Enjoy the naughty little vignette, darlings.
Bannon's rough, hot hand on the nape of her neck held her prisoner. It kneaded, exploring and massaging the muscle, spreading a warm, delicious relaxation. She arched herself into it, like a cat. He liked that, and his kneading went on longer in reward, sharp contrast to the strain in her legs and back, earned from standing so long in the inverted, spread-legged position in which he'd shackled her.
The pressing heat of the room crawled over her like a tongue on her damp skin, sheened in sweat. Her barbarian's hand slowly moved from her nape down the naked contours of her shoulders, trailing further along the subtle ridge of her spine.
She knew what came next: his palm caressed the round of her ass, stroking, stroking. Then his free hand took hold of her hip and the sharp slap and sting of his palm made her cry out. He liked it when she did that. It made him hard.
She moaned a little as he soothed her, gently rubbing the spot he had just struck. Slow, slow, and so fond. Then again came the bright, sudden red pain of a smack, and she shook, another yelp escaping her.
His voice was low, and hushed, and full of wicked promise.
She breathed heavily, and then replied. "Yes, please... my Lord."
His fingers traced the lines of the tattoos on her back. Wild markings, the remnants of life in her desert homeland thousands of miles away. Sadira let out another quivering breath as Bannon touched her, exploring the map of her servitude, until again he rested his hand against her ass, letting her count the seconds in anticipation.
He had her bent double before him. He'd shackled her wrists and ankles., the latter bound to a rigid iron bar that kept her legs spread wide, leaving her bare, hot pussy open to his pleasure. He'd locked the manacles on her wrists to that bar, forcing her to hold this position until he was ready for more.
Another slap; she cried. Though they were deep in his private wing she was sure his guards could hear her. Good. She liked that. She wanted the fortress to hear her pleasure. "Tell me how it feels," he commanded.
"Hot," she panted. "My skin... I can still feel it sting."
He grabbed her ass, driving the pain deeper. "Are you wet?"
"Yes, Lord," she gasped. "So wet... my cunt aches for you."
He chuckled. Sadira always warmed up quickly but his torture could last for hours.
He slapped her again, and his hand stayed, rubbing the tender flesh, aggravating the sore pink skin. Then again, and again the taunting caress, and then again. Sadira's cries ran together into a desperate moan and she arched again, torn between begging for more and shrinking away. Her backside sang with beautiful bright agony—she shuddered with the sudden thought of him entering her, his big hands parting her tender cheeks and his rigid cock sliding home inside her, her body strained to accept such invasion after this slow, exacting torture.
Bannon chuckled over her shoulder. As if he'd read her mind—or more likely, her body—he moved his hand to her other hip and pressed himself against her. Through his leather trews she could feel the sure weight of his cock grinding against her sore ass.
"Want it?" he muttered. "Do you?"
"Yes," she gasped. "My Lord... barbarian..."
He laughed, gave her one last tormenting thrust. Then he released her and came around to her front. He knelt to unlock the shackles from the bar, and then forced her to her knees. He reached out to retrieve another implement—her leather leash and collar—from the stand, and he swept her long, damp curtain of hair back over one shoulder, to bare her throat. He locked the collar on her, then tightened his grip on the leash. With his free hand, he released his cock from his trews.
"Suck me. Show me how hungry you are for my cock. Make me ready to fuck you."
Sadira gazed up at him, green eyes aglow, as her hands—clumsy in the shackles—rose to take him, stroke him. She wrapped her fingers along his burgeoning shaft and uttered a soft, eager groan. Then she closed her eyes, taking him almost reverently into her mouth.
He tasted of salt, heat, and the wicked bittersweetness of his cum. She moaned around him as she lavished his beautiful member with adoring kisses and long, loving strokes of her tongue. She delighted in sucking him: the fierce, adamant shape and feel of wild barbarian cock in her mouth; the close, raw smell of his masculinity, that made her hungry for him. There was incredible pleasure in tasting, kissing, even resisting the ferocious length of him, and best yet, the hot rush of his cum. Tonight she took a long time savoring his length. Her hands had little freedom but she managed to wrap one set of fingers around the base of him, and drop the other palm open to caress his warm flesh of his balls.
