The Captive (8 page)

“You can all bring her to my play room as a special treat,” said Megan, “but you will have to leave when I begin my games.”

An excited twittering set up among the girls. Some of them were still glowing from their bath and all were still. Their young bodies shone with moisture and nipples of every shape and shade dripped enticingly, and in the midst of them was the trembling figure of the new captive.

The other girls were long trained slaves, quite happy in their role. Megan looked at Zacora, being pulled by her body chain by several girls. She looked sad though her body glowed prettily from the treatment she had just received.

Hands stroked Zacora’s nakedness, infiltrating her front and rear clefts. Megan saw her, surreptitiously, bear down on the fingers, urging deeper penetration. Oh, she thought, I can’t wait to begin on her.

The procession of women, chattering and giggling, made its way to the vast chamber where all new slaves were taught the Meleagan way, “Where do you come from?” whispered one little creature in Zacora’s ear.

“Lokara,” replied Zacora, “we were trained to please men - but not women.”

“No more talking, you girls.” Megan heard her own voice. It was sharp and edgey.

They all entered the play room, Zacora in the middle of the crowd. I should be excited, thought Megan, by having all my girls around me, fresh and clean from the bath house. But she wanted the beautiful Zacora on her own.

“Go away now,” she said. Her voice was softer, huskier.

When they were alone she turned to look at Zacora, smiling lasciviously. Taking the hem of her black dress she lifted it and pulled it over her head, Her full figure was naked apart from a narrow red suspender belt, black stockings and tight ankle boots with heels.

“What do you think of me?” she asked, pirouetting and posing her heavy breasts and pillows of flesh forming her bottom.

Zacora, head bowed, was silent.

Megan strode towards her crossly to drag her to a pillar at the centre of the room, hooking her wrist chain to a high placed hook. She grinned as she saw the tight breasts lift with the tension. In a vertical position, the body chain was much tighter and the smooth balls fitted into their appointed places: mouth, breast valley, silver mound and the sex slit.

Megan stood back looking at her new slave. “Very nice indeed. How do these little teasers feel?” She rubbed the balls at the mound and slit, grinning as she saw Zacora wriggle and bear down on the titillation.

“Something more fleshy is called for,” said Megan, stroking at her own dark brown forest, spreading the swiftly swelling lips to bare her moist nubbin. “Look up, my pet, and you’ll see what I mean.”

Obediently, Zacora raised her sad eyes and they widened at what she saw. Depicted on the high ceiling was the Garden of Eden. Adam watched in horror as the serpent coiled around Eve’s leg, although she was obviously ecstatic. Her mouth was open and eyes glazed in lust. The head of the serpent was poised at her dripping entrance.

When Zacora attempted to lower her head she found that she could not. Megan had plaited her hair into a loop and fixed it firmly to the post by some means.

Megan went to a cabinet, leaving Zacora forced to stare at the defilement of Eve. The girl was trembling, Megan knew, for she could hear the slight tinkle of the chains, metal upon metal. She smiled to herself, allowing the girl to think that she was to be penetrated by a live snake. “It isn’t poisonous,” Megan said calmly, “and it absolutely loves warm, dark places. And snakes aren’t slimy, you know, not at all. Not a bit like people think, so you’d better set to and create some of that famous sap of yours.”

“Please, mistress,” whimpered Zacora. “I hate snakes. Anything but that.”

Megan laughed. “Oh, I have lots of treats in store for you,” she assured. “Lots of playthings, but I want you to feel the glorious wriggliness of my little pet first.” She turned to look at her slave, smiling a little as she looked at the forcibly held silver head, the pale arms stretched high to lift the breast mounds, the long legs balanced on tip toe and manacled around the broad pole. Megan felt light headed at the sight; almost drunk.

In the cabinet, the cupboard she called her toy box, there was a wide variety of smooth carved lengths of wood, dildoes, worn with frequent usage, of every shape and size imaginable.

Slowly, she sorted through the collection, looking for the special one. It wasn’t a real snake, but her wood carver had made a fine job of creating a dildo replica of the reptile. It was made in segments to give the impression of movement when Megan pulled a cord at the tail. There was even a tiny forked tongue which could be retracted when the carved serpent was inserted. Even the colours were realistic upon the scale-like marking.

