Possessing Allura

by Reese Gabriel

  ‘You’ll take it in the ass now,’ he panted heavily, seizing control of her hair yet again. ‘But I’ll let you worship me again first.’ Withdrawing, he maneuvered her like a rag-doll to her knees, and Allura could only mumble around the still erect penis that sank into her mouth. He clamped her head with his hands. ‘You need to learn discipline. You need a man’s control.’

  The princess sucked her husband’s cock, having little choice but to seek to meet his demands. Was this really happening? Was he really doing this to her in the temple, as part of her own wedding service?

  ‘This is a much better use for your mouth, don’t you think, than all that complaining and sarcasm that usually spouts from it?’ he sneered, but her only answer was a gurgle, a helpless acknowledgment of his supremacy. ‘This is the beauty of the female sex,’ he rationalized. ‘A woman can be allowed all sorts of freedoms and pretenses of equality, but as soon as the erotic element is added she falls once more into complete subjugation.’ The baron’s cock was thickening again and she began to wonder if he intended to ejaculate in her mouth.

  ‘During the act of sexual intercourse every female becomes a slave, Allura,’ he commented. ‘Remember that. It is just that some are allowed to be free afterwards, or at least to appear so.’ Allura closed her eyes, but was instantly ordered to open them again. ‘Hands behind your neck, interlace your fingers,’ he commanded, and she did so, bound now by his will.

  ‘You see?’ he noted the excitement in her eyes, ‘it is in the blood of the female to surrender, to belong to the male.’ He pulled his cock out, glistening and wet. ‘Brace yourself over the altar,’ he curtly ordered, and Allura did so as best she could, the ancient marble chafing her belly and breasts as the baron’s hands clamped her waist, holding her in place. ‘Now you will be completely mine…’

  Allura winced as he pressed unceremoniously, invading her utterly. ‘Take it,’ he commanded. ‘Take it deep.’

  Allura dissolved beneath the onslaught. He was working himself deeper, possessing her, like she was a part of his property, and as his cock sank deeper and his groin pressed against her buttocks she felt the pain of the welts, making her gasp. She clawed at the lifeless slab, like a gravestone marking the death of her innocence, the end of her freedom.

  ‘The ass is a superior conquest,’ he moved back into lecture mode. ‘Its penetration has no other value than the man’s will and pleasure; it is no reproductive valley, nor is it primarily pleasant for the female. The more enjoyable it is for the male, in fact, the more she is opened and put at his mercy. What about you, Allura? Do you enjoy being plowed?’

  ‘You,’ she moaned, the words barely forming in her tight throat, ‘and I… are damned.’

  ‘Damned?’ he laughed. ‘I don’t think so, my dear. The gods, if they have any existence outside our brains, respect power. Zuranos is nothing if not a tyrant who takes whatever women he wishes.’

  ‘W-will you come inside me?’ she asked, taking advantage of the apparent lifting of the ban on speech.

  ‘Will I fill your ass with my sperm, do you mean?’ he goaded. ‘More likely on it, then we can rub it in to your flesh, put your clothes back on and march right past my guards and officials waiting outside that door.’

  ‘Why do you hate me so much?’ she complained. ‘Did I really do you such evil?’

  ‘Personally, no. But consider me the collector for your debts to all the others you’ve wronged.’

  ‘But I’m just a girl,’ she pleaded, all pretense gone.

  ‘And that is how I am treating you. Your slut Veeta is much better at this, by the way.’

  Allura tried to keep the images from her mind, of this man, now her husband, stuffing his insolent cock inside the little whore’s anus, using her, conquering her. ‘I… I need to come,’ the princess moaned. ‘I need you…’

  The baron withdrew his cock. ‘You don’t deserve it. Kneel in front of me. Beg me to come on your face.’

  Allura wept. ‘Please, sir… give me this small kindness.’

  He delivered a punishing smack to her bottom. ‘You will learn to obey me,’ he threatened.

  Allura sank to her knees, chastised, a lowly punished wife. ‘I beg you,’ she whispered, her breath ragged, ‘to come on my face.’

