Holly

I held my breath, terrified I'd been heard. I spent a few breathless heartbeats listening intently, but all I could hear was the deep breathing of sleep from my sisters in bondage, and the muffled pacing of the guards out in the hall.

I let out a sigh, the moment ruined. I dared not keep going, not knowing if I'd be able to keep quiet through whatever it was I was chasing. The thought of waking someone from a noise made defiling myself... I'd die of embarrassment. Frustrated and aching, shivering in confusing need I slowly drifted off into a restless sleep.

I dreamed of cruel hands grabbing and pinning me. Forcing unwanted pleasure on me. Torturing me with the desires of my body.

My life became a torturous loop. By day strapped to a mockery of a king's throne that stripped me of modesty, while half a dozen eager young men satisfied their simple lusts upon me, leaving me wanton and aching. By night I was trapped with out privacy. Soon it was all I could think about, my desperate hungry need. I began to resent the young men, ignorant of the workings of my body. The other girls did not seem to suffer so. Perhaps they weren't as wanton as me, only pain and fear when ravished, and I was being punished for my curious and lustful nature. For a while I wallowed in that possibility. I wanted to ask, find out if I was broken in some way, but no one spoke for fear of gaining the wrong sort of attention. The between times were spent being led from place to place, sleeping, and hastily eating what meager portions were given to us. At times I grew so desperate I though of asking the old woman who cleaned me between men to ease my suffering, but the shame was too great, and besides she never spoke, and kept her eyes down the whole time she was there. The other girls would shy away from me if I tried to speak to them. Soon I began to resent them too, if not for ignoring me, then just as a terrible vision of my future, for having given up, the spark driven from them, nothing more than meat for uncouth men to sate themselves on. I wondered if the old blind woman had once been where I was.

I wondered if someday I'd be where she is.

I felt utterly betrayed by my body. Tortured by it. Ruled by it, more cruelly and totally than the rule of the men who enslaved me.

The routine changed only twice, when a man tried to put his finger in my mouth. I recoiled in disgust and he slapped me, hard across the face, offended by my refusal. Before my cheek had time to stop stinging two men in full plate armor, baring sashes of rank, had burst into the room and dragged him out. I never saw him again. The second time was much the same, a different man had tried to use my other hole. I screamed bloody murder, and he also was never seen by me again.

My dreams became fitful terrible things. All I could think about were their hands and their 'cocks'. Thats what they called them. They called mine a 'cunt', and it was the only part of me they truly cared about. The start was always the best. The first plunge. No matter how many times it happened I never quite got used to how good it felt. Always took me a bit by surprise. Tingles up and down my body making me arch and beg with my eyes, little whimpers for more sliding silkily and unbidden from my throat. Like an itch being scratched it was always so good at first, tingles erupting up and down my body, too compelling to ignore despite my unwillingness, and the disappointing end I knew was coming.

After a fortnight the mood of the whole castle changed. It was the difference between waking up to an empty house and waking up to a full one. I could just sense that overnight, the population of the castle had exploded. In our secured and limited quarters we did not see much, but you could feel the busyness. Like a beehive on the other side of a wall. Eventually from overheard conversations by the guards it was made clear that a war had been won, and now all the veterans had come home.

My life only changed in one way. Where before I was used by a few men a day, now it was many. Where before I had rest, and respite, now I was constantly violated. Eager young men were replaced with hollow and broken middle aged men who cared even less for my pleasure, and my torturous experience only got worse, and those thrice damned cleaning breaks! Each time I was used I was cleaned straight after, the gap long enough to ensure I never met my own satisfaction like I had brought to so many men. I wanted it. Desperately. I began to suspect this was all intentional. To drive me mad. To turn me into a blubbering begging slut. Perhaps this was how whores were made. Or perhaps, I was just a lowly slave, unworthy of consideration. I fluctuated wildly between which truth was more sad. It was not many days of this before I broke, and started begging the men for more. "Please more," I said, over and over, not knowing how or what to ask for really. Not knowing the words. Some ignored me, most laughed as if I was complementing them instead of cursing them, and it seemed my desperate begging only encouraged them, for the number of men using me increased, as did the quickness of their spend, until I went back to being as silent as I could manage, choking off my moans and screams as if to deny the affect they were having on me.

