The Dark Library by JJ Argus

properly trained in no time.”
    She was afraid he was going to shove his cock
down her throat again, but instead he pulled her forward and down,
settling her on her belly on the floor. He quickly moved behind
her, spreading her legs. Then she felt his hands on her hips,
jerking them upwards, high.
    He slapped her bottom and tugged at her
hair.
    “Into position, slave girl. Your master
intends to mount you like the little bitch in heat you are.”
    He slapped her bottom again and she gasped at
the stinging blow.
    “Spread your legs wider, slave. That's
it.”
    Another slap struck her. Crack!
    Draw your knees forward more, slave.
    Crack!
    Wider. Forward and apart, slave!
    Crack!
    “Oww! Doon't!” she moaned.
    And then his hand thrust in between her legs,
rubbing her in a way which made her voiceless, which cause her hips
to jerk and buck as he settled behind her.
    Breasts pillowed out against the dark tiles,
mouth open, gasping, she felt his cock rubbing up and down along
her swollen sex, and then felt him push forward.
    She moaned in helpless heat, her breasts
aching deliciously, drooling a bit still, onto the dark tiles as
she stared at the bars and pulled her wrists against the metal
shackles.
    “Huuunghh!” she cried as his cock thrust deep
down into her belly.
    What followed was unlike any lovemaking she
had ever experienced. In fact, it wasn't lovemaking at all. It was
fucking! He rode her like he'd promised, as though she were a bitch
in heat. He mounted her and rode her like an animal!
    Gasping, crying out again and again, she
writhed and rolled her hips back to meet his harsh, animal thrusts,
her bottom aching, her insides bruised and battered, her mind
tumbling over and mover amid the howling winds of overheated
passion and pleasure.
    “You love it, slut!” he exclaimed, slapping
her bottom. “You love having your master mount you!”
    Another slap as his hips struck her, as his
cock speared her, as he jerked her back to meet his powerful
strokes and she hovered on the edge of meltdown.
    The orgasm screamed through her body, and she
cried out in wild pleasure, eyes glazed as she thrust herself back
to meet him. And then she cried out in pain as she felt her hair
gripped in a tight, tangled mass and yanked up and back. The force
of the pull lifted her face and chest off the floor as a hand
thrust under her belly and a questing finger found her clit.
    The orgasm... the only way she could think of
it afterward was that the orgasm had an orgasm. It redoubled and
she heard herself screaming at the intensity of the sensations
tearing through her even as her body shuddered to the savage
pounding of his hips against her buttocks.
    He abandoned her hair, and her face almost
hit the floor, but instead he seized her shoulders, jerking back
again and again as his cock thrust deep into her quivering belly.
He rode her violently, as she twisted and writhed and convulsed
against him, and then, as the raw violence of the sensations
overwhelmed her and her consciousness threatened to flee, he came
himself, cursing as his thrusting hips went into overdrive.
    Hannah didn't lose consciousness, but it was
a near thing. She was aware, but uncaring, of everything around her
even as he picked her up, heaved her over his shoulder like a bag
of potatoes, and carried her from the cell.
    She was still shackled, a part of her
realized, but she was at least exiting the cell. She felt him
climbing the stairs – though not the ones she had come down, and
groaned weakly, still dazed by the power of the orgasm which had
blasted through her.
    Up, and up, and around and up the stairs they
went, and only near the top did she start to get control of her
mind, start to think she ought to perhaps be set down. Yet
something felt oddly right about being carried like this, and she
made no protest even as he went through a doorway and into a more
brightly lit corridor.
    Only when she became aware of where they were
– in one of the back hallways