totally_evil
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This story is only intended to be a framework for the imagination so isn't as detailed as some of my others.
The Wedding Night
Back in the time when women were goods to be sold into marriage a fearful man was standing in front of the altar, his bride forced next to him, and held in place by duty. The ceremony was as normal, with a few omissions, such as his vow to care for her.
That night he dragged his young bride to his bedroom, where four slaves were waiting. Although she was struggling, she was thrown easily to the bed where the slaves forced her spread eagle and hung onto her wrists and ankles. The girl struggled, even though she fully expected to be raped as custom dictated. When she gave up thrashing around her husband was looming over the end of the bed, a wicked knife in his hand.
She flinched against the expected cold touch of steel as her dress was cut from her, but it never came. Instead she felt tugging as her shoe strings where cut then tugged free of her feet. A terrible smile lit the man’s face as he noticed the stockings. “This is one thing the village girls never have on them.” The knife was laid reverently on the bed before his fingers massaged her foot, talons suddenly formed as his fingernails flicked up her instep; ripping the stockings slightly as the girl threw back her head with a scream of laughter before gasping in breath, her struggles being renewed fivefold.
His fingers scrabbled and scraped, ripping her stockings at almost every stroke with the violence of the movements, until her stockings were ripped apart on that foot. She had lapsed into giggling constantly, being given long enough between strokes to gasp in a few breaths and suffer the aftershock giggles, and the slaves time to re-adjust their holds after the repeated attempts to curl up into a ball. Finally his fingers touch the underside of her toes and she screams, her whole body going taut as her back arches.
The husband seemingly ignores the incredible reaction he got from a small sweep of her toes, and starts the process on the other foot. Again he does one sweep of the toes after the stockings are completely ripped apart, and again seems to ignore her reaction.
The new bride stiffens as his fingers drift up her calves. She’s trying not to quake at his touch and let him know how scared of him she really is. He reaches her knees, by this point rucking up her dress, seemingly intent on his journey up her legs. The moment she yelps from his fingers passing over a ticklish spot on her lower thighs the steady march halts and his fingers run over that spot, making his victim giggle violently, right on the edge of laughter.
A darting attack spreads his hands just above her knees and he starts squeezing fast, forcing laughter out of his wife and throwing her head back, a look of agony etched on her features. The hands jump to the top of her thighs and the laughter echoes round the chamber louder until it suddenly drops into silence as her whole body shakes uncontrollably.
The large hands moved upwards again but are forced to stop by the base of her bodice. He withdraws immediately and climbs off the bed, taking his knife with him. “Stand her up!” he barks to the slaves and they rush to comply, two of them holding her in place as she struggles against them again. “Get the wench undressed!” was the next order, making the slaves fumble at the laces, but obviously not quick enough for the beast.
Finally the cold blade slipped against her flesh as the front of the corset was forcefully ripped open, the knife ripping through the layers of fabric shielding her vulnerable flesh from him. She glances down as the garment drops to the floor, realising that she is untouched, although now having her under dress ripped off. Even her stockings were cut off her body, so impatient was the husband to have her.
She was pushed to the bed once more, but this time no slaves held her down. As she tried to get onto her front and scramble for the door the slaves were leaving by a heavy weight landed on her back, knocking her down to the cover, before strong hands pulled her over onto her back and she looked up into the face of her tormentor. “Just me and you, wife, and it’s time to consummate this marriage.”
The hateful man was now topless, 5 parallel scratches were still fresh looking on one shoulder. He saw her staring at them. “The last bitch I took wasn’t too appreciative.” His full weight bore down on her waist as he straddled her, his fingers moving to her sides as she instinctively tried to buck him off. She let out a burst of laughter as his fingers lanced into her sides, doubling up to head butt his chest. A single hand wrapped around her neck pushing her back down and putting enough pressure on it to keep her where she was. One handed he explored each and every rib, gently circling and prodding to squeezing hard and fast. To every technique he tried a new and extremely arousing sound was produced; her face screwing up and looking horrified and pleading in turns, her hands frantically trying to bat his hands away from her, but not doing more than increasing his lust.
Finally he couldn’t wait any longer and got off her to take off his trousers, letting her up. He took his time; knowing his young bride couldn’t go anywhere. She just lay there, taking big breaths, but after a few breaths panic set in again and she rolled off the bed and ran to the door, frantically trying the handle before bashing it and screaming for help. She was moving towards the barred window as a heavy force hit her from behind, pushing her into the wall. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she felt like she was slit in two by the pressure between her legs.
He was so much taller than her that she was pushed up the wall, until only just on tip toes. The pressure of his body was overwhelming her until his fingers brushed against her sides, forcing a ragged gasp out of her before it turned into laughter once more. The laughter was totally different to before: much more despairing and deeper from the pain. Her fingers clutched at the wall, clenching involuntarily as she lost herself. She didn’t want to be the woman so she became the animal, but even though the woman was gone she still felt the pain and pressure and the ticklish agony.
After what seemed like eternity the weight on her back moved and the pressure diminished slightly. The woman slid to the floor, not having the strength or will to hold herself up.
