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	Classic Restrained Elegance		Product 36 of 140
	Jasmine Sinclair

Jasmine Summer 1 The seasons turned, and the year rushed through her like a torrent of fire. The innocence of spring had been taken, ravished in the bed by the Sky God who had kidnapped her from her home in the high snows. Now the fires of passion burned behind her eyes as heat of the growing summer had turned the last of winter's white snows into the fertile green of grass and forest. She threw her head back in wild abandon, downed the flagon of wine as if it were water. She felt wicked, wild, abandoned... alive! Whatever inhibitions she might have had washed away in Bacchus' nectar...soon she would have him again, and this time she was going to take HIM! She pictured herself digging her nails into his tight muscular arse, pulling him into her, making HIM cry out as the passion overwhelmed him... she sighed. He was nowhere to be found, and she was locked up in the kitchens of the cloud castle, yet again. She stole another swig of the purloined wine and lusted some more. "Oh no YOU again! I told you to keep out of the wine cellar!" It was the castle housekeeper again- silly cow! "Well if you're going to keep drinking it, you had better lend a hand making it! Or more precisely lend a foot! Get your pretty little arse over here and start treading some grapes!" The housekeeper hauled her over to the corner of the kitchen where the grapes were being pressed and tied her hands above her head. "Now you get on with it, I want that bowl treaded by the time I get back!". She stepped into the big bowl and felt the first grapes squish under her feet. Uuurgh! Cold squidgy pulp squirted up between her delicate toes and juice went all over her feet. Eeeeew! Gross! No way was she spending the whole afternoon doing THAT! The castle housekeeper came back to find the nature spirit yet again slacking at her chores. The grapes were not pressed at all! She'd been hanging around for hours, no doubt dreaming of the drunken debauchery that would ensure when the god came back from the hunt. Well, you can't have a drunken debauch without wine to drink, so if she wanted it, she was bloody well going to help make it! The housekeeper didn't say a word- she just got out the whip. Again. "Ohhhhh no, not again, please! It was so horrible, that cold slimy stuff all over my feet! Please, don't make me do it!" The housekeeper just thwacked her across the arse. "Oh please!" thwack! thwack! She stepped back into the bowl, the cold grape goo oozing between her toes. She couldn't do it! No way could she tread all these! But the housekeeper was implacable, relentless. With face of stone she whipped the poor nature spirit, crop kissing breasts and bum and legs and even the soles of her feet whenever she slowed down to get the gunge off them. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! It really didn't take that long to press all the grapes with sufficient encouragement. No matter how hard she tried to conceal it, the housekeeper had to admit to herself that she was really flustered. That little plaything of the god really WAS the most beautiful thing anyone in the castle had ever laid eyes on... no wonder the goddesses all sneered and tried to make out she was just a common sprite or dryad. The housekeeper's pulse was pounding, and it wasn't from the exertion of the whipping. She knew the god would inflict terrible tortures on her if she dared to dally with his toy... but god-damn it, even housekeepers feel the rush of heat in summer! "Well done, my pretty!" she said. "You've earned a little reward, you must be thirsty... here, I think you deserve another flagon of wine, don't you?"... she made sure that half the wine got spilled down the captive's magnificent body, the drops of liquid shimmering and sparkling on her breasts, running down in rivulets towards her sex... damn it all... would the god really know if she just took her pleasure and drank from his slave, as she was drinking from the flagon she held? The clatter of armour and the clang of weapons being racked broke the spell... the god strode into the kitchen and roared "Where's my little slave? Ah, there you are! The fire is in me, we've just hunted and eaten and now I'm in the mood for YOU!" He picked her up and threw him over his shoulder and strode off to the tall tower to take his pleasure.... leaving the housekeeper to attempt to bring relief from her own inner fires as best she could in the kitchen! 216 pics 17.9 MB zip

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