There was a stone stairway there, and she followed it down, heart thumping,
wondering if she'd find treasure, or perhaps the skeletons of old pirates.
It was an awfully long staircase, she thought, going down past the basement, into
who knew where! When she reached the bottom she searched about, found the outline of a
doorway, and then a small lever which allowed her to pull it inward. She slipped out and
swung the flash about, lighting up a dark stone hall of sorts. Again, like the passageway
it was oddly clean. In fact, the floor looked polished!
That was disappointing, in a way, for it indicated this was no long-lost hideaway,
but something which must be used still. Perhaps it was a wine cellar? The walls were of
rough stone, but the floor was of very clean square stones, and as she moved around, it
reflected the light ahead. To her right and left were broad, rounded doorways in the stone
wall. The right giving onto a large group of wine racks. But it was the left which
interested her.
Both openings were about ten feet or so across, and covered with bars. There was a
doorway, also of bars, in the midst of each, though, and neither were locked. On the wall
next to the opening on the left was a plaque. This is the original underground detention
area of the Lords of Eastwick, and dates to the fifteenth century, when the present
location was occupied by Eastwick Castle.
She pushed open the one on the left and found herself in a long, low room with odd
contraptions spaced about. They were clearly torture devices, and from the evident age of
the wood they looked like the original contrivances. Hannah gazed at them in fascination.
She had always loved history, and the thought of seeing, and even touching, torture
devices which might have been used six hundred years ago was quite exciting.
There was the rack, obviously. There were shackles hanging from the ceiling in
places, perhaps to hold people suspended. There was the wheel, to be bent back upon, and a
whipping post. There was a much-scarred table with shackles spaced at the corners, to be
used for God knows what, and a small cage hanging from the ceiling!
One item made her blush to see it. It was a T-shaped frame, with shackles along the
top and a very phallic looking thing projecting up and out from the vertical portion. She
imagined some poor man – or woman – bound to it, impaled through the bottom, and otherwise
hanging there! How horrible!
Beyond these were the cells, with shackles on the walls. Her heart was beating more
quickly, and she imagined being imprisoned in one of the barred cells, shackled to the
wall, awaiting the tender attentions of the torturer. She stepped into one of the cells,
making sure the door was not the type to swing closed and lock her in, and examined the
walls, looking to see some sort of sign of previous tenants. But perhaps, if they were
shackled they couldn't do anything like scratch off the days on the wall.
The shackles seemed fairly obvious in their operation. They were hinged, and the
locking tongues fit into one of several little holes, depending, she supposed, on the
thickness of the wrist to which they were bound.
She turned and pressed her back against the stone wall, then raised her arms
dramatically, imagining she was locked in there, helpless, perhaps even … naked...
awaiting the cruel attentions of a lecherous jailor!
Perhaps someone like Lord Carling.
She felt a throbbing between her legs which was echoed a moment later by a tingling
in her nipples. She felt a temptation to strip herself, to press her naked body back
against the stone, and let her imagination run riot. But no, there was no way she was
going to risk being exposed to Carling yet again! The man had already seen far more of her
naked body than was anywhere close to being decent!
But.. the heat in her body was rising at the mere thought of doing it, of being
naked, pretending she was a prisoner, and the heat was making her certainty waver. What
were the odds he'd come down just then? But no, not going to happen, she told herself
firmly. The clothes are staying on!
She examined the shackles again, and felt a sense of breathlessness as she slipped
her wrist into one. She closed it, letting the little metal tongues slip into the opening
so it was locked firmly around her left wrist. Then she turned the old key in the stiff
lock to lock it. Her breasts were hot now, her chest tight, as she turned and pressed
herself against the wall, laying her head back.
She had trouble balancing the flash and the key, and so turned around again,
unlocked the shackle, and then set her flash down before returning. The key didn't really
need to be held she realized, for the lock was stiff and it stayed in on its own. She
locked the shackle around her left wrist again, then closed the other one and pressed her
wrist against the wall to snap it together. She didn't try to lock it, however. That
wasn't necessary to her fantasy.
