Odd Preferences

CODE: T (set in the Trench Rats/Tunnel Rats storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): Both scenes: The Trench Rats (in progress)

PAIRING: Inspector Louis Dobermann/Senta Werner (M/F)

EXPLANATION: Now...I'm not really sure at ALL what the deal is with the relationship between Inspector Dobermann and Senta Werner. Senta, who's about young enough to be Dobey's daughter, has had the hots for him since her early teen years...yikes. She finally gets him to give her more than a passing glance, and then...THIS happens! She had no idea his tastes ran in this particular direction. O_o Poor Senta. While she really IS highly attracted to him...she doesn't seem to be quite sure if she likes the whole sadism part of the deal. I dunno, maybe that just increases the tension...?

DISCLAIMERS: None that I'm aware of. Except that maybe the scene with Holt should be modified; I don't think it quite plays out that way in the story itself. Holt isn't really a voyeur type. :/

* * * * *

Odd Preferences

Senta's eyes followed Dobermann from the room. She wasn't even aware that she'd been staring when she heard Holt cough quietly beside her. She turned to look at him and frowned at the knowing expression on his face. "What?" she snapped, irritated.

He clucked. "Oh...I know that look."

"So?" She turned back to look in the direction the inspector had gone in. "He's been widowed for years now. His daughter's all grown up. It's probably about time he found another wife. Or at least, a companion." Inside she wondered how he'd been able to keep to himself for so long.

Holt merely clucked again and bounced on his heels. "I suppose you have a suggestion as for who should fill such a place?"

Senta pursed her lips. "I serve him...he trusts me. What better alternative?"

She scowled when he chuckled softly, and glared at him. He shrugged and smiled at her. "Are you so certain you're interested in him? I hear that he has some rather odd...'preferences.'"

"Such as?"

"Oh...not for me to tell a delicate young lady." She scowled again. "I simply thought you should be aware."

"Go shove your warnings, old man. I'm not interested in them." Another glance toward the door, and she licked her lips. "I do know what I am interested in, at the moment..."

Holt's mouth twitched. "All right, dear lady...I suppose I could not sway you from your path once it's set."

"No way in hell."

"I only thought you should know..." He trailed off and watched bemusedly while she left the room after the inspector, one hand already loosening her collar.

* * * * *

Senta held off until that evening, though she was literally burning up inside. She'd lusted after the inspector for ages now, it seemed...though she had always been so young, and he had never really paid her any attention. Today, though, he had looked at her...differently. As if noticing for the first time that she was no longer a girl, but a young woman. A beautiful young woman, right under his own roof, and very much willing...

She supposed his upbringing made it improper for him to simply approach her outright. She had heard that his previous wife had approached him first. While on the other hand...she'd also heard that the men who approached him when he hadn't given them permission often ended up in a pretty poor place. Well, what better way to find out.

I'm a young woman, I doubt he'll shoot me for disturbing him...

She reached his quarters--the walk upstairs was so long--and caught her breath before knocking sharply on the door. She then drew her hand back, as if wondering whether she'd knocked too loudly. No need to appear too forward. That would resolve itself, in time...

There was a long pause--she considered knocking again--before a voice called, "Come."

She shivered and pushed open the door, peering inside.

His quarters were...sumptuous, to put it simply. She gaped at the lush draperies and carpets for several moments before noticing his stare--he stood at a small table holding a glass in one hand, giving her a cold look--and then she coughed, startled, and stepped hurriedly inside, saluting.

"Apologies, Sir! I--I've simply never seen a room quite like this before."

He turned back to his glass and poured himself a drink. "You have a reason for being here?" he asked, sounding almost bored.

Senta bit her lip. He was bored of her already? She had to work fast. She walked toward him, still keeping a respectful distance. "I...I only wanted to talk with you, Inspector."

"About?"

"Oh...anything. I mean--whatever you should like to talk about, Sir. I hear you spend most of your time here, it seems as if it should get to be dreadfully boring..."

"I find my own ways to pass the time."

"Oh! I never meant to imply you didn't, Sir. My apologies. I merely assumed you could use some company. This is such a big house."

