by JJ Argus
His cock slid down her throat, inch after inch of it, until, jerking and convulsing, she found her face pressed against his groin.
She jerked convulsively, trying to draw back, but he held her easily in place. Her bare knees scrabbled at the floors and her wrists jerked against the shackles binding them behind her, but he held her tightly as her initial panic began to ebb.
Then she felt him pulling at her hair, drawing her back, and she gurgled weakly as the fat cock slid back up her throat and out. She had to fight her gag reflex, but then coughed and gasped, saliva pouring over her lower lip and onto her chest as she gulped in air. She was gasping and unable to speak as he twisted his fingers again in her hair, rubbing his cock against her face.
“Good slave girl,” he said as if pleased with a pet. “We'll have you properly trained in no time.”
She was afraid he was going to shove his cock down her throat again, but instead he pulled her forward and down, settling her on her belly on the floor. He quickly moved behind her, spreading her legs. Then she felt his hands on her hips, jerking them upwards, high.
He slapped her bottom and tugged at her hair.
“Into position, slave girl. Your master intends to mount you like the little bitch in heat you are.”
He slapped her bottom again and she gasped at the stinging blow.
“Spread your legs wider, slave. That's it.”
Another slap struck her. Crack!
Draw your knees forward more, slave.
Crack!
Wider. Forward and apart, slave!
Crack!
“Oww! Doon't!” she moaned.
And then his hand thrust in between her legs, rubbing her in a way which made her voiceless, which cause her hips to jerk and buck as he settled behind her.
Breasts pillowed out against the dark tiles, mouth open, gasping, she felt his cock rubbing up and down along her swollen sex, and then felt him push forward.
She moaned in helpless heat, her breasts aching deliciously, drooling a bit still, onto the dark tiles as she stared at the bars and pulled her wrists against the metal shackles.
“Huuunghh!” she cried as his cock thrust deep down into her belly.
What followed was unlike any lovemaking she had ever experienced. In fact, it wasn't lovemaking at all. It was fucking! He rode her like he'd promised, as though she were a bitch in heat. He mounted her and rode her like an animal!
Gasping, crying out again and again, she writhed and rolled her hips back to meet his harsh, animal thrusts, her bottom aching, her insides bruised and battered, her mind tumbling over and mover amid the howling winds of overheated passion and pleasure.
“You love it, slut!” he exclaimed, slapping her bottom. “You love having your master mount you!”
Another slap as his hips struck her, as his cock speared her, as he jerked her back to meet his powerful strokes and she hovered on the edge of meltdown.
The orgasm screamed through her body, and she cried out in wild pleasure, eyes glazed as she thrust herself back to meet him. And then she cried out in pain as she felt her hair gripped in a tight, tangled mass and yanked up and back. The force of the pull lifted her face and chest off the floor as a hand thrust under her belly and a questing finger found her clit.
The orgasm... the only way she could think of it afterward was that the orgasm had an orgasm. It redoubled and she heard herself screaming at the intensity of the sensations tearing through her even as her body shuddered to the savage pounding of his hips against her buttocks.
He abandoned her hair, and her face almost hit the floor, but instead he seized her shoulders, jerking back again and again as his cock thrust deep into her quivering belly. He rode her violently, as she twisted and writhed and convulsed against him, and then, as the raw violence of the sensations overwhelmed her and her consciousness threatened to flee, he came himself, cursing as his thrusting hips went into overdrive.
Hannah didn't lose consciousness, but it was a near thing. She was aware, but uncaring, of everything around her even as he picked her up, heaved her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, and carried her from the cell.
She was still shackled, a part of her realized, but she was at least exiting the cell. She felt him climbing the stairs – though not the ones she had come down, and groaned weakly, still dazed by the power of the orgasm which had blasted through her.
Up, and up, and around and up the stairs they went, and only near the top did she start to get control of her mind, start to think she ought to perhaps be set down. Yet something felt oddly right about being carried like this, and she made no protest even as he went through a doorway and into a more brightly lit corridor.
Only when she became aware of where they were – in one of the back hallways upstairs did she start to squirm. And when they passed from that into one of the broad, open, luxuriously furnished corridors she felt a start of anxiety that one of the other – one of the servants would see her like this – naked, wrists shackled together, draped across his shoulder.
“C-Carling!” she gasped, squirming.
She yelped as he slapped her bottom.
“That's Lord Carling, slave girl.”
“I-I'm not a slave girl,” she panted.
His arm was around her legs, but she felt his other hand sliding in between her thighs and caressing her extremely sensitive, overheated pussy.
“Oh! Oh don't!” she gasped, squirming at the intensity of the sensations.
He slapped her bottom again and she yelped and jerked in his arms.
“Don't tell your lord what to do, slave girl,” he said.
“You're not my lord!” she exclaimed, staring at his upside down back as she was carried along.
That brought another stinging slap to the bottom, and she yelped again.
“Oww! Stop that!”
”Silence, slave.”
Crack! Another slap to the bottom made her gasp. Then he was carrying her through a large door and slamming it closed behind.
