Hunting the Girls

"Did you make contact?"

The room was darkly lit, only the flickering amber light of a few candles positioned around the room giving any depth or illumination to the large bedroom. The shadows were deep as the the nights were long during the winter and it was snowing outside. The blinds had been closed, heavy curtains eight feet tall, and a small crackling fire was in the corner. It was warm in here, there was no need to worry about the cold at all.

Ayla was on the lavish bed, on her back, sinking into the thick mattress and sheets. Her head rested on a handful of pillows, silk sheets touching her nude body, as she laid spread eagle on top. She was supremely comfortable and relaxed. She didn't have to worry about many things in life. She was rich and powerful. She'd been rich before she'd even met Peter, but thanks to their arranged marriage, her standing had increased dramatically just as much as his. Comfort was normal for her.

Peter was standing by their dresser, still fully clothed in his elaborate evening wear. He was leaning against it, watching his wife as the retired for the evening. He still wore his black evening coat, a full vest and waist coast. All he had removed was his topcoat and trench coat which had been given to Arthur their housekeeper when they had arrived home.

Ayla and Peter had been at a Christmas party tonight. It was Christmas Eve in London and they had spent the night at a friend of theirs a few blocks away. A lavish affair, full of London's finest. The mayor, the Archbishop, royalty, businessmen and women, you name it. Friends was a loose term however. Ayla didn't consider any of them friends, nor did Peter. They were merely acquaintances, people they needed to be formal and friendly with for appearance's sake.

Not showing your face at such events, among their circles, could be social suicide. And Ayla and Peter had so much at stake right now. It was unfortunate, but due to Ayla's condition, there were moments of sickness that came over her that she could simply not avoid. She felt perfectly fine tonight, more than fine, hence why she was naked and spread eagle on the bed.

Except for one of her hands. It was rubbing her belly, her very swollen and large belly which was growing larger every day. She was six months along now, her and Peter's first child. They both hoped it was a boy. It was important to have an heir as soon as possible, to ensure that all their work would carry on for later generations. That's why they were doing everything they were right now. Their plans were generational. There was a high chance that their plans would not come to a head for a great many years. To change an empire took time.

Peter continued to watch his wife, his eyes fixated on her. They burned bright even in the dim light. He watched Ayla as she rubbed her pregnant belly. "I am assured contact was made."

"Assured? Assured is not definite." Ayla said.

"That's why I'm going to find out for certain."

"Good. Certainties we can work with. We can ill afford a misstep."

Peter moved away from the dresser. He began to slowly walk over to her, boots clicking on the floor. "Did you happen to see the Mayor's wife tonight?" He said, changing the subject.

Ayla smiled. She was staring up at the canopy roof of their bed, just relaxing. "You caught it too?"

"She was already drunk by the time she got there. And helping herself to the free bottles didn't do much for her constitution."

"I heard she ended up pissing herself."

Peter creaked a smile. His thin lips sneered. "She's a liability."

"Easy to manipulate."

Peter stood by the bed, looking down at Ayla. "I already laid the seeds tonight. I'm hoping to have dinner with her next week."

"Good. She'll be easy to blackmail once you've fucked her. And then we have an ear into the Mayor. I've been told she's a real slut for punishment."

"Even more than you?"

Ayla smiled. "She has loose lips when she's intoxicated. The Mayor apparently needs to enforce himself on her twice a day."

"It's a wonder he can run a city between her and all the other mistresses he has."

Ayla purred. "Patience my love. Our time will come."

Peter pulled out his pocket watch from his jacket pocket. He opened it, checking the time, and then put it back in. Whatever time it was, Ayla could tell he was energized by it. "They'll be here soon. I should prepare you."

Ayla let out a little moan, eyes fluttering, wiggling her hips slightly. Even in her condition and a woman of such prestige and power and wealth, like all of her gender she happened to be a well-trained and submissive slut. Despite how controlling she was with business, and even more so when she had other women to play with in the bedroom, when it came to her husband she was his complete slave. She couldn't deny the years of training from a young age that had turned her into a slut.

