Harrington
Harrington watched the door close behind his subordinate and felt glad of it. An entire ship down the drain. A warship! He ran one of the most profitable colonies in the English domain. Allowing a single prisoner, and a mere woman at that, to lay the entire colony low and make them this vulnerable? It was mortifying. Unacceptable!
The corporate board was well aware of the fuckup and had not waited an hour before calling him out of the system and back to the real world to hound him about it in person.
His frumpy wife was probably having a good giggle too. Cunt.
How dare those fools let this happen to him? A private smile crept over his lips. Not that he minded it happening to that fucking Fowler of all people. Stupid, good-looking bastard. Always perfect. Everyone always praising him for what a good captain he was, what a brilliant fencer he was, what an amazing shot he was. Well, not so fucking perfect now was he, the little shit.
His blood pressure rising and his fists sore from clenching, he whirled from the window and sought a way to relive this horrid stress he’d been put under. The governor turned to the plaything on the couch.
She’d entirely ignored his conversation with Fowler, engrossed in the smut novel that she was tearing through. He let his eyes travel over the long, bare, tanned legs. He licked his lips as he watched her delicate fingers trace circles on the fabric of her bubblegum pink, lace panties, the tip of her middle finger toying with her clit. The demicup bra perked up her breasts, each the size and roundness of a citrus orange, their dark nipples standing taut and ready to be sucked. Her mulberry lips were parted and brown eyes raced over the text in her hands.
She was a fairytale of perfection brought to life, as gorgeous and perfect in every way as the most dolled-up beauty on the internet. She was the kind of woman you saw on the arms of billionaires, the kind that looked right down their perfect little noses at someone like him, despite his position and income, the kind of pretty slut who would do anything for money but who also thinks they’re better than him, too good for him.
After being humiliated so severely by the board, there was nothing he wanted more right now than to do the same thing to her, but a hundred times worse. But not here in the office. It would be messy. He pressed a hidden switch on his desk and a panel opened in the wall. Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a collar and chain. He jingled it.
At the sound, she looked up for the first time. Seeing the device in his hand, she dropped the book and ran to him, throwing herself to all fours in front of him, head down, long black hair hanging over her face.
“Good slut,” he praised her with a smug smile. The collar fit snuggly around her neck. Chain in hand, he led her to the secret door like the bitch she was.
She rose and meekly followed on dainty feet.
On the other side of the door, a circular, stone stairway spiralled down. At the bottom, they emerged in his private sex dungeon. It was much bigger than the office above and it had been designed with every deviant dream in mind.
On one wall was a tall X where one could be strapped by the wrists and ankles. A heavy-duty dildo could be affixed so that much of the body’s weight rested on it once it pierced you. A wide variety of whips and chains, masks and gags, cuffs and paddles hung next to the X.
In the center of the room were padded tables. One was rectangular. Another was designed so that you could kneel on padded arms while bent over the bench and tied down. Hanging from the ceiling was a sex swing of silver chains and crimson fabric, as well as a hanging platform of similar silver chains and red wood. There were two riding horses, one soft and rounded, the other triangular and intended for discomfort.
A mechanical device was designed to use descending weights and springs to power dildoes automatically, with room for two sex toys at once. A bookcase held dozens of dildoes of all shapes and sizes, from tiny to ones so massive it seemed impossible they could fit in a human orifice. But they had. Even if it had taken time and patience.
A contraption made of cold, shiny steel allowed someone to be on their knees and elbows on the floor, bent over a bar under the hips. Leather straps held the ankles and wrists down while the head was put through a hanging collar. The frame around the collar had places where gags could be fixed, as well as hooks for holding open the mouth or nose.
A metal pole stood on a platform, occasionally used for dancing. One could also be tied to it the way they had staked witches for burning. Instead of fire, he used candles that could be dripped or thrown on skin. They came in a rainbow of decorative colours from another bookcase.
A vast bed with red, satin sheets stood against one wall. There were places to affix leather straps and metal chains to the frame. Chains and straps were also attached to a point above the bed in the ceiling and could be dangled over the thick mattress when needed.
The floor was bare and could be easily hosed down. This proved necessary rather often as a variety of fluids, including blood, regularly coated it.
