Ursinia trembled as her new husband, Publius Sirius, led her into his bedchambers. She had pleaded with her father not to force her to marry him, but Publius was a powerful Patrician and the marriage would elevate the rest of her family. Her father had heard the stories of Publius’s…eccentric tastes, but he didn’t care. The political power he would wield would more than make up for the suffering his daughter would be forced to endure…
In an instant her delicate gown was ripped from her body, leaving her trembling naked body totally exposed to Publius’s predatory gaze. His dark eyes flicked to her delicate nipples and tiny but pleasingly curved tits. His hand reached out and pinched one of the soft pink nubs between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling it.
“OOWWWWW!” Ursinia shrieked, trying to pry his hand off her delicate tit.
Ursinia collapsed to her knees, trembling and crying as she gently rubbed her freshly slapped cheek.
“Don’t you dare try and stop me from using your body!” Publius said, reaching down and pulling his young wife to her feet. “You’re my property now, your body is MINE! And if I want to hurt it, I’ll hurt it!”
Publius grabbed both her tiny tits in his hands, twisting and crushing them, letting his fingernails cut into her sensitive skin.
“PLEASE! Please, leave me alone! You’re hurting me!” Urisinia shrieked.
“STOPPPP!” Anymalia shrieked as the whip cut across her taut belly.
Not that Praetor Vincellius understood the screaming Illyrian whore adorning his crucifix. She was just the latest of his “whip-whores” as he called them, slaves he bought specifically to be crucified so he could whip them at his leisure. That was Anymalia’s fate.
“PLEAASEEE!” She screamed as the whip went ripping across her tits, catching her puffy pink nipples.
The whip’s crack was almost as loud as the girl’s screaming. Her bucking, writhing body was covered in sweat which only made the lash of the whip more painful. The Praetor was loving this particular whip slave. He might even give her the pleasure of feeling his cock, even though that was normally reserved for his bed slaves.
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She bolted, bending from the waist as her hand flailed for her mouth. The assaults, sweat, and saliva had loosened the adhesive. Her fingers got under the edge first try. She twisted her torso so her other hand could swing for the front doorknob – dreading that it would be locked. To her astonishment, it wasn’t. She ripped off the tape at the same moment she threw open the obstruction. One step and she was outside.
Ms. Swanson’s claw was in her hair, the other slamming a small sodden cushion over her nose. Al’s arms were around her chest and waist, dragging her back.
She woke up wearing another schoolgirl outfit, of course. Only this one was super-tight and super short, with all the trimmings. The skirt was a wicked variation of her audition skirt, only even shorter. It hugged her hips, while a fitted, starched white shirt adhered to her curves like a layer of skin … except for her blooming chest, naturally.
There the shirt was forced open by a frilly, scalloped, plunge-front, push up, one-size-too-small, black lace demi bra that molded, bunched, and shoved her tits to the bursting point. Black lace thigh highs molded her legs and her feet were contained and wickedly pointed by red leather ankle-strap pumps with five and a half inch stiletto heels.
Claire moaned, finding a spider-leg-ring-gag strapped into her yawning, jaw-aching mouth.
“Oh Tsarina. I know this is difficult for you. But my gifts cannot be spent on you alone. It is time to spread my guidance through the rest of your family. Do not be afraid, embrace what must be. I am going to fuck your daughters, both Anastasia and Olga. It is necessary in order to help them find the grace of God. You understand this; I have guided you many times.” said Rasputin.
“It has been years since you have been with your husband, the Tsar, as a woman should be with a husband.” Rasputin went on. The Tsarina shivered, it was true. Rasputin had forbidden her to lay with her own husband, and somehow, she could not disobey. For years now, she had known no man except her strange, seemingly magical advisor.
“I have not let you spread your legs for anyone but me.” Rasputin continued. “Do not cry about it. Have you not been healed since then? Have you not felt the benefits of my guidance? I know how devoted you are to me, and I appreciate that. It has allowed me to get close to the Tsar and use my influence for the good of Russia. I think your devotion deserves a reward, so I am going to play with your tits and your pussy, as I describe how I shall fuck your daughters… in God’s holy light.”
Grand Duchess Anastasia had a routine. Every night before bed, she would walk the corridors of the castle, to put her in a retiring mood. She walked alone, for the castle was well guarded and only trusted friends of the family were allowed in the sleeping wing. Anastasia had no fear when passing dark, empty rooms on her walk.
Rasputin knew his opportunity would come in one of those dark rooms. He secluded himself in the blackness and waited until she passed by him. As she walked past, he grabbed her and shoved a gag into her mouth. And then, just like that… she was his. Finally. The young woman he had lusted after for years, was his.
