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Caius roamed about her, tickling, jostling and flogging her shoulder, thighs, ass and belly with his whip. It appeared torturous. But if this act was to punish her, it was almost self-defeating. Charlotte’s body seemed to swoon with an unbidden passion arising as the striking leather thongs held her at the edge of pain and perfect pleasure—neither state complete, both seducing her with the promise of more; but not delivering on that promise, she was left restlessly aroused.
As often as she screamed in pain when one daunting strike would rip at her ass and thighs, she would moan as the instrument caressed her lightly across the belly and breasts—as though Caius might be loving her through this horrifying ordeal.
Ah! She groaned to herself, if only he would rip aside the awful barrier locked tightly over her most sacred region and let loose his fire in full force. Her empty cunt clutched for something more than this cunning tease. What thoughts! What inspiration now! What was happening to her sense of decency? What was altering in the order of this world that she should feel such things while in the midst of this mortal terror, this very threa
t to her body and soul? What was this? Peace? Contentment? Aye, no! But life, raining down on her, filling her so sweetly and so vilely. The world had gone awry.
Charlotte closed her eyes, trying to absorb the nature of this new knowledge. But there was no answer to her constant questions. It was beyond reason, in the realm of mystery where the secrets of the universe were never revealed.
At one point, her body seemed to scream, to open wide as the flogger descended with an unexpected fury down her back side from her shoulders to her knees. No pleasure here, she still ached for more and wondered why.
Her body screamed again and suddenly the flogging stopped.
When, at last, she opened her eyelids on the cruel and silent dungeon, she expected to see Caius with his feral darkness looming over her. Instead, she gazed on Mountbane standing before her with a dispassionate expression—one that only deepened her abject humiliation.
“Are you with me, or have I lost you already?” he quipped lightheartedly
Her heart poured out her grief, but she said nothing. She had no words now.
“Your silence speaks,” he said. Striding forward, she recognized the key to her chastity belt. With one simple turn of the lock, she was free of it, more vulnerable and more wanting now than what she imagined she could be.
Her husband’s hand was at her recklessly speaking snatch. “This, wife, is the truth about you,” he declared while running his fingers through her shadowy cleft. Her groin lunged for him shamelessly. “Even now, you cannot refrain,” he only faintly snickered. Mockery was unnecessary when her body spoke so plainly. “Lust boils from this hungering belly. I will show you that a hundred times over. Today has just barely plumbed your depths.” The fiery pleasure shooting through her body came with ruthless spasms, one riding high atop the one before until she was shuddering uncontrollably while she wept tears. “How easy you are, slave.” Mountbane turned to Caius, “My whip.”
This implement was not the miraculous flogger with both bite and seduction in its leather talons, but a mean tool of punishment.
“Your defiance will cost you bitterly. You will greet each day wondering what terror will be meted out. I have so many, I would be glad to try each one on you before you quit my dungeon. But for now, you’ll have the whip—the real one, the one that will bite your flesh and leave marks that will not heal for days. See if your body hungers now.”
He stood back from her and strode to her bare backside, finally laying his whip in cutting snaps against her flushed skin. Sweat and body oil made the brisk strikes singe the surface, and Charlotte began to scream as the pain supplanted all thoughts of her previous pleasure. Again, again and again the braided cord unfurled across her undulating loveliness, wrapping at her sides where it cut unmercifully, striking her ass and back straight on. Then, when Mountbane moved to face her one last time, he ripped at her belly, breasts and exposed virginity leaving daring stripes of red.
Mountbane done, she slumped exhaustedly. With her feet failing to support her, she almost hung by her wrists in misery.
“Bring her to her knees,” he ordered his company.
Loria obeyed the command having her master’s newest slave kneeling at Mountbane’s feet. She backed away as Charlotte looked upwards.
“And what do you say to surrender now, my miserable wife?” he asked.
It took some time for her to draw the words from inside a confused brain and bring them forward into her dry mouth, where they finally spit with venom from her lips, “I shall not surrender to you now or ever. You are a vile and evil man! I’d rather endure this dungeon a hundred years than spend one as your wife!”
Mountbane smiled, sighing, then turned away—not at all disturbed by Charlotte’s scathing retort. “This is how she treats my gifts?” he bantered to no one special as he haughtily circled the room. He seemed to devise new schemes as the next few minutes moseyed by, while the dungeon and Charlotte waited for his decree. Finally, having all things clear in his mind, he announced to Caius, “Shave away her hair and let her serve as the lowliest of your slaves.”
It took some seconds for the intent of his decree to dawn on his withered bride. She climbed to her shaky feet, imploring him, “Ah, please no, sir. You take my pride, my hair, my self-respect, all that?”
He shook her off as she clutched his arm, while Caius grabbed the desperate woman with a firm hand. “If it takes robbing you of everything including your beauty, so shall it be. Besides, since we have the rest of your life to accomplish your surrender,” Mountbane went on, “what are a few months of abject degradation when eternity stretches before us? By the time your body has repaired from the bruises and your hair has grown to its full length, you will have succumbed.”
“No, I cannot,” she struggled with no results, but more frustration.
“Oh, but you can,” her husband countered. “And gag her, Caius, if she can’t keep her tongue.”
Resolved, Mountbane strode into the darkness to the stairs, while the silent dungeon heard the shuffle of his footsteps as he returned to the lands above.
d
That evening there was a pile of flaxen hair on the dungeon floor, mingling there with Charlotte’s tears. She wept bitterly over her fate—turned into an abject creature of vile abuse, with a collar about her neck and metal manacles that would remain about her ankles and wrists should, in her jailer’s mind, the need for them arise. The chastity belt returned, fitting even more securely being tightened down by Caius’ mighty force. It was customary for idle men to scour the dungeon for a slaves to bed. Because Charlotte was considered the most prime target for an anxious dick in Mountbane’s realm, the device was necessary to ensure that she would finally come to her marriage bed the virgin she was when she arrived in Ilusia. (This was, perhaps, Caius’ greatest fear—that he would fail his master. The enslaved wife of his noble Lord was too fair a flower in his eyes) Though Charlotte vowed against Mountbane’s intended outcome, no one else doubted his resolve or his schemes for realizing his wish. His God-like ability to woo, inspire and manipulate was what made most women in the tiny northern province lust for their handsome Lord.
In the days that followed her initiation in the dungeon, Charlotte was a petulant and shrewish slave, regularly punished for her misdeeds and often gagged for hours for her reckless tongue. Her ass took the brunt of abuse, being bitten by paddle, leather slappers and thin cutting switches as often as she disobeyed or showed her captor a less than compliant attitude. She was not made for such subservience, she was certain, but there was no one who agreed with her. Women in Ilusia had few rights—only those they might earn as compliant wives—and she was neither a happy nor a willing wife who could beguile a horny husband and so gain something for herself.
To ensure her complete abasement, Charlotte’s hands were bound behind her when she was fed, which forced her to lap food from her plate like a dog. She was kept in a cell, where she couldn’t stand, but only lie or sit uncomfortably crouched. And to take care of her private needs, she was forced to relieve herself in a chamber pot, which Caius placed in the center of the dungeon so all could see her private ritual turned into a humiliating exhibition. For the first weeks of her trial, these stiff measures did little but anger the headstrong Charlotte. She would not be broken—so she resolved.
