La Roque: The Collaring

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Fire, flesh, steel, submission, sex - & love?
3.6k words
4.07
46.4k
3

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 01/31/2005
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erusian
erusian
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The Marquis Sébastien La Roque stood near the soft crackle of the fire, armored and draped in a black cloak which fell like velvet sin from his broad shoulders. Leather clad fingers tugged at the greying hair of his chin as his eyes traveled the rises, curves, and valleys of the delectable female flesh at his feet. As his stormy blue eyes caught hers, she quickly diverted her gaze to the floor.

Sébastien's voice washed over her, "I see that you have embraced your submission, Cosette. That acceptance will serve you well. And you, my dear, in turn, shall serve me well."

She purred in response, "it was to this end that I was born, Your Grace."

Sébastien smiled, "then it is time to bring this embrace to fulfillment. Today, you may earn my collar. Positus inservio, Cosette."

She swallowed hard in her throat, trying to keep the joy from leaping in her bosom. She had so longed for this day. And now...

With a deep breath, she managed her exuberance and gracefully slipped into the position of submission: Her rounded ass settled on the balls of her feet, knees outstretched to either side, exposing herself fully to him. She placed her hands at rest, palms up, on the tops of her thighs. Her back was straight, her chin held high, her eyes downcast, awaiting the Marquis' word.

Sébastien's boots made little sound on the thick fur as he circled her, slowly. His eyes scanned every supple curve, drinking in her vulnerability. He crouched and leaned in close, inhaling her scent as his fingertips traced a line from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine. His breath was warm on her neck as he spoke, "born into slavery, but never fully owned..."

She stifled a cry at his touch, stretching her back straighter, her bearing that of the proudest of cats. "I feared, Sire, that it may please you to keep me forever in waiting."

Sébastien smiled, drawing the sable locks of her hair into his fingers, wrapping it tightly into his fist. Slowly he pulled her head back, slightly, tilting her chin up with a fingertip. His eyes studied her full red lips, the gentle blush on her cheeks, the salacious invitation of her deep blue eyes. "We shall see, slave. You will prove yourself 'ere I brace steel around your neck." The Marquis tightened his grip on the girl's hair, "now, on your feet, slut! Positus ostendere!"

Cosette fluidly arose from her position on the floor, as Sébastien stepped back to observe. She drew her feet together and raised her arms, interweaving her fingers behind her head. With her back straight and her chest out, she was on perfect display for him.

Sébastien's gaze rested on her full breasts as they rose and fell with each breath. He then raised his gauntleted hands, palms upturned in front of him, a hair's breadth away from the yearning ache of her rose-kissed nipples. "See me out of my armor, Cosette."

"Yes, m'lord," she replied, relaxing her pose to bend down and draw his gloves off with her teeth, one leather-clad finger at a time. She let each glove fall into her hand and then placed them both on the furs beside her. She then attended his bracers, pauldrons, greaves, and breastplate in similar fashion, employing nimble fingers when necessary, but with her teeth most often.

When at last he stood in only his breeches, she began working on the tight lacings over the swell of his cock. She breathed warm against the taut fabric, straining as his cock thickened and lengthened in response. She couldn't help but press the softness of a stolen kiss against it.

A smile dawned over the Marquis' lips at that. "You are pleased at this, Cosette... to be so close."

Daring a glance upward, she replied, "but I would beg to be closer, Sire." Then, with his help, she managed to pull his leggings to the floor with her teeth until they, like everything else, lie discarded.

Sébastien passed a touch across her cheek, his eyes intent on her, "inservio, Cosette." She again lowered herself into the position of submission as the Marquis continued. "You are at leisure, my dear, to prove yourself. Your desire will be measured... your touch assessed. Do not let these talents be left found wanting."

Cosette breathed deeply, basking in the promise of what was to come. She slowly leaned in to him, pressing against his right leg, kissing her way up. She straddled his foot, resting the warmth of her cunt against it. Her tongue danced up his thigh as she held her hands clasped behind her back, her nipples hard against him.

The Marquis relaxed visibly, his eyes closing briefly to the warmth at his feet, the soft swell of her breasts at his thigh, the trail of her lips and tongue as they meandered their way ever upward. At last she flicked her tongue against his ballsack, licking slowly forward to the base of his cock.

