The Pure and the Profane

Laela awoke to the fulness of a cock in her cunt. It was not yet dawn and the room was dark, but she felt the warmth of her brother's breath on her face as he mounted her.

"Missed me?" Lord Jace whispered. He'd had plenty to drink, the wine on his breath almost made her gag.

He'd left her spreadeagled and naked in his bed the night before, to drink and dice with his friends. Now he was ready to claim his prize, his soft, nubile sister, helpless and bound and waiting in his bed. At least she'd had a few hours of sleep alone.

"Gods, you're better than an actress," he murmured as he thrust in and out of her. His thrusts were deep and slow, he wanted to take his time. The pain made her grit her teeth but it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. She was getting used to him. "I'd pay for you."

He stopped suddenly. "Let me see you." He leaned over to light a candle and she blinked her eyes against the sudden brightness. Still inside her, he traced his fingers unhurriedly over her face and breasts. He palmed them and began to squeeze.

She glared at him, she would not give him the satisfaction of crying out.

"I told them about you," he said, meaning his friends, "how you were the sweetest fuck I'd ever had. How wet and hot your little pink cunt is. Your moans and squeals, how you suck at my cock like you'd starve without it. How I'd never be able to bed a woman who's not my sister again." He smirked at her. "Unless you give me a daughter, of course."

He began to thrust again, his nails digging into her thighs. "They all want to try you of course, but I need to break you in for now. Perhaps I'll throw a banquet, just for the occasion. I'll keep your cunt for myself but I'll let them fill your mouth and anus. Three at once - wouldn't you like that?"

He stroked her hair. "When I fill your belly with child, I'll let the slaves and servants fuck you. The ones who are loyal. The ones who deserve it. Maybe you'll like it, maybe you'll cry out for it."

He came, the thought of using her cruelly bringing him the greatest pleasure. He lay heavy on top of her once he was done, her body crushed and pinned down by his weight. His hands were still stroking her hair, but he blew out the candle.

"Sweet girl," he murmured. He kissed her lightly, her cold lips and unwilling face. "I could have any slave I wanted - do you know why I want you so?"

"I'm your sister," she whispered.

He laughed, low and deep. "Mine," he agreed. "My blood. My beauty." He nipped at her lips until she tasted blood.

He fell asleep after that, half his body pinning her in place. She was sore and uncomfortable and soon cold. He drew the blanket over himself but left her chilly, on purpose.

When he awoke hours later, well after noon, she'd pissed herself. She'd been left tied to the bed since the evening before and he must have known that it would happen.

"What a child you are," he said dismissively, wrinkling his nose at her as he pulled himself off her. She was flushed with shame.

"Please," she begged. Her limbs ached.

"You should be whipped," he said. "Or spanked, I suppose." He pinched her cheek, hard and mocking.

He left, without untying her, leaving her sticky in her own urine. But he did summon the majordomo, who looked just as disgusted with her as she felt.

"Dumb cunt," he muttered under his breath, untying her. He hauled her to her feet. "The master says you need a good scrubbing. If you're going to piss yourself like a bitch, you'll be scrubbed like one."

He dragged her outside, her feet slapping against the tiles as she stumbled to keep up with him. She felt weak and dirty and she blinked as she was pulled into the bright sunlit courtyard behind the kitchens. It was full of slaves and servants going about their duties.

Troughs filled one side of the courtyard and she was dragged into an empty one. The wooden bottom was rough and dirty underneath her feet. The majordomo hooked the leash at her collar around a nail on a beam behind her back so that was held in place. Next he tied her hands together, behind her back, with a cord. He smirked as he tied them together tightly, forcing her breasts to bob forwards as her shoulders were drawn back. He brushed her hair away from her face so that her body was completely exposed.

One hand on her hip to brace himself, he groped her labia, feeling the wetness. "You dirty, dirty little slut," he said. "If you were mine, I'd beat you bloody and make you drink your own piss. But your master's too kind to you, he only bid me clean you. Naughty girl."

A slave whistled as he passed by, carrying salted meats for the kitchen. Laela shrank back. The courtyard was full of laughter, knowing smirks as they watched how low she had been brought. But her torment had not yet even started.

