12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #9 – ‘The Interview’

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ELIZABETH ABIGAIL QUINN

PART ONE OF RECORDED INTERVIEW

Date: – 9/12/18

 Duration: – 14 Minutes

No. Of Pages: – 3

 

 

Detective Andrews: This interview is being tape recorded at 10am. My name is Detective Aaron Andrews. Miss, what’s your full name?

Elizabeth Quinn: Elizabeth Abigail Quinn.

Detective Andrews: Okay. Just start whenever you’d like to, Miss Quinn.

Elizabeth Quinn: Uh…I’m not really sure where to start.

Detective Andrews: From the beginning – what do you remember? Or we can do this when you’re feeling up to it.

Elizabeth Quinn: I remember…I…I….It was late. I was…heading out to drinks. A get-together. Only…uh…someone….I mean, I don’t remember the next part…

Detective Andrews: That’s okay.

Elizabeth Quinn: I woke up in the room. Cold, I remember it being cold but it was like a bedroom. Uh. Unfurnished but with a bed… in the middle, the bed that I…uh…was tied to on. And there was this man…A santa, with a santa mask but with the full outfit, the red suit and…He would…He dressed me. Candy Cane socks and….green and red underwear and…this stupid elf hat. I was his Elf, he would say. His sweet elf. He’d..uh…he taught me things at first. How to, uh, kneel. To kneel with my back straight. If I was wrong he’d…

[Elizabeth turns around and lifts up her blouse, showing scars on her lower shoulder blade where she had been struck by the unknown assailant.]

Detective Andrews: He’d hit you.

Elizabeth Quinn: Sometimes with his fist. Other times with his belt. Most times he’d…punish me by uh, forcing me to….orgasm by….by….[inaudible]. A candy cane…. [inaudible]. Other times he would rape me. As a gift each morning he would say, and uh, each night as a goodnight. Sometimes I would wake up and I couldn’t tell what day it was, except that I was…..soaked. And he’d tell me. He’d say it in his santa voice – he’d always use that Santa voice – he’d talk to me about hypnotic suggestion. That he could cause me to…..orgasm. To squirt. I didn’t know what to believe, but sometimes I’d feel…well, I’d feel out of my body. But watching. And I would feel there, and present but I was only watching. And I could see myself… touching myself and….enjoying it? And…orgasming and squirting on cue and on myself and on the bed… I don’t know what to believe now. What was a dream and what was not…I mean I could see myself doing things I…..

Elizabeth Quinn: Before all that…he’d sit and read to me, gently, like some sort of children’s television host. He’d teach me about kneeling, yeah, and behaving – about slave discipline. About obedience. About servitude. About….about….my….

Detective Andrews: When you were found this morning, er, nude in an alleyway off of the CBD, you were talking about….other Elves?

Elizabeth Quinn: Other helpers…willing helpers.

Detective Andrews: Willing? Could you describe them?

Elizabeth Quinn: I can’t…I…I mean, they had their own masks…

Detective Andrews: Anything you can give me.

Elizabeth Quinn: One was a woman…she’d love to…She sounded…foreign? Uh, English I think? The other was a man. I couldn’t tell where he was from.. The both of them would help train me to be…what they’d call obedient, in the name of Christmas cheer. They’d take turns. Sometimes she would come, and feed me breakfast…uh…sometimes fruit…sometimes not. She would force me to watch porn with her and if I didn’t, she would hit me with her…paddle. I would come, for her amusement. Sometimes with her too, alongside her. A double…

Elizabeth Quinn: Other times I would be chained beneath them sometimes, while they masturbated over me, watching me and each other. Sometimes I’d be forced to…perform oral while someone took me anally. It was like being in a nightmare. I never knew it would end. When they would decide to stop flogging me, both of them. Almost in time. Almost.

Elizabeth Quinn: Sometimes…sometimes I could be above all four of us, watching. Like something out of a dream. Hovering and watching me, seeing how pink my….behind was. How raw my skin was, like I wasn’t me anymore. Like I WAS this elf….or that I no longer existed anymore. That I was viewing a dream of myself. Or that I was waking to reality.

Detective Andrews: This was the hypnotic suggestion?

Elizabeth Quinn: Yes. Or. So I think. I don’t know. Is this what you want?

Detective Andrews: Anything you can give us, about who these criminals were, about where you were for so long…Your family filed a missing persons report back in June…

Elizabeth Quinn: June….I can’t believe it’s been so long. This elf – I mean…I’m sorry. I’ve been trying not to do that this whole time.

Detective Andrews: No, do not apologise.

Elizabeth Quinn: They called it speech protocol. If I got it right without missing a beat, I’d be fed. And if I didn’t…

Detective Andrews: We don’t have to talk about it.

Elizabeth Quinn: I’m sorry.

Detective Andrews: There’s really no need to apologise, Miss Quinn.

Elizabeth Quinn: Please don’t [inaudible].

Detective Andrews: I would never. Er, we can stop this here for now.

END OF PART ONE

 

 

 

 

By The Sword, Part I

When the castle was quiet and the servant’s had all gone to bed, Princess Avellana snuck out from her chambers and moved down the spiral staircase of stone like a ghost.

