Bondmaiden

by B. A. Bradbury

  After returning with the kindling she was handed a bucket and sent off again to fetch water for the mule from a nearby stream. By the time she got back Bruno had a fire going and was mulling wine. They all sat on the grass and ate a simple meal of bread and cheese, with cold mutton in addition for the men, though not for her. It was fortunate that she’d drunk her fill of refreshing cold water at the stream, for neither did they offer her any mulled wine.

  After the meal the men took their ease while she hobbled to the stream once more to wash their beakers and eating knives. She returned to find them ready to depart, with Lothar perched on the seat tapping his foot impatiently. She climbed up beside him as quickly as she was able, and sat with her head bowed and her knees apart. Bruno grasped the mule’s halter and led the beast on, and the three travellers entered gloomy Stenger Forest.

  By the time they stopped that evening Lia was in a miserable state. The pain had increased inexorably throughout the long afternoon, and it was all she could do to climb down from the cart. Bruno went off with bow and arrow hunting fresh meat, leaving Lia to do everything else. She unpacked the cart and erected the bishop’s canvas shelter, after which she gathered wood and lit a fire. Finally she un-harnessed and hobbled the mule, and fetched water for the beast from a small brook nearby. It was only after all this was done that Lothar finally relented and removed the clamp. The relief was wonderful, though she wasn’t allowed to rest for long, for Bruno returned with a rabbit and she was given a knife and told to skin and gut it, and then to cook it.

  Her mouth watered at the smell of roasting meat, but when it was done the men shared it between them, giving her what remained of the bread and cheese; mostly stale crust and rind.

  Having eaten, as Lia was washing the platters and utensils in the brook she heard a twig snap in the undergrowth, and looked up to see a man watching her. He was dressed as a soldier but his clothes were dirty and torn, and his mail shirt was red with rust. So evilly did he leer at her that she dropped the things with a cry and ran back to the camp as fast as her legs would carry her. As she got there more men appeared, closing in on the three travellers from all directions. Bruno hefted his quarterstaff and ordered them to stand clear, but the men carried swords and spears and outnumbered him ten to one, so it was plain to see he was outmatched.

  ‘We’ve got a fighter here, lads,’ one of the men jeered. ‘Big bastard, too. Whoever kills him’s first in line to fuck the girl.’

  ‘You will not harm a hair of his head,’ the bishop declared haughtily. ‘You will not touch any of us, or your souls will burn in hell throughout all eternity. I am Bishop Lothar, on a sacred mission—’

  He never got to finish, for the man who had spoken lunged forward and punched him viciously in his overweight belly. Lothar’s breath rushed from his lungs and he fell to his knees clutching his midriff. Bruno let out a great roar and swung the quarterstaff, but the man leapt aside and the fearsome blow whistled harmlessly past his head. Bruno never got the chance to try again, for three men jumped on him and bore him to the ground. His hands and feet were quickly tied, and the bishop was similarly bound.

  ‘You want us to tie the girl too, captain?’ one of the men asked.

  The leader, the one who’d struck Lothar down, stared hard at Lia, then shook his head. ‘She won’t run. She knows we’d track her down and roast her over a slow fire, don’t you, girl?’

  Lia nodded instantly, for she didn’t doubt the threat for a moment.

  Lothar and Bruno were searched and pouches of coins taken from each of them. The key for the clamps was also found and handed to the leader, who snatched it eagerly.

  ‘Looks like there’s a chest here somewhere, lads,’ he said. ‘Could be coin, or maybe some valuable holy relic. Search the cart.’

  ‘Searching’ meant tossing everything out and scattering it all over the place. No chest was found, however, and some of the men started kicking the two prisoners where they lay and demanding to know where they’d hidden it. Lia turned to the leader and begged him to make them stop; such was her instinctively compassionate nature.

  ‘It’s not a chest key,’ she disclosed honestly, picking up the breast clamp and one nipple clamp that lay where they’d been tossed on the ground nearby. ‘It’s for these.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘They’re clamps, for punishing me,’ she said. ‘The big one squeezes my breasts and this small one’s for my nipples. There’s another just like it somewhere, and a fourth one that goes between my legs.’

