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The Darklands

A fictional story of Knights, Ladies and soldiers


The Chapters

Lady Jennifer is removed from her family castle by the Black Knight

The beginning of a journey....

Lady Jennifer is left in the care of the Captain

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The Village

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The Day after.....

The following day the Black Knight’s procession arrived at his ancestral castle. Jennifer did not see, for she had slept tied spread to the bed where earlier the man servants had used and tormented her body with the Saracen’s revenge, all at the behest of their Lord and master. They had brought her to climax many times before she had lost consciousness, her last recollection was their hot semen being pumped across her face and into her mouth as she cried out. All evidence of this overstepped authority had been carefully erased by the two men servants in fear of their lives. For them, it had been a risk worth taking, stopping short at actually penetrating the beauty tied down themselves.

And now the horses hooves clattered on cobblestones echoed through the great courtyard where Jennifer was unloaded and led through two huge oak doors. Through a great dim corridor she was led, not daring to raise her eyes, strong hands under each of her arms, though she could see the armoured feet of the guards lining the corridor as they progressed into the castle. What she did not see, were the grins and ravaging eyes of those soldiers who took their visual pleasure of seeing the naked lady paraded past them.


Eventually they passed into a great hall, filled with the aromas of cooked meats, wine and scented candles. There was a gasp from many as she was led in and raising her eyes she saw that Lords and Ladies were bowing to the Black knight who was walking ahead. There were whispers of greeting, and kisses being thrown, and men and women devouring her nakedness with their eyes, nodding approval while some ladies put their hands to their lips in surprise at such beauty displayed. This Great Hall, a room far more vast and shadowy than any in her parent’s house was intimidating. An immense fire roared on the hearth, though the sun streamed warm through high narrow windows. Lords and Ladies pressed past her, flowing silently along the walls and towards the long wooden tables. Plate and goblets were already set. The air was heavy with the aroma of a feast. Then Jennifer saw the mother of the Black Knight. She sat at the top table set up upon a raised dais. Her veiled head was encircled with a gold crown, and the deep sleeves of her green gown were trimmed in pearls and gold embroidery.

Beauty was led forward by a quick snap of the Knight’s fingers. His Mother had risen, and now she embraced her son as he stood before the dais.

"Mother, from the land of Bachanal, My first love slave, and I am very proud to have claimed her."

"And well you should be," said his mother in a voice that sounded both aged and cold. Jennifer dared not look up at her. But it was the Knight’s voice which frightened her most. "My first love slave?" She remembered his puzzling commiserations with her parents, the mention of her ‘Service’ in this land, and she felt her pulse quicken.

"Exquisite, absolutely exquisite," said his mother, "but all the Court must have a look at her. Examine her. Squire," she said, and made an airy gesture towards a male servant.

A great murmur rose from the Court gathered around. And Jennifer saw the tall gray-haired man approach, though she could not see him clearly.

"Display the girl..."

"But Mother," the Black Knight protested.

"Nonsense, all the common people have seen her. We shall see her," said his mother

"And should she be gagged, your Highness?" asked this strange tall man.

"No, that is not necessary. Though punish her surely if she speaks or cries out."

He nodded in obeisance and he was now lifting Jennifer

and immediately had her wrists clasped over her head. As she stood, she felt herself hopelessly revealed and could not prevent crying. She hoped he would protect her But then she heard the Knight himself give the order. "Mount her on the table for all to see."

The table was circular and stood in the center of the room. It reminded Jennifer of the spinning punishment tables she had seen in villages where common thieves were tied and abused for their crimes. She was forced to kneel, very roughly on it facing the thrones where the Knight had taken his place beside his mother.

And quickly the gray-haired man placed a large block of smooth wood beneath her belly. She could rest her weight on it and she did, as he forced her knees wide apart and then stretched out her legs so her knees didn't touch the table at all, her ankles bound by leather to the edges. Now her wrists were treated the same. She kept her face hidden as best as she could, weeping.

"You will be silent," said the man icily to her.

