Tales of the Huntsman

by M Palmeri

“But the carriage did not return her to her father’s estate.

  “Returning home late, and exasperated by the Baron’s sudden unexplained absence, Francesca was doubly annoyed to find Eleanora gone, though it did amuse her to consider that the girl had finally run away. Sofia was tired and pouty—for the Baron had paid her no attention, and her mother kept her from catching the eye of any other potential suitors—and so went to bed. Juliana, who had been more than usually silent, went up as if to join her, but later in the night went and stayed in Eleanora’s empty cell, sobbing quietly until dawn.

  “And shortly after breakfast, they had visitors.

  “Richard and Roland arrived with a coach, and Francesca met them with renewed hopefulness. Taking the Viscountess aside, Richard confided that his son had indeed been taken by a fair maid at the dance last night, and to his undoing: they had apparently consummated their union in a most impulsive way, made worse in that the maiden had kept her identity concealed. Rather than leave this scandalous event lie as a youthful escapade, Richard painfully admitted that his son had lost his heart to the affair, and would not rest until he found his lover and married her. And though he had not gotten a proper look at her face, he was sure he would know her embrace.

  “Francesca flushed with shock, but at the same time set to scheming.

  “‘My daughter,’ she ‘admitted’ artfully, ‘acted strangely after the party. If it had been she… The scandal would crush her—she would be unmarriable… We must know!’

  “And so declaring, she went off to conspire with Sofia. Though reluctant, the girl agreed to her mother’s insistence that she do whatever was required of her to win the Baron. Even if she could not convince him, she might seduce him, and prove more fair than his so-called love. So it was arranged for Roland to be alone with Sofia in her chambers, and Roland took full advantage of the situation.

  “‘If you are my love,’ he told her, ‘you will do as you did last night, for no other woman has given herself more completely to me.’

  “An hour later, Roland summoned Richard to speak with. The Viscountess placed herself where she could overhear, and what she heard horrified her. Roland was in a rage, calling Sofia all manner of whorish things, insisting that she was no more than the worst sort of courtesan, and wanted nothing else to do with her. Richard tried to calm him, then brought the news in much gentler terms to Francesca, who, to his surprise, verified her daughter’s manipulative motives.

  “‘But she would have only have done it if she suspected…’ Francesca played her part with great melodrama. ‘Of course—My Juliana! She disappeared at the same time your son did, and came home and has kept to her bed without saying a word. She must be in shock! I knew my Sofia was jealous, but this… How horrible! We must reunite the lovers at once!’

  “So saying, she dashed off to Juliana’s room, and both Richard and Roland could hear their heated words. The Viscountess emerged composed, and took Roland’s hand to lead him herself to her daughter’s chamber, shutting the door after him.

  “Roland’s behavior with the terrified Juliana was quite different, however. It began not with his undressing her, but with his undressing himself.

  “Out in the sun room, over tea as they waited, Richard confided in Francesca that he would be willing to take Sofia on as a courtesan himself, as he found her passing fair. He requested Francesca’s consent to go and meet with the girl, who had not emerged from her chambers. Desperate and flustered more than she would even admit to herself by this chain of events, Francesca led the Count to Sofia’s room.

  “It was all that she could manage not to scream when she found her daughter stripped naked, blindfolded and gagged, hanging from the rafters by her wrists, fresh lash marks across her back and ass (though strangely with the scars of many older ones as well).

  “The Viscountess stood frozen in horror as Richard ran his hands over the girl’s bare flesh, drawing in the scent of her sweat and her sex.

  “‘She is quite a prize,’ Richard appraised very coolly, then let his fingers inspect her wounds. ‘Though I don’t understand how it is that she is not the one. Perhaps I failed to mention: the maid we seek is also quite well-marked by the lash.’

