0 comments/ 20155 views/ 0 favorites Nina Part Three By: PaulUK Remember, in my childhood, I had been led to believe that fucking was an act between a man and a woman that only took place after an exchange of money. I had this notion that men produced spunk rather like a goat produces milk; you had to milk them every day, or they blew up like a balloon. So, I thought of my mum as a kind of specialist milkmaid, who dealt with the goats who found producing milk difficult, unless encouraged by a woman dressed all in leather and wielding a cane. After a first week in the Palace, I wasn't so foolish. I had come here with the idea that I would make more money than mum ever did milking money from a richer class of customer. So far, as far as I could reckon, I was owed for two tit-fucks by Grope, and something by the priest (OK, he had taken himself in hand, but surely Charity and I were his inspiration, and even if she didn't take money because of her vocation, that didn't mean I couldn't). I'd been splashed by quite a bit of cum in the last few days, and I thought it must be getting close to payday. I still had no concept of the idea of fucking for pleasure. It didn't help, of course, that although I had been brought very close to my first full crisis, first by Titania, then by my own hand, most closely by Master Bator's tongue (be still my beating heart!) and most recently by Charity, I still hadn't experienced the actual thing. My first orgasm was long overdue, and you have been very patient waiting for it. Fear not, you are almost there. I tried to get the relationship between men and women (and women and women!) straight in my mind. While I wanked myself on the library floor, I thought about how different and unpredictable my life had become, and how this new pleasure was some kind of compensation. The gods gave women all this milking equipment, and the burden of using it, so they compensated them with a clit. Come to think of it, perhaps I wasn't so far from the truth, even then. On the other hand, there was all this evidence around me that I was missing the point. Charity and Angelica's stories, for example. What were they all about? And what was this terrible yearning I felt whenever I thought about Bator? What was all this about cumming? That afternoon, lying in the heat of the library, wearing nothing more than a scarf that I had draped over my head, so that I might mop my brow from time to time, I copied the story of Leida and the swan, and it did little to ease my confusion. You know the story? Penus, the father of the gods, gets the hots for a mortal girl, a truly brazen little slut named Leida. You may have heard the version where her father is worried for her virtue, and shuts her up to keep her away from lustful men? Well, the Orgasmus has the other version, where papa locks her up because the Income Tax people are sniffing round, and he doesn't want the Revenue to get whiff of what a great little earner his daughter has become. Anyway, Penus hears about Leida, and about how she can perform these amazing contortions, and about how her pussy smells of lavender, and about how cute her ass is, so he pays a visit. When he sees her, he decides he has to have her. Some say he was moved to great love because of her beauty, but the Orgasmus has it that he caught her bent over double, licking her own pussy. Either way, Penus asks for a fuck, and Leida tells him the going rate Ð 10 Randies an hour. Being a god, and being used to excess of this kind, Penus asks for 491/2 hours, so Leida asks for cash in advance. Being a god, Penus also has the ability to come up with this kind of cash pretty much on demand, and so he showers her with gold. Now, I know some of you have heard the other version of this shower of gold story, but I have to tell you that I don't think taking the piss out of the gods is a very smart idea. So far, as I have just recounted it to you, the story of Leida and the shower of gold made perfect sense to me. God meets girl; god wants to fuck girl; girl charges extortionate amount for the privledge. In fact, I spent some time trying to calculate my own going rate (yes, I still hoped to make my fortune in that way), bearing in mind that I expected there to be shortage of visiting divine beings. However, thereafter the story moved away from my expectations, leaving me even more confused. Penus fucks Leida every way to Sunday. He fucks her in the mouth, he fucks her in the cunt. He fucks her arse and has her fist him. He sucks her pussy, she gobbles his cock. Lying, down, standing up, sideways, backwards and hanging from the ceiling. They fuck every way they can, and that's before Leida shows him how she can bend over backwards so far that she can pop her head up between her legs and suck his balls while he fucks her pussy. Her fucks her so well and so often that after 491/2 hours, when her brains have turned to slush and her knees have spent so long apart that they have evolved differently, she gives him the money back. Now, I have heard some philosophers say that with what she learned about fucking that day, she was able to put her rates up, and retired at 25 owning a small continent, but I don't believe that. I lay there thinking, what must it be like to have a man fuck you so beautifully, that you would give him anything? Anything he hadn't already had, anyway. I fantasised about Bator, and his handsome, strong face, and that incredible body. What would it be like if he were here, right now, watching me wanking, knowing that I was thinking of him? I lay down my pen, and slipped my writing hand into its more pleasurable station between my legs. Raising my rump in the air, I started to frig my clit, and think about Bator's tongue on my pussy. I was pretty sure that it had been him who had come to my cell the second time, and I remembered what it had felt like to have his mouth on me. That made it a two hand fantasy. I started heating up even more. Sweat slid off my face and back. I felt a small pool of perspiration in the small of my back, but that was by no means the wettest part of my body. My cunt was flowing freely, my fingers becoming slick with my musky oils. In my mind, Bator was begging me to suck his throbbing cock, and I was moving towards him, hungry to oblige. I frigged myself a little harder, feeling that wave of excitement building up inside me once more. This time, I was determined not to stop until I had taken this ride to the finish. But, thenÉ You know they say wanking makes you go blind? Well, for me, it did. Well, to be more precise, I suddenly found that my scarf had fallen over my eyes. I started to move my hands to push it back, when I was pressed down by a great weight. It didn't land with any great force, but it pressed me down into my pile of heaped rugs so that I couldn't move. My arms were caught under my belly, and my open legs were left kicking helplessly. Two hands nimbly tied the scarf even more tightly across my eyes, I knew what was happening, I guess, but it needed a voice to confirm to me that that great weight was a man. It was husky with need, and all it said was "PleaseÉ" and "I'm sorryÉ", but it froze me to the spot. I was pretty defenceless anyway, but I didn't scream, I didn't try to struggle. I think you can safely say that I was held fast as much by curiosity as through the strength and weight of my assailant. Someone had crept up on me, had pulled my scarf down over my eyes and knotted it in place, and had pressed his bulk down on my back all in one fluid movement. Who could it