Abducted
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Abducted Ch. 11 free porn video
Chapter 11 – The Execution Ground
In the morning, at 6.55 prompt, Emma was startled into consciousness by an intrusive buzzing in her vagina. For a few seconds, she wondered where she was, but then the memories came flooding back, urged by the throb of the raw pain from the four angry circles on her soft body. The pain was intense. How had she slept through it? She tried to clench her thighs, to give herself over to the throbbing in her cunt, wishing she could move the intruder closer to her hard clitoris, but her bonds did not allow it.
Oh Hell! And now she needed a toilet! How long before Hans came to release her? Another wave of mixed pain and pleasure swept over her, and she whimpered quietly to herself, oblivious to the sound of the opening door, and footsteps approaching. Suddenly, the thick curtain was pulled back.
‘Good morning, Girl,’ he said, breezily. ‘I hope you slept well.’
‘Quite well, thank you, Master, but I’m very sore.’ She looked up at Hans, admiring his plain black silk dressing-gown.
‘I see the alarm worked,’ he smiled. ‘One quick burst on maximum, and then I’ll turn it off.’ He reached for the control and turned a knob clockwise as far as it could go. Emma squealed as an intense surge of energy flooded her pussy for a few seconds, then murmured in disappointment as Hans turned it off. He chuckled, and replaced the control.
Deftly, he untied her ropes. ‘OK,’ he ordered, ‘go and anoint your wounds, and take a bath. Take off your collar and cuffs first, of course. Don’t bother about make-up. We are going out, but you will be fully dressed at all times – with full niqab. When you’re ready, put your collar and cuffs back on, as they are now, and join me for breakfast.’
Hans walked towards the door. Halfway, he stopped, turned and smiled at her. ‘And no panties! They are only for nightwear.’
‘Yes, Master.’
In the bathroom, Emma looked at herself in the long mirrors. Her buttocks looked less rosy, but the angry wheals around her body seemed just as angry. Tenderly, she anointed them while the bath filled. After extracting the vibrator, she sank gratefully into the warm soapy water, and softly bathed herself.
Twenty minutes later, pink from the warm water, her hair brushed, with minimal make-up and with her collar and cuffs re-attached, she slipped into a luxuriously soft bathrobe and entered the kitchen. Hans had his back to her as he placed dishes on the small table, but he had changed into a beautifully tailored natural linen suit. He heard her enter, and turned, looking her up and down.
‘Did I tell you to put on a bathrobe, Girl?’ he asked sternly.
‘No, Master.’
‘Well take it off then! In here, you will be naked, unless I say otherwise.’
She quickly removed the offending item, and dropped it across a chair.
‘Stand straight, Girl. Position Three! Let me look at you.’ He walked around her. ‘Mmm, still very red and sore, but you will improve.’
Suddenly, she felt a stinging pain on her buttock as his hand struck her with force. ‘YOU STUPID CUNT!’ he yelled. ‘You should be punished severely but there is no time now. Later will have to do.’
‘I… I… I’m sorry, Master. Wh… wh… what have I done, Master?’
‘Your collar is upside down, for a start.’ He pulled her towards a mirror and pointed. ‘Look, the crossed swords should be below the rose. Your wristlets are OK – probably by luck – but you have your anklets on the wrong legs, and one is upside down as well. The buckles should be on the inside, with the loose ends pointing backwards. Change them now!’
‘I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t realise.’
‘You mean you didn’t look!’ he contradicted crossly. ‘Or you looked, but you didn’t see! Hurry up and correct them, we need to go soon!’
Emma’s fingers fumbled at the buckles, as she hurriedly re-arranged her fetters. At last, she stood again.
‘That’s better. Now sit down, and help yourself,’ he said, pointing to a chair opposite himself, and waving at table with fruit juices, fresh fruits, cereals, rolls, and croissants. ‘Coffee OK? Or would you prefer tea?’
‘Coffee is fine, thank you Master. Black, please,’ Emma responded, pouring a large bowl of muesli and starting to eat ravenously.
‘This is just a quick snack. We’ll eat more when we get back from the Execution Ground, and have more time,’ he explained. ‘You’re probably hungry.’
‘Yes, Master,’ she agreed.
After breakfast, Emma chose a natural coloured abaya with matching khimar, the outfit completed by a dark brown niqab, comfortable sandals and a small leather shoulder bag. Hans attached her ankle chains and leash, and she followed him out of the building into the morning air, feeling warm, even at the early hour. She followed closely behind Hans, both keeping as much as possible to the shade. Emma recognised the Inquest Chamber as they passed it, and then turned sharply to the right, walking along a narrow passage between that building and its neighbour, to emerge into an open area, approximately the size of two tennis courts.
