Captive

by Aishling Morgan

  Aisla returned to the inn, weak kneed and thoroughly drunk, although not a drop had passed her lips. She was staggering as she mounted the stairs. Despite her orgasms she felt thoroughly used, which having spared Sulitea further degradation only went so far to soften. Deciding that making Sulitea lick her bottom would do a great deal to improve her mood, she knocked on the door of their room. There was no response, only a strange, rhythmic noise, and when she tried the handle the door swung open.

  Sulitea lay on the bed, nude from the waist down, with the pot-boy mounted between her thighs and puffing away energetically as he fucked her. Her thighs were up and open, her face set in rapture, destroying any possibility that she had been taken unawares. For a moment Aisla looked on in astonishment and then her temper snapped completely.

  Snatching at the pot-boy’s belt, she dragged him backwards and hurled him to the floor. For a moment the gaping hole of Sulitea’s vagina was visible before she squealed in shock and quickly shut her thighs. The pot-boy had landed hard on the floor and began to protest, only to catch sight of Aisla’s face and change his mind. Scrambling to his feet, he fled with his trousers clutched in a fist.

  Aisla tore at the startled Sulitea’s dress, ripping bodice and chemise to let her breasts bounce free. Sulitea squeaked, then again, louder as Aisla’s hand smacked down on her face. Grabbing the thick wedge of cheese the pot boy had brought, Aisla stuffed it into Sulitea’s open mouth, stifling her attempts at protest. Smacking over and over, applying her palm to Sulitea’s body with her full force, Aisla took out her anger.

  Only when Sulitea’s struggles began to subside did Aisla’s stop. Sulitea’ face, breasts and thighs were covered in blotchy pink marks, with her skin scratched in several places were Aisla’s nails had caught her. Her mouth was full of cheese, yet her breathing was deep and regular, making her smacked breasts rise and fall in time. Her thighs were open, her tuppenny glistening with juice.

  With a frustrated grunt Aisla pulled the cheese from Sulitea’s mouth. No resistance was given as Aisla straddled Sulitea’s head, nor when she released the full contents of her bladder into her friend’s mouth.

  The next morning Aisla woke to a sore body and cloudy head. Sulitea was cuddled against her, but came awake as Aisla moved. Without a word they washed and made themselves as presentable as possible. Sulitea’s dress was ruined beyond repair, a torn, urine sodden rag, her chemise little better. Only the pantalettes could be worn again, having been removed before the fight. Sulitea put them on as Aisla dressed in the harness, leaving herself topless. Taking pity, Aisla cut a crude poncho from one of the blankets that had escaped wetting, which Sulitea put on to create an effect ridiculous if not actually indecent.

  Downstairs the inn was as quiet as it had been boisterous the previous night. Only Mojal himself was present, wiping the counter with a filthy cloth. Aisla gave him a nod, to which he replied with a knowing leer, then a chuckle as he saw how Sulitea was dressed. The girls took no notice.

  ‘A moment,’ Mojal remarked as Aisla made to open the door.

  ‘Yes?’ she answered, expecting him to demand a final session of cock sucking or worse.

  ‘As you have given without stinting,’ he said quietly, ‘and allowed my, shall we say, personal indulgence, I will say this much. You performed well last night, perhaps too well. Naithal and his men will be waiting for you along the trail to Aponan. He has also posted men in the forest behind here. They will put you in sacks and take you south, where they intend to sell you as slaves.’

  ‘Slaves!’ Sulitea exclaimed in utter horror.

  ‘Slaves,’ Mojal repeated, ‘perhaps not a fate much different to last night’s little games, but with no pay and no choice.’

  ‘Never!’ Sulitea spat.

  ‘Indeed not,’ Aisla agreed. ‘Thank you, Mojal.’

  She kissed him, which he clearly had not expected at all. Sulitea was already peering carefully from the door.

  ‘There is the virtue of a willing surrender,’ she said as Aisla joined her. ‘Those who enjoy the benefits keep their faith.’

  ‘Gerris being an exception,’ Aisla answered, glancing nervously to the west, ‘and evidently Naithal, to who I surrendered. He was the first to fuck me.’