I began to nickname the ones that stood out. There was Pinchy, who liked to pinch and tug at my nipples the whole time until they were raw and aching. Big, who's size I never got used to. He would always just fuck as fast and hard as he could until he was done, leaving me stinging and aching in pain to be soothed by the cleaning woman's soft touch. There was Feet, who would never finish inside me, but on my feet instead. Shy, who never made eye contact, just stared at my cunt the whole time. Tiny, the poor fellow. Rabbit, who was always done quick. Grunter, who made the dumbest noises. I hated and resented them all for their failures. For their lack of skill. Mocking them became my only comfort.

I fell into a fog of lust and want. The days slid together, the changing season unnoticed. Nothing changed, until I met, him.

He entered my room like any other man. I barely reacted anymore. A glance up, then back to my attempted stoicism. Inside I was simmering. I was always simmering. I had long since given up on any of the men using me to satisfy me, but the desire never died. Inside I grew wet and swollen, my body anticipating its use. No matter how many times I was inflamed and left wanting, my body never learned. Never faltered in its eagerness to be pleasured. I hated how eager it was. How good it felt time after time, wishing I could turn it off, and just stop caring. I hated how wanton I had become. How eager I was that maybe, just maybe this time would be the one.

It took me a while to realize how long he'd just stood there, staring at me. I looked up at his face and nearly gasped. His face was beautiful, but haunted. He was perusing my form, rapturous. Unblinking. He looked enthralled, and much to my surprise, he was very slowly, as if in a trance, taking off his clothes.

That was new.

Then he locked the door, with a key. That was also new.

Most of the men just undid their trousers and settled in.

Why was the door locked?

In no time at all, quicker than I was prepared for, I was face to face with the first naked man I'd ever seen.

His body was a canvas of scar and muscle. Tight, sinewy, and corded, veins drawn across his body like rivers, and a thin dusting of hair across his chest, and in a line down his taught and rippling belly. His form shifted deliciously beneath his skin as he moved, scars shining in the torchlight as they stretched, drawn counter to his movements. The lines and curves of his body seemed to be designed to draw my gaze gracefully from his strong chest, down to his cock. I gasped again. It was not the largest I'd seen, but it was imposing. Long and thick, and already so hard.

My cunt clenched, just looking at him, and I could feel my racing heartbeat in the hard little nub at the top.

He stepped forward, and laid his cock length wise on my cunt, arching back and forth to draw it across my aching flesh. It felt hot, and I could feel it throbbing against me. I moaned, mostly in surprise, mouth hanging open as I gazed down at where we were joined. He kept rocking his hips gently as his hands began a thorough perusal of my body, starting at my feet and working his way down towards my middle. My cunt pulsed against his cock, clutching at it, begging for it, and the heady pleasure that would follow. He was taking his time. Maybe he would be the one! His hands drifted nearer to my aching, throbbing hole, and I groaned, eyes sliding closed. He was better than most of the men. He reminded me of the Overseer, who had taken his time at first, had known at least a bit, what he was doing. I wondered when he would lose interest and just sate himself. The closer I got the more I wanted it and the worse it was when they stopped.

His hands left me and he walked behind me. Tingles of trepidation down my spine as I lost sight of him. Suddenly his hands were upon me again, massaging my breasts, and playing with my nipples in ways that sent twisting shocks down through me. I was so wet that when I squeezed down I sent trickles of my arousal oozing down to pool under me. He growled, his chest vibrating against my right side.

"Your pussy is dripping wet lovely girl. Do you have any idea what I'm gonna do to you? Fuck you're gorgeous, I'm going to fucking ruin you..." I trembled as he growled in my ear, his lips just brushing my ear. His left hand went to my cunt and scooped up some of my fluids. I yelped, shame lancing through me at my eager body. He used it to make my right nipple slick, and rubbed it between a thumb and finger, slow and firm. I moaned helplessly, voice wavering at the sensation. My left leg shook violently of its own accord.

