Enslaved (8 page)

But each of them was a fine specimen of masculinity. All were muscular and handsome, with clear eyes, thick hair, and powerful legs and arms. They carried themselves well, though most of them sported bruises or wounds of some nature. It was clear they’d each been physically subdued, but only after fighting back.

She caught Holt looking at her, and she gave him a cold, lethal look that clearly denoted her disgust with him. He appeared miserable—but surely not as miserable as she. This mess was of his making, not hers—and yet here she was, imprisoned and enslaved with no release in sight…and aroused beyond belief. As if to punctuate this thought, her little pearl gave an insistent pulse that made Jane bite her lip in frustration.

As she watched, the men were paraded past the dais, pausing so Zenovia could take a close look at each one.

“It’s such a difficult decision,” said the chieftain. “They all seem as if they could perform accordingly, but
I
have no desire to determine their capabilities.” She gave a little shudder that appeared to be completely genuine. “Only five are needed to add to our breeding crew, and they must be excellent specimens of the male sex. We want only the best to continue our race. What do you think, slave?” She tugged on Jane’s leash. “How does one choose a man for breeding?”

Pulled out of her frustrated, aroused haze, Jane blinked and discovered Zenovia was truly curious and seemed to want her response. Then, in the next instant, the full realization of the situation dawned on her.

“Do you mean…you use the men to father children? On—with whom?”

Zenovia laughed. “I see you are horrified, my little slave. But for what other reason do we require the male species here in Amazonia? We certainly are far from wanting or needing any males to tell us what to do, how to act, or what we can own—as is the case in your England, is it not? We are fully capable of doing everything necessary—including giving and receiving pleasure—except continuing our race. The breeding process is an undignified and unpleasant necessity, but a necessity nevertheless.”

Jane pursed her lips, struck just for an instant about the truth of that matter—except, of course, for the part about the breeding process being unpleasant. But Zenovia was right—even in a queen-ruled England, men had all the power. Yet she knew firsthand how delightful pleasure could be with a man…and the depth of emotion and physical connection there could be when “breeding.”

“And so, my little slave who has a mind of her own, I would very much like your opinions on the matter. How would you pick the five studs we will add to our breeding program for the next several years?”

“But what happens to them after that? And surely…well, you must have more than five men, or there would be quite a lot of inbreeding.” Even as Jane spoke the words, she was aware of the utter absurdity of the situation—that she was actually discussing using free men as brood mares (or, more accurately, stallions), and that she was having the conversation with her mistress.

“We have only room for five more studs in our stables at this time. Every year we retire some of them of them, or they become ill or injured or otherwise unacceptable breeding partners, and we replace them as needed.”

“And what happens to the ones you—er—put out to pasture?” Jane couldn’t quite keep the horror from her voice.

Zenovia shrugged. “They are put to work in the heather-hash fields and gold mines, as well as doing other menial labor.” Her eyes glinted as she saw the shock in Jane’s eyes. “The same will happen to the ones not chosen to be the five.”

“I see.”

“Now, I have asked for your opinion—something I do not do lightly, especially with a slave, and my patience begins to end.”

Duly chastised, Jane turned her attention to the columns of men. Had they heard the conversation? Did they know what was to befall them? Was there any way to help them?

But if she could not help herself, how could she help them?

She drew in a deep breath. Perhaps the best option was to look at the situation from the Amazonian perspective and be honest. What other choice did she have?

But perhaps she could delay the process…

“One would want to select a breeding partner for his physical appearance and strength, as well as for his intelligence and mind. Both are important elements in continuing your race. I don’t suppose you…er…interview any of them?”

Zenovia’s eyes lit with admiration and delight. “Interesting.”

“And perhaps you’d want to interview them not only to discover whether they have intelligence, but also to find out whether his parents and family were weak and sickly, or strong and lived long.”

