The Captive

by Amber Jameson

  But he had not returned.

  She felt the chain cut into her bottom cleft and graze her rear bud. The links of the chain were large, smoothly rounded, designed, it seemed to cause pleasure as well as pain. One loop probed into her rear opening, making it throb around the cold metal. She pressed harder, allowing the loop to enter her ready rear. The sensation was pleasant, comforting, and brought back the vision of two men who desired her so clearly. Both so different. She imagined the loop of chain to be their flesh swords, probing and caressing the narrow openings, front and back.

  In her imagination she could feel their hard male bodies pressing against her helpless one and their cocks probing deep into her moist warmth. Why did she also crave the servant when Harold was the one she loved? Why did she crave rough handling when Harold knew exactly how to pleasure her? All her life she had given pleasure, perhaps, and now she was greedy to take it.

  Quietly, she felt the wave of climax engulf her and she whispered her pleasure. The shudders which rippled through her lovely body made the chain catch the raw bud of her naked clitoris. Again, a pleasure wave rode through her, racking the delicious flesh with indescribable sensation. She revelled in it, but she dare not reveal how great her enjoyment.

  “Now, my beauty,” rasped a woman’s voice behind her.

  The silvery blonde hair swirled around Zacora’s head as she tried to spin around to see her attacker, but her bandaged feet were held fast by the ankle manacles.

  Leather gloved hands slid around her naked body and grasped the firm fullness of her breasts. As much as she was able Zacora struggled in her bonds, but said nothing. In truth the softness of the leather and the delicacy of the touch was pleasant to the highly receptive girl.

  There was a hoarse laugh. “No need to struggle, Miss Prim - that is your name is it not?”

  Zacora’s nipples glowed and hardened, but she remained silent. Her breasts swelled against the caressing fingers, pouting proudly, and she prayed that the woman, whoever she was, would not notice the unbidden reaction. She offered up a further silent prayer that the leather-clad fingers would not investigate further, would not stray to the silver cloud of pubic curls and what lay beyond. If the sensitive digits probed the wet pinkness her excitement would be revealed.

  As suddenly as her breasts were grasped they were released and Zacora heard the click of high heels on the floor of the chamber. Keeping her head bowed, she saw neat black leather boots planted firmly apart in front of her. Allowing her eyes to lift a little she saw that the boots were long like the legs which they clad. A finger lifted her trembling chin, forcing her to look upwards. There was a soft gasp of surprise.

  “Oh!” heard Zacora. “They told me you were beautiful, but this!” There was a pause, then the woman spoke again. “My name is Paige. I prepare the Prince’s young ladies for coupling with him.”

  With eyes made wide with the fear of the unknown, the girl looked up at the woman. She could feel hot tears stinging the soft sapphire blue eyes and, mutely, she pleaded for mercy.

  “You’re like an angel,” came the whispering voice. “Surely you did not issue from any human womb?”

  Zacora, lips parted, looked up at the woman. Her limbs were cramped terribly, for she had been chained in this position for several hours. Apart from the serving maid who had tended her feet and the man who lusted after her she had seen no-one until now. With a slow bend of her long spine she tried to make the heavy chains rattle to convey her extreme discomfort. The cold links brushed lightly against the heat of her sex flesh and made her shudder with unbidden pleasure.

  A hand stroked the glossy platinum of her hair. “You poor thing!” said the woman. “You must be aching like mad. I’ll have something done about it.”

  Zacora heard other footsteps, lighter, as though the wearer wore soft shoes. There was no harsh clack of heels, only a whispering, padding sound.

  “Look at me,” ordered the woman. “You are a lovely creature. Can you talk?”

  The girl looked up, fixing her limpid sapphire orbs on the woman, and shook her head, for the time being she had decided that until her thoughts were put in order she would not speak.

  “You poor thing!” The woman seemed kind and caring and Zacora gave her a slight smile. Two gentle hands released the shackles between her straddled thighs. It was a relief to be able to stretch and she did so, straightening her long slim back and drawing herself up tall. She felt her heavy breasts tauten on her delicate rib cage as she eased her cruelly tortured spine. The very slight swell of her belly flattened as she arched upwards. She felt the soft pad of her mound contract and the silver fronds of her bush flutter with the movement.

