Enamored: The Submissive Mistress (Special Double-Length Episode) (The Erotic Adventures of Jane in the Jungle) (13 page)

His words penetrated her lust-fogged mind, and, suddenly nervous, Jane began to move faster and more purposefully over his cock. He was thick and hot and tasty, but the lovely sensation building inside her would not be denied. The man fucking her from behind held on more firmly and his rhythm became more frenzied. He was getting close…but Darkdale had to go first.

She closed her mouth tighter, sucked as hard as she could over his velvety, round head, and pumped faster and faster. Her fingers gripped tight around his cock until she used her saliva to help slip one up inside his arse. Darkdale arched and shuddered when she fingered him, and to her surprise and delight he immediately erupted in her mouth, shooting his thick wad into the back of her throat.

Relieved and delighted, Jane reached for her own release, crying out around the massive cock in her mouth. She arched and trembled as the other cock plunged in and out of her swollen, wet quim and the man behind her gave his own cry of release.

When the man withdrew from her, Jane sagged against Darkdale. Her head rested in his lap as she panted softly, waiting for her body to settle. He stroked her hair as his softening cock lay next to her cheek, glistening from her saliva…but she was given no further opportunity to rest.

“Get up,” her master said, and made a sharp gesture behind her. “Ride him.”

Jane staggered to her feet and turned to the man opposite Darkdale, who’d unleashed his own purple-red erection. He lay sprawled in his chair, a glass of whiskey in hand, completely dressed except for his raging cock. His eyes were dark and they glittered with the familiar light of lust as they swept over her. He made no move to assist as she climbed onto his lap, awkward due to her weak legs and sore arms.

She was so slick and wet it was nothing to impale herself upon him. Despite the pleasure she’d already received, Jane felt that familiar rush of lust as she slid down on his ready penis. Her legs trembled as she began to rise up and down over him, braced by placed her hands on the arms of his chair.

Jane had pumped only two or three times when the fourth man came up behind her. He covered her breasts with his hands, sliding his hot, firm cock down her arse crack. She shivered as he skimmed his palms over her sore nipples, and then gave a soft, shocked gasp when he slid a finger inside her.

Holding her with an arm across her chest, pinching and fondling the opposite breast, he fucked her slowly in the arse with his finger as she struggled to keep her own rhythm steady and sure over the third man’s cock.

“Faster,” cried the man she rode, and Jane tried to make her legs move, but she was clumsy with weakness and she could hardly ignore the hot, dark sensations rising in her own body. She panted and struggled, half sobbing with frustration and exhaustion.

Suddenly the man beneath her grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. She flew forward, her hands landing on his chest as he jammed his tongue deep in her mouth, devouring her lips. His cock shifted forward, somehow still buried deep inside her, and then Jane felt something else at her exposed arse—something thick and hot and hard.

Her shocked cry was muffled by lips and tongue, and she froze as the hard cock probed her from behind.

“Fuck me,” growled the man against her mouth. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Jane tried to obey, but the other cock—slick and wet with her juices or some other lubricant—was pushing its way inside her and she could hardly move in the necessary direction. Then all at once, she was filled from both ends, her mouth covered by a rough, biting one.

Half sprawled in his lap, her breasts crushed into the palms of the man fucking her from behind, Jane no longer had control of her own movements. Instead, she could only feel…the sensation of being very full, of very intense, dark pleasure building in an unfamiliar way. She struggled to keep moving her hips, to breathe, to cease from falling into a vortex of hot, red lust.

Hands and mouths were everywhere…she was filled, probed, pinched, pumped, faster and faster and harder until finally her world exploded; a cock rammed the back of her throat, another buried itself deep inside her tiny hole, and she felt the waves of dark, hot pleasure convulsing over her…on and on and on.

When she finally came back to herself, Jane was on the floor, weak, breathless, sore, and damp everywhere. Her lips pounded, her nipples throbbed, her clit and quim pulsed and raged from the intensity of the last hours.

She was dimly aware of conversation going on around her—something about poker—and that all of the men had returned to their chairs, still fully clothed.

“On your hands and knees, Jane,” said Darkdale. “We are in need of a table.”

She obeyed quickly for fear of what would happen if she didn’t. After she drew herself up onto her hands and knees facing Darkdale, the man behind her stood and wedged his foot between her knees, kicking them apart.

“Much better,” he muttered, sliding a finger down over her red and swollen clit. It was all she could do to keep from moaning or pulsing around him. “Excellent view, Kellan.”

“Of course,” her master replied. “Jane, I need not tell you what will happen if you disrupt our game or otherwise confuse our cards or bids.”

She bowed her head in acceptance, privately wondering how long she would be able to hold herself up on her shaky arms. At least this was a reprieve from being teased and probed and fucked.

The cards were dealt, the bets distributed onto her back, and Jane had nothing to do but hold herself still as the hand was played. The chill metal of coins and the tickle of bills brushed her skin as they bid and drew and discarded.

She was nearly as relaxed as she’d ever been in Darkdale’s home, head bowed, shoulders at ease, hair sagging to the floor, when the hand ended.

“Excellent bluff, there, Bruce,” said her master. “You won. Take your winnings.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

The rest of the men chuckled softly and Jane saw one of them rise to his feet. But instead of scooping the coins and bills from off her, he came around to the rear. She stiffened, but she already knew what was to occur, and when he knelt and grasped her by the hips, she was ready.

“For every coin or bill that falls to the floor,” he said as he positioned his cock at her wet and ready opening, “you will receive one lash from the whip.”

