from: “Her Lord and Master”
Rachel gasped and spluttered as cold water splashed
across her face, jerking her out of the depths into full painful
wakefulness. She felt sick and horribly
confused and her head throbbed. She had
‘Now you are awake, woman, you will
explain yourself,’ a man’s voice said sternly.
Who had said that?
Blinking the water from her eyes,
Rachel focussed on the hard face and steely grey eyes of a man perhaps in his
mid forties. He was wearing a black
skullcap and black mediaeval-looking robes over a quilted black jacket. A cane with a leather blade on its end hung
from his belt.
‘Who… who the hell are you?’ she
As she spoke, her surroundings came
into focus. She was standing in a room
of stone walls and a stone floor with illuminated by what looked like oil
lanterns hung on brackets from the walls.
There were other devices also hung on hooks and brackets that she could
not yet make out. There was a single
heavy oaken iron-studded door in front of her.
A second, larger, muscular man, wearing a sinister half head mask that
covered his eyes and a studded leather jacket lurked in a corner. He watched her impassively with his bare
brawny arms folded across his chest.
There was also something else that
very strange and wrong, but Rachel was still too sick and dizzy to work out
‘W… where am I…’ she added
The man in black smiled coldly. ‘I am Slavemaster Thralbane and you are a
prisoner in the Citadel of Lambour in the land of the White Veil.’
Some of those names seemed
tantalisingly familiar. If only she
could clear the fog in her brain. Then
the more prosaic one registered at last: a prisoner!
And now Rachel realized what else was
wrong: she was totally naked and quite unable to move!
She was standing upright with her feet
spread wide and her ankles cuffed to posts on either side of her. Her arms were stretched out wide level and
cuffed and strapped to a metal rod that lay across her shoulders and the back
of her neck, which took most of her weight. A single broad strap was bound across the
front of her throat, pulling her head up.
Rings on the ends of this yoke rod were hung over hooks set in the side
posts to which her ankles were fastened.
The posts were joined above her head by an arching crossbar, forming a
frame about the size of a double door.
The heavy plank base to which all this was secured was mounted on four
small wooden wheels.
As the fog in her head lifted, Rachel
began to squirm in fear, tugging at the heavy straps. But she was completely helpless. Thralbane smiled at her futile struggles and
while she twisted and strained, he walked around the device in which she was
imprisoned, looking her up and down with apparent approval.
had a bright lively face crowned by collar length pale blonde hair which
complimented her pale blue eyes set under light arched brows. Her nose was firm and straight and she had a
wide expressive mouth. Her figure was
trim and lithe with broad but still well-proportioned shoulders. She had high-set, pointed breasts full at the
bottom with large and distinct red brown nipples. Her waist was tight with good hips, a shapely
firm bottom and a deep pouting pubic cleft capped by a cropped and trimmed
fuzzy delta of brown curls.
slapped her buttocks to test their firmness and pinched her nipples and lifted
stop…don’t do that…’ Rachel spluttered in shock and disbelief that he could
handle her like that.
he ignored her; sliding a finger into the depths of her cleft and pushed it up
into her vagina to the knuckle and making her yelp.
withdrew the finger and examined the film of moisture that now covered it. ‘You are no virgin, I see….’
Rachel felt her stomach knotting up
while her cheeks burned under his outrageous and intimate examination. ‘Don’t… don’t you dare… t… touch be like that
again… you filthy bastard… now let me go!’ she sobbed through clenched teeth.
‘Only the Red Lord himself can pardon
you for your trespass,’ Thralbane said.
‘He found you in a swoon while out riding on the Downs not an hour
past. He was intrigued by your odd
clothes and accoutrements…’ He gestured
to the wall where her costume hung on a row of hooks. ‘He had never seen the like before. Where do you come from? Not the White Veil, that’s certain…’
Finally, Rachel’s mind cleared
sufficiently for the names he had spoken earlier to connect and a flush of
anger and resentment overcame her fear.
‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’ she
shouted. ‘You can’t play games like this
with me. Don’t you realize that it’s all
fairytales? I never imagined you people
were crazy enough to do anything like this.
It’s criminal! You should be
locked up! You will be locked up when I
tell the police… aaaowwww!’ Her rant ended in scream of pain.
Thralbane had unhooked the cane from
his belt and swiped its leather blade across the undersides of her breasts with
stinging power, so that sharp cracks of leather on flesh rang out, while her
globes bounced and shivered. As her eyes
filled with tears he swung again backhanded, this time slashing the blade over
her nipples and briefly flattening them down.
As she spluttered and whimpered in
disbelief, he laid the blade warningly across her lips. ‘From now on you do not speak without
permission and when you do you will do so with the utmost politeness and
humility. Now, tell me your name…’
‘R… Rachel Peters,’ she stammered, too
shocked to protest.
‘Well, Rachel Peters, you seem to be
confused about the truth of your situation.
Perhaps the blow on your head you received has clouded your mind. Let me show you just where you are, and then
perhaps you will talk sense…’
He reached over her shoulders to where
the pole to which she was strapped pressed against the back of her neck, and
pulled a loop of braided leather up over her head and pushed it between her
lips, cutting into the sides of her mouth and baring her teeth as they closed
upon it. Then he gestured to the hooded
man in the corner ‘Jago: take her to the Show Pole Room…’
Thralbane opened the cell door so that
Jago could wheel the yoke frame and a helpless Rachel sideways out
through it and into a stone-flagged, lantern-lit corridor lined with several
more dungeon-like doors. Rachel flinched
in renewed shame at the thought of somebody else seeing like this, but there
was nobody else in sight, although she could hear muffled moans coming from
behind some of the doors. Her frame
rattled along the stone slab floor, making her breasts jiggle, and then into a
room at the far end.
room was also windowless, with iron pipes and heavy valve wheels mounted on the
walls. In the middle of the room was the
head of a stout pole rising up from a socket recessed in the floor. There was an iron hatch in roof above the
pole. The pole was capped by a crossbar
set at head height with hooks on its ends.
