Thread: Passing Strange

Next comes King Diddy. Hs wounding is internal and still entirely mysterious, for he hasn't shared a hint of it with us.

He lifts up the hem of his long pink satin gown to his chest, in the process revealing a pair of snug pink Hello Pony panties that draw an involuntary snicker from me.

Unerringly the nymph's knowing mouth seeks the solar plexus area in the notch under the ribcage - the very spot he's been nursing so sorely for days now.

With unexpected results.

Rather than the blissful spasms she's drawn from the others this time she elicits only pained groans that increase in volume and severity until she withdraws, concerned.

"What hast been done to thee sir?" She gasps, shocked at whatever she's discovered.

"I don't know." He groans, clutching convulsively now at his midsection and bending double in obvious agony. "I know only that I woke one day with a dull ache there as of something precious torn away - some vital part of myself stolen. And it's been growing worse as time goes by. If you're unable to heal me of this terrible affliction then I don't believe I can continue, and must end this foolhardy quest here and now, and rid myself of this pain-wrought life I can no longer bear."

In lieu of an answer she again pushes her head against his ribcage and tongue-probes deftly. He fights it momentarily, grasping her hair and trying to pull her pretty head away, but then she hits a sweet spot and he emits a pleasured moan and relaxes into the treatment.

This session is not like the others - it results not in clasping writhing pleasure, but seems more exploratory in nature, as if she's sounding him out, feeling about for something. And he's not so much squirming in admixed bliss and torment like the others as allowing it tentatively.

She pulls away sobered and serious.

"I fear t'was your very soul stolen sir. Your anima. There's naught I can do but charge thee with some degree of pleasure to mask the pain for a time, which should allow your expedition to continue at least."

And without waiting for a response she moves in, presses her invisible lips against his dark-painted ones and plies him almost savagely with a deep probing kiss that forces his head back against straining wicker. She mounts higher above him, taking the advantage, and presses harder into his welcoming mouth. Both her hands clasp his head gently now, and his in turn clasp hers.

Damn that is some amazing kiss!! Just seeing it is enough to fill my heart with gladness, though it causes sore strainings elsewhere that are rapidly approaching the unbearable. Only moments though till I as well am healed.

When next the water nymph emerges Xey is still heaped senseless across his chair, though no longer twitching, and Diddy stares morosely into the depths of the sparkling pool, one hand absently teasing about the contours of his mouth - obviously remembering and savoring the exquisite pleasures bestowed by that singularly stupefying kiss, while the other presses against the solar plexus, as if attempting forlornly to hold back what is already gone. He doesn't seem to know or to care that his gown is still pulled up round his chest.

DeMonica is beginning to stir now, lifting her pretty head to seek about as if bewildered. Immediately she checks her wounded inner thigh, rubbing over the spot with an unbelieving hand, only to find flesh seamlessly restored and blood entire gone.

Straight to her drifts the nymph, arms outstretched. And welcomingly does the Amazon lay back and part her legs to once again receive the wondrous healing touch. Serafiend begins removing the remaining bandages, briefly touching each rapturously to her mouth before piling them on the grottos floor, carpeted thickly with lush green moss.

I help with the remaining few as the treatment begins, attempting to spare myself the sweet torment watching brings, but even then the sounds alone work their magic and rapture and agony once again rise turgidly in me, hopelessly intertwined like serpents locked in death struggle or sweet embrace, for who can truly tell them apart?

Presently Eri unzips and downfolds beyond the knees the tops of each of DeMonica's thigh-high leather boots to allow unrestricted access to all her grievous wounds. The ivory skin of her right leg, as well as inside of rightmost boot, are disastrously stained with copious blood, which the nymph washes away gently with handfuls of water.

Then Sera finishes unzipping and removing DeMonica's blood-filled right boot, and I remove the other, which is slightly stained though not nearly drenched like its mate. We wash them in the surging pool, thick clouds of dark blood billowing beneath Sera's reflected face. With no brushes or rags available we simply scrub bare-handed, then lay them wide open for drying as the treatment nears its climactic conclusion.

For this the nymph gently removes the smoothly contoured metal breast plate to lave and sooth the bruises beneath it. She cups both hands beneath DeMonica's small but firm breasts and slides them upwards, pushing away the white bandeau top but covering what it concealed at the same time, casting a wicked glance my way as she does. And it could be only my imagination, but it seems Demonica as well smiles at me from behind slitted eyes.

Another straining swollen millimeter the pain rises, threatening to burst at any moment now, and becoming all but unendurable. It's driving me relentlessly mad. And now the worst part by far is the dull, weighted ache compressing everything unbearably. But knowing salvation is within reach at last I grit my teeth, stoically try to suppress as many of the groans as possible, and enjoy the remainder of the show.

Lol I know - another chapter where I continually have to ask myself "Did I really just post that??! "

It continues to amaze me that the people I'm doing this to keep Liking it. At certain times I thought surely someone would get offended and angry and demand that I stop or remove them from the story. But so far so good. Keeping my metaphorical fingers crossed.