Again the cries that arose from the girl seemed to echo pain and a sort of panting, as if she was in reach of an orgasm. Milan did not whip with strength but regularly and slowly to allow the effect to penetrate deep into the girl’s nerves. The cries became long moans. Swiftly the flesh reddened, the lashes striking the crown of the breasts time after time.
I looked at the young man. He wore a gorgeous jacket of brown satin - or was it sepia silk? - the sleeves gashed with red to match his slippers. Each arm terminated in exquisite lace ruffs, the quality of lace you find in Bruges and Ghent. His purple hose gaped wide to allow his straining penis to sway before his flat, haired belly. As he whipped, trails of bright liquid seeped from the head of the stiff monster as if it was salivating with lust.
While the slow flagellation proceeded, I saw Eliska staring with narrowed eyes, caressing herself freely, legs wide apart, holding back her climax for later.
Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, the bell rang out as Maryska sank back, jerking and moaning, held by her breast-straps. She must have received some thirty stripes.
“I do not want blood drawn, Milan,” Eliska said. “That will do. You have performed well. That will do, my love.”
Milan looked at his Mistress with dour surprise and ceased the flagellation.
“You should scourge from both sides, dear love. Spend a moment with Sebastian to see how he excites a pair of breasts with the tongue of the crop. There is no sense in laying into breasts as if scourging the rump which can take every type of lash. You must control your desire, my dearest. And it is best to whip with the the tip rather than the rod of the crop. But you dealt with the whore well. Now let us refresh ourselves.”
Eliska closed her robe and rose. Though deprived of his flesh and disappointed, Milan did not appear to resent Eliska’s remarks at all. He deposited the crop with the other whips.
We retired to where several serving girls, naked but for white hose and black lace visors, offered wine and sweetmeats. Some were ringed, some had recently received the scourge to judge by the welted buttocks and thighs, but all without exception wore round the throat a narrow band of red velvet. This, Premsyl tells me, indicates that the girl is on duty (in the dungeon, at table or in the bedchamber) and is entirely and instantly available for sex on demand; she can also be put to the whip as and when desired and even, since these are well-trained slaves, subjected to some measure of erotic sex-torture. Although the scarlet band necessarily exposes the woman to harsh handling, it is considered here as a honour and a privilege to wear it.
Eliska seized one of the girls and then bared the head of Milan’s expectant erection.
“Dearest Milan! I know you need relief, but I cannot have blood drawn, even from a whore, and her breasts were about to shed. It is not your fault. In recompense, you may have this little slut to work upon, let us say on Tuesday. Not now but I promise - in my bedchamber, tied to the bedposts stark naked. You can whip her raw for an hour.”
Milan looked at the trembling girl who paled, almost dropping her silver tray, her body freezing in goose-flesh. She was quite plump with fine breasts and rump and long plaits.
“Let me deal with her now!” he pleaded. Eliska ran her gloved finger along the blue veins standing out like whip-cords along his penis.
“Not now, dearest. I cannot have the ceremony disrupted, particularly when we have a guest present. Next week, Schatz.” She used the German word that only made my embarrassment worse, having been made the pretext for the postponement. Then Eliska weakened a trifle. “Very well, then. As you badly need to spend, amuse yourself with this little blonde slut while we drink. Empty into her and come and join us.”
Milan looked at the girl. Although stronger, she had something about her that recalled Durer’s Eve he painted for us in 1507 - except for her mask and hose!
Milan sought solace in the girl. He pushed her petrified body against the dungeon wall, making her drop her tray and thrusting her to her knees. As taught in training encounters with the bailiffs, she promptly reached out to grasp the heavy scrotum in one hand and the huge erection in the other. She slicked back the foreskin to begin a frantic sliding of her hand from tip to root and back again, smearing the shaft with her spittle and Milan’s secretions flooding from the slit. Now and then she reached her fingers down between her sex-lips to add to the lubricants.
Taking the whole length and girth of the prick into her throat, the girl took less than thirty suctions to spare Milan any further delay. He came in hot heavy spurts some way from the girl’s lips. She directed the discharge into her gaping mouth, expertly and dutifully pressing along the tube behind the testicles to empty him, milking carefully and sucking him dry. She swallowed the thick clotted sperm with a gulp as Milan wiped his penis on her golden plaits and left her kneeling, his turbulence calmed.
