Again she bit her lip, found her hips rising off the chair slightly to meet the thrusts. She still held Havlin and Galt snug against her breasts, her hands in their hair. She began to feel lightheaded, as if she were floating, as if all of them were adrift on some fluffy white cloud high over Caralon.
“Skylar, the next cock,” Dane announced, at once breaking the spell she’d fallen under and making her wonder why she needed another shaft when the one wielded by Van was fucking her quite nicely.
She gasped when he suddenly withdrew it, staring down at him in shock. Why are you stopping?
Dane’s knowing chuckle drew her gaze to him even as her cunt seemed to wither at the loss of Van’s tool. “Fear not, bride. This next cock will fill you even better and make you even more ready for my own.”
Lusty snickers wafted through the crowd, but all Maven could concentrate on was the need rushing through her body and the feel of Dane’s eyes upon her as she allowed herself to be pleasured by all these other men.
Skylar was young, blond, his expression one of rank confidence—and the clay shaft in his hand was both wider and longer than the one Van had used. Her thighs remained spread wide, and he looked down on her parted cunt with an undeniable hunger that made her even hotter inside. In one sense, she was starting to be a bit afraid—this cock was much bigger, more like the boys who had fucked Lavonia during Maven’s Orientation—yet her body still burned to take it inside.
Kneeling before her, the blond man dipped the fake cock in the same gooey mixture that Van had used a few minutes earlier, then pressed the head of the shaft against her. Oooooh, Ares, she wanted it—wanted it inside her while Dane watched. Please, now. A silent but desperate entreaty.
“Enter her,” Dane said in his deep, authoritative voice.
But when Skylar tried to push the shaft in, he immediately met resistance. Oh no—just as she’d feared, it was too big.
“Thrust until it opens her,” Dane instructed, his voice slightly softer. Then he addressed Maven. “Lay your head back against the chair and close your eyes, bride. Relax and feel it, let it happen.” This time his voice was a low, steady hum, surprisingly relaxing in itself.
Maven’s breathing came heavy, but she tried to follow his direction—she closed her eyes and attempted to ascend once more to that cloud high up in the sky.
She concentrated on her breasts, on the continued laving and licking Havlin and Galt so skillfully delivered. And when the gentle drive of the big clay cock met her cunt, she softly pushed back, sensing that if she tried to help it ease its way inside, it would find a way to fit. Oh Ares, the tip of the rod was pushing, stretching her, stretching her wider. She gave no thought to stifling her moan as it entered her. Her eyes stayed shut and she kept trying to sink deeper and deeper into the cloud, relax her body more and more as the gentle thrusts kept coming—and then finally… “Oh…oh!” she cried as the tool filled her. Its entry came with a brief burst of pain that disappeared as quickly as it started.
She opened her eyes and met Dane’s lusty gaze. “Good. Now fuck her,” he said to Skylar, still peering deep into her eyes. “Fuck her lovely virgin pussy for me.”
Like Van before him, Skylar began to ease the shaft in and out, in and out. It was so big—filling her, making her feel at once excited and weak. She couldn’t resist glancing down, watching it slide slowly into her body and then back out again.
“That’s right, my little bride,” Dane said, his voice low and prodding once more. “Watch that cock slide into your cunt. Watch the way you take it in.”
She did, getting lost in the slow rhythm, in the way it filled her.
The men at her breasts stopped suckling her to watch, as well, but their hands continued to caress and tweak her.
How much more? she longed to ask. How much more of this must I take? The rituals were at once thrilling and frustrating. She wanted to—what had Lavonia called it? Coming. Yes, she wanted to come. Needed to come. Needed it like she needed to breathe. But as the clay shaft slipped in and out of her, the movements growing easier as the scintillating minutes passed, coming did not feel particularly near. The pleasure was thick, but coming felt distant.
Because of her clit, she supposed. Lavonia had explained that it was stimulation to the clit that gave a woman an orgasm.
