The long, hot days of summer began to slip away into a mellow autumn. The first anniversary of my capture and sale into slavery was rapidly approaching. On the fifth of September it was a year to the day on which I had been sold to Lady Athelnia de Faverley, Countess Schranzenberg. She had paid the huge sum of a thousand Reals at the auction of captured prisoners that had taken place in the market square of the village where I had been brought to after being taken captive. This was in the aftermath of the most recent battle in the long series that had played out between our two provinces for more than a century.
On that anniversary the weather was very unlike a year previously. Today a cold wind snaked it’s way through the modest mountain range that marked the northern border of the province bringing with it an early hint of the colder days that lay ahead. The past year had represented for me no less than a total re-education with regard to the values and mores imparted to me by the society of my birth and upbringing. Central to this had been the acceptance by me of the principle that a female could possibly hold a position of authority over a male. Within my own society this would have been anathema and any male prepared to accept such an arrangement would have been ostracised, it would have been no exaggeration to have called it a strict taboo.
But not only had I accepted this very different structure of a society but actively embraced it. I knew that my own people would have been shocked had they known that I had the opportunity to escape my owner and to have returned home but had failed to take advantage of my situation. Nevertheless it was exactly this failure to do so that was responsible for the position that I now found myself in. It was true that my status was still that of an owned slave and that Lady Athelnia could, in theory at least, do anything that she chose with me. But the bond that had grown between us over the year that had just passed had grown strong on the basis of my very willing submission. In short I had become totally in thrall to her, a very willing participant in the series of power games that had been played out between us. To have said that I enjoyed them would have been no exaggeration.
As the year had progressed I had been granted many small privileges as a reward for my acceptance of my mistress’ rights over me. The corporal punishments, some quite challenging in their length and severity, still came on a regular basis as did the pursuit hunts. Over the period of her ownership I had been privy to Lady Athelnia’s most private thoughts on several occasions and, as such, had gained a profound insight into her needs and desires in this respect. I had come to understand the deep feelings of satisfaction that she experienced at the moment of the conclusion of a successful hunt. These chases inevitably ended with me being driven to ground by my mounted mistress, magnificently clad in one of her many black leather riding outfits. Quite why these experiences had come to be a source of gratification for myself as well as her still remained something of a mystery to me, their genesis buried somewhere deep within my psyche, maybe in my childhood, perhaps within my very genes. I harboured no doubts whatsoever these feelings that the two of us shared were most uncommon, but this didn’t in any way lessen their strange and vibrant potency.
The single thing that had haunted me over the period of my confinement within the province was this distant vague memory that flitted through my mind from time to time of the Schranzenberg standard, the red and yellow diagonal flag with the black dragon at it’s centre. Occasionally it would almost surface, only to disappear like an elusive butterfly fluttering back into the recesses of my mind once more until the next time it returned to the point where I could almost touch it before receding again. It was very early one morning in the week after the first anniversary that it finally broke surface. I was in that state of half sleep where strange images vie with each other for prominence. This dream produced from my distant past a picture of the soldier who had been thrown from his horse. He lay, unable to move due to the weight of his armour, like a tortoise on it’s back. Emblazoned on his cuirass the same red and yellow insignia. As a young soldier I seized the opportunity and thrust my pike into his body as hard as I could. The sound that came from beneath the visor told it’s own story, the blow if not immediately fatal could lead only to that eventual outcome.
The realisation dawned upon me that in that first battle, many years ago, that the man that I had been responsible for the death of had been Count Schranzenberg, the husband of my owner Lady Athelnia. My mind was a maelstrom of emotion. When my mistress had first asked me if I had ever killed a man in battle I had answered in the negative. Now my realisation was that not only was this answer untrue but that the first of the two soldiers I had killed was in fact the man that she had married as an eighteen year old virgin and had lived with for more than a decade until his death in that battle. Over the previous year I had learned much of her life before my arrival and although she had never spoken directly to me about her husband I had gleaned sufficient to gather that it had not been a period of unalloyed happiness. I now had a difficult decision to make. Did I inform my mistress of this piece of history, or keep it to myself?
Later that week the fine early autumn weather returned and my mistress informed me that the following evening, a Saturday, our next hunt would take place. I decided that I would seek to repeat my successful gaining of the border of my own province, something I had not achieved again after my initial success. However on this occasion things did not go altogether according to plan. Lady Athelnia saw fit not to allow the full half hour and, despite running along the firm sand at low tide I was barely half way across the second sandy bay when I saw the grey stallion rounding the promontory. I knew that the game was up and I would be caught within very few minutes. Sure enough I heard her shout of victory as she drew the long, thick singletail whip and rode past me so close that her mount would have knocked me over, had it not been for the fact that an expertly placed lash caught me diagonally across my bare back and did the job equally well. I lay panting and breathless from my exertion on the damp sand as she drew her stallion to a halt and then came back to where I lay before dismounting.
