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.

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

Chapter 2

Sometime during the night the two servants, Edmund and William, came into the hall. Anne was nearly unconscious from pain and exhaustion. She barely noticed them until one removed the clamps from her lower lips. Blood rushed into the aggrieved area, bringing with it pain like the stabbing of needles. Anne shrieked and jerked about as she hung in the chains. One of the servants immediately reached between her legs and began to massage the afflicted area.

Once she showed signs of calming his fingers began to probe between her lips. She started to protest, weakly, he withdrew his hand and the next thing she knew she was being lowered to the floor. Then she was being carried, one man holding her arms, the other her ankles. Down a torch-lit passageway to another, smaller chamber. Here a semi-circular alcove had been walled off with iron bars to form a cell. They lowered her onto a pile of straw. One of them haphazardly draped a thin blanket over her. Then they left, taking the torch with them.

Morning came, indicated only by a faint lessening of the dark in the chamber, which was lit by one small, high window. A serving girl came in carrying a small jug of water and bowl containing scraps of stale bread. Anne ate the bread greedily. The last time she’d eaten was during the hellish trip in the back of the wagon.

Sometime later William and Edmund entered the chamber. They opened the door to Anne’s cell and beckoned her to come forward. William was carrying a set of manacles with chains.

“Mistress says if you come of your own we needn’t use these.” He held up the heavy iron implements. “But if you struggle it will be these, and worse.”

They escorted her, Edmund in front and William behind, through the door, upstairs and into the great hall. A long table had been set. Lady Althea and Captain Marsten, along with a handful of others Anne did not know but who appeared to be of some rank, had just finished breaking their fast.

“Friends,” Lady Althea said, addressing the group. “For those not aware, this is the traitorous cunny that the Queen has delivered to me for chastisement. I shall eagerly entertain any suggestions you may proffer as to how she shall pass her time here”

She addressed Anne directly. “So, traitor, my servant here,” she nodded towards Edmund, “tells me he believes you are virgo intacta. Is this true?”

Anne felt her entire body turning red from embarrassment. She could only nod in agreement.

“How strange, after those months in the Scottish queen’s household. Were there no lusty stable boys to entertain you? Or perhaps the Queen of Scots herself?” Lady Althea held up her hand, two fingers extended. She pumped them up and down slightly, scissoring them as she did so. The guests at table and the servants snickered.

“Captain Marsten,” she said, turning to the soldier, “I believe you fancy yourself an expert in such matters.”

“I do, m’lady,” he replied, his eyes fixed on Anne’s bare, exposed mons.

“Would you verify her status for us?”

“Certainly, m’lady.”

The captain rose from his seat next to Lady Althea and approached Anne. Without ceremony he reached between her legs, exploring her slit with a finger. Anne winced as he pressed against her maiden head. After some poking and prodding that mortified Anne he withdrew his hand.

“Yes, m’lady, I would say she has never been penetrated.”

“Well, we must do something about this. It would be cruel to subject a maiden, never having experienced the pleasures of mounting a stiff cock, to the torments we have in mind. Fetch Lord Beech,” she ordered.

Who was that, Anne wondered with trepidation. Did they really intend to deflower her? And here, in the hall, in front of everyone?

After a few minutes the servant returned with a small wooden case. He laid it on the table in front of Lady Althea. Althea opened the lid and removed an object, holding it high for all to see.

It was a length of beechwood, carved in the shape of a male member, a very erect one. While Anne was very inexperienced in such matters she was not entirely ignorant. In the sometimes cramped quarters of manor houses she had had glimpses of the male member, and even a few that were standing at attention. But if this carving had been patterned after a living man he must have been unusual in the extreme. She had never conceived of one of these dimensions. It was at least as long as her two hands placed side by side, and of a diameter equal to three of her fingers. At the base of the carved cock it swelled out somewhat wider and extended for another hand span, with a hole drilled through it. And then the realization of what its intended use was and she felt her knees begin to fail her.

While she stared at the lewd instrument in horror Edmund had stepped up behind her. He grabbed her arms and held them behind her. Taken by surprise she didn’t notice that two ropes were being lowered from a beam over her head. Then William was tying one rope to each of her wrists and her arms were raised over her head. Two more ropes, laid out on the floor, were bound around her ankles and used to spread her legs apart.

Captain Marsten had remained standing off to one side. Lady Althea addressed him, proffering the wicked device.

“Good captain,” she said, “would you do the honors?”

“With pleasure, m’lady,” he replied, taking it in hand.

The captain approached Anne, shifting the device to his left hand. With his right he began pulling and twisting her nipples, first one, then the other, then back again.

He placed the head of the wooden cock against her sex and began pressing and twisting. Anne gasped, shocked at the liberties he took with her person. She felt the pressure, a sharp little pain as her maidenhead began to tear, and screamed.

