My Lady Series Bundle (1-5)

by Anders, Shirl

  "Mm. Mm. Mm," she whimpered over his tongue as her buttocks edged upward onto the table with the pressure of his body and cock. Her thighs fell open, while her hand plunging hotly on his cock lifted the oozing head to the entrance to her core.

  They groaned and moaned as one. Her fingernails scraped his back and his finger flicked her clitoris with hard strokes five or six times before his hand rushed to her outer thigh grabbing hold and lifting her leg high. She careened at the explosion nearly bursting in her clitoris, while she began to fall back and he came with her, just as his penis started to push and burrow its way inside her.

  "Saxon! Saxon!" she panted.

  Ring.

  Saxon nearly fell to his knees with the ringing of the bell. He staggered back, while Joelle lay panting with an unfocused quality in her dark eyes.

  "You will not fuck, my panting sluts! Shave each other's cum-soaked genitals, then put the collars on!"

  A band gripped Saxon's chest as he staggered forward. It was as though his body were a puppet on the strings of a Marionette Master. His thighs and groin were on fire as sweat beaded his nude flesh. Joelle lay whimpering helplessly on the ragged edges of passion, while her curving body trembled. Saxon knew his touch alone would bring her to the agonizing heights of renewed passion-pain again.

  "Show her your handless arm, Seducteur. And, Ardente, my sopping wet, little slut, you will kiss and lick the stump as though making love to Seducteur's mouth!"

  Saxon bowed beneath the agony, unsure he could overcome it. This was his mind's point beyond too far and tremors lashed his body with the vicious war inside him.

  "Do it!" the voice commanded.

  And, just before he would break, Joelle grasped his arm, tugging his handless wrist from behind him. Her lips caressed, her tongue soothed, and her mouth tasted his agony. He was shamed and it was nearly his complete undoing.

  Then, the bell rang twice again...

  Soft, sweet, and loving Joelle urged him onto his back. Her strength awed him as she carefully shaved his pubic hair, gently lifting his now limp penis, when she needed. Then, when she started to shave his balls, he had to raise his knees in a submissive and uncommon fashion. And . . . he knew Hellion watched him, although he could not see him. He felt it. Joelle raised his balls gently as his thighs gaped with his knees bent upward, and his chest laboring for breath. The feel of the razor on tender places beat deep tremors in his rigid prick. Then, she was through and urging his legs down as she oiled the tight swelling of his shaved balls and the cum-soaked shaft of his penis. He ground his teeth, stiffening, but the stimulation of her soft hands left quickly with sympathy, perhaps.

  Then, Joelle came to him with a wide black leather collar. It buckled behind his neck and enclosed his throat with captive feelings. There was a gold circle attached to the front, which he knew could be used to hook a leash to. They were nearly made into the sexual treats they had been kidnapped for. He had only to shave Joelle and attach her collar. But the shaving would be difficult, nearly impossible with one hand. Yet, Joelle sensed this and she lifted his handless arm upward as she laid down, then bringing the end to her mouth to kiss. He had no courage left to stop her and he let himself believe, for a moment, that she did it freely.

  "I will help you," she murmured with her lips against the rounded surface of the cleaved flesh.

  Surprise inched down his spine. Could she mean this? And, foolish hope flared in his chest, yet it did serve to bolster him, then she bent her knees sideways, letting them drop open widely, and she reached down, flattening out the curves of her pussy for shaving. Saxon was humbled beyond measure, even as his penis throbbed. And then he vowed many things savagely, to Joelle and to himself. He vowed he would seek vengeance! Vengeance here, and on all that served to enslave and humiliate them, and he would get them both out of this alive.

  So, he shaved his woman, and she was his. She trembled with it. She exuded juices of arousal with it. She bared and exposed her inner heart to him and he carefully shaved the tenderly swollen flesh of her pussy lips and the mound on top.

  His penis felt the power of it, throbbing with it again as his razor strokes revealed the nude edges of ruby-pink. He could see Joelle's clit leave its hood and jut upwards. His mouth ached to suckle it as she lay trembling and trusting, holding her pussy open to him. And then, it was done. He oiled her soft throbbing sex once more, as she undulated against the stroking of his fingers, and he tried valiantly not to linger, before he finally reached for the collar.

