MSL-03 Confessions Of A Maiden


FOREWORD

I take pen to paper to detail my sordid life, because I find it well nigh impossible to believe
that, at the age of fourteen, I have experienced so much.

Perhaps my early childhood was more sheltered than usual. Perhaps time and tide and 
circumstance have conspired to place me in the center of great events.

I have been pawn and woman of power. I have been innocent and learned what it was to 
be sullied. Where my childhood was a private affair, my life conducted serenely among my 
siblings and parents and family retinue, my sudden accession to adulthood, if I may be called 
an adult, placed me into a position of prominence.

I sit now in the tower of my husband's castle in Freiburg, on the border of Germany. The 
arched window looks out over a mere fraction of his holdings. I have never met my husband, 
and I tremble now at the knowledge that his return from the Crusades is imminent.

He is expected this evening. I have locked myself into this little tower room, which has 
been my favorite retreat because I fear to face him. I fear his anger, and the demands his 
manhood will make on me.

He is ten years older than I, and I have never seen him, although I have been married to 
him these two years, in a proxy ceremony.

But I am getting ahead of my story. I expect to die here in this little room, the only haven I 
have had in these stormy two years, from the decadence of my husband's court, the 
viciousness of his feifs, and the marauding war lords who have overrun his land.


CHAPTER ONE

My name is Alicia. I am one of the thirteen duchesses of Gascony. The others are my 
grandmother, my great-aunt, my mother, my two aunts, and my seven sisters. I also have four 
brothers. The oldest is the Duke of Gascony. He's a year older than I. My three younger 
brothers have various titles. I don't know why there can be thirteen duchesses in a family, and 
only the oldest male son can be a duke.

My father told me it had something to do with primogeniture, but at the time I was silly 
and immature, so I did not concern myself with such matters. My father was a nobleman of 
considerable wealth and standing in the French Court. From our large and very beautiful 
Chateau called "La Chateau des Belle Heures," it took two days of traveling by coach to reach 
the southern borders of my father's land holdings, and it took a full day and a half to reach 
the northernmost reaches of his territory. Our family is one of the oldest in France, and we are 
considered to be quite distinguished.

My early childhood was pleasant enough, although I felt it was strenuous. As the oldest 
daughter, it was pleasant, because I knew I would be married, and therefore, I wouldn't have 
to be sent to a convent. But because I was the oldest daughter, the duties imposed upon me 
seemed onerous. I was taught with my brothers, and had to learn all the things they learned, 
because that would make my prospects better. To be a good wife to a nobleman, a woman 
had to know almost as much as the man, in order to assist him adequately. I also had to learn 
the management of a household, cooking, cleaning, and Fine handwork, making laces, 
tapestries, husbandry, in short I had to acquire all the skills which would make me an 
accomplished mistress of a home.

My father tended to be indulgent with me, as I was his pet. When I took it into my head to 
want to learn the art of fencing with swords and daggers, my father allowed me to be taught 
with my brothers, over the objections of my mother who thought that it would spoil my 
feminine instincts, and make me aggressive.



* * *



My mother contended that I was quite headstrong enough. She was a godly woman, who 
lived by the golden rule, and she managed her household and her children with a firm, if 
gentle hand. She was most concerned with the welfare of our souls. We went to church 
regularly, and the parish priest was a frequent and most welcome visitor to our chateau.

Often, my mother would warn us of the sins of vanity. She was most concerned with that 
particular sin, since she had eight daughters. She always dressed us very plainly, and we could 
not wear jewelry except for a golden cross around our necks. She always told us that jewelry 
and fine clothing were for married ladies, who must always reflect the honor and wealth of 
their husbands. It was not for young unmarried girls who should practice maidenly modesty.

I remember one evening when I appeared at the table with a bow on the plain collar of my
simple dress. I had been making bonnets as a work of charity, to be given to the wives of the 
serfs who tenanted the farms on my father's property. I had taken a fancy to a small piece of 
pink satin which I had left over when I had finished my tasks for the day.

My mother gasped and rose from the long table when I appeared, smiling and happy for 
dinner.

"Alicia!" she exclaimed, "not only are you late, to dinner, but you have appeared before the
good priest and your tender young sisters wearing a mark of sinful vanity."

She came around to where I stood, shocked, and ripped the bow from my dress.

"But, mother, I thought it was pretty!"

My mother turned, mournfully to the priest. She was wringing her hands, and there was a 
look of profound distress on her face. "Good father, I don't know what to do with her. She is a 
headstrong wench, and I fear for her immortal soul."

The priest looked at me sternly. "My daughter," he said, with a funereal tone in his voice 
that made my throat constrict with panic, "you are most ungrateful to behave in such a 
disgraceful manner before your good mother who sets you such a good example. I 
recommend that you go to confession tomorrow morning. I will give you an appropriate 
penance."

I felt so ashamed! But the good priest was not finished. He turned to my mother with 
another suggestion, that made my face turn scarlet "I suggest that she be given an enema to 
purge her body of the evil humors that lead her on the road to hell."

I was mortified! Only the worst scapegraces received enemas. They were for truly wicked 
people. And I didn't think I was so evil! All I had done was to pin a piece of pink satin on my 
gray worsted dress.

"Oh, thank you, Father," said my mother. "I shall send for the doctor to come tomorrow, 
before she goes to church for confession."

I didn't sleep that night, thinking of what was in store for me. I was going to have to bare 
my most secret parts, not only to my mother, but also to the doctor, to a strange man! I wept 
most of the night.

When the morning star stood brightly perched on the ledge of my window, my mother 
entered with a candle, followed by the doctor, and one of the servants. I was trembling with 
fear. I was also trembling with rage. I was angry with my mother. The good priest's ears would 
burn when I made my confession to him that morning.

My mother came up to my bed, sternly, and drew aside the curtains. Then she pulled down
the covers. I shivered in the cold morning air. "Get up. It is time for you to make amends." 
Shivering and blushing, I got out of my soft, warm bed, and followed my mother. The maid 
had put a chamber pot by the fireplace, and she was building a fire in it.

The doctor, who said not a word, was leering at me. I hated him. Another sin to confess! 
He was holding a goatskin bag in one hand, which was filled to capacity with liquid. From it 
descended a long hose, with a blown-glass tube at the end. The hose was pinched in the 
middle with a string. Above it, I could see the pressure of the liquid causing the flexible hose 
to bellow out.

And they were going to put this in my ass! I swallowed hard to stifle the whimpers that 
were rising in my throat At the doctor's instructions, I was leaned over a tall stool, and my 
mother pulled my soft white nightie up over my round buttocks, I was glad my head was 
hanging down, because I felt as if my face were on fire. I clenched my fist and bit my lip. I felt 
the doctor's hands kneading my buttocks. A man's hands on my secret parts. I had never felt 
so humiliated in my life!

Then I felt his hands prying my ass cheeks apart. I felt the cool air kiss my cunt and my 
asshole. I shivered again, but I must confess, the sensation was rather pleasurable, in spite of 
my embarrassment and humiliation.

Then I felt the cold glass at the entrance to my rectum. I wished at that moment that I 
could die! I mean, I couldn't think of anything more devastating to my modesty, than that 
horrible doctor's hands prying my ass cheeks apart, revealing the puckered brown entrance to
my nether channel, and then pressing that foreign, cold object to my asshole.

The tears were streaming down my cheeks. I was crying silently with my mortification and 
my rage. And it was so combined in my breast that I had a hard time distinguishing the two 
feelings. They spun around and around, until my head was reeling.

Then the doctor shoved hard. I winced as I felt the hard cold glass press past my resisting 
sphincter, and push into my anus. I felt as if I were stretched so wide that my ass would never 
come back to normal size. And this gross violation was taking place before the eyes of a 
strange man, the servant, and my mother! I was curious to see what he was doing, but I didn't 
dare show my face. My shame and mortification were great enough. I didn't want to look the 
doctor in the eyes.

He made a great to-do about checking to see if the tube were in place, running his fingers 
up and down the soft flesh between my cheeks so much that I suspected him of lechery. And 
my tears flowed more copiously when I thought that I was helpless and prone before his 
lustful gaze. Once, his finger touched the entrance to my most secret hole, and I gasped. I felt 
a sharp cramp run through my belly, as my sphincter clutched at the glass tube. Then I felt the
sharp sting of very hot water pouring into my asshole, as he released the string on the hose.

Again I felt my belly fill with sharp pains, as I clenched my ass muscles against the tube, 
trying to stop the painful flow of the very hot water, which was burning out my insides. I felt 
as if I were on fire. Even my pussy muscles had run riot. They were clenching and unclenching 
the same way my little fists were.

But those cramps were nothing compared to the cramps that followed as quart after quart
of the fiery hot liquid poured into my intestines. As I lay there, feeling the pressure build to an 
incredible pitch that made my body tremble with the agonizing cramps, I wondered what my 
rectum had to do with my soul, and again I flinched at my thoughts. The roster of sins I had to
confess to the priest was growing by leaps and bounds. And to think that only last night, I was
pure as the driven snow--well almost. I had a venial sin on my soul. I had stolen a piece of 
cake from the kitchen a few days before.

But here I was, my belly on fire with the hot water, and I was committing one sin after the 
other. Maybe my mother was right. Maybe my soul was in danger of eternal damnation. I was 
sobbing now with the pain, as the liquid continued to burn upward into my belly. My stomach
did crazy flip-flops, and I thought I was going to vomit. That would be another sin. I knew I 
was supposed to hold the liquid until the doctor said it was all right to expel it.

Only the doctor was supposed to know when the evil humors were ready to be evacuated. 
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor pulled the glass tube roughly out of my 
asshole.

"Now sit up, and squeeze your muscles together," he commanded, sternly. I quickly wiped 
the tears from my eyes. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crying. I 
stood up. My mother was still holding my nightgown up to my waist.

"Turn around," the doctor demanded. I hated him, and my mother! I had to turn around 
and display my hairless cunt to their crude gaze! I did as he said, slowly.

"The priest was right, Madame, she is most fractious. Her slowness to obey commands 
indicates a spirit that lacks docility." My mother, still holding my nightgown with one hand 
slapped me sharply on my bare buttocks with the other.

"Do as you're told, immediately. Must you cooperate with the devils that live in you?"

I bowed my blushing face, and turned around.

"Now, sit on the stool, and hold it until I tell you to release it," the doctor commanded. I 
was relieved to be able to sit down. The cramps in my belly were increasing in intensity and 
frequency, and I was almost doubled over with pain. I sat down, still keeping my gaze averted 
from the trio who were witnessing my shame.

The doctor began to lecture me, sitting on my bed, the insolent fool! He had his legs 
crossed, and one leg was bouncing up and down, while he fiddled with the enema bag, 
curling the hose around his hand, and then unwinding it.

"It is the duty of a Christian to fight the demons that war in his body for his soul. You have 
exhibited an intransigence that indicates your soul is not on the right track."

"And don't forget to confess that to the priest," said my mother, grimly. I looked at her 
with wonder. How could she profess to be my mother, and do such an awful thing to me?

"You are also immodest and stubborn. From the symptoms I see in you, I suspect that you 
have the devil of pride lurking in your body, not to mention the devils of ingratitude, 
sullenness, and disobedience."

"You will remember to tell that to the priest this morning, also," my mother added.

I groaned, and doubled over as the cramps attacked my gut with pitiless insistence. I was 
afraid if they made me hold it much longer that I would spew out the watery contents of my 
intestines right there on the stool. And then I would surely have died of embarrassment!

"Ahh!" the doctor exclaimed. "The devils are being routed!" There was a note of smug 
victory in his voice. I didn't know what devils he was talking about! I had to move my 
liquid-loosened bowels, and I was in agony!

"Please, let me go. I can't hold it any more!"

"For shame, Alicia, for shame!" my mother scolded. "How dare you be in leagues with the 
devils who are being vanquished by the holy water, which the good priest blessed this 
morning for the doctor?"

"Oh, Mother, please. I'm in agony!"

"Suffer, you stubborn little wench!" the doctor exclaimed. "It is good for your soul.

You also seem to lack Christian resignation. You are a disgrace to your God-fearing 
parents. I know they have taught you better than you act."

I wanted to damn the doctor to hell, but I was now mortally afraid of the well-being of my 
own soul. I was afraid that if I damned the doctor, that God would damn me and allow the 
devils in my body to possess me.

"Don't forget to confess your lack of Christian resignation to the priest," my mother said, 
parroting the doctor, and providing a repetitive litany to accompany the doctor's sermon that 
was making me angrier and angrier. Besides the sins they were dictating to me, I had 
committed so many secret ones that I would have to confess, that I was afraid I would spend 
all day in the confessional.

The anger wasn't helping the cramps. It was exacerbating the pain I was in. The doctor's 
voice droned on and on and on, with my mother interjecting her little refrains, until finally, I 
knew I couldn't hold it anymore. In rage and desperation, I let out a great, inarticulate cry, 
throwing my head back.

"Aha!" the doctor rose from my bed, and almost jumped up and down in his excitement, 
"the devils are ready to depart! Now, you may evacuate," he said, pointing to the chamber 
pot. For one mad instant I hesitated again.

I was going to have to perform this most private of functions in the presence of my 
mother, the servant, and the doctor!

But my insistent bowels got the better of me. In spite of my shame, and the humiliation of 
having to evacuate in front of these people, I rushed to the chamber pot.

The hot, torturing contents of my bowels rushed out of me loudly. I was blushing with 
shame, but the feeling of relief was enormous, in spite of my embarrassment. I thought it 
would never stop, but as I flushed out the odious liquid, the cramps disappeared, too.

I was left with this marvelous feeling of warmth and quiet emptiness that filled my whole 
body, including my little pussy, which was vibrating happily. Even my stomach, which had 
been threatening to overturn and dump its contents settled back into a contented quietude. I 
was also very hungry, all of a sudden.

I looked up at my mother, who had handed me a rag which was moist with warm water 
and soap, to wipe myself. As soon as I had finished, I got up, and pulled down my nightgown. 
The doctor was packing up his paraphernalia in a bag.

My mother turned to me. "Get dressed for church, Alicia. I have laid out your clothes. 
Come, doctor, I shall light your way to the door."

With that, my mother and that odious physician left, leaving me to bathe and get ready to 
go to confession. My mother had laid out my mourning gown. I didn't mind, though. It was a 
beautiful dress of black satin, with white lace at the collar and on the sleeves, and two bands 
of white lace that traveled in a panel down the front of the tight-fitting garment, making a 
panel in the front. It was a beautiful dress, really, but by now my sins had multiplied 
enormously. I was going to have to confess to the priest that I took pleasure in wearing the 
lovely garment.

I glided down the stairs, meeting my mother at the foot. She placed my black lace veil on 
my head, and handed me my prayer book.

"Mother, I'm hungry."

"You will not break your fast until you return from confessing your sins, and let it be a 
penance for you!" my mother said, almost angrily. The servant who was to be my duenna for 
the trip to church, opened the door. My lovely roan stallion, Belarion, was pawing the ground 
outside. He was tossing his head against the restraining hand of the groom who was holding 
him, and a riding hack for the servant.

The trip to the church was lovely. My insides felt so warm and light, and my head felt so 
free, aside from the nagging anxiety about the reception I would get from the priest, that I 
was almost happy. And my little pussy was tingling madly against the saddle with the rocking 
of the horse.

The morning sun had not yet made its appearance on the horizon. Everything was velvety 
black and beautiful, and the sky was dark and deep, and studded with stars which twinkled 
like diamonds in the crisp morning air. I made a promise to rise earlier to go for more rides.

The large stone church was eerie and beautiful in the early morning darkness. There were 
candles which lit the church dimly. The alter looked like a blessed haven, with the white and 
gold appointments which glittered in the dim light. The gargoyles cast deliciously frightening 
shadows, and the effect of their bizarre shapes was similar to a good ghost story told around 
the fire on a blustery evening.

I prayed for guidance for a long time, but I couldn't help rebelling against the accusations 
of that doctor, a stranger who didn't even know me. I honestly didn't believe I was that much 
of a sinner. The priest was waiting for me when I approached the confessional. When I had 
finished my long and detailed confession, he also suggested sins that I had committed, and 
gave me a long lecture on my evil ways.

My knees were on fire, kneeling on the hard cold stone of the floor, and my back ached 
when he finished.

For my penance, he told me to say five rosaries at the altar, and I was to maintain total 
silence for a week, and do nothing but contemplate my sins.

I was appalled. I didn't mind saying the five rosaries. I always liked praying before the altar,
looking up at the kindly faces of the saints, wrapped in the warm, incense-smelling, security of
the church.

But my stomach was growling piteously, when I reached the last decade, and my head was
beginning to reel with hunger and fatigue. I had been kneeling a long time. Finally, I blessed 
myself and left with my duenna, and we traveled home in silence.

The servant tried to make small talk, but I warned her by putting my finger to my mouth, 
that I was not to speak. She seemed to understand. The priest had scribbled a little note for 
my mother, detailing my penance, so that I didn't have to break my silence. But my rebellious 
heart was betraying me. Here I was, feeling good, and I was hungry, and I had a variety of 
people telling me that my soul was as black as the devil's. I didn't believe them, even though I 
acceded to the harsh penance.

My mother read the note, her mouth stern.

My family were all gathered around the breakfast table, and the good smell of the food 
almost drove me crazy. She handed the note to my father.

"Good God, woman! You aren't going to permit this?" My father had turned livid with rage.

"Your honor," my mother said, very formally to my father, bowing as she said it, "it is for 
the good of her soul."

"Her soul, my sword!" my father swore. "There's nothing wrong with her soul, woman, and 
I will not have her spirit broken!" He tore up the note and threw it into the fire blazing in the 
large hearth.

My mother looked shocked. She, too, had turned white, I think, from fear. I don't know if it
were fear of my father's wrath, and my father had never struck anyone, not even a servant, in 
anger, or whether she was afraid of his immortal soul for his blasphemy. In order to forestall a 
disagreeable scene, I rushed over to my father, and threw my arms around his waist. I buried 
my face in his manly chest, inhaling the heady aroma of his manliness. He put his strong, 
protective arms around me, and lifted my chin up to look at me. I smiled, and nodded, 
tightening my lips, to indicate that I accepted my punishment.

My father's eyes burned deeply into mine, with fondness and pride, and it was worth all 
my humiliation to see that loving look of his.

"My lord," said my mother, not deterred from her purpose, "would you go against the 
priest who set out her penance for her, and who surely, as a man of God, knows her soul?"

"My lady," said my father, "I will accept this outrage you have done to my daughter, only 
because my daughter accepts it, and a little rigor will strengthen her character immeasurably. 
But let me warn you, I do not accept the outlandish judgments you have made about her 
character. And I would defy even the priest if my little Alicia had not acquiesced to her unjust 
punishment."

My mother bowed silently. Then she turned to me, angrily. I knew my mother did not like 
my father's speaking in my defense, and it made her harsher. But I was determined to be as 
good and brave as my father believed me to be. And his belief in my worth provided more 
incentive than the priest's opinion, my mother's vain worries, and the doctor's humiliating 
enema.

"You will retire to your chamber. You will eat nothing for the week but bread and you will 
drink nothing but water. Of course, you will maintain strict silence. You will not talk, not even 
to yourself."

I bowed to my mother, and retired to my room, to get through the week as best I could. I 
had determined to spend the week improving myself. There were several embroidery stitches 
which still gave me trouble, and I was going to practice on those. I also intended to get up 
early every morning, bathe only in cold water to chastise my flesh, and to study very hard, so 
that I would be worthy of my father's love and pride in me. Also, it wouldn't hurt me in 
acquiring a husband.

The week passed quickly, and I survived it well. I rose early every morning, and, since my 
life was sedentary, I exercised for an hour, to keep up my strength. I really missed the 
horseback riding, and the fencing, but I offered it up for my sins, the real ones.

After the first day, I no longer felt the hunger pangs, so even the bread and water didn't 
bother me. As a matter of fact, a growing sense of real virtue filled me, as I kept all my 
promises to myself. I studied assiduously, finishing Machiavelli's "The Prince," which our 
history teacher had recommended, and which I had been avoiding. I also studied my German, 
Latin, and Spanish grammar.

All of the girls had to study the languages, as we didn't know from what country our 
husbands would come. And I did master the stitches whose execution had eluded me. The last
two days, I enjoyed being alone and being silent.

I must confess to being a bit of a flibberty-gibbet. I prattle constantly, and I am easily 
distracted. The week was highly salutary. Even my anger for my mother had vanished by the 
end of the week. I determined for my own strength of character that hereafter, I would eat 
bread and water one day out of the week. I would also maintain the habit, which had become 
easy by the third day, of rising early. After all, when I was mistress of my own household, I 
would have to rise before anyone.

Every evening, my father looked in on me, and would silently come over to kiss me 
goodnight, and hug me. The first evening, he brought up a lovely cake. I smiled at him, my 
eyes filling with tears, and handed it back to him.

He laughed, a deep, prolonged laugh. 'That's my brave girl. You put your own father to 
shame. I must confess," said he, pinching my cheek lightly, "that even I could not withstand 
that temptation." He kissed me again, and took the cake with him when he left.

One evening, my older brother came up. He brought me some cornflowers from the field, 
which he placed on my desk where I was studying. Then he kissed me lightly on my forehead, 
and tip-toed out of the room, as if the silence to which I was constrained for a week included 
all physical noises.

For all my sense of grievance, the week of silence and solitude has carried over into my 
life, and I am most grateful for it. Perhaps when the doctor gave me the enema, he did purge 
me of devils. I'm not sure, and my practical mind makes me doubt it, but the discipline did me 
good. It instilled in me a taste for solitude which tempered my naturally flowing, gregarious 
nature And that solitude has been a blessing in that my ability to apply myself to studies, my 
capacity for thinking were sharply honed. To indulge in a moment of vanity, the day of fasting 
which I have adhered to religiously, without inflicting the regimen on anyone in my 
household, has certainly kept my figure trim and my digestion sound.

