The Captive (18 page)

“Bring the stool,” ordered Megan. The tremor in the woman’s voice was ill-disguised. It told of sexual ardour and urgent need.

The glorious body which was the subject of this treatment trembled from head to foot. Zacora’s need was almost unbearable. Always before she could meditate to close off pleasure and pain, but in this place every sensation seemed to be stronger.

The stool was placed in front of her. It was wide and quite high. The seat, if such it was, was fashioned from thick, hard leather.

“Bend over it,” said Paige softly. Her breathing was rapid, Zacora noticed, harsh and laboured. Obediently, she did so.

The device was far more comfortable than merely bending over and clutching one’s ankles. Her full breasts were free, peeping over the hard leather. It seemed only natural, as she rested on the leather, to part her legs to their fullest extent. The stool seemed to urge her to that position.

“Good girl!” praised Paige. “I wish all my pupils were so willing. Some of them are downright rebellious and some of them haven’t a clue. But you, you are gorgeous, and I am about to reward you.”

Breath, warm and needful, whispered over Zacora’s offered flesh. Paige was blowing into the moist silver fronds, parting them gently with soft puffs. The sensation was delicately sensual and the girl performed appropriately, lifting the wet folds to increase their availability.

Knowing that her bud was Paige’s goal, she concentrated upon that swollen knot. She had reached a point at which sexual satisfaction was the centre of her being. Nothing else mattered: not her humiliation, not her degradation, not being used like an object for the pleasure of others. She focused all her thoughts on her bud. Her sapphire blue eyes closed as she pictured Paige’s object of desire in its inflamed bed of moist skin. She could see it, in her mind. She could see it growing, swelling, arching towards the questing scarlet lips through which darted an eager wet tongue.

“Yes, my darling,” Paige sighed, “offer it to me nicely. Oh, oh, how it grows for me. How hot. You must do this for the Prince, my lovely.”

At last Zacora felt Paige’s lips around her clitoris. They sucked on it gently, caressing the little shaft. She felt an expert tongue press on the exposed tip and she felt that she would explode at the intent, but then the pressure was released and the gentle sucking of the shaft resumed. This alternate teasing and pleasuring continued until Zacora thought she would scream, but she refused to succumb. The only sign of her need was further opening of her legs and the faintest wiggle of her flushed bottom.

“Yes, I know,” murmured Paige wetly, “you need release and I shall give it to you.”

A leather-clad finger probed into the creamy depths of Zacora’s folds. It stayed there, still and unmoving, until once more the girl could bear the delicious torture no longer. At last the soaking digit was withdrawn.

“Excellent!” praised Paige. “You have absolutely soaked it.”

Zacora’s body was flushed and heavy with sexual longing and she posed her nether parts, hoping that her torture would end. She felt her breasts swelling over the edge of the stool, the nipples burning and hard as stones, painful in their erection.

“Hold the buttock cheeks taut,” ordered Paige of Bella. “Keep them fully open.”

Bella was less than gentle in carrying out her mistress’s bidding and Zacora felt true pain as the maid tugged at each fiery cheek. Warm wetness stroked around the victim’s rear mouth. The entrance was thoroughly wetted before Paige was satisfied. The sap soaked finger was gently inserted and Zacora whispered a tiny sigh. At the same time Paige replaced her lips on the twitching bud amid the silver folds.

Almost immediately Zacora soared to new peaks, held there by Paige’s undoubted expertise. The soaked finger drove in and out of the tight and clutching orifice. She felt degraded by this humiliating intrusion and her face burned with embarrassment, but this was as nought under the shadow of the ecstasy of her orgasm. She felt her liquid seeping from the silky folds, to gather on Paige’s sucking lips. She felt her bud press deeper into the woman’s mouth. She could feel its heat and the beautiful radiating sensation issuing to every part of her body.

Collapsing over the stool, Zacora was spent; taken to pleasure and beyond.

“I want you to pleasure me now,” she heard with horror. From her commanded position on the stool she lifted her shimmering head to timorously glimpse round at her tormentors.

Paige, her scarlet lips shining with juices, had opened her black bush to reveal the dark tinted moistness beneath. A brown clitoris, with a red and glowing tip, jutted out, obviously very ready for stimulation. Zacora lowered her lovely head, shaking it vigorously in denial.

