Cinder's Women: Mouse's Tale Ch. 01

She was confused and terribly so- she felt a wonderful sense of desire growing within her but she wanted to be free to fend him off. She wanted him to stop but knew that if he did, she'd never forgive him. His fingers slid through the slick, wet folds of her pussy, turning trembles of terror into shudders of excitement. Her bonds only seemed to make her inexplicable passion more intense. He moved his feet out, groaning as the head and first couple of inches of his cock disappeared into her. In one terribly swift motion, he plunged the hard, thick shaft of his member into her to the hilt. She squealed in surprise as he stretched her painfully rougher than she'd ever been taken before.

She cried softly, her tongue sliding between her lips, his hands over her breasts, toying with the excited nipples. Their eyes met again as he rocked his hips forward, burying his cock to the hilt. She cried out softly as his pubic hairs rubbed against her snatch. Moaning, her head rolled from one side, then the other as he withdrew all but his head before forcing it back to the base. He released her breasts, moving his hands behind her body, studying her eyes as he began to rock his body back and forth, his cock in and out of her cunt. His chest rose faster as his cock plunged in and out of her pussy. His lips parted as she flexed her body, causing more friction on his dick as he withdrew all but the head before guiding it back inside. Ignoring her whimpered and unfelt cries for mercy, he took her more savagely than any lover had ever done in the past.

While her mind ordered her to whimper and protest loudly, her body reacted even more forcefully to the other extreme, her leg encircling his waist, easing the invasion and making her small tingles of pleasure into jolts of sexual lightning. She shoved her hips forward, meeting his as the unrelenting cock pushed in and out of the opened hole. Moaning as her head snapped from side to side, she was beside herself with physical excitement, shaking in the intensity of her conflicting emotions, her resolve buckling further and further. Wild-eyed, she whimpered and strained even further upward, tossing her head from side to side in her mad frenzy.

He moved his hands from behind and grabbed her hips, pulling her body towards his as he shoved his cock deep inside her quivering body, hitting a spot deep within her. Each thrust drove her bare bottom against the rugged stone of the dungeon wall, soon wearing her ass raw and scratched. He lifted the soft, round buttocks in his strong hands, pressing her even tighter against the wall. She cried out as her head snapped back, her hips forced against his again. His cock buried to the base, his balls slapping against her body as he picked up the pace. She moaned approvingly. He grunted, his pulse racing faster as he ravaged her thoroughly. The sounds of their hips coming against one another filled the air. He smiled, feeling the liquid spreading along the length of his cock as he withdrew all but the head before shoving it back up her pussy. His mouth consumed her throat with kisses, biting the tender hollows and generally arousing every nerve in her neck. His fingers dug into her hips, forcing her up and down his pole.

The instant her climax overtook her, she instinctively threw her head back to scream and cracked her head painfully against the stone, bringing silence while stars danced in her head. Her body continued on without her brain, reacting to the grind of his cock with burst after impossible burst of orgasmic energy. As his balls slapped against her body she cried out, signaling another short climax as he pulled her hips against his, grinding his pubic hair against her pussy.

He grunted, his legs shaking as cum shot from his cock. A breeze hit his coated shaft as he withdrew all but the head before shoving it back up her pussy. His legs shivered as cum emptied from his cock into his momentarily willing partner. She groaned again, her body trembling under the assault on her pussy. He gripped her hips, slamming them against his as the last of his load burst from his helmet and deep inside her gut. She moaned when he released her hips, pushing his fingers under her tits. He gripped the soft tits, forcing them higher. Her body shivered as he pulled her body closer, his cock buried to the hilt. He kissed her on the shoulder, softly biting into her flesh, and licking the pale, trembling skin.

By the time he finished, her slender arms were strained from struggling to break free. So much of her body ached and every bit of her skin was coated in sweat mingled with the stew of sex. Her wrists felt worn raw by the old and rusty brackets pinning her to the wall, less securely than his hard body was doing. Their eyes met- his glowing with something deeply primal while hers gleamed with tears. What the tears were for, she couldn't say. They stared, gasping for air and studying each other. She felt his hard cock throbbing between her legs, buried in her womb, her juices boiling inside her.

