by Clare Seven
Meline’s journey continues. Although no longer forced to row in the unspeakable conditions below decks, she is rarely more than a step or two away from suffering horrendous punishments and torment. Her objective is clear: to free her friends and to wreak revenge on those who have mistreated her.
Meanwhile, not far away, a tale of infidelity, discovery, punishment, pain and deception is being played out and, somehow, it is Meline’s fate to become inextricably entangled in the events that inevitably follow.
Kirian had suffered indignities before. As a mercenary, she had been punished many times over the years. Sometimes it had been prison or the whip. On one occasion she had even suffered the bastinado. She could remember the savage beating she had received to the soles of her feet with a cane, wielded by the master at arms in front of the other warriors. She had been allowed to wear a loincloth then, even though she had been locked into wooden stocks to secure her feet as the man who had framed her for a crime that she had not committed, had proceeded to welt her feet until she was screaming with agony. She had been punished for not being at her post – even though the master at arms had made sure that she could not be, a deed that had been a result of her not agreeing to let him have her body. She had not walked properly for days afterward, yet an arrow in the back of her accuser during the confusion at the siege of Boras had seemed fitting at the time. It seemed that she had matured, or had grown to care less, as her current predicament reminded her of the respect she had had for her body then, and yet seemed to lack now.
Hardor, convinced now that Kirian might become his new plaything, had reminded her a number of times now that he had the power to release her sister from the galley, though the price would be higher than simply taking the punishment that had been destined for his wife. He had told her while he had loosened her trews and pulled them down her thighs, that he would like to sample her body, of how she so resembled his lovely wife who even now languished in chains in prison. He thanked her for what she was about to do for him, even as his tongue flicked slowly around her clit. He removed her trews and boots, untying her hair and running his hands across her body, staring, kissing and nibbling at her breasts. She had become aroused, she could not deny it, and it had been a while since she had been with any man, so she did not resist.
She protested only mildly as he pushed her toward his four posted bed and spread her legs to each post, pushing her waist over the end. He continued to tease her clit, making her moisten and grow wet, eager at the thought of his cock entering her. She thought back to when she had refused the master at arms, a few years ago, and suffered at the stocks. This seemed different, only she sensed that it was different only because it was a price to be paid.
He tied her ankles to the posts, forcing her legs wide apart. She gasped in consternation as he then tied her wrists pulling them toward the other end of the bed and securing her, so that she was helpless, spread, naked and wet, her hair and breasts dangling as she writhed a little. As Hardor moved in her peripheral vision, she saw his erection, felt his eagerness to draw this scene out, and sensed his deviant mind thinking up the ways in which he might torment her.
He teased her for what seemed like hours with fingers and hands until she moaned and writhed, gushing her juices until she could feel them flowing down her thighs. He brushed his loins against her and she writhed back in response, her body telling him that she wanted more, that she wanted him.
“So Kirian, is it me you want? You want me inside you, is that it?”
“Yes,” she gasped longingly.
She heard him loosen his trews, felt the heat of his member across her buttocks. He began to tease her with it. How did he have this self-control, she thought, her body wanting him, longing for him now.
“There’ll be little need for you to dress when I am finished, wench. You’ll be going to prison chains. Prisoners are kept naked, did you know that?”
“No… please… I need you…”
“I need you ‘My Lord’, wench.”
“I need you, My Lord!”
He plunged his cock into her as she cried out, writhing as much as she could against his jerkings. He tried to slow himself, in time with her movements, her needs. She was disappointed that he could not, and gasped as he jerked and pumped, grunting like an old man. Kirian gritted her teeth. It was little wonder that this man’s wife had sought an affair. He might be good with his hands but he made love like a man possessed, with little care for the requirements of the woman that he made love to.
She jerked and tried to gain further satisfaction from both his cock and his movement. All too soon she could hear his whines, his involuntary shunts inside her. Was he going to cum so soon? She writhed in her bonds, glad that he had at least teased her before entering. This was going to be a disappointment. She felt herself slump as he finished off, still eager to be satiated, still needing something. She said the words before she even realised what she had uttered.
“Finish me… please…”
“What?” he shouted.
“You are not satisfied, woman?”
She let her head fall. She winced as he wiped his cock on her buttocks.
“You bitch,” he screamed, welting her backside with his hand. “I’ll see you suffer for that.”