The Salvation Of Laisha Pt 02

2. Stream

Laisha was now truly a prisoner. She had a gag in her mouth, something filling her throat and keeping her under tension. Her arms were tied behind her head while she lay on the thread bare mattress while her legs were spread, chained to the wall. Just through three simple binds and a gag, she was trapped and completely at the mercy of her captors. She had much less jewelry now, just three chains, but they still held her just as tightly. So tightly in fact that she could see the light down the hallway through the completely open door. She could see shadows pass down the way as people walked through the secret back halls of wherever she was currently held.

She leaned her head back and waited. She was waiting for a rape, it was what they did after dinner and sunset. Some drunk guard would wander in, feel her up, and then press himself into her, making sure to release into her as many times as he saw fit. She would orgasm too, feeling herself free from her bonds of luxury and mentality and finally legitimately feeling the bonds of her captivity. She could be as smart as she wanted to be here, it didn't matter what she wanted to say because she was gagged. She rested back into shoulders and tightened her moistened hips, wanting the ravage violation of these bastards. She closed her eyes and waited for the coming release.

She opened her eyes again as she heard approaching boots. Her breathing became tense again and her subtle breasts rose and fell in the darkness. She narrowed her eyes as the candle light came around the corner and some sober looking man in some sort of elegant robe. He was cute, younger, and fit, and his face held a gentle concern that Laisha hadn't seen. He set the candle down in the small holder and lit the oil lamp to diffuse light across the space. She could see more fully that he was of a darker complexion, southern most likely, but he also was wearing something elegant and with silver threads. She held her head back and thought of it. He was someone wealthy, someone devious, someone who had wanted her through normal channels and now had to resort to this. Whoever he was, she was reminded of her past. She looked at him and frowned, even as he took off his clothes and revealed his soldiers physique and taught muscles.

He disrobed completely, without any ceremony, unlike the drunks who simply got their cock out in between the folds of their pants, but she couldn't quite see the entirety of his body. From where she was and his crouching posture, she could only see his deep eyes watching her and his darkened hands grip her ankles. She hated him, his wealth, his cleanliness, even his neat clothes seemed to burn with the hatred of her old life. She was dirty, a creature of filth and shame now, he was a reminder of something that came before. She tried jerking away from him and he turned to her, his innocent eyes glowering with an intense, underlying fury.

"Fucking cunt..." He swore under his breath as he moved himself further onto her, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him. "Remember me Laisha? Remember me you fucking cow?" He whispered into her face as she was forced to watch him. She could hear the bustle of the city beyond the small windows at the top of her simplistic cell. Just another window amongst a city full of them, but it meant so much to her. She thought of all the whispers, all the hatred, all the malice, and then thought back to him. He hated her, the perfect Princess Laisha. She smiled under the gag and prepared for his hatred by spreading her legs for him.

"Looks like we'll have a little payback..." He said, aiming himself towards her and gripping one of her breasts violently. She huffed a few times from behind her gag as he pushed her open a little more. In the flickering shadow of the two lights, she could see his form, imposing, dangerous, and judgmental. His hand gripped her like a voracious mouth, pulling on her plump skin trying to make her uncomfortable for his pleasure. She enjoyed it too much not to moan, although she did make it sound like a whine. "Yeah...you're not fucking going anywhere." He continued to rant as he pulled on her and trailed his hands to her hips and positioned her better.

He was unwieldy, and forceful, pressing into her quickly and violently rather than with general fear of the drunk guards. She curled her head back as he began his hatred, and she had to suppress her whimpers of pleasure. She made them appear as cries, trying to amplify the pain she felt by his brazen assault, but all she felt was the sensuous electric wonder of the hatefuck. She thought back to the chastity belted slaves with plastic veiny cocks, the fear they had, the attempts they tried to satisfy her. Right now was the only real satisfaction she had felt in months, and all because she had no control. She was finally living in truth. Her intelligence, her strength, even her beauty. None of it could save her now. She was finally, truly, an object.

A spike of pain shot through her chest and her heartbeat raced again. She looked back to him and saw his lips around her nipple, his thrusting slowing down as he bit her sensitive tips before looking at her and picking up his thrusts again. "Yeah...that's fucking right." He seethed. "Do you remember me?" She tried, but she also didn't care about that. She was too busy feeling the tearing pleasure of the hatred he felt. She jolted against her chains, her body fighting the pain, but her soul desiring the difference. "You shouldn't...have rejected me...because I'm the only...fucking one who will save you," He said after a few painful violations. "You could have ridden into my fathers house with grace and pleasure, but now you'll be taken in through the slave quarters and made to wash the floors...how do you like the sound of that Laisha?"

She winced as she looked at him, both of them beating in time to his rhythm. She couldn't explain how much she wanted that, she didn't even want to. If she was truly intelligent, it wouldn't matter where she was in her life. She could succeed anywhere, if only she was given a chance. She wanted to succeed in spite of everything the world would throw at her. She wanted to be her own success story, not merely the elegant jewel of a fanciful crown. She narrowed her eyes as she watched his muscular and well defined dark body, undulating against the half light of the room. She opened her legs further for him, accepting him in, both by her choice, and by her lack of power to stop him.

