Page 63 of Bianca and the Monsters

“Oh,” I blurt at the abrupt stirring in my loins, something I hadnothingto do with it… something Pennie notices immediately.

“Bastien,” he purrs, “is that an erection?”

“Um… uh…yes?”

“Would you care to explain that? It ishighlyinappropriate,” he chastises, but I hear the humor in his lusty tone.

I feel my mistress’s hold on my body—from where she rides in the carriage—and her saucy glee at commanding me to rise. I let out a small whimper and admit, “My mistress desires this… you to… take care of me,here, in public, on asteed.” I snort a little wildly and then laugh. “This is not respectable.”

“And we must be respectable.” His amusement is pronounced as he throws his cloak around me—covering all but my head—preventing anyone from observing his hand roughly gripping my pulsing cock. “Not a sound, Bastien,” Pennie orders and I melt from the intensity he wears so well.

I squeak when I feel my mistress’s focus on my tender balls, while Pennie’s hold tightens. My eyes fall shut, my mistress’s gift to enhance my enjoyment of all the sensations.

“No sounds,” Pennie growls and I fight the whimpers straining for freedom.

He jerks hard, owning my focus, but then she enters the game and I can feel her fingertips teasing over me, moving along my inner thighs, squeezing, fondling, blowing my mind. I can almost taste her divine arousal in my mouth and I definitely sense her rapt attention to the ripples of pleasure sailing through me.

I rise from the saddle, chasing Pennie’s touch. His response is immediate, nipping my neck firmly enough that my flight response collides with my desperate need for release. But release is an illusion when caught in the net of Pennie’s and my mistress’s intention to enjoy me any way they like.

“What?” Pennie murmurs when he notices my lips moving.

It’s my mistress’s words that emerge from my mouth. “Pennie, we’re going to have so many wonderful adventures with our perfect toy.”

I moan at the exquisite bliss of being their toy, of having no responsibility other than to be what they need, to fulfill all their desires and my own in the process. My struggle is over. They will never harm me or allow me to be harmed. All I have to do is embrace life in the cage of their enduring affection.

I’m fully caught now, and my mind is no longer warped with the idea that freedom is the ultimate goal. Freedom is lonely. Freedom is scurrying beneath the brush, never daring to stand in the sun and shine. Freedom is the true trap if it keeps us from the connections that bind us in the best way.

A cage was never my true enemy, only the wrong cage, the wrong connections, the wrong life.

I am exactly where I belong.

My mistress speaks through my mouth again, “Go ahead, Pennie, try to make our Bastien find his release. Let’s see how long I can force him to hold out.”

Oh my…

Pennie ramps up his efforts, knowing my body better than I do, better than anyone has until my mistress claimed me. Given my own will, I would finish in a heartbeat, but my mistress holds the reins and won’t allow me to climax. The more Pennie drives me, the more excruciating the pleasure. My mistress skillfully evades several of my attempts to reach the summit, compelling my arousal even higher while continuing to deny me the best kind of flight ever.

On and on, trapped in this delicious torture, I can’t restrain gasps, sighs, moans, whimpers, and whines. My eyes remain closed, not wanting to find myself a spectacle for everyone around us.

Finally, I plead, “Mistress,please…”

Everything stills inside me as awareness blossoms; the delicate threads of our connection are now thick, unbreakable ropes, chains even. The permanence of our bond feels completely right.

“I love you, Bastien,” she says from my mouth, “and you too, Pennie. Now, let’s give him the climax of his life.”

My feathers seek to lift me out of Pennie’s hold, but he locks down on me, working me fiercely while my mistress strokes me from the inside. Together, they redouble their efforts until I’m screaming my release, not caring who hears. Everything is light and wonder, tingling that may never fade, my soul soaring with delight.

I don’t even need oxygen because I’m not breathing. Colors burst in my mind’s eye, a kaleidoscope that resists my attempt to unravel its mysteries. A deep sense of knowing chases away my frustration. It’s not my pleasure-drunk state that’s preventing me from discerning the images. It’s time… or rather,nottime for them to be understood. No, this euphoric display is an introduction, a greeting, not the revealing of a destiny. But the hints of a miraculous future tease me and, in my Taran heart, I know the end of my personal suffering is just the first step on a path that will lead to a better world.

First me, thenthem.

Tarans will live again and, for the first time, they will thrive.

Tears sting my eyes at the thought, the extraordinary knowledge that everything has happened for a reason.

Fate.

As soothing exhaustion overtakes me, Pennie’s support increases. He kisses my head. “Well done, Bastien. Rest now.We’vegot you.”

---