A Knight's Submission Ch. 09

"Turn around, bend over. Spread your legs further. Good, now grasp your ankles." Lorath gave the string of commands, and each one obeyed awarded Karis as before. He moved forward, affixing cuffs to her wrists and ankles, then linked them, wrists to their respective ankles, to keep her in her stance. The leash was reattached to the back of her collar, then pulled back to arch her back more, making her uncomfortable.

Something pressed against her asshole, and Karis nearly despaired. She knew what was coming, but didn't resist. She relaxed her sphincter, allowing the hook to be pushed into her ass, connected to her leash to keep her in her position. Another pulse of pleasure made Karis' legs tremble.

Lorath stepped away from her then, and something slapped against the floor. Then she heard a sharp crack that made her jump, startled. Karis nearly lost her balance, then adjusted her position slightly.

"I am going to punish you, Pet." Lorath told her. "I am going to whip you. You will count out each lash of the whip, and you will thank your Master for the punishment. Do you understand?"

Karis' eyes watered with more tears, and nodding only tugged the plug in her ass. "Y-Yes, Master. I will keep count of the whip, and I will thank you for it, Master." A pulse of pleasure preceded his reply.

"Good girl. Let us begin."

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The first few minutes had been easy enough for Lenore. The ointment that the pussy plug had been slathered in wasn't too distracting, and fear was a powerful motivator. Lenore focused on her fears, letting them drive her onwards, as far from captivity as she could manage.

She should have been afraid of running into the wrong people, but in truth, it was beasts that scared her most right now. They would know that she was prey, and there was very little that Lenore would be able to do to defend herself with her arms trapped in an armbinder, her mouth gagged. If she missed a kick, she was as good as dead. No beast would see her nakedness and think to spare her for the sake of pleasure.

But the there were other things to fear. Running into wandering slavers taking shelter in the woods. She would be a prime subject for capture, and most of the work would already be completed for them. All they had to do was catch up to her, and continue her training. Bandits were little better; they were far more likely to run in groups, and at best, Lenore could expect to be passed around for hours. If she were lucky, they would keep her around for their amusement. Unlucky, she would be sold to slavers. No good either way.

Nightfall was an eventual concern. She would have to stop running, and worry about the beasts again. Lenore knew she couldn't make much ground running blindly through the woods at night. She'd have to stop somewhere, find a way to hide herself. Lenore didn't want to stop unless she truly had to, because by then, she'd be left with her predicament and her arousal.

As time ticked on, Lenore found herself wishing she would be found by people. Slavers or bandits were a desperate solution, but surely they couldn't be worse than Lorath, right? She might be able to reason with them, or ransom herself back to the Order. She had pleased Lorath, surely she could bargain with them in a similar fashion.

The thought of such acts made her more aware of the desire that had been gradually building within her. Her awareness made it impossible to shut away again. Lenore slowed her pace, then leaned against a tree to catch her breath. She was so thirsty, and hungry, too.

Her body had other ideas, and the need between her thighs wanted to be denied no longer. Lenore silently cursed herself, closing her eyes as she adjusted her legs and hips, dropping to a crouch. That was a bad idea, she realized. No, it was a good idea. It felt food to crouch. The plugs moved pleasantly within her, the one in her pussy stimulating her sex.

Lenore wished she had the use of her hands. The armbinder kept her from relieving the building pressure. She crouched lower, moaning as the plug moved within her, then raised up. She did it again, bouncing shallowly, loving the way it felt. A distracted part of her knew it was a bad idea, that she needed to move again, to save her energy to gain distance.

The first pulse of pleasure through her piercings came as a surprise, and Lenore nearly lost her footing. For a brief moment, she felt some distant connection, a tug in a direction she couldn't latch on to. It left her wanting for more, and Lenore kept hovering, bouncing in place, trying to fuck herself on the plug with minimal success. She crouched low, exerting as much pressure on the plugs as was possible, panting with need. The next pulse came, and she fell to her knees.

Lenore groaned helplessly into the gag, and found herself sucking upon it. She imagined Lorath's cock, adjusted her stance. Knees parted, ass pressed back against the tree she had leaned against. She humped back against it desperately, praying for another pulse. She needed more, needed the stimulation. A part of her wished she had begged Lorath to take her back. It would have been so easy to submit to him...

It was a shock that came next, far more powerful than the gentle, teasing vibrations of pulsed pleasure she'd felt before. Lenore collapsed, screaming into the gag, choking on its length as she lost control. It was a punishment, she knew. Part of Karis' punishment that Lorath had warned her would come. It didn't last long, but it left her nerves stinging.

Lenore's desire was momentarily forgotten, her predicament remembered. She needed to get up, to keep running, before the punishment began in earnest. If that was just a taste, then she was running out of time.

Another pulse of pleasure made Lenore whine, but she fought it this time, trying to gather her resolve. It was a trap, it had to be. Somewhere, Lorath was toying with her even as he continued Karis' training. It was sick and twisted. She was curious to see what would come of it if she remained close enough, but not so curious to actually stop trying to find her freedom.

By the time Lenore found her feet again, there came another pulse. She started moving, but there were more pulses distracting her from her goal. She was too aware of the plugs and how they filled her, of how her arousal stained her inner thighs, dripping down her legs from the desire and the teasing pulses.

