Mediterrania Eterna

I shifted with anticipation in the leather seat of the high speed shuttle as I thought of her, nine long months had passed since our last appointment and I was grateful for the chance to hold her in my arms again.

Not wishing to prolong my suffering, I attempted to redirect my attention to the passing landscape. After all, how often was an Allepan allowed to leave the city? It was certainly a rare privilege, and I should be honored that the council had so generously approved my visa. That’s what I kept telling myself at any rate.

I marveled at the seemingly endless verdant fields outside my window, the breadbasket of Medeterrania. Grapes, wheat, tomatoes; a cornucopia of produce all tended with obsessive care by the Danes.

Mediterrania Eterna. That was the term, the eternal nature of our beautiful homeland, its people, its law. Our perfect existence exemplified by Ciggareadu’s pastoral mural which adorned the wall of every school in Aleppo. Curious word, “school”. I think we borrowed it from the Danes sometime in the distant past. A tragic irony that our word for a house of education should have been inherited from those we now enslaved.

 I felt pity observing them laboring in the full midday sun, their pale skin so unsuited to such endeavors. They were certainly an oppressed people. Ever since their displacement by the Attati over two centuries ago, they had fought to return to the Rhine valley from whence their ancestors sprang.

The Attati themselves certainly weren’t entirely to blame, having been dispossessed of large tracts of their own ancestral lands by American Unionist Yesuites fleeing the Pan American Federation after the inauguration of the first openly homosexual humanist prime minister.

I vividly recalled the tale of the Battle of Konigsgaard from school, of the Sultan Atturi and his men desecrating the Temple of Luther. Officially of course Medeterrania was an ally of the Sultanate of Attat, but images of the indentured and long suffering Danes had made their impression early on, an impression that I would not soon forget.

As the sun began to sink into the western sky I found myself drifting off, and the next thing I saw were the lights of Lydia twinkling in the distance. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I set about gathering my things in preparation for disembarking.

Lydia was as beautiful as I remembered. A sparkling emerald gem on the coast, filled with pristine examples of Volastan architecture, it was indeed a “City of the Second Renaissance”. The influence of nature was everywhere, from the Council building which bore a striking likeness to a conk shell to the Towers of Eras clearly inspired by the labyrinthine architecture of a coral reef.

I managed to stumble onto the loading platform just in time to see Alicia heading towards me at full speed. Fortunately her missing shoe slowed her enough to prevent a collision which might have been more than I could handle in my present condition. She still managed to injure me a bit, and proceeded to squeeze most of the blood from my torso as she hugged me with all her might, squealing like a madwoman.

“Oh my God!” she shrieked, looking absolutely ecstatic as she stared into my eyes, mouth agape, makeup more than a little askew. “I see things were a little backed up at the institute again,” I replied, grinning. “Oh, shut up!” she shot back, giving me a mock slap.

Even disheveled she managed to be the image of perfection I had always regarded her. Suddenly she stopped babbling and simply gazed into my eyes, sensing my adoration. Her smile grew tender and then widened a little; a high pitched sigh escaped her lips before they met my own. I stood there frozen in place, savouring the feel and taste of her until a railman encouraged us to move on.

Groping and giggling in the dark, we made our way to the adjacent platform and caught the next shuttle to Eras where it would be easy to hire a cab to the institute.

I thought it was more than strange that she would want me to sleep over at the institute itself, but I was willing to endure anything for another chance to take her in my arms. She would be utterly mine if only for an hour or so.

Not surprisingly, sleep came only in fits and fretful ones at that. I was sure I could hear screams from time to time emanating from one of the many cutting rooms at the far end of the building. Once I awoke briefly to the sight of a rather short, muscular man who was being forced down the corridor, presumably to one of those dreaded cells. He was entirely naked and sported a substantial throbbing erection maintained by a cock ring which bit deeply into the root of his penis. A moment later one of the security team rapped my slightly ajar door with his nightstick. “Nothing to see here, lights out,” I sheepishly complied, pulling the door shut and made a mental note to be oblivious in future. These were people you didn’t anger. My dick was far too precious to end up on the floor of some cutting room to satisfy the whim of a megalomaniacal guard.

As I finally drifted off into a real sleep my thoughts turned once again to Alicia. Stimulated by the sight of the prisoner, I recalled seeing her once in full regalia, something a civilian isn’t normally exposed to. Her blonde hair was pulled back tight in a bun, her pale, perfect breasts pushed up and outwards by a leather bustier. A black leather garter belt was about her waist complete with matching straps affixed to fishnet stockings. The blonde bush I had enjoyed so as a teenager was almost trimmed away and lay nestled between two delicious plump thighs. It was an image that inspired more than a few masturbatory sessions.

