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Seraphima
(by
Eve Adorer)
Chapter 5 – Mule
“You cannot take her in
public dressed like that!” John insisted.
“I’ll take her in public dressed as it damned well pleases me to!”
Teasetta responded. Why don’t you just fuck off to your conference and leave me
to get on with my life!”
Seraphima was wearing only
her twenty-inch heels and a salmon-pink ‘Y’.
The rows between her
mistress and master were growing worse. John’s art business was in a lull.
Teasetta’s high earnings as a university lecturette and part-time judge were
more than enough to keep the pair in the luxury of owning two homes, and the
frivolous indulgence of a personal maid like Seraphima. But John somehow felt
unmanned by living mostly of his wife’s income.
Seraphima had deduced that
there were major problems in the marital bed. She sensed her mistress’
high-tension sexual frustration.
She knew from personal
experience that John had no erectile dysfunction. In secret moments when he
found her alone, he took great pleasure in masturbating his twelve-inch cock
whilst ogling her incredible beauty, as she was forced to watch.
His hands on her body and
his protestations of adoration, she had so far managed to slip away from. But
she knew that, if only he could corner her alone without the risk of discovery,
he would force her to take his pole in one of her
three holes.
Seraphima sensed premature
ejaculation was the problem. Teasetta had probably grown tired of acting out an
enjoyment of coitus that she had never yet experienced in reality.
In the early months of
marriage, she had most likely got off on her own frustration and the notion of
sacrifice. In later months she had tried to talk to John about her needs in
bed. In the latter months, that had not long since seen their first wedding
anniversary, she had thrown herself into work to try to make herself too tired
to need to shed her load in bed: or so Seraphima speculated.
The answer to the situation
Seraphima assumed to be in play, was obvious: Teasetta should take it up her
bum. The anal sphincter would grip the base of John’s penis and make his
manhood stay the course till Teasetta too could have a cum. Seraphima had only
read this in a magazine of course, but she was sure as sure that it was right.
“You cannot take her in
public dressed like that!” John insisted.
“I’ll take her in public
dressed as it damned well pleases me to!” Teasetta responded. Why don’t you
just fuck off to your conference and leave me to get on with my life!”
Seraphima was wearing only
her twenty-inch heels and a salmon-pink ‘Y’.
Her shoes were stiletto
heeled. Of pliable transparent plastic, they showed the astonishing wonder of
the white undersides of her negress’ feet in all their
erotic glory.
She stood on tiptoe within
curved back ballet shoes: shoes with extra-long toes that tapered to a flat
front ground contact. The twenty-inch heels tapered to pinpoint ground-touch at
the back, to lend her little more than moral support as she stood or wiggled.
It had appealed to Teasetta
to let Seraphima’s hair grow once more, and so the sweet Nubian negress sported close-cropped boyishly feminine curls.
Her mouth was not gaped with
a gum-shield-gag now, but took its full natural permanent-kiss-proposed
proffered and offered pose on her lovely face.
Seraphima’s now
ground-trailing tail of pubic hair, was braided into two plaits, and had been
wound around her potently powerful thighs, and tied tight with delicate pink
ribbons to form natural garters.
And she wore a pink ‘Y’. The
‘Y’ was a combination of two-inch broad elasticated straps. It took its name
from the shape it formed on her spellbinding body.
It ran between her legs and
the cheeky cheeks of her cherubic bottom as a single strap; then up her back to
her shoulder blades, where it divided in twain.
The two straps that then
went over Seraphima’s shoulders were no narrower than the single strap under
her crutch and up her back. The single strap only divided so as to pass over
her shoulders and, oh yes, to try and tame her forty-eight-inch F-cup tits.
Seraphima’s impertinently
pert breasts held the straps proud of her body. The straps that came over her
shoulders pressed, one each, hard on her tits and seemed to control their wild
wilfulness effortlessly.
In fact, as Seraphima knew
only too well, her nipples were gripped by knurled needles hidden behind the
straps: needles that penetrated three-inches into her milk-ducts to try and
rein in her free-range breasts.
Below her breasts, the two
straps merged into one again, to complete the orbit of this heavenly body.