Unfortunately, I have also acquired a taste for enemas. I say it's unfortunate, because I do 
try to practice the golden mean in my life, and I would dearly love to have more than one a 
week.

But temperance is a valuable virtue, too.





CHAPTER TWO


My mother came to my chamber at the end of my period of solitude, to inform me that, at the
priest's instructions, I was to be given another enema, to insure that I was purged of the devils
who inspired me.

My gorge rose in rage when I heard her pronouncement. But the week's silence had 
tempered my natural outbursts, and I resolved to bear it at least with dignity.

Consequently, I arose without murmur in the morning, when my mother, candle in hand, 
drew back the curtains of my bed the following morning. I was trembling with rage and 
indignation, but I bit my tongue.

Without my mother's prompting, I went over to the stool, lifted my gown myself, and lay 
across it, while the libidinous doctor leered at my naked, vulnerable flesh. I was armed now 
with scorn for him. But I was still humiliated to be in such an exposed position, my most secret
parts open to his disrespectful gaze.

He was even rougher than he had been the time before. His grip on my buns as he parted 
my ass cheeks was bruising, and as he thrust the glass tube up my ass, he even twisted it 
maliciously, causing me to wince. But I made no outcry, nor did I deign to show my face which
was burning with shame.

The pain was excruciating as the scalding hot liquid coursed through my bowels. Again I 
felt the cramps, more heavy than before, and again I had to swallow hard, to quell my 
stomach which threatened to disgorge its contents on the floor in front of me. It seemed as if 
the liquid were hotter than before, and that there was more of it. I became extremely 
uncomfortable as the liquid flowed into me, distending my belly, and giving me a feeling of 
being incredibly stuffed. The pressure created cramps that spread, even afflicting my exposed 
legs. My little toes arched downward, pressing into the sole of my foot as the hot water 
invaded my violated ass, and tortured my bowels.

When he had pulled the tube out of me, I got up without anyone's instructing me, and sat 
down, having first composed my face, and wiped away the tears I had shed silently. I had felt 
as if he had been filling me with hot liquid for hours. As I sat, I felt the liquid burning me, 
pressing heavily against my rectum, and demanding release. The pain of the cramps was 
excruciating, but this time, I did not double over, nor did I cry out or beg.

Again I received a lecture on my evil ways, and as the doctor became more and more 
adamant, as he perceived that I was not going to beg, he inveighed against the sin of pride as 
one of the seven deadly sins. I didn't take him too seriously this time. I determined heretofore,
to consult my own conscience as to whether or not I had sinned.

I truly believed that he and my mother had sinned grievously in tormenting me like this. 
And I did not believe that I had sinned by withstanding their torture with dignity.

However, as the liquid loosened the contents of my bowels, and as the hot pressure 
increased, the need to eliminate became another pain with which I had to cope. His lecture, 
punctuated with my mother's refrains, went on interminably, and finally I, to save what was left
of my dignity, got up without a word from the stool, and went over and sat on the chamber 
pot, without the invitation I was expected to wait for.

At this point, if I were not in such pain, their prolonged torture would have been funny. 
They were trying to wear me down, trying to make me beg, at which time, they would have 
lectured me on stubbornness.

The way my mother and the doctor carried on was funny, as I, convulsed with the cramps, 
and the need to evacuate, relieved myself explosively. I was acting on the assumption that if 
the state of my soul were between me and God, then the state of my body should also be 
taken care of by me.

If the good doctor were being truly consistent, he should have explained to my mother 
and me, as I let loose with one explosive burst after another, that I was losing the devil of 
anger or dissension. Instead, he chose to remark upon my disobedience and my pride.

"I am ashamed of you!" my mother cried. "Is there no help for you at all?"

I just looked at her in silence, that lovely little ally whose acquaintance I had made this last 
week, and the very silence, I discovered in that moment, was in itself a power, a weapon. And 
it puzzled me. I decided I would have to discuss it with my father, who was so wise about the 
ways of the world and men.

"Madame, I grieve for your distress with this bad seed," the doctor said, shaking his head. 
"However, I suggest that there is still hope."

My mother was in tears. "Oh, Doctor, what do you suggest I do?"

"Pray for her soul, My lady," said the doctor, who was putting away his torture instruments.
"And see to it that she's paddled soundly once a week."

"Very well, Doctor. I shall light your way to the door." She turned at the door to look at me 
with what appeared to be almost hatred in her eyes. "Alicia, you will see to yourself. I shall not 
send the servant to be tainted by being in the presence of such a miscreant."

I winced, but I decided to put a good face on, and do the best I could. I dressed carefully, 
and dressed my hair as best as I could, and went down to order my horse. The rest of the 
household was still asleep, except for my mother and the kitchen servants, who were already 
preparing breakfast. The groom looked surprised when he came to the great hall, and I 
ordered Belarion to be saddled.

The duenna looked even more surprised, and not a little disgruntled, to be called from 
sleep so early. The problem with being a young girl in a household filled with servants is that 
you are the object of the servants' bad tempers, as well as the abuse of out-of-sorts parents. 
This was true in my case, with the singular exception of my father, and my brother, who 
seemed to have inherited my father's benign temperament.

As the servant gave me a tongue-lashing, I stood quite still, and silent. It had been my 
wont to scold back, and to threaten. I watched the consternation of the duenna grow, beneath
my silent, steady gaze, and her angry chattering spluttered off into silence. Without a word, I 
put on my cloak, disdaining her assistance, and strode out of the house into the sweet, cool, 
dark morning air.

I knew my mother would put into effect the doctor's nostrum for my moral betterment, 
and paddle me once a week. I was double determined to lead my own life, and seek my own 
pleasure from now on. If I were to be punished for nothing, I might as well cull whatever 
rewards were available to me for undergoing such rigors of the flesh and spirit. As I rode, 
enjoying the silence, and the clean fresh air, I thought about my situation. It wasn't good, but 
there were consolations.

There would be the sage guidance of my dear father, and the companionship of my 
brother to abide with me.

I rode till the sun came up, and came back to the chateau starving. The aroma of the food 
assailed my nostrils and filled me with enormous joy for living.

The enema had helped, as the after-effects were most pleasant. My pussy tingled and 
jumped every time it made contact with the leather saddle. Of course I have always had a 
sensual pleasure in riding a horse. The warm, powerful flesh of the animal laboring under me, 
the contact of its warm coat with my legs, even through the heavy material of my riding gown,
and the rough feel of the leather saddle as it slapped my ass, always made my ass and my 
pussy tingle delightfully.

My father and brother greeted me warmly. My brother had placed some cornflowers at my
place at the table, and my father, with his own hands heaped my plate with the good, savory 
food. My sisters, far more passive and docile, were silent and undemonstrative. They imitated 
the courteous, but cool greeting of my mother.

When my father had finished eating, he put his napkin down, and took a small box out of 
his waistcoat pocket. Coming round the table to where I sat, he put his hand on my shoulder. I
reveled in the warmth of that hand, and the love and loyalty the gesture symbolized.

"My dear daughter," he said, smiling down at me, and gazing around the table. "You are 
the first-born lady of this house, the Duchess of Gascony. I have made up your dowry, since it 
is time to think of your rapidly approaching womanhood."

He placed before me a packet of papers, with a legal seal on it. My ears were ringing with 
excitement and pride. My father was saying that I had a right to my birth and my title. I 
watched my mother out of the corner of my eye. She was bristling, but she lowered her head 
and said nothing.

The rest of the family was silent, as my father detailed the riches that were mine. They were
considerable. They were more than generous, they were downright munificent. I had the 
wealth of a princess of the realm in my hands! When my father had finished, my brother stood
up. He, too, handed me a packet.

"As my father's oldest son, I stand to inherit all his lands. As my wedding present to you, I 
have granted you the feifs of Mont-de-Marsan, and all the adjoining farm lands, and the 
villages of Tonneins, La Reole, and Marmande."

My mother gasped and rose from the table.

"My lord, you cannot mean to let the Duke, your son, give away his paternal claims!"

"My lady," my father responded gravely, never taking his hand from my shoulder, "not 
only do I intend to let him dispose of the property that will be his when I die in whatever way 
is just and salutary to the fortunes of this family, but I applaud his good taste and his 
appreciation of the merits of his sister. After all, she is an extremely worthy woman, and the 
greater her dowry, the greater the worth of her husband."

"But she is only twelve. You yourself have said that you do not intend to contract 
precipitous marriages for your daughters."

"My lady, I have said that I do not think it is right for little girls who are only twelve or 
thirteen to enter into the duties of marriage. There is certainly great benefit to the little 
Duchess to consider the available prospects now.

"There is much turmoil on our borders at this time. I intend to secure as many of our 
daughters as I can as soon as possible."

My mother bowed, and was silent, but I could tell from the expression on her face that she
had not resigned herself to my father's will, and I flinched, thinking of the paddling that was 
imminent.

It was very good to be back in classes with my brothers and sisters, and even better to go 
horseback riding with my brother, and to take my fencing lessons. My brother was also 
teaching me the broadsword. It was a massive, heavy weapon, and very frightening to work 
with. At first, I had difficulty using it, but assiduous practice strengthened my arms, until one 
day, my brother, the Duke Raoul, and our fencing master in jest, pitted themselves against me.

I had hiked my skirts up, tucking them into my girdle. My long honey blonde hair had 
come free and was flowing down my back and my face was flushed with joy as I successfully 
fended off parry and thrust from the two men.

There was much ribald laughter as I held my ground. I hadn't noticed my father approach 
on horseback with a party of four other men. My broadsword came down hard, and my 
brother received a blow from the flat of the sword on his shoulder. He staggered backward, 
laughing, and I felt the sting of the master's sword on my haunches.

I gasped and turned sharply, to defend myself. The master was panting. I had led them a 
merry chase, and I felt flush with victory! "Well done for your first stroke, Milady, but bad for 
my stroke. A good soldier never lets his guard down when he is beleaguered!"

"Touch!" I cried, defending myself from the merciless thrusts of the master. My brother 
leaped back into the fray with a wild yell. But his guard was down, and a swift upward thrust of
the sword knocked his weapon from his hands. Remembering the lesson I had just painfully 
learned, I swung swiftly, just in time to bring the flat of my sword against the unprotected 
belly of the master, whose sword was held up over his head in both hands. His fierce grin of 
victory turned into an expression of dismay as he buckled over.

I heard laughter and applause behind me, and turned. I blushed when I saw my father and 
the distinguished gentlemen with them. My father had on his ceremonial velvets and his black
cape with the ermine border that I liked so much. He was wearing the family seal. He was so 
handsome!

The men were smiling at me and yelling appreciative comments. I blushed when I realized 
the disarray of my attire. Pulling my skirts down, and throwing my hair back, I approached the 
party of horsemen.

"What think you, Count Mornay?" asked my father of a tall, lean, gray-bearded man.

"I think she is a comely maiden of good parts with a fine spirit. She would be an asset to 
any man of parts."

My father introduced me to the men, who were German noblemen on a visit of state to 
the French Court. Still blushing, I curtseyed.

"I do believe," said another man, very dark and stern-looking, "that the glory of France 
may very well lie in its women, my Lord Gascon!" he said looking at my father, and then 
bowing ever so slightly to me.

"Will the gentlemen stay to dinner?" I asked my father.

"Yes, daughter, they will."

I hurriedly put the broadsword in its place, and ran to the kitchens, to inform my mother, 
and to assist her and the servants to make a good meal for the distinguished emissaries.

My mother was not always efficient, unfortunately, and my father had sent a messenger to 
inform her of the visiting party. As I walked into the kitchen, there was much bustle and 
turmoil. My mother's shrewish mouth was scolding liberally. But complaining didn't get 
servants to work any faster or better than they were able.

Of course, when I walked in, I received my share of the abuse. I did not make any retort to 
her abuse.

"Well, there you are, Miss Flibberty-Gibbet! Out meddling with men's work, and your 
father's guests unattended to!"

I merely bowed to my mother, and proceeded to organize the preparation of the feast. 
Within half an hour, the servants were all working and cooking smoothly, and I was setting the
table for the dinner. I went out into the gardens in the back and picked some of my mother's 
prettiest roses, and set them in pewter vases, which I polished until they shone like mirrors.

Then I lit the candles, and ordered a servant to bank the fires in the hearth. I went up to 
my room to dress for dinner, and to serve my father's guests. I could hear them, laughing and 
talking in the great hall, and I wanted to go down and wait on them, to hear what they were 
saying.

I had taken an interest, finally, in current affairs, and my father was most pleased, 
explaining points to me which I had heard while I went about the day's chores, and waited on 
my father and his friends, who visited frequently. As I was dressing, my mother came into my 
bed chamber. She was looking harried and spiteful. My heart sank. I knew the expression and 
it was one that spelled more grief for me.

'The doctor has ordered you to be paddled once a week. I was light on you last week, 
Alicia. Tonight we shall begin the doctor's directions for your character improvement."

Again, silence, my old ally, came to my defense. I set my mouth firmly, and merely bowed 
to her. Then, the maid having finished dressing my hair, I went down to serve mulled wine to 
my father and his company.

The threat of impending punishment had put me in a high state of excitement, which lent 
a flush to my face and a sparkle to my eyes. I hid my anxiety, but I trembled all over at the 
thought of the indignities to be heaped on my poor body that evening, and by my own 
mother. Strangely enough my buttocks were tingling, and so was my pussy.

The dinner was lovely, and I received many compliments from my father's friends on my 
accomplishments as a hostess. I blushed and acknowledged the compliments but my heart 
was pounding like a captive bird in my breast. With each compliment, the expression of anger 
on my mother's face grew and grew, and I knew that each fair word, each gesture of favor 
from the assembled party only added to the weight of the punishment I was to receive that 
evening from my mother's hands. And there was nothing I could do.

A woman's work in the household was not the same thing as a man's work in the world. 
There was no communication between my mother and father with regard to each other's role 
in life. I knew more about my father's business than my mother, as I spoke to him each 
evening, curled up at his feet before the fire, with my head resting on his knee. I could not 
complain to my father about my mother's harshness. It would have been disloyal of me, and it
might have created dissension which would have aggravated the problem.

So I kept my peace, and waited with trepidation for the humiliation and degradation which
were yet in store for me.

After dinner, my father repaired to his study with the gentlemen, and I assisted my mother 
and the servants to clean up the dining hall, and to prepare the menu for the next day. Then 
my mother issued the fatal command.

"Go to your chamber, Alicia. Remove your clothes and wait for me."

I did as I was told. For an hour I waited in the chilly chamber, naked. I spent the time 
profitably, studying my history, and the Greek grammar which I had just been given to learn. 
My mother walked into the room. She had a long, thick broomstick in her hand. The sleeves of
her gown were rolled back.

She ordered me to lean over the stool--the same one over which I had been placed when I
received my enemas. I heard the heavy broomstick handle hiss through the air, and I grunted 
when the first blow landed on my soft white ass cheeks. My mother was not sparing the rod! 
My ass cheeks stung mercilessly under the blow. Again the heavy wooden handle descended, 
sending fiery darts of pain rippling through my whole body.

I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth together hard, as the tears welled in my eyes from
the brutal pain.

And with each vicious blow, there was added the insult to the injury of my mother's 
accusations.

"This one is for your insatiable, overweening pride! This one is for arrogance. This one is 
for disobedience. This one is for sullenness," and so on, in sickening succession.

My stomach was turning flip-flops in my belly, as I felt the welts rising from my mother's 
brutal beating. My ass was on fire, and the fire was spreading throughout my whole body, 
fogging my mind. I wanted to cry out, to wrench the broom stick from my mother's hands, to 
use it on her, but I held my peace, clenching my mouth shut tightly, to forestall the cries of 
pain which were gurgling in my throat.

My tears were flowing freely now. I looked over my shoulder as another blow landed on 
my flaming, agonized ass. It was stronger and more brutal than any of the other blows. My 
mother was now using both hands to bring the stick down with more force on my brutalized 
buttocks. I grabbed the legs of the stool and held on hard.

The next blow landed, not on my buttocks, but on my back, right about where my kidneys 
were. I grunted as the searing pain shot through me like a bonfire shoots up when it's fed with
dry fuel.

But a strange thing was happening. As I lay, prone over the stool, my ass cheeks high and 
exposed to the vindictive assault of my mother, my pussy started to tingle. It was as if the heat
and the pain from my ass cheeks had spread to my pussy. The pain was excruciating, and it 
appeared that my mother would never tire of bringing the heavy wooden instrument of 
torture down on my soft, sensitive flesh, which was screaming with pain.

But the sensation in my pussy was almost pleasurable, in spite of the pain. I could feel my 
young maiden's juices flowing. My asshole was contracting heavily with each blow my mother 
landed on my defenseless flesh, and as my asshole contracted, so did my pussy muscles.

The pain became somewhat ameliorated by the pleasure sensations, soft and subtle 
though they were, which were coursing through my most secret maiden parts.

My mother's blows were becoming harder and faster, and I was afraid that I would lose 
consciousness, as the pain became steady, and increased in intensity. I was also afraid that she
was doing damage to my body. I knew that my back must be terribly bruised, and that my ass 
cheeks must be covered in welts. She beat me continuously, cursing me, accusing me of the 
most wretched things. I knew I was going to lose consciousness soon, as the pain burned into 
my brain. I struggled with all my strength to refrain from crying out in my pain. I had never felt
such pain before in my life. It was almost beyond bearing. And still my pussy was sending 
keen messages of a different type to my brain, so much so that I became confused. I felt with 
every heavy blow my mother delivered that she was trying to kill me.

There was a knock on the door, which I heard vaguely through my pain be-fogged brain. 
My mother desisted in her vicious efforts to mutilate me, and went to the door. I heard a 
servant saying softly to my mother through the crack in the door, "My lord the Duke, wishes 
to see the young Duchess Alicia in his study immediately."

My mother closed the door, and came back to where I was sprawled, trembling, across the
stool. I was just trying to relax my aching body. My ass was a flaming mass of anguish. My 
arms ached fiercely from having clenched the legs of the stool so hard. I even had trouble 
unclasping my hands. My legs ached fiercely, and my pussy, strangely enough, was creaming 
wildly. This was a new sensation to me.

As I grew to womanhood, I had become more and more aware that my pussy had a life of 
its own, but this sensation was stronger than any I had felt. I almost enjoyed the pain.

I gasped, as my mother, using both her hands, brought the broom stick handle down 
again, viciously across my back. The pain was so excruciating that it took my breath away. For 
a moment, I thought I would die from lack of oxygen. I heard my throat rattling in its efforts to
relax the constriction caused by the pain of the unexpected blow.

"There!" my mother explained. "Now go to your wicked father who has ruined you for any 
decent life by spoiling you."

I lay trembling over the stool for a long time after my mother left the room. Painfully, I got 
up off the stool. I went to the polished mirror on the wall in my dressing room, and looked. I 
felt the tears flowing again as I saw the damage my mother had inflicted on my lovely, 
burgeoning body. My back was covered with red welts. My ass cheeks were positively ugly. 
They were already black and blue, with angry purple welts running through the bruised mess.

Remembering that my father wanted me immediately, I dressed quickly and with care, 
composing my face as best I could. I was pale with the pain that had changed subtlely in 
quality.

My pussy still creamed, and the red-hot pain racing through my body from my brutalized 
buttocks was laced, like lightning in a summer thunderstorm with rills of strange, intense 
pleasure of a kind I had never felt before. It helped me to endure the agony of my mother's 
beating, somewhat.

I tripped down the stairs to my father's study, and knocked on the door.

"Come in, come in!" I heard my father's cheerful voice. I smiled, in spite of my tortured ass 
and back, and walked in, being careful to hold myself erect, to present myself well for my 
father and his companions.

The men were all standing around, solemnly, and the white-haired man with the beard, the
Count of Mornay, was beaming at me with genuine fondness and pride in his handsome face.

I looked from the men to my father, who was also smiling, and beckoning me to him.

"My darling," said my father, as I stood beside his chair, "I think I have some news that will 
please you enormously."

I winced and almost cried out as my father's arm went around my bruised waist. My father 
noticed the expression on my face, and looked at me with concern.

"Daughter, is anything wrong?"

"N-no, father, nothing," I said, feeling the sweat trickle in light rills which were agonizing, 
down my back.

My father frowned, and stood up, placing me in his chair by the fire. He got up and went 
over to the long table, piled high with papers, and poured a glass of wine, which he presented
to me. His face was grave and questioning. I smiled at him. My father arched his finely formed 
eyebrows, and bowed slightly.

"Perhaps," said the Count Mornay, "the Duchess was too strenuous with her activities this 
afternoon?"

"No," said my father, setting his mouth in a grim line. "I suspect that her mother is too 
harsh with her, and has probably given her a beating. I shall take care of that forthwith!" he 
said.

My heart sunk. I did not want to cause discord in the home, and I did not want to 
displease my father, or make him angry. I folded my hands in my lap and bowed my head.

The tall man with the gray beard came over to me. He took my chin in his hand and raised 
my face up to meet his. "She has a fine, direct gaze. Tell me, my daughter, did your mother 
beat you?"

I did not answer.

"She is too loyal. I should have done something about this before, since I have suspected 
it."

I was wondering why the Count of Mornay would be concerned with my well-being. I did 
not have to wait long for an answer.

"My Lord Gascon," he said, placing his hand gently on my shoulder. "I am most phased to 
have this maiden for a daughter-in-law. I would not like her to come to my castle mutilated or
crippled. In this modem day and age, I think it is unseemly to beat women to make them 
surrender. Gentleness and reason will work just as well if their hearts are good, and I think 
hers is."

