Possessing Allura (11 page)

Montreico's fingers were under her chin as he kissed her. It was full and soft and not harsh, and it made Allura burn inside that it was not her he was kissing like that.

Veeta stood passively, arms at her sides as he finished with her. ‘Have you ever been in love, Veeta?' he asked.

‘Yes, master.'

Allura thought instantly of the young man Porfino they both so foolishly lusted for, the one over whom her jealousy had flared to unimaginable levels toward her best friend.

‘Not me, I have never loved,' he confessed, brushing her nipples with the back of his hand.

The slave shuddered. ‘That is too bad, master,' she sighed.

Impertinent slut, thought Allura. He would surely punish her for that, but instead he strayed a finger down to her sex.

‘Yes, it is. Tell me, Veeta, how did you become a slave? You were of high birth. You told me this much before.'

Allura tensed. Would Saraveeta use this opportunity to tell the truth, knowing how much the baron hated his fiancée already?

‘I was indiscrete,' sighed the slave, parting her legs for him. ‘I allowed a boy… liberties.'

‘And now you pay the ultimate price for your natural passions. For the rest of your life.'

‘It is not so bad, master.' Veeta was gripping handfuls of material on the man's chest. She was a lusty young lady and he was about to find out just how much passion she could unleash.

‘Not so bad?' He seemed surprised. ‘But a slave girl is beaten, abused and sold at the drop of a hat.'

‘But a slave gets attention, master, from men. I like men, master. I like them very much.'

‘You little slut!' cried Allura, unable to restrain herself. ‘You worthless whore!'

‘That will be enough out of you,' snapped Montreico. ‘Unless you'd like to be bound and gagged.'

Allura stung under the verbal chastisement, almost as if she'd been whipped. The man was treating her horribly, and yet his words were making her hot and wet, nearly as much as seeing him take full advantage of her slave in front of her eyes as if Veeta were his own.

As good as gagged, she watched as he put a hand to the girl's shoulder, gently urging her down to her knees. With infinite grace and naturalness, and without being told, Veeta opened the man's breeches and took out his erect penis. She began at once to lick it, showing him all the reverence of a god, and Allura hated the girl for paying homage to a man deserving of nothing but contempt.

‘Are you watching closely, Allura?' the baron mocked. ‘This girl should give you a few lessons.'

‘When I am queen,' she spat, forgetting his injunction, ‘I will have you flayed alive.'

The baron smiled forgivingly, entranced by the sweet mouth squeezed tight around his cock, the doe-like eyes looking up at him for approval, seeking permission to proceed. ‘Yes,' he said throatily in response to Veeta's unasked question, ‘take it deep.'

Allura felt the mounting heat between her thighs. She must have relief from this torment; she must have access to the slave's body for herself.

Veeta was an excellent cock-sucker, as it would be so for any female whose life depended on her ability to please men sexually. The baron was large and thick, so wrapping one hand around the base she did her best to encompass the rest. Allura felt a burning weakness in her belly as she imagined that organ piercing her. Would he enforce his marriage rights over her? It was a possibility she hadn't entertained. A man had absolute access to his woman's body under the law, and denial on her part was considered a serious breech, regardless of circumstances.

But she was of royal blood. Theirs would be a unique contract, so she would insist on writing the words herself.

There would be no sex between them. No physical contact at all. If the man wanted to fuck, he could fuck his bond wenches. His and not hers, for she would get Veeta back in short order.

‘You are a magnificent creature,' said the baron affectionately, running his hands through Veeta's long, silky hair, black as a raven's wing.

Allura made a mental note to cut it all off.

‘A master could easily be spoiled,' he noted, positioning himself for what looked like his final release.

Allura was now beyond envy; she wanted them both.

‘Back,' said the baron, easing her away gently but firmly. Veeta seemed surprised, but moved back on her haunches. Was he going to fuck her?

‘What do you know of men, Allura?' Montreico faced his bride to be.

‘Am I allowed to speak now?' she replied peevishly.

He was stroking his cock, legs apart, in a stance of arrogant power. ‘You will be mine.' He ignored her sarcasm. ‘Does that frighten you?'

‘You can't handle me,' she bluffed. ‘It's you who should be frightened.'

‘I will teach you your place,' he predicted.

‘And I will teach you.' It was hard to maintain defiance like this, naked, posed on all fours, her bottom still smarting from the beating at the man's hands.

‘Do you know the difference between a wife and a slave, Allura?'

She tried, successfully for the moment, to keep her eyes off his penis. ‘No, but I'm quite sure you will inform me.'

‘A slave has the luxury of many masters and the hope of change should she not like her current one.'

‘You will never own me.'

The baron's eyes flashed as he squeezed his cock tightly in his fist, and then he was erupting, Allura's mouth open as she watched the viscous seed land on the marble, a deposit of creamy unguent, Montreico's eyes fixed on her as he came.

And they were still on her as he snapped his fingers, his face expressionless just as it had been during his orgasm. ‘Clean,' he ordered, using a standard command for female slaves.

Veeta fell at once to all fours and began to lap at the baron's sperm, and she did not raise her head until it was all gone, and even then she continued licking the marble floor awaiting clearance to stop.

‘Look at me,' the baron said to Allura, giving her no quarter to avoid the power of his gaze. ‘Can you do that with your slave?'

‘Is that what it all comes down to? Your penis?

Another snap of his fingers and Veeta was licking his cock clean, the girl's eyes closed. She was devouring him with real passion, and it was obvious the man's complete domination of her had left her deeply aroused. After a few moments the baron was once more semi-erect.