The pleasure she felt didn't come from him, he was merely a byproduct, a tool which she used to achieve her objective. The slavers didn't care if she felt pleasure or not, this southern prince, whoever he was, didn't care if she enjoyed the rape, the only thing they cared about was getting theirs. They moved with selfish intention, and so did she and it was such a luxury to finally be free of gold chains of falsehood and be replaced with iron chains of truth. She truly couldn't move, she truly could only accept, she was forced to be here, and forced to accept this. She hid her smile in the darkness and her gag as the prince grasped her breasts again and pulled his weight onto her and further into her. Her legs spasmed and revealed her own lust.

"OH...you fucking like that?" He said in a slimy hiss as he began fervently kissing her cheeks again. "You like that, you fucking whore? Who knew the daughter of king Emchaia was such a damned whore?"

She looked back to him with huffing breaths sliding over the gag. She clenched her teeth to hide her further gripping anxious pleasure at his comment. She knew, and her father did to a certain degree. This man knew nothing of the truth, despite his desire for her true beauty. This was merely a child, angry that his proposal had been rejected and unable to deal with it properly. She could take pride in knowing the power she held over him still. His mind was lost to lust and desire and hatred, but she could find ways to enjoy this, to endure this. She was not humiliated, but she was finally able to be proud in her victimized state.

"Maybe we'll see how you like it in the ass" He reached down and felt himself out of her before maneuvering himself down to force himself into her from a different angle. "Maybe we'll see how much you enjoy that, my dear princess," He smiled a malicious grin, but Laisha found apathy and pleasure in his simplistic desire.

It hurt, but only to the degree that Laisha really cared about it. He picked up his pace, he was nearing the end of his own conquest, and his words and concepts became less organized and more into guttural utterances of steaming pleasure and luscious want. He still gripped her breasts in fumbling, inarticulate ways, and his new angle pushed her legs up in an uncomfortable angle against the chains, but Laisha didn't feel any of this. All she felt was the deserved pain from his violation. She clenched her toes and fists in order to surpass it, and with each rapid plunge into her she became more accepting of it, of her shame and her worth. She was worth more than this, but not because of her father, but because she had a human mind and was capable of thought and speech. Lacking something made you realize what you had, was another small philosophical revelation that came to her during that painful intrusion and something that made her turn away from him and consider the plain, dirty walls of her cell.

The prince squared up on her more and began his final run, using his full force to remind her of him. She winced all the more and made legitimate fearful responses. Her legs squirmed, her heart raced, her breathing and squeaking tones attempted to replicate screams as her body felt overwhelmed by the presence entering her, but she remained true. She understood this pain, she understood the purpose behind this pain. She was now the object of many men, an object to be used for a purpose. A machine that had function, rather than just to sit in a dusty wearhouse growing old. She gave herself over to animalistic fears and desires a few times during that last movement of his and she did climax, but she wasn't sure if it was from the pain, or simply the taunting of her sex by his bristling crotch. She didn't care much about the reason behind her climax, only that she felt it more truly than any of the ones she had experienced back in the Palace.

He finished shortly after her too, cresting his hands around her hips to pull himself as he dove deeper than he had and crammed himself far enough in to attempt impregnation. It was a hilarious lie, Laisha thought as the panic strewn muscles and adrenaline crazed mind began to die down. Many of the guards used her ass because it was tighter, but they still all did the same thing. Their biology spoke louder than their logic and everyone who fucked her would do this final plunge, no matter where they where fucking her. Even this prince, who had taken time in his lust-fueled rage to organize her properly, still committed to this action and began cumming deep inside the place he wasn't supposed to be. Laisha thought about that as she stared to the ceiling, past his black curly hair, and winced, each pulse from him matching the rapid beat of her heart.

He finally moved his hands from her hips and up to her shoulders as he laid his weight against her. The positioning of his body and hers made his cock slide out of her body, but he had already loosened a few goopy ropes into her and the last two which he draped across her sex hardly mattered anymore, either to him, or her. She had to accept his weight as he laid on her and just began kissing her neck and jaw, forcing her to accept his wet passionate lips as his own sex began to die down and the purpose of this trip began leaking out of her and wetting the mattress underneath her. He still caressed her, and unlike the guards, had a gentle streak to him, he still had a desire for companionship and compassion, but it was lost amidst the childlike rage and anger he felt. She heaved her chest a few times with his intimate touching of her breasts and tried to consider him from that perspective. He was just an idiot. It was probably why she had rejected whatever had made him so angry to begin with.