She squirmed a bit then, rubbing herself a little against his foot. Tiny waves of pleasure erupted from the light pressure against her clit. She arched her back in response, moving so that should could reach the tip of his cock with her lips. She stretched out her delicate tongue to flick against it.

Sébastien cleared his throat, holding an admonishing finger to her, a smile playing over his lips. "Not yet, dear Cosette. You must work for that reward." He then slipped his hand around his cock, barring her from it. "Now for the rest, you are free to move as you will, and explore as you will."

A moan stuck in her throat, she looked up to him, pleading from her knees... then shrank from his disapproving look. Contenting herself with what exploration she was allowed, she moved her arms upwards, stroking the insides of his thighs as she pressed warm kisses to either side of his cock.

Sébastien smiled to her, the blaze of the fire on the hearth reflected in his eyes. As he watched her, he squeezed his cock in his hand, then brushed the head of it against her cheek. At that touch, Cosette groaned a little, wanting desperately to chase that cock with her mouth, but knowing that she must not. Not yet. Not until she was permitted.

She turned her head slightly, her breath hot against his hand as it passed slowly back and forth over the length of his shaft. She moved her hands around behind him, sweeping her fingernails lightly down the small of his back and over his ass. Seeing him respond to her touches, she moaned audibly, reaching one hand down to her clit to massage it gently as the other passed under him to caress his balls.

The Marquis started a bit at that, nearly ready to plunge his cock down her throat. Quickly regaining his composure he whispered, "a slave and a temptress..."

She murmured her response, her mouth against him, each word making her lips brush against his flesh, "the best slaves should be such, m'lord... and I have been trained to be the best." She then brought her hand up from her clit, the supple fingers wet and perfumed with her juices. Reaching up to his chest, her fingertips sought out a nipple, then brushed lightly against it.

The Marquis inhaled deeply, his chest rising to meet her caress as he answered, "and bought for less than I would pay for a good mount." He smiled, darkly, like shadows of night chasing the day into oblivion, "ah, but I have a much more exquisite beast for my coin."

Cosette smiled at that, pressing herself against him in an ecstasy of longing, feeling his muscles tighten against her, wanting ever so much to pass her lips over more of him, but hardly wanting to move from where she was. With a wanton glance to his sheathed cock, she stretched upward, letting her body move against his, her lips and tongue leaving a trail up his chest.

Sébastien passed the head of his cock across her breasts, pressing it against a hardened nipple. She shuddered at this, letting his cock slip into the cleft between her breasts as she suckled on his right nipple, her hands exploring the musculature of his back.

The Marquis caught his lip between his teeth, pressing his nipple into the warmth and wetness of her mouth as she ran the tip of her tongue back and forth over it, sucking gently. All the while, she rocked her torso side to side, rubbing the head of his cock between the softness of her breasts.

"Perhaps, when I have used you and my steel rides your neck, we will celebrate your good fortune with some of my knights." Sébastien heard her sudden intake of breath at that. "Would you like that, my whore? To have so many cocks using your pussy, your ass, and your mouth for their pleasure?"

Cosette trembled, her breath coming fast as she imagined how that would look, how that would feel, how that would sound. With a fevered yearning she looked to him, "Oh yes, Your Grace!"

"Then... please me well, little harlot," Sébastien released his cock and nodded his permission to her.

With eyes shining she moved, sinuously, down and back till her lips brushed his cock, staining them with a drop of fluid from the tip.

"Is that what you wanted, dear Cosette?"

"Yes, m'lord... oh, yes." Her lips opened as she hovered over the tip. He could feel her breath, moist and hot upon him as she pressed her lips slowly over the head, taking it in bit by bit. As he groaned, low and deep in his throat, she paused, holding just the head in her mouth. As her lips slowly applied pressure, she swirled her tongue about him, letting him feel the heat and wetness of her there.

She felt an ache, deep in her cunt, wanting him there; but desperate to feel him in her mouth... and between her breasts... and in her ass and... everywhere. As his fingers slipped into the sable depths of her hair, his sharpened nails threatening against her scalp, she redoubled her efforts on him.

At times she pressed her head forward so the head of his cock would strike the back of her throat, at others, she almost let him withdraw, and then sucked him back again, deep into her mouth. As his grip on her dark tresses tightened, she sensed the sensation building in him.