His other hand slid fluidly down my body until it rest just above my cunt, the very tip of his finger a hair's thickness away from the throbbing hard nub. I froze. I had believed none of the men even knew it existed, their knowledge of my cunt ending at "if it's wet I can fuck it", but this man was carefully and gently stroking the tender skin around it, circling it, over and over, as if to tease, and then suddenly he pinched it as he was pinching my nipple, rubbing the nub silkily between a thumb and finger.

I leapt as much as my bondage allowed, shrieking in surprise at the intensity of his touch. I raced towards that peak I ached for so desperately, 'finally!' I thought, never had a man gotten me even this close, and his hands wouldn't suddenly spent and quit, I was almost th-

My ears rang in the sudden stillness and silence. I had been only a few heartbeats from my finish when his hands left me. Swiftly. Knowingly. Hot tears. My lip trembled. He strode back in front, an evil grin marring his handsome face. I looked up at him through teary eyelashes.

"Please," I whispered. My nails had gouged strips out of the wooden pole they were strapped too. "Please," I begged.

He knelt before me, using his folded shirt to cushion his knees. He put a finger out, and with the most gentlest touch I'd ever felt, light as a feather, slowly ran it up and down and around the splayed opening of my cunt, tracing the sensitive flesh there over and over. It was maddening. Not firm enough to push my ardor, too gentle to ignore. I squirmed, and groaned.

His touch grew no harder, but did get faster and faster and now included the little hard bump that sang so beautifully through me when touched, my whole body leaping in its bondage every time his finger swept across it. Soon his finger was a blur, but stayed feather light, and I was gasping and pleading as he brought me back again to that peak, through a touch that made the journey slow and arduous. I begged, in a quiet whine, "please don't stop," but my pleading went unheeded as he lifted his finger, as cruelly timed as he could manage.

Throb throb throb throb throb

My nub danced, and my cunt clenched in rhythm, both of their own accord. It was worse, being denied again, in quick succession, and I knew with a certainty, he was going to do it again. I wondered if there was a threshold upon which my pleasure could be fixed, or if it would just get worse and worse until I forgot myself.

My stomach dropped out from under me. This was how I would be broken. My worst fears confirmed! This was all planned, designed to brainwash me into a compliant begging whore. Months of torturous pleasure, and now this man was going to take me to the edge over and over until I was broken. I thought of begging him, telling him I'd do whatever he pleased if only he would let me finish... But what was the point? I was bound immobile before him. He would take as he wished, as the other men had.

He pet my legs and belly from his kneeling position as my lusts cooled, then started to take the wetness I had produced and smear it around my cunt, making a mess of things. Then he pinched my clit again, but instead of rubbing it, he just worked it in tight little circles, watching my face. I groaned, closing my eyes as he worked me. Just that one spot and he was making my whole body twitch and shiver. Drawing moans and whimpers I couldn't choke off from me.

"Your lust is so beautiful," he said, half growling, "your need... intoxicating. I can see how desperate you are. I wonder why you wont beg?"

Because begging had just made it worse, I thought, but didn't voice, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Resolute, I gazed down at him where he was examining my most private place like a child with a new toy. In as disappointed a face as I could muster, I glared back at him. Though my lip trembled, and tears ran hot down my face from my frustration, I stared. Those were not things I could help. I could help this. He could control my body, my pleasure, my pain. He would either finish me, or he would not, but I was done begging. Or at least, I sought to be.

"I will make you beg," he said in an almost whisper, holding my gaze in a moment more intimate than any I'd had my whole life. His tone was one of reverence. Of awe. His manner confused me, but I had more important things to worry about.

I sighed, knowing my resolution would be tested immediately. I wondered what perversions he was capable of.

He settled for sinking two fingers thicker than some cocks I'd taken into me. Slow and gentle. He worked them around, like he was searching for something. We both knew when he found it, when his touch sent a shock through me, my hips thrusting as much as they could, and a shocked throaty moan ripped from me. He grinned knowingly at me, and worked that spot mercilessly.

My breathing turned ragged, my lusts pulsing through me. I cried out, surprised at how quickly I was thrown towards that peak I craved and feared. My eyes slid shut, and I groaned knowing he would stop, but unable to not savor that thrilling tightening feeling deep within.

