Given to the Club by Emily Tilton

Chapter 15

Helena

The thought of other girls claimed by other men’s cocks did not remain long in my mind, though. The here and now presence of Gerard’s hardness, pressing gently into the sheath he had prepared for his pleasure, took control of my mind and my body at once. At the same time, he pressed upon my back, holding me down into the very posture in which he had whipped me, only a few hours before.

Just this morning. This morning I had been a free young lady, trying to cover the tracks of my treason, sure that even if I should be caught I would suffer no real consequence except perhaps embarrassment. My indulgent parents would marry me off, and since I would have a say in the choice of suitor, I would choose the man who seemed most sympathetic to my cause.

I cried out at the feeling of double restraint: my wrists in the cuffs that I could see now before my face as I looked up the bed, my body bent by my guardian’s hands.

“Beg me, Helena,” Gerard growled, the gentle back and forth motion of his hardness between the lips of my pussy seeming to me like the opposite of the way his hand held me down in the humiliating pose, my bottom high and my knees apart, kneeling as he stood behind me to claim me as his ward once and for all. “Beg me to fuck this pretty little quim.”

I bit my lip as a choked sob rose from my chest. I wished it was a sob of protest, rather than of aching need, but at least my bitten lip kept me from obeying him immediately. Again my face blazed into heat at the sudden, irrepressible wish that my guardian would turn my governor up, so that the sensation of his cock in my untried vagina wouldn’t inspire such a desperate, wanton desire for more of it, more of him.

“Shh, my dear,” he said. “Let yourself feel it. Unless you are a very good girl, you won’t be allowed much pleasure as intense as your cunny is feeling it right now. After I break you in, I’m going to turn your governor down.”

“Oh, heavens,” I whimpered. I almost begged him to do it now—to turn the governor down, so I could somehow resist the sensation. But my body didn’t want that, and my mind, truly, didn’t either, for the understanding of how my world truly worked had at last begun to come to me. Prosperian law and culture had limited my choices; indeed, at this moment, I had no choice at all but to accept the ecstasy my guardian, the good, handsome man who truly cared for my well-being, had chosen to bestow on me with his hard manhood. “Please. Please, sir.”

“Please what, Helena? I wish you to say it. The word is a man’s word, but when he commands his fucking piece to say it, she must do as she is told.”

I closed my eyes so that I wouldn’t see the headboard that must have watched the fuckings of so many young women, or the leather bonds that held my hands so distant from any hope of warding off Gerard’s possession of my most intimate secrets.

“Please fuck me, sir,” I whispered, every sense suddenly thrilling with the shame of saying the terrible word. “Please fuck my little cunt.”

“Such a good little whore,” my guardian murmured, still moving the head of his cock in and out, but pushing in deeper now with each thrust, so that I took sobbing breaths with each inward motion. “Such a sweet quim. Time for its first real lesson from its master.”

I cried out as Gerard accompanied his degrading words with a stronger thrust, his hand going to my hip to grasp me firmly there. With the traction he gained, he held me in place and drove into my vagina hard with his rigid cock. I knew with a moment’s panic that he had decided to delay no longer, that he would enjoy me, and have me, now.

I felt a flash of pain that made me cry out again and buck under his thrusting hips as my guardian began to fuck me. His hands kept me positioned for his cock, though, and his hardness burst through the barrier of my virginity and rushed so deep inside my pussy that it took my breath away.

I heard him let out a low, contented noise of pleasure as his muscular naked lap came up against my raised bottom, making me think again, with a hot new blush, of how he had whipped me. He held himself deep inside me that way, and he stroked my flank with his hand as a man might praise a filly for her submission to his riding her hard.

“Good girl,” he said. “Your quim feels nice and tight on my cock.”

I let out a sob, for the discomfort and newness of the sensation still seemed to me greater than the pleasure. Though I felt a strange, willful pride even then in having become a woman at last, I also felt deep humiliation in having experienced my defloration this way, in a gentlemen’s club’s chamber of pleasure, with my hands bound before me and my guardian’s manhood inside my private part—my innocence taken as a punishment for my misdeeds.

Then Gerard began to fuck me, to ride me, in earnest, and the pain seemed to recede so far, the pleasure to increase so greatly, that my body became utterly lost in the sensation.

“Oh, heavens,” I whispered, and then I could not help saying it aloud, “Oh, heavens.”

He held me still in place, though now my muscles struggled against his hands not in resistance but in the effort to match the rhythm of his hard thrusts. Greedily I tried to push my bottom back against him, wanting more of the hard thing that turned pain to joy.

“Such a little whore,” my guardian said. “I knew it the first time I caned you.”

