The Captive (7 page)

She felt hard hands on her strained shoulders. The pain made her wince, biting her soft lower lip. It was Wolf, the largest man, lowering himself into her. She saw his penis, so dark in the shadow of his own body as to look almost black.

Her entrance was fully open and drenched with Brad’s sperm, but she tensed, trying to make her vessel tight for Wolf, trying to make it pamper him. He hovered above her, rough hands hard on her shoulders. He nudged at the warm wetness of her entrance with the rounded thickness of his globe. She could feel him opening her up, spreading the inner lips apart. Poised there, he looked down at her.

Prised open in this way, Zacora could feel Brad’s hot liquid running from her; feel it seeping over the spread buttocks and down her splayed thighs. She had bent her knees and spread them outwards, making herself totally vulnerable for Wolf, wanting to please him.

“You are a used woman,” he grunted cruelly in her face. His features were a mask of hatred; his need to hurt her naked form beneath him.

Zacora said nothing, but simply tried to ignore the pain in her shoulders. His grip was fierce on her soft flesh and her arms were becoming numb from their long confinement in one position above her head. She concentrated on the wonderful feelings in her sex. He penetrated her further, making the entrance slow and tantalising. She tilted her mound, offering a more open position.

Wolf’s dark eyes slitted cruelly. “Surely,” he hissed, “only a harlot would know such tricks.” She saw him move his swarthy cheeks, gathering saliva and a great gob of his spit splashed on her pale cheek. He plunged into her fully, gyrating cruelly, and she met him movement for movement. It was an angry, frantic coupling with the sex skilled girl contracting her muscles around him, milking him of his sperm. His heavy balls smacked hard against her buttocks, already wet with Brad’s spillage.

Another splash of liquid fell hotly on her swollen breasts. Wolf still held her at the shoulders, pinching the fine skin and bruising the delicate bones.

Zacora looked up, Pike was standing over them, his head thrown back, glorying in their sudden ascendancy over a woman. His penis was held in one hand, while the other was cupping his balls. His thick shaft was being manipulated vigorously and it was spurting in great hot splashes over her naked breasts.

She accepted her humiliation gladly. She smiled up at Wolf and was rewarded with another gob of saliva, aimed this time into her open soft lips. His movements were frantic, spearing his whole length into her. She could feel him pulsing and her own climax was so close, so very close.

The new slave had arrived in a sedan chair, lying back on soft cushions. Naked, as a slave should be, she trembled in her chains as Megan peered into the curtained sedan. It was a delicious sound; the tinkling of the fine chains.

The nervous slave looked up at her new mistress with the biggest sapphire eyes Megan had ever seen. Long blonde curls - no, not truly blonde, gold, with streaks of silver - twisted over the pale shoulders to circle pert pink nipples. The breasts had the perfect roundness of youth. The skin was stretched over them drum-like and it swept down to a slender waist, so delicately curved that it asked to be caressed. Megan stretching out a finger and the slave flinched back into the cushions of the sedan.

The girl had a belly, a mere gentle swell from the dip of her navel. The nest! Oh, Megan had gasped at the sight of the nest. It pouted out, a pad of female flesh brushed with hair more silvery than that upon her lovely head. And the way she had been placed in the sedan by the guards made the silver-flecked labia part so that Megan could see the moist pink folds beneath. The nubbin, too, was plainly visible, achingly lovely, begging to be kissed by female lips.

The chains by which Zacora was held were light, but strong. The ankles were gripped by manacles, holding her shapely pale legs apart. The chain between the manacles was at full stretch, holding the legs taut. A well-placed padlock in each lower corner of the sedan pulled the ankles, and thus the full legs, wide apart.

The wrists, too, were shackled, but together. The arms were pulled high, Megan noticed, and fastened to the roof of the sedan, making the lovely breasts so taut that it looked as though the skin would burst.

A seemingly unnecessary chain was looped between ankles and wrists. It was very fine and, at intervals, were smooth round balls of different sizes. The placing of these devices, it seemed to Megan, was judged very precisely. There was one at the mouth, one between the deep valley of her breasts, one upon her sex mound and one, where the chain took a loose loop, at her sex entrance. Every slight movement caused the balls to give small stimulations, teasing almost.