Thus, viewed from wonderful
front or wondrous wandering rear, Seraphima wore only a pink ‘Y’ and the
transparent twenty-inch heeled shoes, showing the soul burning beauty of her
negress girl’s contrast of white foot soles.
Seraphima knew when it was
the wisest counsel to stay silent. Such wisdom ruled most when her mistress and
master were having yet another quarrel.
As she stormed out of the
bedroom in her twelve-inch-heeled mules and the lime-yellow business-suite
Seraphima had just dressed her in, Teasetta’s fury was obvious.
“Here: put this on!” she
shouted at Seraphima, as she threw a micro-micro-micro-skirt her way.
“Certainly my lady”,
Seraphima gently curtsied.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean
to shout at you my angel”, Teasetta husked with a smile that was clearly more
sincere by far than its forced status in the midst of Teasetta’s anger allowed
its apparent appearance to convey.
“My lady has always been the
heart of kindness to me”, Seraphima soothed as she curtsied again.
The micro-micro-micro-skirt
was a mere stripling strip or stripe. It was akin to a belt. It was of the same
salmon-pink as her ‘Y’ and the ribbons that tied her pubic hair as glorious
garters.
When Seraphima tied it
around low on her hips, it paid lip-service to being a skirt, but it did not
even pretend to try and cover her lower lips, let alone more than the top
quarter of her bold bottom. Its pleated hem arrived no more than four-inches down
from its string side-tie top. If anything, Seraphima felt more naked with this
apology for a skirt on her, than she had done in just her ‘Y’.
The day was going so wrong.
When Teasetta had ordered her to carry her briefcase for her to court that day,
Seraphima had felt so proud and honoured. Now she, Seraphima, was caught in the
midst of another of her owners’ horrible fights.
The briefcase and laptop
computer were strapped to a wheeled carry-cart with an extendable handle.
Hoping against hope that her
mistress had not changed her mind, Seraphima had already raised the handle of
the cart, and her pretty little hand held it in its gentle grip, at the ready
for the walk to the train station.
…………………
To Seraphima’s joy they were
on their journey.
As she wiggled her wanton
way in a marvellously musically melodious click-clack of steel-tipped stilettos
before Seraphima, the autumn gold of Teasetta’s glorious hair flowed in a
rippling red-river to her high-heels, hiding the rhythmic undulations of the hemispheres
of her siren bottom.
Obediently behind her, the
sensational negress was hiding nothing and
experiencing everything. Seraphima’s ‘Y’ hid the secret of the needles pushed
through her nipples. It also hid too, that its tightness was rubbing Seraphima’s
gaped love-lips and that the tunes played by her tits as they danced and swayed
their independent ways when she wiggled along, were echoed down to her
love-mound by the reverberating elastic of the ‘Y’.
Therefore, as she wiggled
her wonder, Seraphima was not only having her titanic tits masturbated, but her
bountiful bounding breasts were masturbating her minx and, of course, vice
versa.
And to work her all the
harder, and to provide her with a further constant reminder that she was a
girl, with every step she blessed the earth with, the garters formed by her
pubic hair, being tight, pulled on her love lips, sliding them back and forth
and forth and back, rubbing them against each other, with her stimulating
strides.
“Keep up my angel: there’s a
dear!” Teasetta husky pure kitten-purred, amidst the erotic
staccato of her leg-flattering high heels’ click clacking musically on the
hot-sun-reflecting morning sidewalk pavement.
……………………
On the train, the pretty
schoolgirls sat opposite, giggled divinely as they nudged each other.
Teasetta blessed her seat
reading legal papers. Her skirt was ridden risen to reveal the white rose
pattern in her stocking tops and the pure gold of her high tensioned suspender
clasps. A hint of the gusset of her lime-yellow panties glowed in the shadow of
her opened hem. Her russet locks waterfalled down to coil in curled snakes at
her feet.
Shy Seraphima sat alongside
her, her dark black legs running in an eternity from her slim ankles to the
tops of her handsome thighs. Her huge heavy breasts near
resting in her lap. With her pretty hands, she was trying to hide
between her legs, what her miniscule minimality of a micro-micro-micro-skirt
would and could not. She felt proud to be the servant of the beautiful woman
whom she sat beside, and shamed at her near nakedness, dressed as she was in
little more than her ‘Y’.