  The baron seized hold of his throbbing cock. ‘Look at me.’

  Her eyes lifted to his, the reality of her status driven home.

  ‘This,’ he grunted, viscous fountain spurting from the eye of his organ as he took malevolent aim, splattering his seed on her fair cheeks, her chin, the tip of her nose, ‘is only the beginning.’

  That evening, alone in the baron’s bedroom chamber, Allura found some paper in his desk and composed a letter to her uncle, outlining her plan for assuming the crown for herself now that she was married. Confidentially, she alluded to him that the baron was controllable, and that he could be sure the kingdom’s interests would be safely in her hands.

  She closed the letter using the baron’s wax and seal, because she did not have her own, and then spent some time pondering ways to smuggle the letter to her uncle. After this she thought of creative ways to kill the baron using one or both of her designated, unwitting agents, the slut Veeta and the dupe Rodolfo.

  Still no baron returned, and by now she was quite hungry. The sun was long gone and the moon had taken its place, so knocking on the inside of the door to get the attention of whoever might be guarding the other side, she asked politely for something to eat. Hearing nothing, she asked less politely.

  Finally, to silence her cursing, a guard called through the door that she must be quiet and that only the baron was free to release her. Furthermore, if she did not obey this order he would be obliged to come in and punish her himself, a task he did not relish.

  The princess blushed crimson at the idea of one of the baron’s men laying a hand on her, but at the same time it was a scandalously sexy idea. ‘I will not be silenced by a mere servant,’ she insisted through the paneled door. ‘I am hungry and I want something to eat!’

  The door suddenly unlocked and opened, and the guard entered. He was tall and muscular, and his coloring, blond like her, was quite rare among the baron’s men. ‘Princess, you must stop making such a noise,’ he said to her firmly.

  Overcome by a strange, lustful fury she challenged, ‘Make me.’ The guard scowled. ‘Go on,’ she dared, ‘make me. You know you want to. Look at me. I’m beautiful. I’m royalty. Would you prefer to use your hand, or your belt? Are you man enough? Can you make me beg like any other female? Can you make me whimper for forgiveness?’

  The man’s cock was visibly swollen beneath his uniform breeches, his fists clenched in restraint.

  ‘Go on,’ she taunted, knowing she was risking both their fates. ‘Show me there’s at least one man in this castle besides the baron.’

  ‘Princess, I will deal with you if you don’t be quiet,’ he said.

  ‘Will you beat me?’ she goaded, and with a swift movement he twisted her arm behind her back, making her squeal with shock and not a little trepidation that she’d perhaps gone too far.

  ‘You royals are all crazy,’ he muttered, pulling a length of leather twine from his belt, and Allura’s wrists were easily secured behind her back. ‘You’re his slut, not mine.’ The guard pushed her forward to the bed. ‘Let him deal with you, the gods help him.’

  ‘What will you do with me?’ she asked, a little timorously now.

  ‘Tie you up, princess, like the unruly filly you are.’

  The princess felt a sudden wave of panic; it was bad enough being left alone hungry and thirsty, but to be in bondage at the same time would make that much worse. ‘Wait, please, I’m sorry for being such a bitch,’ she said, a little meek now. ‘It’s just that I haven’t eaten for so long.’

  The guard gathered Allura’s bare ankles together, binding them with another leath
er strip.

  ‘H-have you a girl?’ she asked, finding his powerful presence increasingly attractive.

  ‘There is a wench in the village,’ he answered. ‘She lays for me when the mood suits me.’

  ‘She belongs to you?’ Allura asked.

  ‘She has a husband and children, but I’m the one who knows how to fuck her.’

  ‘And her husband doesn’t know?’

  The guard laughed, the rough sound of a man used to having his own way. ‘Of course he knows, but he also knows to keep his mouth shut unless he wants trouble.’

  ‘You would hurt him?’

  He pulled back her ankles rudely, connecting them with a quick tie to her wrists. ‘The penalty for defying the baron or his soldiers is death,’ he told her.

  Allura’s heart pounded. She felt so deliciously vulnerable. ‘Is… is she pretty, this wench of yours?’

