Full Confession Ch. 01

Very softly, so low that I almost could not hear, she murmured, "Thank you, Master."

Heather said quickly, "Anna is just jealous that the Lord did not choose her to satisfy his needs."

In truth I had chosen Heather only because she was closer at hand; Anna was indeed the more comely of the two. But my prick frankly had no preference. Anna crawled forward to the bars of her cage and once more pressed her face between them, but now she pressed her chest as well, so that her large firm breasts protruded. Her little whimper of desire seemed altogether unfeigned.

"Anna will gladly be m'lord's pet," she said, her voice husky. "Anna will do everything her Master commands. She'll do it better than Heather." The two girls exchanged a baleful glare.

Heather spoke in bitter remonstrance, "Anna likes playing the orc-pet. She should be one!"

Anna's pale cheeks flushed pink. She crushed her breasts against the bars of her cage and moaned. "Anna is very good, m'lord!"

"My Lord chose me first!" cried Heather. Having accepted that she would have to pay for my hour of pleasure, she was determined that her money would not be spent on Anna's behalf.

"I would be happy to use you, Anna," I said. "But I suspect Mr Zamp has the key to your cage and collar."

Anna's mouth yawned wide, her eyes on mine; her long slender tongue, remarkably nimble, curled and waved in what was clearly a gesture of invitation. I needed no further inducement, but stepped right up to the cage. Anna, panting with excitement, helped with the drawstrings of my trousers. Freeing my shaft, she sank her face around it without a moment's hesitation.

Her mouth was warm and soft, her tongue more than fulfilling its promise. I pressed my belly against the cold iron bars as my cock hardened, and she began to bob her head along its length. Her cheekbones struck the bars again and again, with such force that I could feel the reverberation from each impact; but Anna was heedless of any discomfort -- indeed, if anything the pain seemed to further stoke her enthusiasm. She slammed her face against the bars with increasing ferocity, until her gasping was as much an expression of pain as excitement; but the only accommodation she allowed herself was a slight tilt of the head, a lowering of her chin so that her brow would strike the bars before her cheeks. When her forehead was thoroughly bruised, she raised her chin again and returned to battering her cheeks with undiminished vehemence.

I restrained my climax for as long as I could, but so intense was the erotic delight that Anna's performance generated in me that I lasted only a few minutes in her oral grip. When I felt the sudden tension in my loins preparatory to their spasmodic release, I looked over my shoulder at Heather; she stood in the same spot, undismissed, watching us with a ruefully amorous expression.

"Come here!" I snapped. She came forward hesitantly, and when she was close enough I snatched her forearm and yanked her forward. I pulled my hips away from Anna's face, pivoted toward Heather, who was already sinking onto one knee. I grasped my throbbing cock and cried, "Open!"

Heather obeyed with sudden urgency, positioning her gaping mouth in front of my swollen glans even as I ejected a stream of semen at her. It splattered against her nose and over her cheeks, then she succeeded in getting her lips around my cockhead. She sucked avidly at my much weaker spurts, gulping my seed.

I became aware of a familiar noise, a wet rhythmic sound. Anna was kneeling in her cage fingering herself heatedly, her eyes still smoldering. Her cheeks and forehead were brightly bruised. I stared at her, already regretting that I had not gotten a chance to get between those slender thighs.

Breathing heavily I turned away from Heather, refastened my trousers. I felt drained by the encounter, and altogether satisfied. Anna was no orc-pet, but her simulation of one had been sufficiently alluring. I smiled at her. "You are well worth four rorrim," I said.

She was still stroking herself, eyes half-closed. "Thank you," she murmured, "Master."

I thought of Satta then, and somehow -- though my lust had been quenched -- I yearned for her. For the first time I wondered what final punishment the Countess intended to exact, and with a sudden dreadful premonition I was certain that I would never see my sweet servant again.

