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Captive

By Aishling Morgan

Captive
Paperback, 274 pages paperback Online Price:
£7.99
ISBN: 9781909840300
Format: 203mm x 127mm
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 20th June 2013

EPUB, 218 pages ebook Online Price:
£1.99
ISBN: 9781907726880
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 12th May 2010

Series: The Maiden Series

Rating: 3 / 5 stars - 1 vote(s).



The second book in the widely acclaimed Maiden Series by Aishing Morgan. 

Set in a world of nubile women, cruel men and sexually voracious bests, Captive tells the story the maid Aisla as she attempts to rescue the ungrateful Sulitea from a life of drudgery and punishment. But by the time the bad guys have finished with her she'll wish she had never tried.

Elethrine lay on her bed, stomach down. She could feel her nipples, stiff and urgent through her clothes, but tried to ignore the sensation, knowing that with her purity girdle clamped tight around her hips any attempt to masturbate would bring only frustration. She had been half-asleep, day dreaming of her time in the southern lands. It had been impossible not to dwell on the erotic aspects of the long journey that had been forced upon her. In her home, Korismund, her body was always concealed beneath layers of elaborate clothing. In Apraya she had shown not just ankles, but the full length of her legs, her midriff, her chest, her bottom. In fact she had shown everything, naked on a slave block in front of a thousand or more eager male eyes. Then there had been her companies, Talithea and the maid, Aisla, put through the same exposure and indignity. She had made love to both, first under the lewd direction of men, then for their own pleasure. Nor had any of them escaped the attentions of men, dwarfs, goblins, a colossal troll. Her thoughts turned to how it had felt to have thick, sleek cocks pushed into her mouth, rubbed between her breasts, forced into her reluctant bottom hole…
Elethrine stopped and her mouth set in an angry purse at her own behaviour. She was doing it again, with her bottom lifted as if in the hope of entry while her hands had gone to her chest and were gently squeezing the full globes of flesh beneath her bodice and chemise.
It was impossible, she had to do it, to try and masturbate in order to once again experience the ecstasy of orgasm that she had learnt in Apraya. Her purity girdle made it impossible to get enough friction to her clitoris, however excited she became. Yet she was sure that she could make it, just from the stimulation of her nipples, if only she could concentrate and put the risk of intrusion by her nurse from her mind.
Determined to act before she could change her mind, she lifted her front and began to tug at her bodice, fumbling the laces in her urgency to get at her breasts. Nurse Anaka’s room was two stories down in the high, circular tower that held Elethrine’s quarters. Discovery would bring agonising shame, and worse, the exposure of Elethrine’s bottom and the application of a cane to her bare, quivering cheeks. Afterwards would come humiliation and self-pity, but also the warm glow of a beaten bottom and a wet sex, but by then her purity girdle would be back on and Anaka would sit with her and make her embroider, or some equally tedious, pointless task.
With an angry grunt Elethrine pulled wide the sides of her bodice and chemise, releasing her breasts into her hands. They felt heavy, soft and sensitive and her brief anger faded beneath a wave of pleasure as her fingers flicked over her hard nipples. Rolling onto her back, she spread her thighs, and with her breasts bare in her hands she began to masturbate.
She let her thoughts drift, all the while teasing her nipples and squirming her hips into her purity girdle. A fantasy began to evolve, her memories blending with her desires as her pleasure rose. First it was the other girls, toying with her, teasing her to ecstasy with delicate fingers, stroking her, fondling her, probing her. With the thought of being entered her need changed and she began to think of sucking on cocks, of the men who had had her in every hole but her precious, virgin tuppenny. As the fantasy grew she found herself wishing one or more had taken her virginity, pushing her down, settling between her spread thighs.
Elethrine was at the edge of ecstasy, almost coming, when a noise dragged her back. For a moment she listened, her hands shaking as she prepared to pull her bodice closed. Again the noise came, a grating, scrapping sound, like some hard object being drawn across stone. Jerking her bodice tight over her naked breasts she sat up, only to realise that the sound was coming not from the stairwell but from outside the window. Imagining it to be no more than a bird or bat, she took a deep breath and lay back, once more exposing her breasts and taking one in either hand.
Again she tried to concentrate, doing her best to ignore the scraping, now louder than before. Shutting her eyes, she thought of yet dirtier pleasures, licking her maid’s bottom, swallowing mouthfuls of sperm as she sucked on cock after cock, many of which had been inside her, Aisla or Talithea. At last it was the goblins, catching her, pulling her down, stripping her, filling her every hole with fat green cock…
She stopped, angry with both herself and whatever was making the scraping noise that just would not allow her to achieve that final moment of concentration needed to tip her over into orgasm. Determined to make one final effort, she let her body relax and once more began the gentle, teasing touches to her now sore nipples. Once more the scraping noise sounded, and Elethrine flung herself upright with a petulant wail, only for the sound to turn to a scream as her window exploded in a shower of multicoloured glass.
Even as a massive, mail clad leg kicked in the leaden frame Elethrine was rolling from the bed. Glimpsing the strange, bird-like claws on the boot, she thought for one dreadful moment that she was under assault from some grotesque monster. The invader gave a thoroughly human roar of lust at the sight of her naked breasts as he jumped into the room, and any illusion as to what was happening was dashed from her mind. Seizing a pair of scissors from her dresser as the man’s hand closed on her other arm, she stabbed at his chest with all her force, deliberately aiming for what she judged to be the strongest part of his armour. The scissors broke and she was being drawn into his body, taken in metal clad arms, pushed back towards the bed. He held her tight as he struggled to shake off his clawed gloves in defiance of her writhing, squirming body. For a moment she beat her fists on his chest, thought better of the futile effort and reached for a weapon. Her hand found the neck of a vase and she brought it down on his helmet, scattering flower petals, water and shards of pottery across the room. The man took no notice whatever, shook off his second glove and pushed her hard back onto the bed.
