DÉMODÉ
This
Is A Fictional Tale Of One Woman’s Story Of Her Imprisonment And Freedom,
Finally. Certainly, This Would Make A
Splendid Opera Or Madrigal Or Movie Script Or TV Serial, I Do Believe
By Izzy Ess Of Some Completeness
Démodé
El Kabana had licked the salt off of her hands from eating crisps. Her stay at Hotel Espangnolit, Akamai, was coming to an end. Her adventure with a native Akamaini had
resulted in a pregnancy of which she wasn’t yet aware. She was considering another walk along the
beach to see if any Akamai would accost her and entice her with his manhood to
lay with her on the soft sand and fuck away the night. She considered paying for an escort who would
escort her to her own bed in her own room and plumb her depths. The lovely waitress was just smiling as she
felt her inner thighs and tickled her pink twitching, itching wee-wee. “OK!” she said. “You can have me, if you wish it, if you do
supply the alcohol and more of these delicious crisps.” The waitress, Jezebel, said, “Yes, OK, I’ll
bring the booze and chips, if you allow me to just bring a native friend, or
two.” Démodé did accede and paid her
bill in full and wrote in a tip which was over 25%. She extricated the tiny hand of her pert
waitress and said, “I’ll be seeing you, anon.”
Démodé
showered and she lay down naked on her hotel bed anticipating Jezebel and
another guest or two, plus booze and salty crisps. She had an itch in her own crotch and rubbed
it gently, feeling sexy and in a mood for several partners, perhaps one for
every orifice. She was surprized when
Jezebel showed up with two lovely Japanese young women with extremely lovely
naked bodies and jet black, long hair reaching down to their own derrieres. Their feet and hands were tiny and within a
minute were quite busy finding places on her body with some heightened
sensitivity, which seemed to be just everywhere. She did lay back and let the waves of
tingling course throughout her body and bring about these delicious crests of
ecstasy. A Suzy Yokahama was just
kissing her upon her upper lips while Nancy, her twin sister, was just kissing
her upon her lower lips. While Jezebel
was smiling broadly, the lovely twins were doing massotherapy upon Démodé’s
derriere and on her private parts with expertise.
Our
Jezebel waited ‘til Démodé was so entranced she started moaning with each wave
of ecstasy. Then she brought in twins of
Russian origins, two males, with tremendous ding-a-lings, who arranged their bodies
underneath and over her to have two extremely large hard manhoods up her
honeypot and up her own back door. They
started rhythmic rocking and Démodé just exploded. She did see some brightly coloured stars and
flashing lights and blazing suns and then became unconscious. She awoke upon the sea in chains. She had been Shanghaied and was on her way to
Shanghai to be sold to the highest bidder.
Chains were heavy and uncomfortable so she sat immobile-like and started
crying, uncontrollably.
Along
with twenty other naked women in big chains, Démodé was released and herded
into open trucks along the dock and chained securely to the inside of the truck
which had some rings which were attached to the inside of the truck. Her jailors held some automatic weapons which
they waved to keep the women from escaping.
Démodé felt some hunger pangs and a sharp thirst which gnawed at
her. Tears were streaming down her
cheeks. She felt defenseless and was
very pessimistic about her future. When
the truck doors were secured, there was abject darkness and her mood was even
worse. She felt herself convulsing and
passed out with fear and trepidation, eh?
Démodé
didn’t sense how long the truck was travelling.
It was a bumpy ride and the chains pressed into her soft flesh. Her hunger, thirst and pessimism were
intense. Finally, the truck did stop and
the doors were opened wide. The sunlight
was intense and hurt her eyes. Her
blurry vision showed some shady figures with big guns who led them all in
handcuffs and in anklets chained together to a building shaped like a large
football on a hill. Démodé spotted
seashores and a lot of scattered rocks.
In a glassed in room, she could see a range of mountains and small
evergreens. All the shackles were
removed and twenty five naked, crying women were released to walk around and
use the open toilets, if they wished.
There was an ornate fountain in the middle of the room for running
water, washing up and drinking. A table
full of cocktail sandwiches was then brought in by men and women bearing
arms. All the food was quickly gobbled
up. Démodé felt less pessimistic and
found a comfy cushion to sit down on and relax.