An official recognised Hans. ‘Good morning, Sir,’ he fawned, ‘you are expected, we have reserved a place for you in the front row.’
Hans did not reply, but followed the obsequious servant, who gestured to a comfortable armchair in the middle of the first row of seats. Hans sat, and Emma nearly sat in the chair next to him. At the last second, she remembered, and instead knelt at Hans’ feet. ‘Good Girl!’ he muttered, stroking her head. ‘You remembered.’
‘Yes, Master – just in time!’ she agreed. ‘I nearly forgot.’
‘If you had forgotten, I would have had to punish you,’ he announced. ‘Since you have admitted that you nearly forgot, I suppose I had better punish you anyway.’
‘Oh, Master, please no. I am still sore from last night. I shouldn’t have told you that I nearly forgot.’
‘So now you are contemplating hiding things from me!’ he chuckled. ‘That demands even more severe punishment.’
‘I see you are determined to punish me anyway, Master.’ She pouted.
‘Of course – and you must remember, Girl, that I don’t actually need a reason to punish you.’
‘Yes, Master,’ she agreed, reluctantly.
Hans began chatting with the man seated to his immediate right. Emma looked around. The Execution Ground was completely covered by a large canvas canopy in red and white stripes, approximately five metres high, which would give some protection from the blazing sun. In front of her was a raised stage with a wooden floor sloping upwards towards the rear of the Inquest Chamber. Two large doors, now closed, gave access to the imposing building. On the stage were several posts, frames and what appeared to be two old-fashioned mediaeval pillories. To the right of the stage was a large screen, hiding that part of the area. Behind her the ground rose steeply, with a dozen rows of seats, and behind these was a large enclosure providing standing room only. The seats were now rapidly filling. Emma noted with surprise a large number of women filling the seated area, some chaperoned by men, but most accompanied by other women, happily chatting and laughing together. The standing area, in contrast, was entirely occupied by men, and bellows of raucous laughter erupted at intervals. To Emma’s right, beyond the seats, was an area screened off from the rest of the arena. ‘That’s His Highness’ Enclosure,’ explained Hans.
Sounds of scuffling broke out behind Emma. She craned her neck, trying to see what was going on. ‘The Ground is full,’ said Hans. ‘Apparently several are disappointed that they can’t get in!’
Suddenly a trumpet sounded. ‘Seven o’clock!’ said Hans. The left-hand door leading to the Inquest Chamber swung open, and a dozen Palace Guards emerged, taking up positions around the raised stage, their rifles over their shoulders. Almost at once, an imposing figure appeared from the same door, dressed in voluminou
s white trousers with a baggy white shirt. Over his head was a hood, with holes for his eyes, mouth and nose. He stood well over 180 cm tall, and Emma estimated his weight at about 80 kilos. At his waist was a large sword, and he carried a double-headed axe which glistened as he moved.
‘That’s my friend Pedro,’ explained Hans, ‘the Chief Executioner.’
Behind him emerged two other large men, similarly dressed, but with bright red hoods rather than black ones, and without axes. Instead, they each carried one end of a rope, the other end of which was tied around the neck of a naked prisoner. Emma recognised Boris and Clyde. The two former Palace Guards walked erect, their eyes staring straight ahead and their hands tied behind their backs. In spite of their nakedness, they tried to look dignified, and marched in step.
‘Those are the Deputy Executioners, in the red masks,’ said Hans. ‘They are leading your two friends, and behind come to-day’s official Sodomists.’
Two young men emerged. To Emma they looked about twenty-five, each standing about 185 cm tall, with clean-shaven faces and piercing blue eyes and wearing traditional robes, flowing white jalabiyyahs with red aghals over their heads. They looked remarkably similar.
‘Two of His Highness’ male slaves,’ explained Hans. ‘I think that’s Abdul on the right and Aziz on the left. They’re twins, and not easy to tell apart.’
‘Male slaves, Master?’ exclaimed Emma in surprise.
‘Oh yes,’ said Hans. ‘His Highness has about a dozen. Some are heterosexual and used mainly by the ladies of the court, and others are homosexual, for male members of the court or guests who are of that inclination. Abdul and Aziz are definitely bisexual. They will have volunteered for this job. I’m not sure yet who their two assistants are.’