be? Tumescence? Impossible. This kind of proximity to my body would have reduced him to a wheezing shell. Grope? Maybe Ð it was his style to prey on a helpless girl. My hands quickly discovered that this wasn't Grope. My fingers were still outstretched beneath my puss, and they had just come into contact with a long cylinder of flesh that in no way resembled Grope's small organ. It had a bulbous head that felt the size of an apple, and a long column of hot, rigid flesh that stretched towards my gaping, sodden vagina. I felt strong legs shuffle, seeking the right position, and then the head of that slick cock was nudging against the outer lips of my cunt. My labia, slick with sweat and cunt-juices, slipped open greedily around the intruder, distending wider and wider as he pressed forward. I was holding my breath, unable to move, perhaps frightened that my fantasy had become a sleeping dream, and that I would wake up if I did anything to break the spell. I'm sure you'll sympathise with me Ð I didn't want to do anything that might frustrate my finally being shown what all the fuss was about. The man moved again, and a fraction more of his cock slid inside me, only for him to touch an obstruction. He froze for a moment. "You're a virgin!" he gasped. "I'm sorryÉ I Ð I didn't knowÉ" And then he started to withdraw. I've never felt so afraid in all my life. I should have been frightened of my mysterious assailant, I know, and I'm the last person to excuse rape, but in that moment, I knew that this couldn't go on, I couldn't live another day in a state of ignorance. Besides, it seemed incredible to me that my assailant thought I was an old brass bed (I'm afraid I still hand't sorted out just what virginity was). My instincts were racing far ahead for my head. I cried out "No!", and then bucked my hips up and back with all the strength I could muster. There was a stabbing pain, a moment of feeling that something alien was pushing through the flesh and bones of my body, but then the column of flesh was sheathed inside me. The man gasped, and all the breath was driven from my body likewise. He withdrew again, but only partially this time. As he pushed forward again, I tried to match the pace of his thrust, pushing back to meet it. He went even deeper this time, although I could still felt more of him outside than in. My body was unused to having to stretch like this. My back and buttocks moulded to his torso as if we were both made of wet clay. I opened my legs as wide as they would go, and rocked as far as I could on my belly and knees, arching my back up as he pulled back, thrusting back with my ass as he pushed in. Each time, my inexperienced puss accepted a little more of him. At last, I could feel his balls with the tips of my fingers as he drilled into me. I wanted to take him all, but I was not supple enough. Even so, what I had felt like a fence post. He started pumping harder and faster, and I felt a tingle start somewhere down in the joints of my toes, making them curl tightly. My pussy was liquid, the flesh somehow insubstantial and hypersensitive at the same time. I felt the man's hand grip my shoulder, forcing me to take another minute part of him inside me on the next thrust. I wanted it all. I wanted it all even if it came out through my skull. I wanted the moment to last forever. The tingle became an earthquake. My feet drummed against the floor. I stretched my fingers to try and curl them around the hard, fat balls I had discovered. I felt my bones crack, and I didn't care because I was about to catch fire. My assailant was pumping furiously, his hard belly slapping against my buttocks, and I lost all control. I wailed, and as I did so, the man went rigid on top of me and came. The first spasm of that massive cock inside my pussy drove me even further into madness, and I screamed loudly. Globs of something cooling and slippery were being spewed into my body, and the man pumped nine or ten times more, slowing the pace, stroking my body at an urgent, sensuous pace as he emptied those mighty balls into my cunt. I came through the top of my first orgasm at the same moment as my lover spunked deep inside me. Every nerve I possessed sang an instinctive, appreciative song to my brain as if to say "that's what the point of fucking is, you silly bitch." It felt absolutely divine. Who needs gods and golden showers, I thought. After a moment in which his rigid body relaxed, falling across mine, my lover rose quickly to his feet. I heard him scamper away, and I quickly sat up, and tried to pull away the scarf, so that I could see who it was. My hands, though, having been trapped under my body for so long, had developed pins and needles, and I couldn't unfasten the knot until the stinging of my returning circulation had passed. By the time I could see again, the man was long gone. *** That night, I ate a simple meal with Tumescence, and we talked idly about the progress of the book. He seemed quite pleased with what I was achieving. I hadn't mentioned my ravishment to him thus far, though it was the foremost thing on my mind. My master realised that wasn't entirely myself, and tried to bring me out of it. "Bator sent over the first of the illustrations, today. Would you like to see?" My heart quickened momentarily at the name of the handsome artist. Something private inside of me harboured the hope that he had been my first lover. Now, it appeared, it was only some messenger Bator had sent with the drawings. It was a crushing disappointment. "Why didn't he come himself?" I asked, clinging to that slight hope. "Bator never leaves the palace alone," my master explained. "He is involved with Princess Deepthroat, a very jealous woman. She worries when he strays to far from her side. If they come here, they'll come together." I nodded, aware that this undoubtedly ruled Bator out of contention. I had seen Bator with the woman I now knew to be the Princess on at least two occasions, and the image of her beauty was implanted deeply in my mind. She was everything I every imagined a princess to be; delicate in size, yet exquisitely female, curving in all the right places. And that hair! Almost a yard and a half of lustrous, blue-black hair, falling from her crown to her knees. She was stunning. I knew my own worth, and I knew men would always drool over my huge tits, but what man would be bothered with a servant when he could fuck a Princess? But, Bator had shown some interest in me, hadn't he? Assuming he was the man who had sucked my pussy so sensuously while I lay dreaming in my cell above the Temple? "Master, when I escaped from Grope's prison the second time, did you send Bator to look for me again?" "No, there wasn't time," he answered. "I spoke only to Charity and Angelica." My heart sank. So much for fantasy Ð my illusions were shattered. Some minion of Grope's had tongued my clitty, now another lackey had fucked me. And I wouldn't be able to recognise either of them! Bastards! Tumescence left the table, and went to fetch a small leather case, in which were rolled several sheets of fine vellum. He placed the case on the table, then stepped back. "I'm told they are very fine," he continued, "though I haven't been able to look at them myself, for obvious reasons." I understood entirely. Tumescence had read through my version of the story of The Rape of the Supine Women, and he had needed a day in bed to recover. While Tumescence busied himself with the dishes, I withdrew the rolled vellum from the case, and examined the pictures within. They