Anastasia struggled, weakly, in his arms. But the young duchess had no muscles to speak of; she was powerless in his strong grip. “Do not worry, dear Anastasia. I won’t hurt you…much. Shhh, little princess, don’t cry. I do not do this to degrade you, I do it to purify you. You want to feel close to God, don’t you? It’s tradition, you know. The virgin sacrifice. It brings great fortune to the people.”
“Aren’t you the stupid slut! ‘Get it out,’ you whine, ‘please,’ you beg. What in the fucking world makes you think I would stop drilling your butthole now? Do you think I care about your pain? I only care to make it hurt more! My dick gets harder when I hurt you, you dumb cocksucker. Hearing you squeal while I am stuffing my thick log up your bum is the best feeling in the world!
“And the vibrator in your sloppy pussy feels great, too – for me! Feel that hum! Feel those studs jiggling around against the tender lining of your cunt. That dildo must feel like it’s tearing your honey hole into pink strips. Just wait until I pull it out – that’ll make your slit tingle!
“But I know you have really got to be enjoying how my dick is wrecking your asshole. I could swear it is bigger now, stuck up your butt, than it has ever been in my whole fucking life! Would you believe that? I don’t think that anything I’ve ever done or thought about has been as exciting is banging your whipped ass! And that has made Sanchez’s cock as long, wide, and hard as a sewer pipe.
“This is the way to fuck a girl… While she is tied up and helpless to resist a my assault, tears spilling out of her eyes, drool pouring out of her mouth, screams and silly talk stifled behind a gag, her perfect round ass cheeks blazing red, and my big rape tool buried between them – and spreading them wiiiide apart!
“How does it feel to be so humiliated, feel so much pain, to be so miserable? The pretty young Pilates girl, the cute-assed fitness model, the strong and sexy kick boxer is just a weak whore who can’t even keep a fat, ugly, old bastard out of her pants. You can’t even stop me from raping your asshole! Your struggling just makes you more attractive for me – and it certain tightens your butt hole around my hard on!
“Remember how you would shake your blonde hair out of a pony tail in the gym, just to get attention? Now look how I’m using it… to pull on so I can drive my huge cock even further up your butt! Your “rape me” flag has never been more useful, cunt!”
Consul Flaminius gently stroked his cock and watched his young slave girl scream as his son whipped her soft white ass. The slave’s identical twin sister was kneeling in front of him, tears welling in her eyes as listened to her sister’s agonized screams.
“Give another son, right across the base of her ass. See if you can bring the whip down and catch her across those lovely nether lips of hers.”
“NIEEEARRGHHHH!” The girl wailed as Flaminius’s son succeeded, a dark red welt blooming across her tender feminine lips.
“Now you, you’re going to take my cock in your throat and keep it there like a sword in a scabbard. And don’t you dare make me cum until I tell you to, or you’ll take your sister’s place and we’ll see if she’s a better slave than you.”
The Slave Barge very rarely docked at a port to do business. Instead clients would meet the barge at a specified set of coordinates. The Slave Barge’s clients were all independently wealthy and many owned their own personal yachts. Today the Slave Barge was meeting with a valued Russian customer, whose crazy sadistic sex drive meant he was a frequent buyer.
Amanda was the slave he was buying, of course now she was known simply as Fuckbitch, the Russian named all his slaves that. She’d been a waitress at a restaurant in London a few weeks ago, that’s where she’d caught the Russian’s eye. After arranging her abduction, the Slave Barge set about training her.
Normally a slave is subjected to a seven day regime of spankings, whippings, and painful forced sex to break their spirit. But the Russian was very particular about his slaves; he wanted them in pristine condition. No bruises, cuts or scars of any kind. He also preferred that he be the first to force his cock into their holes.
Within fifteen minutes the interior of the dark dance club exploded with slashing multi-colored light, throbbed with bellowing noise, seethed with special effect snow, foam, and smoke, and thudded with the loud, driving beat of the pumped-up music … all serving to make any sudden, minor noise coming from the broom closet between the men and ladies room unnoticeable.
But inside Caitlin Connelly screamed into the pliant rubber ball shoved in her pretty mouth and the thick, sticky, wide swath of tape cruelly sealing her lovely lips, as the boys tore open her dress top and ripped up her dress’ skirt.
She cried for help again and again as they mauled and fucked her, her sealed mouth making a mockery of the dancers’ proximity just inches beyond the broom closet door.
The whole thing had been pathetically easy. The boys waited until she went to the bathroom, and, as soon as she came out again, they surged onto her as if her friends. Practically before she knew what was happening, she was forced into the broom closet, its door shut behind her. The club was so dark, loud, and chaotic that no one was the wiser. Only a friend right beside her could’ve realized something was wrong, but her friends were yards away, obliviously gyrating on the main dance floor.
Meanwhile their pretty, sexy, little friend Caitlin was doing her own, unwilling, gyrations, her strawberry hair flying this way and that as she was molested and despoiled.
“All the way in, bitch!
