go limp. For although her intentions were different, some things were not- she wanted to possess Sonia, just like the creature, just like the ship's crew.<br><br><em>" ... in the 7th century, when the goddesses of the Quraysh tribe fell out of favor," </em>the creature was saying. <em>"But it has always been about fertility. The fertility of Eden, of the Nile, of Al-Uzza or this very reef. It is the celebration of a woman's power." </em>Still a little short of breath, the creature turned, and without bothering to notice what was unfolding between the two women, she grasped Sonia's ankles in her tentacles. <em>"I can think of nothing more beautiful than to give you my eggs in this very shrine." </em>A carpet of cool gold coins gave Sonia no traction to resist the pull, closer, creating avalanches of precious treasures with her hips.<br><br>Tentacles crowded between Sonia's thighs and surrounded her hips so that the creature could bring the woman's valley flush with the squishy soft anatomy that lay beneath her octopus skirt. An unseen silky pout kissed at the still gaping rim of the professor's ass, and the creature was forced to flop back and support herself on her palms. She steadied her breathing at a rapid clip, and exerted herself to push the first egg out. Her eyes rolled back under the lids, unseeing, and her shoulders shivered. They were not small eggs, clearly, and by necessity the only place they had to go was straight into the professor's body.<br><br>It was when the creature was licking her lips and delighted by the first ecstatic relief of pressure that Ozora put her heathen hands on the sword of Eden atop the altar. Unaware of its holiness, she wielded it like she would a ship's rapier and leveled it at the tentacled woman intertwined with Sonia. "Stop!" she demanded. Some of the strength returned to her tired body, and all of it went to holding the flaming sword up and away from the woman she loved. "Let go of the professor!"<br><em>"I can't. I can't just stop." </em>Neither the looming threat of the cutting line of fire nor the outrage of seeing it wielded by an unclean woman could make the creature's eyes focus. <em>"This has to happen." </em>Ozora worked to disentangle the creature's tentacles from Sonia's body, but the muscles were locked. There seemed to be little she could do except hold Sonia's hand as the woman she loved was subjected to the longest, most lopsided chain of anal beads ever conceived.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>29-01-2014, 08:12:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia's eyes went wide as three simple words rolled over as utterly as a tidal wave would roll over the ship.&nbsp; Weather that title wave would capsize the ship or let it by intact was still uncertain as Sonia felt buried by the waves, yet to surface belly up or in tact and stronger for it.&nbsp; And if that's how the words alone made her feel, the kiss that pressed to her lips completed the stormy seas of her mind.&nbsp; Her eyes starred at the woman's own as she put so much attention on the kiss, willing her emotions through her lips.<br><br>Sonia's body twitched and shook, but it was not the rapid movement of intense pleasure, the more subdued and deeper shift that spoke of a pleasure that went beneath the skin, deeper than the surface.&nbsp; Steadily her eyes closed, feeling the lips run over her own and without even realizing it she was returning it, pressing her body deeply back into the native, guided by the caressing hands running over her soft, silken skin made all the easier by the oil and water.<br><br>Her arms wrapped around the woman, clinging to her strong, feminine back so that their busts were pressed together, pillowing out in a chaotic slippery mess under the pressure.&nbsp; But it was not the clinging of a woman wanting to claim in turn, it was one that spoke of wanting, pure and simple.&nbsp; Sonia could feel the intentions, perhaps by the way the native's hand was pressed against her neck, or perhaps through the kiss itself.&nbsp; But weather it be by crew, by monstrous creature, or by Ozora, the only choice it seemed that Sonia had was who held claim to her.&nbsp; <br><br>But what was her answer?&nbsp; Stick with the crew, travel the world submitting to their lusts and desires in between exploring new worlds to have them pillage her discoveries?&nbsp; Join this new creature, become a regular breading toy in between discovering the myriad of treasures this one cite had to offer that even now she was showcasing?&nbsp; Or...now somehow submit to this native girl proclaiming her desire and feelings for her, to a future that held no certainty sense she herself was captive to both crew and this monster woman along with Sonia herself?