were truly extraordinary Ð I gasped at the beauty of the work, which had brought my words to life. It was just as if Bator had read my mind. The Nordic maidens were there, the one sprawled unconscious on the floor, legs spread wide, her cunt gaping red, while her friend was bent double over a rock, with the troll going at her from behind with great zeal. His cock was a tribute to the artist's ability to portray large amounts of rock. Another drawing showed Clitopatra, with her full-lipped mouth pouting with pleasure as the yogurt in which she had bathed was licked clean by her maidservants. Several other tales were illustrated with mouth-watering clarity. "Is there a separate one there of Aphrodititty?" asked Tumescence. "It's for the cover." "What will it look like?" I asked in turn, sifting through the pile of illustrations. "It's apparently modelled on the Princess," my master responded. I sifted through the pile a little more aggressively. I found the illustration. It was a semi-classical adaption of the standard portrait, the one that shows Aphrodititty rising from the waves. Like any goddess, she preferred to swim in the nude, of course. I'm told that any court painter in one of the bigger kingdoms is judged on how he portrays this simple story. If enough of the court wank over the picture, then he is admitted to the Royal Academy. "Here." I held it back towards Tumescence. "I daren't look!" he wailed. "You look. Tell me what it's like." Irritably, I placed the sheet back on the table and took a long look. I almost fainted. Bator had put a lot of work into the illustration, which was delicately coloured. The Goddess of Love was in the approved classical pose, with her hands demurely failing to cover her breasts properly. Her skin was flawless, shining wet, glistening with jewelled light. Her eyes glistened, and her mouth parted. Her long limbs were shapely and firm. And, of course, there was a great swathe of hair falling around her shoulders, coiled about her flaring hips, glistening and radiant, just managing to fall far enough that her pussy was hidden. It was a beautiful picture, a tribute to love. Only it wasn't a picture of the Princess. Oh, superficially it was her, of course. A stunning beauty, with that sweep of midnight black hair (Aphrodititty is normally shown blonde, or light brunette). But I could see the discrepancies right away. As depicted, the goddess was a head taller than Deepthroat. The limbs looked just a fraction too sturdy. But the real giveaway were the tits. Deepthroat suffered no deficiency in that department, but the size of her boobs was exaggerated by the fact that they were worn on such a small frame. This picture showed a young woman whose jugs would have blessed a giantess. Was the artist using a little licence to flatter his beloved? I didn't think so. Even the hair was wrong. Deepthroat's hair had that slight hint of steely blue, it shone from within. Aphrodititty's hair was matte, a slash of jet black across the page. Any normal person wouldn't notice the difference, wouldn't remark on these small "errors." But I knew one person who would (one person other than meÉ), one person who would see it all, particularly if she, the portrait and the true model were all in the same place at the same time. "When will Bator be here?" I asked, a note of panic in my voice. Tumescence looked at me quizzically. "In the morning," he replied. "Is there a problem?" I shook my head vigorously. My mind raced. I knew I didn't dare be here in the morning when Bator and Deepthroat came to call. How was I supposed to get out of here, short of again allowing myself to be captured by Grope? Which reminded meÉ "How did your meeting with the Chamberlain go, master?" I inquired. Tumescence had spent a long time in the Palace that day, and had returned looking grumpy. He had locked himself into his room for a while, and his mood had scarcely improved much before dinner. In fact, if the drawings hadn't been delivered, I feared he would have remained ill-tempered all night. Hearing my question, he banged a few pots and plates, and then returned to the table. He sat as close to me as he had dared since I arrived. "I don't know what you've done to upset the Chamberlain, but he has taken a very close interest in you, Nina." Well, at least I knew what that was about. "He insists that it was inappropriate of me to hire you as my assistant personally; apparently, all staff have to be closely vetted by him." From what I knew of Grope, I expected that this "vetting" only extended to the female staff, but I kept the comment to myself. "He isn't happy at having a servant living outside the Palace tower." This conversation didn't appear to be heading in a direction I could feel happy with, and Tumescence must have noticed my alarm, for he reached out and patted me on the shoulder in a most fatherly fashion. And without aging several years too. Nina Part Three "So, what did you say?" I asked. Tumescence shrugged. "There wasn't much I could say. Grope threatened to take the matter before the King if I was obstinate. In such matters of protocol, I'm sure the King would be obliged to follow his Chamberlain's advice. What's more, Grope pointed out that the nature of the work I had employed you to complete was temporary. When the new Orgasmus is complete, what need would I have of a copyist?" This all sounded very negative. Was there going to be any good news? "However Ð" Aha! "Ð I did finally manage to interest Grope in a form of compromise. He agreed that you could stay as my assistant on two conditions. First, when the copying of the Orgasmus is complete, you are to commence training as a proper apprentice. I will teach you what I can about magic. And if, after a month, you show any aptitude at all for magic, then you will be able to stay with me permanently. "Second, during this month, you will have to live in the Palace, and spend part of your time at the Chamberlain's command. He will assign you to some kind of domestic duties." I was able to guess just what kind of duties those would be. "If you fail to make the grade as an apprentice wizard, you will be returned to Grope for employment within the palace itself." So, that was the deal. I gave it a little thought, and resigned myself to my fate almost immediately. What kind of magic was I going to be able to learn in a month? I had watched Tumescence at work Ð his kind of magic involved all kinds of foreign languages, archaic scripts, complicated formul¾ and intensive research. You needed learning to be a magician like Tumescence, and I had never been near school once in my life. Well, if you except games of Saddle Your Horsie on the playing fields with the boys, anywayÉ That meant that, in a month's time, I would be wholly at Grope's mercy. I tried imagining that I had misjudged the Chamberlain, that he was a thoroughly decent chap with a penchant for tit-fucks, but I didn't manage to convince myself. Life under Grope's orders wouldn't be fun, and it would certainly be no way for a girl to find her fortune. And in the meantime, I would have to sleep at the Palace, where it would be hard to evade the Chamberlain's attentions anyway. It rather appeared that my future had taken a wrong turn. "You can stay here tonight," Tumescence concluded, "but in the morning you'll have to report to Grope. We've agreed that you will work two days a week under his command, but that you will come here to copy for me the other five." He stood up, and moved away from the table, managing to avoid looking