Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Wetquim,” said the baron, “you know you want to.”
I shuddered at the sound of the awful name in his deep, elegant voice. His words seemed to cast a spell on me, so that I no longer felt certain that I didn’t want to see… then, so that I found to my dismay that I did want to see—that I needed to see.
“Rub her face in her cunny’s juice, my lord,” the mistress instructed. “She needs to learn.”
As I watched in horror, she reached her left hand out, leaning forward a bit, so that she could grasp my head around the back of my skull and bend me forward. I let out a little cry. Cunny. My cunny’s juice. The words sounded so utterly degrading in my mind that I longed to wake up from this fever dream of helpless, shameful pleasure.
My mistress pulled my face downward, so that I had no choice but to look at the baron’s hand. I saw a glistening, viscous fluid there, on the tips of the long, beautifully manicured fingers. The mistress held my head in place. My master turned his hand slowly and raised the fingers. Gently, he began to spread my pussy’s wetness on my upper lip.
Distantly I sensed that the car had begun to descend, and the light had changed from the sunlight of the exterior to some sort of artificial illumination of what must be an underground passage. I felt as if that physical, geographical descent somehow represented the universe’s reinforcement of my mind’s helpless descent into the world of my master’s humiliation. I whimpered softly, fearfully, at the overwhelming confusion of it all, the terrible conflict in my heart and my mind.
“We’re almost home,” he said, gently. “This is the tunnel to the garage below Gravamir House. Shall I fuck you even before we get out of the car? Before your quim is bare for me? Can’t you smell how badly you need your cunt deflowered?”
“Oh, Great Vion,” I sobbed. “I… I…”
What did the questions mean? Why did he ask them? Surely my master didn’t intend to give me a say in the matter, whatever the matter truly was—whatever it meant… to fuck… to be deflowered… to belong to a man?
I breathed in through my nose, and I smelled it, the mortifying fragrance of my need. Earthy, musky, dark… a scent, I knew in an instant, no free woman would want another person to catch coming from between her thighs. Unless…
Unless that person intends to… to…
My hips jerked, and I felt the cuffs binding my wrists again, and the wanton moisture I had left on the leather seat. I whimpered into my master’s hand as he moved his fingertips further down and rubbed the slick, fragrant fluid onto my lips.
“Open your mouth, Wetquim,” he said, softly. “You’re going to taste your virgin cunt now.”
With a sob, I obeyed. I felt the car come to a halt just as the baron’s fingers penetrated me, between my lips. Helplessly I began to suckle at the tips of his fingers, whimpering as I tasted, and the mineral taste of my pussy seemed a perfect match for the shameful scent.
“There,” my master said, “she likes it. It won’t be long until she begs you to let her taste you, Franla, instead of going over your knee, will it?”
I closed my eyes as I felt the heat fill my face at this new obscenity. My mistress’ light laugh did nothing to reassure me.
“No fear that I would spare her naughty bottom for a modicum of pleasure, my lord,” she said. “Do you wish me to arrange her for her defloration here in the car?”
I tried to keep my attention on the fingers in my mouth. Something about having them there, though I had sucked away all the shameful taste, seemed strangely pleasurable, strangely soothing, as if my mind had taken refuge in an obedience so basic and primal that it seemed almost natural.
The baron laughed. “No, no. Let’s get her inside and get the cuffs off her. Chalondra’s first fucking deserves a much more memorable setting—one where I’ll be able to take my time enjoying her.”
CHAPTER 16
Baron Gravamir
My grandfather had designed the concubines’ quarters in Gravamir House according to specifications dictated by his extreme possessiveness. Among other things, that meant I could watch Franla preparing Chalondra for her first night in my bed, thanks to the extensive video feed from her room and the concubines’ bathroom.
In the study, my grandfather had installed a view screen that occupied an entire wall. I had viewed entertainment videos on it from time to time, but I’d never had occasion to activate it for the purpose for which my grandfather had intended it—to watch his concubines. It felt a little odd to do so for the first time at the age of thirty-seven, but somehow also rejuvenating, just as the whole experience of acquiring Chalondra had undeniably already made me feel a good deal younger and less jaded.