She turned her back to the wall and felt her heart beating excitedly as she looked
out at the bars, then the darkened room beyond. She wished she'd thought to close the door
of the cell, but she'd not wanted to risk it somehow locking. Still, she pulled firmly
against the shackles, wanting to bask in the sensation of ancient imprisonment.
It would have been so much more exciting had she been naked, though. She wondered
if she dared come back in the middle of the night. There were surely no safety alarms down
here to catch anyone's attention.
She ground her bottom against the rough stone, feeling her breathing become more
ragged, and then decided she had had enough and had better get back upstairs before her
absence was spotted. She turned around and tried to open the unlocked shackle around her
right wrist, but the release was very stiff. Her thumb ached as she pressed against it,
and she felt the first sparkle of anxiety. She cursed softly, pressing from one side, then
the other, becoming more anxious as it failed to give.
She shook the chains violently, smashing the shackle against the wall, and the
button gave, the shackle opening at the lever and her arm dropping out.
At the same time, the key dropped out of the other shackle.
She stared at it stupidly, one wrist free, the other still held aloft. It had
fallen to the floor and bounced just off to the side. It was really quite close – just not
close enough.
She closed her eyes in horror. How long, she wondered, until that slimy Lord
Carling went to the library to taunt her, found the passage open, and came down here to
find her locked up like this!?
Then she knew a worse fear. What if he went to the library, didn't see her, and
went away, not going to the back to spot the open passage? Then she could be standing like
this for hours! For hours and hours and hours!
How utterly stupid she was!
She tried to reach the key with her foot, but couldn't quite stretch that far. She
glared at it furiously. Carling would mock her endlessly if he found her like this!
If she could only reach the key, she thought, it should be possible, given how
thick it was, to grasp it in her toes, and then pull it up so she could grasp it with her
free hand. Then she could unlock herself. But try as she would she couldn't quite reach
it.
Then the idea came to her, that if she took off her long skirt, she could swing it
out and drag the key back to where she could reach it with her foot. But she shied away
from that in case Carling showed up.
An hour passed, then another, or at least, she thought that was how long had
passed. It was rather hard to tell. Cursing, she undid her skirt, raising her right knee
high and tugging the skirt down. She stepped out of it with one foot, then the other, then
grasped it by the waistband, tried to sweep the key closer. Unfortunately, the skirt was
not quite long enough, so she put it back on.
The blouse she was wearing was a light summer frock with spaghetti straps. Getting
it off would be easy, except for the part over her left shoulder. She would have to tear
the strap to free herself of it. After waiting what felt like another hour, she gave it a
try. She tore the thin fabric and pulled off the blouse, then, trapping the fabric of the
skirt between her bottom and the wall, she untied it. She then carefully, with just one
hand, tied the strap of her blouse to the belt loop of her skirt.
When she was confident it would hold, she slipped the skirt off, heart thumping at
how nearly naked she was – again! – and the danger of being found just then by Carling.
She held the skirt by its hem and swept it down and in, so that her blouse caught at the
key and pulled it closer. She tried a second time, and the key slid closer still. A third
time brought it within reach of her foot, and she toed off her shoe, then tried to grip
the key with her toes.
She started to raise it, but it fell and bounced away again. Cursing, she pulled
the skirt off her shoulder, where she'd rested it, and slid her hand to the bottom again,
then swung it overhand.
A sudden loud clanging sound made her cry out in alarm. She started, eyes wide, and
the hem slipped from her sweating fingers.
Hannah closed her eyes and shuddered in horror. She gazed miserably at the clothing
piled on the floor just beyond her reach, the key invisible underneath. She could hear
some sort of machine sound now, perhaps the boiler or furnace, and no doubt that sound had
been them starting up.
Hannah felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes. It was so bloody unfair! Why
were these things always happening to her!? It wasn't her fault! She wasn't a pervert or a
fool! Was she!?
Now she was doomed to be caught yet again, practically naked in a very compromising
position!
She looked down at herself miserably. At least she was wearing matching undies. She
was wearing actual panties, instead of the thongs she often wore, and a halter type bra
which completely covered her breasts. They were a matching set, whitish and purple, and
she had purple knee-high socks on beneath. The panties were rather low on her belly, with
very thin straps sliding across her hips, but everything that needed to be covered was.
