Pixie Isobella

‘You’re not a toy, Summer darling,’ Lord Arendt smirked at Summer. ‘That delicious hole between your legs is the toy. And these, of course,’ he reached down and fondled one of her bare breasts. ‘You’re the just baggage that comes with the good fuck we’ll get from your hole,’ Lord Arendt chuckled.

Summer’s Engagement: 8

[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]

‘I suggest, my dear princess, that you reach deep inside yourself and find the part of you that is enjoying this.’ Lord Arendt smiled at her, his hand still fondling her breast. ‘We’re just getting started, little girl.’

In horror, Summer realised that her pussy was responding to their words, a spark of hot need running from some dark place deep inside her. Between her legs she felt empty and hollow, a giant tingling hole desperate to be filled. Lord Arendt’s hand fondling her breast, teasing her nipple, only strengthened that desire, and she realised in fear that her desire was increased by the fact that she hated him.

Why am I turned on by people I dislike fucking me?

How can I hate the feeling of his hand on breast and feel so turned on by it at the same time?

The corset around her waist felt like rigid straps of iron. It was so tight now! Her insides and lower ribs felt crushed and she didn’t feel as though — even if the men removed the restraints on her arms and legs — she would even be able to move. For some reason, the enforced constraint of her waist made it feel even more like her breasts and pussy were on display, and she whimpered in fear and anticipation as the men finally tied off the laces.

‘Done, milord,’ said Makepeace briefly and she felt him clasping his hands around her waist, demonstrating to Lord Arendt that he could indeed enclose her abused waist with fingers and thumbs of both hands.

‘Good girl,’ murmured Lord Arendt. ‘If I had you for longer than a single night, I’d keep you like this for a few hours every day, teach you that you are nothing more than a pair of round udders and a warm, wet hole for my shaft.’ He turned back to the men, shifting to his usual matter-of-fact barking of orders. ‘Cuff her waist.’

Summer shuddered to hear his voice, which she was so used to hearing calling out to servants and the court staff, barking out orders over her naked and abused body.

Lord Marlowe reached down and Summer felt him fastening the narrow cuff around her abused waist, the imagery making her feel closer to panicking at the thought of being cut in half. Lord Arendt ran two more straps from either side of the bed, locking them onto the cuff around her waist and ratcheting them taut.

Summer whimpered in shock and fear. She felt pinioned, paralysed, and she knew that whatever the men chose to do to her like this, there was literally nothing she could do to stop them.

There had been a brief pause after the men finished restraining her but it hadn’t made her situation any better. Her arms hurt behind her back, it was hard to breathe with the corset and she felt stupid and exposed with her legs restrained wide apart and her naked breasts forced high by the underbust corset.

Lord Arendt moved to sit on a stool next to the bed near her head, reaching out and stroking her face with a gentle finger. Summer wondered about trying to move away from him but, as her head was the only part of her whole body that wasn’t restrained, she knew she would get very far. Lord Arendt stroked back and forth across her lips and Summer gasped at the intimate, gentle feeling.

‘How many men have fucked you, Summer?’ he asked softly. ‘How many greedy, grasping shafts have you let slide into that little hole of yours? How many men have planted their seed in your soft flesh? How many men,’ he continued, viciousness sliding into his voice, ‘have you let enjoy this body that we’re gifting to King David?’

Summer whimpered. He couldn’t mean for her to answer that.

Anyway, she realised blankly, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She had never cared. Sometimes the young men had brought extra friends to their trysts in the woods, and sometimes there had been visiting young men from other courts. She had been absurdly incautious, she realised. Any one of those young men could have betrayed her, at any time.

I was always blindfolded, she wanted wail. I didn’t see who fucked me and who didn’t.

They all fucked you, murmured her pragmatic brain. Why wouldn’t they? Your hole was there, wet and ready and eager and panting for their penetration.

‘Or is it possible,’ murmured Lord Arendt, his eyes on hers and his voice seeming soft and caring, almost apologetic, ‘that you don’t even know?’

‘It’s n-none of your business,’ Summer managed to clench out through shaking lips, her voice trembling and almost breaking.

She didn’t even see the slap coming. It was vicious, fully across half of her face and almost boxing her ear as well.

‘Stupid girl,’ murmured Lord Arendt. ‘Tell me how many men you have let use you, Summer. Or I’ll slap you again.’

‘I, I, d-on’t…’

This time the slap was across the other side of her face, harsh and brutal, making Summer feel almost like her jaw had been broken.

‘You don’t know, do you, you little slut,’ Lord Arendt said accusingly. ‘You were going off into the woods and letting them fill you with their shafts, spilling their seed into you, and you don’t even know how many there were.’ He grinned at her, a joyous, sadistic grin. ‘I’m going to punish you for that.’

He stood up without warning and Summer hissed in shock.

What was he going to do?

‘Get my belt,’ Lord Arendt ordered the other men. He looked down, meeting Summer’s eyes, and she knew she was looking up him with wide eyes and fear in her face.

‘Stupid whore,’ murmured Lord Marlowe, handing Lord Arendt a thick strap of leather.

‘How many, milord?’ asked Makepeace from his place further across the room.

Lord Arendt smiled an evil smile down at her. ‘As many as I feel like. Seeing as the slut can’t remember.’

Where is he going to hit me? Summer thought with sudden panic. Oh, this is going to hurt.

Please follow me 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.

Chapter 9 of ‘Summer’s Engagement is here.

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