d
“The plan’s afoot, milady,” Sir Tristan exclaimed in a whisper as he approached the Lady Charlotte. His pupils had been sent back to the castle to bring the supplies he’d ordered.
“In truth?” she looked up from where she squatted on the floor.
“Mountbane’s given us easy passage. He intends to have you serve Sir Guy of Baudaire. I’m to take you there straightaway.”
“And the two young bucks?”
“I’ll find a way to throw them off when we’re well away from the province and out of Mountbane’s immediate reach. Come, let’s get you dressed. We’ll leave before nightfall.”
“And ride at night?”
“Some of the best plans are begun in the shadow hours of twilight.”
d
Mountbane moved briskly through the castle toward the baths, looking for the tart, Jontile. The little slave had been coy with him lately, something he found as charming as it was annoying. However, he wanted her now, she’d been due in his room an hour ago, and she’d make her pay for forgetting their appointment.
Flinging open the great oaken door to the steamy tub room, he eyed with interest the sights before him with lewd fascination. It had been some time since he’d enjoyed the erotic pleasantries of the slave baths, and such a sight it was this day. Besides the normal numbers of slaves washing dust, grime and sweat from their bodies, there were two nubile lovelies being worked by mistresses assigned for regular inspections.
Normally, it was forbidden for men to enter the baths—this being the one sacrosanct domain of women. These rites between slaves and noblewomen were quite private. However, Mountbane, having made the decree, found it easy to break the rule for himself whenever he chose.
“What have we here today?” he asked as he strode to a table where a fresh young slave was splayed for inspection.
“Simple examination, sir,” Mistress Lowen answered politely. She had the legs and ankles of this fair flower in stirrups, her thighs spread to the hilt, while the slave’s hands were bound above her.
“Her name?” Mountbane asked.
“Dreana.”
“Nice, very nice.” The Lord could see by the condition of her privates that this maid was not a virgin. As fine a woman as she was, she had been used well by large and anxious cocks.
“She is the property of Sir Ellemore for the season.”
“Ah, that explains this.”
“Let me see how you inspect her, Mistress,” Mountbane declared.
“Yes, sir.” She curtsied slightly, almost as embarrassed as the tethered girl to have these intimacies witnessed. “She’s been filled with waters. The bag just emptied in her behind,” she said referring to the large bladder hanging from the post beside the table. The end was attached to a hollow pipe that had been inserted in the slave’s ass. “She holds it well, though I have fitted her with a plug to prevent an accident.”
“And if there were an accident?”
“I do not take kindly to these girls soiling my floor. We have a place for such elimination.”
“I see. And what comes next?”
Mistress Lowen bowed and moved between the pair of trembling thighs. One hand opened the center portal, pulling aside the flaps of labia, while the fingers of her other hand, coated with some slippery substance, began to probe inside the slave’s vagina.
“How deeply will you move inside her?”
“As far as I can,” she said.
“Your full fist?”
The frightened slave was staring at the pair, fearing the answer to Mountbane’s question.
“If you’d like,” was the reply.
“That I would,” Mountbane said.
The mistress was a gentle sort, but not above this crude violation. Having three fingers inserted in the slave’s interior, there was no problem pushing a fourth inside, or hiding her thumb within her curled hand and pushing her knuckles through the widening hole.
The girl gasped as the first thrust seemed to hit the bottom of herself, and her outer womb expanded around the impaling hand. She groaned as her jaw clenched tight.
“Ease off, slave,” Lowen commanded, and the girl took a deep breath to calm her shaky insides.
“Move your hand inside her,” Mountbane ordered.
“Yes, milord.” The woman did it naturally with a gleam in her eye, finding that she relished the exhibition before this noble lord, while her slave remained horrified, though submissive. The girl began to moan with pleasure in spite of her fear, with her body generating erotic heat that quickly played on the master’s cock.
“And can you bring her off like this, mistress?” he wondered.
“I believe I can,” she said proudly as her hand continued working the hole. The liquid inside the girl’s interior sloshed against the penetration. Then there was a stunning jerk as the slave cried in happy misery at the moment of climax, followed by a pained look of distress as her body’s great urgent requirement seemed to rush on her quickly.
Acknowledging her need to release the water, Mistress Lowen removed her hand with a brusque jerk. Then untying the girl, she had the embarrassed slave on her way to the privy some moments later.
“It has been my pleasure, sir,” she said as she bowed before Mountbane.
“And I thank you. Perhaps you could tell me if the slave Jontile is here today?”
“She was earlier this hour, though I thought I saw her leave.”
“Little gypsy!” Mountbane declared as he stared around the bath.
Though the master’s presence had initially hushed the room to silence, the tittering maids had returned to their conversations while Mountbane was focused on Mistress Lowen and the fisted slave. Noting that his eyes were again searching the bath, their chattering waned. Only a few dared whisper.