He was impossibly aggravating! But she could not deny the wild heat within her at being manhandled in this way, at being carried bodily along naked and shackled, like a figure in one of her medieval romances.
He flung her onto a very large, four-poster bed, and she landed with a cry of surprise, gasping up at him as he stood at the edge of the bed and peeled off his shirt. The indignation she was about to express was briefly checked by the realization he had a very nice, very attractive, very firmly muscled chest and flat belly, and then by sight of him undoing his belt and tugging it down along with his underwear.
Lord Carling looked very, very good naked.
Well, she told herself indignantly, if she had her own private gym and all the time she wanted she could have lots of muscles too!
She gasped as he climbed into the bed, but couldn't speak. She wanted to tell him to release her at once, to not touch her, only... she couldn't.
He took her legs, jerking them wide apart, then dropped atop her, his hand going immediately behind her head, grasping her hair – again! - and jerking her lips up to meet his. And then any words she might have said were completely lost as he spent long minutes blocking her mouth with his. She felt his tongue swirling and caressing her lips and tongue, and moaned weakly as his other hand roamed her body.
He pulled his lips up at last, leaving her gasping “Beg me,” he said with a smirk.
“Wh-what?” she gasped.
“Beg me to fuck you,” he said.
Her mouth opened in surprise, then indignation.
“I shant!” she gasped.
He grinned arrogantly. “You shall.”
He dropped his head down low, growling as he bit lightly along the nape of her neck, then he eased lower, his lips circling her breasts, mouthing them, his tongue sliding around and around her nipple before his lips enveloped it and began to suck. His hands kneaded her breasts and caressed her body, and she squirmed and moaned helplessly as his fingers found her clit and began
to stroke back and forth across it.
“Beg me,” he said, “Beg for it like a hot, filthy whore.”
“Fu-fuck you!” she gasped.
He growled and she yelped as his mouth found her belly and his teeth gnawed at her, then he was moving lower, hands grasping her legs forcefully, pulling them farther apart as his mouth moved down along her abdomen, and his tongue skimmed the hot, damp flesh alongside her labia
His finger pushed into her, and then a second joined it. She had already come several times, and didn't understand how it was he was able to rouse her body so quickly, or why the intensity of her arousal was so deep and powerful. A third finger pushed into her, pumping in and out as he lapped at her clit, and she could not keep still, her hips grinding, her back arching, her head rolling back and down as the raw sexual heat rolled through her body.
“Beg, slut,” he insisted.
“F-fuck off!' she panted dazedly.
He snorted, then drew himself up and back, sitting on his heels. He gripped her body and yanked her around as though she were weightless, dragging her up across his knees, belly down, and then slapped her bottom sharply.
“Such impertinence cannot be accepted,” he said. “You must needs apologize, you common scruff you.”
Crack!
“Oww!”
Crack!
“Oww! S-stop it!”
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Hannah squirmed and yelped and twisted and moaned to no avail as her bottom was stung again and again, beginning to rapidly heat and redden.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Oww! Bastard! Stop it!”
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
His hand paused, plunging between her thighs, squeezing and caressing her pussy. Then he leaned forward, still holding her on her belly across his thighs, and opened the night table. Hannah could not see what he did, only hear, and then she felt his hand forcing her thighs apart, and something pushing against her hot, moist opening.
She groaned as it slid in, far too thick and long to be his finger, and, gasping tried to twist her head around and up and back to see what he was doing to her.
It was a dildo! She'd never had one but she knew, of course, what they were, and gasped at the sight as well as the feel of it as he slid it deep into her pussy. She wanted to protest, but the sensation was simply too exciting, and this game of his too darkly thrilling.
“Ohhh!” she gasped as he forced it deep, achingly deep.
“Much better than that bottle of yours, eh, Quinn, silly little commoner.”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Oww! Ahh! S-stop!” she gasped weakly.
She shuddered as he gripped the dildo, pulling it in and out, in and out, twisting and turning it, changing the angle. She groaned and gasped as the nose of the thing jammed up into her belly, pushing and prodding against her insides as he turned and twisted it.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
“Oww!” she cried.
“And what shall we do about this?” he asked rhetorically.
Hannah had no idea what he was referring to until she felt his finger rubbing against her wrinkled little back opening. Then her eyes widened and she twisted her head around. “D-don't!” she gasped, blushing.
He snorted and slapped her bottom stingingly, then picked up something which looked rather like a smaller version of the dildo, smaller, but flaring wider as he pressed it against her rosebud.
“Carling! I-I don't... I've never...”
“You will now, slave.”
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
He spanked her even as he slowly twisted the butt-plug into her back passage, forcing her sphincter to widen around it, then slide closed behind.
“Naughty little sex slave,” he said.
Crack!
Hannah's bottom was on fire, and her mind was battered and bruised from the wildfire excitement and sensations.
She cried out again as he slapped at the base of the dildo, jabbing it inside her. Then he flung her off him, and she rolled onto her back, then onto her belly again on the bed, gasping. He grasped her hips, shifting her around again, then the shackles around her wrists came apart from each other. Before she could think to react, however, his powerful hands had hold of her wrists and were shoving them up and back against the opposite corners of the bed.
