Pixie Isobella

‘Let’s get this in you, shall we, princess?’ Lord Arendt’s voice was silken. ‘This is what you were going to ask Conrad to do, wasn’t it?’

The leather-coated knob on the end of the sword handle was cold from the cold air. It was large and round and Summer whimpered softly to herself as Lord Arendt ran it up and down the sensitive flesh between her entrance and her clit. Her cunt felt needy, like a giant hole and she yearned for it to be filled.

Oh, the sword handle would feel so good when it pushed past her sensitive flesh and filled her…

Summer’s Engagement: 9

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

Summer whimpered softly as Lord Arendt ran the round knob on the end of the sword handle up and down the sensitive flesh between her entrance and her clit. Oh, the sword handle would feel so good when it pushed past her sensitive flesh and filled her.

Lord Arendt started to push the round knob on the end at her entrance and Summer almost forgot who was penetrating her in how incredible it felt. It was slightly wider than would easily slide into her and as he pushed harder, she felt herself stretching — that old delicious feeling of being opened up and invaded — and then it slid into her, her body closing around the cold leather-coated knob.

Lord Arendt kept pushing it into her and she gasped in shock. This was more penetration that she had had in the months since all the young men had moved away, the hard thick handle sliding smoothly into her, all the way inside until she felt the hard knob against her deep inner wall.

It was so hard and unyielding, and she shivered in hot arousal at how it must look, vanishing deep inside her body.

Lord Arendt fucked it into her slowly, starting to grind the hard leather-bound handle against the soft flesh at her entrance. Summer hated how her hips started gyrating in response.

Oh, she loved being penetrated and fucked so much.

‘The whore likes that,’ chuckled Lord Marlowe.

‘Of course she does,’ replied Lord Arendt, ‘this is what you were made for, isn’t it Summer?’ he called up to her from his place between her legs. ‘We should put you on a whore’s bench and let the men have at you all day.’

No, she wanted to cry out indignantly.

Yes, murmured her brain, high on endorphins from the pain still cascading from her breasts. Oh yes. Everything has been so boring and at least that would be fun, even if it was these horrid, degrading men.

Lord Arendt was still speaking, even as he kept grinding the sword into her in a fucking motion.

‘It’s time to put the second one inside you, darling. That’s what wanted Conrad to do, isn’t it? You wanted to lie back and feel him forcing you wider and wider open, making you take more and more inside you, while you lay back restrained, unable to stop him. Isn’t that what you wanted, you stupid girl?’

Oh yes. Summer knew she shouldn’t encourage him but she couldn’t stop her hips pumping invitingly at the feeling of the hard stiff rod of the sword handle inside her. She hated how much she was loving the sensation of Lord Arendt fucking it into her. She could feel it all the way inside her, a rigid invader in her insides. He was fucking in against her deep inner wall, an almost-painful sensation that was making her hotter and wetter.

Gods, how would it feel when they stopped torturing her and finally fucked her with their dicks? It had been too long since she had had any fun like this, dammit.

‘She’s tight,’ remarked Lord Marlowe, his voice dispassionate as if nothing that happened to Summer really mattered. ‘This is going to stretch her.’

Summer felt his fingers parting her labia, then she flinched at the cold sensation of the leather-coated knob on the second sword handle against her sensitive flesh.

The sphere felt large and alien and suddenly Summer’s cunt felt very full already. She found herself fighting impossibly against the restraints, desperately trying to close her legs. Her cunt felt insanely vulnerable, like there was a target painted on the soft, sensitive hole.

She knew what the men were going to do. She had done this so many times before. She knew how it felt like to be stretched open wide, wider than was comfortable.

‘This is what you want, isn’t it, Summer?’ asked Lord Arendt from between her legs.

‘I don’t care what the bitch wants,’ came Lord Marlowe’s rough voice. ‘This hole here is our toy. And it’s been a while since she stopped screaming.’

Summer gasped out loud as she felt two careless, hard fingers pushing roughly into her entrance alongside the sword haft already in her, and she whimpered in anticipation at what she knew was coming next. She felt the sphere on the end of the sword handle pushing hard against the stretched sensitive flesh at her entrance.

Lord Marlowe was using his strength to force the handle into her, guided by his fingers already inside her.

No, no, please no, it’s too much, she thought helplessly, the same thoughts she had always had when the young men found something big and hard and decided they were going to push it into her.

Summers’s breath was coming in short and fast, shallow due to the intense compression from the corset. It wasn’t too much, she knew that, she had taken larger items in the past, and this was precisely what she had wanted when she brought the toys for Conrad.

She could feel Lord Marlowe angling the sword handle in a rhythmic motion back and forth, wedged hard against the tight gap between the first handle still buried deep inside her and the soft flesh that covered her pubic bone.

It stretched her and she whimpered at the knowledge that he was violating her and he didn’t care. Lord Marlowe grunted in effort as he used his strength against her body and Summer felt herself sobbing involuntarily in shock. Oh gods, he was going to get the second handle inside her, and it was going to feel amazing and demeaning at the same time.