A decade of training to be a proper wife and woman in the 19

th

century wasn't something you could brush away. She'd been trained properly by her mother, her church, and even her father and brother's. She was the perfect, well-mannered slut for Peter.

Peter himself had been trained by his family and tutors to be the consummate Master. His role as the husband was to treat and take care of his wife, and to ensure proper etiquette and family values. It was needed, so the church said, in this day and age to prevent a repeat of past wars. Humanity had nearly fallen in the great wars of old and only through a massive societal upheaval had they prevented the enemies of mankind from wiping them out fully from existence.

Like every single woman living under the Holy Empire, Ayla was a naked now as she ever was. She still kept her leather collar around her neck, needed for when Peter was administering her daily training. And, despite being pregnant, she still wore her chastity belt between her legs.

She'd had to swap it out recently for a bigger one as her belly got larger, but either way, it remained on eternally. Peter was the only one with a key, a key he kept around his neck. Only he could unlock her, which he did when Ayla needed to use the toilet, and even then it was never her front section. The back could slide out, allowing her to do her business.

Of course that was easier said than done, considering she had a ten inch steel rod buried inside her at all times. Her ass was consistently filled with a plug. It was common practice. Every woman did it. All women, sweeping the entire globe, wore a belt and a plug. Vaginal sex was simply forbidden except for procreation. It was against the law for it to take place otherwise.

Such drastic measures had been put in place to protect women and mankind. When you dealt with an enemy that could fuck a woman, impregnate her immediately and add another warrior to their cause immediately and another about to be born, it had been the best option anyone could think of to stop the evil within society. The demons were gone now, small in number, banished to the ends of the world. They couldn't break a woman's fortress.

Or so the church said.

For appearance's sake, and for necessity, Ayla continued to follow the rules of society and keep herself in chastity. Being exposed, or anyone finding out she wasn't a true anal slut, would be disastrous. It would destroy her place in society.

Anal sex was now the preferred and desired way to have sex in the Empire. Anything else was considered immoral and degrading. Vaginal sex was considered icky and demeaning, disgusting by most. Perverted. Anal sex was practiced hourly on a woman, turning them into the horny, needy anal addicts which kept society safe and secure.

Little did many know exactly how perverted Ayla really was.

Peter walked around the bed, moving between the four poles of the corners of their bed and pulling the leather straps out. Their bed was built like most families had these days, designed with hooks and restraints built in. Women were trained to be anal whores, to have their back ends stretched and gaped to ensure they could take all of their husband's desires. It was designed to ensure proper traditional values in accordance with the church. A master, and a slave. A man and a wife.

It had been like this for hundreds of years. But there were rumors that a change was coming. Whispers among the people that there were some out there looking to change things...

Rumors they had started.

Ayla's husband began tying the leather straps to her wrists, to her ankles. Her had her stretched wide, arms far apart, legs open, her thighs on full display. He made sure she was tight, fixed in place. He knew what he was doing. He'd done this many times. He'd practiced on his mother, on his sisters as a young boy. With Ayla, he was a fully trained master when they'd gotten married. He was excellent in making sure she was his perfect slave.

She saw the way he treated other women when he brought them home too. When he seduced them, used them. Younger women, part of powerful families. Whether it was information, or simply to blackmail them later on, he treated them rougher. Like objects. The way he would fist their asses, pound his cock into their gaping backdoors, thrust his shaft down their throats, there was a power to it. A dominating aspect.

Sure it was like that with her, but there was a mutual respect. They were partners, first and foremost. There was love.

"Gag me." Ayla said.

Peter nodded. He checked one final time to make sure she was fully secure, all wrists and ankles bound tight, before he walked back over to the dresser. He opened the top drawer.

"No blindfolds. Not tonight." He said. "I want you to watch."

"Understood Master." Ayla purred.

Peter returned, standing by the side of the bed, leaning over as he placed the wooden ball in her mouth. It was smooth and polished, fitting snuggly between her lips. As he leaned over her Ayla could smell the familiar husky scent of his cologne, breathing it in. It made her hot and flush, the smell triggering memories inside of her of past love making sessions.

