by Kane, Lacey
The moment of tenderness did not last long.
“Rebecca,” he called out.
“Yes, Master?”
Jocelyn wished she could look at the maid, but she was still blinded by the cloth over her eyes, and he hadn’t given her permission to move or speak, or anything.
This was no time to earn another punishment.
“You’re to spend the night in the pillory, servicing every man who presents himself to you. When Bexley informs me of how you handle your punishment in the morning, if you’ve done well, you’ll be spanked and allowed to come. If not, it will mean a caning on the rack. Understood?”
Pillory? Caning? The rack? This man—her husband and master—knew no end to his perverse pleasures. Why did these people remain in his employ? Jocelyn knew why she remained—she had no possible chance at escape, and would be treated as poorly wherever she ended up. But what sort of control must her master hold over his servants in order to obtain their cooperation with such things?
She couldn’t even fathom it.
“Yes, Master,” the maid responded pertly. “I’ll ask Palmer to lock me in it.”
“See that you do.” He was yet again moving around the table, though, his focus once again on Jocelyn and not on Rebecca as she left the dining room. “And now for my dessert.”
With Haines and Bexley still holding her legs in place, Master pulled the silver brush from her nether hole until it came completely free. Jocelyn let out an ill-advised sound, a cross between a sigh of relief and a moan of loss.
She braced herself for another punishment, a strike of some sort for her lapse. But instead of pain, she was met with the brush handle being thrust deep within her bowels again.
“You may scream and cry out at will, my pet.”
Master’s pronouncement met her as both a blessing and a curse. Why might she need to scream or cry out? What would he do to her next?
He took up a mating rhythm with the brush in her anus, her muscles involuntarily flexing and releasing with his movements. And then his fingers were inside her vagina, and his lips and teeth and tongue were moving over her button, and the brush handle was thrust harder and deeper and faster inside her bum.
She tried to get away, but her legs were held completely immobile and her hands were tied behind her back and pressed tight between her body and the table, and there wasn’t any possibility of moving even a few inches.
But then she was bucking her hips, pressing them into his thrusts, driving him deeper and harder into her abused body in a way she’d never imagined she would do. Her head lolled over the edge of the table, and wild, animalistic sounds built up within her chest and tore from her lips as a series of churning, twisting, aching pulls ripped at her from the center.
She was falling, but that couldn’t be, because she was held down to the table.
She was flying through the air, yet she still felt the great mass as though she was tethered to it.
And then his teeth bit into her button and he thrashed his head back and forth as he’d done earlier to her breast, as though he were a dog trying to rip flesh from bone, and she was a lost cause.
For long minutes, Gabriel lapped at the evidence of Jocelyn’s climax, cleaning the sweet juice from her thighs and her cunt and her arse. When he’d licked her almost dry and still she hadn’t stirred, he turned to Bexley. “You and Haines may avail yourselves of Rebecca’s services.”
The two menservants made their exit, leaving him with his lovely pet spread out on his dining room table, her body pale and perfect, with a few dark pink lines over her teats and muff where he’d flogged her. Her bottom was rather red on both cheeks, due to the silver brush. And hot. Deliciously hot to the touch.
He was hard again already, but he wanted her fully aware when he sodomized her for the first time. No, now was not the time to indulge his own desires so fully. That treat would be for another day.
He hadn’t even intended to let her spend just yet, but after how quickly she’d learned to swallow his cock, and how diligently she’d worked to be still and silent during her punishment, how could he have possibly held himself back?
Instead of taking her on the table, Gabriel picked his wife up, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her as she was through the wending corridors of Blackthorne Manor to his master chamber.
Once there, he locked the door so they’d not be disturbed, then tossed her down into the center of his bed.
Jocelyn moaned, but didn’t fully come to. He untied her wrists, massaging them briefly before retying them. This time, he used soft leather restraints he’d commissioned to connect each wrist individually to the headboard, stretching them high and wide.
Then he took each of her ankles, one at a time, connecting them to the wrists already bound in place above her head. As a last touch, he removed the blind from her eyes, tossing it to the floor.
Her glistening twat was wide open to his gaze. Gabriel knelt between her legs for a moment, watching her for anything. She still didn’t wake…but her sweet hole started to pulse, as though it was seeking something to fill it, grasping for his prick even in her dreams.
That was all the invitation he needed.
Grabbing hold of her thighs for leverage, Gabriel drove himself inside her, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt and she screamed herself awake. Her soft blue eyes were fit to burst free from her head, and she locked her gaze onto his.
The walls of her twat were so tight he had to concentrate in order to avoid spilling inside her already. He pulled back, relishing in the squeezing, groping action of Jocelyn’s gash, delighting in the fevered moans coming from her lips as she shook her head. Still, he kept retreating until he’d pulled completely free of her body with a popping sound.
Taking his organ in one of his hands, he slapped the head against her nubbin several times, leaving her panting and gasping and writhing. Then he forced himself into her again.
“Oh, dear God, no,” she cried out, but her back arched, burrowing her heated pussy hard against him, propelling him deeper still.