  He had always known that difficult times were better taken in increments. Smaller slices of strife were easier to manage than the whole at once. In numerous dangerous situations it had always been odd to him which ones in the end caused him more discomfort.

  Suddenly, he found that this perilous, yet erotically heightened situation was no different. Of all the increments he and Joelle had been through so far, putting the collar around her neck caused him the most adversity. It seemed to him to seal her fate and that he should be the one to do it tainted his soul. It seemed to make him in alliance with the cult. And he knew Hellion knew that. And he knew Hellion wanted him to feel that.

  The bell rang three times...

  Chapter Eleven

  It was as if she'd been slapped in the face. Joelle remembered everything. Every last detail. It was the first moment Joelle realized that her mind had been tricked. Her mind had been altered in some way. It had to have been. She fought the urge to try and cover her nudity with her hands as her stricken gaze looked up into Saxon's troubled frown and the fire-daggers piercing his cherry-wood colored eyes.

  Damn Hellion to hell! Damn them all to vilest purgatory, her mind swore, while her body throbbed with unrequited passion. Then, Hellion's laughter rolled forth with pleasure and lewdness combined. Joelle lost her attempts to stay strong and still defiant as she leaped upright to embrace Saxon, and stand cowering against him, while Hellion's malicious laughter circled around them.

  "You are mine, my salacious sluts. You will crawl for me!"

  Joelle realized then, that Hellion stood behind one of the ornate screens placed around the room. She was not sure which one, but he had watched them throughout the preparations he'd orchestrated. The horror of the situation, what had been done, what was still to come, tumbled through her emotions, leaving her with the forceful feeling of sobbing. But she held Saxon instead, taking strength from his nearness. He was the only real thing in the nightmare of events. She had to be brave.

  A door opened abruptly to their left and Joelle pressed the front of her nude body into Saxon's side as Incubus entered the chamber. Incubus was dressed in black robes like a priest only without a collar and with a long curling black-haired wig to match; he carried something in his right hand.

  "Ah, I see our human offerings are prepared," Incubus said. "These sluts are going to be spectacular to watch. The assembled worshipers will be enthralled."

  Incubus strode toward Hellion, but Joelle saw Incubus's sharp gaze lingered on her and Saxon. Her oiled nudity flamed with embarrassment even as part of her mind wished that her body could undulate against Saxon to culminate the pangs of her arousal. Incubus's gaze slid over her nude buttocks and she could not stop them from quivering at the exposure.

  Hellion stepped from behind the screen that had a direct view and was past the foot of the table. The implications of what Hellion had viewed shuddered through Joelle as she whispered with her mouth against Saxon's shoulder and her gaze fixed on the two lethal opponents in the room.

  "What will we do?" she breathed. She desperately needed a direction, an answer, a plan . . . anything to follow or she felt she might crumble against the weight of where everything was leading.

  Incubus handed Hellion some type of red ball, saying, "Goats blood in thin intestine. Just break it against the slut's inner thighs and a virgin is born again."

  "Survive," Saxon murmured, and Joelle felt his handless wrist caress the side of her bare waist. "Together," he added lowl
y.

  "Silence!" Hellion ordered, turning partially toward them with the red ball in his hand.

  Joelle's hands clutched with the need for a weapon to defend herself as she looked, but could not hold the rapacious look in Hellion's pink eyes.

  "And always remember, firefly," Saxon continued to murmur softly against her ear. "I would never willingly harm you."

  "Guards!" Hellion shouted, and another door to the room sprang open. The two naked black guards marched inside. "Take her behind the altar. I want her wild and fighting, so have your way with her. But do not fuck her!"

  Joelle cried out, fighting the urge not to run. There was nowhere to go, but she did cry out to Saxon as the two guards forced her between them, and then from the room. "I believe you! I will always believe you!"

  Saxon staggered, then fell to his knees beneath the rage to do something. He had never felt less of a man than in that moment. He had never felt more impotent. Was a courageous man one who fought against the odds he knew at the time, ones that he could not beat? Or was a courageous man, a man that waited and calculated, trying to stay alert for the opening?

