Bride of the Revolution (27 page)

Banu grinned and prodded her with his toe. ‘The belly will shudder nicely under the strap. The breasts, too.'

‘Just the bottom,' said Peli firmly. He wanted this over. Wanted to take her and fuck her. Whether he fulfilled his promise to get her to France, that remained to be seen.

Banu knelt at the girl's side and drew back the strap, bringing it down again and again on the girl's buttocks. He wanted to get some whimper from her, some cry of pain, Peli could tell, but she remained stoically silent, her bottom raised in offer and her sex posed in such a manner that the men could see the nubbin fully erect.

‘Nothing!' said Banu in disappointment. ‘Not a sound.'

‘But look at her bottom!' Ricco had picked up his cane and he prodded the mounds, which darkened beyond scarlet to dark wine colour. The girl mewed softly, and the sound was muffled as if she had dragged the gown into her mouth. Her hands were still clasped obediently upon her head. As one, the young men groaned.

‘What now?' asked Peli. His impatience grew by the second. ‘We cannot beat her more. Her flesh will not take it.'

‘The belly,' insisted Banu.

‘Yes, the belly,' said Ricco, swishing the birch cane through the air. ‘And the breasts.' He looked at Banu, who nodded agreement.

Peli lifted the girl's head by her hair, but although his action was rough, his expression was full of tenderness and sympathy. ‘You said you would allow anything,' he reminded her.

‘Yes, master. Anything.' Her voice was steady although her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

He let her head fall. ‘Go ahead,' he told Ricco. ‘A few strokes of the birch on the behind and then turn her over.' He stood back, his arms folded. He did not dare touch his cock for fear he would not be able to hold back his pleasure.

The birch made a fearsome noise as it was brought down. It was like the scream of a wounded animal. Peli noticed how soft the bruised buttocks were. The flesh enfolded about the thin birch twig, drawing it into her, becoming part of her, but only for a split second. Ricco drew it back and then down again. He did this many times and Peli could only stand there mesmerised that the girl could take such punishment without wailing for mercy.

‘Turn her over,' he said at last.

Ricco, his cock dripping with pre-issue, stared at Peli, his eyes glazed. At last he stretched out his leg, ready to prod her with his toes, but the girl rolled over of her own accord, hands still behind her head. Only then did she allow a tiny whimper as the stones and dead twigs on the forest floor pained her punished buttocks.

She looked so slavish with her breasts chained and her mound shaven. Obediently, without being ordered, she splayed her legs, bending them a little at the knees to make the sex pouch open and available.

Ricco drew back the birch, ready to smack the soft swell of her belly, but Peli grasped his wrist. ‘That's enough,' he said, and he threw the birch to the ground.

‘But you said…' Ricco's face was dark with anger.

Peli grinned. ‘Now's the time for pleasure after the pain.'

‘You mean we can fuck her?' Mule caressed his organ with both hands.

‘Well, look for yourself,' said Peli. The girl had arched her body and her sex was lifted from the ground in a delicious gesture of offer. He could see the bruised buttocks and wondered whether the gesture was simply to ease the pain of the rough ground upon the punished flesh.

Banu slipped the leather strap into her open sex, rubbing the edge up and down the cleft. The leather was supple and he folded it into a tube. ‘Try this for size, little whore,' he said, and spread the sex leaves as he fed the tube of leather into the girl's creamy entrance.

‘See how she clutches,' cried Banu.

‘Always a sign of a professional,' murmured Ricco.

Peli saw the girl's cheeks flush with inner shame, but he also saw her part her lips, moistening them with the tip of her tongue. With a great roar Mule sank to his knees behind her head and thrust his huge organ between those irresistible lips. ‘Swallow,' he grunted. ‘Swallow it all and do it pleasurably. No gagging.'

‘Take it out!' ordered Peli. His breathing was fast and ragged and his cock was throbbing unbearably.

‘What?' asked Mule, thrusting his hips, stretching the girl's mouth. ‘You dare tell me what to do? A knife between the ribs is what you're asking for.'

‘No, I mean Banu; I want her,' said Peli. ‘I want her cunt.' He pulled Banu from between her thighs and slipped the tube of leather from her sex. The black leather was beaded with her sap. He threw himself between her lifted and opened thighs and his hands trembled as he guided his cock into her.