"You know what they say about assuming."

She flushed. How was this going so horribly already! Everything she'd heard about his personality--or lack of one--seemed to be true. She'd had no idea he was so cocky.

"I..." she struggled to find the right words "...um...I apologize again for bothering you, Sir." She started backing toward the door, hoping that he couldn't see the shades of red she was busy turning. "Have a good day."

He turned back to her again, and she froze when she saw the slight hint of a smile on his mouth. But more obviously, in his eyes. He held out the glass in her direction. "Did I say I wanted you to leave?"

Her heart fluttered up in her chest and immediately all of her embarrassment flew away with it. "N--of course not, Sir! Thank you!"

She approached and took the glass from his hand. He picked up another one and filled it, then held it out. With a flushed smile she touched her glass to his, and they drank. Although she hardly needed it--her head was floating and giddy already. This had been so much easier than she'd thought...a little bumpy at first, true, but what beginning wasn't? It was obvious that he didn't really mind her being there...that was a good start. Now she had to focus on staying there.

"What's your name again?" he asked, offhandedly.

"Oh." She tried not to choke on her drink. "Senta. Senta Werner, Sir."

"Senta," he said, giving her that smile again. "'Assistant.'"

She flushed happily. "So you know, Sir!"

"Of course. An interesting name. You've changed since the last time I saw you."

She couldn't believe how red she must be turning, but didn't feel horrible about it. "Oh--you do remember me, Sir?"

"Of course," he said again, chidingly. He actually chucked her under the chin. Her eyes grew as big as her smile and she couldn't quite stop the girlish giggle that escaped her. At any other time it would have disgusted her, but now...

"You were around this tall the last time I saw you," he said, and held up his hand.

She giggled again. "Oh yes--that was when my mother was showing me the grounds, when I decided I should like to be stationed here one day. Though I know you don't keep many personnel around--"

"There's always room for exceptions."

She put her hand to her mouth and giggled so hard that her eyes watered. She wiped them quickly and tried to compose herself. "The last time I saw you, you were--well, about the same, Sir." And this time she was careful to laugh, not a girlish giggle, but a womanly laugh.

The tone of his smile told her that the trick had worked. Her heart beat triple time. This must be it! "You're saying I haven't changed much?"

"Oh--this was not quite what I meant to say, Sir. What I meant to say was, you haven't aged at all."

She hoped it wasn't offensive; she'd heard that the smallest insults could set him off. Instead, he put back his head and laughed aloud. Her eyes widened; she hadn't expected that from him. She started giggling along with him, and within a moment the two of them were laughing together as if over some great joke, heedless of anyone who might hear them.

Senta felt as if she could have laughed forever had not she suddenly felt something touch her face, and bit off her laughter with a gasp of surprise. Dobermann stood directly before her--she hadn't even noticed his approach--and he held her face in one hand, smiling down at her. His eyes...the look in them seemed to draw her in, take the spirit from her body and leave the shell standing there, mute and dazed and motionless. She felt like sinking into the floor...or sinking into him.

Or him, sinking into her...

"Do you enjoy the drink?" he asked, voice quiet.

She blinked. Her own voice came to her ears as if distant, faraway. "...Yes."

"Would you like another, or...?"

"N...no, one was fine..."

His smile grew. "Then you must be here for something else."

Senta could think of no reply to that one. Her head had grown foggy, her eyes welling up with desire for him. The small, still-lucid part of her begged him to recognize it for what it was.

He seemed to understand. The look in his eyes, close to a leer, grew softer, and he leaned down, not letting go of her, and his mouth pressed to hers. Senta's chest hitched with sudden excitement. Oh God! He was kissing her! There was only one way this could lead now! With a shudder of anticipatory pleasure, she allowed her arms to drape over his shoulders, drawing him close, hoping that it wasn't too forward. She needn't have worried. As soon as she touched him, he touched her back, hand going beneath her to lift her up into his arms, and he carried her, as a groom carries his bride; she noticed when she opened her eyes and peered ahead--that he carried her toward his bed.

Oh yes!

