Regency Rogues Omnibus (63 page)

“Suck
him or I will slice his balls,” a harsh voice rasped above and behind Joelle, just as he shoved her over onto her hands and knees between Saxon’s thighs.

Joelle tried to tell herself that a lesser woman would crumble, as she heard Saxon above her, make a strangled and desperate sound in his chest. “Gladly, I w-will,” Joelle managed to say, wondering where the brave words came from.
To save yourself and Saxon of course,
her mind exclaimed. To save your souls together.

Joelle grasped Saxon’s flaccid cock with courage and intention. The natural heat of it flushed against her palms as the exposure of her nude buttocks bent over from behind crawled up her spine. She did not really have a clear idea of what to do, but Saxon’s cock was already beginning to fill her palms, since she first touched it.

“My own hands gliding over your soft breasts,” Saxon whispered in an intense seesaw voice above her. “The feel of your lips moving heat against mine. Your tongue sliding against my tongue.”

Joelle realized with each intensely whispered word that Saxon spoke, his cock got harder. He was doing it to arouse himself! He was concentrating to make his cock rigid so that she would not have to...

Joelle opened her mouth, and then she lapped her tongue outward toward the bulging head. When, her tongue touched the searing flesh, Saxon hissed lowly, ending in a groan. His cock twitched in the circle of her fingers, stretching them wider.

“That’s it, slut, suck it. Suck it!”

A hand tangled into her hair, pushing the back of her head downward. There was no other choice; the head of Saxon’s cock forced her lips open. A moment of supreme choice flashed in her mind. It was only seconds to react. Horror, or compassion, disgusted refusal or open-minded acceptance.
Damn them all to hell,
Joelle thought, and she took what she could of the hot and expanding male meat thrusting her mouth widely open.

She sucked.

Joelle curled the sides of her tongue and she drew the bulky head to her palate and she suctioned deeply. The taste . . . the essence of Saxon that sprang into her mouth was hot, musky, and male. Out of nowhere her own body responded with a moan churning from her belly. Her breasts strained suddenly with the nipple tips feeling like little sparks snapping on the ends, while her loins flushed with an ache echoing in her vagina that connected to her clitoris with erratic throbs.

The hand tearing into her hair was harshly pulling and pushing, making her mouth suction up and down the first quarter of Saxon’s hot-fleshed cock. That was as much as she could seem to fit into her mouth. Nevertheless, the hand pumping her head seemed to think she ought to take more and on each downward plunge, the head of Saxon’s cock battered the back of her throat. Grazing her lips roughly.

“I am
hard
now,” Saxon hissed, above her as though he could barely speak.

“But we like watching this cunt suck on your fat dong.” The voice came from a distance behind them making Joelle realize how many watched as she tried not to gag, while Saxon’s cock became slick with her saliva. Her breasts bounced and her bare buttocks gyrated as her body lurched up and down. Her mouth being forced to mate with Saxon’s cock grew rosy with friction, while her lips grew puffy. But still her sex ached harder, while tears burned her eyelids and the fast, wet sucking sounds of her mouth filled her ears.

“I’ll come!” Saxon expelled, as though it were thrown from his chest.

“Stop then,” Dame Baset’s voice ordered. “Cernno! Stop!”

“Fuck! Cernno! Halt!”

Joelle heard grappling above her, then behind her, and suddenly she was free. But the head of Saxon’s pulsating cock was still in her mouth.
Choices.
There were always choices. Then, she gently swirled her tongue over the knobbed head in her mouth, tasting male seed on the edges of her tongue as she turned her gaze up to Saxon. His eyes were like dark chocolate laced with red embers. His face was harshly lean, with his hair framing his face in waves.

“Joelle,” he expelled on a sharp edge.

Her answer came in another swirl of her tongue, this time over the heated slit of his cock. Then suddenly sounds seemed to rush into her hearing.

“Bring the virgin cunt now. It’s time!”

Joelle gasped as more hands grabbed her and the head of Saxon’s cock popped out of her mouth. The hands were everywhere, tugging, lifting, and jerking. Four men, Baco, Cernno, and the two attendants lifted and turned her nude body onto her back as they held her high over their heads. Joelle could not help the panic that made her struggle as her long red hair swung free and they carried her like a flat cross, out into the altar area.

She could hear the murmurs of excitement, making her harshly aware that a large number of people filled the room. She could feel the hundreds of eyes on her gleaming nudity as the men carrying her, began to turn her slowly in a circle. They held her legs open so that her sex was gaping as she struggled uselessly to try and close her legs. The only movement she could manage was an up and down thrust of her hips as she whimpered and her bare breasts bounced. She knew that was what they wanted. An unwilling virgin sacrifice, but she could not stop or catch hold of the panic in her mind.

