Armand Vayne and his fetish: ::A soft 'click-click' of dull shoes upon the hard floor of the Inn. He had rang for tea for it was late and he still had work to finish. It was very late in fact. The cold rain of November beat against the frail glass of his room window. The night was fierce and the wondrous sea view now sprung to life sending waves of salty nectar to coat and slick the hard brown rocks which made the cliff so known for it's amount of deaths. He sat in the little wooden chair to match the little wooden table, writing. Only another couple was occupying the Inn and they were far from sleep. The continuous rumble of their bedding was made known by the thin walls of the shabby Inn. The Inn owner himself didn't bother to stay in this place. And that alone spoke wonders. But Armand did not have time to find himself a suitable place, so this would have to do. Ah, a soft knock on the door. It must be his tea. He climbed out of the chair and opened the door for the wishing maid. He stepped aside to allow her in and saw the drop in her features. He assumed she wanted him to take the tray of tea and let her leave. But he was to make her prepare it for him. It was her job, though he could understand her reasons for being cautious. Once in the petite little maid scrambled over to the wooden table of his and set the small cup beside his work. She could only be a mere 14 in age. So young and pure and ripe. He leaned back on the door. His hands grasped the knob behind his back and once shut he locked it with the key given to him by the Inn owner. No doubt, the maid had one too. But would it be his lucky day that she misplaced it? As soon as that door made it's smack of no leave did she jump around, her blue eyes widened and frantic. He sauntered toward her, twirling that key chain around his finger whistling. Those pink pouty lips of hers trembled and she began to plead and whimper "Oh, please, sir! I am to marry! I am to be pure! I beg of ye, 'ave mercy! Please! Please!" and with that she fell to the floor on her knees. Tart tears staining the lovely pink of her cheeks. He tisked and spoke softly while tucking a large finger under her chin and lifting her frightened face. "Don't cry, M'dear. Don't cry. Take your leave." She relaxed some and got to her feet. "Thank ye, Sir! Thank ye!" She hurried to the door. A smile now on her once trembling face. She pulled at the doorknob and that's when it hit her, "Will ye kindly open the door, O-kind-sir?" She gave a polite bow and nod he did as he walked to the door to open it for her. And at his arrival did he lean upon it and look her way. This caused her to tense once more and she backed up as he stood straight once more and walked forward. Again she sobbed and that only excited him more. Made clear by the bulge in his new burgundy trousers. He reached out and grabbed the girl by the hair and that's when she screamed. A cold hard scream which only made him want her more. He dragged her by those curly locks of gold to that dusted old bed in which he'd be force to sleep in that night. He pulled her on it and quickly toppled her with his weight. She whimpered as she was crushed to stillness underneath him. He tore off the cheap linen of her peasant blouse and tossed it to the floor. Her eyes opened and close with each frightened whimper. He took his time to cup and suckle each small mound. She winced as the pain of newly developing breasts tormented her with his fondling. And that made him pinch and squeeze the two. That causing her to cry out and wiggle about. He set himself on her properly and she gasped inward. Now try and move he dared with his eyes. He took the thin creamy wrists of her arms and stretched them to the poles of the beds. Then slipped open the leather bag he carried about to keep sake his papers and pulled out a rolled ball of bindery rope. Thick and rough he wrapped each small fragile wrist to a bed post. His body still crushing hers and then he slid down her length. His hands grasped around her waist, pulling down that long soiled skirt. And as he slid it down his hands kept strong hold on her legs to keep them from kicking as she struggled to remove her hands from the bind in which they were held. Once off he grabbed her by the ankles and tied each ankle to each bed pole which lay at the foot of the bed. He then removed the small boots to reveal her little pink toes. Her legs spread wide to each corner of the post allowed him. He now took the access rope and whipped at the tenderness of her pussy. She cried even louder and her body shivered. He removed his trousers, but still that fine white shirt remained open his back. That large hard cock of his slid it's length into her tight small hole. Oh the pain it caused as he tried to jam it in and the raw skin of her pussy tore to cry bloody tears and soil the sheets. He knocked as much as he could manage within her in and out. In and out. He enjoyed the look of despair and pain on her face as he did this. Every now and then he went to pinch the tender pinked flesh of her nipples. He slid, in and out until he made free and managed to fit as much as he could within her. He groaned as he quickened and took hold of her small waist. Pulling her into him he was near explosion. He slipped out of her and took his leave off of the bed. He stood over her face, his member in hand and stroked the long vein rod until that white sticky goo spurted out upon her lips and cheeks and hair and neck. He chuckled and pulled his trousers on. He then went back to his little corner and sipped his tea. He ran a hand thru his hair to comb back those sooty strands of brown from his eyes of a lighter hue. He began to scratch upon the paper with that quill pen. The girl tried to speak and allowed the gooey cum to slip into her mouth. She spit it out as best as she could but he caught her swallowing to remove the spit and cum still in her mouth. "Damn you, Sir." She cried and he paid her no mind.
The next day he awoke to find his little beauty up and staring at him from her spot upon his bed. He didn't fall fully asleep. For that would be foolish. No matter how innocent they looked he knew not to try them. He yawned some and gave a stretch knocking over the small desk as his legs extended for their stretch underneath. "Damnation." He mutter and walked pass the collection of papers on the floor to his little 'toy'. "How are we feeling, Fawn?'-the name he'd give all his new ones. She growled and he slapped her. Dare it again he called from those hazel orbs of despair. He moved to his bag of garments and out came a heavy rod of iron. It formed some shape at the bottom, flattened. He stuck it in the fire to push about the branches burning for warmth. Lucky they still were alight and blazing. He kept the iron in that fire and pulled a piece of cotton from his bag. It was a perfectly good shirt but he didn't mind as he stuffed it in her mouth and risked being bitten. She didnt and he placed the tape about her lips to secure it's place within her mouth. He removed the iron from it's place within the fire. The shape of the rod at the bottom was now pinkish in color and steaming. He went toward her with that sizzling rod and she screamed, muffle scream barely heard. She wiggled and thrashed about but he took hold of her leg and opened her thigh. The scorching metal was placed on the flesh of her inner thigh. She stilled and went blank as tears left her eyes. He waited only a few before removing the piece of metal from her thigh to reveal the bloody brown pink burn of his sign on her flesh. His sign was a mere circle filled with the ownership scroll of his. He placed the rod outside his window and heard it hiss when the continuously rain drops of cold November rain hit it.