Alice Sinclair Gorean style BDSM fiction

Alternate Scene: Book 2 Chapter 2: The Distillery

“Ijra! IJRA!” 

I unlocked the Amazon's cage door and swung it open.

The tall, blonde beauty, after making such a fuss for attention, Shrank to the back of her cage. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open, as if astonished. She stared at me; she seemed terrified of what I might do to her.

She was right to. What she feared was exactly what I was going to do to her. It was good that she would get to learn such a thing in her first few days on this world. I was pleased that I would get to be her teacher. 

I reached into the cage and grabbed her by her arm.

"Ai!" 

The blonde immediately tried to pull herself free. She clutched at me with both hands, her fingers whitening as she pulled.

She cried out again as I dragged her from the cage. As she struggled, she ended up on her back.

In this state, I pulled her across the floor and onto the mat. Only when I had her at its very center, did I let go.

Lying on her back, she looked up at me. She quickly put her arms out behind her, to prop herself up. The Amazon’s knees were bent, the soles of her feet planted on the mat. 

I took the end of the chain that was attached to the chaining post. I held it up. 

I gestured for her ankle.

The Amazon looked horrified: her jaw seemed to drop to her chest. She turned and tried to scramble away from me.

I knew it was coming; I have done this many times before. I pounced and grabbed her by the left leg.

“Acha!” She screamed and tried to jerk her leg free.

I fastened the end of the chain to the anklet she wore, securing her. Then, I let go and stepped back. I would let her tire herself out at this stage. I knew not to expend any energy here. My energy was for later. 

Experimentally, the blonde slave tried to tug her leg free. The chain of course held. She then tried a second time, more savagely. Again, there was no give from the chain.

At this point, the gravity was starting to hit her. She had, I imagined, never been held captive in this way before. 

“Submission is beautiful,” I said. 

She sat up, grabbed the chain with both her hands, and yanked as hard as she could. She grunted as she did so. When that didn't work, she tried again, yanking as hard as she could. A third time. A fourth! She snarled after the fourth try, looking up at me. Her brown eyes were filled with rage.

“You need to calm down,” I said, holding up my finger. I spoke with a calm, soothing tone. “You know what’s going to happen to you. You know there is nothing you can do to stop it. So, just be still. Behave. It will go much better for you - I will make it enjoyable.”

I knew she did not understand a word. My calm tone, however, I hoped would have some effect. 

“Atansu! Ijra!” She screamed. She looked up at me, her face had turned red. “Atansu, choro!”

I cannot be blamed for trying. 

***

With both hands, I grabbed hold of her by her hair. She screamed, shutting her eyes tight as I yanked her up by it to her knees. Her arms clutched at mine, nails digging.

Then, I placed one hand between her shoulder blades and shoved her forward.

The blonde Amazon went down on the mat, on her hands and knees.

I move my hand down to the small of her back. Pulling at her hair, and pushing at her back, I forced her to arch.

Then, I got down on top of her. She grunted out loud as I let my weight bear down. In this way, I forced her down against the mat, belly, breast, and face to it.

I pulled a dirty rag from my pocket. She gasped as I pulled it between her teeth. She tried to buck her head free - I did not let her. With the ends of the rag I tied a tight knot behind her head. She looked back at me over her shoulder, eyes wide. She breathed in rapid, panic burst through her nose. 

Next, I took hold of her by her wrists; they felt small in my hands. The skin was soft and pliant.

I pin them, harshly, against the mat.

The Amazon lifted her head up off the mat. The gag tied tight between her teeth, She made a loud, animal sound.

"Cry out all you like," I said. The gang was not to silence her, but to prevent biting. I did not raise my voice: I still spoke in the same calm, measured tone. I did this not to calm her. Instead, It was to make clear I was in control. 

Beneath me her body was tense; every muscle in her strained against my dominance.

"I will show you how simple this is for me to do to you,” I spoke into her ear. The sweat on her neck gleamed; my breath was hot against it. “You will see how little your struggling matters." 

I've pushed one of my knees between her legs. Then, the other. 

Understanding what was about to happen, she screamed into her gag and began struggling. She was fierce! I felt her body writhe and twist beneath me, trying to throw me off. Her long legs kicked out, feet trying to find purchase on the mat.

I held her down, using my weight to pin her. 

The slave groaned out loud, throwing her head back and arching herself, trying to buck me off.

I just tightened my grip around her small wrists, fingers pushing into her tendons. I then pushed her down against the mat, harder.

"You will learn."

She groaned again: this time in both frustration and rage. 

"Learn your place," I said.

With my knees, I forced her legs apart wider. With the tip of my penis, I stroked her labia.

“Ennnnf!” She squirmed under me, her movements frantic.