This room was his personal playground, his heaven, and other people’s hell. Here, he trained young, beautiful women to enjoy being humiliated and used and abused. He trained them like dogs to bark, to roll over, to get fucked. He taught them to enjoy being tortured and to take his cock in every orifice as if it were a needed drug. Here, his stable of bitches learned to get wet at the sight of a paddle and begged to be whipped and to have their assholes stretched.
Harrington led the young woman from his office, Lucinda, past a leather couch and a human table.
The table was another young woman, face down on her stomach with her breasts smushed into the cold floor, her hands cuffed behind her. A smooth, steel rod rose from a clamp around her neck, and another from between her legs that was cruelly pressed up against her sex. Her legs were bent and her ankles chained to the pole. Atop the metal legs was a wooden tabletop. If the woman rolled to either side, it would tilt, and anything on the table would fall off.
He eyed the glass of wine on the table. He’d put it there this morning. “Haven’t spilled it yet. Good. You know what’ll happen if you do.”
The woman on the ground, Jella, wined from the back of her throat but didn’t speak. Partially because she was gagged. The position she was in must have been excruciating at this point.
They walked over to the puppy corner. A kennel had been built, relatively small with a chicken-wire front door. Behind the wire was a white woman with dirty blonde hair: Hildy. She wore arm gloves and thigh-high boots of blue leather and nothing else. When he opened the door, she walked out on all fours and displayed a labrador-style tail. It came out of the fat butt plug that the woman always wore.
He patted Hildy on the head. “Who’s a good little bitch?” he asked.
She smiled up at him, the expression a touch pitiful. Wiggling her hips, the tail wagged.
“Go do your business,” he ordered Hildy. Then he looked at Lucinda. “Take my clothes off.
Lucinda bowed her head and immediately began removing his clothes.
Hildy’s expression fell. She was new. But she obediently went to the drain in the corner. Looking over her shoulder, she hesitated and blushed but quickly turned away at his frown. Squatting just like a female dog, she relieved herself, looking away from him as she did.
He laughed, enjoying her embarrassment and the way she turned red. When she finished, he scolded her. “Tsk. Sloppy. Look what a mess you made.” Urine had puddled around the drain. He came over and grabbed her by the neck, then shoved her face into it. “Bad bitch!” He spanked her upright bum hard.
She yelped.
He spanked her again twice more, making her whine and her ass glow crimson. With a cruel grin, he stood, placing one foot on her neck and keeping her face in her own filth. He was stiffening at the sight when the urge to increase her humiliation rose. “You like making a mess? How about I make a mess on you?” He laughed and relieved himself on her face.
She blushed, yet beads of lubrication had appeared on the wrinkled folds of her sex.
Holding his urine back for a moment, he moved around behind her. “Hold her cunt open,” he ordered Lucinda.
The Spanish slut knelt next to the human dog and spread the woman’s pussy open.
He pissed inside, enjoying the way she squirmed as he did. Dammit, it was difficult with a hardon, but he managed. “You like that, don’t you, bitch?”
Hildy hesitated, then nodded and whined.
Feeling an urge, he squared himself behind her and shoved his cock into her defiled opening and began fucking the piss out of her. It wasn’t difficult to enter her. She was a sloppy, wet mess from the treatment. No matter how much he abused these tarts, in the end, they couldn’t help themselves but want more, and craved sexual release because of it.
Hildy didn’t cry out like a regular woman. She barked like she’d been trained, then barked again and again as she climaxed.
He pulled out before he could do the same. “Lay in your own filth and play with yourself for a while,” he commanded. “You can clean up after I’m gone.”
She happily rolled over and fingered her pussy, panting as she did so.
Lucinda was still on her knees. He grabbed her by the back of the head and shoved his dirty cock into her perfect mouth. She immediately cleaned it without question, cheeks flushing as he used her face.
He dearly felt like cumming down her slender throat and filling her belly with his seed but had something else in mind for her. He pulled out, leaving a long string of saliva from her dark lips to the tip of his penis. He led her by the collar to where a long chain dangled from the ceiling.
He bade her stand and chained her wrists together overhead so that her arms stuck up. She was helpless, her gorgeous, lithe body open to whatever he wished. He fumbled with her bra strap for a moment, then removed and discarded it to the floor. Grabbing a breast in one hand, he squeezed like he was examining a melon for ripeness.
