by JJ Argus
But.. the heat in her body was rising at the mere thought of doing it, of being naked, pretending she was a prisoner, and the heat was making her certainty waver. What were the odds he'd come down just then? But no, not going to happen, she told herself firmly. The clothes are staying on!
She examined the shackles again, and felt a sense of breathlessness as she slipped her wrist into one. She closed it, letting the little metal tongues slip into the opening so it was locked firmly around her left wrist. Then she turned the old key in the stiff lock to lock it. Her breasts were hot now, her chest tight, as she turned and pressed herself against the wall, laying her head back.
She had trouble balancing the flash and the key, and so turned around again, unlocked the shackle, and then set her flash down before returning. The key didn't really need to be held she realized, for the lock was stiff and it stayed in on its own. She locked the shackle around her left wrist again, then closed the other one and pressed her wrist against the wall to snap it together. She didn't try to lock it, however. That wasn't necessary to her fantasy.
She turned her back to the wall and felt her heart beating excitedly as she looked out at the bars, then the darkened room beyond. She wished she'd thought to close the door of the cell, but she'd not wanted to risk it somehow locking. Still, she pulled firmly against the shackles, wanting to bask in the sensation of ancient imprisonment.
It would have been so much more exciting had she been naked, though. She wondered if she dared come back in the middle of the night. There were surely no safety alarms down here to catch anyone's attention.
She ground her bottom against the rough stone, feeling her breathing become more ragged, and then decided she had had enough and had better get back upstairs before her absence was spotted. She turned around and tried to open the unlocked shackle around her right wrist, but the release was very stiff. Her thumb ached as she pressed against it, and she felt the first sparkle of anxiety. She cursed softly, pressing from one side, then the other, becoming more anxious as it failed to give.
She shook the chains violently, smashing the shackle against the wall, and the button gave, the shackle opening at the lever and her arm dropping out.
At the same time, the key dropped out of the other shackle.
She stared at it stupidly, one wrist free, the other still held aloft. It had fallen to the floor and bounced just off to the side. It was really quite close – just not close enough.
She closed her eyes in horror. How long, she wondered, until that slimy Lord Carling went to the library to taunt her, found the passage open, and came down here to find her locked up like this!?
Then she knew a worse fear. What if he went to the library, didn't see her, and went away, not going to the back to spot the open passage? Then she could be standing like this for hours! For hours and hours and hours!
How utterly stupid she was!
She tried to reach the key with her foot, but couldn't quite stretch that far. She glared at it furiously. Carling would mock her endlessly if he found her like this!
If she could only reach the key, she thought, it should be possible, given how thick it was, to grasp it in her toes, and then pull it up so she could grasp it with her free hand. Then she could unlock herself. But try as she would she couldn't quite reach it.
Then the idea came to her, that if she took off her long skirt, she could swing it out and drag the key back to where she could reach it with her foot. But she shied away from that in case Carling showed up.
An hour passed, then another, or at least, she thought that was how long had passed. It was rather hard to tell. Cursing, she undid her skirt, raising her right knee high and tugging the skirt down. She stepped out of it with one foot, then the other, then grasped it by the waistband, tried to sweep the key closer. Unfortunately, the skirt was not quite long enough, so she put it back on.
The blouse she was wearing was a light summer frock with spaghetti straps. Getting it off would be easy, except for the part over her left shoulder. She would have to tear the strap to free herself of it. After waiting what felt like another hour, she gave it a try. She tore the thin fabric and pulled off the blouse, then, trapping the fabric of the skirt between her bottom and the wall, she untied it. She then carefully, with just one hand, tied the strap of her blouse to the belt loop of her skirt.
When she was confident it would hold, she slipped the skirt off, heart thumping at how nearly naked she was – again! – and the danger of being found just then by Carling. She held the skirt by its hem and swept it down and in, so that her blouse caught at the key and pulled it closer. She tried a second time, and the key slid closer still. A third time brought it within reach of her foot, and she toed off her shoe, then tried to grip the key with her toes.
She started to raise it, but it fell and bounced away again. Cursing, she pulled the skirt off her shoulder, where she'd rested it, and slid her hand to the bottom again, then swung it overhand.
A sudden loud clanging sound made her cry out in alarm. She started, eyes wide, and the hem slipped from her sweating fingers.
Hannah closed her eyes and shuddered in horror. She gazed miserably at the clothing piled on the floor just beyond her reach, the key invisible underneath. She could hear some sort of machine sound now, perhaps the boiler or furnace, and no doubt that sound had been them starting up.
She put her head back against the stone and moaned helplessly.
Chapter Four
Hannah felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes. It was so bloody unfair! Why were these things always happening to her!? It wasn't her fault! She wasn't a pervert or a fool! Was she!?
Now she was doomed to be caught yet again, practically naked in a very compromising position!
