And yet, she hadn’t uttered a single peep. Doing so would mean her nightly tortures would end, and she wanted to be in my bedroom.
And I loved having her close when I awakened. I always spent time massaging her limbs, and eventually began hand feeding her some of my breakfast while she kneeled beside me. Nights were for pain, but the mornings were when I got to take care of her before I began my day.
August is a regular visitor to my bedroom — I just love bunnies, and he’s particularly good in bed, even for a rabbit. I’d stepped in and saved his grandmother’s life, years ago, and all her descendants aligned with me instead of my sister. August has proven to be an ally in more than one way, and keeping him close is a good political move as well as a lot of fun.
The first time I let him play with my little one, I had her brought to my room an hour early, put in a wide stance with a spreader bar, and ordered a six-pound butt plug be inserted. I’d worked her up to being able to hold a four-pound plug, and I knew jumping to six pounds was a big deal. Eventually, she’d be required to run while holding a heavy plug, but she wasn’t ready yet.
On this night, though, I wanted her asshole to be as tight as possible when August fucked it. I’d discovered I loved holding her and comforting her while others hurt her.
LITTLE ONE
I was certain my pleasure-slave training had been complete before I’d been sold the first time, but Her Majesty had so many more things she required I learn. Thankfully, my first days with a weighted butt plug happened with a slave trainer and not in her presence, because I dropped it dozens of times an hour before my bottom muscles were strong enough to hold onto it. Every time I dropped it, weight was added to the clamps on my clit and nipples, and the plug was put back in my bottom. Those first sessions were twenty minutes, three times a day, but by the second week, I had to hold it for an hour all at once. And it grew a little heavier every day.
I didn’t know what Her Majesty had planned for me when she put the heaviest plug I’d ever felt into my bottom, sat at her desk, and commenced working, but I held onto it for all I was worth. I dropped it four times, and each time she had someone different in her office, going over numbers, or people, or food lists. She asked them to put it back, and I bent over the few inches my bondage allowed, to try to give them easier access. There were no immediate consequences for dropping it, but I knew I’d pay for it later.
When Her Majesty’s hourglass ran out, she worked my arms in a single sleeve behind me, and attached the sleeve to a chain hanging from the ceiling, so I was forced to lean forward. The doors opened, and August the rabbit came in. Once again, he was familiar with the Queen, taking her into his arms and kissing her before he took his clothes off.
While he disrobed, Her Majesty asked me, “What have you heard about rabbits, Little One?”
“Their cocks become the size needed to fill a pussy or a cunt, but are huge — as big as they can get — if they go in someone’s bottom. Also, they can go all night, my Queen.”
“Close. When lubricated with some kind of nut oil, they’re as big as they can get. Otherwise, they automatically size themselves to fit the orifice. Since they’re usually lubed to go in an ass, the net result is a huge club in your little bottom. It’s possible to use butter to lube them if you want them smaller, but what’s the fun in that?” She pushed and wiggled the heavy plug, but I was already squeezing as tight as I could.
“I love him in my pussy at full size,” she continued, “but only because he knows how deep I can handle him, and he never pushes too far. He won’t have to worry about depth in your little bottom, will he, Little One?”
“He won’t, my Queen.”
My bottom has been trained to take even the largest cocks, but after squeezing to hold the plug for so long, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to relax and allow him in. Plus, August was bigger than my trainers had assumed I’d have to handle. I wasn’t sure I could handle him in my bottom, even if I hadn’t been holding a heavy plug.
It didn’t matter though. Her Highness said it would happen, so it would. My job was to conform to her wishes.
“First, though, a little test. I’ve had the longest cocks in the castle come in to throat fuck you, and you’ve never gagged even once. August’s girth will transform into length in your throat.” She squatted in front of me and I met her gaze. “He’ll probably make it all the way into your stomach, though he’ll only be able to fuck your throat in short bursts so you can breathe every once in a while. Do you think you can keep from gagging and retching, Little One?”
“I don’t know, my Queen. I’ll try my best.”
She cupped my cheek in her palm, and my heart melted all over again.
“You won’t fail if you can’t. I’m just curious.”
August’s cock was still mostly soft when he stuck it in my mouth, but it grew quickly, and before long I had to relax my throat around him.
It seemed every time he pulled out and pushed back in, he went farther in. And farther. And farther. He went slow, at first, and I was okay, though I could feel him well past my throat and in my chest. Or, whatever the tube is that extends past the throat.
Still, I didn’t gag until perhaps ten minutes in, when he’d pulled out to let me breathe, and then pushed in fast and hard, and fucked me with long, punishing strokes.
His groan told me he liked the way it felt when I gagged on him, and Her Majesty stepped to us and kissed him while he fucked my face.
He didn’t stay in my throat too much longer, perhaps another two minutes, though I was once again seeing spots when he lifted me and carried me to Her Majesty’s bed — the spreader bar still between my ankles, and my arms still in the single sleeve behind my back.
My hips were placed on a wedge, and Her Majesty stretched out beside me, her arms around me.
“It’s going to hurt terribly, Little One. Watch him put the lube on.”
His cock went from being a snake-like appendage to being the huge, thick club Her Majesty had spoken of.
