Inca Annoyed

This story I wish to dedicate to Mrs Irene Clearmont. Her writings are really powerful and she has inspired and encouraged me enormously!

INCA ANNOYED

 

As expected, the train from Machu Picchu, that world-famous Inca heritage site in Peru, is filled with Western tourists. The gorge we wind our way through is impressive, but my attention is drawn to three ladies across the aisle on the seats just ahead of me. After all those poor-looking curio sellers in the tourist resorts it is a relief to see such self confident, modern, healthy and well-off Indian ladies holding their cameras and observing the passing scenery just like me. They don’t take any notice of me but my eyes are drawn to them again and again. Actually, I can only see one of them properly and she is either chatting with the person facing her or taking pictures. The lady next to her seems slightly less striking or attractive to me, maybe because she’s wearing spectacles, but possibly also because she falls asleep soon after the train starts moving. At first, the other two had their sunglasses still on, giving them a sophisticated appearance, but after a while they probably realised that this narrow valley was already in the shade. They fixed their sunglasses on top of their heads, which – I must say – adds to their charm.

 

Although I feel hesitant about it I secretly take a few pictures of them. Not really good shots, so I keep trying, as discretely as I can. I don’t think they notice, but while checking my pictures I see on one of them that the sleepy lady had just opened her eyes and was vaguely looking in my direction. When the train approaches the station they get up before me and I manage two reasonable close-ups of them before getting my own stuff together and disembarking to join my group to where the buses are waiting for the last leg of this trip.

On the platform I try to catch a last glimpse of these intriguing ladies, but they’re gone. Slightly disappointed I proceed until I hear a quite commanding whisper in my ear: “You Peeping Tom, you can’t take pictures of me without my consent. Don’t you know who I am? I have to see all pictures you took of me and my sister and you’ll have to pay for them. Come!”  She takes my arm and forcefully directs me away from the crowd to where there are some stands with curio sellers. “Give me your camera and wait here”, she says. I shake my head and say: “Sorry, I can show you the pictures, by all means. They are just innocent train scenes. But I can’t give you my camera just like that”.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, there he is, that stupid bastard. You’re sure he took pictures of us in the train”?  “Yes I saw it when I was pretending to sleep”. “Okay, let me stop him and you make sure he won’t run away to his group”. The Inca sisters and their secretary are pretty annoyed and ready to teach this gringo a lesson. While their secretary tells his tour guide not to worry as they will put his client on one of the next buses, Guaco leads their victim to the curios stalls. Meanwhile, her angry sister Ipacura positions herself between them and the bus.

“Now you buy some souvenirs from my friends here. You stupid tourists don’t buy enough and they urgently need the money to pay for their children to attend school”. “Just buy socks and mittens from this lady and then go to her neighbour to buy two of those funny woolen masks. And from the next seller you buy two Andean hats. Make sure you get some really long ones with ear flaps and pompoms, those nice and bulky ones that can cover the top of one’s face. If you have any doubts, buy pairs of different types and we’ll see. If you like you can of course buy more items, but this is the minimum. And no bargaining, understood? I’ll wait for you here”.

 

* * *

 

That was it. As I see my group boarding the bus I regret my shameless photographing during that train ride and accept a bit of punishment for that. I have to admit to myself that I should have bought more of those little gems which are for sale at the various tourist spots. Without hesitation I set myself to selecting and buying items according to her instructions while wondering to whom I could give them once back home. Some are even quite funny and the prices are so low that I don’t mind paying the full load and observing the satisfaction on the faces of the ladies selling. I also buy a couple of alpaca tube scarves, after the seller has showed me how they fit over the head and around the neck at the same time, nice and cosy.

When I’m ready I see that they have organized two of those little mototaxis. She orders me to get into one with my shopping bag and gets down next to me. Then she looks inside my bag and immediately finds one of the woollen masks. After quickly pulling it over my face she is laughing for the first time. “Wow, that looks a lot better for a start, my silly gringo”, she says as the little mototaxi starts moving. “What else is there inside? Ah yes!”

She gets out one of the two long caps I’d also bought, pulls it over my face and quickly ties the two strings around my chin. Now I can’t see any more where we are going so I try to lift the cap above my eyes but she pulls down my hands and says: “Forget it, silly gringo. You won’t know where we are taking you but as long as you behave we won’t do you any harm. Now hand me your camera”.

But again I refuse and tightly hold on to it. Yes, I feel guilty and stupid and kind of willing to pay for my silly behaviour during that train ride. But handing over my camera just like that, which is full of beautiful pictures from all over South America (I am towards the end of a one-month tour), no: that I’d never do.

