by Cerise Noble
He sat up, releasing me, and I heaved a sigh. But my relief was short-lived. Grasping the areola between his thick fingers, he lifted my left breast until I squealed, struggling to keep my body flat on the bed. His other hand slapped the underside, sending the flesh to jiggling, a burning handprint throbbing on my skin. I wailed. He slapped it again, and again. Tears filled my eyes. He released my breast and it flopped back down. Pinching the areola of my right breast, he pulled it away from my body, exposing the tender underside. I wailed, knowing what was going to happen, desperate to be still and obey anyway. The slaps stung and my flesh bounced, a riot of sensations concentrated in my softest parts.
He straddled my hips and pinched my nipples, lifting my breasts up, exposing the burning handprints. His tongue traced the hot marks and it was all I could do to keep from scrambling away. Tears slid down my temples and I begged. He ignored me, sucking my nipple into his mouth again and running his tongue over the captive flesh.
“Oh please oh please oh please...”
He released me to grin and I groaned, wanting more, more, more.
“Don't tell me you like this treatment, little slave?”
I shook my head violently, but when he sucked my other nipple into his mouth, the bolt of sensation reached my clit and I groaned with the sheer pleasure of it.
Releasing me, he sat up and shifted forward, his hard cock pressing against my parted lips. I licked them, then tentatively licked the head of his cock.
He smiled at me. “Good girl. Suck me.”
I opened my lips, but it was an awkward angle. He leaned forward, propping himself on the headboard, his eyes on mine as his cock sank into my mouth. It reached the back of my throat and I gagged, hot tears slipping out. He pulled back, then started to pump his hips, slowly filling my mouth and retreating. I tried to keep my teeth off his silky flesh, but it was difficult. He pulled out abruptly, settled his knees on either side of my chest.
Jeffery's voice was hoarse. “Pinch your nipples, little slave.”
I blinked at him, uncertain, and he reached down to do it for me until I cried out, my hard points throbbing with pain. His hands left, returning to the headboard. “Pinch your nipples.”
This time I obeyed, the sensation of gently grasping my own swollen flesh a new wonder for me. He shifted down until his cock lay against my chest, his hairy balls teasing my skin.
“Press your tits together.”
I did, awkward, until he showed me where he wanted them, my soft breasts enclosing his cock.
“Hold them there.”
My wrists supported the ample flesh, my fingers holding them in place by my nipples. I stayed still, my cunt pulsing with need. Slowly, he pulled back, then thrust forward.
“Does my little slave like it when I fuck her tits?”
His words increased the throb in my cunt and I whimpered in assent.
“Good.” He continued thrusting, my saliva providing the lubrication. The jiggling caused my breasts to pull against my fingers, and every time I increased the pressure to keep them still, pleasure spiked through my body. He pulled out and rammed it down my throat again, rewetting it.
“Suck it, slave.”
I obeyed as best as I could, drool pooling in my mouth before he withdrew, fucking my tits again. I found I missed the sensation of his cock in my mouth, and I dropped my chin. It was so close, so tempting, the thick red head of his cock appearing and disappearing between my soft mounds. I reached for it with my tongue, and he gasped in surprise. Gratified beyond reason, I grinned, and kept my tongue out, so every thrust pressed his head against it. He groaned, his eyes closing. I watched his abdominal muscles flex and stretch as he sped up, fucking my tits in a frenzy. I closed my eyes, lost in the sensations. When he came, it startled me, thick ropes of cum spattering over my tongue and cheeks. I licked his head, and he groaned again, his cock twitching and pulsing. When he was finished, he withdrew, lying down beside me, his voice in my ear again.
“Clean your face off, Nanette.”
I did as he bade, wiping up his hot cum with my fingers and sucking them. He smiled at me.
“Good girl.”
Gratified, I wiggled closer, my body practically vibrating with need. “Please, sir?”
He chuckled, his fingers finding their way between my legs again. “I think my good little slave has wet the bed.” I flushed to the roots of my hair. He pushed my legs apart again, and I spread them eagerly. He filled me up, three fingers stretching my cunt wide.