And now, to Jennifer’s shame, he raised her chin and placed beneath it a long thick wooden chin rest. She could not lower her head, though she lowered her eyes. And she saw all the room about her, every game fixed upon her.

She saw the Lords and Ladies rising from the banquet tables. She saw the immense fire. And then she saw this man, too, with his thin angular face, and gray eyes that were not as cold as his voice, but for the moment seemed even to evince tenderness.

A long shudder went through her as she contemplated herself -- spread out, yet mounted so that all could inspect even her face if they chose, and she tried to conceal her sobs by pressing her lips together. Even her hair was no covering, for it fell evenly on either side of her face and cloaked no part of her.

"Young one, little one," said the gray-haired man under his breath. "You're so frightened and it's useless." There seemed a little warmth in his voice. "What is fear, after all? It is indecision. You seek some way to resist, escape. There is none. Do not tense your limbs. It's wasted." 

Jennifer bit her lip and felt the tears sliding down her face, but she was soothed by his speaking to her. He smoothed back the hair from her forehead. His hand was light and cold as if he were testing for a fever.

"Now be still. Everyone is coming to examine you."

Beauty's eyes glazed over, but she could still see the distant thrones where the Knight and his mother were talking to one another quite naturally. But she realized all the Court had risen and was moving towards the dais. The Lords and Ladies were bowing to the Mother and the Knight, before turning and coming towards her.

Beauty squirmed. It seemed the air itself touched her naked buttocks and the hair between her legs, and she struggled to lower her face demurely but the firm wooden chin rest would not yield and all she could do was drop her eyes again.

The first Ladies and Lords were very near and she could hear the rustle of their clothes and see the flash of their gold bracelets. These ornaments caught the light of the fire and the distant troches.

"Hush, be calm young lady," said the gray-eyed man. And suddenly it was a great comfort that he was so near to her.

A great Lady of many years came to her, and with shock, she felt the Lady's hands upon her. She felt the cool fingers gathering her heavy breasts, and twisting them almost painfully. She trembled, trying desperately not to cry out. For others had gathered around her, and behind her she felt a pair of very slow and calm hands parting her legs even more. And now someone touched her face, and another hand pinched the calf of her leg almost cruelly. Fingers probed and penetrated all concentrated then in her body’s most shameful and secret places. There was a throbbing in the tips of her breasts, and those hands felt cold as if she herself were burning, and now she felt fingers examining her buttocks and prodding even at that tiny and most concealed of openings, her anus.

She couldn't help but moan, but she kept her lips tightly shut, and the tears fell down her cheeks as a finger was pushed inside of her there while another teased at her clitoris like a child tormenting a wretched insect for sport. Voices discussed her, a Lord spoke of many men cumming into her mouth while it be held open as an idea for future entertainment. She was the ultimate toy of these gentry, left with no modesty only shame. Laughter rang out as smacks from male and female hands rained down upon her upturned buttocks for sheer enjoyment and entertainment. She tried to focus on something distant, tried to leave her physical body in spirit to at least suffer the torments in some small way. 

She raised her eyes, squinting in the candlelight gloom and saw that High up along the wall of the Great Hall, on a broad stone ledge, she glimpsed a row of naked women.

It did not seem possible, but she had seen it. They were all young like herself, and they stood with their hands clasped behind their necks as the Prince had taught her to do, leased to wall rings and their eyes were down, and she could see the glow of the fire on the curl of pubic hair between each pair of legs, and the swelling, pink nipples of their breasts. She could not believe it. She did not want it to be so, could she have come to Satan’s den?. Was she all the more terrified, or was she glad that she was not the only one enduring this unspeakable humiliation? She peered again and saw that male servants were groping at these girls, doing unspeakable things before her very eyes with grinning faces and sweating brows.  But she could not even think of this, shocking as it was, for the hands were all over her. She had uttered a sharp cry to feel them penetrating her very sex, and smoothing the hair there, and then to her horror, as her face burned and she shut her eyes tight, she felt a pair of long fingers gliding into her sex and widening it.

