Bound

by Lila Dubois

  Aketa screamed.

  Oh wait. That hadn’t actually hurt.

  Aketa stopped screaming and looked down at her breasts. Her nipples were flushed dark pink and stood up pointedly against the white of her breasts. The flogger had left no mark.

  As she watched he struck her breasts again. They jiggled as the strands of the flogger formed themselves to her flesh. There was less force behind it than a slap.

  But that did not lessen what he was doing. He was flogging her, and there was something strange and pleasant about it. The third strike landed one tail of the flogger directly against her nipple.

  Aketa threw her head back between her upstretched arms, screaming through her clenched teeth. As if that were the sign Moregon had been waiting for, he sprang into action. He pressed her to his chest, her well-used nipples scraping the planes of his pecs.

  He kissed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth as he ground his hips against hers. With a grunt of effort Aketa wrapped her fingers around the chain connecting her manacles, lifted herself up, and wrapped her legs around Moregon’s hips. He jerked in surprised and then wrapped his arms around her, taking her body weight onto himself.

  Her new position had opened Aketa’s sex, parting the swollen petals so that when she pressed herself into him, the ridge of Moregon’s cock rubbed her sex.

  Using her arms Aketa lifted and lowered herself, working herself along his cock, sucking and biting his lips every time her clit came into contact.

  Moregon wrenched his head away, “You amaze me. You make me want to… to do things to you that I’ve never desired to do.”

  “Do them,” Aketa begged, mindless with her need for more, more, more. “Take me. Mark me.”

  With a growl Moregon reached up and jerked down on the chain. Her manacles fell free of the hook. Her scooped her up in his arms and carried her to a low bed. Moregon set her in the middle of the bed and followed her down.

  “Turn over,” he commanded. Aketa rolled so she was on her belly and looked at him, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

  “On your knees.”

  Aketa pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Moregon grunted and tapped her arms, until she lowed herself to her elbows, which elevated her ass.

  “Now spread your knees. Good. You look … so beautiful. You are so beautiful. I have to punish you. You’re playing with my head. This is not what I want, never what I’ve wanted, to dominate a woman, and yet, with you, I want it. I want to teach you to kneel before me, to move instantly at my command. I want to teach you to love the whip and cane, to crave clamps. You’re making me want things…”

  His diatribe tapered away as he stroked a hand over the curve of her ass. Aketa had a brief glimmer of understanding as to what might be really going on, what this contest was really about, but the thought was lost as he slapped her ass.

  Her whole body rocked forward and her ass burned. The pain faded and all that was left was pleasant heat. He spanked her again.

  “More,” she begged.

  Moregon rose to his knees beside her and began spanking her in earnest. It hurt. Her bottom soon burned and she flinched and cried out with each fall of his wide, hard hand against her ass. But she did not ask him to stop. She knew that a word from her would end everything.

  As much as he was in control, it was really she who drove their play. She allowed him to master her, and he allowed her to submit. The trust built in those stolen moments allowed them to delve into this dangerous game where pleasure was pain, and pain the greatest pleasure.

  He ceased spanking her and grabbed the globes of her ass, kneading the reddened flesh.

  “You enjoyed that, didn’t you, naughty girl?”

  “Yes, oh yes,” she said, voice watery.

  “Do you want the flogger here, on your ass?”

  “Yes,” she said, remembering the soft kiss of the flogger. Though it seemed more cruel, the flogger had actually been much kinder than his hand.

  “But I want to use it on your breasts again. Turn over, arms above your head. Keep your knees spread so I can see your sex.”

  Gentle giant Moregon had turned into a rough sex master, a demanding barbarian king.

  Aketa got into position, spreading her legs lewdly, hoping he could see how wet, how ready, she was for him.

  Moregon picked up the flogger, and without pause, brought it down on her right breast. The thongs caught her nipple and the soft skin on the underside, which had been protected when she was standing up. Aketa moaned and arched her back. He was growing bolder—this time when he drew the flogger away, there were faint lines left from the tails. He struck her left breast, then again her right.

