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She was limber and willowy, with shining blue black hair, eyes, which smoldered and smiled, and smooth, ivory colored skin, silkier than the finest cloth. Her breasts were small round orbs with pink blossom nipples which always seemed to strain up for gentle kisses or the caresses of a hungry tongue, and between her legs, enclosed within plump folds of woman flesh, and enticingly adorned with shining curls was a delectable lotus temple. For many weeks the Emperor would call for Dove’s Wing, (for that was the girl’s name), three or four times a week, and Dove’s Wing’s maid would bathe her with perfumed soap, anoint her with oil of sandalwood and comb and dress the hair of her head and the silken curls between her legs. Then, dressed in a fine silk Kimono and wearing nothing beneath, Dove’s Wing would present herself to the Emperor. The Emperor would command her simply to lift her Kimono and come and straddle his proud tower, which was already hardened, and waiting. She would. Her torso, her breasts. My legs started buckling. I pushed back on the hand on my neck, looking away.“Don’t fight me, Suzy…please don’t fight me…not tonight…”Tears welled up in my eyes, “I can’t…I can’t…”Her hand slid away from my neck. With her finger, she traced my lips. I closed my eyes and tried to pull away again. I started to get away.“Suzy…”“No…no…”Her arm pulled me roughly to her. She slammed my body into hers. Startled, eyes wide, confused and scared. She grabbed my hair and pulled it back roughly. The pain felt so good, needing that feeling so badly. I pulled at the cuffs. Her arm squeezed my waist tightly. Feeling her body, feeling helpless.She forced my face quickly to hers. Her hair cascading over one of my cheeks, her lips on mine. Soft but stern, oh my god she smelled so good, her tongue forcing its way in. And I just gave up.My eyes rolled back. My body went limp in her arms. So overwhelmed. I was whimpering as she forced her kiss on me. I couldn’t fight. My hands.
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Gazing to my sides, I beheld the proud, painted breasts of the guards, swaying gently as they marched astride me with a perfect blend of military precision and a grace born of strength. The path quickly led to an immense clearing. At the far end was a large hut of wood and lashed bamboo. It was a circular structure, roughly forty feet in diameter and twenty feet high. Fanning out on either side were a succession of smaller huts, about fifty in all, similar in design, which traced the perimeter of the village. The center of the circle was dominated by a large pavilion which housed the well and an open cooking fire. In the pavilion, and around the edges of the village, I saw a number of men, all naked, tending to the daily tasks of existence, cooking, washing, that which in my world was women’s work. The women, in contrast, were all adorned with some manner of clothing, jewelry, or paint, symbols of their higher station, and engaged in conversation or acts of leisure. But as our.

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