  ‘Men of honour keep their faith to surrendered girls,’ Sulitea answered.

  ‘So fat Mojal is a man of honour and Naithal not?’ Aisla queried. ‘Despite having flushed my rear for amusement and let men use me for a single weight of iron, even up my bottom?’

  Sulitea gave a sour grin and once more glanced down the road. A man was visible in the distance where the track turned, lounging casually on the bank.

  ‘They will be spread out,’ Aisla said, ‘perhaps positioned so that two or three will be able to catch us and hold us long enough for the others to come up. They are small, but doubtless confident in their strength and weapons.’

  ‘Then they have a surprise coming,’ Sulitea answered.

  Aisla grinned and reached between her legs, extracting the sperm vial from her vagina. Putting it to her lips she sucked, tasting the wood-ape sperm as it flowed into her mouth. She swallowed and bit her harness, then waited for the effect.

  No change occurred, only a slightly sick feeling from the taste of the sperm. She shrugged as Sulitea gave her a questioning look. Down the path the man had been joined by a second. Aisla fingered the axe shaft, considering her chances of success without the elixir and deciding that they were slim against so many.

  ‘We must go east a way and loop back through the hills,’ Sulitea said, echoing Aisla’s thoughts.

  Aisla nodded and they set off, one of the distant men immediately giving a call to his comrades. Walking fast and frequently looking back over their shoulders they headed east along the shore, all the while looking for some way of eluding their pursuers. The slope to their right became steeper as they went, the forest thinning and then giving way to an open, boulder strewn slope of tough grasses and stunted trees. Finally it became too steep to be climbed and they had to abandon the plan of looping around to the south.

  With the sun approaching the zenith Aisla felt the first traces of panic. Naithal’s marauders were visible, some way back along the track but coming on at a purposeful walk. With Sulitea’s bound feet it proved impossible to go faster and she found herself faced with the prospect of turning at bay to twelve men.

  Their pursuers slowly gained on them until they reached the far side of a small cove. Beyond the mountain fell back and the land opened out, with an area of flat sea-plain beyond which a narrow neck of land stretched out to a tall stack with a castle at its summit. A shout caught her attention and they turned back to find Naithal standing on the track across the cove, no more than two hundred paces distant.

  ‘Stop!’ he called. ‘We wish your services and have coin to pay!’

  ‘You are liars and slavers!’ Sulitea yelled back.

  Naithal shrugged, spoke briefly to his companions and then turned back to the girls.

  ‘Surrender yourselves!’ he called out. ‘It is for our mutual good that we pursue you. We mean to take you to Ap-Ythan and sell you for the Vendjome trade. We will receive a high price for such young and beautiful Aeg girls as yourselves, while you will be sold in Vendjome.’

  Aisla pushed the axe haft through her circled fingers in an insulting gesture.

  ‘Life will be easy,’ Naithal went on, cupping his hands around his mouth for amplification. ‘Doubtless you will be purchased by some old and wealthy merchant who can rise to you only once a month! Even by the emperor himself, who has a thousand concubines and is said to prefer boys. You will be able to sit eating sweetmeats and gossiping together in the seraglio!’

  ‘Gutter filth! I’d sooner die!’ Sulitea screamed back.

  ‘Come, come, no need for tantrums!’ Naithal yelled. ‘It is a fine life for girls, o
ne many would envy. Think, nothing to do but powder your cunts!’

  ‘Bastard! Dog’s filth!’ Sulitea cursed.

  ‘It is pointless to run in any case,’ Naithal shouted, changing his argument once more. ‘You can not pass us, and in the end must come out on the peninsula. Save all of us time and trouble and we will spare you the whipping we will otherwise feel obliged to dish out!’

  Aisla repeated her gesture and shook the axe at them.

  ‘So be it,’ Naithal called, ‘but I warn you, for your defiance your buttocks and backs will be purple until we reach Ap-Ythan, while I myself will bugger you nightly!’

  Not troubling to reply, Aisla ran, with Sulitea hobbling behind. The castle was at no great distance, a forbidding edifice of black rock. Hoping that it presented no worse a menace than the marauders, they made for it, with their pursuers coming unhurriedly behind, certain of their eventual success.