What she was wearing would be a reasonably modest bathing suit, she tried to reassure her
pounding heart.
What felt like another hour passed, and she groaned weakly. She gave some thought
to removing her bra, somehow tying her shoe to a strap, then swinging it down to get her
clothes back, but the way her luck was going she'd lose them, too and that would be even
more humiliating when she was discovered.
She gloomily wondered if the secret passage door had swung closed again, leaving
them with no idea where she was. Could she be down here for days!? The idea was appalling!
She jerked furiously at the shackle around her wrist, but succeeded only in hurting
herself.
What if she was never found!? Or what if it was weeks later!? Maybe they'd think
she had run off after her recent confrontation with Carling, too embarrassed or angry to
continue? What if her body was discovered weeks or months from now!?
The light began to dim, so slowly at first she hadn't even noticed, then abruptly,
it went out.
She moaned softly, feeling her eyes well up with tears again, then gave up and
started crying, miserable, hopeless, and furious at the situation. That didn't help,
however. She wiped her face and groaned, her legs stiff, her shackled hand cold.
More time passed, she had no idea how much, and then she was shocked as light
blinked on in the outer room. It was yellowish and warm, and she blinked her eyes rapidly
against it, feeling a surge of terrible relief. She didn't care who saw her in her undies
now.
“Hello!?” she cried.
She heard footsteps, and now blushed a little, closing her legs tightly and
crossing her free arm across her chest. Lights she hadn't even known existed came on in
the cell. They were small, candle shaped sconces up on the walls, and she shielded her
eyes against them as a figure moved through the door.
“Quinn, I begin to despair for you,” Carling sighed.
She flushed, both relieved and embarrassed.
“Whatever are you doing?”
“I... the... I was just... and the thing locked and... the key fell out and I
couldn't... and I tried...”
“Did you actually lock yourself up there by accident?” he asked in amusement.
“I didn't bleeding do it on purpose!” she shouted.
He chuckled merrily.
“Unlock me!”
“I don't think you're in any position to be making rude demands, Miss Quinn,” he
said loftily.
She flushed as he came closer and stood before her. He gripped her arm and examined
the shackle around her wrist.
“The key is under my clothes,” she gulped.
He grinned, and looked down at her bra.
“Not under that!” she snapped. “On the floor!”
“Pity, searching in there would be considerably more interesting.”
“Just... unlock me... please,” she said, face flushed.
“However did you lock just one wrist up?”
“I... it's a long story.”
Her relief at him finding her vastly outweighed her irritation at him, and her
embarrassment was tempered by the undeniable fact he'd already seen her in far less.”
“Hmm, so this is supposed to be up here, too. Is that how it works?” he asked
slyly, taking her free wrist and lifting it up beside the first.”
“Yes,” she said nervously, feeling the start of a strange pressure in her groin.
“Like this?”
He slipped the other shackle around her right wrist.
“Hey! What... stop it! Carling!”
He grinned, releasing her wrist, which was once again bound by the shackle.
“You're not the least bit funny!” she snapped, a tightness in her chest.
“Oh but I do amuse myself, and really, that's all that's important?” he said with a
grin, “So what were you doing down here? Snooping?”
“I wasn't...! I was … the door opened up in the library, by accident and I... I
just...”
“Went snooping.”
She pulled angrily against the shackles “I wasn't snooping! I was just...
exploring.”
“And the difference between snooping and exploring is what?”
She glowered sullenly at him. Let him have his fun. She would not reward it.
“As I am the lord of the manor, I suppose I should punish you for violating my
privacy like this,” he said. “Perhaps spending the night down here might suffice.”
“You wouldn't dare!”
His hand reached out and brushed back her tangled bangs.
“Been crying?”
“I was not,” she said, jerking her head aside.
“You have no need to cry, my dear. No harm will befall you in my manor,” he said
softly.
His finger traced down along her cheeks, and she felt a sudden light-headedness as
it continued on under her jaw, and down along the nape of her neck, then across her
shoulder and down.