“Are you terribly scared?”
Pleasure slaves aren’t supposed to show emotions, but Her Majesty demanded I tell her how I was feeling, and I dare not deny her anything. “I am, my Queen, but I’m thankful I can suffer for you.”
She caressed my cheek, kissed my forehead, and held me to her bosom. “Such a treasure.”
August tied my ankles off to the side of the bed and removed the spreader bar.
“Okay, Mab. I’m ready. You’ll tell me if I should stop?”
“Yes, hard and fast as you can, and don’t you dare back off unless I order it.”
August removed the plug and stuck the head of his cock in fast, before my bottom-hole closed. I heard him take a breath and felt him grab the wedge for leverage, and he shoved as much of himself in me as he could. I’d meant to try to keep from screaming, but my shrieks and squeals once again filled Her Majesty’s bedroom.
The burn, the stretch, the friction before I had time to get used to it — I couldn’t help my screams, nor could I keep from begging for mercy, though it never came.
“It hurts, Your Majesty! Please make it stop! I beg of you!”
“Oh, my darling Little One, I know it must hurt terribly,” she’d say while she held me and caressed my face, stroked my hair. “You’re such a strong little thing. It’s okay to scream and cry. Let it out, Little One.”
The next several hours were both heaven and hell, with August hammering my poor little bottom while my Queen held me and comforted me, wiped my tears, and ordered me to come when it pleased her to see me come unglued.
I can’t explain the dichotomy between being hurt because Her Majesty ordered it, and yet feeling so comforted by her soothing voice and soft touch. When I grew so tired my screams were weak and my tears pathetic, she reached to massage my clit, and ordered me to orgasm yet again. I’m certain she put some magic into my final orgasm of the night, because I felt it in every cell of my body. It was both bliss and torture, and my screams onc
e again reverberated through the room.
When Her Majesty finally told him I’d had enough, August attached my ankle cuffs to bolts on the wall — my feet spread wide, my wrists attached to thigh cuffs, and a metal bar in front of the base of my rib cage, so I couldn’t fall forward. I had to support my weight, though thankfully I could lean against the wall.
“She dropped the plug four times, so she gets pepper oil in four places. You can decide where,” Her Majesty told August.
He held his hand out, and a bottle of red tinted oil appeared.
He disconnected my right ankle from the wall, lifted it into the air, and hooked it the outside of the bar in front of my rib cage. No one had to explain he was giving himself access to my groin.
Sure enough, before long I had a butt plug and huge dildo inside me, both lubed with the fiery hot pepper oil. Next, he soaked a small piece of cotton, and wedged it between my clit hood and clit. I was bawling my eyes out by then, but I didn’t beg for relief. I’d known there would be consequences.
Finally, he rubbed the oil all over my right breast and nipple, and put my foot back on the floor.
I stood in agonizing pain and watched while my Queen rode August’s huge cock, and then watched in surprise when they moved so she was on her back and August between her legs, above her. I’d never seen her allow anyone to fuck her in this position before, but from the sounds of her orgasm, it worked for her when August did.
He left when they finished, and Her Majesty went to sleep while I stood against the wall and suffered.
MAB
My queendom is full of poets and storytellers, but I think Devin might be my favorite. I’ve never offered him an exclusive position in my castle, but only because I’ve learned in the past — poets need to travel and experience the world on their own, lest their work become stale.
I invited him into my bedroom three of the five nights he stayed with me, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching him work my little one over. He spanked her, belted her, fucked her in every available hole, and then did it all again. The first night, I ordered her to pleasure me with her mouth most of the night, but on the next night, I donned a strap-on and we double-teamed her, or I whipped her tits while he fucked her ass from below.... or her ass while he fucked her throat.
He wrote seven poems about her, all of which I kept private and shared with no one. Devin has an uncanny knack for seeing more emotions than I’m comfortable sharing.
I provided pony-girls for him to play with the next two nights, in the suite I provided for him. However, I brought a pony-boy into my suite along with Devin on the final night, and I played exclusively with the pony, while Devin had fun with my little one.
And at the end of it all, Devin submitted to the pony-boy when I told him to, and got his gorgeous poet-ass fucked. Anyone who comes into my suite knows it’s a possibility, and just because I’d never required it of Devin before, didn’t mean he got a pass forever.
He took it like a man, so I ordered the pony-boy to use his mouth on Devin when it was over, since the talented poet had gone soft while he was fucked. When he was hard again, I climbed up him, mounted myself on him, and then thoroughly enjoyed myself while Devin fucked me against the wall.
My little one connected the pony-boy’s hands behind his back and leashed him to the hitching post while I was busy with Devin, and was on her knees when we finished, waiting beautifully on her special little rug.
“Good girl,” I told her, once I’d seen Devin dressed and out the door. “Did you help him get hard again, or did he manage on his own?”
“I helped him, Your Majesty. I know how ugly you think soft cocks are, and I didn’t want you to have to see one.” She glanced at him and looked back to me. “I didn’t help him keep it, though.”
“You’re doing a good job of seeing what needs to be done and handling it. I’m impressed, and you deserve a reward.” I teleported a statue with an impressive cock into the room, but this one would hold and support her so she could sleep.