The captain stopped. He turned to Lady Althea. “My lady, I regret that I am not by nature a cruel man.”

Anne’s hopes rose. Perhaps she would be spared by the soldier’s compassion.

He went to the table and scooped up two finger-fulls of butter which he smeared on the wooden cock. He returned to shove the wooden cock even harder against Anne’s maidenhead. He twisted it as he did so and then with a sudden hard upward thrust tore through the barrier. Anne threw her head back and screamed. A thin trickle of blood traced a path over the Captain’s fingers as he pumped the wooden cock up and down several times.

He turned to Lady Althea. “The traitor is no longer a maiden, my lady.”

Lady Althea and the rest of the audience clapped.

“Excellent. Now, slut, that you’ve become acquainted with Lord Beech, I believe you should spend some time getting to know each other,” Lady Althea said with an acid tone to her voice.

William approached Anne. He tied a leather strap around Anne’s waist. He then tied another  leather thong around the strap below her navel, took the loose end and threaded it through the hole in the base of Lord Beech, and brought it up between her butt cheeks to tie it off again to the strap at the small of her back. So secured there was no way the wooden intruder could slip out of her.

“You are here to be punished,” Lady Althea said. “But that doesn’t mean you needn’t work for your bread. Take her to the scullery.”

William led Anne out of the great hall, down a flight of stairs and into the cavernous kitchens. A dozen or so servants were busy, scurrying around at the direction of a short, heavy bodied, red-faced woman. William made as if to present Anne to her.

“Mrs. Oates, here’s the traitor Lady Althea spoke to you of. She’s yours to assign such tasks as you desire until her ladyship requires her presence.”

Mrs. Oates looked Anne up and down, her eyes pausing noticeably when they observed the wooden object between her legs.

“She’s to have no clothing?” the woman asked, her voice matter of fact, showing no trace of approval or disapproval.

“Our lady says she’s now no more than a beast,” William replied, “and is to be treated as such.”

William turned and left. Mrs. Oates shrugged and turned back to Anne.

“I don’t suppose you’ve eaten?” she asked.

Anne shook her head, grateful for even a small show of kindness.

“Jane,” Mrs. Oates called out, “get this wretch some food.”

One of the servants, a plain, thin young girl emptying breakfast remains into a slop bucket, scraped scraps of bread and fish and meat onto a trencher and brought it to Anne. With Lord Beech impaling her she couldn’t sit down, so she stood, holding the trencher with one hand and picking at the morsels with the other. When she was done Mrs. Oates ordered her to the scullery.

“There’s pots to scrub,” she said. “Jane and Alice won’t mind you being the one to do it.”

Alice was a near twin of Jane, who had given the scraps of food to Anne. As the scullery maids they were clearly the bottom of the kitchen hierarchy. At first they seemed interested and perhaps a little in awe of Anne.

“’Tis said you were a great lady,” Joan said. “Were you?”

Anne mumbled something about who her late father was. At first they seemed impressed, but having lady fallen to such estate, lower even than theirs, their interest and awe turned to taunting and derision. As Anne worked on the pots, when Jane or Alice passed behind her they slapped or pinched her rump, often making her drop the pot. The loud rattle drew the attention and ire of Mrs. Oates, who loudly chastised and threatened all three of them.

As the morning drew on Joan and Alice became bolder in their taunting. As they passed behind her they slapped or pinched her rump even harder or, worse, hooked a finger beneath the leather thong at her waist and jerked it upwards, moving Lord Beech inside her painfully. When she yelped in protest they made mocking curtsies and said “Sorry, m’lady.”  Several times more Mrs. Oates intervened and set them to minding their work. Yet they still came back.

As the servants were preparing to take dinner up to the hall Edmund and William confronted Anne.

“The Mistress says you’ve had long enough with Lord Beech,” Edmund leered at her, his eyes on her crotch. “’Tis time for you to bid him good bye.”

William moved behind her and undid the leather thing. Edmund reached between her legs, grasped the device and jerked it downward. It hurt and another small trickle of blood came down the inside of her thighs. But at least she could sit again as Mrs. Oates set her to plucking fowl for the evening meal. And then it was time to scrub pots again. Anne’s shoulders ached and her back hurt her fiercely, but there was some recompense. Mrs. Oates allowed her to partake of the same food as the other servants. The sounds of music drifting down from the great hall above reminded her of better times.

When she was finished scrubbing the pots from the evening meal William escorted Anne back to her cell. Locked inside she lay down on the straw and wrapped herself up in the tattered blanket. She was fast asleep before the last daylight faded from the small window.

Anne didn’t know what time it was when William woke her up. It was dark and the only light in the chamber was the small lantern he carried.

“Come along,” he said. “You’re wanted.”

Anne was confused. Who wanted her? And for what? And in the dead of night. For a moment her hopes rose that someone had learned of her situation and come to rescue her. But those hopes were dashed as she was led to an upper floor of the keep and into a bed chamber. 