She was tempted to reach down and touch herself, as she had during her Orientation. After all this wild arousal, coming would be such a joyous relief. But she sensed that she was not to add to her own stimulation, and fear of being reprimanded by Dane in front of everyone kept her from being so bold.
“Melton, fuck her with the last cock,” Dane said.
When Skylar extracted the shaft he’d pushed into her, the loss was excruciating, so much that she whimpered. Dane sat with his chin perched atop one fist, looking utterly titillated by her distress.
When Melton, a muscular man with pale skin and thick raven hair, came forth with a still bigger instrument, Maven feared he would never get it inside her. But if he does, oh, the pleasure. The thought seemed to make her pussy bloom with fresh moisture and she hoped it would aid the entry. She felt her hips rising, almost involuntarily, toward the tool even before it was poised in place.
Dane let out a hearty laugh. “Don’t make my greedy little wife wait. Give her what she hungers for.”
After swiftly immersing the huge cock—as big as Donnell’s, she thought—into the slippery substance, handsome Melton pushed the tip of it against her wet opening. To her joy, the head gained immediate entrance, making her softly cry out.
The dark-haired man gazed upon her cunt as if he took his task very seriously, and his eyes there, combined with the heated sensation brought on by Dane’s intense stare, made her hotter and wetter still. She took advantage and pushed herself deeper onto the clay shaft. Even Dane let out a small sound of pleasure at that, and the knowledge filled her with a deep desire she couldn’t quite comprehend. He wants me too. I excite him just as much as he excites me. She’d known that before, of course, but to elicit such a reaction from a man so very much in control of everything made her feel his desire.
Melton pushed the enormous tool deeper against her with light but determined thrusts as Havlin and Galt alternated between kissing her nipples and stopping to watch her being fucked below.
And then it was in her, all the way, and she cried out at how very full her pussy had just become, and she thrust at it, warm and deep, as she pressed Havlin and Galt’s heads back toward her breasts, needing their laving now more than ever. Her head fell back, her eyes shut, as she took the large rod, as she fucked it with all the enthusiasm she’d learned from Lavonia. Lost. That was the only word that described how she felt. Lost to the lust. Lost to the sensation. Lost to the moment, lost to the Rituals of Passion. Lost to Dane…and his desires.
“Kells, you may begin now,” Dane said.
“Do you wish me to stop?” Melton asked, still meeting her thrusts with the hard shaft.
“No. Just step to the side so that Kells will have room to work.”
Oh, thank Ares! She had no notion of what Kells might add to the mix, but she couldn’t have been more thrilled to hear that this cock was not being taken away from her. She lay back in the chair as much as possible, allowing her hips to lift more eagerly against it. Yes, oh yes, so good—but she still wanted more, wanted to come. Desperately.
Melton shifted to one side, still driving the clay shaft into her as Kells knelt between her thighs. He studied her pussy for a moment, watching the thrusting tool go in and out, then bent over her, leisurely raking his tongue across her clit.
She practically howled with pleasure, the response drawing more moans from the crowd, then watched as Kells licked her once more, sending the same hot delight blasting through her.
With Kells’ warm, sensuous tonguing, Maven’s pleasure climbed to a new level, such as she couldn’t even have imagined a few moments ago. Four men worked for her sensual joy and she felt every bit of their attention
. Her hips ground against Kells’ able tongue and Melton’s clay shaft as she arched her breasts against the two mouths that suckled her. The tight leather encasing her from ribs to hips moved against her skin as she writhed, and the leather choker at her neck rubbed the tender skin there as she thrust against tongue and tool.
She would come soon. She would come in front of all these strangers and it would be the most joyous, fulfilling moment of her life. Oh, how she wanted to come for them now, how she suddenly relished their eyes upon her, just like Dane’s.