The pretty schoolgirls
giggled divinely as they nudged each other. Their eyes feasted on the contrast
of the supreme whiteness of the redhead, with the dream blackness of the negress, and finally chose the latter to explore, not just
for its greater exposure, but also for its ultimate superiority in the
descending order of beauty.
Seraphima sensed that the
admiration was of her astounding loveliness and not just of her near nakedness.
And, suddenly, her shame was lifted and she asided her pretty hands so that the
schoolgirls could drink fully from the fountain of erotic wonders, till their
eyes in unison must focus on her mouth and sigh that they could not earn the
bliss of its completely compelling constant kiss.
Seraphima had recognised
these teens. She knew the uniform. She had seen the slightly older girl
feeling-up the pretty little negress in the park that
night when she, Seraphima, had been a girlminer.
Seraphima wondered where the
sexy nymphet might be, and then thought she recognised her joyful sigh: a sigh
a girl might make if she were being slowly, gently, masturbated: somewhere
further down the coach.
……………………
In her private office, off
to one side of the courtroom proper, Teasetta was clearly apprehensive. She had
been a part time junior judge in the minor girl-court for just one year. More
recently, her performance had been monitored by her seniors. They were assessing
her fitness to sit in judgement at the Wider Institute of Girl-Girl Legislation
and Examination, the WIGGLE.
Teasetta was an ambitious
woman. She wanted to swap her junior judge’s red garter for the pearl silk
garter of the higher court. Eventually, she wanted to wear the pink mink garter
of the National Institute of Procedures Protocol and Legal Examination, the
NIPPLE; and, ultimately, the gold and diamond garter of the Court of Litigation
Instrumentation and Termination, the highest court in the land, the terminus
for the most complex and controversial girl-court cases: the CLIT.
Teasetta had already briefed Seraphima on the ways of the court.
“Prepare me please,
Seraphima”, Teasetta instructed, with a hint of her nervous determination to do
well, quavering in her toy-kitten voice.
“My lady”, Seraphima bobbed
an extremely leggy confirmatory curtsy.
She then wiggled over to her
mistress, and reached up her skirt to lower Teasetta’s panties, and help her step out of them. Nextly, she took the
two-inch-broad crimson coloured brushed-velvet garter out of its leather
carry-case, and gently drew it up the swoonmaking curvaceousness of Teasetta’s
left leg, to just above her dimpled knee.
Panties removed, emblematic garter
in place, Teasetta was all but ready-dressed as a girl-court judge.
“I’m not normally this
nervous Seraphima, believe me. Would you please follow me into court and sit
me?”
“Of course my lady”,
Seraphima bobbed an even more leggy curtsy.
As Seraphima took hold of
the glorious gold of Teasetta’s astounding hair, to enable Teasetta to don her
judge’s cape, Teasetta turned, and gave her gentle servant a lovely loving
smile that nearly had Seraphima’s heart leap out of her beautiful body.
……………………
“All rise” came the practiced cry of the svelte brunette clerk of the
court, as Teasetta and Seraphima, two apparitions of outstanding wonder, graced
into the courtroom.
The assembled public in the
well of the court, obedient to respect, stood as Teasetta made her entrance as
judge.
The two particularly
stunning wonders were on a raised platform in the front middle of which was the
judge’s desk.
As Teasetta arrived at, and
stepped in front of her chair behind this high desk, Seraphima reached down and
worked Teasetta’s skirt up over her stocking tops and clear of her bared
buttocks, so that Teasetta could lower her love-slice onto the apex of the
wooden triangle ‘splitter’ affixed to the chair’s seat: the seat of judgement.
The historically never-washed
triangle apex was worn a little hollow by the kisses of the cunts that had
crowned it over the two-hundred years of Spindon’s Girl-Court’s honoured
existence. Nonetheless it still acted, as in long tradition, as an
uncomfortable reminder of the need for the judge to be evenly divided in her
assessment of the prosecution and the defence.
Teasetta lifted her pretty feet and lodged her toes in the stirrups
just behind her, so that, with her legs up and feet thus off the ground, the
full weight of her divine body was on her divided cunt. She then nodded to the
waiting court clerk, who mechanically called:
“Hear ye!
