Prologue: Première Partie

Naomi watched the lovers through the voyeur's hole in the wall. She was transfixed, shocked, horrified, and intrigued as the ramifications of her discovery flooded her mind. Her guest room had a peephole that looked directly into the master bedroom.

A bedroom where her cousin Marie was currently on her knees, taking her well-endowed partner's penis further into her mouth than Naomi thought was humanly possible. More remarkable still, she seemed to be enjoying it almost as much as the man in front of her, who appeared to be practically weak in the knees.

Naomi had discovered the peephole while lying in bed, struggling to sleep from the excess of wine she had drank with dinner. Her hosts just kept filling her glass, as was the norm in France. She had noticed a strange glow from a small picture on the far wall. Her curiosity at the artwork's "backlight" and some suspicious noises coming through the wall had caused her to get up and look closer. 

She had delicately removed the sketch and was shocked to discover the minuscule window of brass and glass hiding beneath it. Looking through the hole, she was even more shocked by what she saw. Naomi could only see a monochrome image as there was no light save for the full moon filtering through the large Haussmannian windows. Still, it was more than bright enough to make out the finer details of the erotic spectacle unfolding before her eye. 

She knew she should stop watching. It was sinful on so many levels. But she was wholly absorbed in the primal acts occurring only a few feet before her. The two naked bodies were strong, lithe, and undeniably attractive. Sexual chemistry practically oozed through the small portal and into the depths of her imagination.

Naomi had been exposed to porn before. But she also knew it was a sin and avoided it as much as possible. Still, the wine she had drank with dinner was strong and had stolen away most of her inhibitions, and the sight before her was incredibly arousing. She had never seen anyone have sex in the flesh, but here it was happening only a few feet in front of her, and no one knew she was watching. Except for GOD. a voice in her mind scolded her but she shook it off.

As she thought about it, she realized the couple most likely knew she was watching. They had to. They were not too loud, but the coupling noises were unmistakable, and you do not need to be Arsène Lupin to discover a glowing piece of artwork in a dark room. It was only logical she would discover this voyeur's portal.

Naomi was drunk and curious, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her thoughts were moving slowly with the weight of the wine. Obviously, a couple with a voyeur's hole in their bedroom wall knew they were being watched. But she could not deny there was an undeniable thrill in watching, and the knowledge that the actors almost certainly knew they had an audience only enhanced this. 

Marie was now getting up from her knees, her lips glimmering with spit. She passionately kissed James, and his rough hands grabbed her breast and tweaked her erect nipple. They stood there kissing in a manner many people seem to believe the French invented before Marie finally broke the kiss, ran her hands down his chest, squeezed his cock and climbed catlike onto the corner of the bed. Marie was looking back at him (and Naomi) over her shoulder with black, needy eyes that were magnetic enough to pull Naomi forward. She bumped the wall slightly, and her heart jumped into her throat. 

Marie whispered something in French, and James nodded and approached her. His fully erect, wet sex practically glowed in the moonlit room only a few meters in front of where Naomi stood, holding her breath, feeling her heart pounding in her temples.

Marie looked like the women Naomi had seen in the few erotic films her friends had forced her to watch in school. Only the lust that burned in her cousin seemed far more genuine and contagious. It was a lust that seemed to be radiating through the very walls and into Naomi, who was growing increasingly aware of her hardening nipples rubbing against her borrowed silk pajamas. 

Naomi had no experience with men. Besides opening the door accidentally on her father or brother getting out of the shower, she had never seen a naked man, let alone a heavily muscled man with a raging hard-on slick with his partner's saliva. 

James had a military look to him. A buzzcut and a short beard on a chiseled jaw. He was taller than most men. He was over a decade older than Naomi but moved with a slow, graceful confidence that would entice any woman. James's sex wasn't the only wet thing in the apartment. Naomi was ashamed to find that her privates were moistening as she watched James line up the tip of his manhood with Marie's waiting depths.

As Naomi watched the pair, she began to feel heat building low in her belly. It was like the heat from the wine had traveled down further still until it had settled like hot lead in her privates. Her sex, which she was typically only aware of when she had her period, was pulsing in a manner that it only ever did when she woke from an erotic dream, and those were (thankfully) rare. 

Save for a few exploratory kisses shared with a teenage friend who had moved away two years earlier, Naomi was about as innocent as a woman of her age (and her beauty) can be. She was profoundly shy and felt a great deal of shame surrounding her body. But this was just how she was raised. They didn't even have more than the most basic sex ed at her school in Roma. The Vatican was in decline but it was still more than strong enough to make sure of that. 