<br><br>In the end, asking Ozora didn't manage to make her decision any easier, it only clouded it further.&nbsp; Her lips parted, but they never got an answer out past the squeal of surprise as Sonia's body was suddenly pulled away from the native's loving and domineering grasp.&nbsp; She slid easily across the plethora of coins and felt the cold metal slip and slide over her soft skin sending a chorus of rings to echo across their small cavern, like the chime of a fairy and the cascading caress of a centipede along her skin as the disks gave way.&nbsp; <br><br>The other mistress vying for her servitude loomed over her now as she lay on her back against the metal, the glow of the sword now a distant hue across her reflective skin.&nbsp; Her squeal was echoed, both in the cavern's walls and the repeat of her own lips as her legs were spread, still gaping and prepared ass lined up with the new orifice hidden beneath the mass of tentacles ensuring her body was at the queen's mercy.&nbsp; <br><br>Sonia focused on the heavy breasts rising and falling rapidly mirroring her own as the creature began or continued her labor.&nbsp; Her back arched, still mirroring that of the tentacle woman, both leaning back, heavy breasts raised into the air, connected at the hips as monster passed her eggs into what was to be an incubator.&nbsp; The professor.<br><br>The first egg hit.&nbsp; And if Sonia's body hadn't been trapped by the tentacles holding her there, it most certainly would be as her muscles locked suddenly.&nbsp; Her cry into the cavern air bordered on animalistic as she felt the egg press against her ass.&nbsp; And her last fleeting thought was that she wished the creature had prepared her further as she felt her inner walls, loosened from earlier, stretch and forcibly yield to the egg pushing inside of her.&nbsp; <br><br>Sonia's eyes, once widened as far as they could go by Ozora's kiss, now closed as tightly as they could under the creature's impregnation.&nbsp; Her upper body wrythed against the mass of coins, back arched, breasts heaving as she panted, ignorant of the sword that was leveled above them&nbsp; towards the woman and only barely aware of Ozroa's threat on her behalf.&nbsp; But she did feel the strength passed to her through the squeezed hands, her own fingers locked tightly onto the woman as she cried out as the next egg pressed it's way into her body on the tail of the first.<br><br>Her glazed eyes opened, looking up at at her protector kneeling over her, giving her support as if she were the mate of this birthing.&nbsp; Her body was flushed with exertion and heat, her body shaking easily under the onslaught as the next one forced it's way inside.&nbsp; And yet, for all her cries and screams were not of pain, there was something else, something more animal like in nature, as if her body had become just another part of the creatures that made up the monsters body.&nbsp; One more race to make itself known in her form.<br><br>And Sonia was helpless against those instincts clawing at her mind and body.&nbsp; She came again, lost to the sensations completely as she pressed simultaneously into the monster and the native alike.&nbsp; Her untouched cunt twitching wetly as it sprayed up into the air under the pressure of their writhing forms.&nbsp; Her eyes looked up into her protector, unable to hold back for her sake, and this time her look taking on an apologetic tone if only a brief flash between cries.&nbsp; She too was unable to do anything more than ride out this storm.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>01-02-2014, 11:21:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The professor was into this. Ozora had let herself believe, sometimes, when she could hear the professor's pleasure through the walls of the ship, that the woman was merely a good actress. It was something she could convince herself of here, while at the mercy of a monstrous sea creature, but the apology in Sonia's eyes told her the truth. Ozora had apologized because she'd bruised the professor. Sonia was apologizing because she did this willingly. It would always be this way. Ozora's confession, ultimately, changed nothing. The professor had many partners, and an abiding love of pleasure, and Ozora could not cage her like a tamed bird.<br><br>With a helpless little shudder Ozora supported the professor's head in the firm contour of her lap. One hand laced with the woman's fingers over the heave of her pale breasts, and the other held the shrine's flaming sword at bay, so that Sonia would be cared for and comfortable while the creature ravished her. In the dark eyes that stared back, Sonia's apology was accepted. The first egg began to turn inside of the professor, pushed forward by the next. Something made of eggshell should have been fragile, but to the soft tissue the oblong weight twirled through, it had the strength of stone. The pressure within the creature's body was much greater than the power of Sonia's sphincter to resist, and so she would not let the professor undilate, would not let her close her legs.