It was then, for the first time, that she allowed herself to look out on the crowd, not just as a vague sea of faces, but as individual people who seemed to enjoy her pleasure as much as she did. Some of them were fucking now—she caught sight of a naked woman bent over at the waist, the fur-clad man behind her driving against her with hard thrusts. She spotted several women caressing their own breasts—some bared, others still covered by scant leather or fur—and she recognized Tally on her knees, licking Anya’s pussy under her white dress as Anya watched the stage. In other spots in the room, she saw couples kissing ravenously, sometimes whole groups of people touching and kissing each other. A plump, pretty girl had undone her dress down to her waist and had two men suckling her breasts, just as Maven did.
Oh Ares, it was too much excitement. Or—rather—just enough. Her orgasm drew nearer with each pass of Kells’ hot tongue over her swollen clit. She bit her lip and watched him lick her. Thought—Watch me, Dane. Watch me being licked and fucked. Feel my pleasure. Feel how deep it runs.
Soon, by Ares, so soon.
She thrust, thrust, thrust against Kells’ skilled mouth, and then, to her utter sobbing delight, he locked his mouth tight around the tiny knob at the top of her cunt and began to suck.
Maven’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head. “Mmm…ah, yes…oh…” she purred. She fucked the shaft harder, fucked Kells’ mouth harder. Watch me, Dane. Watch me come.
And then the drumbeat that had pulsed through the entire ritual ceased.
All three men’s mouths left her as did the large clay cock.
She whimpered in shock at the incredible loss.
What…wh-why had they stopped? Just when she’d been so close to ecstasy! She groaned her frustration for all to hear, only then realizing that most in the room were far more caught up in their own heated activities than in hers. They all continued to touch and fuck and sigh and moan—they all continued to seek their ultimate joy. Even Kells had already drawn to him the same woman Maven had seen him with in the garden yesterday, and the other men had quickly found willing partners or fallen into one of the many straining, writhing groups that filled the heat-laden room.
And there she sat, legs spread upon her throne, and the only person watching her now was Dane. His smile was at once teasing and feral as he grazed his palm up the immense column pressing insistently against the front of his pants.
“Are you ready for this cock now, bride?”
Chapter Eleven
Finally, Dane thought, his eyes pinned on her. Finally, some relief for his cock—and it would come in the ripe and ready pussy of his new bride. It was a miracle he’d lasted through the Rituals of Passion, but it was just as big an achievement that he’d survived a perpetual hard-on all these days while waiting for this moment to arrive.
Maven didn’t answer him, but he barely noticed. He’d never seen a more erotic sight than the way she sat before him, her legs parted to reveal her lovely pink cunt, her beautiful breasts plump, nipples dark and erect, all of it framed in the black leather he’d chosen for her.
Part of him was driven to take her right here. For Ares’ sake, no one else who’d attended the rituals had bothered seeking out privacy—a veritable orgy took place around them and it was delectably tempting to become part of the wild debauchery.
But this was his wedding night, and she was his virgin bride. Despite what she probably thought, he did have a little reverence for propriety, and a lot of reverence—in fact—for tradition. So in keeping with the tradition, he would take her virginity in a bed, in a very special bed at that, which he’d been saving just for this occasion. He’d saved it for far too long to forsake it now.
Pushing to his feet, he stepped down from his platform and circled past a fellow who lay on his back being ridden by one woman, having his face fucked by another. Never taking his gaze off his sensual new wife, he ascended the stage and bent to scoop her into his arms.
Rather than attempting to carry her through the crazed orgy, he exited out a back door into the garden, the cool night air wafting over them. Neither spoke as he walked, Maven in his arms, but he felt the hunger emanating from them both.
He was instantly glad he’d left the room, glad he would take her to a private bed. As enjoyable as the sacred rites of passion had been, he suddenly—vehemently—did not want to share her. Her pussy was his now, forevermore, never to be touched or kissed by another man.
Reaching down to open a large, arched door, he carried his bride back into the fortress and up a wide set of stairs. At the top lay a set of double doors. He kicked them open and carried her into the large master chamber he’d never used until now. Walking to the bed, he lowered her onto the expensive silken brocade coverlet. Then he simply stood back to look, to enjoy once more the naughty vision she made.