Through the great hall she crept, candle in hand, moving from patches of light filtering in through windows back into the shadows. Her skin was ablaze with the summer heat, her nightdress sticking to her chest with glistening sweat. Yet it was her heart that drove her forward, her heart that had come up with this plan to be a sneak, her heart that had convinced her it was now or never.

Her goal was to reach the armory at the end of the hallway, and step inside. Within would be her object of affection, the thing she had dreamt about, soaking her sheets with tangy sweat. It was the right hand of the king’s prized possession – a two handed great sword crafted by the best blacksmith in the land. Dubbed ‘Chance’, it had a silver handle decorated with a grey stripe that bore the purest rubies Avellana had ever seen.

One time she had been sitting in on council when she saw it in person. She recalled her heart quickening, her nipples hardening. It was not the man that had done this to her, something deep within her had sensed, it was the sword. This weapon of destruction, oh how sharp could it be! How easily it could slit open a neck just to bathe the user in blood. Chance, thought Avellana.

In the beginning she wrestled with these violent thoughts. Fending off alternate realities in which she was mad, she sought solace in the woods outside the palace walls, bathing in the sun amongst the sun-kissed fields of grass , learning how to ease her mind. Learning how to merge the realities into a singular one.

But no matter how long she laid beneath the shield of grass, sun-drunk and aroused, the urge, sheer fascination crept back into her mind, and she found herself thinking of Chance and the adventures it embarked on out beyond the kingdom’s boundaries. What dastardly beasts! What ferocious foes! What devilish scoundrels!

Avellana gripped the armory’s doorknob gently, ignoring its cold touch that seized her hand. Pushing gently still, she emerged within the dark room, peering through the darkness, glimpsing only figures. Behind her, she shut the door as gently as she opened it.

As she moved through the room, her body began to tremble. It started as a light shiver on the arms, traveling down across her body, tingling and intense.

Gazing around at the swords, the shields, all faceless in the low light, doubt began to manifest. What if the Swordsman slept with his sword, clutching it gently, dreaming of adventure, of murder, of brutality.

Avellana scanned the room, feeling her heart seemingly creep up her throat from its place in her chest.

That’s when she saw it – there was no mistaking its ruby which the candlelight caught with its ever watchful gaze. The ruby, exposed even hanging still in its scabbard, seemed to gaze back at Avellana, drawing her near.

Hands trembling, breath coming out of her dry lips in short bursts, Avellana, the nineteen year old princess, stepped close towards the sword where it rested on the shelf, transfixed, enamoured. So captivated was she that she didn’t register her hands finding the tied knot in her nightgown. A swift gesture with the hands — and her gown collapsed to the floor.

Now fully nude and with her hands free, and her heart working overtime, Avellana reached up, the cool air caressing her armpits, and gently picked up the sword. She exhaled shakily, running her fingertips across the smooth leather sheath. Her chest was tight, the air was cool. Senses flooded her all at once. She inhaled the dark, exhaled the light – and pulled the sword free from the sheath.

A moment passed between Chance and Avellana. How queer the sight must’ve been to an onlooker, a nude girl, long blonde hair covering her breasts, her mound a faint light fuzz, holding a silver sword high above her, as if ready to strike.

Her mouth open, her throat dry, Avellana raised her left hand to the tip of Chance and pressed down. Something cold and sharp stung her and she reeled back her hand to look at the crimson dot on her finger tip. She drew it into her mouth, tasting the strange metallic tang. Thoughts running rampant, adventure, carnage, defence – she grinned as she looked back at the tip of the sword. How many victims fell to this device?

Laying on her gown sprawled out underneath her, right leg bent up, her left laying out, Avellana couldn’t help but smile. With her left hand, she lifted the sword gently down upon her body. Cold steel embraced her from her breasts down to between her legs. At first she jumped at the cool touch, giggling for her reaction, but then, with sudden ferocious concentration, she held the sword there against her thigh, fighting against the freeze, willing her mind to hold it, to take the chill. Her eyes clenched shut as she braced for the full brunt of the bite.

To be concluded…

The Night They Took You Away

  
This is how it goes:
You snap awake. The first thing you notice is you can’t see anything. It’s not just dark, you can feel the fabric of the blindfold over your eyes. It’s coarse and irritating your forehead.

The second thing you notice is your hands are bound. Wait, that’s not at all. So are your legs. Which way are you facing? What direction is up? What direction is down? You start to squeal but that’s the next thing you notice – you’re gagged. You can taste the rubber as you try to call out. It’s metallic taste makes you gag.

Your world is thrown into light. Blinding light. It takes a few seconds to adjust to the environment but when you do, you see…
People. Standing all around you, gathered in a circle. Their arms are linked and their heads are down.

You hear the person that brought you into the light walk away from you, their footsteps echoing in this room. What is this, you wonder? What the fuck is this? You struggle to move but you are secured right. It’s rope, you think. You can feel it scratch against your ankles and wrists. 

Wait, more than that – you’re naked. You can feel a gentle breeze against your thighs. It travels upwards, tickling the lips of your cunt.

