Dark Memories and Success

Best to let him take what he wants you think bitterly as you hang your head and stare at the iron manacles on your right wrist and the dark cold stones of the cell. Once again you are being pressed to a bed while a man uses your body for his lust. You feel the youth’s cock push easily into you, it doesn’t feel bad, in fact if it wasn’t for the humiliation involved you could find this quite pleasant. Not like the first time you remember with a shudder.

They dressed you in the same humiliating outfit that you wore for your sale. The gowns of a priestess of Helios but made from a gossamer fabric so thin that it floated with the slightest movement and so transparent that your body could be seen through the thin layers. During the sale the robes had been removed slowly inflaming the lusts of the men bidding to own you. You considered tearing the absurd costume from your trembling body, but you wanted every bit of protection you could get against what you knew was going to happen. Your untouched state was mentioned repeatedly during the auctioneer’s banter, two independent physicians were selected from the audience to examine you and confirm that you were intact. Before the final bid was made your soon to be owner was allowed to use his soft fingers and feel for himself the proof that he would take from you what no man had ever had before. There was no doubt about his intentions as he licked the juices from his finger and pronounced you ‘Tasty’ to the amusement of the hundreds of men who had waited all evening to see your sale.

This room too had only one purpose, the one piece of furniture was a great flat bed that had a soft white cotton sheet stretched tightly across the surface. No doubt your blood will leave a brilliant red stain on that sheet if you let him have his way. You wonder what sort of man would go through this much effort to claim your maidenhead. He was no warrior, in addition to his soft fingers, you remember the belly that hung over his belt and the heavy folds in his neck, more likely a merchant or nobleman with too much wealth to squander.

Soon your wait is over. He enters the room wearing only a linen cloth wrapped around his waist and the door is closed behind him as he steps close.

“Good evening your holiness,” his voice is dripping sarcasm and scorn “At least it will be good for me.” His hands reach for you but you twisted away from his grasp. His fingers are able to just catch one of the lacy layers of your costume and the sound of the cloth ripping fills the otherwise quiet room.

“Pray Priestess.” He mocks you “Pray to your pathetic gods to save you, why I’ll give thanks to the dark forces that placed you in my hands.” Of course you had already prayed every day over and over again, beseeching Helios and any other god in the pantheon to save you from this fate but your answers were met with only silence. This fat pig must have been told of your devotion and his contempt for the gods infuriated you almost as much as their silence. He was ready for your kick, catching your foot and using it to throw you to the firm bed, his heavy body quickly pinning you against the mattress. The silly costume tore easily as his hands stripped the clothes from your body baring your small breasts and soft belly. His fat stomach pressed against and his thick legs **** your slender thighs apart as he lay on you. His hot breath smelled of mint as he grunted into your face.

“Your gods have abandoned you, they know what a whore you are priestess, they cannot save you now.” At the time you half believed him, maybe you were found unworthy. Had you shamed them so much by your weakness? “Beg me instead.” He laughed at you “Beg me to release the wanton slut that you are from your pure shell.” His hand found your round tit and twisted it cruelly until you cried with pain. He rocked his hips forward and you felt the thick knob of his shaft butting against your parted lips, and you pleaded with your ravager.

One time, and one time only, you begged shamelessly for him to spare you. You promised to be good, you promised to obey him if he would not take you this way. In the end you even offered to willingly kneel at his feet and use your mouth as best you could to please him. He just laughed and pressed slowly into you pausing only when his organ reached your maidenhead.

“I don’t want you to be willing.” He grunted “I just wanted to hear the proud ‘Rose of Heliopolis’ begging like a common serving maid.” With that he rocked back his hips again withdrawing slightly relieving the pressure on your stretched sheath. “Fight me whore! If you don’t I’ll know you wanted this all along.” Twisting and squirming like a wildcat you struggled under his heavy body as he once again thrust forward ripping you open with his hard shaft. Your cry of pain only increased his desire as he thrust in and out of your core. The first time was mercifully quick, but if you thought your ordeal was over you were sadly mistaken.

Three more times that night he took you on the blood stained sheet. He reveled in your pain, taking you hard, even cruelly twisting your nipples when the pain in your loins was no longer sharp enough to make you cry out. But despite his efforts you never begged or pleaded again, not with him, not with any man.

The thrusts of the man’s rod rub your core in a way that pleasures you in a way you cannot deny, and you are soon wiggling your ass against his hips as he thrusts energetically into you. You hear the boy rapidly reaching his limit, in less than a minute he calls out in triumph and empties himself deep into you. You have always been given a bitter drink before serving men in Rastus’ house, to keep from having your belly swell with child. You wonder if this time your unprotected womb would bear fruit. The young man has collapses at your side and before he even realizes what you are doing you straddle his thin chest. He starts to protest, then hesitates as you press your makeshift knife to his throat.
“Take off my manacles boy. Slowly if you want to live.” With a nervous gulp he obeys.

“Good, job.” Now fasten that end to the bed, when he complies you have him place his other hand in the shackles and lock his wrist to the frame.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to hurt you.” You tell the sullen boy “You should know, I wasn’t faking how good you made me feel, you are one of the best lovers who has taken me.” You wonder if the compliment will be enough to assuage the shame the young man must be feeling. You would not want to be in his sandals when his mother finally comes to find him. Actually, you realize with a start, you do want to be in his sandals, in all his clothes you realize if you are going to escape from this mansion. As you dress in the young man’s clothing you realize that finally the fates are turning in your favor. Wrapping the other set of **** chains around your waist like a belt you move into the hallway.