He stopped, his fingers flying from me noisily, and my cunt gave a great squeeze, and a single arc of piss shot out, arcing high in the air before splattering noisily on the stone floor. My tormentor looked elated, and called me 'a squirter'. I could feel my face flame in embarrassment, as great wracking sobs overtook me. Despite how shameful it all was, I was still desperate for his touch, for him to end this eternal torture and satisfy me.

He stroked my skin, the backs of my calves, and my hips and waist. My belly and the curve of my ass. He made calming noises like he would a startled mare. "There there, that was a close one wasn't it. How you must ache and throb with need. I can't wait to feel that desperation on my cock. Would you like that? Would you like to get fucked? Beg, and maybe I will satisfy you, though your begging had best be more arousing than the sounds and faces you make when I edge you."

Maybe...

I glared at him through tears of frustration and a knitted brow, biting my lip, whimpering uncontrollably when my holes clenched down. My hands had become claws against the pole, nails torn to shreds.

He leaned in and sank his tongue, deep as it could go, into my aching, squeezing cunt.

My heart skipped a beat.

I was so stunned for a while I felt nothing through the shock of it, and then seconds later, he was extracting all manner of screams and cries and whimpers and sighs, as I wriggled and shook as much as my bondage allowed, overwhelming pleasure pulsing through me in waves of full body tingles, as he licked, and sucked upon the flesh of my cunt, while studiously avoiding the spot at the top that would bring my satisfaction. When I started to overflow with arousal he would noisily suck, slurping the fluids oozing from within, making me shriek in pleasure and laughter at the tickling sensation.

He stopped abruptly as was his torturous fashion, locking eyes with me again. He reached out with one hand to the hard little button, and tenderly pulled back the protective flesh there, exposing the throbbing bump, so sensitive, his warm breath upon it make me clench and gasp. I held my breath, eyes sent wide, as his tongue slowly snaked out from his mouth towards my aching lust.

There was no denying the pleasure that exploded through my body as his tongue danced upon my most sensitive spot. My legs quaked, rattling the wooden stirrups, and I shrieked and shouted my pleasures to the world. My eyes rolled, and I could no longer keep them open. He worked me with out mercy, flinging me towards my ultimate pleasure before ripping it away, seconds before I arrived.

I screamed, like a wounded animal, thrashing in my bonds, gritting my teeth and growling my displeasure, while my tormentor moaned, licking the sweat from my clenched belly.

I felt feverish.

He moved up to my breasts, sucking my nipples, drawing broken whines from me. I hated how good it all felt. I wanted the inexperienced men back. They had been easy compared to this madness. His sucking mouth felt incredible, even after all he'd put me through. His mouth slowly slid lower, sucking and licking my skin as he went, tasting my sweat, and occasionally nipping playfully in spots that made my belly clench beneath him.

He reached my slit and without delay sucked the aching nub into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue in a patternless chaos that overwhelmed. I froze. I couldn't make a sound, my mouth open wide in a silent scream. The pleasure arced through me like I had been struck by lightening. In seconds I was hurled towards that wonderful ledge I wanted to leap screaming from.

With the cruelest timing he pulled his mouth from me, a line of spit connecting his mouth to my cunt for a breath before it broke.

I throbbed in unresolved pleasure.

ThrobThrobThrobThrobThrobThrobThrobThrob

The throbbing gave way to that familiar ache, tenfold worse than I had ever felt. I screamed, not in fear, but enraged. Angry and spiteful. I screamed and yelled as I shook and rattled the throne I was forced to in a blind rage. When I was spent I stared up at him, panting.

Glaring.

Resolute.

"Fuck," he said, starting up at me, in disbelief, reverently, and then, as if in a daze, "such a good girl, so strong willed, so patient..." He rose, stumbling in his haste, grabbing hold of my thighs for support. "I can't wait anymore, you win," he said, more to himself than to me, surprise lacing his tone, and then with out preamble, he slid his gorgeous cock into me, gliding effortlessly, grabbing my hips for leverage.

It was like his teasing had made me forget the pleasure of being properly filled. I cried out as he fucked me, rough as he could, the sound of his thighs slapping my ass echoing noisily in the small stone room. I shrieked, feeling stretched full, his organ hitting a place deep within that made my eyes cross, and extracted unwomanly grunts from me, brow knitted and jaw clenched.