But the most excruciating part was being opened like this and hearing their soft voices now as they talked of her.

"Innocent, very innocent," said one, and another that she had very lean thighs and that her skin was like porcelain.

That seemed to produce laughter again -- that light tinkling laughter, as if all of this were but the greatest amusement, and Jennifer realized suddenly that she was straining with all her might to close her legs, but it was quite impossible.

Those fingers were gone, and now someone patted her sex, and pinched shut the hidden little lips, and Jennifer squirmed again, only to hear the laughter coming now from the man beside her:

"Dear Lady," he said gently in her ear, leaning over so she could feel his velvet cape against her naked arm, "you cannot hide your charms from anyone."

She moaned as if she were trying to appeal to him, but his finger touched her lips.

"Now if I have to gag you, our Lord  will be very angry. You must resign yourself. You must accept. It is the hardest lesson, compared to which the pain is really nothing."

Jennifer could feel him raising his arm so that she knew the hand that touched her breast was no his. He had imprisoned her nipple and was pressing it rhythmically.

At the same time, someone stroked her thighs and her sex, and to her shame she felt, even in the midst of this degradation, herself climax involuntarily.

"That's it, that's it," he comforted her. "You must not resist, but rather take possession of your charms, that is, let your mind inhabit your body."

"You are naked, helpless, and all will enjoy you and what can you do? By the way, I should tell you that your squirming only makes you more exquisite. It is very endearing. The court loves a slut, you are ours. Accept it my dear. So many cocks to suck, cum to swallow” his words were blurred into the rythym of the finger at her clitoris, extracting wave after wave of moans from her. Even the random slaps to her upturned bottom no longer stinger, instead they added to the symphony of torments reaching inside of her to extract the most intense orgasms possible from her.

And in the din of voices and heady air of the great hall, Jennifer lost consciousness.


The Black Knight and his family had left the castle only two days past, visiting the royals of a nearby kingdom, and Jennifer was left in the care of the Captain of the Guard. A grim faced, serious man of some forty years or more, ruthless and devoted in his service to the black knight. Before leaving, the Captain had been charged with ‘keeping the Lady Jennifer in line, restraining any signs of ego’ and to ‘punish her with necessity where seen fit’ Those words had struck fear into her.

And so, on the third day, after sleeping many peaceful hours, Jennifer awoke to a presence in her bed chamber. Only vaguely was she aware of the Captain jerking the bell rope above her head, And when she fully opened her eyes, he stood over her in the dim light of a new hearth fire. Jennifer couldn't read his face. It looked hard and removed and yet there was a little smile on his lips.

Very suddenly he pulled her up and deposited her on the floor on her hands and knees, pressing her neck down and forcing her knees wide apart.

The Captain stepped forward, and with his large naked hand covered Jennifer’s bottom, rotating it slowly.

Her breath caught in her throat. She felt her hips lifted, swung, pushed down, and a little throbbing noise came out of her.

The Captain's fingers pressed into her flesh, squeezing her buttocks together.  And the hand thrust Jennifer's bottom up so high that her forehead was sealed to the floor, her breasts pulsing against the boards, a throbbing groan choked out of her.

Whatever she had thought and feared about this Captain were brought true. She churned her bottom in the air.

‘What have I done to?’ Jennifer’s question was cut short as the Captain put a finger to her lips.

“Your Ladyship must not question….wiggle that arse and do it without question…now!”

The finger withdrew, and in a violent orgy of movement she wagged and wagged her buttocks as she had been told to do.

Her body loosened, lengthened. If she had ever known any other posture but this she couldn't clearly remember it. "Lord Captain …please I beg” SLAP!

A strap was lashed harshly across her bottom, cutting her voice and breathing short as she winced and let out a very loud “arrgghh!”

The strap was applied again, only this time it smacked her little mound, the leather flicking the clitoris as it struck. Faster and faster Jennifer swung her bottom in the circle, to try to appease the blows.  her cries coming from deep in her throat, were almost unrecognizable to her.


