Read The Surrender of Lady Charlotte for Free Online Page B

herself.”
    The twin lovelies dropped to the floor on either side of the rack-bound slave. The brown beauty, Jontile, opened a proud pair of labial lips in front to find the tumescent pistil of Charlotte’s sex. Covering the sliver of engorged flesh, she drew it into her mouth, running circles around it with her tongue until Charlotte panted anxiously. Her chest heaved so greatly that her tits bounced in frantic circles. From behind, the gentle, fair-skinned Lena parted her tail end to find her rectum’s imperious door. She slithered her tongue into the ready channel making the new slave groan with desire. These measures brought back the fire that had, for just seconds, eased for lack of stimulation; and brought back with thunder echoing through her groin, she succumbed. Every nerve in her clenched, her fists squeezed tight into themselves, and without wanting any of this, her hips moved on the conquering mouths while her own mouth gasped.
    Charlotte’s final passionate cry fell about the gathered almost as a balm of contentment—as though it were good enough to supplant their own need to spew (though spew they would, later).
    As the tension in the hall eased, Mountbane strode before them again. There was other business to conduct. One forthrightly commenced as soon as the disgraced slave’s cum had withered away and the two tarts slipped off to attend to their Lord again.
    “So,” he said, “what would my noble gentlemen suggest to punish this contrary slave? I’m so weary of the battle that I leave it up to you.” He was mocking them—which they all guessed. Mountbane would never weary of a battle as choice as this. But then, this was a fair game they could not help but enjoy. “Sir Ellemore, what would you say?”
    “To punish, sir? I prefer the strength of a whip, long and hard against the flanks.”
    Mountbane nodded his appreciation. “And Jerrod?”
    “Torture by suspension,” he said as though he had it all figured out in his head and was ready with his ropes. “A complete bondage.”
    Mountbane acknowledged the picture he brought to mind. “A worthy thought,” he agreed. “And Harrow? You know the subject as well as anyone?”
    The wrinkled elder scowled as though that was his only mode of expression, as though disdain was all he could feel. “Save exhibiting her on a rack through the streets, I can’t think of any means to impair her unwholesome pride. Caius finds her insolence remains mean-spirited.” He would go on, but Mountbane stopped him, turning to Tristan, whose steady eye seemed willing to read from the woman’s heart.
    “I would recommend the claws to punish her,” he said as Charlotte worried over this unknown. “If she doesn’t learn her lessons well, she’ll never survive Ilusia.”
    Charlotte shuddered so that another wave of orgasm seemed to clutch at her crotch.
    “That is so,” Mountbane conceded to the comment. “Affix the briared halter and girdle to her chest and loins, and let her pride think on that.”
     
    Charlotte waited meekly in the aftermath of sex, frightened by Sir Tristan’s words, wishing desperately for even one brief moment of respite before her next trial appeared.
    Now, almost in a stupor, she watched as an act she’d soon find more painful than she could ever imagine began to unfold. Two attendants came to her with chain mail garments in their hands: the halter that her husband spoke of, and the girdle for her loins. Beginning with her torso, she felt the heaviness of the metal and how it clung solidly to her body. The halter fit tight—and then more snugly still when a fellow behind her back began to thread the ends together with a metal rod. Most notably, she felt the briars, piercing metal barbs, which pinched, poked and stung the delicate flesh about her full breasts. To move even the slightest degree caused the barbs to bite more severely, making Charlotte certain that soon she’d bleed from a dozen tiny cuts where these desperate claws