The Dark Library

by JJ Argus

  God, this is sick!

  She rolled onto her back, letting her knees rise and spread apart.

  A helpless prisoner.

  A sex slave.

  About to be ravished by hordes of ill-bred, lusting, muscle bound guards.

  Yes, it was a dark, helpless thrill, and as she stroked her finger against her clit, hot, swirling sensations roiled through her belly and up into her chest. She arched her back slowly, gasping in pain and pleasure as her nipples were pulled.

  She giggled suddenly. “I want my solicitor!” she called.

  She groaned and spread her knees wider, shifting her feet to the length the chain allowed, fingers rubbing up and down across her clit as her breaths became quicker. She stretched her other hand to the limit of the chain around her waist, finger pressing against the base of the dildo, and groaned as she sought to shove it deeper. It ached deep inside her, but she was able to push it a little deeper. That allowed her to slide it back out again – and then repeat.

  I'm such a fucking whore, she thought, guilt and excitement twisting within her.

  She arched her back again, groaning, gasping, as she tugged on her nipples, as she fingered her clit, as she pushed the dildo in and out. Heat spiked inside her, and she felt her chest tightening, her breath become even more ragged as her excitement mounted.

  There was the clang of a metal door, and she gasped and jerked her hands away, pulling her knees together. She peered through the bars, heart pounding. What if it wasn't him!? What if it was someone else!?

  But it was him, and she felt a deep relief as he came up to the bars and looked in on her.

  “Slave girl,” he said. “Are you ready to be whipped and tortured?”

  “No!” she gulped.

  He smiled thinly.

  “I'm not your sex slave!” she said hotly.

  He unlocked the cell door and pulled it wide, then stepped inside.

  The candle shaped sconces on the walls grew brighter, and her eyes blinked uncomfortably.

  Then she saw the quirt in his hand as he slapped it lightly against his thigh.

  “Let me see you on all fours, slave girl,” he said.

  She swallowed nervously and drew her knees in, but he managed to snap the quirt against her hip and she yelped and rolled.

  “On all fours, slave girl,” he said again, snapping the quirt across her bottom.

  “Oww! Stop!”

  She gasped again as it struck, hurriedly assuming the position, wincing as she tried to raise her head and the chains pulled at her nipples.

  “That's better.”

  The quirt slid between her thighs, then angled up, stroking lightly up and down against her swollen clit.

  “Nasty, disobedient, disrespectful little slave girl,” he said.

  The quirt slid along her spine, then drew back and slapped lightly at the side of her right breast.

  “Now, chest down against the floor. Bottom raised. Chop-chop!”

  Crack!

  She gasped, obeying, wincing as again her nipples ached. And again as the quirt caressed her clit.

  “Filthy little girl,” he said.

  Crack!

  “On your back, slave.”

  She rolled over, groaning as she stared up at him.

  “Knees wide. Show me what you have there.”

  She blushed as she obeyed, licking her lips nervously as the quirt tapped lightly at her belly.

  “Now raise your hips high,” he said. “Shoulders on the floor.”

  She obeyed, blushing again at exposing herself so lewdly.

  “You clearly need much more discipline,” he said. “Perhaps a good strapping.”

  He unfastened the chain from her collar, then pulled her to her feet and led her out of the cell and into the wider room around her. Hannah gazed breathlessly at the frames around her, eyes flitting from one to the other as he led her over to a large post. He unfastened the chain binding her wrists to her waist, then raised them high. She struggled to pull free but he easily overpowered her, locking her wrists to the post above her head.

  The post was square, of leather covered wood, perhaps eight or ten inches on a side. There was what Hannah had at first taken to be some sort of support leg angling down from the beam to the floor at a sharp angle, but as he pulled her across so she was straddling it, she realized it was covered in leather, as well.