After a few days of rest and recovery including bathing and massages, Lady Jennifer was led naked by two guards to the courtyard beneath her chamber. Daisy approached with two delicate slippers of leather, to protect her precious feet, clearly the only item of apparrel to be worn by her today.

waiting on foot with six guards was the Captain, stoney faced and stoic. The guards started off at once, and terrified of his correction, Jennifer tried to march well as she could.

The pace was not too fast. The Captain moved on in silence, and turned as if they knew the way, into a broad lane that led to the center of a village a couple of miles away. It was the first real look Jennifer had had at the village on a regular day, and she was astonished.

White aprons, wooden clogs, rawhide breeches. Rolled sleeves and loud convivial voices. And everywhere there were toiling maids. She saw naked girls scrubbing thresholds and balconies above and washing shop windows. She saw naked male servants bearing baskets on their backs, hopping ahead of their Mistress's lash as fast as they could, and through an open gateway a gathering of naked, reddened rumps around a great laundry tub. She saw a harness shop as she turned a bend, with a beautiful mid to late teen aged girl manacled and hanging from the shingle over the door. A well dressed, very elderly male was freely examining her in her most private of places, her face crimson with embarassment and shame.  Then, turning down another alley they came to a tavern in which she saw a row of servants along a ramp waiting to be auctioned one by one on a little stage for the indifferent amusement of dozens of patrons. There was a dildo shop beside it, and on display in front three naked girls squatting with their faces to the wall, performing for passers by with samples of the merchandise.

The group pressed proudly through a  crowd, making many a head turn, as villagers milled everywhere with market baskets or servants at tether. And over and over, Jennifer saw some delectable bit of naked flesh, punished or positioned or harnessed for their pleasure.

And as she turned corner after corner, moving through this narrow lane and that, she felt more surely vulnerable. They had come to a large square. All around she saw the signs of the Inns, and the carriageways and the high windows. Rich and fancy Inns they were, windows as ornate as those of a manor house. A crowd of villagers were gathered, laughing and clapping, and in one glance she saw the little spectacle. A lovely village woman with a pretty red skirt and white ruffled blouse was spanking her servant quite diligently upon a wooden table, and the lovely face peering out through its tears was that of a girl who had bathed her only a day before. She writhed and struggled under the paddle. The Captain looked and saw Prince Willem among the villagers. The Prince and the Captain were greeting each other and exchanging pleasantries. And the Captain was admiring his horse, tethered beside him.

"O, we have a little high spirits here!" the Prince said, and he turned to a naked servant girl. He lifted the girl’s chin and then, taking a dildo from his belt, he gave it several strong rocking upward jerks up inside of the servant until the she kicked and worked her legs friskily. She called out loudly, the villagers smiling looking on and then came a soft pat on her bottom, as the Prince halted his penetration of her. “Well done young lass..well done” he exclaimed and placed a kiss on her gasping young lips.

"You know, Captain ," he said in that familiar deep voice, able to strike fear with one syllable, "I've told her Majesty several times that she should give up her horses for pleasure and visit the servant quarters. I think she would find it delightful. But she sees it as a village occupation and won't really consider it."

"She has very particular taste, my Lord," 

Prince Willem looked upon Jennifer. “I recall this one. Sweet little slut isnt she”

“Come Captain, let us retire from this din and seek some refreshments”

The Captain gestured, and Jennifer was led by the arms, a guard each side of her as the Prince and Captain set the pace walking ahead together.


They passed through a narrow street where male servants for hire were hung by their hands and feet on the wall, pubes oiled and glistening, prices scratched upon the plaster above them. Two young women were fondling and teasing the erect cock of one of them, trailing their nails across the sensitive, exposed head nonchalantly. In a little shop next door, she saw a naked girl pinning up a hem on the dress of a customer, and in a small open place she saw a band of naked young men driving a treadmill. Naked servants knelt here and there with trays of fresh cakes for sale, no doubt from the Master or Mistress's oven, a little basket hanging from the mouth of the servant to humbly receive the coins of the purchaser.

