Wild Kingdom

by Deanna Ashford

  ‘I want you now,’ he whispered, still continuing to rub her clit with rhythmic thrusts, while she milked his cock with long smooth strokes. He felt as though it would soon be ready to explode.

  ‘Then take me,’ she pleaded, trembling with passion. ‘Right here. Right now.’

  Tarn cupped her buttocks in his hands and lifted her until her belly was level with his. Rianna clutched on to his broad shoulders, uttering a small animal sound of pleasure as he jerked his hips, forcing the entire length of his swollen cock deep inside her. Pulling her hips closer, he paused for a second to savour the delightful sensations of her body tightly embracing his.

  Rianna’s head meanwhile was pulled back by the heavy weight of her fur-lined cloak, the metal clasp digging cruelly into the skin of her neck. Supporting her with one strong hand, Tarn unfastened the clasp. She gave a faint gasp of relief as the heavy fabric fell on to the stone floor at their feet. Rianna didn’t seem to care that she was left almost naked, the remnants of her nightgown hanging in useless tatters away from her.

  ‘Now,’ she demanded, digging her nails into the skin of his shoulders.

  Tarn began to thrust into her with deep powerful strokes, feeling the weight of her body bearing down on to his straining cock. His movements became faster and he knew by the tightness of her cunt and the small whimpering sounds she was making that she was close to her climax. Her pale cheeks grew flushed, her lips trembled and her green eyes darkened as passion overwhelmed her. She burrowed her face into the base of his neck, nipping at the skin with her teeth as her internal muscles contracted in orgasmic waves.

  Tarn climaxed immediately, giving a loud resounding roar that echoed around the narrow corridor, totally drowning out Rianna’s mutual gasp of pleasure.

  Queen Danara was nowhere to be seen as Sarin was dragged into her anteroom by two burly female guards. He shivered nervously. He had been here many times before in the six months he’d been in Freygard and he never knew what to expect from the beautiful cold-hearted Queen.

  Sarin made no attempt to struggle as he was manhandled to the centre of the room and forced to his knees on the dark polished-wood floor. In a fair fight Sarin suspected he could probably have defeated both these female guards. Despite their muscular build they were still women and no match for a skilled warrior such as he. He couldn’t fight them today, however, because his hands were fastened behind his back with metal restraints, while his ankles were hobbled together by a short length of timber, which made it difficult to walk in anything but a slow stilted shuffle.

  One of the guards thumped him on the back and Sarin couldn’t stop himself falling face down on to the boards with a loud smack, only just managing to turn his head in time to stop his nose from getting smashed on impact. The guard gave a sarcastic chuckle and muttered something derogatory about men under her breath, then left along with her companion. Sarin knew that they would not go far, they would remain on guard just outside the door of the chamber, ready to come to the Queen’s aide in a second if she needed them.

  Sarin struggled to his knees, cursing every woman in Freygard to perdition, presuming he was about to be punished once again. At least this time it would not be for some insignificant fault conjured up by the slave mistress because his lack of servility infuriated her. This time he had stubbornly refused to do as he had been ordered. He might be a captive here, and an unwilling slave, but he hadn’t forgotten his heritage; he was still of royal blood. Sarin had fallen low, but not low enough to shovel stinking shit from the midden and heap it into carts to be carried away.

  Sometimes he found it hard to clearly remember his former life, beyond the borders of Freygard. This stone fortress set on a nameless peak was home for him now and in the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, he had not yet surrendered his spirit, or allowed himself to be totally subjugated. He was determined to somehow find a way to escape, or if necessary perish in the attempt. Death was infinitely preferable to this life of subjugation and slavery.

  When he’d first been imprisoned he’d expected a rescue mission from Percheron, even though Queen Danara had laughingly told him that a message had been sent to his people stating that after he and his men had left the protection of her fortress they had been waylaid and butchered by bandits. Sarin had been certain that his people would not believe such falsehoods and would send a large contingent of soldiers to discover his true fate. But the rescuers had never come; he had been abandoned and betrayed by his courtiers and subjects.

