{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"e3f20970-765b-4eb1-968d-3534f70114b3","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2018-09-07T19:00:58.722Z","title":"Priapus' Bride","slug":"priapus-bride","shortId":"WTAbCL2c","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Novella","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A girl, about to leave her master's/lover's service, prepares one last gift for Him","partCount":3,"parts":[{"partId":"9f28b247-c366-4b30-b908-8be25b7f198c","title":null,"summary":"\n\n\n\nPriapus’ Bride\n\nCH 1\n\n\n\nShe must get ready. In the\nbathroom she strips and looks at her nude bod","wordCount":937,"readTime":5,"number":1,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"65d197ea-3662-4173-83c8-cc93771c8d97","title":null,"summary":"\n\n\n\nPriapus’ Bride CH2\n\n\n\nThey drive off, into the night.\nShe lies back on the smooth leather seat a","wordCount":1284,"readTime":6,"number":2,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"a1aae4a2-46e4-484b-966d-42860806fb48","title":null,"summary":"\n\n\n\nThe dark Ch 3\n\n\n\nAfter he is clean, she replaces\nhis cock into the loincloth and stands up.\n\n\n\nS","wordCount":2360,"readTime":12,"number":3,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"\n\n

\n\n

Priapus’ Bride

\n\n

CH 1

\n\n

She must get ready. In the\nbathroom she strips and looks at her nude body in the full length mirror. The\nwoman in the mirror is gorgeous. Her green eyes look back at the nude woman in\nthe bathroom. She is proud, the woman in the mirror. She is strong, has no\nregrets.

\n\n

She runs the hot water and fills a\nbag with it. She hangs the bag from the shower curtain bar and picks up the\nnozzle, tops it with a dollop of Vaseline and, with a practiced motion, deftly\ninserts it into her ass, as she squats on the floor of the bathroom, looking at\nthe woman in the mirror. She has done this before. The hot water, running into\nher bowels is not unpleasant. After it is all in, about a quart, she removes\nthe nozzle. She will hold the enema for a while, while the hot water in the\nfaucet runs, hotter still.

\n\n

After she empties herself, she\nrefills the bag, this time with two quarts and repeats\nthe process. She will do it yet one more time, with three quarts. This time,\nthe water flows clear. She looks at the woman in the mirror again, and enters\nthe shower. She does not have time to blow dry her hair, so she puts on a\nshower cap.

\n\n

She must get ready. She takes a\nlong shower. The hot water pounds her body, her face, breasts, belly and lower.\nThe lather cleanses her, but it is not enough. The water rinses the lather\naway. It runs down her body, soaks the blond thatch on her mons,\nand in rivulets falls to the porcelain floor of the tub.

\n\n

She leans forward and cleanses her\npussy, then leans back and lathers her ass. She rinses well. The shower gel has\nno fragrance, but she wants no trace of it’s bitter\ntaste on her skin. She steps out of the shower and dries herself with the\noversize white towel. The towel is plush, soft, and wraps her in its tender\nembrace. She relishes in its softness and warmth.

\n\n

She must get ready. The woman in\nthe mirror sits on the stool, and carefully examines her labia. Any stray\nhairs, she plucks. Her thatch is a perfect triangle. Not a single hair out of\nplace, and none on her labia, or between the pink slit, that is already moist,\nand her puckered brown rose.

\n\n

She stands, proudly. Her five foot\nstature is not tall, but her body is that of a goddess. Her legs are long,\nlithe, toned. Her abdomen is almost flat, only a minimal curve, below her navel\nsuggests her femininity. Her skin, flawless, sports the faintest tan. There are\nno bikini lines on her breasts, and only a triangle of white skin, in her front\ncontrasts with her tan. If it were not for that white triangle; she would not\nperceive the tan, so fair is she. She notices her moisture. She can already\nsmell herself. For an instant, her finger traces her slit, and stops, for the\ntiniest fraction of a second, at her sensitive nub; but no, there is no time.

\n\n

She must get ready. She selects her\nunderwear. Today it will be white. It must be white. A white garter belt, to\nhold up her sheer white thigh-high stockings comes next. Over it, she puts on a\ntiny white thong. She selects a brassiere. Her breasts are pert, firm mounds of\nfeminine softness, tipped by two small, pink, and already erect nipples. She\ndoes not really need a bra, but she will wear one. He will enjoy seeing her\nremove it and, why deny him the pleasure? She selects a flimsy, lacy, strapless\nunderwire. The lacey, frilly fabric does not contain her nipples. She inhales,\nand steadies herself on the counter. Her legs are going soft and fail to hold\nher up. She is afraid that she will fall. She glances at the woman in the\nmirror. After a moment she approaches the mirror over the sink, and applies her\nmake up.

\n\n

She will not wear foundation\ntoday. There is no need. She applies water proof mascara, black, with black\neyeliner. Eye-shadow in three tones of gray. A very light dusting of powder, on her cheeks and forehead. A\ndab on her nose, and she is almost done.

\n\n

The woman in the mirror looks back\nat her, and smiles. She smiles back.

\n\n

She must get ready. Only half an\nhour left. She opens the closet and picks out her dress. She has had it for a\nlong time. She has never used it. It is made of the sheerest silk. It is also\nwhite, it hugs her body, it leaves her shoulders bare.\nIt flares out at the waist into a bouncy, saucy skirt. The skirt comes midway\ndown her thighs. She cannot help it and puts on her white sandals. They have\nreally high heels. She looks much taller on them. Her perfectly pedicured toes are painted scarlet red, like her lips. She\npivots and spins in front of the mirror playfully.

\n\n

She must get ready. She brushes\nher hair, she has no time to do anything fancy with it. She finally decides to\nhold it back with two barrettes, black, with small rhinestones. She ignores the\nbottles of perfume. Today she will wear only her own scent; pure, unblemished.

\n\n

She sees His car arriving at the\ndoor. She must go. She applies her glossy red lipstick, matching her nail\npolish. She waves goodbye at the woman in the mirror. She picks up her purse,\nand puts it down. She leaves the apartment, and closes the door. She does not\nlock the deadbolt, she left the keys inside.

\n\n

She wants to run down the stairs\nto meet Him, but she cannot run with her white high heeled sandals, so she must\nwalk down the stairs. It is more dignified, more appropriate in a sense than\nrunning down like a moonstruck schoolgirl.

\n\n

He holds the door for her. She\nenters, sits on the passenger seat and smiles at Him.

\n\n

\n\n","authorName":"Polecat","authorUserId":"ebd7020d-b966-4c46-acc3-dbc2cb36583d","rating":4.8,"ratingCount":19,"reviewCount":0,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Extreme","Real Life","Bondage","Domination","Exhibitionism","Masochism","Sadism","Size","Snuff","Submission","Voyeurism","Consensual","Romantic"],"language":"English","readTime":23,"recommendations":[]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}