‘Master?' whispered Veeta, her eyes imploring her own consensual violation.

‘To my chambers,' he ordered, ‘at the end of the hall. You will wait at the foot of the bed, kneeling, head to the floor, ass facing the door. With your fingers you will hold wide your buttocks until I arrive.'

‘Yes, master.' She smiled as though he had just offered her a month's voyage to the pleasure islands at the end of the world.

‘You will crawl upon all fours.'

‘I obey, master.'

Allura wanted to tear out the eyes of the little bitch. A slave should be humble and broken, but Veeta looked so sensuous, so feminine and empowered as she crawled, moving her limbs just so as to inflame the baron's desire. There was little doubt that he would fall upon her as soon as he got to his chambers.

‘I would get some sleep if I were you,' the baron advised Allura. ‘Tomorrow is our wedding day.'

‘Tomorrow?' Allura knelt up, alarmed by the suddenness of it all. ‘But there's been no time to plan, to arrange the ceremony, the reception.'

‘These matters are not your concern,' he said dismissively. ‘All that is required of you is your presence. Good night.' The baron bowed smoothly from the waist and took his leave.

Allura fumed behind him, scrambling for the vase on the carved wooden table, and he had just closed the door when the glass shattered against it, sending shards and water flying everywhere.

It was a futile gesture, a sign of her complete defeat in yet another battle with the man. Exhausted, shaking all over, she collapsed onto the bed, hugging the pillow, curled like an infant, and thankfully sleep came, carrying her far from her real world troubles.

 

At some time during the night Allura entered into another existence, that of a dream. She was wearing a very long nightgown that fell to her ankles. Her feet were bare and she was completely naked underneath. She was carrying one of her dolls, the one she'd stripped naked to designate her as a slave. She felt like a child, but she was grown, with a woman's body. Ahead of her, directly in front of her was the castle, much bigger and taller than she'd remembered.

She was about to cross the drawbridge, but she was afraid.

‘You must go,' said the voice of a crow, hovering in front of her.

‘But I don't know what I'll find.'

‘You won't find anything,' said the crow, ‘except for what is already inside of you.'

Allura looked down at her ankle, which was encircled in iron. ‘Why am I shackled?'

‘Because you want to be,' the crow replied, having turned into a bearded owl with the face of her father. Now Allura was more afraid to be outside than inside, and so she began to run across the drawbridge. Below her she could hear the snapping crocodiles, and they seemed to be whispering vague threats and criticisms.

‘Those are all the things you said that resulted in punishments for the slaves when you were little,' said the owl, which was now nothing but a voice in her head. ‘And the crocodiles are the people after they were punished.'

As fast and hard as she ran she was not able to reach the other side. The bridge just seemed to keep on stretching, forever.

‘That's because it's a whip.'

‘Leave me alone!' She clamped her hands over her ears, not liking how the voice could read her thoughts, and in doing so she dropped the doll, which made her stop, and when she looked down she saw molten fire.

‘It's what you wanted for me,' said the voice, and when she turned back there was the baron to remind her of all the times she'd cursed him to the hell of the demons.

‘I didn't mean it,' she desperately explained, but he was telling her it was too late, even as he pushed her over the edge.

The crow was there, trying to give her its beak to hold on to, but she was falling too fast. The air stank of sulfur and rotting bodies hung in the air. She saw pieces of soldiers she'd known who had died in battle, a jewel-covered hand that belonged to her mother, who had died at her birth, and the helmeted head of her father.

Once she actually did get hold of the crow's beak, but it shook her off. ‘I can't really help this far down,' it said. ‘No one can.'

Twice she thought she hit bottom only to fall further, each time with greater intensity. Her nightgown kept getting burned off and replaced, and every time it turned to ash she could see her own skeleton.

Finally she hit bottom, which was soft and soupy.

‘Get up,' said a horned demon with the head of a jackal, the bronzed chest of a man and the legs of a goat, ‘and suck me.'

‘I'm a virgin,' she tried to tell him, but he struck her across the face with the end of his penis, which was a snake.

‘You don't have a choice,' he told her. ‘You're my wife.'

Allura decided to make the best of it and offered a little kiss. Its eyes were darting and it was dry and scaly and alien. One little touch of her lips and it took advantage, jumping to the back of her mouth. She tried to scream as it went down her throat, filling her.

No sound emerged. Around them black rocks were forming a circle. The moist ground swirled gray like a swamp and more snakes sprouted like tall weeds. One or two pierced her feet like splinters.

‘You have to let them come out of your cunt,' explained the horned demon with the jaundice yellow eyes and enormous hooped earrings, as though his words would somehow make sense of the situation.

Allura fell to her knees. ‘Have pity on me,' she tried plead.

‘Lick my hooves,' ordered the demon.

She put her head to the ground, the stench of the mud making her gag. The demon's cloven hooves were hot to the touch and it pained her to lick them, but there were whips falling on her back now, whips made of snakes that were cutting and nipping at her skin, making her bleed in a thousand places. At last she succumbed, lapping more fiercely. The hooves were hotter now and her tongue sizzled. She tried to withdraw it and could not.

‘Ready for your horse cock?' she heard her own voice, and felt something enter her from behind – not in her seething pussy, but in her ass.

‘Very dry,' she was saying. ‘Let it be very dry.'

Allura did not understand how she could be talking as though she was outside herself, so the crow volunteered to help by flying up her pussy so he could speak to her more directly.

‘This is happening because of what you did to Saraveeta,' the crow was able to tell her when it had crawled inside her head. ‘You have to be in her old body and hear yourself abusing her.'