Mansion Of Slaves

An eBook By Lady Blade.

Dillon moaned in pain against the hard rubber in his mouth and bucked against the restraints again. Despite himself, as she read off his life's history in short order, he'd felt himself reacting to her voice, her tone, and the man rooting around between her legs. She'd ignored the man, until she'd moved him away from her, as if the whole thing were commonplace to her.

He was semi-hard now, his long penis stretching out against his muscular thigh. He heaved his hips at the belt across his waist then settled back with wide eyes, as she swung one long leg over his and seated herself there.

Almost immediately he could feel the warm heat emanating from her nether regions against his skin. His genitals leaped into painful awareness as she rubbed the length of his long thighs, leaving a sweet smelling trail of her woman's juices as she did so.

Her long nailed hand reached between them and touched him gently, before lightly clasping her hand around his growing shaft, and dancing along its length. Dillon moaned despite himself, and his mind cried out in denial as she brought him to a full erection within seconds of her first touch.

How can this be happening? He wanted to scream as he bucked and heaved at the restraints holding him to the hard chair. Why is she doing this? He raised his eyes to hers and pleaded with her, mumbling against the hard rubber in his mouth, and straining forward at the same time.

Please, he begged silently, feeling utterly helpless for the first time in his young life. Oh gods above, please, let this all be some horrific nightmare. His tortured gaze roamed over her smooth features.

His head strained forward – it was the only thing that could move – trying to – no, needing to touch her then, despite his mind's denial that he was bound, gagged and about to be raped by this deliciously gorgeous woman.

She grinned down at him, watching the emotions flicker across his expressive face and through his eyes. The denial ... anger ... in-comprehension ... and finally, desire. Desire for her. His expressive face was one of the reasons she'd chosen him in those first weeks. It was one of the things she looked for when scouting for a new slave to train. The expressive face and eyes. In those first weeks she'd seen his features flicker with laughter, smile with passion, brighten with joy and pleasure – all the things that made a good slave. So many had learned to hide their emotions from the outside world, but not Dillon, or Jarron ... and so many others, that she'd lost count over the years.

She moved again, sliding up the length of his thighs until she poised herself just above his long, rock hard shaft. "Is this what you want?" she asked softly.

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