Joining us with a satisfied smile and kissing Eliska, he agreed with his divine Mistress.
“She sucks well and merits her red band. Her breasts are almost as inviting as the whore’s over there.” He showed no resentment or disappointment.
Eliska laughed, raising her glass to him. “The bailiffs inform me that she is among the best in bed, under the whip and even enjoys a taste of sex-torture if properly bound. You spend too much time with me, my love.” She fondled his flagging sex. “Now drink. I promise you can have her for as long as you wish - but next week. I shall lend you my own crop, my dearest love. We must not keep Premsyl and Ladislav waiting too long. And afterwards you can fuck me for as long as you like - until daybreak...”
As we took our places again, Eliska stopped before the girl, still sitting on her heels.
“What is your name, slut?”
“Ottla and it please your Majesty.” The girl now was erect on her knees, not daring to look her owner in the eyes. She was a magnificent specimen of robust peasant flesh.
“Well, you are attractive as slaves go and you suck with energy and devotion. After your flagellation next Tuesday - which I cannot spare you since you have been reported by my kitchen overseers as lazy and grossly impertinent and since you are now promised to my lord Milan, I shall have you pierced and ringed to serve me as a chambermaid. You will be clothed by Bojena in tall slippers, red hose, ribbons tied tight to hold your clumsy breasts and, of course, the scarlet neck band. For the moment I do not want manacles.”
The Gräfin paused to lift the girl’s head. “Tell me, have you made love to a woman?”
The blood drained from Ottla’s features as she heard what seemed to be a question and a veiled accusation. All is accusation and retribution here, Nephew!
She stammered out a few words which became clear to me from Eliska’s reply.
“Sleeping with your sister and fondling each other! That does not count. I mean full, voluptuous sex. You will go to Radka and ask her to explain exactly what is expected of you when you are called to service me. And I suggest you listen very carefully with those sweet ears of yours. If you prove unimaginative or clumsy, leave alone unresponsive, then I shall just have to entrust you to Sebastian for a night in his cellar.”
“Oh, Mistress, please!”
“Very well then. So listen to Radka as to how you must behave. If you make love as a sex-slave should, you will come to little harm.”
It was fascinating to watch and listen to this exchange; Eliska was evidently quite attracted to the servant and here she was, in the midst of a formal dungeon session, actually selecting a girl to sleep with her and participate in her nightly orgies.
“Do you frig yourself, girl?” she asked nonchalantly. Again Ottla paled like chalk.
“Never, and it please your gracious Majesty. Only when the bailiffs make me do it before them. But never by myself, I swear, not since I was brought to the castle.”
“Good. Now, as agreed, you will be whipped on Tuesday after the evening Angelus and pierc
ed in the same session. On second thoughts,” here Eliska gave the girl’s navel an offhand prod, “I think a ring should be pierced in here. Yes certainly. And so that means the body should be fully pierced for the eight rings: through both the inner and outer cunt lips, clitoris-hood, nipples and navel.” As Eliska enumerated the points, she touched each sensuously and almost clinically. “Yes, that makes eight rings leaving aside the lobes of the ears. But on no account do I want the nose, lips or tongue touched.”
I listened aghast at the dispassionate way she described how she wanted or did not want her slave to be equipped. Ottla paid heed to every word, still on her knees.
“I shall attend your flagellation on Tuesday with the lord Milan, of course, as I have promised your body to him. Then on Saturday night you will present yourself, naked but fully ringed, to Bojena, the head chambermaid, for your first night of service. Do you understand?”
Ottla bent forward and kissed the toe of her Mistress’s riding boot in pure gratitude at her sudden - if frightening - graduation from a simple domestic to one of the most sought-after posts in the castle’s female hierarchy. Not only now was she to serve with a dozen or so other colleagues as a chambermaid within the sanctum and enjoy the privileges this implies but also she had been selected personally by her Mistress for direct sexual duties. Such an honour was well worth a beating and a few moments of pain.