  ‘She has a good body, and she knows how to fuck,’ he said, shrugging dismissively.

  ‘As good a body as mine?’

  ‘No,’ he answered frankly, ‘you are one of the most beautiful females I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘So why not touch me?’

  ‘Because I like my head attached to my shoulders.’

  ‘But I won’t tell.’

  ‘You’re a female,’ he stated cynically. ‘Females always tell in the end.’

  ‘Do you beat her?’ Allura wanted to know.

  ‘Beat who?’

  ‘Your woman?’

  ‘If she annoys me, yes. Or sometimes for sport.’

  ‘What do you use?’

  ‘A leather whip,’ he stated, and then looked at her quizzically. ‘You have a lot of questions about being a lower class slut.’

  ‘Maybe I want to know what it feels like,’ she smoldered.

  ‘Then ask your husband, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to show you.’

  ‘My husband is a monster.’

  ‘Your husband is also my lord,’ he warned.

  ‘I meant no offense,’ she whispered, wishing she could push him just a little further, to the brink of losing his temper and beyond. ‘So tell me, where do you make love to your woman?’

  ‘In her husband’s barn, most often. I call for her and she makes ready, clearing out a space, closing the door and removing her clothes.’

  ‘She is aroused when you arrive, I’ll bet.’

  ‘Yes, I make her wait on all fours, the whip between her teeth. She crawls to me when I appear and lays it at my feet. She then kisses my boots and asks how she can please me.’

  ‘Does she cry out when you whip her?’ Allura pressed, breathless.

  ‘I use a gag, or put a bit in her mouth.’

  ‘Oh, yes… that sounds like a good idea…’ Allura clenched her thighs against the threat of an impending, embarrassing climax in front of the servant, without even being touched, induced by the bondage and their words. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Tesotoro, princess,’ he said. ‘Son of Milatoro.’

  ‘Tesotoro,’ she whispered.

  ‘And now you have calmed, and I have secured you for the night, I must leave you,’ he said. ‘I won’t gag you if you promise to keep quiet, with no more silly outbursts.’

  ‘Yes, Tesotoro, I promise.’ For some inexplicable reason Allura reveled in the sound of his voice on her lips, and for a split second she felt an intense flash of jealousy toward that woman of his.

  ‘Tesotoro?’

  He was turning the handle of the door. ‘Yes, princess?’

  ‘Will you be out there all night?’ she asked.

  ‘Until the baron’s return, yes,’ he confirmed.

  ‘Oh.’ She closed her eyes and almost at once and fell asleep; the idea of the tall warrior being out there watching over her serving as a warming comfort.

  When Allura awoke it was light outside. She pulled with her arms and legs and realized she was still tied as Tesotoro had left her. She strained to look around the room, and there was no sign of the baron. Had he been away the whole night? Weakly, she strained at her bonds, and it was then the hunger hit her, much worse than the night before.

  ‘Montreico…’ she attempted to call, though it came out a hoarse whisper, and then the door opened. It was him, his gait crooked, indicating he’d had too much to drink.

  ‘Rise and shine my lazy little bride.’ He kicked the side of the bed and guffawed, obviously enjoying his own humor at the expense of the helplessly bound girl. ‘Then again, I suppose you can’t very well rise, can you?’

  ‘Where have you been, Montreico?’ she demanded.

  The baron frowned and took a swig from the ale flagon he was holding. ‘By the gods, woman, not even twenty-four hours married and already you’re nagging me.’ He roared with laughter again, the raucousness of which required him to support himself upon the nearest bedpost.

  ‘I am glad you are amused, husband,’ she snapped. ‘But I am starving and cramped and thirsty and I must go to the bathroom.’

  Montreico slumped down beside her on the bed and slapped her nearest thigh. ‘Yes, sorry about that, I’m afraid we got a bit carried away in our celebrations last night.’

  ‘Celebrations? Of what?’ she asked.

  ‘Why, my marriage, of course. You should have been there, it was quite a feast.’

  Allura clenched her fists. ‘Are you telling me while I lay up here alone, trussed up like a roasting pig, you were feasting and drinking?’

