Thankful For

If the stocks hadn't been holding Raven's head and arms in place she would have fallen to the ground. She was bruised and bloody and breathing hurt almost as much as standing. Raven didn't know where she ended and where Horatio Baccus's submissive victim began but she knew the latter was nothing she had ever imagined becoming but could not imagine going back to who she was before. How could she, never mind all the other frightening things she had found pleasure in since meeting this man, her master, how could she back after what had happened to her tonight. He wasn't done yet either.

He circled her, his olive skin and dark eyes looking over her form. The buckskin loin cloth at her waist was askew and the long black braids that had been adorned with beads and feathers as they had watched the parade that morning were now half unraveled from being grabbed and pulled while she was fucked. Her arms, trembling from the stress of being in one position so long, were covered in whelps still bandaged by the candle wax that had created them. Her face itched from the dried cum and her stomach churned restlessly having been given nothing to ingest but live semen for hours on end. Her head swam from fatigue and blood loss and still those wide wild eyes told her she was not yet done.

He had called her over and handed her costume. When she had put on the rough leather loin cloth and bikini top and the various hair accessories she knew she was in for a little erotic role play but expected it to be more playful, not a literal inquisition. Hanging there now she felt silly to have ever expected the almost normal morning of them sitting and watching the parade to last. He had almost looked humorous in his long black wool ministers coat, buckled shoes, and powder wig. There was no humor to it when the last float had gone by and they headed into his room where she was greeted to the sight of the worn wooden stocks. And now wearing only coat and the wig slightly askew she felt nothing but fear and shameful desire at what he might demand of her next. She obeyed because that was her place; she endured because that was her pleasure. Raven was a sub and loved every degraded second.

"Dear Lord we ask you to forgive this savage harlot for her lifetime of heathen sacrament and primitive rituals. In light of her penance paid this day oh lord we ask that you offer her your grace and mercy so that she might find herself a child of the Lord. And now let the penitent child speak her gratitude for her many acts of attrition this day. Speak to the Lord child, give thanks for those acts which have brought you closer to his infinite mercy."

Raven took a deep shuddering breath. Would this be last indignity of the night?

"Oh lord I am thankful for thine messenger and his cock which he so forcefully shoved in my ass."

"I am thankful thy messenger's whip which he so mercilessly flayed my back and backside with."

"I am thankful for thy messenger's razor that he so cruelly slashed my inner thighs with?

"I am thankful for the sweat and juices that flowed from my ravaged heathen body into the cuts, thy messenger carved with his razor."

"I am thankful for the candles whose wax seared my skin when they messenger poured them upon my arms."

"I am thankful for thy messenger's five Deacon's who helped ravage my heathen body."

"I am thankful for the seed of these godly men upon my face and in my belly."

"I am thankful for the strength to have endured my attrition and not succumb to the pleasures of the flesh." These last lines of gratitude were the hardest to utter as even now she ached for the release he had denied her. She had been tortured, sodomized, and gang fucked and not allowed to cum. She had seen the other men in the mirror her master had placed in front of her. Raven didn't know if he had let his friends fuck her or just put out a random call on line for well endowed perverts but she had had six large dicks in both her holes that day and he had yet to even ask her if she wanted to come much less given her permission. Her body ached from the tension and so much else.

"And are you now ready to receive the mercy of the Lord and his messenger and experience the delights of salvation?"

"If the messenger believes I am worthy then I would receive it." Raven practically sobbed the words. The torture was not over but at least some relief was due. Her master stepped over and unlocked the stocks and raised the top bar. He wrapped his arms around her body and lowered her to the floor. She sat there leaning against the wall feeling stinging and soreness, rawness and wrongness, and an unyielding want for more." She couldn't lower her arms or her neck; the muscles which had so longed to be free were now frozen and daggers of white hot pain shot through them every time she tried to force them to move. She felt like a marionette hung by her puppet strings arms raised but hanging limply as well. He knelt between her legs and with one expertly dexterous thumb began rubbing her clit. Unable to brace herself with her arms her writhing rubbed her whip tattered back against the wall. Her muscles screamed in agony as her body reflexively tried to move them. Her hips continued to buck tearing open the healing wounds on her ass and back and she cried out loudly as two fingers sank into her aching hole. The penetration was like fire against the raw tissue but her aching muscles longed for something to clench against to release the titanic explosive that had built in her over the days torture. The rubbing and pushing, the tearing and stinging soon built to a sensory overload. Her vision went black her breath caught in her throat and at once all the world seemed to disappear then with brilliance and explosive force she was filled with pleasure beyond her reckoning. She writhed and jerked as her body released more hot stinging juices over the raw and lacerated flesh. Finally she slid fully on the floor unable to move or speak but still conscious, still fully aware of the sensations both ambrosial and agonizing that conspired to render her unable to interact or to even comprehend what else was going in the world beyond her own tortured synapses.

In that perfect moment Raven knew only that she was a sub and that she was thankful for every degrading second of it.