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Paul’s voice was softly spoken, ‘Heather’s always had this medieval, castle, forest, thing going on. Not in a romantic way. There’s no room in her mind for chivalrous knights coming to whisk her away to make passionate love in a flowery glade.
No, her medieval fantasy is Thomas Malory turned on its head. Twisted, made darker, colder and, well… real.’
‘Is that why she works here then? To get closer to a sexual fantasy?’
‘Oh yes.’ Paul looked at Clare, his grey eyes fixed onto her own. ‘We have an agreement in that area, Heather and I.’
Clare pulled her dark red cloak tighter around her shoulders, something about his gaze made her feel cold, as if he could see right into her soul. ‘An agreement?’
‘Yes.’ Pulling the hood of his own black cloak over his closely cropped twenty-first century haircut, Paul stood up from his pseudo-medieval chair in the banqueting hall, ‘I would like some help, if you’re interested?’
Clare didn’t reply, but her curiosity was intense. Heather was so withdrawn; a haughty dignity surrounded her petite frame, and her air of contempt for the falsely sanitised view of medieval life they offered the tourists that flocked to the fourteenth century manor, where they all worked as historical figures, both infuriated and intrigued her.
Standing, Clare followed Paul into the now deserted grounds, ‘I think you should tell me what this agreement with Heather is all about. Exactly what help you require.’
The summer evening felt warmer now they’d left the draughty hall and Paul removed his cloak completely, revealing his leather hose, boots and faded cream shirt. ‘I will tell you everything, but ONLY if you agree to help me.’
Clare felt a prickle of apprehension and excitement, how could she refuse him? She had wanted Paul for so long, dreamt about him in the quiet night of her bedroom, but he only seemed to have eyes for Heather. Perhaps he had noticed her after all. Clare sat next to Paul on the grass verge that surrounded the house, and had a sudden feeling that somehow he knew everything, her deepest secrets and desires, even those things she didn’t know about herself.
For years she’d wanted this. Dreamt it. Needed it. Now, with reality so close, Heather’s mind wrestled with her already aroused body. Did she really want to do this?
The overhead clang of an iron gate put an abrupt end to her thoughts. There was no chance of backing out now as she waited in the dank dark. Approaching footsteps resounded down the spiralled stone staircase. The eerie air of the past felt damp against her goose pimpled skin. Her hands bound in front of her, Heather’s rough green tunic was dirty from her imprisonment in the manor’s cellar, far below ground level, where lichens and mosses covered the walls with a slimy soft cushion.
As the footfalls of her Lord got closer, Heather’s breathing quickened with anticipation, making her breasts tighten beneath the scratchy Hessian material. It rubbed against her unbound tits, causing her already hard nipples to chaff.
The cellar, not included in the tourist trail, was usually completely empty, but now a narrow wooden table was positioned along one wall. It was covered in a variety of unlit candles, and beneath it sat a box of equipment. She had wanted this so badly, and Paul had agreed to help, but on one condition.
Heather had hesitated when he’d first suggested an additional element, a surprise. Whilst it was her fantasy, no matter how depraved things got, it was still within her control. An unknown factor however, that changed things. He’d insisted though, claiming it would make the experience even better. Heather hadn’t been so sure, but had eventually agreed. Ever since then, her mind had revolved around what Paul’s extra little something might be.
Heather heard a creak of wood. The door slowly opened, and the room was invaded with a wide beam of light, which stung her gloom adjusted eyes.
Paul came in, his cloak wrapped around his naked form, his hood up. Without acknowledging his prisoner, he used the candle he held to ignite the others. Light swept through the cellar and the aroma of warming beeswax pervaded the atmosphere. Only then did he turn to Heather. Paul approached in two swift strides. Grasping hold of her stubby red pony tail, he dragged her towards the table, causing her bare feet to stumble against the rough stone floor.
‘Kneel.’ He wasn’t Paul in here, her friend, her confident and occasional lover. He was her Lord and Master, and Heather was quick to obey as her knees hit the ground.
He grabbed her chin and jerked her head up. ‘You were caught pleasuring yourself girl. That’s a sin. Punishment, severe punishment is required. Yes?’
So far Paul had followed Heather’s instructions to the letter, and was making her submissive fantasy a living and wonderfully painful reality. Now though, things were more uncertain. Her instructions had been simple; punishment, humiliation, bondage and beating. A total contrast to the normal behaviour of a woman who was usually so sure of herself, so much in control. Now, having already received all those things, Heather’s brain teamed with a multitude of possibilities as she pondered what her Lord would do next.
