Finally, an unexpected pause in the painful activity left space enough for one impassioned, “Please, I can’t take any more!”
“You can take what you’re given,” one of her abusers barked.
A pair of thick fingers suddenly jammed themselves between her flailing thighs. The spanker paused again, while the owner of those fingers brought them out to the air, glistening wet.
“If you want evidence of your nature, girl,” he moved the telling digits to her mouth. “Here it is. All your pretty juices to damn your virtue all to hell.”
The brief break in the activity allowed the scene to change. Hannah’s body dropped to the floor, although her skirt remained raised and her red ass glowed like a beacon.
“Such a pretty ass.” A man’s warm hand reached out, stroking the flesh and the unquenchable desire in her body bloomed again. His fingers moved along the crack of her behind, caressing that first available portal with a single finger carefully breaching the tiny aperture. “You like how that feels?” He began to work the finger in and out.
Hannah wouldn’t answer.
“Tell him, girl,” Jarrett’s ordered her tersely. “You like him playing with your back channel? Tell him.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” she finally sputtered.
“And maybe you want my member filling up this space?”
She’d begun to moan as she felt a second finger easing inside. “Yes, sir.”
The man sniggered, as his fingers sunk deep aided by a bit of cold grease swathed inside the cleft. He worked another finger deep into her entrails, until his hand began to move like a cock, and picked up speed, causing a moan of unbidden pleasure to escape her lips.
“Ah—yes—girl,” the man purred with her, easing into the rhythm of her ragged breathing.
Hannah might have accepted the use of her ass, as she’d accepted it before—reluctance and want mingling, though the want was potent enough to see her through the use without much pain. She might have even accepted the fact that this was more than abuse, but pleasure she could enjoy. However, the sudden upward thrust of some inert instrument into her vagina made the pleasure vanish and her fear begin again.
“No, no, don’t!” she thoughtlessly shouted.
Her already punished bottom was slapped a dozen times for that remark, with the use of a wooden paddle that bit into her flesh with thunderous command. The pincher had her nipples between this fingers again, twisting the buds until she squealed. Like all hell had broken loose, nothing made sense and every touch and pinch and slap and jabbing finger in her behind felt like torture. The promise of bodily gratification vanished.
The phallus stuffed inside her sexual home was an invader twice the size of Daniel’s erection—and she’d always considered her husband quite enough to pleasure her. This pole, this impaling rod, this huge creature, widened her so that even her natural juices could do nothing to lubricate the path.
“Get used to it, girl,” she heard one man scoff at her. “You have no idea how tight a woman’s nether regions become when her insides are impaled with something hard.”
It wasn’t but seconds after that enlightening earful that Hannah felt the fingers in her ass withdraw and a steady pressure replace them. Some man’s thick penis head was opening the doorway—although with her body clenched so tightly in fear, the taut place was unwilling to give.
Having no patience for the slow process of opening a woman’s ass for sexual use, the fellow suddenly thrust himself completely inside her until his groin fit tightly against her cheeks.
“Ahhhhhheeeeeeeaw!” Her body shook violently with the terrible pain ripping through her insides.
“Breathe, girl,” she was ordered by some malicious voice she did not recognize.
Hearing the stiff command, she made determined attempts to relax in the hopes that the clenched channel would give way and the pain would end. Deep inside her ass, the muscles resisted the stretch. But neither the man impaling her nor the man that forced the fake phallus into her primary door would give in.
Hannah would.
“You’ve done it before, sweet whore,” she heard the mellow tones of Jarrett Cain’s voice and felt his soothing hand on her back for comfort. With some patience and an inner determination she didn’t know she had, her body finally gave way to both intruders. They eased in deeper still, claiming territory that was no longer her own.
The fucking then began in earnest.