Now, she was watching two unmarried people engaged in shameless pleasures only a few feet away from her (and possibly for her), and she couldn't look away. She was utterly paralyzed, about to watch her beautiful wild cousin get fucked like an animal.

Thinking back to the day, Naomi realized the sexual tension had always been there building up In the background. She just couldn't place it until now. Marie and James just seemed to have an energy about them. They seemed to constantly need to be in physical contact. Despite living together for years, they were more like a young couple still reveling in that honeymoon phase. 

Naomi had seen it in little flashes and realized how different it was from her parent's behavior. The way James had touched Marie firmly on the small of the back (or more the top of the bum) when he needed to move her forward to open a cabinet and then let his hand slide down with intention, the way Marie hand-fed him and then kissed him on the lips, the way he had wrapped his hands around her lower belly as she was struggling to open the wine bottle and how afterward James' hand had reached up and caressed her breast. Marie had swatted it away, hissing, "We have a guest, you brute!" before looking up apologetically at Naomi as if to say, "You know how men are," before realizing that she clearly didn't.

Naomi's cheeks had reddened shyly at that last one, especially since Marie had not been wearing a bra, and her hardening nipples were visible through the sheer violet fabric. Despite being shocked, Naomi just assumed that people here were different, and she enjoyed the playful energy of the couple. It was so different from that of her conservative catholic family and closeted (and sometimes cloistered) friends.

It had been a lovely evening. James had cooked a delicious Coq Au Vin, and Marie had opened a second bottle of excellent wine and questioned Naomi all about her life in Roma. Most of her questions revolved around food and men.

Marie seemed particularly fascinated by Naomi's devout studies and lack of a boyfriend. Naomi was in a school for young women considering deeper religious studies. Many of her classmates planned on becoming Sisters in the Catholic Church and traveling abroad for missionary work. "So, no boys, but what about a girlfriend?" Marie had asked in a teasing, coquettish manner. Naomi had choked on her wine to the delight of the young couple sitting across from her.

"Jesus would be lucky to have such a beautiful girl committing herself to him. Especially with those lips. Putain, you could star alongside Léa Seydoux with those lips…" Marie had said this more towards James with a mischievous smile. Naomi sat there with her cheeks positively burning as Marie's gaze fell back on her. "Oh, don't tell me you never saw La Vie D'Adele? Cried Marie. "We need to work on your culture, my dear! "C'est pas possible! Come all the way to Paris and not see a bit of the Moulin Rouge! It would be sacrilege. I won't allow it." 

James chuckled and said, "Stop torturing the poor girl!" He looked at Naomi and said, "Just don't let Marie come visit your school; she would be like a fox in a hen house in a school full of aspiring young nuns." He looked back at the woman beside him and, raising his eyebrows, said, "We don't need you getting arrested again, Marie!" 

Naomi wasn't quite sure what they meant by it all, especially the last part, but she knew there were lots of sexual connotations. "James is just joking. I'm not that bad." Said Marie. "I'm just not a fan of religion, but I respect those who have their faith. I simply think that faith should be tested occasionally, that's all." She looked at James with an accusatory glance as she said these last words, and he coughed lightly and got up to clear the table, insisting that he didn't need any help as Naomi began to stand up and grip her plate.

The two women stayed seated, and when Naomi looked up from her wine glass, she saw a profoundly hungry, predatory look in Marie's opalescent dark eyes. Her cousin's perfectly manicured nails clicked and clattered rhythmically on the glass table, from pinky to index and then again. She stared at Naomi with a slight smile as if she knew some divine secret and was waiting for just the right moment to unveil (or unleash) it.

Finally, Marie took a large, greedy gulp of her red wine, and a few drops of the plum liquid escaped her full lips and dribbled down her chin. She didn't even attempt to brush it off and just continued to stare at Naomi with her self-satisfied smirk. 

For a moment, Naomi had a vision that it was not a woman but a wild she-wolf sitting across from her. She felt she had wandered into an old German fairytale where the children always got eaten up by some horrible beasts. She willed herself not to shiver, set her jaw, and looked back up into Marie's mesmerizing eyes...

Naomi was back in the present moment, staring into her erotic window as her wolflike older cousin was busy being penetrated like a lust-filled loup. Marie was on her knees, her ass facing Naomi's hidden little periscope into this world of pleasure. Giving her the perfect angle to see everything. James was behind her, sliding himself into her depths. Marie's eyes were closed in ecstasy as he repeatedly buried himself in her, and James's mouth fell open as he groaned with pleasure. Marie shushed him and whispered something to him and he responded by grabbing her hair and pulling back firmly.