me, though not for the usual reason. "I'm sure things will work out for the best, Nina. The copying is going well. Perhaps the King will see fit to offer me a reward when he sees how well things have gone. I could ask him to assign you to me permanently. You just wait and see. In the morning, Bator and the Princess will be here, and we can have a word with her. I'm sure she'll be sympathetic." Tumescence sloped out of the room sheepishly, and I finished the job of clearing the table before retiring for the night. The last task I undertook was to replace the illustrations in their leather carrying case. I lingered once more over the portrait of Aphrodititty, and a small spark of hope flickered in my breast. *** The following morning, before the sun had risen, I slipped out of my room, went out the back way from Tumescence's laboratory, and back into the tower through the servant's entrance. I had scarcely been in the kitchen for a minute before Grope appeared. It was as if he was attuned to my presence. "Nina. You're early. How splendid." He leered at me, scratching his hooked nose. "Come this way." We left the kitchen, and began a long climb up the palace tower, though not, I was glad to notice, by the usual staircase. In fact, the staircase we used was quite well lit, and there were several other servant girls about, carrying bedding and towels back and forth between store cupboards and the bedrooms that we passed. After several minutes, we reached a door which Grope opened, beckoning me inside. I stepped in, and realised at once that we had not entered a proper chamber, but a small cabinet containing bed linen. Grope plucked at the sleeve of the cotton jacket I had slipped on. "It's time to change for your new labours, Nina," he sneered. He reached into a pile of satin sheets on the first shelf, and pulled out one of the skimpy white tunics that the staff wore. It appeared to be a size or two too small for me, even compared to the previous tunic I had worn. I nearly started to mention that I would barely be covered by the garment, but I realised at once that this was deliberate. I also realised that there was no point being coy about changing. Grope had brought me here with the deliberate intention of having me naked and at his mercy, so there was little point denying him his pleasures. I opened the ties on the jacket, and shrugged it from my shoulders. My torso was bare underneath, and I pulled my shoulders back so that my tits jutted forward, their stalks still stiff from their brief exposure to the cool morning air. While Grope ogled, I slipped off my harem pants and kicked my sandals away. Grope's gaze lingered on the trimness of my black pussy-bush, and on the cool flesh of my thighs. But when his eyes returned to my pink-tipped boobs, drool slithered from his lips. He was wearing another of his functional one-piece robes, a floor length creation in drab brown, belted at the waist. So far, he hadn't made a move to lift the hem, but I was sure it was only a matter of time. I bunched my breasts together with my upper arms, to offer Grope some encouragement, but he showed no signs of any impatience. He leaned on his slender black cane, and ate me up with those small, pale eyes, a slight smile crossing his narrow features. When he spoke, I almost jumped; it had been such a long and sinister pause. "You manage nudity very naturally," he mused. "Some women, they can be naked, but they still feel covered. It's as much to do with the eyes, I think, as the breasts or the legs. Some women look nervous, and that can be alluringÉ other women just look embarrassed or cagey, which certainly isn't. You, though, have that knack of managing to look exactly the same without your clothes on as you do dressed." This sounded like a rather threadbare theory to me, although I had to grant that the clothes in which Grope had seen my attired to date brought me as close to nudity as it was possible to be while dressed. "Tell me, Nina," he asked, in a slightly higher tone of voice. "Do you still have your virginity?" I wasn't going to answer at first, but realised that it was pointless to resist. "No, my mum's looking after it for meÉ" I replied, though I wasn't as sure in answering as I might have been before. I long since had left mum's old bed behind. "Put the tunic on," he commanded, grinning with an idiot's glee. I obeyed, stepping into the tiny garment, and wriggling it over my hips. The skirt barely covered me at all, riding up over my rump as I breathed, and I couldn't get the front fastened at all. Grope looked at the result, and I judged from the wider leer on his lips that he was pleased. He tapped a small stool with the end of his cane, and I picked it up. He then lifted his hand, and tapped the topmost shelf on my left. "Fetch me one of the towels from that shelf." I placed the stool on the floor, and climbed up. The shelf was very high, and I knew that it was going to be a stretch. I suppose I also knew that this exercise wasn't about fetching a towel. Holding a lower shelf with one hand, and stretching up on the toes of one foot, I reached out with my other hand towards the towel, straining to extend myself those last few inches. I almost fell when Grope seized me from behind, grabbing my buttocks in his bony paws, pulling them wide, and thrusting his hawkish face into the cleft of my bum. His eel-like tongue squirmed about all my intimate places, slurping at me like I was a dessert. I held onto the shelves, my balance in crisis, as he tongued my clit, and worked his lips along mine. Grope was not the most desirable of men, and I would not necessarily have entertained him in preference to a eunuch with acne, halitosis and boils, but he was clearly not unskilled in the art of cunnilingus. My clit betrayed me at once, emerging from its warm nest at the first touch, and basking happily in the sensations Grope stirred in me. My cunt began to leak over his chin, and I felt my knees weaken as all my blood rushed to my fanny. I almost slipped from my perch, but all that did was make me sit even more firmly on Grope's face, and I felt his tongue hit some secret spot deep inside me, and I started to cum. It wasn't the same kind of earth-shattering climax I had enjoyed on the Library floor; I didn't feel as though I was at the epicentre of an earthquake. But, shamelessly, wantonly, I wriggled my arse on Grope's face, and brought myself off, biting the knuckles of my free hand. I trembled in his hands, and he withdrew his tongue from my moist cunt. "You taste most sweet," he whispered. "I can see you have many more treasures than I first imagined." He continued stroking my fleshy buttocks with his hands. I gripped the shelves with both hands for support, and uttered a few small cries as my orgasm subsided. Grope chuckled. "You delicious little slut. How many men will you satisfy in your life, I wonder? How many will make you come so easily? I'll warrant you didn't draw so much pleasure from the priest, or even from Sister Charity!" My heart leapt in alarm. He knew! But how was that possible? How could he have known what I had done in the Temple? I wanted to question him, but Grope had already stepped back, and allowed me to step down from the stool. He held the door open, and we went out into the hall, and hurried along the passage towards another doorway. My mind was boiling with questions, but I kept my mind clamped shut. This surprising revelation would have to wait for examination. The surprises were not over for the day. We entered a medium-sized