<br><br>Egg after egg stretched through the professor's gape, a little faster with the added lubrication Sonia's pink flower provided, so desperate for attention but going untouched. No matter how she gaped, no matter how resigned the ring of muscle became to penetration, each egg stretched her open. Suckered tentacles were grasping Sonia's soft skin, holding her captive and receptive, but still each egg stretched her open. The rumble of turning, massaging eggs into the professor's body became visible contours in the skin of Sonia's tummy, tracking her progress, deeper, tighter, with no discernible end.<br><br>It was inevitable that two eggs slipped out of the creature as she became more dizzy and reckless. With nowhere else to go, a twice as thick knot bulged against the poor professor, fighting to enter her. There was no possible way they could go back into the creature's body, and no way to reach them to gently separate them. The monster became frustrated as her relief backed up. <em>"Mmmm<strong>mmmm!"</strong> </em>Her tendrils milked at Sonia's hips, squeezing, pulling, demanding that she open herself impossibly wide. Like a wild animal she twisted, to flip Sonia and herself from supine to prone, yanking her mercilessly from Ozora's lap. If the layers of old coin hadn't so much give to them, she might have given the professor a concussion.<br><br>"Kak! You're hurting her!" The eyes could detect the movement of the sword of Eden even when then were numb to all else in the chamber. Ozora was on her feet. The creature's hips, if the bell of her tentacled skirt could be called hips, arched up and bobbed atop Sonia's own to make the passing of those stubborn two eggs easier for herself, rougher on the professor. <em>"Confound your narrow hips, woman, and your beast." </em>The heat of the sword of Eden could be felt in a close dart across sweat-drenched naked flesh as Ozora lunged with it to win Sonia from the creature's grasp. Too many limbs responded at once for the native to comprehend. The monster yelped, but the blade was caught in a thickly armored pincer claw and endured with a hiss between the teeth.<br><br>Native and monster twisted in panting struggle, and poor knotted Sonia was dragged along like a rag doll when the monster moved. Ozora only made it worse. Her weight drove against the creature and made every egg in the chain become locked up with pressure, solid as a marble sculpture until the monster had dragged her off. With their weapons indisposed, Ozora and sea witch alike fell back to cruder skills, scratching with fingernails, pulling hair, falling over one another in panting, slippery struggle for dominance.<br><br><em>"Eek! Quit it!" </em><br>"No, you quit it!"<br><br>Finally, the strength in the sea witch's tentacles began to relent from Sonia's splayed legs, and her suckers began to release from the polka-dotted fair skin. the drenched and sticky union of bodies squelched and separated, leaving Sonia full almost to bursting. The wheezing monster seemed oddly pleased to have Ozora victorious atop her, tugging on sea green hair by the roots, a hot bundle of aggression met with minimal resistance.<br><br>"Professor," Ozora forced herself to say, with the last of the air in her heaving chest, "we need to leave."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 06:55:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia saw only the tale ends of the acceptance in Ozora's eyes before her own shut tightly out of necessity.&nbsp; But it was conveyed, and well it was too for her muscles and body relaxed.&nbsp; At least as much as they could under the circumstances with the one weight removed even while a new one was forcing it's way into her rear.&nbsp; Her back arched, pushing her breasts higher up into their clenched fingers, her free hand gripping tightly to Ozora's side, anchoring herself in the native's comfort while her lower body was ravaged by the tentacles.&nbsp; <br><br>Her cries echoed over the cavern walls, brought about in a predictable pattern that heralded the new bulge of another egg forced into her tiny frame.&nbsp; Eventually the arch to her back receded, her spine resting once more against the bed of coins beneath her as the weight of the bulge of her stomach pushed her down, forced her to straiten out her back with still more to come.&nbsp; The professor, inclined her head higher on her protector's lap, daring a glance between her quivering breasts to catch a glimpse at what she was certain was a bulging body.