Megan’s mouth went dry at the sight presented to her, and her sex became puffy, more open, ready and wet. She had difficulty calling for the guards to unfasten the padlocks so the girl could be helped from the sedan.

As two guards stepped forward, presenting their hairy muscular buttocks as they bent into the curtained sedan, Megan had no desire to finger the leather thongs parting those delicious male clefts. Heavy sacs lay between the slightly parted thighs. Normally, Megan would not have been able to resist cupping these, caressing them, feeling them move within the loose skin. She did nothing except lick her lips, mentally running through the inventory of her sex toys. Which would be most appropriate to use on this sweet creature first? What would she use to train her to adore? Should she take her to tantalise her favourite customers? Yes, she decided, how they would love that extra stimulation.

Free and wobbly from long tethering in the sedan, Zacora stood beside Megan, head bowed in sad submission. Even in this position the breasts were taut and firm with sweet little nipples, gently tucked in, asking to be sucked to erection.

“Walk in front of me,” ordered Megan.

Zacora’s sapphire eyes looked up questioningly. Even with the looseness of the ankle chain, walking would not be easy.

“Do as I say!” Megan’s voice was sharper. “And keep your head bowed.”

The new captive took a tentative step towards the heavy wooden drawbridge. The girl was obviously nervous and unsure of herself.

Megan liked her new slaves to walk in front of her, so that she could admire their buttocks. Her eyes always strayed to that place. Those in front of her at that moment were particularly fine. The flesh was firm, sporting the most delightful slope down to the fullness at the lower margin. There was also an attractive parting at the bottom cleft which urged the viewer to want to investigate within those depths.

The sway was lovely too. Once the girl caught a rhythm, there was a swing of the flesh, pouting and parting, which was most provocative.

However, thought Megan, frowning, the girl, seemingly so pliant, also had a hint of rebelliousness. This must be beaten out of her. Her fingers itched as she mentally viewed the whip case. She lightly brushed the pads of her thumbs across those of her fingertips as if feeling the texture of different leather strips, how they would feel to her fingers before she striped the girl with them.

But she would be gentle in her discipline - at first. She lifted her eyes, dark and heavily outlined with black kohl, to look at the graceful length of the girl’s body. Although pale there was a golden sheen as is found on a ripe fruit such as a peach. The skin begged to be caressed by mouth, fingers and lash.

The shoulders were wide for such a slender body and they were proud, for all the golden head was bent in submission. A strange mixture. This was no ordinary girl, that was plain enough.

“I’d better take you to the bath house and have you scrubbed.” She wagged an admonishing finger. “Don’t know what you’ve been up to with those guards.”

Zacora said nothing. The guards were men and her strict training taught that they, even though they were servants of this woman, they must be protected and loved.

“Hm!” Megan sneered at her silence. “Four hulking guards carrying you in a sedan chair for five days and you did nothing? This I cannot believe. They would not be able to control themselves!” She laughed. “I know what those men are like. Couldn’t resist a girl like you. I’ll bet it was one after the other several times a day, every day.”

Zacora remained silent.

Megan laughed even more loudly. “You were helpless,” she reminded the girl. “In chains and your legs were splayed wide open.” She gave a nod of understanding. “You allowed them to do it in your mouth, is that it? So their misbehaviour would not be discovered?”

Zacora hung her head in shame, blushing furiously.

“Nevertheless, I feel, so that I can discern the truth, I must inspect you,” said Megan, “once we reach the bath house.” Zacora had halted, her lustrous golden tresses hanging loosely from the crown of her head and over the lovely curves of her breasts. “Not far now.”

The girl shuffled forward, for her ankles were becoming sore with the chafing of the manacles. Megan loved the way her arms were held loosely in front of her, hands at the soft warmth of the silver nest. The length of chain looped from ankles to wrists brushed the satin skin of the inner thighs in a most stimulating manner. Megan could feel her own sap gathering between swollen lips and her nubbin jutting quite urgently between her uncovered cleft.

“Here we are,” said Megan cheerfully, swinging open an oak door. “This is the bath house.”