Then, as so often here, the unexpected occurred: Eliska raised the exquisite girl to her feet and, sliding her hand between the thighs to cup the bulge of the sex, planted a long kiss on the girl’s quivering mouth.
“She has promise,” my hostess remarked casually, “and is probably passionate and fierce in bed and reliable under the scourge.” She regained her throne. “Come, let us proceed.”
As we took our places, I watched Ottla join her companions against the wall; she was blushing from the crown of her head to her breasts at the distinction bestowed on her and was met with wide-eyed stares of incredulity, astonishment and possibly jealousy.
I found my chair. Before us, amid the scents of the flowers and the unfathomable smell of the dungeon and sex, Maryska stood, still blindfolded, glistening with fresh oil, stretched from her fingertips to her toes in chains, tensely awaiting the flagellation she was now to receive at the hand of Ladislav. Something told me that, despite the pain that the whip was about to bring to her flesh, the girl seemed to give herself erotically to her flagellator, conscious of her nudity and the sexual desire she stimulated in him. She awaited the scourge, lusting for that mixture of pain and pleasure she had now been taught to enjoy.
So much for now, Nephew. The Passau rider leaves tomorrow at dawn with my official reports and brings you this letter as well as one for your dear cousin Margretlin.
With your uncle’s love, Huldrych
Letter The Fifteenth
Having caught up with my work and not yet summoned to see the Bishop, I can resume my narration which is not easy because there are so many things happening here.
The pageantry of the session continued. Ladislav’s preparations seemed to take an interminable time while he himself rather than Sebastian positioned Maryska; his fastidious attentions to the naked body contrasted curiously with the effective and almost effortless manner in which Sebastian dealt with his victims. It must also be an agonizing ordeal for the girl as she is made to wait and wait for the first hiss of the whip.
Ladislav was superb in a jet-black velvet doublet adorned with ermine at the collar and wrists and the spurs on his high riding-boots (not unlike Eliska’s) gave off the same silver glitter. The handsome bearded face was half-hidden by the silken mask over his eyes, below which hung a golden chain over the broad shoulders with a pendant medallion carrying the letter E.
Maryska’s rigid nakedness revealed an almost white pair of buttocks except for dark still healing streaks earlier lashings had left; but the flesh was virtually unspoiled, quite ready to receive more. The preparatory reddening had by now faded though not the effect.
But it was the state of the breasts that startled one; they were heavily marked and seemed to throb still with pain. It was the tumid nipples that Ladislav took in hand first, hooking the rings to a chain which he secured to the pillar in front of the sweating nude.
Just as he had tugged out the breasts, Ladislav now chained the sex-labia to the column. Standing back, the man tested the bondage; with a sharp tug he made Maryska jerk and totter on her toes, throwing out her rump as far as she was able to alleviate the traction on the clitoris-flesh. Then Ladislav called for his whips.
Sebastian handed him both: one consisting of a long thin length of rawhide tapering off into a tip of braided cords; the second a bunch of slender thongs of medium length. (Later Ladislav admitted to me that these were his favourites, that he had had them made specially and that he had used them on scores of naked women.)
Holding the long scourge and the chain in his left hand, the thongs in his right, Ladislav looked lasciviously at the buttocks before him, brandishing his huge erection that pulsated with craving and lust ‘to strap and thrash the bitch of a whore’, as he told me later. The fatal bell rang out in the silent dungeon. We sat back to watch one of the most erotic spectacles, according to my hosts, that it is possible to invent for the eye.
Each jerk of the chain held in Ladislav’s hand caused Maryska to succumb to the sudden drag on the cusp of her cunt (I use the word, Nephew, since they all use it in front of me now) and as the clitoris is tugged down, the buttocks rear up towards the flagellator. At each lash of the thongs, the nates and thighs clenched and began to redden.
Ladislav flogged the oiled mounds slowly and deliberately from left to right and right to left, standing squarely behind the body as if he were about to ram in between the buttocks.