&nbsp; The actual sight of her near pregnant form, rippling with the individual quivers and round orbs bundled inside of her, made her breath catch tightly in her throat before the next sphere forced a new cry from her lips.<br><br>The idea of fitting the entirety of the bulge the pregnant monster had within her much tinier form seemed impossible, but the Queen clearly had no intention of taking no for an answer as the pace increased.&nbsp; No matter how her body protested it happened, no matter how she tried to relax her muscles and just let it happen, her inner trek felt stretched a new with each egg.&nbsp; The sudden blockage seemed inevitable to what was left of the professor's mind even if two eggs hadn't worked themselves in at wrong angles.<br><br>Sonia whimpered, her cries taking on a fuller form of discomfort as the tentacles tried to knead her muscles and body into an even fuller submission.&nbsp; Soon those cries became full on screams as her body was yanked from the protective lap of the native woman, their hands torn from each other as she was slid about with no more concern than a bag that refused to open.&nbsp; She was vaguely aware of Ozora springing to action, again the protector, always the protector and now Sonia knew that it was for more than just orders.&nbsp; <br><br>If she weren't near unconsciousness, exhausted and not able to think clearly she might have laughed at the scene of native and monster girl having the equivalent of a cat fight on her behalf.&nbsp; But as such she could barely focus on it, barely see it between slitted eyelids and coming in and out of consciousness.&nbsp; She was immediately aware of the results however, feeling the relent in pressure, the slow release of tentacles from her taught skin.&nbsp; Her body, heavy now and unwieldy slid down the mound of coins, her breaths labored as her hand weakly came up to rub the expanse that was her stomach.&nbsp; <br><br>The pressure gone now, the eggs no longer pushing deeper, she could relax, or at least try to relax and recover.&nbsp; But Ozora's cautionary words gave her little time for that and Sonia found herself shaking her head, or more accurately letting gravity turn it from one side to another.&nbsp; "I...I'm not sure how we would have climbed down the rise she brought us up to," she began, getting only a few precious words out at a time before needing another shaky breath.&nbsp; "Even before...this..." she managed, needing not to look at her stomach again to have the implication be obvious.&nbsp; "I...don't know if I can even get up..." she panted again looking worriedly at Ozora.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>09-02-2014, 21:04:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I will carry you." Ozora's body hung tiredly between her shoulders as she stretched alongside the professor and tried to meet the unfocused gaze being lolled around by a restless neck. She was in no position to carry Sonia, and the pillar had been too daunting to scale before. The native's dark eyes spared a glare at the tentacled, clawed, suckered woman half-slumbering very contentedly in a heap of her own languidly curled limbs. The idea that the sea witch might get what she wanted after all infuriated her, and there was a small tremble in her dark fingers as they passed gentle over Sonia's skin. "You surrender too easy, English."<br><br>With oiled limbs that shone under the flickering firelight of the sword of Eden locked in the sea witch's pincer, Ozora scooped up her bride from a bed of gold treasures and gave her head a soft breast to lay upon rather than the hard bite of a hill of precious metal. "But I am willing to fight for you." Her voice was terse, as it ever was- it was part the natural tone of her native tongue, and part the blame she was all too prepared to hoist on Sonia."I will not let you stay here and rot in the dark. Think of all the things you would miss." It didn't take her long to reach the edge, where the water below was black and opaque and the fall much too far for a woman who had scarcely found the strength to shake her head. There was a slight, barely perceptible conch shell curve to the spire of rock, where once a whole temple had been carved from the rock. The vertigo would be terrifying as she braved it with toes that daily navigated the rigging and the ship's sway in heels. She tucked the professor's head tight to her breast, and kept herself talking.