At the top of the stairs, Thorn gave a tug engineered to elicit a small noise from Chastity's throat. Her noises and small whimpers made him hard. He passed two doorways on the way to his own room. The rooms they passed belonged to Fist and Leland. The other scavengers lived scattered about the grounds. Only those closest to him got to live in the mansion.
He threw the door open. He wasn't yet eager to take the fiery redhead. First, he wanted to build up the anticipation. He shoved her into the room. She stumbled and almost went sprawling onto the floor, catching herself at the last minute.
His bedroom was filled with dark furniture that had been in the mansion since he'd taken over duties from the last leader. He'd added little to the room except a few metal pieces for strapping down slaves. The metalsmith had crafted a stockade from plans that Thorn had provided. Made of hammered metal and wood, the piece left a slave bent over at the waist; head and wrists immobile. It made a slave's mouth and pussy easily accessible.
He watched her eyes widen as she took in all the fuck equipment. He loved that first reaction from slaves when they saw his play pieces. She spun in a circle to view all of them. He glanced around the room trying to see it with fresh eyes. It must be intimidating for her. Metal, rough-hewn, wood posts with chains and cuffs along with leather straps.
Other ordinary furniture like a claw foot porcelain tub in one corner surrounded by a wispy curtain, and the bed that dominated the middle of the room wouldn't inspire terror until she knew what they were capable of producing.
He locked the door behind them and waved his arm around the room. “Get up on the bed, slave.”
She stiffened, turned on him with tightened fists ready to fight, “Do not call me that. I'm nobody's slave.”
He'd said that knowing it would upset her. He wasn't sure what spurred him on so much about her attitude. He wanted a challenge, a struggle. A resistant body fighting beneath him as he plunged himself deep inside her pussy. Something he never got from the willing slaves downstairs.
He laughed, amused at her reaction, pleased at the fire in her. “Do you not realize where you are? The rules here in The Pit are as I demand them. You're a slave now. Here for my pleasure. When I've had my fill of you, you'll be used for the pleasure of others.”
He stalked towards her with a slow, predatory gaze. His eyes never left her face. The flickering of various emotions was easily readable in her expression. When her eyes blazed, the specks of brown and gold were sharper and more defined. They seemed to be lit from within by her anger.
For every step he took towards her, she retreated two. He had the advantage of limited space in the room. Eventually, he'd catch up to her. For now, he was enjoying the slow chase and her panicky fear.
Finally, he let his eyes travel her body. There was a pleasant roundness to it. The firm softness of her breasts with their puffy, pink nipples. The small curve of her stomach before it dipped into the red curls between her thighs. Her hips were wide, and her thighs; all he could think about was digging his fingers into those thighs. Watching his fingers leave impressions behind while he used her. Her skin had a healthy, pink glow that screamed country living, and he couldn't wait to mark that smooth flesh with a whip or a crop, to see his hand marks imprinted on her thighs and ass.
When he let his gaze travel back to her face, he could see the realization that she was trapped. If she knew that her emotions were so transparent, she'd try to coach her face better. He was sure of that.
She said, “I'm here only until I can escape, or my family comes for me. Our families will come for us. Do you think that you can take this many women from their homes, and nobody will come to rescue us?”
“Your people are weak,” he barked at her with a snarling smile. “What do they know of war or combat? Nothing, I'd wager. No. I'm not worried about your people. My own have been training for conflict while yours have been training to farm tomatoes.”
He advanced until she was huddled in the corner of the room against a post he'd had installed only recently. One that she'd find herself attached to sometime later. Once he was pressed against her, he skimmed his hands along her arms to her wrists. With fingers tightening around her wrists, he leaned down to brush his lips gently across hers. He didn't entirely trust that she wouldn't bite him.
She cringed from him, “They'll still come for us.”
She didn't bite him but neither did she respond to his kiss. He pinned her arms behind her back with one hand enclosed over her wrists. His other hand hefted a breast in his palm while brushing a thumb over the nipple.
At her sharp inhale, he crushed his lips against hers in a demanding kiss. While kissing her, he probed at her resisting lips with his tongue. In answer to her tightening lips, he twisted her nipple between two of his fingers. Her gasp was exactly what he'd been aiming for, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth.
He tugged her arms back, so her breasts jutted forward while he nudged his hardening cock against the softness of her body.
When he broke away from the kiss, she was panting. He would love to think that it was because of arousal, the effects of the kiss, but the defiance was still plain on her face. He pinched her nipple again while a smile bloomed.
He yanked her out of the corner because he wanted to see her spread across his bed. To keep her off balance, he shoved her.
“That doesn't concern me, slave. We can handle a bunch of Eves Country farmers.”
She flinched at the name again. It stiffened her body with anger. She planted her feet and stood with her hands fisted on her hips. Her face was flushed, and a pink glow traveled from her face down the graceful line of her neck to the flesh above her breasts.
Every emotion, every thought whether anger, confusion or curiosity was written on her face. It made him want to leave his own marks upon her. To see how she reacted to his caresses, his fingers playing against her sex, and his cock invading her body. Or the smack of his palm, the lick of his whip and pinches from his fingers against her skin.
He kept his amused smile from lingering on his face as he advanced on her. He scooped her up and flung her on his bed. Swiftly, before she could do more than cry out a sharp protest, he had cuffed her to the bed. Straps and leather wrist and ankle restraints were permanently attached to the frame's posts. The room was built originally for sleeping, yet, the activities Thorn engaged in here didn't require pillows or blankets. Sleep was secondary to the room's real purpose; fucking.
Her face was finally showing the proper amount of fear. It was still edged in anger, but not much was left. It had quieted her tongue, as well. Just in case, he reached for a leather strap from the bedside table sifting through sleek, metal phallic shapes and biting clamps to find the leather. He wasn't ready to use those toys on her.
He slipped the leather bit between her teeth and secured it behind her head tightly.
He would eventually use her mouth. For now, he wanted to play with her body. Test her reactions. He could wait to test her gag reflex.
He began stripping off his clothes as he watched her writhe on the bed. He ripped the shirt from his back and tossed it. He toed off his boots and unbuckled his pants while watching the way her breasts swayed, the pink nipples surrounded by goose pebbled flesh. She watched him with wide eyes. They were still angry but frightened and slightly panicked, too.
The eye contact was electric, and he growled low, deep in the back of his throat. His cock twitched. Once his clothes were gone, he bent to suck on a nipple. Her muffled cry was filled with anger. More of a screech and a demand. The mumbled yelling from behind the gag made him grin. It brought out a playfully, evil side to him.
He brushed his teeth against her nipple while digging fingers sharp into her tit flesh. She flung her body side to side all the while screeching and chewing on the gag. He grabbed both breasts and squeezed hard, sucking on one nipple with a forceful suction then withdrawing until it popped out of his mouth with a smacking sound. Her cry was answer enough about the pain he was causing. He pinched the other nipple while nibbling on the one closest.
He grinned up at her as she watched then leaned down with agonizing slowness, and latching onto her nipple. He pulled his head back with her nipple still in his mouth, stretching and tugging her breast out of shape. She arched her back, trying to keep the pain to a minimum. He just sucked harder until her nipple slipped out.
“Your lovely cries and whimpers are like music to me, slave. I was going to wait, let you adjust to your environment, but I find myself eager to hear you scream for me.”
He reached into the top drawer of the side table and displayed the clamps. The iron teeth were almost sharp enough to draw blood. They clenched painfully on flesh in a vice grip. More experienced slaves still whimpered while wearing them.