Deed to Damnation

Keep An Eye On Your Prize

Delarue kept his promise to her, making sure she was fed. It was hand delivered by one of the new occupants of the inn, a member of the gaggle of whores. She sashayed into the barn, bearing a plate and a bowl and stopped just short of Ireland's nest of straw.
"I got yer food." She drawled, ogling the chained girl. "Didn't give you no knife and fork neither."
Ireland had wrapped herself in the towels left behind from her ordeal, the humiliation still fresh from it and glared up at her. She was young and pretty but her face was painted garishly, cheapening her youthful beauty. Placing the food on the floor, her breasts poured from the plunging corset top and Ireland turned away, embarrassed for her. Her servant noticed her derisive smirk.
"I heard what you said about us." She sneered. "But I tell ya what. It ain't me and my friends sleeping out in the barn and it ain't me who's getting my twat rammed for free. If ya ask me, we're much better off than your sorry ass."
Ireland hated to agree with a harlot but what she was saying was true. Those women may spread their legs for a cheap piece of silver but they weren't owned by anyone when they weren't on their backs. Henry had brought them here and decided to house them free of charge and here she was, lying on a dirty barn floor like an animal.
"I didn't send you in here to talk, Missy."
Delarue appeared in threshold, a rolled cigarette hanging from his lips. He sauntered in and contemplated his captive, dismissing the girl with a wave of his hand. Ireland curled her legs in, making herself as small as possible.
"Yes, sir." Missy nodded and made a hasty retreat.
She didn't need to catch any of Henry Delarue's wrath. It was easy to trigger. Everyone knew of it and the poor creature in the barn was set to catch all of it in the foreseeable future. It would make hers and the lives of the other girls much easier. If Henry paid a girl for services, they could expect to be out of commission for a while afterwards. He was not gentle nor patient when it came to what he wanted.
Once Missy was gone, Henry got down on one knee and eyed the meal she was given. It was runny eggs with a burnt piece of what looked like bacon. He scowled.
"Do you cook, Ireland?" He asked, flicking the charred piece of meat with is finger.
Ireland nodded quickly and he shot her a hard stare, not appeased by her silent agreement.
"Yes, sir." She answered swiftly.
"Good." He replied, coldly. "Now eat."
She looked down at the raw looking eggs and blackened side of pork. The very sight of it made her stomach roll nauseously. Even though she was starving the idea of eating it almost made her gag.
"I don't have anything to eat it with." She peeped.
Henry gave a short laugh but when she looked at him, his eyes didn't reflect any humor. They were dark and taunting, like he was waiting for her to say something.
"You do." He countered, grasping her cheeks and forcing an exaggerated pout. "Wild animals eat with their mouths. Get to it."
Instantly her face flushed as red as his duster and a raw burning exploded in the pit of her stomach. She was outraged and yet she was too terrified to refuse. She could only stare stupidly at him with her mouth hanging open. His expression never changed, clearly expecting compliance. When she didn't move, he was swift to stand and pull her coverings from her. She didn't want to cower but it was as if her body did it involuntarily, curling in on itself. Grabbing her roughly by the hair, he pulled her forward until she was forced to follow. He stopped when she was back on her hands and knees, her face hovering over the breakfast dishes.
"Eat." He ordered. "Eat before you regret it."
Ireland exhaled shakily and pressed her mouth to the undercooked eggs and sucked some onto her tongue, the slimy texture almost making her wretch. She stuffed down her revulsion and began slurping noisily, anxious to have it done and over with, the yolk dripping from her lips and coating the ends of a stray lock of her hair. And when he began petting her head like a barn cat, the tears fell along with the runny eggs.
"Good girl." He cooed mockingly. "Drink the milk now."
With devastating humiliation, she began lapping from the bowl. At least it tasted good and was washing away the foul coating on her tongue. When he felt she had enough, Henry took the plates and put them aside, tilting her chin up to catch her gaze.
"When I tell you to do something, you do it. The next time you hesitate or ask questions, I'm going to take it out of your hide. And when I say that, I mean it quite literally. Do you understand?" He asked, searching her green eyes for any spark of defiance.
There was no nodding this time.
"Yes, sir." She peeped.
"Hearing you talk like that gets me all kinds of worked up." He announced, strutting back behind her.
Ireland's spine tingled and stiffened as she felt his hard leather boots nudge her legs apart. He dropped to his knees, his course breeches pressing against the back of her thighs and she heard the telltale jingling as he released his belt. He grasped her hips with calloused fingers, digging into the gentle hollows where they met her legs and she said nothing as he jammed himself into her body with a guttural groan.
Ireland groaned too but it was from the force of his thrust, his excitement battering the hilt of her sex painfully. She gasped at the sharp pain and the burning of his invasion. It didn't seem to phase him in the least, his grip on the easy slope of her curves getting harsher with each deliberate thrust of his hips.
"God damn girl, you're so fucking tight." He growled. "Move for me."
Ireland didn't know how to react to the sudden command and she froze instead, evoking a frustrated snarl from Henry. Her stillness was met with a sharp slap to her ass, the stinging causing her to lurch forward and back again.
"That's it." He huffed. "Again!"
He struck her over and over until she was bucking against him, hoping to escape the relentless feel of his rough paw and the rising burn that he was unleashing on her. His other hand delved between her legs and began rubbing her there, deft fingers parting her and stroking inside the velvet folds until her body let out a push of liquid. The reaction shocked her as well as the sudden rush of a swelling and ebbing sensation that she didn't recognize but couldn't ignore. Something was happening unlike anything she had ever felt, like a rising and falling in the pit of her stomach and it wasn't something she could stop. Her breath was coming out in desperate little puffs until Delarue stopped his insistent probing and extinguished the torturous buildup. Her arms collapsed but he held her hips up high, his moans getting deeper as he continued pounding into her. At last he gave one last tremendous thrust and she felt him spill into her with grunts of satisfaction. He hadn't even noticed that James had entered the barn and watched as he finished ravaging her. With a final slap to her hip, Henry rose up and adjusted his clothes, tucking himself back into his breeches. He looked up to see the young man leering curiously.
"Young James." Delarue huffed. "I brought you some whores and you still come here to gawk at my little animal?"
"Uh..uh...the farrier. He said he could make what you're looking for with the help of the blacksmith." James muttered.
"Hear that, Ireland? I'm having a gift made for us." Delarue announced.
She had nestled back into the hay bed, curling the towels back around her. Her body was aching, her bottom hot and red and her sex throbbing dully. The place where he had rubbed her felt different. The pain there was sharp and it was pulsing like a dying heartbeat. It was impossible to describe. It was like a sneeze that couldn't be caught, building and ebbing but never satisfied. It was worse than the other two which had felt nothing but the punishment of his rigid sex and calloused palm.