Damsels in Distress (4 page)

There was an unusually tall, stout birch tree, standing alone in the middle of the clearing, with two large boughs spreading from the trunk a dozen feet from the ground in opposite directions. Chained to each of these branches by heavy iron wristbands, their arms straining above their heads as they stretched up on tiptoe, were two naked damsels.

They were both young and comely. One had long glossy chestnut hair and a full figure; the other was darker and more slender. The chains that linked their wrists had been passed over the sturdy branches and were too tight to allow the girls much movement at all. Thus they stood in an almost symmetrical display, one on either side of the tree.

All this Eleanor absorbed in one astonished glance. Then she saw the items around the girls’ waists and blinked in amazement.

She had heard tell of chastity belts, always thinking such things a jest, but the two chained damsels wore real girdles of silver gilt, a band around their waists meeting tongues that curved between their legs. Sturdy padlocks secured them, much to the men-at-arms’ consternation.

‘Damn me, who has a hammer to strike this lock off?’ Bellowed one of the ogling men.

‘Oh please, unhand me, sir,’ the chestnut-locked girl pleaded.

‘Who can pick a lock?’ the captain demanded, quite ignoring her.

The two girls were naked except for their gleaming girdles, and the sight of them seemed to have driven the guardsmen quite out of their senses. The captive maidens squealed and shrieked as the rough men-at-arms pawed them and wrestled futilely with their silver girdles. Even the captain seemed to have disregarded everything but the girl who struggled in his mauling embrace.

‘Captain, please consider…’ Brother Sebastian frantically looked around the clearing as blathered. ‘This must be some devilment, some trap.’

‘These damned things are the devilment, friar!’ the captain declared as he pushed away one of the men and began clawing at the chestnut-haired girl’s chastity belt in vain.

To her horror and astonishment Eleanor noticed, as she stared at the bizarre tableau, both girls thighs, buttocks and backs were streaked with thin red lines, as if they’d been recently whipped. The sight made her temples pound and mouth go dry, and she barely noticed her own hand slip surreptitiously between her thighs. Unlike most of the guardsmen who were starting to fight over the right to paw the damsels, however, she was not so entranced that she did not notice Brother Sebastian’s shrill cry of alarm. Nor was she so distracted that she did not hear the pounding of a charger’s hooves, and turning she saw a terrifying sight; thundering across the clearing was a fearsome knight on a huge black horse. His surcoat was crimson but his armour was as black as night. As she saw him hurtling straight towards her, a gleaming sword held aloft, Eleanor fell into a swoon.

‘W-where… where am I?’ Lady Eleanor blinked and looked about her, getting up into a sitting position. She was on a wooden cot in a small cell with stone walls on three sides, the forth an iron grill, from where a buxom, pretty girl with raven hair peered inquisitively down at her.

‘You’re in the castle of Sir Peris de la Forest Savage,’ the girl said softly. ‘I am afraid you are a prisoner like me. My name is Guinevere.’

Eleanor studied her more closely. She wore a fine shift of delicate white muslin that showed off her figure marvellously. The girl had full breasts and a narrow waist that swelled to generous hips. She was comely and shapely, and to her astonishment, Eleanor could make out the shape and even the hue of her pert nipples, pressing through the delicate material of her shift.

She looked down and saw she was now dressed in a similar gown.

‘Be thankful that you have something to wear at all,’ the girl said, noticing her blush. ‘Sir Peris often prefers his captives to be naked; for his pleasure and to shame us, but also so that we are ready for his whip and that of his… well, you will see…’

Lady Eleanor shivered. ‘What sort of a beast is he, to so besmirch the name of chivalry?’

‘He is a cruel man who likes his dungeons filled with damsels. He had three score of us captive here, at least.’

‘And… and will he ransom us?’

The girl shook her head and smiled sadly. ‘I have been here half a year and in that time he has only added to his collection. I fear Sir Peris is a rich man who prefers to possess maidens rather than exchange them for gold.’

At that point the conversation was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in a lock. There was a chorus of girlish cries of alarm and the two prisoners hastened to the iron grill door of their squalid cell.

