EXTRACT FOR
Penal Servitude
(Melissa DuVant)
|
Penal Servitude Melissa DuVant Copyright © Melissa DuVant The right of Melissa DuVant to be identified as the
author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of
the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic
mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. All characters in this book have no
existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever
to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure
invention. Chapter One: Initial Inspection Chapter Three: Teaching Begins Chapter Four: One-to-One Tuition Chapter Five: An Angel of Scant Mercy Chapter Seven: Audio-Visual Training Chapter Eight: Endurance Training Chapter Nine: Hot Boxes and Cold Comforts Chapter Ten: Medical Inspection Chapter Eleven: Drifting in the Dark Chapter Twelve: The Break Room Chapter Thirteen: Physical Training Chapter Fourteen: Progress Check Chapter Fifteen: Forceful Straining Chapter Sixteen: Initial Fitting For Use Chapter Seventeen: An Uneven Finish Chapter Eighteen: Final Fitting Chapter Nineteen: Parting Blows The
Young Miss and Her Boy: Caged in Sunlight (Unfree Preview) Thanks to littleone and his mistress for commissioning this! Chapter One: Initial Inspection The prison van was dirty and cramped, over a dozen prisoners all stuck into the same place. Every movement made chains clink - Michael's wrists were not only chained together, but also chained to a fetter between his ankles, the whole thing locked to a ring on the floor. He could feel every shake and judder of the prison van whenever it hit a pothole, the cushioning on the seat virtually gone, springs poking into his butt with every bouncing shake. The prison jumpsuit chafed his skin, material rough and uncomfortable. The windows were all darkened, making it impossible to see anything other than the vague impression of "movement". Brakes squeaked, the sudden stop harsh enough that he was slammed forward in his seat, to the reach of the chains, the links wrapped around his wrists and ankles pinching his flesh. He could hear a little but from outside, metal squeaking and grating, the sounds of voices - had they arrived? He'd felt numb ever since the sentence had been passed down, unable to believe that he'd been sentenced to 10 years! How bad would the prison be? The vehicle jolted into spasmodic movement again, jolting forward in uneven lurches, every start and stop making the chain scrape and rub against his skin. At the front of the fan, a guard was stood, watching over the prisoners, holding onto a strap that hung from the ceiling to keep her balance. Her eyes were hidden by reflective lenses, but the baton and spray on her hip seemed a good reason not to draw her attention! Her uniform shirt was tight around her large breasts, but another prisoner that had commented had received a swift slap to the face, breaking his lip, blood trickling downwards. It was still there, a dirty brown stain on the floor. The engine cut off, the interior suddenly silent. At the front of the van, there was a hydraulic pop as the door opened, the guard shouting orders. 'Listen up, you maggots! We're going to look after you and make you into productive members of society! Be good little boys and we won't have to do anything you won't like!' She took out her baton, flicking it out to full extension then smacking it against a metal bar, the prisoner cuffed there flinching away. 'Good boys listen and obey!' She smacked the bar again. 'And good boys let their guard know when they've heard! Sound off!' There was an awkward, staggered chorus of half-hearted agreement, of "yes" and other terms, as two more guards entered the van, virtual copies of the first, save for slightly different haircuts. 'Time for processing!' They started to move down the vehicle, unlocking each of the prisoners as they passed, dragging them out. No-one resisted, although that didn't stop a few flicks and strikes of batons, the metal rod flicking against soft and sensitive skin, the jumpsuits providing little protection. It didn't take long until the guard was at Michael's seat. She had to stoop to reach the lock on his chains, a key flashing as she opened it up, allowing him more movement - although his wrists were still attached to his ankles, he could at least stand up now. 'Get moving, inmate. Follow the line.' With the fetter between his ankles, he could only take small steps, the prison-issued shoes scratchy and uncomfortable, thin enough that he could feel the dents and bumps in the flooring, as he made his way towards the front of the van, climbing down the steps and onto a concrete loading bay. Other prisoners were lined up in front of him, slowly shuffling forward, towards a door marked "processing". No-one dared speak, another guard watching them, slowly smacking a baton against her hand, her sunglasses making it impossible to tell where she was looking. The line moved quickly, and it wasn't long until he was inside - staring down a starkly industrial passageway, with pipes and wires strung along the top, reinforced doors along the walls. From ahead, came a gurgling, wet scream, cut suddenly short as a door slammed shut, silencing them. Cold, clammy sweat started to trickle down Michael's back, making his jumpsuit stick to his body. What