Page 25

CHAPTER 25

S ven

I held myself in Mary’s sweet mouth at full length, as if pausing to contemplate Erik’s question. My little volva gagged and whimpered around my thick shaft, her emerald eyes wide as she gazed up at me. The sight of her like this—on her knees, completely at my mercy—sent a primal thrill through me.

“No,” I replied, my voice rough with lust. “If Monsieur Beaumont sees that their cunts and asses look like we fucked them before he did, he might be unhappy. We’ll come down their throats to take the edge off. Then after we shoot the video we can do as we like before we deliver them.”

As I spoke, I felt no guilt or hesitation about using Mary this way. I knew, with bone-deep certainty, that this was exactly what she needed. Her body craved domination, hungered for the exquisite blend of pleasure and pain that only a skilled master could provide. And I was more than happy to give her what she needed.

I began to move again, fucking Mary’s face with long, deep strokes. Her throat convulsed around me as she struggled to take my full length, but I didn’t relent. This was part of her training, after all. She needed to learn to suppress her gag reflex, to take whatever her master chose to give her.

As I used her mouth, my mind drifted to the events that had led us here. In just two days we had taken these girls—naive college students with no real understanding of their own needs and desires—and molded them into sexual operatives capable of infiltrating one of the most dangerous organizations in the world. It testified to their innate submissive nature, but also to their native mental talents—as well as to our skill as dominants.

We hadn’t broken these girls; we had freed them to find the worlds that lay within their hearts and minds. We had given them the tools to understand and embrace their deepest desires, to harness the power of their submission in service of a far greater vision.

Mary’s muffled moans brought me back to the present moment. I could feel her arousal growing, her body responding to the rough treatment despite her mind’s protests. This was the essence of her training—teaching her body to crave domination so deeply that it would override any lingering doubt or hesitation.

“That’s it, whore,” I growled, tightening my grip on her hair as I uttered words so oft-repeated that they became a ritual of their own. “Take it all. Show me how much you need this.”

And she did need it. I could see it in the flush spreading across her pale skin, in the way her hips rocked unconsciously, seeking friction that wasn’t there. Even as tears streamed down her face from the force of my thrusts, her body betrayed her true desires.

I glanced over at Erik, who was using Camille’s mouth with equal vigor. His face was a mask of concentration, but I could see the same understanding in his eyes.

Looking down again at Mary with my rigid cock in her mouth, I found myself enchanted at the obscene beauty of the sight. Her lips stretched wide around my thick shaft, glistening with saliva. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, instinctively trying to please me.

I noticed that she had lowered her eyes as if in reverence. While part of me appreciated this display of submission, I wanted—no, needed—to see the conflict in her gaze.

“Look up at me, slut,” I commanded, my voice rough with arousal.

Mary whimpered around my thrusting shaft, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through my core. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her eyes to meet mine. Her face had gone beet red with embarrassment, a charming blush that extended down her neck to her heaving breasts. The sight of her internal struggle, knowing that her body craved what her mind still fought against, sent a primal thrill through me.

As our eyes locked, I saw Mary’s hips jerk involuntarily. Even with no stimulation, her body was responding to the act of servicing me. I couldn’t help but smile, a predatory grin that made her shiver visibly.

“That’s it, my little whore,” I growled, never breaking eye contact. “Your cunt is aching for attention, isn’t it? Even as I use your mouth, your needy little pussy is clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.”

Mary’s eyes widened at my crude words, a fresh wave of shame coloring her cheeks. But I also saw her pupils dilate with arousal, her breathing becoming more ragged around my cock.

“You’re learning so quickly,” I continued, punctuating my words with deep thrusts. “Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet. Soon, you’ll beg for this. You’ll crave your master’s cock, his hand, his belt—anything I choose to give you.”

As I spoke, I could feel my own arousal building. The sight of Mary on her knees, the wet heat of her mouth, the knowledge of how thoroughly I had claimed her—all pushed me toward the edge.

“I’m going to come down your throat now, slut,” I told her, my voice a bit strained with the effort of holding back. “And you’re going to swallow every drop like the good little whore you are.”

“Don’t bother pretending you don’t like this,” Erik said, his eyes fixed on Camille’s pretty face as he held himself deep inside her mouth. “Our cocks down your throats, and whatever your new master is going to give you.”

* * *

Mary

My heart pounded as Erik’s words registered through the haze of arousal and shame clouding my mind. To my dismay, I had the sudden, almost irrepressible urge to put my hand between my thighs and play with myself.

I shouldn’t bother pretending I didn’t like this? But I was pretending, wasn’t I? Or was I pretending to pretend? My thoughts swirled in confused circles as Sven’s cock continued to thrust relentlessly into my mouth.

I glanced over at Camille, seeing my own conflicted emotions mirrored in her dark eyes. Erik was using her mouth just as roughly, his large hands tangled in her hair as he fucked her face with abandon.

Suddenly, Sven’s grip on my hair tightened almost painfully. “Pay attention, slut,” he growled. “Your only job right now is to please your master.”

I whimpered around his thick shaft, forcing my gaze back to meet his icy blue eyes. The intensity I saw there made me shiver. There was no trace of the gentle, caring man who had held me so tenderly just hours before. This was a stranger—cold, dominant, and utterly in control.

“That’s it,” Sven grunted, his hips picking up speed. “Take it all.”

