GEORGES BATAILLE • STORY OF THE EYE (Extract) - Sex Stories

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GEORGES BATAILLE • STORY OF THE EYE (Extract)

Date: 8/16/2017, Categories: Fetish, Hardcore, Taboo, Author: Hangdog90, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

garrote..." "But you are forgetting that is your sperm," observed Sir Edmund. A ferocious grimace, a trembling like that of a cornered b**st, and then: "The garrote for me too. But you three... first." "Poor fool," smirked Sir Edmund. "First! Do you think I am going to let you wait that long? First!" The imbecile gaped dumbstruck at the Englishman: an extremely silly expression darted across his handsome face. Something like an absurd joy began to open his mouth, he crossed his arms over his naked chest and finally gazed at us with ecstatic eyes. "Martyrdom..." he uttered in a voice that was suddenly feeble and yet tore out like a sob. "Martyrdom..." A bizarre hope of purification had come to the wretch, illuminating his eyes. "First I am going to tell you a story," Sir Edmund said to him sedately. "You know that men who are hanged or garroted have such stiff cocks the instant their respiration is cut off, that they ejaculate. You are going to have the pleasure of being martyred while fucking this girl." And when the horrified priest rose to defend himself, the Englishman brutally knocked him down, twisting his arm. Next, Sir Edmund, slipping under his victim, pinioned his arms behind his back while I gagged him and bound his legs with a belt. The Englishman, gripping his arms from behind in a stranglehold, disabled the priest's legs in his own. Kneeling behind, I kept the man's head immobile between my thighs. "And now," said Sir Edmund to Simone, "mount this little padre." ... Simone removed her dress and squatted on the belly of this singular martyr, her cunt next to his flabby cock. "Now," continued Sir Edmund, "squeeze his throat, the pipe just behind the Adam's apple: a strong, gradual pressure." Do you see the eye?" she asked me. "Well?" "It's an egg," she concluded in all simplicity. "All right," I urged her, extremely disturbed, "what are you getting at?" "I want to play with this eye." "What do you mean?" "Listen, Sir Edmund," she finally let it out, "you must give me this at once, tear it out at once, I want it!" Sir Edmund was always poker-faced except when he turned purple. Nor did he bat an eyelash now; but the bl**d did shoot to his face. He removed a pair of fine scissors from his wallet, knelt down, then nimbly inserted the fingers of his left hand into the socket and drew out the eye, while his right hand snipped the obstinate ligaments. Next, he presented the small whitish eyeball in a hand reddened with bl**d. Simone gazed at the absurdity and finally took it in her hand, completely distraught; yet she had no qualms, and instantly amused herself by fondling the depth of her thighs and inserting this apparently fluid object. The caress of the eye over the skin is so utterly, so extraordinarily gentle, and the sensation is so bizarre that it has something of a rooster's horrible crowing. Simone meanwhile amused herself by slipping the eye into the profound crevice of her ass, and after lying down on her back and raising her legs and ...