<br><br>"The Captain has bought a device from a French doctor which will keep your mouth open." The first juddering step gave her just an inch of gravity to hold them both against the gentle slant of stone. If she were to tilt, or fail to follow the slope exactly, there would be no way to recover. "She has been inventing games for you to play with only your tongue. There is a contest with the crew, and the woman with the most creative game will get to make you do it, for the Captain's pleasure. I do not get to play, of course," she reminded with an unsteady voice, whether a tinge of regret or because she was rounding a corner on the tips of her toes, ducking under a low arch of stone, and doing all in her power to insulate Sonia from this danger. "But I have heard the ideas."<br><br>"A lot of them are about squirting into your mouth. It is an old favorite now to make you taste them, but even the idea to fill your mouth like a goblet, I think, is too tame. That one will not win." Her hand was forced to clutch tight against the eggs packed into the professor's body, and give a little squeeze to keep their profile narrow and balanced for another winding curve. The blessed relief of eroded old arrow slits began to dot the rocky spiral below. Ozora artfully freed a hand to use these sparse handholds, and encouraged Sonia's weak fingers to grasp the links of her chain leash. "There was one where you must undress a woman with only your tongue, and one who will get any tattoo you can paint in honey."<br><br>The shadowed alcove of a half-eroded temple room provided a place to drag the professor inside and rest for a moment. She inspected the eggs crowded into the basket of Sonia's pelvis through the contours on the stretched skin. "I have kept my idea to myself so far." Her fingers traveled down, down, to prod the pearly edge of the egg that couldn't quite fit all the way into the professor. It rotated at her beckoning. "There are dolphins who swim along the ship sometimes. The male dolphins try to use fish and eels to get off." With exacting care, she pinched her fingertips down on the smooth egg with a strength that made the shape quiver in Sonia's cusp, and slowly teased it into coming back out. "I think they would make use of your mouth, if we offer you as bait. Does that excite you?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>OutlawHarlot</strong> on <strong>18-02-2014, 19:28:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sonia wanted to protest further, but if she had the strength to do anything more than shake her head she would've used that strength to prove Ozora wrong and that she wasn't going to give in so easily.&nbsp; As it was she turned to look up at the woman now managing to move her body beneath the professor's own, replacing cold coin with soft warm flesh.&nbsp; If Ozora managed nothing else that in of itself was a relief but she soon felt her body moved closer and closer along the edge as the native refused to give up and leave her behind.&nbsp; By this point Sonia knew protesting or asking for her protector to leave her behind was a futile effort and a further waist of strength she didn't have.<br><br>So instead she focused on the rhythm of Ozora's movements, timing the soft movements and gentle kicks of her own legs against the unyielding floor to try and lighten the load she was forced to bare upon the native.&nbsp; It wasn't much to be sure, but it was something, a small sign she wasn't giving up or surrendering to the fate of being left behind.&nbsp; But even so, every movement of her legs made her need to resist the urge to squirm and writhe making her a more difficult burden to carry.&nbsp; The eggs within her seemed restless against her movements, constantly reminding her that she were pregnant with them.&nbsp; <br><br>The professor wasn't sure if Ozora were talking for her own sake or for Sonia's but in either case she was grateful for it as she listened to the voice echo through the cavern and feel it through the soft folds of flesh her head was nestled within.&nbsp; But the native's topic of conversation made her gasp, and made her need to resist the instinct to squirm all the grater.&nbsp; She was as helpless to change the subject however as she was to move on her own, so she listened, her skin flushing from more than just exertion.&nbsp; <br><br>When she was finally given a moment to rest, her breathing was labored and she was grateful, but having made progress and having something to keep her mind occupied -even if erotic- meant that she was feeling better, some of her strength returning if slowly.&nbsp; She looked down past her quivering bosom as the woman leaned down between her spread legs to inspect the egg protruding half stuck from her well used hole.&nbsp; She couldn't help but let out a gentle whimper against the cave walls as she coaxed the sphere out of her, and even though it was only once against the myriads remaining inside of her, it did help her breath easier.<br><br>But in such a position she had no choice but to look at Ozora as she voiced her thoughts and asked her something so...intimate.