The Shrinemaiden (The Maidens) (34 page)

She heard him grunt, felt him spill out his own release, adding his seed into her quivering cunt. He kept right on thrusting, each pumping burst of fluid punctuated by another hard thrust, prolonging his pleasure and her own. She writhed beneath him, until he collapsed on top of her, the weight of his body pinning her.

“Very good, my whore,” he said. He released her legs but not her wrists, and Adelai was forced to spend the rest of the night with her hands still tied, the king waking on occasion to slake more of his lust on her body.

The red welts on her wrists and ankles had not yet abated when he summoned her again the following night. He had also ordered Thornton into his chambers without her knowing. When the captain of the guard entered he found Adelai bent over the seat of his chair, kneeling on the red cushions with her hips raised, breasts swinging free as the king plowed into her from behind. They were facing away from the door, and it was easy to see just how deeply the king’s cock was ramming into her behind, her plump nether lips stretched almost obscenely around his shaft as it pushed in and out. Adelai moaned, her face red with humiliation, but she was helpless to do much. The king’s hands were on her shoulders, forcing her head down and preventing her from moving.

“Report, captain,” King Garrant said, with barely a pause in his thrusting. Adelai whimpered.

“Our soldiers shall move to surround the Watch barracks shortly after midnight the day after tomorrow, your Highness. My spies have informed me that Kazer and the Earl are still inside the building, and the Wolf still interrogating them. We will commence the attack in the early morning, and we expect to have Falen in custody by then.“

“Good,” She could hear the glee in the king’s voice, as his cock slammed into her pussy, eliciting little cries from her, each one louder than the one that came before it. She didn’t want to come - not like this, with the captain watching, but she couldn’t stop herself when the king sped up, as if sensing the one thing she did not wish to do. He was too experienced and too skilled, bringing her body to the brink of an orgasm even as he spoke with the man.

“I want to know as soon as the attack commences, Thornton. Keep - me - abreast.” Each word was punctuated with a hard, deep stroke.

“No!” Adelai gasped, but it was too late; she climaxed hard, her face pressed against the satin, her body betraying her by dripping fluid onto the chair - and the king slammed into her ass, guttural groans leaving his mouth as his cock spurted into her.

Adelai kept her eyes closed, not wanting to look at Thornton, even as the king got up from her. She could feel his cum sliding down her thighs, staining the cushion. “You may go, Captain,” the king said, and the man left without another word.

He allowed her to return to the room instead of staying the night; she suspected the whole evening had been staged by King Garrant to further humiliate her, by having her former lover come in just as she was on the throes, too caught up to stop even if she wanted to. Her whole body felt sore, and she felt bruised from places where he had been too rough with her.

Only one thing managed to buoy up her spirits, when she returned. When she drew back the curtains again, the handkerchief she had tied there was gone.

She was summoned back to the king’s chambers on the third night. This time she was on the king’s lap when she heard the door open. His chest was pressed up against her back while he toyed with her breasts, his hands gripping them for leverage. He was also forcing her up and down his cock, and she bit back a moan every time he made her impale herself on his throbbing shaft.

Adelai closed his eyes, assuming it was Thornton, and that tonight was another humiliating repeat of the night before.

“Your Highness!” Her eyes flew open in surprise, because it wasn’t Thornton’s voice, but someone else’s that she didn’t recognize. “Milord, the apartments are on fire!”

“What?” The hands groping at her breasts stilled.

“Your Highness, a fire has broken out in the rooms where the Lady Maestre has been staying, and it’s spreading! Your Majesty, we must bring you to - “

It was the first time she’d ever seen fear in the king’s face. Adelai found herself tipped unceremoniously off his lap, sprawling on the floor. King Garrant had rushed toward the inner sanctum of his chambers, throwing open a small dresser and fumbling at something inside it.

“Milord!” One of the guards had dashed into the room. “Your Majesty, they’ve been able to contain the fire, but the Lady Maestre’s missing!”

“What?!”

“The Captain of the Guard was in the city, overseeing preparations for the attack, and she must have escaped shortly after he had left. We found Lord Goetzel trussed up, and unconscious.”