The Wedding Night
Back in the time when women were goods to be sold into marriage a fearful man was standing in front of the altar, his bride forced next to him, and held in place by duty. The ceremony was as normal, with a few omissions, such as his vow to care for her.
That night he dragged his young bride to his bedroom, where four slaves were waiting. Although she was struggling, she was thrown easily to the bed where the slaves forced her spread eagle and hung onto her wrists and ankles. The girl struggled, even though she fully expected to be raped as custom dictated. When she gave up thrashing around her husband was looming over the end of the bed, a wicked knife in his hand.
She flinched against the expected cold touch of steel as her dress was cut from her, but it never came. Instead she felt tugging as her shoe strings where cut then tugged free of her feet. A terrible smile lit the man’s face as he noticed the stockings. “This is one thing the village girls never have on them.” The knife was laid reverently on the bed before his fingers massaged her foot, talons suddenly formed as his fingernails flicked up her instep; ripping the stockings slightly as the girl threw back her head with a scream of laughter before gasping in breath, her struggles being renewed fivefold.
His fingers scrabbled and scraped, ripping her stockings at almost every stroke with the violence of the movements, until her stockings were ripped apart on that foot. She had lapsed into giggling constantly, being given long enough between strokes to gasp in a few breaths and suffer the aftershock giggles, and the slaves time to re-adjust their holds after the repeated attempts to curl up into a ball. Finally his fingers touch the underside of her toes and she screams, her whole body going taut as her back arches.
The husband seemingly ignores the incredible reaction he got from a small sweep of her toes, and starts the process on the other foot. Again he does one sweep of the toes after the stockings are completely ripped apart, and again seems to ignore her reaction.
The new bride stiffens as his fingers drift up her calves. She’s trying not to quake at his touch and let him know how scared of him she really is. He reaches her knees, by this point rucking up her dress, seemingly intent on his journey up her legs. The moment she yelps from his fingers passing over a ticklish spot on her lower thighs the steady march halts and his fingers run over that spot, making his victim giggle violently, right on the edge of laughter.
A darting attack spreads his hands just above her knees and he starts squeezing fast, forcing laughter out of his wife and throwing her head back, a look of agony etched on her features. The hands jump to the top of her thighs and the laughter echoes round the chamber louder until it suddenly drops into silence as her whole body shakes uncontrollably.
The large hands moved upwards again but are forced to stop by the base of her bodice. He withdraws immediately and climbs off the bed, taking his knife with him. “Stand her up!” he barks to the slaves and they rush to comply, two of them holding her in place as she struggles against them again. “Get the wench undressed!” was the next order, making the slaves fumble at the laces, but obviously not quick enough for the beast.
Finally the cold blade slipped against her flesh as the front of the corset was forcefully ripped open, the knife ripping through the layers of fabric shielding her vulnerable flesh from him. She glances down as the garment drops to the floor, realising that she is untouched, although now having her under dress ripped off. Even her stockings were cut off her body, so impatient was the husband to have her.
She was pushed to the bed once more, but this time no slaves held her down. As she tried to get onto her front and scramble for the door the slaves were leaving by a heavy weight landed on her back, knocking her down to the cover, before strong hands pulled her over onto her back and she looked up into the face of her tormentor. “Just me and you, wife, and it’s time to consummate this marriage.”
The hateful man was now topless, 5 parallel scratches were still fresh looking on one shoulder. He saw her staring at them. “The last bitch I took wasn’t too appreciative.” His full weight bore down on her waist as he straddled her, his fingers moving to her sides as she instinctively tried to buck him off. She let out a burst of laughter as his fingers lanced into her sides, doubling up to head butt his chest. A single hand wrapped around her neck pushing her back down and putting enough pressure on it to keep her where she was. One handed he explored each and every rib, gently circling and prodding to squeezing hard and fast. To every technique he tried a new and extremely arousing sound was produced; her face screwing up and looking horrified and pleading in turns, her hands frantically trying to bat his hands away from her, but not doing more than increasing his lust.
Finally he couldn’t wait any longer and got off her to take off his trousers, letting her up. He took his time; knowing his young bride couldn’t go anywhere. She just lay there, taking big breaths, but after a few breaths panic set in again and she rolled off the bed and ran to the door, frantically trying the handle before bashing it and screaming for help. She was moving towards the barred window as a heavy force hit her from behind, pushing her into the wall. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she felt like she was slit in two by the pressure between her legs.
He was so much taller than her that she was pushed up the wall, until only just on tip toes. The pressure of his body was overwhelming her until his fingers brushed against her sides, forcing a ragged gasp out of her before it turned into laughter once more. The laughter was totally different to before: much more despairing and deeper from the pain. Her fingers clutched at the wall, clenching involuntarily as she lost herself. She didn’t want to be the woman so she became the animal, but even though the woman was gone she still felt the pain and pressure and the ticklish agony.
After what seemed like eternity the weight on her back moved and the pressure diminished slightly. The woman slid to the floor, not having the strength or will to hold herself up.