She giggled softly and nibbled at his ear before he laid her down upon her back, his own face in shadows now. He leaned back to remove his jacket and shirt, and Senta felt her body tingling when he removed his pants; she reached out for him welcomingly when he came up and over her, mouth going to her neck. She put her head back and sighed contentedly as he nuzzled at her, his hand slipping inside her own shirt, freeing one breast from her bra, palming it and squeezing. This...this was bliss, exactly what she'd wanted. So easy...

Stupid Holt, "warning" me about this...what an old fool!

She murmured when his mouth pulled away, shifted her body when he began to pull at her own clothes. Ah, of course. She was still dressed, damn it. Such a bother. She tried to help him with the buttons, and when he became too impatient one popped off; she giggled again. Just like teenagers, the two of us! One would think we've never had sex before!

She sensed him smiling back at her, then his hand went for her pants. She put her arms around his neck and lifted her hips from the bed to allow him to remove them, though it was a somewhat difficult process, considering how tight they were. She shirked them off as best as she could, until she was left in nothing but her bra and panties, trembling now beneath him. He still wore his own underwear. But she could tell, not for long...

She licked her lips again, for him, and let out a long sigh. She let go of him to trail her fingers down his broad chest. They latched over the edge of his underwear, and she gave him a pouting look, asking silently. His smile...his breath fanned her face gently, and with her own smile she carefully pulled them down his hips. He kicked one leg to remove them and she marveled at his build. Such a magnificent form! She hadn't been merely flattering him when she'd pointed out how he hadn't aged...he hadn't. Though he was older than she, he looked to be the same age, youth had stayed with him so well. Though it was this...the area down between his legs...that fascinated her the most, now. She could see his face every day. Best to take advantage of what was now here before her, in all its glory.

She sighed again. He popped open her bra and removed it. She beamed at him, hoping that he found her delightful. He seemed to...his mouth immediately covered first one breast, then the other. She put back her head and shut her eyes with a murmur at the feel of his tongue swirling, sucking. His own fingers latched onto her panties, had pulled them down somehow before she even knew it; then they rubbed at her most private area, and she shivered to feel her juices upon him already, the slow gentle massage raising the fires within her. She trembled and sighed in contentment.

And--an iron grip seized her right wrist, crushing her arm down into the bed violently.

Senta's eyes flew open and she gasped. Dobermann still stared down at her, and his look, for the most part, had not changed; though there was now a strange...something...within his eyes. Before she could ask him what he was doing he had gripped onto her other wrist and likewise forced it down to the bed, and she knew she could not have fought him off had she tried.

She gaped at him, bewildered, before he bent to nuzzle at her neck again, biting her earlobe gently at first, but then hard enough to sting. His knees pressed against her thighs, pushing them down into the mattress; with a sudden start she realized that she couldn't move at all. With another gasp she instinctively started struggling, attempting to pull herself free, a pure survival instinct--yet her body couldn't obey. The force that restrained her was too great.

Growing more frightened, she doubled her efforts.

In the midst of her struggling she heard a voice say, mildly, "If this discomforts you, it would be best to tell me now."

She stopped fighting and gaped up at him. Despite her struggling he hadn't had to move at all to hold her down. He stared at her, a mixture of that look and something slightly resembling annoyance--but not quite, as he never got annoyed--in his eyes. She couldn't get her voice to work.

He abruptly let go of her right arm and she flexed the already-aching muscle.

"If you dislike it," he added.

Yes, I dislike it! her mind cried, but she found her mouth saying, faintly, "N...no...it's all right...please...please continue."

He appeared to give her another moment to think it over, and when she didn't change her mind, his fingers went around her wrist again. She felt a terrible dread enter the pit of her stomach but offered no more resistance. She was still attracted to him, and even aroused...but she was terrified as well.

He leaned down, kissed her neck again...only now his kiss was rougher, and he even bit at her with his teeth. She flinched and gasped, likewise, when he did it again to her shoulder. He held her arms pinioned above her head as his mouth explored her trembling body. Her skin, so white and pale, he marked with his teeth, leaving small but dark bruises upon her tender breasts. She whimpered, unable to speak now for fear that she would anger him, yet also whimpered at the heated sensations coursing up and down through her body. She was too confused to know what to think.