The king was turning to face them, his face nearly purple with rage, his cock still hard. “And no one realized this sooner?”

The man actually trembled, at the king’s rage. “We were told by Lord Goetzel not to interfere, that no one else was to enter after he did, until he gave the signal to.”

The king snatched up a vase and threw it at the guard. It barely missed his head, crashing into the wall behind him. “Out!” King Garrant thundered, nearly beside himself with fury. “Out, out, out!”

The guard retreated. With no one else to vent his rage to, the king turned on Adelai. “Get up, you little bitch,” he snarled, hoisting her up to her feet, his fingers digging into her arm. “So, you think your friend can escape me? I suppose I shall have to take her insolence out on you.”

He all but threw her on the table, the wood slamming painfully into her stomach and knocking the wind out of her. She had little time to recover - the king bound her wrists once more, looping it into a small chain to keep her from escaping. He slapped her hard across the face when she tried to struggle and kick herself free. He did the same to her legs, tying them together instead of forcing them apart. On her stomach, she tried to raise her head, only to have it slammed back down, her vision swimming from the force.

“That stupid bitch!” she heard the sounds of something being uncoiled, the hard rasp of a rope braid, and then something cracked across her bare buttocks, the unexpected pain making her scream. The king was behind her, a whip in his hand. She’d heard of men who liked to inflict pain, had even heard of shrinemaidens who enjoyed such ministrations, who sometimes returned to the temple in order to specialize in such acts. But it was considered poor taste to do such things to shrinemaidens barely a year out, those who certainly had little experiences in such fetishes.

But she could do nothing. The king brought the cord down onto her tender flesh, and Adelai shrieked again. But she was trapped on the table and unable to move, unable to do anything but take his rage as the king assaulted her buttocks and thighs again and again, leaving angry red welts with every blow. Each lash sent a white-hot pain through her senses, and she thrashed on the table, desperate for him to stop, even as that unforgiving whip came down, always hitting its mark.

It felt like a long, long time, for the whipping to end. She was motionless when it was finally over, the pain crawling up her body, her backside too sore that every little movement made her gasp in hurt. She could hear the king’s harsh, heavy panting as he stopped, as he debated whether to continue her torture. Adelai was sobbing hysterically, no longer trying to hold it in. All she wanted was the burning to cease.

“The conniving bitch,” the king said again, but with less heat in his voice. The beating had helped exorcised his fury, but he was far from done with her. She felt him touch her buttocks, sliding a finger down the crack to press against her sex. “How does that feel, Adelai? You must be quite close to the Silvermaiden, to be so willing to take the punishment in her stead.” A finger slipped into her, began to pump in and out of her nether lips. The strange mix of pain coupled with pleasure was both agonizing and exquisite all at once. Two more fingers entered her, thumb pressing against her tiny nub. She was still wet from the king’s fucking before he was interrupted, and these helped her lubricate further, despite the burning.

“Sshh. It’s over now, little one. Look how pretty your ass has become, tender and red. It’s going to look better with your ass stuffed with cock.”

She was sure she wouldn’t be able to take him fucking her in her rear hole, after everything he had just done to her, and she shook her head frantically. He only laughed, his humor restored.

“Oh, you’ll like this, Adelai. You’ll be begging me for more when I’m done.” She felt his cock enter her cunt again, and she whimpered while he thrusted in several times to coat it in her wetness. He pulled out, and settled against her tiny, wrinkled hole.

“No,” she moaned, “oh, no, no….”

“Yes,” He surged forward, and the cockhead parted her rosy cheeks. He forced his way through the tight ring just past the hole, inch by painstaking inch, until he was buried inside her backdoor, her body gripping him tightly. He withdrew, then moved again, stabbing deeper and deeper into her protesting body, and she had to accept his girth as it forced her open.

“Fuck,” the king moved his hips back and pressed forward, impaling her again on his invading cock. “You’re truly a sweet, tight little thing when you’re in pain, aren’t you.”