  ‘And whoring,’ he added with a deep sigh. ‘Don’t forget the whoring.’

  Her predicament forgotten for the moment she said, ‘And you dare to tell me that my body will be your property and yet you give yourself to sluts?’

  ‘I’m a man,’ he said simplistically, clearly believing that to be justification enough. ‘Look, if you’re just going to nag me I’ll leave you to stew in your own juices a few more hours.’

  ‘Wait,’ she cried as he rose, ‘don’t leave me. Please, I can’t be left like this any longer.’

  ‘And I can no longer bear the company of a spoilt little bitch, Allura. Are you prepared to apologize?’

  She was all set to voice her indignation, but she knew it would only lead to more pugnacious behavior on his part. ‘I… I apologize,’ said the once haughty princess.

  ‘For being a spoilt little bitch?’ he pressed.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, tears in her eyes. ‘For being a… a spoilt little bitch.’ But how the words stuck in her throat. Was it being a spoilt little bitch to request such simple considerations?

  ‘And you are prepared to be a good little wife?’ he prodded, downing another swig from the flagon.

  ‘Yes,’ she shamed herself all the more deeply, ‘I am prepared to be a good wife.’

  ‘And to obey?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He laughed. ‘As long as I have you over a barrel, at least.’

  ‘Wait, where are you going?’ she asked, as he staggered to his feet and weaved slightly towards the door.

  ‘I need a few things,’ he said, belching, ‘to continue your lessons.’

  Allura shivered at the implications. She did not want lessons, she wanted to eat, drink, and the ablutions. He left the door open behind him and with every passing second her heart sank further and further. For so long she had tried to be strong, but the tears were welling up.

  ‘Montreico,’ she whimpered, sobbing slightly at his eventual return.

  ‘Miss me?’ he grinned, and she almost had, pathetic though that felt.

  ‘What is she doing here?’ Allura demanded, seeing the slave following him in.

  ‘Saraveeta has brought your breakfast,’ explained the baron.

  Allura stared vehemently at the slave, her short silk tunic complimenting her curves. ‘That is not her name, Montreico,’ she said. />
  ‘It is now. I’ve changed it back.’ The baron snapped his fingers and Saraveeta lowered to the floor the tray she was carrying. On it were two bowls, one containing water, the other filled with a gray, pasty substance.

  ‘That had better be hers,’ commented Allura.

  ‘These?’ The baron looked innocently at the dog feeding vessels. ‘No, Saraveeta has already dined. Haven’t you, my dear?’

  The slave lowered her head; her cheeks blushed as Montreico rubbed his crotch suggestively.

  ‘I must use the toilet,’ said Allura, deciding to ignore his goading, for the moment.

  ‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘Saraveeta, fetch the chamber-pot.’

  ‘Put it there,’ he pointed as she presented it. ‘On the floor.’

  Allura sputtered. ‘You can’t expect me to…’

  The baron cut the binding straps on her wrists and ankles. ‘Unless you’d like to go on the floor?’

  ‘You will at least leave the room,’ Allura said indignantly.

  ‘No, why would I do that?’ he taunted, ordering Saraveeta to help her to the iron pot on the floor. ‘I will watch. It pleases me to do so.’

  ‘I will not squat for you like a bitch, Montreico,’ Allura vowed, feeling lightheaded from her lack of food or drink as she struggled to her feet. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she said petulantly as her former friend tried to assist her.

  ‘A wife hides nothing from her husband,’ he stated pompously. ‘You will piss in front of me or not at all.’

  ‘Fine, then I’ll wet your bed,’ she said petulantly.

  Montreico wagged an unsteady finger. ‘That sort of childish display will earn you a stiff beating, my dear. One that will make it difficult for you to sit for the next week.’

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Allura snapped at the hovering Saraveeta, who seemed to have no reason to be present but to make trouble.

  The girl dropped to her knees. ‘Nothing, mistress,’ she cowed before the princess’ outburst. ‘I meant no offense.’

  ‘Well you did offend me, you stupid whore.’

  ‘Allura, I will not permit you to speak so to my slaves.’