That
day, a well-dressed oriental man did point at her. She was dressed in a beautiful silk kimono
and her hair was put up on top of her head and secured with two
chopsticks. She was given no underwear
to wear. Her shoes were made of silk and
fit her well. A studded collar was
fitted ‘round her neck and a golden chain was attached to it securely while the
other end was attached to a golden bracelet worn by the oriental man. The man whose name was Xi Chan Fu, she found
out later, led her like a little dog out of the glassed in room to a waiting
chauffeured limousine, where she got in the back with her “master.” Once the cab had started, the man unloosed
his clothes and opened wide his fly.
Somehow she knew exactly what to do.
She fished out his small manhood and she stroked it into hardness. Then she bent her head and took the smallish
manhood into her own mouth and throat and tongued it ‘til he did ejaculate and
she swallowed everything. Her master
didn’t say a word, nor did he grunt or squeal.
She felt the need to show her mock excitement and her master smiled as
he zipped up his fly. She knew enough to
force herself to smile and giggle and to wiggle, playfully.
,
The
chauffeur drove the Jaguar speedily right down the mountain road. At a small wharf on the sea, he parked the
Jaguar limousine and came around to open wide the passenger compartment. Démodé’s master led her out upon the dock and
led her to a fair-sized yacht. A
well-dressed captain saluted and he greeted his employer with an oriental
language. The captain had a golden key
to unlock the golden necklace and the golden bracelet. Démodé was quite free to move about the
yacht. She was given her own private cabin in the hold with a small
porthole. At twelve whole bells, she
wandered up to the Captain’s quarters for a gourmet lunch with sparkling wine
and caviar, lobster and delicious shrimp, fresh French fries and peas and
carrot buds. The captain smiled a lot
and didn’t say a word. He did unzip his
fly and expected her to pleasure him, which she did. Her hunger and her thirst were satisfied and
she was much more optimistic. The yacht had
headed out to sea. At five bells, she
was treated to another gourmet meal and another pleasuring, this time on the
tiny bed within the captain’s room. The
captain did ensure that she was pleasured, too.
She did feel dreamy and quite exotic as a slave, quite free to move
about the yacht wherein she had a private cabin down below the upper deck. Her preference was to sit beside the captain
and he gave her a big captain’s hat to wear.
She felt quite special as she acted out the part of navigator for the
quiet oriental captain who spoke no English, while she spoke no oriental
languages. Frequently, all day long,
they had some sexual experiences which she rather liked as this man was quite
respectful of her feelings. Her feelings
of enslavement faded and she felt more like an equal to the charming oriental
captain.
Surprising
our Démodé, the charming captain said in perfect British English, “I love you,
darling! What is your name?” Démodé did recover quickly and she said, “My
name is Démodé. What’s yours?” “My name is Roosevelt Chen. You may call me Rosey, a name my friends do
like. I am wealthy and I bought you for
a lot of cash. It is my intention to
grant you freedom whenever you do wish and I can take you anywhere you wish to
go. Is that acceptable? Of course, you can choose to stay with me and
I will marry you, if that is what you wish!”
Again, Démodé did recover quickly and she said, “Of course, I want to
marry you. You are the kindest, sexiest,
sweet man, I’ve ever met. However, I
must tell you that I am with child and I don’t know who the father is. Is that OK, my dearest Rosey?” Roosevelt put his hand on her flat belly and
he said, “I would be honoured, my dear Démodé!
I would be happy to be chosen the official father of your child and we
could raise it as our own, forever after, in my home, in old Kyoto, eh?”
Our
Rosey’s mansion was atop a hill in old Kyoto with a view of the Pacific Ocean
and a gorgeous view of the many houses on the hillside. There was room enough for a small nursery and
many rooms for seven children that were borne by our Démodé. Démodé and Roosevelt lived into their 90s
quite happily enjoying their big family enough to make a baseball team. Démodé learned her Japanese quite easily and
the family were easily bilingual and multilingual as they entertained a hundred
guests a year in their big mansion on the lovely hilltop in Kyoto. As a family, they travelled widely in their
private yacht and tried their language skills in many places, including Akamai,
where they stayed at the Hotel Espangnolit, wherein this tale did start. I’m sure that this is as good as time and
place to say, this is
THE
END
© izzy sommers, md
Welland, Canada
December 6, 2013
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