Although not yet spent, he eased himself out of her and stepped away calmly, redressing as though nothing unnatural had happened. Strangely enough, he remained as hard as stone; a fleshy knife aimed at her cunt. She, in contrast, panted with exhilarated exhaustion and tried to keep her legs solidly underneath her, lest she collapse and hang herself from the bracket. The mess of sex oozed from her cunt, painting her thighs with their rich juices.

"Please find the keys and set me loose," she pleaded at last. He calmly buckled on his belt and watched her struggle uselessly against her bonds.

"Keys? I don't need keys to set you loose from those," he said with contempt. He crossed the cell and caressed the old metal around her throat. The most minimal contact between his flesh and hers made her tingle. She almost came again. "They're ancient and rusty. Looks like poor quality metal work and no care taken to maintain them. It's the moisture that makes them weak. Weak, just like you are now."

With uncommon ease, he seized the bracket holding her left wrist and tore it free of the mortar. It clanged against the far wall and he pulled the right one off just as easily. Her arms dropped limply to her sides, tired and useless. Her shoulders burned with exhaustion. He crushed her against the wall with one hand pressed to her chest and tore away the iron collar locked about her throat. Small bits of old rock and mortar bounced off of her shoulders and down her body. A contemptuous flip of his wrist sent it sailing across the cell, clanging against the stone of wall and floor.

She fought to keep her feet for as long as possible, but quickly collapsed in a nerveless pile a few scant seconds after he released his hold on her. Overnight the puddle of piss she'd made almost dried away or seeped into the floor. Almost, but not entirely. Her wrists and throat felt as if they bled and the scratches stung from her sweat. Gradually, the spidery pinpricks of feeling began to creep back into her numb limbs. She began to wish it hadn't.

"Why are you crying?" he asked. It was only now, after he'd asked, that she became aware that she was indeed weeping softly. He squatted on the floor before her, resting easily on his haunches while looking down at her. Her limbs wouldn't work. She couldn't stand, let alone run.

"You raped me," she wailed, sounding suddenly weak and pitiful even to herself in the dark cell.

"One cannot rape the willing. You wanted to be ravaged, plain and simple."

"I didn't want that!" But even as she protested, her voice broke in denial. She couldn't believe her arousal, why should he be blamed for taking advantage of what she wanted? Or, at least, what her body wanted.

"Oh, really? In your mind you tell yourself that you hated my touch. That it was unwanted. But you never said 'No'. Your body took pleasure from my actions, and did not withhold your release. One who is raped rarely, if ever, enjoys the pleasures of contact. The bonds took your control away, but made the sensations sweeter, didn't they? That fragile, often misled 'civilized' part of your soul has been cast into confusion, while the primal beast that drives your basest instincts took pleasure in your helplessness." His hand rested on her shoulder briefly, stroking comfortably. Her body wanted to feel those callused hands all over her, but she also wanted him to leave her alone. Her pussy spasmed, calling for him.

"N-n-o-o-o!" she wailed in shock, trying one last time to deny what she knew to be true. If she had had any strength available, she would have thrown herself into his arms and wailed until she fell asleep.

"The body doesn't lie to the mind, the mind simply refuses to believe. The sooner you stop lying to yourself, the sooner your confusion will end. I offer you a choice. In fact, I will offer you this choice once more after this, when you have more information to go on. But for now your destiny lies in your own hands, so think hard before deciding."

"Please don't kill me," she begged.

"I don't kill without reason, and never the helpless. Nor have I ever knowingly taken an unwilling woman. Force is the weapon of bullies and cowards. I have tried very hard to be neither."

The hiss of steel startled her from where she lay collapsed in a ball with her head buried on her arms. Her arms and legs felt afire, pain slicing through the strained muscles of her narrow shoulders. He had drawn his sword and was placing it hilt-first on the cold stone floor before her. A beautiful, carved silver face stared up at her with eyes of tiny sapphires.