How did you get here, you wonder? You try to trace your thoughts back. You remember a party. A Halloween party. But that’s all. The rest is…foggy.
That’s when you hear it. A low chanting. It makes you turn your head in surprise. And you notice it – the men and women gathered around you – the one linking their arms and bowing their heads – are completely nude. You take the sight in, just to make sure the darkness of wherever you are isn’t playing tricks on your mind. You squint to look a little closer. You noticed a man’s shaved cock. The woman beside him has a landing strip. You notice her breasts rising and falling. Is she scared? Or exciting? The sight of these nude people strangely arouses you.

Wait, playing tricks you think. Is this a joke? You try to ask that but what comes out is muffled.
That’s when the chanting rises. You can’t understand it but it sounds Spanish if you had to guess. The others around you join in on the chanting and suddenly the voices are booming across the room. Reverberating. Becoming one. 
The candles go out. You didn’t even notice there was candles in the first place. Then the room is plunged into darkness. The chanting continues. You try to break free, struggling once. Then once more. But it’s no use.

Then there’s a gust of wind and you get the feeling someone is standing beside you.

“Accept our offering, O dark one” comes a woman’s voice. “Let this seduction and darkness sate you for another 13 years”
It sounds a little silly to say the wind is knocked out of you but that’s exactly what happens next. You feel the unmistakable sensation of a cock sliding inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and sends spasms traveling across your body but you are locked in tight. You can’t move. Whoever, whatever is on top of you, inside you – is ferociously pounding you. You’ve never felt such energy in all your years take you like this is taking you now.

You hear moaning in the darkness. The people gathered around? Are they fucking? It’s a man’s grunts, it’s a woman’s husky moans. 

Pleasure. Pleasure is sliding over you, washing over you. It’s warm and delightful and…frightening.

This aggressive cock, what seems thick and hard and never backing down, never ceases it’s speed. It kind of hurts, but in a good way. There’s an ache but…no, you shouldn’t be going along with this. 
You try to break free but you feel a hand run against your cheek. It’s soft and calming. Feminine. 

“Hush, child” the woman’s voice says. “Give yourself over. It’s easier that way”

Her voice sounds gentle and soothing. Middle aged. Mid forties if you had to guess.
The hands remove the gag from your mouth and your first impulse is to gasp for air. It feels so sweet. So divine. 

You try to speak but all you get out is “please..”

You feel rough hands glide down your hips, hot breath on your neck. It frightens you. Whoever is on you is not showing signs of slowing you down. You try to break free.

The woman coos you softly. “Here, child”

You feel a nipple fall across your tongue. For some reason, your first instinct is to take the nipple into your mouth.

The woman lets out a low moan as you do. The sound compels you to suck harder. You feel dizzy. You feel a nibble on your neck from the man on top of you, the one violating you.

That’s when you feel milk spray across your tongue and down your throat. It catches you by surprise but you don’t stop. You swallow it down. It’s warm and creamy. 

“This will soothe y-you, child”

For a moment, you flash on something. You feel good. You feel like a good girl. You feel like you’ve been laying for an eternity suckling while being pounded raw.
Every thrust comes with a tinge of pain but an overwhelming amount of pleasure. You feel it rising. You can’t help it. Pain and pleasure and shame all at once comes crashing down over you as you spasm forward, your mouth clenching down on the nipple around your tongue. You let your orgasm wash over you as you lay there. And that’s when the man grunts. And you feel warm come spray across your stomach. 

“May I too, Master?” Says the woman whose nipple is on your mouth.

Silence. But then you hear it, the wetness of the woman. She’s masturbating while you are suckling. The sounds of her juices and her soft cooing as she plays makes you want a second round.

“Kathryn, step forward” says a male voice. 

The words make you spit the nipple out. “What’s going on?”

Your voice comes out low. 
“You are the offering to our dark lord” the woman says between moans. “Our toy to seduce and fuck in his honour”

“Whose Kathryn?”

“An initiation to our ranks.”

You feel gentle hands run across your thigh. The old woman sits her nipples back in your mouth and you fall back into a state of ecstasy.

“Tonight, we not only celebrate our long time success at satisfying our dark lord, lest we feel his wrath. But we also celebrate a birth year! Happy eighteenth Kathryn”

The circle around you echoes what the man’s voice says.

“You may begin”

“Yes, Sir” says a voice between your legs. You feel her warm breath skim across your clit. Then she lowers her mouth on you and feasts .
It goes like this: you are used and abused in that room. Each member of the circle takes their time coming on you, feasting on you, fucking your mouth, your ass. How many times you are made to come – it’s countless. Your mouth is dry, your cunt is dripping and your ass tingles – much to your confusion. One person even slapped you hard enough to bring back memories of your father smacking you as a child. 
When all is said and done, you are put back to sleep. And you awaken back in your bed, back in your home. Back with your stuffed animal toys. You are bruised, your cunt is raw, the taste of milk lingers in your mouth. You are weak all over. You think it was a dream. I can assure you, it wasn’t. 
Happy Halloween!