Free The Captive by Amber Jameson Page A

Taking the hem of her black dress she lifted it and pulled it over her head, Her full figure was naked apart from a narrow red suspender belt, black stockings and tight ankle boots with heels.
    “What do you think of me?” she asked, pirouetting and posing her heavy breasts and pillows of flesh forming her bottom.
    Zacora, head bowed, was silent.
    Megan strode towards her crossly to drag her to a pillar at the centre of the room, hooking her wrist chain to a high placed hook. She grinned as she saw the tight breasts lift with the tension. In a vertical position, the body chain was much tighter and the smooth balls fitted into their appointed places: mouth, breast valley, silver mound and the sex slit.
    Megan stood back looking at her new slave. “Very nice indeed. How do these little teasers feel?” She rubbed the balls at the mound and slit, grinning as she saw Zacora wriggle and bear down on the titillation.
    “Something more fleshy is called for,” said Megan, stroking at her own dark brown forest, spreading the swiftly swelling lips to bare her moist nubbin. “Look up, my pet, and you’ll see what I mean.”
    Obediently, Zacora raised her sad eyes and they widened at what she saw. Depicted on the high ceiling was the Garden of Eden. Adam watched in horror as the serpent coiled around Eve’s leg, although she was obviously ecstatic. Her mouth was open and eyes glazed in lust. The head of the serpent was poised at her dripping entrance.
    When Zacora attempted to lower her head she found that she could not. Megan had plaited her hair into a loop and fixed it firmly to the post by some means.
    Megan went to a cabinet, leaving Zacora forced to stare at the defilement of Eve. The girl was trembling, Megan knew, for she could hear the slight tinkle of the chains, metal upon metal. She smiled to herself, allowing the girl to think that she was to be penetrated by a live snake. “It isn’t poisonous,” Megan said calmly, “and it absolutely loves warm, dark places. And snakes aren’t slimy, you know, not at all. Not a bit like people think, so you’d better set to and create some of that famous sap of yours.”
    “Please, mistress,” whimpered Zacora. “I hate snakes. Anything but that.”
    Megan laughed. “Oh, I have lots of treats in store for you,” she assured. “Lots of playthings, but I want you to feel the glorious wriggliness of my little pet first.” She turned to look at her slave, smiling a little as she looked at the forcibly held silver head, the pale arms stretched high to lift the breast mounds, the long legs balanced on tip toe and manacled around the broad pole. Megan felt light headed at the sight; almost drunk.
    In the cabinet, the cupboard she called her toy box, there was a wide variety of smooth carved lengths of wood, dildoes, worn with frequent usage, of every shape and size imaginable.
    Slowly, she sorted through the collection, looking for the special one. It wasn’t a real snake, but her wood carver had made a fine job of creating a dildo replica of the reptile. It was made in segments to give the impression of movement when Megan pulled a cord at the tail. There was even a tiny forked tongue which could be retracted when the carved serpent was inserted. Even the colours were realistic upon the scale-like marking.
    A wicked smile wreathed Megan’s round face as she took it from the cabinet, holding it on the flat of both palms as she swung her plump near-naked body across the room to Zacora’s bound one. “Here he is, the little beauty,” she said proudly. “Not so little really. I hope you’re feeling nice and open because his girth is quite huge.” She giggled. “Just eaten, you see.” The giggle came again at the lie.
    She held up the smoothly carved snake, surreptitiously pulling the tiny cord so that the serpent waved slowly on the upheld palms. It was kept below Zacora’s eye line, so that the view of it was just sufficient to give the impression of live movement.