“You dare to disobey?” Paige’s voice held threats of punishment too terrible to dream. The woman was on her feet, statuesque in the tightly boned corset, and her booted feet held wide apart ready for Zacora. The full breasts were swollen, the nipples glowing with heat. The gold rings twitched in the rigid flesh as Paige approached Zacora for the implied reward.

“Pull her to her feet, Bella,” she commanded. “Place her mouth carefully. If she refuses to kiss my bud, use the whip.”

“Of course, mistress,” replied Bella, only too glad to oblige.

Satiated, Zacora was put to her task, but it wasn’t through any sense of modesty or distaste that she had first refused to caress the dark beauty of Paige’s sex.

The girl, kneeling, her lips parted and her sapphire eyes pleading, looked up at the older women. Her beautiful features begged that she should not be forced to close the satiny mouth around Paige’s bud. She could smell the woman’s heady musk; could see the swollen darkness of her folds; could see the urgent jerking redness of the clitoris.

It was beautiful, but Zacora must resist. She was determined to save the sexual energy which she might have to give for the man of her dreams. A man who could give her everything she wanted from life.

Zacora’s pleading eyes travelled up the length of the leather clad legs. Silently, she begged that Paige should not compel her to caress the dark folds or suck the proud erection of her sex bud. How could she convey to her how much it meant to her to retain her sexual energy for the right man?

“What are you waiting for?” snapped Paige impatiently.

Bella stepped forward, eager to take up where she had left off.

The shimmering mane of silver hair shook vigorously from side to side as Zacora tried to communicate how important it was that she should not pleasure Paige.

“Oh, really!” hissed the induction mistress, seeing that her reluctance was serious. “You can take this prim and proper business too far, you know.” Paige beckoned to Bella to hold the silver head and press it to her dark and parted nest.

No sooner was a hand placed in the thick depths of the gleaming hair than Zacora directed her beautiful eyes to Bella. She shrugged towards her, pointing at the several stranded whip, almost begging for it to be used on her crouching body. Her plaintive eyes then switched to Paige’s black corsetted figure, so stately and strong.

“I do believe she wishes me to discipline her,” smiled Paige. “What a strange girl she is!” The dark threatening beauty of the preparation mistress became more menacing. “You understand, my dear, that my thrashing will be beyond anything you have experienced?”

Zacora closed her lovely eyes, breathing deeply, smelling Paige’s heavy musk as she crouched at the booted feet and nodded her acquiescence.

She heard the induction mistress groan pleasurably as she took the soft stranded whip from her maid. Zacora watched as Paige parted the darkness of her sex with her free hand, displaying the scarlet tipped clitoris.

The girl could see the slickness of the dark folds and the combined picture of Paige’s sex and the anticipation of the lash brought startling stimulation to Zacora’s whole body.

“Her needs are opening me up,” breathed Paige huskily. “She does it much more daintily than you, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Yes, mistress,” Bella rasped. She hated the way this witch was currying favour with her owner.

The captive lightly glanced at Paige’s entrance, checking for the musky lubrication and the flexibility of the cushiony flesh.

Zacora’s own flesh felt much the same. A lash, she thought, would be sufficient to bring her once more to orgasm.

“Don’t they look lovely? Hers and mine?” whispered Paige. “One so dark and the other so pink and blonde?”

The lash snapped across the stone floor, touching nothing. What would it be like to caress a woman, thought Zacora? A picture formed in her mind, a picture of Paige bearing down on Zacora’s own tantalising fingers. In the deeper recesses of her mind, the captive could see her own long tongue, pink and fleshy-looking, as it snaked through her wide, full lips. In Zacora’s mind Paige watched it hungrily. What was more, the girl, in imagination, felt the darkly curled sex purse press forward and, suddenly, the tongue entered the spread heaven, probing into the moist leaves and delving into the cushiony passage.

The two women merged in mind and body.

“Is she really touching me?” breathed Paige, disbelief in her voice. “It feels like a sex sword. It’s thick and long. Oh, it’s so lovely and so strange. Wonderful.” The words came out hesitantly, as though the woman was in the throes of a climax.

The captive girl allowed her tongue and her mind to relax and slip softly out of the deep, pulsing pit. She transferred her attentions to the jerking hard reality of Paige’s bud.

Soon a groan, long and loud, escaped from her. “I’ve never felt anything so wonderful,” Paige told Bella. “What is she doing which causes such thrills?” Again the voice was hesitant, breathless.