My father came over to me, and lifted me up, then turned me around to undo the 
fastenings in the back of my garment. There was an outcry of horror when the men saw the 
welts and the black-and-blue marks on my back.

The count went over to the table, and banged on it.

"My lord," said my father. "I think we can forestall this by signing the marriage contract 
immediately. That will take her out of the dominion of her mother's questionable care."

"I agree, my lord," said the count. My father fastened my gown, and sat me down again, 
kissing me lightly on the forehead. "You are a brave one, but foolish. You should have 
complained to me."

"I am sorry, father. I did not want to make you angry with my mother, or displease you."

"Now, for some happy news, daughter," my father said. "The Count Mornay has a son. He 
is now six-teen, his heir. They own the lands around Frieburg and Neustadt and much of the 
Black Forest. He is pleased to affiance you to his son."

The Count Mornay came over to the chair, and showed me a locket which had a miniature 
in it. He handed it to me. It was a picture of a very fair, handsome young boy. He had broad 
shoulders, and bright blue eyes, which looked quick and intelligent. What pleased me more, 
the expression on his face was similar to my father's and my brother's, that pleasant set of the 
mouth, the humor around the eyes.

"Does he please you, my child?" asked the Count.

"Oh, yes, my lord. He looks intelligent and gentle. I think I should like him."

"I'm sure you will. He is my only son by my first marriage. My second wife has two 
daughters, in whose care you will be until my son comes home from the wars, where he is 
learning to be a soldier, and testing his mettle as a man. He has done me quite proud, and I 
think it is time he had a wife worthy of him."

"Then it is settled. We shall go over the marriage contracts." I rose to leave, thinking this 
was man's work, but the Count beckoned me over to him.

"Why don't you stay? In Germany, a woman takes an active part in the life and business of 
her husband. And if he is away, she is the head of the household. I think you will enjoy 
learning how marriage contracts are drawn up, ehh?"

I blushed. I felt so proud that they were taking me into their confidence. I sat down, and 
concentrated while the men drew up the contracts.

A messenger was to be sent to the young Count of Mornay to get a proxy for the marriage
date, which was set three months hence. I should be married in the Cathedral. The dark-haired
man, who was the Count's secretary, was to be the young Count's proxy.

Then I was to travel to Germany! My heart was racing with happiness, in spite of the pain, 
and my tingling pussy, which was distressing me. Finally, the documents were ready, and my 
mother was called in to witness the signing of them. A whole new life for me! I was a little 
scared, when I realized that I was only twelve years old, but I renewed my resolve to improve 
myself and acquit myself well in my new, prominent position.

The men, and my mother and I shared a glass of wine, and the Count presented me with a 
small silver casket, "for a little wedding present, so that you reflect the honor and the affection
of your new husband," he said, bowing. I opened it and gasped. There was a triple strand of 
pearls, the kind that fasten at the shoulder, and drip down to fasten on the bodice, and end at
the waist. The clasps glittered with diamonds and emeralds. There were a pair of earrings to 
match.

I showed them to my mother and father. My father smiled. My mother's mouth clenched 
tighter than usual. She had refused to wear all the jewels my father had given her, saying that 
they were sinful vanity.

I turned to the count and bowed. "I shall wear them proudly and gratefully on my wedding
day, my lord," I smiled. He bowed, as my father handed him a casket. "From the bride, for her 
husband," he smiled.

In it was a golden chain, with the seal of Gascony, encrusted with jewels. The men oohed 
and aahed over the exquisite workmanship of it. The Count smiled again. "I shall send it 
immediately to my son, and request that he wear it on the wedding day," he said. "Now, I will 
finish up my business with his Majesty, and depart. Our borders are rife with dissension, and I 
must get back to the business of restoring peace. Good day, my lord, my lady," he said, 
bowing to my mother and father. "Good day, and peace to you, My new daughter," he said 
taking my hand and kissing it.

My father led the men out to the door, and I could hear their horses galloping away. "So," 
my mother hissed at me, as I fondled the jewels, "you will persist in your sinful vanity. You 
would dare have the presumption to wear those baubles, ehh?"

I looked at her silently. I had nothing to say. I even pitied her, in my new-found happiness. 
I was to be mistress of my own home. I was going to miss my family, particularly my brother 
and my father, but l would now have the opportunity to practice all my home-making skills in 
my own home with my very own husband, and later, children of my own!

My father walked back into the room brusquely. "Alicia, sit down, my dear," said my father,
sternly. I was brought back to the reality of my beating, and my mother's impending fate, 
whatever that was.

"My lord," my mother said, "haven't you married the child rather highly? After all, she is 
flighty and stubborn, and... "

"Silence woman!" my father commanded. I saw my mother pale before my father's 
command. Never in their married life had he ever spoken like that to her! She staggered 
backward, her hand at her breast, her mouth open, slightly, and leaned against the desk where
the marriage contracts lay, the passport to my new happiness.

I sat trembling in the chair, my back still aflame with pain, wishing I did not have to witness
this scene.

"Woman, you will explain the bruises on the Duchess Alicia's back," my father commanded 
my mother.

"I do not know what you mean, my lord!" my mother explained. My father approached her,
until he was within a foot of her.

"My lady," he said, not without a taint of sarcasm in his voice, "you are terribly facile at 
describing the sins of our oldest daughter. You do not seem to consider your own sins, such 
as lying, in quite the same light!"

"My lord!" my mother explained.

"You shall taste your own punishment, my lady. You will repair to your chambers 
immediately. I shall be with you immediately." He bowed to my mother, and then stood, while 
my mother, glaring hatefully at me, left the room with considerable dispatch.

"Daughter," he said, as he poured wine for me and him, and gave me the glass of amber 
liquid, "you will never again have to suffer the outrages of your mother. I am sorry I didn't 
interfere before, but I didn't realize the extent of her abuse. Get the maid, and have her apply 
balm to your back, my dear. We shall talk tomorrow, ehh?"

"Yes, father," I said, bowing. I left to fetch the maid, and to sleep, perhaps to dream of my 
new happiness.

My night was restless. The pain, and the strange, intense feelings in my pussy wreaked 
havoc with my sleep. I had vague inklings of a new physical state about to descend on me, 
and I trembled with joy to know that I would now be a married lady.

I was about to embark upon a new learning path, the mysteries of marriage, and the 
relationship between a husband and wife.





CHAPTER THREE


The weeks of my waiting passed swiftly enough. My mother never again said anything to me 
beyond the normal courteous exchanges. And she never beat me again. I gathered, from the 
paleness of her features when she came to breakfast the following morning, and the stiffness 
with which she moved, that my father had beaten her roundly.

I had no feelings of malicious pleasure in her discomfort. I felt only pity for her.

My father had taken over the management and guidance of me strictly, and I was filled 
with joy in his company. He took me with him to court several times, and when he was busy, 
my brother was my constant companion. I redoubled my efforts to study and practice my 
skills.

The rest of the time I was busy picking my marriage wardrobe. There were fittings, and 
materials to choose. My father gave me many jewels, and bought me a fur cape, telling me 
that the German winters were harsh. There were business details to be attended to, every one 
of which my father carefully explained to me, now that I was about to enter a woman's estate, 
and packing. I was to take three servants with me, and one of my great aunts, who lived with 
us.

She was a dour, disapproving old lady, who always dressed in black, and always read 
inspirational literature. Aside from her moralistic expertise, she was virtually ignorant of all 
matters, especially those pertaining to the management of a household. And that may have 
been why she never married.

After all, even with a meager dowry, an industrious and efficient woman can be a valuable 
ally to a man, even if he is only a fanner. I think, like my mother, she expected to marry well 
enough not to have to manage a household. Unfortunately, as I learned from watching my 
mother's scolding ways and inefficient work, and the general inefficiency of the servants, one 
cannot manage even if one has a battery of servants, if one does not know how to direct 
them.

Fortunately for me, my mother applied this knowledge to me without ever having 
benefited from it herself.

The day of my wedding dawned bright and clear. When I came down in my bridal 
garments, my father was waiting for me, proudly, with a teakwood casket in his hand.

"From His Majesty, for your wedding," my father grinned, handing it to me. There was a 
note attached, with the king's seal on it. I opened it with bated breath. There was a necklace, 
dripping with diamonds, and drop earrings to match.

"Oh, father," I gasped, hugging the chest to me. I opened the note with trembling fingers. 
'To deck the bride on her wedding day," it said. "But your virtue and industriousness is the 
finest jewel in your husband's house." I looked at my father, whose eyes were swimming with 
pride and happiness. It was so kind of the King. I had met him one day with my father, and I 
had made him laugh. We had discussed political affairs, which made me feel most honored, 
and he had told my father that I was a "little girl of uncommon merit and wisdom."

I couldn't believe the contrast in my life. One day I was a little girl with lessons to learn, 
living quietly, and now I was dressed in pale blue satin, with pearls dripping from me, the wife 
of a great count in Germany, and mistress of my own household.

The wedding was magnificent. The King had sent one of his courtiers to represent him, 
and the wedding feast was delightful. The table was set with white linen, and everything 
gleamed. There were flowers everywhere, and my chair was decked with the lovely cornflowers
that I loved so much.

We were to travel to Germany the next day. It would be a two-week trip. The wedding 
party lasted well into the night, and I danced with everyone, and had a wonderful time, the 
best time of my life.

I danced with my father, and all the lords, and the kings courtier, and with Lord Conrad, 
my new father-in-law's secretary, who would head the wedding party back to Frieburg. Also 
traveling with us was an artist, who was to paint a miniature of me for my new husband, who 
had never seen me.

I rose the next morning very early, as was my wont, and went down to the great hall, to 
get some mulled wine, and oversee the last of the packing. Lord Conrad was already in the 
hall.

"My lady," he bowed low to me. "I had not realized that you were so early a riser. That is 
good. In the count's castle, we rise early." 'That is good!" I chirped, mulling wine for him and 
myself. "I enjoy riding very much in the morning," I said. "And there are times, although I 
enjoy the peace and the quiet, when I would like some company."

Lord Conrad raised his glass to me, and drank my health and happiness, telling me that he 
had received a letter by dispatch the night before from the Count Mornay, asking that Lord 
Conrad look after my every wish, and conveying his best wishes to me.

We started out just as the sun was rising. I had seen to everything, having made a check 
list, so there was nothing left to do, but relax and enjoy the sights I would see. I rode in the 
front coach with my Great Aunt, who insisted on lecturing me for my vanity in wearing the 
jewels my father had given me, a great broach of pearls and rubies, and pearl-drop earrings. I 
was also wearing my new fur cloak.

"Vanity, vanity!" she muttered, as I got into the coach. Her lecture on sin was interrupted 
by the entrance of Lord Conrad. He was a most knowledgeable man, and he pointed out 
sights of interest, occasionally stopping the procession of four coaches, plus outrides and four
mules for the baggage that did not fit on the top of the coaches, to get out, and take us on a 
walking tour. I learned much in those two weeks about the geography of my own country, and
then of Germany.

The terrain became craggy and almost awesome as we passed the German border. Soon 
we were traveling through a mighty forest.

'This is the Black Forest," said Lord Conrad, who told me some of its history. "We often 
hunt here. The boar hunting is particularly good."

"Is boar good to eat?" I asked, never having tasted it.

"Very good. We roast it on spits over our fireplaces. Bringing home a boar is usually a time 
of great festivity, and the neighbors are invited, and some of the meat is also given to the 
peasants."

I was so excited that it took all my recently acquired self-discipline to keep from bouncing 
in the seats.

I was awed when we approached the Castle. For a full day and a half, we had been 
traveling in the land holdings of the Mornay family. There were many farms, well-tilled and 
prosperous looking. The peasants would look up from their work, and rush to the side of the 
road to catch a glimpse of us as we passed.

"Have they never seen a coach before?" I asked Lord Conrad, fascinated with the peasants'
enthusiastic greetings as we passed.

Lord Conrad laughed, and tweaked my cheek lightly. "My lady, you are so innocent. They 
are waiting to catch sight of and honor you. as the first lady of the land, the Duchess of 
Gascony, and the new Countess of Mornay!"

I felt shivers running up and down my spine. I hadn't realized the prominence of my new 
position, and I fell silent, thinking of my grave new responsibilities. I wondered if I were ready 
for them.

As we passed villages, the people were flocked by the road, and they threw flowers before 
the carriages, and cheered.

I had thought our chateau was large, and indeed it was, but the castle was massive beyond
my wildest imaginings. It sprawled, one building after another, all connecting, with moats, and
turrets in all directions. It was beautifully landscaped with fountains and statuary of wonderful 
shapes and execution. It was like being in a fairyland.

The castle walls themselves were well kept, but as I entered the great hall, where all the 
servants were assembled to greet me, I noticed that the interior had been neglected. The 
massive beautiful wood was dull and dry from lack of polishing. The crystal and silver sconces 
were dull for need of washing. I knew my work was cut out for me. I intended to make this 
place a good and beautiful home for my husband and my new family.

The senior Count Mornay had not been home, aside from very brief overnight visits for 
several years, due to the wars among the various nobles who had split up into many factions. 
The Emperor had charged the loyal Count with appeasing these factions, and bringing peace 
back to the kingdom.

My heart sank when I met my sisters-in-law. Their expressions bore the same pietistic 
rigidity that I knew so well in my mother. They were pale, plainly dressed in dark worsted, and 
both of them carried prayer books. They looked at my bright clothes and glittering jewels with
distaste and disapproval.

We repaired to couches and chairs by a massive hearth, which filled all of one wall, to have
wine and cakes. I noticed that the andirons were dull and needed polishing.

My Great Aunt, and the two sisters got along famously, and began discussing religious 
writers, and the state of morals among the peasants.

"Too much dancing, too much drinking," moaned Nellica, one of the sisters.

"And too many festivals. They will drop work at a moment's notice to cavort among 
themselves," Arnica, the other sister replied.

My Great Aunt had a few comments of her own on the subject, which chilled my heart. 
These were the women who were going to be my chaperones, they and the three personal 
maids who would attend me in my chambers.

"My lady must be tired," said Nellica, bowing to me. "Perhaps you would like to see your 
chambers?"

"No, I feel fine," I said brightly. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lord Conrad, 
grinning at my reply.

"Perhaps you have prayers to say?" asked Arnica. I knew immediately that I was neither 
welcomed, nor loved by these maiden ladies who would be my mentors.

"I pray all the time without feeling, the need to retire. God's work is among men when you 
live among them, and as mistress of a household, my greatest prayer will be to make a good 
and loving and comfortable home for my new husband," I said, intending to resist them 
completely. I did not like their cold and foreboding ways.

"The ways of the flesh, my lady, are fraught with peril to the soul."

"And attending to the basic care of one's family, and tendering to the poor and sick is an 
act of charity much recommended by God and the saints," I replied, quietly, but firmly.

"Well said, my lady, well said!" applauded Lord Conrad. I was relieved with his support. I 
knew that in the count's secretary, I had a faithful ally.

My Great Aunt looked coldly at Lord Conrad. "It is heathenish to talk that way, considering
the lady's wayward soul. She has been blessed in her marriage more than she deserves."

"My lord, the young Count of Mornay, has been blessed as he truly deserves with a 
faithful, good woman, of uncommon beauty and merit," Lord Conrad responded icily. He 
bowed, and took his leave, having affairs of the Count to deal with.

He turned to me before he departed. "Perhaps my lady would like to go riding with me 
tomorrow morning. I will show you the extent of your lands, and introduce you to the serfs 
who will be your immediate concern."

"With pleasure," I said to him. I turned to my Great Aunt, who was fond of sleeping late in 
the morning. "I appoint you, Great Aunt, and you, Madame Nellica, to accompany me. We 
shall meet in the great hall at five tomorrow morning."

"But my lady!" exclaimed Madame Nellica.

"Yes?" I replied, looking at her mildly, but with firmness.

The woman stared at me balefully, and bowed. "As my lady wishes," she responded. I went
to my chambers. They were dusty and ill-cared for. No one had prepared for my coming. I 
sighed, and sent for several servants.

When they arrived, somewhat apprehensive in their bearing, I very clearly ordered cleaning
materials, and opened the windows to the cool fresh mountain air, hoping to freshen the 
rooms.

I put on my plain house garments, and the three servants, plus my own personal maids, 
and I set to vigorously. We worked all afternoon, and late into the evening. When we were 
finished, the rooms glowed. The andirons were gleaming bright, a fresh fire glowed in the 
cleaned hearth, the lovely wooden furniture had been polished brightly with beeswax, and the
window panes had been washed.

There was a fresh coat of wax on the cleaned floors.

"Very well done," I said, praising the servants. I knew all too well what salutary effect the 
sweet balm of praise for a job well done would do. The servants bowed and smiled. Their 
timidity vanished.

"Now, please repair to the kitchen, and ask cook to make you supper, and order supper for
me and my handmaidens," I requested. The servants looked at each other in consternation.

"What is the matter?" I asked. They stood silently, shuffling their feet. "Speak," I 
commanded one of the older women.

"My lady... your highness," the woman stuttered, bowing low before me, "I... we have been 
ordered by the chatelaines, the ladies Arnica and Nellica to appear at mealtime, or go without 
dinner."

My gorge rose as I thought of the tyrannical sway of these ugly-tempered women. "Come 
with me," I ordered sharply. Taking a candle, which glowed brightly in the freshly polished 
pewter holder, I walked down the dusty corridor to the stairs which led to the kitchen.

The kitchen was also ill-kept and dirty. I determined to work on that on the morrow. In the 
meantime, the cook was dozing by a smoky, badly-banked fire.

"Sirrah!" I commanded. He came to startled attention. "You will prepare a supper for these 
three servants, whom I have kept to do some chores for me, past their dinnertime. You will 
also prepare late supper and send it, with some wine up to my chambers for me and my hand 
servants."

The cook's eyes widened, but he dared not disobey, and he set to work vigorously, to obey
my orders. The three servants looked at me with gratitude, and bowed low, thanking me 
profusely. My eyes filled with tears as I witnessed their abject gratitude for my simple, merely 
humane request.

I went to my chambers, and bathed, and put on my evening dress and a velvet cloak. I 
walked around the room, which glowed with the lovely wood and brass and the cleanliness. I 
was determined that the whole drab castle would glow with the same kind of care before 
long.

There was a knock on the door. "Come," I said. The door opened, admitting a servant with 
a tray. "My lady," he said, as he put the tray on the oaken table before the fire, "Lord Conrad 
would like to speak to you, if he may."

"Send me my maid Annette, and tell the Lord Conrad to come in. Get another glass so he 
may share my wine."

The servant bowed and left. Lord Conrad waited until he saw Annette coming down the 
hall, and they entered together.

"My lady!" he exclaimed, as he walked into the large chamber, "how very beautiful, how 
very, very wonderful. The counts will be most pleased!"

"I intend to see that this whole lovely castle looks the same as these chambers, Lord 
Conrad," I said, extending my hand for his affectionate kiss. "I am appalled at the neglected 
state of this house."

"The count himself was distressed, the last time he came home. Unfortunately, he has no 
time at the moment, to take care of the matter. He will be pleased to know that you take 
sufficient pride in his property to tender such loving care to it.

"The chatelaines Nellica and Arnica are, unfortunately, pietistic and neglectful. They feel it 
is sinful to care at all for physical or material things."

"How wonderful!" I exclaimed, not without sarcasm. 'They enjoy the comforts of the home 
and the flesh, but they will not tender the price to pay for their keep!" I was thinking of my 
mother as I said it, and I bit my tongue.

"Exactly," said Lord Conrad, savoring the wine I had poured for him. "You have a keen, 
practical mind. I came on business, however.

"I must cancel our ride tomorrow. I am required to take a trip of a week's duration to some
of the outlying lands of the Count. There is some disturbance that must be attended to.

"Please be careful of the ladies Nellica and Arnica. While the Count has placed me, quite 
wisely, I think, in direct chaperonage of you, that sway reverts to the chatelaines in my 
absence. You have offended them, only by being young and pretty and the young count's 
wife. They will do all in your power to make your life miserable."

I sighed, resigned. "My Lord Conrad, as you know, I have some experience supporting 
tribulation. I will bear whatever I have to, in order to maintain order and peace in this home."

"Come with me," he said, removing a great ring of keys from his belt. I beckoned Annette 
to follow, and we walked down two long corridors to an oaken door, with brass insets in it.

'This is the tower room. During times of war, we lock our women in it, to save them from 
the outrages of marauders. There is only one key, and I have it. I will give it to you."

He took Annette and me up a stone staircase, covered with dust and cobwebs, which 
wound round and round. Here and there, little windows peered out over the dark countryside,
with bright spots of light here and there, from campfires.

We came to the top of the tower, where there was another door, even more heavily 
braided with brass. Using another key, the Lord Conrad opened the door, which creaked on its
hinges, and we entered the spacious chambers. There were three rooms, and a servants' tiring 
room. Quite comfortable enough to sit out a siege.

After we had examined the rooms, we left with my good friend and faithful ally, and went 
back to my chambers. Lord Conrad bid be goodnight, and left. I, with trembling heart, went to
bed, dreading what tomorrow would bring. T instructed Annette to awaken me at four, as l 
intended to go riding anyway. Tomorrow, I would saddle my beloved stallion, Belarion, and 
ride in foreign territory', with two hostile women.

My head was spinning wildly, with plans. I felt as if I had precious little time to accomplish 
all I intended to.

Annette awakened me sweetly, as she always did, and she and Rosette prepared me for my
ride. I was wearing a new deep blue riding gown, trimmed with dark red braid. I had a new 
hat, with a lovely blue veil and new dark red gloves and boots of red Moroccan leather. They 
were extravagant, but I had seen them in a leather goods market near one of the villages my 
father owned, and he, delighted with my pleasure in them, had bought them for me, at great 
cost, although I had pleaded with him not to.