He lay on top of her for several minutes, their chests matching each other and his mouth searching around for her resistance. She sometimes tilted her head away, when he sloppily reached her lips, and then sometimes she stopped, when his probing tongue found her neck and ears. It was such a small thing, but it seemed to be something Laisha now found about herself. Kissing on the lips was to be saved for someone special, and this prince wasn't that special person. It was her own little secret, her own little desire, but she understood the men who came in here. They didn't want her for intimacy, they wanted a quick fuck, and that's all he wanted too. She smiled at that as she felt his juicy lips on her neck, suckling and sensuously attempting to consume her skin, as if she was a ripe fruit to be plucked. He was here for a meal, but she was here for education.

Eventually, however, his groping of her breasts stopped and his mind slowed down its rage and desire. He regained his strength and propped himself up over her and she turned her green eyes to him. He looked at her, his own brown eyes conveying rage, but a deeper hidden sadness behind that rage. There was the thought in those eyes that things could have been different, and Laisha knew that his feelings related to whatever had brought him here in the first place. Wherever his rage came from is what he had hoped for. Perhaps he had imagined himself capable of marrying her at one point, perhaps he had imagined starting a family with her, of their arranged marriage producing children which could secure his family line, and preserve hers into the future, but now here they where, rapist and victim, no more and no less than two humans engaging in physical pleasure.

He pulled himself off of her, uncoiling his fingers from her breast and sliding his elbows away from beside her. He crouched before her again, still hiding his sex in the shadow of his body, before patting her wet cunt down with a few taunting hands and smirking. She watched him, still breathing heavily from the experience, but wondering if he was really intending to go for it again. He had gone so quickly that it seemed strange to her that he would immediately leave, but he also seemed so eager that she wasn't sure if he had it in it for another go. She had no say in the matter, as she never did, and so she just watched, waiting for whatever he would do.

He paused a few moments, sliding his finger over her intimacy, before retracting himself completely and pulling his cloak off the wall. He went over to the wall with the chain that held her right leg and sat down beside her splayed form, using his cloak to cover his sex while he pulled out some sort of technologic stone tablet and began to drift his mind to other things. Laisha understood that he was just going to wait until he felt invigorated again, which meant she would have to wait too. She leaned her head back, felt his finger against her extended calf, and just tried to think about what had just happened.

She found herself drifting slightly, her mind wishing to give her some sort of relief from this torment it found itself in, waiting for the inevitable, but after a while she had to come back to look at him. She tried judging his body from her position, his nubile legs, his firm well defined muscles. She thought of how clean he looked, how he smelled of some sort of sweet, southern concoction, citrus and woody teak. She wondered how badly she smelled and how she enjoyed that disgust. She didn't have a choice for when her captors gave her baths, and even then, they were nowhere near the quality she was used to. She would have thought they would have given her one before interacting with this wealthy client, but clearly not. She looked at her own legs, dirt, grime, and dried material, both her own and other mens, remained. She knew about them, but in the darkness of the room, and the ignorance of masculine sexual desire, he probably didn't care.

She leaned her head back and smiled to herself. Another thing she had on him. She was forced to be here, but he had debased himself for a moment's pleasure. A quick fuck. That's all it was and that's all she represented to him and she enjoyed it. At least it wasn't the lying nature of the palace, it wasn't the false compliments, the humourous masks everyone wore, the blatant lies of the court. Here she was real and raw, her sex tired from its over use, and her skin weary of being so dirty. She was truly a slave here, rather than a pretend one back home.

She drifted for a while before she heard the sound of another pair of boots coming down the hall. She looked up at the open door and the prince did so too, putting his tablet away in the pockets of his robe and holding his cloak tight around his hips to make sure whoever it was wouldn't see him naked. The man who rounded the corner was someone Laisha had seen before and she was pretty sure it was the person who had kidnapped her to begin with. She didn't know his name, but his rugged beard and fervent eyes were unmistakable. He was in a professional suit, not robes or clothes, but something a little more designed with rigid lines and directed ornaments in mind. His jewelry was sparse, but he still had small things to indicate his power. A ring with a sapphire that glittered red in the flickering candle light and earrings which held something small and masculine in their pin like design.

He looked at her and then at the prince.

"Have you fucked her yet?"

"Just finished."

The man entered the room and knelt down before Laisha's sex. He observed her in the flickering of the lights and then rubbed her sex. Laisha watched him with curiosity, feeling her exhausted sex wince at the intrusion.

"Did you cum in her?"

The prince looked nervous. "I..."

"You idiot," The man stood and walked to the door. "Fuck her again and get her pregnant. The client needs her to no longer have first born status. That's the only reason I let you in here."

"Eberash-"

"Don't use my fucking name in front of the whore!" He commanded in a firm vile tone. "We're playing a dangerous game here, sir, and you'd do well to remember your place in it."

Laisha watched as this prince, this angry prince, this person who had grown up in power and wealth was cowed by what essentially was a slave trader, the lowest of all life forms. These were the stories she wanted when she sat on her balcony and looked out from the bath. He looked at her again and sneered.

"Fuck her again and this time do it right."

"I will," The prince said sheepishly before the slaver left the two of them alone