by JJ Argus
She looked at the desk and the computer on it, then turned that on. It required a password, much to her annoyance, but then she saw a white card propped up next to the keyboard with password written on it. Perfect, she thought!
She typed in the password, and waited for the machine to finish booting up, then began looking through the folders in search of videos. And that was what she was doing when he walked in and caught her.
“Doing a little hacking, Quinn?” he asked dryly.
Hannah yelped and leapt to her feet, whirling to stare at him guitily.
“I don't believe breaking into my computer was a part of your cataloguing job,” he said.
“I uhm, I didn't break in. The password was right there,” she gulped.
He shook his head with a faint smile. “Not the password. It's actually a trap word meant to set off an alarm for any snoops who want to look at my computer.”
She blushed and then glared defensively. “I was only trying to get the video of me! Which you have no right to keep!”
“You mean the video of your little masturbation session?” he asked innocently.
Her blush deepened. “Yes!”
“Ah, he said. “I deleted that.”
“I... you... how am I supposed to believe that!?”
“Because I said it,” he replied. “Are you questioning my word, little library girl?”
She glowered. “I found the video of us on your TV!”
He shrugged. “I sometimes record my little games on the bed. Some of my partners enjoy looking at it afterward, but I'll delete it if you like.”
“I deleted it!”
He raised his eyebrows. “I don't think I like your attitude, Quinn. It strikes me as disrespectful.”
“You're a pervert!”
“So what?”
“So... Well, you should have told me you were recording what we did!”
“It's my room, and you're my employee. I don't have to tell you a thing. You have the right to privacy in your bedroom, not in mine, when you're in my bed naked.”
“You tied me up!”
He moved to the TV and picked up the control box. “And you begged me to fuck you,” he said.
She blushed and then scowled as he flicked through the controls.
“You know this is a very advanced piece of equipment,” he said. “And it records almost everything, including what's done with it. For example, you deleted that video at 13:43pm. Then you watched this other video from 13:43 to 13:47.”
He flicked on the one of him having the maid assume various positions, and raised an eyebrow at her. “Took you five minutes to discern this wasn't you in the video?” he asked dryly.
Hannah's mouth opened and closed as her blush deepened.
“And for someone indignant about the invasion to her privacy, you don't seem to be much concerned with Miss O’Brien's privacy.”
“She... you probably didn't tell her she was being taped either!” she said.
“Don't change the subject, and you're quite mistaken. She knows the camera is here. See?”
He changed the video and now it showed the blonde giggling as she stared into the camera and made faces at it, then cupped her breasts and vamped in a sexy fashion.
“So was there something in particular about that video which you found interesting, Quinn? I'd like to think it was the sight of me which you found so arousing but I kept my pants on, so perhaps you find Miss O'Brien a lovely sight? I know I do, but I had no idea you had interests in that direction.”
“I do not!” she said indignantly.
He stepped closer and she backed away.
“And yet you watched her for five minutes,” he said.
“I was... I was just amazed that... that any woman would let herself be... subjected to that,” she gulped, backing away as he continued to move closer. “... that.. degrading treatment!”
“Unlike a woman who shackled herself to a dungeon wall naked,” he said.
“I didn't shackle myself naked! You did! I mean, I did it by accident and...”
He had backed her against the wall, and as she raised hands to push him back seized her wrists and pressed them up and back against the wall above her head.
“Let me go!”
“Or?”
She stared at him uncertainly, not knowing what, exactly to say, and then he bent in and kissed her, hard. She reacted almost instinctively, by trying to shove him away, but, of course, her wrists were being held above her. And so her mouth was helpless against his as his tongue thrust between her open lips. She gasped and twisted her head aside but he pinned her wrists with one hand and then used the other to grasp her hair.
“S-Stop it!” she gasped.
“But you like it,” he said, pulling her head back sharply and crushing her lips with his.
And God help her, she did! She felt a wave of indignation, even anger at him ignoring her, at his arrogance, at his virtually forcing himself on her! And yet, it was that very force, that very assertiveness, and her own helplessness which was making her breathless with excitement and a sudden wild sense of thrilling sexual arousal and need.
“Maybe you need some discipline, like Miss O'Brien,” he purred.
“Never! I'm not your pet animal!”
“We're all animals, Quinn,” he said, his hand sliding down over her heaving chest and kneading her breast in passing. “Some of us are predators... and some of us... are prey.”
He yanked her forward suddenly, and she stumbled against the back of a chair. Instantly, he was jerking down her trousers, taking her panties with them, virtually upending her across the back of the chair as she squealed in alarm.
“D-Don't you... stop it!” she gasped even as she staggered upright.
But he grasped her blouse and yanked it up sharply, and it forced her arms up above her as he pulled it over her head. Another shove across the back of the chair caused her to lose her balance, and while she was coping with that he undid her bra.
She had never been stripped so quickly or forcefully by a man, and again felt a sense of outrage. But at the same time, a dark, feral, hungry part of her didn't want him to back off, didn't want him to be gentlemanly or restrained. That dark part of her thrilled to what he was doing, and robbed her of the willpower necessary to actually try to put a stop to it.
