The Pleasure Quartet Read Online Free PDF

Tumblr page he couldn’t recall encountering before.
    The screen went blank for a few seconds and he reckoned the link had expired, the account been closed.
    The page opened slowly, the buffering agonisingly halting as the screen filled up. He scrolled downwards to hurry it, but it was no help.
    He was edging his cock, tiptoeing on the precipice of his own sought-after eruption, anxious to come, to lift the burden from his mind and body, impatient to reach an image that would form the perfect trigger to his orgasm. Noah held on, waited for a quartet of images to finally come to life on his laptop screen.
    The photos were of poor quality. An amateur production. They were sequential.
    The first one was just a repeat of the one he had linked onwards from, reposted on a BDSM site about reputedly beautiful slaves. The apple-shaped pale arse, its opening red and distended, the back of the young woman’s thighs, tense, sinews on alert, the fall of her back an exquisite curve expanding to an unknown horizon, a promise of further forbidden delights.
    The second image repeated the initial one but was shot from the side so you could trace the sketch of a breast, small, its curve an exquisite geometry, and beyond the bent-over body the legs of a group of men. Onlookers, previous users or users still to come? The blurry background was a white wall. Some form of cellar, a dungeon? He peered closer, seeking out details. A tile caught his attention. A sauna, he decided.
    The penultimate photograph appeared to have been taken later, following the inevitable excess and plundering of the victim. It was clear to Noah that what had occurred on the occasion of these photographs was real, not a set-up with professional participants. This had happened in real life, wasn’t a scenario elaborated for a porn clip. The photographs taken had been incidental, and maybe the young woman at the centre of attention had not even been aware they were being taken. Might not have allowed them had she known. Her body was splayed, as if stretched on an invisible cross, drenched in sweat and the assorted men’s cum, as if broken, but there was a pride in her abandon, the looseness of her limbs, attitude. The photograph was cropped so you couldn’t see her face, ending at her neck, a delicate extension to the ravaged body that lay fully exposed, betraying all the indignities she had just suffered.
    Noah swallowed hard. His cock hurt. His chest felt tight.
    With his free hand he rapidly scrolled down the page to the final image.
    It was similar to the previous one but the crop was different. The image was slightly out of focus, a garden of shadows, taken by a cheap device in badly lit circumstances. You could distinguish the woman’s chin and her mouth. It was half-open, a horizon of white teeth profiled beyond the dry lips (how many cocks had she sucked? how many times?), but there appeared to be an ambiguous grin there. No sadness or resignation, or shame, or a reflection of hypothetical tears flowing from her eyes. No. There was something oddly triumphant about the downturn of her lips, as if in her degradation there was some form of victory achieved, that the pleasure she had extracted from the men still surrounding her was her own accomplishment, a measure of her will. A caricature of insubordination. Which added to the sheer obscenity of the series of images, screamed a mighty defiance. Damn, he wanted to see her whole face, her eyes. To witness how the pleasure in her gaze combined with the unavoidable pain.
    Noah’s throat felt terribly dry.
    He highlighted the final photograph and tried to lighten the image better with the software he stored on his laptop.
    Yes.
    That was a bit better.
    And from the murky depths of the image he finally noticed the young woman’s hair, laid out behind her, a darkness against darkness, untidy, unkempt, wet from her exertions and the ocean of fluids released earlier.
    It was red.
    Gorgon-like.
    Striking. Like a beacon