AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I could feel the cunning way the saddle rocked, both back and forth and up and down, while the dildo stayed motionless. Minuscule shifts of my bodyweight brought humiliating whimpers, whining cries of helpless need, to my lips as I felt the huge artificial cock seem to thrust in and out.
“Let’s clip her wrists in front,” Belkonov said in Russian.
Ivan let go of me, and I let out a long, sobbing moan as much at the desertion of my master’s grasp as at the shift it caused in my position and how my bottom and my pussy moved atop the terrible saddle. He unclipped the cuffs around my wrists, and brought them forward roughly, making me bend so that he could fasten my hands to the horse’s wooden head.
I heard a keening cry come from between my closed lips, and I felt my head shaking a vain refusal at the overwhelming sensation. My feet tried to use the little posts to rise and ease the fullness inside my pussy, but I could feel how in this new position that movement pushed my bottom out, forced it over the back of the horse and even parted the whipped cheeks to expose the part of me Belkonov planned to use.
I sat like a racing jockey atop the horrible toy, my vagina much too full, my anus much too available. In the frightening darkness of the hood every sensation seemed magnified, too, so that I could hardly remember that I had a mission, let alone what I had to do to fulfill it.
“Ride, you little slut,” Belkonov said in English. “I want to see that saddle all wet before I fuck your ass. And you won’t be allowed to get off the horse until you have my seed in your anus.”
My mouth shaped the wordsoh, no, and my head shook, but I couldn’t resist the command. I had no choice. With a cry of mingled pain and pleasure, I gripped the posts on either side of the carved wooden horse’s head and, in the darkness mygospodin’s enemy had brought to my eyes, I started to ride.
I cried out with every movement, and the frame of the rocking horse creaked in time with my cries. The soundproofing made the noise vanish as soon as it arose, as if my ordeal existed only in my mind despite how aware I was of the two men standing by, watching, and how thoroughly the horse had mastered not only my mind but above all my body.
I hung my head and rode. I felt my tongue emerge from my mouth, licking a phantom cock, an absent scrotum. My cheeks went blazing hot as I realized how desperately I wanted Ivan’s hardness there, inside my mouth to take away some of the shame of having had to please Belkonov that way.
But it was the enemy who noticed. “Look at that,” he said to Ivan. “She wants my dick back.”
I sensed him moving in front of me, and then I felt his hand under my chin.
“Here you go, whore,” he said in English, and as I moaned around the thrusting hardness, he buried himself between my lips again. “Get me ready for your ass.”
My consciousness seemed to have broken into many parts. One of them tried to please the rigid penis in my mouth, moving my head back and forth in time with my frenzied bouncing on the horse’s rubber phallus. Another wondered, fearfully and irrationally, if Ivan had left without saying anything.
But mygospodinrelieved that worry; I felt his hand crash down on my right bottom-cheek, and I cried out around Belkonov’s cock. I posted up in the saddle again, my pussy moving up on the enormous dildo, and then back, trying to offer my backside to the man I loved, desperate to show him that I meant to be a good girl for him despite this dreadful trial.
Ivan spanked me again, and my heart flooded with gratitude even in the face of the pain. My master’s punishing me for riding his enemy’s horse, sucking his enemy’s cock, stirred the dark need inside me so urgently that I felt my pussy gush around the rubber phallus. When I squirmed back again, inviting another spank, I could hear the wet sound of my private lips moving against the saddle.
I couldn’t stop myself: I moaned around the hard member in my mouth, and I pushed my bottom back further. Ivan spanked me again.
“Come look,” he told Belkonov in Russian. “She’s as wet as a bride on her wedding night.”
Belkonov ripped his cock from between my lips. The shame and need generated by my master’s words—the way they called up my own forbidden fantasies and made a dark perversion of them—sent a wrenching shudder through my whole body.
My hips jerked and my knees bounced, and somehow I wanted both to show Ivan Icouldbe a bride…hisbride… and to show Belkonov that his terrible toy had brought out the filthy slut in me. Beneath me my pussy, much too full, squirmed over the saddle. I could feel the wetness there, the sign mygospodin’s enemy had designated for his next brutal act.
I rocked frantically, crying out, trying to find the release that eluded me, as if it lay around a curve on the race course inside my head. I felt Belkonov’s hands on my hips, stilling my motions with an iron grip. I struggled, squirmed, whimpering in desperation. The thought of what I must look like to Ivan, how it must seem to my master that I wanted his enemy’s hardness in my anus, made me throw back my hooded head and arch my back, paradoxically trying even harder to do as I must to save the man I loved.
“Look at that,” mygospodinsaid. “Well done, Boris. I’ve never seen her need it in the ass so bad.”
Only at the last second did I keep myself from crying out,No, Ivan… please, no. I wantyou.My mind had begun to have trouble even telling Russian from English.
Belkonov himself saved me, if I could have called it that. He translated for me, his voice full of degrading mockery, his words slow as he did his best to bring all their humiliation into a foreign language.
“Your old master just told me he’s never seen you need it in your little bottom so badly, And you got my horsey all wet, you little whore.”
I moaned, hanging my head again. Another jerk of need traveled through my trembling hips.
“Please,” I whispered, my monstrous arousal and my lingering consciousness of having a mission aligning somehow. “Please, Master. I need it so much.”
They had wanted…no,I pled with the voice in my head,notthey… not Ivan, not my real master…
I begged that part of my mind, besought it for an instant’s mercy, but my body’s response to the overwhelming stimulation of Belkonov’s degrading toy refused even to let my message through.The sheer physical need seemed to answer me back.
They. They wanted you to shame yourself on this obscene rocking horse, and you gave them precisely what they wanted, you filthy little whore.
You love it.
