by Aran Ashe
Her eyes stayed shut but between her legs, she felt the lips being parted, this time by the slim fingers, and she did not resist. She felt the fingertips explore inside her, then retreat. Then she heard the fish being peeled, close between her yellow-clad thighs, and she felt its skin being placed upon her naked belly. Again the lips were parted. She could not breathe; she felt the fish - thick like a thumb, but softer and warmer - being slipped between the lips, which then were closed about its bulging curve. The tail of the fish was slipped beneath the hood; it pressed against her nubbin. The arrangement was smoothed down; the sex lips, warm and thin now, were wetted with a finger. Thick saliva coated them, rendered them shiny black and sealed them round the bulge of pink. Her legs were tucked up and the pink pushed through; it was resealed. The iron cock was lifted, the projecting cup of furry skin was spread back, the cock was fitted, the bottom opened, the belly arched and the cock slipped smoothly in to fill the inner sleeve. The pink pushed through again; it was resealed. Two slim fingers were thickly wetted with saliva. Pushing downwards, they entered the sex without disturbing the pink. Inside they could feel the warmth and the cooler iron against the thin flexible wall. They turned, cupped forwards, reaching up behind the nubbin and massaged; the pinkness bulged again. A small tongue pressed against it to hold it down and the nubbin was trapped between the fingers massaging from behind and the rubbery pinkness pressed against it by the tongue.
Anya's head began to move from side to side, as if she were in fever. In her belly, the weight had formed again and it was pushing forwards, down. Her thighs began to tremble. The tongue lifted away. The captain's hand moved down. Gradually and alternately her stocking tops were unfurled. The bareness of her inner thighs was rubbed, with the two slim fingers still inside her and the cockstem in her bottom. It was as if his fingers were tasting her thighs. They rubbed gently, slowly back and forth, then moved up to touch her where the fingers entered and where the cockstem held her bottom open, then up again to be against the roundness of her belly. They remained there, held it, rubbed it, only the rounded skin, so swollen up with the nearness of pleasure, while the tongue returned to press the pink. When Anya groaned and pushed her belly into the hand and squeezed her bottom around the sheathed iron and her sex around the fingers, the tongue quickly slipped beneath the fish, lifted it away and the fingers slid out. Then she felt the girl's lips above her face. She could smell the fish; their lips touched and the fish was pushed into her mouth. It filled her throat, then suddenly slipped down it. The girl's tongue pushed deep into her mouth, as if trying to follow, until Anya could not breathe. But the kiss continued while Anya felt the captain's hand between her legs, and first the cock and then its sleeve being drawn out from the tightness of her bottom. The girl lifted away. Anya opened her eyes. She saw the blonde hair, the dense black eyebrows, the wide bright eyes and on the upper lip a very faint pale down, which brushed against her as she was kissed again, and the girl's fingertips touched the soft down on her jawline. In Anya's belly, beneath the pressure of the captain's hand, the weight inside remelted.
She was carried to the bed then fastened in the middle of it by a single chain which looped round the chain between her wrists and was drawn and fastened under the end of the bed above her head. By this means, her body was free to rotate about this single axis, that she might be made to lie on her back, or on her front or side, as necessity dictated and her legs, clad in the long bright yellow stockings, might be completely free to move - to be opened or closed, or to be doubled up perhaps, if she were on her back, or on her front and kneeling.
Standing by the bed, the captain watched the beginnings of this scene. The Princess was outstretched, her full breasts pressed into the soft relief of his damask sheets, black-brown swollen tips pressed into the cream. Her legs were moulded separately in the yellow stockings which had to be rolled up again to bed into the creases of her thighs, to flare out and to cup her buttocks - slightly separated - while the blonde girl, half kneeling, half sitting, thighs apart, blonde fleece against the cream, leisurely fitted the iron cockstem into its fur skin glove before resting it against the groove between the open cheeks. Then she took from the bowl beside her another prawn, peeled it, placed it lengthwise between two fingers and slipped it underneath. While she worked the sleeved stem gradually into the spreading black cup, her fingertips slowly rubbed the prawn against the open bud beneath. The captain then left, accompanied solely by delicious visions such as these.
