Taken by the Viking Ch. 20

His fingers slid between her butt cheeks, seeking out the base of her plug, and she shifted, shuddering at the sensation of it pressing deeper inside her.

She slapped her palm against his shoulder.

While she'd become accustomed to being treated like a doll, dressed, bathed, and often pampered by him, this was going just a little too far! She didn't want to actually ACT like a little girl or have a little girl's room! He could brush her hair and pick out her clothing in a normal room, an adult room.

That the room tugged at some part of her heart, some wayward wisp of a dream leftover from her own childhood, was something she ignored. She'd grown up past that.

And she definitely wasn't curious about what the swing or the rocking horse or the lectern were for.

"No!"

"Yes," he said, obviously still amused as he began to walk further into the room, holding her in front of him as if she were a little girl in truth and making her want to scream with frustration. She almost wished she was a little girl, because then she could just go ahead and throw the tantrum she was desperately trying to hold back.

It was odd, when she looked at the whole of their relationship, to realize how she no longer feared him. She knew he might spank her, might punish her, might torment her sexually, but she never feared anymore that he might truly harm her. Her life still didn't feel quite real though, even though it didn't seem nightmarish anymore either. Trish still wasn't entirely sure how she'd gotten here. Why she'd chosen as she had. Whether it had been the right choice. Especially in moments like this when he seemed determined to remind her how little control she had over her life, even if she'd chosen this path.

"I think you'll like this room more than you know," he said, lifting her up and over his shoulder, giving her a little swat on her bottom in return for the slap she'd landed on his chest. He started moving across the room, towards who knows what. Trish started twisting around, trying to hang onto his side and peer around him to see where he was headed.

"I don't want to be treated like a child!" Even if it meant a room spun from her wildest fantasies as a little girl, with all the frills and beauty a mind could conjure. He came to a stop and Trish twisted some more. She was pretty sure they were standing in front of the rocking horse. "You can't just put me in a child's room and expect me to use it!"

"Of course not," he said amiably. Too amiably. Jordan wasn't amiable. He also sounded slightly distracted and was doing something with the hand which wasn't holding her in place on his shoulder. "We'll both be using it."

Gritting her teeth, Trish squirmed, wondering if she dared really try to hit him or beat on his back. It would be completely useless to do so. His body had the fine tuned, hardened musculature of a soldier, and she had never had any real physical prowess. There were women who could definitely get out of this hold - she'd seen them in the Wolf's compound - she just wasn't one of them. Scowling, she tried not to pout like the child she was trying to prove she wasn't.

One of the things she disliked the most about being from the Moon was that - even though she'd been orphaned, lonely, and looked down on - compared to the women from Earth she'd been pampered. The women and men on Earth had had to endure hardships Trish could hardly fathom; she'd only gotten a very small taste of it when Jordan had kidnapped her, and even then he'd very quickly become very protective and solicitous of her. She'd never had a chance to become a soldier.

She didn't know if she'd have made a good one, likely she wouldn't have, but on the Moon it had never even been an option.

So she was completely helpless compared to Jordan.

That her helplessness also aroused her could be particularly frustrating.

"Why can't we just keep doing what we have been?" she asked plaintively, knowing she sounded whinier than she wanted to.

Jordan chuckled, his free hand coming up to slide up the back of her thigh and tug at the plug in her ass. She let out a little squeal as he pulled and the plug came free; she knew him well enough to know the relief of an empty bottom was not to last for long. In this mood, if he was removing her plug, it was likely because she was about to have that hole filled with something else.

Instead of answering, he made a movement and it sounded like he'd tossed the plug away, into a bin that she hadn't noticed next to the bookshelves, probably where it could be picked up later. Then he let her drop down in front of him, sliding down his front, one hand pulling her dress up even as her feet touched the floor.

Totally naked, standing in front of him, Trish was reminded of how small, how delicate she was compared to him. She fit into the frilly, girlish room; Jordan did not. He stood out, dominating the entire space, too big and too masculine for the surroundings. Dropping her dress to the ground, he didn't even look at it as he turned her around, so she was sideways to him, and began to pick her up again.

She gasped as she saw the rocking horse up close now - it was beautifully painted, just like a rocking horse out of a toy catalog or a history book, but with one very large difference. Actually, make that two very large differences.