‘Hey!' cried Ricco. ‘What about us?'

‘You can wait your turn!' said Mule, his big hands on his thighs. He grinned up at the two others, allowing his attention only to wander from the rhythmic sucking of the girl's mouth.

‘No, one of us can have her,' said Banu. He slithered beneath the girl's lifted buttocks and spread them. He gave a low chuckle as he saw her tightly pleated bottom hole press out in invitation. He tickled it with a fingertip and felt it give delightfully. He pushed into it and felt his own hardness become even more rigid. With his hands upon her hips he pulled her down and brushed his globe against the little secret bud. ‘Ah…' he groaned, as she gripped him in the delicious tightness.

Peli could feel Banu's cock enter the girl and this increased his own pleasure enormously. ‘Don't come yet,' he gasped to Banu. ‘This is too good to spoil by a short time.'

‘It is too good,' grunted Banu. ‘I don't think I can… She grips me so tightly. It is beautiful.' To add to the glorious tightness he could feel the heat of the girl's punished bottom on his belly. The heated flesh caressed him as much as her bottom caressed his cock. He felt the first wave of his orgasm and felt consumed by it. He groaned and pumped his spunk into the girl's bottom.

Peli knew then that he couldn't hold on either. He had to give those last thrusts into the warmth of her vagina. She clutched him and he knew that she, too, was spiralling upwards in a vortex of pleasure. He rolled from her. ‘Your turn, Ricco,' he panted.

The girl looked up at him with yearning in her eyes, but she welcomed the young man, Ricco, enfolding him in her arms. Peli noticed how the girl clenched her thighs about the lad until he groaned.

‘She sucks me,' sighed Ricco, ‘she draws my seed.' He bucked in the girl's clutches and Peli noticed that Banu was still beneath her, inserted within her bottom, and Mule was working his cock once more between her succulent lips.

They had treated her badly, thought Peli. Her bottom must pain her, and yet she took Ricco as though he was a long lost lover, giving him pleasure such as he'd never had before.

Ricco's frantic movements stilled and he lay upon her, his hands clutching the softness of her breasts.

‘She has drained me,' groaned Banu, and he pushed her from his body. The movement dislodged Ricco who growled his anger. Mule shook his still spurting cock and the pearly liquid sprayed the girl's face. Peli saw her swallow and lap at the spillage around her parted lips.

He helped her up and shook the leaves and twigs from her gown and settled it over her head. The girl turned away, her face red with shame, and used the ruined gown to wipe away the spillage from her chin and which ran down her legs.

‘Your promise?' she whispered.

‘It will be kept,' said Peli, dragging on his breeches.

Chapter Fourteen

Grace bowed her head unhappily, and even this slight movement caused her pain.

‘Oh, please let me go,' she murmured. Her wrists were shackled between her legs.

The man who watched over her spat onto the filthy floor of her prison. ‘Aristo!' he hissed, and spat again.

‘But you don't understand—'

‘We
paysans
understand only too well, little mistress,' said the man, picking his teeth with the point of a sharp knife. He leaned against the rusty bars of her cell, grinning at her.

Grace held back a murmur of pain. A further chain led from the manacles and parted the soft folds of her sex and the taut hillocks of her bottom.

‘I am not an aristo,' she wailed. ‘Truly!'

The chain held her wrists between her widely splayed thighs. It was tightly held and the merest fraction of a movement cause it to chafe between her sex lips.

‘I am a
paysan
, like you!' she added. She tried to shift her stance but the links of the chain rubbed over her nubbin, causing it to become painfully erect. They rubbed her rear bud.

‘Lies! The evidence is against you,' he hissed, thrusting his face against the bars. ‘You lived in the king's palace and an English aristo's manor house.'

The chain chafed again between her sex. She felt the swirling of pleasure in her belly and Lord Albert's face swam before her fevered eyes. She moaned.

The guard threw back his head, laughing hugely at her plight. ‘You were one of the palace whores,' he said, his grin fading to a grimace of hatred. ‘Our informant gave us all the details.'

‘Who? Who is your informant?' As she lifted her head to stare at him through the bars, the chain chafed again and drove deeper into her bottom cleft.