“Quite excellent thoughts, my darling slave. You are a treasure.” Zenovia’s regard turned warmer, and she stroked Jane’s head. “And I am pleased to inform you that such interviews, as you call them, have already been carried out and these men have been culled from many candidates. All that remains is to determine whether they can perform their duties.” Her eyes darkened and her lips curled in what could only be called a mischievous smile. “And in that regard, I do believe you might be of further assistance, my pet.”

Zenovia stood abruptly, sending Jane tumbling to the ground, bare breasts bouncing and legs splayed crudely. The gold chains and metal cup over her labia jingled and shifted alarmingly, digging into the soft hollows of flesh at the insides of her thighs. But before she recovered from the ignominious fall, she was yanked up by the leash and led off the dais.

The male captives stood silently, their manacled wrists covering the juncture of their thighs. Most of them had downcast eyes, though there were a few bold ones who peeked up at the female ruler and her slave.

“Jane, you will demonstrate the virility of each of our candidates. You may begin with him.” Zenovia placed her in front of the first man, unhooked the leash from Jane’s collar, then turned and climbed back up onto the dais. When she realized Jane hadn’t moved, she made an impatient gesture. “Use those lush lips of yours, and that talented tongue, to bring him to orgasm. Now.”

Jane heard a sort of roaring in her ears that dulled everything around her as she positioned herself in front of the first candidate. He obligingly moved his manacled wrists from where they’d settled over his genitals, though he wore an expression of shock and suspicion.

But his cock was already becoming interested, presented as it was by the naked Jane, who, most likely, smelled of her own arousal, and that of Zenovia’s as well. She swallowed hard and, cupping the man’s ballocks, took his half-flaccid cock in her mouth.

He gave a soft grunt as her lips settled around his member, which began to thicken and lengthen readily. Jane closed her eyes, trying to block out the sensation of the rod surging suggestively in her mouth. But it was a familiar experience, an arousing one, and she found it nearly impossible to keep from reacting to his enthusiastic response: the groans and shivers and the turgid cock filling her mouth.

Nevertheless, she focused on her movements: up and down, nearer and farther away, using her hands to keep his rock-hard member in her mouth. She sucked hard on the knob of his rod, pumping faster and faster, praying this would end quickly and easily, all the while trying to ignore the stabs of lust shooting from her belly down to her protected quim.

Mercifully, it was a very short time before he arched and grunted and shot his seed into the back of her throat. Jane swallowed the salty wad and backed away quickly, settling on her haunches as she tried to cool down her own body’s demands. She happened to glance up at the man, and he had a loopy, sated smile on his face that made her even more frustrated.

“What are you waiting for, slave? There are fifteen other men waiting for you.”

She obeyed, moving to the man next to the one whom she’d just sucked off. He was already hard, and his cock, though not as long, was thick and ready for her lips. She slid down over him, tasting the saltiness of the little droplet at the tip of his rod, and used her tongue to lick it away. He shivered and shifted himself deeper into her mouth.

Jane held his hips and began to work her puffy, swollen lips over him, over and over. He was ready and shot hard and fast into the back of her throat, nearly choking her.

This time, she didn’t wait. She finished, swallowed, and moved on to the second row of men. By now each of them had erections of some sort—from anticipation as well as from watching and hearing her pleasure the others. She took them each deep and hard into her mouth, pumping and sucking until she thought her jaw would never close again.

Each one was new torture—the scent, taste, feel of hard cock in her mouth, the noises each man made: groans and grunts and sighs. And then there were the hands. Somehow, though manacled, they found her breasts, fondling them, teasing her already raw, red nipples until she wanted to scream around the rod in her mouth.

Jane felt her own juices, and she felt as if her labia were about to burst free, she was so swollen. One man found the most sensitive part of her nipples and stroked her, faster and harder—just as she stroked up and down on him—until she felt the shock of an orgasm shoot through her in soft, pulsing waves. She couldn’t hold back a groan of her own, sighing around his thick cock as her body shook and shivered.

He came at that moment, bursting into the back of her throat with a hot, hard wad. She took him all, swallowing and licking the tip of his cock with a little thank-you for the bit of pleasure he’d given her.