  "Broken so quickly?" Incubus murmured, and Saxon could hear Incubus coming nearer to where he knelt with his head bowed and tears stinging his eyelids.

  "He is all things sexual. Not a fighter, but he is similar to the great Bacchus like the one he will touch. He is a deeply sexual creature. I've never met a man with so much allure," Hellion spoke.

  "You are pleased then," Incubus stated, not a question. "And this cock of our young stud-stallion here, nearly convinces me to fuck men instead of exclusively women."

  Saxon felt Hellion's hand, with his overlong fingernails, stroking the top of his bowed head and Saxon wondered at the silent movements Hellion made.

  "Ah, Incubus, perhaps you will consider it after I am through. To touch the way to the Gods once. To saturate your cock inside the instrument of that ascension will only happen once!"

  "Yes," Incubus paused. "I know that you believe he is your last piece, Hellion, yet this has become very lucrative for us and Gods need opulence. It is their right, I should think."

  "What God must think of such things?" Hellion bellowed suddenly in outrage.

  "All right, all right," Incubus back-tracked quickly. "Just keep the concept in mind. You know that I live to serve you, Lord Hellion," Incubus said, finishing on an oily note.

  "As well you should, and more so when I ascend on midnight of All Souls Day."

  "Of course, of course," Incubus replied, and then he cleared his throat. "I know you do not want to hear of finances, however, we have fifty-thousand francs each from ten of the worshipers to spew their cum on the sacrifices at the close of the ceremony. Baco will make certain they are the ones that are to be up that close, so you need not worry. But I did want to mention that one Count has gone so high as to offer one-hundred-thousand francs to fuck the mouth of the woman or the ass of the man afterwards."

  "No!" Hellion charged. "He can see them as I display them at different events afterward. He can pay to decide on which sexual position of fucking he would like to see them perform in, but no one will fuck the sacredness of them, but you or I, who are the high priests!"

  "Our blackmail attempts become thin lately," Incubus muttered. "No juicy morsels about which to extort money from. The finances are stretched. We need this larger sum we have been building toward, for the most grandiose of all ceremonies, to yield more."

  "Money means nothing to me," Hellion snapped. "You have my voice, the voice that will be a God!"

  "Yes, yes," Incubus said, sounding hasty. "But just think of how much you deserve the riches of these mere humans who wish to bask in your presence . . . that is all I ask."

  Knowledge was power, Saxon thought, and he hoped he could stay alive long enough to use it. The fact that Incubus and Hellion had spoken so freely in front of him did not bode well for staying alive being anywhere near the conclusion of their intentions for him. But he'd known that for some time. He was biding his time as well, looking for an opening, any opening before it was too late. Too late for what though, he wondered? Why, for death, he admonished himself. The rest of the humiliations he would deal with, somehow within himself. The possibility of a man . . . of men raping him, of sexual rites with him on display. Having sex with Joelle on an altar, in front of worshipers. His mind used worshipers with a vile form of inflection. Nevertheless, these seemed to be his fate. The question seemed to be what could a man endure. Saxon looked down at his handless wrist. A man could endure quite a bit, he concluded. Then, he thought of Joelle, Joelle of light and fire. She would need him and they would need each other. A man could endure anything, this side of death, for that.

  "Leave us, Incubus," Hellion ordered. "I need to prepare him for the ceremony."

  "As you wish," Incubus said, and Saxon heard Incubus leaving the room, but before the door swished shut, Incubus said, "The ceremonial chamber will be filling with the faithful, they will be ready just before midnight as you wished."

  Saxon heard the door thud closed as he breathed deeply. What he would not give for a brace of pistols at that moment. Alone with Hellion and not drugged. But a man without two hands could not even choke a man sufficiently. And, Saxon knew there were other guards outside the doors. A swift upper cut? Perhaps, he could knock Hellion out on the first blow. He wanted to try so badly...

  The bell rang once.

  "Your cock..." Hellion hissed reverently as he dropped to his knees in a billowing of his white robes. Saxon refused to look at him, his right hand lying on top of his thigh clenching tightly. Hellion continued, "Will become a part of the ultimate being. You will live forever, Seducteur. And your hair will be a tribute to the Gods. To find both in one man is a sign." Hellion's hand stroked the hair at the side of Saxon's head. "Normally handmaidens prepare a sacrifices cock for worship. Beautiful young girls of Bacchus. But not this time will I allow anyone to touch you."