“Lift your knees up.”
I obeyed, my right foot tucked around behind his back. He slid in slowly, far too slowly for my liking.
“Pinch your nipples again.”
I reached for them, biting my lip as my fingers closed over the thick tips.
“Pinch them harder.”
I whimpered, and squeezed, the pleasure spiking down to my neglected clit. He slid in and out faster. I groaned. Faster and faster he fucked me, and my fingers loosened, my whole body flopping in lax pleasure.
“No.” He stopped abruptly, and I realized my fingers had slipped off my nipples. “Pinch again.” I hurriedly obeyed, my cunt throbbing with desperation. “Harder.” I pinched until it hurt, whimpering against the pain. “Harder, little slave.”
I pinched until tears sprang to my eyes and I mewed. “Good girl. Keep them tight.” I whimpered, and his fingers filled me up again. The pain shifted into pleasure as he fucked me. This time he didn't stop, just sent chills through my body with each hot whisper. “Harder.” A few more deep thrusts. “Twist them.” More thrusting. “Back and forth. Roll them between your fingers.” Thrusting. “No. Don't let go. Keep twisting.” My breath came in quick gasps and my hips lifted off the bed, tipping towards his big hand, wanting him as deep as possible. “Pinch them again.” His fingers, slamming hard into me. “Harder.” I didn't think I could handle any more – not another second, not another moment. “Pinch your nipples as hard as you can, little slave, and cum for me.” His fingers, ramming into my cunt, the radiating pain from my nipples as I blindly obeyed – it all clashed together and exploded out of my body in hoarse screams of pleasure. I pinched, and kept pinching as hard as I could until the orgasm robbed the strength from my muscles and I collapsed on the bed, completely limp. His fingers were still buried inside me, and I twitched, my cunt squeezing and releasing, grasping and greedy for more.
They were still there when I woke up again. He had tucked me closer to his body, his hard muscles hot against my skin, my breasts aching. His stubble brushed my jaw as his voice sounded in my ear again. “I think my little slave enjoys this.” His fingers spread, stretching my oversensitive cunt and I jerked in his hold, my arousal level shooting up again.
“Yes. Please. Yes, sir.”
He kissed my jaw, and I longed to feel his lips on my own. I turned towards him, but he tipped his head away.
“No, little slave.”
I pouted, hurt that he didn't want to kiss me. His fingers spread again, and I forgot everything except the throbbing in my cunt.
“Please?”
He chuckled. “I have work to do today.”
“But, sir?”
“What?”
“How will I function like this?”
He grinned at me, that cruel light back in his eyes. “You'll figure it out or you'll get a good hard spanking tonight.” Unbidden, his words did more to arouse me and I shivered. His fingers slid out and I gasped, squirming with need. I reached for my nub, desperate to soothe the need, but he stopped me, rolling me onto my belly, my hands trapped under my body. He spanked me hard, a dozen times on each cheek. It stung, and brought the soreness back to the forefront. “That's just a taste of what you will get if you masturbate. Your pleasure comes from my hand or not at all, little slave.”
I shivered, my bottom aching, my breasts aching, my cunt so slippery with desire I couldn't think. He spanked me again, this time on my thighs, and I cried, hot tears of pain mingling with frustration. “D
o you understand?”
“Yes, sir! Yes, sir! I'll be good! Just please, please let me cum.”
He spread my legs and I whimpered with happiness, relaxing onto the bed. One hand spread my swollen lips and I purred, anticipating pleasure. His hard finger flicked my clit twice and I cried out.
“No.”
This time I wept. He got out of bed, washing himself from a small basin in the corner before dressing. I watched him through tear fogged eyes, and then his big hand crashed into my bottom again. “Up. You have work to do.”
Reluctant, I dragged my body out of bed and stood before him, wobbling. He pointed at the pitcher of water, the jar of tiny soaps. “Wash.”
I started to cry again, but he was implacable. The rough cloth and tepid water did nothing to alleviate my arousal, instead exciting it to a fever pitch. He dumped the soapy water and filled it again. “Rinse again.” I wanted to hit him. I even considered it, for one long moment before he caught me about the waist and bent me over, his hard hand landing a half-dozen more times on my sore bottom. “Now.” I straightened up when he released me and obeyed.
