“I fear the Russians because I respect them. I fear them because I would fight to the death, any man who landed on my homeland with harm in mind. And that is exactly what we are about to do.”
The general nodded in understanding. “Sir, will you continue on to Parnu or disembark with our men in Riga?”
“I want Narva before the winter sets in. I will travel with ten thousand men to Parnu, you shall move with the remaining men into Riga and setup our headquarters and supply backup as needed. Riga will be paramount as our supply line for the remainder of our conflicts. You must hold Riga at all cost.”
“Yes, my king.”
“That means if you are the last standing, you will give your last breath.”
“My king, my last breath will shout your name so that all may hear the power of Sweden.”
Charles XII gripped the general’s shoulders. “None are as brave as you, lest he be a horse thief.”
The general laughed, so loud it vibrated across, and rippled the Baltic, “And to you, my king, I say this: none braver, for thou art younger than any other king in this battle, yet victory shall be ours.”
Chapter VI
~ Trekschuit ~
The activity of the chambermaids and caretakers was now at a feverish pitch as they readied their charges for transport. Crimson and Sena were led from the bathing pool, dried near the fireplace and wrapped in a thin peignoir. The disparity in temperature surged over Crimson’s body and her nipples pushed firm against the thin fabric. Her afterglow had faded and she already missed it. The large male, now known to Crimson as Sergen, was pulled to the side and fitted with a fabric codpiece that strapped his member to his thigh.
All three were lined up at the door in single file, first Sergen, in the middle Crimson, with Sena the last in line. Their wrists were tied behind their backs and each was blindfolded. A single rope was tied to each, looping around the waist of the person in front. To Crimson, it felt like an abnormal game of hide and seek. Sergen and Sena were easy to find, everyone else just disappeared, and she, too, wanted to run and hide. She wanted to hide from Tor. Tor sickened her. She knew he was deaf and blind to the needs of a woman.
Kieran entered the room, he moved in near silence as if he floated on air. He pulled the ropes, checked the knots and inspected the markings on each captive. He stopped near Sena. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? What, two, maybe, three months ago. Weren’t you sold to a Vizier of the Ottoman’s Crimea?”
Sena didn’t respond. She closed her eyes under the blindfold and hoped Kieran would walk away, hoped he would convince himself he was mistaken. Kieran watched her reaction, her breaths became shallow and he could hear her heart beat. Even in silence, her body told the truth.
Without a sound Kieran was next to Crimson, he lifted her peignoir, found the red welt across her right butt cheek. His touch rekindled the strap's burn as he traced over the welt with his finger. “My dear Crimson, skin as beautiful and soft as yours should never be disciplined due to an offense, it’s far too delicate. Only playful forays in temptation or passion should find their way to your lovely cheeks. Let the slow burn of the strap remind you of this.”
He leaned in closer and whispered, “I almost took you for my own.”
His breath was warm and sweet on her ear, the smell of an indefinable combination of exotic spice and Turkish tobacco. His dark hair brushed Crimson’s cheek and her mouth wanted to find his in the darkness of her blindfolded world.
“Why don’t you?” she whispered. Her question was soft and imploring, hinting that it might not be too late.
Kieran lifted her hair and ran his finger over the fang marks he’d left on her neck. “Fair question,” he whispered. He grabbed her wrist tied behind her back and traced the branded mark, his mouth mere centimeters from her right ear. “There is a danger about you, even now your heart pounds but not from fear. You’re pure temptation, a deadly obsession. I could take you now, push you up against the wall and enter you from behind. Please my lust, but I think we both know that would only be the start. I’d starve the moment you were gone, the emptiness would haunt me. To be haunted for eternity would be unbearable, believe me I know.”
“I wouldn’t leave,” she pined, turning her mouth closer to his.
“Then that is far worse. I would lose focus. My lust destroys. Yours on the other hand, captivates. That is the fairy-tale that cannot endure the lust of two souls.” He lifted her peignoir again, ran his hand over her soft butt, cupped her flesh in his palm and closed his eyes. She pushed her flesh against his hand. He burned her shape and responsiveness of her into his memory.
