PRINCE MIRO'S CAPTURE

In a world ruled by the sword and brute strength, Prince Miro battles his father’s archenemy, King Jai, in single combat. He is soundly defeated. Instead of killing him, King Jai demands the stunningly handsome prince as tribute.

Prince Miro is stripped, cruelly bound, and publicly humiliated in ways he would never have imagined. But what mysterious ‘decorations’ and fate does the King have in store for the prince’s hard cock, firm balls and tight, virginal passages?

This is Book One of ‘The Royal Captive’ series.


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“Come,” he says, tugging me away by my cock. It is like a new toy he cannot bear to part with.

He leads me to a clearing between the tents. A wooden structure has been erected there, consisting of two vertical beams struck into the ground and a horizontal one connecting their tops. Ropes trail from the opposing ends of the horizontal beam.

Spirus and two other soldiers seize me and drag me to the structure. I gaze at the ropes in dismay as they bind my wrists to them. The soldiers haul the ropes higher so that I’m hanging from my straining arms, and my bare feet are hoisted above the ground. My abdomen contorts as they grab my legs and similarly tie my ankles to the opposing vertical beams. My body is viciously pulled into a taut ‘X’, with my only weight support coming from my bruised and chafed wrists.

Soldiers around us laugh and point at my dangling genitals. I’m beyond caring now. I rest my tired head against the bulging muscles of my right biceps. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see several boys setting up a palatial dais in front of me, and covering it with a tasseled woven carpet that must have hailed from the lands of Araby. They place a broad chair on top of the dais and scatter luxurious cushions upon its seat. A few semi-nude slave girls set a low table before the dais. Silver plates of sweetmeats and goblets of wine are laid upon the table.

Spirus twiddles my cock. In my tethered position, my genitals are at the level of his chest.

“Still limp,” he says with a frown. “King Jai would not like this.”
I’m not surprised. I’m exhausted and my body is wracked with little pains.
My survival is paramount. Sex is the last thing on my mind.

“Maybe he needs some help from your hand, Spirus,” says another soldier with a grin.

Spirus begins to massage my cock. His rough palm squeezes and slides down my shaft and head with hard, rapid strokes. I draw in a sharp breath as blood begins to fill my cock.

The soldiers laugh as Spirus continues to pump my penis with the alacrity of an ironmonger stoking a bellows. Finally, my cock stands erect in all its tumescent glory.

“Beautiful,” Spirus breathes, slapping it so that it bounces several times.

“How long do you reckon it is?” asks a soldier.

An industrious boy servant comes up with a measuring instrument. Spirus holds it against my cock.

“Easily a foot long,” he declares proudly, as though he has grown it himself. “Lovely and thick.”

“Then bind it quickly before it deflates.”

Spirus produces a thin leather strap and circles the base of my cock with it, squeezing it so that my shaft becomes further engorged. He wraps the rest of the strap around my testicles. My genitals are now very prominent, bulging from my groin like swollen fruits.

TEACHER, PLEASE SPREAD MY PUSSY

Shy freshman Gina Wesley crashes Dean Whitehouse's biology class with a schoolgirl outfit and a plea: "Please 'initiate' me, teacher."

But the handsome Dean Whitehouse is deliciously cruel, and he shows Gina exactly what he would do to her . . . involving a long pointer, a dangling metal ball, a birch cane, and the largest dildo Gina has ever seen.

Now Gina must be the main exhibit of a mysterious class, attended by three of the dean's special students.

This is Book Four of the Initiation series.

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The desk is quite high, and so I have to clamber on a chair to vault myself onto its top.

"Squat facing me with your legs open and your hands squeezing your teats."

I obey. I'm nervous of my glistening pussy lips - and what he would perceive of me when he sees how wet I am. From a drawer, Dean Whitehouse removes a long contraption made from metal and tiny chains. It's shaped in a Y. All three of its ends flare into crocodile-like clamps.

"See these?" He demonstrates how tight the clamps are - like clothespins - by clicking them softly. I begin to tremble.

He places two clamps on both my protruding nipples. Unlike the ones that Devlin has clipped me with before, the blunted teeth on these ones bite down on my skin so that it actually hurts.

I whimper.

"Now, now, surely you're not a soft girl. You'll be able to take a little pain."

