Cruel Devices 3: Forbidden Punishment Collection (Extreme Dark Defloration Bondage)

by Cirque, Jacqueline D

  His voice is deep again at my ear as the climax fades as he pauses, enjoying the warmth and slick secretions of my cunt. “I told you, did I not, that you would beg for my cock?”

  I nod.

  “Your father will be pleased to hear it, how you bucked and moaned like an animal while I took you.”

  Tears begin to roll down my face again as the shame returns and I realise what I have done, but still my sex craves more as the don resumes his fucking, my cunt so slick and wet it swallows him each time with ease. He squeezes my buttocks together to increase the friction, moaning softly.

  I close my eyes and let the sensation carry me away, pretend it is Franco and his silken cock between my legs and not this monster.

  The don pulls my ass cheeks wide as something hard presses up against the tight taint of my anus.

  “No!” I scream, but it’s too late.

  The goon behind me takes hold of the harness and presses forwards.

  My anus squeezes closed in fright, but the goon, clearly used to such matters, simply presses further, using his hand to feed his member slowly into my rectum.

  “Ahhhh,” I cry, as the head of his cock finally moves past the grip of my sphincter and into the heated tunnel of the forbidden.

  Tears stream harder, snaking down my chest and over my breasts as the don pulls my ass wider and more of the goon’s cock is buried into my burning backside.

  Caught, suspended between these two men, I am taken in both holes, each pumping away in alternate and then together, laughing and grabbing at my thighs, my flesh, my breasts as I shake my head.

  Shamefully, I curse as another climax starts to grow in intensity as the goon rises higher and burrows deeper into my ass, reaming me out as the don continues his assault at the front.

  I bounce between them, feel the shafts of their members as they come against each other separating only by the thinnest of barriers.

  The goon gives one sharp thrust upwards, the plum head of his cock knotted inside me as he releases, hot seed spurting into my ass.

  The don doesn’t stop, fucking me harder and faster as one goon pulls out my distended anus and is fast replacing by another.

  This one’s cock is shorter, probing into me in quick, sharp strokes, biting into my back and shoulder as he draws quickly to his own climax fucking away in his friend’s semen.

  The don is back at my ear. “I am going to fill you now, piccolo rosa. I am going to fill you to you overflow.”

  “No!” I cry, but it’s too late as I climax again, my cunt and ass squeezing together and both men groaning out, each pushing to the end of me and dumping their loads, filling me over and over as their balls pump against my ass cheeks, cocks spurting and coming for what seems forever as I shift through time and space and finally fall limp.

  I barely notice as they pull out and my cunt continues to tremble and contract. I don’t notice the sperm that drips from my bruised holes or the restraints easing as I am lifted down and released.

  All I want is more – more sin, more cock.

  The don kisses me on the forehead as the goons carry me away. “Tell your father he had best pay his taxes, piccolo rosa, otherwise I shall not be so gracious with the lever next time.”

  I watch him as the goons take me from the room, the don standing there with his wet tail leaking onto the marble, triumphant.

  I lay on the floor of the carriage, cheek pressed up against the boot of one of the goons and far too weak to move. When we arrive at the villa the goon kicks me in the side and I tumble naked from the carriage, falling onto my back into the dirt and mud and staring up at a sky of ochre and fire above as the day wakes.

  I can just see the carriage in the distance as it leaves, feel the strokes of the rod that have marked my ass and the way my anus and cunt remain open and wide, nipples still sensitive and breasts heavy as the horrors and pleasures of the night swim in my head.

  I drift off, moving into unconsciousness as the figure of my father looms overhead.

  The shock on his face is clear. He sees the mess between my legs, my bloodied and broken holes, and curses Don Gianno into the wind, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turn the same white as the sperm that still coats my thighs.

  Let it out, I think. Let all the rage out and refuse to pay.

  Let me be taken once more.