  "You stroke your cock, Seducteur," Hellion commanded, and Saxon let his breath out slowly. "Engorge it to fullness, so that you will be able to anoint it, and then I will anoint you."

  Saxon's fingers twitched as his hand moved as though forced on tugging strings to his limp penis.

  "Ardente is your right, Seducteur. She is yours to take, and when you see her next your only desire will be to fuck her." Saxon's fingers lurched as he stroked his penis. "You will think of nothing else but spilling your seed deep inside her womb. You are the power! She must submit to you!" Hellion's hand stroked Saxon's hair. "You feel it now growing inside you," Hellion's voice charged. "You feel your maleness heating and thinking of hot cunt, wet pussy."

  Saxon groaned, feeling his penis fill and stiffen as his skin flashed hotly with . . .

  "Your cock demands Ardente's pussy. It hungers for it. You will not be able to breathe once you see it, until your cock is deep inside Ardente's cunt . . . raping it! You will be wild with it!"

  Chapter Twelve

  Joelle saw the chamber and the altar, and she struggled against the guards holding her by her upper arms between them. She tried to back up, to turn, to run, or fight against being forced into the chamber and behind the altar. The room was large, as big as a ballroom, hundreds could fit inside it. She tried to understand the altar, the stage it set, high up on the backdrop of Gothic arches. Then, she realized that it was a very old church and what she'd thought was a platform stage was actually a tomb inside an ancient medieval church. From what she knew about the legends of the standing stones, the Satyrs depicted on the tomb were from a time before the druids. Although Satyrs were usually seen as large-eared, horned, cloven hoofed, and partially human miniatures of man cavorting gaily. These were cavorting sexually with unclothed maidens. As she watched, other attendants were draping what appeared to be cathedral windows in black mantles and she wondered what lewd scenes might be depicted on those. The edges of the room nearest the altar were lined with huge torches leaving the latter part of the room in
semi-darkness.

  The altar was stone, and it appeared oiled, shining in the torch light. The top was flat with rounded edges. But more ominous was the length of chain with manacles attached on the ends. These were set in the four corners. The two forbidding guards remained mute but forceful as they wrestled her to a place behind the altar. She wished they would say something so she could scream at them, instead of the mewls of terror issuing from her throat. Her courage was completely daunted and tenfold without Saxon's presence. The words, "I want her wild," and, "Have your way with her," kept pounding through her mind as her naked body thrashed powerlessly trapped between the two hulking guards.

  There was some small portion of her mind scratching for logic, and she thought that maybe if she remained wild enough, they would not touch her. She had finally fallen into the abyss with the immensity of what she knew was going to happen and now she knew the only way she could survive it was with Saxon and no one else.

  The guards stopped. The area was on the left side behind the stone platform and altar. One could see out into the arena, without being seen. Joelle saw phantomlike outlines of hooded and robed people entering the arena and beginning to gather around the altar. Just then, a wide scraping hand began groping the slick flesh of her bare buttocks, while another broad and forceful hand pawed her right breast. She screamed, tugging frantically on the two unyielding hands holding her upper arms. She intended to keep screaming at the top of her lungs, but the hand pawing her breast quickly lifted to clamp over her mouth. Only one hand free, she thought senselessly. Nevertheless, the two beefy guards turned her between them, until one was smashed into her front and the other into her back.

  Oh God. She whimpered, uncontrollably. She could feel their large rigid cocks sickeningly branding her skin, in the front and in the back. She writhed wildly between them trying to escape, but it only rubbed her body more indecently against their hot and invasive flesh. Her screams were muted beneath one guard's palm as they both used whatever free hands they had to crudely grope the parts of her body they could reach. Her mind wrenched from cocks like stiff sausages grinding her shaved mound in the front and the cleft of her buttocks in the rear, to one hand roughly milking her breast, while coarse fingers tried to touch the lips of her sex. She felt her eyes roll back in her head as the heavier panting of the guards filled her ears. She was caught sliding and rolling against their hot and aroused bodies as they pinched her nipples and prodded lewd fingers through the cringing lips of her sex.