The Deviant of the Dark Ages Ch. 04

Chapter IV: Blood Bonds and Tough Love

Faint footsteps woke Fira from her fitful slumber. In this silent underground domain she'd become accustomed to, noise always carried significance, especially in the dead of the night. Though there was nothing to tell her the cycle of day or night, she knew only a little time had passed since she'd been locked in here because her ribs were still tender from her latest session in the maiden.

Fira clambered out of her primitive cot and crept over to the cell door, her bare feet inaudible against the stone floor. The footsteps outside were getting louder, so she peeked through the keyhole to see who they belonged to.

Strolling down the corridor with her captor, looking for all the world like she wanted to be there, was her sister. Sara was unfettered and walking freely beside their malevolent kidnapper. Fira recoiled from the door in shock. She'd known her older sister was losing resolve, but now she was on friendly terms with the enemy?

The troubled redhead couldn't sleep after this revelation. She tossed and turned for hours until William's gruff voice sounded through the door.

"Rise and shine, pet."

He entered the cell as she hastily stripped and stood to attention. She no longer bothered to hide her modesty—her hands were always prised away anyway.

"What's happening today, master?" she asked, trying to muster some enthusiasm for the sake of appearance.

William smiled and gave no answer, instead turning to lead her out of the cell. She followed him into a small cell where a gigantic tank of water had been positioned in the centre. A soft clinking sound drew Fira's attention downwards. He had just attached a long chain to each ankle. Her eyes travelled upwards along the chains, noticing the fixtures on the ceiling they passed through and the crank on the wall they wrapped around.

Fira let out an involuntary whimper as her impending predicament hit home, but made no plea for mercy—she knew it would fall on deaf ears. William stroked her hair fondly as she trembled with apprehension. Crossing over to the crank, he began turning it slowly, pulling the chains upward. Fira hastily lowered herself to the floor just in time as her feet were yanked into the air. Halfway up the side of the tank her ascent halted and she felt William binding her arms together behind her. Then she was off again, hauled high into the air and over the side of the massive cistern.

It was several hours later that she finally emerged from that evil room, dripping from head to toe in ice-cold water. Her chest was constricted from the numerous times she'd almost drowned, yet her captor was grinning ear-to-ear. In that moment Fira resolved to take her revenge on this monster, whatever the cost.

He shoved her along into one of the larger dungeons next, where Sara was already gagged and bound to a large X-shaped post. Angry red markings coloured her pale skin, making her traitorous behaviour all the more baffling in light of such harsh ongoing treatment. Sara beamed at Fira as she entered, apparently glad to see her.

This was all too suspicious for Fira, who was exhausted and already seething with rage at their merciless host. "You traitor," she snapped, glaring at her sister. "I saw you two together last night, fraternising," she spat, all the contempt she'd been suppressing now bubbling to the surface.

"Careful, pet," warned William, holding her arms.

"My name is Fira," she hissed, twisting out of his grip. She charged at Sara, stumbling forward with a curled fist aimed at her exposed stomach. But before she got within reach of her traitorous sister, William's cold hand slipped around her throat, pulling her back. Though she continued to strain against him, his grip may well have been another iron collar for all the give she mustered. He slipped a wide belt around her upper arms as she stood there, pulling them firmly together behind her back with the noisy creak of leather. Now she couldn't reach more than a few inches in front of her, much less throw a punch. That was a liberty she probably wouldn't regain for days.

William then attached a chain to her collar and fed it through a loop on the floor. Their eyes locked briefly as he tugged on the chain—her vivid emerald eyes filling with apprehension as his dark brown ones filled with smugness—before her head was yanked downwards. He smiled as she was forced to her knees and then all fours in a begrudging show of submission. When would he stop finding new ways to humiliate her?

"Are you certain?" he enquired satirically, looking down at her on all fours. "You look more like a pet than a Fira to me," he said, forcing her head the rest of the way to the stone floor where she was practically kissing his feet. Her hands scrambled to preserve some dignity as she fell head-first towards the ground, but her impaired arm movement gave her all the grace of a three-legged dog. Once William had finished chuckling at her awkward collapse, he continued.