  “You may roll the manacles in the flesh of her pouch,” said Paige to the serving maid who was releasing Zacora. “I wish to check on the state of her arousal.”

  Tears filled the blue eyes, for the order took her back to the school room in Lokara, in the time only days ago, although it seemed like months or years. The Master who taught the girls pleasure would check on their arousal. But life then was so innocent and her innocence, she felt, had gone forever.

  The serving maid was small and plump, with a round cheerful face. Zacora looked down at her, trying to convey her unhappiness and pleading that the ravishment should not be too intimate.

  “Bend your legs, dear,” said Paige softly, “and let Bella squat between them.”

  Obediently, Zacora allowed her knees to relax, giving the serving maid more space to intrude in the sleek arch of the lovely limbs.

  Keeping her sapphire blue eyes to the front, the girl did not look at either Paige or Bella. She knew that the silver fronded portals were spread, displaying the fresh moist folds and the jutting bud which nestled between them.

  “Could you give your pelvis more frontal exposure, dear?” requested Paige sweetly. “I want to see all there is to see of that pretty little pouch before Bella does her tests.”

  Fresh tears made the wide eyes more lustrous. Patches of red appeared on the high cheek bones as Zacora did as she was ordered.

  “Tears?” questioned Paige. “Why so? Bella will not hurt you.”

  “No, mistress,” smiled Bella, looking up at the parted sex leaves with their shimmering coat of dew. “She is too pretty to be disfigured.”

  “You see!” Paige was triumphant. She was resplendent in a tightly-laced and boned black satin corset. The garment left her breasts and sex bush naked, jutting out and begging for attention. The breasts were firm and large, centred with dark brown buds decorated with small gold rings which pierced the erect flesh. The bush was thick and lush, the curls braided with precious stones which sparkled and danced as she moved. The long boots reached her sex and the cuffs were designed to spread the folds open. Paige’s face was handsome, the dusky skin stretched over beautifully carved bone structure. The fine features spoke of mixed race, but high birth. A small crown of gold held back the lustrous mane of crinkly curls.

  “Rub the chains within the folds, Bella,” ordered Paige. “And let me sniff the perfume of her musk.”

  Zacora’s head reeled at the command. She didn’t care for the intimate touch of women. Men, with their penetrating organs, their rougher fingers, their fumbling investigations and their shouts of triumph as they spumed their semen, men were much more satisfying. She closed her moist eyes, trying to shut out the women and their actions.

  “You must watch,” hissed Paige. “It is imperative, just as it is imperative for me to watch your reactions.”

  Reluctantly, Zacora opened the tear-dewed lashes and looked down at the serving maid who cupped the wrist manacles in her small hands and edged the bundle of metal towards the unwillingly displayed sex. Tense with apprehension Zacora flinched away.

  Paige laughed. “So it’s true what they say about you,” she scoffed. “You really are Miss Prim!”

  Biting her full bottom lip Zacora tried to be obedient, offering the frontally presented softness of her sex to the invading metal of t
he manacles. The links of chain were cold against the moist heat of her and the folds of her pouch fluttered against the intrusion, grappling with them softly.

  “Aaah,” breathed Paige excitedly, stepping forward to watch more closely. “Not so prim, after all. See how the folds caress the chain, Bella?”

  “Indeed, Mistress.”

  Paige stroked her nipple rings, allowing her leather-clad fingers to trace the outline of the finely beaten gold. “Perhaps, at last, we have found the female who will beget the Prince an heir.” Her handsome features smiled kindly at Zacora. “Think how wonderful would be your position in the kingdom if he sired a son on you.”

  Once more, thought Zacora, I am to be a slave. My body is not my own. Oh, how I long to escape these lands ruled by despots and cruel knights. Only one man had grasped her heart and that was Harold; one man and the handsome slave who, perhaps, she dreamed, could be Harold’s squire.

  “Give me the chains, Bella,” said Paige coldly. “I shall test the aroma and you…” She paused, her almond-shaped eyes, dark as the deepest pits of hell, slitted with anger. “And you must whip her.”

  Bella, full cotton petticoats rustling as she rose to her feet, grinned eagerly.