  Aketa was moaning and thrashing, so caught up in their play that he could have whipped her raw and it still would have been pleasure. Moregon threw the flogger to the side, squeezed her breasts together, and took both nipples into his mouth at the same time. He suckled and lapped, bit and licked.

  “Hold your breasts together,” he demanded, and when her hands took the place of his, pressing her breasts together, it freed him to reach one hand down between her legs.

  He shoved two fingers into her, hard and fast. Aketa’s hips bounced off the bed. She had been empty; he filled her. His fingers pulled out and then tunneled in again. His mouth was still fastened to her nipples.

  She was so aroused it took less than a dozen thrust of his fingers to have her nearing orgasm. And just as the muscles low in her belly drew tight, the orgasm growing ever closer, he stopped.

  Moregon sat up.

  “No! No, no, no,” Aketa yelped, grabbing at him with her still manacled hands, trying to pull him back.

  “Not yet,” Moregon said with a smile.

  “Wha-? No. Now.”

  “No. You will wait until I say, until I decide to give you release. Hmm, I come to understand the pleasure that can be derived from tormenting someone this way. I did not truly understand until this moment.”

  Beyond caring what he was talking about, Aketa, with a defiant glance, lowered her hands between her legs and brushed her fingers over her own sex. She didn’t need him…

  Moregon grabbed the chain and jerked her fingers away. Aketa howled in frustration as additional arousal flooded her as he took control of her once more.

  “On your knees,” he demanded.

  Aketa, pouting, disobeyed, clamping her legs together and remaining stubbornly on her back.

  Moregon took hold of her hip, and rolled her over, manhandling her as easily as he would a baby lamb. Aketa bucked and struggled, and once, when his hand came close to her face, she bit him.

  Moregon flattened her on her belly and knelt astride her thighs, holding the chain of her cuffs, which forced her to bend her arms so acutely she could touch her own back.

  “You were no virgin, but I want to know. Has anyone ever taken you here?” Moregon rubbed his fingers along the crease of her ass. Aketa flashed back to the previous day, and the way the woman had pushed her fingers into the man’s ass, stretching him.

  “N-no.”

  “Then I will be the first.”

  Aketa shuddered and Moregon lifted himself off her while still using one hand to hold the chain.

  “Back on your knees and elbows,” he commanded, releasing her manacles. Aketa meekly obeyed. Moregon reached beneath her to stroke her belly and fondle her breasts, which swung beneath her, the tips scrapping the covers. He pinched and rolled her nipples as he stroked her back and thighs with his other hand.

  Aketa had a moment to wonder what had become of them. They two, who were both so simple, were now enmeshed in this dark world. It had started out almost as a game, given to Moregon with a complete set of rules. Aketa had played along, wanting the reward—his touch—more than she wanted to play. But it was no longer play.

  “Moregon,” she whispered.

  “I will not force you,” he said quietly.

  “You do not have to force me, I am willing. But it frightens me.”

/>   “The implements? The pain?”

  “No. It frightens me how much I want this, want you.”

  “I understand,” he said, voice stark. “You must know something. Once you have tasted what we do here tonight … nothing will ever be the same.”

  With that he slipped his fingers into her sex, coating them in her body’s moisture, while still toying with her nipples.

  “I do not have gloves, or the grease, so this will hurt more than it might otherwise.”

  His fingers moved up from between the lips of her sex, sliding between the globes of her ass. He stroked the puckered hole, fingers wet with her body’s lubricant. His long middle finger pressed to the center of her anus, and pushed in.

  Aketa yelped as it entered, the sensation uncomfortable and terribly foreign. She tightened around him, wanting to push him out, but Moregon forced his finger ever deeper, ignoring her small mews of distress. When his finger was fully situated in her, Aketa shuddered and whimpered.

  He pulled his finger out all the way, waited a moment for her body to re-adjust, and forced his finger into her ass again. This time there was more pleasure than pain.

