Lady Bethany Fenwick knelt on the floor in the dog kennel, naked, moaning, tears
trickling slowly down her cheeks. They were tears of shame, tears of pain, tears of
misery. Her lightly curled hair, now filthy, was gathered up above her, bound in cord.
Were it not for the insistent pull she would have long since collapsed or fallen over. Yet
over time the pull had gotten worse, or seemed to, as she had sagged under the exhaustion
of her misery and pain.
Her ankles and feet ached fiercely as she sat on her heels. And she so longed to
ease her heels apart and settle closer to the floor. Oh the comfort that would be! Yet she
could not, for her hair was pulled up tightly. Yet even so, she seemed to be sagging more
and more. Perhaps, she thought, the cord was slipping slowly upwards along the tail of her
hair, or stretching, or her hair was stretching. But as time passed and her body longed to
obey gravity and slide lower she found herself easing down further, her heels gradually
sliding off to the sides so that her buttocks came nearer to the floor.
That, of course, presented its own problem. That thing Caroline had pushed into
her, which she could now see in the flickering candlelight was a round, wooden, tube
shaped device, was lodged within her body. And the lower she moved, the deep it pushed.
She was afraid it had already taken her virginity, though she had not felt that tell-tail
spike of agony that her aunt had spoken about.
It did not even hurt that much now. It was more a dull, throbbing ache. Her tongue
hurt more, and her nipples were crushed. Worst was that part of her privates caught in the
clamp. The dull ache there was deep and ever-present, making her entire lower regions
tremble and quiver with the pressure of it.
And then, slowly, her ankles shifted apart, the pain forcing her downwards. She
gasped as she sank suddenly, perhaps a half inch. Then cried out again as she slid down
another half inch. She could feel the thing horribly deep inside her, and wondered if she
might die on it, impaled, like those captured by the Mongols in those old stories her
governess used to tell her about.
“Ungghh!” she groaned, her body slouching lower. “Ohhngggh!”
She was sweating badly in the heat and the pain. Across the room, one of the dogs
watched her, its eyes glowing faintly in the candlelight. She gasped for breath around the
clamp at the front of her mouth, her wrists pulling feebly against the shackles.
The pain inside her mounted as she sank lower still, and then there was a sudden
sharp jolt of pain, and she felt something give way within her. She slid down, almost
sagging, and felt the round thing sliding up fully into her body. She collapsed with a
groan, her privates now touching the cold floor, her opening stretched wide around the
wooden tool.
Yet the pain had been slight, and though she ached deep inside her, the wondrous
relief her ankles and feet felt made it seem quite worthwhile. She groaned in relief at
the absence of that terrible ache and pressure, the backs of her feet now flat on the
floor, her heels pressed against the sides of her buttocks. Oh it felt so good, that
ease!
She spent long hours kneeling there in misery and discomfort, wondering quite
forlornly, what was to become of her. Then the door opened, and heavy feet came down the
stairs. She rolled her eyes upwards, hoping it was Penelope rather than Caroline. And then
felt a shock run through her at the sight of that man, the one from before, and his eyes
feasting upon her naked flesh.
She pulled frantically against the shackles, but of course, was helpless to do a
thing, to move, even to order him back. He chuckled and went back up the stairs, and she
heard the sound of the door closing.
Her heart beat faster and faster, and she felt a sense of wild panic. Yet, what
could he do to her, she thought, at least, without releasing her, and that would surely
get him into far too much trouble.
He came back down and squatted before her.
“Well now, aren’t we a charming picture,” he said with a toothy grin. “Are we being
punished?” he said in a throaty purr. “I hear you’ve been a naughty girl.”
He reached over and touched the clamps around her nipples, then pulled on one and
shook his head. “I bet that hurts some.”
His hand traced down her taut belly and in between her legs, and she cried out as
he touched the clamp there, then ran his finger along the taut lips of her sex as they
gripped the wooden tool.
“Shall I give you a little ease?” he whispered.
