 |
|||
|
|
The Standard Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction with content suitable only for adults (and stable ones at that). If you are prohibited from reading such material by the laws or standards of your community please depart immediately. Likewise, if you can’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy please leave. Incidents and activities depicted here are purely fictional. Do not attempt to replicate them as to do so would result in injury and inconvenient discussions with the authorities.
1The Queens Vengeance
By
Von Hentzau
It was almost dark when the soldiers came to fetch Lady Anne from the small chamber in the tower of London where she'd been confined since her arrest. She asked the guards why they came for her.
"Walshingham," one replied cryptically. Lady Anne's heart sank at the name.
Sir Francis Walshingham was secretary to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth. More than that, he was her spymaster and a zealous guardian of her well being. There was not a plot afoot against the Queen in England, Scotland, the Low Countries and even France but Walshingham had insinuated his agents amongst the plotters.
It was Walsingham who had placed her in the household of the Queen of Scots. Her instructions had been clear. The Queen of Scots was known to be in contact with her supporters. Letters were passed back and forth, carried by traitors within the household. Lady Anne was to pose as a secret supporter of Mary. She was to gain the Queen of Scots trust, to become a courier for her, and to pass the contents of those letters on to Walshingham. But She'd been seduced by Mary. The letters she'd copied for Walshingham were fakes. The real letters she'd passed on. And Walshingham had discovered her treason.
"You disappoint me, Lady Anne," Sir Francis said, a tone of genuine regret in his voice. "I expected better of you. To betray my trust, not to mention to betray Her Majesty's trust!
"This, Lady Anne," Walsingham said holding up a parchment. "is the warrant for your execution, duly signed by Her Majesty."
Anne's heart sank at the words. Somehow, despite all, she had never believed that she would hear those words. Never believed her head would roll as so many others already had.
"However, I have here another document, duly signed. Out of deference to the memory of your gallant father, slain by the cursed Irish rebels, the Queen has deigned to officially commute your sentence to forfeiture of lands, titles and freedom. Your neck, Lady, shall not rest on the block. The world will know that a merciful Queen has chosen confinement in the Tower to be your fate."
Anne's spirits soared. As long as there was life there was hope. For one of noble birth life in the Tower could be made almost comfortable. And perhaps with time the Queen's heart might soften.
"And now I have one more document, one the world will never see. For your treasonous acts you will forfeit lands, titles, your name, the clothes on your back, your very body and ultimately your life. In due course it will be announced that Lady Anne Uxley expired of a fever while housed in the Tower. The body, a body, one sadly changed and wasted by confinement, will be duly delivered for burial. But it will not be yours, my duplicitous wench. The Queen has decreed that you shall be delivered to persons I shall specify at a place I shall determine, there to suffer in extremis for your disloyalty. Strip her!"
Lady Anne stood frozen in horror as coarse hands pulled at her clothing.
"Easy with those," Walsingham commanded. "Some poor Cheapside wretch will be spending eternity lying in them in the Uxley family crypt."
The hands became gentler, but still worked quickly. Before she realized it or could protest Lady Anne stood completely naked before Walsingham and the crude soldiers. She felt their eyes roam up and down her body. She was taller than average, with long brown hair framing delicate face. Her waist was slender, her breasts full and slightly pendulous. Long shapely legs reached up to a full, sensual bottom. She could feel the soldiers’ lust growing as they placed hands on a body such as they could never possess.
"Captain Marsten," Walsingham called out. A tall, broad shoulder man with a cruel, scarred face stepped forward.
"M'lord!"
"Here is your warrant. Have this traitor taken to Trimbly and see that its terms are carried out."
"With pleasure, M'Lord." Something about the tone of the reply sent shivers up Lady Anne's spine. He was obviously taking pleasure in the assignment. Marsten turned to the soldiers.
"Prepare her for transport," he ordered.
Quickly Lady Anne's wrists were encircled by iron manacles. A strip of cloth was forced into her mouth and tied behind her head in way of a gag. One of the solders brought a large pile of coarse sacking material and laid it at her feet. He spread it into a circle. Then she was forced to stand in the middle of it. Two soldiers grasped the edge and raised it up around her, engulfing her. It was in fact a sack. They tied the top above her head. She was pushed over into the arms of one of the men who grabbed her by the shoulders. Another grabbed her feet and lifted. She was carried none too gently through the winding halls of the Tower, her bottom often scraping the rough stone pavers.
She felt cool air coming through the sacking. Heard the sound off horses neighing and shaking, the creak of harness. Then she was dumped in the back of what she took to be a wagon or cart. There was straw scattered on the bed, but not much. Within minutes the cart was rolling, jouncing over the cobblestones, the sound of mounted men following.