Paul knew precisely what he wanted to do to this fascinating creature. He wanted to see just how much this woman could take. He picked up a candle from the table and, holding it briefly in front of her wide blinking eyes, began to tease the orange flame inches away from her chest.
Mindful of the possibility of, not just her rope harness, but her skin burning, Heather wriggled, attempting to back into the solid wall behind her away from the flame. Paul laughed and moved the heat closer still so that the shadows of flickering warmth danced across her imprisoned flesh.
As he watched, her right nipple began to pucker in the intense heat, and sweat broke out on her neck and chest. Paul moved the candle to the other breast, causing Heather to bit down hard into her gag, her frightened eyes never daring to stray from the spluttering wick.
Paul lowered himself to his knees and angled Heather’s legs as wide apart as her stretched limbs could go. Then, using the candle light as a guide, he began to examine the folds of her shaved pussy with his thick calloused fingers.
Heather’s moans, caused by both his touch and her discomfort, were stifled by her material restraint. Every stretched muscle across her body stiffened, as her Lord focused the heat onto her triangle.
Paul, keeping the flame as close as possible to her cunt, began to blow softly against her vulnerable flesh. Heather leapt within her bonds as, for a fraction of a second, his soft breath brushed the flame onto her skin. Paul smiled beneath the shadow of his cloak as he did it again, and then again, each time making the flame glance her skin for a little longer, until her sweet mound showed the first signs of being singed and Heathers jerking body made his task impossible.
‘I never said you could move!’ Paul’s voice boomed out, echoing around the room. He yanked her rope harness hard, causing Heather to dribble around her cloth muzzle as it bit against her supple flesh.
Struggling to keep still, the throbbing in her arms increased, as she dangled before him. It was then, as he moved, that Paul’s hard cock peeked invitingly out of the dark folds of material. Heather looked at it hungrily, and felt her juice leak down her still outstretched legs, soaking the ropes and her thighs. Paul had gone far beyond the realms of her fantasy already, and her body, although shocked, sore, and aching in pain, felt hopelessly, wonderfully, turned on by its total submission and his unquestioning control.
Paul saw the thin liquid seep from her, ‘You utter whore. How dare you allow this to excite you! I should leave you here to rot.’ He turned and headed towards the thick wooden door, and with a final glance at Heather’s petite tortured body, left the cellar, slamming the door behind him.
Heather stared after him. This wasn’t part of the plan. All he was supposed to do now was kiss her, let her down and make love to her. Okay, the candle thing had been unexpected, but then he’d said he was going to add something extra to her plans. Surely he hadn’t just left? He was just playing with her some more, he’d be back. As the seconds passed though and the door didn’t open, Heather closed her legs in a hopeless attempt to become more comfortable and tried to control the panic that had begun to build in her gullet.
Now she could truly begin to comprehend the horror and all consuming fear the medieval prisoner must have experienced as they were trussed up and left alone, and this wasn’t even a real dungeon. Her arms felt as though they were about to separate from their sockets and numbness began to infuse her legs.
The guttering of the candles made sinister shadows dance around the walls, but they were to far away to provide her any warmth, and her body, that had been singed only minutes before, felt damp and cold. An unstoppable shivering engulfed her. Yet, to her shame, Heather still felt herself craving Paul’s firm touch as the harness continued to pinch her tender breasts and tease her pussy. She shut her eyes, and tried to focus her mind on her Lord’s return.
Clare had been sat on the other side of the cellar door. She longed to see what Paul had done to Heather, if he really had carried out their agreement as planned, but mindful of Paul’s warning of consequences, Clare had refrained from spying. Her imagination however, had filled in the blanks as she listened in excited horror to the cries that had escaped beneath the cellars door, and her own body, naked beneath her cloak was experiencing its own desperate requirements.
At last Paul came from the room. Clare gasped at the sight of his protruding dick as he, pulling her up roughly, pushed against her, crushing her mouth with his own in a frustrated rush of lust.
When he finally pulled away and she’d caught her breath Clare asked, ‘Is all well my Lord?’ She curtsied as she spoke, unsure if his lordly role was continuing outside of Heather’s prison.
‘Excellently,’ Paul looked at her with hungry wolf like eyes, and thrust a hand between her legs. He rubbed his whole palm against her clit, producing the fastest orgasm of Clare’s life. ‘We will continue as planned, and you will assist…’