was going to be done to him? The only sounds were those of chains clinking, as the line slowly shuffled forward. Guards walked up and down, omni-present, keeping an eye on them. Michael hunched his shoulders, hoping not to be noticed. It seemed far too short a time until he was at the front of the line, staring at thick metal doors, covered with scuffs and impact marks. They opened without any human intervention, a motor softly whirring into life, and he stepped forward. Inside, everything was stark white or gleaming metal, the space divided by tiled walls into internal partitions. A painful-sounding splutter came from somewhere out of sight, followed by a meaty-sounding impact noise. A guard stepped forward, the first one he had seen that didn't have her eyes covered. She looked down at him, as she adjusted the black surgical gloves on her hand. The top button of her uniform shirt was unbuttoned, showing a generously deep cleavage, a touch of lace doing little to dispel the ominous power that surrounded her. He gulped as she stared at him, at least a foot taller than he was, as she approached, taking his chin in her hand and forcing him to look up. His mouth went dry as she gave him a hard smile, before moving her hand to his neck and gripping. He spluttered and she pulled him forward, into one of the cubicles. His eyes were watering, making it hard to see, and when she let go, he coughed and spluttered, trying to gather himself. 'Stand on the X. Obey, and this will hurt less.' Her voice was cold and quiet, demanding obedience - he looked down, seeing a white "X" that had been spraypainted onto the floor. 'I am your rehabilitation officer. I will be responsible for changing you from useless scum into something useful. Any disobedience will be harshly punished.' His neck was still sore, and he could feel the strength of her grip even after she had let go, as she grabbed at his wrist-chains, unlocking the cuffs. He had to half-step back to avoid them landing on his feet. 'Strip for initial inspection.' She stood there, staring at him, and his hands slowly went to the buttons of his jumpsuit, undoing them. With the ankle-fetters still attached, he couldn't remove it, but he opened up the front then pulled his arms from the sleeves, letting it drop to his ankles. A flush covered his face as she stared at him, the faintest trace of a smile on her face. She approached, and he looked away, shame and humiliation starting to burn. Her gloved hand reached out and stroked his chest, the fingers slippery-smooth. 'Nice, fresh meat. You're going to be fun to play with.' She stroked one of his nipples, before suddenly pinching it between her fingers, a jolt of pain going through him. 'Some rules - you are to speak only when instructed to. Any rebelliousness will be punished - someone soft like you won't like the hole. You will obey any orders from the guards.' She used her other hand to squeeze his other nipple, crushing the sensitive flesh and making him gasp in pain, before she let go. 'For now, you are prisoner GH-37. If you're a good boy, you might be allowed a name.' She suddenly grabbed his throat and squeezed, making it impossible to breath. He spluttered, all strength gone from his body, sparks dancing in front of his eyes. Her grip was like iron, something he had no hope of breaking free of, and he was pulled up to be on tip-toes, still not quite up to her height. She stared at him, eyes cold and dominating, before letting him drop, the chains clinking back onto the floor. He leaned forward, coughing and spluttering. 'Cavity search. Mouth open.' Before he could do anything, she had grabbed his cheeks, her other hand pushing into his mouth. She pinched his tongue before her fingers slid down his throat, making him cough and gag, having to fight against his gag reflex. His jaw was stretched painfully wide, the taste of her gloves vile on his tongue as she twisted her hand around, pushing it against his teeth. His mouth was stretched open so that, even if he wanted to bite down, he couldn't, having to stand there and be violated. Her leg brushed against his bare cock, making his aware of his own nudity and weakness, his balls hanging down. She kept twisting her fingers around before withdrawing them, staring him down as she wiped them off against his chest, his nipples still sore from the squeezing. 'Bend over.' She grabbed his hair and pushed downwards, forcing him to bend over. When he tried to resist, she simply pushed harder. 'Grab your ankles, GH-37.' She slapped his back with her hand, knocking the air from his lungs, and he obeyed, feeling his back strain at the enforced bending. 'Hmm, that needs work. I like my boys to be nice and easy to bend.' She walked around behind him, her booted steps loud on the ground, before she slapped his ass, then grabbed his buttocks and spread them. 'No!' He had protested before he had realized it, shaking his head in protest. She slapped his ass again. 'Was that an object, GH-37? If you prefer, I can get the spreader, use that to open your up. Or are you so precious that you don't want your dirty asshole checked?' She spread his buttocks again, running a finger over his asshole and making him shiver. 