He stood on deck in the still night air, a solemn watchmate to the silent steersman beneath an inky, star-pranked sky. When he returned two hours later, the Princess, still chained, was on her back. The girl was kneeling across her, sucking one nipple, touching her between the legs.
'Has she ...?' the captain asked.
The girl shook her head slowly without removing the nipple.
But whether the Princess had or had not, her sex was overflowing between the blonde girl's fingers and there was a damp patch on the damask cream. And the insides of the tops of her stockings were cut by two crescents of deeper yellow as a consequence of her wetness. Beside her was a bowl of heads and legs and carapaces, the iron stem, unsleeved now and probably recently withdrawn, and a narrow hard roll-shaped cushion covered in prickly fur. 'You have done well,' the captain nodded slowly. 'You may continue.' The girl lifted this roll and drew it horizontally up the Princess's belly, to her breasts. The Princess moaned. The girl rolled the stockings back and stroked it over the insides of the thighs. The Princess whimpered. And the captain was moved. Between his legs, his cockstem stood erect. It was time, he knew, for otherwise this young woman's pleasure would very soon spill. He called for his steward and dispatched him. The man returned a few minutes later with a bucket of cold water drawn from the sea. By that time, the captain had disrobed and the Princess lay on her belly with her open thighs spread upon the roll of prickly fur, which was turned so its pile swept upwards. While the iron stem was dropped into the freezing bucket, the captain began his pleasure with the Princess. He separated her thighs more fully. He spread her sex lips wide about the fur. He withdrew the sleeve from the small black puckered mouth and he stroked that mouth. Then he anointed it with unction, pressed the cap of his very rigid stem against the tight but slippery mouth and pushed. It slipped smoothly in and up through the tight rim into the freer ground, until his ballocks rolled against her buttocks and rubbed against the fur, which tortured her tender skin with a thousand little points pricking into it. And on the forward push, his cock sank deeper into the warmth, the unction bathed his plum with pleasure. On the pull, the girl's fleshy hood was drawn back and the long spines of the fur slipped beneath to prick into her nubble.
But even this constant pricking would not stay the girl forever, for each forward thrust was up-pile - smooth wet rubbing - and would threaten to bring the pleasure on. So at such times as her moans became too deep, too urgent, he would lift her on his cock to break her contact with the fur. As the imminence waned, he would lower her again, separating the lips about the fur and pushing up inside until he felt her first contraction, before pulling until her flesh was pricked, then lifting her again, until the slightest touch of flesh against the pricking fur made her bottom tighten until his cockstem hurt. He knew then to turn her on her side with her bottom still impaled and to allow the girl to take command.
He watched the blonde girl's face - the sudden awareness in it that he waited. She glanced at him and she melted him with that glance. The dense dark eyebrows furrowed to total blackness, then she calmly took control. The beautiful strands of sun-snaked hair were lifted from her cheek and placed behind her ear. She dipped her arm into the bucket. Her full lips parted as she drew breath quickly and the fine hairs on her upper arm bristled with the cold. She dried the cockstem on a towel and placed it, cradled in the towel, beside the girl's hips. She lay alongside her and stared into the soft eyes, the pupils of which were like pools of perfect night. She stroked the belly, with the cold hand,
once. It shivered. Working by touch while she watched the eyes, she held the fleshpot open with her warm hand, held the hood back, kept it back and inserted the freezing iron stem very quickly - bare iron to warm bare inner flesh - and still, she had to force it against the strength of the contraction.
