Eleanor could not quite believe she had begged the man. She had not merely consented to her own deflowering, she had begged for it. The man must be some sort of an evil warlock, she told herself, remembering the pain of her impalement. But the pain was quickly engulfed by a wave of pleasure, and she remembered Sir Peris’s masculine body and the scent of his musky male scent with a little shiver of delight.
He fucked her hard and long, and even after her first explosive orgasm her captor continued to fuck her. One climax seemed to flow into another, and another, each a slightly gentler release than the last. How long it had gone on for she could not say for certain.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lynet said, seeing her blushes. ‘Sir Peris always seems to make his captives plead. Now though, Dagonard will come and claim his prize, probably this morning.’
Eleanor felt her bottom twitch involuntarily as the dwarf’s name was mentioned. ‘Will he…?’ She felt herself turn an even deeper shade of red.
‘Will he make you beg for it like the master?’ Lynet said, in a bitter tone. ‘No, that you will be spared, for unlike Sir Peris, he does not care whether or not we plead.’
Dagonard did not come for her that day, nor yet the next. Sir Peris’s traps were particularly successful, and the dwarf was kept busy hauling pretty captives down into the dungeon. He stripped and whipped five maidens in quick succession, and Eleanor had to listen, her hands clutching the bars of her cage as the sound of leather on soft flesh echoed around the awful dungeon.
‘My lady, what can I say?’ he eventually smirked at her. ‘A thousand pardons for this neglect.’
The dwarf let himself into the cell straight after watering all the captives on the morning of the third day.
Naked, as she had been since after the visit to Sir Peris’s chamber, Eleanor covered her sex and breasts to shield them from his hungry, lecherous gaze.
‘Please, keep your hands at your sides, my lady,’ Dagonard requested, taking the whip from his belt as he did so, and Eleanor reluctantly obeyed.
‘My Lady Lynet, would you be so good as to excuse us?’ the dwarf asked the other naked maiden.
‘Um, yes, certainly,’ Lynet answered, sounding anxious.
‘I am obliged to you, my lady. I shall return to whip your lovely body later, for the nonce, good day.’
He held open the door to the cell and used the whip to invite Eleanor to step out. He locked the cell again, and then she felt his hand in the small of her back, urging her to move off along the dank passage. It was oddly silent, the captive maidens on both sides solemnly watching as the dwarf led Eleanor to meet her fate.
She had not far to go. The corridor of cages led to a circular chamber, which contained various grim-looking apparatus. Candles lighted it, but a forge-like fire to one side threw out light as well as intense heat, the light flickering and flaming a hellish red.
In the middle of the circular chamber was a strange thing; a flat, circular stone, two or three feet in diameter with an upright stone protruding from its centre. An oval hole had been bored through the upright, some three feet from the base. Eleanor had never seen its like.
‘The Bedwen Stone,’ the dwarf declared. ‘Very ancient and heathen. Magic too, I shouldn’t wonder. No one is sure what it was made for, but an old friar told me the druids used it for sacrificing virgins.’ The dwarf slapped the base stone hard, causing a retort to echo around the torture chamber. ‘And if the holy friar says so, well that is good enough for a poor sinner like me!’
He hopped up onto the stone and bowed with mock courteously, holding out his free hand in invitation. ‘Please join me, my lady,’ he said with twinkling eyes.
Lady Eleanor’s heart was pounding; she was naked, and there was little doubt what awaited her on that heathen alter. Yet the whip swung in Dagonard’s hand, she had nowhere to run, and she found she simply lacked the courage to say nay. As if in a trance she gave him her hand and let him help her onto the stone platform, and the dwarf positioned her by the upright.
‘Now, my lady, if you would be so good as to put your head and shoulders through the hole,’ he ordered, and she felt entirely powerless to resist him. Bending, Eleanor did as she was told, and as her arms passed through Dagonard grabbed her wrists and pulled until her torso was wedged through the oval.
‘That’s it, my lady,’ he beamed, ‘now just rest there.’
