My heart raced to the rhythm of the pounding as he turned her cheeks a fiery red while she moaned and squirmed under his firm hand. Her pink, wet pussy glistened in the light of the hundreds of candles lining the ledges of the ancient dungeon. My breath turned ragged as the massive man dominated her, commanded her to say what he wanted to hear.
“You do not make demands of your master.”
“Master. Please.” She gasped as he slid two large fingers into her wet pussy from behind and she tried to wiggle backward onto his hand, to take him deeper.
He smacked her ass and pulled free despite her cry of protest.
“Your master will listen, if you say please. Tell me what you need, naughty girl.” He pushed his fingers back into her core and her legs shook, unable to take her weight, and she collapsed onto the bench, her arms hanging limp from the chains.
Fascinated, I watched her pussy clench around his fingers at his harsh words. Her head dropped in defeat and she begged, “Please, master. Please put your cock inside me, master.”
All around me, the wet sounds of fucking filled the long chamber. The moans and commands of the couples mingled into a symphony of sex and heat that made my pussy clench, wet with need. At least fifty couples sated their appetite while close to a hundred unmatched singles wandered. Black masked dominants and their brightly colored opposites mingled, talked, and searched for a partner for the evening.
Through my golden mask, I stood transfixed as the large man finally pulled his massive cock free of his black breeches and pressed the thick head forward, into the woman’s open pussy. The long wooden plug remained in her ass and she turned her face toward me as he filled her. Her eyes glazed with pleasure as he fucked her slowly from behind.
“Like what you see?” A deep, rumbling voice whispered the question in my ear, startling me. My heart leapt into a frantic and panicked race at his words. He stepped closer when I did not move and pressed his large frame to my back, and the heat of his chest scorched me through my thin blue dress.
When I didn’t answer, strong hands slid along the sides of my ribcage from behind. They dipped low, over my abdomen, and my eyes drifted closed as I swayed on my feet. His hands stung like flames singeing my flesh with lust.
Slowly, oh so slowly, with no hope of resistance, he pulled me back into his arms until the hard length of his cock pressed into my back and the scruff of his chin ran atop my head. Trapped in his arms, pulse pounding, I opened my eyes as the man before me continued to fuck the woman, his thrusts much harder now. With each thrust of his hips, her breasts swung wildly. Her head arched back, her entire body shook.
“I asked you a question.”
CHAPTER 2
ELLA
T he man at my back lifted one hand to my breasts and pinched my raised nipples. My knees buckled but he held me still, strong fingers kneading my breasts in time to the fucking we now watched together. “Do you like what you see?”
I nodded this time, and the man behind me chuckled. His other large hand slid up my body, over my breasts to my neck, stopping when he held my throat and chin. He held me in place, forcing me to observe as the man pulled back on the woman’s hips and placed a clit stimulator beneath her.
I gasped, imagining her sensation as every powerful thrust of the man’s muscular legs and hips forced her small mound to press against the device. Built of leather, like a horse’s saddle, the small, dome-shaped sex toy rubbed her clit each time her body surged forward. Tonight was not my first experience with a device such as this as my stepmother, Lady Naomi, used one when the Duke came calling.
The Duke was a lecherous and vile old man, and our maids loathed and feared him in equal measure. But I understood this device well. On many occasions, I had listened to my stepmother’s throaty cries through the too thin walls of our manor house, cries like the woman riding the device was making now. Shocked. Overwhelmed. Desperate.
I shuddered with desire and my captor’s free hand drifted down, lower and lower, across my belly to cup my wet pussy through my dress. A needy moan escaped my throat and my face blushed with shame. I was not frightened, like I had been on my first trip to the masquerade, just shocked at my response. My previous visit to the masquerade had not ended well. That night I had trembled, too embarrassed to participate, to bare my flesh and fuck in front of a room of witnesses. And so I’d watched, like a fly on the wall, and gone home to take care of my own needs.