“I offer a virgin mare to our great God Bacchus and his symbol, the flowing-haired Satyr!” Hellion shouted with his voice a symphony of bass ecstasy.

Joelle heard the chanting of hundreds of voices. “Ohm, Bacchus! Ohm, Bacchus.”

Then, the men holding her began to lower her onto the altar. She struggled, panting when the cold stone touched her naked flesh. She twisted and writhed, trying not to allow each man to manacle her wrists, spread above her head. Then, her ankles were tugged wide and manacled also. There was some length on the chains to the manacles around her ankles and she could bring her feet back together a foot apart.

She wanted to scream, but her throat was too tight as Hellion drew near with a gilded bowl in his hands. Once she saw the demonic thinness of Hellion’s absent face with its glowing pink eyes, she shuddered to a halt in her struggling.
Here was a face to defy.
A single entity in the myriad assaulting her. And she knew that Hellion wanted her struggles. She knew that all in the room fed on her terror and her shame.

“You
slut,”
Hellion hissed beneath his breath, with his face twisting with his displeasure at her stillness. Then, his free hand not holding the bowl reached into a hidden pocket in his stark white robes. Joelle filled her lungs. Her mind had abruptly cleared enough to react, and she realized the perfect revenge.

“I am not a
virg
. . . !” she began to scream shrilly. But the tone of a bell ringing once, brought her mouth to a gaping halt.

“Not
a virgin of God, but a virgin of Bacchus!” Lord Hellion’s shouted, falsely finishing her statement. Then, he turned his face to her, and he hissed lowly, “Every touch I place on your body will feel as though I am burning you with hot flames!”

Saxon fought against two new attendants now holding him, as Joelle’s cries filled the air. He could see her from where they held him. He could see her naked and supple body writhing and undulating against the chains holding her. Her ivory flesh gleamed like oiled alabaster, while her bare feminine pussy called rapaciously to any male within sight.

Saxon wondered what in God’s name Hellion was doing to her. It looked as though Hellion was painting her skin with his fingers dipped in blood from the bowl he carried. First, Hellion painted circles around Joelle’s breasts, then he dabbed her nipple tips. Each touch of Hellion’s finger caused Joelle to thrash and cry out.

Saxon’s chest heaved and he barely noticed Dame Baset’s hand on his penis, slithering up and down his shaft, pumping it to keep it hard. Hellion’s fingers dabbled in the blood and he intoned senseless words bastardizing all forms of religions. Then, Hellion painted a line of blood from Joelle’s cleavage to the top of her shaved slit. Joelle’s knees bent as she tried to get away, but the chains stopped her.

Saxon’s gaze swept from her torture to the crowd of worshipers watching and chanting.
How could they watch this,
his mind questioned with misbegotten decency? But he saw the worshipers in front had thrown open their robes and they were masturbating their pale cocks and hairy cunts. Somehow, seeing women shocked Saxon further as he thought what an innocent fool he was.

Joelle’s screams became shriller and he turned his gaze to see Hellion smearing her naked pussy with blood. Joelle’s feet kicked partially up in the air as she writhed, and Dame Baset’s hand on his prick stroke faster and harder.

Hellion finished Joelle’s pussy and he turned to the worshipers shouting. “And now! The Bacchus’ Satyr stallion will fuck the virgin to glory!”

“You
will
prance!” Baco snarled harshly into Saxon’s ear. “Or da little mare cunt out there will get da knife in her virgin heart.”

Saxon pranced, with his cock stiff and hard while it swayed like a heavy weight between his thighs.

Joelle panted with tears clogging her throat and burning in pools in her eyes. She heard a crowd of people raising a frenzied sound as her body seemed to shake uncontrollably. She could not see through her tears what was happening, but she realized somewhere out there, very lowly beneath the roar of the crowd, she heard music. Someone humming music over and over. A tune she knew. It was a Gypsy song her grandmother sang. Joelle turned her head on the altar, blinking hard to try to shed her tears and see. Then, she did. She saw Yojo swaying from side to side, humming the tune. “Sir Yojo,” she whispered, and his small face lit up with a crooked smile.

Joelle hiccupped over a small whimper, but the music filled her, rolling over and over her. But then, she felt fingers touch her ankles and they burned, making her scream, yet beneath it all she heard the call of the Gypsy’s music flowing in her blood.

“Rape her! Rape her!”

“No waiting! Just a sharp thrust!”

“Fuck her like an animal!”

“I’ll stab her if you don’t!”