The strap was tightened around the back of her long black hair and Peter checked it a final time to make sure it was secure. Ayla's lips pouted around the ball in her mouth. She could still make sounds if she wanted, but it was only going to be grunts and moans. She wouldn't be able to speak properly at all. She was completely helpless before her Master.

Now it was time. Peter moved down her body, his hands lightly grazing her skin as he brushed over her. He went over her supple breasts, causing Ayla to quiver. He made sure that he brushed over her nipples too, which were now starting to harden and lengthen on top her mounds. They had begun to change color, getting darker, as they prepared themselves for the birth of their child. Soon she would begin milking. He gave a little tug to the piercings which ran horizontally through them. There were no weights on them yet.

His hands went further south, running over her huge dome. Her child had been silent tonight, very little movement or kicking thankfully. She half suspected it to kick out, greeting her father, but nothing happened. His hand went over her belly button, feeling it since it had recently popped up and out. He little nub shivered, and she felt a wave of pleasure as he lightly tickled it. It had gotten so sensitive lately.

Finally, his hand went down and time reached the cold, hard metal plating of her chastity belt. It prevented anyone from touching her inappropriately, even herself or her husband. The metal was thick, with soft leather edges to prevent any uncomfortableness. It was something Ayla and all women were used to wearing. She'd been wearing it since her first bleeding, since she had become a woman, and had gone through many as she got older. It was like a second skin to her.

But tonight, she would shed it. Peter reached into his shirt, underneath his neckline with his free hand and pulled out a small metal chain. He drew it out, the chain making a soft metallic clink as Ayla watched.

"You remember the signal? If we need to stop. You do need to worry about your health..." He gave her a look.

The look Ayla gave back could have melted ice. She was unhappy with him.

Peter grunted, then sighed. "If you a carrying a male heir, that is the important thing. Nothing can come between that." He didn't look at her even though Ayla glowered at him. She was in perfect health, and she would never do anything to hurt the baby inside her. They had even taken their typical training down a notch lately and Ayla had agreed to not where such a wide and deep butt plug during her regular day. Just in case.

Still, tonight was different. Tonight was designed to be something glorious. She wouldn't have Peter and his misplaced concern for her get in the way of that.

He unlocked the belt, hidden behind her huge belly, and she heard the click as the lock was undone. Peter reached underneath her, between the belt, and released the second lock. He began pulling apart the belt, removing the plates. It opened like a flower, and he slipped it off and underneath her bottom. The plug was disconnected from the belt and he left that in her. Thankfully. Despite her more modern and progressive sensibilities, unfortunately at times like this, she found the plug inside her to be very comforting. It was hard to orgasm without it. Her mind was fully warped and trained to be an anal slut after all.

Soon it would all change. Her daughters would not become such ravenous anal sluts like their mother.

She was now free, exposed, her womanhood open to the free air. It was such a unique and terrifying experience. Of course her plug was removed daily for when she needed to use the toilet. But to be fully removed like this it was still taking some getting used too. It was against the law. It went against all of her training, years and years of indoctrination. Religious dogma.

A thrill went through her body. She was free.

Peter looked down at her, at that womanhood that was forever hidden from his sight. He was only meant to see it whenever they were trying to have a child. All other reasons were strictly forbidden. Even he seemed a little anxious at what they were doing. Going against centuries of law.

His fingers came down, close to the forest of hair. They lightly grazed over the top, and Ayla couldn't help but let out a little whimper as he did. It was so unique to have anything but metal touch her in her most womanly of areas. Peter turned to look at her, watching her face, as he got bolder.

Ayla looked back, watching her husband, as his fingers now dipped lower. They found the wet, hot, moist canal between her forest. The touch was electric, causing the first loud gasp out of Ayla's mouth. She arched her back as Peter's fingers ran up and down her slit, so soft and smooth, feeling her wetness as it dribbled out of her.