“Who is that maid?” Mountbane asked Lowen, as he stared toward a lithe creature with pale red hair cascading like a sheet of silk down her back. Such a pretty pink mouth, he thought, and her eyes. Even from this distance, he could see the green, the sparkle and the depth of them. Not since Charlotte had captivated his imagination had a woman been so inviting to his eye. Oddly, she was still clothed with the most exquisite parts of her body hidden from view.
“That is Rosaura, the intended of Sir Leonas,” Lowen answered, though she lowered her voice to add, “Of course, Sir Ellemore is not yet apprised of that fact.”
“Ah yes! I believe I’ve heard the rumors.”
“Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“That she is,” he said admiringly. He sensed her blush, as though she saw his eyes on her and turned in embarrassment. “Too bad she is spoken for.”
“Several men have repeated that refrain, sir.”
“I’m sure they have.”
Not having found the object of his search in the baths—but having discovered treasures certainly worth the trip—Mountbane turned to leave, finding as he did that Mistress Gwnyth was at his heels. As soon as they were in the corridor, she caught up with him, her voice impatient, barely disguising her present wrath.
“Sir, I must speak with you.”
Mountbane had never liked the woman, and could never understand exactly how Tristan had ended up with the beautiful but rancorous bitch. Oh, she could bow in supplication like the best of slaves. But there never seemed to be a true submissive quality in her character. Whether tenderly addressed or beaten into yielding, there remained a razor sharpness about her aspect that drove Mountbane away from her. Had she been his wife—which she never would have been—he’d have disposed of her a long time ago—if need be, in favor of a less comely but more humble subject for his lust. Then, of course, Tristan was an odd fellow in his own right. His dark nobleman loved challenges even more than he did.
“And for what reason do you need me?” Mountbane asked the quickly scurrying woman. Her short stride was hardly a match for his long one and she had to work to keep up with the brisk pace. He would slow for no one, especially this woman.
&
nbsp; “I think there is something you should be informed of?”
“And that is?”
“Your wife and my husband.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, sir, I have it on good report that there is something scandalous in the wind.”
Only this remark made Mountbane take note and he slowed his gait. “What would that be?” he asked, diverting his route to a less used corridor so that the conversation might be continued in private.
“I believe, sir, that these weeks of the Lady’s confinement in the forest hovel have united the two in some sort of intrigue.”
“What is there that suggests such things? To blaspheme Sir Tristan is to blaspheme a powerful nobleman of this realm as well as your husband and my trusted aide.”
“I only tell you of what I hear. And that is that they are now bound together to some escape, with the intention of enjoying the love that has grown between them somewhere outside your rule.”
Mountbane laughed at the thought. “Fine lady/slave, you are quite mistaken. I sent them from the forest hovel to Sir Guy of Baudaire, in order that Tristan can present my wife as an offering to the fellow. Their trip is thoroughly sanctioned.”
“I know of this, sir, but were they not to have been attended by Tristan’s two pupils.”
“That is what I ordered.”
“One of my maids reported today that she saw young Cheswick. She has quite a fondness for the young man, and asking him about his stealthy entry into the castle, he entreated her to keep quiet about the venture, saying that he was on holiday from his duties, Sir Tristan did not need him. His Lord let both of his aides go just as they reached the outer wilds. Is that not strange? Especially considering the time Tristan and Charlotte spent with each other. I swear there has been more than lust in my husband’s eye since Lady Charlotte came to Ilusia. He has nurtured a fondness for your wife, and I believe he and the Lady have flown from us—escaped together to pursue their indecent coupling.”
“Is that so?” Mountbane did look curious. “You know this youth that spilled the story?”
“I do, sir. I know his mother.”
“Then see if you can find him. Perhaps a word with him would clear up any mystery. It seems a bit too slight to accuse a fine man of crimes on such a small report.”
“Yes, sir,”
“You locate this fellow, and if not, I’d suggest you forget your suspicions. You are often a frivolous slave.” Mountbane thought on. “Why would you care, madam? Seems to me that you and Sir Tristan have been estranged more than you’ve been together.”
“No woman likes to see her husband leave her for another woman, no more than a man would enjoy his wife brooding for another man.”
“You truly think Lady Charlotte has some affection for your husband?”
“She’s been smitten for three years, sir, just as Tristan has been in love with her.”
Mountbane bade the woman go, though he dwelt on this discourse for some time, as it seemed to verify certain suspicions he had harbored in secret.
d
Having dispensed with his two men, with strict instructions not to return to the castle for a week, Tristan led the Lady Charlotte through the woods on horseback. It was her first time astride a horse, and the poor woman found the ride difficult and slow. They were together though, and that gave them cause to rejoice. Until they were beyond Mountbane’s reach, they knew their journey was a dangerous one.
At the outset, they made their trek in the direction of Sir Guy’s enclave, however, after having gone some distance, Tristan moved off the main thoroughfare—which was only a mere path—in the direction of the retreat where he and Charlotte would first make a temporary home. He had plans for venturing to a more permanent residence far from Ilusia’s grasp and the long reaches of Lord Nor’s imperious hand. But the timing of this matter was important, complicated by the threatening seasonal rains. Traipsing through deep mud would only hamper their travel.
