The young woman released Evie from that epic kiss and had her place taken by the fifth man. He gently unpicked each petal from around her left nipple before fondling it, squeezing the breast, tonguing and sucking its pert pink tip for a l
ong time; perhaps it was five minutes. The crowd did not seem to tire of the sight, egging him on to keep up the pressure. Evie’s hips bucked wildly and she tried to capture the man by hooking a leg around his waist, but he maintained his severe focus on her left breast, leaving her pussy unfilled.
The sixth woman repeated this process with Evie’s right breast until the maypole-bound girl sobbed with desperate lust.
‘Touch me down there, please, please.’
But the woman’s only response was to nip at Evie’s right nipple so that Evie sucked in a breath.
‘I know I’m a bad girl,’ groaned Evie. ‘I know I shouldn’t … I wish you could just touch me there.’
‘You’ll have to wait,’ teased the woman before resuming her tormenting task.
Evie was panting, her breasts heaving up and down on her ribcage, by the time woman number six retreated.
There were still five villagers waiting to pay their tributes. How much further could this go? Adam stumbled forward, half-intending to say something, to try and stop it, but the crowd pushed him back again, linking in front of him to prevent his further ingress.
The sixth man turned Evie back around again, revealing the succulent curves of her back and bottom, before accepting a handful of sappy green willow wands, tied at the end with a red ribbon.
The crowd, already vocal, began to roar their encouragement, cheering wildly when the young man drew back his arm and applied the first of several firm strokes to Evie’s quivering bum. The word “Stop” died in Adam’s throat the moment he saw the faint pink tinge the willow switches conferred to her skin. His fantasy made flesh. All he could do was gawp, eyes swimming, throat tight, heart pounding.
The willow wands were young and supple, bending and flexing as they swished through the air. Evie’s little mewls of protest could barely be heard under the baying of the villagers, but Adam could just catch each yelp. He should be rescuing her but instead here he was, a voyeur in her moment of fleshly subjugation, enjoying it.
The man hesitated after 11 strokes of the switches and Evie’s hips wiggled, then she pushed out her bottom, as if begging for more.
Adam thought he would swoon. She wanted it.
The final stroke fell with vicious efficacy, striping the lower portion of her bottom with marks that would last a few hours, by the looks of them.
Evie sighed some incoherent words of thanks, and her flogger retired, flinging the switches to the ground. They were seized as trophies by several of the nearby viewers and brandished in the air.
The penultimate woman turned Evie to face the crowd again. Her eyes were shut, her lip swollen and bitten. She writhed almost continually, as if trying to force herself on the woman, who maintained a strict distance until Evie behaved herself and calmed down.
Then the woman dropped to her knees and put her hands on each of Evie’s inner thighs, gently parting them as far as they could go. Once she was spread and on show for the whole village, the woman ducked her head closer and began to massage Evie’s vulva and clit with deft, sure fingers.
Within half a minute, Evie was jerking on her floral chains, face bright red, clearly in the throes of orgasm.
But the woman did not stop there. She gave Evie a moment to subside into passivity, then she slowly and deliberately inserted two fingers inside her cunt and began to lick her clit.
Evie moaned and protested that it was too much, she couldn’t, she needed a rest, but the woman’s fierce absorption in her task made Adam wonder if she’d even heard the girl whose juices she was scooping out with her tongue. He watched Evie’s stomach ripple and squirm above the girl’s head – who was she? Was every villager in Saxonhurst perfectly content to perform depraved acts on each other at a moment’s notice? It certainly seemed like it.
After five minutes with her face buried in Evie’s pussy, the woman struck gold again, and Evie came a second time, almost sobbing, trying to yank her wrists free of their bonds without success.
The woman stood back up and turned to face the cheers of the crowd. Her mouth and chin shone with Evie’s juices, which she tried to wipe away with the handkerchief she waved in victory. She ran back to join her friends, who hugged and kissed her, as if eager to get their own little taste of the wanton maypole captive.
Now Anthony Farren pulled a sturdy wooden stool from the side of the green and placed it in front of Evie before calling up the seventh man.
He climbed up to kneel on the stool, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and introduced the tip of his cock directly to Evie’s lips. She opened them and her pink tongue darted out, drawing a feathery circle around the cock’s bulbous head, licking up the pearly drops at its end. The man pushed his shaft further into Evie’s receptive mouth, holding it tight, breathing hard, while everyone watched her lips stretch to accommodate their invader.
Her tethered wrists meant that she couldn’t get a hold of him, but she did her best to swallow as much of his length as she could, then he began to thrust. His balls swung against her chin and all Adam could see was the very root of his cock, shoving back and forth, fucking Evie’s beautiful face until tears began to stream from her eyes. Once again, he tried to step forward. This time, he was tripped up and he fell back on his arse in the dust. The crowd’s roar signified that the man had ejaculated into Evie’s throat.
By the time Adam was on his feet, she was licking her lips, grinning like a Cheshire cat as the man she had just blown righted himself.
Only two villagers were left now.
What on earth could the final woman have lined up? Was Evie going to lick her as she knelt on the stool? Adam couldn’t work out how that would be possible, given the angles involved, and indeed, it seemed that this was not the plan, for Anthony Farren removed the stool and replaced it with a much lower one.
From his little box of tricks, he produced something Adam had never seen in his life – a kind of leather harness, from the front of which protruded something unmistakably rude and phallic.