  Carling chained her ankles forward and apart, almost bringing her pussy into contact with the angled 'leg', and actually having it touching the base of the dildo which still stuck out of her. Her own actions had gotten that deeper, so that less than an inch now protruded, and it ached within her as it pressed against the angled leg.

  Now Carling undid the thin chains attached to her nipple clips to her collar, and instead pulled them around the beam and locked them together there, forcing her further forward. This also put pressure on the base of the dildo and she groaned as she felt it angling the front of the long, round tube inside her and pressing it against the front wall of her pussy.

  He put down the thin quirt and went to the wall, then drew from it a thin object which he brought back to her. He again seized her hair, forcing her head up and back sharply, pulling her nipples against the chains so that she cried out.

  And as she did he pushed what felt like some sort of latex ball into her mouth. It was flexible, and able to squeeze down around her teeth as his fingers slowly worked it into her open mouth. Then it widened once again inside her mouth. It soon filled her mouth, pushing down on her tongue, and proved to be a gag, as he pulled the strap together behind her head to lock it in place.

  Her heart pounded and her pulse raced. She moaned and rolled her eyes anxiously as he went back to the wall, gasping at the feel of the pressure against her nipples and against the base of the dildo jammed inside her.

  She found if she leaned forward more it eased the pull on her nipples, and tended to ease the pressure of the dildo. But that had the very top of her sex pressing against the angled leather covered brace – her clitoris in particular, and given the heat churning within her it was almost impossible not to grind herself against it.

  “You must learn proper respect for your betters, you common scruff,” he said.

  Fuck you, she thought indignantly.

  The strap struck her bottom with a sharpness which made her squeal in alarm and pain. More to the point it jerked her body forward so that her pussy jammed against the angled brace and ground forward across it. She cried out – but the sound was heavily muffled by the gag, and then again as the multiple sensations rippled through her.

  Jerking back pulled her nipples sharply, stingingly against the chains, and that caused her to jerk forward again, which ground her pussy against the leather once more.

  “Filthy little slave girl,” he said. “Nasty little sex slave.”

  Crack!

  Again she squealed, and her body reacted in precisely the same way

  Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

  “Slave! Slut! Whore! Tramp!”

  She twisted and bucked, jerking and squealing and writhing in pain. Her bottom felt the hot, sharp, raw flames of pain even as her pussy ground back and forth across the leather between her legs and her nipples tugged against the chains. Pain rose, to the point she began to have a serious sense of alarm and concern, but then the raw, wild heat began to overcome her and she felt herself slipping into the fever-dream of wild sexual abandon.

  The constant sharp grinding movements of her hips somehow pushed the dildo even deeper inside her, and now her pussy was grinding directly against the leather in a way which was producing such intense sensations that even without the strap striking her reddened bottom she found herself grinding her pussy against it.

  Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

  The blows were sharp and slow, as he taunted her and called her his slave, his servant, his filthy little commoner slut, and her bottom was soon flaming hot, a heat which belied the wild animal heat within he
r.

  She was on the edge of an orgasm, a massive orgasm, and only the sharp, cracking blows of the strap across her burning hot bottom kept her from tumbling over the edge!

  She was sweating, baking in the heat within her, bedraggled and dazed as he jerked back on her hair and then unfastened the gag from around her cheeks. He pulled the ball slowly out of her mouth and she moaned and gulped in air, sweat trickling slowly down her body.

  “Agghh!” she gasped as he jerked back on her hair.

  “Do you want more strapping, whore, or do you want your lord to fuck your hot, filthy body?”

  “F-Fuck me!” she gasped dazedly.

  “Beg me, slave.”

  “Please fuck me, my lord!” she panted.

  Crack!

  “Put more emotion into it, slave girl.”

  “Please fuck me, my lord!”

  Crack!

  “You're not a 'me'. You're not a person. You're a thing, a creature, a possession of mine. You're my filthy little whore slave!”

  “P-Please fuck your f-filthy little whore slave, My lord!” she moaned.

  Crack!

  “Again!”