She felt as if she were being rocked inside some enormous fog, in a place where she could barely breathe, barely hang on and gulp for air. Pleasure died. The hard work commenced. The only saving grace was that it was just one live human seeking climax, not two. That man and his erection moved slowly to start, then picked up speed, drove deep as though there were some place new to go. Again and again his spear raped her for the satisfaction he was sure to gain, and when he finally spewed, only then could her senses ease, her muscles completely relax, and her body breathe freely again.
There was a leather-tufted fainting couch in the corner of the room where Hannah was laid afterwards and given a chance to recover. Someone offered her another shot of whiskey that went down more easily than the first.
Her dress was all askew. Her hair disheveled. Her body trying to disappear in a blanket of sleep. She was finally awakened by the rudeness of acrid smelling salts waved beneath her nose, and was pulled back into consciousness seeing two of the three men standing over her naked.
“You have your choice, Hannah,” Jarrett told her, curtly. “Take that fat piece in your cunny again or take a cock.” He held up the offending phallus for her to see.
“Not the rod! No!” she immediately announced, without fully realizing what that meant.
“You’re sure?”
“I am.” Her voice sounded firm.
Nonetheless, what came next shocked her.
Hannah was yanked from the couch and her dress stripped away. Now naked, her body brought all three men to attention as their eyes lingered long on the beautiful physical form with its gracious curves. She’d been roughed up. Her skin was blotchy, but her face was like a drifting erotic vision. Her eyes were dreamy, with hooded lids, her cheeks flushed pink, her lips parted and wet. Her chest heaved in a sumptuous way as her bosom rose and fell with such a distinguishing allure that it took some moments for the men to get on with the satisfaction of their own arousal.
Inside Hannah’s battle-weary mind there was little bewilderment or mixed emotions. She was in tune with her physical body, in wait and wanting. Her hunger was rich. Everything they’d done to her peeled away another layer of regret and hesitation. Every act separated her from the virtuous world she belonged to.
The telling shock for her was in the hunger that arose in her body as soon as her womanly home had been emptied of the fake phallus. The slender man with the longs legs lay down on his back, while his erection rose straight as an arrow from the thatch of pubic hair at its base. His eyes, his lechery, drew her in. She straddled him as she mounted his body and fell forward into his arms, while that live pulsing organ planted itself in the place that had known only one man until this day. Her body began to move in a circling motion that put the fellow in near apoplexy. His head fell back even as she held his cheeks and kissed his lips and mouth. His cry was primal and sweet to her ears. She no longer cared what voice she heard, for in her mind, all the men had become one man.
When the second naked man moved in behind her and between her legs, prying open the glistening cleft with eagerness, she almost sang for joy. Could she ever have anticipated this? Could she have ever imagined she would become a woman of such scant virtue? Could she have dreamed in her wildest fantasies the picture of her naked body satisfying two men at once? It was both revulsion and thrill that greeted these thoughts.
Both men demanded her attention as they seesawed back and forth for supremacy of her nether regions. This time, however, she knew her own sexual responses were keen. She fed herself. She cooed and purred and left them
all awestruck by the performance. She felt the surge of desire so strong that when the man in her rear suddenly erupted—likely prematurely, she began to climax herself with spasms so deep that she set off the second man’s climax moments later.
Body glistening with sweat, hair matted against her face, lips open—mewling, crying, weeping with animal satisfaction—she painted a picture of carnality few women could match. The raw scent of sex infused the air, and made the observing men rub their crotches even though they’d both had their own satisfaction within the hour. Finally, overcome by exhaustion, she fainted forward on the slender fellow beneath her. He’d slipped from her cunny minutes before, and managed to slide out from under her listless form.
“Shall we bring her around?” one asked.
“Not tonight, at least not now,” Jarrett said. “But she’ll be here a few days more. This little filly has a lot more fire in her still. And I plan to use every spark.”