He moves the third crocodile clamp to my pussy. He regards my terrified face as, with his huge thumb and index finger, he seizes my moist clit.

"Please, sir, no!" I cry.

The clamp snares almost the entire flesh of my sensitive hood and nips down on it firmly. Tears of pain flood my eyes. A stinging sensation of deep, intimate pain immediately flares in my clitoris.

My trapped nipples and clit are now connected to one another by the Y filigree chain.

Dean Whitehouse grabs my chin. "Do not call me 'sir'. From now on, you'll refer to me as 'teacher', understand?"

He makes me nod. "Yes, teacher."

"Good. Now I want you to stand up on the table with your legs apart."

Uncurling my knees, I attempt to straighten myself. The chains of the clamps become taut, pulling my nipples downward and lifting my clit painfully.

"Now pinch both your earlobes with your fingers. I want you to pull yourself down by the ears into a squat. Then stand up again. Do this fifty times."

The tears are running down my cheeks. Fifty times! Surely he does not mean to humiliate me thus!

I seize my earlobes and pull myself down, bending my legs at the knees.

"Count," Dean Whitehouse commands me.

"One." As I descend into a squat, the tension of the clamps on my nipples and clit lessens. But when I raise myself again, the tautness returns, and my intimate parts are once again cruelly tugged together. My embarrassment is extreme.

Thighs Wide Apart

Pretty freshman Gina Wesley is strung into a tight corset and crotchless G-string. Gorgeous Max Devlin drives her to his country home and introduces her to a garden of earthly delights . . . containing leather slings, honey, and a very interesting wooden appendage.

Tied up and cruelly displayed, Gina must wait out her punishment . . . until two gardeners come along. But what mysterious things do they have in their wheelbarrow to further tease and probe into Gina's moist aching pussy?


This is Book Three of the Initiation series.


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Grinning, Devlin grabs a protuberant outcrop in the middle of the bark. It's a very knobbed piece of wood, about four inches long and one-and-the-half inches in diameter. It is shaped like a lifted finger. It juts out from the tree like a small Saguaro cactus stem.

"Come here, Gia."

In bewilderment, I trot over to the woody piece. It is level to my stomach.

"Touch it. Feel it."

I curl my fist around the stem, feeling its rough whorls and ridges. Apprehension creeps into every pore of my body. Devlin explores my ass as I do so, pinching my cheeks and prodding the soft flesh.

"Now stand against the tree and raise your hands above your head."

The fear rises to my throat as I obey. The woody knob presses against the small of my back like the barrel of a gun. From behind, Devlin lowers the topmost restraints. Then he slips my wrists through the loops and secures them snugly with the ratchets. When he finishes, my arms are pulled so tightly above my head that I'm almost standing on tiptoe.

I whimper softly.

"Hush, now, hush."

He strokes my breasts as he lifts my right leg and posits my ankle into the loop of the right sling. Once again, he secures it tightly. I'm in a very awkward position, with my right leg thrust high up and my left leg still dangling down, pulled by gravity. My angled pussy is wide open and very moist.

Devlin repeats this with my left leg into the opposing sling, so that when he is finished, I'm securely fastened to the tree, with both my legs hiked up in a 'V' formation above me. The bonds are tight and uncomfortable.

My entire vagina and asshole area are cruelly displayed. If I look down, I can see my very prominent pink labia and my quivering clit just above the gaping black hole of my pussy.

But Devlin is not finished with me.

He goes to the back of the tree and begins to further play with my bonds. He hauls the ones securing my wrists up so that I am lifted even higher. Then he comes to my front. My open pussy is at the level of his extremely hard cock.

"Now easy does it, baby."

He grabs hold of both my buttocks and the undersides of my thighs. The muscles on his arms and shoulders bulging, he lifts me up by the hips and posits my asshole - which is rapidly contracting and puckering from my obvious distress - above the woody stem of the tree.

Blindfolded and Spread-eagled

Shy freshman Gina Wesley has passed Level One of her initiation. Now gorgeous Max Devlin is passing her through the hoops . . . and clitoris clamps . . . of Level Two.

Gina must now play a guessing game with her mouth and other lovely holes . . . involving a blindfold, a salami and the three very huge and rock-hard cocks of Max’s friends.


This is Book Two of the Initiation series.


