believe. They would not be able to control themselves!” She laughed. “I know what those men are like. Couldn’t resist a girl like you. I’ll bet it was one after the other several times a day, every day.”
Zacora remained silent.
Megan laughed even more loudly. “You were helpless,” she reminded the girl. “In chains and your legs were splayed wide open.” She gave a nod of understanding. “You allowed them to do it in your mouth, is that it? So their misbehaviour would not be discovered?”
Zacora hung her head in shame, blushing furiously.
“Nevertheless, I feel, so that I can discern the truth, I must inspect you,” said Megan, “once we reach the bath house.” Zacora had halted, her lustrous golden tresses hanging loosely from the crown of her head and over the lovely curves of her breasts. “Not far now.”
The girl shuffled forward, for her ankles were becoming sore with the chafing of the manacles. Megan loved the way her arms were held loosely in front of her, hands at the soft warmth of the silver nest. The length of chain looped from ankles to wrists brushed the satin skin of the inner thighs in a most stimulating manner. Megan could feel her own sap gathering between swollen lips and her nubbin jutting quite urgently between her uncovered cleft.
“Here we are,” said Megan cheerfully, swinging open an oak door. “This is the bath house.”
Zacora hung back, for the echoing marble chamber was full of giggling girls. “Here is the new girl.” Megan pushed the reluctant captive into the dimly lit, steam-filled room, and spoke in an almost motherly fashion. “I’m going to inspect her, if you would like to watch, my dears. I fear she has been very naughty with the guards.”
Cries of ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ went up from the naked girls.
“You two!” Megan pointed to two well-built young ladies drying themselves at the edge of one of the round marble tubs sunk into the stone floor.
The girls looked at each other, giggling that they had been chosen, then turned to Megan to question their task.
“Get her up on the examining table, but I want the chains undisturbed.” Megan looked eager, her dark eyes bright and her scarlet lips slightly parted and moist.
The fairer of the two girls looped her strong hands under Zacora’s armpits, while the darker one lifted her at bent knees. “She’s very light, mistress,” said the dark one, placing the new captive on the bench. Smiling at Zacora she splayed her knees and carefully put the shackled feet together. This had the effect of opening up the sex lips quite nicely.
Zacora looked down and, seeing how she was spread, she blushed in humiliation. She tried to close her knees, but Megan quickly stepped forward, slapping them wide again. “And keep them that way,” she ordered.
Other girls were gathering eagerly around the bench. One even stroked the underswell of each breast, watching how each inverted nipple sprang out almost immediately.
“She’s very sensitive, mistress,” remarked the girl, smiling down at the blushing Zacora.
“And so will you be,” said Megan sharply, “if you don’t leave her alone. She’s not for you to touch.”
In her hand, Megan held an instrument. Before using this she spread the soft sex leaves open with her fingers, as if gaging the width to which they would open. Immediately, she saw the girl’s clitoris jerk to attention. It was stiff, peachy coloured and shiny with moisture. Zacora was indeed sensitive.
“How pretty!” she couldn’t help murmuring, stretching out a gentle finger to stroke the jutting erection of the bud.
Megan lowered her head and placed a wide syringe into the pulsing entrance. Yes, it was pulsing. It wanted something to go in. The skin was smooth, so moist and silky. It was made to be penetrated.
“I am going to take a sample of the fluid within you,” Megan told the suffering girl. “To discern just how much the guards defiled you.”
Zacora shuddered, hoping
Zacora remained silent.
Megan laughed even more loudly. “You were helpless,” she reminded the girl. “In chains and your legs were splayed wide open.” She gave a nod of understanding. “You allowed them to do it in your mouth, is that it? So their misbehaviour would not be discovered?”
Zacora hung her head in shame, blushing furiously.
“Nevertheless, I feel, so that I can discern the truth, I must inspect you,” said Megan, “once we reach the bath house.” Zacora had halted, her lustrous golden tresses hanging loosely from the crown of her head and over the lovely curves of her breasts. “Not far now.”
The girl shuffled forward, for her ankles were becoming sore with the chafing of the manacles. Megan loved the way her arms were held loosely in front of her, hands at the soft warmth of the silver nest. The length of chain looped from ankles to wrists brushed the satin skin of the inner thighs in a most stimulating manner. Megan could feel her own sap gathering between swollen lips and her nubbin jutting quite urgently between her uncovered cleft.
“Here we are,” said Megan cheerfully, swinging open an oak door. “This is the bath house.”
Zacora hung back, for the echoing marble chamber was full of giggling girls. “Here is the new girl.” Megan pushed the reluctant captive into the dimly lit, steam-filled room, and spoke in an almost motherly fashion. “I’m going to inspect her, if you would like to watch, my dears. I fear she has been very naughty with the guards.”
Cries of ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ went up from the naked girls.
“You two!” Megan pointed to two well-built young ladies drying themselves at the edge of one of the round marble tubs sunk into the stone floor.
The girls looked at each other, giggling that they had been chosen, then turned to Megan to question their task.
“Get her up on the examining table, but I want the chains undisturbed.” Megan looked eager, her dark eyes bright and her scarlet lips slightly parted and moist.
The fairer of the two girls looped her strong hands under Zacora’s armpits, while the darker one lifted her at bent knees. “She’s very light, mistress,” said the dark one, placing the new captive on the bench. Smiling at Zacora she splayed her knees and carefully put the shackled feet together. This had the effect of opening up the sex lips quite nicely.
Zacora looked down and, seeing how she was spread, she blushed in humiliation. She tried to close her knees, but Megan quickly stepped forward, slapping them wide again. “And keep them that way,” she ordered.
Other girls were gathering eagerly around the bench. One even stroked the underswell of each breast, watching how each inverted nipple sprang out almost immediately.
“She’s very sensitive, mistress,” remarked the girl, smiling down at the blushing Zacora.
“And so will you be,” said Megan sharply, “if you don’t leave her alone. She’s not for you to touch.”
In her hand, Megan held an instrument. Before using this she spread the soft sex leaves open with her fingers, as if gaging the width to which they would open. Immediately, she saw the girl’s clitoris jerk to attention. It was stiff, peachy coloured and shiny with moisture. Zacora was indeed sensitive.
“How pretty!” she couldn’t help murmuring, stretching out a gentle finger to stroke the jutting erection of the bud.
Megan lowered her head and placed a wide syringe into the pulsing entrance. Yes, it was pulsing. It wanted something to go in. The skin was smooth, so moist and silky. It was made to be penetrated.
“I am going to take a sample of the fluid within you,” Megan told the suffering girl. “To discern just how much the guards defiled you.”
Zacora shuddered, hoping
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