  He took the clamps from her and studied them, seemingly amused. She thought he might insist on a demonstration, but after a few seconds he lobbed them carelessly into the bushes and the key along with them. He went over to the bishop and kicked his leg.

  ‘You, friar, or whatever you are,’ he said. ‘Will someone pay a ransom to get you back?’

  ‘Archbishop Agramant,’ Lothar groaned, still suffering the aftermath of the punch in the stomach. ‘He’ll pay you.’

  ‘You’d better hope he does, or I’ll slit your gizzards myself,’ the leader said. ‘How do we get in touch with this archbishop?’

  ‘Send my man here, Bruno. Tell him what you want.’

  ‘Send this one? I don’t think so. Likely we’d never see him again; or if we did it wouldn’t be gold he’d bring us but soldiers. Can he write, this man of yours?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. He can write a letter.’

  Bruno’s satchel was found and his hands untied. He penned a note that the leader dictated, which was given to one of the outlaws who, mounted on the mule, for it seemed these men hadn’t a horse between them, promptly rode off. It would take him four days to reach the abbey where Lothar said the archbishop was to be found, and four days to get back with the ransom; always assuming Agramant was willing to pay. Either way, they were in for a long wait.

  ‘We should move back to the cave, captain,’ one of the others said. ‘It ain’t safe here, right by the road and all.’

  ‘I’m sick of the fucking cave,’ the leader said. ‘Men shouldn’t live in a hole in the ground like fucking animals. Post sentries north and south, and tell ’em to keep a sharp lookout.’

  His eyes were on Lia as he spoke, and it wasn’t hard to guess what was on his mind. Sure enough he came over, took off her cloak, and looked her up and down. ‘Shit,’ he muttered, ‘we’ve got ourselves a treasure here, lads. Pretty as a picture and as fine a pair of tits as I’ve ever set eyes on.’

  The leader had Lia bed down with him that night on a pile of cut bracken beside the fire, with his cloak under them and hers on top, for the night was decidedly chilly. He woke her and fucked her at daybreak.

  After breakfast he led most of the men in a raid on a nearby village, leaving just two on guard. Bishop Lothar kept staring at Lia and jerking his head, and she realised he wanted to say something in private. She supposed he would tell her to get a knife somehow and cut them free, which was what she’d been planning to do ever since the men left, but she never got the chance. Perhaps the guards knew what she was thinking, or maybe they suspected her of wanting to run. Whatever it was, they never took their eyes off her. Even when she went behind a bush to relieve herself one went with her, and she knew they were far too wary and mistrustful for any escape attempt to succeed.

  When the others returned they were in a bad mood, for apparently there were soldiers patrolling the countryside and they couldn’t get near the village. So they took their anger out on the bishop and Bruno, who were kicked and threatened with the direst of consequences if the ransom wasn’t forthcoming. Nor did Lia escape their wrath, for the leader made her kneel and suck his cock, after which his men fucked her one after the other, some using her mouth, some her cunt, and some her arse. Though she offered no resistance they slapped her buttocks anyway, calling her a slut and worse. When the last had finished she crawled under the c
art and lay there groaning, too spent even to drag herself off to the brook to bathe.

  She slept with the leader again that night, though mercifully he didn’t touch her. Then next morning, just as the rabble were stirring, a man came running into the camp. He was one of the sentries and he brought dire news: a band of mounted troops was nearby and heading their way. The leader glared at Lothar and Bruno and warned them that if they made so much as a peep their throats would be cut. He then drew his sword and led his men cautiously forward.

  Everyone’s attention was on the approaching danger, and Lia found herself utterly ignored for the moment. She was standing next to the fire, and without thinking she picked up the pile of bracken that was their mattress and dumped it on the flames. Within seconds dense white smoke was billowing skyward, but as every man’s back was to the fire they thankfully didn’t see it. Lia crept away and hid behind the cart, already regretting her impetuous act, for they were bound to know who had done it. She heard a distant shout and then the sound of hoof beats.