  “But on no account must you mark her,” warned Paige. “The Prince will be displeased if he receives damaged goods.”

  “Of course, mistress,” agreed Bella. “I shall choose only the softest of whips. It will merely caress her skin, remind her that she belongs to the Prince.”

  “I could tell by the expression on those perfect features,” said Paige huskily, stepping close to Zacora, “that you were rebelling.” The manacles were held to the long dusky nose and the perfume was sniffed hungrily. A smile wreathed the dark features, analytical and knowing. “You seem to be easily stimulated,” she surmised.

  Zacora held her breath with relief. At least Paige had not realised that some of her stimulation came from her own thoughts of Harold, not from Bella’s caresses.

  “How would you care to see her whipped, mistress?” The plump little maid was beaming with eagerness, her round face flushed with barely suppressed excitement.

  The captive girl watched, trembling, as Bella tucked her full petticoats into a tightly cinched belt. Horror made the sapphire eyes widen to their fullest extent as she saw how the maid’s sex was treated. A solid metal block, obviously tailored to fit by a skilled iron smith, covered the folds from front to rear. It was held in place by a leather harness around the waist and top of chubby thighs.

  “She is quite used to it,” said Paige matter-of-factly, following Zacora’s horrified gaze. “It causes her no discomfort - now.” She sniffed at the delicate musk still exuding from the chains. “I expect at first it was a little uncomfortable.”

  Bella gave a barely perceptible nod. “You might find out what it’s like, if you don’t please the Prince.”

  The sapphire eyes darted from one to the other of the two women, querying what a female must do to prevent such treatment. Zacora felt herself tighten with fear; the moist passage closing involuntarily and the bud hiding amidst the pink folds.

  Finishing with the chains, Paige discarded them and brushed her naked breasts against Zacora’s. The captive felt the strangeness of the gold nipple jewellery whispering against her unadorned breasts. “Press up your pouch as high as you can,” said Paige in a soft command. “Let me feel your buttock cleft pressing to the front.”

  Bella was hopping impatiently from foot to foot behind them. “The whipping, mistress,” she reminded Paige, “the whipping!”

  “You impetuous little minx!” chided Paige. “Be still until I’m ready.” She gyrated her jewelled bush against Zacora’s carefully posed sex pouch, making the soft silver fronds excite the sensitive pink flesh until the captive girl began to shudder with the stimulation. “Bella loves to punish,” explained Paige. “She was one of the Prince’s potential consorts, but like all the others, she failed to produce an heir. The block is her punishment.”

  If Paige had not been ready to hold her, Zacora would have collapsed with shock. As it was she felt the blood drain from her already pale features; felt her mouth become dry and her tongue cling to the roof of her mouth.

  “But never fear,” soothed Paige, “we shall prepare you so that you will not fail.”

  Had she been able to speak Zacora would have asked why the punishment was so severe. Surely, she thought, the metal grazed the soft inner thighs of the victims when they walked. And how could they perform natural functions against such a rigid occlusion? Were they forbidden any sexual relief by their own hand or by the flesh of a lover?

  “It isn’t very nice, Bella, is it?” asked Paige, pressing her jewelled sex pad into Zacora’s offered pouch.

  Bella’s chubby cheeks were sucked inwards and her nostrils flared as she watched her mistress pleasure the captive. “No,” she hissed in frustration. “I’m only allowed to remove the block twice a day, and then I am watched to make sure that I do not pleasure myself.”

  Paige’s scarlet lips kissed the captive’s nipples, roving her tongue lovingly around each tight pink bud as she cupped the under swell with her gloved hands. The sensations were like nothing Zacora had felt before. They were mystical; transporting her to a realm where nothing had consequence apart from sexual pleasure. In this realm there were colours beyond the hues of the rainbow; there were enchanting scents. She tasted the food of the gods and she heard dulcet sounds that cossetted the ears. Her orgasm was not centred in her sex bud, but encompassed her whole body. Every centimetre of skin, every pore and every hair received a share of precious joy.