"Oh, yes," he urged her. "Good girl. How much do you want it, Sadira? Tell me how it tastes."
"It is my deep desire to suck you," she breathed, nuzzling him, inhaling his sharp need. She rubbed his head along her cheeks, drawing back the foreskin to run her tongue along the swollen ridge of his frenulum. "I hunger for this cock... I need it, my Lord. You taste...so good..."
He pulled her leash tighter, drawing her back onto him and giving her little room to draw away. At the same time he bobbed his hips towards her, filling her to the back of the throat. She made a tiny sound of strain, but it was a pleasured sound, one of indulgent joy. His other hand tangled in her hair, tugging firm, holding her at his mercy. She softened, relaxing to recieve him as he thrust deep into her mouth, picking up a rhythm of hungry, hard, possessive fucking.
"Moan, slave," he ordered. "Let's hear it."
She obeyed, the sound muffled around him. He thrust harder, grunting.
"I'm going to take your ass tonight," he growled, straining to hold back his orgasm. "And when I slide in I want it to be like silk. So suck it well, Sadira...get it good...and...wet!"
He thrust hard on the last word, making her jump and let out a strained squeak. She started to gag--he liked that. He held her until she choked for breath, then released her. He did it again, and she moaned desperately; when he withdrew, strings of saliva clung to him.
He grasped her by the jaw and made her look up, into his hazel eyes.
"Ready for me, girl?"
"Yes," she gasped.
He guided her back to her feet by the leash, and reshackled her wrists to the bar. She panted, dizzy but ecstatic, as he moved behind her again. He gave her no other warning: planting one hand firmly on her hip, with the other he guided his hungry cock into her.
Bright, cutting pain made her groan. Quickly it was joined by a struggling sweet, intoxicating pleasure, as her body strained to accomodate his adamant girth. His thrusts were hard, smooth, made wet and easy with her saliva but still deliciously rough, fiercely dominating, claiming her body so primally. She could do nothing but submit, take him deep, and moan at the gilded sensation of his cock fucking her sore, reluctantly yielding ass. He filled her, easily, and she welcomed it. The shackles rattled: without even realizing it, she was pulling against them, twisting in the throes of pain and pleasure. Her whole body rioted.
"Like it?" He grunted, punctuating it with a deep, harsh thrust. "Oh, your ass is tight, slave... let me hear your pleasure. Let's hear how much you like barbarian's cock taking you so."
"I do," she moaned shakily, dizzy and drunk with the feverish pleasure.
"Say it. Ask me for more."
"Please, yes, Master...please..."
She gasped, then cried in pleasure.
"Please...come...I want you to...come, inside me..."
He yanked the leash tight, making her arch, pulling her to the limit of her constrained position. One large hand tangled in her hair and he tugged her head back sharply so she could hear his ragged, lusty growl at her ear, could feel the damp heat of his chest pressed down against her back.
"Oh, fuck, lass," he bit out. "You're a hot little mess. Want it in you...want me to come-- fucking-- this-- tight-- UNH!"
He thrust in deeper than before, just when she thought she could take no more of him. His cock throbbed, twitched; she thrilled at each heavy shudder, each panting breath as the rush of his hot, pumping semen filled her.
He held her tight through his orgasm, rigid right up to the last coursing jet of cum. His clutching fingers at her hip dug in hard enough to leave red furrows; where their bodies joined she felt hard pleasure giving in to beautiful, singular pain. Finally, unable to stand it any more, she gave a soft whimper.
Bannon rested only a second more, then withdrew. Even that motion brought with it a sharp, stinging delight, eliciting one final sound of bliss from her.
"Good girl," he rumbled at her again. He gently caressed the sore flesh of her ass, all affection now, and she closed her eyes to relish the small, tender ache.