“Do you want to see her come?” The deep rumble behind me hinted that the one who held me was not unaffected, his breathy whisper held a hint of shuddering arousal. The knowledge pushed my desire higher as the man we were watching repositioned his cock, glistening and wet with the woman’s pussy juices, at her entrance once more.
He thrust forward until his cock disappeared completely from my view and the woman’s eyes drifted closed with erotic pleasure. His hand landed on her ass with a sharp smack and he pulled out, then thrust forward faster, pushing her body onto the leather mound, forcing a whimper from her.
“Please, Master. Please,” she begged. “Please, I need to come.”
Did I want to watch them finish this? Oh, yes, I did. I tried to nod as the man before me sped up his movements until her bottom quivered with his thrusts and her keening cries filled the dungeon with her frantic pleas for release. The muscles in the man’s back bunched and moved in the candlelight, the sight making me hungry to explore his flesh with lips and tongue. His firm ass flexed beneath the tight black leather breeches and I ached to reach forward and touch all that muscled power. I hungered to experience that command, to have a man take my body, fill my pussy, order me to come, make me feel. I didn’t want to think about my wicked stepmother or her vain daughters, or the stack of dishes and cleaning that awaited me at home. I did not want to remember the lonely hours I spent locked up in my tiny bedchamber when I angered one of them. The long, dark hours spent grieving my beloved father.
No. I didn’t want to think, I wanted to feel. I wanted to shatter into a million pieces of pleasure knowing that someone powerful, someone strong and unrelenting, would keep me safe as I lost control, lost myself.
Unable to move my head from the large hand holding my chin stationary, I licked my lips, afraid I wouldn’t find my voice, afraid the man at my back would vanish without giving me what I needed. “Yes.”
“Honesty will be rewarded, my beauty.” His voice, rough with need, radiated through me as he rubbed his hand over my clit, through the rough fabric of my dress. A jolt of fire shot from my aching clit to my core and I moaned, my soft cry lost to all but the man who held me as a small crowd gathered around us, all eager to witness the final thrusts of the master with his submissive. Her moans of pleasure and desperate pleading for orgasm drew the attention of more than one amorous couple.
The stranger behind me held me in arms as strong as steel. I wanted to see his face almost as much as I wanted to watch them finish this, see the woman’s eyes glaze over as she surrendered to her lover.
“Please, Master,” she begged.
He smacked her bottom once. Twice. She bit her lower lip, her eyes closed as she held back her release to please him.
I moaned as the man in black stroked his woman with gentleness, his touch tracing the curve of her spine as he held himself perfectly still, buried balls deep in her core. The change from such command to gentleness held me mesmerized as the man in black spoke to his lover. “Come for me. Now.”
He bent over her and found her braid, wrapping the long length around his fist to tug her head back as he resumed fucking her with wild, jerking motions to find his own release.
She screamed, her legs shaking and out of control as her orgasm rolled through her. Her lover lifted his head, the muscles in his neck and temples bulging as he emptied his seed into her.
I held my breath as she screamed, my body twisted and I gasped, eager to experience her desire, such complete surrender.
Before the screaming stopped, the man who held me spun me
in his arms, both hands lifted to cup my face. He angled my head and looked down into my eyes. “Is that what you want?”
I could no more lie than I could stop my aching pussy from dripping in wet welcome. “Yes.”
“From me? Or would you seek another?” I studied him then. His shoulders were broad and muscled, his chest every bit as wide and intimidating as the man I’d just lusted after. He wore a plain black tunic, the fabric not coarse but of fine quality; clothing of a castle servant or a member of the royal guard or a squire. A black mask, larger than most, covered the upper half of his face, the top and sides further expanded with the feathers of a shiny, black crow. The fierce countenance made him more mysterious, darker. His dark blue-gray eyes looked down at me with complete focus, as if nothing else in the dungeon existed. His full lips taunted me with their closeness. An aura of exotic spices radiated from him and I leaned forward to sample his skin but the fierce strength of his hands stopped my advance.
