| |
Little One
“A few stipulations,” Her Majesty told the giant. “You’ll pay triple, and you’ll purchase six minutes in both her cunt and ass. You’ll be her last customer of the evening, and when your time’s up, I’ll flog her tits while she sits on your lap with your cock in her ass.”
“I’ll take that deal, Your Majesty.”
“One more condition. Show my girl your cock now, so she’ll know what’s waiting for her at the end of the night. She can work you up for free, if you aren’t hard.”
Most giants have the huge forehead like Neanderthal man, but this one didn’t. He had the bulbous nose and large lips, but I was hoping he had enough human in him, he wouldn’t have a full-sized cock.
I met his gaze, saw his sadistic smile, and lowered my eyes. Slaves don’t look free people in the eyes unless physically or verbally compelled, especially with The Winter Queen sitting over them. He opened his trousers and pulled his cock out, and I forgot to breathe.
The tip was narrow — the size of a large human penis — but then the shaft quickly grew thick and the base of it was at least as thick as the top of my thigh.
I whimpered, and my Queen gave a sadistic chuckle. “I’m going to let him split you apart, Little One. Behave, and I’ll consider letting you orgasm while he plows your cunt.”
“Whatever you want from me, my Queen.” I meant every word. I’d gladly submit to anything she ordered. Of course, whether I submitted or not, it was going to happen. During my training, guards had been ordered to hold me down so I had no choice but to comply when I’d refused an order, and punishment had lasted days or sometimes weeks — until I demonstrated I’d learned my lesson by offering myself at least a dozen times for whatever I’d refused. Slaves quickly learn our bodies aren’t ours — we don’t own them, and we have no say in what’s done to them. Slaves serving time at least know they can’t be maimed or killed, but slaves like me aren’t even given those small assurances.
I had no doubt the Queen would always get what she wanted. Still, I wanted to please her, even if it meant taking this giant’s cock in both my holes. She’d chosen me to be her personal slave and no way would I let her down.
From that point forward, holding onto my release was even harder. Whether what I felt was anticipation or terror, I couldn’t say. Either way, I needed to come so badly it hurt, and the pain of holding it back sent my arousal skyrocketing even higher.
* * * *
QUEEN MAB
My heart broke when my little one so willingly accepted the fact she’d be torn apart by a giant at my whim. This night was our good-bye, but she couldn’t know it yet. It’s possible I was trying to find the line she wouldn’t cross for me, but I knew in my heart, my little one loved me so much, she’d never refuse to do something as long as it meant she’d stay in my favor.
The next day, I’d test her resolve in ways neither of us had imagined.
Grief threatened to take over my heart, and I wasn’t going to orgasm anymore, so I ordered up some men from the dungeons to take my mind off the pain of losing the little slave I’d grown so attached to.
Guards strung them up all around the room, and I had someone make a sign so guests could flog and cane the prisoners for a price as well. I removed the teeth from four and made their mouths available for cock or cunt, while their asses were available for fucking or caning. These four prisoners had been trained, and they knew they’d pay dearly in the coming days for every woman who didn’t have an orgasm during her six minutes with them. Also, I’d keep their teeth out until all punishments were delivered, which meant drinking their meals instead of eating them.
My little one was having such a hard time holding onto her orgasms, and I soon discovered the screams all around her just added to her lust. Her little asshole had to be in agony after being fucked for hours on end with little relief, but she was holding onto an explosive release with all she was worth, and a few times I wasn’t sure she’d manage to keep from tipping over the edge.
I couldn’t follow through on my punishment, if she had one. Part of it, sure, but not all of it. I wondered at why I’d threatened a punishment I had no way of making happen. She’d no longer be mine at dawn tomorrow, so there was no way I could order her to the laundry for a week. Perhaps part of me was in denial, but I had to face the facts — I was losing her.
One of my most trusted guards was in charge of seeing to her safety while I wandered around and talked to guests, but I kept one ear out, to be sure she was fine. The guard intervened a few times to tell someone they had to come out of her throat long enough so she could breathe, and I considered taking away the men’s lungs for a minute or two, but I tore into a prisoner with a barbed whip instead.