  Sarin was a brave man but Danara frightened him far more than he cared to admit. She had reached into his soul and found a deep dark part of him that actually found pleasure in being enslaved and abused. In Percheron he had been the master, now he was experiencing the other side of the coin. He was a helpless victim.

  He heard footsteps and all thoughts fled his mind. Turning his head he saw Danara walking towards him, looking as chillingly beautiful as ever in a filmy violet gown. A shiver of terrified excitement slithered down his spine and he felt his belly tighten; his cock stirred beneath his blue thigh-length tunic, which was the only garment the male slaves in the castle wore. The Queen had spent hours in the past teasing and torturing his senses almost beyond endurance. Sarin was obsessed with Danara; the more she abused him the more he wanted her. Sarin never knew what to expect when he was summoned to her presence. Sometimes it was pleasure; more often than not it was punishment, or an exquisitely tantalising mixture of both. She might just beat him, allow him to pleasure her, or even tease and caress him with her own hands. Yet in all the many hours he had spent with her, he had never been permitted to couple with her as a man would with a woman. Sarin was determined that one day, before he left this place, he would do just that.

  ‘The slave mistress tells me that you have performed some of your tasks very well.’ Danara tapped the leather bound switch she carried against the filmy skirt of her gown. ‘You have proved to be the best and most productive stud in the coupling chambers.’

  Men were of use for only two things in Freygard: as slaves or providers of seed. Coupling was to be endured in order to provide offspring. It was considered an uncomfortable chore by most of the women, who preferred to find their sensual enjoyment with those of their own sex. If a girl child was born they rejoiced, while a male child was raised in a separate settlement and upon reaching adulthood took his place among the other slaves.

  Over the years the bloodline of the male slaves had grown weak and any new captives were welcome additions to the coupling chambers, especially powerful warriors such as Sarin. At least a dozen of Danara’s best soldiers were now pregnant by Sarin, and he had to admit that this part of his life was reasonably pleasurable. He had even managed to persuade some of them to relax and take their time, to enjoy the sensual delights of having sex with a man. One in particular, Zene, a member of the Queen’s personal guard, enjoyed herself so much she had met secretly with Sarin and repeated the experience a number of times. He knew that she’d grown fond of him and she had already tentatively offered to aid his escape as long as she could travel with him to Percheron. Zene was eager to taste what the world could offer her, away from this rigidly controlled female community.

  ‘The slave mistress honours me,’ Sarin said, his lips twisting into a sarcastic smile.

  ‘Your manner is insolent.’ Danara stepped closer and stared coldly down at him. ‘Slaves must be submissive and do as they are told. It appears you forget that far too often.’

  ‘I will never surrender.’ Sarin stiffened, reminding himself of his noble heritage as he continued to stubbornly stare at her, even though slaves were supposed to keep their eyes lowered when in her presence.

  ‘Will you never learn?’ She shook her head reprovingly, then used the tip of the switch to lift up the hem of his tunic. ‘It seems not,’ she added with a cruel smile as she caught sight of his semi-aroused cock.

  ‘You are a woman and I’m a man. Why should my body not automatically show desire?’ he replied, grin
ning insolently. ‘Men are the conquerors and true masters – born into this world to control women. We always have been the stronger sex and always will be.’

  ‘Still after all this time you chafe against your chains,’ she muttered, half to herself.

  ‘Why not?’ he proudly challenged. ‘I’ll never truly be enslaved.’

  ‘Eventually you will submit,’ she sneered.

  ‘Never,’ he vehemently vowed. ‘One day I swear I’ll force you to your knees, and you’ll rue the day you tried to subjugate Lord Sarin of Percheron.’

  ‘Bold words for one in your position, but they are just the empty threats of a helpless slave,’ she replied with chilling confidence. ‘However, my threats are far from empty!’ She slapped the switch across his upper arm, leaving a thin red weal on his olive skin.