He undid the clamp and it came free. Instead of a relief of pain, however, the pain
redoubled, and Bethany squirmed and moaned and twisted as it flared wildly within her.
“It will ease soon,” he said in a comforting voice.
And then he undid the clamps from her nipples as well.
Just as with the other, this caused a wild surge of pain, but he was correct in
that the pain between her legs was already starting to dull, to fade. Then his finger
traced lightly across that aching, swollen part of her, that hard little button which had
been so callously crushed in the clamp. She felt a dull ache, but also a strange tingling.
He licked his finger, smiling at her, then stroked it across that place again, rubbing
lightly. The ache grew, but the tingling grew faster and more powerfully.
Bethany moaned and rolled her eyes. She tried to ease away, but the only movement
she could make was to rise upwards a little, to rise upwards on her heels. And when she
did this he seized the round tool and pulled it down, then thrust it up again. She twisted
her head, trying to order him to desist, but he moved the thing in and out, and then in
and out, as his thumb stroked over that hard, tingling little place at the top of her
opening.
Bethany felt a wild animal surge of passion and hunger, far more than she had felt
at her own hands, and so strong she reeled from it. He stroked the thing up and down as
his thumb caressed her, and then he bent and began to lick at one of her nipples.
Her nipples were now tingling with the relief of their release. No longer crushed
in the clamps, they felt immensely more sensitive than they ever had, and when the man
closed his mouth around one and began to suck and lick at it Bethany felt like screaming
out loud at the strange, dark hunger which spread through her body.
She rolled her hips wantonly, gasping and panting, wide-eyed, the passion and
hunger boiling over inside her so that her very mind seemed ready to lose itself. Then he
moved behind her and she felt him pulling on her hair, on the tail, forcing her upwards,
then up higher> She cried out in pain, forced up onto her heels, straining to go higher
though her legs were strapped tightly, ankle to thigh.
His hands dropped to her buttocks and lifted them upwards, raising her, tilting her
forward on her knees with her feet jammed up beneath her buttocks. There, he balanced her
precariously on her knees, held from falling over by her hair.
He spat, and spat again. Bethany did not understand why. Then she felt something
against her buttocks, something hard and warm, yet soft. It was slippery, and pushed
against – against – her bottom. She gasped, eyes rolling back as she felt it push harder,
felt it slowly begin to penetrate. What was he doing!?!?
His body was pressed in close against her now as he drew her backside in against
him. He was sitting on his own heels as he pulled her back and down onto – it was his
manhood. Bethany almost fainted when she realized what was touching her. Yet why was he
pushing it into her backside! That wasn‘t what it was for! This wasn’t what any sane
person did!
Panicked, shocked, totally flustered, yet completely helpless, she could only
whimper and moan and tremble helplessly as the man’s manhood, feeling as thick and long as
the thing pushed into her body, began to push up into her bottom.
“That’s it, my lovely,” he sighed. “What a tight, warm little bottom you have.”
His hands slid around her and began to fondle her breasts as he worked his hips up
and down, slowly working his manhood up into her backside. Bethany’s eyes continued to
stare wildly, bulging, as he plucked at her aching nipples and drew her slowly back down
onto his stiff erection.
“Ngghh! Mghggh!” she moaned.
His hand slid between her legs and he began to stroke her there, to rub and massage
that aching little spot which had been caught in the clamp. Beth thought she was surely
going out of her mind, that such horrible, perverted treatment would drive her insane and
she would spent the rest of her days in an asylum. Yet the pain in her bottom was minor,
and as he massaged her between the legs that pain almost seemed to grow pleasant.
The length of his manhood seemed endless as it pushed up deeper and deeper into her
body. She felt stuffed full, felt as though she were being stretched out of all ability to
survive. Yet deeper and deeper he pushed, despite her whimpers and moans and cramps and
aches.