Kieran released the peignoir and watched the light, sheer fabric slowly waterfall over her. He fought off his own desires. He could feel the tension as his cock swelled against the leather of his pants and he felt that inner demand for the smooth succulence of a woman.
“I’ll take you now, right now,” Crimson whispered. “Let your cock feel the inner softness of my cheeks, my mouth. The intimacy of my tongue. Save me from that selfish lover and I’ll be yours for eternity.”
His cock surged further down his leg at the thought of Crimson on her knees, his cock moving in and out of her beautiful lips and over the warmth of her tongue. That thought was quickly replaced with them chest to chest, and then replaced again, with him holding her legs in the air, spread the width of his shoulders. “I’m tempted, my lovely Crimson. I think nothing would please me more, but this was settled the moment the auction ended.”
He was back in front of them and announced, “Sunset is an hour away. Soon we will move. Untie the last one and bring her to me.”
He walked toward the large fireplace, sat on the hearth, watched as the caretakers untied Sena, and guided her toward him. Sena was set upon the hearth, next to Kieran and he removed her blindfold. She refused to make eye contact. Instead, she focused on some distant place in the past.
“How did you escape?” he asked.
Sena didn’t answer.
Kieran placed his hand under her chin and tilted her head toward him. “You bare the mark of Tor now, you will not be returned to Crimea. It is of vital importance that I know how you escaped.”
“A chambermaid…” Sena started then stopped when the door to the bathing room opened. Sounds from the busy hallway filled the room. Orders were shouted and acknowledged between the caretakers on the move.
“Go on, a chambermaid…” Kieran insisted.
Sena swallowed hard, “a chambermaid tipped me off that a Sultan would be visiting the castle. I waited, seduced one of his harem and while she slept, I stole her clothes and left in disguise with the Sultan’s entourage. I snuck away during the night.”
“I see. And how did you survive on the outside?”
“Didn’t survive long. Only two nights and I was captured by one of your men and brought here again.”
“Who captured you?”
“Not sure. He had short black hair and spoke with a thick accent. You won’t send me back to Crimea will you?”
“No, I will not. It would be an embarrassment to my operation. The one who found you should’ve known who you were and returned you. I will deal with him later.” Kieran grasped her by the wrist and led her back to her place behind Crimson, tied the knot and fitted the blindfold in place. A caretaker tugged on the rope, and the three captives were led into the hallway.
Crimson was distraught. She knew every footstep led her closer to Tor, and Kieran, had rebuffed her attempt at seduction. Desperation filled her. This game had been exciting, even pleasurable, until now. Now, Tor would win, and she worried that her world would become one tormented night after the other.
“Kieran,” she whispered, “are you still here?”
Sena whispered back, “You should keep quiet. Their patience runs thin on these nights.”
“Kieran?” Crimson tested the darkness once again with no response.
Kieran, swiftly and quietly, rushed to her side, kissed her cheek, “Yo
u be good, Crimson. This will all be over soon. If you’re ever recaptured, I will save you. I will take you for my own.”
“Do so now.”
Her request was never answered. Kieran had simply disappeared.
The hallway was filled with the patter of bare feet and leather soled shoes on stone, denoting the tornado of activity among the chambermaids, caretakers, guards and prisoners. Crimson’s steps were timid behind the blindfold, she felt as if she were a walking a ledge in total darkness. People Crimson couldn’t see were darting all around her attending to other captives and they brushed against her. The feeling was surreal, exciting, and Crimson couldn’t help but wonder if their eyes were examining her nearly naked body? Did the men’s mouths want her pink nipples, their hands her flesh? She secretly hoped that at any moment Kieran would steal her away, escort her to a secret room, but he never did, and soon they were on the march.
Walking blindfolded proved difficult. Many times Sergen would suddenly stop and Crimson would run into him, his firm butt delightfully plowed into her soft stomach. His presence was like the stone statues she had viewed all her life, and his muscular frame consumed her imagination.