  “Francesca looked as though she would faint dead away on the spot, but revived by rage, ran for her other daughter’s chamber. What she found there was even more unexpected:

  “There were three women in the room, her daughter standing between them, one behind seemingly offering her into the arms of the other, who embraced her like a lover. The woman behind was easily recognized as none other than the Countess herself, with her pale skin and black hair and dress. The other was not so quickly identified: a strong, regal looking woman with blonde hair in a golden gown. It was only when Eleanora turned to look her in the eye that Francesca lost her legs and fell gracelessly to the floor.

  “‘Where is the Baron?!’ she demanded, scanning the otherwise empty room in panic. It was Eleanora who answered her:

  “‘Roland is not here at the moment. But if you have some business with the Baron, perhaps you should discuss it with me. I am, after all, his wife.’”

  Chapter Fifteen: Games

  After their bath, Ella indulged Marie in a visit back to Richard’s suite. Richard wasn’t there. The sisters were—Sofi and Juli—as was Leanna, whom they were tending to, at least, in their individual fashions.

  The girl was on Richard’s bed, kneeling and deeply bent over. Marie could see that straps were binding her thighs to her chest, and her wrists had been tied to the sides of her ankles. Her vulnerable back and even more vulnerable upturned ass showed a myriad of glowingly red stripes, apparently from the multi-tailed leather cat that Sofi seemed to be enjoying playing with. Juli, meanwhile, was giving the girl a bathing of sorts: A basin had been wedged between her thighs and Juli was soaping her intimately. Marie could see a finger idly disappear inside Leanna from time to time, though Leanna seemed too overcome to react much. Her breathing was the only real indication she’d survived her ordeal.

  Juli rinsed the soap from her charge, then began to apply a soothing oil with equal attention. Slick fingers probed Leanna’s sex and ass equally. It was only when Juli slid two fingers to the root in the girl’s anus did she seem brought back to life with a gasp.

  “She’s getting quite good at this,” Juli appraised, pumping her slowly with those fingers as if massaging her from the inside.

  “This, too,” Sofi proclaimed, slapping the flogger into the palm of her other hand.

  Ella caught Marie looking over the scars that covered the sisters’ backs. They were not as deep or as numerous as Ella’s, but some approached. But Leanna’s skin, however red, did not appear cut, though some of the stripes were weeping a clear, oily fluid.

  “There is a difference between flogging for pleasure and for punishment,” Ella explained, taking the whip from Sofi. “The point in the former is not to injure your subject, unless they wish you to. This is a skill that takes time to develop.” She walked behind Juli and ran the tails of the weapon across her shoulders. Juli curved her back, lowering her head.

  Ella began to stroke her with the whip. Juli hummed in approval, closing her eyes as she still worked on Leanna. Then Ella spun the whip in quick, even circles, the tails slightly grazing Juli’s upper back. In a few moments, the impacts began to get harder. Juli was biting her lip, panting, as her flesh reddened and began to raise. Ella stopped to show Marie the result. Juli sighed in disappointment.

  “Done right, the skin is conditioned to the flogging in stages. I can build up to quite heavy beating, without inflicting serious pain or injury. The skin will weep, may even bleed a bit, but it should recover without mark.”

  Marie felt Juli’s skin. It was very warm and moist where she had been whipped. But her fingers traced the deeper scars a well.

  “As I said, such skill takes time to learn, and someone able to teach it,” Ella admitted. “My dear Juli was a bit too eager when we were both young and naïve
. She seems to hold no regret for the painful cutting she took in her desire to know me better. Sofi, I think, had something to prove, or to explore.”

  Sofi had turned her back to let Marie have a better look at her scars.

  “Most of those are not by my hand,” Ella told her. “But do not fear, she received exactly what she requested. My stepsister has quite the taste for pain, it turns out, or at least a hunger for what such things bring out on both sides of the whip.” Then Ella brushed the cat across Marie’s shoulders. “Would you like to know what it is like?”

  Marie nodded her assent with no hesitation, feeling almost separated from herself since her encounters with Rose. Ella directed her to face the wall and lean with her hands on it, lowering her head.