Hear ye! Hear ye! All present
are gathered here this day to see and hear justice administered by the hand of
her beloved majesty the queen of
For a moment, the room was
filled by an erotic mass clatter of high heels and the crisp rustle of tight
skirts rising on nylon stockinged thighs, mixed with the feminine high murmur
of the court officials and the public, as they sat to decorate the court’s
seats with their pretty bottoms.
Teasetta nodded to the
still-standing court clerk a second time.
“May it please your worship,
the case before this court today, is that of Miss Hinanamia Heavenscent
Noirrose, for occasioning, with aforethought and deliberation, the loss, in a
public place, of her holy virginity.”
“Let the accused enter the court”,
the clerk concluded, before revealing her long legs, as she sat down and her
miniskirt rose up her court-issue black tights.
“Let the accused enter the
court”, echoed a sweet blonde girl at the rear of the court, the bailiff, as
she opened the rear doors of the courtroom and called through them when opened.
“Let the accused enter the
court”, came a fainter feminine echo from somewhere in the corridor.
“Let the accused enter the
court”, was barely heard next, more distantly still, drowned by the decidedly
sexy, tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap of a lovely little creature with a mesmerising
wiggle, who shyly entered on tiptoe in her heelless steel-toecapped balletic
shoes.
Seraphima’s gasp at her
grasp of recognition, was drowned in the murmurs of
appreciation of the adorable negress, whose very pretty legs guided and glided
her, like a lovely butterfly, to the box where she must stand as the accused.
The brown-skinned,
brown-eyed little wonder, with her shoulder length curls caught up in two
braided pigtails tied with mint-green ribbons, wore her school uniform.
Her braless breasts poked
out proud pyramids in her crisp white short-sleeved summer shirt. Her
labia-minora-pink and menstrual-leak-red, striped school tie emphasised her
cleavage. Her pleated dull-grey skirt was high up her youthfully slim, but very
curvy, completely bare legs, showing a hint of her mint-coloured knickers. Her
bottom did an entrancing dance as she walked in her school ballet shoes, with
her white ankle socks contrasting with her milk-chocolate brown.
As this adorable delight
rested her tiny hands on the cold brass bar that surrounded front and sides of
the witness box, the eyes of all the women in the court were transfixed by her
lovely legs, steepled on tiptoe by her shoes, and on her firm bottom in the
school issue mint-green knickers, which, as Hinanamia stood on a raised dais,
they could now see more of.
Seraphima dared a glance at
Teasetta, and was relieved to see that her mistress was, apparently, as
enchanted by this lovely apparition, as the rest of the court.
“You are Miss Hinanamia
Heavenscent Noirrose?”
“I am my lady”, Hinanamia
nervously smiled soprano, before shyly lowering her pretty head.
“And you are before this
court today, for wilfully losing your virginity?”
“Yes my lady”, Hinanamia
whispered with her face cast down.
“Speak up please”, Teasetta
gently urged.
“Yes my lady”, Hinanamia
repeated with a husky sadness.
“Tell this court how you
came to be so accused”, Teasetta instructed.
“It was in the park at
school miss. But I did it after school as well see. And there’s a shed there
miss. And… well, the other girls in my class kept telling me how pretty I was.
And I liked that see miss. A girl likes to know she is pretty, doesn’t she miss?
Well, anyway, my best friend Minetta, said she wanted
to kiss me. And teacher didn’t hear cos class hadn’t started yet miss. And so
the other girls in the class said they wanted to kiss me too, and how lovely my
mouth was, with me being a black girl you see miss.
And I wanted them to kiss me. And so at lunchtime we went to the shed on the
sports field where we played at night too. And I didn’t want to get naked or
nuffink. But Minetta said I had great legs and the other girls said they wanted
to see my tits again. And I thought they’d strip me and leave me there like
they did wiv other girls and hid their clothes see. Only they
went all quiet when I showed them my tits. And they said they was really really lovely see. And they wanted to touch them.
And I wanted them to touch them. And Minetta kissed me and put her hand on my
tit, and I really liked it. And then the other girls said they wanted a feel.