The further they went, the more their freedom grew on them as a comforting cloak—though they said little of their elation for fear of jinxing their trip. It was enough that they were close to each other and the promise of a life they both could shape in the fashion that suited true lovers.
As dusk approached, the shadows inside the forest trees grew thick and heavy—surely as weighted by fear as they were the time of day. Though she’d been elated earlier in the day, Charlotte’s premonition of doom seemed to cloud any mirth that she had enjoyed the more they ventured into the darkness. She was afraid to speak of her concerns. Tristan was a most determined man—who would not think kindly about her trepidation.
“Perhaps we should stop for the night,” she wondered aloud when it seemed as though any sign of a decent path had disappeared.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, but they kept moving, inching their way forward in the dark.
When Tristan stopped his mount, he listened, and Charlotte listened too; but he didn’t speak. The moment demanded quiet. They began again, only to stop a second time to listen to the woods. A third time, they heard the distinct rustle of leaves and undergrowth; they felt a breeze on their cheeks and a tingle of apprehension raced up their spines.
“Move forward fast,” Sir Tristan suddenly lurched forward grasping the reins of Charlotte’s horse in an attempt to take them both out of the reach of what haunted them. And yet, his intuition came too late. Any act, save sprouting wings and flying free of the forest, was too slow to save them.
Clutched by unseen hands, Charlotte toppled from her horse; while a dagger hit Sir Tristan knocking him off his animal. The pair was captured by two disparate bands of Mountbane’s warriors, taken separately from the woods, each small company moving in opposite directions. While their voices were gagged into silence, their hearts were screaming to the other so their inner ears would hear.
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte was taken to the tower of Mountbane’s castle, left to herself for nearly three days before someone finally entered the tiny room. Though she might have wailed for someone to take notice, she had little desire for any such activity. Sure that her plans for loving Tristan had been destroyed, there was little left to live for.
“Why it’s Charlotte here!”
These were the first words uttered to her in days. She didn’t have to turn to know their source. Her husband’s sarcasm was so common to her ear, she could hear his vileness even when he wasn’t speaking.
“How sad you look.”
She turned to him, her expression blank.
“Are you hungry, perhaps?”
“You know I must be.”
“You must think me the devil, Charlotte, but then, it was you who betrayed me.”
“I won’t argue with you, husband, because I wouldn’t even want to win the battle.”
“That despondent, how miserable for you. But I will feed you.” He thought that might lift her spirits, but it did not. “My mind’s been working so feverishly to find some penance that would befit this crime of yours,” he went on. “I think I might have found the very one that would satisfy me.”
“Before your throw me in the dungeon?”
“Hmm. I’m far more crafty than that.”
“How so?” Now she did worry, knowing how his demented mind worked.
“You think I’d give away my secrets so soon? Never. I’d rather have you twist in the wind and battered by worry, wondering what I’ll do next. That is far more satisfying. To think you could escape me—taking my trusted friend with you? There is enough in this crime to condemn you to death, and yet, I have a much more pleasant solution figured.”
“And for Tristan?” she inquired—trying to disguise her anxiety about her lover.
A wrinkle of upset fell across Mountbane’s brow at that question. Had something gone wrong? she wondered. She couldn’t be certain. “He faces treason, milady. In the fashion that befits him. You needn’t concern yourself with him any more because you’ll not be seeing him again.”
/> “Why not just complete your mission—send me away to Sir Guy?”
“Oh, no! I’d rather attend to your punishment right here where I can happily gloat.”
He was hiding himself, but not well enough for Charlotte to be deceived. What he wasn’t saying was information for her glean. She had more friends in the castle than did he. Time. It was only a matter of time before she discovered the truth.
d
Some days later…
With her flight into the forest with Sir Tristan, Charlotte had hopes that her appearances before the crowds of gawking, drunken men had finally finished; and that the days of her greatest abuses had been ended by the love of one good man. But that wasn’t true.
After just two slight meals in six days, the famished, naked slave was brought from her tower chambers into one of Mountbane’s halls. Her arms were manacled behind her; her neck collared by an iron band, and her ankles were hobbled by shackles, attached by a short bar. Walking was nearly impossible. She would rather have crawled in slave fashion, but she was made to make the humiliating journey through the castle shuffling on foot.
Having reached her destination, she stood in the middle of the room flanked by two other slaves who would be punished at the same time. They were no doubt there to make her less the centerpiece of this show. She wouldn’t have that kind of clout in Mountbane’s world again.
“It will be a long night,” one of Mountbane’s hosts announced. Then turning to several attendants, he ordered, “Bring them down and bind these slaves until we’re ready to begin their abuse.”
The instructions given, Charlotte and her two companions were commanded to the floor in poses where they were bound with rope. Driven to her knees, Mountbane’s wife was forced into the arch, the most grueling of Master Caius’ ten poses. Her hands were bound to her feet, and her head thrust back so that her collar was tied to the lower ropes. Just to keep the position feasible for some length of time, a strut was placed under her back. However, despite the small device, there was no comfort in this horror.
The Surrender of Lady Charlotte Page 11