The Dark Library (8 page)

She felt pressure against the hot, moist
mouth of her sex, pressure that did not come from fingers. Her eyes
widened, and then her mouth as she felt what had to be his cock
pushing into her from behind.

“I-I... I...”

She didn't know what to say, and then she let
out a shuddering moan as his cock forced the lips of her sex back
and pushed up into her. It was thick – very thick! She whimpered at
the tight, aching strain at the mouth of her sex, then groaned in
helpless desire as she felt the thick girth of him pushing up
through the warm, slick folds of her sheath, up into her belly, up
higher, and still higher, until she ached deep inside.

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and
then he ground himself against her and she felt the long length of
his stiff cock moving around, twisting around inside her lower
belly. She felt his hot breath against the nape of her neck, and
then he drew himself slowly back, then pushed forward again. His
right hand slid inward from her thigh, his long finger extended,
stroking across her clit as he began to fuck her.

Ohmygod! She stared dazedly at the rough
stone, disbelief sweeping through her that this was happening, that
she had somehow allowed it, that circumstances had created it. It
was simply impossible! She simply didn't do such things!

His cock moved faster, and he bit into the
back of her throat, lightly, then shifted around to the side as she
whimpered and moaned. She felt his other hand come up to cup and
knead her breast, pinching the nipple, then grinding it against the
rough stone.

“Slave,” he whispered into her ear. “You're
going to be my little slave girl, Quinn. Do you like that thought,
little librarian? Have you ever dreamed about being a sex
slave?”

He thrust sharply, distracting her from any
hope of a reply, and chuckled as he bit lightly into her earlobe,
then sucked on it. His hips were working fast, now, and she could
feel the growing impact of his hips against her out-thrust
buttocks. It was impossible to think, to speak, to do more than
absorb the sensations amid the buffeting shock of a situation her
mind suddenly found so darkly and intensely erotic and arousing she
felt as though her body was simply melting under the raw, carnal
heat.

“Ahh!” she cried as he thrust up into her
hard and ground himself against her.

He drew back, drew himself out entirely, and
rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down against her sopping
opening.

“Do you want it, Quinn?” he whispered. “Tell
me you want it, little slave girl.”

“I-I... I do!” she gasped.

She yelped as he slapped her bottom
sharply.

“Tell me you want it, slut!”

“I do!” she cried, eyes wide.

“Say `I want it', little slave!”

He fingered her clit and she shuddered and
rolled her hips back

“Say it, slut!”

“I wa-want it!” she moaned.

“Then say please, rude girl.”

He slapped her bottom again and the stinging
shock cut through the muzzled heat of her mind.

“I-I... please!” she gasped.

“Please what?”

“Please... fuck me!” she moaned.

Again she let out a cry as he slapped her
bottom.

“You forgot to say my lord again, slave!”

“My lord,” she moaned, rolling her hips back
wantonly as he continued to rub his cock along her pussy.

“Please, slave girl,” he said, slapping her
bottom again, rubbing his moist, slick cockhead over her clit.

“Please fuck me, my lord!” she cried
weakly.

She shuddered as his head spread her lips
apart and then pushed up into her again.

“Oh fuck!” she moaned.

He drove himself balls deep in her hot,
throbbing belly, then gripped her hips and began to pound himself
against her, jerking her hips back to meet his thrusts so that
Hannah's body shuddered and shook to the blows of his hips. The
world seemed to shake, as though she were in an earthquake,
everything jerking up and down. Only it was her, and not the wall,
as Carling continued to thrust into her with deep, fast, savage
strokes.

They hurt, but the pain was intensely
arousing somehow, and she revelled in the hard, violent rutting
even as her insides squirmed in a dark maelstrom of sensations.

Then the orgasm flashed into her mind and she
cried out again and again as it overcame her. The raw heat released
into her mind and body like a fever dream, and she felt herself
tumbling, lost amid the churning violence of sensations.

Somewhere amidst it all he must have come, as
well, for even as she sank limply against the wall his cock was
sliding back out.