Lenore barely made it into a clearing when she felt a sharp pain lash across her back. Her feet caught on one another and she crashed to the forest floor with a muffled cry. A pulse of pleasure followed, distracting her from the abruptness of the pain.

Then it came again, the lash falling in a different spot on her back, followed by the pulse of pleasure. Then again, with no regular tempo. It took Lenore several lashes across her back to realize that she was feeling Karis' punishment, a whipping. She could do nothing more than suffer through it, too distracted by the alternation of pain and pleasure, of punishment and reward, to regain her feet and try moving away.

Her earlier distraction and attempt to ease the desire she'd felt before the first pulses had cost her precious time. Lenore realized amid the tumult of sensation that she should have kept running until she could run no more. Her own fears and concerns, her desires, had cost her dearly. Like it or not - and in a sick way, she was beginning to enjoy this - Lenore had no choice but to share further in Karis' predicament, regardless of her so-called 'freedom'.

The whip had moved across her back, careful not to strike the same spot twice, often overlapping, but unfocussed. After twenty lashes, there was a long pause to the pain, but not so for the pleasure. Whatever it was that triggered the pulses of pleasure endured longer, now. Lenore wondered if it was solely due to Karis' deepening submission to Lorath, or if perhaps Lorath was using it as a means to continue tormenting his freed toy further.

Whatever the case, the reprieve saw Lenore on her knees, face pressed to the grassy floor of the clearing, shaking her hips as she was teased with stronger, persistent vibrations through her piercings. She moaned into her gag without a care for the sound she made. It was no longer important to her to be aware of her surroundings, to be careful of being caught by the wrong predators, let alone the right ones.

All she could think about now was the pleasure, of finding relief, but the vibrations weren't enough to get her there. With the way her plugs were strapped into her holes, there wasn't any way to get the leverage or friction she truly needed. Without help, without the aid of another living soul, Lenore was helpless to be anything but a desperate slut in need, now.

The vibrations abated, leaving her panting, ass raised like a bitch in heat. Lenore would have given anything to be mounted right then and there. A few seconds passed as she caught her breath, and she whimpered in need. Then a stray pulse of pleasure caught her off guard. Thoughts of escape were dashed before they could fully form. She needed more.

The lash returned, this time against her legs. Just as before, it came in alternations of lash and vibration, pain and pleasure, punishment and reward. Lenore couldn't begin to fathom what was being done to Karis that this was the treatment she would be subjected to. It was hard enough to scold herself for her own failure to gain enough distance to escape the link of the piercings to her sword-sister.

The minutes stretched on, with Lenore crying out in pain and pleasure, and it became harder and harder for her to distinguish between the two sensations. She began to expect the pleasure after every lash, without an inkling as to why the two were linked. She had thought that Lorath would be too cruel to reward pain with pleasure. Lenore had expected that the punishment would be severe.

It was more twisted than that, of course. So much so, in fact, that Lenore didn't realize that she was being molded just as Karis was, with an illusion of freedom being the only difference between them right now.

Lenore lost track of time. She lost count of the lashes, aching only for the pulses of pleasure that filled the spaces between bouts of pain. She teetered upon the brink of climax, but no matter how she tried, no matter how desperately she needed it, the release wouldn't come.

Shadows fell over Lenore while she was caught in the throes of twisted pleasure. She hadn't even heard the approach of strangers, didn't even notice their presence until she saw the tip of a boot swim lazily into focus before her tear-stained eyes. Her eyes rolled back slightly as she struggled to right herself, lifting her head to look up. A grim-faced man looked down on her from miles above, consciousness threatening to leave Lenore. His mouth moved, but no sound reached Lenore's ears.

Whatever he said, he repeated himself, nudging Lenore with his boot. She cried against the lash, moaning into the gag for the pleasure that followed. The man looked confused, looked at a point behind Lenore. He grinned, then laughed.

Lenore felt hands upon her bare thighs from behind, tracing up to her ass. They gathered her arousal from her inner thighs, and without thinking, she spread her legs invitingly, praying that whoever was back there would stimulate her further. A hand slapped her ass, hard, and she moaned. It felt so good, the touch was real, unlike the phantom pains of the distant lash.

The lash had stopped, but the vibrations continued to torment her clit and nipples. Lenore was lost in pleasure, her mind far too fogged to realize that she was possibly in danger. Shouldn't she have been worried? Were these strangers not a threat to her?

A hand trailed further up her thigh, then cupped the strap keeping her plugs in. It pressed, pushing them deeper, and Lenore pushed back, grinding against the touch. Then it was gone, and she whined in protest, panic rising in her chest, frustration clouding her judgement. She needed the touch, needed it for her release. If only she could cum, then everything would be set right!

Another slap. She shook her ass invitingly. Someone scooped her up, hauling her over their shoulder. A hand came to rest on her buttocks, balancing her. When she squirmed, it sapped her cheeks again. When she struggled more for the sake of the touch, someone slapped her face. Her vision swam. She felt so dizzy, unable to focus on anything. Lenore was moving, being carried somewhere.

Time passed in a blur, and eventually, Lenore lost consciousness. The vibrations had stopped, and the lash did not return to stir her from sleep. The hands did not disturb her, either.

Distantly, she recalled the chuckling of many voices, of dancing firelight, the smell of sweat and horses. Night had fallen, but she was too tired to wake, and slept a restful sleep at last under the stars...