She looked down at herself miserably. At least she was wearing matching undies. She was wearing actual panties, instead of the thongs she often wore, and a halter type bra which completely covered her breasts. They were a matching set, whitish and purple, and she had purple knee-high socks on beneath. The panties were rather low on her belly, with very thin straps sliding across her hips, but everything that needed to be covered was. What she was wearing would be a reasonably modest bathing suit, she tried to reassure her pounding heart.
What felt like another hour passed, and she groaned weakly. She gave some thought to removing her bra, somehow tying her shoe to a strap, then swinging it down to get her clothes back, but the way her luck was going she'd lose them, too and that would be even more humiliating when she was discovered.
She gloomily wondered if the secret passage door had swung closed again, leaving them with no idea where she was. Could she be down here for days!? The idea was appalling! She jerked furiously at the shackle around her wrist, but succeeded only in hurting herself.
What if she was never found!? Or what if it was weeks later!? Maybe they'd think she had run off after her recent confrontation with Carling, too embarrassed or angry to continue? What if her body was discovered weeks or months from now!?
The light began to dim, so slowly at first she hadn't even noticed, then abruptly, it went out.
She moaned softly, feeling her eyes well up with tears again, then gave up and started crying, miserable, hopeless, and furious at the situation. That didn't help, however. She wiped her face and groaned, her legs stiff, her shackled hand cold.
More time passed, she had no idea how much, and then she was shocked as light blinked on in the outer room. It was yellowish and warm, and she blinked her eyes rapidly against it, feeling a surge of terrible relief. She didn't care who saw her in her undies now.
“Hello!?” she cried.
She heard footsteps, and now blushed a little, closing her legs tightly and crossing her free arm across her chest. Lights she hadn't even known existed came on in the cell. They were small, candle shaped sconces up on the walls, and she shielded her eyes against them as a figure moved through the door.
“Quinn, I begin to despair for you,” Carling sighed.
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She flushed, both relieved and embarrassed.
“Whatever are you doing?”
“I... the... I was just... and the thing locked and... the key fell out and I couldn't... and I tried...”
“Did you actually lock yourself up there by accident?” he asked in amusement.
“I didn't bleeding do it on purpose!” she shouted.
He chuckled merrily.
“Unlock me!”
“I don't think you're in any position to be making rude demands, Miss Quinn,” he said loftily.
She flushed as he came closer and stood before her. He gripped her arm and examined the shackle around her wrist.
“The key is under my clothes,” she gulped.
He grinned, and looked down at her bra.
“Not under that!” she snapped. “On the floor!”
“Pity, searching in there would be considerably more interesting.”
“Just... unlock me... please,” she said, face flushed.
“However did you lock just one wrist up?”
“I... it's a long story.”
Her relief at him finding her vastly outweighed her irritation at him, and her embarrassment was tempered by the undeniable fact he'd already seen her in far less.”
“Hmm, so this is supposed to be up here, too. Is that how it works?” he asked slyly, taking her free wrist and lifting it up beside the first.”
“Yes,” she said nervously, feeling the start of a strange pressure in her groin.
“Like this?”
He slipped the other shackle around her right wrist.
“Hey! What... stop it! Carling!”
He grinned, releasing her wrist, which was once again bound by the shackle.
“You're not the least bit funny!” she snapped, a tightness in her chest.
“Oh but I do amuse myself, and really, that's all that's important?” he said with a grin, “So what were you doing down here? Snooping?”
“I wasn't...! I was … the door opened up in the library, by accident and I... I just...”
“Went snooping.”
She pulled angrily against the shackles “I wasn't snooping! I was just... exploring.”
“And the difference between snooping and exploring is what?”
She glowered sullenly at him. Let him have his fun. She would not reward it.
“As I am the lord of the manor, I suppose I should punish you for violating my privacy like this,” he said. “Perhaps spending the night down here might suffice.”
“You wouldn't dare!”
His hand reached out and brushed back her tangled bangs.
“Been crying?”
“I was not,” she said, jerking her head aside.
“You have no need to cry, my dear. No harm will befall you in my manor,” he said softly.
His finger traced down along her cheeks, and she felt a sudden light-headedness as it continued on under her jaw, and down along the nape of her neck, then across her shoulder and down.
“L-Lord Carling!” she gulped, as his finger traced the top of her bra.
“Yes, my naughty little prisoner?”
“I-I'm not your... your prisoner,” she gulped.
“No?” He grinned. “Want to be?”
“N-No!”
“Pity. We could have some fun.”
His finger slid down the middle of her bra, between her breasts, over the little purple bow, and then traced a zig zag line down her taut lower chest and belly, leaving a trail of fire behind.
“R-release me!” she gulped.
“That's not how an employee speaks to the lord and master, wench,” he said.
His finger circled her belly button, then descended across her abdomen to the top of her panties, and Hannah found herself speechless, a wild, dark storm of confusing thoughts and sensations swirling and churning within her her every sense focused desperately on the feel of that finger against her soft skin!
“I-I... you... you can't... you mustn't... t-touch me!”
“Why?”
She could think of no reason! She stared at him, gulping in air, heart pounding.