Chapter 7
Jeffery left. I stood in the bedroom, staring at the rumpled bed and wondering if any pleasure I could gain from my fingers would be worth the spanking it would earn me.
Jacqueline found me still there, naked, because I was afraid to put my clothes back on, afraid they would further inflame me.
“Oh. Good. Here.” She handed me a bundle of cloth, and I realized it was a clean dress, a slightly different shade of blue than the one I'd worn yesterday. Embarrassed, I quickly folded each strip, tying the knot in the middle and draping it around my body, clipping the chain to hold it in place. As predicted, the linen scraped my swollen nipples, scratched my raw buttocks. The sound in my throat must have been audible, because Jacqueline looked at me curiously.
“Did he whip you?”
I cleared my throat. “No. He... spanked me.”
“Oh. May I see?”
I hesitated, unsure what Jeffery would prefer me to do. I wanted to commiserate – but Jacqueline seemed to have her own problems. “If – if you like.”
Without a word, she walked around behind me and lifted the cloth, tucking it under the chain belt so she could run cool hands over my skin. I flinched, the simmering arousal making even a casual touch into something more than it was. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like a cream? I have one my Mistress gave me. It helps your skin heal faster.”
I bit my lip. Was such a thing allowed? “I don't know. I don't want to anger Jeffery.”
She nodded. “That's a wise answer. Disobeying is never a good idea.” She patted my bottom gently. “Ask him, next time. If he allows it, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
She untucked the fabric from the belt, smoothing it back down on my skin and I swallowed hard. She looked at me curiously. “Are you in pain elsewhere?”
I flushed red. “A little.”
“Where?”
“My nipples hurt.”
She nodded wisely. “Oh, yes. They will, often. Jeffery has a particular fascination for tits.”
“Oh? How do you know?”
She half-shrugged. “I've been in his bed often enough.”
“Really?” My heart rate increased, but I wasn't sure if it was excitement or distress.
“I'm sure you'll be offered to the other men at some point.”
“I will?” My heart hurt – I had thought I was more than a whore to him, special enough to belong to only him.
“Maybe. You remember who you belong to.”
“I belong to Jeffery.” My chin lifted.
“No.” Her tone was gentle, but firm. “You belong to Roy. He allows Jeffery to keep you close, but it's Roy's collar you wear.”
I touched the padlock, remembering the ring of little keys on Roy's belt. “I don't want to belong to Roy.”
Her full mouth lifted into a sardonic grin. “You don't have much choice in the matter.” She gestured impatiently. “Come. You are supposed to help me today.”
I let her take my hand and followed her to the kitchen where Lauren was dishing up bowls of porridge. She set one for each of us on a tray, along with another two, spoons stuck in each. One was thin, with the fruit minced fine. I wondered whom it was for, but didn't have time to ask. I caught a quick glimpse of Jeffery speaking to Devon, and then the latter chuckled, looking in my direction. My cheeks flamed, but Jacqueline was leading me quickly towards the stairs.
I looked around curiously at the top of the stairs. It looked similar to the first floor, but there were fewer doors off the hallway. Jacqueline entered one without knocking, then sank gracefully to her knees.
“My lord.”
Roy didn't look up. He was slumped in a large chair, dark drapes over the window behind him. Beside him was a massive bed that seemed to dwarf the figure lying in the middle of it. I knelt also, trying to keep the tray steady. When he didn't answer, I took the liberty of looking around the room. It was furnished similarly to the other rooms in the building – a wardrobe, a few chests – but it also held several bookcases and two desks. It had to be at least twice the size of Jeffery's room, if not more. There were more of the massive hooks on the wall here than in his room, and one of the strange pieces of furniture from the dungeon.
Finally my gaze settled back onto the figure on the bed. For a long moment, I wasn't sure it was breathing. Then a hand moved, and her head turned towards us.
The voice was thin, barely audible. “Jackie? Is that you, love?”