Her ankles were held wide apart by a rigid iron bar and the chain that was slung between her spread thighs was also fastened about her waist, nipping it painfully. It travelled up between the deep valley of her breasts to her throat.

The guard tapped his nose knowingly. ‘That would be telling, little mistress.' He looked hungrily at her breasts, and looked down at the knife he used to pick his stained teeth.

There was no escape. She was naked, chained, vulnerable. He lifted one of her breasts with the flat of the blade. The metal felt cold against her flesh. The chill made her nipples become sharply erect, painful about the gold rings which pierced them.

‘Pretty titties,' he growled, and with his free hand he worked his grimy fingers into the soft flesh, kneading it, hefting the weight by means of the gold ring.

She had been captured at the very outskirts of Paris and brought here. It was as if the revolutionaries were waiting for her.

The gypsy, Peli, arranged her voyage across the Channel. She'd begged him to accompany her, but he refused, shaking his head sorrowfully. He held her tight, thrusting her body tightly against his, swaying his rigid cock against her. His mouth bruised hers in a last passionate kiss.

‘Do you think Lord Albert would welcome me?' He threw back his dark head and laughed. ‘More likely take his pistol and blow my head off!'

The voyage was rough and the road to Paris was long and stony. By the time she reached the city her feet were torn and bruised. She asked at the first tavern where she could find an English lord, and that was her undoing.

Lifting her head, she smiled at the man who guarded her. He frowned. ‘Why do you smile?' he asked suspiciously.

‘Does it please you to touch my breasts?' she asked. Could she dare hope that she could trick the guard into letting her go? Dare hope that her hardened nipples could tease him into releasing her chains? Hope that the swell of her breasts under his fingers could bait him?

‘When I move,' she told him in a low voice, ‘the chain rubs back and forth in my sex slit.'

The guard's face flushed with eagerness and his dull eyes brightened.

‘It rubs my clitty, presses back the skin of its hood and bares the most sensitive part,' she continued in husky tones. ‘Shall I show you?'

The guard's expression hardened. ‘I know what you are doing and it won't work!' He stumbled away from the bars, his eyes never wavering from her bonded body.

Grace moaned and he grinned as he threw himself back in his chair.

Deliberately, she sawed the chain back and forth between her sex lips. ‘It rubs my nubbin,' she said, and arched backwards to show him, gritting her teeth against the pain of the bond cutting into her sensitive flesh. The guard groaned and fumbled with his breeches, rubbing the bulge that grew there. ‘It presses back the hood. Can you see? Can you see how hot and inflamed my tip is?'

He groaned again and his cock was in his hands, rubbing the bloated flesh. ‘It will not work
citoyenne
.' His globe was polished by his dew, naked of foreskin which was pleated behind the swollen tip. ‘It will not work!'

The chain slipped painfully back and forth, becoming glossy with Grace's dew. It rubbed her nubbin again and again. ‘What? What will not work
citizen
?'

‘What… you… are trying to do to me,' he groaned. ‘But it will not work!'

‘Perhaps,' she murmured.

The thick shaft throbbed in his hands and Grace could see the shimmer of pre-issue dribbling on to the dusty floor of her prison. Through her pain she felt the wave of an orgasm engulf her. Shudders rippled through her captured body and caused the chain to catch her clitoris. She moaned softly as another pleasure wave rode through her. She tried to hide her enjoyment, keeping her face a beautiful, but inscrutable, mask.

Head thrown back, the guard tossed his length to his own pleasure peak and then, to Grace's dismay, drifted into a heavy slumber.

Many hours passed. Grace had no idea how many. Time seemed to have lost its meaning.

‘Water,' she gasped. No food or drink had passed her lips since she set foot on the road to Paris.

‘Water?' He stirred and got up. ‘Water? It will be wasted on you. It is only hours before Madame Guillotine will kiss you.'

‘But I am not an aristo!' she repeated. ‘Why won't you believe me?'

‘Because our informant tells us different!' He touched her soft lips with a fingertip and shuddered as if thinking what the lovely mouth could do for him. ‘You were looking for the English aristo, Lord Albert, and she…' He stopped abruptly, gnawing his lower lip.