  They reached the castle to find the massive doors stood part open, wedged with a rock. Tufts of grass had begun to sprout in front of both, suggesting they had not been opened in months. The castle was obviously deserted. Aisla paused, glancing back. The marauders were coming up the slope, showing no signs of hurry but spread out into a wide line to cut off any possibility of retreat. Her hand tightened on the axe shaft as she considered a dash at the weakest part of the line, but Sulitea was already through the gate and hissing at her to follow.

  Aisla obeyed, jumping the rock to find herself beneath a broad arch. Two scents struck her immediately, rotting fruit and a musk that set the hairs on her neck prickling. Sulitea had stopped and had her hand over her mouth in a gesture for silence, her eyes wide with fright. Aisla moved forward, cautiously, to peer into the wide courtyard beyond the arch. The reason for Sulitea’s fear was immediately obvious.

  An enormous troll, perhaps half her height again, lay slumped in the sunshine, great hands folded over a huge belly, monstrous genitals lolling between open legs. He was perhaps a touch shorter than the mountain troll who had caught her, if more massive, and if the enormous club that lay at his side suggested he was tame, it was hardly reassuring. Aisla glanced back at the gate, then at the troll again, her eyes drawn to the huge penis, close to double the size of the big wood-ape’s cock.

  Following Sulitea’s frantic gestures, Aisla scampered along the side of the wall and up a narrow stair to the ramparts. Ducking low into the angle above the gate, they moved out of sight of the troll and looked out between two crenellations. Naithal and his men were approaching cautiously, weapons ready. Seeing the condition of the gates, they increased their pace to an easy walk.

  ‘Aisla, Sulitea!’ Naithal called. ‘You can not hide. It will be the worse for you if we have to drag you out.’

  Sulitea ducked low, freezing into place beside Aisla.

  ‘What will it be tonight?’ Naithal called. ‘Wrapped warm in our blankets or hung by your heels from the ramparts?’

  ‘With your hands tied and your cunts stuffed with sea holly!’ another added.

  ‘And stinging anemones up your arseholes!’ a third put in, drawing laughter from the others.

  Aisla wriggled further back, risking a glance into the yard. The troll was standing, stretching, with his club clutched in one huge fist. She pulled back as he began to walk purposefully towards the gate.

  ‘Come on little ones, come to uncle,’ Naithal called out. ‘This is your last chance to avoid Buhal and his poisonous anemones!’

  The others roared with amusement, only for their laughter to turn to screams as the troll stepped clear of the gate with a roar of challenge. Aisla and Sulitea watched, unable to restrain their giggles as Naithal and the others fled in blind panic down the slope, dropping their weapons and tripping in their haste to escape. The troll walked out from the gates, only to stop and push, as if at an invisible barrier, then give a grunt of irritation and start back for the gate.

  ‘Why doesn’t he follow?’ Aisla asked in alarm.

  ‘He must be bound to the keep!’ Sulitea answered. ‘That was a boundary spell of some sort. This must have been a warlock’s keep!’

  ‘A warlock!?’ Aisla hissed

  ‘Not now,’ Sulitea answered. ‘It’s obviously deserted.’

  ‘No it isn’t!’ Aisla whispered. ‘There an enormous troll living here!’

  ‘Well you know what to do with trolls, don’t you?’ Sulitea responded.

  ‘Again?’ Aisla said weakly. ‘Oh father, help me!’

  ‘Just do it!’ Sulitea urged and then the troll’s head appeared over the edge towards the yard.

  He glared at them, growled and swung up his club, then stopped abruptly. Aisla had quickly scrambled into a kneeling position and had her bottom towards him, swinging it from side to side in the same gesture of invitation she had used on the wood ape. The troll grunted, his face set in puzzled frown. Aisla frantically wiggled her bottom, terrified as one enormous hand reached out for her. She was caught by her harness and lifted with ease, then pulled from the wall. Panicking, she kicked and struggled as she was carried across the yard. The troll took no notice whatever, but threw her down on the pile of grass on which he had been asleep. Fighting down her fear, she scrambled into the right position for entry, face down in the grass with her bottom lifted and her knees cocked open to display her sex. The troll gave a satisfied grunt, reached out, took her by the hair and dragged her head around to his cock. Aisla gaped and took it in, her mouth filling with the strong taste of male troll. As she began to suck the thought came to her mind that the troll had obviously been trained to mate human girls and with it a slight easing of her fear.

