The painted man

Literotic asexstories – The painted man by SylvanusSilvertung,SylvanusSilvertung
Papa had seemed a little strange as he sent her off, Emily thought. He’d hugged her too tight. Told her he loved her too many times, although since she turned eighteen he’d been extra affectionate. It was strange, and as she walked to the party, cold nipping at her bare legs under her skirt and making her wrap her arms around herself she felt a faint sense of dis-ease.

This was furthered when she saw a bloody foot sticking out from under the bushes fifteen feet off the road.

Her training kicked in. She was a trained Wilderness EMT after all. Technically she couldn’t do very much in front country, but she could go assess, and see what help she could give while calling people in. She hurried to the man and squatted down beside him. “Hello?” She asked. “What’s your name? What happened?”

The man turned his face towards her and moaned. Mumbling something.

“What was that?” She said, leaning in close. She didn’t smell alcohol, just cedar smoke? The man mumbled something again. She cocked her ear leaning in closer.

The man’s hands whipped out one across her mouth, the other pinning an arm. Now combat training kicked in, trying to roll away, but he seemed prepared for that, wrapping his legs around her, and rolling with her, ending up ontop of her. Then there were two more men. Kneeling above her. One pinned her free arm that was about to strike out. Another slapped duct tape over her mouth. They moved with easy efficiency. She heard a radio crackle “The cat is bagged. Come around.” One of the men said into it, and a van slid around the block. She went limp, trying to make her body as hard to move as she could, but with three men they easily got her into the van. They piled in and burst off.

Her head was spinning. She couldn’t breathe. One of the men was forcing her forward and tying her hands behind her back. She tensed all her muscles, trying to give herself as much slack as she could. Who were these men? Why did they have radios?

The drive was long enough that she got more clues. One of the men slipped out of his dark hoodie, showing off several pagan tattoos. Despite the family connection that implied she didn’t recognize any of these men. She worked at the tape with her mouth, licking the inside to get the adhesion off.

She had it off by the time they pulled in, ready to scream as loud as she could when they stepped out, but looking around she saw the futility. They were at a hiking trail somewhere high high in the mountains. Screaming would be less than useless.

Noncompliance seemed like the best option. They obviously wanted her to walk. She slumped in her captor’s arms, giving him her whole weight.

“You just gonna lie there later when we rape you?” the man sneered.

Emily couldn’t say the threat surprised her. She spit at him.

“Gonna need the cart.” The man holding her said. Soon they had a wide-wheeled cart unfolded from the van and lifted her into it. Tying her legs and threading the end ropes through the cart itself. Soon the convoy was headed up the trail.

Emily took careful notes inside her head of where they went, but the trail was new to her, and as they ascended she felt hope diminishing. She watched as they carefully moved aside a “trail closed due to washout” sign from a side trail and took her down it, descending again into a side valley, replacing the sign behind them.

It was an hour before dawn when they arrived at the cave, where she heard more voices and a fire. They pulled her out of the cart. She had gotten the bindings off her arms by then and lashed out, making one man yelp in pain, but it didn’t take long for them to grab her again. They didn’t bother tying her, and instead untied her feet, and systematically stripped her out of her clothes while leering at her. Then they pushed her into the cave and she heard the sound of the men unzipping behind her.

A large man stood already naked and erect in front of her, his face painted with the motif of horns, and tattooed with pentacles and runes that reminded her of the men she had grown up with. A low table stood in the center of the cave with skins across it and he picked her up easily pushing her onto her back and spreading her legs, he paused there, his erection poised between her legs, the other men came closer, wild, feral, their hands pumping their cocks, waiting their turns.

The reality of it hit her now, and tears came, “no, no no no,” she whimpered, contesting the reality of this scene.

“There is a way you can say no that I must listen to.” The man said, voice low and sonorous. “But that’s not it.”

“No!!!” she screamed, anger and hate and her own animal wildness rising in her voice. He stumbled back three short steps and every other man stepped back too. She sat up, legs coming together, arms crossing defensively over her breasts.

“No!” She said again, firm, clear, as her mother said no when there was no brooking an argument. The men stepped back again, the painted man taking one more step away.

She paused, breathing. Thinking fast. There was a way she could say no that he must listen. How? She could feel the energy of the men. The pumping cocks, the watching eyes, she could feel their want.

Another deep breath. Clearing her head. Remembering her training. Her parents were always training her. Match your voice and being to the being you spoke to. Be aware. Know them, respond to them, but do so from your center. What is worth dying for? Fighting for? Living for? How could she say no from that space?

“No.” She said. She said it with confidence and clarity. Knowing that even if they raped her she was equal to it. Knowing that they couldn’t really hurt her, because she had not chosen to be hurt. Knowing that her will was inviolate, and her will would be done.

The men turned and filed out of the cave. The painted man nodded his respect.

“You have passed the first test.” He said. “The women are in the cave beyond.” And went to stand at the entrance of the cave.

Test? Women? She turned, looking behind her.

