The Captive

by Amber Jameson

  “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.

  “You can all bring her to my play room as a special treat,” said Megan, “but you will have to leave when I begin my games.”

  An excited twittering set up among the girls. Some of them were still glowing from their bath and all were still. Their young bodies shone with moisture and nipples of every shape and shade dripped enticingly, and in the midst of them was the trembling figure of the new captive.

  The other girls were long trained slaves, quite happy in their role. Megan looked at Zacora, being pulled by her body chain by several girls. She looked sad though her body glowed prettily from the treatment she had just received.

  Hands stroked Zacora’s nakedness, infiltrating her front and rear clefts. Megan saw her, surreptitiously, bear down on the fingers, urging deeper penetration. Oh, she thought, I can’t wait to begin on her.

  The procession of women, chattering and giggling, made its way to the vast chamber where all new slaves were taught the Meleagan way, “Where do you come from?” whispered one little creature in Zacora’s ear.

  “Lokara,” replied Zacora, “we were trained to please men - but not women.”

  “No more talking, you girls.” Megan heard her own voice. It was sharp and edgey.

  They all entered the play room, Zacora in the middle of the crowd. I should be excited, thought Megan, by having all my girls around me, fresh and clean from the bath house. But she wanted the beautiful Zacora on her own.

  “Go away now,” she said. Her voice was softer, huskier.

  When they were alone she turned to look at Zacora, smiling lasciviously. Taking the hem of her black dress she lifted it and pulled it over her head, Her full figure was naked apart from a narrow red suspender belt, black stockings and tight ankle boots with heels.

  “What do you think of me?” she asked, pirouetting and posing her heavy breasts and pillows of flesh forming her bottom.

  Zacora, head bowed, was silent.

  Megan strode towards her crossly to drag her to a pillar at the centre of the room, hooking her wrist chain to a high placed hook. She grinned as she saw the tight breasts lift with the tension. In a vertical position, the body chain was much tighter and the smooth balls fitted into their appointed places: mouth, breast valley, silver mound and the sex slit.

  Megan stood back looking at her new slave. “Very nice indeed. How do these little teasers feel?” She rubbed the balls at the mound and slit, grinning as she saw Zacora wriggle and bear down on the titillation.

  “Something more fleshy is called for,” said Megan, stroking at her own dark brown forest, spreading the swiftly swelling lips to bare her moist nubbin. “Look up, my pet, and you’ll see what I mean.”

  Obediently, Zacora raised her sad eyes and they widened at what she saw. Depicted on the high ceiling was the Garden of Eden. Adam watched in horror as the serpent coiled around Eve’s leg, although she was obviously ecstatic. Her mouth was open and eyes glazed in lust. The head of the serpent was poised at her dripping entrance.

  When Zacora attempted to lower her head she found that she could not. Megan had plaited her hair into a loop and fixed it firmly to the post by some means.

  Megan went to a cabinet, leaving Zacora forced to stare at the defilement of Eve. The girl was trembling, Megan knew, for she could hear the slight tinkle of the chains, metal upon metal. She smiled to herself, allowing the girl to think that she was to be penetrated by a live snake. “It isn’t poisonous,” Megan said calmly, “and it absolutely loves warm, dark places. And snakes aren’t slimy, you know, not at all. Not a bit like people think, so you’d better set to and create some of that famous sap of yours.”

  “Please, mistress,” whimpered Zacora. “I hate snakes. Anything but that.”

  Megan laughed. “Oh, I have lots of treats in store for you,” she assured. “Lots of playthings, but I want you to feel the glorious wriggliness of my little pet first.” She turned to look at her slave, smiling a little as she looked at the forcibly held silver head, the pale arms stretched high to lift the breast mounds, the long legs balanced on tip toe and manacled around the broad pole. Megan felt light headed at the sight; almost drunk.

  In the cabinet, the cupboard she called her toy box, there was a wide variety of smooth carved lengths of wood, dildoes, worn with frequent usage, of every shape and size imaginable.

  Slowly, she sorted through the collection, looking for the special one. It wasn’t a real snake, but her wood carver had made a fine job of creating a dildo replica of the reptile. It was made in segments to give the impression of movement when Megan pulled a cord at the tail. There was even a tiny forked tongue which could be retracted when the carved serpent was inserted. Even the colours were realistic upon the scale-like marking.

  A wicked smile wreathed Megan’s round face as she took it from the cabinet, holding it on the flat of both palms as she swung her plump near-naked body across the room to Zacora’s bound one. “Here he is, the little beauty,” she said proudly. “Not so little really. I hope you’re feeling nice and open because his girth is quite huge.” She giggled. “Just eaten, you see.” The giggle came again at the lie.