'A pretty little thing like you is going to be very popular here. Although I could protect you, if you're a good little boy?' She started to push a finger into him, painfully scraping his sensitive flesh. 'Beg, and I'll even use some lube, spare your pretty little asshole a little.' She kept twisting and pushing, slowly opening him up further and wider. 'Beg, or this will hurt more.' He whimpered, feeling his heart race as she started to violate him, her finger beginning to stretch his sphincter open. 'Please!' 'Oh? A little louder?' 'Please! Please...' She slapped his ass. 'That'll do, I suppose.' She stepped away, and he heard the phut of a pump. When her fingers touched him again, they were cool and slippery, her finger sliding into him. He tensed, but her finger still advanced, forcing it's way into him. 'This tight little pucker of yours will need loosening. But there's going to be plenty of time to work on that.' He could feel the first knuckle slide into him, the tip of her finger twisting and shifting around inside of him. It kept pushing, powerful and inexorable, impossible to resist. It felt huge, massive and intrusive, violating his innermost spaces. Tears started to well up in his eyes, as her second knuckle entered him. 'Some people hide things very deeply inside of themselves. I wonder how deep into you I can go? Or maybe I should add a second finger?' He felt another digit push against his asshole, threatening to stretch it wider open. Bent over as he was, he couldn't even move away, as he felt the base of her hand against his backside, her whole finger inside of him. The second finger stroked against his flesh again, before withdrawing. Her finger slid partially out, before suddenly jabbing into him again, twisting and wriggling inside of him, a forced violation. Then her other hand pressed between his thighs, cupping his testicles. He tried to tense his thighs, but it was too late, her grip too strong. She squeezed, compressing them and making him exhale in a long, drawn out whimper. 'Hmm, a good size. Although they'll need shaving. Much tidier.' She started rolling them between her fingers, freezing him in place. A finger flicked out, tapping his flaccid cock. 'Maybe you need a little more encouragement? Or perhaps I should inspect inside that tiny little cock of yours? I can get a urethral probe, that's always fun. You might have hidden something inside of your cock. Although nothing very large.' She tapped it again, while continuing to twist her finger inside of his asshole. 'Well? Would you like a metal probe up your dick-hole?' 'No!' She squeezed his balls harder. 'You are to refer to me as "Ma'am". So, what do you say?' 'No, please, ma'am!' 'You're a fast learner,
I like that. I won't look inside your
precious, tiny cock then.' She gave her
finger another twist, making Michael gasp and whimper. His arsehole felt
like it was slowly tearing open, the finger feeling huge at it twisted
around. Another finger would break him
all the way! Her knuckles pressed
against his buttocks as she shoved her hand forward again, before pulling out,
leaving him gasping for breath. He started to rise,
before she slapped his ass. 'Not yet, I
like you down there. And I still need to
inspect your tiny cock.' She hadn't
released his ballsack yet, and
the pressure was making them throb with pain.
A finger flicked out, hitting his cock and
making it flap upwards before arcing down again, to flop against her fingers. 'I wonder how you
react to... stimulation.' The pressure
lessened, and she started to massage his balls in her palm, one of her fingers
teasing against the underside of his shaft.
He couldn't control himself, feeling his cock start to harden, poking
against his belly. 'Ah! So you are enjoying this? Nasty, trashy piece of shit
that you are.' She grabbed him by the
hair, wrenching him upwards, tearing out some of his hair. Without his body pressing against it, his
cock had more space to grow, as she kept massaging and stroking his cock and
balls. 'Some good
growth. It might be worth keeping you
around, even if you are miserable scum.'
She pressed against him from behind, her breasts full and large against
his bare back. She let go for a moment,
withdrawing her hand through his thighs before bringing it around his body, now
starting to pump his cock. The latex
slid over his skin, the lack of lubricant making it a dry, rough
and forced arousal. With her grip still
tight, he couldn't resist or fight back, without risking getting his genitals
hurt. It didn't take long
until he was at full length, her hand pumping, rough despite the latex
glove. He could feel the throbbing
release start to build up inside of himself - would she force him all the way? As he panted and gasped,
just on the edge of release, she let go, leaving his cock throbbing in front of
him, heavy and erect, his hips pistoning forward
against his will. 'You're here for
rehabilitation, so you're not allowed pleasure.
At least, unless you make me very happy. Pull your clothes back on, and I'll walk you
to your cell. If you delay, then perhaps,
hmmm... I wonder if that tight little asshole of yours could take my baton? It could do with some stretching, I think.' He hurried to pull his
jumpsuit back on, the material coarse and rough on his still-swollen cock, pulling
it against his body. She pushed him between
the shoulder-blades, shoving him forward.