When I came down the great staircase, holding my gown carefully to avoid the dusty 
stairs, I paused. In the hall stood my Great Aunt, and Madame Nellica, looking up at me 
grimly. In addition, there was a priest. His aspect was far more cold and foreboding than our 
parish priest at home.

He, too, frowned at me when he saw my outfit.

"Vanity, vanity," he hissed. "I think the lady needs to mortify her flesh. It is degenerate to 
dress that way. You are a pawn of the devil, my lady."

I bid him good morning, and ignored the life-sapping sereneness of his disposition. This 
seemed only to increase his ire. If he were the only priest in the surrounding countryside, I 
knew I was in trouble, and could look forward to severe penances, perhaps even whipping.

However, I walked out the door, and to my horse, who was pawing the ground and 
whinnying with eagerness.

Again the priest spoke. "A stallion! The lady rides a stallion?"

I turned on him, sharply. "A gift from my father, sir," I said, mounting the animal with the 
aid of the groom, who smiled ingratiatingly at me. I assumed from his deference, and the lack 
of timidity I had noticed yesterday in all the servants, that the word had spread from the 
mouths of the other servants who had aided me yesterday, that I did not intend to be so 
harsh in my management of them.

It was the longest ride I ever took, as the two women, and the priest lectured me for my 
arrogance and flamboyance. It was only with the greatest difficulty that I extracted from them 
the information I needed to know in order to manage the great estates of my father-in-law 
and my husband.

My joy had been sullied, and combined luridly with my pleasure, was the anticipation of 
considerable pain.





CHAPTER FOUR


That odious priest stayed all day. The Madames Nellica and Arnica planned a vespers and 
contrition service for the household that evening. I excused myself after dinner, and went with 
several of the servants to the kitchen.

Having given them instructions to prepare for a thorough cleaning, and also given them 
recipes for cold meals, since I intended to clean the great oven, and the hearth, I went to my 
room and changed.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come!" I said.

"My lady," said Madame Nellica, walking into the room, "you have given orders for the 
fires to be put out, and cold meals to be served for the rest of the day."

'That is correct, Madame Nellica."

"But my lady, to do without hot meals...!"

"Mortify the flesh, Madame Nellica, mortify the flesh!" I said, smiling at her. The woman left
in a huff.

I spent the day scouring the kitchen. The ceiling and the walls were whitewashed, and all 
the appurtenances, the pots and pans were scoured until they gleamed.

The tiled floor was scrubbed and scraped of months of accumulated grease. The servants 
worked with good will and cheerfulness, occasionally breaking out into song.

That, I thought to myself, smiling happily, as I scoured pans in scalding hot water, is how I 
want my home to be, happy and bustling. I excused myself from luncheon, preparing myself 
the salads and sending in the butter and bread which had been made the day before, along 
with the cold meats and cheeses, and wines.

I shared the same luncheon with the servants, who were awed that they could eat the 
same foods as the mistress of the house.

"What do you eat?" I asked the cook.

"The entrails of the slaughtered animals, and those vegetables and fruits which are not 
considered fit for the count's table," he replied.

"So much for Christian charity and mortification of the flesh!" I exclaimed. The little old 
servant who had assisted me to clean my chambers the night before came up to me, and 
whispered in my ear, "Be careful, your highness, the two mistresses are angry enough already. 
They talk against you."

I smiled at her and patted her shoulder. "In due time, Grandmother," I explained to her, "all
evils are avenged. We must all have a good heart, and work diligently. We shall be rewarded."

Madame Nellica sent in a servant to announce that the Vespers service would be at seven. 
I sent a message back Madame Nellica that we would be finished with the kitchen at nine, and
that they could have the service without us, or wait until ten, to give us time to clean up.

Finally we finished. The fires had been new made, and everything gleamed beautifully. My 
heart swelled with pride as I looked at the handiwork of the servants and myself. After giving 
them a few instructions on how to keep everything as bright and clean as it was, I went up to 
prepare for Vespers.

When I arrived down in the great hall, there were candles burning smokily in the dirty 
sconces. I guess I was supposed to believe that, since the living quarters were dirty and 
unkempt, the souls of those living there were white as the driven snow. I knew well enough 
what was in store for me. The chatelaines Nellica and Arnica were sitting up front, and 
followed my progress to the table where the priest stood, stony-eyed. The priest waited until I 
was in my seat, and the servants gathered around.

"It is a function of humility," the priest began "that the great shall be judged no wit less 
than the least of God's children." And so it went, interminably, until we were all invited to 
confess our sins, and accuse each other. All eyes turned to me.

I stood up, trembling, but determined to be brave. "I have nothing to confess. I have no 
knowledge of having sinned."

I sat down. There was a gasp from the chatelaines, and the priest and my Great Aunt. 
There was a murmur of what appeared to be approval from the collected servants.

'Then perhaps," the priest sneered, "you have an accusation to make."

I stood up again. "I will point the finger of guilt at no one for the love of God. and for fear 
that God will return the gesture by pointing the finger of guilt at me."

Again there was a murmur, this time definitely of approval, from the gathered household 
help. Madames Nellica, Arnica, and my Great Aunt stared at me with what appeared to be 
disbelief. The priest began again. I had some satisfaction knowing that if I were hanged, it 
would be for a wolf, not a sheep!

"You are not only devoid of Christian conscience, my lady, not to mention humility. You 
have sinned grievously in the face of these good, God-fearing women," he intoned, pointing 
at the chatelaines and my Great Aunt.

I wondered, as he ran down the list of my sins, about the state of his own soul. He was, 
next to the count, the most powerful man in the kingdom, with the resources at his command 
to incite rebellion, damn people into the belief of their eternal loss.

"For your penance, I command one hundred lashes to be given by the poor women whom
you have tormented with your sinful conduct." So be it, I thought. I knew they would be swift 
of execution.

The women confessed trivia that I didn't think worthy of a priest's attention, much less a 
merciful God's. Nellica confessed to complaining about the cold meals, and Arnica 
complained of getting angry with Nellica because Nellica lost her darning needle. My Great 
Aunt complained of over-indulging me for love of me!

Their penances were simple, some litany or other. The servants were to have three lashes 
each administered to them for favoring me in my sinful ways and carrying out my commands 
with alacrity, without consulting the chatelaines.

"Nay!" cried a burly groom in the back. "Give us ten times the lashes, and spare her 
highness. She has done no wrong." There now was a general cry of assent among the 
servants. My spine tingled at the thrill of hearing their loyalty speak in such accents as 
suffering.

There lay my physical salvation, not that I would be spared the lash nor the rod. But my 
tormenters, witnessing this outburst of devotion, would surely be careful in their punishments.

"Very well!" the priest cried, raising his hands wrathfully. "Thirty lashes for all of you, and 
two hundred for my lady, and eternal damnation to any of you who utters another 
blasphemous outcry against the church!"

There was sudden silence in the room. The priest turned to me, the fire of rage burning in 
his evil face. "Go to your chambers and wait to be summoned by the ladies Arnica and Nellica,
and your long-suffering Great Aunt, and God have mercy on your soul."

I left. My eyes burned with fond tears, as I watched the tear-filled eyes of the servants 
whose loyalty had so quickly and easily been won. I carefully kept my chin high, and smiled at 
them as I left the room.

Annette and Rosette and Charlotte followed me up the great staircase, weeping. "Oh my 
lady!" Annette cried in anguish. "To think that your poor father took you out of your mother's 
clutches, to send you to this!"

"Peace, Annette, do not make it more difficult for me. I have a chore for the three of you. 
Get two or three of the other servants, who are not too badly hurt, and go to the tower 
rooms. Here are the keys. Clean them thoroughly, and prepare them for occupancy. I know 
you will do a good job. You are all good and faithful servants. We are going to need that room
for some retreat, and we may as well prepare for it now. I do not know when the men in the 
castle will be back."

Weeping, Annette accepted the keys. There was a knock at the door, and Nellica flung it 
open. "My lady will come with me." She made a deep bow, and I smiled with the irony of her 
iron-bound observance of the superficial laws of deference, and her blatant disregard for my 
physical well-being, and the welfare of the servants who were our property, and therefore 
under our protection. I walked with her down the stairs to the great hall, and then down a 
long corridor past the kitchen which twinkled with warmth and cleanliness, to a small door. 
She took out a large key ring, and selected a key from it, opening the door.

It slammed behind me with an awesome finality that spelled no retreat, and I walked 
ahead of Nellica down the narrow filthy staircase to a great, vaulted subterranean chamber. It 
seemed to stretch the length and breadth of the castle itself. We walked down another long 
corridor, to a huge room. My stomach plummeted to me feet when I saw the stained walls of 
the torture chamber.

I had heard of these chambers in the great old castles. I did not think they were still in use.
Judging from the rust and cobwebs hanging from some of the iron manacles and spears and 
prods, this room had not been used in decades, but I was going to christen it anew with my 
blood.

The rest of the vipers, including the priest, were already there, waiting. Arnica came up to 
me, and with one wrench, she ripped my garment from my body, leaving me clad only in my 
thin shift. My Great Aunt completed the job of my humiliation, leaving me nude before their 
prying, ugly-cold collective gaze.

The priest roughly shoved me against the cold stone wall, and my hands were manacled 
over my head. The three so-called ladies were each flicking a whip. They were to take turns 
administering the lashes. The priest, to be perfectly fair, was to keep count. "One!" he cried, 
and Arnica's arm rose slowly. The whip whistled through the air, and landed across my right 
shoulder, cutting into the soft flesh of my burgeoning breasts.

I winced. I was going to try not to cry out, to be brave, to do my new, unknown husband 
proud. The pain of the lash whipped upward to my head, and as I opened my eyes I saw silver 
stars dancing wildly in front of them.

'Two!" cried the priest, and the second lash descended from Nellica's vicious hand. It cut 
across my haunches, and I had to bite my lip against the excruciating pain that cut through 
me like the echo of the whiplash itself. My Great Aunt, who was hefty and had more weight to 
her wrist, cut deeply at the count of three, into my left breast. I could feel the lash lacerate the 
tender skin, leaving a trickle of blood which welled up from the cut and dripped down my 
stomach.

After the tenth lash I lost count. I could barely maintain my consciousness, and I was 
beginning to fear my ability to survive two hundred lashes. I gritted my teeth as the whipping 
increased in tempo, and the fiery pain of the lashes increased in intensity. My whole body 
trembled, taut and agonized, under the ever-growing pain from the biting leather. They were 
careless how they applied the whip, several lashes cutting into my cunt.

One hit my clitoris, and the pain was like nothing I had ever experienced and I wondered 
how I survived it at all. The aftermath of the cut, was a soft, slow, subtle fiery pleasure that 
built slowly in my pussy, causing me to cream. My head was now hanging down, as I 
attempted to maintain consciousness. I was afraid that if I fainted, I would die under their 
brutal maltreatment of me.

At one point, I shook my head in grief. If these beasts were hard on me, I wondered how 
the poor servants were going to fare under the same lash? A great fear chilled my bones. They
could easily kill me, and write to the Count and my husband, telling them that I had died of 
fever. There were no limits to which they would not go, I was assured of that, as my body 
jerked wildly under their lashing.

My clitoris was now flaming wildly in my soft pussy flesh, and my red soft cunt lips were 
swollen with an incredible, perverse passion, as I felt the biting kiss of the leather again and 
again and again. I was beginning to think that the priest had lost count, and was going on and
on and on, as lash after lash bruised and bloodied my soft, exposed, vulnerable body.

My cherry-red nipples were puckered with agony and ecstasy. I hit upon what I consider to
be the best idea for survival I had yet had. I decided to concentrate on the pleasure, and not 
the pain. I attempted to relax my body a little. I drew my lacerated legs together, feeling the 
blood rolling down in maddening, tickling rills over my wounded flesh, and I squeezed my 
legs together tightly.

I felt the fire in my pussy grow, and as I concentrated on that little animal, which in the last
several months seemed to have acquired a life of its own, the warmth grew. Even the sharp 
agony of the whip lashes added tangible pulses of pleasure to the growing warmth of my 
pussy. My pussy muscles had started to ripple slowly, contracting with each blow from a whip.

I had long since lost count, and the priest's voice droning in my ears, as I closed my eyes 
and abandoned myself to my pussy, became my only contact with reality. I blotted out the 
harsh fact of the whips, which hissed through the air, and smacked against my skin with an 
loud sound, and left blood in their wake of each lash.

The rippling sensations in my pussy grew. It was a strange sensation that I had only 
experienced recently, starting, I think, with my mother's last beating of me. It was disturbing, 
and yet exciting in an erotic sort of way.

As the whips left my soft white skin striated in lurid red welts, and stained with my own 
blood, I kept my mind on the soft wet, red cave of my womanhood, preserving the hot ripples 
of pleasure which were coursing through me, dulling even the excruciating agony of the whip.

Suddenly, I felt my body tense in a strange, new way. I felt my clitoris tingling violently. 
Each ripple coursed through my body, turning the very blood in my veins to liquid fire, which 
reached my brain and exploded in a mad ecstasy, the like of which I had never known.

I clenched my fists in the manacles, and my body trembled incredibly, chilled and warmed 
at the same time by the pulsing pleasure which seemed to have possessed my body, made it 
its own. I was experiencing my first orgasm, although I had to discuss it with Annette to learn 
what it was.

The pleasure of the sensation was as excruciating in its bliss, as the pain of the whips were 
excruciating in their pain. But the pleasure was more powerful than the pain, and I knew 
suddenly, as I threw my head back, pressing it hard against the stone wall, that I would live, 
and that I would do anything to get this wonderful, blissful, incredible pleasure back again.

If I had to go through a thousand whippings, and live an ugly old cripple the rest of my 
life, it would have been worth it to experience, just once, this fantastic delight which turned 
my body into a trembling inferno of passion.

My physical restraint masked the orgasm from the greedy, evil eyes of my tormentors, who
thought I was convulsing. I was still lost in the last blissful, fading ripples of pain and pleasure, 
when I heard, but could not discern the meaning of Nellica's voice, as she spoke to the priest.

"No!" the priest's voice came through loud and clear. "The penance has been given, and it 
must be paid to the last iota. Give me the whip."

If the blows I had received before were violent, the priest's fulfilling of his own penance on
me was even worse. I tried desperately to gain back the ephemeral, beautiful, passionate 
pleasure again, but this time the pain was much too insistent, much too harsh to deny.

"Two hundred!" the priest gasped. I looked up at him through pain-fogged eyes, and as 
my eyes traveled upward, I noticed a strange bulge in his crotch. I must ask the worldly-wise 
Annette about that, I noted to myself, already bursting with questions for her. Strange how my
stubborn mind, even at a moment like this, could whirl with thoughts and questions.

"Now for the servants!" the priest said. I was shocked as they headed for the door. They 
intended to leave me here. The door slammed too, leaving me in dreadful silence, broken by 
the harsh sound of my own agonized breathing, the occasional scurrying of a rat through the 
walls, and the slow drip, drip, drip of .my blood as it welled up out of the lacerations which 
covered my body, and cooled in its passage down my skin to stain the floor.

I looked around the room, my arms screaming with agony from their constrained position,
and my wrists chafed from pulling at the iron cuffs in my anguish. I must remember to get the 
servants down into the cellar to clean it up.

My heart froze for an instant in my breast. What if I never got out of here? What if no one 
ever found me? I thought of the servants, and the hope warmed my heart to new activity. 
They would find me. I had been assured of their loyalty at the Vespers service. They would not 
let me die, naked and alone in this horrible chamber of pain and death!

I lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was in total darkness. My body screamed with pain 
and cold. I was shivering uncontrollably. The torch that had been planted in one of the 
sconces had gutted and gone out.

The tears started to roll down my cheeks as I thought of dying here alone, and unshriven, 
naked and humiliated, my body covered with painful cuts and bruises. I do not know how 
long I had been unconscious. I do not know, once I regained consciousness how long I lay in 
agony in my bonds.

Suddenly, I heard the murmur of voices outside the heavy door, then light! "My lady," a 
voice whispered. It was Annette, dear, dutiful Annette. She came in with my other 
handmaidens, and two old servants.

They raised a great cry of lamentation, as they rushed to me, and gently freed me from my
iron bonds. One old lady covered me with her harsh worsted cloak. The material against my 
soft, and anguished skin was a worse anguish, but I did not complain. The gesture covered my
shame, and was made out of loving-kindness.

They carried me to the tower rooms, and bathed my body, massaging soothing balms and 
oils into my skin. There I lay for three days in a dazed fever. When I awoke, clear-headed, the 
pain somewhat abated on the fourth day, I looked around me. I recognized the rooms, but 
they were not the same. The walls had been whitewashed and hung with gay tapestries. The 
glass in the mullioned panes had been polished. The andirons caught and threw back in 
twinkling cheerfulness, the bright fire in the cleaned grate.

The magnificent oaken floors glowed with fresh polish. By my bed, there were 
flowers--cornflowers, which I loved so much. The little old servant stood, trembling with 
concern, deep circles under her eyes which told worlds of the untiring care she had taken of 
me, by my side. I reached out my pale and trembling hand, and squeezed her old, work-worn 
one. She knelt by the bed, glad tears in her eyes, and kissed my hand.

"I'm hungry, Grandmother," I smiled at her. She smiled again, and nodded. Then she took 
a white handkerchief out of her pocket and went to the window, opened it, and waved it up 
and down three times. She stood there for awhile smiling.

"Grandmother, what are you doing?" I asked, curious.

'The servants all wanted a signal when you were better. We agreed to wave a white 
handkerchief three times from the tower window to let them know that you were well again."

"And the three Gorgons?" I asked, grinning wryly.

"The same, my lady, the same."

"Help me up, Grandmother. I wish to bathe, and leave these rooms. We have much work 
to do."

"Oh, my lady, let me get your handmaidens. Stay in bed and rest."

"I have had how many days of rest?"

"You have had the fever on you for three days."

"Three days is plenty of rest. I will never get the kinks out of my bones if I do not exercise 
them. Let me up."

With the old lady's help, I bathed, and dressed. She sent for my servants, who dressed my 
hair, and assisted me downstairs to my own chambers. I was half afraid that the work I had 
done would be undone. I had not counted on the loyalty of the servants. My chambers still 
glowed with cleanliness. The floors and the furniture had been freshly waxed, and there were 
cornflowers everywhere.

From my chambers, for the next three days, I gave orders to have the great hall dismantled
of its tapestries and paintings. The room was whitewashed, the oaken beams cleaned and 
polished, the hearth repaired and cleaned, and the brass and silver polished. One by one, the 
rooms regained their age-old loveliness. The wood glowed, the floors were mirror-like in their 
high polish, and the windows twinkled in the sun like shards of polished metal.

"Where is Lord Conrad?" I asked one morning of Annette.

"He has been detained, according to the Madames Nellica and Arnica. 'The rumor is, that 
he has been captured and is being held for ransom."

"Why was this not brought to my attention?" I asked angrily.

"Oh, my lady, you were so ill! We did not think it wise to distress you."

"Has anything been done about releasing him?"

"I do not think so. Shall I send for Madame Nellica's handmaid?"

"Yes." Annette went swiftly to the door. "Annette?" I called to her.

"Yes, my lady."

"In the future, I would appreciate it if you would assume that I am fit to receive any and all 
information, until you see me in my coffin."

Annette blessed herself. "My lady, God forbid. May you live a long life and have many 
children."

"Amen," I laughed, "but will you do as I say?"

"Yes, my lady." She left and returned quickly with Madame Nellica's handmaid, a meek, 
sweet-faced little girl of about my age, whose body often bore the marks of the irascible lady's
ire. She bowed meekly.

"Little one," I asked, as gently as possible, since she was trembling with awe. "Do you know
if the lady Nellica has made arrangements to have Lord Conrad released from bondage?"

The little girl's eyes filled with tears. "No, your highness," she whispered. "My lady Nellica, 
and her sister, Lady Arnica discussed it with your highness's Great Aunt the day they received 
the message from the Saracen chief. They agreed that since he was a minor noble, and merely 
my lord, the count's secretary, that he was not worth the ransom."

My stomach pulled in taut with rage and I ground my teeth.

"Thank you little one," I said, handing her a gold coin. "Do not speak of this interview to 
your mistress."

"Oh, no, your highness! She would beat me!"

My rage grew with my sense of frustration. I was a mere woman, no, not yet a woman, still 
a little girl, and I had no man to whom I could go to ask advice.

I sent Annette for the old woman whom I so fondly dubbed "Grandmother." She appeared
almost immediately. "Grandmother," I asked her, "who is the wisest of the men on these 
estates?"

"The Squire Ludlow, who tenants the most prosperous of the farms. He lives in the valley 
by the forest. He is also a great bowmen who served in the Emperor's army, and has traveled 
much and seen much."

"Thank you, Grandmother," I said, kissing her wrinkled brown cheek. "Go tell the groom to 
saddle my horse at five. I will go riding tomorrow. You will not speak of this to the Madames 
Nellica and Arnica, nor to my Great Aunt."

"Never, your highness!" said the old woman, with considerable anger. Her face flushed 
with rage. I had had no commerce with my chaperones, nor with my Great Aunt, since my 
whipping in the dungeons.

"Annette, you and Rosette will ride with me tomorrow. We shall pay a surprise visit to the 
Squire Ludlow. I must seek advice on how best to ransom the Lord Conrad."

"Yes, Madame."

"And Annette?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"I will wear my black mourning gown--the old one. I do not want to attract any more 
attention than I have to. And lay out the black worsted cloak with the hood."

I went to bed feeling somewhat faint. By law, I was subject to those who were placed over 
me. I could not act without consulting them. To all intents and purposes, I was being a most 
immodest and undeserving bride. I longed for a priest to whom I could speak about the real 
state of my soul.