His hands moved freely over her body, kneading her breasts, stroking and rubbing
her aching nipples, then sliding down to that terrible juncture between her legs and to
massage that part of her which seemed to be so exquisitely sensitive to the touch.
Bethany’s stomach lurched and her breath caught at the surge of sensation coming from
there. She breathed in short, desperate little gasps and pants and moans interspersed with
yelps of pain whenever he thrust his erection in too deep, too high, too fast.
“Hot little slut,” he growled, his breathing warm against her throat.
Then he bent and began to chew and lick and kiss the nape of her neck! Bethany’s
eyes were enormous pools of blue as she felt his teeth closing on her flesh, felt him
suckling at her as his tongue stroked obscenely across her skin.
“I can think of better things for you to do with that tongue,” he said with an
obscene little chuckle.
Then he thrust sharply and Bethany cried out as she felt even more of his long
manhood thrust up into her aching belly. And finally she felt the prickly hair of his
groin pressing in against the tight, sensitive skin of her inner buttocks as he apparently
succeeded in working the entire thing up within her overstuffed anus.
“Ahh, I love the way you squeeze my prick,” he groaned, fingers digging into her
breasts.
It was a nightmare for Bethany, and yet more than a nightmare. Despite the shock
and horror of being so obscenely ravished, of being buggered like some cheap tavern boy,
her body felt a purring delight in the touch of his body, the feel of his hands as they
danced across her flesh. Her nipples were hard and tingling, her breasts full and
throbbing, and every time he touched them she wanted to swoon with delight. Even worse was
that hot, aching place between her legs, with its flashing flood of hot fire.
And now she felt him sliding back out – slowly, oh so slowly, only to thrust back
in again with a violence that drew a squeak of pain from her open mouth.
“I love noble women,” he groaned, “Never had their arses properly opened by their
husband or father.”
He began to work his member in and out, up and down, and for the first time in her
life Bethany felt the sliding motion of a man’s cock as it entered and left her body. It
was obscene and revolting to be taken in the backside like that, and yet still her body
seemed to be feeling an echo of pleasure from every deep thrust. His hands roughly pawed
and massaged and stroked her, and she felt the rising tide of arousal despite her shame
and misery.
Why was her body betraying her!? Was she such an incredible slut that any man’s
touch, however against her will, however unpleasant the man, would bring her to such a
state?!
Bethany closed her eyes and tried to pray to God that he might guide her, tried to
pray to the Mother that she might shield her with her virginal innocence, tried to
concentrate as hard as possible on the Holy Light. Yet all the while the man behind her
was working his stiff cock up and down inside her body, slobbering over the nape of her
neck, pawing at her breasts and groin, and her body continued to shimmer with a strange,
unholy light, a crackling, tingling flare of power as though she were in a lightning
storm.
She felt the slickness between her legs where the man’s fingers stroked her so
intimately. She was sweating, sweating heavily now, and at first mistook it for more, but
then realized it was something – else. Yet she did not understand what it could be. It
made her feel slippery there, however, and made the man’s fingers feel that much more
delicious.
He eased back on his heels, easing her down with him, and she shuddered and cried
out in pleasure as lowering her body dropped her down onto the thick rounded tool which
had been pushed up inside her. It had slid halfway out and now it drove in deep as her
body exploded onto an entirely new level of wildfire sensation.
“Like that, don’t yeh, slut?” he said with a chuckle.
He bit into the nape of her neck again, his fingers stroking at her sex, his hips
working harder and faster so that her entire body jerked and shook from the force of the
impact. His big manhood churned away in her belly in a way which she was sure was tearing
her up inside, despite the lack of pain. But she didn’t care. Bethany found all her cares
and fears melting away like snowmen in a hot day – a very hot day.
Her head lolled back as her body was swept by a wave of sensation so powerful she
nearly swooned. Her hips were working, bucking back, and her head was trying to roll, her
body trying to jerk and shake in time to his thrusts. The power inside her grew greater,
the sensation more intense. It shocked and delighted her, and she clung to it with joyous
delight until suddenly it spiraled upwards and exploded.