“Climb on with your front to the statue and his cock in your cunt. It’ll wake you sporadically during the night, and will move and vibrate until you orgasm, but you’ll get more sleep than you usually do, and the night won’t be full of pain.”
I saw to it the statue’s arms were around her so she wouldn’t be able to get off him, and added, “No noises while you’re coming, Little One. Don’t wake me.”
Chapter Seven
Little One
Over the following weeks, I spent most nights bound and on display in my Queen’s bedroom, positioned aesthetically and practically at the same time — so she could admire my beauty, but could also beat me, fuck me with a strap-on, make use of my mouth, or anything else she desired. Some nights I was on display while she played with others, but most nights she found pleasure in my body along with theirs.
Often, she shared me with men and women she brought to her chambers. Occasionally, she brought other slaves in, especially pony slaves, so she could watch them fuck me.
Other than the occasional reward night where I was allowed to nap between rounds of pleasure, I rarely slept when in the Queen’s bedroom at night. I was an object of art, bound into unnatural positions for her pleasure, and my comfort wasn’t taken into account. One night, I was hung from the ceiling with straps supporting my feet, calves, and thighs as I floated mid-air in the splits, my right leg in front of me, my left behind me, and my spine arched so far back I stared at the ceiling. I wore a huge butt plug in my bottom, but my cunt was empty and hungry throughout the long, long night.
The night before, I’d been bound standing spread-eagled between the columns of her bed, my rear entrance and cunny plugged until they were painfully stretched, and an irritating cream on my nipples and areola so they’d stay pointy and red.
I loved my mornings with her, when she massaged my arms and legs, and let me stay while she ate breakfast, and gave me little bites of food from her plate.
When my Queen’s schedule permitted it, I took my morning nap on a floor-cushion beside her desk, and Her Majesty loved to awaken me with her fingers in my cunny or bottom.
I’d been outfitted with a waist cincher during my second week, and it was only taken off for baths — not even when I slept. I was aware there were many of them, but I had no idea how many, only that there were different colors, though they all seemed to be made of the same pattern. They weren’t terribly tight, but I felt more naked with them on than I had without them, which I suppose was probably the point.
At first, I’d rarely seen Her Majesty throughout the day, but she’d gradually added me into her schedule so I was bound nearby. It let me get to know her, and I had a better feel for what she needed from me at night, after being allowed to observe pieces of her day.
Today, she’d wanted me on display while she ate lunch in the garden with friends, and I’d been awakened and mounted to one of the male nude statues — his stone cock in my cunny, my arms bound up and out, so her brand on my inner forearm showed clearly. This afternoon, I’d slept on a cushion beside her desk, magicked so I couldn’t hear the conversations she had with the men and women who had business with her.
I taught yoga classes three days a week, I ran a three-mile track through the woods with the ponies three days a week, I helped the gardeners move boxes of food twice a week to build my muscles, and I was allowed time to stretch every day. I wasn’t required to race anymore, thank goodness. If I’d been assigned to the ponies I’d have made the best of it, but I was so much happier as Her Majesty’s personal pleasure slave.
Since my third day at the palace, I’d been forbidden from having an orgasm unless the Queen ordered me to come. I was constantly horny, and always grateful to my beautiful Queen for making use of me.
The pleasure parlor had been a business, and everything we did was about pleasing the customer. I’d been magically healed if there wasn’t time for me to heal the old fashioned way between appointments, but there’d been no affection —
it was someone’s job, and I was just another box to check off. Still, I was one of their most popular slaves despite the fact they charged the most to rent me, so I was treated as if I mattered by the management, at least.
I’d eventually learned my most recent owner had asked for their most expensive slave, and had never bothered to ask why I was so expensive. I’d pleased him during the days I was with him, he became enamored of me, and bought me outright — only to discover I wasn’t the same slave once he got me home. I could fake orgasms for a short time, but I needed pain, and he never quite understood. It might be true that the slave is supposed to conform to the owner, but I wasn’t capable of conforming to him. We were a mismatch.
After living in a household where I wasn’t valued or understood, my days and nights in the Queen’s castle were the most beautiful agony I’d ever experienced. Some nights, it pleased her to watch me come apart with release after release, other nights it pleased her to frustrate me. No matter which she chose, I never complained. I belonged to her. I was there to please her.
The cook had spent at least an hour with me on my second day, finding out what my favorite foods were and what I disliked. It’d been a difficult conversation, and she’d finally just handed me food to eat and watched my expressions.
If at any time I was hungry and the Queen wasn’t using me, or I hadn’t been instructed to remain quiet, I only needed to let one of the ever-present guards know, and snacks nearly always arrived within minutes. Other than the slave trainers, no one was allowed to touch me or use me except Her Majesty, so I always had guards to be sure I stayed safe. Even the various grooms in charge of my nails, hair, enemas, and baths had strict instructions about how I was to be handled.
This didn’t mean the guards didn’t use me, because the Queen was quick to offer me as a reward for a job well done, but it meant they didn’t just order me to bend over and take them anytime they wanted.
Slave Page 6