I remembered, and despite the lingering pain in my pussy from the thrust that had deflowered me—or perhaps even because of it—I felt another orgasm wash over me. I closed my eyes, shutting out the sight of the dark headboard and my bound wrists, and I saw Gerard’s study, the desk over which he had bound me to give me my first experience of his discipline. I felt the thrusts of his lap against my bottom as a reminder of the strokes of his cane, teaching me to obey my guardian… teaching me to submit to his will for my body, and to my own wanton needs, when the man in charge of me allowed it.

The curious floating feeling that I had experienced above all during the humiliating ceremony in the morning room came upon me, as the climax stretched on and on. Gerard’s hardness drove in and out relentlessly, his hands gripped me firmly. I felt, to my confusion, both degraded and completely safe in his hands.

That idea somehow caused my mind to rise out of my body, or so I felt. My guardian knew how to use me, and he knew how to train me; all I needed to do was allow his shameful demands to be law for me, and truly I had no choice in the matter. Even my pleasure, this limb-loosening ecstasy that Gerard forced upon me, represented only a means to the end of his own pleasure and my full obedience to him.

Very distantly I felt him withdraw his manhood from my vagina, and I cried out in shameless dismay, for I knew that another orgasm lay only a few thrusts away. I tried to rise upon my elbows and to turn to him, forming my features into a mask of piteous pleading for more. His hands held me down, though, so that I could not look at him. With a rush of heat that seemed to flow to every part of my body I remembered that I was not a bride in her marriage bed but a traitor being punished with my master’s cock.

“Until we judge you on the road to reform,” Gerard growled, “no man who uses you will climax in your cunny, Helena. A different pathway to a worldly gentleman’s pleasure will receive our seed.”

“What?” I whispered to the comforter, unable to think in any rational fashion. My mind could not grasp enough of his words even to know what I meant by what?His seed? A different pathway? A worldly gentleman? None of it would have made sense to my cognition had I been fully in possession of my wits; as matters stood, I could not seem to grasp the slightest thread of his meaning.

Then I cried out as I believe I had not cried out even under my guardian’s strap, as I imagined I might cry out under the horrid thing in the painting, the thing Gerard had called a cunt paddle. For he had pulled apart my bottom-cheeks, and he had used his fingertip to indicate to me precisely which pathway he intended to employ for his pleasure.

“Oh, no,” I whispered, again trying to rise up, to struggle against his strong grip. But my guardian used his left hand upon my neck to keep my face to the mattress and my bottom high as his right moved back between my thighs. “No… please. Sir, please… please.”

His skillful fingers had begun to work me, though, rousing again the boundless need he seemed to have awakened in my pussy. I felt myself covering those probing digits with the evidence of my wantonness, and I knew that the word please deserved all the different interpretations my master might place upon it. I felt wicked to be so open there, so ready for a man’s enjoyment, and though I wished to find that wickedness abhorrent, I could not: I wanted more, in the warm, wet place where Gerard had two fingers, now.

Even the terrible idea of the other place, the other pathway he meant to use, inflamed me further. When he took his fingers from my vagina again, I lifted my bottom, arched my back despite myself, desperate for more in the sheath Gerard had opened for himself, for his rigid penis to come and go as he chose. His hand moved, but not back to the place I wanted it—rather the fingers went to the place my guardian meant to have me.

I felt him rub my own pussy’s slick essence onto the tiny ring of my bottom-hole. One finger entered, and I gave a little whining moan.

“Shh, little whore,” Gerard murmured. “You must learn to open here.”

I tightened instead, and the strange, filthy pleasure of it, of having a man’s finger in my bottom, washed over me, from my spine to my needy clitoris, where the governor did not mute any of it. I sensed again the terrible power of the device, and how it could not only deny me the wayward pleasure of my pussy but also make me even needier, even greedier when my master decided to allow it.

The finger moved in and out, teaching me the most degrading lesson imaginable. With my cheek held against the comforter and my hands bound before me, my guardian seemed to have great patience in the training of my private ring. He had it seemed all the time in the galaxy to prepare that most shameful path for his enjoyment, and he wished to make his pleasure exquisite when at last he took it.

“Two fingers, now,” he said, and I cried out as he worked the second digit inside. My bottom learned; it seemed I could not help it. So desperate for forbidden delights that even Gerard’s most humiliating use of my body seemed to make it catch fire, I pushed down there, my cheeks blazing at the shame of it.

“That’s it,” Gerard said softly. “There you go.”

My blush grew hotter as my guardian praised me for something so wanton.

Then my cheeks blazed inferno-like at his next words.

“Time for my cock, Helena. Prepare yourself, you little whore.”