Zacora hung back, for the echoing marble chamber was full of giggling girls. “Here is the new girl.” Megan pushed the reluctant captive into the dimly lit, steam-filled room, and spoke in an almost motherly fashion. “I’m going to inspect her, if you would like to watch, my dears. I fear she has been very naughty with the guards.”

Cries of ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ went up from the naked girls.

“You two!” Megan pointed to two well-built young ladies drying themselves at the edge of one of the round marble tubs sunk into the stone floor.

The girls looked at each other, giggling that they had been chosen, then turned to Megan to question their task.

“Get her up on the examining table, but I want the chains undisturbed.” Megan looked eager, her dark eyes bright and her scarlet lips slightly parted and moist.

The fairer of the two girls looped her strong hands under Zacora’s armpits, while the darker one lifted her at bent knees. “She’s very light, mistress,” said the dark one, placing the new captive on the bench. Smiling at Zacora she splayed her knees and carefully put the shackled feet together. This had the effect of opening up the sex lips quite nicely.

Zacora looked down and, seeing how she was spread, she blushed in humiliation. She tried to close her knees, but Megan quickly stepped forward, slapping them wide again. “And keep them that way,” she ordered.

Other girls were gathering eagerly around the bench. One even stroked the underswell of each breast, watching how each inverted nipple sprang out almost immediately.

“She’s very sensitive, mistress,” remarked the girl, smiling down at the blushing Zacora.

“And so will you be,” said Megan sharply, “if you don’t leave her alone. She’s not for you to touch.”

In her hand, Megan held an instrument. Before using this she spread the soft sex leaves open with her fingers, as if gaging the width to which they would open. Immediately, she saw the girl’s clitoris jerk to attention. It was stiff, peachy coloured and shiny with moisture. Zacora was indeed sensitive.

“How pretty!” she couldn’t help murmuring, stretching out a gentle finger to stroke the jutting erection of the bud.

Megan lowered her head and placed a wide syringe into the pulsing entrance. Yes, it was pulsing. It wanted something to go in. The skin was smooth, so moist and silky. It was made to be penetrated.

“I am going to take a sample of the fluid within you,” Megan told the suffering girl. “To discern just how much the guards defiled you.”

Zacora shuddered, hoping that the guards seed had drained away. Megan looked at her suspiciously.

“Hm, we’ll see,” she said quietly.

The syringe was as thick as a medium cockshaft. It was smooth and slid in easily. Megan knew that the girl would feel a mild sucking sensation and, maybe a sense of fullness. She watched the dainty bottom cheeks lift a little from the bench, as if wanting more. The mistress removed the syringe and held it to the light to check the contents.

“Milky looking,” she noted, “quite copious. I really cannot believe that this is all your own. No woman produces so much lubrication - not even me.”

The girls gathered, so close to the bench, sniggering. One or two of them received hard slaps for their pains.

Zacora, almost in tears, held her guilty secret silently.

Megan shrugged. “What matter anyway, I shall still have you scrubbed to make sure. I have very intimate plans for you.”

Spirits sagging, Zacora allowed herself to be lifted from the bench. All the girls seemed very eager to be the ones to scrub.

Still chained, the captive was slipped into one of the deep tubs. The water was pleasantly hot and aromatically perfumed. Megan watched as her prize was shampooed; her long golden curls floating out like a living fan upon the swirling water. She watched as the girls scrubbed under, over and around the sensitive mounds of the breasts, until they glowed scarlet. She watched as many willing hands dipped down to finger the silvery mound, and into the slit. She heard a slight moan as a sensitive spot was teased. It was going to be sheer delight playing with this young woman. She looked so innocent and yet she was receptive. It wasn’t often one found both qualities in a slave.

“Take her out,” she ordered. Her voice was quite husky with longing and she found herself lifting her black clingy dress and stroking her plump mound. She stopped, just in time. It wasn’t good for discipline to do such things in front of the slaves. They were the ones to be done to, after all, not to do.

The captive was pampered as she was dried with soft cloths. All the girls took a part of her and rubbed and patted her dry. Zacora loved it when her pale skin flushed with embarrassment as the girls reached the most intimate parts. It was quite amazing how, though embarrassed, her nipples popped out as hard pegs and her nether lips became inflamed and swollen.