Releasing her from the shackles, he carries her to the bed.
As he places her on the mattress, his hand grazes her breast
causing her nipples to harden. He is pleased when her body
reacts to his touch, she can see it in his eyes. As he walks
toward the door he turns one last time, looking at her from
head to toe, then shutting the door, the last thing she hears
is the clicking of the lock.
Her last thoughts before drifting off to sleep, were his words,
he chose her? Chose to take her from her family, chose to
whip her, and chose to abuse her in the most obscene manner.
Touch her in places she had never been touched before,
in the process bringing her to want that touch! Groaning,
she comes to realize that she wants him to touch her. She has
begun to crave the touch of his hands, the feel of his body
when he enters her. She desires him, how can this be?
So exhausted she cannot even cry as a body numbing
sleep overtakes her.
Three Nights have passed and he has not come, she has been alone.
With the minor exception of a single servant who brings food and drink.
She has tried to speak to the woman who brings her tray.
The woman seems not to understand and only grunts in response
to any queries addressed to her.
When she awoke this evening, there was a dressing gown
across the bed. It is her only garment, besides the bedding since
she first woke up in this castle. The fire in the hearth as always
keeps the room relatively warm, old castles are never without drafts.
Pushing a chair up to the window, she pushes aside the tapestry
and pulls open the shutter; craning her neck so that she may see
just how far it is, and it is a very long way down. With a defeated sigh,
she closes the shutter and latches it back in place, allowing the ancient
worn tapestry to fall over the window. That is strange, she never noticed
that the tapestry before, matter of fact she knows the windows were
not covered she could see the dawn each morning.
Taking a good look around, she realizes she is in a different room.
No chains on the wall only the silk robes on the bedposts, a large
canopied bed, with pillows. When did he move her?
It had to have been last night, quite sure that she had not fallen
asleep in this room and finding it disconcerting and frightening
that she can be moved around without any memory of it happening.
In frustration at her situation, she tries to open the door pulling
with all her strength. Slamming her open palm against the wood
she screams, “Why have you done this, Where are you?”
“I told you why, it is time you accepted it.”
Spinning around her back against the door, chest heaving in fright,
he is there standing by the fire. He wasn’t there before, she would
have notice him.
“Where did you come from, how did you get in here?”
She can clearly see there is only one door and she is standing in
front of it, unless there is a hidden passage somewhere.
“I am here and that is all you need to know.” With a predatory smile,
he moves toward her, she has never seen a man walk the way he does.
Before she even has the time to think about moving, he is standing
directly in front of her. He slams her against the door.
“Now, we start again.”
He drags her by the arm toward the bed, yanking the dressing
gown off her shoulders then discarding it. She tries desperately to
pull away from him, only to have him lift her off the floor and throw
her onto the bed. He starts tying one arm then the other, screaming
she tries to kick him. His vice like grip hurts as he grasps an ankle
and yanks hard.
“Stop now.”
“Let me go, please let me go.” He ignores her pleas as if she had
not uttered a word. Her struggling only makes the robes tighter.
Lying spread open to him on the bed is humiliating. Reaching
behind the bed, he pulls out his whip. Slowly he tickles her face
with the tips then lays it on her breasts. He lifts the whip higher
then starts with a slow figure eight around her full breasts.
Dragging the leather in ever-tantalizing circles, her nipples react,
becoming painfully tight. As she starts to squirm, he moves the
whip lower over her stomach and hips. He begins to walk slowly
down the side of the bed. He follows the length of one leg moving
the whip slowly side to side from groin to thigh, calf, and foot.
Then he walked around the end of the bed to the other side.
This time he starts at her toes and works his way up her other leg.
The light touch has made every nerve ending that the leather
touched almost painfully sensitive. Without warning, he lifts
the whip, swings it and strikes her across the stomach.
She screams out, but it was the sound more then the contact
that scared her. She lies there tears running down her face,
as he begins to coil the whip between her thighs, then lays the
handle on her stomach.
He steps back, removing first his jacket then his shirt, setting them both across the arm of the chair. He walks back to the bed never taking his eyes off her. He is beautiful to look at, his body hard and masculine, she would look away but she cannot, rather she doesn’t really want to look away. Seeing his eyes on her, she begins to wriggle under his scrutiny, in so doing the whip moves between her legs. The small action sends a shock of pleasure though her, unable to control the sharp intake of breath, she lets out a moan.
Her embarrassment intensifies as he roars with laughter.