 

* * *

 

In the olden days the Inca ruling clan had their Tambo’s: comfortable staging points for their exclusive use. Nowadays their descendents use modern equivalents of such places all over the Andes to spend the night in comfort and privacy when they are traveling. They all consist of one big room with an elevated, richly carpeted central platform and low beds on a concrete floor along the walls. The platform has sturdy candle bearers, one on each corner. And on the carpet there is always just one chair, a sturdy high one for the highest ranked person in the company. The other members of the party are expected to sit on the carpet. When they are all inside, the secretary lights the candles and Guaco guides the gringo up the platform and tells him that he can now pull the cap off his face. She knows that he can’t because she had put a double knot around his chin and it is really tight. It is fun to see him struggle but then she says: “Okay, I’ll cut it for you. Stand still, because I’ve got a big knife here”. He obeys and while she holds his head with her left hand she gets her knife from the belt under her dress, brings the iron between his throat and the strings of his cap and cuts them. Then she gets down on the big chair, still holding her knife, and watches how he lifts the cap so that she can see that funny mask again that she had pulled over his head before. Her younger sister Ipacura puts herself on one of the armrests and they both have to laugh at the sight of their silly gringo with that mask on standing in front of them, the shopping bag in his one hand and his camera in the other. He looks a bit uncertain but they know he can now see them through the eyeholes in the mask. So they stop laughing and just gaze at him creating a somewhat intimidating silence. While Guaco just sits there smiling slightly Ipacura gets up after a while and looks at him with increasingly angry penetrating eyes. They know and feel how they are building up tension for the poor man.

 

After another few minutes of this threatening silence, Ipacura gets back on the armrest and expresses her impatience telling him: “You! Show your respect! Don’t just stand there in front of us while we are seated. Get on your knees!” They see him hesitating and then Guaco tells him in a slightly more friendly voice: “Okay silly gringo, I know something better. Why don’t you strip for us right there, completely, to show your respect. You may leave that funny mask on, I like it.”  Meanwhile, they see how their secretary is busy installing their movie camera: this is going to be great and as Ipacura gets up to stand next to the chair with her hands on her hips, they know their triumph is around the corner.

 

* * *

When I finally manage to remove that cap I find myself in a very queer situation: a scarcely lit room, on a well carpeted platform standing in front of two beautiful but rather imposing ladies who are sitting on a kind of throne, one on the seat and the other on the armrest. I am about to obey their first order, but then comes that second, even more humiliating one which hits me like a thunderbolt. How dare they?! I’m about to start scolding at them, but then they put their index finger on their lips and just smile. The third lady is still standing next to the platform and I see that she is now aiming a movie camera at me.

 

I look around and see the door behind me, run towards it and try to get out. But I should have known: of course it is locked. No escape; three ladies, fit and strong, one holding a big knife and one a camera. What else can I do than obey? So I put my own camera in the shopping bag and go back to where I’d been standing before. Okay, they can have it their way, I think, and in one big swing I take off all my clothes until I stand there, shivering slightly. But now I feel silly and terribly intimidated, trying to hide my growing erection with my hands.

 

For a couple of minutes nothing happens. They just stare at me in silence while I can hear the camera running. Then one of them says: “Didn’t we tell you to get on your knees? So, down you go! And put everything in your shopping bag and bring it to us.”

 

This time I obey. Slowly I move towards them, on my knees with in one hand the shopping bag with curios, my camera and my clothing. When I finally reach the chair the lady is leaning backward, one leg over the other and with one shoe pointing towards me. The scene is bewildering and she is impressively beautiful! Before I can think, I kiss her shoe. What has happened to me? Am I crazy? But then I hear all three ladies making approving sounds as she murmurs: “That’s much better my boy. Go on, but keep your hands on your back”.

 

With this positive feedback my adoration seems to have taken over and I frantically kiss her one shoe until she changes and presents her other foot to me, this time without shoe. I am so involved that I hardly notice that her sister now stands next to me and gets something out of my shopping bag. Soon the mittens which I bought are on my hands, firmly tied together around the wrists on my back.

 

But I’m too much involved with kissing her heels and her ankles to take much notice. It seems to give her pleasure and this thrills me. As she’s wearing a dress, not jeans, I gradually proceed to her calf.  But then, suddenly, someone pulls me back by my ankles and I can hardly stop my head from bumping on the floor. I feel pretty helpless with my hands securely bound together behind my back. When I look up I see ‘my queen’ still sitting on her throne, totally relaxed and watching me with benign curiosity. With one toe she could just reach my lips and touches them gently. But that was the end, as I’m kicked aside by the other lady who then puts her boot on my belly. “You naughty silly boy! You’re only good enough for our feet. Here! Now is the turn for my shoe. Clean it! With your tongue.”

 

As I try to bend forward in order to reach it she just moves her foot up a bit, on my ribs. And adds some of her weight. It hurts and her dominating figure stands there right above me. Her foot so nearby, but out of reach. I look for her other foot, which is on the ground somewhere, but equally out of reach. Now she laughs, but grimly. She must have something pretty cruel in mind and seems to enjoy the thought of it. But this I don’t want to happen, so I quickly turn myself around, putting her off balance for a few seconds, just enough to get away from under her foot and get back on my own feet. At least I can still walk or run, despite my hands being bound on my back. While ‘my’ lady had so far managed to absorb me in a mixed dream of guilt and adoration, this second one is just too seriously cruel. I decide that I’ll give her a rough time by bumping my head into her stomach, as hard as I can!

