Rapture's Etesian

Warning:

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers.
Rapture’s Etesian
has been rated E–roti
c by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated
titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

X-
treme
titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline
execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

Rapture’s Etesian

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Chapter One

Leksi Helios was their prisoner and completely at the mercy of his captors. Though he was sore—his cock raw from the friction of their cunts sliding roughly down his rigid length—he would not let them know he was hurting. He would not allow them to see his humiliation, could not allow the bitches to know how helpless he felt. Keeping his teeth clenched, his eyes locked on the ceiling, his hands balled into tight fists, the only sound he made was the occasional grunt as thighs gripped his own and shapely asses rocked against his pelvis. The singular emotion showing on his handsome face was the brutal stamp of fury hardening his amber gaze.

“Pretend all you like, warrior,” the red-haired one cooed. “But we know you are enjoying this.”

“By the time we are finished with you, you will know your place.” It was the blonde who spoke and her blue eyes held unmistakable vengeance.

“Does it matter if he enjoys it or not, Sisters?” the tall beauty with the coal black hair inquired with a chuckle. “I have come twice on his staff and intend to come a few more times ere the night is flown.”

“Again, Celandina?” the oldest of the women asked. “Do you want to wear his cock to the nub?”

Lying atop the brawny warrior, Celandina’s hands were under his taut ass, her long fingernails pressing viciously into the flesh. Her teeth latched on his pap. She suckled the pebbly flesh, running her tongue roughly over the tip, then released the hardened nub and turned to look up at her aunt.

“He’ll last a long time with a sweet cock like this,” Celandina replied, raising and lowering her body like a piston. “I am enjoying this whether he is or not!”

“Well, you’ve had enough of him, Sister. Time to share,” the flame-haired woman complained.

“Aye, I have only ridden him once. My cunt is itching to have his cock thrust up inside it again,” the youngest of them—a petite brown-haired waif with conical breasts—said with a sigh.

“Wait your turn, Haidee,” vermillion-haired Ophelia insisted.

Celandina’s lush lips pressed into a mock pout, but she pushed up from the slick body beneath her and rolled to her back as her sister, Ophelia, climbed atop the bound warrior.

“Captain Leksi Helios,” Celandina sighed as she turned to her side and ran her fingertips along the tight jaw of their prisoner. “Such a potent name for a potent man.”

“He has yet to spurt,” the blonde complained. “How do we know he is potent?”

“I will make him spurt, Erinyes,” Ophelia stated. “Just watch.” Grinding her lower body on the hard length of their captive, she bent forward and swung her lush breasts against the warrior’s chest, the rubbing causing her nipples to harden.

“Perhaps he does not like women,” Erinyes said with a snort. She ran her fingers through the thick curls of her blonde hair and lifted the heavy length to cool her fevered body.

“Is that it, warrior?” Ophelia asked as she brought her face close to his. “Are you the pleasure hole for some hulking general? Do you like your balls squeezed by rougher hands than ours?”

Leksi shifted his narrowed eyes to the amused green gaze of the woman raping him. A muscle leapt in his cheek but he kept his mouth shut. Even when she threw back her head and laughed at him, he refused to voice the rage that was striving to break free.

“I do not see him spurting, Ophelia,” Erinyes taunted in a hateful tone.

“He may not be spurting but he’s leaking like a sieve,” Ophelia chuckled. She ran a hand between their bodies. “Or is that me?”

The laughter of the women so infuriated Leksi that when the redheaded slut smeared their combined juices across his tight lips, he could no longer keep quiet.

“You fucking bitch!” he howled, jerking against the chains that secured him wrist and ankle to the bed. “Unchain me and I will show you what rape truly is!”

Celandina clucked her tongue as she thrust her hand through his thick brown hair and anchored his head. “Watch that pretty mouth of yours, warrior, lest we remove your tongue.”

“
Unchain me!
” Leksi bellowed.

The hand in his hair tightened, gripping his dark curls in a savage twist as his head was jerked toward the beauty with the ebon tresses.

“Not until you are well-broken to saddle, little man,” Celandina hissed. Gone was the amusement in her glistening black eyes. Her lovely face was set in lines of authority. “You are ours to do with as we please.”

“For as long as we please,” Ophelia put in.

Helpless, unable to free himself, splayed open to the ravishing of the four women who had jammed their shapely bodies upon him over and over again for an hour now, the warrior squeezed his eyes shut and thrust an explosive hiss through his clenched teeth.

“He can’t hold that erection much longer,” Galatea, the women’s aunt remarked. She was standing off to one side, observing. As yet, she had laid no hand to their captive. “The tenerse lasts only so long, my sweets.”