'Let's take you to your cell, you sack of shit.' Michael was shoved down a bleak concrete passageway, with solid steel doors on either side, each marked with a number. The air was chill and silent, the only sounds the light scraping of his shoes and the clinking of his fetters and chains, and the heavier thuds of the woman shoving from forward. Her touch was rough and forceful, slapping at his back whenever he slowed. 'You'll be with all the other fresh meat. If you're lucky, you won't get eaten.' Ahead of him, a set of metal bars started to whir aside - to the side, there was another guard inside a booth with reinforced glass walls, sat next to a bank of security camera feeds, showing scenes from throughout the prison. He saw several shots of the room he had come from, the other inmates undergoing the same intrusive and violating process he had been subjected to. His asshole still throbbed, and he tensed his ass, the action just making it hurt more. 'We've just had everything upgraded, so you'll get to experience it nice and fresh.' She gave him another shove, and he had to twist around to avoid having his face smashed into the metal bars, still opening up. The two of them moved forward - it was like an airlock, with sealed bars ahead of him, the ones behind him starting to close up. The guard pressed closely up against him from behind, her breasts pushing against his back. 'I'll be keeping a special eye on you - I'm unfortunate enough that I've been assigned as your rehabilitation officer. So I need to reform you from being scum into something useful.' Her hand came around his throat, fingers squeezing behind his Adam's apple. He tried to breath past the obstruction, the strength leaving his body, forcing him to sag backwards against her. 'Any objections will be dealt with harshly.' She squeezed harder. 'You forfeited your rights when you ended up here. Now you're meat, and I'm going to try and improve you. But if you don't make the cut, then no-one cares. You're garbage - you'll be forgotten here unless you obey.' Her hand was still wrapped in the glove, inhumanly smooth against his skin, before she let go, and he gasped, desperately inhaling. The bars in front of him started to move aside, letting him advance, although it took a shove from the woman to get him moving, his legs feeling weak beneath him. The area outside was a raised walkway - beneath him, on the other side of a railing, was four stories of cells. There was no natural light, just old yellow bulbs, shedding a cold and impersonal glow. He could see row upon row of prison bars, despondent-looking prisoners inside. On the ground floor was a small open area, with a few tables and chairs, although they looked to be bolted to the ground. All of the prisoners he could see were shackled and fettered, unable to move without clanking, wearing orange prison jumpsuits. A few had muzzles around the faces, metal bars blocking their mouths. As they walked past the cells, prisoners shrank back, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. One of them was attached to the bars, a small cuff around his balls, forcing him to stay close, unable to sit. His face looked deeply weary as he leaned on the bars. Michael heard metal ring, his guard drawing her baton and smacking it against the bars, flicking it against the prisoner's knuckles. The prisoner winced in pain, drawing his hands back and swaying in place, clearly exhausted. 'AC-29, no slacking! Unless you want me to connect that chain up to the wiring?' 'No, ma'am... I'm sorry...' She jabbed the baton through the bars, catching the man in the stomach and pushing him back, the chain extending to full length, starting to pull on his genitals, stretching and hurting the flesh. 'Don't let me see you slacking off again!' She gave Michael another shove, setting him moving again, down past the row of cells. Which one of them was going to be his? 'I've been granted permission to test out a few special things on you. I do hope you're tougher than you look, otherwise I'll need to find a new test subject quite fast.' They were approaching the corner of the walkway, more cells to the right, a dark and poorly-lit hallway to the left. He was shoved towards that, the woman grabbing him buy the scruff of the neck and keeping him under control. 'One of the newest cells. Just for you. Aren't you a lucky boy? Say "yes, ma'am".' She ragged him by the neck, shaking him about until he obeyed, forcing the words out. 'Yes, ma'am.' 'Good. You should keep that obedient spirit.' The doors down here were solid metal, with numbers spray-painted on, video screens by each, although all were currently deactivated. The door marked "7" slid open as they approached, metal scraping against concrete, and he was forced to move towards it. The space inside was cramped - just about large enough for a small and spartan bed, with leather bands and restraints currently open. There was a hole in the ground, metal guttering already stained with piss. On the wall were several metal plates, that looked as though they could somehow move. Despite the small size of the room, it was high, with several cameras staring down, higher than he could reach. 'Up against the wall. Hands on the marks.' He stumbled forward from another shove, seeing two red "X" marks that had been daubed onto the brick wall, putting his hands against them. The brick was cool and dry under his hands, draining away his heat. Her baton flicked through the air, striking against his ass, making it flare with pain, and he gasped. 