  She held up the smoothly carved snake, surreptitiously pulling the tiny cord so that the serpent waved slowly on the upheld palms. It was kept below Zacora’s eye line, so that the view of it was just sufficient to give the impression of live movement. Megan was delighted when she saw the girl flinch in terror.

  “Come now,” the woman cajoled. “It’s like cold water - it really isn’t so bad once you’re in.” She paused, thinking. “Or rather, perhaps I should say, once it’s in.”

  Zacora’s whole body was taut with fear, flinching back against the post. Her eyes were closed against the awful scene on the ceiling above her, and yet her sex pouch was ready for something to stretch the soft cushiony walls.

  Not a snake though! Oh no, not a snake!

  “Here he comes!” Megan made the snake wriggle, made the forked tongue tickle the swollen silver lips one last time before she retracted it. She brushed her own plump body, her belly and her cushiony breasts against Zacora’s willowy one and positioned the snake head at the girl’s entrance. She pushed it forward, smiling as she heard the whisper of horror change to a sigh of delight as the wriggling thickness entered and stretched the soft, moist membranes.

  “You see! I told you!” Megan was triumphant. She brushed her huge pillows of soft flesh across Zacora’s firm tight breasts as she eased the plumpness of the snake replica into the receptive moistness of the girl’s sex passage. She could feel the captive’s young muscles pulsing around the wriggling intrusion and the breathing was one of excitement; the excitement of a sensation. Megan pulled the cord, very gently, and a groan escaped the girl, becoming louder as the intrusion became deeper and more vibrant.

  “See how your pleasure flows over my little pet,” she said huskily. “Your nubbin tip rubs beautifully over his tail and he delights upon the liquid which you pour over him.” Megan sniffed the air. “Oh yes, he loves your fresh musky aroma. Once more, my precious little slave, but we shall place him into your rear passage now that you have wetted him so nicely with your love sap.”

  Very slowly, the snake-like dildo was withdrawn from the pulsing sex pouch.

  “No, mistress, please,” pleaded Zacora. There was humiliation in her begging, but Megan took no notice. “Not there, please!”

  Unheeding, Megan released her new captive. The girl’s legs were weak from the strong orgasms given by the dildo and she fell gracefully in a heap to the floor.

  “Good,” smiled Megan. “We’ll k
eep the thighs open and your bottom just clear of the ground.” Zacora’s legs were placed in this position around the post, still using the ankle manacles and chain.

  Keeping the dildo out of sight, so the illusion of the snake was kept, Megan played with the climax-relaxed body. She kissed the lifted moistness between the splayed thighs, sniffing the aroma as she nuzzled into the wetness with her nose. She kissed each breast, misted with the heat of orgasm, swollen to tenderness. She kissed the soft, parted lips, transferring the girl’s own juices into her mouth. The captive was so excited that there was no hint of embarrassment or humiliation. Megan frowned. She missed those things in a girl. Surely, innocence could not be peaked away so quickly by climaxes?

  “I’ll soon fix you,” she said hoarsely. “He’s entering you now. You’ve made him nice and slippery, so there should not be too much pain.”

  Zacora’s sapphire blue eyes flashed open. It was as if she had been mesmerised by that first orgasm from the snake, and now she was back to reality. “That’s better,” said Megan cheerfully. She pressed the pale lifted bottom cheeks to expose the rear mouth and pull it open. The snake head poked at the tight wrinkled opening. The girl shuddered, but it wasn’t clear whether it was a shiver of horror or of delight. Megan shrugged, probably delight, for she was massaging the fully exposed nubbin. The dildo snake moved as she pulled the cord and inched into the darkness of the rear passage. The girl was breathing quickly and rhythmically in her bonds.

  Megan was delighted to note that Zacora kept her hands stretched high above her head. The girl certainly knew her place, knew that she should be passive and pliant. The flexible dildo was high up within her now and Megan was stroking the nubbin with all of her moistened fingers. The hoarse breathing was quicker, more urgent, and there was a bearing down on the snake.

  “Let your full pleasure flow, my lovely,” Megan urged. “I have to teach you every nuance of sensuality and you are such a good pupil.”

  With strong pulsations in the young muscles the snake was gradually eased out of the rear mouth. The girl lay passive, her moist silver sex purse open and the swollen lips fluttering. The nubbin jerked in and out of the pink leaves, throbbing with its recent satisfaction. Fluid, pearly and warm, oozed from the darkness of the pouch. Tears flowed down the pale cheeks as Zacora lay, still chained with her legs humiliatingly parted.