  Someone turned at last and saw the smoke, bellowing out a warning, but it was too late. A score or more horsemen with levelled spears came galloping through the trees and into the camp, and a fierce fight ensued. But foot soldiers are no match for mounted men and after half the outlaws had been killed or wounded the rest threw down their weapons. They were herded together and made captive, their hands bound behind their backs and ropes put around their necks.

  The sergeant in charge ordered Lothar and Bruno be set free, and listened to their story. The money stolen from them was returned, but when Lothar asked the sergeant to lend them a horse to pull the cart the man shook his head firmly.

  ‘There’s a war coming,’ he said, ‘and Lord Torkel has need of every fighting man and every beast. You’ll have to use the legs God gave you, my lord bishop.’

  He and his men rode off soon after with their prisoners scampering along behind, leaving the three travellers to their own devices.

  ‘Well,’ Lothar sighed, ‘I suppose we’d better make a start.’

  They sorted through their scattered belongings and two packs were made up with their most treasured and useful possessions. All four clamps and the key were recovered from the bushes and put into Lia’s pack, after which they set off, southwards once more. Lia was almost content as she walked along at the back, happy to be rid of the outlaws and heading for Attland once more; and though the clamps made her pack heavy – heavier than Bruno’s, even – she certainly preferred carrying the fiendish devices to wearing them.

  Late in the afternoon they reached a village where the priest offered them shelter for the night. Lothar, unaccustomed to walking and sore-footed as a result, enquired after a beast of burden, but was told the soldiers had requisitioned every last animal. The priest did provide them with a hearty meal, however, during the course of which the bishop recounted their misadventures. Naturally he made no mention of Lia’s part in their rescue, but attributed it solely to divine intervention and his own bravery. Indeed, she was heartily condemned for her acts of lewdness with the outlaws, and fitted with the nipple clamps as a punishment. The devices fascinated the priest, declaring eagerly that he must acquire a pair for his own use.

  ‘There are two amongst my flock who are a constant vexation to me,’ he said with an exasperated sigh. ‘They are sisters, and as wilful and wicked a pair as you could ever hope to meet.’

  ‘Why then,’ Lothar exclaimed, ‘bring them here, good priest! I have clamps to spare, and men of God such as we must never miss an opportunity to do His work. Bring them, I say, without delay!’

  The priest hurried out, returning presently with two sullen young women, one dark, one fair. They were reluctant to disrobe, and it was only after the bishop threatened to have Bruno do it for them that they consented, albeit slowly and resentfully. For sisters they were different to a remarkable degree. The fair-haired girl was plump, with wide hips and heavy breasts, whilst the other was slender and darker skinned, with beautiful dark flashing eyes like a gipsy.

  ‘Same mother, different fathers,’ the priest explained.

  ‘Ah, I see,’ Lothar said. ‘The breast clamp, Bruno, for this one.’ He indicated the plump girl, and Bruno proceeded to fit the device to her generous bosom. As the bishop tightened the screws she began to moan.

  ‘I warned you this would happen, Ilse,’ the priest said, clearly relishing her torment. ‘I said you would suffer for your sins, did I not?’

  Lothar turned the key slowly, his eyes on the girl’s face. Bruno was obliged to hold her arms for she wouldn’t stand still, but squirmed constantly in his grasp, her voice rising to a shriek as the clamp crushed her big breasts. When Lothar stepped back and ordered Bruno to release her she grabbed the thing and tried frantically to force the jaws apart, to no avail, and when she realised the futility of her actions she sank to the floor in the corner of the room, sobbing miserably.

  The bishop turned his attention to her sister, whose name, they learned, was Rilla. She was made to sit on a stool with the priest behind holding her arms and Bruno to one side keeping her knees apart. Lothar fitted the genital clamp and began to tighten it, a faint smile on his face. The girl glared at him defiantly, flinching as the teeth bit ever more fiercely into her labia. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as Lothar turned the key, yet still she remained determined to make no sound. But he was equally determined to break her spirit, and Lia prayed the girl would see sense and cry out, for this was a game he was bound to win. Then sure enough her mouth opened at last, though not to scream but to censure.

