The Maids Adventures chapter 6 part 4

The Maids Adventures chapter 6 part 4

Strip, he ordered as he went over to the saddlebags. Bridget striped herself of her clothing, letting it fall to the floor. When Patrick approached her again it was with a length of rope in his hands. Hold out your hands in front of you.

Trembling, Bridget obeyed. Fear coursed through her as he twined the rope around her wrists, securing them together and leaving her even more helpless than before. There had been no real need to bind her it was just another way for him to assert his power over her and to make her even more vulnerable. Despite his words about liking the Princess' fight, he seemed to be taking a completely different approach with Bridget... unless he'd hoped that she might try to fight her bonds?

Lie down, he commanded, smiling almost as cruelly as Samuel, as he pulled out his belt knife. Bridget obeyed immediately, her legs feeling too weak to hold her anyway. Put your arms above your head he ordered.

It was incredibly hard to obey that command, stretching her arms up and over her head as he stood over her with that knife, exposing her stomach and breasts. She was panting, unable to slow her breathing as she struggled not to panic completely. There was no hope of wrestling the knife away from him and stabbing him with it, no matter how much she might want to.

Spread your legs.

Patrick knelt between them, his beautiful blue eyes practically glowing. He looked like some kind of demented angel, sent to torment rather than save her. With the knife turned at an angle, he slid the cold steel down between her breasts and over her stomach. Bridget whimpered in fear. It was just enough pressures that she could feel it tracing her soft skin, but not enough to actually cut. Instinctively she pulled in her stomach, trying to move her flesh away from its edge. The knife seemed to fill her vision as it traced a path back up and around her breasts, until he pressed the cold flat of the blade against her nipple and the little bud pebbled beneath its touch.

Then Patrick was leaning forward and Bridget's breathe caught in her throat, the knife still pressing down on her soft breast flesh, as he licked a tear off of her cheek. You wouldn't like pain, would you little maid? Not like your mistress. But fear... fear is almost as arousing.

He leaned into her, allowing her to feel the bulge in his breeches as it pressed against her pussy as he licked another tear away from the other side of her face. Some of the panic faded, although the fear remained, as he seemed to hint that he wasn't going to actually hurt her. But of course, there was always the chance. Pulling back, Patrick watched her face as he trailed the blade sideways across her chest, circling the tip around her nipple as it slowly hardened, pricking it enough to sting without actually piecing her skin. Trying not to breathe too much, to keep her chest from rising and falling while the tip of Patrick's knife was threatening her, she couldn't stop herself from whimpering which he obviously enjoyed.

You're so much easier than the Princess, he said in a low, almost a cheerful, voice. So wonderfully docile I think I'm enjoying this change of pace as she stared up at him, confusion warring with her fear, and he laughed as he slid the blade back down her stomach, scraping delicately against her skin. Spread your legs further, little maid.

Closing her eyes against his penetrating gaze, she obeyed, trying to stem the rising panic as he began to traced the knife over her creamy thighs, teasing the curls on her mound with the deadly instrument.

Don't you move an inch, he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust. Bridget opened her eyes to see that he was no longer watching her face, but staring between her legs as he began to tease her feminine folds with the blade. A scream caught in her throat as she froze, her muscles trembling with the effort of not moving, afraid that any movement would mean harm.

The blade had warmed slightly against her body but it still felt cold to her heated folds, which were surprisingly slick, as if the terror that had filled her had somehow spurred her body into readying itself for a sexual assault. It slowly warmed as Patrick slid it up and down her slit, coating it with her juices. His gaze was raptly fascinated, watching the steel parting her pink nether lips, the arousing combination of a weapon and sweet female flesh.

When he finally removed the threat of steel from her sex, Bridget's muscles felt like they were suddenly made of water, the tension leaving her body with a rush of relief that she had not been harmed. Patrick leaned over her again, bringing the blade to her lips, his face hovering above hers as he leaned on his arm to the side of them.

Lick it clean.

Almost relieved, Bridget immediately lifted her head and began licking her juices off of the blade. The musky sweetness with its hint of bitter rolled around her mouth, her scent filling her nostrils. How could her body have become aroused under such circumstances? Patrick pressed the length of his body against hers, warm and hard, apparently enraptured as he watched her lick her own honey from his knife.

Suddenly he pulled back and swiftly undid his breeches before falling on top of her again. She gasped as his weight hit her, his muskier body pressing her into the ground as he stretched out over her. Both of his hands pressed against bound wrists, the knife still clasped in his grip, pushing her arms up further and stretching her underneath him. The blunt head of his cock probed her folds and then he began to move his hips, pushing his thick tip into her body. Groaning, he pushed harder, spearing her beneath him and she spread her legs wider as she cried out, her back arching as he opened her core.
Fuck you feel good, he said, surging against her and shoving deeper. His hands and upper body kept her pinned in place as he assaulted her wet cunt like a battering ram, invading her. Wrap your legs around me.

Bridget shuddered as she obeyed, hating how good it felt to have his hard steel penetrating her, thrusting deep inside of her. His body rocked against hers, rubbing over her swollen pearl and causing her to spasm around him, pleasuring them further. Despite her fear, her own arousal and body's responses were beginning to surge as he rutted with her, his buttocks clenching against her ankles as he rose and fell above her, the slick length of his shaft filling her and receding over and over again. The knife in his hand kept her anxiety high even as she began to push back against him, hips rising to meet him.