Slipping up, the iron formed a freezing line of pressure through the inner wall and against the captain's stem as it swept up the underside to bed beneath the plum. She took his bag in her fingers and quickly moulded it to the freezing iron ballocks and his pleasure came in long thick spurts which were reluctant to desist. She could feel it pumping past her fingertips pressing underneath him. But her other hand still held the girl's flesh back through the tight contractions, keeping the nubbin isolated and exposed, preventing her deliverance, yet nevertheless delivering pleasure of a kind as the limpid eyes before her widened and the soft lips moved as if to speak, to beg - to try to kiss the bristling downy forearm that had administered such bittersweet pangs of pleasure and distress. The blonde girl pressed her own lips against those pleading lips very gently, very lightly. But she kept a small circle of free space around that nubbin until any danger of release was long past, until the captain's cock had squeezed out weakly and he had turned and was asleep. Then she washed the Princess between the cheeks, turned her on her front with the cock still inside her and the iron balls between her thighs, weighing her to the bed, and she lay beside her, stroking her through the night.
[6]
The Key
The sun was streaming through a gap in the curtains, but it was the noise of the cabin door banging that had woken Anya. She was still chained. There was no captain, but the girl was beside her on the pillow, staring into her eyes. The twisted blonde tresses curled across and touched her cheek. The girl smiled. Anya felt very tired. When the girl climbed over her and began to stroke her back, Anya fell asleep again. The second time she awoke, she was still chained between the wrists but no longer fastened to the bed. The iron stem had been removed. The girl was gone, but now there was something round Anya's neck. She looked down and saw it was a necklace of flat plaited twine. Anya curled up with her arms about her breasts and with her chin on her wrists. She was thinking of the girl. Where had she gone, or been taken? And why was Anya left alone? Suddenly, seeing the shaft of sunlight again, she remembered. She jumped up quickly, drew the curtains aside and squinted against the bright light as she scanned the horizon, looking for the ship.
'What are you doing up there?'
Anya gasped. She turned to see Travix in front of the bed. Beside her was a leather-shirted guard, holding a pair of shackles. The door stood ajar. But Travix didn't wait for a reply.
'Get up, Princess. There's work to do.' She walked over to the table, evidently looking for something. The guard took Anya by the arm, pulled her stockings off, lifted her down and fitted the shackles to her ankles. Travix returned with the pouch, which had lain where the captain had left it on the back of the chair. 'Put your hands on the bed.' Travix opened Anya's legs and touched between them, squeezing and flicking the lips to make them swell. Then she fitted the pouch quickly, expertly, very tightly, and the wanting that overnight had ebbed away came flooding back again.
Anya was taken up on deck, into the sunshine. A few sailors worked nearby, sewing a sail. Others were splicing a rope. A few more were aloft in the rigging. Today, they seemed to take little notice of a Princess, but last night, on the crewdeck, it had been very different. She bit her lip and looked out to sea.
A large empty bucket on a long rope was brought. In it was a scrubbing brush. 'Get on with it,' said Travix, 'scrub the deck.' Then, 'Wait!' she shouted when Anya stooped to pick up the bucket. 'What's that?' Her hand went to the plaited twine round Anya's neck. Travix looked at it. Then her jaw set and with a sudden pull she tried to wrench the necklace free. Anya was dragged to the deck, for the twine was strong and well fastened. Travix cut it with her knife and cast it over the rail to the sea. Then she and the guard walked away, leaving Anya on her knees. And had she stayed thus, the bucket would surely have filled with her tears. But she struggled back to her feet, tried to block those tears and took the brush out, walked to the rail, wrapped the rope around her wrist and flung the bucket over the side. It hit the water but would not sink until the current had dragged it back. Then it was so heavy that she could hardly lift it. A third of the way up the side of the ship, she could no longer hold it and the bucket dropped back in. But at the third attempt, she managed to lift it over the side and staggered across the deck.