“What…now?” she asked, her voice gone shy.
He didn’t answer, simply kept his gaze on her as he walked about the bed, studying her from different angles. Her breasts were even more beautiful than he’d expected—large and round with big hardened nipples the color of a faded rose. Despite his wealth, her pussy was the first he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing without hair, and the sight of that part of her bared—for him—was enough to drive him wild. Oh yes, they would keep it that way. He would keep massive supplies of the hair-removal paste, for he wanted her cunt to be this bare and smooth always.
Only when she reached down to begin undoing the hooks on her boots did he speak. “Leave them on.”
“Wh-why?”
“I wish to fuck you while you wear them, that’s why.”
Her breath as she watched him stalk around the bed came heavy and made his chest tighten with excitement. “Do it then.”
So bold. So headstrong. He couldn’t help chuckling. “So now you want me.”
Her breathing grew even more labored, her eyes troubled. He could see her struggling within—hating to admit what they both knew was true.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Say it. We both know it. You want me. And I want you.”
She let out a sigh, looking forlorn, slightly beaten. “All right,” she said softly. “Yes, I want you. Just as you want me. Happy now?”
“Somewhat,” he said, quirking a wicked grin in her direction.
“Somewhat?”
He paused, recalling her vows never to desire him. Her admission just now was grudging at best, and he wanted more. Wanted to make certain she understood how things were to be between them, who was in control. “Tell me you want my cock.”
He watched her tense slightly. “Why? Why must it be said?”
“Because I wish to hear it. I wish the words to leave those pretty lips of yours before I kiss them. Just like you kissed my cock earlier today.” He made no attempt to hide his amusement. “Surely you remember that, dear bride. You sank your sweet lips onto my hard shaft of your own accord.”
She was clearly attempting to look aloof, unaffected. “I don’t wish to say it.”
“You must.”
“And if I don’t?”
Rebellious little girl. He shook his head. “You don’t get my cock.”
At this, she gasped, then looked dreadfully sorry she’d let him see the response.
“In fact,” he went on, “I want you to beg.”
She blinked. “What?”
His chest filled with warmth. “A moment ago, asking for my cock would have been sufficient, but now I intend to make you beg for what
you want.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Never.”
“Never is a long time, bride. And from where I was sitting during the rituals, you need some more pleasure. You need it so badly you’re about to burst.”
She looked as if she’d been caught at something. “Even so, I won’t beg you, you ruffian.”
Taking a seat in a chair at the foot of the bed, he reached up and brushed his fingertips over the soft outer flesh of her bare cunt. She hissed at the pleasure the light touch delivered and he smiled. “Never is a long time, and frankly, I don’t think you’ll last even the night, so why not just tell me what I want to hear?”
She simply shook her head. “I can’t. I would hate myself.”
He was at a loss. “I don’t understand. Why?”
She nearly clenched her teeth as she spoke. “You demand such authority over me, obedience from me. I won’t give it—ever.”
Ah, back to her strong will and rebellious nature. Clearly, Enrick had not raised the girl to understand her situation in life. Clearly, he’d raised his daughters as most men would raise boys. He could see where one might be tempted to do that—he felt certain that when he became a father he would love his daughters as much as his sons, and given that Enrick had never had sons to instill with values of power and pride, it almost made sense. But Maven was his now, and she was going to learn to bend that stubborn will of hers if it killed them both with frustration.
He crawled up onto the bed until his head was between her thighs, until he could smell the sweet scent of her cunt. Ares, she was slick and wet and ready. He licked from her open pink lips up to her engorged clit.
She moaned deeply.
Then he blew on the clit for added effect.
“More,” she murmured.
“That’s right,” he said softly. “Beg for it, Maven.”
She stiffened, almost as if she hadn’t realized that was what she’d begun to do. “No, I won’t. I don’t care if you never take my virginity. I won’t beg you to do it.”
Rituals of Passion (Brides of Caralon, Book One) Page 12