The wagon rolled on through the night. Lady Anne tried to sleep but the constant bouncing on the rough boards combined with the fear of what was to come made it nearly impossible. Finally, sheer exhaustion put her under just as it began to grow light.
At early afternoon the wagon stopped. The sack was untied and rolled back enough for one of the soldiers to undo the gag and give her a few sips of water. At intervals during the day and the next morning the sack was again undone and she was allowed to sip water and nibble on stale hunks of bread. But she was not removed from the sack and allowed to relieve herself. She resisted as long as she could, but the inevitable happened, accompanied soon after by curses from the wagoner.
In the late afternoon of the second day the wagon rolled to a stop. Lady Anne was rudely dragged from the back of the wagon.
"Don't bring that in here like that," she heard a husky female voice call out. "Wash it down first! To the horse trough with it!"
She was stood on her feet. The sack was undone and allowed to drop to her feet. Her lower extremities were streaked with her own waste. She stank. Suddenly buckets of cold water were being sloshed over her. A coarse mop appeared and was used liberally, with special attention to the area between her thighs. The soldiers laughed rudely at the sight.
Captain Marsten had appeared while she was being washed. Now he ordered the soldiers to follow him, bringing the sopping wet Lady Anne with them. They crossed the courtyard, descended a half dozen steps and passed through a half sunk door to the left of the great hall. Then down a dim passageway, making several turns. Finally they entered a large, brick walled chamber
A tall, thin woman dressed in leather and sturdy but fine quality wool stood in the center of the chamber. There was nothing fine about her appearance. Her hair had been gathered up simply and unfashionably. Her clothes, while of good quality, befit a soldier more than a lady. But her bearing gave evidence of noble birth. Two servants, rough country fellows, and a shorter, stouter, dour old woman stood in the background behind her. Two soldiers in breastplates and helms, bearing halberds, stood well back but close enough to intervene if necessary. Captain Marsten presented a document to the tall woman. She glanced at it quickly. Then she formed her thin lips into an evil smile.
"Welcome to Trimbly Cross, Lady Anne. I am Lady Althea, the mistress of this place and my lord Walsingham's humble servant. And that was the last time you shall be addressed by the name and title that are no longer yours, for I see by this warrant Captain Marsten has delivered to us that your lands, titles and property are forfeit to the Queen. Your life will be forfeit when my lord Walsingham, upon the Queen’s direction, so declares. And until that time your body is forfeit to us, to receive such cruelties as we should choose to inflict upon it. The only stricture that my lord has placed upon us is that we do nought that will end your suffering afore the appointed time, nor do ought which shall maim or mutilate or lessen the utility of the Queen's property, which is what you now are, until such time as Her Majesty shall determine how to dispose of it. But fear not, traitorous wench, there are many way to inflict suffering that t'will make one wish for death but wish in vain.” Her smile broadened. “And leave scarce a mark."
Lady Althea turned to the small group behind her.
"William, Edmund. You know what needs to be done."
The two servants stepped forward and walked Lady Anne to a heavy, straight backed chair. They seated her forcefully. Her wrists were taken behind the back of the chair and fastened with leather cuffs. Her ankles were similarly fastened to the chair legs.
One of the servants produced a pair of what looked to Lady Anne to be sheep shears. He set about hacking off her once lustrous brown hair, grabbing handfuls, pulling hard enough to bring tears to Lady Anne's eyes, then snipping the bunch away close to the scalp. When the bulk of her hair had been shorn a basin of lukewarm, soapy water and a straight razor were brought. Lady Anne’s head was shaved down to the scalp, with little care taken to avoid nicks.
More humiliation was to come. When they'd finished with her head Lady Anne's restraints were removed. She was walked over to where a wine barrel sat in it's supports. Grasping her arms and legs the two servants laid her on her back on the barrel. Her arms and legs were spread wide and strapped in place. At first Lady Anne thought their intention was to violate her. But no, a basin and razor were brought and the servant began shaving off the hair under her arms and between her legs. Finally she was released and stood again before Lady Althea and Captain Marsten, as naked as the day she was born.
Lady Althea approached Lady Anne, now just Anne, if even that. She stroked the newly bald region, working her fingers into the exposed slit. Anne stood still, frozen with the humiliation of being so treated.
"And with the felling of that last bit of shrubbery, wench, you are now bereft of your last shred of armor. You are now fully exposed, fully ours to be tormented in any, and quite possibly every, way. I always enjoy when a woman is sent to be our guest. So many ways to torture a woman. And who better to torture a woman than another woman, one who knows ...things.
"This is Mrs. Sanchez.” Mistress Althea said, indicating a large older woman who had emerged into view from the shadows. An older woman, who had obviously seen much, too much, and one who had experienced too much, little of it good. The word "hag" immediately came to Lady Anne's mind.