She stood over me, the merest hint of a smile playing on her lips, still brandishing the heavy tailed whip, the lowering sun reflecting on her black leather riding outfit. She looked more beautiful than ever, the auburn hair cut in the neat bob close to the nape of her slim, elegant neck.
” I am wondering whether you might be reconsidering your life at Schranzenberg, maybe you have a hankering for your home?”
” No Mistress, not at all.”
My answer was a completely honest one. Nothing could be further from my mind than escape.
” I think you need to be taught a lesson.”
Her voice was calm and low, something that served to strike fear into me in a way that a louder delivery never could have done. My mistress was cool and calculating, her delicious cruelty carefully crafted to achieve exactly that effect.
She motioned with her whip towards one of the saddle bags on the flank of her stallion.
” Bring me the contents of that bag.”
I unbuckled the bag and removed four heavy iron spikes, each one almost the length of my forearm and a sturdy mallet.
” Now drive them into the sand, nice and deep, at these points.”
She made four marks in the damp sand with the heels of her boots to form a square with sides roughly three paces long. I took the spikes and the mallet and drove them into the sand down to about half their length.
” Now lie on your back inside the square.”
Obediently I did as she said. She tied a rope around each of my wrists and ankles. I was soon spreadeagled, tightly bound on my back, the sand cool on my body as the sun dropped towards the horizon. I awaited the vicious kiss of her heavy singletail.
” I am going for a canter along the beach,” She announced as the expected whipping failed to materialise. Instead she remounted her steed.
After a few minutes I realised that the tide was coming back in at quite a rate. It wasn’t very long before the first wave began to lap at my feet. I twisted as much as I could to try to see where she was, but the ropes had been tied very securely and all I could see was a patch of gradually darkening blue sky and an area of sand to either side of me. Soon I felt the water beneath my body. It didn’t rise at a steady rate but seemed to reach a high point and then stop. After a couple of minutes another wave pushed the level a little higher. I felt the cool water lapping around my thighs, then a wave splashed across my chest and a little of the salty liquid rose as high as my face. I felt a sense of panic setting in now, I could not see my mistress. What if her horse had thrown her and she was unable to get back to release me? Desperately I tried to raise my head clear of the incoming sea, but there was only so much that I could do, within minutes now the water would be deep enough so that my head was entirely covered and I would surely drown. A wave broke right across me and I felt the taste of the salt as it surged down my throat. I coughed as much back out as I could but I knew that the next one might inundate me totally, filling my lungs. There would surely be no recovery from that.
Suddenly she was there, standing beside me in the surf. Her jewelled dagger was in her hand and suddenly my wrists were floating free. Her girlish laughter echoed across the deserted beach, mingling with the sound of the rippling waves.
” Did you think that I had gone off and left you there to die”.
It was a question that really required no answer. My mistress had known all along what the effects of her actions would be and had played with me for her pleasure. I loved and hated the things that she did to me in equal measure. I had little doubt that her feelings towards me were similarly split. My treatment in everyday life was very good, but on these occasions when we became effectively adversaries both her physical and her mental cruelty was unrestrained.
Unusually after that hunt there was no visit to the dungeon. Possibly because my mistress had become thoroughly soaked as she had waded into the sea to release me from the ropes. At breakfast the next day however I noticed that she wore her high heeled boots. This was normally a sign that a beating was in the offing. As we took our meal however, her seated at the table, me eating from the bowl at her feet, she spoke of the news from Rogoszten. This was the principal seaport of the province and was situated a few leagues further around the coast.
” I had a conversation with the captain of a merchant ship who had just returned from a very long voyage. He told me many interesting things about a distant country that he visited far to the east.”
My mistress continued to explain of her great interest in the very different penal codes of these far off oriental lands. The ostensible purpose of these voyages was for the purchase of spices. A wide variety were used in cooking and food preservation and merchants became rich from their importation but the sailors also brought back many stories of the diverse people and the cultures of the countries that they visited.
” This man described to me a punishment that he had seen given in a public square of one of the seaports. A criminal had been apprehended in the act of theft and had been arrested and bound by a law officer. He told of how the man had his legs crossed and bound before him, his arms tied in a similar manner behind his back. He was fitted with a heavy collar with an iron ring at the throat. A rope was tied to his ankles, looped through the ring and tightened until his face almost touched his ankles, pulling his body into a ball. In this manner the criminal was transported on a cart to the place where the punishment was to be carried out. To be tied in such a manner is considered to be highly humiliating as well as excruciating.”