But I was determined at all costs, to save Lord Conrad!





CHAPTER FIVE


The mists rose heavily over the land, as we set out the next morning, muffled in our dark 
cloaks. The horses snorted in the cold dark air, tossing their heads against the stiff north wind 
that blew toward us from the forest. Grandmother, huddled in a shabby old cloak, was waiting
when we came down the steps to our horses. She intended to lead us to our destination in 
safety.

I was grateful for her company. I had not yet ridden enough to become familiar with the 
terrain, and it was treacherous in spots, especially on this dark, moonless morning.

We were all silent, wrapped in our own thoughts. I was particularly plagued with a sense of
guilt and uneasiness, which did not sway my determination to go to the aid of Lord Conrad. 
Were the priests, my mother, and my stern chaperones perhaps right? Was I untowardly 
stubborn and lawless? I gritted my teeth against the cold from the air, and my blighting 
thoughts.

Grandmother had stopped her horse, and pulled the bridle in sharply. She turned around 
and looked at us, and raised her hand. Then she turned her horse and cantered softly back to 
where the three of us were huddled, all the time keeping her finger to her mouth as a warning
to silence.

"Pull back!" she whispered at us. Without a word, we did exactly as wise Grandmother said.
She must have had a reason. When we were back in a thicket, she said, her breath hissing, "I 
hear a band of horses beyond that rise, and I saw a faint glow, as of a campfire."

My heart froze in my breast. We were miles from the moats of the castle, unprotected. I 
dismounted, and turned my reins over to Annette.

"Stay here!" I hissed to my maids. "Grandmother, come with me. Let us see who rests on 
our land."

Grandmother also dismounted her horse, handing the reins to Rosette. "Keep the horses 
quiet," I hissed in warning, and Grandmother and I stumbled over the rocky terrain, until I, too,
heard the pawing of hoofs, and the snorting of horses. A little farther on in our furtive 
progress, we saw the rocky rise, limned with the golden light of campfires.

They could be gypsies, in which case there was no need for alarm. They could, however, be
a band of marauders who had infiltrated the territory without detection. I fell flat, instinctively 
on my belly and crawled forward. Grandmother followed my example.

We crawled up the embankment, the low bracken scratching my face. When we reached 
the top of the rise, we both sucked in our breaths and held it. There, stretched as far as the 
eye could see, were marauders. They were dressed in the most outlandish garments I have 
ever seen, and they were a burly mean lot. I gasped as I heard a voice fairly close to me.

"When do we attack?"

"The captain says at the rise of the sun. The serfs will still be asleep, and M'lady in the 
castle will still be abed. We will mow them all down!" This statement was followed by a 
raucous laugh which turned my blood to ice water.

Making a sign to Grandmother, we beat a hasty retreat on our bellies. Then we ran 
helter-skelter back to the thicket where the rest of the party were. I grabbed my horse, and 
mounted again.

"Annette, Rosette, go back to the castle! Tell the porter to ring the bell and gather the 
peasants together inside the moat. There are marauders on the other side of that hill!"

"My lady, what about you?"

"Grandmother and I are going to warn Squire Ludlow, and the outlying peasants. Go 
quickly!" I cried, reckless now of any consideration of social decency. The land and the people 
of my father-in-law, and my husband were in dire peril!

Annette and Rosette waited only an instant, tears in their eyes. Then they broke into a 
gallop and headed vent-a-terre back to the castle.

I turned to Grandmother. "Quickly, the most distant route from that encampment that will 
gain us the Squire Ludlow's farm!"

Without a word, faithful Grandmother turned her horse in a course opposite the 
encampment. When we were safely out of earshot, we broke into a gallop, and flew over the 
countryside, mowing down winter wheat, and plowing up gardens. When we passed little 
cottages, or huts, we yelled a warning to the peasants who were too far away to hear the bell 
from the castle. Sleepy peasants with squalling children in their arms appeared in the 
doorways, and were instantly galvanized to action. We told them where the encampment was, 
so they could avoid it safely. On and on we rode, through the forest, and suddenly, my horse 
stumbled and fell. I went head over heels. Grandmother reined in her sweating beast, and 
dismounted quickly and gasped.

My scream was strangled in my throat by rough hands which covered my mouth. My 
horse, who had quickly scrambled to his feet, unharmed, had stumbled over the sleeping body
of an isolated marauder!

"Hey," he cried in a rough voice. My eyes flicked wildly from side to side, wondering where 
he was yelling. And through the trees I saw it, the faint dim light of a fire, burning in a cave. I 
heard other feet plowing through the undergrowth, and then big, burly shadows appeared, 
outlined by the dim light in the distance.

"I've caught something!" the man who held me cried. "And get that one." I bit hard on the 
man's hand. "Run, Grandmother, run!" I screamed. The faithful old woman stood her ground, 
determined to share my fate, and assist in any way possible.

I heard her grunt, as one of the burly figures grabbed her, too.

"Bring them back to the cave," one of the men growled. We were dragged through the 
trees, to the cave. My stomach rebelled at the stench in it. It smelled of filthy bodies, bad 
breath, raw liquor, and ordure. There were seven weirdly dressed men, standing around. They 
let out a ribald laugh, as we were dragged into the cave.

I was thinking in panic-stricken tempo, trying to think of a way out of this horrible 
situation we were in. My virtue! I must defend my virginity at all cost. It was my own heedless 
independence that had got me into this hideous impasse.

I was thrown to the filthy floor of the cave. "Women!" I heard one of the hairy beasts snarl, 
and instantly, a heavy body fell on mine. I struggled vainly against his strength, as I felt my 
gown ripped, and felt his filthy fingers reaching for my privates. I heard a hoarse screech, and 
knew that Grandmother was suffering the same fate.

I wept when I realized that it was I who had gotten the poor old woman in this situation.

A thick, dirty finger had found my cunt, and was pulling at the fine down that had just 
begun to grow on it.

"A young-'un, it is," he husked, salivating. No, I thought to myself, no, not that, anything. 
Throwing all decency to the winds, I gave one last struggle. I could not defeat these huge 
monsters at all. I must at least save what I could.

"Use my bung-hole," I rasped, hoarsely, raising my gown over my head, and pulling my 
knees under me, I raised my snowy white untouched buttocks in the air. I trembled, clenching 
my fists as the lewd laughter rolled over me like a tidal wave. I was hoping my very lewdness 
would incite them to that obscenity, rather than having them take my pearl.

My skirts were now over my head, and they muffled the scream of anguish which rippled 
from my throat, as I felt the rough prodding of a thick cock against my asshole. The head of 
the cock thrust mercilessly, and with a fiery agony into the protesting sphincter muscles, and 
with another brutal thrust, the whole cock was buried deeply up my ass.

I gritted my teeth, and let the tears pour freely, as the man sawed with great difficulty in 
and out of my tight, virginal ass. I was grinding my teeth in agony, trying to relax the tight, 
protesting muscles. But my ass was on fire, and the agony was screeching through me. In and 
out his cock plowed heavily, each thrust sending new fires of pain rippling through ,my ass.

I could smell the foul odor of the man's unwashed, heathen body, as he labored, grunting 
over my tender asshole. I could feel the blood starting to trickle down my nether canal as his 
cock brutally abraded the tender tissues, ripping the soft pink membranes in its passage in 
and out of my ass hole.

I was mortified, and this time, I knew it was my own fault. Perhaps my mother and the 
priests had been right. I had been having pangs of guilt since I left that morning. I had been 
acting, not as a discreet maiden, but as a shameless hussy. I did not deserve my husband, nor 
my father's respect. I would have to confess all to my husband, when he came back from the 
wars, and request an annulment of our marriage. This was too filthy to be borne!

In and out, the brutal pecker sawed, until the man shot his filthy wad deep into my bowels.
I had never felt so filthy in my life! My shame rushed over me, and threatened to annihilate 
me, until I remembered why I had galloped like a scapegrace over the countryside. No, I 
would not die, I thought, as I felt wad after wad of the man's scum pour hotly into my nether 
channel. I would at least gain some good from this heinous evil. I would save Squire Ludlow 
and the Castle! I had to, now. I had to redeem my soul some way.

Through the folds of my mourning gown I could hear Grandmother moaning. Her moans 
were guttural and continuous. I heard other men grunting, and knew that they were all 
engaged in some form of unspeakable filth!

The man pawing at my body, and plowing out my rectum gave one final lunge, and shot 
his last wad into my ass. Then he pulled out abruptly, and without a chance even to 
recuperate from the pain screaming through my bowels, I was assaulted again.

The cock of this man was longer and thicker still, and again I felt blood trickling down my 
rectum, mixed with the spunk of the first man who shot his wad into me. I felt like the worst 
whore in creation, and I wept silent tears of shame and penitence for my own degradation 
and for the poor moaning servant whom I had taken with me on my downfall.

The beast who was violating me now was even more violent than the one before. He 
sawed in and out of me interminably. I could feel him dragging my mutilated flesh with him as
he filled my tight asshole with his man meat. My stomach was doing crazy flip-flops in my 
belly, and threatening to tilt over, spilling its contents.

In his violence, he flatted me forward, and I fell hard against the filthy cave floor. At my 
head I could fee! the heat from the smoky fire they had lit. Every thrust of the man's raping 
loins pressed my pussy cruelly into the rocky earth. I could feel my pussy getting raw and 
abraded from the bruising impact of being banged against the dirt, with each impact of the 
beast's salacious schlong.

I thought my insides were being dragged out with every violent out-thrust of the man's 
cock, and I thought he was going to puncture my stomach every time his massive, throbbing 
hammer banged home deeply into my bowels. It would take more than a bath to make me 
feel clean. And even if I had that enema I was determined to get, I would still not be clean.

My body was trembling and sweating as the man started to shoot his wad into me. For the
second time, my bung-hole was being bathed with the filthy scum of a. heathen soldier. He 
came copiously. I felt as if gallons of his hot, viscid spunk was being poured into my belly with 
each forward thrust. His cock was jerking crazily in my asshole as he came and came and 
came. I could feel the sticky strings of it creeping out of my asshole with every out-thrust of 
his long, hard peter.

Finally, I heard him grunt, and then his body collapsed. He pulled out, and a great ripple of
pain surged through me with the violence of his movement. In the distance, I could hear 
grandmother still moaning. Her moaning had reached a crescendo now. I was glad that she 
was still moaning. At least she was still alive.

I had to think of a way out of this hideous captivity. I cried out again, as I felt a sharp blow 
to my buttocks. Someone was beating me with the flat of a heavy sword! I peeked cautiously 
over the hem of my skirt. One of the soldiers who had a broadsword in his hand, was 
thwacking it heavily on my brutalized buttocks. I gritted my teeth, and tried to focus my 
pain-fogged eyes, as blow after blow threatened to send me reeling off into unconsciousness. 
My pussy was humping into the soil, and I could feel my perverse clitoris rippling with those 
marvelous pleasure sensations. And then I remembered the whipping.

Concentrate on the pleasure, not on the pain. And think! Subtlely, I humped my pussy into
the earth, increasing the thrusts as the man's arm came down with increasing frequency. Each 
slap of the cold steel against my quivering, bruised and battered rump sent another 
agonizing, lightning-like flash of pain through my body, leaving it devastated and weak, but 
each slap also made my pussy tingle more and more heavily. I concentrated on the pleasure, 
striving to make myself come.

It had allowed me to survive before. It could be my faithful ally again. I ground my pussy 
flatter into the earth, feeling the small rocks and the grit abrade my cunt, but even the sharp 
feeling of the grit and rocks caused more and more pleasure to rill through me. The pangs of 
pleasure were almost as sharp as the screeching of pain as the sword slapped me again and 
again and again!

Over to my right, Grandmother was lying on her back. Her knees were up to her shriveled 
old breasts, and she was being fucked wildly by another soldier. Behind that soldier, was 
another, salivating, and pulling on his massive dork. Behind the soldier who was beating me 
stood another, who was pumping his cock very hard. It looked as if he would come any 
moment. The tip of it was exuding milky white drops of come, and the flow was increasing.

Even the man who was beating me was dripping come from his piss slit. And as he beat 
me harder and harder, his cock bobbed up and down in a lurid dance of lust. Then he started 
to come, spraying the thick, stringy come all over my ass cheeks. The slap of the sword 
became even more excruciating as my buttocks became wet with his gism. The sword was 
making obscene slapping noises as it struck my come-covered ass.

Then a glint caught my eye. It was steel, a broadsword, lying neglected by the fire. If only I 
could reach it. f gazed over my shoulders at the man who was beating me mercilessly. His 
cock was still spewing his come all over me. I was covered with the stinking stuff. I bided my 
time, waiting for the last paroxysm that would double him over.

Desperation lent strength and agility to my feet, as he finally doubled over, dropping the 
sword at his feet, and grasped his cock with both hands. He was pumping it wildly, his hands a
blur, as the last of his gism spilled out. With one swift motion, I had sprinted to my feet, using 
my hands and bent-up knees as a spring. I reached the sword in one movement, and picked 
up the heavy handle.

There was an instant's pause, as the men saw, almost uncomprehending, what I had done. 
The man who was jerking off behind the man who was beating me, let go of his cock and put 
his hands on his hips, his powerful legs splayed, his cock bobbing obscenely in time to his 
ribald laughter.

The man who was fucking Grandmother finished coming with lewd grunting sounds, and 
pulled out, panting heavily. He was weak with after-fuck languor. Grandmother looked over to
where I stood, and instantly got to her knees.

"The lady thinks she can use a broadsword, when only the strongest men can wield one 
with any skill. Haw, haw, haw...!" The man who had put his hands on his hips stopped laughing
suddenly, and a weird gurgle rose in his severed throat, as I swung the broadsword with better
skill than I hoped, lopping his head off his body.

The blood gushed out with the same turgid, obscene flow as the other soldier's cock had 
done. The one who had come all over my stomach, was immobilized, shocked, and wide-eyed.
There was still time, and my fencing master and my brother had taught me well. I followed up 
instantly on my advantage, raising the broadsword up over my head, and cleaving the man 
who had beaten me, in two.

His bifurcated body fell in two separate parts, silently onto the floor. I heard a strangled 
yell, and turned. Grandmother had followed up my lead. She had slid herself along the floor, 
and grabbed the broadsword that the man who had beaten me had dropped in order to finish
himself off. It was heavy, but Grandmother's years of toil had added iron to her arms. As one 
of the soldiers started to recover from the shock, she had with one skillful movement swung 
the sword upward from the floor where she had grabbed it, catching the man in the genitals. 
He went over hard, clutching the privates he had used so abusively, and with another swing of
the sword, Grandmother had finished him off.

'To the horses, Grandmother," I cried, backing up and swinging wildly with the sword. One 
soldier, rapier in hand, screamed as my swinging sword lopped off his arm right above the 
elbow. Arm and rapier landed in a bloody mangled heap on the cave floor.

We had gained the narrow entrance to the cave. Another soldier hurtled, screaming 
through it, carrying a huge club with spikes on the end of it. Grandmother and I both thrust at
the same time, and the man keeled over, spitted through his gut. He uttered one strangled 
cry, and then doubled over, dead. Grandmother and I dragging the heavy steel swords, ran 
through the trees. Our horses stood grazing on the sparse grass where they had been left. 
Hurriedly, laying the swords over our saddles, we mounted. I let out a cry as my wounded ass 
hit the leather. My garment was ripped and I was bleeding from half a dozen cuts.

"My lady, my lady...!"

"Not now, Grandmother. To Squire Ludlow's, quickly. We still have time before sunrise!"

Again the horses broke into a gallop as Grandmother led us surely and swiftly to the 
fanner's house. As we galloped across the field, my ass and body screaming in pain, I noticed 
that there was a light in one of the windows. We pulled our horses to a sweating, huffing halt 
in front of the door of the neat, well maintained cottage. In the door I could dimly make out 
the outline of a man, his arms raised with what looked like a crossbow in his hands.

"Squire Ludlow," I cried in an agonized, husky voice.

"By the gods, it's a woman!" he cried. Behind him appeared another form. "Who is it 
father?" I heard a deep voice ask.

"I am the Duchess of Gascony, wife of the young Count of Mornay. We are in danger, and I
have come to warn you. There is an encampment of marauders near the first fringes of the 
forest by the cornfields of the serf Manheim. I have sent my servants to sound the warning 
bell. We need you to fight with us, and to send messengers to warn the outlying farms and 
villages."

The man rushed out into the dark, and grabbed the bridle of Belarion. "My lady!" he cried. 
"You have been hurt."

"No time for sympathy, sir. Do as I command. The lives and property of the Counts of 
Mornay is at stake!"

"Your highness," I heard the mournful voice of Grandmother husk, "come into the cottage, 
and let me bathe your wounds."

"Garth, Beilin, Rosarion!" the man bellowed, as I felt his strong arms around my bruised 
and aching waist, lifting me from the saddle. Three husky young men appeared, all armed.

"Ring the bell. Summon the serfs. Then give them horses, and tell them to gather the 
women in the hiding place behind the precipice. Secure the entrance well, and then come 
back with the men. The castle is besieged!"

Instantly, I heard a bell ringing, and lights began to flicker in small cottages around the 
land. The serfs were assembled quickly, and while I was being assisted into the cottage, I heard
the galloping of hooves, as the first contingent was sent on their errands. Two little girls, a 
comely maiden, and a comfortable-looking older woman were gathered in the kitchen.

"Let me stay husband, and care for her ladyship," the older woman sighed, looking at mw 
piteously.

"Go to your place of safety, Madame. Thank you for your concern. Grandmother will assist 
me." My gown was ripped beyond all repair, and barely covered me.

"Squire Ludlow," I requested, as Grandmother bathed my wounds, which were painful, but 
superficial. Lend me a pair of your breeches and a shirt. I cannot go out as I am." 
Grandmother's garment had suffered little damage, miraculously. The squire, looking at me, 
awed, did as I commanded. I retired to a bed chamber, and changed into the pants and the 
homespun shirt. Even at that crucial moment, I had to admit to an erotic feeling of incredible 
freedom and power, as I gazed at my long, lithe frame in the looking glass behind the oaken 
door. My legs were long, and I had that coltish look a woman gets just before she really 
develops her womanly traits. My breasts were small and firm, but well developed. And the 
sense of lightness to feel my legs freed of the encumbrances of skirts almost, in spite of my 
violated ass, and my aching body, made me click my heels.

Quickly I rushed back to the kitchen. "Quickly, my lady, we shall secure you with the other 
women and children."

"I will ride with you back to the castle," I said firmly. "Just give me a dagger, to assist in the 
battle."

The long, lean, swarthy serf looked at me, s almost stunned. Then he reached up into a 
cupboard and pulled out a leather sheath, containing a long, gleaming knife. I strapped it 
around my waist, and turned to Grandmother. "Grandmother, go with the men to the 
women's hiding place."

Grandmother stalwart and firm, stood her ground. "You may punish me for disobedience, 
your highness, but I will stay with you."

I looked at her, and in spite of my sense of grief at my sullied body, I laughed. "I shall not 
punish you, Grandmother," I said, fondly running my hand over her hoary hair. "I shall reward 
you for your loyalty."

Quickly we walked out to the horses, and mounted. I could not restrain a moan of pain as 
my brutalized ass again hit the saddle. I swung my legs over the broad girth of the animal, 
unaccustomed to the feeling of straddling a horse, since, of course, I had always ridden 
side-saddle. Again the feeling of control was magnificent, f began to wish, only slightly, that I 
had been born a man. Rapidly, the clearing in front of the Squire Ludlow's cabin filled with 
peasants and tenants on horseback, carrying torches which lit their faces weirdly, making 
ordinarily still shadows ripple menacingly across the ground. They were all armed.

Squire Ludlow spoke. "Beside me sits the Countess Mornay, who has saved our lives and 
our lands. She will ride with us. We go to the castle. On!" he cried, and we were off, a massive 
band of horsemen, who gathered speed, and more riders, as we coursed through the 
countryside. In the distance, I spied the first, faint tinges of green on the horizon, signalling 
the rise of the sun. As a thin white layer of light began to seep over the fringes of the land, we 
arrived at the copse where the encampment had been. A few fires still burned dimly, but the 
marauders were gone.

"We will surprise them on the northward side, where the moat is shallow," Squire Ludlow 
instructed the gathered force. "That's where they will probably gather to attack. Onward, and 
let none of us be less valiant than the Countess Mornay!"

A great cry went up, and I saw swords gleam gray in the dim light from the inexorable 
morn that would have its way and bathe the land in glory. Amidst the shouts I heard "Mornay,
Mornay!" over and over again. We galloped at full speed over terrain which had already 
become familiar to me. In the distance, I could see the bulk of the castle, still dark against the 
forest in the background, where the light had not yet touched. And even as I looked, I saw the
first shaft of pink hit the newly washed windows of the tower room, and saw the bright 
flashing of the glass as it winked against the sun's rays. I remembered my days of agony in 
those rooms, and my heart filled with the fire of my anger. I spurred my Belarion on harder. 
His flanks were covered with sweat. Poor animal, I thought, he has been ridden hard this 
eternal, gory morning, and he has a long way to go before he rests in his stable, if he ever 
does.

As we approached, we saw the macabre hordes of marauders, banked against the 
northern moat, just as Squire Ludlow predicted. With a frightening war cry that rippled 
through the serried ranks of serfs, we charged forward.

In our precipitous course, we noticed that the castle was hard pressed. Scaling machines 
stood against the wall, and already some of the marauders had gained the topmost wall, 
where they were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the serfs who had gained the 
questionable security of its gates.

Confused, the heathen horde turned. Some of them broke and ran wildly, as they saw us. 
Others turned squarely to face the challenge.





CHAPTER SIX


Balarion was considerably swifter than most of the other horses in the pack, and with Squire 
Ludlow right beside me, I rushed first into the heathen who were now turning their backs on 
the castle to do battle with us.

