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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: yolanda1.txt (MMF, reluc, v, fantasy)
Authors name: Elmer B. Ben (elmerbigben@hotmail.com)
Story title : Yolanda's Story
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
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Thank you for your consideration.
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Yolanda's Story (MMF, reluc, v, fantasy)
by Elmer B. Ben (elmerbigben@hotmail.com)
***
Yolanda Price awakens to find she has been transported
to some strange place and time out of sync with all she
has previously known. It is an English speaking country,
perhaps eighteenth century England, but this is also
unclear. At any rate she is befriended by a helpful
rogue named Tom Turner. Tom, unhappily, turns out to be
an enemy of the king. It is here Yolanda's troubles
truly begin.
Yolanda's Story
The Arrest And Interrogation
The Trial
Yolanda In Prison
The Punishment
Part I: Yolanda relives the terror up to now...
The cell was cold, not unbearably so, but it certainly
was uncomfortable. Yolanda shivered despite the thin
woolen blanket that covered her. She lay back on the
pile of fresh straw that had been provided for her and
tried to blot out the horror of the past few days. Where
was she? What had happened to her? What would be the
outcome of all this? Would she ever return to the
comfort of her twenty first century suburban home?
The thought of that home and what she had left behind
brought fresh tears. She didn't know where she was now
or to what point in time she had been transported. She
could not sleep; sleep was impossible. She could only
relive the events of the past few days in her tortured
mind.
She had been at the Farmer's Market gathering the last
items for the evening meal when they approached her. Two
men in three quarter length coats, peaked hats, breeches
with knee stockings and high buckled shoes. "Yer name
Yolanda Price?" Yolanda nodded in the affirmative. "I be
Constable Barnstover an' this be my assistant Oliver
Korn." He indicated a lanky goofy looking youth with
stringy hair and buckteeth. Oliver had a perpetual silly
grin on his thin pock marked face.
Constable Barnstover was a bull of a man, not tall but
stockily built. His cocked hat sat atop a shock of dark
red hair. His face maintained a built in scowl and he
tended to draw his lips back in a sort of snarl when he
spoke. "I have here a warrant for your arrest and have
been ordered by the magistrate at Derry to take yer into
custody at first sight."
Yolanda started nearly dropping her recent purchase.
"Why what am I being arrested for," she asked. "The
warrant charges harboring a fugitive from the King's
justice and aiding and abetting him in concealing his
ill gotten gain. Er, what say ye to that?" Before she
could answer Yolanda was manacled and propelled toward a
waiting carriage. The horror had begun.
Yolanda and the Prosecutor:
His Excellence, she learned was his Title and was to be
so addressed, sat back in his large leathern chair and
took a good sip of brandy from the snifter he was
holding. He offered her a glass but she refused
demanding to know what this was all about. "I hear you
are new in these parts" he stated failing to answer her
question. "Yes I don't understand why I am here myself.
I know I don't belong here, nor do I belong here in your
presence for I have done nothing wrong."
His Excellence shook his head in puzzlement. "I do not
understand why you say you do not belong here. Surely
you deserve to stand to be before me for official
inquiry. You are charged with harboring a fugitive. It
is a crime against his Majesty. surely you realize
that." What fugitive. I know of no criminal. I know of
only man in this strange country and he is no fugitive
from your justice."
"You speak of Tom Turner. But he is a fugitive, a thief
and a brigand. Is he your lover?"
Yolanda gasped. Surely Tom Turner, the only man who had
shown her kindness since she had arrived in this awful
place could not be what His Excellence made him out to
be. "Well, that's it isn't it? He has already admitted
to the same. It was he who named you as concealing his
person from the authorities. Where do you think we got
your name for the warrant? No one knows you hereabouts.
Have you been sent as a spy from the Prussians, or sent
perhaps by the Russians possibly? I assure you we will
find out and you will be severely punished for what you
have been charged with."
Yolanda rose briefly from her seat across the broad desk
from the Prosecutor. "I'm sorry I did not know he was
wanted and I am most assuredly not a spy." We will soon
know. I advise you to tell all now, both about your
mission here and all you know about Tom Turner. If not
you will be subject to the most painful and humiliating
examination." With that the Prosecutor set his glass
down and called for the guard.