Eleanor saw that this was but one of many cage-like fronts that guarded a series of cells on either side of a gloomy corridor. At each iron grill beautiful young maidens waited, clutching the bars and peering out. Some cells held two girls, like Eleanor’s own, most of them had more. All the girls, excepting some exotic dark-skinned beauties, had long hair falling loosely about their shoulders. Some were naked, whilst others were dressed in diaphanous gowns, like Eleanor.

But unlike that lady most were manacled. Iron collars and cruel wrist and ankle cuffs fettered dozens of shapely necks, slender wrists and pretty ankles. The brutal bands were secured to heavy iron chains that clinked and clanked dolorously against the grills of the cells and added to the chorus of alarmed murmurs and gasps that echoed around the dungeon as a door slammed shut and the key was turned again.

By pressing her face against the bars and peering sideways, Lady Eleanor could make out a strange, stumpy figure holding a blazing brand, clumping towards them down the passageway.

‘It is Dagonard, the dwarf of Sir Peris,’ the girl whispered in alarm. ‘Do as I do if he comes here, and obey him for he is a cruel creature, and his master allows him to misuse us much as he pleases.’

Eleanor could not but notice that her fair companion had paled and that she held her hand before her face, as if fearfully. She sprang back as the dwarf stopped in front of their cell.

He held the torch up to peruse the captives. He was an ugly creature with a bulbous nose and thick black beard. Less than five feet in height he was powerfully built and seemed almost as wide as he was tall. He wore a dirty leathern tunic, though his stocky legs were bare. There was a coiled whip of braided brown leather stuck into his belt.

‘Well, well,’ the dwarf said to the girl, his eyes on Lady Eleanor, his voice a deep growl like that of a mastiff, ‘my master spoke truly, Lady Lynet, our latest guest truly graces the castle
Saunce Pite
with her beauty.’

He unhooked a large iron key from his broad belt and unlocked the cell, and both girls stepped back as he entered, closed the door behind him and put the key back on his belt, and then shoved the flaming torch into a bracket on the cell wall, his predatory eyes glinting as he perused his prey.

‘My ladies, would you be so kind as to disrobe?’ he said, mocking them with a bow.

There were some sighs of relief from other cells, and Lady Eleanor felt the colour spring to her cheeks. ‘I will do no such thing!’ she snapped. ‘I will speak with your master. I am Lady Eleanor of Surluse—!’

She got no further, as still smiling the dwarf lurched forward and grabbed her by the wrist, and with a cunning twist he easily forced her to bend forward with her hand held up behind her back, then ripped the gown off her with one vicious tug. The sound of tearing cloth was accompanied by more gasps from other cells, and the chuckling of Dagonard as he pulled the remnants of her shift off and flung them into a dingy corner.

‘So, you are a proud one, milady,’ he mused, licking his rotten teeth with a broad tongue. ‘I am glad; I like them proud. Pride comes before a fall, they say. But not here, my proud beauty. In the castle
Saunce Pite
pride comes before a taste of Dagonard’s whip.’

In a trice she found herself forced over to the rusty ironwork. The dwarf produced a leather thong from a pocket and proceeded to bind her wrists together. Though Eleanor struggled hard it made no difference. He held both her hands in his one, almost crushing her fingers as he tied her, but this seemed little effort to him. Once her wrists were bound he climbed nimbly up the horizontal iron bars of the door to the cage until she found her hands stretched high above her, and with a deft movement the dwarf tied the loose ends of the thong to the grill.

Lady Eleanor stopped struggling, her dire situation suddenly all too plain. She was naked, secured to the cage door. The wide eyes of the maidens in the cells across the gloomy passageway, their knuckles white as they gripped the bars of their cages, seemed to reflect back and amplify her own terror.

But Dagonard had not finished yet, and Lady Eleanor gasped as he seized her left ankle and hauled it to the side. A horizontal bar of iron formed the base of the cage door and she found her foot forced onto it before her ankle was secured there by another thong. Next he grabbed her right foot, and she caught the eye of a damsel in the cage opposite. A sweet-faced blonde as naked as Eleanor herself now was, apart from a brutal iron collar and chains, the girl put a hand over her pretty mouth and blinked at her with horrified blue eyes, for Lady Eleanor’s legs were now forced far apart and her hands were tied high on the grill, the balls of her feet barely resting on the iron bar at the base of the door.