'Head down, legs spread. You will need to present yourself for inspection on command.' Her baton flicked against his ass again, making him whimper with pain as the stiff metal compressed his soft flesh. He hastened to obey, not wanting her to hit anywhere more sensitive. He had to balance himself, his legs spread, a lot of his weight now on his arms, bending awkwardly as the chains weren't long enough to let him do this while properly standing. She pushed her foot against one of his, using it to spread his legs to the full width allowed by the chain, then reaching between his legs, grabbing at his balls again. The jumpsuit did little to protect him, as she ground the rough material against his flesh. 'Your shave can wait for later.' Her hand withdrew, and she flicked the baton against his ribs, the impact going through his body, knocking the air from his lungs. She reached around his body, her gloved hand coming into sight, a key opening up the wrist-shackles, making them drop to the ground with a loud clatter. Then she knelt and unlocked the ankle-fetters before standing back. 'Strip off. When you're in here, you won't need clothing. Don't want you thinking that you're allowed any secrets!' The baton flicked against the ribs on the other side of his body, heard enough to leave a bruise, the impact starting to throb and ache. He hurried to obey, untying the front, then trying to pull his legs out, hopping around awkwardly. The baton continued to flick and harass him, more gently now, but still hurting, especially where it struck against bone. When he was fully naked, he was more aware of the chill air in the cell, his skin starting to goosebump. He wanted to wrap his arms around himself to try and stay warm, but didn't dare, not wanting to risk pain and punishment. 'Hands against the wall.' He returned to the painful, aching position, spreading his legs, feeling his cock and balls dangle down, open and exposed. The tip of the baton, cold and hard, came up, tapping against his balls, making him hiss in his breath, hoping she wouldn't flick harder. 'Now, you're going to need tracking, just in case you ever do something stupid and try to escape. Spread your legs wider.' He shuffled his legs to obey, hearing her move behind him. Every movement made him want to twitch and move away, unable to see what might be happening, what she might be doing. Her hand took a firm grasp of his cock, and he glanced down, to see her other hand coming up, holding a cage made of metal wires, shaped into a small tube. She pulled it over his cock, the metal bitterly cold, not quite large enough, pinching and compressing his shaft, the smooth metal pressing against the head. 'Don't get too excited, otherwise it might get unpleasant for you.' It locked into place, a metal ring going behind his testicles, making it impossible to remove. 'Only very good boys get to have it removed, so I don't you'll ever be allowed to take it off.' She twisted the metal, the rigid hardness pulling painfully at his skin, checking that it was secure. 'Just what someone like you deserves, to be locked and sealed away. Maybe I should plug your asshole as well?' It gave a dull throb, still recovering from the earlier violation, and he whimpered. 'Oh? You don't want that? Maybe you should beg, then.' He wanted to disobey, but didn't want something shoved up his asshole, sagging down in defeat. 'Please, ma'am... Please don't do that...' 'Hmmm. As long as you promise not to shit yourself overnight, then I suppose I can leave that for later.' 'I... I won't.' She gave the cock-cage another tweak, more gently this time, the metal starting to warm around his body, before she ran a hand up his back, making him shiver as fingers teased up his spine. 'Sensitive, aren't you? Well, that'll make my job easier.' She grabbed his hair, wrenching his head back, her other hand pressing something to the front of his neck, more cold metal. It wrapped around his neck, tight and stiff, with a chunky weight on the back, two prongs jabbing into his neck. She gave it a shake, checking it was secure before stepping back. 'Time to test it.' Pain snapped into his neck, sharp and brutal, his vision flaring with white. It knocked all strength from his body, making him drop to his knees, the floor of the cell rough and cold. It crackled again, and he blacked out for a second, until the toes of a boot shoved into his kidneys, adding another flare of pain to his body. 'No resting, GH-37. Stand up.' His legs refused to obey, the muscles faltering and weak. She shoved her foot forward again, then raised it up to stamp down on him. 'Weak and pathetic. Still, I suppose that will make you easier to break. If you can't stand, then crawl into your bed, you maggot.' He could at least manage that, slowly crawling towards the bed, hoping that the collar wouldn't crackle into brutal life again. The two paces seemed a vast distance, but he managed to make it, reaching out a hand onto the mattress, feeling how thin it was, just some simple padding on a metal frame secured to the floor. The sheet was thin as well, feeling like it would provide little warmth. Still, he managed to crawl up onto the bed, spurred on by the repeated application of a boot to his ribs and backside. 'On your back.' He flopped into position, staring up at the woman. She had a controller in hand now, her hand hovering over it, and then she jabbed a finger forward. His collar crackled again, but less painfully this time, although it still felt like liquid pain jabbing through his spine. 'If you had been any slower, then it would have been on a higher setting. You need to learn to obey swiftly. Now, strap your ankles in.' There was a sturdy strap bound to the bed, with cuffs attached, and he bent forward to snap them around his ankles, the tie keeping his legs spread open, the locks easy to click shut but he had no way to release them. There was another thick leather band in place to go over his stomach, and he lay back and snapped that into place. With both bands in place, he couldn't sit up, the band heavy across his belly. 