A hard naked toe prodded the softness of her breast, the full flesh sloping into the leafy forest floor. “Aye,” rasped Kroll, “and who shall be first?”
Zacora looked up at him. His square jaw jutted forward belligerently as he looked down at her. He stroked the smoothness of his erection, iron in its rigidity. He grinned and posed his shaft at her, thrusting his muscular pelvis forward and cupping the hard fullness of his balls.
Zacora turned away, although all her training had taught her that she should have smiled at a man who desired her. She had no wish to be called a harlot again.
The hard toe prodded the fullness of her breasts again. “Would you wish me to be first, my pretty?” asked Kroll.
She could see the bloated veins of his rigidity pulsing with eagerness. A pearly dew drop hung upon the bloated globe of his penis, shimmering in the light of the dying fire. “If you wish,” she said, but her voice was cold and polite. There was no warmth of invitation.
He kicked her again. “The wench is insolent,” he said spitefully.
Wolf laughed. “And our women are not?” he questioned. “Apart from Harold the Pretender and the Prince there is not a man in Vakir who can stand up to our women. Enjoy the good manners of this one while you may.”
Kroll grunted sullenly. “No more whipping?” he said, feeling that his spite should be vented in some way.
Fingers, cool compared from the fire in her buttocks, touched the thousand raised welts on the once creamy skin. Zacora trembled at the touch, wanting them to enter the darkness of the cleft between her buttocks and go further. She wanted them to cosset the spongy moistness which awaited in her willing sex pouch.
“Turn her over,” said Wolf, and she heard him throw the willow whip to the floor.
As she was turned upon her back she winced as tiny twigs and pebbles on the forest floor pressed into the punished flesh of her buttocks. With the four huge men looking down on her, she was suddenly ashamed of her nakedness. This emotion had never plagued her before, for she was proud of her body, but she knew they looked upon her in a different light from the men of Lokara.
Her breasts were swollen on each side of the body chain, pouting out with nipples inflamed and massively erect. Zacora closed her eyes, not wishing to look upon her own body. It had suddenly become a thing of shame rather than a supple living thing of beauty.
A roughened nail flicked each pert nipple, making shots of pain flutter through the taut mounds. She winced, opening the sapphire blue eyes wide, questioning the reason for such outright cruelty.
“Isn’t it a great feeling?” Wolf hissed. “Tonight we are the masters!”
Pike gave a gleeful growl. “The masters,” he echoed. “Our issue will not be banked to produce yet more women. The masters, if only for tonight!”
Zacora held her breath in shock. Every muscle in her slender body became tense with horror. What kind of hell was this?
“If the Prince could produce a son, an heir,” sighed Wolf, “perhaps there would be kindness in the land once more. Perhaps there would be love between men and women. Perhaps life would be normal.”
Brad and Pike nodded. “We were spared only because we were strong and were suitable for hard manual labour.” Brad looked down at her, cruelty and revenge patent in his dark eyes.
Zacora was beginning to understand. The men, those which were spared, hated women. They punished them for being women whenever there was a chance. A pliant and passive beauty, obedient and eager to please was a treat which they could not resist.
Stretched tautly above her head, Zacora’s arms ached intolerably. Her bottom was raw and inflamed. She remained still, so that it would not chafe on the forest floor. Her sex, so naked and unprotected, felt very vulnerable. At home, with her own kind, she would have revelled in that very vulnerability.
“It is time,” said Wolf, kneeling between her splayed legs and feeling the plumpness of her mound, stroking the perfectly rounded arch of her pubis. She felt the soft pad of flesh ripple under his fingers and the silver curls of her bush whisper against his palm.
The circling moons, the three sisters as the locals called them, had risen and shed cold light upon the scene. The mens’ bodies gleamed darkly in the pale light. Their huge chests, with the massively developed pectorals, were a mass of shadows and highlights. The tight stomachs and narrow hips were firm. Long shadowed thighs and huge calves were straddled wide and their male sex swords were thrust forward eagerly. Zacora found her eyes straying to the heavy sacs, so full and taut under the arches of the splayed thighs. If the men were so deprived of affection, of sex, those sacs must be bursting to release their contents. She found herself shuddering uncontrollably.
Thumbs spread the plump moist folds wide open, making her even more exposed and vulnerable. “Never have I seen a woman’s sex so pale,” whispered Wolf. “Always they are dark. And this one has such a dainty bud, so young and innocent.”
The compliments were obviously sincere and Zacora found herself smiling with pleasure, in spite of the possible insults she might rain down upon herself.
“Now she preens!” scoffed Brad. “Penetrate her to the hilt.”
The sharp words were said spitefully. Tears blurred Zacora’s vision and, again, she felt ashamed of her body. Even when she lost her virginity, she did not feel shame or humiliation, but somehow these men made her feel dirty with their actions and words.
Kroll stroked the fan of golden hair spread around her beautiful face, tracing the silver highlights caught by the light of the three moons. He was squatting behind her head and she looked back at him, trying again to please, but the smile was rewarded by a hard slap across the cheeks. Zacora gasped for the blow was a shock and a surprise. It made her head rock against her arms, stretched so tightly behind her. And again the blow was repeated, this time with the back of Kroll’s hard hand. Zacora’s beautiful face burned with shame and the force of the blow.
Wolf looked up. His fingers investigated every moist crevice of her sex and she could feel a melting in the lower part of her belly and she knew it heralded the beginnings of her orgasm. “She’s getting wet,” he said, grinning at the other men. He pointed a free hand at Kroll. “Hey! Don’t damage her, idiot.”