"She is my expert in punishment. Do not let the name fool you. She’s as English as any of us. In her youth Mrs. Sanchez made the mistake of falling in love with and marrying a Spaniard sea captain. She went with him to Spain. He eventually tired of her.
"You may speak to her if you please, plead with her if it suits you. But expect neither answer nor mercy. While in Spain she had the misfortune to run afoul of the Holy Office of the Inquisition. She survived at the cost of her tongue and her ears. In return she learned many things from the Papist dogs, but compassion was not among them.
"You see, her Spaniard had fallen for a lovely young girl. To make room for herself the girl denounced Mrs. Sanchez to the Inquisition. Mrs. Sanchez would dearly love to avenge herself on that young woman if she could, and failing that she would with delight to avenge herself on any lovely young woman who falls into her grasp."
The hag approached closer. She circled Anne, studying her, brushing a jagged fingernail across her bottom as she did so.
"And now, my traitorous wench, you shall have a brief taste of what your life at Trimbly Cross shall be like. Let us begin."
A chain was lowered from high above. At the end of the chain hung a pair of leather cuffs. Anne’s wrists were strapped into these. She heard the sound of chain dragging behind her and then her ankles were being strapped into a similar pair of cuffs. She could tell by the weight pulling the cuffs down on the insides of her ankles that they were attached to heavy chain.
Then there was the sound of a winch being turned and her arms were drawn up over her head. The chain continued to rise, placing more and more of her weight on her wrists. She grasped the short lengths of chain that connected the cuffs to the main chain to try to relieve some of the pressure. The pressure of her weight on her arms forced her head, framed between them, forward.
Then her feet came off the stone flagging. Up she rose for perhaps two feet. Then the chain stopped ascending. There were footsteps and then the sound of another winch being turned. She felt the slack being taken up on her ankle chain. Her legs were being drawn backwards. The chain continued to be taken up until she was hanging at a 45 degree angle, her body describing a bow shape.
With her head forced somewhat downwards she found herself looking at her breasts. With her body at this angle they were swinging away from her chest, fully extended and displayed in a most lascivious manner. Then the thought struck her. Her lovely breasts. What if the purpose of these preparations were to make her beautiful sensitive breasts more available for torture? She couldn't stand that. Anything but...
And the first blow landed. A heavy strap or length of coarse rope. She wasn't sure what they'd lashed her bare buttocks with, but it stung horribly. Another blow, slightly lower than the first. Then a third, still lower. They were drawing out the beating, letting the impact of each blow sink in before landing the next, not letting the pain of one blow mask any of the pain of the prior blow. They worked their way from her buttocks down onto the backs of her thighs, then back again up to the small of her back. Tears were flowing from Anne's eyes long before they completed the journey. But she did not cry out. She was still, whatever they might have taken from her, the daughter of a gallant soldier.
Just when she thought she could stand no more the flogging stopped. Eyes closed tight she hung limply, breathing hard. She felt hands cradling her breasts. She tensed immediately, fearing what ever it was that was about to happen.
"We shall save these for later, traitor," Lady Althea said, giving each breast a soft squeeze. "Fear not, we shall not forget them." She released the orbs, to let them sway freely.
.
"Enough for now," Lady Althea said. "Prepare her for the night."
Anne was lowered until she was able to stand on her feet. One of the soldiers brought a short wooden bar with cuffs on either end. He forced Anne’s legs apart until he could strap the bar to her ankles. Then the Hag approached. She carried an odd implement. It had two handles, hinged like a large shears. But instead of blades there were two flat plates, facing each other, the furthest most edge being cut or ground away in a curve.
The Hag knelt before Anne. She fondled the lips of Anne's cunny, stroking them gently, then pulling on each in turn, softly tugging at them. She spread the flat plates of the device wide and brought it up between Lady Anne's legs. The plates slipped in the creases between Anne's thighs and her lower lips. The curving edges ensured that as much as possible of Anne's tender flesh was trapped between the jaws. The Hag gradually applied more pressure. She gave a few trial tugs. Anne could tell that the inside surfaces of the jaws were not smooth but stippled with small bumps.
When she was certain the device would not slip off the Hag reached her hand out to the side. Edmund handed her a small gray-black orb with two hooks extending from it. The Hag attached the weight, made of lead, to the handles of the clamping device and removed her hand. The weight alone kept the jaws closed, biting fiercely at her tenderest parts.
The servants went around the chamber extinguishing torches. Lady Althea took the last with her as she went to the door.
"We shall continue on the morrow," she said, closing the door and leaving Anne hanging in darkness and agony.
To be continued…..
Copyright is claimed by the author. Permission to copy is granted solely for personal use.
|
|
|