Knowing nothing, really, about Tom, except that to save
himself some additional anguish whether physical or
mental he had betrayed her, falsely, to these cruel
people. Also, being at a loss, herself as to why she was
in this strange time and place she could only deny
taking part in the espionage of which she now stood
accused.
Examination, she learned, was another word for
questioning or more harshly, interrogation. Failing to
obtain the desired information the next step could only
be described as torture. Yolanda could offer no
explanation for her plight nor any secret knowledge she
might harbor of Tom Turner's nefarious activities.
Yolanda's fate it seemed was sealed.
It was now Prosecutor became what could only be
described as solicitous of Yolanda. After all, she
appeared a very comely, very comely indeed, wench. Her
face angelically lovely, her lush mane of dark auburn
hair framing that lovely face possessed highlights
galore, He longed to run his fingers through that thick
curly hear, perhaps grab a handful and pull her head
back to kiss her roughly and thereafter demand his due.
Her figure was somewhat obscured by her floor length
dress and the voluminous petticoats that were the order
of the day. He vowed he would remedy that soon enough.
"You have, I would venture, heard of the third degree?"
he began. She nodded her assent. "You have just
experienced the first, questioning. I'm sure you know
the third---- expiation." "You mean torture don't you?
Why don't you say it? It will do you no good for I know
nothing and could tell you nothing of what you seek,
even to save myself from your cruelty."
"You know I'm beginning to believe you but I must know
and you will tell all, unfortunately only after your are
very tired and in terrible pain and---" He paused.
"Unfortunately, only after your beautiful body has been
scarred by the terrible instruments we shall have to
employ to secure your cooperation."
Yolanda shivered, she suddenly felt very faint. Was
there no way out of this nightmare?
"There is of course the second part of the process. You
are to be allowed to inspect the implements which we use
and be explained the methods that would be employed
should you still refuse to cooperate. This is the second
degree."
Amanda sighed a deep sigh of relief. The worst was not
to come, yet.
"But first in order to impress you with the full effect
of you education it is best you be in the state you
would be were you to undergo the ordeals of which you
will learn. That is you must be naked during the
demonstration."
Yolanda was startled by this and the further order to
strip immediately, down to shoes garters and stockings.
When she hesitated the Prosecutor shrugged
indifferently.
"Very well." He motioned to two surly looking unshaven
brutes dressed in oily looking leathern breeches,
shirtless, hairy chested fiends who leered expectantly
at Yolanda's slight figure. "Strip her well. Cut her
clothes off and dispose of them in the forge" he
ordered.
Yolanda gasped her protest. "No," she cried. "I'll do
it."
The Prosecutor's mood changed from solicitous to
threatening. "Too late," he shouted. "You must learn to
take us seriously." With that one of the brutes grabbed
both her wrists holding her arms high above her head.
The other producing a large, evil looking knife, grabbed
her dress collar slipping the blade between her garments
and the soft skin of her back.
With a few deft strokes he sliced away her garments from
neckline to hem. The cold steel of the knife barely
touching her sent cold chills down her back. With one
hard pull he tore the rest of her flimsy covering. Her
flesh spilled out of the torn garments, quivering in the
dim light of the chamber. She instinctively crossed her
arms over her now bare breasts then one small hand moved
quickly to the dark triangle at the apex of her ivory
thighs. She shivered both from the cold and the terrible
embarrassment she felt at her exposure.
She could do nothing save stand there helplessly while
all three men feasted their hungry eyes on her
voluptuous form. For an interminable time she stood
there while they admired her succulent nudity. She
looked down at her feet and spied a shard of the dress
she had worn. She started to bend over to pick it up and
one of the brutes snatched it from her grasp at the last
moment.
She felt the hard slap of a doubled up belt across her
naked buttocks as the other gave he a smart whack for
her trouble. Without thinking she uncovered her pubis to
rub her smarting posterior. Suddenly discovering her
error she moved quickly to re cover her privacy. The
Prosecutor grabbed her wrist before she could do so.
