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FOUNDLING: POOR LITTLE CREATURE [ part 48 ] Her world was still pitch Black. She could move her arms and legs again, but even with the stifling hood removed she could not see her hand in front of her face. The clink of chains and the weight of the thick leather cuffs at wrist, ankle and neck told her she had just exchanged the rigid bondage of the white leather restraints for slightly less restrictive shackles and chains. Here limbs ached as the blood flowed back into them after hours of restriction to both flow and movement. She felt tears flow, but let them run. She was thirsty, her throat aching from screaming. And felt the intrusion of the probes still strapped into her vaginal and anal orifices. Her nipples aching from the gold rings inserted through them. "Your Engagement and Wedding rings" He had told her.
Her Destiny How long had it been since she woke up in her silken bed covers? It was her cousin’s birthday, and nanny had washed her body and carefully brushed her long blond hair. Then dressed her in that brand new expensive frilly designer dress her father had brought home just last week. She supposed the tight money times were over. All her life it had been a regal, but frugal existence. But last week, after she had met him, money seemed not to be her father’s chief worry. He had mumbled something puzzling about achieving her destiny. At his thirteenth birthday party, she had been lined up with all the rest of the lesser children. And he had walked down the receiving line, as he would be required to do all his life. Shaking hands and speaking a few neutral words to each person. But when he came to her, instead of shaking her hand, he reached down and lifting her chin up looked deep into her eyes. He had said hello, and added a word that escaped her. Then let her chin go, and moved on to the next. Afterwards her father had been called away from her side at dinner, and when he returned was happier than she had seen him in years. The next day her returned from the capital with that very frilly and very expensive white dress. It had come with white paten leather shoes, white lace stockings that reached up to her thighs and at the time it seemed odd, no underwear. She had been wearing that dress and all the rest, but without any underwear as all of hers had for some reason, been destroyed by an errant clothes drier last night. Outside she waited with her father for the Limo and was surprised when a big black Rolls Royce drove up. Her own father opened the door, and patting her rear as she climbed in said. "Have an interesting time" She had had a very interesting time. The windows of the car were so dark she could not see out and the glass barrier between the back and the front equally dark. A short ride had turned into a long one. She had been woken at dawn, and her maid had kept her up as she bathed and did her hair into curls with a ponytail on top. Eventually her head slipped down onto the seat, and she dozed off. The opening of the door woke her. There was no one about, not even whoever had opened the car door. So she slid out. Finding her self inside an Elizabethan wood and stone enclosed courtyard. Overhanging wooden Elizabethan upper works, diamond glassed leaded windows, gray slate roofs all on well-crafted stone lower floors. A great stone Norman keep dominated the area. The only door that would open was at the top of a short wide set of stairs on its dark stone front. They lead up to a formidable set of iron bound wooded arch topped ones. One panel of the doors creaked ever so softly when she shoved her hardest on it, and she had slipped into the gloomy interior. She was a very spirited adventurous lass, and after all adventures in gloomy castles were what little royal princesses like her were all about. Great stone columns supported a heavily carved ceiling high above. The only light beaming down through narrow slits set in deep windows on the courtyard side. A raised dais held the single piece of furniture in the great expanse of the medieval hall. As she approached, it appeared to hold something. "Welcome to my little private place" His voice coming from the great chair. "I hope you had a quiet trip" "Yes I did, but I thought I was a birthday party I was going to" She had replied. "Well today is actually my birthday. That occasion where we met for the first time, was just the most convenient for the invitees" His voice told her. Actually it was an excuse for me to finally meet you. As he was at least a somewhat familiar face, her fears eased. She walked up to the edge of the dais and stopped dead in her tracks. He was dressed in clothes appropriate to this place she thought. An oversized white pullover style shirt, and a pair of leather britches with one of those renaissance cod pieces she had seen on portraits of Swiss and especially German Landsknect mercenaries. "You should kneel before me" He told her in a firm voice. She thought he actually meant it. "You are still only a young boy, years from assuming your lofty position in life" She retorted. "Then come sit on my lap" He ordered. "You look as lovely in that dress as I imagined you would when I picked it out and bought it for you" "You chose this dress, and paid for it?" Shocked at his off hand statement, she replied. "As I will everything you wear for the rest of your life" He went on. "No way, I will decide what I wear and everything else about my life" She quickly retorted. This is the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. No mater what old rotten building we are in" "Now, now, my dear. That is not a nice thing to say about the building were you will spend the rest of your life" His voice, as if they were just having a quiet cup of tea together, went on. "Fuck You!" She yelled and turned to flee. She actually made it to the doors she had entered by. But two older boys blocked them off and grabbed her by both arms and dragged her back. "Let me introduce you to Roger, my best man and chief torturer, and Edward, my other best man and Rogers assistant. Bring her to out little playroom" He said as he stood and walked towards an archway set in the keeps thick walls. She screamed for the first of many times that day.