 

* * *

 

This is the type of game Ipacura really loves: making a man loose his temper, making him wild from anger, out of his mind. And then let him gallop towards her like a wild bull or rhinoceros. It’s great fun as she knows how to deal with it just by stepping aside at the very last instance; reaching out with her foot and making him stumble. It’s all so easy for the trained wrestler, which she happens to be. Within a second she is on top of him. Haha, he tries to free himself by moving wildly with his legs and bottom but he has no chance, even if his hands wouldn’t have been tied. It must be pretty painful for him with one arm under his back and herself on top. Then she reaches for his shopping bag. This lessens her weight on him and of course he tries to escape for the second time. But before he gets on his legs she applies one of her grips and has reinstalled herself on his belly, now holding his shopping bag. This time she is in reversed position, with her wide back towards his face, searching through the bag. “Ah, there they are”, she says after a while. “Now lift your legs, you silly dwarf. Then I can help you with a pair of nice and warm socks, ha-ha. We don’t want you to get cold feet”.

 

As with the mittens, after putting them on she fixes them together with a string, tightly around his ankles. “This will stop you from running away, silly gringo”. The girls laugh. Then she gets up to have a good look at her prey, meanwhile teasing his willy with her shoe. “Okay, I can see you’re not very comfortable with your arms like that. Sit upright and let me do something about it!” As he obey she comes down on him again and reaches for the knot that has kept his hands together. She quickly releases it, makes him put his hands together above his head, fixes them together again and gets up.

 

There she stands above him, with a triumphant rather than angry face. “Ah, now I’ve got you, silly boy, and I’ll use you, haha!” she whispers loudly through her teeth while loosening her belt and the button of her jeans and pushing down her zip. With her jeans halfway down she comes down upon him, this time with her knees right next to his ribs and lets her one hand rest on his eyes saying: “Open your mouth, as widely as you can”. Her sister can’t believe her eyes and the secretary almost forgets to zoom in with her camera, but, yes, there she is, peeing straight into his open mouth. “Swallow it. We don’t want any mess around here”, she orders and he does. The flow is strong and lasts for a long time. “Well done little boy”, she finally says while getting up and putting her trousers back in order. “It saves me a trip to the restroom. No spilling whatsoever. Now lick your lips and remember the taste. You are a privileged person having received the golden shower of an Inca princess. Say thank you!”

 

* * *

 

After this new experience I feel totally humiliated even though the taste and warmth of her shower was surprisingly pleasant, I must say. I obey, lick my lips, swallow what’s still left in my mouth and whisper my “Thank you”. “Thank you what?” they all shout. And she adds: “Haven’t you learned how to show your respect? Thank you, Your Honourable Inca Princess Ipacura. That is the least you could say”. So I repeat her and apologize with my eyes closed devotedly.

 

They seem to accept this without further punishment and then she gets my camera from the shopping bag, takes a picture of me on the floor below her and passes the camera on to me. “Now you show your stupid pictures to my elder sister”.

 

Although I can hardly operate it with my hands bound together and my fingers inside those woolly mittens I manage to find the first of the relevant pictures. On my knees I shuffle to the lady on the thrown and hold the camera above me hoping that she’d be able to look at the screen. But she takes it from me and holds it closer to her eyes as she quickly goes through my episode in the train. Then she says: “Quite a few of these pictures are indeed pretty insulting. You shouldn’t have pictured our secretary while she was sleeping with her mouth open and I don’t like your focus on my breasts, dirty rascal. We were right in arresting you and you’ll pay for that.” Then she puts the camera back in its case and throws it away from her so that it slides on the floor and falls off the platform.

She just laughs and tells me: “Go and get it and then report to me”.

 

So I do. It takes me ages to wriggle my way to and fro with my feet and hands bound together inside their tight woolen enclosures. All three ladies are obviously enjoying themselves as they watch me, which I conclude from their giggles and encouraging remarks. And don’t forget, that third lady has her movie camera aimed at me all the time. At last I’m back at the feet of ‘my’ lady, the elder Inca Princess. She is indeed adorable. The longer I’ve been in her vicinity, the more I feel a natural urge to submit to her, to serve her, to admire her, to kiss her toes, to do whatever she’d ask me. Unlike her younger sister, she doesn’t need to force me or put up any fight. No, for me she has already turned
from Princess into Goddess, for her I feel total submission, with body and mind. What I didn’t realise at the time, is that this strong sentiment was probably caused by her younger sister breaking me on her behalf a short while ago.

 

But there I am, on my knees in front of my Goddess, holding my stupid little camera above my head and she just says: “Just put that camera back in your shopping bag and get the other cap out that you bought from one of those stalls. You did buy two, I hope? In a few minutes I’ll ask you to put it over your head, as far down as you can, because this will be the last you’ll see of us for quite a while”. Then she gets up and walks away and starts talking softly to the other two in Quechua. Of course, I don’t understand a word of it.

