Oh God, what have I done? Scarlett saw the determined look in Sir Roland’s eyes as he came forward purposefully and she started to back up. “Just what do you think you are doing, Sir Roland?” she said.
“We are going to have a little discussion, you and I, and you are going to tell me what is going on. I want to know about your father, I want to know about this high minister, and most of all I want to know about you. Something is not right here and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
He took her by the wrist and pulled her after him. Scarlett was nonplussed. What was he doing? They had been riding along a road lined by forest and now Sir Roland was practically dragging her toward the woods and a thick felled tree. He sat down on the tree, which had fallen sideways, and whirled her around until she faced him. He pulled her close, trapping her between his knees.
“Now listen, my haughty princess. I want you to tell me right now. Why is your father being sequestered? Why has his minister taken over the affairs of state?”
Oh my God, thought Scarlett. What should I do? He knows something is wrong here, but if I tell him… no, I can’t. I don’t know his intention and I’m afraid of Lord Tomas.
“I demand you release me, Sir Roland. There… there is nothing out of the ordinary and my relationship with the high minister is perfectly cordial.”
“I see,” said Roland, but Scarlett could tell from the way he narrowed his eyes that he didn’t believe her. “Well, then, if all is fine, maybe what I’m about to do is just some rough justice for your treatment of an innocent stable boy.” Before Scarlett could react, he gripped her firmly and tossed her face down across his lap. The fake princess found herself staring at the forest floor, her nose mere inches from a dense mat of pine needles. She felt his arm encircling her waist, pinning her down. Blood rushed to her head and she tried lifting it to determine what he was doing.
She couldn’t see, but what she felt was alarming. He was lifting her skirts! What she had on underneath were silk drawers that hugged the curves of her bottom. Scarlett felt terribly exposed. Her legs were bare, and she could feel a soft breeze on her backside. The soft caress of the breeze did not last very long.
Crack! She felt a male palm smack her right on the crowns of her bottom. The suddenness of it took her breath away. Then, crack! Crack! Crack! Three more spanks fell in quick succession. “Ow! Ow!” She yelped in pain as Sir Roland began to apply a methodical spanking to her thinly clad bottom. It stung! She squirmed, but to no avail. The knight was too strong.
The sting of his descending palm was like a hot fire on her tender seat.
“This, princess, is a mild version of what it feels like. I’m only using my hand. That stable boy was whipped with a strap.”
“Ouch! Stop! I command you. My father will… he will…” she sputtered.
The knight paid no attention to her protests, but continued to spank her with sharp staccato blows that made her kick her feet up and wriggle around on his lap. Each spank was a new wave of heat layered onto the last. It was not only painful to be spanked like a lazy milkmaid, but it was horribly embarrassing. The stinging sensation was atrocious. She felt like she’d do anything to make it stop.
But then something happened. Tears began to well up. She’d been so terrified, and she’d had to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. She’d been so cruel to others, something that was not in her nature. There was a part of her, she realized, that wanted the knight to keep going, to punish her for being so horrible to everyone. It wasn’t just the stable boy, it had been her maids, the pages—just about everyone. To convince them she was Juliet she’d been rude, autocratic, snobbish, and overbearing. She’d been too scared to do otherwise. So maybe he should spank her until her bottom glowed, she thought. She deserved it. Emotionally wrung out, she burst into tears and started sobbing.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Wahhh!” she cried, completely breaking down and bawling.
The spanking stopped, and the knight lifted her to her feet and stood her between his knees, his hands on her shoulders. She gazed into his eyes, and what she saw was a stern, but kind face. He seemed to bear her no ill will, instead, he seemed both concerned and chagrined at her total breakdown into tears.
She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He was taken aback at her reaction, but he put his arms around her in a comforting embrace and pulled her close.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “It’s not like me. I’m not her. I can’t be her.”
Roland pulled away so he could look her in the eye. “What do you mean, you’re ‘not her.’ Not who?”
“The princess,” she cried. “I can’t do it.”
“Explain what you mean, princess,” he said softly.
She gulped. This was it, she had to tell him. He was just this rough-hewn knight and he was all alone. But who else was there to turn to?
“I’m not who you think I am. I’m not Princess Juliet of Westvale.”
Roland looked stunned. He stared at her, thinking. “Who are you, then?” he asked.
“A commoner… just an orphan, actually, from the convent at St. Agnes near Kern, far from here. I… they asked me to do it. But I had no choice. They said it was all for the realm, that it was to protect the princess and the kingdom, they said…”
“Sh-h-h-h,” said the knight, and he put a finger to her lips. She was blubbering, babbling, she knew. It was all just pouring out in a confusing mess. He spoke calmly and soothingly to her, assuring her that he would do her no harm.
“It’s all right. It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Now, who are ‘they’ and what did they tell you to do?”
She told him the whole story.
Roland listened attentively, stopping her every now and then to ask a question. He nodded as he listened, his brow furrowed as he heard her tale. For Scarlett, it was liberating, an unburdening that lifted the great weight that she had been carrying. But whose side would he be on? She didn’t know for sure, but she sensed that this knight, this stranger, could be trusted. Still, he was only one man against what might be a whole cabal inside Greystone Castle. His next words nearly made her weep with relief.