"Get ready, little princess," the majordomo smirked. Slaves were hauling a bucket of cold water, ice floating on the surface, towards her. The majordomo dipped a mug into it and throw it at her. She cried out at the shock and he laughed.

"That's it, girl, cry like you're being fucked like a pig." Her pain and humiliation only brought them amusement.

Again and again he splashed cold water over her, making her squirm and shiver. He took a horse-hair brush and scrubbed at her body until she felt as though he would scrape her skin off. She felt raw and tender and red, her humiliation only added with so many eyes upon her.

She thought he liked to see her squirm, to try to twist her body away. She yelped as he soaped and brushed her private parts, making no efforts to be gentle. He pulled at them, exposing them further and slipped a finger up her bum as well. He slapped her breasts back and forth with the brush, making them sway painfully.

"Being pretty won't do you any favors," he said. "Don't think to soften me with your big eyes, lass."

He leaned forwards and whispered in her ear. "Master said he'd let me mount if I kept on working hard. Of course he'll want to watch but I bet I can make you moan. You'd like a working man's cock in your dirty little cunt, wouldn't you? I know girls like you. Randy sluts."

She thought it was over when the bucket was empty. She was shivering like a naked rat in the trough but it wasn't over yet.

A slave approached with a hose and the majordomo smiled wickedly at her. He parted her legs with his hands and pointed at her cunt. "Right there."

A jet of icy water blasted her and she screamed. It was aimed at her breasts and vagina and she felt her body shake with the force and the cold. Again and again, the torture contained until she begged them to stop.

When it was over, she hung limply against her bonds, spent and past fighting. The majordomo stroked her face, almost kindly, as tears welled in her eyes.

"There now, lass, it's over now, you're clean now. No need for tears."

Water dripped down her body and she thought he would untie her and let herself dry off. But he pursed his lips and shook his head, as though he could read her mind. "Master said to let you dry off here. Said the men could enjoy a show."

He bent and forced ties around her ankles, pushing her legs as far apart as they could go, before securing them. She almost had to bend over to take her balance. Now she was bound naked in the courtyard, wet, with her hands tied behind her back and her legs spread apart for everyone to take a good look at her pussy.

The majordomo patted her cheek. "Shouldn't be long," he said cheerily, "with the sun up, you'll dry quick. I'm sure you'll be back in the master's bed by suppertime."

It was hours before she was completely dry and by then, every slave in the household must have had a good look at her naked body. They weren't allowed to touch her, but she had never felt so degraded in her life. They brought her water to sip every hour, but apart from that no one spoke to her, no one treated her as anything but an object to be laughed at and mocked.

Two maids that she had thought of as friends passed her by, whispering behind their hands.

"Her mother was a whore," she heard one say distinctly.

"Like mother, like daughter," the other replied.

Their eyes were filled with venom as they looked at her, although she could not understand why. Surely they did not envy her. Was it a poisonous relief that it was not them in her place, a relief that made them spiteful and afraid, quick to resent and condemn her for her ill-fortune?

The sun was low in the sky and she was beginning to feel chilly when Lord Jace came out in the courtyard, whistling. He was holding an apple, he must have returned from the stables for he was in his riding clothes. Perhaps the apple and the sugar cubes in his pockets were for his precious horses.

He came straight to her, her body sagging slightly now. "My beauty," he said teasingly. Playfully he held a sugar cube to her lips. Even though she knew it was for the horses, she snapped at it. She hadn't eaten all day.

"You look good enough to eat," he said appraising her. "Should I fuck you here now, little sister?"

He allowed her a bite of his apple, the tart juice trickling down her lips.

"Yes," she whispered, knowing what it was what he wanted her to say. She had no will to fight back.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please. Please fuck me here, brother."

He laughed. "You don't sound very grateful or willing, pet. Perhaps I'll leave you here, come back when you're in a sweeter mood."

She couldn't help it, she began to cry. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please. Please."

The sight of her tears seemed to soften him. "You're spoiled," he said. "But you're my spoiled little darling. There, there, no need to cry."

He untied her hands swiftly and she sagged against him. A servant appeared to bend at her feet and untie her legs and they gave away. She would have fallen if he had not caught her.