She cried out, back arching, eyes rolling back in her head, her muscles convulsing
as the intense shockwave rippled back and forth within her body. She couldn’t think,
didn’t want to think. She could only tremble and shake in the stormwave of pleasure that
had engulfed her body.
The man eased back, his cock softening before slipping free of her violated bottom.
He groaned as she slumped weakly, slack-jawed, moaning herself in the strange, languorous
afterglow of pleasure.
“You were a good fuck, lass,” the man said as he buttoned his trousers. “We’ll have
to do it again some day.”
He moved around before her and then picked up the wooden clamps. She was hardly aware
what he was doing until he gripped her nipple, placed one around it, and then began to
tighten the screws. She moaned and tried to pull back, but of course, could not. The clamp
tightened further and she hissed and gasped in pain, then did the same as he placed the
second, then third back in place.
He stood up, winked at her, and then left, closing the door behind.
It was only a very little while later that Penelope arrived, all prim and proper in
a lovely gray morning dress, her shoes clicking on the stone. She smiled at Bethany, then
reached down to lightly pet the side of her head.
“And how do you find the morning, milady?” she asked in a quite ordinary voice. “I
trust the night was bearable.”
She frowned and then squatted before the helpless girl, cocking her head to one
side in a way which made Bethany fear that somehow she might sense that a man had been
there, that she would ask pointed questions and learn of Bethany’s humiliation. But
instead her eyes traveled down her front, and she reached out with a gloved hand and
gripped the base of the wooden tool which had been inserted into her body.
She tugged on it, and Bethany blushed deeply as it slid slowly out, astonished, as
well, at the pleasure she felt down there as the thing caressed the lips of her sex.
“Well, well, we’re all wet,” the girl said with a little smile. “I take it you have
been enjoying yourself.”
She pulled gently on the tail of hair sprouting from the top of Bethany’s head, and
thus forced her to rise off her heels. Then she slid the wooden thing out of her body.
Bethany was astonished by the sight of it, by the length of it. She blushed deeply
as the girl showed it to her and she realized it was carved into the semblance of a male
penis. It was that which had been impaling her for so long! How perfectly shameful!
“Perhaps you’d like a real one instead, eh?” the girl said suggestively.
Bethany blanched. She certainly would not. Yet her mind was filled with uncertainty
and even fear as she remembered so vividly how she had reacted to the insertion of just
such a male member into her bottom. How would she react if it went into its proper place?
“Well I see no blood, “ the girl said. “Only cream, so I discern that you are no
virgin at all, my lady.”
Bethany scowled at that. She was too a virgin! She had never had a man, not ever!
How could she not be a virgin!? Then a small part of her remembered a few whispered tails
with friends about the possibility some girls did not even have a visible sign of their
virginity to present to their husbands on their wedding night. It was rumoured that those
who were especially active, and those who rode horses in any way but side-saddle could
somehow break their virginity and hardly even notice. Was that what she had done?
“Now then, I have to tell you that Caroline quite disliked your outburst the other
night, and she has given me strict instructions in what she terms your restoration. Either
I’m to get results or she will undertake the task herself. And I’m quite certain you would
prefer me than her. Correct?”
Bethany tried to nod her head, but of course, could not. It did not matter, for
Penelope’s head was down as she concentrated on undoing the straps binding her legs.
“The main requirements of this are to be obedience and discipline, and both are to
be absolute. Any deviation from either is to be instantly met with punishment.
Furthermore, until this restoration is complete no one is to speak your name in any
context. I and the servants have all been given strict instructions from Caroline. You are
henceforth given the name “whore” to use until she finds a better one for you.
Bethany flushed red and felt a rising tide of fury and indignation but the girl
only shook her head and smiled.
“It’s no good feeling this is unfair, you know. Unfairness is a part of life and if
you were born into it as I was you’d long have become acquainted with that. Caroline is
determined to acquaint you with what it is like to have no blood, to have no power, no say
in anything whatsoever. I am quite sure you will find the experience educational, if not
pleasant.”
