by River Belle
She put the bowl on the floor and then put her fingers up to her breasts, and let her thumb and forefinger delve between her breasts, into her cleavage. A moment later, she pulled out a small silver key. She undid the handcuffs, and I was just about to thank her, when she pulled my hands behind my back, and cuffed my hands together behind me. I tried to struggle, but it was no use. She led me, naked and shivering, but smelling sweet and fresh, feeling angry and confused, but extremely horny, out of the bedroom.
CHAPTER TEN
Madame Perdita was outside, smelling a vase full of white orchids on the patio. She was wearing a fitted black suit; extremely smart given she was just at home. She turned and grinned when she saw me.
Amy led me out as I shuffled forwards, my hands chained together, bruising my wrists, my breasts exposed, feeling fresh air on my big, stretched pink nipples for the first time, the breeze making them hard and desperate to be touched. The weight of my breasts, now I was standing up, was almost unbearable. They made my back ache, they were so full, swinging loose and huge, like two beach balls in front of me, blocking my view of my feet.
‘Thank you, Amy,’ said Madame Perdita. ‘You have done well. I will give you a special treat tonight.’
Amy curtseyed, her breasts bobbing, and for the first time, I noticed some small scars running along the top of her chest, like the lash marks I had seen on the statue.
She walked away, swinging her hips and humming.
Madame Perdita walked over to me, grinning from ear to ear. She walked in a circle around me, stopping to examine my pert, tight butt, and then back the other way, taking in my monstrously large breasts, my flat stomach, and the tiny little lips, nestling at the top of my thighs.
‘You have far, far, exceeded my expectations,’ she said eventually. ‘Mathew was right about you. You were worth all that money.’
‘Money?’ I asked. I realised I’d never even asked Madame Perdita what my salary would be. I had barely even thought about payment since I’d been here.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I paid Mathew over half a million pounds to find you. It took him almost a year, to make friends with you, to check you were right, but he’s done a good job. You’re the best one I’ve ever had.’
I could see the shape of her pointed nipples, hard and erect, beneath her suit jacket. I moaned quietly in anticipation, hoping that now she was finally going to fuck me.
‘Let’s take a walk around the garden,’ she said, and pushed my back, forcing me down the patio steps, and onto the dewy grass, which felt cold and squelchy beneath my bare feet.
‘You’ve probably wondered what it is I do for a living,’ she said, taking hold of my butt with her sharp white fingers, guiding me around the grass, in whichever direction she desired. ‘And maybe you’ve wondered why what has happened to you - happened to you.’
I was trying to listen, but my pussy was aching so badly with a need to be fucked that all I could do was look at the shape of Madame Perdita’s extraordinary breasts, and go to wherever she was taking me.
‘Years ago, decades ago, my great grandfather discovered how to extract this – potion. My family have been selling it to rich businessmen all over the world since then. What we found with the potion,’ she said, ‘is that just one glass of it is potent enough to make a woman grow into the most beautiful, voluptuous sex slave imaginable. And if we find the right woman to begin with, someone timid enough, and pathetic enough, to make the transformation as big as possible, then the results are incredible. You, for instance, have become far more impressive than any average woman could have ever become.’
I felt myself blush, and flush with an even stronger desire.
‘This way,’ said Madame Perdita, pointing towards the forest.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At the edge of the forest, by a thicket of sycamore trees, Madame Perdita stopped. ‘This will do,’ she said. ‘I like some privacy for this part.’
‘This part?’ I asked.
‘I’m going to enjoy you now,’ she said, simply, picking up a large twig off the ground. ‘You’d like me to do that, wouldn’t you?’
I looked at the stick, and nodded.
‘I’m going to call you Ruby,’ she said. ‘You may have noticed my house is full of things made of ruby. Now it will be full of you.’
I liked the name Ruby. I liked it much better than Rachel. I wriggled, desperate to free myself of the handcuffs and grab onto her, to guide her fingers into the wet space between my legs.
‘Kneel down, Ruby,’ she said, ‘if you want to be fucked.’
I looked at the ground, wet and muddy after yesterday’s rain, and slowly lowered myself onto it.
‘I’ve found,’ said Madame Perdita, standing behind me, ‘that my subjects like getting a little dirty for me.’ She pushed me down onto the ground, so my cheek was in the mud, and my breasts pushed deep into the wet brown soil, the dirt coating each nipple, making me swell with pleasure.
I could almost taste mud, I was so close to it.
’This clean, tidy billionaire, who can’t bear to get messy - can’t bear for one thing in her pristine house to be out of place - doesn’t mind making a mess out here,’ said Madame Perdita. ‘She can bear for things to get a little out of control this far away from home.’
I looked up at the mansion, which, even though it was now far away, was so big and imposing that it stuck out from the horizon, an almighty erection.
‘Now let’s see,’ she said. ‘How would you like to become one of my own?’
I nodded, my face covered in mud. ‘Make me yours,’ I said.
Suddenly I felt a strong, sharp crack on my back, and felt the stick striking my skin. It stung and I howled, but weirdly, something about it felt good.
‘Good girl,’ said Madame Perdita. ‘The best I have ever had.’