Jace picked her up easily, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. A light smack to her buttocks and then he brought her inside.

He had guests, a small circle of male friends who he must have gone riding with. She knew some by sight and name, she must have seen them dozens of times growing up, they were his childhood friends.

Now they eyed her like dogs might a juicy piece of meat.

They were served in the gentlemen's solar while a singer and a harpist entertained them. Brandy and supper were laid out for them.

"My troublesome little sister," Lord Jace sighed melodramatically to his friends, dropping her at the foot of his chair.

One of the men eyed her hungrily. "A toothsome little morsel. We must have a taste."

"You will," Jace promised, settling himself in his chair. Laela knelt at his feet. She kept her head bowed, fearing to meet the men's eyes. A servant approached her and set a small dish of food and water in front of her.

When she made to serve herself, Jace nudged her with the toe of his riding boots. "Like a bitch," he reminded her. To his friends, "She pissed herself in the night, in my bed, so she needs to be reminded that she's not a dog." They laughed as she blushed in mortification.

Only one of them did not laugh, a red-haired man who sat opposite Jace. He grimaced at her as though he sympathized with her humiliation.

She remembered him, though it had been years since she had seen him - he'd been a good childhood friend of Jace's, but he must have been sent off to university. She remembered being forced to play hide and seek with Jace and Dae and their friends when they were children. She'd outrun the other children, fearing to be caught - she knew they'd hit her with sticks if they found her. The tall, red-haired boy had found her first but he'd been kind and pretended not to see her.

Laela was made to eat and sip with her mouth, crouched on all fours like a dog. She dared not use her hands. She thought she saw the singer and the harpist eyeing her askance, probably tittering to themselves in her humiliation.

She was clumsy and slow, sauce from the meats smearing against her mouth, her tongue lapping awkwardly at the sides of her bowls. Her breasts swayed and her nipples pressed against the carpet as she crouched lower, trying to eat as much as possible. She didn't know when he would be generous enough to feed her again.

Occasionally, as though she could forget, Lord Jace reminded her of her status. Kneeling at his feet and facing away from him, with her buttocks in the air, she was in the perfect position for him to nudge between her legs with his boots. She felt the tip of his fine leather riding boots push, almost playfully, at the entrance to her anus.

When the men were done eating, Jace nudged her buttocks again with his foot. "A good bitch would greet my guests. Say hello to Harrick."

Harrick was the man across from her, a tall, broad-shouldered young man with fiery red hair tied back in a ponytail and mischievous black eyes. She knew what was expected of her. She crawled slowly across the floor, to kneel at Harrick's feet.

"Hello," she said shyly.

"Aren't you a pretty one?" Harrick asked cheerfully. There was no malice in him, she could sense. "I remember you," he said, "back when your hair was still in braids and you were in a little girl's smock. You've grown." His eyes lingered appreciatively over her curves. "She's a ripe peach, Jace. Where have you kept her hidden?"

"Don't let her pretty face fool you. She's a sour little thing," Jace tsked. He raised his voice to Laela. "A good bitch would sniff. Sniff his crotch."

Harrick laughed but seemed amused as she buried her face in his lap, taking a good sniff. He smelled rank, he had been riding all afternoon. He spread his legs further and palmed her chin in one hand, tracing his long fingers over her jawline.

"Would you like her to suck your cock, Harrick?"

"Don't mind if I do," Harrick said lightly, leaning back in his armchair. He made to unbutton his breeches but Jace said, "Let her do it. Laela, with your teeth."

She struggled to unbutton them with her teeth and Harrick chuckled. "Leave the poor girl be, Jace," he said. "She's done her best." He unbuttoned them himself and patted her head. "Here, sweetling."

She slipped his member out of his pants and began to suck, wrinkling her nose at the smell. He was thick and gagged in her throat but he was easy to please. He was soon hard and came quickly, holding her head in place so that she was forced to swallow.

"What a sweet girl," he said, fumbling for a coin and tossing it to her. He caressed her hair for a moment and met Jace's eyes honestly. "I'd buy her off you if you'd sell her. I don't think I'd let her leave my bed for a week."

"She's mine," Jace said silkily. "Laela, go greet our other guests."