  As she shuddered down from the elysian field Zacora felt Paige delving deep between her precious folds. The dark features of the other woman were tense with excitement; the nostrils flared on the slim nose, a smile curving the scarlet lips, the dark eyes glittering beneath dark and lowered lashes. The gloved hand first cupped the sex pouch, feeling its heat and fullness.

  The touch, light and gentle though it was, made Zacora flush with shame. She was being tested like an animal on heat. The folds were parted with a finger and thumb, exposing an inflamed bud. Paige’s fingers pinched this, stroking the moist little shaft from root to tip. In spite of the humiliation Zacora felt swirls of renewed excitement coursing around the inner flesh of her belly, making the nerves stretch to breaking point, but never quite reaching a peak. She felt her head fall back, making the platinum tresses sway in soft curls against her naked back.

  “I produce beautiful feelings for you, my darling, do I not?” breathed Paige, planting soft kisses on Zacora’s exposed throat.

  Zacora tried not to respond, but then two expert fingers were plunged into the cushiony wetness of her vagina. They were driven in to the hilt, leaving a thumb to play with the thrusting bud which jutted so eagerly from the gleaming bed of tender flesh.

  The fingers drove in rhythmically causing the girl to arch backwards, the better to receive the forced attentions. “Oh, yes, my darling,” hissed Paige, “don’t hold back. Let the feelings flow over you like water from a warm spring.”

  Breasts full and tender, pouting upwards from her arched body, Zacora sighed her pleasure through lips circled to a perfect O. So great was her climax that her humiliation faded into the background of her mind.

  Paige laughed as she slowly slid her fingers from the wildly fluttering sex folds. “Definitely, not so prim,” she remarked, lifting the fingers to examine the moisture which gathered there. It lay on the black glove like pearls of dew gathered on the petals of a flower in the early morning. “A beautiful texture, my darling.” Paige brought the fingers to her nose, sniffing the heady musk. “The aroma of a wood nymph,” she said dreamily. The dark eyes became glazed for long moments as she allowed the scent to permeate her sensitive sinuses. “Are you sure you are human?” Paige’s eyes became cautious and searching.

  A weakness made the slender body of the captive slump in her ankle manacles, tumbling Zacora to the floor. Th
e silver blonde hair flowed like a cloak around the fallen form, covering the creamy shoulders and allowing the women the merest glimpse of the full breasts.

  “The orgasm was strong,” said Paige kindly, “we must give her time to take her restitution.” She placed the dewy fingers between her scarlet lips, tasting the coating left by the deep foraging into Zacora’s depths. The expression on her face was thoughtful.

  Bella cracked the soft strands of the lash she had chosen against her thigh. “She’s stalling, mistress,” she said pettishly.

  “Perhaps you are right, Bella,” replied Paige. She prodded Zacora with the toe of her boot. “Up you get, girl. No more of the play-acting.”

  Weakly, on trembling legs, Zacora got to her feet, cursing in her mind the shackles that held her fast to the stone floor. She kept her head bowed, not looking at either of the women, but hiding behind the billowing curtain of platinum hair.

  Paige shrugged. “I think it is time for the punishment,” she decided. “I know that there is something very special about you,” she said softly, reaching into the curtain of hair to lift Zacora’s chin, “and one day I shall discover it.”

  Bella, eager to begin the chastisement, spread Zacora’s legs apart. The chains holding the captive’s feet to the floor were loose enough for considerable width to be placed between the girl’s shapely limbs.

  “Yes, nice and wide, Bella,” agreed Paige. “Open her up.” She stroked the captive’s full buttocks, feeling the satiny smoothness of the skin and the tautness of the athletic muscles.

  Legs fully stretched, Zacora lifted her head, giving Paige a sapphire blue challenge with her proud eyes. She smiled a little as she saw the corsetted figure give a barely perceptible shudder.

  “Hands flat on the ground,” ordered Paige, trying to ignore Zacora’s challenge. “We shouldn’t wish you to fall and hurt yourself.”

  Once again Zacora was forced to submit to humiliating exposure of her perfect body. She knew that her rear mouth was fully revealed to the women. No doubt it was moist and pouting, but she hoped that it would not pulse and give them further satisfaction. She felt Paige’s hands part her buttocks, examining that very orifice, circling it with the tip of her finger to test the flexibility of the puckered skin.