All the regular life of the village passing as if her misery did not exist. A poor young servant girl chained to a wall whimpered and struggled as three laughing village girls idly stroked and teased her pubis. 

In a doorway, a buxom matron on a stool soundly spanked a naked young over her knee with her thick broad hand as she castigated him angrily. And a young serving girl holding with two hands a water jug on her head waited meekly as her Master implanted between her red pubic lips a good-size dildo which he no doubt intended to fuck her with very publicly on the very spot.

They walked on and were now in quieter streets, streets where men of property and position lodged, and there were shiny doors with brass knockers. And from the high iron brackets above, beautiful naked girls were hung here and there as ornaments. Symbols of wealth and status. 

They had come round to some very wealthy lodgings. They passed the front door, quite as ornate as any they had seen, and the large costly leaded glass windows. They turned to go into the house, and she tiptoed naked after him. Inside, a room, filled with steam and naked young male servants awaited her. She was bathed by the young male servants. Each relished their opportunity to penetrate, grope and fondle such a prized beauty during the course of their duties. Not even her bumhole was spared from their inquisitive fingers and of course, she knew she had no power of complaint.

She was dried, powdered, perfumed and brought into a small supper room. Quickly, she was stood up against the wall and chained with legs and arms in the form of an X and left there.

The room was polished and neat - she could see all of it now - a real rich little village-house room such as she never knew in the castle. The low beams of its ceiling were painted and decorated with flowers, and she felt  shamefully exposed in it, a true slave bound there among the shelves of gleaming pewter and the high-backed oak chairs and clean-swept chimneypiece.

The room was empty, quiet, suddenly. Jennifer had been chained to the wall for so long she had felt her eyes start to close, wanting to sleep. Suddenly, her stupor was shaken.

"I've sent my bad children off to the Punishment Shop for their  licking so I could tend to you!" came a Mistress's voice between her tightly clamped jaws. "We're going to have a little session in how to properly use that tongue when it is called upon to be used”

It was not the Prince but to her horror, it was Mistress Hardbolt, unchaining her.

Jennifer fell to her hands and knees again, desperate to obey, the angry commands pushing her to panic. No one had ever crept up on her with such withering heat before, and to make matters worse, her sex was already brimming with sensation.

Sunlight filled the large immaculate room, pouring in from the two open doors to the rear yard, striking the fine copper pots and pans that hung from the hooks above, and washing over the iron oven doors in the bricks and the giant rectangular cutting block that stood in the middle of the tile floor.

Mistress Hardbolt brought her to her feet, and plunging a broom hard between her legs so that its stiff, smooth handle lifted her, she forced Jennifer back against a wooden table and then lifted her legs so that Jennifer quickly scrambled up on the wood behind her.

It was the paddle she expected, and it would be worse than ever before, she knew, with that angry voice driving it. But her Mistress spread Jennifer out on her back, drew her hands over her head, and quickly tied them to the edge of the table, telling Jennifer to spread her legs or have them spread for her.

She struggled to get her legs wide. The warm surface on the smooth wood felt silky under her bottom. But her body was being stretched to its full length as her ankles were now tied, and Jennifer felt panic again, bouncing helplessly on the smooth unyielding wood as she realized she could not free herself.

In a flurry of soft urgent cries she tried to plead with her Mistress. But the moment she saw Mistress Hardbolt smiling down at her, Jennifer’s voice died in her throat and she bit her lip hard, looking up into the clear black eyes that quivered ever so slightly with laughter.

"The soldiers liked those breasts, didn't they?" Mistress H said. And reaching with both hands, she pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger. "Answer me!"