“This is even better than I dreamt it would be, blondie. Your pucker is almost strangling my tool! Who knew all your exercise at the gym would strengthen your sphincter, too.
“With my cock jammed up your whipped butt, with my prick savagely reaiming out your asshole, this is how you are doing the best work you even can do as a woman! Nothing you can do with your sloppy cunt and no amount of sucking with your whore mouth can ever be better than the pleasure you can provide a man by squirming around while he rapes you up the ass!”
I FEEL SO FULL! MY PUSSY HAS THAT THING IN IT AND MY ASS… HE’S SPLITTING ME APART! I MUST BE BLEEDING! I’M GOING TO DIE! OHHH, IT HURTS SO MUCH!
“Cry for me, girl… cry while I take your anal cherry! Do you know that there are men who allow a bitch to rub her clit while they do this to her? There are even wimps who rub the bitch’s clit themselves! What kind of sick, pussy whipped faggot would want to make it easier on a girl who has got his sausage stuffed up her butt?”
Olivia wiggled her bottom back and forth, bounced it up and down, at least as much as the belt that restrained her to the rail of the saw horse would permit. In spite all of her effort, her anus remained firmly impaled on the man’s dick.
Out! Shit! I’ve got to get his cock out of me! Out! It hurts!
She tried jerking her hips forward, tried climbing onto the horse. The man’s dick stayed planted up her backside.
Noo! Nooo! It’s like he jammed a hot curling iron up my bum! Can’t I shake it out?
But the man’s thick rod stayed right where it was, filling her sore ass with a burn like the fires of hell had been lit up in her wrenched open anus.
I can feel every twitch of his dick… and they all hurt!
It seemed like her guts were pressing up into her lungs, pushing out the air. She tried to breathe deep to fill her lungs, tried to breathe to survive, but the belt that cinched down so hard around her waist and the ball gag in her mouth restricted her breathing. Panting through her nose, she could not get enough air. Fear increased Olivia’s pain, and pain increased Olivia’s fear.
Her eyes then locked with the girl’s. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Claire. What did you think was going to happen when you showed up in my class all sweet and innocent, with those big brown puppy dog eyes and wet pouty kewpie-doll lips … ‘oh teach me, teach me Ms. Swanson! I’ll do my best, Ms. Swanson! You just ignore my killer body and super-cute face the way I do, Ms. Swanson! Let’s pretend that every boy, and most of the girls, don’t wanna fuck me, Ms. Swanson! Who, little ol’ innocent pure-as-the-driven-snow-me, Ms. Swanson?’”
The words hit Claire like slaps, making her eyes water, her eyelids quiver, and then blink, her expression crumbling into agonized despair. Her head screwed on her neck, tears pouring out onto the carpet as her body was wracked by shuddering sobs.
“Oh no,” cried Dorothy Swanson, running over to kneel by Claire’s head. “Did I upset you, dear?” She took Claire’s face in her hands, forcing the girl to look back up at her. “Did I make sweet little snookums cry?” The Holden girl’s eyes fluttered as she tried to keep, or lose, her sanity.
“That’s the least of it, bitch,” the woman promised. “I don’t like girls who act like you, all sweetness and light. You look like a sex doll, so that’s just what you’re gonna be. You’re ours now, body, face, and soul, and we’re gonna keep you nice and safe.” Claire was crying in earnest as the woman kneed the man lightly in the shoulder. “You almost done?”
“Give me a minute,” he grunted. “Shit, I already screwed her three times today!”
“Good boy,” Ms. Swanson commended. She squeezed Claire’s face. “Now, that’ll teach you, baby.” Then she rocked back and watched as he curled his arms under the girl’s shoulders, sunk his fingers into the grooves made by her collar bones, and started humping her like a rabid dog.
Imperial Rome, the mightiest, the most decadent Empire in history. A place where a man with unbridled ambition can sate his craving for domination and glut his desires as he desires. A place where a woman from barbarian Britannia is nothing more than a plaything, a fuck-tool to sate the lust of the men who have already conquered the world.
Two thousand miles from Rome, the legions rest after the battle of Viroconium. Now that Boudicca has been defeated, the revenge of the legions will be savage. Just one daughter of the Iceni queen remains and now Suetonius will return her to Rome for Nero’s pleasure.
“Teach her to respect Rome,” orders the victorious general. “Take her, whip and use her every day! Show her that the Romans know how to fuck their bitches until they beg for Roman cocks to fill all of their holes!”
“Now there is no escape from your fate, bitch,” says her lord and owner. “How dare you shame me before the Emperor? I have decided that you are to be reduced to the lowest of the low. Fuck-toy, slave to my slaves, you will be the reward for all of my slaves when they need a hole to screw.”
She feels the pincers close on her tender flesh and screams as the branding iron kisses the bruised skin of her thighs to leave her owner’s mark where every cock will pass on its way to her helpless cunt.