 

* * *

 

“That was well done, Ipacura”, Guaco tells her sister. “I think he is getting ready for phase 2. You’ve effectively broken him. And your peeing trick, that was great! Never seen such a show before. Did you see how humbly he is now adoring me? Such a well-shaped, slim stallion, no fat but with healthy untrained muscles! Aren’t you also getting hot? I’m going to have lots of fun with him. I’ll show you how I can use this guy for my pleasure. I like him with just that exciting woolen mask on. But I agree it’s better that he won’t see what the hell he’ll be doing. I think it will make him last longer and more obedient as our sex toy, haha, if we do pull that cap over his eyes.” The others agree. They feel their moist of lustful anticipation.

 

Guaco continues: “Ipacara, when I tell him to put that cap over his face, you make sure it’s well fixed, but his mouth has to remain free. I’ll need all of it: his lips his tongue. Even his teeth will arouse me, I’m sure. And imagine, those fingers of his, nicely enclosed in that soft wool, I’d love to feel them stroking me all over. What do you think? Can’t we separate his mittens to enable him to really cuddle and embrace me? Of course, we’ll keep his feet bound together. Okay?”

 

She looks at Ipacura, knowing that her younger sister is the strictest of them all when it comes to boys. “Okay, I’ll undo that knot between his mittens”, Ipacara replies. “But only after I’ve made sure that the cap is fixed properly and he will no longer see a thing. But as soon as he misbehaves I’ll be really rough on him!” Then they discuss his prick, which they had already seen swelling and shrinking, raising and lowering. Guaco promises her sister to treat it in such a way that they can both have its full benefit. Ipacura looks at the secretary in an apologetic way and says: “Don’t worry, there will certainly be something left of him when it’s your turn… Meanwhile, just make sure that we get a nice movie out of this!”

 

They all laugh and look at the poor lad with the funny woolen mask, waiting on his knees for the things to come, with that Chullo in his hand. It’s a nice and big one, they see, with long enough cords attached to the ear flaps and beautiful pompoms. It would certainly cover his eyes if they fixed it tightly enough around his chin. They each have their own thoughts about how they’d use living toy for their maximum enjoyment once it is their turn. Rounding off their deliberations, Guaco speaks more loudly in English: “Okay silly gringo. Are you ready for phase 2?” She gets back on the platform and walks towards him elegantly and haughtily at the same time. Behind her Ipacura also approaches him, in a more threatening but equally sexy mode.

 

* * *

 

I remember having closed my eyes soon after she walked away. What had happened to me? It was all so confusing. Were these ladies really Inca princesses? What did my readings about Inca culture teach me about the situation I’ve got myself into? Yes, something about always having things in pairs. Two makes for balance. And that the Inca’s have a different attitude to payment, or to any gold and silver for that matter. They prefer barter above payment in cash. These thoughts somewhat reassure me that these ladies would not be after my credit card, but ‘only’ after my total submission and servitude to them. I’m surprised this feels as a reassurance much more than a frightening prospect. Maybe that golden shower has poisoned my brain, but, yes, I’m in total adoration and submission to the elder princess who had become my Goddess. And I’m dead scared of her sister.

 

Oh, there they come, the nice one in front. Are they really going to pull this cap over my eyes to blindfold me for the rest of the day? Her elegant walk makes me crazy with affection and I spontaneously lie down on my back right in front of her throne. She smiles and asks “Do you really want me to step on you?” and I say “Yes your Highness, your honourable Inca Princess”. Then she carefully steps on my tummy, puts herself down on her throne and says: “Get back on your knees silly boy and pull that cap over your head”.

 

I hesitate, catching a last glimpse of her and of the other two ladies in the distance, and while I see then getting impatient I finally submerge myself in darkness. Immediately I feel that someone, probably again that cruel younger sister, fastens the strings around my chin in a tight knot.

 

“Now you may proceed from where you were before”, I hear my Goddess saying and she pushes her foot towards my face. “I also like to feel your mitten-covered hands on my skin., slow and gentle!” That’s enough for instructions and I devote myself fully and wholeheartedly to this honourable task, making sure I proceed very, very slowly. Occasionally she’d hold my head to direct me and eventually my lips and tongue reach her holy sanctuary while my mittens are caressing her thighs, her belly, her breasts and her back. Then, much later, she starts pushing and shaking my head deeper inside her, calling “harder, faster, deeper!” Soon after that she comes with an explosion of joy and lets my soaked face rest on her crotch for a while until she has gets herself together and pushes me away with a deep sigh. I’m pleasantly surprised how gently she did this and gratefully kiss and fondle her feet once more before putting myself to rest on the floor in front of her.

 

But I have little time to relax. After a few minutes I am dragged away by my feet, quite a distance this time. It stops when I feel that my feet are held back by something connected to those woollen socks. But then my hands are tied again and pulled further in the opposite direction until I can feel a sharp tension of being stretched as far as I can just bear. It hurts and I know that I’m completely immobilized.