'Ah, but not yet,' she thought. She slowly withdrew her lips from him, letting her fingers caress down the shaft as she leaned in quickly to kiss the tip. She smiled to her master as she came to her feet and turned away from him. The Marquis blinked, momentarily taken aback as the cool air passed over where her lips just were.

Cosette bent over, nearly double, as she raised herself on tip-toes to rest her wet and slick pussy against the head of his cock. He closed his eyes, his head tilted back, reveling in the intoxicating warmth of her as she engulfed him, inch by inch, till she was fully impaled on his length.

With her hands folded, her palms bracing against the furs between her feet, she pushed herself against him. She began rocking back and forth, fucking him as much as he fucked her, moaning as she felt his cock force harder and deeper within her.

Sébastien allowed her to set her pace against him, delighted by the way she matched his desire. Then, he reached to the silk drapery hanging from the bedpost, ripping a length of it free. Her hair hanging down over her face, her body sweatslick, Cosette began moving her hips from side to side, grinding and crashing against him.

The Marquis could no longer contain himself. Holding the strip of silk in one hand, he grasped her at the hip with the other, forcing himself deeper, slamming the head of his cock against the deepest parts of her with every fevered thrust. Cosette screamed at the onslaught, a scream of pleasure as she bucked back against him. Her nails dug deep into the fur as she tried to stop herself from being knocked over from the force of it all.

In the midst of their fevered revelry, the Marquis reached down, gathered her hair into a fist and snatched her upright, his chest pressed against her back, his breath hot against her ear. Untangling his fingers from her sable locks, he drew the fabric through his fists, making a silken garrote of it. Snakelike, he deftly wrapped it about her throat, tightening with each thrust of his cock into her sopping cunt.

Sébastien watched the silk strain around her neck, waiting... waiting until she fell... limp... twitching... to floor at his feet, where she plummeted into the vertiginous abyss of sleep...and dreams.

There she lies... the brush of feathers, her wings waking her sleep... the soft golden glow of her halo creating a pool of light around her. From the shadows, a hiss... a dim outline of muscle and leathery wings. The demon snakes his tongue across his fangs, his eyes set on the wounded angel.

She raises heavied eyelids, her aura dimmed still, feeling eyes boring holes in her back. Turning her head, she sees a movement in the dark, and red eyes glowing.

He moves, lithely, just shy of the accursed light, measuring her, wanting her, burning... needing...to taste...

The Marquis crossed to the hearth, his eyes still on Cosette's twitching form... her eyes rolled back in her head. His fingers closed around the warm handle of a branding iron.

Her eyes still dimmed by pain, her light still but a flicker, she watches him in the shadows, trying to distinguish what manner of beast he is; seeing naught but the dark, and a glow, and the smoke coming off him.

The demon draws a talon over the tip of his tongue as he ponders. She is hurt, vulnerable... he can bear the light, he can bear the pain, for but a taste of her flesh.

She passes her tongue over dry, cracked lips, trying to wet them enough to speak, wondering why little sound comes from her words, why she cannot more than whisper, "What would you have of me?" She tries to shrink back, but all around her is dark, and the dark is his domain.

Then, folding his wings about him, he sets himself, crouched, catlike...his eyes as embers as he hisses his reply, "I would have... all of you."

Sébastien checks the glowing tip of the heated steel as he draws it out of the flames.

The angel peers deeper into the dark, trying to make him out, trying to make out a path to salvation, but all is dark, all hisses at her, all is discomfort. She must embrace the dark, or stay alone and vulnerable where she is. She struggles to her feet, bravely, challenging her fate, "And what would you do with me?"

In an instant, the demon vaults forward, bracing against the agonizing, burning pain of the light as he lands atop her, the black and crimson of his skin in harsh contrast to her angelic alabaster. She tumbles back at his onslaught, her tattered wings folding about him, her head flung back, neck outstretched.

His voice booms and echoes through her, "I will claim you, sweet angel. I will devour you. I will sear your soul with the flames of iniquity." He hisses close by her ear, the burn of the light pales now to the burning of his blood through his veins, engorging his cock.