Her defiance would have to be handled, but he was in no position to properly punish her—not while his own lust was so severe, while his need was so great.
Gabriel rocked his hips against her, each slight movement causing a change in angle and allowing him to reach some new part of her womb. “Yes,” he growled in response. With his thumb, he found her clitoris again, wet with her desire, and rubbed it in time with his motions. “Mine. My wife. My pet. My cunt.”
She pressed her eyes closed, still shaking her head back and forth as though she could convince him to stop. As he retreated again to begin thrusting into her over and over, he reached forward with his free hand and gripped her jaw.
She tried to shake her head free from his grasp, but he held on tighter, stopping just short of the point of bruising her.
“Look at me while I fuck you.”
Her eyes, intensely dark with her burgeoning need, fluttered open on a moan.
When she was staring at him again, he released her jaw and stopped rubbing her button so he could place both hands on her hips. The more he pounded into her, the faster he propelled his hips forward, the harder and longer his tool grew, the softer her gash became. It swelled around him, wet and needy, belying any protestations she might make.
But now the only sounds coming from her, apart from the sloshing, slapping sounds of their vigorous thumping, were cries of desire and need. “Please. Oh! Oh, please.”
The fact that she was begging him nearly sent him over the edge. He’d dreamed of her doing just that for so long, imagining her face as he’d tupped his maids, imagining her cries as they’d called out to him. Over and over, he’d fucked countless women, sending them into raptures as he took his own—but none of them had been Jocelyn.
A possessive beast roared to life within him, driving him further onward in his quest to make her his in every way imaginable.
“Mine,” he growled again, slamming in
to her so hard he might bruise them both from the force of it, but unable to calm himself in any way. “Tell me you’re mine. My pet. My cunt.”
“Your pet,” she said timidly, averting her gaze to the ceiling.
That wasn’t enough. Gabriel slapped both of her tits in rapid succession. He lifted her hips and moved his knees up beneath her, driving into her so that she was angled with her head against the headboard, smacking against it with each thrust. “My cunt. Tell me this is my cunt.”
She fought through tears and moaned each time he drove into her. “It’s yours,” she finally said. “Your cunt.”
The beast within him roared with pleasure for his conquest. But still he wanted more. “Who am I?”
Every stab of his cock was met with the knock of her head against the headboard, the slap of his ballocks against her rump, the slosh of him spearing her sheath. “Master,” she sobbed through gasping breaths. Her feet arched unnaturally and her toes curled, and still she tried to angle herself more fully into him. “It’s your cunt, Master.”
And then he could restrain himself no more. His ballocks tightened and all of the blood rushed straight to his staff, and he stopped breathing. After three more vicious thrusts, he spilled his semen into her with a shout and collapsed atop her.
Moments later, he realized she was rubbing against his loins, trying to stir the life again in his softening root, even as she tried to raise and lower herself by her bound appendages.
Gabriel pulled himself free and gave her a sharp smack on the gusset, then pinched her nub hard between his thumb and forefinger. “Whose cunt is this?” He pulled up hard on her clitoris while holding her body down against the mattress with his other arm and a knee, until tears sprang to her eyes.
“Yours!” Jocelyn took panicked, sharp breaths and her eyes were wild. “Yours, Master.”
“Yes. My cunt.” Slowly, he released the pressure on her button and eased his weight off her body. “That means it exists for my pleasure, not for yours. You’ll receive pleasure when I decide you should, and only then.”
By then, he’d released her completely, but she still had a frantic look in her eyes and fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
A necessary lesson. He didn’t enjoy denying her pleasure, but the more he denied it to her, the more profound it would be when he allowed it.
Gabriel brushed the tears from her cheeks and then kissed her eyelids, allowing himself a brief moment of tenderness. “Ah, my sweet pet.”
Then he drove his hand into her fanny, coating three fingers in the juices of their fuck.
A twinge of fear covered her expression. Someday, she’d learn to seek his lessons in submission, to love them. For now, her fear would have to suffice.
He moved to straddle her, threading each of his powerful thighs through the hole between her arms and legs and resting his arse over her teats. Then he pressed his fingers between her lips, ignoring the moan of protest.
“This mouth, it belongs to me also, doesn’t it pet?”
She nodded, but did not respond.
Gabriel slapped her cheek with his other hand.
“Yes, Master,” she said, which allowed him to move his fingers between her teeth.
Pressing her jaw wide, he stuffed his entire hand inside her mouth until he could tickle the back of her throat. “Lick it clean, pet.”
Her tongue went to work, slowly at first. But then he scraped his fingernails against her throat, and she licked more vigorously. When it was clean he removed it, but lifted his hips so his prick bobbed before her face.
“Each time I grant you my seed, you will thank me by cleaning my cock.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond to his pronouncement. Gabriel grabbed two fistfuls of Jocelyn’s hair and rammed himself inside her sweet mouth.
Since he’d already spent himself twice in rather short order, he had sincere doubts that she could elicit him to harden again—but he was more than willing to let her try.