"Yes, Mistress," Jennifer wailed, her soul quaking with the sense of her vulnerability to those fingers, the flesh around her nipples shriveling as the nipples themselves hardened to knots. A deep pang between her legs caused her to try to close her legs, when that was quite impossible. "Mistress, please, I will never - "

"Shhhh!" Mistress H clamped her hand over Jennifer’s mouth and she arched her back, sobbing against it. O, it was worse being bound; she could not make herself be still. But she stared at Mistress H with wide eyes and tried to nod, though the hand held her.

"Servants have no voice," said the Mistress, "until the Master or Mistress asks to hear that voice, and then you answer with the proper respect." She let go of her mouth.

"Yes, Mistress," Jennifer answered.

The firm fingers took hold of her nipples again. "As I was saying," Mistress H went on, "the soldiers liked these breasts."

"Yes, Mistress!" Jennifer answered, her voice quavering.

"And this avaricious little mouth." She reached down and pinched shut the pubic lips so that the moisture overflowed and Jennifer felt an itch as it trickled.

"Yes, Mistress," she answered breathlessly.

Mistress H lifted a white leather belt and showed it to her, like a tongue extending from her hand. And gathering Jennifer’s left breast from the top in her left fingers, she bunched the flesh and plumped it as Jennifer felt the warmth suffusing her bosom. She couldn't keep quiet. And the moisture between her legs trickled down into the crack of her buttocks. Her spread-eagle body strained in vain to close itself.

The fingers stretched her left nipple and snapped it. And then the white tongue of the leather belt spanked her breast in a series of hard loud slaps. "O!" she gasped aloud, unable to prevent it. The spanking that the Captain's large warm hands had given her bosom was nothing like this. The desire to break free and cover her breasts, both of them, was irresistible and impossible! Yet the breast seethed with feeling as never before and Jennifer’s body twisted against the wood. The little strap spanked the nipple and the bulging flesh harder and harder.

Jennifer was in a frenzy as Mistress H turned her attention to the right breast, plumping it in the same manner, snapping the nipple. Her cries grew louder, her struggling more violent. The nipple was rock hard under the torrent of licks.

Jennifer closed her mouth, sealed it shut. She would have screamed at the top of her lungs, "No, I can't bear it." The concentrated blows came faster and faster. Her body became her tortured breasts, her desire fanned by the licks like a torch flame.

Jennifer swung her head so violently that the hair streamed over her face. But Mistress H lifted it back and she bent down and looked at Jennifer, but she could not look up at her.

"So tumultuous, so exposed!" she said to Jennifer , and she kneaded the right breast, pumping it up high again, and then continued to spank it. She gave a high scream against her clenched teeth. The fingers tweaked the nipples, massaged the flesh, and the heat roared through Jennifer , her hips thrust upwards in a sudden violent convulsion.

"This is how a bad little girl should be punished," the Mistress said.

"Yes, Mistress," Jennifer sobbed immediately.

Mercifully the fingers were withdrawn. Her breasts felt huge, heavy, a riot of warm pain and thumping sensation against her. Her low, raw sighs caught in her throat.

And she whimpered when she realized what was coming. She could feel Mistress H’s fingers between her legs, pushing the lips apart even as she sought to close herself, the muscles in her legs straining vainly. Her heels thumped the wood, the leather straps pressing into the flesh of her insteps. Again she lost all control, struggling violently in a deluge of tears. But the licking strap was slapping her clitoris. She screamed again at the searing intensity of the mixture of pleasure and pain, her clitoris seeming to harden as never before, the strap snapping up at it over and over as Mistress H swung from beneath the sex with her right hand.

Jennifer could feel the lips puffing, the moisture squirting, the slaps sounding wetter and wetter. Her head rolled on the wood; she cried louder and louder, her hips riding up to meet the strap, her whole sex a formless explosion of fire in her.

The strap stopped. It was worse, the heat rising, the tingling like an itch that must somehow find its divine friction. Jennifer’s breath came in short imploring pants in time with her moans, and through her tears she saw Mistress Hardbolt looking down at her.

"Are you my impertinent servant?" she asked.

"Your devoted servant ," Jennifer choked through her tears, "Mistress. Your devoted slave." And she bit her lip, grimacing, praying it was the right answer.