  PUNISHED ON THE BREAKING WHEEL

  “Mother, do we have to watch?”

  “Yes, my love. We must be reminded of the consequences of our actions.”

  The man is led to the breaking wheel by two of the village farmers. He tries to make a break for it, but their grip is firm. He’s manhandled onto the breaking wheel and his wrists and ankles bound to the spokes.

  The gathered villagers are calm as snowflakes drift down from an ivory sky above.

  I steel myself to watch.

  The Chieftain reads out the man’s crimes. They are many.

  The man bucks against the wheel and froths at the mouth like a wild dog. His words make no sense.

  The breaking begins.

  The hooded Carrier of Justice lifts a large wooden club up into his hands and swings it above his head. When he brings it down on the man’s leg there is a decided crack as the bones shatter.

  The man screams long and hard as the wheel is spun, the club raised and his other leg turned into little more than a bag of broken bone and flesh.

  The arms follow. I almost cannot bear to watch.

  The prisoner passes out and is awakened by a pail of water so the sentence can be carried out in full.

  With a single blow to the head the screams stop. Only the crushed shell of the man remains as he is cut down and bundled into a cart like a puppet sans strings.

  As we walk back to the farm, Mother doesn’t seem quite herself. Her face appears taxed, pensive.

  “Is everything okay, Mother?” I query.

  She strokes my hair, flaxen in the soft light of the snowfall. “Yes, Helga. I am just excited for your initiation. That is all.”

  Every girl in the village who turns eighteen must take part in the initiation when their day comes. There is a strict code of secrecy surrounding the ceremony itself, but it is generally considered a way to guide girls to womanhood, a celebration.

  “What was your initiation like, Mother?”

  I cannot read her emotions. She remains as statuesque as always. “You know I cannot discuss it.”

  “Can’t you provide anything, a clue?”

  “No, I am afraid I can’t. Our law prevents it. You just stood as witness to what happens to those who disobey it.”

  Tonight – It comes too fast. I don’t know if I’m ready to face it.

  “Just… be prepared. Do exactly as you are instructed,” my mother suggests ominously.

  *

  I’m fetching water in the forest when I hear a familiar bird call. I cup my hands around my mouth and call back.

  Tobin emerges from the woods, scanning the area to see we will not be interrupted.

  I stand and he presses me against a tree. “Your initiation is tonight.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you excited, afraid? Tell me.”

  He shifts his body closer. His cock bulges in his trousers as rubs it against my leg.

  “I don’t know what to feel,” I reply. “No one speaks of the initiation.”

  He nods. “True, true.”

  He kisses me, taking my face in one hand and moving the other between our bodies and below my skirt.

  I’m bare underneath, gasping against his tongue as I lift my leg and allow him to pin me in place, his fingers running into the wet crevice that has opened up between my legs.

  I pant as our mouths and lips twist and press together, his fingers gliding up and down my slit until I’m bucking against him with need.

  I reach down into his trousers and fish for his cock, finding the silky member easily and running my own fingers down its length, tickling his balls and rolling my palm around the sen
sitive head.

  “Helga,” he moans, hips thrusting forwards as he plays in my wetness, splitting my folds with his slender digits until I am pulled deep into a world of bright and luminant sensation.

  I stroke him harder, the fibre of his trousers rough against the back of my hand as I pump down to be rewarded with his dew.

  His fingers move to the top of my cunt and the bundle of nerves there, rubbing and circling and forcing me to abandon all reason as we come together.

  A branch breaks in the distance and we both separate. My hand is still warm and wet from his cock, my sex throbbing between my legs as I spot an approaching group of axemen in the distance.

  Tobin kisses me on the cheek. He’s late for felling. “Another time. Good luck tonight.”

  He leaves, adjusting his trousers back into place as he jumps and frolics back down the forest path to his fellow workers.

  *

  By nightfall the anticipation is killing me. I pace outside the church where the initiation will take place in the blue cloak that bears our village mark reserved for such special occasions.