She swirled her tongue over and around him as he guided her head. Though she’d never played the bagpipe until a few hours ago, her effort was already vastly improving. Jocelyn drew her tongue into a hardened tip and slid it along the underside of his member as he withdrew, which was almost enough to call forth another rise.
There would be more than enough time for that without exerting himself again immediately, however. He moved back, drawing his flaccid penis free from her lips before removing his thighs from their current entanglements with her limbs.
Gabriel blew out the bedside candles, then drew back the silken bedding and settled himself beneath it, stacking two pillows beneath his head. “For the first day of learning your new role, you have withstood your training admirably. Now you should sleep, however.”
“Sleep?” Shock laced her tone. “Will you not release me, Master?”
He chuckled even as he rolled to his side to get comfortable. “I require my cunt to be ready for a hard fuck at all times. How better to assure that than to leave you bound in such a position?”
Jocelyn whimpered, but wisely did not try to argue with him on this matter.
Indeed, he awoke a few hours later, already so hard it was nothing short of miraculous that he’d been able to sleep through it as long as he had. He tossed back the bedding, rolled over, and filled her in a single thrust.
As they had earlier, her eyes flew open upon contact. Her skin was pale in the moonlight streaming through the open window, her expression one of alarm. He rutted her like an animal, hard and fast, never allowing her time to adjust to his assault before he was done.
This time, he didn’t grant her the pleasure of remaining inside her. No need to tempt her to defy him. She would do that well enough on her own, given enough time and opportunity. Instead, he pulled himself free even before he’d finished spurting his cream. Streams of it shot out and landed on her belly.
He smeared that over his hand and repeated the earlier process of forcing it into her mouth, and then he let her lick his cock clean. When she was done, he poured them each a glass of water from the bedside table, and forced her to drink hers from her prone position. No point allowing her to become dehydrated, which would be entirely possible with all of the exertions he was requiring of her. Then he once again settled himself on the other side of the bed before falling asleep.
The next time he woke, he wasn’t hard. God knew even he could only rut so many times in a day, despite how frequently he’d prefer to fuck. Nevertheless, it wasn’t his own lust that woke him. Rather it was Jocelyn shifting next to him, struggling against her bonds.
He whipped around and slapped her on a teat in a single movement, causing her to cry out in pain or shock, he knew not which. “Be still,” he ordered gruffly.
But then, despite the fact that he was not humanly capable of pumping her again so soon, the sound of her cry had called to him. The wide, needy eyes drew him in.
He was only a man, after all—a man who was utterly helpless against the need to drive her as mad as he already was.
Reaching up above her head, he released her ankles from the bonds so he could have better access to her teats. Gabriel drew her legs beneath him and pressed them tightly together, anchoring them in place with the superior strength of his thighs. Then he feasted upon her fleshy mounds, suckling and biting and kneading and pinching. Jocelyn thrashed beneath him, trying to kick out with her legs but not succeeding.
“Oh!” she screamed when he sat back and slapped them, watching them jiggle and jostle in the waning moonlight. “Oh, please.”
“Please what, pet?” He pinched each nipple between his thumbs and forefingers and twisted.
Then Jocelyn was sobbing. “Please stop.”
That was most decidedly the wrong answer. Reaching over to the table beside his bed, Gabriel’s fingers found a crop in the dark. He slashed it through the air, landing a solid blow on her right teat.
Her back bowed up and her shoulders pulled taut against the restraints on her wrists
.
“Please what?” he asked again.
“Please stop, Master!”
But that was still the wrong answer, though at least it was delivered more respectfully. He swung again, landing a similar blow on her left teat. “Try again.”
She gasped for breath, her chest heaving, which only made those delightfully full breasts more enticing targets. The confusion clouding her gaze was only compounding by the moment. He could almost see the thoughts swirling through her mind, trying to sort out just precisely what answer he sought.
And then a moment of clarity came over her. “Please torture my breasts, Master.”
Another strike to the right nipple. A strangled scream. But a flood of wetness raced between her thighs, so much that he could feel it against his cock.
“Teats,” he corrected.
“Please torture my teats, Master,” Jocelyn got out through her sobbing pants.
He struck the left nipple again, harder than before, and she bowed up so far he thought she might pull her shoulders out of position. “Whose teats?” he prodded.
“Your teats!” she shouted, her voice harsh and raspy. “Please torture your teats, Master.”
“My pleasure.”
Gabriel tossed the crop to the floor and resumed his suckling, nibbling, biting torment of her breasts. In no time, he discovered all of the most sensitive parts of her orbs, the places that quickly sent her to the verge of ecstasy. He also made short order of learning just precisely where and how to cause pain in order to draw her back from a climax before he was ready for her to have one.
He spent a half hour or more urging her ever closer and then pulling her away, being regaled by a chorus of her cries and moans and screams and groans.
Then he decided she’d had enough for now. He rolled off of her. While she sighed in either relief or resignation, he reattached her ankles to the headboard. Then he moved back to the other side of the bed and slept.
His dreams were filled with the sounds of the petite mort he intended to give her—when it was time, and not a moment before.