I quickly fetched a copper quintilla from my pouch and tossed the small coin between the bars of the cage to Anna; it struck the soft mound of her belly and dropped to the floor between her knees. Uttering a small gasp she turned up her face, lips parting as if she still hoped to receive my semen in her mouth. I brushed past Heather, who gazed at me with a wry look of need and desire. Although I knew full well that her desire was only for the meager coin I had given Anna, I nevertheless felt moved to satisfy her. As I went to the stairs I drew forth another quintilla, fumbling it onto the floor in my haste. I did not bother to stop or turn around, but as I climbed the creaking steps I heard the coin clatter against the floor and begin to roll away. At the top of the stair I glanced back, saw Heather scrabbling after the quintilla as it rolled toward Anna's cage and between the bars. Heather, intent on the chase, collided with the bars, her forehead striking with such force that the bars rang like a bell. She dropped onto her side, stunned; the little quintilla rolled to Anna's knee and stopped there.

I did not pity Heather overmuch. To my mind, since Anna seemed to crave the role of an orc-pet, she had been less dishonest in presenting herself as one than Heather had been in playing along. Graydon Zamp was guiltier than either, of course, but I felt little animosity toward him -- rather, his hubristic ingenuity had earned my grudging respect. I hurried across the courtyard and entered the common room, feeling somehow abashed at having needed so little of the free hour I had been granted.

When I returned to the cottage I found that in my brief absence (I had been away for less than an hour) the Countess had already made arrangements for Satta's punishment. Four men of the most dubious aspect loitered near the front door, eyeing me unfavorably as I approached. One of them stepped forward to meet me, their leader I supposed. He was a big man, taller than me, stout as an oak, with a patch over the scarred ruin of his right eye.

"Mornin' to you, Lord," he said with surprising deference, but I was not blind to the glint of malice in his remaining eye.

"Good morning, goodman. Do you have business with the Countess?"

The man grimaced, baring several rotted teeth in what I realized must be his attempt at a grin. "We do indeed, m'lord," he said. "We're to be the Lady's escorts." He glanced back at his companions, whose smiles and chortles were no more reassuring than his own.

"And where is the Countess?" I asked.

"She'd be finalizing arrangements with Ruck," said the scarred man, jerking a thumb toward the back of the cottage. The men by the door laughed more loudly.

From the side of the cottage the Countess appeared then, riding a scrawny little nag. The horse was ancient, little more than skin and bones, but given the rarity of that species it must have been worth a small fortune. A man on foot was leading the horse by the reins, speaking over his shoulder to the Countess. She seemed to be in high spirits, laughing without restraint at his words. Before either of them noticed me, the Countess raised her arm and snapped her fingers twice; Satta rushed up from behind them, entirely naked, clean white bandages now swathing her buttocks and thighs. Her plump luscious breasts swayed violently with her motion, and I found myself speechless with jealousy as those uncouth peons at the cottage door ogled her sumptuous beauty.

As Satta stumbled past the little nag, the Countess pointed emphatically at the ground in front of the cottage. Without a break in stride Satta ran to the place indicated and dropped to her elbows and knees, thrusting her buttocks high in the air for the delectation of the men at the door. They murmured their approval, and I rediscovered my power of speech.

"What do you have planned, Countess?" I asked stridently, stepping forward.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Home so soon, Dominus?"

I did not respond immediately; I was watching Satta, whose head had jerked up at the sound of my voice. That face I had so long adored was contorted with the pain of her recent whipping, while her eyes burned with a deliciously alluring fear. She spoke, and though I could not hear the word, I could make it out on her lips: "Master!"

"What do you intend to do with Satta, My Lady?" I asked.

"The obvious," said the Countess laconically. She clapped her hands sharply twice. The scarred man who stood near me cast a sardonic smile at me and walked over to Satta, loosening his trousers.

"Satta!" snapped the Countess. "Where are your manners, girl? Speak!"

Satta's cheeks reddened perceptibly before she lowered her face. She said, very clearly, "Please allow Satta's holes the honor of pleasuring you, Master."

The scarred man's grin widened, serving to further disfigure his face. "Gladly, my sweet little cunt," he muttered, kneeling. The men behind him grunted with amusement.

I realized then that I had not altogether overcome the effects of Satta's magic; my emotions roiled in my breast. But I was determined to be free from her spell and so I did not interfere, but stood watching with clenched fists and teeth.

I could not see the scarred man's penetration, but I could tell the moment he entered her -- Satta's body tensed and she gasped sharply. He grimaced, gripping her tiny waist with hands so large they easily encircled her. His hips moved forward, slowly but steadily. Satta whimpered, her own tightly balled fists trembling.

"She's tight as a virgin!" grunted the scarred man. "Are you sure she's ever been fucked?"