Face burning, Zacora looked up at Kroll, asking why with wide blue eyes. He dived his rough hand into the depths of her silky hair, tugging her head back until her long creamy throat was exposed. The action lifted her breasts, arching them high and making her nipples more available to him.
“It hurts,” she whispered softly, trying vainly to release his grip by twisting her head from side to side, but this only increased the pain.
“You talk too much,” he rasped, tugging her hair yet harder. “We must find some way to close your mouth.” He looked at Wolf, seeking permission.
Wolf grinned, nodding before returning to his task of stimulating the girl.
A further tug in her long golden hair brought Kroll’s face close to hers. She could feel her sex aching for pleasure. She knew the folds were swollen and open for Wolf’s attention. She knew her bud was fully exposed and it was jutting upwards from the moistness of the flushed bed. She felt ugly and used in her humiliation, but at the same time she didn’t want Wolf to stop his caresses.
She heard him snigger and she heard a metallic rattle. The body chain was loose, dangling somewhere over her head. She couldn’t see it because Kroll still held her by the hair. Although the opportunity was there because the lower end of the body chain was released, she had no wish to close her legs. The opposite was true. She raised her knees to make herself more available.
She felt a sudden shock of cold. The chain was being fed into the moist heat of her vagina. A gasp caught her throat but she clutched frantically at the intruding chain with her trained vaginal muscles. Wolf’s attentions had been prolonged and without release.
The change of action motivated Kroll and, almost before she had time to draw breath, a great sword of flesh was thrust between her sof
tly parted lips. In her country it was a custom, in sexual play, for a man to spume into a woman’s mouth, but it was not done through force but after much gentle preparation.
“Suck it, bitch,” said Kroll. “Swallow me.”
At the same moment, Wolf caressed her bud as well as pushing as much of the smooth body chain into her willing vagina as was possible. She felt her body convulse magnificently. It could not be stopped. It was just as it was when the noble took her virginity.
Mouth open, Zacora was able to engulf all of Kroll’s hugeness. His tip moved into her gullet and this caressed it, soaking it with saliva. She could hear him groaning his pleasure and this increased her pleasure, making her climax repeat itself with double the strength.
The chain was pulled from her vagina, link by link, and she could feel the cushiony flesh clutching at the warmed metal, as if to keep it there. Suddenly, the chain was gone and her sex was clutching on the misty night air, grasping at nothing.
“Watch!” breathed Wolf to Brad and Pike. “Never have I seen such a welcome!”
The words made Zacora proud of the years of female training in Lokara; the learning how to love and be loved.
“Are you going to put it in?” asked Brad. He was the youngest of the sedan bearers and had no experience with women at all. He had never been given a chance to sink into the heat of a willing vessel. Wolf pushed him forward.
“You, my lad,” he said laughing, “may take your turn, but be quick about it. My hunger is at least as great as yours.”
Zacora felt smooth young thighs being pushed against hers, just as Kroll jerked deep into her throat. The first taste of his issue was thick and salty as though it was long stored in his huge sac. Jet after jet poured over her tongue and down into her gullet. Her training made it easy to take the rich liquid without gagging. It poured into her in a never ending stream.
There was a smooth jab at her slippery vaginal entrance. “That’s it, lad,” she heard Wolf say, “now press hard.”
The penis which speared into her was long and thick, but it slid into her with very little resistance because she was so wet and ready. The cushiony walls caressed the young man’s length, petting the smooth rigidity with skilful muscles. Brad was breathing hard.
The four men had treated her badly. Her buttocks still burned from the thrashing and her mind still reeled with their insults, but her training went so deep that she could not help herself. She had to pleasure Brad to the very best of her ability.
He drove into her, butting to the very limits of her womb. She, in turn, so far as her tethered arms would allow, gyrated under him, ignoring the stinging pain in her thrashed bottom. Her rear hole, still glowing from the attention of the willow twigs, pulsed in rhythm with her caressing vagina.
A final harsh breath signalled Kroll’s climax had faded. The night air was free to blow across Zacora’s fair features which had been so closely confined throughout his penetration of her mouth. He didn’t stand immediately, but wiped his penis in her silky hair, leaving sticky streaks in the golden strands.
In the very depths of her vagina began a heaviness, a melting pot of pleasure which engulfed her and, in turn, the young man.
A mew of delight escaped Zacora’s soft lips, lips which were silvery with the remains of Kroll’s semen. She arched her back, craving Brad to take her body. He pounded her, holding the sharp arches of her slim hips to gain purchase, bruising her with the force of his grip.
“She’s almost there, Brad,” said Wolf excitedly, “And so are you. Fuck her! Fuck her hard!”
The crude language grated on Zacora’s ears but, at the same time, it heightened her excitement. Her puff of silvery blonde hair upon her mound gyrated on the man’s coarse black one, and this was another source of excitement. She felt him throb in her silky depths and she, automatically, squeezed with her well-trained muscles. He groaned, wetting her creamy body with the sweat of exertion, so that their skin squelched moistly as they moved.
He spurted into her. Time after time he spurted into her. The thrusts seemed never ending, but at last Wolf grabbed the lad’s muscular shoulder, pulling him away from the helpless girl. Zacora saw Brad, panting and still making his emission a few yards away.
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.
CHAPTER FIVE
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 manacl
es, 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.
The Captive Page 5