  ‘Call yourself a servant of God?’ she said in an anguished whine. ‘Rather a hound of Satan, I say, to treat women so.’

  ‘How dare you impugn me?’ the bishop snarled furiously. ‘How dare you? Hold her while I teach her the price of such gross impudence.’ Bruno and the priest grasped her limbs firmly and the bishop tightened the screws even further. Rilla’s face turned white, her eyes closed and at last, inevitably, she began to wail. Then she was released to join her sister in the corner, and a more wretched pair it was hard to imagine. Lia was now the only one of the trio still silent; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed. The bishop drew her close and tightened the nipple clamps, and when finally she sank to the floor alongside the others, she too was sobbing pitifully.

  ‘A fine sight, brothers, don’t you agree?’ Lothar said as he regarded his three victims. ‘It is always gratifying to watch young women seeking salvation through pain.’

  ‘Indeed, my lord bishop, it is most rewarding,’ the priest said enthusiastically. ‘So much so that I was wondering… can you not remain with us here for a few days? I’m sure Rilla and Ilse would benefit greatly from your wisdom and expertise in such matters.’

  ‘Alas,’ the bishop said ruefully, ‘I cannot. I am on an important undertaking for the archbishop, and must not tarry. I shall be most happy to call in on the way back, however, when we will have all the time in the world to put them to the trial, and this one of mine along with them. But now let us sit and enjoy the fruits of our labours. They trill most prettily, do they not?’

  ‘As sweet a sound as I’ve ever heard, my lord bishop,’ the priest agreed. ‘And such floods of tears! Enough to fill a pond, you would think.’

  ‘Female tears are easily shed,’ Lothar said with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘For myself, I take little note of them. It is the eyes you must watch, for they do not lie. Pain and suffering can be read there plain as any book.’

  ‘I bow to your superior knowledge, my lord,’ the priest said humbly. ‘A cup of wine, perhaps, while you instruct me further?’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ Lothar said with a broad smile. ‘Saving souls is thirsty work!’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  They took their leave of the priest the following morning and set out on their journey once more. In no time at all, it seemed, the bishop was complaining of sore
feet and hobbling along in a pained fashion. Lia was in pain too, her nipples being sore still, but she bore it stoically and in silence as befitted her station. For she was a serf once more, her days as a lady’s companion in the splendour of the royal apartments being a distant memory.

  They made camp early, in a small clearing by a wooden bridge, under which flowed a stream, and while Lia and Bruno lit a fire and set up the bishop’s shelter, Lothar limped off to find a place where he could bathe his feet, the banks where they were being too steep to get down. When all was ready Bruno turned to Lia with a strange look in his eye. It was the first time they’d been alone together for any length of time, and she felt oddly vulnerable, knowing his great strength.

  ‘Kneel down,’ he rumbled.

  ‘What for?’ she asked in alarm.

  ‘Kneel.’ His huge hands clamped on her shoulders, pressing down, and she sank to her knees, her heart pounding. He lifted his cassock and she gasped as she saw his cock, for it was alarmingly long even though it wasn’t fully erect.

  ‘Use your mouth,’ he told her. ‘Do what you did to the outlaw captain.’

  He’d been watching then, when she knelt and sucked the leader’s cock after the failed raid on the village. Probably the image had burned into a brain unprepared for such sights, so that he couldn’t rid himself of it. The desire to have her do it to him must have been growing ever since, awaiting only the opportunity. And now he had it. ‘We mustn’t,’ she whispered fearfully. ‘He’ll catch us.’

  ‘Do it.’

  ‘But your vows…’

  ‘Do it.’

  She realised that if she continued arguing the bishop certainly would catch them, and the wise thing would be to get it over with as quickly as possible. So having made up her mind she grasped his cock and stroked it rapidly, and in no time it stood rigid before her eyes, pulsing like a living creature, about the length and girth of her own forearm. She took the head in her mouth and sucked, it’s size stretching her lips uncomfortably as she rubbed the shaft with both hands. Bruno groaned and pushed forward with his hips, almost choking her in the process as his cock slid deep into her throat.