I carried the broadsword low, and as the first horseman came up to us, I made a swift 
undercut, eviscerating the horse, who went down with a squeal of anguish. My pussy creamed
at the sight, and the sense of power I had suddenly acquired in a man's britches rose to my 
brain like a heady wine. With a swift downward slash, I had ended the life of the man, 
entangled in his horse's flailing limbs.

I do not remember much of the battle. I know I swung until my arm dripped with blood, 
and my sword ran red. The sweat poured off me, and in the exhilaration of battle, I forgot my 
degradation, my sullied virtue, my now-blighted hopes of a happy life. Even the torments in 
store for me at the hands of my cruel chaperones faded to insignificance in the glory of the 
battle, in the knowledge that perhaps I had redeemed some of my monstrous sin by saving 
the castle.

Finally, the last of the heathen were routed, the serfs in hot pursuit, and the moats were let
down. We entered, a gory ragged lot. My arm hung aching at my side, covered with blood, 
and the sword dangling from it was heavy in my hand. I had clutched it so long, that I could 
not release it, as my fingers were cramped around the handle. I approached the main entrance
to the great hall, Squire Ludlow and faithful, stalwart, begrimed Grandmother grinning at my 
side. She, too, had scored her share of victories.

I ordered the servants to go out on the battlefield, to bury the dead, and bring in the 
wounded. Then I ordered the doctors from the surrounding countryside to be sent for. The 
great hall would serve as a makeshift hospital, and the wounded were brought in and laid on 
pallets on the shining floor.

The priest, my two chaperones, and my Great Aunt stood cowering at the foot of the 
stairs. Madame Nellica let out a great shriek when she saw me and fainted dead away.

When the wounded were taken care of, the populace calmed and sent back to their 
cottages, the household staff set to work to repair the damage, I summoned Squire Ludlow 
into the library.

Weary as I was, there was work to be done. "Squire Ludlow," I said, beckoning him to a 
seat, and making him a mulled wine, "it has come to my attention that Lord Conrad has been 
captured and is being held for ransom."

"God's blood!" the stalward peasant cried, rising from his chair. "Why was I not informed?"

"Because I was not informed, and only heard of it by accident. My chaperones, the ladies 
Arnica and Nellica, refuse to proffer funds for his ransom. I have been told that you are the 
wisest man in these parts, and I need your help. I am determined at all cost to save Lord 
Conrad. I will give you my jewels to sell... "

"No, your highness," he cried. 'That is not necessary. We can raise the funds from the 
peasants and the villagers and the local merchants. Lord Conrad is much loved."

"And rightly so," I replied, sitting gingerly, and wearily in a chair by the fire.

"How much is the ransom, do you know?"

"I shall find out immediately." I rang for Annette who rushed in joyfully and knelt by my 
feet. "My lady, oh my lady!" she cried, happy tears streaming down her cheeks. "Annette, dear,
not now. Fetch my lady Nellica's handmaiden again. I need to know the amount of the 
ransom, and where the Lord Conrad is bound. Tell the little one that I shall take her under my 
wing, and secrete her from the lady's ire, if she has to steal, err, certain papers from my lady's 
closet."

Annette went immediately on her errand. "I was on my way to you with my servants, to 
inquire about the solution to your problem, when I uncovered the marauders' camp, Squire," I 
said, ruefully.

"Praised be the day Count Mornay discovered you and chose you for his son, your 
highness."

"Sir, I am not worthy of the honor," I said, lowering my head and trying to fend off the 
tired, vain tears which were flowing down my cheeks.

Squire Ludlow rose from his chair, and knelt before me, and taking my hand in his big, 
burly one, he kissed it reverently. "Do not blaspheme the God who made such goodness and 
courage in one little woman," he said.

I blushed at his praise.

"Tell me to do anything for you. Give me any chore.

I will fulfill it to the death, my lady," he said, looking up at me.

"I ask only that you secure Lord Conrad's freedom. Oh!" I cried.

"Yes, there is something you can do.

Take the little handmaiden of Lady Nellica. She is mean and full of ire. When she discovers 
what the little one has done, she will vent her wrath cruelly on her little body."

"With pleasure. We will treat her as our own daughter, your highness."

Annette entered, with the little girl. She was clutching in her little, trembling hand, a packet
of papers. She walked up to me, her lips trembling, but bravely holding her head up, and 
bowing deeply, she presented them to me. The Squire and I perused them. They did contain 
the vital information.

"I entrust this packet to your care, knowing that you will acquit yourself honorably, Squire. 
Little one," I said, taking the hand of the trembling little girl, "you will go with the squire. He 
will care for you until the return of the heads of this house. You will be secure from any 
reprisal, and he will treat you kindly. Go, behave well, and hope!"

"But what about you, your highness," she asked.

"I will do well, dear. Go quickly before the loss of the papers is discovered."

The little girl left, her hand tucked snugly in the big work-worn hand of the Squire.

I walked wearily up the stairs. The rooms of the castle glowed beautifully with the care the 
servants had been taught to give. I went to my chambers. Grandmother was sitting there, 
trembling.

"Your highness, hide yourself in the tower. The priest and your duennas conspire against 
you."

"Hmm, well," I said aimless, wearily. "Yes, I shall. I am too weak to withstand the rigors they
have planned for me today. I shall sleep." I started wearily down the hall to my place of refuge.
"Send Annette to me, Grandmother. And send for the doctor. I need to be purged."

"Yes, your highness," the little old lady bowed, and shuffled off to perform her duties.

With the aid of Annette, I got out of my man's attire, and bathed in a hot tub. My servants 
soaped me well, and dried me off gently, and then applied salve to my wounds. They were not
deep, but the pain in my ass was causing my head to ache. There was a knock on the door, 
our code. Rosette went to open the door, and the doctor came in.

Bowing low, he quickly, and efficiently prepared his apparatus. This time, there was no 
scaling water, not that I would have known the difference. My ass was on fire, and so was my 
conscience. I sat waiting patiently, for his directions, this time without opprobrious abuse, but 
only gentle, caring servants to tend me, and guard my dignity.

"Doctor," I asked, as the kindly-looking man looked up at me, "is it true that hot enemas of
holy water purge a soul of devils?"

"My lady, surely you don't believe that!"

"Not really, but I had been taught that it was so by my mother and the parish priest."

"In this modern day and age of science, my lady, it is hard to believe that anyone still holds
onto the scraps of such mythology. Those superstitions have caused much cruel and 
inhumane treatment where gentleness and a little firmness, perhaps would have been far 
more salutary to the person who was the object of such practices."

I decided I liked the good doctor. He did not ask me to lay over a stool, revealing my 
secret parts to the cruel gaze of those ill-inclined toward me. But, nevertheless, a chill of 
forbidden pleasure ran through me, as he asked me to lie on my bed, and raised my 
nightgown. He had applied a salve to the end of the tube, and also applied some to my 
flaming asshole. Then he inserted the tube, firmly but gently. A thrill ran through my pussy as I
felt the glass tube prying open my already stretched and raped ass. I felt the lukewarm water, 
to which he had carefully added some medicinal herbs and oils, flowed into my polluted 
bowels. I closed my eyes, feeling the warm water rush into me, filling my dirty insides with 
warmth. I felt the medicinal preparation seep through my membranes, and fill me with 
pleasurable sensations. The healing effect of the lotions and herbs also assuaged the fiery itch 
in my reamed-out rectum. Finally, the last of the healing fluid flowed out of the bag, and he 
asked me to sit up, after removing the tube.

"Now, just sit there until you feel you cannot hold it anymore, and then relieve yourself, 
your highness," he said. He sat down beside me, and took my pulse while I felt the strangely 
pleasurable cramping begin. I knew that part of the pleasure of the cramping lay in my 
anticipation of the pleasure and the feeling of lightness that followed.

This time, the cramping and the pleasure seemed to be more intense than ever before. My
pussy was creaming madly, as I felt the pain rippling through my bowels, felt the movement of
the liquid as it rippled in my belly, felt the urgent pressure increase. I sat there for a long time, 
savoring the feeling of my stuffed belly, and then, as the cramps became one long, aching 
contraction, I got up and went behind the screen where Annette had placed the chamber pot, 
and I released the contents of my bowels with a gasp of relief. I had a slight orgasm as I 
passed the last of the contents of my bowels, and felt slightly cleaner than I had before. I 
cleaned myself off with the warm wet towel that Annette had hung by the chamber pot, and 
rose, suddenly sleepy, and peaceful. My cunt was still creaming madly as I walked out.

The doctor examined my wounds, gave a salve to Annette to apply every few hours to aid 
the healing, and left, saying he would check in in the morning, to see how I was doing. I had a 
slight fever, and he recommended several days in bed.

The fever wasn't severe enough to cause too much discomfort. The doctor had put me on 
a diet of light foods and liquids, and a lukewarm bath in the morning and in the evening. I lay,
lightly drifting in the warm, cheerful rooms, watching the thick white clouds scud by in an 
incredibly blue sky, watching the blackbirds wing their way past the window.

The servants and my handmaidens read to me from books in the library, since I was still 
determined to pursue my course to wisdom, if that were possible for someone as tainted as I 
was.

On the third day, I arose, to go down to breakfast, with the servants protesting fearfully.

"Thank you for your concern," I murmured, kissing the sere cheek of Grandmother, and 
squeezing Annette's hand. "But there is much work to do, and I cannot shirk the life appointed
to me, just because fate has ordained that it is a little unpleasant, ehh?"

I smiled at them, and dressed as well as I could, and descended to the great hall. There 
were still some wounded there, who were being cared for by the good doctor who had 
attended me, and another doctor from one of the outlying districts. I asked after their health, 
and was told that they would be up and around shortly, and could be carried safely to their 
homes in litters in a few days, for further rest and care.

I went to the dining hall. The rest of the family were assembled, and the priest was also 
there.

"Fie, for shame, harlot," spat my Great Aunt. "You will kill your mother with grief when I tell
her that you appeared dripping with blood, and wearing a man's clothing in the home of your
poor husband!"

"You will be sent home to tell that tale of grief this very day, Great Aunt. I am ordering you 
out of this house, and out of this country. You can start packing right after dinner."

"You cannot do this!" shrieked Arnica, livid with rage.

"I have done it, Madame Arnica."

"You will stay!" hissed Madame Nellica.

"Madames Nellica and Arnica, what would happen, do you think, if I went to the servants 
with a tale of woe about how I am misused in my own home."

"It is not your home," said Nellica, her fury somewhat abated. "And it would be typical of a 
common strumpet to consort on familiar terms as you do, with the peons!"

"Great Aunt, you will go home and convey whatever greetings to my family that suit your 
lying viper's tongue. But you will go! I cannot abide the sight of my flesh and blood wallowing
in cruelty parading in the name of a polluted piety."

"Watch your own soul, slut!" hissed my Great Aunt.

"If you had watched yours, you poor benighted slattern, your life might have been 
happier, and you might not have wound up the ward of those better off than you!"

My Great Aunt blushed fiercely, and rose immediately from the table. "I shall leave," she 
said, her great overblown breasts heaving with tears.

I bent my head to my food, disgusted by her. "Good day to you, and a good journey."

"You will pay!" my Great Aunt shrieked, shaking her fist at me, and then rushing out into 
the great hall.

'There is a Vespers meeting tonight in the great hall," hissed the priest. "You will attend, or 
I shall have you damned to hell!" The priest rose from the table, followed by the Ladies Nellica 
and Arnica.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I do so appreciate a peaceful climate at table. I sent for the three
handmaidens, and Grandmother.

"Sit down," I said, as they came into the room. "I do not like to dine alone, and your 
company is pleasing and uplifting to me. Annette, summon the good doctors to eat, too."

Annette went to invite the doctors to breakfast. It was the most pleasant meal I had ever 
eaten in this great castle, where I am surrounded by hostility and venom by my peers, and am 
proffered nothing but kindness and loyalty by my servants. We laughed and talked, and 
played riddles, and whiled the morning away.

I arose much refreshed in mind and body, and went to ride with Rosette, Annette having 
been sent to market with some servants, to select good worsted materials to make new 
clothes for the servants, who were all tattered. None of them had a decent outer cloak, having
been handed the raggy cast-offs of the charitable Misses Nellica and Arnica for years.

The sun was bright, and the wind crisp, as I rode in my blue riding gown with my gay red 
boots and gloves. As we passed fields, the peasants rose from their hoeing, to wave and smile.
Little children rushed up to me with cornflowers and wild daisies, until Rosette and I were 
almost buried in the gay, hardy flowers.

Laughing and chattering gaily, my heart, in spite of my impending doom, light for a 
change, we cantered into the great court before the mounting blocks. The grooms ran swiftly 
to catch the bridles of our mettlesome horses, and assisted us down, taking the flowers from 
us.

"Put a vase in every room," I shouted gaily, to the retreating servants, "and make sure 
there are two vases in the sick room to cheer the convalescents." The few sick had been 
removed to a smaller closet off the entrance hallway, leaving the great hall clear for tonight's 
revels in superstition. I sighed deeply, wishing there were a priest to whom I could unburden 
my soul, one who represented the good, kind God I believed in.

I wept in my heart when I thought of my good husband, who was so dishonored by my 
evil doing. And I longed for word from Squire Ludlow about the endangered Lord Conrad. I 
had heard nothing except that he had left on his mission, having raised the money. I had, as 
an after-thought after I retired to the tower room, sent my wedding present, the strand of 
pearls, as part of the ransom, thinking how difficult it would be for the peasants to raise such a
great amount of money.

And now, as I dressed for Vespers, I realized I had another sin on my soul. I had pawned 
one of the family treasures. My wedding gift from my husband had been thrown away in the 
service of a man's life.





CHAPTER SEVEN


My feet were heavy as I walked down the long staircase to the Great Hall. Nor did I get joy this
time from the glowing wood, and the bright fires, and the general warmth and brightness of 
the castle, which I had been so instrumental in creating.

I really was a sinner, now. And since there was no good priest around to whom I could 
unburden my soul, I might just as well bear up under whatever penance my oppressors meted
out to me. I no longer cared.

I was tempted to abandon the home and go to a convent, but that would have been an 
even worse betrayal. The least I could do was stay here and protect the family property, and 
keep it warm and clean and welcoming until the counts came home. Then I would make a 
clean breast of it all, and spend the rest of my life doing penance in a priory somewhere. That 
is, if they let me live. For what happened to me in the forest, my husband would have a perfect
right to kill me.

The household was assembled when I arrived. The hall was absolutely silent, the priest 
standing at the long oaken table at the end of the hall, following my progress malevolently.

Then he began a long lecture on the vices of pride. His secondary theme was the Sin 
against the Holy Ghost. His references to it were extremely vague, but then, when anyone in 
authority wanted to cast a definitive pall of damnation over someone they considered to be a 
sinner, usually that quixotic "Sin against the Holy Ghost" came up. I don't know why. I used to 
be terribly afraid of it. Then I decided, shortly before my mother inflicted my first enema on 
me, that if, indeed, it were a sin worth considering, God would have said something about it in
his gospels.

However, this priest had decided to use this phrase, which covered whatever arbitrary sin 
the wielder of the phrase wanted, and I am sure that he decided to use it because none of his 
other lectures had been of any avail in making be surrender to his cruel dominion.

Suddenly, the priest pointed to me, fire in his eyes. "Do you know what the sin against the 
Holy Ghost is?" he roared.

"No," I said, blandly, "and neither do you!"

There was a gasp from the assembled household. The priest had turned very pale. His 
mouth was flapping like a fish's out of water. His eyes were virtually bugging out of his head. I 
must confess to feeling sinfully gleeful at having distressed him so, but I was so angry. Here I 
was, a real sinner, with real sins that were bothering me, and I had no guidance, to one to 
whom to unburden my soul, no one to ask questions of, to receive reassurance from. I was 
totally alone, me, my tortured conscience, and my God, if indeed God would have anything to 
do with me anymore!

And since there was no priest who was also a good man of God to give me a reasonable 
penance, I would have to submit to the tortures of the Madames Nellica and Arnica, and this 
bestial man who equated his personal power with the Church, and who interpreted the 
gospels and the word of God to augment and justify that very worldly sense of power!

Lady Nellica clasped her hands and rolled her eyes back in her head. "Oh, God save us, you
are truly damned."

"Do you confess?" the priest intoned.

"Not to you, evil priest. You accuse me for your own worldly reasons of sins I have never 
known, and those sins I have committed you could never forgive for the same worldly reasons.
How do you represent God? How do you speak in his name?"

"I shall speak to the Bishop about you, damnable woman! I shall have you 
excommunicated! You shall do penance until the skin of your very vile body is flayed from off 
your bones!"

"Do what you will to my body, but leave my soul to God!" I cried, anguished in my 
loneliness and my bewilderment. I was appalled when I realized what I had said. I had invited 
that man to impose further sadistic rigors on me, in order to please the Ladies Nellica and 
Arnica, in order to curry favor, and improve his physical lot in life. I became double angry, 
thinking of what I had done to myself in my despair and my grief.

"Five hundred lashes and a week of solitude with only bread and water!" he cried, 
gnashing his teeth, and rending his collar. He strode down the long hall to leave the room, I 
assume to prepare the dungeon for my torture. When he left, there was an ugly growl of 
protest among the servants.

Madames Nellica and Arnica looked around them, their eyes growing wide with fear. I 
suddenly felt a wave of pity for the two loveless old women. They were the ones who were 
truly alone. Their harshness had set the hearts of the servants against them. Their unwinning, 
selfish ways had precluded marriage and children. No wonder they were jealous of me. I 
threatened their only secure position, and that position in this household was tentative. 
Almost any woman, even a harlot come to please the libidinous vices of the master of the 
house, were he so inclined, would be more valued than these two old maids.

I sat there for a long time. No one in the hall moved. It was customary that the heads of 
the household would leave before the servants, and it was obvious that the Ladies Nellica and 
Arnica were afraid to go alone in the midst of the servants, who were so obviously hostile to 
them. But I had to think. I searched my heart for the reasons for the rift among us.

Perhaps if I had not been so unbending when I first arrived. Perhaps if I had consulted their
tastes and preferences before I took such complete command of the castle of my 
father-in-law and my husband, this would not have happened.

I sighed deeply. I was so perplexed. Perhaps the whipping would mortify me flesh and free 
my mind to think more clearly.

I rose. "Come," I said to the two terrified women, "let us finish what has to be done." I 
walked to the head of the hall, the two women following me. At the doorway I turned to the 
massed servants.

"Go about your work, my friends. Remember that you belong to the House of Mornay, and
promises must be kept, your duty to be done unto death." I was quoting the motto on the 
Great Shield which hung over the fireplace at the end of the great hall, and which bore the 
coat of arms of the House of Mornay.

Once on our way to the dungeons, the attitude of the Ladies Nellica and Arnica changed 
visibly, as did their bearing. They again became the haughty, cold, unforgiving women they 
always were. I did not dismiss my questioning.

If I live to be a hundred, I shall never forget that whipping! Once in the dungeon, I 
stripped, and I felt no shame. My body was developing rapidly. I was becoming proud of my 
figure. I was exceptionally tall for a woman, and my breasts and hips were full and firm. My 
waist was long and slender, and my legs seemed to go on forever. My active life had 
proportioned me well, and kept me trim.

I saw more and more each day my resemblance to my father, and understood his affection
for me. My mother was short and dark. My father was tall and fair, like me. I became ashamed 
in a short while, as I watched the evil eyes of the priest, who was indeed waiting for us in the 
room, rake my body. As I watched, I wondered with a growing fear if what I saw in his baleful 
glance was lust.

If it were, I would be helpless prey. Nellica came up behind me, suddenly, and pushed me 
to the floor. I winced as I felt my soft, full breasts mashed into the cold stone floor. I was 
manacled face down on the cold, moist stone floor. My anticipatory fright was enhanced, as 
the Ladies Nellica and Arnica spent a long time picking their whips. They laughed at my 
helpless position, mocking me, and discussing openly the effects of the various leather 
weapons which they handled, and fondled with a frightening pleasure that almost made my 
stomach chum.

I closed my eyes, trying to keep my mind intact. I knew how easy it was to surrender to the
pain, to lose reason entirely, to become an animal in the throes of agony, and I wondered how
my body was going to support five hundred lashes. I was trembling violently now. The two 
women tortured me with their idle chatter and their cruel, lewd inferences.

The first blow of the whip was totally unexpected, and I jumped, my whole body turning 
taut as the pain shot through me like a sword. I turned to look at Madame Nellica, who had 
wielded the whip, and I broke out into a cold sweat. It was a long, braided, thick monster of 
leather, knotted at the end. Five hundred lashes, and I was quailing in pain after only the first!

I seriously questioned my ability to survive this torture. The second lash caught me 
squarely across my ass cheeks. The blow was hard and stinging. Arnica had chosen a thick 
leather belt. There was some relief in that, I calculated. It could do brutal damage to my soft 
skin, but I doubted its ability to lacerate me, and I was afraid of the loss of blood. I had lost 
too much blood already in my sordid, career as a wife, to lose more now.

I clenched my fists, and stiffened against the blows which were now raining furiously on 
me. It was as if the fear, the hatred of me, the ladies own threatened position, had given 
strength to their arms. I doubt if a man could have lashed me that hard!

Again and again, the fiery pain ripped through my belly. I felt my body become feverish 
with the pain, and the wounds the leather instruments were causing me. I lost consciousness 
suddenly, as both women unleashed their full fury and struck me at the same time, the 
knotted whip cutting deeply into my buttocks, and the leather belt slamming down on my 
shoulders.