"Right now you have three options," he explained, once more dropping his belt and untying the stays of his armor shirt. "Take up my sword and run me through. I won't resist and I'll even clear the way for you- a neat thrust into my heart." Suiting word to deed, he reopened the chain shirt and tugged aside the padded jerkin underneath. The skin underneath was scarred and tan, with very little chest hair to be seen. This she couldn't do. Even healthy and well rested, she'd never had either the strength in her arms to lift the weapon nor the skill to plunge it into anything more solid than a pillow, let alone the courage to plunge it into a man's chest. She pushed ineffectually at the weapon with an unsteady hand. It moved an inch and she jerked away as if she'd been burnt or slapped.

"Just as well," he said, resettling the padded shirt. "If by some miracle you had managed to kill me, you'd still have to fight your way through my troops to freedom. They wouldn't be pleased to say the least. No lone, unskilled, weaponless girl could make it out of this dungeon alive no matter how lucky she was.

"Your second choice lies just the other side of that open door." He gestured and she realized that it had never been shut after he entered. Anyone passing in the hall would have been able to see and hear what had transpired within. She felt the burning flush of shame paint her face, coat her naked body. She wanted to reach out and draw her rags to her, but they were just out of reach and he didn't seem inclined to let her cover her pale, naked skin.

"Crawl out that door and I'll be done with you. You'll still be my slave by Law and Custom, but I'll make sure you get the lowliest duties possible. You will have no worth to me, little Value whatsoever. No matter how long it takes you meet my bond, you will learn nothing more than the lowest sort of scullery tasks- laundress, stable cleaner, pot washer, midden cleaner, and what ever other lowly tasks can be found for you. Even if I have to make up new ones just for you. Follow that path and you will most likely die a pathetic failure because you lack the will to change your life on your own.

"Or," he concluded, folding his arms across his chest and regarding her with that dark stare. "You can come to me, crawl to me if you must. Satisfy me and prove your absolute submission to my will. I promise that you will be worth a great deal to me if you do. Before you meet that bond, you will be transformed in both body and spirit; of that I have no doubt and am prepared to invest dearly on the outcome. Your worth to yourself, however, shall be twenty-fold the Value I set upon you, probably a thousand times what it is now. The choice is yours. I'll wait as long as I need to."

She longingly eyed the door as he stood to one side, not barring her way in the least. How simple it would be to crawl out that door and into a short life as a bonded slave. Law and Custom according to the ancient Plazato Sygma required masters to provide their slaves with clothing, food, and shelter keeping with the master's station. Judging by the way he held himself and the quality of his gear, that would be quite good indeed, better than she was used to at the very least. And maybe he would eventually forget his promise to keep her poor and unskilled.

Or he'd never forget, as he seemed that kind of man. One who does not threaten lightly and would sooner cut off one of his own hands than break an oath.

But to be of Value. Great Value. He was right in that she felt no great sense of self-worth. Survival had been more important than pride. Every thief knew something about the concept of worth, but mainly cared little for an object's Value. An object could be worth hundreds of Emperors, but if no one wanted it, it had no Value. The same held with craftsmen or anyone with skills of some sort. To have Value, even if to have nothing material...

You were wealthy if you had Value, even if you had no money.

Slowly she crawled, trying to blank out the sharp jolts of pain that jumped up her arms every time she put a hand down. The cell floor was filthy, covered in old straw, rat shit, and more that she did not want to think about. Her limbs were almost totally awake, the tingling almost gone, but only time could ease the soreness of her shoulders.

She knelt at his feet feeling humiliated and fragile, helpless and exposed. She stared at the floor in shame, astounded that she'd surrendered so easily. Worse, she actually felt excited, her body aroused. She waited in silence, her hands twitching nervously against the bare flesh of her lap, tiny needles stabbing into each and every nerve. His callused, rough fingers lifted her chin until their eyes met, his as colorless as night, her red and brimming with tears. This once his voice sounded calm and laced with softness that didn't seem to fit all that well with roughness of his features.

"Never hang your head in shame or cry when you think of this moment. You have stepped onto an uncertain path offered by one whom you do not know and have little enough reason to trust. That alone is an act of bravery not easily matched, and I have witnessed a long lifetime's worth of bravery. I swear, in spite of all that is to come that you think will break you, you will succeed."