  He stiffened quickly in her mouth, until she was gagging on the thick grey-pink pole of his penis, her jaws stretched as wide apart as they would go while the head was pushed well down her windpipe. The grip on her head remained, moving only to fuck her mouth with short, sudden motions. Another inch of cock jammed into her throat and she started to struggle as she found herself unable to breath.

  Even when she began to kick her feet and beat her hands on his thighs the troll ignored her. Yet more cock was forced into her mouth and she realised she was going to suffocate on it, only for him to suddenly withdraw. Aisla fell back, gasping for air and sobbing with reaction. The troll gripped her by her waist and swung her round, nudging his erection against her bottom and then laying it between her cheeks.

  It began to rut in her crease, the huge balls slapping on her tuppenny where the leather of her harness covered her. Knowing how easily he could get to her anyway, she reached between her breasts and opened the clasp, then removed the vial from her hole, allowing access to her sex with a mixture of shame and anticipation. The troll continued to rut in her bottom crease, clearly enjoying the feeling. The leather cups fell from Aisla’s breasts, letting them swing free beneath her chest. With a resigned sigh she put her face in the grass and took one in each hand, feeling them.

  The grass smelt of troll, a rich, masculine musk that increased the urgency of her need. She pushed her bottom higher, pressing her crease to the thick shaft in ecstasy, wondering how long it would be before he decided to fuck her and anticipating the feel of the huge cock inside her. He continued to rub, driving her closer and closer to a climax with each slap of his rough, heavy scrotum on her empty tuppenny. She began to mumble to herself, begging to be fucked, only half-aware of what she was saying. The troll responded, place one huge hand over each of her buttocks and spreading them until the bar of flesh between vagina and anus began to sting. His hips moved back and she felt the head of his cock slide down her crease, bump on her anus and nudge her vagina. She relaxed, sighing as he pushed and she was filled with troll cock, her hole straining to take it despite the copious lubrication running from her.

  She continued to massage her breasts as she was fucked, all the while imagining how she must look to Sulitea, bottom high with a vast troll
mounted on her. His belly was resting on her bottom, pressing her down into the straw and adding to her feeling of glorious helplessness. Knowing that she had to do it, she reached back, meaning to put her hand to her sex but nudging his scrotum with her fingers. A last, weak stab of shame at her behaviour caught her as she grabbed the heavy sack and squashed it against her tuppenny. Rubbing the heavy balls onto herself to make them bump on her sex lips and clitoris, she started to masturbate as she was fucked.

  His pace began to increase, his cock bumping her cervix and sending shock waves right through her. She had been approaching orgasm, but at the new sensation lost control completely, gasping, biting the dirty grass and clutching at her breasts and his balls. He grunted and she felt hot semen swell out her vagina, then burst from the hole to trickle, warm and sticky, down over her fingers. He stayed in her, finishing off with a long grating moan as she snatched his scrotum back to her tuppenny, determined to come with the huge cock still bloating her out. The orgasm began to rise again almost immediately and she found herself screaming out her pleasure into a faceful of filthy straw, squeezing her breasts against her chest and smacking the big scrotum over and over onto her clitoris.

  She was still coming as he started to withdraw, and for a moment her fear started again at the thought of how he might react to her treatment of his scrotum. She let go of it, but his response was no more than a grunt. Hoisting her by one leg, he tossed her casually to the side, sank back to the bed of grass, folded his arms over his belly and was quickly asleep. Aisla pushed herself up into a kneeling position with an effort, grimacing at the soreness of her tuppenny as the hole slowly closed. Her pubic hair was clogged with sperm, her thighs wet with mixed juices. Looking back between her thighs she saw Sulitea, standing uncertainly in the yard. Her ludicrous pantalettes were off, clutched in one hand while she stroked at her tuppenny with the other.