 

* * *

 

“Now it’s my turn! And I’ll drain all life out of you, silly gringo. Just to satisfy my hunger and because I love to punish you!” I look at my victim after having tied his mittens together again and having attached a rope to that. I had wound the rope around a candle stand at the corner of the platform, opposite to one where I had earlier fixed his legs. Wow, what a sight! Such a beautiful male body totally exposed to me. I automatically lick my fingers and have to play a bit with myself. I feel my mood becoming increasingly sadistic. My voice is reflecting this when I address him: “Ah! You are completely at my disposal. I won’t have mercy with you. I’m going to let you pay for your stupidities. Turn around, on your belly!”

 

How nice to see him obeying immediately. I see him trembling from fear and immediately step onto his buttocks with my stilettos. Ah, now he starts wiggling. That’s fun! Does he think he can get rid of me that way? No way! I know how to keep my balance and he’ll feel it, haha! I feel how hard he’s trying. I like that. But it will soon wear him out. I wait a bit for that and then I proceed carefully, with one foot on his shoulder, then the other foot on his head. Now he is completely motionless. I know it hurts, but I really love this act of equilibrium. Then I step down. Looking at the impressions I’ve left behind on his skin I have to laugh and order him: “Okay, now turn around, on your back!” He does and I can see it’s not easy for him, great!

 

This time I take off my shoes before stepping on his thighs. When I’m completely stable I put one foot on his crotch and move it around a bit. Great fun! Then my other foot on his belly and so on, very slowly until I have both feet on his face: one on his open mouth and the other on his forehead. This is the ultimate act of equilibrium and I’m glad he keeps very still. As if he is becoming part of a circus performance! I am sure he must be completely overwhelmed by my acrobatic skill. Proudly I look around. Then I continue, now walking on his arms, which are stretched right next to each other like two beams across a ditch. With my toes I push his fingers so that he opens his hands. Then I put all my weight on one foot, standing on his one hand while I elegantly bend and a go round with my other, like a ballet dancer. The other girls are applauding while I repeat the same act with the other foot in his other hand.  It must be painful for the poor lad, but he seems to bear it courageously. Anyway, this was just the beginning and I now stand right above him and order: “Open your mouth!”

 

* * *

 

Oh no, not another shower, I hope. Indeed, this time she just spits on me but not all of it gets into my mouth. So she spits again, this time all of it right inside. Then she must have come down towards me, as I suddenly feel her hand spreading her saliva all over my face and into my hair. After this she grabs my balls and squeezes them making me scream. “Shut up, you stupid bastard. I don’t want to hear you any more!” And immediately I feel her complete body on top of me, her bosom on my face, leaving me breathless. I franticly try to shake my head but to no avail. Until she decides that it’s enough. She then turns around, holding me firmly by my thighs and again pressing her breasts onto my face until I’m about to pass away. Then she moves her body down a bit. Now her belly covers my face and my prick stiffens between her breasts. “Does that feel better, little boy?” she asks mockingly. I nod but she doesn’t take much notice and moves on so that I can feel her clit on my mouth. Without even thinking I kiss it and start playing with my tongue. “It seems you know your job, my darling”, she says and her voice has changed completely. Something much softer seems to overcome her while she lets my tongue and lips play with her as she sits on her knees and supports herself with her arms on my thighs. Also for me this is delicious.

 

But then she suddenly changes position, with her body right on my face. Now she pinches my nose and presses her other hand against my mouth, again making me desperate for air. Just in time she gets up, evoking more applause from her audience. Then she comes back down on me, sitting on my breast with one of her hands around my arm. Slowly she moves forward and I somehow notice that she is meanwhile fingering herself. I feel some rhythm in the muscles in her thighs against my shoulders and then, suddenly, it really gets rough. She bends forward, both hands are now around my arms and she moves her crotch wildly over my mouth and nose. I just have to undergo her rhythmic movements, trying to get bits of air whenever I can. My lips and tongue seem to have become useless. She’s just face raping me violently, more so than I could imagine a man raping a woman, but that’s probably not true. In any case, this lasts a very long time and is very painful. When it is finally over I can taste and feel that both my mouth and my nose are bleeding. I have just enough time to refill my lungs with fresh air before she comes down on me again, this time to relax, but with her heavy breasts covering my face.

 

After a minute I get myself together and manage to move my head sideways in order to breath. Fortunately she doesn’t seem to mind and this is how, for the next quarter of an hour, we both recover from what had happened. At last she gets up and walks away. I feel like a dirty old rag, motionless, more dead than alive, pain all over and stretched to the maximum from wrist to ankle.

I don’t remember for how long I could remain in this state of half-sleep, but then she wakes me up by calling me from a distance. Oh no, I hear that she wants me to get back on my knees and move towards her. But the hell how could I, the way they had tied me up? But then I notice that I can indeed bend my legs and arms again. It hurts and they are pretty stiff, but at least they are free, even though my wrists and ankles are still tied inside their woolen enclosures. So I start crawling in the direction from where she called.