  “Please fuck your filthy little whore slave, My lord!”

  Crack!

  “More emotion!”

  “P-Please fuck your f-filthy little whore slave, My lord!”

  Crack!

  “Louder!”

  “Please fuck your filthy little whore slave, My lord!”

  The strap hit her back, and Hannah's eyes widened as she cried out in pain.

  “I don't think you're worthy of having my cock, you filthy little slave girl,” he said.

  He did something to the chain at the small of her back, and the pressure on it eased, then the chain fell away. She groaned as the dildo in her pussy actually sank a bit deeper. But his fingers gripped the one sticking out of her bottom and slid it slowly free. Then his fat-nosed cock pushed into her, and she shuddered helplessly as it pushed up into her belly, filling her up, jamming her forward against the leather.

  He pulled back on her hair and growled into her ear as he began to pump in and out of her, his other hand kneading her breasts as he began to jam her against the leather again and again. He'd sodomized her before, but it was still a blow to her psyche, and now, every time he thrust into her it forced her pussy to grind across the hard leather on the angled wood before her.

  The multiple sensations blew her mind and she screamed as the orgasm tore through her. The wild intensity of the sensations tearing apart her mind as she writhed and bucked and jerked and thrashed in mindless pleasure, all while he continued to thrust against her and continued to jam her forward against the leather.

  She could do nothing, as the orgasm rolled over her like a freight train, screaming, battering her senseless with the force and power of its sensations. Only the chains locking her wrists and ankles in places kept her from reeling away and collapsing, and he continued to thrust into her, continued to drive his big cock achingly deep into her belly as her head jerked and rolled bonelessly, mouth wide, eyes slitted.

  Her strength left her, and she collapsed, dazed, only the chains holding her up, moaning exhaustedly even as he continued to ram his hips into her buttocks. Then he slowed and stopped, and she moaned in dazed relief, her insides aching as he eased back, her wrists on fire. She forced her muscles to work, forced her legs to straighten beneath her, and then groaned, face pressed against the beam, eyes slitted as her chest heaved.

  It was all simply insane. It really was. But God help her it was good!

  Chapter Nine

  The “properly elegant gown” Carling had insisted she wear, and had provided to her, was certainly elegant, after a fashion, but Hannah doubted anyone would call it proper. Certainly it wasn’t what a proper young lady ought to be wearing in public. It was dressy, though, and long. But it was also extremely form-fitting, low cut, and slit up the right all the way to the hip! He had also provided four inch stiletto heels to go with it. She would have liked to have refused, but the dress was too long without them, and she hadn’t brought any high heels.

  She had been dubious, to say the least, but for a small, intimate dinner for just the two of them it wasn’t like it really mattered. He’d seen everything before, after all. She had to take short steps as she walked down he broad corridor, and careful steps, as well, for she had little experience in very high heels.

  She felt rather elegant, despite what she considered the revealing nature of the dress. It was an expensive dress, and it fit so well! She wondered how they’d gotten the measurements down so well.

  She reached the grand staircase, and put a gloved hand on the rail. The white lace gloves went almost to her shoulders! But they went very well with the green dress, and she walked slowly - and carefully - down the grand staircase to the main lobby, a little nervous now in the more ‘public’ part of the manor. She turned and headed for the dining room, and almost ran into Jason.

  She blushed as he caught her arms to keep her from stumbling off balance, and she saw his eyes caught immediately by her cleavage before he pulled them free.

  “S-Sorry,” she gulped.

  “Uh huh,” he said, eyes moving down to her bare hip as she eased back and around him.

  She felt his eyes on her as she walked carefully up the hall, and her blush deepened, her stomach squirming at what he must think - or what he might be thinking!

  She found the small dining room, with its elegant chandelier. The table had been set for two, but she wasn’t certain which place she ought to take. Did it matter? Then Patrick entered from an opposite door and smiled genially. “Miss Quinn,” he said. “You’re looking lovely this evening.”