Emma realised that Hans was referring to the two women who brought up the rear of the little procession. Both were enveloped from head to toe in white traditional costume.
Suddenly the right-hand door at the back of the stage swung open. A trumpet sounded loudly and an important-looking individual emerged. He shouted something in what Emma recognised as the Old Language, and then translated. ‘All stand to welcome His Gracious Highness the Prince and his Court!’
A hush fell on the arena as all those who had been sitting or kneeling rose to their feet. Two servants emerged first. They walked backwards and ceremoniously brushed the ground in front of an imperious-looking man in traditional costume, wearing a pure white jalabiyyah with a gold-coloured aghal covering his head. He looked about him with piercing brown eyes. This must be ‘His Highness’ thought Emma, straining for a better view to see if she could recognise the man who had ordered her abduction. She studied his face, with a prominent hooked nose and a neat black beard, but she couldn’t recall seeing him before.
Immediately behind His Highness walked two women, completely enveloped in purple costumes. Both held leashes, one leading a fresh-faced young man (about eighteen, thought Emma) and the other leading a woman whose face and body were hidden by white traditional clothes. ‘The women in purple are two of His Highness’ wives,’ whispered Hans. ‘One flew in last night with her new male slave, as soon as she heard there was to be a ritual Sodomy. Apparently, she’s never seen one before.’
Behind the two wives trooped a further twenty or so men, all dressed in traditional white, some leading female slaves. His Highness waved to the crowd, acknowledged the Chief Executioner’s deep bow, and led his entourage into the special enclosure where they vanished from Emma’s view.
The trumpet sounded again, and the spectators resumed their seats. On a signal from the Chief Executioner, his two deputies led Boris and Clyde towards the front of the stage, to stand in front of the two pillories, with their backs to the audience. The two soldiers did not resist, apparently resigned to their fate. First, spreader bars were attached to their ankles, keeping them about sixty centimetres apart. Their hands were untied, and they were made to bend at the waist so that their wrists and necks fitted the appropriate slots on the bottom section of the pillories. Additional spreader bars were attached to their knees, forcing them further apart. Finally, the Deputy Executioners turned handles on the sides of the pillories, lowering the top of the apparatus, and forcing the two soldiers to bend their knees and thrust out their buttocks. Their genitals hung loosely below them.
The Chief Executioner approached, donning rubber gloves. He presented a tube to Boris’ anal opening and squeezed. Boris’ buttocks clenched, and clenched again as a finger was thrust into his anus to spread the lubricant. A second squeeze from the tube followed. One of his deputies handed the Chief Executioner a thin phallus, about two centimetres in diameter and thirty centimetres long. He spread some lubricant on the end, placed it against Boris’ opening, and steadily pushed, until about ten centimetres had disappeared inside. Boris squirmed slightly at the sudden discomfort. The Chief Executioner stood back, apparently examining the angle at which the phallus entered Boris’ body, ordered an adjustment to the height of the pillory, so that Boris’ knees were bent a little more, and then signalled his satisfaction.
The Chief Executioner then turned his attention to Clyde, and performed a similar operation on the bigger black man. Finally, his deputies re-appeared with two large pillows which they placed on the ground, between the prisoners’ legs. Emma looked puzzled. What were the pillows for?
‘It’ll come clear soon,’ remarked Hans, reading her thoughts.
Suddenly, Emma heard a gasp from the spectators. She turned her head and saw that the two male slaves, Abdul and Aziz, had removed their head-dresses and were in the process of removing their robes. Within seconds, their muscular tanned bodies were on view, their impressive penises dangling limply. They were naked apart from their slave collars, wristlets and anklets. The two men stretched their arms and flexed their muscles, obviously proud of their bodies. From a distance of about ten metres, Emma could make out the tattoos on their left buttocks, and what she took to be brands on the insides of their left thighs.
A murmur of expectation erupted as their two female assistants moved forward. They waited for silence, and then removed their niqabs, revealing their faces for the first time. Proudly, they looked around them, and again acting in co-ordination removed their khimars, letting them fall to the ground to join the niqabs.
‘I thought so,’ announced Hans. ‘The taller girl is Muna. She comes from Kenya, and is rumoured to have been a Maasai chieftain’s daughter. The other is Rana. I trained her myself.’