'Good boy.' Was that a trace of softness in her voice, or was that just his delusion? She tucked the controller away into her belt before approaching and grabbing his wrist, pulling it back and cuffing it to the bedframe, above his head, repeating this with the other wrist. Now he was tied down and spreadeagled, completely unable to move. 'I don't want you screaming or begging, so let's block that mouth of yours as well. Open wide.' She punched him in the stomach before he could react, targeting flesh not covered by the restraining band, knocking the wind from his lungs. As he opened his mouth to inhale, she shoved a spongy ball in, the thing expanding inside his mouth, behind his teeth, pressing his tongue down. It started to absorb all his spit, drying his mouth out. He pressed against it with his tongue, but it was too large and stiff for him to budge. 'That should keep you nice and quiet! Now, let's start the mental conditioning as well.' Her tone was more playful now, but he was unable to even squeak as she wrapped a leather band over his forehead, forcing him to stare up at the ceiling. Whenever she stepped away, she vanished from his vision, his eyes unable to move enough to see her, the band not letting his head move. She came back with a black headpiece, pushing it down over his eyes and blinding him, compressing the mattress beneath him in order to strap it on. No light penetrated - there was nothing but darkness ahead of him, making him feeling dazed, like he was somehow falling despite not moving. Then fingers brushed against his ears, shoving something in, blocking his hearing as well. He squirmed against the restraints, before a foot shoved down on his stomach hard, pushing all the air from his lungs and staying there, squashing him painfully. If she said anything, he couldn't hear it, but the hard rubber sole came up and then stamped down again, before withdrawing. Had she left? Or was she there, watching him? His whole body ached, imaging that at any moment, she might trigger the collar or stamp on him again, or slowly squirm a finger into his asshole. He tensed up, trying to keep himself protected, hoping that she had left, and that he wasn't about to be assaulted. The headgear blocked all light, and he soon drifted into a vague and pained doze. Melissa DuVant writes a variety of BDSM-inspired stories, such as Digital Slave and is one of the co-writers of the St Michael's University setting. When not writing, she is generally planning RPG campaigns, reading or cooking. The cover was created by Formant. He is a web artist, specializing in the
harsher side of fetish and kink. The Young Miss and Her Boy 1: Caged in Sunlight The boy saw Mistress Katherine look upwards at the library shelves, stretching onto tiptoes, her fine, slender legs clad in silk stockings peeking out from beneath her dress. It was clearly out of reach - even with her arms outstretched, it was more than a foot away from her grasping hand. Unless she were to start climbing on the shelves, then there was no hope of being able to reach it. Warm sunlight painted itself against the high shelves, illuminating the airy, open space. 'Boy! I require aid!' She tried to flick her riding crop, only succeeding in striking her long skirts with it, the expensive material absorbing the strike without any sound. She pouted at him, her soft, blue eyes trying to glare, but managing only to look cute. 'Come here, or I'll punish you!' It was hard to look intimidated, but he tried, hoping it would make her happy. He walked across the library, being careful not to let his bare feet make any sound on the floor, although he couldn't stop his chains and fetters making noise as he moved. She was dainty and petite, with rosebud lips and long, honey-blonde hair, which she was currently twining around a finger. She scarcely needed a corset to show off her figure, a simple white dress around her slender body, highlighting her perfectly sized breasts - not too small or too large, just about the right size to cup and play with. He felt himself stiffen, growing and pushing against the metal of his cock-cage. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he grew any bigger and it became uncomfortable or painful. But she really was pretty, and light and small. She even smelled nice, some floral scent hovering in the air around her. Her attempt at an intimidating glower only made her look slightly confused. She took a step back and gestured down at the ground with her crop. 'Kneel. Here.' Her lips tried to form into a tight, stern line, but still looked soft and kissable. She flicked the crop again, this time managing to stir the air slightly, although still a far cry from the crisp, clear crack it should have made. He obeyed the order, kneeling on all fours where she gestured, making sure he was securely planted. His wrists were chained together with about a foot of slack in the chain, and the same between his ankles, enough that he could set himself properly. This close, her scent was intoxicating, filling his senses, making his head go woozy. She stepped on him, heels digging into his back. Blood surged in his crotch and he tried not to shift, his cock painful against the hard metal, biting his lip in concentration. Glancing upwards, he could see her stocking-clad legs, her dress light and gauzy enough to see the garter straps holding her stockings in place. And between, where her legs met... As she shifted and reached for the