Soon everyone in the hallway was on the move. They exited the castle and were led outside. The coolness of the night air draped their bodies, and the night's wind rumbled through the bows of the trees. The stone floor of the castle had given way to a well-worn path of wooden planks. Horses clattered and snorted among the bluster of captives being loaded onto carriages. Someone draped leather cloaks over them and sat them on the bed of the carriage, their legs dangled over the edge.
The carriage ride to the banks of the Dnieper River was long and bumpy along a heavily furrowed road. A hard dip in the road and Crimson’s blindfold slipped and fell around her neck. The first thing she noticed was the sky; it seemed to be in mourning. The sky was a sinister black with dark, dreary gray clouds. She could see the distant outline of the castle disappearing on the horizon. She wasn’t sure of the style. It was similar to the Romanesque architecture in Sweden, but this castle looked gothic with its brick walls and tall spires.
To her left Sergen sat quietly. To her right Sena’s head darted about as her breast bounced against the soft fabric of her peignoir. Crimson turned to see Kieran and a guard in the carriage driver’s seat. She wanted to say his name but didn’t. The river came into view and she saw Lord Tor waving the carriage toward a moored boat.
Tor instructed, in an excited, high-pitched voice, “Here, Kieran! Here! This is my Trekschuit. I had it built on a Netherland model.” The carriage came to a stop. While Kieran and Tor were in conversation, the guard collected the rope, pulled the captives from the carriage, and they followed in unison behind Sergen. The currents of the Dnieper wrenched at Tor’s boat, causing it to swell and creak against the plank. The creaking boat only added to the dreary drab of the black sky.
Crimson whispered to Sena, “We’re on the shore of a river. There’s a covered boat moored in front of us, and Tor is here.”
“Yes, transport to Kiev,” Sena responded as her head darted about trying to fix on the distant conversations around her.
Another carriage pulled up and stopped. Crimson saw the young man who was escorted from the bathing room. He was being manhandled by a guard and was pushed toward them. The choker around his neck was pulled tight and had been looped around his waist, forcing him to bend over. The leash dropped to the ground and was stepped on by a nearby guard.
Crimson could make out the dry salt trails on his cheeks. His buttocks were a stark red from the lashings he had received. She felt for him, wished she could sooth him. She now understood the warning given by Sena earlier and wanted no part of this type of punishment.
A guard approached, placed a choker around the captive’s neck and led them onto the boat one at a time. Sergen was taken first, then the guard returned for Crimson. She shadowed the guard onto the wooden plank and tried to make eye contact with Kieran, but he never looked in her direction. She stepped onto the bow, ducked under the threshold of the small door, and was forced to sit on a bench in the cabin. The rope looped through her choker, and snaked through a metal loop fastened to the floor. The rope had little slack and restrained her movement. She could stand but not fully. She watched as Sena was seated. Then the young man was last. He winced when his bare bottom touched the wooden bench. No one said anything.
She heard cracks of leather whips and the horses bray and trot off with the empty carriages. A moment of sadness washed over Crimson as she realized Kieran didn’t even say goodbye.
A guard closed the door and said something in a foreign language, and the small room was in complete darkness.
“What did he say, Sena?” Crimson asked.
“Tough to translate but basically he said this is a hearse full of flowers.”
“Hearse? Are we in danger, are we going to be killed?”
“No. We will be fine. I’m not certain I’m translating hearse correctly.”
Chapter VII
~ What Lies Ahead ~
Viktor found Caspian’s claim that Princess Sophia and her court knew of Kieran or the trade rather distressing. His mind raced faster than his steed as he hurried toward the castle. Resentment seemed to leech into his soul and corrupt his thoughts. He had always loved Sophia, now he despised her—all at the lone suggestion of a horror, a creature that reeked of rotten flesh, and by all accounts, shouldn’t even be alive. As soon as he arrived to the stone path leading to the castle doors, he was shouting Sophia’s name.