Voices shouted chants around Saxon as he pranced toward Joelle and as they grasped her ankles, she screamed. It nearly stopped him, but the voices forced him, promising her death if he did not. His blood pumped and his penis heaved. He was ashamed at how demanding and hard it was. Hands lifted Joelle’s struggling ankles up to his shoulders. Other hands reaching from behind him grasped Joelle’s ass, pulling her toward him, while stretching her arms to the end of the chains holding her wrists above her. Her hips pitched, trying to get away, as the head of his penis targeted her female core. He knew she had to be dry with fear.

He roared in pain with moisture flinging from his eyelashes as his hair whipped wildly about him. Then, he plunged forward, crying out Joelle’s name with regret. The fake virgin’s blood was surreptitiously broken, stirring the crowds of perverted malcontents to cheer wildly with Hellion’s voice ringing forth as if in ecstasy. Saxon groaned Joelle’s name as his body shuddered uncontrollably and she writhed on his cock, bucking and crying with no place to escape.

“You are not allowed to climax!” Hellion’s orders hissed into Joelle’s ear. “Fuck him now! Fuck him now as though you have to fuck him to breathe!”

Saxon wanted to scream as he braced himself on his hand over Joelle, with his hair falling like a wet cloak over her breasts. The thought that Joelle could even begin to climax in this situation was ludicrous, riddled with horror!

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” she cried, and his hips pumped. Hands behind him shoved his buttocks, making his thrusts more powerful. The drive of them was jolting Joelle’s buttocks with the sound of her buttocks smacking against his belly, while her breasts pitched beneath him. He tried to hold it back. He tried so hard not to be affected, but the drag and pull on his engorged penis would not be denied. His gaze locked with Joelle’s and her irises begged him for more as her reddened and bruised lips panted, “Fuck me,
fuck
me...”

He thrust wildly, transcending into another plane of existence, where only sensation lived. Rapture tightened his balls, bliss fired up his shaft. He never realized that hands had manacled his ankles to the altar’s base or that the leash on his neck had also been secured. Shame and lust churned like a volcano inside him as his cock plunged repeatedly into Joelle’s sucking pussy.

The bell ran three times.

Just as his seed churned up the shaft of his penis, Saxon saw Joelle’s face go blank, then contort to normal. She cried his name as his seed exploded inside her and he nearly fell forward with the force. But he was wrong!
His passion-climaxing mind was mistaken.
He was not falling forward to land on his elbows over Joelle’s breasts, because of the force of his ejaculation. It was because forceful hands on his shoulders had shoved him there, as his penis continued to draw and throw seed.

“Now the consecration!” Hellion shouted.

And . . . then,
Saxon felt Hellion’s naked body bracing over his sweat-soaked back. Saxon felt Hellion’s fingers digging in the crevice of his ass. Then, a forceful prod that buckled Saxon’s knees as he fell supplicated on top of Joelle with his cock still embedded inside her. Pressure expanded in the opening of his anus and it was then, then that he
realized...

“I love you! I love you,” Joelle whispered frantically, with her lips working on his chin. “Do you hear me, Saxon? I love you!”

Saxon groaned harshly as Hellion’s thin cock drove into his anus.

“Look at me!
Look
at me,” Joelle cried.

Saxon’s face twisted and his eyes bulged as Hellion began to fuck his ass. He tried to keep his eyes on Joelle as his breath gasped and his body pitched back and forth with Hellion’s fucking motions. The pain and invasion were like a disease, scouring through his body, as he jerked against Joelle’s breasts, and in between the cradle of her thighs, with each thrusting plunge of Hellion’s cock raping his ass. He had no conception of what was going on around him, until he realized that he could feel come spewing on them. The worshipers were standing around him and Joelle in orgasmic frenzies, releasing their seed on them.

But his entire existence centered on one ugly feeling as he writhed against Hellion’s seed filling his ass.

Chapter Fourteen

Joelle moaned. Saxon lay nearly unconscious on top of her. The worshipers were engaged in fanatic orgies around the altar and through the large chamber room. Hellion had pulled off Saxon after raping him and she could hear Hellion’s voice giving orders to Yojo.

“Troll, I want no one to fuck the sacrifices in their frenzy. Take them, clean them, and put them back in the cell. Use the Bacchus black slaves. And . . . Troll, tie their arms behind them so they are unable to fuck each other again like the last debacle. I will have them again at the morning ascension feast.”

Joelle realized sometime later she must have lost consciousness or she was hiding in a dark corner of her mind. Because, the next thing she became aware of was hot water caressing her body. The hands on her were surprisingly gentle and she knew they were not Saxon’s. They were too large, but it seemed they treated her with some type of reverence now. Perhaps, because of the ceremony, she thought, but her mind quickly skittered away from that as the slow-moving hands washed her hair.