 

* * *

 

Although it feels as if I am getting squared eyes I’m glad that I need only one hand for most of the camera work. I’ve never seen such things before and am compelled to play with myself in order to keep pace with the events on stage. When I warned my employers that there was a young man taking pictures of them in the train I never thought that this would be the result. But I love it. What a privilege to be the secretary to these two queens! Look at that poor bloke. A few hours ago he was happily consuming our landscape treasures. Guaco and Ipacara are right: all tourists are parasites unless you milk them. And here we’ve finally got one that gives us at least lots of entertainment. See how helplessly he moves? Cute, a bit like a seal on the beach. Let me focus the camera on his head as it touches the carpet to act as an extra leg or so. That man must be really exhausted! His arms can hardly support him while he is shuffling towards Ipacara. When at last he has reached her she puts her hand on his cap. See how the camera immediately registers how his tiny prick reacts to that. Wow! And I am the person holding that camera. Isn’t that fun! What is Ipacara going to do now? You never know with her fickleness.

Wait, she tells him something: “Sorry for having been a bit rough on you. That happens sometimes when I’m angry with somebody. But you did marvelously well, I must say. Let me help you to get cleaned. Watch out here! It’s the edge of the platform. You better get down carefully and then I’ll direct you to the bathroom.”

 

The stupid fellow tries to go down with his hands first, but for the movie this is great. Now I quickly carry the camera to a better position, just in time to record him tumbling off the platform, clumsy like a penguin. Hear how genuinely subdued and even grateful he sounds when he says: “Thank you, Your Honourable Inca Princess”! Then I let my camera record how she leads him to the bathroom, washes his face, stops the bleeding of his nose and gives him some water to drink. Then she lets him sit down on a stool to recover further. While she caresses his cheek she says: “You’re a sweet, silly boy”. She even presses a soft kiss on his mouth, probably to speed up his healing process. But she doesn’t give him much time for that, because shortly afterwards she tells him: “I’m afraid that you aren’t ready yet. I have to bring you back inside the room. I think that from now on it won’t be as hard on you any more as with me. This time our secretary needs you. She has been holding the camera all the time and I’m afraid she got a bit excited by the things she saw.”

 

She finds a long Alpaca tube scarf in his shopping bag, drapes that over his shoulders and around his neck. She even cuddles him! After a few more minutes she asks him kindly: “Are you ready?”  And he answers: “Okay my lovely honourable Inca Princess. I’ll do whatever you want me to do”. Then she pulls him gently with the scarf and leads him back to the platform. This time she doesn’t help him to get up, but guides him around it towards where I am sitting with my camera. When she has positioned him right in front of me, between my legs, she withdraws the scarf. I forget all about the camera as I just grab him by the hair and push his head on my lap.  He must feel how wet I am and I just hope that his lips and tongue don’t hurt him too much so that he’ll still be able to do what has to be done under the circumstances. Wow! He does it! He even caresses me with his wool-covered hands; a bit clumsy as they are still bound together but it feels good. I thoroughly enjoy this treat. Ipacara is now operating the camera and left the scarf next to me on the platform. I grab it and push it behind me to support my head as I lie down backwards, close my eyes and let it go, still holding and gently manoeuvring his head on my crotch. How many times did I climax already this afternoon? It seems as if my clit has also become tired, just as this stupid gringo!

When the two of them were approaching me a few minutes ago I was thinking of how I would be able to postpone my climax, so that I could enjoy it longer. But now, this long lasting state of ultimate joy just happens by itself! Oh! Yes! Keep going! Yeah! Yeah! What is this great! I never experienced such a long lasting state of ultimate excitement. But in the end I do have my biggest climax ever. Thank you boy, I say to myself. Then I push his head away and relax. This was really great!

 

* * *

 

While Ipacara and their secretary were busy with the young man, Guaco had gone outside to make a few phone calls. The events so far had brought her in a truly democratic mood. Actually, she should have asked her secretary to do this, but she was happy that this girl handles the movie camera. Now she could observe from a distance how her sister had handed him over to her. She could see that the girl was really ready for this treat. But she worried about the boy. She had seen his blood-stained face when Ipacara dismounted from him. But the treatment her sister subsequently gave him in the bathroom must have been really good. The boy was working again as if nothing had happened. And he really had to work hard and long! When it was over he just put his head to rest on his hands and she decided to leave him like that for a while.