The stone was cold and a little rough, but oddly comforting. Dagonard did not let go of her wrists, but transferred both into one of his brawny hands and produced one of his thongs, and in a few deft movements her arms were bound together. Then the stunted man bent to pick up a length of thin chain from the base stone, and then looping it between her bound wrists he doubled it back and pulled until there was sufficient tension to hold her in that position. Then a padlock secured the chain into place.
‘If I might crave a moment or two more of your sweet patience, my lady?’ the dwarf sneered, then scurried out of her sight, and Eleanor heard a chink and felt her right ankle being pinioned in an iron cuff, and then the same was done to her left. There was more clinking and she felt chains tugging, pulling back first her left leg, then her right, until they were stretched wide apart and she was barely able to move any limb more than an inch or two in any direction.
And the expected punishing strokes were not long in coming.
‘I am sure that my lady would like to be warmed up for what is approaching,’ she heard him say. ‘Damsels generally find it preferable, but please, do not clench those pretty buttocks like that. I am going to spank them, but if you persist in clenching I shall have to relax those lovely chubbies with my whip.’
Eleanor tried, but her bottom twitched despite her efforts. The waiting seemed the most terrible thing. She was completely at his mercy, unable even to see him raise his arm.
She felt it though. There was an almighty crack that echoed around the depressing chamber, and she gasped as her bottom cheeks exploded with pain.
Eleanor, in her innocence, had imagined that a spanking, humiliating and undignified though it might be, would be nothing compared to a flogging with the dwarf’s terrible whip, but instantly she realised her misapprehension. Dagonard’s calloused hand was as hard as his short arm was strong. It cracked down, each strike sounding like a thunderclap as it echoed around the vaulted chamber, again and again, submerging Eleanor into a delirium of pain.
Crack!
‘Oh, mercy!’ she wailed.
Crack!
‘I cannot bear it!
Crack!
‘Oh no, it is too much!’
Crack!
‘Mercy, my bottom is afire!’
Crack!
‘No mercy here, my lady,’ he scoffed. ‘You must be thinking of some other place.’
Eleanor fought her bonds with no effect. Her belly writhed on its stone support as the spanking hand splattered down again and again. She could not think of anything except how much her bottom hurt. The scorching, stinging, punishing hand drove everything out of her mind, except for pain.
It stung so much that for a few moments she was barely aware the spanking had stopped. Gasping, writhing, moaning and begging pitifully, tears ran freely down her flushed cheeks, but eventually it dawned on her that, though her bottom was still scalded and throbbing, no new smacks were raining down on its sore surface.
As awareness slowly returned she remembered her position; naked, helpless, bound, and at the mercy of Sir Peris’s wicked servant, who was again standing before her. Blinking away the tears she saw him waiting, fondling his groin in the lewdest manner and grinning at her, clearly enjoying her travails.
‘Well,’ he said when her sobs had subsided, ‘that was very enjoyable. Such full, firm cheeks. I swear on my honour that I never ever spanked a finer pair. It’s got me nice and hard, I must say, look.’
He flipped up the hem of his
leather tunic and the monstrous thing confronted Eleanor, bobbing mere inches from her spellbound face. So close to its great purple head seemed even larger, and Eleanor could but stare wide-eyed at it.
‘Would you care to suck it, my pretty lady?’ Dagonard enquired.
‘No, please…’ she whispered hoarsely.
‘Of course,’ the dwarf said, ‘it is entirely your decision. There is one factor that you may care to consider, however. I am about to bugger you. Your bottom hole is tighter than a clam, and I have found that the girth of my thing tends to make girls squeal a little – well a lot, in truth – when I impale them.’
As he spoke the dwarf waved his straining cock from side to side, as if to emphasise his words, and Eleanor watched trancelike, her eyes following the monster from side to side as it swayed.
‘Still,’ the dwarf continued, ‘if you prefer to keep your spit to yourself, then that is your privilege. I just thought, in my usual courteous way, that a little lubrication might help your arse accept my cock more easily.’