She started in the corner by a hatch. She didn't mind the work, but the sun was hot and the water quickly soaked into the wood. The bucket was soon used. She went back to get another and then she saw, far away, just at the horizon, three double flecks of white - the sails. Her heart leapt. She just stood there looking out, hoping against reason that she would be seen, that he would know that she was alive. She didn't hear them approach; they must have been watching her and waiting for an excuse.
'Idling ...' Quickly, Anya dropped the bucket over the side, but it was too late. Her upper lip was already trembling at seeing this woman so soon after her callousness over the necklace. Travix looked cruel. She said, 'Give her something to remind her what she is about.' The man in the leather shirt took the rope from Anya, wound it round the rail, then took her by her wrist chain and held it up. He pulled the strap from his belt. 'No ...' said Anya, trying to back away. Travix stepped forward and whispered to the man. Anya's hands were dragged back above her and forced behind her head. Her legs were parted as far as the short chain would permit. She began to plead. Her breath was wasted. A shiver touched her belly as he took her pouch in the fingers of one hand and held it. Then he smacked her with her legs apart, holding that leather pouch, making her keep still while the strap smacked across the backs of her legs - only in that place, four smacks below the buttocks, across her upper thighs, while her small tight pouch was held and Travix looked on, her thin lips smiling, her fingers gently pulling at the earlobe with the ring. Then he and Travix walked away, leaving Anya with her hands upon her neck still, the backs of her legs scalded with the smacks and her sex lips throbbing, swelling tight inside the pouch. And she was frightened, for that kind of smacking, though not across her bottom, reminded her of things that had been done to her in the forest. At those memories, her throat tightened until she could hardly breathe.
Later that day, as Anya was kneeling on the deck, still scrubbing, Travix came again and found some excuse to scold her, shouting at her till Anya felt a lump in her throat, for she knew well what was coming. And this time, though it was still the man who smacked Anya, it was Travix who held the hard round pouch, with Anya's legs parted, angled outwards and bent at the knees, her hands upon her head and her elbows out, so her breasts were pushed forwards, while the scalding smacks turned the tender skin bright red at the backs of Anya's thighs and Travix's face dissolved into a blur with two hard eyes and a grotesquely twisted mouth above a swath of blue. At that point, the smacking was stopped, the face reappeared and a small white kerchief took the tears. 'Keep your legs apart,' whispered Travix and her fingertips stripped down the moistened pouch firmly, as if it were a thick rubbery teat which she was milking. 'What is the feeling? Tell me.' The action was repeated six times. Each time, Travix whispered, 'Tell me ...' But Anya could not answer, though the feelings were very clear. The feeling between Anya's legs was pleasure, very strong and near, the feeling at the backs of her legs was burning and, at the sixth slide of the fingers, which slipped like soap now, the feeling in her throat was inability to breathe. And she knew that if Travix herself were ever to smack her, she would die. Her heart would burst right through her breast. Did Travix know it too?
That evening, Anya was returned to the small cell down below. Her knees were raw and she was very tired. Despite her chains, she turned on her back and fell asleep.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. She was on her side again, with her head pressed to the wall. Sh
e had heard a sound, a door being opened, but it wasn't her door. Light streamed through the wall beside the bed: there was a hole in the woodwork, where somebody had picked at it and broken it away. It was a small hole, not large enough to get a hand through, but certainly large enough to see through. Anya edged across as far as her chains would permit.
In the room was the girl with blonde hair and the plaited twine about her waist. Why had she been sent down here? She was sitting up on the bed and rubbing her eyes. One of the men in leather helped her, for she moved as if in a dream as the man now led her to the middle of the small room, to where the two long chains hung, as in Anya's room. The chains were not designed to take her wrists, for they hung to the level of her waist. The large looped leather straps attached to their ends formed two rings. As he took hold of her behind her thighs and began to lift her, she tried to shy away, kicking out her feet. She did not wish to step into this thing. But he made her. He threatened her and she acquiesced. Her sylphlike body was lifted and her slim ankles were threaded easily through the loops, which slipped up to her knees.