Elethrine went down, feeling a pointless flush of embarrassment as her breasts bounced and wobbled to the shock of landing. Her ankles were seized, held hard in one huge hand as her legs were lifted and her skirts and petticoats fell away, exposing the seat of her drawers. Most of her weight was in his hand and she could do nothing, only beat her fists on the bed and yell out the ritual insults to his manhood. He ignored her, pushed a hand between her thighs and tore open the slit of her drawers, exposing the lock of her purity girdle. Pulling his sword free, he jammed the end into the keyhole and twisted, only to curse as the sword tip snapped.
‘Try the one over the fireplace, its Dwarven,’ Elethrine said quickly.
The man gave a grunt that might have been thanks and lifted Elethrine bodily by her legs. Her skirts fell over her head and she was forced to take her weight on her hands, leaving her helpless and struggling upside down, knowing that her thighs showed. The man grunted and Elethrine felt a pressure on her lower belly as the sword point was pushed into the lock of her purity girdle. A snap sounded and the man laughed as the girdle became suddenly loose. Elethrine found herself choking at the sheer power of emotion that came with the bursting of her purity girdle.
He released one ankle, making her squeak as he wrenched the girdle free, to leave only the flimsy ruffles of her pantalettes between him and her sex. Then those were gone, torn away to leave her nude tuppenny gaping to his gaze, open for him, for his fingers, for his cock. Dangled upside-down, she felt totally, completely helpless, exposed for his use in an utterly undignified pose, nothing concealed, breasts bare, bottom and tuppenny showing in a froth of torn lace. She began to kick her free leg in a futile display of resistance, only to have his hand close on it and haul her thighs wide.
Elethrine’s breath was coming in deep, ragged pants as her open tuppenny was inspected for virginity. Burning shame filled her head at the blatant intimacy of the act and also because she knew just how juicy and swollen her attempt at masturbation would have left her sex. Then came relief as the man grunted in satisfaction, and more shame as he laughed to see her excitement.
She was lifted and dumped on the bed, then taken by one ankle and turned before she could recover herself. He towered over her, massive, a full head taller than her, looking down at her, his eyes gleaming through the visor of his helmet. Holding her firmly, he pulled at his helmet, lifting the visor to reveal a grinning, handsome face and blonde hair.
A shiver went through her and she felt her thighs start to open by instinct, independent of her furious shame at her exposure and rough handling. With a deep groan she gave in, arching her back to push her breasts up to him as her thighs came apart. He laughed and put a hand to his codpiece, fumbling at the catches, all the while keeping a firm grip on her ankle.
Elethrine watched, acutely conscious of her gaping sex and stiff nipples as the catches went one by one. At last the codpiece dropped away, exposing the padding beneath. Her heart jumped as he tugged at this, pulling the thick layer of cloth open, showing pale flesh, a hint of hair, the full, turgid bulk of his penis and two heavy balls in a thick growth of dark blonde hair.
Her jaw began to tremble as he started to stroke his balls and cock. She watched, half scared, half expectant, as the meaty foreskin drew back over the swollen head. Remembering that she was never supposed to have even seen a cock before, she managed a gasp and let her eyes go round as he jerked himself erect. He laughed and moved forward to brandish his now solid erection directly over her spread tuppenny, holding it up to show her what was about to be put inside her. It was thick, his big hand barely meeting around the shaft, and long, with a fat, bulbous head of deep red flesh, at once magnificent and obscene.
She sighed, abandoning herself to entry, her breasts quivering and her thighs cocked as wide apart as they would go, one held, one free. He put the head of his cock to her flesh, bumping her clitoris and sending a shudder of pure ecstasy right through her. Again he laughed, and began to tease her, alternately nudging her clitoris and prodding his cock head against the taut skin of her hymen, threatening to deflower her, only to go back to exciting her. Elethrine was soon squirming her bottom on the bed, her hands on her breasts, feeling the pump globes and stroking her nipples. He laughed at her helpless response, which only served to increase her arousal, making her lift her hips to his penis, squeezing the muscles of her tuppenny and bottom.
The clatter of steps sounded on the stairs and the man grunted in annoyance and pushed his cock at her hole. She gasped at the sudden pressure, then again at the sound of Uroth’s bass roar from beyond the door. Her lover pushed, her hymen burst, and with a cry of mingled pain and rapture she surrendered her virginity even as the door exploded inwards.

Aishling Morgan

Aishling Morgan is the pen name of a North London-based author and wine importer. In a 20-year career he’s written for Punch magazine and Virgin’s Crime and Passion team. He’s had 79 titles published by Nexus and has sold more than half-a-million copies worldwide.

Customer Reviews:

Reviewed by: Harriston Banks on 10th April 2012 6:14PM

\"Captive\" is pornography, but it\'s has pure sexual fun as its mission and it worked for me. The Hero, Aisla, is tasked to rescue Sultea from a \"convent\" where dyke women torment the inmates. She succeeds and then these lovers go on a quest through a fantasy world trying to return home safely.

On their way they are exploited, raped, buggered, beaten and abused. But, they enjoy the degradation and shame and manage to have many, many orgasims.

If you like fantasy settings and raw sex, it\'s fun. It\'s not for everyone, but compared to other books aka Penthouse Letters it\'s more than just a book to masturbate with.

I liked it and plan to buy more of Aishling Morgan\'s books.



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