She was made to pass around the circle of men, offering her mouth in their service. Jace made her beg, sitting prettily on her haunches with her hands folded in supplication, as though their cocks were all she craved. They all accepted of course.

Some of the men slapped her face, some twisted her nipples, they all seemed to want to make her cry. Cum trickled down her mouth and tits, but Jace forbid her from wiping it off with her hands. He wanted her to look as soiled and used as she felt.

After she was done, he allowed her to crawl into his lap. He dabbed delicately at her mouth and breasts with a napkin and kissed her forehead. "Good girl," he whispered into her hair. She felt Harrick's eyes on her and Jace must have too, for he smiled at his friend and held her close.

He held a glass of wine to her lips and made her drink deeply. Before she knew it, her eyes began to drift shut, warmed by the firelight and lulled by the music of the harp and the buzz of the men's conversation.

It was late and she'd inadvertently fallen asleep in Jace's arms when he moved suddenly. The room was quiet and dark, empty but for her and Jace and Harrick.

"You can take her," Jace told Harrick, shoving Laela off his lap. She skinned her knee on the floor as she fell. "She needs to be trained to other cocks anyway."

"You'll watch?" Harrick asked.

"Always."

She felt the red-haired man pull her upright. He was bigger and stronger than Jace, but he held her like a flower.

"Gods, girl, you're a sight," he breathed. He knelt, parting her legs with his hands. "Here sweetling, let me pleasure you."

She'd never had a man kiss her like that, his mouth slow and lingering and hot on her cunt. He braced his large hands against her hips, his tongue licking and lapping and forming strange shapes on her cunt.

She shivered, but he was not done. He took his time with her and when she thought she would begin to cry out, she felt his finger slip inside her. It did not hurt, she was warm and loose, and she moaned out softly in desire. Tongue and finger, she could almost forget where she was, with who she was and who was watching them.

He stopped abruptly and she swayed, fumbling to balance herself. He looked up at her, grinning like a pleased boy. "Come now, sweetling, don't be selfish. It's my turn." He held out his hand to her and she followed.

She thought he would lay her out on a divan but instead, he lay down and pulled down his breeches. His cock was hard and ready.

"Mount me," Harrick ordered her.

"I haven't-" she began nervously, afraid to misstep.

"You'll learn then," Jace said shortly. She started, she had almost forgotten that he was still there. But it would not be like him to leave his prize alone for a minute, not with another nobleman.

She climbed on to the divan, straddling Harrick awkwardly. Gingerly, she lowered herself onto his waiting cock, afraid of pain. But it did not hurt at all and she was filled with a sweet pleasure, surprising in its intensity.

She gave a low, throaty chuckle and Harrick grinned up at her. "I'm waiting."

She began to bob up and down, trying to find a rhythm that would please them both. Harrick grabbed on to her hips in impatience, forcing them to move more quickly as he began pushing his own hips up against her. His thrusts were hard and strong and she cried out in delight.

She came before him and hung limply against him, as he orgasmed. When he was done, he held her close for a moment before pushing her gently off. He rose and began to button his breeches, not even looking back at her.

She shrank back, his cum sliding down her thighs. She could still feel the pleasure in her loins but now she felt ashamed of her own body. She had allowed him to take her in front of her brother and had cried out in ecstasy, like a whore. A good woman would not have done that.

"I'd gamble for her," Harrick told Jace soberly.

"Another time, perhaps," Jace said coolly. "Your room is ready for you."

Harrick nodded and left the room.

Jace beckoned to Laela to follow him and she obeyed, back to his bedroom. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself," he told her.

"I could say the same for you," she said, unable to stop herself.

"You're an insolent little wench," Jace laughed. He yawned as he slid into his bed. He pointed at the floor to her. "You can sleep there."

She was about to lie down when an idea came to her. "You'd give your bitches a blanket," she reminded him.

That seemed to amuse him, for he tossed one off his luxuriously appointed bed at her. "Here then," he said.

Grateful, she wrapped herself in the thin quilt and lay down on the floor, hoping for a few hours of respite. Despite herself, she could not stop thinking of Harrick, of his merry black eyes and large, tender hands. Perhaps he could persuade Jace to give her to him as a mistress, she thought sleepily.