“Nothing that I can see, mistress,” said Bella, frowning. “But your clitoris hood is bared at the tip and it waves from side to side as though lightly brushed with a tongue across the scarlet flesh - just as I would do, should I be allowed.”

Another groan, louder this time, filled the induction chamber. “You’ll have to stop,” pleaded Paige. “It’s too wonderful - too beautiful - too much.” She was swaying weakly, fingering the inflamed and erect nipples of her exposed breasts. Her eyes were lifted, rolling in their sockets as she bore down on the imagined magic of Zacora’s tongue

Paige’s sex bud was greatly enlarged and the girl began to physically caress it with lips as soft as swansdown, while her tongue lapped the engorged tip.

Heat diffused from the lapping tongue, seeping into the cossetted flesh. The wonder of the sensations she was causing were reflected back to Zacora and she smiled to herself. She knew that Paige could not take much more. It would be very soon.

Sex sap, warm and creamy, dripped steadily into Zacora’s throat and she could hear Paige’s breathing, quick and harsh. She played her long tongue around the base of the clitoris stem, feeling it throb and jerk. Next she pressed further to ease back the tiny hood and finally, she poised for a final touch of the tip.

Paige gave a great roar of pleasure and she fell to the floor, her black-booted legs folded under her body so that her ebony nest was thrust high. “Beautiful,” she repeated over and over again. “Beautiful.”

Concerned, Bella knelt by her mistress, her hands fluttering at her chastity bar as if to infiltrate the barrier. “Mistress Paige,” she said softly, “are you well?”

Zacora, her face gleaming with silvery juices from the induction mistress’s sex purse, knelt with her head bowed. Her body glowed with the sweat of exertion. Her mind, too, was weary. She felt a hand grip a handful of silver tresses to lift her head back. That done she felt a sharp slap across her bare breasts; first one tender mound and then the other.

“What have you done to my mistress?” hissed Bella angrily into Zacora’s pale face.

The captive shrugged, raising her hands in pretend innocence. She pointed to the feet manacles, indicating that she wanted release.

“If I release you, will you tell me?”

Zacora nodded eagerly.

Paige held her pouting sex, cupping it lovingly as she murmured her litany of “Beautiful.” She was a sensual sight. Her naked breasts were swollen and her voluptuous figure was tightly encased in the black corset. Any man entering the induction room would wish to spear her with his sex sword, but Zacora’s mind games caused a madness which would repel potential marauders.

The bandaged feet free at last, Zacora sped for the heavy oak door. Bella was close behind her, grabbing the willowy girl by her most tender parts, but Zacora, lithe and supple, slipped out of the clumsy grasp as if she had been lubricated with butter.

“You won’t get away with this!” she heard as she leapt like a gazelle down the long passage. Even with tender, torn feet Zacora had the easy stride of an athlete.

“Ah, Bernlada,” greeted the Prince cordially.

Elegant in bright yellow satin robes, His Highness lounged on his opulent padded throne. “We’ve been expecting you these many minutes past.” His voice was deep and cultured and his finely sculpted face smiled at the dark little woman who served him so well.

Still cupping her naked sex purse Bernlada managed a deep curtsy which displayed her dark folds prettily. “My apologies, Highness. I had reason to escort Callan to the punishment mistress and this delayed me.”

The beautifully drawn dark eyebrows arched in surprise and the eyes widened. “Callan brought to Freya? Why so?”

Warm spume oozed through Bernlada’s fingers. “Please, your Highness, may I relay the report to you later. I am losing Callan’s issue which is so important to your treatment.” Added to which, she thought, I don’t want to incur your wrath.

Bernlada loved the throne room. How she would have adored to bear the Prince’s child. What a good Queen she would have surely made.

The floor was strewn with satin cushions in hues as brilliant as a strutting peacock. The walls were hung with silken embroideries depicting couples entwined in every position of the act of copulation. Horned satyrs took nymphs in woodland glades, expressions of outright lust suffusing their animal-like features. The nymphs, beautiful and delicate, took all intrusions in ecstatic eagerness. Imps climbed oiled phalluses of gigantic proportions and prepared to thrust these magnificent organs into cavernous fleshy gateways. More imps caressed sperm sacs at the bases of the trunk-like genitals, as if urging them to produce oceans of semen.