 

Even Ipacara seems to be quite happy with a short break and walks towards her. Guaco informs her about her phone calls and what she thought would make a suitable phase 3. They smiled happily and a couple of minutes later they let in the guests Guaco had invited. Guaco directs them to the edge of the platform where they take up their positions in curious anticipation. The room is pretty dark. So it is only after Ipacara walked towards the corner where her secretary and the young man are resting that they realize that there was an almost naked man in the room, wearing one of the caps and masks he had earlier bought from them. Then they see Ipacara taking up the scarf, waking the secretary. Then she winds the scarf gently around the man’s neck and forces him to get back on his knees. The three of them go to the bathroom. After a while the secretary retakes her position behind the camera and then Ipacara comes out with this blindfolded naked young man. Guaco had told her guests something vague about a slave she would put at their disposal for certain services. But they didn’t know for sure what services she had been referring to. The lady who was approached first by Ipacara and this ‘slave’ could only think of ‘servicio’, which is the word they use a lot in Latin America for public conveniences. Maybe her thoughts were limited by the fact that she had forgotten to go there before Guaca had shown her where to sit. In any case, when she was confronted with this head right in front of her crotch she had just enough time to force his mouth open, lift her skirts and release herself. As it all happened very quickly and under her skirts, so that only Ipacara and the gringo knew the details and this time Ipacara felt very sorry for him.

 

* * *

No! Not another golden shower! Previously, in the bathroom this princess Ipacara had – kind of – reassured me that the worst of my punishment was over. How did this relate to the lots of swallowing I have to do again? That’s not fair! But before I’ve a chance to get angry I’m dragged back to the bathroom and I hear her now familiar voice: “Sorry my dear. Someone had an urgent call. But here you have cold water to drink and rinse your mouth. You’re indeed almost at the end of your punishment, but I can see three prize-winning ladies getting ready to be served. My elder sister just offered them this price and I can tell you they deserve it, so don’t let her down. I promise, once you have completely satisfied these three, you’ll be released. Ready? Let’s go!”

 

Then, with the familiar scarf around my neck, she pulls me to the next service station where someone lifts my head, holds my face between her hands, kisses me on the mouth before she pushes my face rudely down onto yet another hot and moist sacred valley. As I work my way in and around it, somebody starts counting. Soon I can feel and hear the effect of my labour as my head is almost hopping on her rhythm as she is reaching her climax. After a deep, long kiss on her crotch I intend to depart, but she holds my head so strongly against herself that I am breathless once again. Luckily, the princess holding my scarf comes to my rescue by pulling me backwards. She gives me again some water to drink before leading me to prize winner number two. Basically the same process, but of course every person is different.

 

Luckily for me, she is even faster. After another, short interval I come to what should be my last oral assignment. My jaws, lips and tongue are aching terribly, but the assurance that this would be the last one gives me just enough energy to proceed. But I can only go slow. Internally I smile about those people counting again so eagerly. This person seems in no hurry even though her cave is at least as hot and moist as that of her predecessors. She seems totally relaxed while enjoying my caressing.  At least that is how I interpret the sounds she makes.

 

Meanwhile, the counting goes on… and on. At last her hands start moving my head gently up and down, gently and slowly. I respond with my tongue and my lips following and slightly reinforcing her subtle movements. Very, very slowly we gain momentum as I also apply my wool-covered fingers to lead her deeper into her sensual unconsciousness. But there is hardly any progress and everything in and around my mouth is hurting so much that I’m getting desperate. What else could I do to lead her to her climax? I even start blowing and sucking in her rhythm, but the effect seems marginal. Only her fingers are now enclosing my head more intensely. Then she suddenly increases her momentum, pushing my face all over her clit, no longer just gently up and down, but harder, and faster, then wildly in all directions. Oh, how painful! But what can I do as she now is about to climax while my hands and feet are bound?

I can’t remember properly, but I probably let go, passively following her movements, trying to keep my tongue solid and pronounced, but then I must have lost consciousness.

 

It can’t have been for long, because – when I wake up – I’m still in the same position, on my knees with my head now sideways on her lap, breathing as heavily as she does. I feel how her hands seem to be caressing my head, remarkably fast at first but calming down soon. I can feel and hear all around me that she just had her climax after all, but I feel miserable, terribly exhausted! My head feels like a bag of potatoes. I can’t lift it and my hands are also just lying on one of her thighs, passive and heavy.

 

I’m finished, more dead than alive and hardly notice that after a while the scarf around my neck gently forces me backwards so that my arms slide down on the ground. I’m pulled but hardly have the strength to start crawling again. This time I don’t have to go far. “Just hold on to the edge of the platform, my dear, and I’ll lift you”. I just about manage and then feel her strong arm from behind between my buttocks and across my crotch, lifting me in a simple, turning movement onto the platform. She then tells me to lie on my back and pulls me somewhere, first by my bound hands and later by my feet until I’m in what they probably consider the right position, but I don’t care, I’m done. I’ve closed my eyes, but then I suddenly feel cold iron against my chin and neck.