Even in my oblivion, I could feel the fury of the blows striking. While I was still 
semi-conscious, the very pain I was suffering rending the merciful blackness from me, I felt the
heat of my brutalized buttocks burning through me. The sensation of my heated flesh, which 
was being beaten wildly by the two women was spreading into my belly. I felt as if all my 
interior organs were melting, and the thick, viscid liquid was pouring out of my woman's 
channel. As my eyelids fluttered open, and full consciousness returned, I realized that my 
pussy was indeed spilling its secret cream out of my hole. I could feel it trickling slowly, and in 
increasing quantities out of the entrance to my most secret woman's parts, insinuating into 
the red flower-like folds of my passion lips, tickling my clitoris.

My genitals were vibrating insanely, out of my rational control, and the pleasure that I was 
feeling was filling my whole body, suffusing it with a lightsome warmth that eased the pain 
somewhat.

Even the pain as the women whipped and whipped and whipped added an exciting 
dimension to the pulsing warmth that spread through my pussy. Again and again the lashes 
fell on my flesh. I quivered with pain and passion and I could not distinguish between them in 
their effects, as the juices from my secret womanhood poured freely.

When I closed my eyes, I saw bright flashes of color. Each lash spread a different color 
behind my lowered lids, and each lash sent the warmth and vibrant pulsations rippling higher 
and higher in my belly. It caught in my throat, and eased my constricted breathing.

I must have been unconscious for a long time, because the blows being delivered were, or 
appeared to be lighter. That didn't alter the damage that I knew they were doing to my body. 
I knew I was feverish, and slightly delirious. I was confusing the pain and the pleasure, until the
pain became a perverse form of pleasure.

My whole back and my ass cheeks were on fire as the leather beat the heat into my body, 
forcing it deeper into my pussy. I felt my belly and my pussy contracting heavily, the ripples 
spreading warmly through my whole body, making me lightheaded. I could feel my wet, 
feverish loins pressing into the cold floor, which was moist and sticky now with my bodily 
juices. My quivering hips seemed to have developed a life of their own as they humped into 
the floor with the growing strength of the pleasurable paroxysms roaring through me.

My whole body felt as if it were melting, losing all values. The whole world was upside 
down, as each lash of the whip caused my pussy to contract strongly, sending my febrile loins 
pressing into the floor, as if I would become one with the stone, as immobile and everlasting 
as the hard material on which my body was laid.

I could hear the Madames Nellica and Arnica breathing heavily. Standing over my head, 
straddling it, I could sense the fleshy bulk of the priest. He, too, was breathing heavily. I 
wondered what exertion had caused his labored breathing, and then again I felt the cold hand
of fear clench tightly around my rapidly pumping heart.

He was indeed in the throes of lust. He was taking fleshy pleasure from my beating, from 
my bare body, from my prone, helpless position. I broke out in a cold sweat. Would anyone 
believe me, if I accused him of having broken my maidenhead? I had suffered the outrage of 
having my rectum plowed with the lustful male swords of the heathen, in order to preserve 
the pearl of my virginity. Would I now have my virtue rendered asunder by this evil man, this 
priest?

My whole body trembled in protest at the very thought! I lived through the rest of the 
whipping in an anguish of fear and protest. As I tried to command my thoughts, to channel 
them rationally, to order them to the reality with which I had to deal, I understood, suddenly, 
and with a blinding flash of enlightenment, which flamed through me with the sharp agony of 
the biting whips, just what the character of these people were.

Perhaps I had been right to pity the Madames Arnica and Nellica, but I had been wrong to 
assume that there was any way to heal the rift among us. That rift had been created long 
before my coming. It had very little to do with me. I was merely in their care, as were the 
servants, and therefore, I was the object of their vindictive rage. And that rage was a carefully 
cultivated attitude which their over-indulged and vain natures sought willfully.

The priest was a valuable ally to them. I intended to find out how he had acquired his 
parish holding, but I was quite sure that I would discover that he had been hand-picked by 
the very women who were now encouraged to violate my body by his spurious penances.

I had decided to accept the penance because of my own sense of sin. I willed it, in an 
attempt to purge my soul of my sinfulness, to ease my troubled conscience. And as I trembled
under the fierce, fiery pain these cruel, heartless women were inflicting on me, I wondered at 
my own misguided acceptance of their evil.

The whipping seemed to go on forever. I could have been here for days, and I would not 
have known it. Time lost all value, as the pain filled me with an unreal sense of floating, 
aimless, bodiless, chained by the pain to a dark night with no hope of dawn. I pressed my face
into the cold stone floor, seeking to establish contact with some substantial reality which 
would maintain my sanity, which would keep me bound to the earth. I felt my pussy juices 
flowing again, felt the now-familiar rippling in my secret parts building, until my whole body 
was suffused again with the tingling warmth that felt so pleasurable. I was almost grateful for 
the iron bonds that chained me to the stone floor. They kept me from floating away, as the 
hot pleasure spewed through me heavily, threatening to sever my mind from my body in the 
ecstasy, mixed harshly with the agonizing pain that took possession of my tortured body.

I heard the Lady Nellica gasp, and drop her weapon of pain. Lady Arnica kept on driving 
the leather deeply into my burning flesh. I was so filled with pain, streaked through like 
lightning with the flashes of pleasure that were burning me up, that I had lost the ability to 
distinguish which pain was newly caused by the whip, and which sharp agony that shot 
through me was caused by wounds already made.

Again, I lost consciousness. I floated up out of a deep, deep, soundless darkness, as deep 
as the sea. There was silence in the room, except for the rasping sound of someone breathing,
and the occasional muttering of a guttural voice.

I opened my eyes reluctantly. The priest stood by my head. My eyes widened with terror. 
He had his male organ in his hand. It was huge, and long, and so close to my face that I could 
see the veins running through it, throbbing.

"Pig!" he spat at me, and then he let loose with a golden, stinging, stinking shower of urine
that splashed all over me in a heavy spray, exaggerating the already intense stinging of my 
brutalized body. 'That is all a harlot deserves!" he hissed, tucking the huge fleshy weapon back
into his pants. I was almost grateful for that lewd shower. It was better than being deflowered 
by the monster!

Without another word, the three of them left, slamming the door after them. I lay quietly, 
shivering, feeling the fever undulating through my agonized limbs, cramping them and 
fogging my head.

I must have fallen into a faint again, because I don't remember being freed. I don't know 
how I got to the tower room. When I woke, the sun was streaming through the window, 
warming my aching body. I had been bathed, and I could feel the salves and oils which my 
loving servants had applied to my hideously bruised and flaming red back. I was lying on my 
stomach.

For a week, adhering faithfully to the penance the priest had imposed, I lay silent, eating 
nothing but bread, and drinking nothing but water. And I thought. I had to determine what 
my course of action would be. I could not abide living like this much longer. I was afraid that 
the protracted suffering which was wrenching my soul in agony, and the torture imposed 
upon my body, would kill me.

On the eighth morning, I got up. When the servants came into the room, I greeted them 
kindly. Their concern and fear for my well-being was written on their kindly faces, and I 
blessed them in my heart.

I had to rid my soul of the murderous weight of my wrong-doing. I had to make my 
confession to the worthy men who had judged me valuable enough to be a part of their lives, 
their honorable family.

I dressed and went down to my chambers, ordering breakfast from the faithful Annette. 
She had done well in her service. The new clothes for the servants had been made, and they 
were all dressed well. Grandmother had told me that they had all received three lashes for the 
sin of vanity, in sporting their new garments. I put my head on my writing table, and wept. I 
was the cause of the servants' suffering!

"Annette!" I asked, "have you heard anything from Squire Ludlow?"

"Nothing, my lady. He has been gone for several weeks now."

"Oh, God, please spare him from thieves and all bodily and spiritual evil!" I cried, 
anguished. If anything happened to him, it would be all my fault.

I spent the morning deep in contemplation, and then I took pen in hand. I wrote to my 
father-in-law and my husband, detailing my misguided life in his courts, the evil attendant 
upon my actions. I confessed to my violation, my having acted on my own recognizance. I 
detailed my shamefulness in having worn men's clothes, and acted as a man in battle. And 
most painful of all, and I wept as I wrote it, I confessed to having bartered the family jewels, 
given to me in trust as a wedding present, for the life of Lord Conrad.

I declared myself unworthy of their love and trust in me, and threw myself upon their 
judgment and punishment, reminding them that in the meantime, I would dutifully carry out 
the penances exacted of me by the priest, and submit to the mortification of the flesh which 
my chaperones, the Ladies Nellica and Arnica imposed.

I told them that I would await their decision, and abide by it, and informed them 
sorrowfully that I was indeed repentant. I signed the letter, sealed it, and sent for a courier. It 
would be months before they received that letter, and in the meantime, as I had promised 
them, I would attend to those affairs of the castle which it was my bounden duty to fulfill, until
they saw fit to relieve me.

It would be months before I had any word, and I waited for word from Squire Ludlow, and 
my masters with trepidation. But my heaviness of heart had vanished. I had confessed, 
unburdened my soul to the people whom I had offended.

Days melted into weeks, and weeks into months, as I waited. And there was much to do. I 
mortified my flesh, fasting one day a week. I submitted to the rigors of Vespers which was 
becoming a more and more frequent event in the household. I visited the serfs, fed the poor 
who came to the door, and managed the estates. I lent out the servants, with some qualms, to
Squire Ludlow's family, to harvest his crops, and help plant new fields. I felt the measure was 
justified, as it was at my insistence that he had left his fields on his errand of mercy.

I became quite friendly with Housewife Ludlow, who was a gentle, godly woman, with a 
bright sparkling wit. She often visited me at the castle, at my insistence, and she was full of 
kindly gossip about the doings of the serfs and villagers, who had been married, who had 
died, what children had been born of whom. She seemed to know no evil of her neighbors, 
and always spoke kindly of them. She became my journal of the daily lives of those peasants 
in my care, and I rapidly learned through her kindly mouth, what were the basic needs of the 
people of my father-in-law, and my husband, making it easier for me to attend to their wants. 
I often attended their feasts, and learned their dances. The time of waiting wasn't entirely 
onerous, and I had great joy of the peasants and their simple life.

The local gentry often invited me to their great halls for feasts, also, providing me with 
some solace in my anguish. I tried hard not to become attached to the simple, regular, good 
life I was leading, tried hard not to become too fond of the people who passed regularly in 
and out of my life.

After all, I did not deserve the happiness, and my privileged station in life was soon to be 
cut short.





CHAPTER EIGHT


On my thirteenth birthday, the whole countryside celebrated. I was feted, and the great hall 
was piled high with gifts. All day long the peasants filed into the castle, bringing roasted 
boars, ears of corn, even a baby lamb for my pleasure, as a pet.

I set out a great feast in the courtyard, and the wine flowed freely. The castle was alive with
people, songs, and flowers. Musicians and jesters performed for me.

That night, I received another sermon on my intransigence from the priest, and again I was
flogged. I began to believe that my skin was turning to leather from the constant beatings I 
was getting. My consolation was that my pussy became my great ally, spilling its wet, secret 
pleasures through my body, easing the pain of the floggings.

After I was beaten, at the priest's instructions, I was taken nude, to the river which ran 
behind the castle, and dunked into its icy waters, until I passed out. However, I recuperated 
quickly. I noticed that the more I was beaten, the more quickly I seemed to recover from the 
effects of the brutality. I suffered all, endured all, in uncomplaining silence, accepting the 
punishments as my just due for my perverse conduct and personality.

The months became a year. And still I waited. Each day without a message, each day which
ended with silence, convinced me more and more that I was indeed held in opprobrium.

At the end of the year, I wrote a letter to my father, similar to the one I had written to my 
masters, telling him how unworthy of him I was. I explained that I had confessed all to my 
father-in-law and my husband, and detailed my trials and tribulations, begging his blessing 
and his forgiveness. I could not expect to hear from him for many months either, as the 
French-German border at this time was besieged with warfare. I hated putting the messenger 
in danger, but I felt I must clear all accounts before my ultimate fate descended on me.

Rumors spread through the countryside that marauders were back in the territory. 
Working with the wiser of the peasants, I set up a network of defenses, and devised a method 
of signalling which was more effective than the previous one. There were several skirmishes on
the frontiers of our territory, but nothing which came close to the castle. Our defense and 
communication network was effective, and the loss of life and property was minimal.

Our victories, however, were outstanding. We had captured many of the heathen. We set 
them to work, refurbishing the public buildings, strengthening gates and towers, installing a 
new bell in the Town Hall, and smoothing the rutted roads. Their physical labor eased the 
burden of the overworked serfs. Our countryside had been decimated of men, since they were
at the borders, fighting. The main street in the town was freshly cobbled, and we planted a 
new orchard in back of the city limits, to provide a new source of produce for the villagers.

I never ceased to marvel at my own sense of sinfulness, and the respect, nay, the love, with
which I was treated by the inhabitants.

But oh, how I longed for word from Squire Ludlow! I thirsted for just one word, however 
harsh, from my masters. Was it that I was so unworthy that even words were not deemed wise 
for one so fallen?

And then, one night, I was awakened by the harsh sound of the warning bells tolling. I 
arose quickly, as Annette and Grandmother hastened into my room.

"We are holding them, your highness!" Grandmother said, almost jumping up and down in
her excitement. "Oooohhh!" she croaked wildly, "just give me a sword like the last time, and I 
shall...!" Again she clenched her fists together, her eyes bright.

I dressed and rushed downstairs. Several of the male serfs were gathered in the great hall, 
along with a very white-faced and frightened Lady Nellica.

"Where are the priest and Lady Arnica!" I cried, wanting to account for all those in my 
charge.

'They have hidden themselves in the dungeon, my lady," said Madame Nellica. I turned to 
the serfs.

"What has happened?" I asked, urgently, taking them to one side.

"The marauders breached the north wall we erected, near the fringes of the forest. The 
warning system worked magnificently, my lady.

We were alerted in time to stop them. But a whole band of them, maybe a thousand, have 
entered our territory. They are camped in the hills behind the village, and they are throwing 
burning brands into the town square, trying to ignite it. The walls have proved impregnable so
far."

"What is the loss of life?" I was frantic. Low as our losses had been, every single wound of 
any of my people hurt me to the bone.

"They have captured the wife of Squire Ludlow."

"Oh... " I husked, feeling my face pale. "We must get her back!"

"But my lady," said the husky groom who cared for my Balarion, "they are asking a king's 
ransom for her."

"How much?" I said, setting my teeth. I almost fainted when they told me the price they 
had set on her head. But I had to get her back before they damaged her, or violated her the 
way they had me and Grandmother.

"I will give you my jewels and my furs."

The men shifted their feet, and looked at me uncomfortably. "They say, your highness, that
they will accept this ransom only from the head of the castle."

My heart sunk. "Saddle Belarion," I commanded the groom. Grandmother rushed toward 
me, as one of the husky serfs knelt at my feet.

"My lady," he husked, grabbing my skirts, "you have suffered enough for our welfare. Do 
not put yourself in such danger. We would gladly offer our lives for you. Let the good woman 
go. She will understand."

"But I will not be able to live with my conscience," said I, wincing at the words, and 
thinking of my abject unworthiness. "Annette," I cried, "get my cask of jewels, and my fur cape.
And bring me my black cloak."

"Ahhh!" cried Lady Nellica. "Worthless harlot. You would dare expose yourself to the 
heathen. You would dare to barter with them for the life of a serf!" Like the wrath of God she 
descended on me. She slapped my face hard, sending me reeling against the wall. Again and 
again, her claws scratched at my face, until my cheeks ran with blood from her gouging nails. I
slid down the wall in pain, trying to fend off her blows, not thinking to strike her back. I 
accepted her evil punishment in atonement for my miserable sins.

My face was swelling under the rain of blows from her hands. None of the servants dared 
to raise a hand, nor come to my aid. To raise hands against one's master was punishable by 
death. They stood by, helpless, as the irate woman started to kick me. I felt a sharp pain in my 
side, and realized that she had broken one of my ribs. The pain soared through me, as each 
breath I took became a source of fiery pain, and still she kicked and beat me.

My nose was bloody, and one of her blows had landed on my mouth, causing it to be cut 
by my teeth. It swelled enormously. My garments were ripped and there were bloody welts on
my arms as her fingers continued their deadly work.

"By God I will kill you before I see you bring public shame on our house again," she 
shrieked. But the very fire of her anger quickly weakened her. Soon she was panting harshly, 
and I could see she was trembling on her limbs as her foot struck out again and again. One 
blow landed full on my stomach, and I retched violently, as my stomach turned upside down 
in protest against the brutal treatment she was showering on me.

Exhausted finally, spent by the excess of her own irrational rage, she staggered backward, 
sweat pouring from her brows, and fell heavily into a chair. Using my hands to brace me, I 
crawled upward on the wall, until I was on my legs again.

Annette, white-faced, with tears running down her cheeks, was standing before me, the 
casket in her hands. With weakened arms, I reached out for it.

"My lady...!" she whispered, her mouth trembling.

"I must go. I cannot let that poor woman end her life among heathens." I staggered, my 
head reeling, to the door of the castle. The groom was holding Belarion. He too was weeping, 
great shining tears rolling down his weather-beaten cheeks. I heard the clacking of a horse's 
hooves, and turned. There was Grandmother, faithful, stalwart Grandmother!

"I come with you, your highness. You cannot go alone into that darkness, to face that 
danger."

I smiled warmly at her, and bowed my head, accepting her comforting presence. It was 
with great anguish and difficulty that I got up on the horse. My breath was screaming through
my chest, as the broken rib screeched with pain, every time I inhaled. I was sweating profusely,
and shaking in my saddle.

I prayed to have the strength to complete my mission. Slowly we walked the horses down 
the highway toward the village, behind whose walls the heathen lurked. Our way was lit by 
peasants, hundreds of them, all holding torches. They all knelt as I passed, solemnly, the men 
removing their caps as we passed.

This, I thought, hearing my breath hiss in my throat through my open, bloody mouth, 
could well be my funeral march, and I was privileged to be witnessing my last rites. With all my
heart I blessed these good people. With all my heart I regretted the unsavory conduct which 
would deprive me of their presence.

Slowly we approached the town. Every window was lit, and all the inhabitants appeared to 
be in the streets, guarding our way silently, reverently.

"Are they expecting me to pass, Grandmother? Is that why the peasants line the roads and 
the streets of the village?"

Grandmother smiled. "Your signalling system, your highness, has proved to be a fine way 
to transmit information of all sorts! Why just yesterday, the groom learned from the sexton in 
the town, that Houewife Alport had had her eye blackened by her husband, who had been 
tippling!"

I grinned, the effort causing fresh blood to flow from my wounded, distorted mouth. I 
loved Grandmother's chatter. And I became, in spite of the awesomeness of my position, 
curious.

"Grandmother, what happened to Citizen Alport?"

"He was placed in the stocks. He was supposed to be there for three days, but then the 
marauders came, and they removed him to fight. They will put him back in the stocks when we
are finished fighting."

"Grandmother," I said, reaching over and touching her arm. "Tell the Aldermen who gave 
his punishment to him, to remit one day for every two heathen he kills!"

We were approaching the town square now. Grandmother wheeled her horse toward the 
Town Hall, and spoke to a cluster of men, standing in black gowns by the door, with 
crossbows held at the ready. There was a spate of applause, and a skinny, hook-nosed man, 
with tiny watery eyes, rushed out of the crowd toward me. He knelt before my horse, and 
looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Your highness, I swear I shall kill three heathen for every day I was ordered to stand in the
stocks. Thank you, my lady, thank you, thank you!" I couldn't help smiling at his antic 
gratitude. He scurried backward, tripping over the rim of the town well, and falling flat on his 
back to the accompaniment of much ribald laughter among the gathered citizens.

Grandmother came back to where I had reined my horse, and we proceeded to the north 
wall of the village. The massive gate was opened by a dozen soldiers, and I rode, frightened 
and shaking with pain and weakness, outside the gates. The soldiers lined themselves up on 
either side of me, as two bizarrely dressed heathen approached on horseback. Between them, 
with rope around her neck, held by one of the horsemen, and her arms bound behind her 
tightly.

They evil-looking, hairy men reined their horses in a few feet from me. "You are the 
Countess Mornay?" one of them asked.

"I am," I replied, my voice quavering with my fear and pain.

"You will ransom this woman?"

I held out the opened casket, and the jewels shone brightly in the light from the torches. 
There was a gasp of awe from the assembled soldiers.

"Oh, my lady!" cried the good Housewife Ludlow, "do not give away your wealth for me. I 
am not worth it!"

Slowly, with bone-wrenching pain, I got off my horse, and approached the two heathens. 
Slowly, my rib sending flashes of red-hot anguish through my body, I knelt before the men.

"For the life of this good woman, I prostrate myself before you. I offer you the wealth of 
my husband to save her life. I beg you for her life!" I held out the casket. The horseman who 
had not spoken cantered forward, and leaned over, taking the casket from my hands. Then, 
with a brutal shove, he knocked me over, into the dirt. I raised my head, and saw with horror 
that the soldiers had raised their bows.

"No!" I cried. "Don't shoot!"

Reluctantly, the bows were lowered. The marauder who was holding the weeping 
Housewife Ludlow's rope, released it. With a kick that sent her sprawling, they wheeled sharply
on their horses, and rode off. I heard Grandmother's horse coming quickly to where I lay. She 
dismounted and assisted me to my feet. I rushed to where the Housewife Ludlow lay, sobbing 
heartbrokenly.

I lifted her gently to her feet, and embracing her, brought the distraught woman back to 
my horse. The soldiers rushed forward, to assist us back onto my mount. We wheeled around, 
and rode back into the village.

A great shout of victory rose from the village, as I rode through the streets, the sobbing 
wife of Squire Ludlow riding in front of my saddle. I felt as if it took an eternity to reach the 
castle. When we reached the building, I noticed that every light in the castle was on. I 
dismounted painfully, with the aid of a groom, who also assisted the good woman in my care 
off the horse.