  The initial brushing of the whip stimulated her skin, almost tickling. But then it became a gentle slapping, and she could feel its rhythm working into her muscles. Her skin began to tingle, to get hot, but the stinging was not unbearable. She found her skin was almost numbed by the time heavier blows came, flooding her back with sensation, but also filling her with a deep satisfaction of being able to offer herself up to this so fearlessly. She could see how a woman could take pride in what she could endure, and how symbolic it was to offer such endurance for love.

  Ella shifted her targets then. Marie felt light up-strokes on the lower curves of her ass, building as before from brushing to slapping to beating. She could also feel the eyes on her, appraising her, feeling through experience what she was feeling now. Even Leanna…

  “Richard will be back shortly,” Sofi not so much informed as warned, however suggestively. “You should consider how you want him to find us.”

  Ella stopped her work, and Marie got her feet back under her, her back afire with heat and sensation. Turning, she looked down at Leanna, and smiled with a sudden inspiration.

  Richard did indeed return less than quarter-hour later, more than enough time to prepare Marie’s intended spectacle for him:

  To his surprise, Leanna had been bound to the wall by the tub, so that Juli could finish bathing her properly. But in her place, bound on the bed just as she had been, was Marie, presented at an angle that made her initially difficult to identify, given her recent shaving.

  “You are bidden to use this girl as roughly as you did the last, my lord,” Ella passed along, carefully omitting that Marie had given the command herself.

  Marie could feel Richard move behind her, then felt his hands appraise the marks of her flogging, and the smooth result of Rose’s razor. His fingers found her immediately wet, and he did as he was asked, though first with his tongue. Marie found herself devoured with an even greater passion and violence than before. Richard’s tongue drove into her with the force of his fingers or cock, and she responded by pushing her ass back hard into his face. There were so many differences now, she felt: her shearing had made her even more naked to him, and let her feel his bearded lips with greater intensity. But more than that, she now understood the difference between what Rose had done and what Richard was doing now. Rose’s acts were no more than technical demonstrations of skill, ways—at best—to explore the possibilities of her body and let her mind run wild in idle fantasy. But what Richard did to her was so much more: passion, hunger, desire. She so greatly wanted Richard and wanted him to want her, to devour her, to use her. Even having the women whip her and bind her so that Richard would find her like this aroused her more than she imagined.

  Richard stood and slipped his cock inside her, and began to hammer into her with a raging violence that took her breath from her. She felt his thumb prod her anus and found herself begging him to force it inside of her there. Then she considered another lesson she had learned today, and called out to Ella:

  “My hands! Untie them!”

  Ella proceeded to do so without hesitation, and as soon as her right hand was freed, Marie reached down and began to stroke herself as Richard fucked her. He responded to this turn with increased passion. Her own passion pushed toward delirium, and in a moment she had both hands at her sex. Then her left hand reached back and took over Richard’s attack on her anus.

  “There!” she panted at him. “I want you there!”

  It was Sofi who eagerly provided a wash of oil to assist the transfer, seemingly intent on watching the ordeal up close. Marie held her breath while Richard slipped into her, her hands still busily masturbating, a distraction that seemed to make the pressure in her ass more bearable. In turn, having him fill her there enhanced what she was doing to herself, if not by the extremity to which she found herself filled, then by the satisfaction she got out of offering herself to this so forwardly. Indeed, she found herself eager to prove that she was willing to let him do anything to her that would please him. Suddenly, the greater the sacrifice meant the greater the satisfaction (and she flashed on Rose’s fantasy of a girl willing to die for her lover). She found herself, despite the pain of it, demanding he thrust harder, faster. And her own fingering matched his violence.

  The orgasms that followed had a desperate intensity beyond anything she’d yet experienced, and she could feel her anus contracting on him as she climaxed, threatening to tear her. But then she quickly felt him grow hotter and wetter inside of her, and his own cries announced that he was filling her bowels with his seed. He almost collapsed as he withdrew, and Marie felt ready to join him.

  Ella finished unbinding her, and Richard rolled her over onto her back. She was drenched in sweat and trembling, almost unable to control her body at all. Richard kissed her deeply, as if to steal the last of her breath away, then took her hands and put her fingers into his mouth, licking her nectar from them greedily.