The Countess was very much amused. "I assure you her holes have seen extensive use. Isn't that right, Satta?"

"Yes, Mistress!" cried Satta. She groaned deeply.

The scarred man began fucking her in earnest. "You like that cock, little one?" he snarled. "You like that cock in your tight little cunt?"

"Yes, Master!" she sobbed. "Satta --" she was interrupted by a moan wrenched from her throat, which devolved into a quavering whimper. Then, panting breathlessly, she continued, "Satta loves the Master's cock! Satta loves the Master!"

He fucked her harder, and her cries intensified. I felt a fury rising in my heart, a black indomitable hatred, and I embraced it. Now at last I understood what the Countess had been trying to make me realize about Satta -- that she was nothing but a hole, that her passions were not reserved for me alone, but were available to anyone who cared to take them. I glanced at the Countess, and saw that she was watching me intently. I attempted to smile, half grin, half grimace; the Countess studied my expression for several seconds, perhaps unsure what to make of it, then turned her eyes back to our servitrix.

Satta was climaxing, her entire body shuddering savagely, her head up, chin high, her clawed fingers raking the dirt. "Master!" she squealed -- and for the first time I despised the sound of her voice. "Satta cums, Master! Thank you, Master!"

The scarred man's fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of her waist as he continued to pound vehemently at her hole. His face twisted abruptly into an almost comically grotesque expression, and he uttered a single syllable -- "Shit!" -- as he ejaculated. For many long seconds they spasmed arrhythmically against one another, gasping and groaning.

When he was finished he abandoned her hole, rose breathless to his feet. Satta sat up on her knees and twisted about, mouth agape, cooing for a taste of his cock. He readily obliged and she sucked him zealously as she fondled her own tits, savagely pinching her distended teats. She cleaned him with her usual diligence, and when he finally shoved her roughly aside and turned away, she puled needfully after him.

But by then a second man had positioned himself behind her, his cock at the ready. Satta dropped hurriedly back to her elbows, offering up her lubricious sex. "Please fuck Satta, Master!" she moaned.

For an instant she turned her face to me, and I saw unmistakably her mortification, her anguish. For that moment my heart seemed joined again to hers; I felt her penitence, and gave my forgiveness. Then the man shoved himself into her dripping cunt and whatever I thought I had seen was obliterated by a nakedly libidinous expression as she climaxed immediately. She squeezed shut her eyes, lowered her face and moaned with ecstasy.

I do not think her climax ceased until each of the remaining strangers had made use of her to his satisfaction. Each of them, that is, except for the one named Ruck; he continued to hold the reins of the nag, speaking amiably with the Countess. Rather than devote my attention to the spectacle of Satta's shamelessness, I chose instead to study Ruck, whom I now realized must be the leader of the men. He was swarthy and clothed all in black, which perhaps lent him an even more sinister appearance than did his cruel features and dark goatee. I do not know how long I watched him conversing with the Countess before something in their interaction with one another, an informal intimacy I had never before seen in the Countess, made me aware of the obvious -- that he and the Countess were lovers. As I watched, the Countess leaned toward Ruck from her saddle, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, and murmured something in his ear. I could not hear his response, but it elicited delighted laughter from the Countess.

"You have not introduced me to your companion, My Lady," I called out, approaching them.

"I am remiss," replied the Countess. At the same moment her paramour extended his hand to me.

"Berjamin Rucker," he said flatly. He gripped my hand firmly, but without the excessive vehemence that small or otherwise insecure men are wont to use to prove that they are not weak.

"A pleasure, Goodman Rucker," I said.

"The pleasure is mine, My Lord."

He spoke without evident sarcasm, and for a moment I felt a curious sense of gratitude toward him. His eyes, cleaving to mine, were as cool and calculating as the Countess's, but his lips did not curl into that characteristic smirk which so often belied her most biting ironies.

"Will you be taking a turn with Satta, Dominus?" asked the Countess, and I did not need to look at her to know that her damnable smirk was in place.

"I think not, My Lady."

Ruck's men, having sated themselves, began calling to him to take his turn with Satta; the Countess, too, urged him forward. He smiled indulgently, but shook his head. Satta, instructed by the scarred man, crawled straight to Ruck's feet, leaving a slimy trail of spunk which spilled steadily from her cunt. She nuzzled his dusty boot, buttocks writhing. I stood nearly close enough to touch her, but she did not spare me so much as a glance.

