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. Fantastic Mad 3D BDSM inside!
Monthly Archives: June 2016
See the dark underbelly of the Roman Empire by Damian
Her fingers got under the edge first try by Steve, Geoff Merrick
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.
It is time to spread my guidance through the rest of your family by De Haro
“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.”