Her relish as she described the situation was clear. She continued.
” A timber frame in the shape of a letter “A” was erected in the twin square and the criminal released from his bonds, only to be secured to this frame by means of several heavy leather straps that served to hold his body tightly in position. The law officer then took a cane that they call a rattan, cut from the stem of an oriental plant, dried and treated. He then proceeded to beat the criminal until his blood flowed freely.”
My mistress sipped at her breakfast drink, an infusion of hot water combined with ground beans that had become popular within the Schranzenberg nobility. The same merchants had brought it back from their voyages a few years previously, it went by the name of koffie. She placed the bowl back on the able and stood. Picking up the leather riding whip that she carried wherever she went she motioned towards me.
” Dungeon, now!” She pointed in the direction of her private torture chamber. My respite from punishment appeared to have reached it’s end.
On my knees and naked save for the metal locking device that contained my cock and had prevented me having an orgasm for more than a year I entered the dungeon. My eyes adjusted to the low level of light and I took in the newly built timber frame standing in the centre of the stone floor. The splayed legs each had three heavy leather straps which were soon tightly buckled around my ankles, knees and thighs binding my lower limbs tightly to the cool, smooth timber. Mistress bound my wrists tightly together with another strap to which a rope was attached before passing it over the top of the frame and wrapping the end around a cleat. I was now totally immobilised and secure. My body spread and vulnerable, ready to receive whatever beating she might decide upon.
She stood before me. The cane that she held between her outstretched hands was far longer than a normal instrument and very heavy, probably as thick as my index finger.
” My merchant very thoughtfully brought me back a fine example of the punishment cane that is used in those far off lands in which he trades.”
Lady Athelnia raised the cane and drew it across my bare shoulders, allowing me to feel it’s smoothness and it’s weight.
” Soaking in brine for a day not only prevents the cane from splitting but also adds a little more weight, not that it is really needed, I can assure you that it is already very heavy. It’s a good thing that I am a strong, fit woman.”
Our eyes met. I looked into the lucid emerald pools of her eyes and read the strange desire that lay withn. She badly needed to hurt me and I could tell by her demeanour that this was exactly what she intended to do.
” Oh, one more thing.”
She laid down the cane and picked up the strange collection of leather straps. Approaching me she said
” Open your mouth wide.”
The plug, made of a thick leather pad attached to a strap that buckled on my cheeks was forced between my teeth. It filled my mouth to full capacity and, as she adjusted the straps and tightened the various buckles, the whole contraption gripped my head in a firm embrace. Not only did this strange helmet like device stop me from speaking but it would also serve to prevent me from making any sound other than a strangled gurgle no matter to what the extent she used her new cane.
The sound of her boots on the stone floor told me that she was moving into position to begin the punishment that she desired to inflict upon me. The fear grew within me inexorably as I awaited the impact of the first stroke of her cane. I sensed her steadying herself, imagining in my mind’s eye those long, elegant leather clad legs, the heavy cane gripped between leather gloved hands. And then came the soft touch of her cane on my bare flesh as she steadied herself, carefully gauging the distance, preparing to begin her assault. A loud whistle reached my ears as the air was rent by the passage of the rattan cutting through it. Then a wild explosion of pain hit my brain. It was so intense that I could focus on nothing else. My inclination was to scream, to beg my mistress that I should not receive another stroke, but the gag was so effective that no sound came from me apart from a heavily muffled and indistinct mmmppphh.
My body fought strongly against my bonds with a frantic desperation. No matter how much energy I put into my struggles however the wide leather straps that bound me to the frame were more than sufficient to hold me in the place that she wanted me. A second stroke was laid very close to the first, just on the crease between thighs and buttocks causing me to fight once more, a fight that was every bit as futile as the first had been. A third and a fourth stroke provoked still more resistance but after that my struggles began to decline as my strength began to drain away. My mistress was allowing sufficient time between each stroke for my efforts to dissipate my ability to fight. She knew now that she had taken exactly what she wanted from me. My surrender was total, her power over me absolute. All I could do was to endure until her cruelty was satiated, but I knew her sufficiently well to realise that my very desperation would pique her desire to inflict still more pain, she would be enjoying my struggles immensely, the sight of me fighting hopelessly adding immeasurably to her pleasure.
And then the punishment was over. I had lost count of the number of strokes in the frenzy of agony that the caning had produced. My brain felt frazzled and on being released from my bonds and ungagged I merely sagged to the dungeon floor and lay still, my breaths coming in short gasps as I tried to come to regain some measure of composure and come to terms with the experience that I had just undergone. Her boots came within my vision and I felt the soft touch of her gloved hand on the back of my head. She didn’t speak, but as her footsteps receded any words between us seemed somehow superfluous.
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