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“Who do we have here?” the black youth growls softly.

All three roam their eyes over my protuberant nipples and the lines of my tight skirt.

“A freshman in need of initiation.” Devlin grins, squeezing my right buttock underneath the slithery material of my skirt. “Her name is Gina but

I prefer to call her Gia. Gia, meet Thomas . . . ”

The goateed man nods, smiling lasciviously.

“ . . . Santos . . . and Grady.”

Thomas scoots into the far end of his berth while Santos and Grady continue to lounge on the other side, grinning.

“Surely you don’t need an invitation.” Thomas pats the empty seat beside him.

Devlin motions at me to sit. My pulse hammers my throat as I slide my buttocks across the hard seat. Devlin gets in after me. I’m hemmed in by Thomas on my right and Devlin on the other. The beads of my clit clamp clicks softly like miniature castanets.

“That’s not how you sit, freshman.” Devlin’s voice is suddenly hard.

He makes me raise my buttocks. Then he lifts the back of my skirt and makes me sit down again. This time, my entire ass and pussy are in contact with the torn and dirty seat. A particularly sharp edge of a peeling hole, sprouting old and yellowed foam, digs into the skin of my anus.

“Open your legs,” Devlin commands.

I hasten to obey. The grins on the faces of the youths spread wider. Thomas grabs my right thigh as it brushes against him.

“Put it right here, baby,” he whispers. He vaults my right leg across his lap so that it is hooked around his left knee. His hand rests on the soft underside of my right thigh.

“So smooth,” he murmurs, stroking my silky, milk-white skin, “so virginal.”

A shudder ripples through me.

Devlin repeats this with my left leg, so that I’m spread-eagled in the middle between them. The berth is placed a fair distance from the table, so that whatever wares I’m displaying can be clearly seen by Santos and Grady from across. The overhead lamp is yellow and stark. The light throws my mount into stark relief. My pussy – soaking in its own juices – is once again exposed . . . to three strangers this time, not just Devlin.

Open Your Legs For Me (Initiation Book One)

Shy freshman Gina Wesley wants desperately to get into the greatest club her college has ever known. Standing in her way is the gorgeous Max Devlin.

But Max has an interesting ‘initiation’ method . . . involving metal clamps, a hard shaft, some mysterious nozzles, and the most creative double penetration Gina will ever scream to. That is . . . until she progresses to Level Two.


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He is standing very close to me, so close that if I take one step forward, I would slam against his chest. His arm muscles are magnificently contoured and his bronzed skin is silky smooth and tight. I wonder how he would look like oiled. I can smell the sweet scent of his aftershave, mingled with sweat. Goose bumps gather on the backs of my thighs.

He seizes my right wrist and holds it up. “Would you do everything I tell you to?”

“Yes, master.”

His grasp on my flesh is tight. I feel tears springing to my eyes.

“Good,” he says.

My knees are starting to buckle. He jerks his sculptured chin to the direction of the bidet.

“Now go over there and squat on the rim.”

He lets go of me as abruptly as he has seized me. I almost fall backward, but regain my balance in time. My thumping heart is in my throat. It would not do to appear graceless in front of Max Devlin.
I trot to the bidet, studying the bewildering array of taps and nozzles circling its perimeter and dotting the generous bowl. It is complex, I decide, more torture instrument than sanitary device. The rim is fairly wide with the seat down; through it would be precarious to balance upon it on my heels.

Devlin rasps, “What are you waiting for, freshman?”

Warmth floods my cheeks as I climb onto the bidet. It is easier to sit upon it first, my bare buttocks circling its oval aperture, and then to gingerly hoist my slipper-shod feet onto its broad seat. I’m terrified of appearing clumsy. Devlin never takes his eyes off my crotch, revealed now and then – I’m sure – by the betraying hem of my short, short dress. A flush suffuses my breasts and spreads all the way down to my belly.

I finally face him – eyes downcast and cheeks aflame – in my squatting position. My legs are wide apart. My dress has ridden up my thighs to reveal the shaven area between them. My wet pussy lips are finally exposed to Devlin’s hot gaze. My slender nub throbs and quivers in cool air of the bathroom. The moist hole of my vulva gapes above the deep basin of the bidet, and just behind it, separated by only a thin sliver of flesh, my anus puckers wide open.