"Hands at your sides" he ordered. She quavered at his
demeanor. Thus they tormented and teased Yolanda for
several minutes.
At last a heavy leathern belt was strapped about her
waist and from it were restraining cuffs, which secured
her hands at her sides. She was then taken to the far
dungeon where the fiendish devices used to extract both
information and confessions from helpless prisoners were
shown and explained to her. There was the iron maiden,
the stretch rack, the torture chair with the hole in the
seat and the pot of glowing coals below that opening.
There was the forge and the bellows from which protruded
the handles of various hot pokers and tongs. There was
the wheel over which the unfortunate victim could be
placed on his back and stretched by an expansion of the
spokes of the wheel. Then there was the wheel which
could be turned to immerse the criminal's h ad and
shoulders for endless seconds, then to bring him or her
up from the water sputtering and choking to be subject
to further questioning or to give his/her confession,
guilty or nor, in order to avoid further anguish. The
last item a large X frame rack from which Tom Turner
hung by his wrists, naked, weights hanging from his
testicles.
Yolanda cried out in anger at this. Tom uttered an
agonized "I'm sorry Yolanda. I didn't mean to---." His
words died away to a nearly soundless mutter. Yolanda
was quickly led away and as she was taken from the
chamber she spotted one of the sadistic brutes that
worked in this hellish place take a red-hot smoking iron
from the forge. Tom's scream echoed down the hallway as
she was hustled away. Her knees gave way and she
fainted.
It was much later she awoke, The shoes and stockings
were gone replaced by crude sandals on her feet and a
flimsy shapeless gray shift the covered her body. They
were her only clothing. She lay in a very comfortable
bed in what appeared to be a man's bedchamber. A
fireplace burned cheerily at the far wall across from
the bed a trio of candle sconces further illuminated the
room. Shadows danced played on the light hued walls, the
lames from the candles and the fireplace flickered and
danced as well. Yolanda reached for a cover.
It was then she discovered the Prosecutor sipping his
accursed brandy and studying her intensely. It was then,
too, she discovered she had been bathed and her hair
carefully brushed. She felt languorous and comfortable.
Had she been drugged? His Excellence rose and covered
her with a blanket. "Rest well, Yolanda. I need nothing
more in the way of information from you. Tom has told us
all we need. I need only your confession to some minor
matters in order to justify my holding you. We'll
discuss that in the morning. You can save both yourself
and Tom further pain if you comply."
Yolanda complied. There was little else she could do.
There was one more thing though. One more price to pay
to secure her freedom. That was to giver herself to the
Prosecutor. She complied with that demand, also. She
wanted only to leave this place, to be free, one more
humiliation did not matter that much. It was not that
easy and the time did not pass that quickly.
The Prosecutor was not a one-night stand man and his
sexual appetite tended to the kinky at times but he did
make her orgasm time after time. She was his sex slave
for more than a week before he tired of her. For what
seemed endless hours she laid trembling and quivering
under his ministrations. She learned sexual practices
that would make a New Orleans whore blush. But at last
she was free.
She walked from the jail into the clear bright sunlight
of day breathing once again the clean fresh air of
liberty. How good it felt! One day her horrible,
frightening experience would fade from her thoughts and
she would be truly free and--- and ----happy.
Perhaps she would never escape this strange land and
this time out of place into which she had been thrust
but even if this were to be the case, she would find
happiness---- somehow." As these thoughts crossed her
mind she espied dour constable and his witless
assistant. "Ay there Miss Yolanda Price, I have again a
warrant for yer arrest." "And what for, pray tell, this
time," she called out angrily. "Warrant charging escape
from custody and requested by His Excellence, the Royal
Provincial Prosecutor," the constable answered.
If you liked this let me know and I'll continue with the
trial, imprisonment and eventual punishment of heroic
Yolanda, as well as the surprising conclusion. Enjoy
reading of her travails as she is "fucked over" by the
men in her life.
Cordially, Elmer
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 17