He dismounted his horse before the animal even stopped—didn’t bother tethering it and pushed open the heavy door of the palace. “Sophia! Sophia!” Her name echoed loudly down the marble corridors and doors began to open, as onlookers were curious of all the screaming.
Sophia emerged from the parlor room off the main hallway. “What is it, Viktor?”
Viktor’s face was flushed with anger and his tone, normally respectful, was noticeably demanding. He walked heavily toward her, his steps almost pounding the floor. “Where would she be?”
“Who?” Sophia questioned, confused by his accusatory tone.
“Crimson. I know of Kieran. I know of the trade. I know you know where she is.”
Two guards were already behind him and one had grasped Viktor’s throat. Viktor felt the tip of a sword dig into his side.
Sophia chided, “Your tone, Viktor, is near that of insolence, I suggest you rethink your tactic.” She nodded to the guard with the sword and he dug the tip in a bit deeper to get Viktor’s attention.
Viktor at once understood. “My apologies, Princess. But I know of this Kieran and have been told he has taken Crimson. I implore, please allow me to visit, to explain.”
Sophia waved the guards off and studied Viktor quietly. “How do you know this?”
“A creature named Caspian told me,” Viktor replied as he examined the small wound in his side.
She placed her arm around Viktor’s shoulder. “A creature? Caspian you say? What is it you think you know?” she asked as she guided him to the parlor room. “Ladies, please excuse us.”
When the room cleared, she closed the door, and took a seat near the large fireplace. “Well my young lad, I have decided to accept your apology and your visit. Now that you’re a bit more level headed, what is that you want to know?”
“Who is Kieran?” Viktor asked. He refused her offer to sit; instead, he paced the room, working off the adrenaline in his system.
Sophia exhaled a long sigh stood and ran her hand across the mantle of the fireplace as she spoke. “This is a sallow world we live in, Viktor. Murmurs, rumors, even fairy tales color what little white we have in our daily lives. Do you know what color we live in?”
“I live in black, my lady,” Viktor said loudly, still pacing.
“Poor Viktor. You are far too young to know black. No, Viktor, shades of gray. It is all shades of gray. You want to know of Kieran?”
“Yes.”
Sophia made her way to the nearest window. Outside the wind rose and fell in scrapes against the castle walls, it seemed to crawl across the grounds and rap the windowpanes looking for a way in. Sophia had a surreal feeling the breeze had given way to a living organism and it, whatever it was, appeared to eavesdrop on the conversation.
“Very well, the rumor first. Kieran is a dark prince, distant son of Prince of Wales. Sometime during the fourteenth century, he married his cousin, Joan. The marriage was short lived because a tracker named Gaten kidnapped Joan and introduced her to the trade. Did you know that much?”
“No, my lady.”
“Then your irritation towards me was unfounded but I think I understand the raw emotion. You think I’m somehow complicit in Crimson’s disappearance?” She looked at his reflection in the windowpane.
“I’m not sure what I thought, it’s just … The creature said you knew and I felt betrayed.”
“Betrayed? Peculiar choice of words but at any rate, yes, I know some things. Again, that vast gray expanse between rumor and truth. Have a seat before you thunder across Europe and run into the same trap Kieran did.”
Viktor stopped pacing and glared harshly at her. “You are not implying there is similarity between that monster and I? If so, then I am ashamed my tongue ever spoke your name with honor.”
Sophia could only smile while shaking her head, and then she let out a subdued laugh as she gazed out of the window. She looked deep across the grounds while she imagined what Crimson was going through. Darkness fell through the saplings and made ghostly shapes on the manicured lawn, then the scratching sound of the wind. The shadows moved, crawled, and groaned. She tried to explain her compassion while being truthful.
“Lost love is such an erratic emotion, Viktor. It leaves some limp on the floor balled up in despair. Yet others thrash about resolute in a mission to save it. Some try both, most times they’re all in vain. I have a feeling I know which you are and that is where you and Kieran are the same.”
Crimson's Captivation Page 5