Holt's words, so easily disregarded before, came drifting back to her... He has some rather odd..."preferences"...

He leaned up, away from her, and her eyes came open--she had to look up and back above her head to see what he was doing. He still held her wrists, yet in his other hand he held something else--what looked to be cords of some kind--and he was busily wrapping them around her wrists, binding them together, and then tying the loops onto the knob in the middle of the headboard.

Her insides went into contortions. What was he doing?

He got up from her, still with several pieces of cord left; she gasped to feel him take her leg, wrapping the material around her ankle. She jerked and very nearly started to fight him again--she felt like doing nothing more than struggling and flailing and screaming--yet she seemed to have lost the ability. Within seconds he had tied her legs to the bedposts so she lay spreadeagled, vulnerable to his attack--in whatever form it should come.

He came down over her again, and she quailed inside to see that he now held one more thing...a riding crop. What did he intend to do with that? Yet he set it aside, taking her breasts in his hands and squeezing, forgetting about it completely so she had that small amount of relief. But not much more. Soon enough he was biting her again, fingernails raking her soft skin, leaving coarse red tracks that caused her to hiss in pain. And he hadn't even--

Now he did--grasped her hips hard enough to bruise, and thrust himself within her so hard that she cried out and arched. His thrusting was like riding a bucking animal. Senta cried out with each push, nearly unable to tolerate him. He seemed to fill her near to exploding, he went so hard and so full! When she bared her neck and lurched in agony his lips were there to meet her, tongue running along her salty skin, teeth gently scoring her lips as she protested. The longer they went, the faster and harder he moved. And the more still she cried out raggedly at the air. As they started to near what she assumed to be completion, she began sobbing hoarsely, throbbing against him, squeezing tightly around him and aching all over--yet she could not bring herself, for whatever insane reason, to yell out the word "STOP!" She sobbed and wailed and managed to whimper to him--"Pl...please...no...please...no...!" yet nothing she said brought about any change, she knew the word she had to use to end it--and her apparent inability to say it was what now brought about her agony.

Yet there was still a part of her that trembled wildly at his touch, begged for and welcomed him, no matter how harsh he was...she didn't know which part to obey...

He didn't speak to her, made no sound as he moved, aside from his breathing, a heavy yet controlled pant. His eyes--so hot and yet so cold at the same time--frightened her. She couldn't hold his stare, didn't know what it meant. All she knew was that she could take it no longer. With a wail she exploded inside, slamming into him, pulling on her bound wrists and ankles so hard that the cords cut into her skin; only now did he make some sound, grunting softly as his seed spilled within her. Senta's breath escaped her in a long stream as she sank back to the bed, her head lolling back and her arms and legs relaxing. God, how she hurt...

A moment after his flow had died down, he pulled himself out from within her, and she could feel him undoing her restraints. She murmured gratefully as her arms flopped to the bed, aching sore, and sought to catch her breath. He took her arms, brought them back in front of her, and rubbed them between his hands, massaging the aching muscles, stroking her gently. She sighed in relief. Despite all that had gone ahead, she knew that he wasn't a vicious person...like Holt had said, he just had peculiar tastes...

He took her by the shoulders and lifted her. She allowed herself to lean against him, smelling the musky scent of his sweat and smiling to herself. She reached down to stroke him, to let him know how much she had enjoyed their little tryst, despite the unusualness of the situation...only to have him turn her away from him.

She frowned and opened her eyes, expecting him to push her from his bed--for whatever reason, she intended to demand why as soon as he did so. Yet when her mouth opened, satin greeted it--the satin coverings of the bed, pressing against her face. She let out an indignant cry before realizing what was happening and panicking inside. Yes, he had unbound her, and massaged her muscles, and picked her up...and apparently he had only done so, so he could take her again. For as she vainly protested--still unable to tell him to stop--he pushed her down upon her belly, retying her hands, and then her legs as she kicked and yelled futilely. Her words came out as mere animal cries, turned unintelligible with fright.

