Pixie Isobella

‘I’ve been noticing for a while how luscious and desirable you are.’ Lord Arendt’s eyes trailed downwards to settle on Summer’s breasts. ‘It was very helpful of you to come to this quiet space alone.’ He raised his eyes to look directly into hers, his gaze cool and collected, dispassionate even. ‘We’re going to spend the rest of the night here, in this lovely chamber, you and I and my friends here. I’m pretty certain no-one will miss you until at least breakfast time.’

Summer’s Engagement: 5

[Summer’s Engagement contains non-consent fantasy erotica, female submission to male characters and object insertion. All characters are over 18. Chapter 1 of Summer’s Engagement is here]

Lord Arendt smirked at Summer’s blush, his eyes still on her breasts.

‘It was very helpful of you to come to this quiet space alone.’

He raised his eyes to look directly into hers, his gaze cool and collected, dispassionate even.

‘We’re going to spend the rest of the night here, in this lovely chamber, you and I and my friends here. I’m pretty certain no-one will miss you until at least breakfast time.’

He leaned forward, towering over her on the floor, and Summer flinched backward, but was unable to move away from him because of the tight grip the other men had on her shoulders and hair. Lord Arendt reached out with a careless finger that drifted down the side of her face, and Summer flinched away again.

The man holding her hair tightened his grip ruthlessly and growled at her, ‘sit still, slut’.

That was the filthiest word anyone had ever called her — while the young men had fucked her and treated her like their pleasure toy, they had never called her degrading names — and Summer felt a thin frisson of thin fear enter into her stomach.

The man behind held her head still while Lord Arendt’s fingertips traced her cheekbone, and down across her face to her jaw line. Her breath panted in and out in quick fear. How could he touch her? What was he doing? She was the court’s princess! He wasn’t allowed to touch her.

Summer hissed in shock but was unable to move as Lord Arendt insolently caressed her lips with his thumb.

‘Yes,’ he chuckled, seeing the shock on her face. ‘We’re going to have a good look at you, princess.’ He chuckled again, a sadistic enjoyment in his voice. ‘We’re going to test you out. Assess the quality of the goods we’re gifting to King David.’

Summer froze ice-cold at his words, and at the feeling of his thumb and fingertips still caressing her lips. With horror she saw between his legs that his cock was hard, a large erection stretching his ornate, richly embroidered pantaloons.

No.

Oh, no.

They couldn’t.

They will, reminded the pragmatic part of her brain, the part that remembered she was locked in a room with these three men, far away from any guards or anyone who would hear.

Summer remembered the hunger of the young men, each tryst, once they had her in their power. She remembered their single-mindedness once they had her restrained and they knew she wouldn’t resist them. Every time she had played with the young men, there had been a moment when she had no longer been sure they would stop if she asked them to. She had been their plaything after all and she had always known that none of the men, caught up in the intensity of his own pleasure, truly cared about hers.

She could see and hear the same hunger in the body language of the men around her — the realisation that she was helpless, the clear and certain knowledge that they could do what they wanted to her, without consequences.

Summer wanted to scream but she knew all too well that no-one would hear. No-one ever patrolled these high towers. And, her brain reminded her ruefully, if she called out, the King and Queen would inevitably hear of her disgrace.

She knew that Lord Arendt knew he had her trapped. But still Summer tried, feebly, to resist.

‘N-no,’ she said with a voice that stuttered, that was reedy and fainter than she would like.

She forced herself to swallow and spoke again, louder this time.

‘No! You can’t do this. You daren’t.’

She tried to fight against the hands that held her down, but it was hard with her legs sprawled beneath her and her arms tied so tightly behind her back, and she didn’t achieve any purchase.

‘L-let me go! You have no right to touch me.’

Lord Arendt sat back in the chair, his legs still sprawled insolently in front of him. With rising fear and anger, Summer realised that he was laughing at her. She tried to keep fighting but she knew all she was doing by resisting was getting herself hot and bothered. As if to emphasise her humiliation, a loose lock of hair drifted down across her face and her breasts felt even more on display in the low-cut gown.

Lord Arendt leaned forward, and Summer hissed as his fingers came to rest underneath her chin. He forced her head up to meet his eyes. She felt exposed and vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to and she didn’t like it.

‘I have every right, you little slut,’ he said crudely, and Summer flinched at his harsh words. ‘You’ve let every nobleman in this castle stick his shaft into you, as far as I can tell. The king’s daughter?’ He grinned at her. ‘You made yourself the kingdom’s slut. Clearly it’s my turn and I can do what I want to you. The way I see it,’ he glanced away from her for a moment to emphasise the other two men in the room, ‘three more dicks inside that sweet little hole of yours won’t make much difference at this stage.’

Summer flushed hotly, angrily. She wanted to whine that she hadn’t fucked every nobleman in the castle, but when she looked back at the last few years, all she could remember was how gleefully she had pulled every young man into her aura. She had let all of them use her, touch her, push themselves inside her — and to be honest, she hadn’t even learned all their names.

She had been so careless. Shocked at the truth of Lord Arendt’s words, Summer breathed fast in fear and shock.

He kept speaking.

‘I’ve wanted you on your back, naked beneath me ever since you came of age. You flash those plump tits and fuckable thighs of yours around the court, and then I hear you’ve been letting the young men bespoil you in the woods?’

Lord Arendt stood suddenly, so he was standing right over Summer, his erect groin almost in her face. He still had his fingers beneath her chin and he used them to force her head uncomfortably far back so he could still keep his eyes locked on hers even as he stood far above her.

The man laughed down at her, sadistically, she thought.

‘I am going to fuck you, Summer. I am going to enjoy every part of you, and I’m going to make you feel it. Then I’m going to watch my friends here enjoying you in their turn. And tomorrow, when your father hands you into the carriage to take you to King David’s kingdom, still sore from fucking, it’ll be my seed you feel on your skin, my seed you feel swimming inside you.’

Please follow me here or on my creator site for more stories! In the real world, remember to always play safely and practise positive, informed and enthusiastic consent that is respectful of all genders

Want more erotic torture?

If you love erotic torture and object insertion stories, you might like my published novels Pleasure Doll: The Enslavement of Isobel and Pleasure Toy: Isobel’s Collar.

‘I want easy access to your breasts. Wear that big butt plug that you posted online about. And a toy in your other hole. I want you full and uncomfortable.’

Read as Isobel succumbs to her nemesis Eddie over two published novels! Eddie knows she doesn’t like him but nevertheless he is determined that she will call him Master. And once she is in his power, she will fuck who she is told to fuck, and submit to whatever cruel games he designs for her. She will learn to enjoy being nothing more than a hole and a pair of tits – his hole, and his pair of tits.

© Pixie Isobella