Hannah was only barely conscious when the room emptied and she was left for a while by herself, too weakened to move. At first it was just the remnants of sexual bliss that filled her senses. A bit of cool air sensuously caressed her cheek. The air made her skin bristle with life and new erotic stirrings. She rubbed her thighs together, teasing her sex bud at the same time, smiling from the memory that brought to mind. She could taste the juicy pungent air, hear the virile groaning sounds of satisfied men, listen to the memories of her sweet voice coming. Her entire body spasmed again.
She heard the sounds of footsteps in the room again, but she didn’t stir. Jarrett Cain was at her side, placing a quilt over her body. Still she didn’t stir.
“Good night, Mrs. Crowe,” he said.
Mrs. Crowe, Mrs. Crowe, Mrs. Daniel Crow. Her mind added a chorus of repeating words, while the mental image of a finger pointed at her accusingly. The last thoughts in her mind before she passed out rang through her body like the tolling of a church bell.
I have betrayed my husband, betrayed my husband… have betrayed my husband… my husband. Daniel.
CHAPTER TEN
Hannah woke to the familiar sounds and smells of morning. Birds in the air outside. Bacon frying. But what was so pleasant gave way to the sour taste in her mouth, and an empty stomach. Hunger. Thirst. And something else—
Something dreadfully wrong.
She might have finally come to understood her plight without opening her eyes, but the sudden fear made her lids pop open and she immediately discovered the truth of why her wrists burned and she could barely move.
She was bound to a bed. The shackles that were now welded to her body had been tethered to the brass rails above her head and at her feet. Though she barely remembered the night before, she remembered the betrayal, the final truth, the thought that lingered in her dreams all night long.
Betrayal…adultery…licentiousness…depravity…carnal lust…a wicked, wicked sin.
And now this. The perversity was not over; this depravity would not end yet.
She began to cry as the guilt and shame that evaded her during the hours of her drunken rape returned, heaping scorn. She kept her sobbing quiet, but it wouldn’t stop.
“What’s this?” Jarrett Cain entered the room. Whether he’d heard her crying or simply found it time to rouse her, she couldn’t be sure.
He sat down on the bed beside her, took her chin in his hand and lightly slapped her face.
“Enough.”
She shook him off, hating everything about him.
He forced her to look at him by holding her chin in his steely fingers.
“What’s this? A whore by night and a whimpering child by day?”
Her head hurt and her belly felt as if the insides had been stung by bees. Impossible but there was no other way to describe the burning sensation there. Her crotch ached, her ass ached. And now she was naked and bound.
“Haven’t you done enough?” she finally managed.
“And what have I done?”
“You’ve damaged me beyond repair.”
“My, how dramatic. Have you thought about running off to the theatre?”
“You have no shame.”
“Nor do you. I’d say after last night, you’ve proven to be cut from the same cloth as I am.”
“No, I have not been the kind of woman you’ve made of me.”
“But you deny what you are? You deny that your randy little cunny begged to be impaled? That your quivering belly yearned to be filled with men other than your husband? That your fine round ass implored the lot of us to bugger you soundly until you squealed like a pig and your body bucked with orgasm?”
More hot tears streamed down her face.
“It is your pleasure to bring out the beast in people,” she spat back. “How vile a man you are to bring down those who strive for some dignity, who wish to serve what’s good and right.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t care.
“So, you’re feeling guilty.” He humphed. “Fine with me. I have a way of taking care of your hefty load of shame. We’ll beat the parts of you that betrayed you so and be delighted to do so.”
“Yes. That would feel right.”
He sniggered. “I’ll bet so. And afterwards when your raped and buggered again because your tainted body is begging for the sexual release you can start all over again. What a life I could give you.”
“You can give me nothing that I want,” she spit the words.
“Too bad you feel that way. After last night, I’d hoped I’d won a convert. Be that as it may, you’ll be my guest here for a few more days. I suppose I’ll need to take what I can before I send you home to your loving husband.”
The word husband made her nearly retch.
Hannah reclined on the bed with her hands and feet still bound, and a pillow shoved beneath her ass to raise her open crotch, where the glistening folds of her sex were clearly, intentionally visible.