Dangling from beneath them was a pair of chains with stirrups and cuffs
on their ends that reached almost to the floor.
Angling upwards from the shaft just above floor level was an adjustable
expanding rod with a curious forked tip.
squirmed and snivelled in growing fear, gurgling about her gag. What was this thing?
is the Show Pole which displays prize female slaves for decoration when the
Lord had visitors of rank. It may also
be used as an aid to discipline,’ Thralbane explained.
freed Rachel’s ankles from the frame posts and unhooked her yoke. With a grunt, her lifted her off the frame
and swung her round so that her yoke rings dropped over the hooks on the ends
of the show pole brackets. Before she
could find her feet, he pulled her legs wide and fastened the dangling cuffs to
her ankles with her feet resting to the stirrups beneath them. Now she could kick her legs about forward
and back but not draw them together.
stooped and adjusted the angled rod, pushing its forked tip up between Rachel’s
thighs. Her eyes bulged and she shrieked
about her gag as she felt the twin ribbed prongs of hard rubber sliding up into
her anus and vagina, making her sheath and rectum bulge. She tried to clench her thighs about it and
lift herself off the impaling prongs, but it was impossible. Her cheeks burned with fresh anger. How could these monsters treat her like this?
you will see the truth of your new circumstances,’ Thralbane told her.
turned a big valve wheel mounted on one of the wall pipes. Rachel heard water hissing as it flowed
through pipes somewhere beneath her. She
felt the show pole tremble and then begin to rise. There was more hissing of water through pipes
and the hatch in the roof above her flipped open and she passed up through it
into a long dark brick-lined shaft. She
continued to ascend at increasing speed. More hatches opened to let her pass. Where was she going? The show pole must have been buried in some
recessed socket in the ground and was now being driven upwards
hydraulically. How long was it?
last hatch flipped open and she emerged into dazzling sunlight.
Rachel blinked and then screamed about
was dangling totally exposed above the roof of a white stone tower thirty
metres above the ground. It was one of
many towers forming a huge citadel of crenulated walls, battlements, turrets,
moats and baileys, looking out from a hillside across a valley that stretched
to the horizon. There were people moving
about beneath her and horses were prancing across courtyards and banners were
rippling in the breeze. As she struggled
not to be sick, she realized that it was far larger and grander than Cormer
Castle had ever been even in its prime.
Nobody could make up something like this just for the fun of deceiving
her. Whatever this was, it was not a joke.
Oh God, what was going on?
Then the show pole began to vibrate up
and down and then twist from side to side.
The mount capping the pole tip from which the crossbar hung was sprung,
so that she moved separately from it and the dildo shaft, which moved with the
main pole. The actual distance it
travelled was only a few centimetres vertically and a few degrees laterally,
but it was enough to bounce and twist her body about the twin impaling prongs
within her. It was as if she was mounted
a huge vibrator!
Her eyes filled with tears and her
cheeks burned with acute shame even as her nipples stood up hard. The vibrations were making her breasts bob
and jiggle as if they were alive.
The people on the battlements,
balconies and courtyards were looking up and pointing at her. She thrashed her chained legs about and
strained at the straps that bound her to the yoke, even though they were the only
thing holding her above a frightening drop, but she was totally helpless. She could hear distant laughter…
Rachel thought she would go mad. Or had she already gone mad? She was being screwed on the biggest shaft in
the world in plain sight of dozens of strange pairs of eyes while suspended
over a fantasy castle. It was a most
incredible, acutely embarrassing thing she had ever done…
So why was her pussy and dripping and
throbbing and getting hotter and hotter in response to the vibrations?
No, surely she couldn’t! Not here… She jerked and kicked about even
more wildly, struggling to escape before… uhhhhh!
Rachel came in mid air and sprayed a
mist of her juices over the citadel of Lambour.
Thralbane was slapping Rachel’s cheeks
until her eyes focused and locked with his.
She was back in her dungeon cell hung
on the wheeled yoke frame once more.
Jago was again standing impassively in one corner. She felt drained and her tingling, sticky
pussy ached. As her memory returned, her
cheeks burned once again. Had she
actually come on a pole in midair in front of all those strangers so hard that
she had fainted?
But Thralbane did not give her any
time to wonder at it. ‘The Red Lord will
be here soon expecting answers,’ he said sternly. ‘Now you are going to tell me
how you came to be trespassing on his land, dressed like a warrior but carrying
that ridiculous sword. When you do so,
you will speak respectfully, addressing me as Master Thralbane, you understand?’
Rachel nodded fearfully.
He pulled out her gag, then rubbed the
leather spanking paddle blade through her wet and aching cleft as a reminder of
her recent shame and a warning of what would follow if she did not
cooperate. ‘Where have you come from? What is your mission? Tell me the truth… the whole truth…’
She was not sure of the truth herself
at that moment. All she could do was
tell him what she remembered. ‘It… it
began like this, M… Master Thralbane…’