Trish whimpered as Jordan easily lifted her into the place, spreading her legs so they fell on each side of the horse, the two huge dildos in the saddle pressing against her pussy and ass as he lowered her. She clung to his neck, holding on as her body began to slide down the lubricated lengths, her inner muscles protesting being stretched simultaneously.

"Nooooo..." she said, moaning. "I want to talk, not... not this!"

"We can talk later, baby-girl," he said, his eyes glowing with appreciation as she sank further onto the dildos, her inner muscles burning with both discomfort and pleasure. "Right now, I want to watch you ride your new horsie."

She wanted to bristle at the baby talk, but he pressed a button on the horse's neck and suddenly the dildos came to life inside of her, vibrating and making her muscles seize at the sudden rush of pleasure coursing through her.

"OH!"

Throwing her head back, her back arched as she finally settled down into the saddle, her toes barely touching the floor, the twin dildos humming away inside of her. It felt like the saddle was vibrating too, stimulating her pussy lips and clit, sending the most delicious sensations running through her.

Hands cupped her breasts, kneading them, squeezing them, and pinching her nipples. Trish cried out, squirming in the saddle, not wanting to admit how much she truly did like the toy she'd just been protesting. With Jordan, she should have known it wouldn't be a fair fight.

His dark chuckle in her ear, lips brushing along her neck, made her shudder.

"Good girl," he said.

She tried not to whimper when he released her breasts, still feeling a little indignant over the child's room - no matter how adult the rocking horse had actually turned out to be.

It took him less than a minute to secure her to the horse; leather straps wrapping around her ankles and wrists, placing her in a slightly forward sitting position. When he picked up what had looked like decorative braids hanging from the horse's mane, Trish realized they actually had nipple clamps at the end.

"Noooo, Jordan, please!" she begged, even as her nipples stiffened even more in anticipation. From the way he was smiling, she could tell he planned to spend some time tormenting her. He only used clamps on her when he was going to take his time, and she could already feel an orgasm building low in her core. If she was going to ride the rocking horse, she didn't want to be played with - she wanted to cum!

And yet there was still the part of her which thrilled to being totally bound and helpless, totally subject to his will... the part of her which was more turned on because he was going to play with her even though she would beg him to let her hurry up and cum.

She shrieked, squirmed, as he placed the clamps on her nipples, ignoring her pleas. She was now attached to the horse by the restraints on her wrists and ankles, the clamps which were attached to the mane, and the dildos deep inside of her.

Then Jordan set his foot on the front of the rocking horse and stepped down, sending her surging forward.

Not only did the horse rock, pulling at her nipples as her body moved in rhythm with the horse's movements, but as it rocked the dildos began to pump, receding halfway and then thrusting back in as she moaned and squirmed on top of the saddle. The pulling pain in her nipples was countered by the thrilling pleasure of two cocks thrusting into her holes, the vibrating saddle buzzing against her clit.

Jordan had stepped back, his foot still on the front of the rocking horses, dictating its movements, one hand pressing against the front of his pants, rubbing gently while he watched her. She met his eyes, felt her helplessness, her pussy and ass squeezing around the dildos, and she arched her back as her nipples were pulled yet again.

She'd thought he was going to play with her longer before allowing her to cum, but instead he just kept rocking her on the horse as her ecstasy spiraled up and burst, making her cry out as she quivered and clenched atop the toy. The machine kept fucking her, making her pull at her bonds, trying to get away from the thrusting, the buzzing, just for a moment, just long enough to catch her breath, to let her sensitive flesh quiet. She came hard, her orgasm pulsing along with the steady, rhythmic thrusts of the cocks inside of her, their unceasing, relentless filling and receding of her tender holes.

As Jordan just stood there, watching, his foot moving to keep her rocking, Trish shuddered and writhed. Her thighs pressed together against the warm wood of the horse, trying to lift her body slightly from the horse, relieving the pressure and hot buzzing on her clit.

Looking up, she met his icy blue eyes, which were currently not icy at all - they were hot and hungry as he watched her.

"How long am I going to ride this?" she asked, a bit desperately. While she felt strange being watched, it also turned her on, and the rocking horse itself was obviously made for female pleasure, but she didn't know how much of it she could take. Jordan had already proven to her that too much pleasure could be just as much a punishment as pain.

