The Dark Library by JJ Argus Page A

upstairs did she start to squirm. And
when they passed from that into one of the broad, open, luxuriously
furnished corridors she felt a start of anxiety that one of the
other – one of the servants would see her like this – naked, wrists
shackled together, draped across his shoulder.
    “C-Carling!” she gasped, squirming.
    She yelped as he slapped her bottom.
    “That's Lord Carling, slave girl.”
    “I-I'm not a slave girl,” she panted.
    His arm was around her legs, but she felt his
other hand sliding in between her thighs and caressing her
extremely sensitive, overheated pussy.
    “Oh! Oh don't!” she gasped, squirming at the
intensity of the sensations.
    He slapped her bottom again and she yelped
and jerked in his arms.
    “Don't tell your lord what to do, slave
girl,” he said.
    “You're not my lord!” she exclaimed, staring
at his upside down back as she was carried along.
    That brought another stinging slap to the
bottom, and she yelped again.
    “Oww! Stop that!”
    ”Silence, slave.”
    Crack! Another slap to the bottom made
her gasp. Then he was carrying her through a large door and
slamming it closed behind.
    He was impossibly aggravating! But she could
not deny the wild heat within her at being manhandled in this way,
at being carried bodily along naked and shackled, like a figure in
one of her medieval romances.
    He flung her onto a very large, four-poster
bed, and she landed with a cry of surprise, gasping up at him as he
stood at the edge of the bed and peeled off his shirt. The
indignation she was about to express was briefly checked by the
realization he had a very nice, very attractive, very firmly
muscled chest and flat belly, and then by sight of him undoing his
belt and tugging it down along with his underwear.
    Lord Carling looked very, very good
naked.
    Well, she told herself indignantly, if she
had her own private gym and all the time she wanted she could have
lots of muscles too!
    She gasped as he climbed into the bed, but
couldn't speak. She wanted to tell him to release her at once, to
not touch her, only... she couldn't.
    He took her legs, jerking them wide apart,
then dropped atop her, his hand going immediately behind her head,
grasping her hair – again! - and jerking her lips up to meet his.
And then any words she might have said were completely lost as he
spent long minutes blocking her mouth with his. She felt his tongue
swirling and caressing her lips and tongue, and moaned weakly as
his other hand roamed her body.
    He pulled his lips up at last, leaving her
gasping “Beg me,” he said with a smirk.
    “Wh-what?” she gasped.
    “Beg me to fuck you,” he said.
    Her mouth opened in surprise, then
indignation.
    “I shant!” she gasped.
    He grinned arrogantly. “You shall.”
    He dropped his head down low, growling as he
bit lightly along the nape of her neck, then he eased lower, his
lips circling her breasts, mouthing them, his tongue sliding around
and around her nipple before his lips enveloped it and began to
suck. His hands kneaded her breasts and caressed her body, and she
squirmed and moaned helplessly as his fingers found her clit and
began to stroke back and forth across it.
    “Beg me,” he said, “Beg for it like a hot,
filthy whore.”
    “Fu-fuck you!” she gasped.
    He growled and she yelped as his mouth found
her belly and his teeth gnawed at her, then he was moving lower,
hands grasping her legs forcefully, pulling them farther apart as
his mouth moved down along her abdomen, and his tongue skimmed the
hot, damp flesh alongside her labia
    His finger pushed into her, and then a second
joined it. She had already come several times, and didn't
understand how it was he was able to rouse her body so quickly, or
why the intensity of her arousal was so deep and powerful. A third
finger pushed into her, pumping in and out as he lapped at her
clit, and she could not keep still, her hips grinding, her back
arching, her head rolling back and down as the raw sexual