“L-Lord Carling!” she gulped, as his finger traced the top of her bra.
“Yes, my naughty little prisoner?”
“I-I'm not your... your prisoner,” she gulped.
“No?” He grinned. “Want to be?”
“N-No!”
“Pity. We could have some fun.”
His finger slid down the middle of her bra, between her breasts, over the little
purple bow, and then traced a zig zag line down her taut lower chest and belly.
“R-release me!” she gulped.
“That's not how an employee speaks to the lord and master, wench,” he said.
His finger circled her belly button, then descended across her abdomen to the top
of her panties, and Hannah found herself speechless, a wild, dark storm of confusing
thoughts and sensations swirling and churning within her.
“I-I... you... you can't... you mustn't... t-touch me!”
He grinned, and she gasped suddenly as his other hand slid through her hair, then
jerked her head back tightly. He grinned, then his lips came down on hers. Hannah's eyes
went wide, and she trembled for a long moment, shocked as his lips melded against her own,
as his tongue began to slowly trace her lips, then explore just past them.
She moaned a protest as she felt her pulse racing, felt the dark thrum of heat and
energy between her legs. A wild, scalding wave of excitement and hunger swept around her,
and she felt herself physically tremble against him as his tongue reached hers and began
to trace along it.
Then she jerked violently as his finger, the one which had been tracing the
waistband of her panties, slipped underneath. It didn't go anywhere much, still gently
moving from side to side along her abdomen, but now beneath the waistband. And, as she
whimpered helplessly into his mouth, she felt it slide lower still.
His lips were moving moistly against her own, his tongue swirling and turning and
twisting within her, slowly, as he pulled her head back even more sharply. She groaned
helplessly, head and heart pounding, and then realized her tongue was moving against his.
She moaned, falling into the kiss, her world narrowing to the joining of their lips as
their tongues began to move together.
Then, another wild shock jolted her as his finger slid deeper, the knuckles passing
the waistband of her panties. She felt the pad of his extended finger reach her clit, and
her hips jerked and bucked against him reflexively. His finger slid across her clit, down
along the neat, narrow line of her sex, and as it pressed in along its length she could
feel that she was already wet.
His finger began to rub up and down, pressing down between the lips of her sex,
along her pussy, rubbing lightly up and down, across her clit as she fought to breath
against the force of his kiss.
He jerked her head to the side, and his lips came off hers, only to descend on the
nape of her neck, his teeth biting into her as he sucked as his tongue stroked against
her. Then he released her hair, his fingers sliding along her neck, undoing the clasp of
her bra. The straps collapsed and she shuddered as her breasts were exposed.
His lips descended, and he sucked lightly on one of her already extremely stiff
nipples, then bit at it so she yelped in pain. His hand was fully in the crotch of her
panties now, two fingers rubbing against her as he against sucked and kissed at her
nipple. Hannah lay her head back, gasping, chest heaving, the world whirling around her as
the pressure built up within her skull.
“Oh! Oh God! Oh please! Oh! Uhmmm!” she whimpered, head rolling back.
He chuckled throatily, lips rising from her breast, and his hand came free of her
panties. She blinked her eyes, drawing her head forward again as he undid her bra, then
pulled it completely free of her.
She started to speak but his lips came down on hers again, then his hand plunged
into the front of her panties, rubbing more insistently now. Her hips began to jerk, and
her bottom ground against the wall. The wild storm of sensations built to an awful
crescendo, and she cried out in pleasure as the orgasm burst over her. Her face was
already flushed with heat, else she'd have blushed with shame as he chuckled in amusement.
But that was a minor consideration as her body writhed and her hips ground helplessly
forward against his fingers. Her nervous system was screaming with the intensity of
sensations tearing through her as his fingers stroked skillfully across her clit and along
her sex.
She groaned as he drew back, her head falling back against the stone again as she
gulped in ragged breaths of air. He smirked and backed away, then turned and pulled aside
her clothes, bending to get the key.
He turned back to her, reaching up for her wrists, but then stuck the key into the
wrong shackle.
She was about to tell him that it was the other one that was locked when she felt
and heard the click of the lock, and a hot rush of wary, anxious excitement swept through
her as she realized he'd locked the other one.