They built up a slow steady rhythm. Several times, Naomi had tried to pry herself away from the erotic scene, but she was transfixed. As rooted to the ground as the trees in Dante's seventh level of hell. Worst of all, her left hand had seemingly grown a mind of its own and had snaked down between her legs without her even noticing. Until that is, she felt the pressure of something lightly pressing up and down against her clitoris. 

At this discovery, Naomi had finally regained control of herself, she pulled her hand away from her hot sex, and wrenched herself away from the sinful pleasure portal. She tiptoed back into bed, gripping the golden crucifix around her neck with both hands, and for five whole minutes, she repeated her prayers of contrition. Naomi begged for strength to overcome these temptations. She almost succeeded, but then she made the mistake of shutting her eyes, and her imagination picked up the erotic film just where it had left off, and her pussy began to pulse again with need.

I should not have come to visit Marie. She thought. She knew it now. She had heard bad things about her "deviant" French relatives from her parents, but she had also felt a growing wanderlust building in her for some years and needed to explore before committing to a life of service. 

Now, that itch to travel seemed to have moved to another craving. A little buzzing kernel of chaos radiated between her soft thighs. An overwhelming Anima in her shouted for attention. She had never been so horny in her life. She never would have believed being so desperately in need of the touch of another human being was even possible. At that moment Naomi intimately understood where bestiality and incest and rape and all of the other horrible sins of the flesh came from. They came out of this place. This mind thick with a lustful heady madness.

A dark part of Naomi that she had never allowed to surface before rushed up from deep inside her. She was losing control, and once again, her sinister left hand betrayed her. It was no longer clutching the crucifix on her chest but was instead gripping her chest. Her soft right breast was in her hand and it felt glorious. It was as if a billion nerves she had never noticed were radiating in bliss. She imagined it was James's strong hand and was utterly stunned by how much pleasure her breast could give her. She squeezed it until it hurt, and then the pain only seemed to mature into a more profound pleasure. She gasped and moaned, feeling as if she was losing her mind and slowly coming to love the experience.

Behind her half-mumbled prayers about sins and deliverance and temptation, she could hear the light gasps of rhythmic breathing and the muffled moans from the lovers in the other room. The imaginary porn reel continued to spin and splice its sinful scenes into her best attempts to imagine nothing but saintly shrines and the face of the Virgin Mary.

Suddenly, her Luciferian left hand viciously pinched her right nipple, and everything around her flashed In a hot white light.

Naomi was unsure if she had slipped into a dream or if she was still awake, but she seemed to be having an out-of-body experience. She was looking down on herself…only it wasn't her. She didn't recognize the sweaty young woman who was naked and writhing on the crumpled bed sheets covered in a sheen of sweat.

This girl's fingers were no longer clutching the golden cross on her neck. Instead, the fingers of one hand were plunging rhythmically in and out of her tight sex while the other hand moved in between frantically rubbing her hard clit and pinching her painfully swollen nipples as she writhed in ecstasy. 

It was Naomi, but NOT the shy girl she had always known herself to be. This version of her looked possessed in need of holy water and an exorcist. She moved like a serpent, and in place of her caramel eyes were Marie's black opalescent eyes. As Naomi looked at "her" eyes, the demon on the bed looked directly up at her and smiled gleefully up at her as if to say, "She's allll mine now."

Suddenly, Naomi saw another person enter the edge of the frame. Below her in the open doorway was a male shadow. It was James, and he was naked. His wet, hard, absurdly huge prick still dripped with Marie's cum, glimmering in the diagonal bar of moonlight illuminating his abdomen. She could feel his eyes on her even though his face remained hidden in the shadows.

Naomi saw the noir-eyed whore in the bed smiling and pushing her breasts out towards him provocatively, motioning for him to come hither with her cursed left hand and spreading her legs wide like a shameless little slut with something to sell.

This wild little hussy continued to shamelessly rub her clit, giving her masculine voyeur a show and doing her best to entice this muscled beast to join her. She wanted him to take her. To deflower her. To use her roughly as he had used her cousin only a few meters away and a few moments ago. But the shadowy man didn't approach and only leaned against the threshold with his arms crossed.

If he wants a show, I'll give him one. She thought and then quickly realized "she" was unsure who precisely was having that thought.  Was it the good catholic schoolgirl or someone else? Or something else? She did not know.

Naomi was not sure anymore if she was watching the girl or if she was the girl. She wasn't sure if the man in the doorway was James, just a dream or a figment of a mind burning with a lust-fueled fever. But none of that mattered. The girl with black eyes continued to flick her fingers over her flushed sex, building towards her climax. Fiction or not, she needed to please her audience. The show must go on.

The joy of being watched bubbled up in her belly and, and a...