Lord Arendt stood up and came around the bed to her head, leaving Lord Marlowe and Makepeace in between her legs. Unable to see them, it felt like a nameless, faceless violation, and Summer gasped in fear at the thought that the men genuinely didn’t care what she felt as long as they had their fun.

Lord Arendt reached out and stroked her tortured breasts, a triumphant smile on his face.

‘I love seeing you like this, sweet Summer,’ he murmured. ‘Do you like what Lord Marlowe is doing between your legs? You know you brought it on yourself, don’t you? He’s going to split you open with those sword handles and you’re going to scream.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s what you’re for.’

Almost absentmindedly, he reached up to the mechanism that operated the chains and winched them tighter, his eyes never leaving Summer’s face. She screamed suddenly to feel the pressure in her nipples intensify, as — horrifyingly — she felt her upper back winched off the bed, her nipples taking more of her weight.

Her head fell backwards. The sensations were too strong for her to keep it upright and she knew she was murmuring nonsense words, trying to beg Lord Arendt to stop and knowing he wasn’t going to.

The sensations cascaded through her from her breasts to her groin and Summer realised she was crying piteously, unable to escape the feeling of being ruthlessly violated between her legs, the restraint and pinioning from the bonds and the corset, and the fiery, inescapable and renewed pain in her nipples.

Dimly, she realised Lord Arendt had walked away back to his vantage spot between her legs and she felt embarrassment rising at what he would see.

‘Get the rod inside the slut already,’ he said coldly.

As if his words were magical, Summer felt her body stretching painfully, finally giving way to Lord Marlowe’s brutal assault. She screamed wordlessly but almost without sound as she couldn’t breathe enough air to scream properly. The crushing, stretching sensation intensified to a crescendo and Summer heard herself wailing.

Then the stretching sensation ebbed and Summer knew, horrifyingly, the metal knob of the end of the second sword was inside her.

The violation wasn’t over, however, as Lord Marlowe started to steadily push the second, silken smooth sword handle deeper into her, opening her entrance up wider again. She wailed as she felt her cunt adapt to take the shafts of both sword handles at the same time. The heavy swords felt like tree trunks inside her and she felt so full deep inside her where the two large round metal knobs butted up against each other.

Her cunt was clenching and pulsing, struggling to process the intrusion, enjoying the sensation even as she desperately tried to push the handles back out of herself.

‘Damn,’ swore Makepeace with his uncultured voice. ‘Fuck, that’s a good sight. Has the bitch been doing this the whole time?’

‘It would seem so,’ Lord Arendt said, his voice dry as Summer lay back and wailed, unable to process the sensations or believe what was happening to her. ‘We could have had her up here taking our rods anytime since she turned eighteen. I must give a job to that lad, Conrad, for finally seeing where his interests lay and informing us.’

‘Let’s fit some more things into her,’ Lord Marlowe said eagerly, and Summer felt herself actually starting to cry properly.

She was stretched so wide open that it hurt, but it also felt incredible. She knew how this game would play out — and she was proven right. The men started to insert smaller items into her cunt between and alongside the sword handles. Her entrance stretched wider and wider, until she knew that the hole between her legs was a wide circle, all the devices she had so eagerly brought with her filling her and protruding obscenely out of her body.

‘This is what you like, isn’t it, Summer?’ Lord Arendt asked again when the men finally ceased. ‘This is what you let the men do to you, isn’t it? How long do we leave it all inside you?’

Summer was silent, hating him for mocking her and humiliating her like this.

‘Let’s have supper while the bitch is working it out,’ Lord Marlowe said roughly, and Summer wanted to scream at how the evening had turned into a parody of her earlier trysts.

The young men had used to sit around, drinking and gaming, eating sweet treats they had stolen from the kitchens or cozened out of kitchen maids. She had lain back, violated and bound, uncomfortable, panting at the invasion of her body, unable to control how long the men would make her wait until they removed the items.

Tonight was no different and she wanted to cry in frustration at how it was even better than when the young men had tortured her. Makepeace served the two lords a picnic dinner on the nearby low table and then, at an invitation from Lord Arendt, himself sat down and started to feast. The men ignored her utterly and she lay still, uncomfortable and embarrassed, wanting to cry.

Gods, it felt good to be abused like this, her cunt was pulsing around the handles, hot and wet and aroused. She knew that — embarrassingly — when they had eaten their fill and finally decided it was time to fuck her, Lord Arendt and his cronies would themselves learn about her pleasure soon enough.

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 Abigail’s Descent trilogy, now available as a bundle on all These Roadworks!

Abigail had no idea that her cousin’s wedding would be an orgy of brutal sex.

She didn’t know that she would be ravished again and again by the men of the bridal party.

No-one told her that she would soon become a bimbo, a sex-toy obedient to her master’s every whim…

Get all three books now together as one bundle! (But please check you don’t already own one of the books – please check you are not doubling up before purchasing).

© Pixie Isobella