“Answer me. Now.”
I blinked and regained some small sense of self-control. Was this what I desired? I’d pleasured myself with my own fingers, enjoyed the stretch of a large dildo in my wet pussy, stroked myself to orgasm many times. But I’d never given myself to a man. I’d come to the dungeon, to the masquerade, to find a powerful man to take me. Fuck me. Make me forget.
And I ran home the first night like a scared child, too frightened to take off my clothing and bare my body for all to see, too timid to offer myself to a man. I’d regretted that decision every night since.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He blinked, as if confused by the question, but answered. “Call me Dorian.”
I lifted my hands, stiff from the fists I’d held twisted in the long folds of my skirt, placing them on his chest and sighing in pleasure at the heat emanating through his thin black tunic. I raised myself on the tips of my toes and placed my lips over his.
“Do you want me, beautiful, or would you seek another?”
“Yes, Dorian. Please. Make me yours.” I reached for his lips once more and again, he denied my bid.
“Just for tonight,” he said.
I sighed in acceptance. I’d come for a masquerade, not a marriage. The special draught the castle witches brewed for these events ensured there were no children born of these wild unions. All women drank the concoction before entering, without exception. No strings. Nothing unfinished. “Just for tonight,” I repeated.
A shudder passed through his massive frame and I braced for the full fury of his desire. Instead, he teased me with kisses. I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed him to lift me off my feet. He carried me to the far end of the dungeon, as far away from the others as possible, before placing me on my feet.
With no padded post nearby, the possibility of bending me over, as the other woman had been taken, vanished. And part of me wilted with disappointment.
“What’s wrong?” Dorian’s lips traced the line of my chin, my throat, and I froze, shocked that he’d noticed such a small change in my reaction.
“Nothing.”
“Tsk, tsk. Lies will earn you a spanking.”
I shook my head, and he turned me to unbutton my dress. He slid the dress down over my body, past my hips to pool on the floor. My hair hung wild and free as I’d intended. I enjoyed the soft glide of the tresses sliding over my bare back and shoulders.
He spun me back around, and I stood naked before him. He took his time looking his fill. I held perfectly still, my shoulders back and my arms at my sides, refusing to hide from him. Though imperfect, my body hummed in anticipation, and tonight, on masquerade night, perfection didn’t matter. Only pleasure mattered. I suffered long enough under my stepmother’s evil rule with nothing for myself. Tonight, I existed for me. Just for me.
Dorian’s gaze traced every curve and dip of my body, his eyes lingering on my breasts and the bare place between my legs where I’d shaved away all the hair. The other giggling servant girls in the house insisted I must be bare, and I had complied. Now I was glad, for his eyes darkened with the same craving I’d seen in the soldier’s eyes. Lust. Need. Want.
Dorian wanted me. My mind raged with feminine power.
His attention returned to my face and our gazes locked. “Tell me what you want,” he said.
“You.”
As if that one word released an animal within him, he pressed forward. Lips locked to mine, he backed me up to the wall and lifted my hands over my head.
The cold, stone wall at my back was a sharp contrast to the welcome heat of his chest as he pressed against my breasts. I lifted my legs to wrap them around his hips and arched into him, eager to rub my throbbing clit against his hard length. Naked and vulnerable, my core ached in desperation for anything he would give me. I was completely at his mercy, I could do nothing but submit, and I’d never been so completely out of my mind with need.
“Dorian.” His name was a plea.
“Tell me what you need.”
What did I need? His big cock filling me. His hands on my back, petting me with the tenderness I’d just witnessed. I needed to feel important, loved, safe. I needed to feel protected, desired, secure. I needed him to fill me with his cock, touch me until I couldn’t remember my own name, until I shattered in bliss.
I shook my head, beyond the point of wanting to make sense of my weakness. “I can’t. I don’t know.”