“I'll leave you with some time to think about
your position, Miss Quinn, and how I should punish you,” she heard
through a filter of dazed, languorous, shell-shocked numbness.

Then the door was clanging closed and being
locked. She heard, uncaring, the outer door also being locked, and
then slowly she groaned and got her rubbery legs under her to pull
her weight off her aching wrists. She stood and with a gasp of
effort, turned around again, putting her back to the wall instead
of her belly and breasts.

The lights were out in the cell again, but
he'd left some light on in the outer room so that she could still
see. The cell was shadowed but the floor reflected the outer light
coming through the bars and she could see her clothes no longer
there.

This is... impossible, she thought weakly,
staring out through the bars at the empty outer room, feeling the
rough stone against her backside and the shackles around her bare
wrists.

And yet she was indeed shackled naked in the
cell, helpless, having just been... ravished by the lord of the
manor.

Her mind squirmed away from such a foolish
cliché, yet she could not ignore the eroticism of her situation. It
wasn't as though she feared Carling, after all. And her body still
thrummed with the aftermath of the intense orgasm he'd given
her.

Unbelievable! This couldn't be happening to
her!

Yet it was, somehow.

Hannah liked to think of herself as a
practical, sensible, independent girl with little patience for
foolishness.

And this was bloody absurd! It was insane!
This wasn't the fifteenth century, and what on earth was he doing
shackling here in his … his dungeon like this!? Naked!

And yet she was a girl, and what was more a
girl who was an avid reader. She'd also read her share of romantic
novels, and so it difficult to resist the siren call of dark
excitement at the position she found herself in. Shackled naked in
a dungeon! God!

At least it was a very clean dungeon. The
floor – this could not have been the original floor. It was too
clean. Even the bars were shiny. This was like some sort of museum
dungeon, as though he had planned on running tourists through here.
At least she didn't have to fear rats or such she thought looking
about warily.

Her breasts were reddened and bruised, both
from his fingers and teeth, and from grinding against the rough
stone. She looked down at them with a sense of wonder, still having
difficulty believing this sort of thing was happening to her of all
people. She was embarrassed at her responsiveness, embarrassed
about letting herself be so used, embarrassed about her... vocal
response to his... abuse!

Arrogant bastard! He just thought he could
molest her, use her as he chose. And the infuriating thing was that
she had let him! She hadn't protested at all! In fact, she'd acted
like a whore!

He certainly must think her one. Even if he
hadn't after that episode where he'd spied on her while
masturbating, he certainly must now! Oh yes! A cheap little tart
all chained up for his convenience! God! What a weakling she
was!

He was an upper class snot, all full of
smirking self-assurance, and she'd done nothing but reassure him he
was right!

She jerked angrily at the shackles.

“Carling! Carling, you bastard! Are you out
there! Let me go at once!”

Her voice echoed against the cool stone, but
there was no evidence he was around to hear it, and she fumed
silently thereafter.

Fancy him leaving her chained up like this!
Of all the bloody nerve! And for what? To contemplate her
punishment! What on earth was that supposed to mean!?

She glanced out at the shadowy frames of the
torture devices and snorted to herself.

He wouldn't dare!

She sulked, tugging occasionally, obstinately
against the shackles. Yet even so, an undercurrent of simmering
sexual heat filled her body. Her nipples remained hard pebbles on
her taut breasts, tingling with every light rolling draft of air
which moved across them. And her groin felt hot and moist.

She imagined a group of tourists coming
through, with a guide explaining each of the torture devices, then
bringing them to the cell and staring in at her.

“And here we have a prisoner, a helpless
prisoner shackled to the wall to wait further lewd and perverted
abuse and tortures,” he would say as the tourists snapped
pictures.

Then they'd move on.

It was a silly vision, but it made her pussy
throb for some reason.

Her ears were attuned to the slightest noise,
and she was anxiously – and nervously – awaiting his return. What
was taking him so long, anyway? How long was he planning on leaving
her like this!?

What game was he playing!?

A darkly erotic game, a part of her thought
excitedly.