The stick cracked down on my back a second time.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I gasped. ‘I thought you wanted to fuck me, not hit me!’
‘I’ve got to make sure you’re recognisable as one of my own,’ she said. ‘An original Madame Perdita work of art.’
And she lashed my back with the stick a third time, this time so hard it sent tremors of pain right into my nerve endings, all the way out to my extremities, even causing a throbbing deep within my delicate pussy.
‘Please,’ I said, ‘enough.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Madame Perdita crouched over me, and then rolled me onto my back, revealing my front, completely covered in mud.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘it’s time.’ She pulled off her clothes, throwing them into the forest. I gasped at the sight of her naked body. Those sharp, red nipples. The bright red tuft of hair at her pubic bone.
She began to rub my mud-covered body, sliding the dirt all over my breasts, my stomach, my legs, and then, she paused and grinned.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘This is my favourite piece of art.’
Her lips parted, and a sharp red tongue protruded from between them. But it didn’t stop where a normal person’s tongue would. It kept coming out. It was twice the length of a normal tongue. And, most incredibly of all… it was forked.
‘Fuck!’ I screamed, as her tongue flicked down towards my pussy. I felt each fork of it, stroking each individual pussy lip. I’d never felt anything like it before. Each half of her tongue moved independently of the other. She was able to split my pussy lips apart from one another, opening them up and flicking the incredibly long, red tongue inside me, and all the way down my passage.
‘Fuck!’ I shouted again.
It felt better than sex had ever felt. I forgot that my back was covered in mud and bloody gashes, that my hands were cuffed behind me, chafing and sore, and I just let myself completely surrender to this powerful woman, letting her long tongue thrust into me over and over again.
My breasts wobbled up and down, almost banging me in the face as I was fucked, and occasionally Madame Perdita would grab onto one of them, digging her bri
ght red nails into the skin, drawing blood, making me cry out in ecstasy. I felt her sharp teeth running over my delicate pussy lips, almost piercing them.
‘Fuck!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t stop!’ I was filled with a strange new kind of confidence, having this strong woman’s tongue inside me, like she was feeding me somehow, giving me power. ‘Harder!’
Madame Perdita growled, circling my clit with her incredible forked tongue, licking me in both directions at once, anticlockwise with one half of her tongue, clockwise with the other, sending bolts of electricity down me. She pushed me into the ground with her strong arms, rubbing my head in the dirt. ‘You beautiful, beautiful creature,’ she moaned, her mouth full of pussy.
Suddenly, I felt her fingers enter me, long and freezing cold and sharp, scratching at my insides, making me scream with desire. My thighs began to shake, and my legs kicked out with pleasure, as ripples of ecstasy traveled throughout my body, causing my legs to shake and my clit to throb until I could not stop screaming.
Madame Perdita, seeing me at her mercy like this, suddenly swooped down towards me, her mouth moving down onto my neck. At first, I felt nothing more than a sharp scratch, but then the scratch became an intense stabbing pain, and within seconds, I was screaming in agony. I felt each one of Madame Perdita’s sharp, white teeth, sinking into the soft skin of my neck, all the way in, biting down on my arteries and veins, and sucking me with tremendous force. As I felt her fingers continue to fuck me, I felt her lips and tongue, sucking the blood from my neck. I heard her guzzling it down, swallowing litres and litres of my warm red blood.
The more she drank, the Madame Perdita’s breasts swelled up. The nipples grew a brighter red, and I could see the blood begin to appear in her cheeks. Finally, I saw two sharp, red horns begin to appear, as if growing out of the top of her head, just above her forehead.
And seeing them just made me come harder. It was as if I was possessed.
The harder I came, the heavier my body began to feel, heavier and stiffer, until I felt like I could barely move. Finally, when Madame Perdita lifted her bloody lips away from my neck, I realised I couldn’t move at all.
She stood over me, blood dripping down her chin, smiling and satisfied.
She walked into the forest, fetched her clothes, and began to dress, slowly, looking at me the whole time. ‘My favourite piece of art,’ she said, serious now. ‘I’ll take you to my bedroom later.’
Then she walked back towards the mansion, leaving me there, frozen to the spot, a beautiful and horny ruby-red, blood-red statue.
Hungry for more?
FLAVIA’S LUST
Mercia is a beautiful young, inexperienced Roman slave, set to work in the Colosseum. When her new mistress tells her that she is going to have to perform a special service for Flavia, the most famous, fearsome, female gladiator in Rome, at first she's terrified, and reluctant.
But when she meets Flavia, and sees exactly what she has to offer, she's eager to show her just how much she wants it. So eager in fact, that the two other sexy slaves she's up against don't stand a chance.
——
THE FEMALE GLADIATOR
Astraea is an unruly eighteen-year old who is dangerously attracted to female warriors. She is desperate to meet the famous female gladiator, Calypso, when she visits Rome to fight at the Colosseum.
Devising a plan to meet and seduce Calypso, Astraea travels to the palace, for the luxurious feast the night before the fight. But soon it is Calypso that is seducing her, and showing her what danger really feels like... hard, gladiator-style, and without mercy.