room, lit by only a few tallow candles. After the brightness of the chandelier-lit hallways, my eyes took a moment to adjust. I made out a bed, a small dressing table, some chests, and a bare floor of swept stone. Oh, yes. And a low bench over which was bent the trembling figure of a blonde woman. She was dressed like me, a servant girl. She had curly blonde hair, and a round, pretty face, which was a little red from crying. Grope ushered me in,and closed the door. "I see we have another problem with Virginia," said Grope. I couldn't make out how he was talking to for a moment, but then something moved on the bed. I peered into the gloom, and made out the shape of someone dressed in black, propped against the pillows. Incredibly, this person seemed to be even skinnier than the Chamberlain, if that were possible. She Ð something about the figure marked it out as being female, though I couldn't tell you what Ð was angular and sharp, with a shrunken face framed by lank dark hair. Her body was a narrow, featureless tube of skin and bones, and her limbs were sticks. But her eyes were sharp, and full of bright menace. And when she spoke, there was a clarity and depth to her voice that left me in no doubt that, compared to this woman, Grope was a pussycat (an unfortunate choice of words, bearing in mind what I had offered to do for him some time agoÉ). "She was caught in the furnace room, rutting. I had her brought here for judgment. Her accomplice is being Ð entertained Ð elsewhere." The girl whimpered, shifting her pert behind. Grope moved me from the door into a shaded part of the room beside a tall cupboard. I had an ample view of the proceedings, but could not interfere or escape. "Has she admitted her sin?" asked Grope, in a sinister echo of the words used by the scarlet-clad priest. "No. You know Virginia," the woman answered. "She is a slut, shameless in deed, but she protests her innocence like a maid, even when she has been discovered flaunting her lusts." The girl whined softly. The woman scowled at her, then turned back to the Chamberlain. "I waited for you." Grope advanced on the bench, his long robe swishing on the floor, his cane tapping. He touched the steel-clad end of the cane to the sole of the girl's foot. "So, Virginia, what have you to say for yourself this time, eh? Please don't waste my time denying your offences, for it will only make life harder for you. Tell us everything, and I shall be lenient." The girl turned her head slightly, shaking her blonde curls, and her tear-filled eyes pleaded with Grope. "Don't hurt me," she whimpered. Grope smirked. "I cannot promise that," he grinned, "You sins must be purged, and you and I know that you both deserve and desire punishment. If you deny your sins, the punishment will be severe, but if you tell us the whole story, I think you know me well enough to understand that there will be deliverance along with punishment. You know how much you desire absolution, child." His grin threatened to snap his face in two. What was that all about, I wondered. The girl dropped her head momentarily, sniffed away her tears, and gave one last small cry of despair. Then she threw back her hair, fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall ahead of her, and started to tell her tale. "Vulva, my young and most noble mistress, told me that she found her chambers to be too hot, so she sent me down to the furnace room to see what was amiss." I have never fully mastered the knowledge of central heating (though I have increased my knowledge of plumbing considerably), then or now, but I learned later that the Tower of the Magnificent Harrdon's palace was warmed by a network of pipes, which carried hot water from a boiler in some deep basement. There were several huge furnaces, fueled by coal and wood, tended by servants who rarely saw the outside world. Some were criminals (though crime was rare in Mammari), others just unfortunates plucked from the streets of the town and countryside. "I found my way down to the furnace rooms, and was directed to one of the chambers, in which there laboured a young man. He didn't see me as I approached, being much too involved in shovelling vast quantities of coal onto the blazing fire. The heat was tremendous Ð I could hardly breath Ð and sweat poured from his hard, male body. Every so often, he stopped to ladle a small amount of water across his head and back from a bucket. "I watched him for some while. I was fascinated by the way the red light of the fire sparkled on the droplets of water that covered his blackened flesh. He was strong, and his muscles flexed and strained with his labours. In the terrible heat, he had discarded all his clothes, save a small cloth which circled his hips, tied in a knot at the back. I watched him for a while longer, then stepped in. He did not notice me until he reached back for the ladle, and I passed it to him. "Our eyes met, and he looked at me with something close to anger. He poured the water slowly over his gleaming head, which had been shaved close. All the while, his green eyes never once strayed from mine. Water cascaded from his head, dribbling off his nose and chin, dripping onto his powerful torso. I can't explain why I did what I did, but I was possessed with a dark need for him, and I leaned forward to lick a drop of water from his nipple. "He didn't move. Emboldened, I licked his chest, sometimes tasting the brackish water from the bucket, but most often the salty sweat from his body. I nibbled at his taut flesh, and ran my hands over his arms. Then I reached behind him, and unfastened the knot in the square of cloth he wore, and let it fall. His penis was already erect, and it hung there, jutting out from the wild forest of his body hair. He had shaved every other part of his body, but his groin was a thick mat of black hair, coiled close around his throbbing organ. "I sucked it, as he knew I must, and as I knew he wanted. Still he didn't move. I drew him deep into my mouth, and feasted on the black meat. He tasted of sweat and heat. I would have been happy to suck on him for hours, but after no more than a few moments, he lifted me up. I was just a doll in his hands. My feet were a foot or more above the floor, my head just above his. He held me thus for a moment, and then bit my breasts hungrily through my tunic. "The pain was sharp, but exquisite. He was deliberate in his actions, slowly closing his mouth on different parts of my flesh, gripping firmly with his teeth. He played with me thus for a few moments. Then, while I was helpless in his grip, he shredded my dress with his teeth, gripping the edge and tearing off strips of cloth like a hound. In not time at all, my breasts were bare. He took my nipples in his mouth, and sucked on them until they were stiff, nibbling the tender skin of my aureolae. He licked all over my tits, including where the marks of his teeth could still be seen. "Carrying me easily, he moved back from the furnace, to rest his back against a wall. He shifted his grip, lifting me higher, until my legs straddled his face. My short tunic was no obstacle to him, nor was I wearing any underwear. He lowered my cunt onto his face, and commenced devouring my pussy, gobbling at my tender flesh, lapping at my labia and my vagina, drinking in my juices. His tongue drilled deep into my pussy, and I placed my hands on his bald head to steady myself as I felt my body grow hotter than the furnace. In no time at all, I was cumming. Until that moment, neither of us had spoken a word, but when my