If the stocks hadn't been holding Raven's head and arms in place she would have fallen to the ground. She was bruised and bloody and breathing hurt almost as much as standing. Raven didn't know where she ended and where Horatio Baccus's submissive victim began but she knew the latter was nothing she had ever imagined becoming but could not imagine going back to who she was before. How could she, never mind all the other frightening things she had found pleasure in since meeting this man, her master, how could she back after what had happened to her tonight. He wasn't done yet either.
He circled her, his olive skin and dark eyes looking over her form. The buckskin loin cloth at her waist was askew and the long black braids that had been adorned with beads and feathers as they had watched the parade that morning were now half unraveled from being grabbed and pulled while she was fucked. Her arms, trembling from the stress of being in one position so long, were covered in whelps still bandaged by the candle wax that had created them. Her face itched from the dried cum and her stomach churned restlessly having been given nothing to ingest but live semen for hours on end. Her head swam from fatigue and blood loss and still those wide wild eyes told her she was not yet done.
He had called her over and handed her costume. When she had put on the rough leather loin cloth and bikini top and the various hair accessories she knew she was in for a little erotic role play but expected it to be more playful, not a literal inquisition. Hanging there now she felt silly to have ever expected the almost normal morning of them sitting and watching the parade to last. He had almost looked humorous in his long black wool ministers coat, buckled shoes, and powder wig. There was no humor to it when the last float had gone by and they headed into his room where she was greeted to the sight of the worn wooden stocks. And now wearing only coat and the wig slightly askew she felt nothing but fear and shameful desire at what he might demand of her next. She obeyed because that was her place; she endured because that was her pleasure. Raven was a sub and loved every degraded second.
"Dear Lord we ask you to forgive this savage harlot for her lifetime of heathen sacrament and primitive rituals. In light of her penance paid this day oh lord we ask that you offer her your grace and mercy so that she might find herself a child of the Lord. And now let the penitent child speak her gratitude for her many acts of attrition this day. Speak to the Lord child, give thanks for those acts which have brought you closer to his infinite mercy."
Raven took a deep shuddering breath. Would this be last indignity of the night?