This is a lesbian fighter story, with scenes of a graphic sexual nature. For adults only!
——
TAKEN BY THE DUCHESS
Shy eighteen year old Verity is shocked when her boss, Mrs. Hardie, informs her that she is to be sold to the stern and commanding Duchess of Windermere.
The Duchess has been lonely since the death of her husband, and the sight of young Verity arouses powerful new feelings inside her. She decides that she must take Verity, hard and fast, while reminding her exactly who is in charge.
Verity is frightened at first, but soon realises that her new Mistress knows just how to take care of her.
FREE PREVIEW OF ‘TAKEN BY THE FEMALE PIRATE’
The crew let the sails out, caught the wind, and we began the final leg of our arduous journey. Suddenly, there was a cry from above.
‘Flag!’ the crew looked up to the lookout, who now, perhaps spurred on by my discovery of his lecherous habits, had his eye firmly fixed to a telescope and was staring out to see. ‘There’s a ship, and a flag starboard. It’s black. The flag’s black!’
There was an uproar. A black flag? I didn’t understand quite what was so ominous about these words, but they seemed to have sent the crew into an apoplectic frenzy. Men were pulling sails as tight as they could, and the ship lurched forward. I felt the up-until-now smooth sailing transform into a thrashing strain to move as fast as possible, and the deck begin to tilt wildly from side to side. I had to clutch on to the top of the staircase which led to below deck in order to stop myself from going flying. All of the crew seemed to somehow manage it without holding on to anything, but I’d found it almost impossibly difficult to adjust to life on the ocean waves.
‘What’s going on?’ I screamed, beginning to panic. I’d never seen the crew so distressed, even when we’d almost been smashed apart by a murderous looking sperm whale a few weeks ago.
‘Madame,’ said Jackson, one of the older members of the crew, ‘we’ve spotted the black flag. It’s baring down on us faster than we can outrun it. We’re tryin’ to make a dash for the shore.’
‘The black flag?’ I said, still confused. ‘But what does it mean, the black flag?’
‘It means pirates, ma’am. And the first thing they’ll take if they catch us, is your innocence.’
*
Over the next three quarters of an hour, I watched in terror as the now clearly-visible black flag bore down on our fragile little schooner. The men worked hard and did all they could to reach land in time, but it became clear by their increasingly pale and desperate-looking faces that we were not going to make it in time.
Soon, the pursuing vessel was so close that I could clearly make out the grim faces of our would-be abductors. I was shocked by how hard and violent the men (for they were all men, it seemed) looked. They were a scurvy and scabrous crew, all unshaven and wild-looking. They wore what appeared to be scraps of moulding and tattered clothes which were once quite fine, and there were stains and marks on their bodies and smocks which looked to have been caused by rum, sea water and the cruel Caribbean sun.
I’d heard stories about pirates of course, everyone in England had. I must confess that I’d found something exciting and romantic about the lifestyle when I’d read about it. There was something wonderful about the thought of a band of like-minded, charismatic rogues, banding together on the open seas, trying to find fortune and infamy by looting, breaking the law and pillaging the vessels of the rich. Now that I saw them in the flesh, however, I understood that what I’d imagined to be romantic and charming was in fact brutish and terrifying. The thought of being taken by these depraved characters was almost too much to bear, and for one dreadful moment, I considered throwing myself overboard to spare myself and my honor. But the fear of death overpowered me, and I waited, trembling in my quarters.
The first jolt of the cannon ball into the side of The Dolphin made me think of thunder, and of black clouds and angry rain. When I looked up at the sky and saw that it was clear, I knew that our vessel had been assaulted. Again and again the shots came, and the jeering, shrieking laughs of the crew of the grim pirate vessel made it clear to me that our ship was being scuttled. I heard shouts of terror from the men, followed by the captain’s order to ‘Abandon ship!’ I emerged finally from my cabin, when the smell of gunpowder became to thick and heady to mistake. The deck was leaning at a funny angle,
and I knew that the ship was lost. The crew were no-where to be seen, and I looked briefly over the edge of the vessel to see the men swimming away to shore, now tantalizingly close. When I turned to look at the pirate ship, I was horrified to sea ropes being thrown over to our vessel, and dozens of rugged, strong looking men shimmied their way over to our now undefended boat.
Then, from my side, came a powerful, murderous voice. ‘Well, well, well, it seems as though we’ve stumbled across the most beautiful pearl in the ocean,’ I looked to where the voice had come from, and when I saw the person addressing me, I felt the blood drain from my face, and my heart start to pound like the oars of a skiff pounding the surface of the ocean. The person addressing me wasn’t a man. It was a woman. Before I had the chance to take in this fact any further, I gave up on consciousness, as my body turned to jelly, and I collapsed to the hard wooden deck.
*
The first thing that I noticed when my senses finally reawakened was the bizarre smell. Wherever I was absolutely reeked of filth. It was the disgusting, grimy smell of unwashed human bodies, the grotesque stench of molding food and strong, almost medicinal liquor. The rank, acrid, almost physical wall of scent bored its way into my brain and screamed ‘Open your eyes, Maddy, and start to run!’