mysterious lover wriggled his tongue deep in my cunt, I cried out, urging him to go deeper and harder. "When my spend was over, he lowered me gently to the floor. My body rubbed along his, and I felt his penis touch my legs, and rub against my mound as I descended. "He lay on the ground, and urged me to sit astride him. By now, I was ready to fuck, but my silent lover was not yet sated with the taste of my juices, and motioned me to place my pussy once more to his mouth. Sitting on him thus, I lay forward along the hard length of his stomach, and took his cock into my mouth. He was very hard, and I felt the tightness of his balls with my fingers, but even though I did all I could to bring him pleasure Ð taking his cock deep in my throat, and letting my tongue dance all over his shaft and balls Ð I did not bring him off. Instead, driven to madness by the light touch of his tongue on my cunt, it was I who came again. Judging the moment perfectly, knowing that I was on the precipice, he slid his forefinger deep into my anus, and I howled with pleasure and release. "Before I could recover, he moved me from his lips, I turned round so that I might straddle his hips and accept his penis into my hungry pussy. I lowered myself onto him, and took his cock easily inside me, for I was soaking and wide open. I was so breathless, I could hardly move, but then I was so firmly embedded on his throbbing cock that I only had to twitch my hips to bring us both pleasure. Just a few small movements, and we were both rushing towards a final crescendo. I have never been brought to a third climax so rapidly, and I was close to losing control. However, I was not so foolish as to allow him to flood my cunny with spunk. Since I have been my lady's servant, I have had no male companion, and I had not taken the contraceptive Tumescence brews for all the women of the Palace for some time. "I stopped my delicate movements for a brief moment, and lifted my hips from his. It took but a moment to shuffle forward a fraction, and then to descend so that he was sheathed even more tightly. My arse was as wet as my cunt, lubricated with spit, sweat and my cum, and I took him fully. He held my hips, and pumped me up and down on his marvellous cock, and I came a fourth and final time as he lifted his hips from the ground, driving his penis deep into my guts, spewing his seed out for what seemed like a full minute." Nina Part Three The girl paused in her narrative, trembling slightly. I had trembled myself once or twice, and had come close to touching myself between my legs. The girl lowered her head once more, her voice descending to a whisper. "And that is how we were discovered, with his cock softening in my anus, and our lips locked in a passionate kiss." The room fell silent. I was aware of the burning itch in my cunt, and glanced quickly at Grope and the strange, angular woman to see what their reaction was. Grope, of course, looked slack-mouthed, and was drooling slightly. The woman, however, had twisted her narrow mouth into a sneer of deep disgust. "Trollop," she spat. The atmosphere within the room dropped several degrees. "You would rut with the animals in the fields if you had no other choice. It has been barely a week since your last punishment, when you and three other maids were found fucking each other with candles. Now here you are again, fucking with a man who is even lower in station than you, if that were possible. Do you know who that man was? His name is Condom the Barbarian, a renegade from some backward kingdom, who was captured years ago. He has been shut up in the basement for all that time, never having seen a woman. And now, here you are, sent down by your mistress to perform a simple duty, sniffing at his crotch, opening your sluttish thighs. What kind of way is that to behave?" I thought Virginia had done the Palace a favour. If Condom had been left so frustrated that he kept stoking the fires like he had been, the whole place could have burned down. Grope had advanced a step. "How many was it last time, Virginia?" He flexed the cane. "Ten, master," she whimpered, head to the floor, arse raised high. "This time it shall be twelve." With no other ceremony, he brought the cane down on her rump with a hearty thwack. I yelped almost as loudly as she did. The blow was not so hard, but it striped Virginia's flesh across he buttocks. It was followed by three or four more such strokes. After each, Grope allowed the cane to linger on Virginia's ass. She took her punishment bravely, more bravely than I would have, I think. In fact, as I watched her wriggle her cute little fanny, and rub herself against the cane where it lingered, she seemed to be almost enjoying herself. It occurred to me that as a method of restraining Virginia's wanton desires, caning her ass was as productive as throwing oil on a fire. I took my eyes away from Grope and Virginia, to look once more at the withered creature in the bed. She was grinning toothsomely, her knowing eyes glittering. After the eighth stroke, she barked out a command Ð "Harder!!" Ð and Grope landed a more punishing blow on Virginia's backside. The harridan cried out again Ð "HARDER!!" Ð and Grope swung mightily. Virginia gave out a loud wail, and begged for mercy, but the crone was not yet satisfied. "AGAIN!!" she yelled, and "AGAIN!!" The last two strokes were delivered, and Virginia lay sobbing across the bench while Grope mopped sweat from his brow. "Take her out. I shall speak with this other whore." Grope hesitated for a moment, then picked Virginia up by the shoulders, and led her out through the door. As it closed behind them, I swear the temperature dropped two or three degrees. "Come closer," barked the woman, and I obeyed at once. "You are Nina?" she asked, and I nodded in what I hoped was a deeply respectful fashion. "Your mother owns the Humped Back Beast Inn?" I nodded again. "What are you doing here in the Palace of his Majesty, the Irresistible Harrdon?" I told her my story, editing it a great deal. I was pretty sure she wouldn't want to how I had enticed Tumescence to bring me here, let alone my reasons for doing so. I also managed to skimp over my encounter with Titania, my escapades in the Temple and the cell above, and my ravishment by person unknown in the Library. In particular, I chose to leave out the various ways in which I had entertained Grope. All told, my story took about eight seconds. The skeleton in the bed listened intently, without interruption. She grimaced once or twice, which made my buttocks blush and my heart skip a beat, but I was pretty sure I hadn't incriminated myself by the time I had completed my account. Grope returned to the room just before I finished, crossing to the bedside to pour the woman a glass of water, which he held to her lips for her to drink. "Have you told her that she must come to live here in the Palace?", the woman asked. Grope nodded. "The arrangement has been explained to her." "It is for your own good, child. Here, you can be kept under our guidance and supervision. We can ensure your moral and physical well-being." Grope leered at me. I had no doubt what guidance he would provide, but I still had no idea who this ghostly woman was. "In the meantime," she continued. "You can provide us with some assistance. Our duties are many, and very onerous. I have seen the Chamberlain look quite exhausted after a day instructing some new maid Ð" I didn't doubt it Ð "and there is so much that we must keep our eye on. So much that we must guard against." By