There was in fact a second entrance in the back of the chamber with a cloth across it. Emily gut up and cautiously made her way there and peeked under the curtain. Three women sat there, in a small second cave by the light of a single candle. Emily slipped inside and sat – her mind whirling. This wasn’t a kidnapping – this was…

“Welcome Emily,” said one of the women, this one wearing a red dress.

“This is an initiation,” Emily said flatly.

“And you have passed the first step – but not the hardest,” said the second woman – this one had a long white braid that wrapped over her shoulder.

“What would have happened if I hadn’t passed the ‘first step?'”

“There is a powerful no inside every woman. We would have pushed you until it arose,” said a woman with smile lines around her eyes.

“Pushed me how?” Emily’s voice held a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

The woman in the red dress leaned forward slightly, her voice calm and steady. “By challenging you, Emily. Sometimes we discover our true strength when we are nudged out of our comfort zones.”

Emily considered this, her gaze shifting to the ground. “And now? What’s next?”

The woman with the white braid spoke up, her tone warm yet firm. “Now, you learn to listen — not just to the voices around you, but to the one within you. The voice that knows your true desires and fears.”

“And if I can’t hear it?” Emily looked up, her expression hinting concern.

The third woman, the one with the smile lines, chuckled softly. “Oh, you will. It might be a whisper now, but in time, it will grow louder. Trust yourself, Emily, and give it space to speak.”

Emily nodded slowly, absorbing their words. “Finding balance between listening and speaking up.”

The woman in the red dress smiled. “Exactly. The balance between knowing when to say ‘no’ and when to embrace ‘yes’. That is the essence of your journey.”

“Okay you’re here to give me wisdom right? The clues to the next test?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, lay it on me.” Emily pulled back her shoulders, rolling them softly.

The woman with the white braid nodded. “The next test is about understanding yourself, not just in solitude, but in the presence of another.”

Emily furrowed her brow slightly. “What do you mean?”

The woman in the red dress elaborated, “It’s one thing to know your desires and boundaries when you’re alone. It’s another to maintain that awareness when you’re with someone else.”

“Yeah that sounds hard,” Emily admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

The woman with the smile lines offered a reassuring smile. “It can be. But the key is to remain true to your senses and intuition even in the company of others.”

Emily considered this, rolling her neck, then asked, “And how do I do that?”

The woman with the white braid leaned forward. “By pausing and considering your feelings and needs. Young women usually value their partner over themselves, but a partner can’t know what you don’t know – It’s a dance of give and take.”

The woman in the red dress added, “And remember, communication isn’t just about talking. It’s also about listening, observing, and feeling – to another and yourself.”

Emily nodded, absorbing the lesson. “So, it’s about staying connected to myself, while connecting with someone else.”

“Exactly,” the woman with the smile lines said. “And always remember, you have the right to change your mind, to pause, to question. Your comfort and consent are paramount.”

Emily took a deep breath, a sense of resolve in her eyes. “Respecting myself and expecting the same.”

The woman in the red dress concluded, “Your body and your emotions will guide you, Emily. Trust them, and never feel pressured to move faster than you’re comfortable with.”

Emily took a deep breath, absorbing the gravity of their advice. “Thank you,” she said a newfound sense of empowerment in her voice. “- am I going to have sex?”

“You may choose this thing – you are invited to this thing. No one can make you do this thing.”

Emily stood and made her way out, into the cave of men. They were all there, sitting, still naked, each man’s posture erect.

Emily paused – she’d just been talked at a bunch – now she had to do something with it. She dropped to all fours and crawled, aware of her nudity, to the first man. She paused and trying not to feel self conscious – sniffed. He smelled okay. Seeing him there, muscled and strong, cock soft between his legs, she could feel the desire to touch and be touched. She would come back – she decided.

Some men she found did smell wrong. Others smelled very right. She got halfway around the circle when she encountered the painted man, and found the thrill in her body of him. He smelled good, he felt good – but mostly she thought it was that she strangely felt safer with a man she had so effectively said no to. He would back off again if she needed him to.

“Yes.” she growled, a smile playing at her lips. The other men rose as one and exited the cave – soon she saw the bonfire outside grow larger.

He reached for her.

“Pause,” she said. He paused. Waiting expectantly.

“When you were lined up to rape me – there was a part of me that was excited by that.” She admitted. “I’m confused by that. The women told me to trust my instincts and my desire – but how am I supposed to trust something that wanted to be violated?”

He smiled. “Deep thoughts.”

“No answers?”

“All I can say is that the girl always chooses the painted man. There is a part in every woman that wants to be taken. I don’t think it’s opposite to the other thing though.”

“It’s not?”

“Sure.” His deep baritone rumbled with a laugh. “The cool thing is that you can choose to be taken. That is some of the magic of sex. If that is your pleasure – you can follow it.”

“Huh,” she said and reached for him, running her hands across his chest, down his belly, up and over his painted face, and then down to his semi-erect cock.

“How do cocks like to be touched?” She asked.