A shadow passed across her and she gasped and
jerked her head up to see him standing at the bars.

“Carling! Unchain me, you bastard!”

He seemed to cock his head to one side. She
couldn't see his features because the light was behind him, and she
felt a shudder of helplessness at her situation, naked, shackled,
in a barred cell, completely at his mercy.

“You are being quite impertinent, Quinn,” he
said “The lord of the manor is not to be spoken to in such a
fashion by some common little servant girl.”

“I'm not a bloody servant!” she exclaimed as
he unlocked the barred door and pulled it open.

A slow flush slipped down her face and chest,
however, as he sauntered into the cell. She gulped nervously,
squeezing her thighs together as if to hide her nudity a
little.

“A spanking, perhaps?” he mused. “Or a
strapping?”

She shrank back against the wall. “Don't you
dare!' she said, face red as she glowered up at him.
She gasped as his left hand slid up over her breast and in behind
her head. His right slid around her waist and down onto her behind,
fingers cupping and squeezing her buttock as he leaned in against
her.

“D-Don't!”

His lips covered hers and her again used her
hair to pull her head up and back. She moaned into his mouth as he
kissed her, as his tongue flitted along hers as his hand kneaded
her bottom.

He pulled free, his hands on her sides now,
pulling her out away from the wall. The shackles went stiff,
holding her arms back so that she arched, her breasts going taut as
he bent and began to lick and suck at her nipples.

“S-Stop it!” she gasped. “Carling!
C-Carling!”

“You must be punished for being such a
naughty little librarian,” he said.

Then he was dropping to his knees before her
and thrusting his hands between her thighs. He jerked her legs
apart, stared at her pussy a moment, and then growled as he
enveloped it in his open mouth.

“Oh! Oh! Don't! I-I... You... Lord Carling!”
she gasped, eyes wide.

She felt the warm heat of his mouth against
her mons, felt his teeth digging lightly into her flesh as his
tongue slid up along her narrow sex and over her clit.

“Oh! Oh! D-Don't!” she squealed.

He chuckled throatily, his mouth still
against her, his tongue pushing into her insistingly as his fingers
kneaded her buttocks.

Hannah's heart was pounding, the blood racing
through her system as his mouth worked at her sensitive pussy. She
felt at once as though she were being devoured and consumed as
wild, raw heat flared within her groin at his animalistic
behaviour.

His lips caught at her clit and he began to
suck and alternatively roll it between them. His hands abandoned
her bottom, coming around to push her thighs wider, yet his thumbs
hooked in against her pussy lips, spreading them achingly wide as
he licked at her.

“Y-You ca-can't – Oh! – d-do thiiiiis!” she
moaned as his mouth ate away at her determination to resist.

She had never had anyone lick her like that
before! Nothing had ever even come close! She stared down at him
with wide eyes as he sucked and licked and roused wild, billowing
shock-waves of sensations. Hannah soon felt as though she were
drowning in sensations as her hips jerked convulsively and the
simmering hunger which had gripped her since he'd left rocketed
upward in pressure and intensity.

Her buttocks began to grind and slap against
the wall as his tongue sent fire flickering up through her belly
and chest. He raised his hands, then, sliding up her body to cup
and roughly – painfully roughly – squeeze and knead her breasts.
She felt the orgasm approaching like a violent storm, the
sensations swirling around her like the gusting winds which
foreshadowed the storm.

Her skin felt hot, feverish, and she
shuddered and moaned as the sexual pressure took full control of
her mind. Nothing mattered under such powerful compulsion but
sating the wild, raw lust within her, and she jerked convulsively
against his mouth as sparkling hot rushes of heat set her muscles
spasming and quaking.

She gasped dazedly as he suddenly seemed to
surge upward. Her legs were spread, and for a moment she thought he
was going to take her there, right against the wall, but instead
the pressure on her arms was released, the firm hold the shackles
had on her was gone. He spun her about again, pressing her against
the wall, and she almost pushed her bottom back, expecting him to
take her that way again.