Almost involuntarily, her back arched, pushing the tit into his palm, as if in need.
He retrieved a pair of clamps from a shelf. Returning to her, he watched her eyes follow the clamps, not leaving them as he opened each one and placed it on a nipple.
As the first clamp tightened, she gasped. With the second, she whimpered. Her nipples swelled with blood and, when he flicked them, she writhed from the increased sensitivity.
Harrington ran his hands over her lithe body, revelling in the feel of her taut, young, feminine skin. One palm roamed over tight buttock, hefting it, then squeezing it with crushing force. Grabbing a paddle from the wall, he slapped the wide, black leather across her backside.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
He paddled her again.
“Oh, master!” she cried out. She skin of her buttocks had turned bright red.
He paddled her again and again. He loved the way her ass looked after being punished. But he wanted her tits to feel the same. So he grabbed a short cat o’ nine tails, the nine whips made of black and red leather braids with ends fashioned into red roses. With a vicious cut of his arm, the multi-headed whip slashed her left breast, causing her knees to buckle as she cried out in pain and pleasure.
He punished her breasts, one after another, with stinging whips. Then he paddled her ass some more. Then, slightly more gently, he whipped her beautiful face. Not enough to mar it, but enough to leave streaks of red deeper than her blush. Backing off, he studied her.
Lucinda stood trembling and hanging from her wrists, barely able to stand, thighs clenched. A glimmer of wetness could be seen on the inside of her thighs.
He stuck his hand down there and felt her fluid dripping over his fingers. “What a nasty little slut you are, aren’t you? Naked and exposed. Enjoying being whipped and punished for your wantonness.”
“Yes, Master,” she begged. “Please, punish me more. I deserve it.”
“I will.” He reached around her hip and fingered her anus. “Beg me to fuck your ass.”
She paled. “N-no!”
“What’s wrong, slut? Don’t you like anal sex?”
Her training had yet to regularly include this area of the body. But playing with her back door a couple of times had revealed how shy she was about it. “No! It’s…dirty!”
He thrived on her resistance. “Beg me for it. Beg me to put my cock in that dirty, nasty hole.”
She whimpered, her eyes trembling. “Please, Master! Anything but that. I can’t. It’s gross. And I’m too small for that!”
“You’re a slut.”
“Y-yes.”
“Sluts take it in the ass.”
“But, Master…”
“Beg me!”
“I—I can’t!”
“Then I’ll punish you until you do.”
Lowering the chain, he commanded her to squat. Then he took a pair of thick, black leather straps and coiled them around her left thigh and calf before tightening them. He did the same to her right thigh and calf. Legs bound and arms stretched overhead, she was forced to squat on her high, pink heels in that slightly painful position.
She tried to keep her knees together, but it was too difficult in that position and she whimpered in frustration as her thighs separated against her will, revealing her hot, wet pussy.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Beg me, cunt.”
She turned her face away.
The level of tech in this world had not yet advanced to batteries. So he used a wind-up vibrator instead, a marvel of ingenuity. Placing the tip on her clit, he sent her into paroxysms of pleasure and pain. Her whole body spasmed and the chain overhead rattled. She was helpless to evade. And his actions made her wetter and wetter. But any time she looked ready to orgasm, he pulled away and spent a minute rewinding the toy.
Frustration built on her face amidst the pain and humiliation.
“What’s wrong?” he teased.
“I…”
“I can’t hear you.”
“I want to cum, Master.”
“Oh? You want my cock?”
“Yes!”
“Very well.” He loosened the chain so she tipped forward onto her knees, her arms still overhead. Then he lowered his considerable bulk to the floor and slid between her legs, careful of her pin-point heels. His belly pressed into her buttocks and wet slit.
She spied his cock and eagerly licked her lips. Frantic with need, she tried to maneuver herself backwards onto the stiff member.
But he shook his head at her, disappointing her. “Uh-uh. Not that hole.”
Her face fell. “Please—“
He grabbed his cock and ran the head up and down her slick folds, teasing her.
She moaned. “Please put it in…”
“Your ass.”
“No!”
“Beg me to fuck your ass and I’ll reward you by letting you ride me.”
Conflict raced over her face. She tilted her hips back and forth but the penis slid out of reach.
He lubricated her dark star with her own juices.