now, I expect my quizzical expression had frozen in place. The woman peered at me with her sharp eyes, and sighed. "I'm talking about sin, girl! Sin!! Have you not seen what goes on around you? Debauchery, licentiousness, perversion. The palace is awash with carnality and sin. Do you pretend to be ignorant of it? Do you pretend that you are innocent of it yourself?" I didn't think that I could, in all honesty, so I tried hard to look contrite. With Grope there, his face in a rictus of pleasure from observing my predicament, it wasn't easy to hold myself back from blurting out just what I had seen and done, but I still felt that I wasn't aware of exactly what was going on. "No, of course not. I'm sure you have enjoyed as many sexual escapades as the rest of the sluts and wantons in the Palace." Grope made a small clicking sound with his cane. "Actually, my dear," he interjected with a deranged grin on his face, "the girl insists she has left her virginity in her mother's safe keeping." The harridan's brow furrowed quizzically, but she didn't seek an explanation. "Whatever. In this place, I'm sure the child has given in to all kinds of lewd temptations. But we control you now, and we shall use your appetites in our own way." I felt a terrible panic for a moment, and tried to usher the notion out of my head of being the meat in a sandwich in which Grope and the ghost were the bread. Fortunately, this wasn't my fate, though I wasn't sure of this for a few moments yet. "If you place yourself in our hands, your sins will be forgiven. Even your most wicked deeds will be absolved if they are done in our service. Will you obey our commands, Nina?" She peered at me with her hawkish eyes. I tried to give a slight nod, hoping that this would be taken for a commitment now that I could deny later. "Good," she whispered. "I think we understand each other very well. You will find that our authority runs a great deal deeper than that of Tumescence, and that you will profit from our patronage." She turned to Grope at that moment, and I found myself breathing out for the first time in several seconds. I can't pretend that I understood a word the old witch was talking about, but I do know that I was terrified of her. She whispered something to Grope, and he nodded. Snapping his fingers to attract my attention, he marched briskly to the door and opened it. We left the skeleton alone, as white as the stiff sheets on which she lay. Those piercing eyes had closed at last. We stopped in the hallway, Grope amusing himself at my expense, knowing that I was desperate to know who the cadaver was. Finally, I broke down (another small victory to him!) and asked. "Why, Nina," he giggled. "Can't you guess? That is the Lady Frigina, who is the senior tutor to the palace's youngsters. She is the driving force behind the new wave of morality and propriety which will sweep this foul tower clear of all its vices, ushering in a new ear of decency and wholesomeness. And she is also my wife." You could have bowled me over with a feather, which I'm sure was Grope's intent. We walked along the corridor, then climbed a stairway Ð me ahead, Grope behind, his breath hot on my behind, which reminded me that whatever he professed in word, the Chamberlain was a less than fervent supporter of his wife's aims in deed. From what I had seen, his ambitions were a great deal less lofty than his spouse's. We climbed the steep steps for what seemed like and hour, and both of us were pretty breathless by the time we reached our destination. Through an archway, he passed into a broad, curving hall lit by bright chandeliers. "Do you know where you are, girl?" asked Grope. I had no idea. "This hall is the most private part of the palace. Those doors over there lead into the bedchamber of the King's uncle, Grand Duke Onan." We walked on, along thick carpet, passing more doors, and Grope chose a few to point out, mentioning the names of dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses, all related to the Magnificent Harrdon in some degree. The further we walked, the more important the occupant. Finally, we reached the end of the hall. A pair of huge doors sealed off the end of the hall, flanked by two guards of enormous stature, dressed in the uniforms of the King's Mustgethers Ð that is, not very much. Their weapons drooped somewhat, but their eyes betrayed an alert air, and as I came closed at Grope's side, they both stiffened noticeably. Such a potent display made me feel quite giddy. "Now do you know where you are? Those men are guarding the chambers of our sovereign lord, King Harrdon!" I was impressed. I hadn't been able to take my eyes of the guards since we had first sighted them. I didn't know how the King felt, but I felt very much better knowing that these stout heroes were around. There were other doors to either side of the hall. Grope flickered his finger towards the door on the outer wall. "Those are the chambers of the Princess Deepthroat." My heart jumped into my mouth Ð the very person I had wanted to avoid, and here I was outside her bedroom door! For one terrible moment, I wondered if Grope knew that secret of mine as well. Instead, he lead me towards the inner doors. "And these doors," he said in a low voice, "lead to the suite of the young prince, Glans." He put his finger to his lips, turned the handle and pressed open the door with a slight shove. We stepped inside. The first room was in darkness, but I could see it was some kind of sitting room, filled with all kinds of useless clutter. There were toy soldiers, games, curious keepsakes and various items of clothing strewn over the furniture. Grope moved across the room with unusual, silent grace towards an inner doorway, through which spilled a little muted light. I could hear a voice, a young male's, talking in a somewhat anguished manner. Grope grinned, and beckoned me closer to the door. As I crept closer to take a look, Grope whispered into my ear. "Now that he is 14, the Prince is accustomed to wake each morning with a small problem. Well, that is to say, a large problem. Whatever else he may inherit from his father, young Prince Glans has not missed out on the family propensity to produce larger than average males. Take a look." Grope positioned me ahead of him, and pushed me forward. Cautiously, I leant forward, resting my hand on a small stool by the open doorway, and peered around the corner of the door frame into the adjoining room. The bedroom had that same dishevelled look that the outer chamber of the suite wore. More strewn clothing, more toys and books. A large rocking horse stood in the corner. The room, though, was dominated by a central well, which was filled with deep cushions and rugs. In the centre, completely naked, there was a young male, who reminded me very much of Pork in many ways. Well, of course, he looked very much taller, and cleaner, and his hair didn't have goat's dung for gel, and his teeth were white instead of green, but I still saw an instant likeness between them. I suppose it must have been the erection that did it. Prince Glans was a fair, open-faced boy, with a smooth, pale body only partially downed with hair. He had a little fat on him, but there was also sign of a wiry, stealthy strength in his limbs and torso. He had large feet, I noticed, and big, bony hands. In less charitable mood, I might also have mentioned that he had rather large ears, but let's not be mealy-mouthed. He had lovely clear blue eyes, and an unruly mop of dark hair, and I was sure the young women at the