Despite at least a dozen strokes, Maryska seemed to concentrate more on the delicate balance she needed to safeguard her nipples, labia and clitoris than on fighting the lash itself. After a long silence, her first moans greeted the slash of the leathers which only encouraged the man to whip further round the thighs. He appeared to be engaged in a sacred function or duty. And he relished every moment.
After some thirty strokes, the whole rump and hip area was scarlet and I could see Eliska caressing herself gently, wistfully watching her love scourging with the same long slow strokes she herself always employed. Then Ladislav changed whips, looping the thongs over his erection, and immediately displayed his mastery with the rawhide. (I gleaned later in the session from Premsyl that his colleague had practised its use with Sebastian in the vault on an unfortunate serf-girl caught stealing and condemned to three sessions of thirty-three lashes. This contributed to his elegance and ease with the whip.)
Virtually only the extreme end of the whip was now used although occasionally the man made the plaited leather curl round the nude to lash the front of the body, avoiding the tight lateral chains and the column to which they were stretched. Regularly the vicious tip licked over the rump like an adder’s forked tongue, searing a purple welt in the form of a V as it flicked again and again over the epidermis. The buttocks, particularly, reacted violently, clenching and releasing as if they had a life of their own.
Maryska began to writhe, and by the tenth or twelfth slash her cries filled the dungeon, swelling into short high-pitched screams. Whatever sexual thrill the girl was experiencing, the pain was evident and seemed to prevail. Suddenly she subsided in her fetters, scourged to the edge of her resistance. And yet the inner thighs were wet.
The already scarlet surface of the nates, and the flanks of the hips and the thighs below, were superimposed with violet forked lines furrowed into the flesh where the rawhide bit. The flagellation was one of pure virtuosity. She hung there so naked, beautiful and docile, it was as if she was begging for more of this treatment to satisfy the man’s erotic quest.
Then the bell rang in Eliska’s fing
ers.
Ladislav had finished with her, his forty strokes delivered as he had wished. Maryska’s head fell forward and I saw her clenching her teeth to fight back the tears seeping from beneath her blindfold. The perfumes on her body seemed to be intensified by the sweat creeping down her flanks - the odour of leather, flesh and sex mingling with the smell of the flowers in the dungeon. I admit, Nephew, it was a strangely erotic mixture...
I turned my attention to the group. Eliska was evidently extremely excited and flushed. As she gave pleasure to both Premsyl and Milan on each side of her throne, the latter’s penis swelling anew in her grasp as he watched the whipping. Caressing both men’s erections, she fondled the organs lovingly, now and then sliding one into her mouth to bring it to the point of spending; as she worked on them, her lovers excited her, their fingers delving into her vagina, twisting and kneading the clitoris, then chafing the nipples, probing into her mouth and tonguing her ears.
As they kissed her open mouth, Eliska heaved in the seat and came. She orgasmed and discharged with a cry of utter ecstasy; the howl of rapture must have reached the upper chambers and even the courtyard. She fell backwards, clenching her thighs, as the two men pursued their masturbation. As if in a trance, she motioned them towards Maryska with a weak gesture; they approached the fettered body and directed their long jets of boiling sperm over the whipped rump, and as it splashed, Sebastian dutifully smeared the heavy cream over the welts until it dried like a light veil of silk.
I thought Ladislav would either make a further call on Eliska to relieve him or at least summon one of the serving-girls to empty him, but to my surprise he also turned to the exhausted victim. Slowly he parted the buttocks he had flayed to reveal the dark rose in the white unwhipped cleft, and equally slowly he thrust into the slack sphincter until his thighs were pressed against the crimson buttocks and he was firmly within.
Holding her loins by grasping the muscles of the inner thighs, he reamed the passage. Alternating deep and shallow penetrations, sometimes withdrawing from the rim to leave the sphincter gaping, awaiting the return of the shaft, Ladislav signalled to one of the serving-slaves - a young girl not unlike Ottla, a long-haired, brown-skinned beauty with broad hips and plump breasts. She curtsied low to her Mistress and to her Master who continued to thrust into the rump. She was practically nude except for the narrow neck band, white satin mask, white stockings and long red gloves reaching to her armpits. How carefully these people select and clothe their slaves. She looked superb against the dark walls of the dungeon.
Eliska Page 8