A dozen male and female pony slaves were put to work outside, carting passengers around the castle in a little buggy, for a price. Other pony slaves were bent over and could be used, though their price was a good bit less than my little one’s. I don’t often share my favorite plaything, and the line waiting to use her was longer than even I’d expected.
Hours later, my little one was in survival mode, suffering in silence, but amazingly still close to an orgasm — though no longer just on the edge.
I wished I’d had time to prepare her for what was to come. When the cook had asked my little one what she wanted to eat, she terrified the poor girl with the choice. To keep from stressing the little thing, my cook had learned the basics up front, and then spent the next couple of weeks determining what my favorite slave liked and didn’t like, and had provided food without offering a choice.
My little one had always been a slave. How was she ever to survive what was to come?
And could I survive losing her without taking it out on my loyal subjects? I hoped to merely take it out on those responsible for this most unfortunate debacle, but I knew myself well enough to know I’d likely also test the loyalty of those who loved me.
* * * *
LITTLE ONE
A large crowd assembled when it was announced I’d only be available another fifteen minutes. Everyone wanted a good vantage point to watch the giant impale the tiny little quarter-pixie pleasure slave.
I was so tired by the time the giant lined his monstrous cock up with my cunny, I didn’t have the energy to be terrified. I knew it would hurt, but I couldn’t stop it. Plus, I wanted to please my Queen.
I held my breath when he entered me, and grasped the edges of my shelf to be sure I didn’t try to move away. I grunted and cried as the tissues of my cunt walls stretched and pulled, but I didn’t beg for a respite. The giant pushed and shoved himself into me without a care for how I’d accommodate his girth. The bones in my pelvis shifted, and I screamed when he finally tore me open, plowed hard into my cervix, and I was forced to take all of him. Giants are long, but not proportionally so, thank goodness. My screams were because of his thickness, and because he hammered my cervix, but not because he was slamming into important organs in my abdomen.
I was trained to enjoy pain, and though this was extreme enough it registered as agony rather than pleasure, I knew my Queen wanted this — which meant I wanted it, too. I belonged to her as I’d never belonged to anyone. Her wants were mine, and if she wanted him to tear me apart, so did I.
There were gasps from many of those watching when he forced his way into me, but also laughter and jeers. I was a pleasure slave, after all. This was why I was here, and it was my job to do all I could to give even this giant all the pleasure I could provide.
Once he was in and found his stride, he hammered me harder and faster, and I finally screamed and begged for a moment of rest, a few seconds to get used to him, but I never asked him to stop. He plowed into me at full speed and strength, sating his own lust without regard to how a mere slave accommodated him, and I timed my breaths so I pulled air in when he yanked his monstrous member out of me, because he drove the breath out of my lungs when he shoved himself back in.
I looked around for my Queen, and she caught my gaze and smiled. My stomach somersaulted in horror because I’d met her gaze in public. I looked down, but she teleported to me, cradled my cheek, and ordered, “Come for me, Little One. Show everyone how much you want to please me, how much you belong to me.”
I’d held my release off for so long, once it started I was no longer in control, and it hit me like a freight train. My shouts reverberated around the room while my entire body spasmed and writhed beneath the giant — my pleasure controlled my reactions and movements while my mind rocketed through the stratosphere, powered by pure, unadulterated bliss.
When the orgasm waned, my arousal level didn’t, and I moved and twisted in pleasure while the giant continued to fuck me. His time wasn’t up, and he seemed determined to get his money’s worth.
When his six minutes in my cunny were up, the giant lined his huge cock up at my bottom, and I took a breath and forced the muscles to relax and let him in. A guard had lubed both my holes before the giant started, so I knew I’d be slick.
I’ve had my bottom-hole torn before. I knew what it felt like, and knew I’d survive it. I didn’t know why The Winter Queen wanted this of me, but I’d accept it, since she did.
And I couldn’t ignore the throbbing of my clit when he lined up at my rear entrance and prepared to impale me.