Leksi could still taste the cherry-flavored brew they had forced down his throat. The sickeningly sweet liquid had claimed him faster than any fermented drink of which he had ever partaken but instead of intoxicating him, it had stiffened his cock to a steely shaft that throbbed with unwanted desire. Under normal circumstances, he might well have been amused by the rigid erection, but it had become painful and his frustration was mounting.

“The Amazeens swear by it,” Ophelia commented. “I can see why they use it on their enslaved menfolk.”

“Aye, but we do not want to make him bleed. He’ll be of no use to us come ‘morrow if you overuse him this eve,” Galatea advised. “With any luck, Kynthia will want to try his measure before we sell him to our sisters from
Lemnos
.”

At hearing his fate was to be sold to the Amazeens, Leksi roared. He cursed the women so viciously, struggled so violently, Ophelia was unseated and flipped off him, landing heavily on one well-padded hip.

“
I will see you roasting in Hell for this, you diseased sluts!
”
Leksi shouted.

Galatea cocked a slim white brow as the warrior bucked and twisted against his bonds. The flesh on his wrists was bleeding, as was the skin on his ankles. His broad chest was heaving as he continued to call them every filthy name ever created for women. Sweat glistened on his handsome face. The rise of his rigid shaft repeatedly jabbed the air as he thrust his hips from side-to-side.

“He has a very colorful vocabulary, doesn’t he?” Ophelia queried.

The women—four of them naked as the day they were born and the other clad demurely in a soft white gown of flimsy gauze—sat watching their captive straining and cursing until at last he stopped, exhausted from his efforts. When he was still, his harsh rasping of breath the only sound of which he was capable, they were amazed that the stiffness of his cock still held.

“Remarkable,” Galatea noted.

“Should we…?”

“Leave him be,” Galatea recommended. “When the pain gets too much for him, he will ask one of us to drain his staff.”

“Never,” Leksi whispered, his eyes closed so he did not have to see the women.

“We will see, warrior,” Galatea told him.

Long into the night, the throbbing member between his legs plagued Leksi Helios. There was no lessening of the rigidity, no surcease from the excruciating ache that caused sweat to cover his body. His senses had become so heightened that he fancied he could smell the musk between the legs of his tormentors. He fancied he could taste their starchy juices on his dry tongue, feel the pebbly surface of their vaginal linings.

“When you are ready,” the older woman said softly. “We will relieve you of the torment warrior. All you need do is ask.”

“No,” he croaked, shaking his head weakly from side-to-side.

“You have to admire his willpower,” Ophelia remarked to Erinyes.

“The only thing I admire about him is the size of his cock,” Erinyes said with a snort.

He thought he lost consciousness for a few moments. The pain had become all encompassing and he was in such torment, he was ashamed to feel tears easing down his cheeks.

“Just ask, warrior,” Ophelia recommended.

“No.”

Galatea sighed heavily. “Stubborn man,” she said, shaking her head.

“Let him suffer,” Erinyes scoffed. “I enjoy watching him being tortured.”

Another hour passed in silence. The room had grown chill as the wind from the nearby sea stole through the window. Draping themselves in their gowns, the women sat upon plush chairs pulled close to the bed upon which Leksi lay. They commented that despite the coolness that had enveloped the room, the warrior was sweating profusely though his flesh was ridged with goose bumps.

“The cold has not caused his staff to shrink,” Ophelia said, pulling a shawl around her shoulders.

“Nay, but it has shriveled his balls,” Erinyes observed.

“Not so. ‘Tis the tenerse that has caused that,” Galatea informed them. She studied the juncture between his muscular thighs, admiring his manhood despite her lack of interest in being serviced by it. “All the concentration of his seed is waiting to be released from those precious jewels.”

Watching the cords standing out in the warrior’s neck, the women’s aunt grew concerned. His face bore a dull carmine shade as he strove to endure the discomfort in his cock. Moisture crept from the corners of his tightly closed eyes and his heels dug into the softness of the pallet. Galatea was worried the man’s heart might burst.

“Go to bed, children,” the older woman commanded. “It will be a while yet before Kynthia arrives, if she does.”

“But—” Celandina started to protest, but her aunt held up a hand.

“Do as I say.”

Grumbling amongst themselves, the women knew better than to argue with their aunt. The old woman was well into her fifth decade of life and wise far beyond her years. Her orders were never to be disobeyed. Reluctantly, the four sisters left, even Erinyes, each casting a whimsical look upon their prisoner.