"Do not condemn your sister for her actions. It is likely that, given the chance, she would like nothing more than to flee my humble estate with you at her side." He chained Fira's wrists tightly to opposite walls, dropping her bare chest against the cold stone as her hands were pulled out from under her. "But I deprived her of that chance when she tasted my blood those many nights ago. Her will is now indelibly bound to my own for the rest of the days in her generously extended lifespan."

He strapped Fira's ankles to her thighs and spread her frogtied legs wide apart, her knees resting up near her crushed breasts with her ass thrust into the air. He continued tightening black leather belts around her folded limbs until her haunches looked more like a zebra's than a woman's. Her elbows were drawn ever closer together and her shoulders pulled even further back. It only took one belt to secure a man's trousers—it didn't take many more to secure a flexible girl like Fira, but that didn't stop William from buckling her up with more belts than she'd ever seen in her life. By their smell, they appeared to be recently tanned—she couldn't imagine who would cut belts for the express purpose of restraining captive girls, but it unfortunately meant they were more likely to chafe and less likely to fray from wear. Belts were not like ropes or chains, either, which at least seemed to give some degree of elasticity. Like rope, they conformed to the contours of the body and were thus suited to long-term wear, but unlike rope, once they found their notch, belts held their victim in a vice-like grip that no amount of wriggling could loosen. Fira knew all this—belts were a common household item, after all—but she'd never imagined them being used to restrain someone against their will. She was shocked and humiliated at just how effective they were.

"But... You're a strapping young lad," Fira gasped, making every effort to reprise her playful disposition despite her difficulty breathing in this position. "Why didn't you simply beguile her with your masculine charms?"

William laughed and slapped her upturned ass. "My desires are more demanding than most mortals would accommodate."

"Well, you have me in a bit of a double bind right now, but-" she panted, flicking her tangled wet hair out of her eyes, "Generally speaking, I'm pretty flexible with my time."

He crouched down in front of her, grinning. "I speak not of time demands, as you well know. My desires demand a much more... physical commitment. And after that attempted assault on my slave, something your own deeds now demand too: punishment."

William stood up and finished securing her helplessness, roping her knees to her elbows and tightening the connection until Fira gasped at the strenuousness of her position. Now she was well and truly pinned, her body coiled up like a spring unable to burst, and her soft inner thighs and pink snatch were forced open for business.

"As much as I enjoy your clever wordplay, it would be remiss of me to withhold your just punishment, hmm?" He walked over to where Sara stood bound to her post, impassively watching the proceedings. With a few flicks of his wrist she fell forward into his arms, still gagged but breathing heavily.

"You shall be on punishment duty today," William informed her. "Show your sister what you are willing to do for me."

Fira caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. Sara wouldn't really bring harm to her own sister—she'd spent her entire life fighting to prevent such treatment. Maybe at most she'd put on a little show for their sadistic captor, but nothing too extreme.

William merely smiled and handed her a long cat o' nine tails. Fira scrunched her eyes closed and waited for impact. When the impact came, her eyes flew open and a surprised scream escaped her mouth. That was no soft blow! She felt as though a dozen little red hot pokers had been shoved into her back. And before the worst of the sting had even passed, another blow rained down on her, tossing more coals onto her fiery flesh.

What was Sara playing at? Didn't she see the pain she was inflicting? Was this revenge for her accusation? She tore at the chains holding her arms outstretched, desperate to escape the molten leather whip that continued to strike her back. No matter how she twisted or turned, the result was the same: she was stuck. Never had she been so painfully aware of her own vulnerability. Her breasts were pressed flat against the cold stone, her hands were held far out of the way, and her privates were held up for any lewd spectator to tamper with... And there was at least one lewd spectator standing by who would delight in exploiting that helplessness. She began begging for mercy, but her cries may well have fallen on deaf ears. Had her sister already become as merciless as their captor?

Kneeling down in front of her, William gently caressed Fira's cheek. "Are you growing angry?" he taunted her softly as his fingers brushed her face. Her bright emerald eyes narrowed in response. "Is your little heart racing?" he continued. "Does your blood lust for vengeance?"