Damn it, why can't I say STOP!

She wanted so badly to just turn off the part of her that was turned on, yet couldn't find the switch...!

Still, she continued struggling, even up to the point when he straddled her from behind as if she were a pony--she even let out a high-pitched whinnying sound of terror to feel the thick head of his member pressing against her, not into her vagina, but into her anus; it paused, as if he decided to grant her request, and she started to tremble in gratitude, only to feel his shaft push within her after all, up deep to the hilt, so far that she screamed and lurched as if struck by lightning. She pulled her bounds tight. The riding crop lightly struck her buttock--she suddenly remembered how he'd brought it along during the last ride--and she bucked wildly, and then again, when he struck her again. Harder this time. Tears sprang to her eyes and she rather wished that he'd given her a gag to bite down on.

Oh God, did Inga have to put up with this...?

If his "preferences" were so well known that even Holt knew about them...then why had nobody turned this man in by now!

All that she could do was cry out again, and continue bucking, with each slap of the small whip against her flesh. Dobermann crouched upon her, knees bent, pushing himself into her fully, repeatedly, panting and striking, grabbing her hair, striking...

* * * * *

In the hallway, Holt glanced through the keyhole briefly. He found the master of the house occupied, hurriedly riding atop the shrieking girl, panting with lust, holding onto her hair and striking her sharply with a riding crop so she screamed and lurched beneath him, evidently emphasizing his pleasure. Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed and struggled against him, yet never said stop, and even moved in unison with his thrusting. He leaned over her and bucked his hips harder to go deeper, earning another high-pitched scream. The crop went thwack against her bottom.

Holt turned away from the scene and stood near the door, waiting.

* * * * *

Senta rocked forward, carried along by the hard thrusting motion, by now too exhausted even to scream anymore; all that came from her were whimpers and moans, and the occasional gasp when he rammed into her harder. He had grabbed onto her hair and pulled her head back so her neck was bared; she had briefly felt his breath, then his tongue, at her ear, before lapsing into a semiconscious state, still feeling the motions and even the pain, but her mind too numb to even care. Dobermann's skin slapped softly against hers as he moved, breath heaving. He pulled on her hair with each thrust so her scalp burned. Thwack! The riding crop struck hardest now, laying open a thin line across her buttock; she flinched and a tiny line of blood formed, trickling to the bedcovers. The sweatied sheets clung to her, threatened to block her mouth from breathing; but before she could worry about this too much, Dobermann leaned over her with a hard push, a heavy grunt--"Ummph"--and then a groan--"Oooohhhhhhhh"--escaping him. Only then did Senta's senses come back to her, with some surprise; he had barely made any sound at all, before. Even as his groan of pleasure died away, leaving them both panting, she wondered...if he had truly found her that pleasing.

She couldn't move, or even ask him if it were so...she was so tired...

He pulled from within her, leaving her cringing at the feeling; she knew that she must be bleeding...from both ends. Dobermann had been her first.

There was a pause as she assumed that he realized this, discovering the blood upon himself. She didn't know what his reaction would be. After a moment she felt him bend to kiss her cheek softly, in such sharp contrast with what he had just completed doing. She gasped weakly to feel his fingers within her--Oh God, please not again--but he didn't climb atop her, only moved his hand in and out of her, in and out, slowly at first, then building up a tempo, until she moaned and shuddered in climax, her fluids leaking out upon the sheets--she briefly wondered if he would be angry now that she'd stained all of them--and then he kissed her forehead, touched her cheek, and rose from the bed, disappearing from her view. She dimly heard the sounds of his clothes as he dressed himself again--How can he even go face his men after all of that?--and then the clack of his shoes upon the floor. And then, his door opening, and closing. Leaving her spread out upon his bed, tied and gasping for breath, bruised and bleeding and exhausted.

Some time--how much time?--passed before she heard the door again, and expected him to return to her for yet even more. A hand did touch her shoulder. But then, she felt the cords being cut from both her wrists and ankles, and someone was taking her arms and helping her up. She gave a weak cough, feeling the blood and fluids between her legs and trying to keep them crossed so no one could see. She managed to open her eyes and groggily looked into the face of the one who had come to help her out.