  The church is on the outskirts of the village, far from the residences and farms. It’s made of large stones with a giant spire that seems to kiss and split the sky itself.

  The doors swing wide and a man dressed purely in black stands at the entrance. He wears a pointed black hood to match, only the whites of his eyes visible in the growing darkness.

  “Enter,” he says. I cannot place the voice. It is low, deliberately so.

  I follow the man inside the church. It’s quiet as a tomb, the altar filled with fresh fruit and the pews barren.

  The man leads me to the back of the church. He presses against a stone and twists. To my amazement half the wall shifts and opens up to reveal a spiral staircase beyond.

  I cannot count how many times I have been in this very church with Mother and never known about this secret passage. It’s unbelievable it could exist in such plain sight.

  The hooded figure gestures downwards and I move into the stairwell, hand on the wall to guide myself into the darkness below.

  The air grows thicker, colder as we move under the ground itself.

  The hooded man comes behind me, the wall closing in place above us and only the palest of lights beyond to guide me.

  Finally the staircase ends and the ground flattens, dirt under my feet as I come into what can only be the crypt of the church.

  I lock up in fright.

  There, in the centre of the room, lying flat and raised from the floor on a giant spindle, is the breaking wheel.

  But they cannot mean to kill me? Surely not.

  The wheel is lit by a candelabra above that casts only the very centre with flickering light.

  Slowly my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and I scream again as I see more hooded figures standing around the very edges of the room.

  Apart from the hoods, they are naked, haunting silhouettes.

  Excluding Tobin’s girthy member, I have never seen another man’s cock, but here before me must be five or six on total, bent and misshapen, long and hard, soft, short. Some have their hands upon them while others swing large as clubs between their master’s legs.

  Fear claws its way down my back and any illusion I had the initiation would be a merry, joyous occasion begins to slip from mind.

  I am the only female here. A female surrounded by naked males, pricks at the ready.

  It can only mean one thing, but what of the wheel?

  The man who brought me down comes before me. I gather my hands in front of myself.

  “Remove your cloak.”

  With shaking fingers I reach up and undo the knot around my neck that holds the cloak in place. It falls to the floor.

  “Remove your clothes.”

  I reach down trembling to the hem of my dress and slowly lift it over my head until I am as naked as a baby born.

  I cover my breasts with one arm and my cleft with the other as two of the figures in the darkness rush forward.

  I go to say ‘wait!’ but remember the vows, the rules that govern the initiation. Exile is a fate worse than death. I will not give in.

  I let them grasp my arms and pull them to my sides.

  My body is young, unblemished, and beauty is well known is the village. There have been no shortage of suitors, suitors I have played like a fiddle, but here in the depths of the crypt I am exposed and vulnerable. I am at the mercy of these strangers, these men who could well be those I pass every day – the baker, the butcher, the boy who sells toy boats. Their bodies are every shape and size, a mix of ages and colour. It’s impossible to distinguish who is who in the gloom.

  The man who led me in undoes his cloak and I gasp aloud at the size of his prick. Erect, it rises almost to the middle of his chest. His sack is the size of a melon.

  I scan around the room, counting quickly that there must be six men in total, six mystery figures here to carry me to womanhood.

  The men lift me under the arms and drag me forward. I remain frozen, forcing them to grip me tighter.

  They lead me to the wheel and I notice is has been modified. It still appears as a giant wooden wagon wheel on which a person rests end to end, but the outer wheel itself, the circumference of the infernal device, has been removed to leave only the radial spokes, six in total.

  I want to ask what is going on, but the rules are strict. If I speak during the ceremony I will be cast out, exiled from the village.

  The horrors of what live outside the village walls flood my mind and my lips press tighter shut.

  Another two men come forward and together all four lift me onto the spokes of the wheel. I look up at the candelabra above, the way it carves out my body with light, the way it brings attention to the various degrees of stiffness that swing past my face as my ankles and wrists are spread out in a cross and bound to their respective spokes.

