Irish Captive Ch. 1

Once again out of the red fog of pain came the same little voice as before. "Stay alive!" it told her. "Don't let the beast have the pleasure of breaking you with his rack and crop. Go to his bed. Service him...and wait for the day when your chance to kill may come again. What do you have to loose?"

The advice from her inner voice could not be denied. What purpose would more pain serve? The decision was as sudden as it was unexpected. She could hardly believe it was her voice that blurted out. "Yes, yes me Lord! You win! No more! You win! Take me down from this awful machine, and beat me no more. I will do as you say. May Jesus forgive me my sin."

However out of character, her surrender struck a familiar cord in Kate. It should have. Her fantasy of pirates had ended much the same way. Her imaginary buccaneers took her ashore at some dirty Caribbean town where women captured on the high seas could be sold at a slave auction for gold. Her Captain had led her naked from the ship by a rope around her neck down the dusty main street to the slave market. There, with her arms chained over her head to a post, she was sold to the highest bidder. Her sale condemned her to a life of service to the cock of a local planter who wanted a white concubine to replace the black ones who had been sharing his bed. As now, she hated what fate had made of her. As now, she hated herself even more for surrendering and accepting her fate.

It seemed to Kate, however, that she was as doomed in real life to be a sex slave as in her fantasy. How ironic it all was. Her long ago imaginary game of captivity by pirates been a premonition of her future as a perpetual whore

"Take her down," Lord Groat instructed his guard, "and remove those dildoes. Put her face down in my bed with a pair of pillows under her belly. Tie her hands to the headboard, and bind her legs spread to the corners of the end posts. You are then excused. Return in an hour. I will be finished with her by then, and you can shackle her to floor at the foot of my bed. It will be safer to keep her that way for a while until I can break her in properly to her new role in life."

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Kate lay face down in her new master's bed, firmly tied with her ass elevated as the he Lord had instructed. Turning her head to the side she watched the great man undress. First the boots, then the skintight riding britches. She was surprised to find that he wore no underwear.

The penis that flopped free as the britches cleared his thighs was long and think, and already partly erect as one would expect after almost an hour spent torturing a naked woman. Kate had been exposed to her fair share of male sex organs, and for sure she recognized this one as a weapon that could truly be a joy to a woman. She shuddered at the thought, hating herself for being so horny as to consider the possibility she might find pleasure in what this man was about to do to her.

But she was ever so horny. Her time on that awful rack had hurt like hell. It had shamed her to be the naked foil for this arrogant man's sadism, and she was humiliated when he violated both her pussy and ass with dildoes. Most of all, however, she had been embarrassed and distressed by the way she had been aroused by the way he abused her. A thousand times worse, however, was that Lord Groat had noticed her hard nipples and dripping cunt, and most probably knew exactly what they meant.

Why else would he have decided to spare her life in favor of making her his concubine? Even now as she lay in his bed tied and helpless, waiting to be raped, he must suspect how badly she needed his big cock. No, 'needed' did not sufficiently describe the urgency of the ache in her belly. A bitch in heat was more like it.

He was laying on top of her now, his chest pressing against her back bone, his lips showering kisses between her shoulder blades, on her neck, and nipping at her ears. His growing erection was stretched along the crack of her ass waiting its turn when, as if in confirmation of her worst fears, he whispered in her ear, "Tell me my little Irish slut, tell me how much you want my cock in your traitorous cunt."

Kate clamped her teeth tightly together, determined not to give this beast the satisfaction of the truth, but in spite of all she could do, a long low moan gave her away. God yes! How she did want him inside of her! He, however, seemed determined to tease and torture her until she admitted her passion. How awful! How humiliating! Even stretched on the rack was preferable to being teased by his cock like this.

His hands crept under her, each fondling a breast, his fingers teasing the nipples, sending little electric shocks straight to her pussy, leaving her gasping for breath. "You can't have my cock until you ask for it my sweet bitch. I can lie here all night if necessary, but you are a slut, and a slut can't wait. Soon you will beg me to fuck you."

Slowly her tormentor began to move his hips, sliding his belly over the cheeks of her ass, teasing her by rubbing the length of his penis up and down over her wet her pussy lips. Kate's politics gave way suddenly as she surrendered to her need for a cock inside her.

"YES, Goddamn you, YES! Fuck me! I want you to fuck me!"

One hand left its breast and she could feel the probe of his penis head searching for her cunt hole. There! He was in, only an inch or so at first, then with a shove, he drove himself home, prying her open all the way to the mouth of her womb. "Oh God," the tied woman whimpered, "Yes, that's it! Give me more. FUCK ME you bastard."

Stretched lengthwise along her back, with his hands under her squeezing her breasts, Lord Groat had little leverage to move his cock more than and inch or two inside his love slave, but it was enough. Her first orgasm came in a shattering jolt, the second in a wave of small shocks, so close together that they counted as one rather than as individual meteors. Then, to her extreme distress, he pulled himself out leaving her empty and suddenly frustrated. Was this only more of his teasing cruelty, she wondered, but his hand had left her breast again, and again she felt his hard-on probing at her behind. This time however his search was between the cheeks of her buttocks. Her ass would not to be a virgin much longer.

"AGGGHHAA!!!" she screamed, simultaneously a cry of pain and a shout of ecstasy. The dildo in her anus earlier had stretched her, but he was so big! The sensation was indescribable. She felt filled, tight yet distended, hurt yet aroused, shamed and angry, yet ready to climax. The hand that had guided him to her nether hole was under her now, between her legs, playing with her empty pussy, stroking her clit. Her third orgasm came rolling in, rocking her from head to toe; yet it was not enough. "More, more, OHMYGOD, more," she begged of the man who claimed to own her...and was proving he did.

"Once more my traitorous Irish cunt," Lord Groat told her. "Cum on my cock once more before I fill your bowel with my seed. Kate could feel the prick in her ass begin to pulse, and as ordered, her body shook with a final explosion. Was this one the strongest of all? She could not tell. Every orgasm had been so huge. Never in her considerable sexual experience had she ever been so totally consumed as this...tied to the bed of her despised English enemy and fucked in the ass.

"My God!" Kate thought. "What betrayal is this? Who am I a traitor to now?"

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TRANSLATIONS

E'ireanngo Bra'ch!
Ireland Forever!

Ledo thoil! Na dean sin!
Please! Don't do that!

Bi Samhach!
Be Quiet!

Ledo thoil! Marie Shannon is aimn dom.
Please! Mary Shannon is my name.

Póg mo thóin!
Kiss my ass.

Maith thú, toice!
Well Done, wench!

A chuisle mo
My dearest darling

a ghrá mo chroi'
love of my heart

A chiste is a stór!
O treasure chest and treasure!

Tá tart mór orm
I am very thirsty.

Bandraoi
Witch

Uisce beatha
Whisky

Caith siar é agus ná lig anair á
Drink it up and don't let it come back.

Tá mé buíoch díot as do chúnamh.
I'm grateful to you for your help.

Tá fáilte romhat!
You're welcome!

Go raibh maith agat
Thank you very much

Ó lá go lá, mo thuras,
An bealach fada romham.
Ó oíche go hoíche, mo thuras,
Na scéalta nach mbeidh a choích'.

From day to day, my journey,
The long pilgrimage before me.
From night to night, my journey,
The stories that will never be again.
(A song by Enya, from her album “Shepard's Moon”.)

Dánam don diabhal!
The Devil with you!