‘No, please… let me…’ Eleanor heard herself begging, and the loathsome dwarf moved nearer with a throaty chortle. Eleanor hesitated, summoning her courage, then closed her eyes and began to lick the baton of flesh pulsing in her face. It tasted strange and salty, the smooth dome of his glans swelling even further as she tentatively touched it with the tip of her tongue.
‘That’s it, very prettily done, my lady,’ he croaked. ‘We will make a cocksucker of you yet. Now, open wider… wider… you can take it… that’s it, nice and deep, right to the back…’
Somehow Eleanor managed to accept the great cock-head beyond her stretched lips and into her mouth, thought she would gag as the monstrous thing nudged the back of her throat, but managed to calm herself and lie passively as the midget pressed his humid groin to her face and panted heavily with pleasure.
‘That’s it, good girl,’ he gloated. ‘Breathe through your nose and let my cock get nice and wet while I enjoy this for a few moments. You will thank me for it when I fuck your arse. Ooh, that does feel very good, but I’d better withdraw for fear of losing my load in your throat – very enjoyable though that would be – before I get inside your backside.’
He withdrew and shuffled out of sight again, and she cringed as rough hands grasped her scorched bottom, prised her buttocks apart, and a finger inquisitively probed her exposed bottom hole.
For all Dagonard’s threats, she heard him spit and knew he was using his own saliva to ease his entry into her clenched sphincter. Around and around his finger teased, tickling her rose hole into relaxation, then she tensed and the chains rattled as she felt his cock-head press against the little ring of muscle.
The pressure was even but increasing gradually, and suddenly Eleanor’s anus yielded to the intrusion and opened for him to sink his great cock into her rear passage.
‘Ooooh… aaargh…’ she gurgled hopelessly.
‘All right, easy,’ he grunted through gritted teeth, ‘easy, girl. That’s the head inside, but there’s a lot more where that came from. Just relax and let me bugger you, there’s a good girl.’
‘Oh no, please, it’s too big!’ she protested.
‘Just relax and let me fuck you deeper,’ he cajoled.
‘Oh please, it is too big,’ she tried again as he gripped her hips tight and pulled her back onto his erection.
‘Don’t babble, it’s not ladylike,’ he snorted, giving her buttock a light spank. ‘You are going to be properly buggered, Lady Eleanor, so just relax, do as you are told, and enjoy.’
Eleanor gasped and groaned and strained against the chains. He felt impossibly large inside her, yet still he pushed deeper and deeper, and even when it seemed he could go no further her ordeal was only beginning, for the disgusting Dagonard began to fuck her bottom in earnest, grabbing a fistful of spanked buttock in each hand and pistoning into her.
At first she was aware of little other than discomfort, but as he buggered her with increasing passion she felt a perverse excitement simmering in the pit of her stomach. It was shameful, but there was nothing she could do to suppress it.
‘Starting to get hot, my lady?’ he goaded, and she couldn’t withhold a sigh of delight as he reached around and stroked her cunny. His cock continued to pump back and forth, deep inside her bottom, and Eleanor writhed and gasped and groaned.
Suddenly the dwarf started cursing, and to her dismay he pulled back on her hips again, submerging himself even deeper into her, then with one last obscene oath he grunted like a wild boar, and she felt hot and viscous liquid fill her rectum.
‘Well, well, my sluttish lady,’ he eventually panted, ‘I never buggered quite so fine an arse as that, I swear it.’
‘Listen, someone comes!’ Eleanor whispered, and Lynet, Isoud, Elaine and Igraine hurried to join her at the cell bars.
‘I hope it is not more maidens,’ Igraine said anxiously.
Eleanor murmured an agreement. Their cell had become crowded as Sir Peris captured more damsels, and other cages had even more fair occupants. In the long year of her captivity, Sir Peris had added ever more girls to his collection until there was little room for any more.
‘It is the dwarf,’ whispered Isoud. A young and rather timid girl with golden curls, she had a terrible fear of Dagonard.
For once he did not drag more captives with him, but hurried straight to their cell and unlocked the iron door.