"Please, Master," she pled, her tongue caressing Ruck's boot. "Fuck Satta, Master."

"Disengage yourself, girl," said Ruck, and though his tone carried no hint of a threat, she obeyed with alacrity, whimpering.

At last she turned to me, almost reluctantly, and put her face to my boot. "Please fuck Satta, Master," she murmured, no more than a whisper. I could think of no appropriate response, and so remained silent. Surprisingly, this seemed to arouse or encourage her; her hips began gyrating as they had for Ruck, and she kissed the toe of my boot. "Please, Master. Allow this hole the honor of pleasuring her great Master's cock one last time." She licked my boot, lapping diligently. Wherever her tongue lingered, the shoe leather gleamed beneath.

Still I did not respond, and I became acutely aware that everyone was watching me, though I could not meet their gazes. I stared at Satta's bandaged buttocks, which writhed heatedly, but they held no allure for me.

"Please, Master," she repeated between licks, now fairly whining with need. "Please fuck Satta, Master!"

She turned her face up to mine then, and I saw tears in her eyes. I looked away, toward the Countess. "We have sported enough," I said. "Let us carry out Satta's sentence."

"Indeed," said the Countess, with a most unpleasantly mischievous expression. She clapped her hands once. "Satta, come!"

"Yes, Mistress!" Satta leapt to her feet and hurried to the Countess's nag, where she knelt and placed her forehead against the stirrup.

"Will you follow where you are led, or must we bind and leash you?" asked the Countess.

"Satta will follow, Mistress," said the girl, voice tense with anxiety.

The Countess nodded to Ruck, who gave the nag's reins a jerk and started off, shouting for his men to follow.

"Are you coming with us, Dominus?" the Countess asked.

"Yes, My Lady," I said, and fell in behind the sauntering nag.

The scarred man led the way, a few dozen strides ahead of Ruck; Satta walked beside the Countess, still naked, heedless of the semen which dribbled down her thighs past her knees. I followed behind them, my thoughts running in endless circles. Ruck's three other men covered our flanks and rear, an arrangement I might have found ominous had I not been so preoccupied.

We marched thus into the woods, and had been traveling for the better part of an hour before it occurred to me to wonder what our destination might be. I approached the Countess, remaining on that side of the nag opposite from Satta.

"I am curious, My Lady, how you made your acquaintance with these men."

I had pitched my voice low, so that Ruck would not overhear. The Countess replied loudly enough to ensure that he could not help but hear: "Mr Rucker is a speculator and businessman. He came highly recommended."

"Can you trust him?"

"Do you not trust me, Dominus?"

"Of course, My Lady, but--"

"Then rest assured that we have nothing to fear from Berjamin or his men. For the simple reason, Dominus, that they would have nothing to gain from any act of treachery." The look she gave me was significant, and I knew that in spite of her undoubted intimacy with Ruck, she had no delusions as to his character.

"I thank you for easing my mind, My Lady."

She nodded but said nothing, and I dropped back a few paces. I could not refrain from glancing at Satta, who still walked silently beside the Countess, naked and lovely. I almost wished I had used her one last time before we departed the cottage, but I knew it would not have been satisfying. Not for me, at least.

Our march continued throughout the morning and past midday. We must have traveled ten miles or more northeast of Further Edgewater, far deeper into the forest than I had ever gone. The path we followed was scarcely visible among the undergrowth, but Ruck never slackened his pace. More than once I was startled by noises nearby, and I imagined all manner of wild animals stalking us as we proceeded.

At length I noticed that the scarred man had halted ahead of us, and as we approached him he pointed to the trunk of an enormous oak. Something had been nailed there -- a hand, which might once have been human. The decaying flesh hung from it in strips. Ruck, seeing the grisly totem, smiled at the Countess and said, "We're nearly there, My Lady."

Before the Countess could respond, I hissed, "Where?"

"A trading post," said Ruck. "Frequented by goblins. We left a signal expressing a desire to trade with one of their tribes, and they have responded affirmatively."

I felt ill. "With a severed human hand?"

"It is the Broken Hand tribe," said Ruck with a shrug. "Come, not much farther."