  “Uhm, thank you,” she said, blushing anew.

  She drew her right leg in to narrow the slit.

  “If you would sit just here,” he said, pulling out a chair.

  She took her place, squirming again as she sat and the slit in the skirt showed. He didn’t seem to notice, as he pushed in her chair, then stood over her.

  “Would you like an aperitif?” he asked.

  “A sherry would be lovely,” she said, embarrassed again at the sudden thought of what a view he had from up there, straight down into her cleavage.

  “Certainly.”

  She was grateful when he left, finally able to inhale fully. Doing so, of course, squeezed the tight dress even harder around her breasts, and threatened to pop them out through the top. No, that was silly, she told herself. She simply had very little experience wearing dresses or tops which displayed any cleavage.

  Molly came in, carrying the sherry on a tray. Hannah found it impossible not to see the girl naked, the way she’d been in the videos. And, in fact, she was dressed in a more revealing outfit than Hannah was. Her maid’s outfit had an absurdly short skirt, and a very tight, frilly peasants blouse on top which showed a lot more cleavage than the one Hannah wore. Hannah found herself staring at the girl’s breasts, trying to see the outline of the nipple rings she’d noted in the video.

  The girl set the sherry down and frowned unhappily at her. “Here’s your drink,” she said.

  “Uhm, thank you,” Hannah said awkwardly, thinking of Molly and the other girl bobbing their lips up and down on Carling‘s cock and balls.

  The girl snorted and tossed her head, turning and marching out.

  Was she jealous, Hannah wondered? From what Carling had suggested he considered her little more than a boy toy, a sort of servant with privileges, as it were, not unlike a friend with privileges. Surely the girl couldn’t imagine that their relationship could be anything more, given the difference between their ages and levels of education, culture and sophistication? Hannah didn’t think of her own relationship with Carling as any more than a dalliance, if an incredibly hot, and wickedly exciting one. She certainly had no illusions about becoming “Mrs. Carling”.

  Not that she hadn’t thought about it, of course. Imagine living in this big house, having all t
hat money, servants, a limousine… And while Carling was handsome, he was also horrifically arrogant. Of course, he had a lot to be arrogant about. But could she cope with that arrogance out of the context of an employer employee relationship? Or the odd sexual game and role playing the two of them were now involved in?

  Maybe he was softer with someone he cared about. Or maybe he would change once he got to know her as more than a sex object.

  Not bloody likely, a part of her thought derisively.

  Carling showed up then, clad in an exquisitely tailored dark grey suit. “Miss Quinn,” he said, nodding his head.

  “Lord Carling,” she replied in kind.

  Patrick materialized as if from nowhere, and held out Carling’s chair for him, and Molly showed up with a glass of wine, fawning over him outrageously. She was so obsequious Hannah was embarrassed for her, and more than a little contemptuous. Patrick had to practically pull her out of the room, and Hannah snorted disdainfully.

  “Here’s to me,” Carling said, holding his glass aloft.

  “Here’s to you and your magnificent ego,” she replied dryly, lifting her glass.

  “It is a magnificent ego, I admit,” he said. “Everything about me is magnificent, after all.”

  She rolled her eyes and he pointed a finger at her. “Careful, Quinn, wouldn’t want to be seen as disrespectful of your lord.”

  She snorted. “If you expect me to fawn over you like that maid of yours you’re mistaken.”

  “Ah yes, the delightful young Molly,” he said with a smile. “A sweet and biddable girl.”

  “With rings through her nipples,” she said tartly. “Surprised I can’t see them in that tiny maid’s outfit. Did you have the top specially reinforced?”

  He grinned. “Maybe you should get your nipples pierced, too. I understand it heightens sensations.”

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  “And I can already see your nipples,” he added with a smirk.

  She frowned and folded her arms over her chest. “This gown is made of extremely thin silk,” she complained with a frown.