Holt bit his lip and frowned at her as if worried. "Ach...the inspector's tastes run even more severe than I thought. He must have been holding himself in since Inga...here, come on, please put this over yourself, I'll get you safely out of here so nobody sets eyes on you, at least for today..."

Senta only moaned faintly as he wrapped a sheet around her, retrieved her clothes, and helped her from the soiled bed, looking around carefully so as not to be seen, then taking her back to her own quarters.

A Matter Of Trust

Adelina lay in bed upon her side, hands tucked under her cheek. Though comfortable, her eyes were not closed. She frowned, eyes darkening, as she stared off into the darkness. From somewhere below her came a soft giggling, almost constant; and she could tell that her father was with that Senta woman again. She couldn't believe that he'd found some interest in such a witch. The woman was an absolute brute when he was not around to see her, and even Gerhardt shied away from confronting her. She had cowed just about everyone in the household but Addy. And she knew that Senta detested this fact.

A brief silence fell, and then the giggling again. Addy grated her teeth. What did he do now, tickle her to death?

She let out a frustrated sigh and pushed the pillow over her head, doing her best to ignore the sounds from now on...though she wasn't certain if she'd succeed. That damn woman was annoying.

* * * * *

Senta had been uncertain if she should approach Dobermann again, after their...first time together. She had longed after him--all right, she told herself, lusted after him--since she was just barely fourteen, but of course, that had been far too young to tell him. And though she had been with several men before, she had never allowed any of them to get very far...those who had tried anyway had gone home rubbing bruised eyes or pressing their hands to their bruised privates. Kissing and touching were all that she had desired from them, to sate her in the interim. She saved the best of herself for him.

And now, she was barely nineteen, he, in his forties...but he had been interested in her! She couldn't believe it. How long had she saved herself for him when he already knew? It didn't matter now...she had given herself to him, twice...and though it had frightened her and even left her sore for the next few days, she was pleased that she had done it. In fact, she now spent much more time standing at the mirror admiring herself, making certain that her appearance was perfect for the brief times when she saw him, feeling bitter disappointment when she did not.

But he had been...frightening. He hadn't merely taken her maidenhood, he had...torn it away. Though Holt had warned her, she hadn't believed him when he'd mentioned Dobermann's peculiar "preferences." She had thought that perhaps he meant excessive fondling or touching. She'd had no idea that he'd meant binding and whipping!

And so after the first time he'd taken her...at first tying her down, the second time turning her over and...she shuddered to think about it...she was a little wary of approaching him again. Though her body had responded to his every touch, who was to say that he wouldn't decide to do something a bit more "peculiar" next time? She wasn't certain if she could tolerate it...

But then her common sense had overridden her reluctance. So their first night together had been unusual? So what! She had enjoyed it--that was all that mattered, right? Of course! So long as she had him in her hands, who cared how they went about doing it?

And so, she had inspected herself carefully in the mirror, made certain that she exuded an air of confidence, and strode off to meet him, hoping that he had time in his schedule...he could often be busy.

She needn't have worried...as the last time, he seemed to be right where she wanted him to be, and all that she had to do was smile before she was upon his arm, he leading her on the familiar path back to his private quarters. He even chatted with her as they walked, and she knew that he was not much of a chatter. She answered everything he said, and laughed softly--to laugh loudly would not be ladylike--at every humorous comment he made. Her thoughts were so taken up in him that it seemed that in no time at all they had reached his room...and he had shut the door...and their restrained civility gave way to desire as their lips met almost immediately, Senta sucking in deep breaths as she kissed him, her hands roaming his body. Oh God, he was so perfect.

His fingers worked at the buttons on her uniform. She nibbled at his ear and pressed herself to him, gasping at the feel of his hands upon her. One pulled her shirt free, slipped under her bra, cupped her breast. She gave a low moan.

"Sir..." she whispered, and her mouth met his neck. "I missed you...you are never here when I am..."