There were three men in the room, Jarrett and two of the fellows from the previous night looking on in rapt attention, their eyes filled again with lust to the point of almost adoration.
“Let’s see if this will satisfy your guilt,” Jarrett said to her, and he began smacking her thighs and her pubic mound with a short, flat-ended riding crop. The leather stung her flesh in a hundred different ways as it landed at various angles. Each strike burned as intended. Jarrett warmed her up with the first nasty smacks on her tender inner thighs. Then he came down on her center brutally, with blow after blow striking her womanly mound and making her howl with contempt, regret and pain.
Strangely, the beating seemed satisfying at its outset, being a just punishment for the terrible betrayal of her husband. If only Daniel had been the one exacting this miserable price. Her soul begged that she’d awaken and see that his fearsome face had replaced the ones of these awful men. Of course, it did not.
After several minutes, the beating changed its tone, becoming more vile than she could have ever anticipated. The two attending gentlemen in their fine clothes, with their lofty, righteous airs took up positions on either side of the bed, where they each grabbed a knee and pulled her leg back so that her sexual center, from her tufted Venus mound to her nakedly exhibited anal cleft, was open wide. Her gleaming pink pussy lips shone, while the bud of her womanhood was vulnerably accessible to the reach of Cain’s biting instruments.
The beating continued now with precisely measured strikes from a one-inch split-ended tawse that leapt out like the tongue of a snake and punished her betraying flesh with cut after painful cut. Her body clenched with the unremitting blows striking at the heart of her betraying sex.
“Eaaaaaauiiiiaaaa! Ah! Neeeeaw! No, paluuuuuuuuussssssse, no no no… I caaaaaaaaaan’t—”
She angrily barked insensible things, with the howls of pain coming from deep within her. While her lower body was immovable within the steely confines of the two men’s powerful hands, Hannah’s torso, head and shoulders thrashed back and forth. The agony was far beyond comprehension.
; “This is what you deserve, is it not, Mrs. Crowe?” Jarrett snapped at her. “For your dreadfully offensive behavior? For slattern immorality?” He struck at her again and again, right in the deep furrowed ridge where the implement was sure to burn most dearly, at that moment and long afterwards. “This is how a woman with inconstant virtue should be treated, her womanhood torn to shreds in answer to her dreadful crime.” He let up enough so she could comprehend each word he spoke, and so that each word would attack her inconstant heart as viciously as the tawse. There was no place in her wounded body or spirit that was not hurting by the time he laid the tool down.
At the end, Hannah breathed relieved, although the remnants of the bruising punishment endured. The private flesh that no good woman gives up for simple sexual sport had been duly reprimanded in accordance to her crime. And her spirit sobbed even when tears failed her. Despite the agony that prevailed, she was so softened and so meek, and her body so amazingly aroused by the beating, that when Jarrett Cain opened his trousers and fell on her with his member stabbing her portal with determined zeal, she readily took him in. Her body was like a welcoming home, and his body pounding into hers, the only way to soothe the terrible ache. The pillow had been removed from under her bottom and her feet untied from the bedstead, so that she freely raised her hips to meet the impaling manhood. Her chest lifted up in greeting. And as Jarrett began to hump her with some vigor, she responded in the only way she could with her arms still bound. Her legs wrapped around him and her lips met his in a feast of kisses initiated by her hungering mouth.
“That’s it, Hannah,” Jarrett urged her. He mauled her breasts with his thick fingers, pinching the nipples and tugging at her flesh as if he were milking a cow, and all the while, her sexual responses proved the unmistakable pleasure she enjoyed at his rough handling of her. “You fine little harlot,” he whispered in a faint and urgent breath. At last he settled in for a long, hard-hitting ride inside her gripping velvety center. There he swamped the hot, wet cavern with his spunk in round after round of thrusting ejaculations.
The Humiliation of Hannah Page 11