He grinned, and she gasped suddenly as his other hand slid through her hair, then jerked her head back tightly. He grinned, then his lips came down on hers. Hannah's eyes went wide, and she trembled for a long moment, shocked as his lips melded against her own, as his tongue began to slowly trace her lips, then explore just past them.
She moaned a protest as she felt her pulse racing, felt the dark thrum of heat and energy between her legs. A wild, scalding wave of excitement and hunger swept around her, and she felt herself physically tremble against him as his tongue reached hers and began to trace along it.
Then she jerked violently as his finger, the one which had been tracing the waistband of her panties, slipped underneath. It didn't go anywhere much, still gently moving from side to side along her abdomen, but now beneath the waistband. And, as she whimpered helplessly into his mouth, she felt it slide lower still.
His lips were moving moistly against her own, his tongue swirling and turning and twisting within her, slowly, as he pulled her head back even more sharply. She groaned helplessly, head and heart pounding, and then realized her tongue was moving against his. She moaned, falling into the kiss, her world narrowing to the joining of their lips as their tongues began to move together.
Then, another wild shock jolted her as his finger slid deeper, the knuckles passing the waistband of her panties. She felt all her attention focused on his fingertips as they got lower and lower. She felt a wild, dark yearning, a hunger she had never known, then the pad of his extended finger reach her clit, and her hips jerked and bucked against him in response. His finger slid across her clit, down along the neat, narrow line of her sex, and as it pressed in along its length she could feel that she was already wet.
His finger began to rub up and down, pressing down between the lips of her sex, along her pussy, rubbing lightly up and down, across her clit as she fought to breath against the force of his kiss.
He jerked her head to the side, and his lips came off hers, only to descend on the nape of her neck, his teeth biting into her as he sucked as his tongue stroked against her. Then he released her hair, his fingers sliding along her neck, undoing the clasp of her bra. The straps collapsed and she shuddered as her breasts were exposed.
Heat rolled over her like a wave! The heat of embarrassment at her exposed breasts, yes, but more than that, much more, the wild, dark thrilling heat as his eyes took in her naked flesh and she saw the excitement in him, the approval and appreciation and hunger! His lips descended, and she gurgled in wild pleasure as he sucked lightly on one of her already extremely stiff nipples, then bit at it so she yelped in pain. His hand was fully in the crotch of her panties now, two fingers rubbing against her as he against sucked and kissed at her nipple. Hannah lay her head back, gasping, chest heaving, the world whirling around her as the passion and pressure built up within her skull.
“Oh! Oh God! Oh please! Oh! Uhmmm!” she whimpered, head rolling back.
“Is that a yes?” he asked dryly. “I don't hear any protests any more.”
Protest? She should... protest, she thought, her mind whirling, except she didn't want him to stop!
He chuckled throatily, lips rising from her breast, and his hand came free of her panties. She blinked her eyes, drawing her head forward again as he undid her bra, then pulled it completely free of her.
She started to speak but his lips came down on hers again, then his hand plunged into the front of her panties, rubbing more insistently now. Her hips began to jerk, and her bottom ground against the wall. The wild storm of sensations built to an awful crescendo, and she cried out in pleasure as the orgasm burst over her. Her face was already flushed with heat, else she'd have blushed with shame as he chuckled in amusement. But that was a minor consideration as her body writhed and her hips ground helplessly forward against his fingers. Her nervous system was screaming with the inte
nsity of sensations tearing through her as his fingers stroked skillfully across her clit and along her sex.
She groaned as he drew back, her head falling back against the stone again as she gulped in ragged breaths of air. He smirked and backed away, then turned and pulled aside her clothes, bending to get the key.
He turned back to her, reaching up for her wrists, but then stuck the key into the wrong shackle.
She was about to tell him that it was the other one that was locked when she felt and heard the click of the lock, and a hot rush of wary, anxious excitement swept through her as she realized he'd locked the other one.
He grinned at her and tossed the key behind him.
“Wh-what are... are you … going to do?” she gulped.
“My Lord,” he said, staring down at her.
She flushed again. “I... what are you... are you going t-to do... my lord?”
His grin deepened. “Anything I want,” he purred.
He plunged his hand into her panties again, and then Hannah yelped in shock as he tore them off her. She squealed and closed her legs tight, but he only smirked and forced his hand between her thighs. Again he grasped her hair, jerking her head up and back, his lips crushing hers, and Hannah felt the shock-wave roll through her as his finger pushed up through the rapidly swelling lips of her sex.
She writhed against the shackles, against his hold, yet as his finger pushed deeper she felt the heat deepening and spreading out from her lower belly, felt it rolling up her spine with such power she arched her back involuntarily and cried out into his mouth.
She felt his finger twisting within her, felt it draw back, then push up again, doubled in thickness. Her breaths became ragged as his tongue forced hers into motion, as the wild heat enveloped her mind. The cool, rough stone against her soft bare back and buttocks was a wild contrast to the soft heat of his flesh on hers and the churning emotions and sensations within her.