  “You are mine, are you not?” he demanded.

  “Yours,” she panted, gritting her teeth as his thick finger tunneled into her.

  “Does this hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because … I don’t know. Because you do it.”

  Moregon stilled beside her, his finger buried half way into her ass, and in that moment Aketa remembered that this was a competition for his affections, and that he’d told her what they did tonight was a game with rules. Perhaps the question had been a test, one she’d just failed.

  “Aketa,” he said, the word ground out between his teeth. His finger emerged fully from her ass, and she whimpered at the loss, but in the next moment he pressed against her hole, but not with his finger.

  “Moregon,” she whimpered.

  “Take it,” he demanded.

  Aketa pressed her forehead into the cool metal of the manacles that bound her. The chain draped over her wrist. Aketa took a link into her mouth, sucking on the metal.

  Moregon forced two fingers into her ass, and Aketa welcomed it, she wanted it. His fingers on her nipples were rough, pinching and rolling. He took a handful of her hanging breast and squeezed.

  Aketa rocked forward and back, unable to hold still, despite the fact that her movements were forcing her body further onto his thick fingers. She cried out when his knuckles forced their way in.

  His fingers left her breasts, which were so sensitive that the scrape of the fabric against them seemed almost harsh. He positioned himself so he was fully behind her, not at her side, his hands moving along the flesh displayed by her lewdly splayed thighs and submissive posture.

  “You will come, when I do this. You will come because I command it, because the pleasure and the pain that I give you arouse you.”

  “Yes, yes, please oh please,” Aketa moaned, spitting out the link of chain.

  Moregon slipped his fingers between the lips of her sex, rubbing two fingers along her clit, before sliding them to the opening to her body. He wiggled the tips of his fingers in, then pulled the fingers in her ass almost all the way out.

  A glimmer of what was coming, what he was about to do, touched Aketa’s mind, but in the next moment all thoughts were gone.

  Moregon slammed his fingers into her, two each into her sex and ass. He thrust into her so hard that Aketa collapsed onto her belly.

  Aketa barely noticed as a wave of ecstasy consumed her. Her toes curled, her belly clenched, and the muscles in her thighs drew tight. She had never felt so connected with her own body; each ripple of sensation and pleasure was distinct and perfect. She had never felt so distant from her own body; she was flying.

  Moregon extracting his fingers gave her a small residual orgasm.

  She did not realize she was crying until Moregon knelt beside her, a soft damp cloth in his hand. His beautiful blue eyes were filled with worry as he rolled her to her side and cleaned the tears from her cheeks.

  “Aketa?”

  She blinked up at him, still riding the effects of the pleasure.

  “Are you well?”

  She nodded.

  “Have you decided to stop speaking to me?” he asked, brows lowered in worry.

  “No,” she whispered, voice hoarse. Her mouth still tasted of metal. His bare chest glistened with sweat. She wanted to lick it.

  “I’m going to clean you now. Please do not be afraid.” Moregon shifted down the bed, stroking her thigh the way one would stroke a horse to gentle it. He eased her legs apart, dropping to his elbow and draping one of her legs over his shoulder. He began to clean her, the cloth stroking the outside of her sex. His touch was very gentle.

  The cloth parted the lips of her swollen and sensitive sex, passing over her clit.

  Aketa’s body lit up a second time. Her clit was throbbing and sensitive, and the single touch was enough to give her another orgasm. The leg draped across Moregon’s back clenched, forcing him between her legs. Moregon grunted in surprise and his face was pressed to her sex.

  “Moregon,” Aketa gasped, teeth chattering in pleasure.

  He made a sound, something low in his throat, a sound of triumph, a sound of defeat. His thumbs pried her apart, his tongue delved into her, and Aketa screamed again.

  She was too sensitive, she could not bear to have him touch her, pleasure her, anymore. Her heels dug into his back as she tried to push him away, but Moregon would not move. She was trapped, she was his, and if he wanted to play with her, he would.