He slid up across her chest, half sitting atop her as he quickly fastened the chains to the top corner posts of the bed. He rolled off her as she lay there, chest heaving, cocking her head up and back towards the top posts, and pulled another pair of shackles from under the bed. He had hold of one ankle before she saw what he was up to, and held it easily as he slipped the shackle around it.
“What are … you... doing!?” she gasped, shoving and kicking at him with her other foot.
He pulled back on the chain, attaching it to the lower post, then circled around the bed and grabbed her other ankle as she kicked at him, pinning it down, slipping the shackle around it and then pulling it wide.
“I-I suppose you need to do this so your dates don't run away!” she exclaimed breathlessly.
“No, just so I can torture them without them interfering,” he said.
He looked her up and down as she lay spreadeagled before him.
“You look good this way, Quinn,” he said. “Maybe I'll keep you like this permanently.”
She glowered at him, frazzled, hair bedraggled, skin sheened in perspiration, and face blushing as he examined her pussy and fingered her clit.
“You're as bad a pervert as your uncle!” she accused.
“Worse,” he said with a smug grin.
Chapter Six
He found a black scarf, doubled it up, doubled it again, and then put it over her eyes, drawing it back behind her head and tying it there.
“Now I'll invite in the servants to have at you,” he said.
“You don't scare me!” she gulped.
“Of course not. Nasty little trollop like you would probably like that.”
She felt his weight on the bed and pulled against the shackles.
His fingers roamed her body, not neglecting her clit and nipples.
“Now then. Here is what you need to do,” he said. “You need to say “I am unworthy of you, Lord Carling. But please would you fuck your nasty little slave girl.”
“Not a bloody chance!” she gasped.
She smelled something. It was familiar, and yet, she wasn't quite certain. Then she knew it was a fire of some sort. A... candle?
“Aghh!” she gasped as little prickles of fire fell upon her breast. “What are you doing!? Don't!”
“Merely beg my forgiveness for your rudeness, and then obey your master,” he said.
It was wax! The bastard was dripping hot wax onto her nipples and breasts!
Hannah remembered when, as a girl, she had played with the candles at her grandmother's, dripping wax experimentally onto her fingers. It was awfully hot, but cooled to bearable temperatures very quickly.
Of course, she'd never thought to drip it onto her nipples!
“Beg, slut,” he ordered.
She shook her head violently as wax pattered down around her nipples, building up a thick crust, then gasped and arched and twisted as the droplets began to rain down on her belly and abdomen, and finally, her clit.
“Ahhhg! Ohh! Stop it! Don't! Ahhh!”
“Beg my forgiveness, slave.”
“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”
”For what?” he taunted.
“I don't knoooow!” she moaned.
“Silly little librarian. You should say `Please forgive me, Lord, for my impertinence.'”
“P-Please forgive me, Lord, for my impertinence,” she gasped.
“Now beg me to fuck you.”
“Noooo,” she groaned.
She felt his hands on her breasts pulling away the cooling wax, brushing off her breasts and belly and pussy. Then she heard a clinking sound, and a moment later c
ried out as ice cold – ice, in fact – landed on her right breast and began to slowly circle her nipple.
“Ahh! Aghh! No! Take it off!”
But the ice circled her nipple, and then another piece began to slowly caress her other breasts. Despite her writhing and twisting, they continued to circle her breasts and nipples, then slide up and down her ribs as her squeals became higher pitched and more energetic.
One slid back and forth across her clit as she felt the dildo begin to pump slowly in and out, then his mouth – with ice cube inside, began to suck and lick at her clit, producing powerful sensations her body didn't quite know how to cope with.
He spit the cube out, and warmed his mouth the flesh of her abdomen and thighs, then began to suck on her clit again as the dildo pumped faster and faster. The cold melted in the raw heat flaring wildly within her, and Hannah's body began to writhe and twist and arch and pull against the shackles.
He stopped and she grunted as she felt his weight atop her, gasped as he jerked back on her hair.
“Do you want it, slave girl?”
“Yes!” she moaned.
“Do you want it, slut?”
“Y-Yes!” she gasped.
“Tell me you're unworthy.”
“I-I'm unworthy!” she groaned, breathing ragged.
“Now beg, beg me to fuck my filthy little sex slave. And if you don't, I'm going to go downstairs and leave you to stew for about twenty minutes, then come up with more candles.”
“Please fuck me!” she moaned.
She gasped as he slapped her face lightly.
“Lord,” he growled.
“Please fuck me, Lord!” she gasped.
“Again, slut. Please fuck your filthy little sex slave. Say it.”
“Please fuck your filthy little sex slave, Lord!” she moaned.
“No, I think not. I'm really not up to the task at the moment. However, since you're in clear need and I'm a kindly lord and master. I've invited Jason to come and do you instead. Jason, get aboard and fuck this little slut hard and fast,” he said.