And they was up my skirt and pulling off my knickers
as some of the other girls was kissing me and feeling my tits see. And one of
the girls had a test tube from the science labs see. And she pushed it up me
down below see. And it really hurt. And I felt something snap inside me miss.
And then I had these really wonderful jerks like I was dying: jerks what made
me scream I was so happy. And then they kissed me and rubbed my tits and I
didn’t have no more jerks or nuffink miss, but I really liked them kissing and
feeling me up, miss. And I was bleeding miss and so I told teacher miss. And
she sent me to the school nurse. And the school nurse said I was alright, but I
had been very very naughty and she would have to tell the Girl-Police. And I’m
really really sorry if it was naughty and against the law miss. Really and
truly…..”
A sigh and then a murmur
went around the court, as the women and girls there recalled their own early
sexual experiences, and at the innocence of this young beauty, who did not even
seem to know that she had had an orgasm: indeed, by the sound of what she had
just said, several.
And, let us be honest too,
many of the married women their were trying to recall
when, and if ever they had had an orgasm.
Teasetta waited for the
respectful silence to fall once more.
“And do you plead ‘guilty’
or ‘very guilty’ Hinanamia?” Teasetta then gently questioned.
Tears rolled down the
darling black angel’s face, as she croaked: “Very guilty miss. Truly sorry too
miss: really and truly, cross my heart and hope to die if I tell a lie miss….”
In what followed next,
Seraphima found her heart bursting with pride. Here was her lovely mistress
longing to be assessed as suitable for a judge’s post in the WIGGLE. There at
the back of the court were her assessors, keen to see the iron fist of due
judgement fall on the poor teenage schoolgirl in the dock. And yet, Teasetta
did not hesitate.
“Hinanamia Heavenscent
Noirrose, you are an exceptionally attractive girl, and you have indulged
practices that, but for the test tube you mention being used as a dildo in you,
are as natural as the four winds. You are clearly repentant. You know you have
broken the girl-laws and you have pleaded ‘very guilty’ in respect of your
crime. Because of those heinous laws I cannot dismiss your case as I am minded to, and as a truly fair society would allow me to…..”
“Hinanamia Heavenscent
Noirrose, it is the sentence of this court, that you be escorted back to your
school in the company of a permit that I shall sign in my capacity as a
girl-court judge. That permit will instruct, that your headmistress take your
knickers down, and smack you on your bare bottom for a course of time enduring
not less than one half-hour of the clock, or two-hundred slaps, whichever is
the longer: a minimum of one-hundred slaps to be administered on each cheek of
your bare bottom.”
“Take the prisoner down…”
Teasetta instructed.
Amidst the sexy tip tap of
Hinanamia Noirrose’s ballet shoe shod feet, as the honey wiggled from the
court, a free girl once her spanking was administered, there was a murmur.
Murmurs take on different
characters. Those characters are told from their tones.
The murmur that had greeted the little black butterfly with the
caterpillar wiggle when she had charmed into the court, had been one of
adoration of a stunningly attractive girl.
Teasetta knew, because she heard
its high hum, that the murmur now, was expressing surprise at such a lenient
sentence.
“Hear ye!
Hear ye! Hear ye!” called the
clerk of the court.
“That the justice of her
majesty the queen of
“All rise….”
Another hot rustle and
static crackle from the slide and glide of skirt hems on tights and stockings,
along with the pretty clitter clatter of high heels, filled the court, as the
public, there to witness proceedings, stood in respect for the judge.
Seraphima moved efficiently
behind her mistress to lower Teasetta’s skirt as she rose from the splitter,
and bore surprised witness of the copious anointment of crème-Français,
Teasetta had added to the heavy stains from the two-hundred-year history of the
saddle of justice she had just straddled.
……………….
In the side office
afterwards, Teasetta’s tension was self-evident.
Seraphima dare not speak.
She gentled the judge’s garter off her love’s left leg, and returned it to its
protective case, and then picked up Teasetta’s panties to put them back on her
gorgeous mistress, when so commanded.
“You might just as well
throw that garter away”, Teasetta suddenly sighed in a tone heavy with sadness.
“That’s my career as a judge
blown. We can forget the WIGGLE, let alone the NIPPLE or the CLIT. I’ll be
lucky to be even given ponygirl parking offences after today…..”