“I will help you, Scarlett. Do not fear. We will figure this out. You must trust me.”
She was too shaken to manage her horse. Instead she rode sitting behind the knight on his horse while he led her animal alongside. As they rode, she had time to reflect and sort out some strange and confusing feelings.
Her bottom burned from the sharp spanking the knight had given her. At the same time, she was having new and oddly stimulating feelings. She was all too aware of his body, sitting as she was, her arms around his waist, pressing herself against his back. She could feel the flex of the hard muscles at his core, his scent assailed her, and she kept looking at his broad shoulders and the way his windblown hair hung down. It gave her butterflies in the pit of her stomach and a not unwelcome tingle ran up her spine when she thought about his eyes.
Had they feasted upon her charms as she lay across his knee, partially denuded? He surely took in the soft roundness of her bottom. After all, his hands were all over it. She shivered at the memory. The burn in her nether cheeks was now a warm glow. Even the nature of the intimate punishment he’d given her seemed somehow comforting now. A curious wetness began to creep between her legs and her breathing grew shallow. A thought invaded her consciousness, a startling truth—he could do that again and I wouldn’t even mind. She let out an involuntary gasp.
Roland turned around, a look of concern on his face. “Is something wrong, Scarlett?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “nothing at all.”
Chapter Eight
Juliet had no idea why she was being held here. She knew only one thing. She had to escape. These girls were slaves, abducted or tricked into coming here. They were not free to leave and rejoin their families, regardless of what had been promised. Punishment was a constant threat for infractions great and trivial. Fear was the key to ensuring
obedience. The switch and the strap wielded by stout matrons who answered only to the countess were the instruments that mandated compliance and kept them all in a fearful state of subjugation.
So afraid were the girls housed in Juliet’s quarters that at night they were not guarded, as far as Juliet could tell. Their female overseers, like the fearful Moll, repaired to their own quarters after the evening meal, leaving the girls with threats of dire consequences were they to stray from their beds. This was enough, it seemed. No one wanted to make any of these hard, dour women angry.
So when everyone was asleep, Juliet rose and explored her surroundings. She had a vague idea where the stables were and knew that escape would require two things: an ability to get there without raising an alarm, and a horse. She made several forays into the halls of the keep in the wee hours of the morning, looking for the best route to the stables. After a few tries she found it. A little-used corridor had a side door that led to the rear of the kitchen. This was fortunate as well because fruits and vegetables were left out in baskets in plain view. She’d need to take some for the journey, and more importantly, she’d have to select a horse to steal. In order for the animal to become familiar with her, she’d have to bring it food so that it would warm to her.
And that was what she did. The stables were a short distance from the kitchen, past the laundry and across the courtyard. She stuck to the shadows, memorizing every nook and doorway that provided a place to melt into the darkness. She took something with her every time, an apple or a carrot. The horse she chose reminded her of Flower, her own. She had sensed the horse’s gentleness as she inspected the stalls. This one came right up to the stall gate and snuffed, sticking its nose through the bars. She spoke quietly to the horse, patted her head and gave her an apple. As her nighttime excursions became routine, the horse would be ready and waiting, grateful to receive the treat while Juliet murmured soothing words in the animal’s ear. When the time came, this horse would flee with her.
It was on one of these midnight excursions that she began to understand the true nature of the evil that permeated Castle Bathen. She had been moving stealthily through the corridors she had memorized when she heard footsteps approaching and voices, several men and a woman conversing. There was nowhere to hide. Quickly she had to run the other way. That hall was a dead end, but there was a stairway going up. She saw no alternative. She climbed the stairs into an area she had never been in before. It featured a wide hall with many doors. They were still coming so she ducked into a doorway that she thought opened into a storage room. Inside the room it was dark except that light came through narrow slots in the back wall. She peered through the slots. It was some sort of observation room. A person could stand here, in the dark, and observe all that went on in the adjacent room.
She prayed the people behind her would walk on by, and she breathed more easily once she heard their footsteps passing her doorway. Then she heard a door opening nearby. They were entering the adjacent room. Cautiously she peered through one of the slots. A pair of pretty girls stood in the center of what looked like a luxurious boudoir. A huge bed draped in silky bedclothes dominated the room, which contained other rich furnishings. A fireplace at one end burned crackling logs and soft light came from lamps in wall sconces. Chairs and divans of fine craftsmanship dotted the room and rich draperies adorned the walls. Plush rugs made from the hides of animals covered most of the floor.
The girls were young, about her age. They had been made to look exquisitely beautiful. Their hair had been painstakingly coiffed and their arms and wrists were adorned with golden bracelets and other jewelry. One girl had long yellow hair and a light complexion. Her figure was willowy, her legs long, her neck slender. The other had dark hair that fell in ringlets. She was more voluptuous in her breasts and hips than her companion, but also fair skinned.
The thing that startled Juliet most was their attire. They wore short kirtles made of some sheer white fabric that revealed everything beneath. It was almost as if they were naked. The top of the flimsy garment draped over one shoulder leaving the other bare. A dainty golden chain encircled each of their waists, emphasizing the curves of their hips.