&nbsp; Her blush sprung deeper upon her cheeks as she looked down for a moment before giving a small nod of her head biting her lips before the need for breath made her lips part again.&nbsp; How could anyone still confess to care for someone as perverted as her?&nbsp; To admit such a thing to someone who'd just confessed her feelings, seemed a sure way to nullify them as she looked back to the woman curious of her reaction.&nbsp; "Y.you should've been made a full crew member long ago...with ideas like that you'd rise to the top quickly..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Lost Isles of Lesbos ( OutlawHarlot &amp; Dhi )</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>23-02-2014, 23:17:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It pleased Ozora to think she understood what got the professor off, though she did not smile. She looked down her nose at the woman whose thighs straddled her, still coy with the sinful desires of the ship's whore. It was not her way, but... piracy had been new to her, too, and hadn't she learned to like it? The first egg came out sopping wet in her fingers, and she held it up for the professor to see. "Look how big they are." She urged Sonia to hold it, and feel the fluid-filled weight of just one. There were many more, too many to remove from the professor's body by herself, but she was going to try.<br><br>After those eggs that had dilated her, it was not too difficult for Ozora's fingers to press together and reach into the woman. She could feel a resistance, as her fingers opened to touch the second egg. No British sensibilities rendered her squeamish to pushing her fingers up into the warm and hugging cavity of her fair-skinned angel, and her fingers sank in all the way to the third knuckle. There they wiggled obnoxiously, twirling, spinning the second egg at her fingertips for a long and tormenting struggle to reclaim it. "Maybe it will help if you push a little bit." Determined fingertips began to curve around the egg, adding tapered ribs to its round shape, and against wet suction she pulled. The oiled muscles of her arm came into tight, sleek definition as she worked the egg, wiggled it back and forth, and finally pulled it free with an obscene plop.<br><br>"Deeper now." Her fingers did not stop at the third knuckle this time. The palm pressed behind her invading fingers and squeezed for entry. The slow roll of the curved heel of her palm through the professor's petite British anal sphincter- notoriously wound up tight- caused Ozora's fingers to move instinctively inside, and follow Sonia's natural curve with her sensitive fingertips. In her mind, even this was lovely. Soon she was wrist-deep, and though it came as a relief to Ozora's hand, it was surely the worse for Sonia with the pirate's whole hand inside of her. Knuckles flexed against her supple pouch, and fingers worn smooth by handling rope went deep for the third egg.<br><br>A fist was made around that next egg, and it tugged, and turned, and stretched the professor's soft walls with intense moving pressure. A little at a time, her dark palm began to slide back out, giving every muscle a burn to remember her by . The egg slipped from her grasp in those last strained inches, and so her fingers closed around it again as it sat clenched in the professor's cusp, and she wiggled it, vibrated it anxiously until it slipped free. A swirling touch adored the pucker she had wrought, and then before it could fully close but not before it could throb angrily, she pushed again with her Zanguebari fist.<br><br>Every inch that Sonia's ravished body rallied to defend her abused hole, Ozora made up by wearing out the muscles, so that even as the professor's body might ache with all the life in her hips to push the native's fist out, by the time the situation was truly desperate, the necessary strength would not be there. It would only be tight, impotent frustration, and Ozora would knead it with her fingertips for the fourth egg. It was as deep as she dared to go, but with inches of wrist penetrating into the professor's ass, she found it with the lightest of touches. Its contour in the bulge of the professor's tummy shrank away as the unfathomable suction of Ozora's hand and wrist pulling free began. She seemed to be taking every mote of strength with her, and she pulled so slowly that it stretched on forever. Maybe she wanted to hear Sonia's cry echo back from these wet cavern walls.<br><br>A low boom from the surface quickened Ozora's hand to one final slick withdrawal. Rocks rained down from the stalactites to the water below, and the stone spire shuddered. In the cerulean waters outside these caves, two ships were waging war.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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