The painted man looked at her with a knowing smile. “Ah, now that’s a question I can answer.” He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. “Firstly,” he began, “we like to be touched firmly – more firmly than most women think.”

Emily nodded, her eyes fixed on his, taking in every word, every detail. “Secondly,” he continued, “we like to be touched slowly, at least at first. It allows us to build up the pleasure, to savor each touch, each stroke, each caress.”

She watched as he reached down, unbuttoning his pants, revealing his erect cock. Emily felt her heart race, her body respond to the sight before her. “And lastly,” he said, his voice low and husky, “we like to be touched wet. Not too wet, but just enough so that your touch feels slippery, erotic, like a promise of pleasure.”

He paused again, his eyes locked with Emily’s, the air in the room thick with anticipation. “Now,” he said, his voice commanding, “touch me.”

Emily hesitated for a moment, her hands shaking slightly as she reached out and wrapped them around his erect cock. She could feel the heat of his body, the throbbing pulse of his cock, the slickness of the pre-cum that coated him.

She began to stroke him, her touch slow and firm, her fingers sliding up and down his shaft, each movement deliberate and calculated. She could feel the power of his cock in her hands, the force of his maleness.

Emily could feel her own wetness stirring, her body responding to his touch, her desires awakening. She could feel the energy of the men and women who had been in the cave, their desire for her, their hunger for her body. She could feel the energy of her own body, her desire, her power.

The painted man closed his eyes, his body tense, the pleasure building within him. Emily continued to stroke him, her touch slow and firm, her strokes deliberate and calculated. She could feel the power of his cock in her hands, the force of his want.

“How am I supposed to listen to my body and desire when there’s this much of you,” she muttered. Pausing again and then leaning in to kiss him. He met her kiss with his own, lips trailing lips. Then he had his hands on her, trailing his fingers along her neck, down her chest, and across her stomach, making her skin tingle with every touch. His hands were gentle yet firm, his touch feather-light yet intense, making her body come alive.

He picked her up, and brought her over to the pile of furs he had first put her on – the place he was going to rape her – and lay down with her there. The shift from the memory of that moment to the pleasure of this one had thrills moving through her body, and he seemed to sense it – the hunger in his touch deepening.

He moved his lips down her neck, kissing her collarbone, her shoulders, and the base of her throat. His tongue traced light patterns across her skin, each kiss a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. Emily could feel the heat of his body against hers, the strength of his arms around her, the urgency of him.

As he slid his fingers across her inner thighs, Emily could feel her body responding, her pussy burning hot and bright. She was exposed, vulnerable, but also powerful. She could feel the energy of the men who had been in the cave, their desire for her, their hunger for her body. She could feel the energy of the women, their wisdom, their strength. She could feel the energy of her own body, her want, her power.

Emily felt herself surrendering to the moment, to her body, to the energy of the masculine and feminine. She felt herself surrendering to the thrill of the unknown, to the excitement of it.

He positioned himself between her legs, his erection hard and throbbing. He paused for a moment, allowing her to adjust to his presence, to feel his body against hers, to feel him there. Emily could feel her body’s want clear and clean.

As the painted man began to enter her, Emily felt a moment of discomfort, a moment of tension. But he paused, allowing her to adjust to his presence. She could feel herself opening up to him, her body responded to his, and she moaned softly as he continued to penetrate her, filling her completely.

He started to thrust slowly, their rhythm building as he pulled almost all the way out before plunging back in. She could feel his member sliding in and out of her, and her breath quickened as she adjusted to his pace. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the cave.

His thrusts became more urgent, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, and her wetness and want grew with each movement. His hands gripped her hips, guiding their dance, and she could feel his control slipping away as his thrusts grew faster.

She knew he must be close, and she wanted to make it last, but the idea of him filling her was too much to resist. She could feel his member swelling inside her, and with a deep moan, she tightened her muscles around him, matching his pace.

Finally, he could hold back no longer. With one last powerful thrust, he groaned deeply, and she felt his cum spilling deep within her. The sensation was intense, and she could feel his seed mixing with her own fluids, creating a warm, slippery sensation.

As he slowly pulled out, their bodies glistening with sweat, she looked into his eyes, seeing the satisfaction and pleasure reflected back at her. They lay there, panting, their hearts racing, the aftermath of their passion still lingering between them.

He was a sight to behold, his body glistening with sweat and their combined fluids. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe, the raw masculinity of his form a testament to the power of their connection. As she watched him, she felt a sense of contentment, the way he lay there so vulnerable and exposed a side of man she rarely got to see.

Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin. His eyes fluttered open, and she could see the same feelings reflected in his gaze. It was a moment of pure vulnerability, their hearts and souls bared to each other.

Their eyes met, and they shared a smile, a silent understanding of the moment.

“That’s going to take practice to do what the women said,” she admitted dryly. “How long do I get you for?”

“Three days.” He said with a smile

“-and all the men are available as well?”

He laughed. “Certainly. I think you overestimate your body though.”

“We’ll see,” Emily said grinning. “I think this is going to take a -lot- of practice.”