The following morning Alicia tore me from slumber with a sharp jab to the ribs. Ordinarily I would have laughed, however rude the awakening, but within the cold walls of the institute, it nearly gave me a heart attack. Realizing the likely cause of my distress, she burst out laughing. “Would you like it bronzed or stuffed?” she asked, struggling to keep a straight face as she recited the concluding words from a children’s story every Aleppan boy is told to ensure he doesn’t veer from the straight and narrow. “Hah, hah,” I replied, clearly agitated.

After I came to my senses, I noticed her amazingly tight leisurewear and wondered if she would let me take her in the shower. Instead she tossed me some standard issue government soap (gentle as sandpaper) and fresh linen. “Clean up, you stink! Personally, I like it,” she teased, giving my balls a little squeeze, “but rules are rules, remember the taxidermist!” she concluded, unable to stop herself from laughing once again.

I obediently shuffled off to the shower attempting to hide the full erection inspired by her brief but wonderful palming of my eggs.

Once I was “Eras Fashion” I was able to sit with the object of my affection and socialize properly. If I was truly proper I was sure to be laid within the hour, or so I hoped anyway. We kissed again briefly before I sat, and she filled me in on all the dirty details edited from our vidphone conversations. It wasn’t long before she was on about her beloved profession again.

“You can always tell when a thick one is on the table,” she related with some satisfaction, wearing a sarcastic grin. “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing what kind of answer I might expect. “The screaming lasts forever!” Alicia replied, giggling just a little. “I mean, you can always tell, when it’s a real tuber, takes at least five minutes with a standard cut, but the girls stretch it out much longer than that if they’re having fun,” she continued, grinning widely now, clearly stimulated by the thought of it. “Technically its illegal I know, but who can blame them? I did one for nearly half an hour once, it was wonderful!” she added, briefly closing her eyes and biting her lips while she pictured the straining shaft of her victim once again. “Jesus,” I mumbled. “Did he survive the procedure?” I asked, more than a little put off by her lack of empathy. “Oh shit, Bob! Of course he did! I’m not a murderer, just a biter and cutter!” she exclaimed, flashing perfect clinched teeth as she winked. “He enjoyed it,” she said softly, looking down for a moment. 

 Someone who was less familiar with her eccentricities might have assumed she regretted her actions, or was at least ashamed of them, but I knew her arousal was peaking. “Bullshit,” I said flatly, a slight sneer on my lips. “OK, you’re right, towards the end he was in a lot of pain, but he really did enjoy it at first, you know, when I was breaking the skin and just cutting into the shaft, he came……a lot,” her voice had grown raspy now, a sultry whisper. “Mmm…” she moaned softly. Her hand found its way between her thighs, skilled fingers began to brazenly rub her clit through the immodest thin fabric of her tights. “Really?”  I replied, with feigned sincerity. “Oh God!” she gasped, her hand quickening its work about her nub. “Oh yeah, there was so much, so thick and hot. God, it was so hot it took me by surprise a little, you know? All over my lips and cheek, my chin, some on my t-tits,” she stammered a little as she convulsed in pleasure.

 I lost any concern I might have had regarding her mental health, and quickly dropped my shorts to reveal my own thick dick. Fortunately Alicia’s mind was so clouded with lust that she failed to give my rude maneuver a second thought and proceeded to jerk me furiously whilst she frigged herself. Her eyes fixated on my cock when they weren’t rolling back their sockets in sync with vaginal contractions. I knew she was fantasizing about slowly slicing through my girth, but I really didn’t care, her little performance had worked its alchemy on my testicals and I wanted her snatch, whether she was sociopathic or not.

“Let me cut you, Robert,” Alicia hissed, leaning forward to give the head a little lick. “It’d be sooo, fuckin’ hottt…..” I was always amused at the way her teenage grammar and inflections reemerged once sufficiently inflamed. Not waiting for an answer, she proceeded to lick and suck my shaft with all the skill those ten years of cutting had afforded her. Once I was red and throbbing she looked up at me, face flushed and pupils wide with animal passion. “Mmm….I want to slice it, Bobby!” she exclaimed, her lips red and lacquered with a combination of saliva and precum. Much to my amazement I found I was actually considering her offer.

“Let me fuck you,” I wheezed, dodging the question. “Fuck me Bobby!” she squealed, apparently thrilled at the prospect. In an instant she was on her back near the table, legs spread wide, knees drawn up to give me maximum access, so professional. Her plump little ass wiggled with anticipation as I lowered myself atop her, positioning my jerking tool at the sultry entrance to her sopping cunt. Just as I was about to ease the tip past her swollen lips, she wrapped her strong small legs around me and literally pulled me completely within her. I was stunned by her strength and speed, and found myself worried that she might somehow overcome me in a moment of passion, permanently separating me from the member I loved best. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”  she squeaked beneath me, bucking her petite hips, stroking my rod hard and fast within her searing wet tunnel. At that my lower brain took over and I began to fuck her in earnest, again letting lust belay my concerns. I was unable to last more than five minutes this way before spilling a huge load within her, rolling off to the side almost immediately to catch my breath.