The chamber was well lit by candles around the room, as well as by the fire in the fireplace. A large four poster bed stood opposite the fire. Lady Althea and Captain Marsten sat in chairs by the fire, goblets in their hands. They were wearing their night clothes.

Without a word from them William guided Anne to one side of the room where two chains hung from the ceiling. An iron cuff was fastened to the end of each chain. Iron rings were set in the floor beneath each chain. Deftly William raised Anne’s arms and fastened the cuffs around her wrists. Then he knelt down, spread her legs apart, and tied her ankles to rings set in the floor, leaving her fully exposed and helpless.

He rose, bowed slightly towards Lady Althea, and left. Lady Althea and the captain barely acknowledged his departure or Anne’s presence. They sat, drinking their mulled wine and conversing in low tones, Lady Althea periodically laughing as if the captain had just told her an amusing story. When they’d finished their wine they rose and came to look over Anne. The captain hefted her breasts and squeezed her buttocks as he passed behind her. Then when to a side table and returned with a cat o’nine tails which he lightly slapped against his thigh as he again walked around Anne. Panicked when first she saw it, she was somewhat relieved when she saw that it was shorter and lighter than those she’d seen used to punish common criminals, and the tails were plain leather, without the metal pieces often woven into them that would tear flesh like small knives.

Lady Althea moved a chair to where she had a better view of the proceedings. She leaned back, legs spread beneath the thin fabric of the night shirt.

“Whew! Hot work,” the captain said. He walked towards the bed, tossed the cat on it and pulled his night shirt over his head, exposing a well-muscled back and tight, hard buttocks. Anne could see that Lady Althea was eyeing him as well.

He picked up the cat and turned towards Anne. His belly was tight and hard as well, with well-defined muscles. As befitted a soldier he bore a number of scars, all to the front. But what drew Anne’s attention was his maleness, cock and balls nestled in a patch of dark curly hair. His cock arced upwards and seemed to be growing as she watched, the red tip forcing its way past the foreskin. It was nowhere near as large as Lord Beech. Anne couldn’t believe any man could be, but the captain’s organ gave Lord Beech a good run.

The captain returned to his station behind Anne and continued to work the cat against Anne’s shoulders, buttocks and the backs of her thighs. To Anne’s surprise Lady Althea pulled her nightshirt up until her sex was exposed and began massaging it with her right hand. The captain’s strokes came faster and harder then, until Lady Althea nearly jumped out of her chair and pulled the thin fabric over her head, standing fully naked before Anne and the captain.

Captain Marsten dropped the flogger strode quickly to embrace Lady Althea. With his arms tightly around her and his lips firmly on hers he backed her towards the bed. Turning her around he lowered her to her knees and bent her over the side of the bed. She braced her arms against the mattress and thrust her rump towards him. In a moment he had mounted her like a stallion mounting a mare, thrusting vigorously while she matched his movements with wild strength. He reached around to grasp her full breasts. Quickly he came, his body stiffening and his throat uttering wild, animal sounds.

The captain sank down behind Lady Althea, but only for a few moments before he lifted her with both arms, laying her on the bed, then joining her, his head between her legs. Anne watched wide eyed as he quickly brought her to climax. Then he rolled to the side and pulled himself up to lie beside her.

Anne hoped that they were sated for the night and only wished William or Edmund would come to release her. Not only did her backside hurt from the flogging but her arms ached as well from being held up and supporting her weight.

After half an hour or so Lady Althea began to stir. She eyed Anne evilly, and reached between the captain’s legs. The captain, who seemed to have been asleep, awoke with a jerk, then lay back and enjoyed the attention his member was receiving.

“Good captain,” Lady Althea murmured. “There is a part of this slut which is still virginal. Have it in you to stand to duty again?”

“Always, m’lady,” he replied and eased himself out of bed. Anne saw that he was half erect already. He came to stand before her, one hand stroking his organ and his eyes moving from her breasts to her sex and back.

“Perhaps I can assist you,” Lady Althea said, joining him.

She picked up the cat where from where the captain had dropped it. She gave Anne a vicious side handed stroke across her breasts which made her scream. She followed it with a second stroke back handed. The captain was stroking himself vigorously now and was nearly fully erect.

Two more times Lady Althea punished Anne’s breasts. The she swung the cat downwards so that it came up between her legs, lifting her off her feet. With the pain she didn’t notice the captain move behind her and she screamed again in pain as he thrust himself past her sphincter.

The captain thrust rhythmically and firmly. Lady Althea continued side to side blows against her breasts. Anne was nearly unconscious from pain and fear when the captain expended his seed in her anus. She barely noticed when William and Edmund came to take back to her cell.

To be continued…..

Copyright is claimed by the author. Permission to copy is granted solely for personal use.