When the party who had startled Juliet entered the room, she had to stifle a gasp. It was Morgaine, a female attendant, and two men whose dress left no doubt that they were wealthy Ieryn. Juliet saw the two men pace in a circle around the two girls, inspecting them from every angle.
Morgaine sat on a divan as the men continued the inspection. “Well, Prince Feyd, Prince Arak, are they not lovely as promised?” asked Morgaine. “These lovely creatures are Celeste and Thora.”
One of the men stroked his chin and nodded. “You did not mislead us, countess, they are both very comely.”
“Indeed,” said the other, “but have they been trained? Are they obedient? I do not wish to part with so much silk only to find that I have a surly she-cat on my hands.”
“We have a long journey back,” said the one called Feyd, “and I want a willing bed warmer, not a timid village girl fearful of losing her maidenhood.”
“I assure you that both have been trained according to my methods. They will do whatever you say… and enthusiastically,” promised Morgaine.
“How well do they accept correction?” asked Arak.
Juliet saw Morgaine smile broadly. “Merilda, hand Prince Arak your quirt.”
The stout mistress who accompanied Morgaine produced a short leather object from a belt worn at her waist and gave it to the prince. It had a handle and a short braided portion that ended in a large knot from which dangled three strands. “Pretend she has done something to displease you, prince.”
“You,” said Prince Arak, indicating the dark haired beauty, “bend over and lock your hands behind your knees.”
Juliet saw tears fill the girl’s eyes and for a moment she hesitated, but then she turned silently, bent forward, and locked her wrists behind her knee hollows. The posture made her buttocks stick out and the fabric rose up over her hips, revealing everything. She trembled as the Ieryn prince casually flipped the hem of her brief skirt up onto her back. She was now bare from her ankles to her back. The prince casually flicked the whip around, testing it. Satisfied, he stood beside her and drew his arm back. There was an audible whine as the quirt sped to its target, and the strands splayed out as they impacted the girl’s bottom! Juliet winced as she heard the dark haired girl make a mewling sound. Again the lash fell, and again her bottom globes quivered. The girl flinched with each lash, but did not move. He gave her six more lashes, the strands painting thin red lines on her bare flesh. She gasped at the apparent sting but held her position.
“You may rise,” the prince said at last.
The girl stood, sniffling and teary eyed as she gently rubbed her whipped backside.
“Are they versed in the arts of pleasure?” asked the other prince.
“Of course,” answered Morgaine. She clapped her hands and commanded, “Display.” The girls dropped to the floor and sat back on their haunches, knees folded beneath them. They parted their legs so that their secrets were clearly visible, their hands rested on their knees palms upward. The princes nodded approvingly.
“Would you care to sample their talents?”
“Very much,” said Feyd. “I would like the golden haired one.”
“As you wish,” said the countess. “Sit. They will come to you.”
The princes sat on a pair of low divans and waited.
“Thora and Celeste, go to them on your hands and knees and pleasure them orally.”
The pair moved to obey, crawling like lithe cats across the room. They knelt between the knees of the men and with their hands deftly extracted members already stiff. With delicate motions they stroked the erect penises and then lowered their lips to take them into their mouths. The men leaned back and let them continue, obviously enjoying their ministrations.
“Very talented indeed,” said Feyd, practically groaning with pleasure.
Juliet watched, fascinated and horrified. She’d heard of such practices, but these girls had been trained to do this. And now what? Were they to be sold to these men?
“Ahh,” said Feyd. “Be careful, my little pet.” He looked at the countess and explained, “This one has teeth.”
“If she displeases you in any way, you should punish her. She expects it. Go ahead. A brisk spanking should teach her to be more careful.”
Feyd nodded and pulled the girl’s head back. “Across my lap, girl. I’ll have to teach you to be more careful.” He pulled her up and over his lap, flipping back the little flap of skirt. For the next several minutes his palm rang out as it struck the girl’s bottom in a barrage of brisk spanks, making her writhe and gasp. He spanked her hard, not holding back. She fluttered her long legs but did not try to wriggle away, knowing that any such action would likely earn her a worse punishment. When Feyd had reddened her bottom to his satisfaction, he put her back on her knees and let her continue pleasing him with her mouth.
When they had finished, Arak spoke again. “Very nice, countess. You have trained them well.” He paused, then asked, “But am I to understand they are virgins?”
“Their maidenheads are secure,” said Morgaine. “But, there is another entrance that is available to you while you decide what disposition you wish to make.” That information elicited broad smiles from both men. “You may wish to make use of a special article made just for this purpose.”
She turned to her attendant. “Merilda, fetch a pair of the training benches.”
From a closet Merilda dragged a pair of benches of a curious design. They had upper and lower sections. The lower section was for kneeling. The upper section had a flat padded top that angled toward the floor. Morgaine commanded the girls to kneel across the devices. With their torsos flat on the upper sections, their buttocks were raised to a position of prominence. Juliet could see immediately that the posture was perfect for administering a whipping or for anything else to be visited on their backsides. Juliet shook her head in disbelief when she saw what happened next.
The Princess and the Rogue Page 5