Without saying a word Alicia instantly rolled over and began sucking me once again, cleaning my organ of our mingled fluids. I was surprised to find I was still horny, if out of breath. I decided I would bide my time while she worked on me, torn as to whether I should let her finish me off in this manner, or attempt to fuck her once again. Fucking her was certainly wonderful, but an event unto itself. I imagined I knew something of how rodeo riders must feel at the end of day. The longer she mouthed me, the more lustful I became, certain I would fill her mouth as I had her cunt minutes before.

 Suddenly she withdrew her hot mouth from about my shaft and worked me with her hand as she stared into my eyes. “Mmm… Bobby, look how thick and hard it is,” she cooed, jerking my shaft. My penis did look magnificent under her care, as big as it had ever been it jutted from my pubic hair like a proud root, the shaft a dark red, the head a ruddy purple, pre cum drooling copiously from the slit.

 “Let me cut it just a little, Bobby!” hissed Alicia. “I swear I’ll just break the skin, you know you’re not on the list, I’ve got no reason to hurt you honey,” I must have been suffering from testosterone poisoning because at this stage of the game I actually did want her to cut it just a little. I wanted it badly. Perhaps years of listening to her yammer on about severed shafts and shooting cum had affected me for the worse subconsciously. “Do it,” I replied, “Now!” “Oh Jesus! Bobby!” she squealed, her face drawn into a cute frown by the ache in her pussy.

 I waited for her to get up and fetch a blade, but to my surprise she simply reached behind her left ear and produced a razor blade. “What the fuck?” I exclaimed without thinking. “Trick of the trade,” Alicia chirped, giving a coy smile and wink. In a flash she had engulfed the head of my dick once again and a moment later had made her way to the base of my shaft. The feel of her lips against the base made me feel as though I might ejaculate at any moment. Being the consummate professional, she was quick to realize that fact, allowing my rampant penis to slip from her mouth for a moment.

Alicia gazed deeply into my eyes as she stroked my shaft, bringing the blade near my penis. “Oh Bobby, look at your dick...” she purred. “You’ve let it get far too hard, I think you’re about to come,” she scolded. “I can’t let that slide Bobby, you know you have to pay,” I nodded in agreement, fighting to keep from blowing my load before she could cut me a little. “It really is sick that would let things get this out of hand, Robert,” she chastised. “I’m going to have to do much more than I did before, I did warn you,” there seemed little trace of the school girl now, she had been replaced by her older and obviously corrupt sister. I nodded once again, wincing this time as though bracing for punishment. 

 She took the head back inside in her mouth, moaning into my urethra and brought the blade to bear against my shaft. I felt the cold steel begin to break the skin and a tingle in my shaft that rapidly led to an unbelievable rush of adrenaline and pleasure. Pleasure like I’d never known coming as though forcibly injected down my shaft and flowing through my body. It felt as though my nuts were dumping enough chemicals into blood stream to fuel a rutting bull. I began filling her mouth with my seed at a rate I hadn’t known I was capable of and noticed that the volume appeared to match the ferocity and speed of the spasms as a thick stream escaped her beautiful lips and ran down my shaft. She continued to gently saw away at the base of my steely member, making her way along the diameter of the root, being sure to break the skin all the way round. I continued to pump her full of my essence for the next minute or so until at long last I exhausted myself and went limp, a sperm and blood soaked mess.

 I lay there virtually asleep while Alicia lovingly cleaned me and attended to my wounds. After a time, I was vaguely aware of a pause, and then felt her warm, velvet skin against my own as she snuggled against me, her head eventually coming to rest on my chest. “Lets get married Bobby,” she said, toying with my chest hair. Her infection made clear it was more a question than a statement. “In a heartbeat baby if you’ll finally quit this place and be my personal cutter,” I replied. “Bobby, I wish I could, but a Mistress Cutter is under contract until she’s thirty, after that they reevaluate. That’s three years away, you’d have to put your life on hold just for me,” she said, clearly disappointed. “I would wait another decade for you if I had to,” I responded without hesitation. At that she rose up a little and kissed me on the lips. “It’s done then,” she whispered. “I’m utterly yours after evaluation,” Aroused by her acceptance, I fucked her once again, being careful of my wounded dick.

 That night I returned to Aleppo with the scar at the base of my dick and several long cuts on the surface of my dickhead; Alicia’s idea of a going away present, something to remember her by until our next meeting in the fall.

 The state jealously guarded its cutters, making sure the bulk of their sexual energies remained devoted to the job. It would be another month before she would be in my arms again. That night as I jerked myself, still excited by our uniquely intense encounter, I savored the biting pain the motions of my hand registered in my penis. I thought again of her lovely little face as she begged to cut me and of the look in her eyes as she realized her passion. It was too much for me, and for the fourth time in twelve hours I shot a satisfying if rather meager load. Mediterrania Eterna  indeed.

End