My body betrayed me, responding to his rough treatment with a surge of arousal so intense it made me dizzy. My pussy clenched and throbbed, desperate for attention. I found myself trying to relax my jaw, soften the place into which my Herra thrust his huge, beautiful penis.

“Fuck,” Sven groaned, his rhythm becoming erratic. “I’m going to come. Swallow it all, slut. Don’t you dare spill a drop.”

With a final, brutal thrust, Sven buried himself in my throat. I felt his cock pulse, flooding my mouth with his hot seed. I struggled not to gag, forcing myself to swallow around him. The salty, musky taste filled my senses as I gulped down every drop, just as he had commanded.

Beside me, I heard Camille make a choked sound as Erik found his own release. The stable echoed with the men’s grunts of pleasure and our muffled whimpers.

As Sven slowly withdrew from my mouth, I gasped for air, my chest heaving. Saliva and traces of his cum dripped down my chin. I felt utterly debased, used… and yet, to my dismay, desperately aroused.

“Good girls,” Erik said, his voice rough with satisfaction. “You’re learning.”

Before I could fully catch my breath, Sven grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. I stumbled, my legs weak and shaky. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Erik doing the same to Camille.

I gasped as Sven seized my wrists roughly, binding them tightly in front of me with a leather thong. The material bit into my skin and I winced at the pain. Beside me, I heard Camille whimper at the similar treatment her master inflicted.

Sven and Erik led us deeper into the stable, past empty, musty stalls. My bare feet stumbled on the uneven wooden planks, splinters threatening to pierce my soles. We came to a stop in front of a large stall, its door hanging slightly ajar.

Sven shoved me inside, the force of his push causing me to stumble. I caught myself against the rough wooden wall, wincing as the splintered surface scraped my palms. Camille was pushed in beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as we stood side by side.

Sven and Erik deftly secured our bound hands to hooks on the wall at the height of our faces, so I could rest my cheek against my wrists. Then they pulled us further from the wall, making us arch our backs, so that the position forced us to stand on our tiptoes, arms stretched uncomfortably above our heads. I felt strain in my lower back, a dull ache that I knew would soon turn into burning pain.

Shafts of sunlight filtering through gaps in the weathered wood lit the stall with a dim glow. Dust motes danced in the air, stirred by our ragged breathing. The smell of old hay and horse sweat lingered, mingling with the muskier scent of our own fear and arousal.

I heard a soft electronic beep and turned my head to see Erik fiddling with a handheld camera. He adjusted some settings before pointing it at us, the small red light indicating it was now recording. My heart raced at the realization that our humiliation was about to be immortalized on video.

Sven moved to stand in front of the camera, his imposing figure blocking most of our view. From a hook on the wall, he took down a wide leather strap, its surface worn smooth from years of use. He flexed it between his hands, the soft creaking of the leather unnaturally loud in the hushed stable.

“Monsieur Beaumont,” Sven began, his voice taking on a formal, almost businesslike tone that sent chills down my spine. “I hope this video finds you well. As promised, I have procured two young women who I believe will meet your exacting standards.”

He stepped aside then, giving the camera a clear view of Camille and me. I felt horribly exposed, painfully aware of my nakedness and the vulnerability of my position. Beside me, I sensed Camille trembling slightly.

“Allow me to introduce them,” Sven continued. “This lovely redhead is Mary O’Toole, eighteen years old, recently taken from her college program in Rouen.” He reached out to grab a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back painfully. “As you can see, she has striking green eyes and the kind of delightfully pale skin that displays the marks of discipline so beautifully.”

I trembled as Sven released my hair and moved to Camille. My scalp stung from his rough grip, but the pain was nothing compared to the mortification I felt as he began to introduce my new friend.

“And this dark beauty,” Sven said, his voice smooth and professional, “is Camille Dubois, also eighteen. We found her at the same party as Mary.” His large hand cupped Camille’s chin, tilting her face toward the camera. “Note her high cheekbones and full lips—perfect for a variety of uses, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

My heart pounded as Sven continued, spinning a tale that was both truth and fiction. “We picked these girls up just last night, at a party near their college. It seems our little sluts had decided to experiment, losing their virginity to some boys they’d just met.”

I felt my face burn with shame as I tried to understand what Sven meant to do. Why would he use our real names?

“When we found them,” Sven went on, his tone taking on a note of mock disapproval, “they were stumbling drunk, their thighs sticky with the evidence of their debauchery. It was clear they needed a firm hand to guide them.”

Despite my mortification at the story, I began to see what my Herra was doing. He had begun to create a narrative that would be believable to both Beaumont and, more important, to the Pretorian Guard when they inevitably investigated our background.

With a jolt of realization, I understood that the Guard would indeed be able to figure out who we really were. Especially me—I had been enrolled in a Selecta college program, after all. My records would be easily accessible to an organization with their resources.

But Sven’s story provided a perfect explanation for our disappearance. The Guard would believe that Camille and I had gone to a party somewhere outside of surveillance, gotten drunk, lost our virginity to random boys, and then been kidnapped by Sven and Erik. It was a narrative that fit all the known facts while obscuring the truth of our connection to the Sons of Odin.

Sven’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “The girls resisted us a little at first,” he said, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “So we’re going to have to punish them now. Then we’ll make them show you what kind of girls they really are as they console each other after their whipping.”