  Grabbing hold of Sarin’s long dark hair, Danara jerked his head back and stared into his eyes. His stubborn pride kept him strong, enabling him to stare boldly back at her, and hide the sudden apprehensive fear that flooded his veins. She tugged at the thin ties that held his garment together at his shoulders, and the blue linen fell in untidy folds around his knees, baring his body to her gaze. Sarin was even more firmly muscled now than when he’d been the ruler of Percheron as his body had been honed and moulded by the hours of heavy labour he did under the merciless gaze of the slave mistress. Sarin missed the long, lazy, sunny days in the luxurious surroundings of his palace. The endless nights he had spent being pleasured by both his male and female slaves. Now he was the one who had to perform, and try to please the many different women who visited the coupling chambers at night.

  ‘Stand up,’ Danara snapped. ‘Move over to the table.’

  Sarin struggled to his feet, he did not dare to disobey, knowing that if he did not do as he was told he would be humbled into obedience by the guards. He shuffled forwards, his movements hampered by the cruel hobble attached to his ankles. Danara smiled, amused by his stilted gait as he approached the table with its smooth polished-wood top and leather padded edges. Sarin had often wondered how many other slaves had been forced to bend their upper bodies across this object, which masqueraded as a table but was actually a punishment block.

  He did not wait for her command, just leaned obediently forwards so that the padded edge of the table dug into his belly and his upper torso was laid against the cold oak slab. Then he felt her hands on his wrists, unfastening his bonds. As he moved his arms, stretching them across the tabletop, the blood surged through his cramped limbs. His muscles tingled into life, but before he could regain his full strength, Danara had fastened his wrists to the restraints, set in opposite corners, close to the edges of the table. His upper body was spread-eagled across the wood, and he pressed his cheek to the smooth surface, both fearing and anticipating what would come next. So many times in days gone past Danara had chained him here and shown him, in a variety of ways, how pain could subtly be transformed into aching pleasure.

  With his legs held apart by the hobble, his balls and cock were even more exposed than usual, hanging defensively down between his parted thighs. Sarin felt the trickles of fearful excitement slide down his spine and lodge heavily in his groin as he waited. Standing directly behind him, Danara drew back her arm and hit him hard with the leather switch. Using just the right amount of force, she expertly employed the switch, criss-crossing Sarin’s taut buttocks with kissing weals of pain. Sarin clenched his teeth, conscious that with the stinging agony came the slow subtle sensations of arousal. He was determined not to cry out as the beating continued, ever aware that part of him welcomed each lovingly applied stroke. His breathing quickened as each starburst of agony sent lust pounding through his veins. He felt his cock twitch and stiffen, spurred into life by the cruel caress of the lash.

  The tension in his loins increased and his cock, which grew harder from the painful stimulation, longed for the gentle feel of hands, lips, or better still the hot moistness of Danara’s cunt. The beating continued until the skin on his arse turned an angry red.

  ‘You deserve this punishment, don’t you, slave?’ she said softly. She stopped hitting him and ran her fingertips over the mesh of red lines that now decorated his skin, her gentle touch serving only to further magnify the delectable agony.

  ‘Yes,’ he gasped as her cool fingers slipped between his thighs.

  She cupped the soft sac of his balls in her hands. ‘I am told by the slave mistress that your seed is proving to be very powerful,’ she purred, her fingers closing possessively around the root of his penis. ‘That heartens me, even though your continued disobedience displeases me greatly.’

  Sarin’s legs trembled; his senses were focused on a knife-edge of lust. He wanted to beg her to stimulate him; he was desperate to feel those cool, slim fingers sliding caressingly up and down his cock. Yet he still had enough strength to remain silent. He could smell the warm scent of her jasmine perfume and it reminded him painfully of the fragrant gardens of his palace in Aguilar – a place he did not allow himself to think of too often. He desired Danara so much that the powerful need almost overwhelmed the throbbing pain in his buttocks. Discomfort paled into insignificance compared to his passion for this cruel bitch. As she began to stimulate him in a gentle stroking motion, he failed to stifle the sobbing, ‘Please,’ that somehow escaped his lips.

  ‘What are you asking for, slave?’ she taunted, wanking him until he grew iron hard and a single dewdrop seeped from the tip. ‘Do you want me to whip you again until you climax from the pleasure, or shall I make you wear the harness you both crave and despise?’