court found him very fair to behold. Me, I couldn't get past the fact that he had a tadger the size of an elephant. His right hand gripped his bald organ, stroking it slowly. Even though he had big paws, Glans barely managed to curl his fingers round his big, thick staff. Moving his fist slowly up and down, he was gradually turning it from a stiff, but still pliant tube of white flesh, into a hot, rigid branch, crowned by a thick, bulbous helmet which looked like a pale, juicy plum. I watched the boy's cock swell a little more, and found myself wondering just how far it might go, and what it might do when it got there. From where I stood, I could also see that the Prince had huge balls, which lay across his thigh as he stretched out on his back across his bed. I know the effect was exaggerated because the equipment was hung on a young man, and because there was no pubic hair to camouflage his pole, but Ð believe me Ð Prince Glans was very well hung indeed. With his free hand, the Prince was sifting through a pile of loose leaved paper, and I observed that they contained pictures of some scantily-clad young women who seemed most concerned to allow the viewer to see into their throats even when they had their mouths closed. Every now and then, he would find a picture that particularly took his fancy, and would hold it up to the light, quickening his wanking as he whimpered pleading noises to the picture. I was about to turn and ask Grope what this voyeurism was supposed to achieve when I felt his hands on my thigh, lifting me so that my knee rested on the stool, and I was bent forward. I choked off a cry of alarm, and tried to straighten up, but I was off-balance and Grope was too quick. His hands transferred to my hips, having slid my skirt up past my waist in the same movement. His thumbs pulled my thighs apart, and I felt his cool, slender cock slipping across my skin. I staggered a little, which only opened my legs more completely, and Grope pushed forward and stuck his rod into my quim. I'm afraid to confess that the sight of the young Prince in anger had caused me to leak like a sieve, and Grope's tiny cock went up me easily, to his obvious enjoyment. Any attempt to disentangle myself at this point would surely have alerted the young Prince to our presence, and I didn't have the courage for that. So, I settled into the steady rhythm of Grope's stroke, trying to make myself as comfortable as I could with my ravishment. To dispel the mental image of the Chamberlain beavering away behind me, I concentrated on watching the Prince. He hadn't been disturbed in any way, and was rubbing his cock in that same steady fashion, whimpering as he lifted page after page of drawings from the pile at his side, to gaze upon them with loving attention. Grope's tempo increased, and there was a nasty moment when his belly slapped against my buttocks. I dared not breathe, wondering if the Prince had heard us, but all was well Ð he was much too engrossed in his private dreams. Grope Ð who had not hesitated for a moment Ð shivered at my back, and then withdrew his cock. I felt cum trickling down my leg. Grope chuckled, and I heard him adjust his clothing. He had clearly enjoyed himself, even though I hadn't been so much as warmed up. "I'm sure that give you quite a thrill," he hissed into my ear, proving what a powerful insight he had into a woman's needs. I turned back to face him and smiled weakly. "The Prince is magnificently endowed, is he not? Every morning he wakes like this, but it often takes him over an hour to achieve relief. Guilt, you see. He thinks that what he is doing is wrong. My dear wife has seen to it that he understands a great deal about the nature of sin, and what perversion will lead to. It hasn't stopped him wanking, of course, but it has made sure he doesn't enjoy it." What a cruel and callous punishment! No wonder the boy looked so anguished. Well, I thought, if I had anything to do with his future, I'd soon see to it that he understood that there could never be anything wrong in enjoying himself with such a fine cock. Grope seemed to have read my mind. He picked up a pile of sheets and towels from a dresser, and deposited them in my hands. His face had taken on the stern, vile expression I already knew so well. He took me by the arms, and gripped me tightly while he spat out his orders. "Listen well, Nina. It is a necessary part of our plans that the boy be in our power. You are going to help us. I want you to go in there, and help the young Prince relieve his morning agony." My eyes must have betrayed my alarm. "You will do as you are told. Seduce the boy, or it will be the worse for you. We want the boy to become attached to you; we control you, and through your body we shall control him." He grinned, apparently imagining the scene in his mind. "Don't think you can deceive us, Nina, for I shall be watching. Refuse to obey my commands, and you will be severely punished." "Just what is it you want me to do?" I asked. Grope giggled. "You're a maid, aren't you? Go in there and change the sheets. Tidy up. Pick a few things off the floor. And, while you do that, make sure the Prince has a full view of your lovely assets. And then, if you feel you can be so bold, take the matter in hand, so to speak." I felt a flush of anger. My voice almost became too loud as I replied. "I thought you and Frigina were opposed to all such Ôvices'." Grope sneered. "And so we are, but the tools of sin are the best weapons to use against the sinful. Until we can more openly enforce our will, we shall have to employ any means at our disposal. Even when they are little sluts like you. Now go! And remember, I shall be watching!" It seemed that I had no choice. I tried to come up with a cunning plan to turn everything around, but it was hopeless. Better to make the best of the situation. After all, it would be me the Prince would be thankful to, not Grope. I composed myself, and then, turning away from the Chamberlain with as much dignity as a girl can with a spunk-stained arse, I slipped into the Prince's bedroom. *** As I walked into his room, the Prince sat up with a wild yelp, trying to cover himself, throw the drawings to the floor and sit up at the same time. It was only partially successful, and I was treated to a nice close up of his hard organ. I had tried to make my arrival seem quite natural and ordinary by singing a few lines of a song, like any working girl might do as she went about her duties, but he hadn't heard me. "Who are you?" he cried, in a slightly roughened voice. "What are you doing in here?" I tried to jump, as if I were startled, and whirled round to face the Prince. It did cross my mind that this act was all a little flimsier than my costume, but I hoped the Prince would be too flustered to notice. From this more suitable viewing position (and without the distraction of Grope burrowing around in my fanny), I was able to take a better look at the young Prince. When I had seen him at the meal previously (for it was the same youth who had been seated at the long table who was now before me), I had thought he looked rather plain. In fact, he was almost handsome, in a slightly awkward kind of way, and he had a bewildered look about him that brought out the mother in me Ð the fact that I couldn't see his gleaming cock any more made me forget that the face of a lost angel was mounted on the body of a stallion. Of course, if I had been his mum I would have slapped him silly for spending his time in bed wanking over pornographic pictures.