Then she rose to her feet and stumbled to the next man. It was Captain Holt, and it was all Jane could do to keep from biting down on the massive hard-on that waited for her.

“Guess I should have taken you when I had the chance,” he muttered as she dutifully closed her mouth around him. “But this will do…” His words ended in a soft grunt and he shuddered gently against her as she slid down to the root.

Jane’s body was on fire, only half satisfied from the soft, superficial orgasm. She wanted more. She
needed
more. She sucked on his cock, licking and stroking with fervor, hoping he’d find a way to touch her…to bring her along with him. Her lips were so swollen and her jaw so tight she could hardly move, and she was becoming dizzy from lack of food and drink as well as the up-and-down motion…over and over and over….

She sighed and sucked and licked, her eyes closed, focusing on her own pleasure—as if she could
will
herself to orgasm. She gripped his taut buttocks, working her mouth around the head of his rod, playing, teasing, allowing herself to enjoy—

“Enough!”

All at once, Jane felt herself flying through the air. She landed on the ground a few feet from the two columns of men—half of whom had already been serviced by her.

Zenovia stood where Jane had been only a moment before. “You!” she said, leaning in toward Holt. “She is my slave. How dare you touch my property! How
dare
you presume!”

She turned in a whirlwind of barely controlled fury. “Out. Everyone out of here.
All of you
.”

— VII —

As Jane lay there on
the ground, panting, throbbing, confused, and more than a little frightened, the entire chamber was vacated more rapidly than she could have imagined.

When they were alone, Zenovia turned upon her, yanking Jane to her feet with a painful grip. She braced herself for a blow, to be shaken or thrown…
something
…

But to her surprise, Zenovia began to unlock the chains around her waist, and those that threaded through the metal cup covering her quim. She tore them away, and the next thing Jane knew, she was dragged up onto the top of the dais and shoved onto the floor. Her legs trailed awkwardly down the steps, her thighs splayed wide and her red, ready quim fully exposed.

Zenovia followed, her body pressing Jane into the ground as her mouth covered hers. Tongue thrusting deep, she devoured Jane roughly, sending even more lust and arousal spiking through her sensitive body.

A powerful thigh slid between Jane’s, and she felt the hot wetness of the other woman’s quim sliding against her thigh as Zenovia straddled her, moving her toga out of the way. Panting and confused, Jane could hardly breathe as her mistress kissed her passionately, pressing her steaming self down against Jane’s leg, then pulled her mouth away.

“You,” Zenovia muttered into her ear as she covered one of Jane’s breasts with her palm, “may
not
find pleasure with
anyone
except me. Especially a
man.
You are my
slave
.”

She shifted against Jane, her pussy slipping tightly against the top of her leg as she pushed her thigh up into Jane’s swollen quim. The sudden pressure there had Jane crying out with surprise and delight. Zenovia began to move, thrusting herself against Jane while Jane’s quim pressed against her, mimicking the same motion as fucking.

“Oh,” Jane sighed, moving in tandem with her. The scent of female juices filled the air, and the curves and muscles of their bodies eased along each other, hot and smooth.

Zenovia was panting now as she moved faster, riding Jane’s thigh with her slick quim while Jane writhed beneath her, thrusting her hips up and against her mistress’s leg, trying to find an ending. They moved faster and faster, slick and urgent, grunting and moaning, hair tangling, breasts bouncing, fabric bunching…and when Zenovia’s fingers moved between them to touch Jane’s engorged clit, she immediately tipped into an orgasm.

She cried out as the powerful release shuttled through her, hard and hot and strong. Zenovia grabbed her hand and brought it to her own wet, swollen clit. Jane pressed the engorged kernel, still undulating from her own satiation, and felt Zenovia explode against her with a loud cry.

They lay there, the chieftain shuddering over Jane, their thighs wet and slick, panting and gasping. Jane’s cheeks were hot, and her back hurt from where the edge of the dais step pressed into her…but she was sated. Satisfied.

Zenovia pulled away after a moment, still wearing her toga—which fell into place as she stood. She looked down at Jane, who was too weak to move.