She whimpered in desperate frustration.
He stood placed the tip at her anus. “Let me in and you can cum all you want.”
She whined but, reluctantly, Lucinda relaxed her anus and nodded. The tip pressed into the wrinkled flesh. She gritted her teeth and pushed the o-ring open.
He felt the head pop past and into the smooth tunnel of her ass. His lips split into a grin. “Good slut! That’s it.”
Encouraged, she jerked back and forth a couple of times to get it deeper and seemed to will herself to take it all right from the start.
He obliged by pushing forward, invading her ass.
A single tear fell down her left cheek. But she didn’t stop him, even when he’d reached bottom. It would have been more impressive with a bigger cock, he had to admit but, unfortunately, this was the only one he had.
Lucinda took a moment to rest, panting.
He undid the straps on her legs, allowing her to use her limbs again, and told her to stand. Then he lay down on the floor, between her legs. “Now put it back in your dirty hole. You can make yourself cum as you ride me.”
She half-nervously, half-desperately, squatted. She held his member while she opened her back door to him once more and practically sat down, driving it deep inside. Pain registered on her face, but she pushed past it, lowering herself far enough that her pussy lips touched his flesh. Leaning forward as far as the chains from the ceiling would allow, she ground her clit into him and her face lit up. Her head fell back and, in seconds, she climaxed.
He felt his cock slide in and out of that smooth, near-virgin tunnel with each tilt of her hips. She was incredibly tight. All too fast, he was shooting his sperm into her. “Look at you. You anal whore! You have cum in your ass. Making my cock filthy even as you cum from it.”
Her face turned red and she panted harder, grinding faster. Her entire body shook as she climaxed yet again, driven wild by an act she thought disgusting and embarrassing.
He let her enjoy herself for a few minutes until his soft member popped out of her back hole. Laboriously, he slid out from under her, ignoring her pleas for more, relishing the need on her face. Lucinda was very much a nymphomaniac. She would cum all day long if left to her own devices. Standing over her, he once more shoved his flagging shaft between her lips. “Clean me off, cunt.”
She gagged once but dutifully did as she was told. Air and cum escaped her ass and his seed dripped to the floor under her.
He pulled out and wiped his penis on her face, leaving wet streaks. “Maybe I should just leave you like this for the rest of the afternoon,” he teased.
The look of horror and longing she gave him made him smile. “Master, please! I…I need to cum more.”
With a sly grin, he went to the bookcase and his fingers traipsed amidst his collection of anal toys. He settled on one with a thin stem that was designed to be worn easily and for a long time. A large ruby glittered from the end.
She shook her head and tried to back away, though she hung helplessly.
“You can cum more. But only as long as you have this in your ass.”
Lucinda whimpered but nodded and willingly tried to open her ass as he touched the plug to her back door and pushed it inside.
“From now on, you wear this at all times. Am I clear?”
She hung her head. “Yes, Master.”
He lowered the hanging chain and detached it from the cuffs binding her wrists, allowing her to move freely. Seeing her beautiful, young body in front of him and feeling still unsatisfied, he pushed her onto her knees and face so that her buttocks faced him, her pussy and the gem in her ass staring up at him.
He wished he were a younger, healthier man who could recover faster. He dearly wanted to drill that ass again already. And yet, having cum, he knew it would be hours before he could do so again. Cursing, he wished certain, helpful little pills were allowed in this world. Or that he was allowed to tweak his own biology in the system the way they’d tweaked his NPC sex slaves.
“Master?” she asked, anxious, her face pressed to the stone floor.
He beckoned to Hildy the bitch, whose head rose at attention. “Hildy. Time for lunch.”
The blond woman scampered over on all fours with a big, happy expression and planted her face in Lucinda’s snatch, going to town with her tongue and lips.
The Spanish woman squealed.
Having no further personal need for them, he left them to it. They’d tire themselves out eventually. He debated getting dressed again and then decided it was too much of a bother. Going upstairs again, entirely in the buff, he shouted at his servants and called for his lunch to be served. He’d dress again later. Perhaps after a nap. And a massage. And a nice, hot bath. And he might fuck Lucinda’s ass after dinner, if he could get it up again by then. Although copious amounts of steak and wine tended to make that even more difficult.
He smiled to himself. Ah, it was good to be the governor.