Her thighs were already weakening, sweat and her pussy juices making them slick, making it difficult for her to maintain her grip and she was sliding back into the saddle as he smiled at her.

"Tell me you like the room," he said.

Trish's jaw clenched.

She didn't know why, but sometimes she became stubborn about what seemed like the most ridiculous things. Some part of her was yelling at her to just say the words, but another part of her didn't want to give in.

He knew she liked the room. Even before he put her on the horse.

But she didn't want to like the room. Didn't want to think she liked being treated as a child. Didn't like having it shoved her in face that she enjoyed being his 'little girl' in reality and not just in name. Didn't like having to acknowledge exactly what he was doing when he dressed her, brushed her hair, and fed her from his fingers.

Jordan liked to take care of every last one of her needs. He liked her totally dependent on him. And Trish had liked eventually surrendering and letting him take care of her like a child, but she balked at admitting that's what happened. She knew what she was doing, why she was balking, and yet she still couldn't give him the words.

Not until he made her.

Was this a product of having been kidnapped? Raped? Slowly turned into the kind of prisoner who chose to stay in her cage? Or had she always been like this deep down, and the situation and Jordan had just tapped into a part of her which she might have never realized?

That was something she didn't know.

All she knew was that her pleasure was rising again, her mind starting to lose track of her thoughts as her arousal and excitement built. She knew she'd give in eventually, she knew she'd say the words - and they would be the truth - but just not yet. At least one more orgasm. Her nipples would burn, her ass stretch, her pussy spasm, and she would beg at least once more before she finally could bring herself to say the words.

It was a game and one which she already knew she was going to lose, but which she played anyway.

Her body bowed, her thighs trembling as she tried to hold off the next orgasm. She already felt too sensitive, too stimulated, and another bout of pleasure would only make it worse... and yet fighting against the ecstasy would make it even more intense when it finally washed over her. There was no way to win.

Jordan's foot picked up the pace, making the dildos inside of her move even faster, and Trish screamed, writhing, hands clutching at the handles they were strapped to, tears leaking from her eyes as the intensity of her climax made her entire body spasm.

The sensations wouldn't stop, her orgasmic shivers were nearly painful in their intensity, and whatever grip she'd been able to gain with her thighs was now gone.

"Please! Let me off! Pleaaaaaaaase!" She tried to twist her body, tried to rise, to no avail. Damn him. "I LIKE THE ROOM!"

The rocking stopped. A moment later the vibrations of the saddle ceased.

Trish moaned and slumped.

She didn't cry out until he took the clamps off her nipples and blood began to surge back into the crushed buds, making them tingle painfully enough to slice through the hazy afterglow of her orgasms.

Then she cried out again when Jordan picked her up off of the dildos, her holes aching and quivering.

He carried her over to the frilly, soft bed and laid her down, climbing on top of her. At some point he'd gotten naked, but she was too pleasure-dazed to remember how or when. His large body was even more out of place on this bed; it had looked large when she'd first seen it, but now it seemed small, as if he was too big for it.

As his cock began to slide into her hot, slick hole, Trish cried out as her swollen flesh was stimulated all over again. The hairs on his chest, the hard muscles, rubbed against her aching nipples, and her arm and leg muscles were useless as he began to thrust into her, pounding her pussy just as hard and rhythmically as the rocking horse had.

She didn't think she could possibly respond again.

Didn't think she would want to.

But her body tingled, warmed, flared. His hot breath on her neck, his lips moving over her skin, hands holding her so securely but so gently...

Trish's arms wound around his neck, her legs slowly lifting to his hips as her own hips canted up to meet his thrusts. Her eyes were closed, her moans soft, and yet just those small responses caused him to completely lose control.

He shouted her name, his voice hoarse, and thrust hard. Wet heat spilled into her, making her throb.

The weight of his body pressed her down securely into the bed, small kisses dropping on her head and shoulders. Caresses, ensuring she was okay.

Even as Trish felt herself dropping into sleep, she couldn't help but wonder what other wonderful, terrible things he might do to her in this room.

The Wolf's Compound seemed so far away right now, and her former life even farther.