The burning sensation only increased, sending little jolts of pain up and down her backside, but it was a shock to realize that it also seemed to increase her pleasure, more so than it would. He ignored her pleas, and began rocking back and forth until she was stuffed with his cock at every plunge forward. His ass-reaming was slow at first, but grew faster and rougher the more excited he became, slapping her ass while he fucked her, sending that heady combination of agony and ecstasy through her again.

“No,” Adelai panted, not wanting to believe that she could find release after he had hurt her so cruelly like this. But there it was, the pleasure burgeoning, lifting higher and higher, intense because of the pain that came with it, until finally it became almost unbearable.

“I want you to call my name, Adelai,” the king hissed, and then his teeth bit down savagely on her neck, making her cry out again.

“Garrant,” she babbled, wanting this to end, wanting this new humiliation to be over with. “Garrant….”

“Louder!” He barked, and then his next bite was on her shoulder, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Say it, Adelai!”

“Garrant!” She wailed, as she began cumming. “Garrant!” Her snug channel clamped down hard, as if trying to pull more of him into her dark recesses.

The king roared, coating her insides with his cream even as she sobbed and writhed, her bottom grinding against him.

He slumped down on top of her, nearly crushing her with his weight, but Adelai was too tired to protest, only grateful that it was finally over. Her buttocks still hurt, and she was still crying, satiation giving way to exhaustion and fear.

He kissed her ear, and then moved to stand. He undid her ropes, and she wobbled once she got to her feet. She only had time to shrug into the dressing gown she had arrived in, before the door opened and she was shoved into a guard’s arms. “Send her back to her room,” the king ordered, “and make sure this bitch doesn’t escape, either.”

Every step was agony. Still, she kept her head up, not wanting the guards to see her beaten. She stumbled into her room - she wanted to curl up onto the bed and sleep, to pray that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But she had a duty to keep.

Despite her aches, she went to her dresser and penned a quick note. It felt strange to write standing up, but she knew she could not bear sitting down, not with the burning still so acute. She folded the paper, took another lace handkerchief, and tied it to the window bars again, around the note. She surveyed herself n the mirror, nearly wept again at what she saw. Crisscrossed lashes marked her buttocks, at least one breaking her skin. She had nothing to help soothe the pain except a cream she had for small cuts. She winced as she applied it to the worst of the injuries. She had enough energy to clean herself up with a washcloth as thoroughly as she was able to - the water on her washstand was too cold for her to do much more than that. It was only then that she made her way to the bed, sprawling on her stomach. She covered her face with her hands, and began to cry.

She must have dozed off for awhile, but was suddenly aware of knocks against her door. She bolted up, wide-eyed and frightened, wondering if the king was not yet done with her. It was still dark outside, still several hours before dawn.

Shaking, she crossed the room, and fumbled for the door.

The captain of the guard stood outside, and there were no guards posted at the doorway. He was the last person she wanted to see, and her first instinct was to wrap her robe tighter around her, not wanting him to see how badly she’d been hurt. Her second instinct was to close the door on his face. But he caught the side of it with his hand, preventing her from doing so, and moved into the room, the door falling shut behind him.

“Show me,” he growled.

“Show you what?” She whispered. Her throat felt sore from screaming, from crying.

“Don’t play games with me, Adelai,” his blue eyes blazed. “Show me what he did to you.”

She hesitated, then dropped her hands. He took them in his, his eyes hardening at the sight of the redness that still encircled her wrists. He reached over and undid her gown for her, pushing the material off her shoulders.

Adelai blushed, knowing what he must be seeing. Her neck and shoulders were marked by bites, dark against her pale skin. There were also red welts across her breasts from his hands. There was bruising on her sides from where she had hit the table, and the mild throbbing on the side of her face where he’d hit her.

“Where else?” Thornton’s voice was harsh.

Immediately she shook her head, then realized that she’d done it too quickly to make it believable, and his eyes narrowed. He made her turn, pivoting her around so he could see the ugly red imprints against her buttocks and thighs, where the king had whipped her unmercifully, the small and shallow streaks of blood there.