Still moving in unison, the two slaves began pulling their abayas over their heads, revealing their nakedness. A ripple of applause ran through the spectators, as the two girls stood proudly, showing off their well-honed bodies. Emma noticed Hans shuffling in his seat, and realised that he was trying to accommodate his growing erection. She looked around, and noticed several other men exhibiting a similar discomfiture. The taller girl, Muna, was about the same height as the two male slaves. She stood with her head held high, her legs slightly apart, and smiled, revealing pure white teeth, contrasting with her dark black skin which glistened in the heat. A mane of black hair surrounded her head.
In contrast, Rana was nearly fifteen centimetres shorter, with pale white skin and long blonde hair which moved slightly in the light breeze. Her skin appeared flawless, apart from her tattoo, and the mark of the brand on her left breast. Her breasts were firm and rounded, surmounted by small areolae and prominent nipples, standing proud and erect. Emma thought she had never seen anyone as beautiful before.
‘They are a good-looking pair,’ remark
ed Hans.
‘Yes, Master. Muna is certainly striking… imposing…’ Emma sought a suitable adjective, ‘but the other girl, Rana, is truly unbelievable. She is so beautiful!’
‘Agreed. One of the most beautiful slaves I have had the pleasure of training. She came from Georgia, in America.’ Hans continued, ‘They will be busy, the two girls. Their next job is to get the four men erect!’
No sooner had Hans spoken, when the two women approached Abdul and Aziz. In what was obviously a rehearsed routine, each woman wrapped her arms around the neck of her chosen man, sought his lips with hers and began a lascivious open-mouthed kiss. Each girl rubbed her naked pussy invitingly on the man’s thigh, and almost immediately both cocks twitched and began coming to life. On a murmured command from the taller girl, each woman grasped a cock in her right hand and began manipulating it expertly. As the cocks grew, they removed their lips from their partners’ mouths, kissing down the length of their bodies, until they finally knelt to envelope the engorged cocks in their mouths.
They sucked for a few seconds, and then pulled away to admire the results of their expertise, smiling at each other and at their partners. With a final kiss on the end of their partners’ cocks, the two women moved towards the pillories, to turn their attention to Boris and Clyde, indicating to Abdul and Aziz that they should stroke their own cocks to maintain their erections.
As they stood in front of the two prisoners, Clyde’s cock twitched, as if by a reflex action. Boris remained impassive, but not for long. The two girls moved behind the soldiers, lay on their backs, their feet facing towards the spectators, and shuffled backwards so as to lie on the two pillows between the prisoners’ feet, Muna lying under Clyde and Rana under Boris. Reaching up, each girl took hold of a limp cock, and started stroking, using her other hand to fondle the testicles.
From her vantage point, only about seven metres away, Emma had a clear view of Muna’s glistening pussy as she lay with her legs parted. Emma had never before seen the pussy of a black girl, and was surprised at its pinkness. She had not really thought about it before, but probably she had expected a black girl’s cunt to be black as well.
Clyde’s massive member was already growing fast, but Boris seemed less interested. However, as Rana’s full lips enveloped his penis, and her tongue began tickling his glans, he could not resist. His cock grew, especially when she started manipulating the thin phallus which was still embedded in his anus.
The two girls continued to work with expertise, each careful not to over-stimulate her prisoner. They whispered to each other as they worked, but finally both were satisfied. As one, they left the two prisoners and returned to Abdul and Aziz, each girl accepting en route a tube of lubricant from the Chief Executioner. On their knees in front of the two slaves, they again sucked the penises back to full erection, playing expertly with their balls and arseholes. They spread lubricant liberally on the two cocks, and pulled the two men towards the pillories.
Meanwhile, the two Deputy Executioners had removed the phalluses from the prisoners’ anuses, and re-lubricated the waiting holes. Muna pulled Abdul towards Clyde, and resumed her previous position between the prisoner’s legs, taking hold of his enormous cock, and opening her mouth wide to ease the tip past her lips. Clyde groaned. Abdul held his own cock in his left hand and presented its head to Clyde’s puckered anal hole. The crowd, Emma included, craned their necks to get a better view. Clyde tensed, feeling the other man’s cock at his entrance. Abdul pushed, and the first couple of centimetres of his cock vanished inside Clyde’s rectum. He grabbed hold of Clyde’s hips, and pushed again, moving his hips in a circular motion, and pulling the prisoner’s body towards him at the same time. Clyde tried to relax, to forget his shameful predicament, and gave himself over to the sensations in his anus, and around his cock, as Muna continued to suck. Expertly, Abdul inched his cock into the other man’s hole, until finally his balls met the other man’s buttocks.
Uma
- 07.04.2021
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