There was a moment’s quiet and then the dwarf gave a low whistle. ‘My lady,’ he growled, ‘on my life I swear, never did I behold me a nobler arse!’

Eleanor could not stop a squeal of indignation escaping her lips as he slapped the object of his admiration. Then she felt two strong hands grasp her bottom cheeks and squeeze. She tried to avoid looking into the eyes of the girls in the cages opposite, some looking horrified, some astonished, and some strangely aroused, but all mortifying her, naked and mishandled by such a grotesque knave. Then to her utter dismay, the loathsome dwarf pulled her buttocks apart.

‘What a sweet little hole!’ he exclaimed. ‘After I have chastised you, my lady, we must test this particular tunnel for tightness.’

He let go of her bottom, and Eleanor could hardly breathe as she wondered what was coming next. The dwarf grabbed a bar of the cage door, which creaked chillingly as he pulled it open, Lady Eleanor swinging with it. Chuckling throatily, he shuffled out into the passageway and swung the door, and Eleanor, back closed again, then stepped back, the better to peruse her, Eleanor finding his lecherous gaze quite unbearable. Lowering her eyes she waited, her heart beating furiously.

‘What exotic fruit are these?’ the dwarf tormented, taking the whip from his belt. ‘I have seen but few larger and none so firm and shapely. My lady, your nipples are the colour of ripe cherries and of similar size. You will permit me to chew on such sweetness?’

‘Please…’ was all Eleanor managed, and then a little whimper, for the dwarf stepped forward, leering, the whip still in hand. By accident or cunning design, the position he’d tied her in meant that her breasts, which protruded some way through the iron grillwork, were at the same level as his ugly head. Very slowly, tormenting his victim, he pinched a succulent nipple between his few rotting teeth and proceeded to nip and chew and slobber, whilst maintaining eye contact with her the whole time.

‘Oh please, sir, have mercy,’ she pleaded pitifully. ‘Please, sir…’

The dwarf let go and grinned up at her. ‘By God, that was a tasty titbit!’ he guffawed. ‘Let us essay if the other is as sweet.’

Lady Eleanor’s respite was thus all too fleeting. Dagonard sucked her right nipple into his wet mouth and proceeded to worry that too, but this time Eleanor’s squeals were not only from this, but also because he had slipped a calloused hand between her parted thighs. Strong fingers mauled her most private places, making her moan distractedly between the cries that marked particularly vicious oral nips.

‘I trust you will take care to preserve her maidenhead?’ a male voice demanded, instantly making the dwarf release Eleanor and shuffle back.

‘Of course, sire,’ he said warily. ‘Does not your faithful servant always preserve that bloom for the peerless Sir Peris?’

The master of the castle stepped out of the shadows. He was a big man, Eleanor saw, handsome with dark hair, flecked with grey around the temples. His features were well proportioned though there was a cruel cast to his mouth and his eyes reminded her of those of peregrine falcon, fixed upon a dove.

‘You do, but then I usually let you have first tilt at the rose hole, so don’t sound so aggrieved.’

The dwarf sniggered crudely and held his hands up in admission of defeat.

‘Presumably the Lady Eleanor is in such straights for some particular reason?’ Sir Peris asked, as his eyes crawled over her naked body.

‘Yes, sire, I was about to whip her.’

‘Whip her?’ the man said with mock surprise. ‘Whip this gentle maiden? For what cause, basest of knaves?’

Hope entered Eleanor’s heart unbidden. Perhaps what the other girl had told her had been falsehoods. Could Sir Peris be a noble night, despite his cruel servant’s savagery?

‘She refused to disrobe for me when I ordered, sire.’

Sir Peris walked over to Lady Eleanor, and stopping just in front of her he took her chin in his hand and raised it until she looked into his dark eyes. His face was a mask, neither kind nor cruel as she studied it, her eyes beseeching pity.