book, her heels twisted into him, but she was light enough it didn't really hurt. The scent of her flesh, and thoughts of what was between her legs, set him surging, as he tried to force himself to calm. His cock was in a metal tube pointed downwards, allowing him to pass waste, but not touch himself, or for him to be a threat to Miss Katherine. He felt the spikes in his back shift as there was the soft, papery sound of the book opening, her delicate fingers touching the page. The thought of them sent another painful throbbing of blood to his cock, now bent painfully within its cage. He took several rapid, deep breaths, hoping to chase away her scent. The weight on him shifted as he took another deep breath, weight suddenly vanishing. Before he could react, there was a crash as she fell to the floor, the book landing a moment later. She was sprawled on her behind, starting to rub where she'd landed. Her legs were spread wide, dress having ridden up. He couldn't look away, her pearly-white stockings giving way to plump, soft thighs lightly indented by garter straps, and then the smooth-shaved mound of her pussy. Why wasn't she wearing underwear? His mouth went dry, cock now almost snapping from the pressure with which it pushed against the unyielding metal. She rubbed her head absently, hair shining in the sunlight. She saw him looking, but didn't close her legs, instead spreading them wider. His lust must have shown on his face, as she giggled. 'You look very red. Are you alright?' The metal ring strapped into his mouth made it impossible to speak properly, his lips forced apart. 'Es, iss athaine.' She giggled again. 'Is that how you say my name? Say it again.' 'Iss Athaine.' She said it herself, enunciating the words carefully. 'Miss Katherine. I suppose you are a bit limited. But you are going to be a good boy, aren't you? Otherwise I'll have to send you back to prison, and that sounds bad.' She came over, scuffing her fine white dress as she crawled along the floor, then kissed his forehead. He whimpered as his cock pushed against it's constraints again - he hadn't been allowed relief in months, it felt like he was about to burst, and she was so very soft and sweet and warm! 'Charlotte says I need to be mean to you, but you seem so well-behaved already. Tongue out.' His world drowned in her wide, blue eyes, looking as though she might cry if disobeyed. He followed the order, sticking his tongue through the ring gag, earning a smile and another kiss on the forehead. 'Good boy!' Then she stood, lifting her skirt and exposing herself to him. The scent was overwhelming, the floral scent she wore mingling with that of her own body. So clean and sweet, totally different from the rough-bodied and dirty factory girls he'd been with before. With one hand, she spread herself open, before giving another order. 'Lick!' He eagerly obeyed, gently lapping at her flesh, feeling the warm skin, drinking in the taste of her. She took a grip of his hair; not hard or harsh, but guiding him. He pushed into her, using his tongue to stroke and caress her folds, torn between losing himself in the feeling of entering her, and pain and frustration at his own locked-away rigidity. Her breath was coming in short, happy squeaks as she ground against his face, his tongue sliding deeper and deeper into her, until she was all he could taste, all he could smell and see. Too soon, she climaxed, allowing him a final taste before she stepped back, her skirt falling back into place. 'You are a good boy, aren't you? I'm sure I won't need to use any of Mama's tools to keep you in line, or treat you like Charlotte treats her toys.' Even through her clothing, he could still smell her arousal, and the taste of her was hot and fresh on his tongue. She knelt and unbuttoned his trousers to reveal his metal-sheathed cock. His eyes went wide, and then she slid a slender finger along the metal shaft, lightly stroking his shaved testicles. 'I'm not allowed the key yet, but Mama says I can have it on my birthday. Only a few more days! I wonder what it feels like? I've not been allowed to touch one yet.' Then she dropped lower, taking the tip of the metal shaft into her mouth. He shivered - he could feel her warmth around him, even shielded by the metal, spit starting to ooze along the open end in the metal column. He whimpered, wanting her to stop, wanting her to continue, wanting to finally be allowed to climax. She bobbed her head up and down, hair brushing against her thighs as his hands clenched and unclenched uncontrollably. She raised her head, smiling up at him. 'I've seen Charlotte get a maid to do this with her toy when he's been naughty. Although you've not been naughty, have you? And he has to be tied up, and she beats him as well. But you're a good boy, aren't you? So I won't need to stretch you out on the rack.' He managed to nod, despite the pain and lust surging from his groin, earning another happy smile and a kiss on the cheek. He'd seen Miss Charlotte, Katherine's older sister punishing her slave. She'd had him lashed him to a post in the gardens and then whipped his skin raw, before forcing him to service her friends. They took turns riding him, punishing him further if he ever failed to perform. Katherine was far too kind for such things. Or so he hoped. She reached under her dress, fingering herself, drawing forth her juices and wiping them underneath his nostrils. 'There. So you have my scent. Now, I think I shall see Mama in the gardens.' She clipped a leash onto his collar, pulling his trousers up to cover his chastity belt. She tugged and forced him to stand, ignoring the pain and tension from his cock, as he was led away from the library.