“You will become very used to this - especially a beauty like you."

I stroked her labia again. This time I brought my penis up between her buttocks, letting her feel them between the cheeks. Her behind was shapely, the cushioning ample Between my thighs.

She squirmed again at this; but this time, with less energy. I was beginning to wear her down: The pressure of my weight was relentless. Her struggle against it had been as futile as against the chain. I was teaching her that resisting either, iron or men, was futile. 

I placed the tip of my penis against her labia again; but this time, I entered. I pushed with a hard thrust.

“Hnnn!”

The labia gave way and I slid inside. She wasn't wet, but she wasn't dry, either. I felt the walls of her vagina pressed around me. Her thighs clamped against my knees, trying to close her legs. 

I pressed in deep, trying to spear her. I held it there for a few moments, letting her feel me inside her. I was not larger than average, but I knew inside her mind, I was ten times bigger. I drew back and speared her again, pushing still deeper.

***

Like most Hyperborean men, I have sex two to three times a day, on average. It is seen as an appetite, just like any other. It is common to have sex with slaves as often as one eats the food they bring, kneeling, tray outstretched. Slave girls are dessert.

When we have this much sex, with many women, We learn all about the female body. We also learn how females will behave towards us based on how we use them. Do we simply need them to obey, or do we want them crawling over us, wailing and whining that our cocks are not inside them? 

Knowing she has pleased is all the reward a slave girl deserves. That said, we do very well to learn how to make them scream in delight. The slaves who enjoy sex with us are always the slaves we enjoy the most. Both in sex, and to own, generally.

After two years on Hyperborea I knew everything there was about bringing a woman to orgasm.

***

The slave girl did not give up; I felt her shoulder blades moving this way and that, her feet beating at the mat. She had no energy, but she still had fight! 

That was good: a slave girl with a lot of passion and energy does not does not give up easily. We know their resistance is not a barrier, but a promise. The same energy they show in resistance, they will turn around and then show in passion. 

She tried to lift herself up off the mat; she did for a moment; then grunted into her gag and collapsed back to the mat.  

Slowly, I began to thrust back and forth. As I did so, I took her wrists and crossed them on the mat, stretched out in front of her. I lowered my head; she did not move her’s away as my face brushed against her brown-blonde hair. I move my lips to hover just over her ear. I could feel the heat coming off it.

I kissed her ear, my touch gentle. Then, I kissed her again. I put out my tongue and ran it up and down her earlobe.

She gasped into her gag and turned her head away. 

Pinning her crossed wrists with one hand to the mat, with the other, I gripped her throat. I squeezed gently, then brought my lips down to kiss her ear again. Her neck muscles were tense under my fingers; I could feel the racing of her pulse. Her skin was hot. Sweat was trickling down her cheek. I licked it away. 

The whole time, I kept thrusting.

My hand moved from her throat to the knot in the gag behind her head. I untied it and pulled away the rag. It was wet with saliva. The slave, pinned, subdued, and being used, did not attempt to bite. She remained still.

My hand moved down, pushing between her chest and the mat. I took hold of her breast: it was large, hot, slick with sweat. My fingers kneaded it. Pressed down and pinned in place, she could not stop me.

I pinched the nipple, hard. The Amazon's body jerked and she gasped, mouth open. 

My cock inside her gave me the best measurement of her mental state. The walls of her vagina became warm. The strokes became smoother, lubricated.

“Oh,” The slave shut her eyes and put her forehead down against the mat. 

It was not pleasure she felt - at least, not in the main. Instead, what she felt was intense and utter humiliation. Her own body was turning against her. Despite herself, she was beginning to enjoy it. 

With slaves, always do this. Our role here is to cut past the objections of the upper brain. Instead, we engage the lower animal one. All it wants is to fight, flee, or fuck. Millions of years of primate evolution, and 200,000 years of human evolution, have developed the average woman into a being that is easily overpowered by the average man. This is not an accident. Understand that we have bred them for this. 

I lowered my head to press my cheek against hers. The skin was so warm! I turned my head to rub my lips against her skin. I grazed my teeth over her cheek. I felt her tremble as the shiver ran down her spine.

Beneath me, her waist began to move. Her behind rose to meet me, deepening my thrusts. Before her shame would make her stop herself, I bit her on the neck. 

She cried out; mouth open wide. It did not close all the way. Her expression became stricken; her long brown-blonde hair fell disheveled over her face. 

"Good Slave," I whispered gently, and kissed her forehead.

“Oh!” she moaned out loud.

My penis slipped in and out with ease now, well lubricated by her fluids.