He grinned at her and tossed the key behind him.
“Wh-what are... are you … going to do?” she gulped.
“My Lord,” he said, staring down at her.
She flushed again. “I... what are you... are you going t-to do... my lord?”
His grin deepened. “Anything I want,” he purred.
He plunged his hand into her panties again, and then Hannah yelped in shock as he
tore them off her. She squealed and closed her legs tight, but he only smirked and forced
his hand between her thighs. Again he grasped her hair, jerking her head up and back, his
lips crushing hers, and Hannah felt the shock-wave roll through her as his finger pushed
up through the rapidly swelling lips of her sex.
She writhed against the shackles, against his hold, yet as his finger pushed deeper
she felt the heat deepening and spreading out from her lower belly, felt it rolling up her
spine with such power she arched her back involuntarily and cried out into his mouth.
She felt his finger twisting within her, felt it draw back, then push up again,
doubled in thickness. Her breaths became ragged as his tongue forced hers into motion, as
the wild heat enveloped her mind. The cool, rough stone against her soft bare back and
buttocks was a wild contrast to the soft heat of his flesh on hers and the churning
emotions and sensations within her.
His lips drew back, but he held her hair tightly back as his tongue traced a
meandering line along the nape of her neck.
“Nasty little slave girl,” he purred. “You must be punished for your impertinence,
you know.”
His fingers pumped faster, now a third added, and it became almost impossible to
breath, never mind think. Her clitoris felt swollen to twice its normal size, and as his
thumb stroked back and forth across it Hannah's hips began to grind against them with
growing desperation.
He bent his head and sucked heavily on her right nipple, which flared with wildfire
heat. Then he closed his lips on it, slowly, tighter and tighter until she gasped and
moaned and then cried out in pain. His teeth ground back and forth in opposite directions,
then eased off and he licked her tortured nipple before sucking it lightly and
rhythmically.
His fingers pushed up deeper, harder, painfully hard! She felt herself forced up
against the wall, her buttocks grinding against the rough stone, up, and up and up, every
time his fingers were driven up into her burning pussy. She could feel and hear the
wetness of herself as he drove his fingers up inside her, and the raw, wild sensations
tore across her mind and body.
And then she came. Her head jerked back violently, her back arching, her hips
bucking frantically against his plunging fingers as the orgasm ripped through her nervous
system. Her muscles spasmed and her eyes rolled back in her head as she jerked
spastically, gurgling in dazed wonder as the howling storm of sensations battered at her
mind.
She went limp, gasping, chest heaving, eyes slitted, and grunted dazedly as he
abruptly turned her around to face the wall. She gasped, cheek pressed against the stone,
gulping in air, trying to clear her mind of the continuing echo of that incredible storm
of pleasure
Her eyes fluttered in confusion for a moment as she felt his hands jerking her hips
back, and groaned, her breasts grinding against the rough stone as she slid down to the
point her arms were now taut overhead. She felt his hand jerking her thigh apart, and
moaned an uncertain complaint as the shackles dug into her wrists. She had to rise onto
the balls of her feet to ease the strain and then...
She felt pressure against the hot, moist mouth of her sex, pressure that did not
come from fingers. Her eyes widened, and then her mouth as she felt what had to be his
cock pushing into her from behind.
“I-I... I...”
She didn't know what to say, and then she let out a shuddering moan as his cock
forced the lips of her sex back and pushed up into her. It was thick – very thick! She
whimpered at the tight, aching strain at the mouth of her sex, then groaned in helpless
desire as she felt the thick girth of him pushing up through the warm, slick folds of her
sheath, up into her belly, up higher, and still higher, until she ached deep inside.
Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and then he ground himself against her and
she felt the long length of his stiff cock moving around, twisting around inside her lower
belly. She felt his hot breath against the nape of her neck, and then he drew himself
slowly back, then pushed forward again. His right hand slid inward from her thigh, his
long finger extended, stroking across her clit as he began to fuck her.
Ohmygod! She stared dazedly at the rough stone, disbelief sweeping through her that
this was happening, that she had somehow allowed it, that circumstances had created it. It
was simply impossible! She simply didn't do such things!