A wicked smile wreathed Megan’s round face as she took it from the cabinet, holding it on the flat of both palms as she swung her plump near-naked body across the room to Zacora’s bound one. “Here he is, the little beauty,” she said proudly. “Not so little really. I hope you’re feeling nice and open because his girth is quite huge.” She giggled. “Just eaten, you see.” The giggle came again at the lie.

She held up the smoothly carved snake, surreptitiously pulling the tiny cord so that the serpent waved slowly on the upheld palms. It was kept below Zacora’s eye line, so that the view of it was just sufficient to give the impression of live movement. Megan was delighted when she saw the girl flinch in terror.

“Come now,” the woman cajoled. “It’s like cold water - it really isn’t so bad once you’re in.” She paused, thinking. “Or rather, perhaps I should say, once it’s in.”

Zacora’s whole body was taut with fear, flinching back against the post. Her eyes were closed against the awful scene on the ceiling above her, and yet her sex pouch was ready for something to stretch the soft cushiony walls.

Not a snake though! Oh no, not a snake!

“Here he comes!” Megan made the snake wriggle, made the forked tongue tickle the swollen silver lips one last time before she retracted it. She brushed her own plump body, her belly and her cushiony breasts against Zacora’s willowy one and positioned the snake head at the girl’s entrance. She pushed it forward, smiling as she heard the whisper of horror change to a sigh of delight as the wriggling thickness entered and stretched the soft, moist membranes.

“You see! I told you!” Megan was triumphant. She brushed her huge pillows of soft flesh across Zacora’s firm tight breasts as she eased the plumpness of the snake replica into the receptive moistness of the girl’s sex passage. She could feel the captive’s young muscles pulsing around the wriggling intrusion and the breathing was one of excitement; the excitement of a sensation. Megan pulled the cord, very gently, and a groan escaped the girl, becoming louder as the intrusion became deeper and more vibrant.

“See how your pleasure flows over my little pet,” she said huskily. “Your nubbin tip rubs beautifully over his tail and he delights upon the liquid which you pour over him.” Megan sniffed the air. “Oh yes, he loves your fresh musky aroma. Once more, my precious little slave, but we shall place him into your rear passage now that you have wetted him so nicely with your love sap.”

Very slowly, the snake-like dildo was withdrawn from the pulsing sex pouch.

“No, mistress, please,” pleaded Zacora. There was humiliation in her begging, but Megan took no notice. “Not there, please!”

Unheeding, Megan released her new captive. The girl’s legs were weak from the strong orgasms given by the dildo and she fell gracefully in a heap to the floor.

“Good,” smiled Megan. “We’ll keep the thighs open and your bottom just clear of the ground.” Zacora’s legs were placed in this position around the post, still using the ankle manacles and chain.

Keeping the dildo out of sight, so the illusion of the snake was kept, Megan played with the climax-relaxed body. She kissed the lifted moistness between the splayed thighs, sniffing the aroma as she nuzzled into the wetness with her nose. She kissed each breast, misted with the heat of orgasm, swollen to tenderness. She kissed the soft, parted lips, transferring the girl’s own juices into her mouth. The captive was so excited that there was no hint of embarrassment or humiliation. Megan frowned. She missed those things in a girl. Surely, innocence could not be peaked away so quickly by climaxes?

“I’ll soon fix you,” she said hoarsely. “He’s entering you now. You’ve made him nice and slippery, so there should not be too much pain.”

Zacora’s sapphire blue eyes flashed open. It was as if she had been mesmerised by that first orgasm from the snake, and now she was back to reality. “That’s better,” said Megan cheerfully. She pressed the pale lifted bottom cheeks to expose the rear mouth and pull it open. The snake head poked at the tight wrinkled opening. The girl shuddered, but it wasn’t clear whether it was a shiver of horror or of delight. Megan shrugged, probably delight, for she was massaging the fully exposed nubbin. The dildo snake moved as she pulled the cord and inched into the darkness of the rear passage. The girl was breathing quickly and rhythmically in her bonds.

Megan was delighted to note that Zacora kept her hands stretched high above her head. The girl certainly knew her place, knew that she should be passive and pliant. The flexible dildo was high up within her now and Megan was stroking the nubbin with all of her moistened fingers. The hoarse breathing was quicker, more urgent, and there was a bearing down on the snake.