His kiss was tender and she answered it hungrily, lifting her hands to caress the sun-hardened cheek. It felt so different to kiss someone and mean it that she almost came, a moan of lust emptying her lungs slowly into his mouth. With a low throaty laugh that set her juices churning, he pulled away. She knew what he required of her as he guided her hands to reveal the hard shaft of his manhood pointed at her nose. It was had, but his skin felt warm and soft. She moved her mouth over to kiss the head. When she gave it her tentative kiss of passion, it jerked in response to her touch. She knew what it wanted and opened her mouth wide. Eyes closed, she explored him with her warm, eager tongue, circling the tip. Her essence still clung to him, a tart and pleasant flavor.

Her lips circled the head of his shaft, her tongue darting into his piss hole, lapping up his salty pre-come. The blend of flavors made her heart beat faster. He eased it halfway into her mouth and she could feel her heart pounding as her lips slid along the hard shaft. She did her best to take his thick length into her mouth completely, but it became increasingly difficult the farther into her it went, until finally she gagged. Keeping her lips tightly around his prick, she relaxed her jaw and throat and he slid deeper. He tangled his fingers in her hair and started moving his hips so that his cock moved in and out of her mouth. He stroked her face slowly, careful not to feed her more than she could handle. She put her hands on his hips and simply held on. Her jaw ached by the time she felt the first stirrings of his eruption in the deep root of his cock. She felt him pulse at the base and pull out of her mouth, leaving only the tip inside as he came roaring in pain and relief.

She nearly gagged on the thick, salty flood of semen before managing to swallow the first mouthful. Shorter, less intense spurts followed- all of which he made her swallow before withdrawing his still-rigid member from her mouth. It was odd, she thought, all the past men she'd experienced had softened soon after launching their seed but he remained as hard as stone. She curiously licked the round knob still hovering around her mouth. Patting her head and smoothing her tangled hair, he took on the attitude of a teacher praising a star pupil.

"Never spill a drop," he told her in a lecturing tone. "My seed is a gift to you for a job well done, a reward for pleasing me. I don't come very often, so when I do you have done very well. And don't worry, I am barren. Thankfully, the Mistress of Fate has been kind enough to see that I am forever denied children of my own."

Restoring himself back into his breeches, her...Master retrieved his weapon and the pile of rags that had been her dress from its heap in the corner, out of her vision. She waited, uncertain but patient, as the sounds of tearing cloth filled the cell. In the quiet rustling that followed, her heart fluttered terribly.

With cloth rope strips of her torn dress, he bound her, wrist to elbow behind her back. Shoulders back and spine arched, he lifted her onto shaky legs and held her up until she steadied enough to stand on her own. She felt awkward presenting her small breasts and pointed nipples thrust out in this manner, but knew any protest would be futile. Using a short lead of hastily braided cloth strips tied like a leash around her neck, he pulled her out into the candlelit corridor.

"Lord Cinder!" boomed a voice only slightly larger than the individual wielding it.

Coming down the hall was a pillar of muscle, bone, and steel that seemed to fill the narrow stone corridor top to bottom, and nearly side to side. Fully a head taller than her Master, who stood a half-head over her own height, the big man bowed respectfully at the waist. If she were to embrace this giant with the salt-and-pepper beard, her arms would barely encircle his waist. She tried to step back into the cell and away from this imposing, looming figure, only to be dragged back into the hall by her leash.

"Stanton," the man addressed as Lord Cinder acknowledged, glaring darkly at the girl. Almost casually he struck, the cluster of leather straps making the flogger caught her just below the navel. The pain was mild but the shock of the blow knocked the wind out of her.

"Is this her?" Stanton gestured with a hand that could easily wrap around her head and crush it like a grapefruit. He was a titan dressed in plate mail, chipped and dented in places, over a coat of black mail links. Over his great, wide shoulders, made all the wider by his armor, she could see the hilt of a sword nearly as tall as she was, while a broad shield hung from his arm. With arms thicker than her legs and legs like pillars, Stanton sent chills of terror through her. She'd seen men who she considered big- farmers and blacksmiths who had the broad backs and strong hands that moved their lives, soldiers and other fighters with broad chests that propelled hearty shouts over a battlefield or calls for beer across a tavern, and the roundness of innkeepers who were kind and merchants who were not. He was kind, she hoped. His face showed signs of age, fifty years or more judging by the dark folds and creases around his eyes.