  I wince as the ropes are pulled tight, cutting into my delicate skin.

  I look at the men again. They have to be villagers. Who knows how many years they have been coming here, defiling young girls under such pretence. The marker is that more than one girl has been exiled for speaking of the initiation, cast out into the barrens and savages that await, but would that be so different than strapped down to wheel and… and what? I do not know, but my situation is looking increasingly ominous as the wheel groans underneath me.

  My legs are spread-eagled, wide, cunt open and exposed, moistening in a strange reaction to the fear that pumps through my body.

  My heartbeat is a tempest in my ears, beating and hammering inside me. My arms are likewise spanned out to the edges of the wheel so that I lie like something of a cross.

  I remain still and wait. I can raise my head just enough to see my chest rise and fall in sharp compressions. I flush with embarrassment with the realisation my tiny nipples have turned hard, pointing to the wooden beams above.

  No, not now. Not in front of these men, but I can’t help the way my body is responding to the situation, the way my cunt contracts and releases.

  The man who led me in steps between the spokes and my legs. “Let us begin.”

  He says it like a prayer as runs his fingers down my slit. They come away wet in the candlelight.

  “Proceed,” the men chant in unison.

  I hold my head up enough to see the man come between my legs and direct his mammoth member down towards my sex.

  Oh no, not like this.

  I shake my head, try and ward him off, but he continues. He places the huge dome of his prick at the entrance to my vagina. I feel him thrust forward with his rump and my lips yield to the giant phallus. The head slips inside as I scream silently. Holding my hips, he shifts forward again, striking hard and fast through my hymen. With another two or three thrusts his phallus buries itself halfway inside my virgin channel.

  He withdraws slightly, his weapon slippery in my grasp before with a brutal bound he manages to drive the entirety of his prick
in up to the balls. He begins to screw me like a stray, wild dog, grunting and shifting against me. I whimper softly as tears spill over my face, the spokes of the wheel hard against my skin as I am taken.

  The man moves with yet more violence, bracing his hand on the wheel so that each thrust shakes me from head to foot and my head thrashes from side to side.

  What was at first pain shifts into a dark pleasure as he presses against the bundle at the top of my sex, each thrust sending sparks shimmering below as new juices gather around his prick. I am stretched out obscenely, cunt gripping his cock tight as it moves in and out, driving forward again and again into my tender wetness.

  The feeling builds sharply, suddenly threatening to overthrow my body as my cunt begins to clamp harder and I pull tight against my bonds as eyes watch on the darkness and the only sound is the damp conference of this man’s hulking body pumping into my own.

  No, but I can’t stop it.

  I cry, suddenly delirious with pleasure, never having felt anything so wonderful and fulfilling as I lift my hips to meet the rhythmic motions of the giant dart drawn deep into my distended vagina. I shake, a sound soft pouring from my mouth inarticulate and thus allowed by the rules of the initiation. My eyes revulse as my sex is tortured by indescribable sensations that make my entire body shudder.

  Breathing becomes difficult as the prick plunges into me faster. I dribble, my head loose as the man’s movements become jerky and he starts to seize up, his mighty prick compressed tight in the narrow sheath of my cunt. Suddenly he clings hard to my hips, fingers against bone, as he gives three last, savage thrusts and floods the depths of my vagina with his sperm.

  Mad with sensation, I let go myself, crying loud as jets of sperm continue to drown my inner flesh until finally the dreadful tail that has impaled me pulls free to leave my hole gaping, spilling seed into the dirt below.

  His cock droops, withering back to some semblance of normality.

  My chest continues to heave, part from the waiting and the embers that still continue to crackle inside my core.

  Another man steps forward, slim of build and cock. It bends from his body like an exotic fruit.

  He takes hold of the end of the spoke near my foot and gives it a heave.