Chapter Eight
He chuckled throatily, his hand running over her bare flesh.
“B-Bastard!” she gasped.
“There's that disrespect again,” he said, slapping her bottom sharply.
He drew her arms back, suddenly and pinned them together at the elbow, then snatched the belt of a nearby robe off and wrapped it tightly around her arms, pinning them in place. She gasped as he jerked her back off the chair and then forced her to her knees before him.
“Now,” he said. “My little sex slave.”
“I'm not your sex slave!”
“You are going to learn how to serve – and service – your lord.”
She glared up at him rebelliously, but her groin was hot and her heart was pounding excitedly.
He grasped her hair and jerked her head back. It stung, but she felt a dark thrill at being manhandled. And while her mouth was open he abruptly thrust his cock into it before she could react.
“Service your lord, you filthy little commoner,|” he said with a smirk.
She glowered up at him, but with his cock filling her mouth she had few acceptable responses. She did nothing, but that provoked another stinging jerk on her hair, and she began to suck, somewhat resentfully, then with more energy as he jerked on her hair again.
“Perhaps I'll keep you locked up naked and in chains in the dungeon,” he said. “And torture you for the sport of it. Perhaps I'll invite my friends around to make use of your lovely body, hmm? Would you like that, little slave girl?”
He pulled her forward by the hair and his cock abruptly pushed into Hannah's throat. She gurgled weakly, gagged, and choked, but then his cock was
jammed deep in her throat, with surprisingly little effort. She spent a shaky few seconds wondering if she could cope, but then as he stayed still she found herself adapting, getting used to the feel. It wasn't exactly comfortable or pleasant, but it was extremely hot to feel him buried in her like that, to have her face jammed into his groin so helplessly.
Then he drew back, slowly, his thick, slick cock emerging from between her tightly pursed lips and finally popping free of her throat so she could breath again. But she was given no time, no chance to regain her equilibrium, to pause to think about anything, for he jerked her forward, right away, and down, bending her and putting her face to the floor.
“Keep your bottom high, slave girl,” he ordered.
She found herself chest down on the floor with her cheek against the rug and her bottom raised high. He jerked open a drawer behind her, and even as she started to think about how and in what position to change to she found him back, and a thin quirt in his hand. It snapped across her bottom and she yelped.
“Bottom high,” he barked. “Legs spread wide.”
Crack!
“Oww!”
“Wider, slave! Spread those legs wide open so I can mount you like the bitch in heat you always wanted to be.
Crack!
“Don't!”
“Draw your knees further forward to elevate your bottom further. That's a good slave. No...”
Crack!
“Head down! Bottom up!”
Crack!
Dazed, overwhelmed, and gripped by a churning heat, Hannah positioned herself as he ordered, and her inclination to curse and refuse faded as he knelt behind her. God, she did so want him to fuck her! To fuck her just like this! Like a whore! Like an animal! Like his bitch!
She felt the slim length of the quirt along her sex, stroking up and down, massaging her lightly.
“Filthy little commoner,” he taunted.
His cock pushed against the mouth of her sex, but did not enter. Instead it rubbed slowly up and down around her moist, overheated furrow.
“Beg for it, slave. Beg your lord to fuck you like the whore you are.”
She moaned helplessly, her hips grinding against the lush sensation of his flesh against her there.
“Beg, slave,” he ordered, slapping her bottom.
“Please!” she gasped breathlessly.
“Beg, slave.”
“Please fuck me!” she moaned.
He slapped her bottom again. “My lord,” he growled
“Please fuck me, my lord!” she cried, voice breaking.
His cock pushed forward into her and Hannah shuddered at the intensity of the physical sensations which flared wildly within her. She was in the most awfully degrading position, so submissive and helpless, even obscene! The wild excitement of that as his cock pushed forward into her quivering belly threatened to overwhelm her and push her over the brink into orgasm before he'd even sheathed himself.
She struggled to resist it, some forlorn aspect of pride needing her to pretend she was not so thoroughly aroused by him. And she managed to hold herself in check until the long, gleaming length of him was fully encased in her warm flesh. But then, as he began to thrust, as she felt the pressure of his hips striking her bottom, as his hands gripped her hips and jerked her back against him, her resistance collapsed and the sensations doubled and then redoubled until she could not withstand them.
The orgasm shook her, and she lost her mind as well as control of her body, trembling, convulsing, rutting back against him like an animal as he rode her. She gurgled and groaned and cried out weakly, repeatedly, as his big cock punched deep into her belly, writhing and reveling in the wild storm of sensations tearing through her like sexual electricity.
“That's it, you little whore. Come for me. Come for your master's cock, you little slut,” he taunted, leaning forward over her, his hips grinding against her soft buttocks.
She hardly cared what he said. The orgasm was a storm of sensations which tossed her mind about like a leaf in a high wind. And when it was done she sagged, both mentally and physically, groaning, staring sightlessly at the edge of a table as he continued to thrust into her from behind.