She had risen as she spoke, untying the cord from Bethany’s hair so that it fell
about her, then undoing the clamp from her tongue, which was swollen and aching and dry.
“Don’t try to speak. In fact, don’t speak at all. Caroline has stated you are not
to speak unless spoken to, unless specifically given permission. If you speak in any
fashion you are to be punished.”
Bethany had sat back and with groans of pain, extended her stiff legs. Now Penelope
massaged them with nimble fingers, rubbing and stroking the soft, aching skin.
“Can you walk?” she asked.
“I…I think so,” Beth gasped.
“Tsk. Did I not tell you not to speak?”
“But …”
“I did not ask you to speak. I asked you if you could walk. The answer to that is
to nod or shake your head. If you utter another word I’ll take a crop to your bottom.
Don’t look at me like that either. I’m merely a dumb commoner, remember, obeying orders
from her mistress. I’ve no more say in them than you.”
She gripped Bethany’s arm and pulled. “Now on your feet, whore.”
Bethany stumbled, in part due to stiff legs, in part due to the use of the word,
but she managed to stand, and Penelope released her, then reached for an object on the
nearby table and clipped it to the front of her collar. It was one of the dog leashes.
Beth stared at it in surprise and disbelief.
“Now follow,” Penelope ordered, turning for the stairs.
Wrists still shackled behind her Bethany followed. She had little choice. She
grunted and gasped as her stiff legs and sore knees made it difficult to climb the few
stairs, but the pull from the leash actually made it easier. They walked out into that
dark hall, up to a door, and then out through it and into a more well-traveled corridor.
She could smell and hear the sounds from the kitchen, and gasped as Penelope led her in
there.
Everyone inside, of course, was dressed properly, most especially the girl before
her. They were all ignorant commoners, little more than peasants off the farm. And there
was she, Lady Bethany Fenwick, naked and shackled, dirty and bedraggled and being led
among them by a girl a head shorter than her pulling her by a dog lead. Never, surely
never had any woman in Fenwick history experienced such humiliation, such degradation.
They stared, of course, and several of the younger girls giggled, while the younger
men showed an obvious intense arousal. Face flaming, Bethany tried to ignore them all as
Penelope led her past them and out into a rear courtyard.
“Kneel here,” Penelope ordered.
The courtyard was narrow, with the high, ancient stone wall of the castle on one
side, and the narrow windows of the keep looking down from the other. Bethany knelt before
a block of stone which, upon kneeling, rose to approximately the height of her hips. On it
was a bowl of porridge, and Penelope inclined her head. “That is your breakfast. You do
not require your hands to eat. Simply lean forward and drink from the bowl.”
Bethany stared at her helplessly. Whyever would she do that? Why was she here instead of
in the keep in the dining room? Why could she not use her hands? It was absurd and unfair!
Yet she was not permitted to speak, and even as she considered protest she saw the girl
fingering a short crop which Bethany had not noticed hanging from the side of her dress.
Swallowing, and then feeling the hunger within, she bent and put her lips to the
porridge. It was at best lukewarm, but she was famished and so downed it all quite
rapidly.
From then it was back through the kitchen and then not far from it she was put on
all fours, her shackles locked together before her, and instructed to scrub the floor.
This was particularly shameful because for the first time she was in a well-traveled
corridor, and from time to time one of the servants would walk by and snicker or smirk at
seeing her scrubbing her way up the length of the corridor in the nude.
It was tiring, exhausting, and she was not a woman used to physical work. Doing a
small section of one corridor was one thing, but doing a long, traveled hall quite
another. Especially as the servants continued to walk back and forth to the point she
suspected they had no real business there but were simply enjoying her humiliation. Worse,
of course, were the young men, who would linger behind her, or try to come up behind her
as she scrubbed, with her bottom in the air and legs apart.
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