The giant didn’t go slow. My yelps and shrieks filled the room because he pressed in as far as he could in a few shoves, and quickly began fucking me, hard and fast. He wasn’t all the way in, and he apparently didn’t want to take the time to force himself the rest of the way. For this, I was grateful, and I moved with him to give him the ride he was paying for, even though I was screaming in pain at the burning stretch of the ring of muscles around my opening. I was grateful he hadn’t torn me and was determined to do my best to keep him happy so he wouldn’t feel the need to push the rest of the way in.
His six minutes lasted an eternity. He never let up, never slowed, and also didn’t orgasm. When the time-master beat the drum to signify his paid-for time was over, the giant picked me up without coming out of me, and sat on an oversized chair someone had settled beside him earlier. He held my hands to my side and wrapped his arms around my belly, trapping my arms.
The Winter Queen’s whip struck my left tit without warning. She proceeded to give me thirty strikes in as many seconds while I screamed and writhed on the giant’s lap, his cock going farther and farther into my bottom with all my thrashing and twisting.
My breasts were on fire and I could feel bruises forming. However, even stretched and strained past my limit around his mammoth cock, I worked my muscles around him, milking his girth as best I could, and he came violently during the next whipping series to my breasts. I sighed in relief when he shrank a little inside me.
Eventually, my Queen finished whipping my breasts, and someone helped me up.
My legs would barely hold me, and I knew my face was tearstained and blotchy, but in the past weeks she’d told me how much she loved seeing me like this, so I didn’t try to hide my face from her.
I was Her Majesty’s slave, and I was thankful she enjoyed using me. I was happy and content, flying from the euphoria of the evening, though exhausted.
She stood in front of me, touched under my chin to give me permission to look into her eyes, and said, “I name you Tabitha Amabilis Winter, my little one. From here on, by royal edict, only I can call you Little One. Everyone else must use your name.”
I heard gasps from the crowd, and I felt as surprised and shocked as they seemed, but kept my voice even to respond, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I can never repay you for this prodigious gift. I’m touched more than words can say, my Queen.”
By giving me the surname Winter, she’d told everyone I was hers in a way slaves aren’t usually afforded. But by giving me her formal first name as my middle name, she’d claimed me in a way I didn’t think she’d ever claimed another.
Of course, I was still her slave, and — after a brief hug — my wrists were connected to a spreader bar and attached to a beam overhead, the ropes adjusted so I could barely stand flatfooted.
My Queen’s voice came soft, as if it were a suggestion. “Run in place, Little One. You know how I like to see you.”
I lifted my right leg so my knee nearly touched my nipple, and switched legs so my left knee came to my chest. I went slow for a half-dozen steps until I got the rhythm and convinced my feet and ankles to work, and then picked up the tempo and ran for her.
She used her leather strap on me, and I screamed and shrieked as each strike formed an individual welt, and she repeated it hundreds of times in an unending drum beat.
My feet and her strap made music together, a corresponding tympani accompanying the symphony of my shrieks, screams, sobs, and tears.
I hadn’t been able to manage the pain earlier when she whipped my breasts, but this was one of Her Majesty’s favorite ways to whip me — I could not only handle this, I could enjoy it.
The burn of my muscles, the fiery sting of the strap, the rhythm of my feet, and the added tempo of the snap of leather on my bottom, legs, and back. This was a reward, and while the people watching wouldn’t understand, I knew — and I loved my Queen all the more for giving this to me. She’d gifted me with her very name, and then gifted me with one of my favorite kinds of pain, and my tears now were because I felt so much emotion, as if my heart might grow too big for my chest.
She knew when I was close, and she ordered me to come for her at the perfect time. I screamed through my climax without losing step, and she hit harder, faster.
She hadn’t been lying about taking me farther than she had before, and when she finally dropped the strap to the ground, I stopped running and hung from my wrists, gasping for air.
I couldn’t list everything she did to me that night if I tried. I remember the bullwhip and several canes. I was bound to the post for some of it, and was stretched across a table for others. Near the end, she put me between columns in the courtyard outside, so my body formed an X. Other prisoners from the dungeon were all around me, also bound between columns, and they were whipped alongside me so our screams filled the night air. It struck me that this was likely an agonizing punishment for them, yet I was between them having orgasm after orgasm while I was beaten so far past exhaustion, I fell into a blissful deliria.
The Winter Queen knew how to deliver the most beautiful pain, ever.