Jacqueline trembled, and her voice sparkled with tears. “Yes, Mistress.”
Mistress? She rose, and walked to the bedside, sitting carefully on the edge. She waved me in and I followed, setting the tray on a table beside the bed. Roy's eyes followed me, sunken with grief.
“Sit up, my lady. I've got breakfast for you.”
The woman on the bed laughed, more breath than sound. “Help me, love.”
So Jacqueline wrapped her arms around the woman and lifted her, as if she weighed no more than a feather. I wasn't sure she did. I pulled the pillows up, giving her something soft to lean on. Jacqueline let her relax down.
“Here.”
Tenderly, Jacqueline spooned the thin porridge up and began to feed the woman. A pale ghost of her former self, I could see the lines of her bones, how irresistible she must have been in life. Even now, I could feel the pull of her spirit. Jacqueline was occupied with the woman on the bed, and I stood there helpless, unsure how I was supposed to help. I glanced again at Roy. He had made no move towards the food.
I set my chin. If I belonged to him, it was my responsibility to make sure he kept up his strength. A man couldn't protect much if he wasted away while his – wife? slave? lover? - did. I picked up the largest bowl of porridge, the one piled high with fruits and nuts, then walked around the bed and knelt in front of him. Remembering the way Jacqueline had addressed him, I raised my eyes to his.
“Please, my lord. Here is your breakfast.” He ignored me. I set it down on the table beside him, and stood in front of him. He turned towards the bed. The frail woman fluttered a hand, and Jacqueline stopped the spoon.
It was difficult to make out her words. “Roy. You have to.”
“No, Jessica, I don't. I am governor here.”
I placed a hand on each of his bearded cheeks and he turned to me, frowning.
“My lord. Do you protect your own?”
There was anger behind his voice. “Of course, slave.”
“I am one of your own.”
“Of course.” He flicked the padlock on my collar, the movement reminding me of the way Jeffery flicked my clit, and I shivered, my eyes rolling back momentarily. It struck his curiosity, and he actually looked at me for the first time. “You're Nanette.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I'm bringing you food.”
He flicked his fingers dismissively. “Take it back. I don't want it.”
“No.”
He looked at me again, eyebrows raised. “What did you say to me?”
I could hear Jacqueline gasp behind me, and I bit my lip, knowing I was treading on dangerous ground.
“I said no. I am not taking it back. Not until that bowl is empty.”
I could feel his anger rising. “Insolent little mouth.” He caught my hair and pushed me to my knees, out of his sight. In that position, it reminded me of Jeffery's ungentle attentions.
“You can punish my insolent mouth later, as long as you eat first.” I wasn't even sure where my daring came from. Something about watching a powerful man crumble plucked at my self-preservation.
Surprising me, he laughed. It was a rusty sound, harsh and unfunny. But it was a laugh.
“You are a terrible brat, aren't you?”
“No, sir.”
“No?” he laughed again. I could feel the atmosphere lighten. “What is this, if not a bratty mouth?” His fingers were harsh on my lips, so I kissed them.
“It's a smart mouth.”
He slapped me gently, barely raising a sting on my cheek. “That's the same thing.”
“No, sir. I say smart things, true things, even if you don't like them. I'm not a brat for no reason.” His hand softened on my face, and I leaned into it. “That's Stephanie's job, isn't it?”
I remembered her cold smile and nasty laugh.
“Probably.”
I realized he'd done a lot of talking, but no eating. “My lord. Your porridge?”
He sighed, and picked up the bowl. I watched carefully until he'd taken several large bites, and then I couldn't help myself. “Good boy.”
He coughed, his face turning red. I heard Jacqueline desperately covering her snorting, and the soft breathy laughter that was Jessica's. I suddenly wondered about my sanity as he set the bowl down and his hand wrapped around the back of my neck. I went without hesitation, anxiety flaring as I wondered if I'd just gone way too far in my prodding.
I had. He tucked me down over his right knee and pulled the two rear strips of my dress to opposite sides, baring my sore bottom. His voice held a trace of laughter when he spoke, and I wasn't sure if I should be reassured or more concerned.