A bell sounds for her The sunlight hurt her eyes, as it had been a long time since she had been brought outside. The pain in her arms, she was used to. When she was eventually let down, the agony as the blood flowed back into them was always worse. He always sat and watched as she writhed in pain, it appeared that was the only way he could be sexually aroused. Hanging by her wrist while they abused her body was just another thing to endure. Being hung by her wrist from a giblet in the courtyard was at least something new. Also new was being carefully bathed in the huge wooden tub, instead of being pissed on until she nearly drowned as she lay hogged tied in it. They had dressed her in white leather shoulder length gloves, a white leather dog collar, and a matching white leather corselet so tight she had hard time breathing. Next they added thigh high stiletto heeled white leather boots and finally he had inserted a vibrating dildo, shaped in the likeness of his own swollen member into her anal, vaginal and oral sex passages. White leather straps held each firmly in place. She had struggled as they forced on every single piece. Hopping they would get exasperated with her defiance, and give up. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it just got her a cattle prod shoved up her ass. She grew even more terrified than usual when she saw them carry an iron barred urn of white hot coals into the courtyard and leave it beside her. So far, a very light whipping, or repeated rape as she was either hung by her wrists or his favorite, stretched taunt on a horizontal rack was the worst they had done to her. They then added a heavy iron spreader bar, stretching her ankles out to their limits. She knew this meant her feet, now only just off the cobblestone courtyard would soon be firmly on them a when he stood on it as he shoved his cocked in her mouth after he fucked her. Somewhere a bell was sounding and she saw seven shapes in hooded monks habits approach. Three stood on one side, three the other and the seventh directly in front of her. "We are here to solemnize the binding of this female to her master" The seventh, a male by his voice, said. "Bring forth the groom" And he walked out of the doors of the keep, right up before her. Dressed as he always was in a volumus white shirt and those renaissance leather pants. "Do you solemnly swear to dominate, bind, rack, rape and totally subjugate this female?" The seventh hooded figure asked. "Yes I do," He said looking down into her tear filled eyes. "Then apply the rings, signifying this union" The hooded male in front of them instructed. She began to tremble uncontrollably as he reaching into the brazier and lifting out a pair of iron tongs holding a long white-hot needle. He stepped up close, and she felt the strong arms of his chief torturer Richard lock his robe covered arms around her waist. She attempted to scream and buck, but the needle went right through her left nipple as he pulled it back and forth cauterizing the wound. Tears flowed and her bowels would have discharged except they had not watered her lately. There was nothing she could do as he pierced her right nipple and with Rogers weight almost pulling her arms out of their sockets felt him insert a split gold ring in each. "I now pronounce you Master and mastered, brand the bitch" The hooded man ordered and she only could hang their helplessly as he reached in to the brazier between her outstretched legs and withdrew a wooden handled branding iron. Again Rogers arm swept around her waist holding her jerking body steady. She hung there helplessly; his eyes glowed as he looked down into hers as he thrust it at her groin, right above her hairless slit. She screamed inside her gag filled mouth and fainted dead away. Her own sobs were her only contact with reality. She was bound immobile, in the silent darkness. A full leather arm binder cruelly crushed her arms together behind her back, and what skin that was not imprisoned in her wedding outfit of white leather restraint garments informed her a heavy fabric bag held her tight. She felt a web of chains wrapping it tight. A steady vibration told her she was being transported somewhere. Her nipples, pierced with a white hot needle, stung when the vibration of her transport caused the rough cloth of the bag to rub against them and tug on the gold rings he had inserted. She must have been out or traveling for a long time as the batteries in the vibrator phallus, duplicates of his own, inserted in her vaginal, oral and anal sex passages, had run down. But the soreness in her vaginal passage told her he had rapped her again as she hung unconscious before him. Where am I going? She wondered, the bastard has not broken me yet, and will not as long as I live. If he wants a submissive sex toy, well eventually he will get one. But down deep, on his eighteen birthday five years from now, when he comes into his own, I will have my revenge. |