“Let your full pleasure flow, my lovely,” Megan urged. “I have to teach you every nuance of sensuality and you are such a good pupil.”

With strong pulsations in the young muscles the snake was gradually eased out of the rear mouth. The girl lay passive, her moist silver sex purse open and the swollen lips fluttering. The nubbin jerked in and out of the pink leaves, throbbing with its recent satisfaction. Fluid, pearly and warm, oozed from the darkness of the pouch. Tears flowed down the pale cheeks as Zacora lay, still chained with her legs humiliatingly parted.

“Tears, my darling?” Megan questioned. “Why so, when my little pet has cossetted you so nicely?”

“Please let me go,” begged Zacora.

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself with our little games?” Megan raised a quirky eyebrow and squatted before the girl, displaying herself lewdly.

“No - yes,” she stammered. “Oh, I don’t know what I mean.”

Megan watched the girl eagerly, seeing what effect her display might produce. The sapphire eyes focused on the dark lushness of Megan’s sex pouch, open and slick with creamy lubrication. The young lips seemed to open automatically and the tongue protruded ready to tease an opening or a jutting bud. Shuffling eagerly, Megan moved towards the beckoning, fully open slit. There was a warm, molten heaviness in her belly. She felt that she could hardly breath for the excitement.

The spell was broken by the door to the chamber opening. Angrily, Megan turned on the intruder. It was her brother Gareth, his small thin body dressed only in a square of leather, such was worn by the guards and other male slaves. His large cock was far too big to be covered by the square of leather and it hung, in an detumescent state, several inches below the loincloth.

“Want any help?” His eyes fluttered hungrily as he looked at the prone girl with her buttocks lifted and her legs splayed around the pillar. “She is lovely, isn’t she?”

“And she’s mine,” spat Megan. “Harold bought her for me.”

“Yes, but surely I can have a turn,” pouted Gareth. His cock was rising, thick and long, lifting the black loincloth.

Megan cocked her head on one side, giving the matter some thought. “Very well then,” she conceded. “After dinner, we’ll get the whips out. I’ll get the servants to feed her.”

Megan gave a last lingering look at Zacora. She was born to be a sexual plaything, a toy for the joy of men - and women. The sweet pliant face was so soft and seemed to wait to be abused. Those seductive lips were always parted as if waiting to suck a man’s shaft. And that flowing hair, streaked with gold and silver, cascading to the waist, over the creamy shoulders and tantalising the lovely breasts!

The neatly trimmed triangle at the top of the thighs waited to be penetrated by dildoes and cocks alike. The firm, plump lips seemed always to be parted, at the ready to be intruded. The silver fronds were always delicately dewed.

Immediately after dinner Megan and her son Gareth returned to the play room, their eager eyes darting to the lovely vision.

There was an empty dish and a wine goblet at the foot of the pillar where the girl was chained. Her hands were high above her head and her legs splayed backwards around the pillar.

“I wonder if it hurts,” said Gareth. He fumbled under his loincloth, feeling his growing thickness.

“I don’t know,” Megan said testily, “ask her.” She was busy choosing more of her toys from the cabinet: a slim narrow paddle, a broad strap, a drumstick with a particularly bulbus end and a fine leather lash.

Gareth looked at Zacora’s freshly brushed hair, tended, no doubt, by the maid who brought the girl her food. “You have lovely hair,” he murmured, letting it shimmer through his fingers. The slave said nothing, simply looked at him sadly and mutely. His fingers strayed to the pinkness of the captive’s nipples, tweaking them to sharp erection. He smiled as he saw her wince, but he also saw a twitch of the silver haired love lips. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t hurting her after all, but he asked her again. “Does it hurt, being balanced on tip toe like that?”

“My arms hurt,” she said.

“Is that all?” He sounded almost disappointed. “Doesn’t it hurt here?” He touched the softness of her sex pouch, stroking the puffy silver mound and then the stretched out lips. “I should have thought it would, being held up like that.”

Zacora lowered her lashes, embarrassed at his touch. This urged Gareth on and his loincloth was held high by the sudden rise of his cock. He prodded deeper into her pouch, enjoying the silky wetness.

“Do you mind me feeling her like this?” he asked. His sister was so much larger than he was and had such a filthy temper.