 

* * *

That was great, I think. We all had great fun, including my friends the curio sellers, who never have such opportunity. Time for phase 4. Let me help him open his eyes again. So, while seated comfortably on my throne, I get my knife, cut the strings under his chin and use the point of the knife to push up the cap from his forehead. I know that now I should add a bit of ceremonial glamour to the event, because the poor bloke can see again and there are commoners in the room. So I stand up, pointing my knife at him and say: “Your punishment is now completed and we all agree that you behaved well. I’m sure you’ll never be so stupid again to spy on people with your camera and without their consent. Or insult female personalities in any other way, whether they are modern Princesses like me and my sister, or simple market women in their traditional Andean costume like our guests you’ve just been serving. Now we want you to celebrate the end of this very special stay with us, because we are all very pleased with your work. Some may call it merely ‘lip service’, but we are convinced you paid us more than just that, thank you! Get on your knees and move a little backwards. Please ladies, come and sit here around me. This handsome young man should now be able to see you all. Please smile at him to get him in the right mood. I’m sure that you’d also love to see him grow.”

 

* * *

 

What was she implying? Okay, I just about manage to get on my knees again. Lying down on my back and facing ‘my’ Senior Princess would have been just right. Okay, I also manage to move backward a bit, but gosh how painful is everything. Then I see these ladies gathering around the Princess: her strong little sister and their secretary I’d seen before, but this time there are half a dozen more women. They all look older than the first three and they’re all wearing traditional costumes. Okay, their faces are quite friendly, but I can’t say they are really beautiful. But at least they are colourful and I remember having taken many pictures of people like them during my travels. But when I realize that during this last hour I got a ‘golden shower’ from one of them and brought three of them to a climax I feel utterly dismayed, miserable and sick.

 

I close my eyes and am about the break down in tears. But then I hear ‘my’ Princess speak, or should I say order: “Come on, young man. You’re so handsome. Look me into the eyes and forget your pain. That won’t last long any way. Sister Ipacura, give him some water to drink and let him relax.” Immediately her sister brings me a glass of water and I drink it gratefully while she puts one hand on my head and one on my shoulder, whispering into my ear: “Sure, now we all love you”.

 

Then I look around and see all those friendly eyes aiming at me, merely expectant or approving, encouraging, some compassionate, others more provocative. But the effect of this on me slowly becomes obvious, despite everything that happened before my penis starts swelling and they utter a gentle “Yeah”, probably because they had been anticipating this. Somehow this also gives me the strength to keep it up, to forget my pains and humiliation of the last few hours. My eyes then meet those of the Elder Sister and immediately I’m under her spell. She just nods slightly and I know I now have to start stroking my penis, which I do until her eyes tell me to stop. Then I slowly stroke my belly and my breast before returning to my penis. Her eyes tell me when to speed up or to slow down. Again she stops me and lets me show my swollen penis. Then she makes me stroke it again, but when I am about to explode it’s just a slight signal of her eyes that tells me to stop and to wait one long minute before I can finish it off. It isn’t much of a fountain, but there is a lot of it spread all over my mittens. I look at it, but my eyes are caught by a simple gesture with her finger and her lips, combined with an authoritative shine in her eyes. I know I’ve to clean it all with my aching tongue while the ladies around me are cheering and applauding.

 

Soon after this the traditional ladies come towards me, one after the other, kiss me on my lips and leave the room. Then the younger sister comes. She tells me to lie down on my back and lift my feet. For a few seconds she fumbles with the string that had held my socks together and then, at last, my legs are free again. After that she does the same with my mittens and tells me to crawl backwards to the edge of the podium, just to show my respect to her sister, the Senior Inca Princess on her throne. She puts the scarf around my neck and leads me off the platform so that I don’t hurt myself. Then she tells me to get dressed in the bathroom. She also tells me that until further notice I should be wearing my funny woollen mask.

 

When I come out of the bathroom all three ladies are waiting for me near the front door. The secretary, still busy with her camera, just greets me with her free arm and the Elder Sister is standing in the doorway in such a way that I immediately go down on my knees, kiss her shoes and hold my hands together above my head to show her my respect, or rather my admiration and total obedience. She steps aside, takes the same big tube scarf that her younger sister was holding before and gently pushes it over my face. Again I can’t see anything any more, but I’m sure it’s her who then presses a long kiss on my swollen lips and says: “Goodbye darling. Don’t worry: this is only for a few minutes. My younger sister will take care of you.”

 

Then I feel how I am directed out of the house and into a similar mototaxi as on the way up. I guess it is the younger sister who then gets down next to me. She puts her hand on my knee and off we go. After a while she takes off my scarf and kisses it. She asks: “May I keep this as your gift?” Of course I agree and then I am overwhelmed by her dominance, which is so different from that of her Sister. I frantically start kissing both the scarf and her hand. She responds by moving her free hand from my leg to my crotch and pinching by balls, very gentle and short this time, but enough to remind me of the nature of our relationship. This sobers me and I give her the scarf. Then she starts fumbling with the knot that had kept the mask on its place and soon she has also loosened that. Now I can take it off. At last I am my real self again, just in time as we have reached the bus station. She gets me a ticket for the next bus to Cusco. The last thing she says is: “Have a safe journey home, enjoy your pictures and souvenirs, as much as we’ll enjoy the many pictures and long movie we have just made. You’ll soon find it on the internet, my silly gringo darling.”

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Inca Annoyed, 5.8 out of 10 based on 4 ratings

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