When I went into the great hall, the priest, Madames Nellica and Arnica were there. Lady 
Arnica strode forward, grim-faced. She had a packet in her hand. Suddenly, and viciously, she 
struck my face, and then handed me the packet.

The seal had been broken, although it was addressed to me. It was from my father-in-law! 
I looked up, enraged. "You broke this seal?"

"It is our right," spat Lady Nellica, "as your guardians, to oversee everything that you do. 
Unfortunately, you are ungovernable, and therefore, we are not responsible for the dishonor 
you heap on this house!"

I opened the letter, swaying slightly. The words leaped and squirmed on the page, and I 
felt as if the parchment weighed as much as a sailing ship. Then the light faded, and I fell away
in a deep swoon.

When I awoke, I was in the tower room, tucked into bed. Beside me, Grandmother sat, her 
wrinkled brown hand covering mine. I looked at her and smiled painfully through my swollen 
lip. Grandmother cackled.

"Good, my lady. The doctor said you would awaken soon. He came in the night to attend 
you."

"Grandmother, the missive from my father-in-law, the count!"

Grandmother was still cackling. 'The heathen did not get your fur cloak, my lady!" Again I 
grinned, painfully. "Grandmother! The letter!" She got up, and shuffled over to the writing 
table, and brought it to me. "I picked it up, so the ladies Nellica and Arnica could not take it."

"Thank you, Grandmother. That was well done." With trembling hands, I opened it.

It read, "Daughter-in-Law, We greet you. We shall arrive at the castle by the rise of the full 
moon in the month of the harvesting of the winter wheat." At last, there was word. And again I
panicked. The full moon was only three weeks away.

I rose, and stretched my aching limbs. The fire in my side had subsided somewhat. "You 
will not rest, my lady?" asked Annette, who had come into the room with some wine and 
cheese.

"No, Annette, there is much to be done. Our masters arrive in three weeks." Grandmother's
eyes widened, and she smiled. "Good!" she said, "now you will get your just due. I hope they 
put those two witches in the convent!" she spat. I said nothing, lowering my head, thinking 
that it was I who would be shipped off to a priory.

"How are we holding back the heathen? Have they still been stopped?" Annette looked 
with a strange expression of triumph on her face, at Grandmother who cackled again, 
gleefully.

Again, I caused myself pain by smiling at her antic good humor. "Grandmother, explain 
yourself, please!" I commanded with as much severity as I could muster for the brave, loyal old
servant.

"They are all dead, your highness," she said, bowing, and leaving to go back to the 
kitchens. I turned, to Annette, whose face was also twitching. I raised my eyebrows. Months 
and months of closeness had gifted us with a silent language. It was almost always the case, 
that she anticipated my every need before I could ask, and a simple look from me would elicit 
the answer to an unspoken question.

'The townspeople and serfs swore to avenge the dishonor heaped on you in saving 
Housewife Ludlow's life. They attacked at midnight, when the moon was down, and slew every
one of them. They are now repairing the damage done to the north wall."

"Annette, order services to be held in thanksgiving, and declare a holiday for the peasants. 
Just make sure this is done before harvesting. We must bring in all the crops this year without 
spoilage. The old farmers say it will be a harsh winter."

"Yes, my lady," smiled Annette. Within the hour, I was down in the kitchens, directing the 
cooks in the preparations for my lords' return, and then out to the field to make sure that 
everything would be neat and in order. The three weeks, in spite of my anxiety and growing 
fear, passed quickly.

And then the day dawned. They would be here this evening. I carefully supervised the 
cleaning and polishing of all the furnishings and appointments in each chamber. I had aired all
the rooms out, changed the bedding, and assisted myself in the laundry.

As the day proceeded, I grew extremely restless, and I feared more pain, more humiliation.
If all I had said and done were to come to final death, I would welcome it. But I did not want 
to drag my life out in misery and disgrace, thinking of the shame I had heaped on my father, 
and my masters.

In a fit of cowardice, I took my journal up to the tower rooms, and I have whiled the time 
away, waiting for their approach, straining my eyes, by gazing at the horizon for a sign of their
approach. My heart beats wildly in my errant breast.

The sun has traversed the sky, and the passionate juices of my cunt flow freely, as I 
daydream of my husband who might have been, coming home, and sweeping me up in his 
arms. My belly aches for the children I might have borne, the happy home that might have 
been mine.

And I have wasted many vain tears in this room. As the sun has gone down, I have 
watched the bonfires lit. The peasants are happy and excited, and every room in the castle is 
filled with light and flowers. Even this high up, I can hear the happy bustling to and fro of the 
servants, as they call to each other, and carry out their duties.

And in the fields, ripe with wheat and oats, the peasants dance and sing. I long to be 
among them, innocent, unsullied, but I wait for the tide of my fate to turn, ebbing away into 
shameful old age, unloved, as sere and dry as my guardians.

Since the night I ransomed the last of my jewels to save the Squire Ludlow's life, I have had
no commerce with the two sisters, nor with the priest. They carry on as usual, but avoid the 
odious sight of me.

And evil and vindictive as they are, I do not blame them. I can write no more!





EPILOGUE


Since I have a need to finish neatly and well, everything I have done, I must conclude this 
journal.

As the sun went down, and darkness came, the bonfires blazed higher. The peasants came 
to the road, torches in hand, hundreds, and hundreds of them, waving bouquets of flowers, 
singing their songs, waiting for their master's return. There were so many torches, and so 
many fires throughout the countryside, that the land was lit as if it were early morning. In the 
distance, I could see the village, blazing with light, as the bonfires were lit on the ramparts. 
The roads were packed with people, all my people--the people of my father-in-law and 
husband, whose goodness I had abjured with my unwise and unsavory conduct.

Again my eyes blurred with vain tears. I closed my journal, and with trembling limbs, I 
walked out of the tower rooms, and to my own chambers. I could not, in conscience avoid the 
fate I had brought on myself, and I must at least exhibit some honorable courage in the face 
of my own actions.

Annette was waiting with Rosette, and Grandmother. Lying on my bed was my bridal 
gown, gleaming gorgeously in the light of the candles. My heart sank, as I fondled the rich 
material.

"My lady, hurry, your bridegroom will come, and you will not be ready." Hiding my 
trepidation from these people who would believe no evil of me in the goodness and 
righteousness of their own hearts which were blind to evil, I let the fond Annette and Rosette 
dress my hair, and bathe me, splashing perfume on me, and then clothing me in the glorious 
gown. There were no more jewels, and the clever handmaidens braided cornflowers and 
edelweiss in my hair.

"Ohhh, such a pity there are no jewels, your highness," mourned Grandmother.

"She is jewel enough herself," Annette spoke, fluffing my curls, and settling another 
edelweiss in my hair. I reached over, and tenderly kissed the sweet Annette, and my pretty 
Rosette, and then I went to kiss Grandmother. Happily, so excited that they did not notice my 
reserved demeanor, they all rushed down to the great hall to await the lords of the castle.

Mournfully, I walked up to the tower room once again, and looked out the window. I 
gasped, as I saw the great army approaching. Fascinated, I stood, rigid as stone, as the 
possession, which seemed to stretch behind them forever, came forward.

I recognized the white stallion of my father-in-law, and as they got closer, I noticed the 
blond hair of my husband-it must have been my husband--flickering in the glow of the 
torches.

And it was time-time to face the men whom I had dishonored.

I took one last look out the window. The party leading the huge procession leaned 
forward to give ear to peasants who approached. I could see the flowers being strewn on the 
road, and then, faintly, I could hear the clink of their harnesses. I must go now!

With pounding heart, I wended my way down the tower steps, and then down the other 
staircases, looking out each window, to check their progress, until I stood at the top of the 
central staircase, looking down at the assembled household.

Once again, I felt a melancholy pleasure at the home I had made so well. The fires danced 
brightly on the hearths, the appointments twinkled and glowed with care. The servants were 
all well-dressed, and stood beneath me, beaming fondly at me.

Arrayed like a shadow to the right of the stairs, grim-faced, and plainly, almost shabbily 
dressed, stood the two sisters, and the priest. I shuddered when I thought of the tales of woe 
they could tell.

The cheering was growing louder, as I reached the foot of the stairs. I was trembling. The 
milling servants parted, standing to the sides of the entrance hallway, leaving me in the center,
the grim threesome, slightly to my right, behind me. I heard the harnesses clinking, and the 
clop-clop-clopping of the horses, and the greetings, and hails of joy, as the party dismounted.

I couldn't stand it any more. I ran forward, hearing my guardians gasping behind me.

"My lady!" hissed Nellica, as I rushed full-tilt into the lean, tall chest of my father-in-law, 
who was just coming in the door, as I was attempting to go out of it in blind haste, "you are 
unseemly in your conduct!" she cried, raising her voice for the benefit of my master. Blushing, 
I hid my head into the fur folds of his outer cloak, expecting to be spumed.

"Fie woman!" I heard him shout, and I trembled, waiting for my sentence and my shame to
be made public, "there is nothing unseemly in an eager, loving greeting from my 
daughter-in-law!"

Instead of being spurned, I felt his long, lean arms enfold me tightly, and he had lifted me 
off my feet. He was kissing my burning, tear-streaked face, my forehead, and my cheeks, and 
finally, with one big, warm, enthusiastic gesture, he kissed me wetly on my thin, straight nose! 
I looked up at him, open-mouthed, smitten speechless. Was this the greeting an honest man 
would give a harlot? He was beaming warmly at me.

My own private miseries were momentarily blotted from my mind, as my glance lit on Lord
Conrad!

"Oh, my Lord Conrad!" I cried, the tears flowing freely, now. He, too smiled warmly, and 
strode toward me, kneeling at my feet, and kissing the hem of my gown. "My blessed, beloved
lady, I am your servant forever."

"As are we all!" cried Count Mornay. "Lord Conrad," I whispered, striving to raise him from 
me knees, "kneel to me?"

"My lord Count," said Lady Arnica, coming forward and bowing low. I looked, frightened, 
from one face to the other. Count Mornay's smile had faded, and his mouth had become set 
and tight. "We, your daughter Nellica and I, have much to tell you."

"And I have very little to tell you. You will be shipped to the Priory of Saint Eustace 
tomorrow morning."

I gasped, and swayed. Good Grandmother strode forward. "Your highness," she croaked, 
bowing slightly to the count, and grasping my shoulders, "her highness is still weak from the 
trials that have been placed upon her." I leaned gratefully against Grandmother, thankful for 
the support.

Men were filing in regularly, and there were glad shouts as sons were united to fathers and
mothers, and wives found themselves in the embrace of their long-lost husbands, I looked 
over the crowd, happy in their happiness, and thoroughly bewildered.

I wondered what had happened to him. Was he ashamed to even greet me?

I heard the Count Mornay talking to grandmother. "I have heard of her trials, and I intend 
to see that she is compensated for the misery she has endured. Take her to the great hall, and 
give her some wine."

He patted me on the cheek, resting his hand warmly on my trembling shoulder. Then he 
turned. "Where is my son!" he bellowed heartily.

"I don't know, sire," said a familiar voice. It was Squire Ludlow! I saw a blur before my eyes,
as good Housewife Ludlow flung herself into her husband's arms. I smiled, and allowed myself
to be led to a chair by the fire in the Great Hall. Around me was laughter and dancing. Annette
and Rosette started to twine edelweiss and cornflowers around the high back and on the arms
of the chair in which I was sitting.

There was a sudden hush in the hall, and again the surging mass of gaily-dressed peasants
parted. At the entrance stood my husband. I felt my hands go cold at the same time I felt a 
surge of heat course through my pussy. I rose on shaky limbs and bowed in humble greeting. 
He walked, smiling, to me. His face was so beautiful, his eyes so blue and kindly. His mouth so 
sweet in its smile, that it tore my heart out.

When he reached me, I realized that his hands were filled with masses and masses of 
cornflowers. He knelt before me, and proffered the flowers, which I took with trembling hands.

"My lady, my wife," he said, and I realized that there was total silence in this room which 
had echoed so often with the cries of recrimination of the priest, "please pardon my tardiness 
in greeting you. I have heard that this is your favorite flower, and I stopped to gather a gift for
you."

"But I have given away your jewels," I blurted out, thoroughly bewildered by now. My 
husband, the young Count of Mornay rose, and took my hands in his, kissing them. "My lady,"
he whispered, "you are the finest jewel in this house. What you have done, you did in the 
service of our people and our lands. You are only to be praised for your courage and your 
cleverness, for your honorable regard for the lives of those in our care."

He pushed me gently back in the seat, and I gratefully accepted the glass of wine from 
Grandmother's loving hands. My head was swimming.

"A toast!" cried the senior Count Mornay. All glasses were raised. "To our beloved 
Countess Mornay, the flower among our womanhood, the pride of our house!"

A great cheer filled the room, and the tears that flowed from my eyes now, were tears of 
joy. Far from being disgraced, these good men were honoring me. I looked around me with 
love in my eyes for my good people, whose company I would now enjoy for a long, long time, 
and then my eyes rested on the beautiful face of my beaming groom.

And all the rest is happiness.

The celebration went on far into the night. Bonfires flared throughout the countryside, and
the celebration was widespread.

The wine flowed freely, and the food was plentiful. Lord Conrad came to me, while I was 
deep in conversation with my new husband. "My lady, a word with you, please," he said, 
offering his hand. I walked with him into my father-in-law's closet.

Bowing to me, he handed me a golden casket. I opened it and gasped. In it were my 
pearls, my wedding pearls! And besides those, were countless jewels of the most marvelous 
workmanship. They seemed to be filled with fire.

"By right, these are mine, the spoils of battle. You see, Squire Ludlow and I turned around 
outside the castle gates, and laid siege to the heathen. They capitulated. But I have no use for 
these. They are yours."

"Oh, but I can't accept them," I gasped, breathless with the wonder of the gift. "Except 
perhaps, the pearls?"

"My lady, they are all yours, as I am," said Lord Conrad, bowing. My young husband, the 
count, came into the room.

"My Lord Conrad steals my wife from me," he said bowing and smiling at the good family 
retainer.

"Oh, my lord," I cried, ecstatic. "He brings us back our jewels," I cried holding out the 
casket to him.

"With interest," the count smiled. "We shall reward you for this, Lord Conrad."

"I am rewarded, with good and faithful friends, and a countess who considers my old life 
with some high regard."

"Ahh, but you have returned the jewels, with interest. That deserves some consideration, 
also."

Laughing, my husband took my arm, and led me back to the great hall. My father-in-law 
stood beaming by the fireplace.

"Countess," he smiled, "it has come to my attention that you have led a successful attack 
on the besieged castle."

I bowed my head, blushing. "Yes, my lord," I whispered, "and in men's clothes."

"Well," boomed the hearty voice of the old Count of Mornay, "how else would you do a 
man's work? When you are spinning, you dress like a woman to do women's work. When you 
are doing battle with the enemy, you dress like a man. Here," he cried, holding out his hand.

I gasped, as I picked up his gift. It was a massive broadsword, with the most finely worked 
Toledo steel I have ever seen. The hand was richly encrusted with diamonds, and green 
emeralds, and pearls, a king's ransom in jewels, in the handle alone.

"A weapon worthy of a fair warrior," my father-in-law smiled, bowing low to me.

The shackles of restraint gone from the servants, I was besieged with gifts, and good 
wishes, and affectionate tokens of their love for me. I was bewildered and happy beyond my 
wildest dreams.

Again my happy conversation with my husband was interrupted by Squire Ludlow, and his 
good wife. He knelt by my feet, kissing the hem of my robe.

"My lady, I beg a boon of you," he asked.

"Speak, Squire Ludlow. You have done great service for me, and I am eternally grateful."

Housewife Ludlow spoke, "my lady, if you will forgive our boldness, we should like to name
our next child after you, if it's a girl."

I laughed. "Nay, and if it be a girl, I shall be its godmother!" I cried, delighted with the 
good people's devotion.

The Squire Ludlow and his wife thanked me profusely and departed, arm in arm.

The young Count Mornay appeared to be getting restless. The brightness of the bonfires, 
seen through the arched casements of the castle were getting dimmer shamed by the sun 
rising on the horizon.

"Enough!" he cried, lifting me up in his arms. "While the whole world begs favors of my 
wife, and seeks her ear, I have none of her favors nor her ear."

Amidst shouts and laughter my husband carried me out of the great hall. Blushing, I hid 
my face in his strong young shoulders. He carried me lightly up to my bed chambers, and 
threw me on the bed.

Eagerly, his face sought mine, and he was covering me with kisses. I reached up, twining 
my arms around his neck, loving him, thrilled with my new-found happiness.

"You are not ashamed of me?" I asked, as his hands found my breasts, and cupped them.

"I am proud of you," he smiled, his fingers deftly releasing the ties which bound my dress 
to my body.

"You do not condemn me for what happened in the forest?"

"I want you," he husked, as his hands removed the soft, blue folds of the garment from my
flesh, revealing my large, full breasts, which were trembling at his touch. Eagerly, he removed 
his own clothing, letting it fall to the polished oaken floors.

I gasped at how beautiful he was. His chest was full, and covered with blond hair, which 
traveled from his nipples, down his flat belly, to become a thick golden forest where his prick 
stood straight out.

I was afraid when I saw the size of his manly rod, throbbing gently in full erection, inflamed
with desire for me. He lay down beside me, fondling my breasts, his hands running down my 
back to cup my full, white ass cheeks. I could feel my womanly love channel running with the 
juices of my desire, as his hands struck sparks, as flint strikes sparks to kindling wood.

I reached out, fascinated, to touch the hot pulsing rod of my husband, and nearly 
swooned with pleasure as I felt it throbbing powerfully, hotly in my soft white hand. The skin 
was incredibly soft, like silk, the tip of it almost purple, and beautiful, like a wild mushroom 
growing in the forest.

I lay on my back, surrendering to my desire, and my husband's desire. He lay on top of me,
and guided his great pulsing rod to my quivering pussy. I gasped as I felt the heat of it, 
spreading fire through my loins. His hands reached under my knees, pulling them up, and 
then he thrust. I felt his great cock thrusting inward, like a burning brand, stretching my 
delicate love channel wide with its great girth.

My pussy felt as if it were on fire, as he pushed inward, deeper and deeper, stretching my 
love channel wider with each inward thrust. I clung to his neck, spreading my trembling thighs
wider, to ease his passage into my virginal pussy.

I felt the head of his cock hit a barrier, and then he thrust forward. I cried out as a sharp 
pain shot through me, making my head reel. Then I remembered Annette's answering my 
questions. Wise, bawdy Annette had prepared me well, a chore my mother had refused to do. 
At first, before I remembered the wisdom culled from my maid, I was afraid he had slain me 
with his great, throbbing rod. But it was not I who was slain. It was my maidenhood, and I was 
well rid of it.

Remembering my own lessons in bearing up under pain, I relaxed, trying to concentrate 
only on the pleasure, the feeling of closeness with my ardent, strong, possessive husband. His 
great powerful rod moved in and out of my pussy, as I felt his hot flesh rubbing against my 
tender pussy walls, the pleasure grew, until I was flowing with the juices of my passion, making
his powerful hard-driving shaft slick, and sticky.

The juices from my cunt eased his passage in and out of my love channel, and the pleasure
grew until an ecstatic fire rippled through me, melting me, causing me to respond to his 
thrusting loins, with rippling motions of my own lust soaked loins. I was madly in love with this
man who had taken possession of me.

His hot, hungry mouth reached for my neck, and he grasped my soft skin in a biting kiss, 
that sent pleasurable stinging sensations running through me, while his cock plowed in and 
out of my teeming cunt.

The ecstasy in me was growing, drowning out the noise of revelry in the great hall, erasing 
all my anguish, my sense of guilt, my loneliness. Clutching him tightly, my body was possessed
with great paroxysms of the most intense bliss I have ever experienced. I felt my teeming loins
arching up, seeking to impale myself even more deeply on his thrusting male rod, as he 
fucked me ardently, fiercely, with all the pent-up hunger of all the many, many moons we had 
waited to consummate our marriage.

I felt his own rod shoot forth the juices of his manhood, deep, deep into my belly. I 
quivered all over with ecstasy, as he groaned wildly, his madly thrusting cock moving more 
and more quickly, and with more and more strength in and out of my quivering cunt.

I almost fainted with the erotic bliss which coursed through my young body, took 
possession of me, and sent me floating like a blackbird, over the forested mountains of his 
land.

Finally, we lay panting in each other's arms, kissing each other all over, as his manly sword,
shrunk slowly in my tingling privates. I regretted that it was all over. I wanted it to go on 
forever and ever. If I never moved out of my bed again, I would be happy, to always have him 
in my arms.

His hands were again traveling over my full, long body. He bit my nipples.

"Oh, if this be punishment, then keep on punishing me," I cried, clinging to him, kissing his
beard, his nose, his gorgeous eyes. I wriggled my body against his strong flesh, trying to 
become one with him. His hands were fondling my rounded buttocks.

"No, I think you have had enough punishment," he said, pinching my ass cheeks. "Except," 
he said, musing, the kneading of his fingers on my soft spongy ass flesh growing stronger, 
"perhaps a little spanking now and then. You have the most marvelous, spankable ass," he 
cried, slapping me sharply.

I gasped, and my errant loins pressed hard into his newly burgeoning male rod. "Ohhh," I 
gasped. "If that be your pleasure... " He smiled down at me, cradling my head in the crook of 
his arm. "If it be yours, too." He kissed me fondly on my forehead, his hands still massaging 
my ass cheeks.

Anything you do is pleasure, my lord," I whispered, closing my eyes, and pressing my 
flushed face into his manly chest.

I heard him laugh huskily. My life was just beginning!


The End
