Thread: Odette (Montresor & sweet.nothings)

Rogier's breath climbed up over Odette's pale stomach, rising to meet her throat as his shadow began to loom in the dim of the candlelight. The aftermath of such an intimate kiss lay in the shattered mass that was the nun. Flushed and panting, her sorry's spilled out like a brat desperate to avoid the belt. Where there was anxiety and guilt, Rogier attempted to fill the void. He kissed her eyes, and her cheeks, and eventually a press to her own lips which tasted of her own wonderful cunt. Good girl, he repeated, letting the assurance slither and settle into her ear upon a tender whisper while his body blanketed her. The press of his manhood came up between her legs then, sliding against the seam until it found the wetted entrance. It was time for her body to fulfill its purpose. There wasn't as much sweetness in those moment's as the Master pressed his palm over Odette's lips, sick of 'sorry' and 'please'. He stole her, raped her, in whatever poetic terms one might fancy to soften the act. But there was nothing poetic in the force of his rutting and pumping while a sober face stared not at her but rather into the pillow as though she were not there. It was only as the time neared that he began to truly writhe. A struck her across the cheek out of nothing but pure lust, pure hate for her beauty, pur wrath for the insolence that was her continued breath. He choked Odette, kept her nose shot and her throat clenched while she felt the deep penetration an the spasming of his cock. The warmth welled into her, a country invaded by small soldiers where in they would attempt to seige the castle of her egg. Spent, the tension in Rogier's body slacked and he instead began to unbind the pretty pale thing, still remaining only in her coif. He pulled her into his arms like a bear nestling a cub, and pressed lips into her throat. No words came, but feelings spoke. He held her possessively, somewhere between affection and greed, and whenever she may have found some position of comfort in his grasp his hand wound smooth around her thigh an seek to play between her legs. Good girl... He breathed, half a purr and half a growl. It was difficult to tell the time from the start of that moment to the finish, but it was somewhere between an hour and a year. When Rogier decided they were finished, he riled her from the dream with little regard to her comfort. She was pulled an pushed like a doll, forced off the bed and on to her hands an knees. A boot pressed upon the center of her back, forcing the bitch's head to the ground. Stay, he barked. With one hand, his fingers slippe beneath the coif an tore it from her head. Hand's move through Odette's hair, loosening the braid which had once kept her locks modest so that they rolled out in a glorious mane. That mane became his leash as he tugged the dog behind him. They left the Marquis' master bedroom as she stumbled down the hall, wagging her bare ass the whole way to another room in the upper part of the estate. They climbed a spiral staircase, one hand and knee at a time as she bruise against stone steps. Finding the rop of the spire, its circular chamber resembled more of a dungeon than a priness' keep. It brought to light another wicked rumor which had spread throughout the lands Montferrand the 'Maiden Vault'. Rogier dragged Odette to the center of the room before he straddled over her, pulling her to sit up beneath him. The sharp echo of a 'snip' and the tumbling of hairs down her shoulder signaled the slave's fate. Hair was pulled into clumps and sheared away like she were a shape. Soon her mane was cute down to something ragged and boyish. She was pushed down again as leather engulfed her head, smothering her eyes, nose, lips, ears. There was nothing of her left. There were many ways in which children of the chapel humbled themselves beneath heaven, but Rogier was demonstrating a form of humility so low it made the worms look like angels. Buckles came up around her skull, along with lacing. Any hope of being able to pull them loose on her own was dashed as her wrists were pulled into leather cuffs behind her back. The piece de resistance was the sudden chill which came up between her legs and around her waist, introducing her to what the Master's finest smiths had crafted just for his victims a chastity belt so well fitted that it could have kept a nymph celibate... unless of course they took to the sin of sodomy. The padlock sealed her fate with a lovely click just before a stick came up to thwack the whore's ass. Move, he demanded of the hobbled thing, ushering it into what it soon knew as a cage. A metal collar came around her throat, with a chain which linked to the top of the cage. The length of the chain followed through a loop and connected back down to her wrists. With the advantage of keeping her bound, the chain made it maddeningly impossible to find a point of complete comfort , choosing between choking herself and induging in strappado. Her knees, at least, could find some ease on a cushioned bottom of wool, while the chamber itself was well insolated and heated for its altitude. This is your home now, my princess. You should take comfort that it is that much closer to heaven. Rogier knelt down in front of the beast, her featureless face staring at nothing as he reached between the iron to cup her cheek. Good night, ma chienne .