“You could hear it in their
voices. They were expecting a minimum of a between-legs whipping. I blew it…..
I just damned well blew it…”
To her own surprise
immediately afterwards, Seraphima found herself saying:
“If I may say so my lady, I
thought you were just wonderful”.
“NO you MAY NOT say so!!” Teasetta immediately shouted back, as Seraphima
hung her head in shame.
Then, moments later,
Seraphima felt pretty fingers lifting her chin: two gentle fingers brought the
lantern of love that was Seraphima’s adorable face back up to look out at the world
with pride. Those same two fingers were then touched on Teasetta’s lovely lips,
and too on Seraphima’s stunning mouth just after, to transfer the kiss of
apology.
“I’m sorry my angel. I did
not mean to shout at you, of all people”, Teasetta sighed.
…………………
Leaving Seraphima to make
her own way home, Teasetta took a rickshaw, pulled by a very busty blonde, to
Spindon’s other train station. She was headed for a busy rest of her day
lecturing at the
With only the other servants
for company, John flying over to the
The essence of obedience, as
she cleaned the bedroom and two main bathrooms of her master and mistress’
home, she still wore her tormenting ‘Y’.
The essence of girl too, she was not disappointing the strap of her
‘Y’ pressed hard on her cream pot. Indeed, as she daydreamed of the coming home
of her mistress and the demand that she, Seraphima, undress her and bathe her,
she was lubricating it longingly lovingly lavishly.
…………………
Why should Seraphima not
sleep the sleep of the innocent after a hard day’s work?
In all her naked glory her
black body made her crisp white duvet look whiter for the heavenly contrast, as
she held it in her slender arms and hugged its folded form to her heavy chest,
as if it were a lover.
As she slowly rolled and
writhed in her bed in her deep somnambulist’s sleep, the white soles of her
feet, and the white palms of her hands, played flashing beacon beckon to join
the black wonder.
The tight light curls on her
princessly head were the more feminine for their being so boyish. The lovely
face with the slightly lightly flared nostrils, and the tiny ears, and, above
all, the fabulous lips, was a lighthouse of loveliness.
The fit feline body with its
miracle of mammaries, balanced if not matched for size by the bountiful bottom,
and with the long strong legs with their complex of compelling curves, was a
torch-lit tower.
Seraphima was deep in the
dream of love. Her floor draping pubic hair was loose, and trailed a wild tail,
with trails of twists around her Nubian black legs or contrasting their
devil-dark brown with her bright white bed-sheet.
Can there be any doubt that
the name of the rumpled crumpled duvet in the loving embrace of Seraphima’s
wanting wanton arms was ‘Teasetta’?
Can there be any doubt that,
in her deep sleep, Seraphima did not hear, let alone see,
the door of her room open and then close?
Can there be any doubt that
Seraphima’s sigh, as the duvet ‘Teasetta’ was gently taken from her arms, was
genuine?
Were the pink lips that next
kissed the holy wonder of Seraphima’s gorgeous mouth not real? Was the sigh she
had whispered in her ear not genuine? Were the marble-white legs that now
wrapped around her waist, and the beautiful white thighs that made a saddle for
her, and the sweet aroma of warm honey that came up from between red curls, and
the sweet gold-glistering forearms that embraced her, and the conical breasts
that softly caressed the wonderful mass of her own bosom, and the voice that
sighed “Oh Seraphima!’” as her nipples grew excited, and the kiss of passion
and compassion, and the tongue that parted her lips, and the cry of
astonishment as Seraphima’s proboscis clitoris uncurled and engorged and
engaged deep in someone else’s moist pink warmth, and rose higher and harder
inside a yielding but embracing divide, and, above all, and, beyond a doubt,
and, beyond all wonder, and, above and beyond all worldly beauty, were not the
cries of orgasmic joy that followed on follow on follow and on follow, not the
screams and screeches to heaven attuned, and of heaven attained? And the
exquisite bed of coiling twisting soft sweet scented cupric curls on which both
beauties now lay, and the hand that gently stroked her face and the voice that
whispered “Seraphima, my love”, as she awoke and saw that they were, and was
kissed into silence once more: were they not Teasetta’s?
[to
be continued….]
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