  Danara was often able to read Sarin’s thoughts, sense the powerful and often bizarre fantasies that crowded into his mind, but on this occasion she was entirely wrong. His only desire was to tie her down, bind her as thoroughly as he now was, then fuck her until she was forced to acknowledge that he was her master and she was his willing slave.

  The choice is yours,’ he grated. ‘I have no say in the matter.’

  ‘No, you do not,’ she said, and he tensed apprehensively at the menace in her voice.

  Danara had ordered a special harness to be fashioned especially for Sarin. The garment, made of leather and metal, was designed to fit perfectly around the base of his engorged penis, keeping it permanently erect, while tightly containing his balls. When he wore it, Danara would chain him to a post in her bedchamber and amuse herself by keeping him tantalisingly close to climaxing for what seemed like hours on end. The need to come would drive Sarin almost insane before Danara was finished with her cruel game. She had told him that this carefully administered sexual torture would increase the strength and potency of his seed, ensuring that all the children he sired would be female.

  ‘I have a mind to try something different today,’ she purred, running her cool hands over his abused flesh. ‘But first I must ensure that your body will bear no marks of your beating. If I ever decide to sell you in the slave markets you must be healthy and your skin unblemished. Obvious lash marks lower the price. They show the prospective buyer that the slave in question is surly and disobedient.’

  Danara began to anoint his buttocks with a sweet-smelling ointment that she’d often used on him in the past. It cooled his reddened skin, and for a moment he allowed himself to enjoy the soothing sensation. But he tensed again when her hands, still slippery with the ointment, ran teasingly up and down his cock, flooding his loins with the familiar lustful submission. Sarin felt the dark pleasure expand and grow as she expertly masturbated him until he was breathing heavily and was dangerously close to coming.

  Sarin gave a soft moan.

  ‘Not yet, slave,’ she hissed, knowing his responses all too well. She dug her fingernails into the sensitive skin on his cock head and the pain cut through his pleasure like a sword thrust, quashing his desire in an instant as he struggled to stifle the scream that rose in his throat. Danara let go of him and patted Sarin’s buttocks as a master would his favourite horse. ‘Fulfilment has to be earned,�
� she told him, heaping fiery coals on to his pain and humiliation.

  Sarin slowly expelled a breath, while a string of vile curses filled his thoughts. He was consumed with frustrated anger and hate. Danara was accustoming his body to a diet of pain mixed with carefully applied pleasure. If she continued long enough she was bound to achieve her objective and subjugate him completely. Sarin knew how well such measures worked; had he not used the selfsame methods on Tarn? His strength and his self-respect were steadily being sucked out of him, and he knew that he had to find a way to escape or lose both his body and his soul to Danara.

  Chapter Two

  DANARA RELEASED SARIN’S wrists but he made no attempt to fight her when she refastened them together in front of his body with a short length of chain. There was no point in physical resistance, her guards were within earshot and could be called upon at any time.

  He heard her walk away as he straightened his back, easing the discomfort in his cramped muscles. Sarin was infuriated by his own weakness, knowing he could not fight her forever and fearing that one day soon his resolve would give way. Uselessly, he pulled at the chain that held his wrists together, knowing full well his bonds were far stronger than his own self-willed determination.

  ‘Come into my bedchamber, slave,’ he heard Danara say.

  Sarin turned and shuffled awkwardly towards her, gritting his teeth at the discomfort as the hobble chafed the skin of his inner ankles. Hatred of Danara filled every fibre of his being, yet even now he was consumed by desire for this cruel bitch as he followed her into the adjoining bedchamber.

  As she turned, the light from one of the tall arched windows streamed through her dress and beneath the filmy garment she was totally naked. Sarin’s heart began to beat faster. He anxiously scanned the room, looking for any sign of the harness or the other painful instruments she had used upon him in the past, but he saw nothing sinister at all. Yet he could still feel the burning ache of need in his groin, the slight stinging discomfort where her fingernails had dug into him, and he knew he was far from safe.