  “No more, no more,” she begged.

  He did not stop.

  Aketa thrashed. Her nails raked his shoulders. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair. And eventually her hands ventured to her own breasts, pinching and plucking. She became her own tormenter.

  She had nothing left to give, her body was shaking under the pressure of his demand that she orgasm again. Her legs continued to thrash, clenching him closer, pushing him away. Her restless hands mauled Moregon, abraded her breasts, and clenched in the sheets.

  The third orgasm hit her, and endless wave of pleasure that threw her back into an arch. Aketa’s mouth opened in a soundless scream. When she collapsed back, her eyes were closed.

  “Aketa?” Moregon whispered, detangling himself from her legs.

  She did not respond, but when he lay his hand on her belly near her sex her legs twitched.

  *

  Moregon blinked, unable to believe all that had passed between them. His breeches were sticky and wet from where he’d come as he licked her.

  She was the most amazing, most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. The passion between them was unlike anything he’d experienced before, and for him, that was saying a lot.

  There had been no artifice, no plan, to direct them. He’d fed on her reactions and let that guide him. It astounded him how they’d flowed in and out of the roles as dominant and submissive, without any hint of true power struggle.

  Moregon stripped off his spoiled breeches and lay down beside her, not touching her. She was unlike anything he’d expected.

  “Who would I be if I were with you?” he wondered.

  Chapter 18

  They lay together, legs tangled, hands roving over shoulders and chests. They were not touches to arouse, merely touches to touch.

  Moregon’s hand fluttered to her face. He cupped her cheek, thumb easing over the scar there. He then traced the continuation onto her neck and shoulder.

  “Will you tell me what happened?” Moregon asked her. He regretted the question the moment it left his mouth, but she did not turn away.

  “It was an accident.”

  “On the farm?”

  “Yes, with a scythe.”

  Moregon hissed out his breath, imagining the long curved blade. “How did it happ
en?”

  Aketa froze. “I…” she trailed away into silence.

  Moregon shifted until he was on one elbow looking down at her. “How did it happen? What was done to you?”

  The second question brought tears to her eyes. “I have never spoken of it.”

  “Tell me.”

  Aketa wiggled, urging him to lie back. Once he was down, she lay on his chest with her head under his chin, hiding her face from him as she began to speak.

  “I have three brothers, younger than I. But once there was another. Barsk was older, but only a year. We were close, he and I. Mother despaired of me, because I was always in the fields with Father and Barsk.

  “There were some bad years. Drought, then we had everything confiscated by the old King, bundles beyond the tax, and that winter was bad. Father grew angry, tense, but Mother and Barsk could make him laugh.

  “The next year the wheat grew in thick and fast, but there were rumors of a plague of wheat mold. We set out to cut as fast as we could. There was no help, everyone else was doing the same, so Barsk and I worked, more and harder than we’d ever worked before. My other brothers, still young, but they could have helped, were all ill.

  “It was the end of a long day, one of backbreaking work. Barsk and I had finished our work, bundling the wheat, and were walking through the fields towards Father. We shouted to him, but the wind must have carried away our words.

  “As we came up behind him, Father swung the scythe up onto his shoulder.”

  “It killed your bother?”

  “The scythe cut off his head, and then it cut me, from my shoulder to my lip.”

  Aketa fell silent, and Moregon struggled to take a breath. What she described was a horrid accident, a freak and tragic thing.

  “Your family must have been devastated.”

  “Father was afraid. Afraid he would be hanged for murder. We buried Barsk in the wheat field. Father told Mother the King’s men had come for him, drafting him. She believed him. I came home covered in blood, screaming Barsk’s name, and she believed Father.” For the first time, some emotion touched her words. Old grief and anger rolled off her.

  “There was no money for a doctor for me, and they did not want questions. I could not speak for a long time, my lip would not heal. The flesh had been parted completely, and so I stopped talking, hoping that would help it grow back together. When it was better and I could talk again, I realized there was no one there for me to talk to.