Jane froze and gave a soft whimper as he slid inside her. Any pleasure she might have felt was eclipsed by fear as the coins shifted and slid on her back. She felt them moving, clinking together and jouncing as he withdrew and then thrust himself inside her again.

She bit her lip and fought with every ounce of strength to remain utterly still; to keep even the slightest bit of rocking from her hips, knees, and shoulders…but it was impossible to remain still, and impossible not to feel desire rising in her once again, to want to move to take him in deeper.

He pumped and slammed, taking no care to be gentle, and despite her apprehension, Jane couldn’t keep her well-trained body from responding to the familiar, delicious friction against her overripe clit. A haze of pleasure settled over her even as she was horribly aware of the threatening movement of his winnings in the dip of her spine and on the angular slide of her shoulder blades.

Jane was lost in the fog of pleasure when one coin slipped off and bounced to the floor, jolting her back to the moment and the punishment that now seemed inevitable. Someone made a soft sound of satisfaction, but she dared not look up to see whom. Instead, she bit her lip and fought desperately to remain rigid and unmoving, but he was going faster and faster, and she could hardly keep her hips from moving to meet his.

Another coin slipped over, and then another, and a pair of bills fluttered to the ground, and Jane couldn’t hold back the sobs of fear mixed with pleasure as more of the winnings cascaded down over her shoulders, hips, and even over the back of her arse.

He finished with one last, sharp thrust and Jane couldn’t help but meet his orgasm with her own—there was no sense in denying herself any longer, for she was already about to be well punished. Not one coin or bill remained on her skin, and she trembled with fear and apprehension as the last vestiges of pleasure left her.

“Well, now. That didn’t go well, did it, my dear?” said Bruce with great satisfaction in his tones. “You must learn to obey if you’re to please your master.”

He pulled Jane to her feet, and she looked at Darkdale, pleading mutely for him to intervene. But her master merely looked at her over the rim of his glass as he sipped, then turned to speak with the companion on his left.

Jane stifled a sob of desperation when Bruce brought her to a wall in the chamber. It was terrifying in its stark, blank whiteness. There was nothing on the entire wall, nor in front of it, except for a set of manacles that hung down from near the top.

She thought about kicking and screaming, but knew that would only bring her more punishments. Instead, she forced herself to move as directed and do as she was told as her wrists were spread wide and fastened to the wall just above the height of her shoulders. She rested her cheek against the wall, waiting for the torture to begin.

Bruce opened a cabinet and she stiffened when she saw the array of whips and crops within, and when his hand hovered over the thickest, most wicked-looking one of all, she nearly began to cry. Its handle was thick as three fingers, and even from her awkward position, she could see that the tip was a cat-o’-nine-tails, with a variety of tiny knobs that formed an octopus-like end.

But to her intense relief, he selected a much less frightening-looking whip. When he brought it from the cabinet, he cracked it sharply in the air and she felt the breeze, wincing at the snap sound. Jane braced herself, wondering how many coins and bills he’d won in the game, wondering if she’d even be conscious at the end of this torture.

For one wild moment, she almost begged, cried for Darkdale and for mercy—but she knew that was what they wanted, and it would only be an excuse for her to be punished again.

And that was when she realized she didn’t have to stay here.

She could leave. Escape. And find some other way to save Papa…somehow. Now that she was back in London, she could—

Crack!

Jane muffled a shriek as the slender leather snake bit into the soft, fleshy part of her arse. Her reaction was more from surprise than pain, for though it stung, the lash hadn’t cut deeply.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

She jolted and winced with each new lash, her fingers curling into her palms as she was bounced against the wall. The stinging continued, on and on until she was no longer able to control her sobs.

Then, to her surprise, it stopped. She heard him put the whip down, and when he came up behind her, she relaxed, expecting him to release her from the manacles.

But instead, he spread her arse cheeks and shoved himself inside her wet and ready quim. Jane gasped, and suddenly, she was undulating with pleasure as he pumped and thrust against her rosy red cheeks, pushing her against the wall as he fucked her.

He gave a groan of completion before she reached hers, and withdrew then stepped away. She’d hardly recovered from the surprise when
crack!

This time, Jane screamed; the sensation was so unexpected, she was taken by surprise. He whipped her again and again, the strokes coming faster and harder, and her buttocks were stinging and hot.

But this time, she was writhing against the wall, for what Bruce had started by fucking her was only exacerbated by the lashing she was receiving. Somehow, she became more and more aroused as he continued to whip her. She gasped and begged now, begging not for him to stop, but for anything…anything to relieve the tension and growing pleasure.

This time when he put the whip aside, Jane was ready…but it was Darkdale who came up behind her. “There, there, my love,” he whispered into her ear as he filled her. He pushed her against the wall, reaching around to touch her hard, shiny clit as he stroked long and slow inside her. “It will soon be over, my darling Jane. And you will be much better for it.”

He gave a grunt and came inside her just as her own body exploded—this time, in a shocking blast of hard, rippling heat. She sagged against the wall, still undulating with the pleasure when the whipping began again.

And so it went until all four of them had taken their turn with her, fucking her in between the whippings until she no longer could differentiate between pleasure and pain.

When they were finished, and she was released, she fell to the floor. There was no blood, surprisingly, for Bruce had wielded the whip with such expertise that her arse cheeks had merely become hot and swollen and red…but he did not cut her skin.

“Of course not,” he replied when Darkdale commented on that. “I couldn’t bear to see such beauty marred. Now…shall we play another hand?”

— XI—

Jane awoke the next
morning in Darkdale’s bed.

She hardly remembered coming here—perhaps he had carried her there once the card party ended. She was naked, of course, and even her stockings and gloves had been removed during the course of the evening.