She pulled him through the manor - her steps were so short that it was easy to keep up - into the garden. It was afternoon tea, servants setting out tea and cake and being very, very careful not to make any mistakes. Miss Charlotte was back from the hunt, still in her tight riding trousers and bright red jacket, her crop having been used on a horse for once. Strapped around her waist was a large cock, which she was currently engaged in the process of burying into the ass of an unfortunate maid, a bit between their teeth reducing their protests to garbled moans. Their buttocks were reddened from strikes of the crop, each impact bringing forth another cry of pain. Her mother was rather more refined as she sipped at her tea, sat upon a chair rather than a servant for once. She looked up at her daughter, expression unreadable. He made sure to look down, not wanting to draw her attention and risk arousing her anger. 'Good afternoon, Mama. And Charlotte.' Her sister reacted to her greeting by lashing her mount, a particularly deep thrust of her dildo burying it up to the base, the servant groaning in agony as they were stretched wide. 'Tea, Katherine? Juliana appears to have gotten quite the knack for it. Almost unfortunate, I was in the mood to punish someone. How fares your training?' Katherine tugged on the leash, pulling her property close. Charlotte pulled herself from her victim and they sagged to the floor, earning themselves another strike before they managed to find the strength to stand, rearranging their uniform, shakily thanking Charlotte for being punished. 'You really should be stricter with him. His kind are predatory, they only understand strength and power. Show him that you own him, body and soul. At least mark him up a little.' 'He wouldn't do that! He's mine, and he understands that already.' Katherine turned to him, long eyelashes fluttering. He managed to nod, knowing his place well enough not to speak as Charlotte approached, crop flicking the air. 'He's a beast. No matter what you may think of him, that's all he is.' She grabbed his crotch, feeling the metal beneath his trousers. 'Without this, he'd have you pinned down on the floor, ravaging your sweet, tender body.' 'He wouldn't do that, he's a good boy.' Katherine pouted at her sister until her mother intervened. 'Sit down, both of you. Charlotte is right - you really should take a firmer hand with him. At least to show him the consequences of breaching your trust, if he were to turn his hand to one of the maids? Even with his manhood sealed away, that doesn't make him less of a threat.' 'Mama, you said he was mine, that I could train him how I wanted to!' 'You should look to your sister as an example, she has managed wonders with her training, when you think how wild her slave was to start with.' Charlotte's own personal slave was stood close by - only of average height, but powerfully built, clothing putting his muscled arms and chest on display. His head was hooded, gauze over his eyes to limit his vision. Chains ran between his wrists, ankles and neck, rigged up so that he could be bound into a neat parcel when Charlotte travelled. Tight black leather trousers showed his sturdy leg muscles, while his crotch was bound into a metal device. As punishment for damaging one of Charlotte's favorite dresses, a maid had been stripped naked and a hood forced onto her, before she was allowed to run across the gardens. She hadn't made it far before the slave had caught her, freed from his belt, allowed to unleash himself. From her screams, he had sated himself quite thoroughly, dragging her back by the hair like a trophy, taking the maid repeatedly in front of Charlotte, until she declared herself satisfied. 'It may seem harsh, but it's the only force they understand. I know you are a sweet, innocent child, but the world can be harsh and cruel. You have to understand that they are not like us, they need a certain level of pain before anything sinks in. And if their appetites are not contained, then, make no mistake, he would happily force himself upon you.' 'I'm sure he wouldn't hurt me. Would you?' She turned her wide, innocent eyes on him, full of trust. He shook his head, gag making him unable to speak properly. Charlotte approached, cutting an imposing figure, crop at the ready. She flicked it against him, rattling his cock-cage. 'This little thing needs to be contained and controlled. If one of the maids were to smile at him, then he'd be rampant. Juliana, come here.' She ordered one of the servants to approach, a perky young thing, small-breasted and bright. She gave a curtsey, lifting her skirt high enough to reveal toned thighs and a neat bush of dark pubic hair. He tried to prevent a surge of blood to his crotch. It must have shown on his face, as the crop rattled against the metal again. She was shorter than he was, having to stretch up to push her face close to his, breasts pushing against his chest, her breath brushing against his neck, then his ear. He shut his eyes, trying to calm himself, as her warm body pushed close against his body. A hand pushed itself beneath his shirt, warm and skilled fingers running against his chest. Soft, yielding breasts pushed against him, and he couldn't help but whimper. Charlotte spoke. 'You see? Break him down first.' A finger reached into the metal tube constricting his manhood and brushed against the tip of his cock. He almost fell over from the sudden contact, eyes shooting opening to see the maid. She was still pressed close, a wicked grin on her face, one hand over his cage, a finger inside the metal tube. 'He wants to fuck anything. If Juliana were spread out in front of him now and he wasn't caged, he'd be on her like a beast.' Katherine waved her hands at the maid, trying to shoo her away, as he tried to desperately ignore the fingers touching his sensitive head, without success. She withdrew her fingers, licking the tips and clearly savoring his taste, as Charlotte continued. 'He might seem nice enough, but that's only because you keep him contained.' Their mother intervened. 'Do stop squabbling, please. And Katherine does not yet have the key to his cock, although it won't be long. If this is how she wishes to train him, then that is her decision, rash though I think it may be. Now, why don't you tell me about the hunt? Was it entertaining?' 'Oh yes, very. The prey gave a good go of things, but was bought to ground just outside the Matheson farm. Jenvers had the fortune to bring it down, so he's celebrating with his cronies.' The maid was still looking at him. As soon as she was unobserved, she slowly pushed her finger into her mouth, drawing it in and out, coating it with spittle, her eyes bright. He couldn't make himself look away, despite the throbbing pain from his cock. Then his owner spoke, still clearly upset with her sister and mother. 'I'm sure this one isn't that bad! He's going to be mine, and no-one else's, I'll train him to be kind and well-behaved.' The mother and daughter were both lost in gossip, the mother negligently waving a hand, dismissing her youngest daughter. With a heavy sigh, Katherine left, dragging him along behind, the throb in his crotch finally, mercifully, fading away. |