Closing her eyes, she could almost forget the weapon, could concentrate on the pleasure her body was feeling against its will. It was almost possible to pretend that she was with a man who cared for her, who was holding her hands down above her head without rope or a threat. She moaned softly as she began to writhe beneath Patrick, molten liquid swirling in her belly as her legs tightened, pulling him into her.

His movement changed and she opened her eyes as his hands slid down to her elbows, keeping her arms in place, as he lowered his head to her breasts and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She let out a cry of pure pleasure as he suckled on the sensitive bud, teeth nipping at it gently, his hips moving more slowly now as his attention to her breasts hindered him somewhat. Switching breasts, he mouthed her other nipple, his hips doing a slow bump and grind that seemed to draw the pleasure out of her, enhancing the need that was already burning between her legs. With small cries of enjoyment, she pushed back against him, forgetting about the knife in his hand as she tried to work herself to climax on his stiff rod. The overwhelming urge spurred her onward, swamping her other emotions.

Patrick moved his mouth again, sucking a mouthful of creamy breast flesh between his lips. The sensation of his hard sucking on her tender skin was so intensely pleasurable it was almost painful. Bridget arched her back as she moaned and humped, her breast pressing upwards to relieve some of the pressure the suction of his mouth had created. In response, Patrick just sucked harder, and she yelped as the sharp sensation bit at her.

Then his mouth moved away and he stretched out over her again, his rhythm changing to a more thorough pounding, taking her hard and deep, relentlessly he drove his turgid flesh into her softness, stretching her over and over again. The spot on her breast throbbed where he had left a deep red bruise. Bridget gave herself over to the gathering ecstasy, feeling almost giddy as her fear completely ebbed under the surges of erotic need and the tension inside of her came to a peak. Her turbulent emotional state only seemed to add to the intensity of her climax as it sizzled and burst, flaring and sparking from her loins through her body as she cried out.

The rubbing thrusts of Patrick's cock splitting open her convulsing tunnel drew out her pleasure, the burning ecstasy of her orgasm throbbing through her cunt and body. He bellowed his triumph as he began to spill into her body, thrusting his way through his release, his thick rod rigidly hard as he split her shocked folds and filled her with cream. Each pumping jet of fluid eased the next hard thrust. Bridget had never felt anything like it, his continual shoves into her body even as he pulsed and released, and she writhed beneath him as his assault on her sensitive folds became almost painful with the overload of stimulation.

Finally he collapsed on top of her, sunk fully into her flesh to the hilt as he gave one last throb. Bridget's body was wracked with small tremors as aftershocks of her climax rippled through her. With Patrick's hard body weighing her down she was short of breath, but she didn't care. She almost wished that he would crush her out of existence. Part of her felt that she might as well get what enjoyment she could from her predicament, but another part of her felt a deep sense of shame at having ultimately enjoyed a man who was so vile. Even Samuel hadn't roused this degree of conflict within her. Patrick had strapped the Princess cruelly and then threatened Bridget's most intimate parts with a knife, and yet she'd still found pleasure in his arms.

Now that it was over she felt almost sad, as well. The vision of Garrett with the Princess Eleanor rose in her mind again and she realized that she'd allowed Patrick's tactics to distract her from her conflicted emotions about Garrett.

The overwhelming need to escape rose up in her again. These men were changing her and not for the better.

Pulling off of her with a sigh of satisfaction, Patrick got to his feet, pulling his breeches back up. Rather diffidently he untied her arms; the rope had left red marks around her wrists.

Here, he said, tossing her his shirt. Put this on. Then he strode out of the tent, leaving her alone. Standing up on shaking limbs, Bridget pulled the shirt over her head. Patrick was much taller than her and the shirt covered her down to mid-thigh, but it left her feeling rather unprotected. Not as if her blouse and skirt truly afforded her more protection.

Deciding that her best course of action for now was to act cowed by the Princess' punishment - not that acting cowed was a far stretch - and continue putting the men off guard with her. While they might be more alert in general towards the women for a bit, Bridget's might be able to convince them that she was even more docile now. It couldn't hurt while she tried to find other options as well.

Rolling up the sleeves on the shirt, which hung far down over her hands, she hurried out of the tent, feeling very strange with her legs exposed by the shirt. To her surprise Garrett was seated by the fire, whittling something, although Samuel, Blaine and the Princess were nowhere to be seen, although the noises coming from the other tent indicated that the activities within it were continuing. How long had he been out here? How much of her interlude with Patrick had he heard?

For some reason she blushed deeply as she scurried over to the fire, feeling his eyes on her bare legs as she began to slice some vegetables for dinner. Patrick stood watching both of them for a moment. She felt as though there was some silent conversation going on between the two men, although she had no idea what it could be about. Had Patrick had her dress in his shirt to show that he had not harmed her? It was even more embarrassing as his seed began to leak out of her and down her legs. Dampening a cloth, she pressed it between her legs to clean herself, keeping her eyes averted from the two men.

To be continued