"We're here now." His words, the meaning of them, sent tingles through her body and she giggled. Now he kissed her neck. With a frustrated groan she undid his jacket, pushed it, pushed his shirt from his shoulders, hands caressing over his shoulders, across his chest. She moaned again. Her pants felt wet.

He unbuttoned her pants--she pulled them down, heard him unzipping his own and pressed close, rubbing her leg against his. "Please hurry," she murmured in his ear. "I cannot bear this..."

He kissed her, tongue within her mouth. His hand slipped within her panties and she trembled. A whimper escaped her; he found her clitoris and rubbed his fingers against it gently, setting her body to shuddering wildly.

"Oh please, Sir, hurry!"

He picked her up in his arms, as he had the last time. She giggled and put her head against his shoulder. After a moment the softness of the bed pressed against her back, and their mouths closed together, hands touching in each intimate area.

As their caressing grew more excited, more demanding, she suddenly worried that he would do the same thing he had done last time. While it had pleasured her...she didn't exactly wish to do it again. His grip was tightening on her shoulder and she broke from his mouth, so he moved to her neck, and she shut her eyes with a sigh.

"Sir...if you don't mind...I thought maybe we could do something different. From last time..."

Tongue moving soft and wet across her breast. She moaned. His fingers tweaked her other nipple, a bit hard; she winced and her head cleared.

"Sir?"

"Mm," he murmured, busy suckling.

"I hoped--perhaps we didn't have to--do what we did last time. If--if you don't mind." His motions were making it difficult for her to even think straight.

He said nothing, so she worried that her statement had not reached him. She was reluctant to say it again, if he did hear. He might...become angry if he felt that she was patronizing him.

He was doing nothing but kissing and touching her anyway, so she allowed it. She grew slightly tense when he turned her over to lie on her belly--she remembered what had happened when he did that before--but all that he seemed to be interested in doing after that was caressing her back. She snuggled close to him and pressed her lips to his again. She wished that he were on top of her, or she on top of him. He lay on his side, so she ran her hand down his chest. He still wore his underwear.

She let out a slightly annoyed sound. "Please, Sir...why do you not take them off? For me?" And she met his eyes, smiling coyly.

He smiled at her in return and stroked her face, then licked her neck. His hand drifted down her back to her buttocks, squeezing and kneading firmly. She moaned and tensed, arching herself instinctively at his touch and wishing that he were within her.

Be patient, he will be, soon enough...

She shut her eyes and lost herself in him again, sighing happily at the tiny thrills that he sent through her. She should have approached him long ago...screw her age. She wondered what wonderful things she might have missed out on, with him. He was such an enjoyable lover, she wondered why he had never approached her sooner. She had heard about the way that he met his first wife...how he'd taken her from a party into the next room and had promptly pushed her up against the wall and taken her. She too had been a virgin.

Was Senta destined to be his next? She shivered and giggled. She certainly hoped so...

Dobermann's fingers kneaded between her buttocks. She sighed. Then--she started, feeling two of them enter her, poking inside her anus. Oh, no. Not this, not again.

"Sir..." she whispered, body tensing.

He leaned toward her so his face was next to hers. "Do you trust me?" he whispered back.

She blinked at him. "Wh...what?"

As if in response, a third finger was inserted. She gasped and stiffened, biting down on her lip to keep her breath down.

"Do you trust me."

This time it was hardly a question. His eyes stayed focused on hers and she couldn't concentrate. Oh God. What did he want? She hadn't the slightest idea.

"I...I don't know," she stammered.

The fourth finger went in. She whimpered now and shook. His hand was beginning to stretch her uncomfortably, and she didn't know what to do or say. What had brought this on? Where was it going? What did he intend to prove?

"You know I won't hurt people," Dobermann murmured to her, "unless they ask...or unless they hurt me first."

Senta stared at him with wide terrified eyes.

He pressed his forehead to hers and tenderly kissed her cheek. "And so...do you trust me?"

"I'm...I don't...I don't know what you want, Sir..."

Now, his thumb. Senta gasped, harder than before, eyes growing even larger as Dobermann's hand slipped inside of her. She moaned with the pain of it entering her, and shuddered to feel his fingers curl in to form a fist, once he was inside. Then he held his hand still.