His cock moved faster, and he bit into the back of her throat, lightly, then
shifted around to the side as she whimpered and moaned. She felt his other hand come up to
cup and knead her breast, pinching the nipple, then grinding it against the rough stone.
“Slave,” he whispered into her ear. “You're going to be my little slave girl,
Quinn. Do you like that thought, little librarian? Have you ever dreamed about being a sex
slave?”
He thrust sharply, distracting her from any hope of a reply, and chuckled as he bit
lightly into her earlobe, then sucked on it. His hips were working fast, now, and she
could feel the growing impact of his hips against her out-thrust buttocks. It was
impossible to think, to speak, to do more than absorb the sensations amid the buffeting
shock of a situation her mind suddenly found so darkly and intensely erotic and arousing
she felt as though her body was simply melting under the raw, carnal heat.
“Ahh!” she cried as he thrust up into her hard and ground himself against her.
He drew back, drew himself out entirely, and rubbed the fat head of his cock up and
down against her sopping opening.
“Do you want it, Quinn?” he whispered. “Tell me you want it, little slave girl.”
“I-I... I do!” she gasped.
She yelped as he slapped her bottom sharply.
“Tell me you want it, slut!”
“I do!” she cried, eyes wide.
“Say `I want it', little slave!”
He fingered her clit and she shuddered and rolled her hips back
“Say it, slut!”
“I wa-want it!” she moaned.
“Then say please, rude girl.”
He slapped her bottom again and the stinging shock cut through the muzzled heat of
her mind.
“I-I... please!” she gasped.
“Please what?”
“Please... fuck me!” she moaned.
Again she let out a cry as he slapped her bottom.
“You forgot to say my lord again, slave!”
“My lord,” she moaned, rolling her hips back wantonly as he continued to rub his
cock along her pussy.
“Please, slave girl,” he said, slapping her bottom again, rubbing his moist, slick
cockhead over her clit.
“Please fuck me, my lord!” she cried weakly.
She shuddered as his head spread her lips apart and then pushed up into her again.
“Oh fuck!” she moaned.
He drove himself balls deep in her hot, throbbing belly, then gripped her hips and
began to pound himself against her, jerking her hips back to meet his thrusts so that
Hannah's body shuddered and shook to the blows of his hips. The world seemed to shake, as
though she were in an earthquake, everything jerking up and down. Only it was her, and not
the wall, as Carling continued to thrust into her with deep, fast, savage strokes.
They hurt, but the pain was intensely arousing somehow, and she revelled in the
hard, violent rutting even as her insides squirmed in a dark maelstrom of sensations.
Then the orgasm flashed into her mind and she cried out again and again as it
overcame her. The raw heat released into her mind and body like a fever dream, and she
felt herself tumbling, lost amid the churning violence of sensations.
Somewhere amidst it all he must have come, as well, for even as she sank limply
against the wall his cock was sliding back out.
“I'll leave you with some time to think about your position, Miss Quinn, and how I
should punish you,” she heard through a filter of dazed, languorous, shell-shocked
numbness.
Then the door was clanging closed and being locked. She heard, uncaring, the outer
door also being locked, and then slowly she groaned and got her rubbery legs under her to
pull her weight off her aching wrists. She stood and with a gasp of effort, turned around
again, putting her back to the wall instead of her belly and breasts.
The lights were out in the cell again, but he'd left some light on in the outer
room so that she could still see. The cell was shadowed but the floor reflected the outer
light coming through the bars and she could see her clothes no longer there.
This is... impossible, she thought weakly, staring out through the bars at the
empty outer room, feeling the rough stone against her backside and the shackles around her
bare wrists.
And yet she was indeed shackled naked in the cell, helpless, having just been...
ravished by the lord of the manor.
Her mind squirmed away from such a foolish cliché, yet she could not ignore the
eroticism of her situation. It wasn't as though she feared Carling, after all. And her
body still thrummed with the aftermath of the intense orgasm he'd given her.
Unbelievable! This couldn't be happening to her!
Yet it was, somehow.
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