It was impossible to long ignore that steady thrusting, though. His hips were striking her buttocks, his cock stabbing into her soft belly again and again, shifting angles and directions. He leaned further over her so that she felt his hot breath against the back of her neck, felt his chest against her bound arms.
He growled as he bit lightly along her throat, as his mouth sucked and licked at the nape of her neck.
Then he eased back, and took hold of the thick mass of her hair. He drew it taut, then pulled harder, and Hannah gasped and moaned as her face was pulled up off the floor, as her shoulders were raised up and back. He thrust harder, still, using her hair as though it were the rains of a horse, holding her body aloft by it as she gasped and moaned and cried out at the ache and pain and pleasure and confusion assailing her.
God, this was so kinky and nasty and insane!
But a fever rose within her, and she whimpered and gasped and moaned as his cock continued to pound into her, as his hips continued to slap against her buttocks, as her hair was jerked up and back by the hair. Her breasts were now wobbling back and forth below her, and he groped them roughly, even pinching her nipples, tugging on them painfully, then slapping at her breasts!
“Slave girl,” he taunted. “Your master is getting his ride now. Squeeze that pussy. Squeeze it.”
He slapped her bottom and she gasped, dazedly clamping down with her vaginal muscles.
“That's it, slave. Now release as I thrust in. Now squeeze as I pull out. Got to get you properly trained so you can service my friends too.”
He was being deliberately outrageous, but his words were a dark thrill that made Hannah's skin burn as he continued to ride her.
He eased his grip on her hair, lowering her upper body to the ground. Hannah groaned in relief as he let go of her hair and the pressure of its pull faded. But then she gasped as she felt his hands on her ass, felt his thumb pushing down against her wrinkled anal opening, slowly forcing its way into her there. She moaned and then gasped again at another sharp slap to her bottom, then another, even as his thumb pushed in deeper.
“Perhaps I'll put you on the auction block, eh?” he said. “Sell you to Arabs on the Barbary Coast as a sex slave”
Crack!
His thumb was pushing in and pulling out of her ass while he fucked her, and Hannah shuddered and moaned in helpless heat as the raw pleasure swept through her.
He pulled out, and again rubbed the swollen knob of his cock up and down her sex before thrust in into her again. The penetration felt glorious! Even more so as she'd feared he was going to shove it into her other hole. She groaned as she squeezed down on it, as she thrust back against it.
He pulled out again, rubbing up and down along her gleaming sex.
“Beg for it, slave girl.”
“Please,” she moaned breathlessly. “Please fuck me!”
He leaned over her, his breath against her ear. “My lord, slut.”
“Please fuck me, my lord!”
“Say please fuck your filthy little commoner slut, my lord,” he demanded, easing his cock back.
She trembled and rolled her hips against the absence of touch. “Please fuck … your filthy little commoner slut, My lord!” she gasped.
He chuckled throatily and buried himself in her snug opening again, then began to hammer himself against her with such speed and force she cried out at every blow. She came an instant before he did, and cried out again, her voice rising into a wild, undulating wail of pleasure as he hammered himself against her upraised buttocks again and again.
* * *
This is all completely insane.
Hannah went to check her watch. It was an instinctive gesture which ended in futility, of course. She wasn't wearing a watch. Instead there was a shiny, stainless steel manacle around her wrist; arou
nd both wrists. Two more encircled her ankles. And a match collar – a collar – encircled her throat. Her ankles were chained together, as were her wrists. And she lay naked on the floor of the cell, her collar chained to the wall.
She ought to be cataloging books, or, if the day was over, and she thought it might be, she ought to be in her room watching television or surfing the internet or... or something.
He had carried her down here. Did the man think he was Hercules or something!? And left her like this, telling her he would send down his guards to be serviced. He had no guards!
Of course, the thought was darkly arousing, as if she were some helpless princess in medieval times and this was all for real.
At least she wasn't forced to stand upright. And, for some reason, the floor beneath her was warm, not cold. She had no idea how that could be unless they'd installed under-floor heating, but that was an awfully modern concept for a dungeon. Of course this was an awfully modern looking dungeon what with the nicely polished stone underfoot.
She couldn't sit down but had to lay down. The reason for that were the two immense dildos he'd shoved up inside her. They both protruded a few inches outside her body, and and were held in place by a thin chain which passed through a small ring on the base of each of the dildos. That chain went up her lower abdomen, and up between her buttocks, then split in two to encircle her waist. She couldn't quite see how it was clasped together for the clasp was at the small of her back. And with her wrists manacled together in front of her – chained to the front of the chain in fact – she couldn't reach it.
Nor could she reach the tight, aching little nipple clips biting into her swollen pink nipples. They were each linked to a chain which went up to the front of the collar, so that moving her head suddenly, or arching her back, could tug stingingly on nipples which were already throbbing hotly.
“You're a pervert, Carling!” she cried out, doubting he could even hear.
But then, it seemed so was she.
She ran a long, slender finger down between her legs, feeling the swelling heat of her clit, feeling the way her sex lips strained wide around the dildo impaling her, and felt a little shudder of arousal.