The restrained girl answered his taunts with silence. Her body had its own way of communicating, however. Even as her sister's whip continued to rain down cruelly on her helpless form, William's intimate caress cradled her head, and her naked body trembled at his proximity. Her nether lips puckered open and closed as if panting for air. William noticed and smiled.

"Or do you lust for something else?" he rumbled. "Stop," William commanded, and Sara dropped the nine-tails as Fira breathed a sigh of relief. His cold fingers traced her pulsing orifice. Chuckling, he added, "All women are the same. You are so desperate to be used that at the slightest touch your bodies react, craving further contact."

Fira tried to ignore his words, to block him out, but the jibes sank into her like arrows. She could not deny there was a spark of truth in his remarks, even as a spark of lust was kindled within her. She had never been one for modesty, and her racy figure had always served her well when her mind turned to a desirous mood.

Suddenly she felt a cold object pressing against her rear. Her muscles tensed up, impeding its entrance.

"You are quite right, it should really be lubricated first," said William. He brought the object around in front of her, gesturing Fira to open her mouth. The object was a large black metal hook, its tip slightly wider than the rest. She didn't want that disgusting thing in her mouth, much less her rear, so her mouth remained firmly closed. William sighed and put his thumb and forefinger against her lips. With barely a hint of any exertion, he prised her jaw open and popped the end of the hook inside. She moaned in protest as he held her mouth agape and lathered the metal intruder in her saliva. Her tongue seemed all too willing to comply, producing ample fluid to coat the metal hook. She balked at the sour taste of iron in her mouth, but was powerless to resist the process.

Once William was happy with her contribution, he let Fira close her mouth again and moved the hook back to her clenched ass. Its fresh coating of saliva strained her efforts to keep the foul object from her rear, but somehow she managed to hold on. Abruptly, William slapped her face, and her ass puckered at the pain and shock. Quick as a flash, her captor pushed the hook into its hole where it lodged firmly inside her, the curved base nestling between the cheeks of her clammy posterior as if it belonged there.

Fira let out an involuntary whimper, unaccustomed to this depraved new sensation. She now appreciated the expression of have a stick stuck up one's ass: her body was suddenly as rigid as a plank. She wriggled around stiffly, trying to escape the unwanted sensation to no avail.

Her tormentor wasn't finished. Grabbing a fistful of her ruby locks, he tied the metal hook to a makeshift ponytail, her wet hair bonding firmly with the rope knot as he pulled it taut. She was now forced to hold up her head with her chin resting against the stone floor, otherwise the blasted hook dug even deeper into her sensitive rear. If her ass had been sticking up before, now it was all but hauled into the air.

Then she felt it. Amidst the pain racking her bound form, a warm buzz nestled in her throat. It gave her comfort, somehow. It reverberated with her voice, lending authority to her words even in her desperation. She had a feeling that if she uttered the right words, she could channel the warmth—direct it somehow. She didn't know what those words might be, though. No one else seemed to react to this sensation, but she knew it was real: she wasn't losing her mind. Not yet, anyway.

William turned to Sara, standing obediently behind them. "Play with her," he said, removing her gag. "Use your mouth. Be creative."

Fira frowned. He couldn't mean what she thought- ohh, yes he did. She felt Sara's tongue brush against her most intimate orifice and didn't know whether to feel disgusted or grateful. This was not something her sister would ever do of her own volition. As the only remaining family either of them had, the two girls loved each other dearly, but not like this. This was a line no self-respecting blood relative ever crossed. And Sara was more straight-laced than most—whoever it was licking her virginal slit, it was not the sister she'd lived with and bickered with for two decades. This actually gave Fira a small amount of comfort, as it meant her sister was not responsible for the lashing that still glowed across her back.