  It was getting dark by the time Rose came looking for them, and found quite a sight: Richard sprawled in a tangle of women that included Marie, Sofi, Juli and even Ella herself, all naked and all contentedly asleep.

  Only Leanna remained solitary, left soaking in the tub. Her eyes widened and she recoiled when she saw Rose come in, accompanied by Mayleen, Harriet and Ruth, all dressed for dinner.

  Rose picked up the discarded flogger and with idle grace snapped the bare sole of her husband’s foot. Between the sound and his reflexive jerk, they were all quickly awake. It was Ella that looked the most embarrassed as Rose grinned wickedly, then pouted in mock disapproval.

  “I leave you to tend to this delightful girl, and look what an escapade she gets you into,” Rose scolded. “Exactly who was leading whom?”

  Rose let Ella and her two stepsiblings look sheepish for a few moments—only Marie met her gaze with a glimmer of satisfied defiance, to which Rose raised an eyebrow and gave the flogger a quick tug in her hands—before moving on to announce that it was time for dinner, and that she had something special in mind. She helped Leanna out of the tub, only to bind her wrists behind her back (still dripping wet), and admonished the other women—including Ella—not to bother dressing.

  The meal was as sumptuous as usual, though the serving maids were prompt in clearing the table. Then they returned with a covered tray and set it before Rose. Removing the lid, they revealed its contents: Rose’s ivory phallus, accompanied by Ella’s golden one—which Marie could see closely now that it appeared to be a casting of Rose’s original—and Mayleen’s polished crystal. With them was a small pitcher of oil. The servants quickly returned with harnesses for Ella, Rose and Mayleen, and the latter two were equally quick in ridding themselves of their gowns. The maids assisted the ladies with their girding. Then they each took their respective tools, and took turns oiling them. Rose toyed with hers as she spoke.

  “Another old game,” she announced. “A test of endurance, or devotion; or, perhaps, of grace.” She fitted her ivory into her harness and turned to address Marie. “Remember when I warned you to quickly become accustomed to sodomy, my darling?”

  Marie held her tongue but could not prevent herself from flushing. She tried not to visibly squirm in her seat, tried to pretend that Rose’s implied threat no longer hel
d any trepidation for her. But the initial flash of terror was starting to give way to unexpected arousal.

  Rose then took Richard by the hand and led him around the table behind their “guests,” and with no apparent rehearsal, each of the nobles took station behind one of the girls. Marie was not surprised that Rose stood at her own back. The rest of the arrangement was curious: Ella had Ruth, while Mayleen took station behind Harriet. Richard, finally, took Leanna by the shoulders. Rose explained:

  “Now that we all have someone we are not yet so familiar with—except for Richard who has so recently had dear Leanna, but I take a certain mercy with her lack of experience—I will explain the terms of this contest. Or better yet, demonstrate…”

  A quick whisper to Richard and they both moved out of position. Richard took Sofi by the shoulders and Rose likewise took hold of Juli. Apparently knowing what was expected of them from prior experience, the sisters allowed themselves to be bent over the great table just across from the four waiting “victims”, and stretched arms and torsos until their hands gripping the far edge securely. Rose and Richard took turns with the pitcher, oiling themselves and their partners while Rose continued:

  “The point of this contest is to see who can keep their hands gripping the table the longest.”

  With minimal foreplay, Rose slipped her phallus all the way up inside of Juli, and just by the way Juli lost her breath and almost collapsed, it was clear that she had not been impaled in her sex. Sofi let out a strangled cry as Richard filled her likewise. And with a nod from Rose as a signal, they both began pumping their victims roughly, gripping them by the hips for greatest leverage.

  The sisters bucked and writhed on the wood, gasping and whimpering, but locking eyes with each other in determined competition. The ordeal lasted until both were drenched in sweat and almost roaring in exquisite agony, yet neither let loose their hands from the table or otherwise resisted their abuse.