I released her wrists; she was free to move her hands as she liked now. I would restrain them again, later, but this was the point where I wanted her to partake in her own humiliation. Like the senators who each took a stab at Caesar, this one would not be able to deny to herself what she had done. What I was doing to break her would be nothing compared to what she would do to herself. 

I bunched her long hair and made a fist at the back of her head. With my other hand, I gripped her again by her throat. Holding her in this way I pulled her up to her hands and knees.

“Ai, ai!”

She cried out as I began to thrust hard and fast, fucking her, doggy style. Toes clenched and unclenched; her fingers dug into the mat. She screamed as I slapped her, and pinched her nipples. Her breath became ragged; She started making short, sharp cries. They rose in pitch, one after the other. She was about to orgasm.

It had to be experienced under complete domination.

I pushed my woman down against the mat, slamming the side of her face against it. My hand pressed down on her head; she squealed at the pressure. I forced her legs apart wide and slammed into her, again and again. Her buttocks made slapping noises and quivered with each strike.

She cried out in ecstasy, her legs going straight, toes pointed. Her body shook as waves of orgasms went from her head to her feet. Her face looks stricken, drool hung from her lips to the mat. She closed her eyes tight and whined. It was a lovely, high-pitched sound. A tavern singing-slave I enjoyed once cried out like that!

I felt the surge rise and then I ejaculated inside her. I gripped her by her shoulders as I came. I had not already fucked that morning; I gave her a good, nine-spurt load. I lay down on her, letting her feel my weight upon her. She was still; overcome by her experience. Her feelings were both positive and negative.

It was time to comfort her: In this way we make the slave girl, her body filled with endorphins and oxytocin, focus on us. In this way, we create adoration.

I rolled off her, then turned her to face me on the mat. I put my arms around her and pulled her against me, pressing her breasts to my chest. I put my legs between hers, intertwining. Our sweat mingled, my heat became hers and vice versa.

"Be a good slave," I said and kissed her on the forehead. Then, thinking better of it, I kissed her on her lips. They were soft! They were pink and shined.

The fucked Amazon regarded me, large eyes looking back and forth between mine. Behind them I could see a range of emotions. Wounded accusation. Cold anger. Humiliation. Yet, also curiosity, hunger, and oxytocin- generated attraction. 

I had dominated her. She had resisted, until her animal brain, encouraged by me, worked at cross purposes to her own desires. On top of that, powerful hormone releases now acted like switches, starting to flip her entire view of me - and herself. 

What did she know of any of this? Nothing. This was no female captured from an age of Science. She was a simple, likely uneducated girl. Like the Hyperborean females she one day would find herself kennelled alongside, she had probably never been more than a few miles from her own home. All she knew was that I had forcibly taken her - and that she had participated in and enjoyed it. She was confused; she hated herself. She did not understand.

This is how we take complete control of them. We tell them it is because they are natural slaves and that they crave masters. Then, we fuck them again. By the third or fourth time, they completely believe us. Sooner, if we hold them down and put them through forced orgasms one after the other. Forced orgasms are an oxytocin hormone pump. With those girls too lovely to be patient with, we turn it on. After a few sessions they cling to us, eyes filled with love, our semen gleaming on their lips. 

Over at the side of the room was a wooden table. On it was a bowl of crushed, brown powder. I stood up and went over to it. I dug my hand in and scooped up a handful. The fine powder trickled through my fingers.

The blonde amazon turned on to her side and propped herself up with her hands. It was a pleasing posture: her hands spaced the distance of her shoulders. Palms down on the mat. Her legs were stretched out behind her; one clasped over the other - modesty much too late. The large breasts hung, swinging beneath her. The long, brown-blonde hair fell down her back and over her shoulders. Her large eyes watched me, curious.

I walked back to her and thrust the powdered milkroot  in front of her face.

"Eat, Slave."

She looked up at me with an expression of surprised disgust.

My face hardened.

She quickly got to her hands and knees. Then, glancing up at me for an instant with an accusing look, she began to eat the powder. I did not remove my hand until she had eaten it all.

"I am glad you came today," said Juskar. He was standing by the entrance. Kneeling beside him was Three. She was flushed; she stared at me with her lips parted, breathing short breaths. “ I knew you would find her quite enjoyable. She is the kind of female you prefer. Do you want to take her with you, as well?"

"No," I shook my head. “It is interference enough, taking Three. Just make sure she is on the ship when we sail. In the evenings, I will enjoy finishing what I have started. 

I regarded the other slave. She crouched inside it, fingers gripping the bars.

"I will do her, as well."

I went to the cage, unlocked it, and dragged her out as well by her arm. 

"To the mat, Slave," I pointed.

On her hands and knees, she crawled to the mat, head down. 

I would not, I knew, need to repeat my performance with any female who had seen it.