"That's it my slave." Peter said to her. His fingers stopped just before her most forbidden area, just at the top of her vagina. That small little bud which had gone most of its life without ever being touched. "We will retrain you. We will retrain you into being a different type of whore."

Ayla nodded, begging him to continue on. She wanted those fingers on her clit. She wanted those fingers inside her! Such sacrilege, an act that would get her locked up and sent over to the colonies if anyone from outside saw her like this. But she craved it, the taboo nature of it. To be filled inside her cunt.

But Peter just teased her. He kept running his fingers up and down her cunt, never entering, just soaking his fingers in her juices. They were pouring deeper out of her now, a heavier flow as she became more excited.

Unfortunately, she couldn't escape her programming. She felt her ass pucker, tighten and constrict, before it began to throb around the plug inside her ass. She grunted, as a trigger went off in her mind. Her body already began to tell her that she should get pounded in her ass. She needed to be fucked hard in her bottom. As much as her womanly hole craved it, she also desired an intense butt fucking. Such was the life of a woman these days.

Peter could see the frustration within her. He could give her both, if he desired. But he just kept teasing her. It was going to take a long time to retrain his wife.

Footsteps approached. The clicking of heels on the floor. They were coming down the hall, moving toward their bedroom. Peter turned to face the door, aware that company approached. He removed his hand from Ayla, leaving his pregnant wife frustrated and bound on the bed.

A soft knock on the door. Three raps.

Peter moved around the bed, wiping his wet fingers on the silk sheets. He stood between the door and Ayla, ensuring no one could see her. Especially the condition she was in. He didn't care that she was tied up. All of the staff were used to seeing Lady Ayla bound or gagged or having proper training administered to her around the house. Why, only yesterday Peter had placed her in a stockade in his office while he had worked, dress hiked up around her belly, buttocks exposed to all as he'd spent a few hours fucking her ass with a multitude of differing dildos.

During breaks between that he had given her a good ass fucking, or fisting, or sometimes just even a spanking. Ayla had thanked him all the while through it, treated as a proper wife for hours. The staff had come in now and then, serving refreshments and tea as Peter requested. After all, all the male staff would go home and do the same thing to their wives when they got home. And all the female staff just got excited thinking about what their partners would do to them when they got home. It was normal.

"Come in." Peter said.

The door creaked open, ever so slightly, and Arthur stuck his head through. He was the head butler of the mansion, relatively young for his age, perhaps only forty. He had a stiff figure, grease black hair, and always a dour expression. Peter himself was only thirty and had bucked the trend by hiring a younger man to run his household. It had proven to be the right call, and Arthur was ever the perfect gentleman.

"My Lord, your guests have arrived." He spoke dryly.

"Send them in Arthur. That will be all for tonight. See to it all the maids are taken care of. I don't want a backside left empty through the night. Proper etiquette as always."

"Yes, my Lord." Peter didn't have to say such things. Arthur knew exactly what to do. All the young maids who were unmarried resided in the servants' quarters at the other end of the house. It was his job to ensure they kept up their modern lady sensibilities and were fully plugged at all times and all orgasms milked out of them so that they slept soundlessly and happy.

Arthur disappeared behind the door as two hooded figures entered the room and the door shut behind them. One was taller than the other, but not by much, the tallest one only being about five foot ten perhaps. The hoods over their heads covered their faces and from where Ayla was laying she couldn't see anything. The black cloaks shrouded their bodies as well. They could have been anyone. Faceless people no one would bother to look at as they walked down the street outside.

"Thank you for coming." Peter said. "I trust you have been well."

"We appreciate everything you have done for us." The taller one said. It was a woman's voice, deep but pleasant. "We know this has been an awful risk."

"A higher risk for some." Peter nodded. "However I think the result of what we are doing here will bear fruit long into the future."

The two figures removed their hoods. Now Ayla could get a good look at them, raising her head up to watch them over he pregnant belly. They were both blonde, the bright, natural blonde that was so striking among the townsfolk of London. They had tanned faces as well, darker than the pure white snow skin her and Peter had. Immediately one could tell they weren't from here, not from around these parts. They were foreigners.