‘Quickly, Lady Eleanor,’ he said, gesturing, and she hesitantly stepped out into the passage, her heart beating faster as always when she was summoned, wondering what it was she was wanted for.
The dwarf locked the cell before explaining. ‘Sir Lancelot has discovered us at last,’ he said hurriedly, ignoring the gasps the information produced from the caged girls. ‘Sir Peris is sure to be bested. Our delightful haven can survive no more.’
A strong hand closed on Eleanor’s wrist and he pulled her along the passageway, and in the torture chamber he paused to take a heavy iron collar and lock it around her throat, then fixing a length of chain to it.
‘But what, where are you taking me?’ she cried.
Dagonard looked at her with surprised eyes. ‘Lady Eleanor, I have told you many times how much I esteem you. I would rather bugger your gorgeous arse than any other in the world, so as I am escaping, I am taking you with me. The rest of these girls can be liberated by Sir Lancelot, or not, but you, my lady, are coming with me.’
Her mind reeling, Eleanor let him drag her down another dank passageway. He stopped before a little door, and producing a key from his tunic, he unlocked and opened it and pulled her through. It led into a low tunnel, and crouching she was forced to follow as he ran.
At last they reached another locked door, beyond which was a stable with two horses already saddled and provisioned. ‘I always thought this day might come,’ he disclosed. ‘So I have been prepared for it for some time now.’
From the shadows Dagonard produced a previously secreted cloak and threw it around Eleanor, hiding her collar and chain within its folds and covering her nakedness. He helped her mount a palfrey, then jumping onto his horse he tied her bound hands to the pommel of her saddle, before taking the palfrey’s reins and leading her out of the stable.
With a shock she realised they were already a distance from the castle. The low tunnel had led out into the forest, and the dwarf had apparently laid his plans well and there was little chance of escaping him.
‘Halt!’ a deep, melodious voice cried.
‘Sir knight, I beg you by the rules of chivalry to let us pass, do not accost my lady,’ Dagonard gabbled, clearly apprehensive before the armoured stranger proudly astride a fine mount.
Eleanor’s mind reeled, but as she was trying to decide what to do the young knight’s gaze alighted on her tied wrists and his brow furrowed. Ignoring Dagonard’s protests he spurred his horse towa
rds her and, with a polite apology, opened the front of her cloak. His eyes widened.
‘Unhand her!’ the dwarf demanded, loosing a large mace from his saddle and advancing, bravely or foolishly Eleanor could not decide.
‘And you are…?’ the young knight mocked, drawing a flashing sword just as another knight in battered armour rode through the trees towards them.
‘Sir Gareth, what have we here?’ he called.
‘Lancelot, this dwarfish monster has captured this poor lady,’ the young man said.
‘She is mine!’ Dagonard roared. ‘He wants to steal her! She belongs to me, and I will have her or die trying!’
‘Well, will you two gentlemen accept my adjudication?’ Lancelot enquired, with an amused expression.
‘Of course,’ said Gareth.
Dagonard looked less sure, but he observed Gareth’s gleaming sword and Lancelot’s grim, battle hardened visage, and finally shrugged. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘but she is mine…’
‘Enough!’ Lancelot held up a hand. ‘It is quite simple. My lady, who would you go with; Sir Gareth or this… person?’
Eleanor looked at Sir Gareth. He was, she thought, the very picture of knighthood that she’d dreamed of in her girlhood: handsome and courteous, virtuous and kind. Then she studied Dagonard’s ugly face and twisted body and remembered countless cruelties and vile humiliations.
‘Good sir,’ she said to Lancelot, her voice trembling slightly, the memories of her time in captivation quickly making her mind up, ‘I will go with the dwarf.’
Pain and Lady Jane
‘My lady, I have your confession prepared,’ Richard Makepiece, Earl of Sheringham said, offering a piece of parchment. ‘All you need do to spare yourself this ordeal is to sign it.’
‘You would have me sign my own death warrant, sir?’ Lady Jane Winterton asked bitterly. ‘And have me perjure myself into the bargain? You would have me condemn myself in this world and the next?’
Damsels in Distress Page 5