Her breasts and her sex were boiling with the heat, and she heard her hips spanking the wood beneath them, though she had no awareness of moving them. Through the mist of tears she saw the Mistress's pretty black eyes, the black hair with its fancy little braid over the crown of the head, and the breasts swelling so beautifully in the snow-white linen blouse with its thick ruffle. But the Mistress was holding something in her hands. What was it? It was moving.

And Jennifer saw it was a big, pretty white cat that stared at her with almond-shaped blue eyes in that wide, inquisitive manner cats have, its pink tongue licking its black nose in a quick gesture.

A wave of absolute shame overcame Jennifer . She writhed on the board, a helpless and suffering creature, even more lowly than this proud, disdainful little beast that peered at her from the Mistress's arms with jeweled eyes. But the Mistress had bent down, apparently to reach for something.

And she saw her rise again with a thick dab of yellow cream on her fingers. The fingers smeared the cream to Jennifer’s throbbing nipples and dabbed it between her legs so that it dripped and slid in dollops into her vagina.

"Just butter, my sweet, fresh butter," said the Mistress. "No perfumed ointments here." And suddenly she dropped the cat on all fours on her tender belly and chest, and Jennifer felt the soft pads of the cat's feet moving up her chest with maddening quickness.

She squirmed, pulled on the straps. The little beast had dipped its head, and the rough, sandy little tongue was eating at her nipple, devouring the butter that covered it. Some deep, deep, hitherto unknown fear made itself known, sending Beauty into wilder and wilder struggles.

But the indifferent little monster with its exquisite white face ate on and on, the nipple exploding under the licks, and Jennifer’s whole body went tense, lifting itself off the wood and thudding down again.

The creature was lifted, taken to the right breast, and she pulled with all her strength on the straps, the sobs shaking out of her, the little hind feet padding deeply into her belly, the soft stomach hairs of the cat brushing her as the tongue lapped again, cleaning the nipple thoroughly.

Jennifer clenched her teeth not to scream the word "No," her eyes squeezing shut again, only to open on the sight of the heart-shaped face dipping down in short quick movements as the tongue lapped, the nipple pushed back and forth by the strength of the sandy lick, the sensation so exquisite, so dreadful, that Jennifer screamed louder than she had ever screamed under the paddle.

But the cat was being lifted. Jennifer thrashed from side to side, clenching her teeth harder on the "No" that must not come out as she felt those silky ears and that fur between her legs, and the tongue darting at her distended clitoris. "O, but please, no, no," she screamed in the sanctuary of her mind, even as the pleasure jetted through her, mingling with the loathing of the hairy little feline and its horrid mindless feasting. Her hips froze in the air, inches above the wood, the furry

nose and mouth pushing deeper and deeper into her. No more tongue on the clitoris, just the maddening brushing of the top of the head against it, and it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough. O, the little monster!

To her utter shame and defeat, Jennifer struggled to press her pubis against the creature, to press on the little skull, to make it stroke the clitoris with the slightest pressure. But the tongue had gone down lower, lapping the base of her vagina, lapping the crack of her buttocks, and her sex hungered vainly as the pleasure passed into a high-pitched torment.

she gritted her teeth and shook her head about as the tongue lapped at her pubic hair, as it took what it wanted, oblivious to the desire that racked her.

And when she thought she could stand it no more, that she would go mad, the cat was lifted away. It peered down at her from Mistress Hardbolt’s arms, the Mistress smiling just as sweetly as the cat smiled, it seemed, above her.

"Witch!" Jennifer thought, but she did not dare to speak, and she closed her eyes, her sex quivering with all the desire she had ever known collected in it. Still reeling in her, she heard in the corner of the room the rustling of clothing, of someone undressing and turning her head, she saw her Mistress point in her direction, gesturing at a hugely endowed black man servant to penetrate Jennifer right then. She closed her eyes and lost conciousness as his black, blood engorged organ ploughed up into inside of her.

Captain of the Guard
The Village
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