Never a boring moment with her. The bitch could always surprise. Daily, twice a day .. week-after-week .. Ka-Lan had done his dreary duty by the betrothed. The poor cash-cow had been taken away for the seed to set. Then it was HER turn, the Mistress. And she never failed to catch Ka-Lan on the hop.
One had become a slog, a tedious routine. The other, ingeniously, came up with creative ideas every day. New ways of catching Ka-Lan out. Stressing him out .. mentally, physically. Always something new, unexpected. And increasingly malicious. Calling him out .. sexually. As a man. A man having the will crushed out of him.
Every single trick a way to put him down. Shaming him. Controlling him. His physical strength was the greater. But her power was total. She could do with him what she wanted. And she did.
Sexual torture every time. But never letting him think he knew what “pleasures” this session would bring. Surprising him, catching him unawares. On edge for what evil she’d put him through. Locked with his own nerves in that torture chamber. Sometimes she would have sex. Real sex, fulfilling sex. But only once. When she dismounted, the evil light on her eyes would signal she wasn’t finished with him. THAT “kindness” had just been to raise his hopes.
Commanding a burly guard to cinch him tight. Stand by Ka-Lan’s feet as the guard slicked his coarse hand in the sex juices and hauled his cock back to life again. Beaten off by a guard. Rough, sore, stinging. Her eyes of Ka-Lan’s face as he bit down on the pain. Teeth digging into his bottom lip.
Again-and-again she’d have the guard beat him off. And deny him that natural end. Five times .. seven .. even ten times .. she’d have the guard drive him maddeningly to the edge. Craving .. wishing .. sometimes driven to begging .. pleading to cum. Ka-Lan knew she craved his humiliation. Rarely granting him release. Not even satisfied when he begged.
Ka-Lan began to dread each time. Never knowing how she would turn sex against him this time. Yet intensely aware that only his maddened suffering would satisfy this world-class sadist. Getting her guards to beat him off. Worked over by men eager to please. And they knew how to please. Their calloused hands scraping up and down his raging shaft .. rough-handled .. uncaringly pumped. Sore.
With the betrothed, sex came dreary, monotonous. With the Mistress it came served with plentiful lashings of dread. After cuming daily inside the betrothed, still she’d scold him for a cock incapable of doing the job. Nathor had warned .. failure to create new life would end in his disaster. If the betrothed did not get pregnant, what worth was he then? At best, now he was just a stiff cock. If he did not do his duty .. if there was no baby in her belly soon …. What was the point of keeping him?
Ka-Lan had no doubts she’d have her solution. The Mistress would take charge of this disappointment. He’d pay. The Mistress would make a feast of him paying his dues. And she’d regularly taunt him with that fear. Cursing him that the cash-cow was not yet up-the-spout. Ka-Lan knew, in his hearts, that was just a ploy. A game. Her scenario for today — an excuse for submitting his cock to today’s punishing work-out. But there WAS a truth behind her play. What happened to him if he did not do the job?
Milked dry .. sometimes by her .. often humiliated by the calloused hands of a willing guard. Made to cum repeatedly. And once his seed had squirted purposelessly over his front, those rough hands were back again. In an instant .. no reprieve .. no recovery time. Yanking. Tugging. Painfully sore. Nerves jangling .. his body begging for a break. Sore. In pain. Red-raw.
And glorying in his suffering, she stood at the end of the stone .. looking into his face .. relishing the dismay written in his features. Noticing the flash of dismay when that calloused hand grabbed his bound cock again and crudely started yanking it back to full erection. Savouring the tear of pain when painfully-raw his cock was cinched tighter still and tugged back to promising new life.
She couldn’t get enough of Ka-Lan’s anguish. She breathed in his nervousness .. triumphing that again she had caught him on the hop. Milked painfully dry. Sarcastically harangued for failure when finally his seed had dried-up. Punished further for that abject disaster .. seating him astride a huge wooden wedge. His depleted balls forced to straddle the sharp edge. Torture digging in. His exhausted spirit sinking with despair with every hour forced to endure there.
Her torments fused into a dizzying whirl of suffering. He was nothing. He counted for nothing ……. Day-after-day. No pattern. Just an endless cycle of torture. Torturing his manly self out of his mind. Belittling. A power-game. Meant to demean. Inculcate a sense of worthlessness. Disparaging. Of no importance but for the stiffness of his cock. Crushing his once-proud sense of manly self-worth. Leading his befuddled mind in a dazed dance to her discordant tune.