It took a certain mood to draw a moan of pleasure from a girl's mouth, and Fira was currently as far from that mood as it was humanly possible. Her mind was not on pleasure, but pain. Yet she soon discovered the two had a curious way of melding together. As the wet tongue continued to lap at her unmentionables, Fira found herself craving any and every sensation across her body, the more extreme the better. Her striped back had gradually receded to a dull ache and now emanated a warmth not unlike the one being kindled between her legs, but now she craved another stimilus. Anything, really, so long as it was intense enough to add to her growing arousal.

Almost on cue, William knelt down over her and unleashed his fingers against her sides. They danced playfully across her bare skin, eliciting an involuntary giggle as she writhed with discomfort. The hook dug deeper into her rear as her head shook, a shiver running down her spine as she felt the intruder move inside her and instinctively tried to expel it. Meanwhile the assault on her crotch continued, evoking feelings of both pleasure and shame in the bewildered girl. The curious warmth in her throat was not forgotten either, but it seemed content to idle there for now.

Fira began to anticipate her climax, reckoning that a moment of bliss was owed to her after so many weeks of endless torture. It seemed inevitable that she would get her just desserts—she hadn't been this close to an orgasm since leaving the privacy of an abandoned alley near their dwelling. Her mouth hung agape, rugged moans escaping with increasing intensity. She could practically taste her arousal, the pink blemishes on her back now far from her thoughts.

William suddenly grabbed her throat and forced her head up to look at him. Even crouched he towered over her bowed form. She could not have assumed a more submission pose if she'd wanted to. He spoke in a dangerously soft voice, and with every sentence Fira squirmed with embarrassment.

"Look at yourself. I came into your home. I took you against your will, throwing you and your sister over my shoulder like hunted game. I imprisoned you in a grimy dungeon. I robbed you of your dignity, removing your garments and claiming that voluptuous body you'd denied to so many as my own, to tease and torture as I desire. I turned your sister against you, depriving you of your only remaining friend and making her an enthralled slave to my whims. I robbed you of your own body, subjecting you to countless hours of torturous constriction in an inescapable iron shell for no other reason than to mould your feeble form more to my liking. I violated your precious holes in ways you have never imagined. And now I command your sister to defile that sacred taboo between those of the same blood."

Any hope Fira retained of escaping was melting away, but her sadistic captor wasn't done yet.

"I have given you every reason to despise me with every ounce of your remaining energy. But instead you scream in pleasure at the touch of my hands—the hands that have wrought so much misery in your life. Tell me, pet, what does that make you? How depraved must you be to enjoy yourself at the hands of such a cruel master?"

Fira wanted to stop and consider this, to find some bastion of comfort that her self-worth was not entirely forsaken. But it was at this moment that her arousal finally boiled over and her body gave in to its long-awaited bliss. As her love mound spasmed under Sara's warm tongue, William's words rung through her head: "What does that make you?"

He watched her eyes drift out of focus, smiling as she succumbed to the inevitable. He released her neck and allowed her head to loll about on the stone floor, mouth agape and panting in exhaustion. That was enough taunting for now. He'd have ample time to wash away every one of her defences, bending her will to his. This one had sass—a rare amusement to him. His traditional method of enthralment might destroy that, so he would have to break her the old-fashioned way. And besides, it would satisfy him far more to tame this one without resorting to an inexorable blood bond. To know she submitted body and mind of her own volition... that was an enticing goal. Of course, her years would be limited by human frailty, but he could always step in and enthral her later even if it was at the cost of her colourful personality.

Fira watched with exasperation as William got up and left the dungeon cell, slamming the heavy door shut behind him. He was going to leave her here, trapped in ashamed orgasmic bliss by her sister's tongue? She glanced down at Sara from the corner of her eye. The older girl showed no signs of letting up: in fact, she'd just brushed her long crimson hair aside to give her unobstructed access to Fira's immobilised crotch.

"Sara?" she murmured. Was her sister still in there somewhere, subdued by some dark power?

"Yeah, sis?"

"Oh." Sara was surprisingly candid for someone whose mind was enslaved. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because he asked me to."

Fira rolled her eyes. "If he asked you to drown yourself, would you do it?"

Sara winced, appearing to struggle for a moment with the answer, then replied in an even tone, "Yes."