She feels his breath upon her - searingly hot - sees the glowing points of his eyes closer, closer to her, feels his wings pressing against her, strong, holding her down. She is transfixed, mesmerized, caught by those points of light. She feels him against her, pressing, swelling. She is utterly powerless.

A clawed, black hand wraps itself around her throat, pinning her to the cold stone. The other hand reaches down to hook her leg in the crook of his elbow. The devil captures her ankle in his hand, holding her leg high and out to the side, spreading her open to the coming assault.

The wounded angel tries to move, to no avail. She tries to struggle, push, hit, kick against him, not realizing that the pain of the light he suffers is already a thousand times worse than any damage she could do him.

The infernal one passes his tongue over a fang before diving his face into her neck, fangs sinking deep into her flesh as his cock violates her, invading her, filling and stretching her pussy beyond imagination.

She arches herself back, screaming, as she feels him take her, slamming against her, thrusting into her - his teeth, his cock, fucking her mercilessly, the pain sending her demented, taking her out of herself as the light dies about her.

Sébastien braced Cosette's smooth, pale thigh beneath his knee. His dark eyes scanned for the perfect spot: just inside the thigh, a few inches below her pussy. Her body twitched a little, uncontrollably. She moaned to herself within her oblivion.

The demon releases his fangs, drawing back, bloodied. His eyes forges of spite - his cock pounding deep, deep within her.

The Marquis inspected the tip of the metal once more, twisting the long shaft of the brand in his hand, positioning the symbol just right.

The angel screams in the agony of pleasure. Each thrust of his betokens fire, flames, and the burning embers of Hell itself. Each thrust inspires her to yield to the lust that builds within her. The demon hammers himself into her, the cursed light consumed by the revelation of her lust. She is now as Fallen as ever he was.

"I am going to fill you, my angel... with the seed of Hell."

She groans as she finds the pain receding, realizing that the moans amongst the hissing are her own. She tries to scream at this but cannot, her very breath has been taken by the burning embers within her cunt; by the equally burning response within her.

Something brushes near her hand. Glancing, she sees it as a white feather, a wing-feather, now muddied with silt and blood. The air is suddenly filled with feathers. The wings at her back seem to stretch and crack.

The devil sets his fangs, his face contorting into a mask of voracious lust and unholy rage, his talons digging into her flesh as he roars against her, loosing buckets of hellspawned seed deep within her. She howls against him, his cum washing into her like molten lava. Her eyes wide and feral, her body bucking at the agonizing pleasure as she lifts her back from the stone, fanning out her own dark, leathery wings...

The Marquis struck the brand against her flesh, quickly. The acrid stench of seared flesh filled the room as the molten metal left its mark - his mark - on his slave - waking her to the scream of pain. She was jerked fully into consciousness by the desperate shock of it. Cosette couldn't help but try to escape the pain, but there was nowhere to run.

Sébastien tossed the branding iron back into the fire. His eyes shifted from her marked thigh to the tears reflecting the firelight on her cheeks. With a gentle smile, he pulled her face to his and kissed her tears away. "With this brand, Cosette, you are marked as a slave."

He then reached to his cloak and withdrew a hinged band of steel, bearing his symbol on either side of the golden hinge and lock at the front. "With this steel, Cosette, you are marked as mine."

She dared a glance up to him, "I have always been yours, Master."

The Marquis nodded, "yes, I know." He stood, freeing the lock, preparing the collar. "Now, on your knees, slave, as in positus inservio. But with your right hand, reach back to draw your hair up and clear of your neck."

She did as she as bade, forcing the pulsating pain of the brand from her mind as she slipped into position.

Sébastien opened the band of steel, "this is positus orbis, my slave, collaring position. Do not forget it."

"I shall keep this in mind forever, Master, and this day." She could hardly breathe. She was statue-still as he slipped the collar around her neck. The steel was warm and heavy - solid - uncompromising - reassuring. She smiled contentedly as he brought it closed with an audible snap.

"Mind that you do, Cosette. This day has defined you in my service."

"I shall, Master", she sighed happily as her fingertips traced the symbols on the front of the collar - Property of Marquis Sébastien La Roque. She marveled at how it affected her, that heavy band of steel... how it caressed and constricted simultaneously... how it would make her move, stand, and kneel more proudly.

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