Seconds later, without warning, I fell, and Dorian’s strong arms caught me. He flipped me onto my stomach and sat on the stone ground with me sprawled across his lap. My bare bottom remained in the air and I rested on my elbows, my bound wrists on the ground in front of my face.
“I warned you about lying to me.”
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
His firm hand landed on my bottom and I cried out as fire raced over my skin, straight to my aching core. He spanked me again, over and over, and I imagined my backside turning bright red. I squirmed at the thought as Dorian slid two big fingers into my wet core from behind.
I would have collapsed at the added sensation but he held me firm, one hand in my pussy, the other large palm spread beneath me, supporting my abdomen, holding my bottom up in the air, keeping my wet sex in place for his exploration. “So, you like that, do you? Like the sharp sting of my hand on your ass?”
A shudder raced up and down my spine as his fingers pumped in and out of me in a slow, steady rhythm, driving me mad.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.” The wet juices covering his fingers would betray any attempt to lie.
“Tell me what you need,” he again insisted.
I didn’t know him, had no idea of his station, but I needed one thing I trusted him to give me. “I need your cock inside me. I need to be yours, Dorian. Please.” The last word sounded desperate, but I didn’t care. I’d never belonged to anyone, not since my father died, and right now, I needed to belong to him.
With an animalistic growl, he lifted me from his lap and placed me before him on my hands and knees. I sensed movement as he freed his cock from his trousers and I shifted backward, urging him to hurry.
Smack! The sharp sting of his palm on my bottom made me ache.
“Stay still. Hold still and take what I give you.”
His words radiated like fire in my bloodstream and I stiffened, still as a statue, completely under his command.
The blunt tip of his cock nudged my wet pussy, made me moan, and I bit my lip. My thighs shook as he worked his way inside me. Finally! He stretched me open, and I panted as his huge cock filled me to the brink of pain. He was larger than the toys I’d played with—and hot, so hot.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He sounded strained. Uncomfortable.
I had no answer, afraid I’d displeased him somehow. “I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER 3
DORIAN
I ’m sorry.
Why did she apologize to me? I was in blissful agony.
Spread b
efore me like a man’s fantasy, her golden hair spread in a halo on the floor. The mask framed eyes of the palest blue now darkened with desire. Lush breasts with pale pink nipples bounced and jiggled as I fucked her, the sight calling to my hands, my mouth. I ached to flip her onto her back and suck her into my mouth, to make her squirm as I flicked my hard tongue over her sensitive nipples before sucking them deep. Perfect and pink, her wet pussy clamped down on my cock like a fist, so tight the pleasure bordered on pain.
Her fair skin was now a beautiful shade of pink where I’d spanked her. She needed me to take control. I’d seen the challenge, and the desperation in her eyes. This beautiful woman needed both my strong hand and my hard cock. She’d surrendered to me, Dorian—the man, not the prince.
I pulled back and thrust deep, until my balls were nestled against her soft bottom and her head thrashed from side to side. I stared and fucked her again, tracing the round curve of her hips with both hands, enjoying the rapid sway of her breasts as her body surged forward and back in response to my thrusts. Her beauty captivated me, from her perfect breasts to the round swells of her bottom where her eager body swallowed my cock whole. I traced the curve of her ass with my hands and pulled her cheeks apart to admire the pink flesh wrapped around my cock. The sight brought me to a level of ecstasy I’d never before experienced.
And she was sorry?
What was I missing? I did not know her name, nor did I want to know. This masquerade was about pleasure, nothing more. Being with a woman who did not know my identity liberated me. At last I could act on my deepest desires. And yet, this liberty felt foreign, exotic and addictive.
I needed more. And she was sorry?
I realized, in that moment, that I’d never sincerely considered a woman’s true thoughts or feelings. I never analyzed the fairer sex, content to allow them to throw themselves on my royal cock in their efforts to tame me and make me theirs.
Seduced in the Dungeon (Dark Kingdom Book 1) Page 2