"Do. You. Trust. Me?"

His eyes were amused, his voice quiet and calm. Senta whimpered, tears springing to her eyes. His hand filled her up. She nodded wildly, biting off a cry of pain.

"Y...yes, yes, I trust you! I TRUST YOU!"

She shrieked now to feel him push within her--but it was not as painful as she'd expected. He pulled his arm back, then pushed again. Each time Senta moaned aloud and stiffened at the queer feeling, not certain whether to feel pained or pleasured. What was he doing to her?

He didn't explain, just kept moving his hand in that slow yet pressured motion. Senta dropped her head against the pillow and sobbed. She managed to force open one eye to look at him, saw the calm, almost amused expression on his face as he enjoyed his plaything. Saw that, before the tears blinded her too much to make out any more. Her fingers clawed into the bedding and she shut her eyes tight again, trembling like a leaf. The strange painful yet erotic motion continued.

* * * * *

Addy heard the woman let out a hard cry, then heard her whimpering and sobbing. She groaned to herself and tried harder to block her ears. For God's sake, how long could he tickle her! She wished that she could live in the servants' quarters where she'd never have to hear this. It was so dreadfully annoying.

* * * * *

Senta lay gasping and sobbing, more sound than tears, though the tears did spring to her eyes from the pain. She sniffled and choked for a time before realizing that the strange pushing sensation had stopped. Was it really over--? She felt his fingers uncurl inside her and moaned softly; he slowly withdrew his hand from inside her, and then kissed her cheek, brushing back her hair. He kissed her a few more times, upon her forehead, cheeks, and eyelids, before she heard him whisper.

"What do you most want, now more than ever?"

Senta blinked groggily. "H...huh...?"

"Your greatest desire. So long as it is within this bedroom. Name it, now."

Senta blinked a few more times, uncertain. He gently turned her over onto her back, and still smiled at her with that strange wry look. She found herself reaching up one hand to touch his face.

"What do you most desire?"

"Y...you..."

"How do you desire me?"

"I d-desire you...below me...me...above you...both of us...to be making love..."

That strange smile that wouldn't leave him. He stroked her cheek. Then he took her arms, lifting her from the bed; he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She collapsed against him in some surprise.

"Sir--?"

"You trust me, you claimed. So you've earned a little treat." He kissed her neck. "What you most desire. All yours, for the night, until you grow tired. Enjoy it."

Senta's eyes widened and she pushed herself up. "You mean--this--this is for me--?"

He nodded. Strange smile.

Senta stared at him for a moment before she understood. She smiled as well, her grin growing, and traced her fingers down his breast to his penis. She squeezed it lightly, saw his eyelids flick down just barely. She placed her mouth to his body and licked, long and languorously. This earned her a slight sigh, and she giggled, shivering in pleasure.

Something different. Well, that was certainly what this day had become. Senta smiled as she took hold of his penis and came down slowly, inserting it between her legs with a soft tremble. It was not long before they slowly rocked together upon his bed, he pushing with his hips and grasping with his hands, she biting and nibbling and arching into his thrusts. Oh, God, yes. This was very good. Very good indeed.

She leaned down and touched her forehead to his even as their hips still rolled slowly into each other. "I looooove you," she murmured, giggling giddily and tweaking at his nipple.

Strange smile. He did not say that he loved her in return. Yet the motions of his body cried out to her that he must. With a contented sigh she sat upright and placed her hands upon his chest while he held onto her arms for support. She decided to make the most of this prize, and pumped herself forward, pert breasts jiggling, a pleased smile curving her damp lips. His fingers dug into her painfully--just once, reminding her who was truly in charge--and she forgot it immediately.

She was going to have a lot of fun with him tonight.

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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

I am not looking for critique on grammar, spelling, style, sentence structure, flow, or the mechanics of writing. What I AM interested in is commentary on such things as characterization, plot, symbolism, theme, etc.--the deeper aspects of the story. I like to know if a scene is believable, if the characters are interesting, what you thought of how they interacted, if the writing evoked any emotions, things such as that.

Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome.