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Tamsyn - 1
by Realoldbill (address withheld)
***
In Medieval times, a lovely young woman finds herself
in the power of her mad brother who has become Duke by
killing their father. Captured and tortured, she
manages to prevail. Caution: violence. (Mf, nc, rp, v,
inc)
***
PART 1: Becoming the Duchess
"Wake up, m'lady, wake up, quickly, quickly. Get
dressed," the elderly woman shook the girl's shoulder
and then went to open the heavy drapes.
Tamsyn stretched beneath several layers of blankets
and furs, extending one pale arm out into the chill
air. She sat up, shivered, tossed back her dark hair,
and lay down again, pulling up the covers, curling her
lithe body into a ball. "What's the hurry?" she asked
her old maid as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. "The
sun's barely up. We have nothing today."
"There's trouble. Something odd is going on, something
bad, very bad. Get yourself dressed, now. Be quick."
The girl swung her long legs over the side of her high
bed and reached her feet down for her warm slippers
just as the door burst open and two of the palace
guards entered, swords in hand and showing their
teeth, followed by a young officer in his leather
garb, an odd smile on his bearded face. "Take that
crone out of here," he said pointing to the trembling
maid.
One of the men sheathed his straight sword and grabbed
the old woman and hauled her to the door. "Where,
sir?"
"The courtyard, dolt, for the separation. He'll
probably feed her to the dogs."
The man saluted and left with the sputtering maid
while the other guard eyed the girl with undisguised
interest, the foreflap of his tight britches bulging.
He leaned on his sword and licked his lips, looking
her up and down, enjoying her with his eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?" Tamsyn demanded,
holding her nightgown together at her throat, her
lush, young body stiff, nipples hardening from both
fear and cold.
The officer laughed and tossed her the heavy robe he
found on the footboard. "Put this on, your foolish
ladyship. Wouldn't want you chilled before we use
you."
"Get out of my room at once," cried the girl loudly,
ashamed that her voice quivered as she got to her
feet, holding the robe to her chest and feeling fear
and anger in her throat.
Tamsyn was seventeen, just seventeen the previous
month in fact, the apple of her father's eye, the most
beautiful girl anyone could remember seeing for
several generations of the ruling family and already
the goal of many high-ranking young swains. She was,
of course, an intact and untouched virgin.
She snorted, glared at the guard captain and shrugged
into her woolen robe, pulling the belt tight at her
slim waist and buttoning the loops across her high
breasts, lifting her chin, tossing back her long hair
and watching the men with obvious distain. The guard
sucked his teeth as he sheathed his blade, feeling his
arousal at the sight of the voluptuous young woman in
her thin garment and flowing robe. He, like the other
men following their new lord, had been promised an
unimaginable reward for their treachery, one that
stimulated his lustful nature. Cries rose from below,
and he smiled.
"Take her down to the courtyard with the others. Is
she the last of them?" The guard officer was also
eager to get his reward, his manhood throbbing.
"Aye, sir, the boy's away at school," the big man
said, sheathing his weapon and grabbing Tamsyn by the
wrist, enjoying the smell of her, the feel of her warm
skin, the excitement of her nearness. He felt his
massive cock swell and tremble.
"Don't fuck her on the way down. There'll be plenty of
time for that later."
The guard chuckled and pushed the girl out into the
flagstone floored hallway. "Get," he said to her.
"What's going on?" she asked, walking backwards and
hearing a clamor from outside. Fear rose in her throat
like a burning ember. Briefly she hoped she was
dreaming. She certainly did not like the look on the
man's face, she had never seen such a look. It was,
she decided, avarice.
"They calls it a coup, miss, so I'm told; coo,
somethin' a'the sort," the big man said, adjusting his
swollen privates in his leather codpiece, "it means
everything turned topsy-turvy like. You'll soon see."
He chuckled and admired the long legs appearing at her
robe opening as she turned away from him. He followed
her, watching her buttocks sway, stripping her in his
mind.
Tamsyn hurried down the stairs, losing her slippers,
her heart beating rapidly, worried about her friends
and relatives, both curious and fearful. From the
courtyard came a groan of some sort. She ran outside
in her bare feet to find all the staff and many palace
guards clustered about the low stage where band
concerts were held in the summer and miracle plays in
the fall.
Lying on the wooden stage, were the bodies of two men,
both headless and gory, arms tied behind them. While
Tamsyn watched, horrified, her elder brother lifted
the head of her father's prime minister by his sparse
gray hair and pressed the ragged neck on a pointed
pole at the side of the stage. The head of her
father's chamberlain was already there, dripping
blood, his mouth agape, dead eyes staring.
Also on the far side of the stage were a tall man in a
dark red gown, his shaggy head bowed; the
chamberlain's two lovely daughters, tied to the poles
that held up the canopy; and close to the front, the
prime minister's new wife who was bound to another
corner, her fair hair hanging loosely to her waist;
all of them in just their night clothes despite the
chill wind, their faces averted from the carnage.
"Ah, there she is," cried her brother as he pressed
the head of the dead minister deeper on the spike,
screwing it down. "Come up here, Tam, you little
bitch, be quick. We've saved a place for you."
"Are you mad?" she yelled at her brother as she
elbowed through the crowd and lifted her hem to mount
the two steps. She glanced across at the man standing
by the two corpses. "Father," she cried. "What's
happening?"
The man just shook his head and looked away.
"Come here, bitch," demanded her brother, grabbing her
arm. He pushed her to the front of the stage. "Here
she is, friends, the cause of all the trouble, the
Duke's whore. Look at her. She lay with her own
father, the strumpet." He roughly pulled her robe to
her waist and then tore open her nightgown, spilling
out her high, globular breasts with their rosebud
tits. The mob sighed.
Tamsyn, shocked, covered her round breasts with her
left arm as her brother tugged on her right.
"Shall she die next?" her brother yelled to the crowd.
"No, damn, you," yelled her father, hobbling forward.
"Leave her alone."
"Very well," said his son, "if you insist." He undid
her robe's belt and tore both robe and night dress
from his sister, threw her clothes out into the crowd
of workers and then tossed the naked girl toward her
father who stood with his hands tied behind him and
ankles fettered, blood on his mouth and chin.
"Kiss him farewell, girl," said her brother with a
smile, and he drew his huge, two-handed sword. "Step
away," he said loudly, raising the heavy weapon behind
his wide shoulder.
Tamsyn turned as her father lunged at her brother, and
he stepped to the side with a wide smile and cut the
older man's head off quite cleanly with a crunching
sound the girl would never forget. The spurting skull
bounced across the stage and into the cheering crowd,
spraying blood, while the spouting body stumbled and
collapsed, pulsing gore briefly on the already blood-
covered floorboards. Michale raised the dripping blade
over his head and drew a cheer.
Tamsyn screamed and fainted.
She awoke gagging and choking to find herself on her
knees and tied by the wrists to a corner pole of the
stage with her head turned to the side and her
brother's long prick deep in her mouth. He yanked on
her dark hair, and she looked up at him, gasping for
breath, his erection poking into her throat.
"Here is your breakfast, bitch," Michale said. "Best
swallow it all; you'll need your strength."
The horrified girl could feel the turgid member jerk
and spurt repeatedly, filling her mouth with thick
semen. She gulped and swallowed, moving her tongue and
snorting, trying not to gag, her mind awhirl and
disbelieving. She had been an untouched virgin, whose
sexual experience involved secretly kissing two young
men, one of whom briefly touched her breast and then
begged forgiveness. Although she had rubbed at her
genitals now and then, she had never achieved an
orgasm. Taking a man's foul root between her lips had
not even crossed her mind.
"Good, good," gasped her brother, thrusting his hips
forward, "keep sucking for I mean to deflower you
next." He buried his hands in her hair and fucked her
face brutally.
Tamsyn prayed and tried not to think of her beheaded
father who still lay before her or of what her foul
brother was doing to her as he crushed her nose into
his pubic hair. Briefly she wondered if her young
brother was safe at his abbey school. She felt
Michale's heavy rod firming between her lips and then
pulling loose after raking across her lower teeth.
Laughing, he smacked her face with his stiff member
and stepped back so the girl kneeling before him could
see that the other three women on the stage were also
being used sexually by members of the palace guard,
all of the females on their knees as she was, heads
held down, bare buttocks raised. The audience, the
girl saw, was now much smaller and she noticed some
folks leaving at the keep's high gate, prodded away by
long pikes. She saw the cooks and one or two servants
she recognized; the stable boy and a few field hands
seemed to be watching with unalloyed interest.
"Derek," cried her brother, holding her by the hair,
and stuffing his penis out of sight in his brocaded
codpiece, "come here, my man."
The captain of the guards approached, hand on his
sword's hilt, his blood stained cock dangling loosely
before him. Tamsyn could not stop looking at it, never
having seen a full-grown man's penis previously. It
was horrifying and obviously alive.
"Ah," said her brother, still grasping her hair, "I
see that young May was a virgin, good for you." He
smacked the man's shoulder. "Well, as soon as I tear
open this little bitch and make her a useful woman,
you may have her as I promised."
"Thank you, Lord, for she is surely a beauty," said
the man, grasping his new duke at the wrist. "Your
sword work was magnificent. I look forward to taking
her to my bedchamber."
"You may use her mouth if you wish while I tend to her
ass," said the girl's brother. "Looks like your proud
tool could use a good cleaning."
"Aye," said the guard captain, who stepped in front of
Tamsyn and held up his limp penis before her startled
eyes, its dark head as big as a plum. The girl's
stomach revolted and she feared she would vomit.
The self-made Duke smacked his sister's bare buttocks
sharply. "Open your mouth, bitch," he demanded, "serve
your new masters. Be useful rather than just
decorative."
She shook her head and he pulled her chin up by
yanking on her hair. "Pinch her nose," he told the
captain with a grin.
When Tamsyn opened her lips to breath, the soldier
rammed his fouled member into her mouth and she
gagged. At the same time her brother bent his knees
and crouched behind her, stroked his saliva slicked
cock and then set it at her tiny anus, pried her open
with his thumbs and drove his prick into her with a
satisfied grunt. Despite having a cock in her mouth,
the girl screamed as her brother's foreskin was
pressed back and his ram's blunt head tore into her
passage like a driven tent peg. He rammed in and out
two or three times but finding the going tight and
painful, withdrew, lifted the sobbing girl's hips and
pushed himself into her folded nether lips and probed
for her opening as he changed his grip from her hips
to her breasts, holding her tightly to him while the
captain fucked her face, his hands at her at the ears,
his eyes closed and a wide smile on his lips.
The man in her mouth ejaculated and pulled loose,
spraying her face with his spend as her brother found
the tight-lipped opening of her unsullied vagina,
tensed his leg muscles, gritted his teeth, squeezed
her breasts hard and rammed into her with a cry of
victory. Six inches of his thick, hard rod smashed her
open before he paused, stimulated by the velvet grip
of his sister's body. He crouched over her like a dog
in heat, mouth agape, eyes closed, testicles
throbbing.
Tamsyn had felt her maidenhead being ripped apart as
her brother's sizable manhood filled her as her body.
She yielded to the fierce pressure of his 200 pounds
of muscle and lust, gasped and sobbed, spitting out
the taste in her mouth as his gristle-ridged shaft
spread her inner flesh and began moving firmly to and
fro. Michale pushed her forward until her right
shoulder was against the post and then he held the
square pole with both hands and raped his sister as
violently as he could, grunting and ramming until he
felt his balls churning and then he pulled free and
sprayed her buttocks and back with his seed, crying
out in release and triumph.
He stood on slightly shaky legs, wiped his cock on the
girl's torn nightgown then put away his satisfied
member and clapped his guard captain's shoulder. "Try
not to come in her and tell the men. They can use her
mouth and ass all they wish but don't impregnate her.
I have other plans for this whore, a valuable piece of
ass. She's very tight, wonderfully tight. Enjoy!"
He stepped over his father's body and stood with his
feet wide apart on the slippery stage to watch the
eager soldier kneel behind his gasping sister and fuck
her viciously in the buttocks while she gasped and
sobbed. Then he looked about at the other three young
women who were moaning and groaning under their own
rapes, hair hanging to the floor of the platform,
bodies moving back and forth like clock parts, the
blonde serving two of his guards at once. He took a
deep breath, jumped down from the stage, found his
father's head on the ground and kicked it toward the
back door of the castle he now owned. All his plans
were working just as he had often dreamed.
By the time the sun was high, Tamsyn had been raped
nearly a dozen times, mainly sodomized. Her tortured
vagina had stopped bleeding although her anus was
still pulsing painfully. Young May, the minister's
daughter, was sobbing but the other two women were
resting as best they could, still bound to the corner
poles of the low stage, their sore groins and thighs a
mass of bruises and gobs of jism.
"Mistress," said the nearest girl, "what has happened?
How can this be?"
Tamsyn licked her split lips and shook her head. "I
don't know, Margaret. I'm so sorry. I think my brother
has gone mad."
"My little sister is in a bad way. May is only
fourteen. I'm sure she's still bleeding."
"Mayhap they are done with us," said the blonde woman
at the opposite corner from the Duke's lovely
daughter, the young woman from the western earldom who
had recently wed her father's chief advisor. "They
were a vicious bunch."
From the castle two workmen wearing yokes approached
along with one of the smiling guards. The workmen
carried a wooden bucket in each hand, and they mounted
the stage and proceeded to throw a bucket of water on
all four women, drenching them from head to knee.
"We're dining," the guard said loudly, "and when we's
done, we may want a bit more sport. Thought we'd clean
y'up a bit." He laughed and stalked away. The workers
followed with glances back at the soaked females,
their battered bodies dripping, hair hanging in long
tendrils.
The ravaged May tossed her sodden curls and looked at
Tamsyn with tear reddened eyes. "Can't you do
something," she begged. "He's your brother."
"Pray, girl," said Tamsyn as the chill wind whipped
over her bare skin. The other three young women still
wore the remnants of their nightgowns but all four
were soon shivering in the cold, teeth chattering,
nipples erect.
From the castle came Duke Michale along with the
captain of the guards and two other well-dressed men.
They mounted the stage, and Tamsyn's brother put his
foot on the small of her back and pushed her down to
the rough floor. "This one's mine," he said, "but
Charles, since you are to be my prime minister, take
your choice of the other three; something to warm your
bed these cold nights."
The man looked about, hands on hips and chose
Margaret, the dead chamberlain's older daughter. May
became the slave of the new chamberlain, a stout man
with a bad eye, and the captain of the guards took
blonde Ramona with him, her arm bent up behind her.
Tamsyn watched them head back toward the castle's gray
stone walls, the women trotting to keep pace, the
youngest looking back with pleading eyes.
"Why have you done this?" she asked her brother as he
produced a dirk and cut the ropes about her wrists. He
pulled her to her feet, held her to his mouth and
kissed her roughly.
"I could not wait for him to die," he said after
pulling his tongue from his sister's lips.
"You are a murderer. You'll burn in hell," she said,
wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"And you will learn to serve me and anyone else I put
in your bed or you will not live another week. You are
now a whore, understand, and you will do as you are
told or suffer the consequences."
Tamsyn spat in his face.
Early the next morning, Tamsyn awoke in a dank cell in
the bowels of the castle where her brother had sent
her, pawed crudely by two guards as they forced her
down the stairs and along the dark passageways. She
had gone all the previous day without food or drink,
and she was famished and very thirsty, her bruised
lips parched. She was still naked and her privates
ached from violent abuse.
The lock turned, the heavy door opened and her brother
entered, looked at her with disdain, smiled and said,
"Kneel." He had a short whip or riding crop in his
right hand and smacked it into his left palm with a
loud pop.
Tamsyn got to her knees and bowed her head. "Water,
please, Michale," she said.
"Suck," said her brother, producing his limp male
member and spreading his feet to get it at the proper
level. He grabbed the girl's hair and made her lift
her chin so that his manhood rubbed across her face.
"Suck, you bitch, and I'd better not feel any teeth
today."
Tamsyn shook her head and said, "Never," as loudly as
she could. Her brother struck her five times in rapid
succession, on the hip, back, breast, shoulder and
neck, leaving red and purple stripes. "Suck," he
demanded.
"No," she sobbed, leaning down until her forehead
touched the stone floor. Her brother beat her back and
buttocks until his arm tired and her pale skin showed
the dozens of welts he had raised, some of them
bloody.
Tamsyn shuddered and heard the door slam closed.
A short while later, the door opened and a palace
guard, smiled at her, lifted a wooden bucket and threw
the contents at her head. "The Duke tole me you was
thirsty," he said as closed and relocked the door.
Tamsyn licked the water from the stones and then from
her arms and hair. She sat on her haunches and thought
about what to do, about how to get out of her
brother's clutches. She hugged herself, rubbed her
skin and paced back and forth, trying to keep warm.
Her mind refused to think about the future and
concentrated solely on her thirst and pain. The thin
shadow on the wall of her cell had moved to the other
side of the narrow room before the door opened again
and her brother appeared, patting his wide stomach and
carrying a large silver cup. He drank off his wine,
wiped his mouth and stood over his sister.
"Get up," he said, "Up on your knees." He tossed his
cup back to the guard behind him and opened his
codpiece.
"Come," he said forcefully, "take it out and suck it
properly." Tamsyn shook her head and stayed bent over
before him. "These other men are waiting for your
services."
Her bother stepped back and the guard entered, lifted
her up under her arms and stood her on her feet,
pushed her back to the wall, put his shoulder on her
chest, breathed foully into her face as he rubbed her
crotch with his knee, looped a rope about each wrist
and tied the ropes to rings high on the wall so that
the girl was splayed back against the stones, barely
able to reach the floor with her toes. Then the man
pinched her right nipple, twisted it and stepped back.
"Give her some water," said her smiling brother as he
studied her exquisite body, stretched out before him
in all its youthful glory. The guard threw another
bucket of water on the girl and then he and Michale
left and the door was locked. The girl licked in all
the water she could as it dripped from her hair and
nose and tried to relax and ignore the pain signals
her muscles were already sending from her shoulders.
It was dark when her brother returned along with a
uniformed man carrying a lantern. Her arms were numbed
by then and her legs cramped. Her chilled body had
slowed, withdrawing to its center in order to stay
alive. Her hunger had vanished but her thirst remained
and her parched lips were nearly glued together. She
could no longer produce saliva.
"Bitch," said her brother, lifting her chin with his
whip handle. This whip was different; it had many thin
tails that dangled down on her upright breasts. "The
other women are serving their new masters properly.
They all have had a meal and some wine. They have
bathed, and they are now lying beneath their men and
are bearing their weight as they will bear their
children in time."
He stepped back and lashed her across the chest twice.
She screamed and writhed, feeling as if she had been
burned in a hundred places.
"Ah," he said, "now I have your attention. Put down
your light," he said to the soldier. "And show her
your weapon."
The man grinned, set down his lantern and undid his
waist, letting his foreflap dangle.
"Do you know Sergeant Forest, sister dear?" asked the
young duke, "he is one of our bravest men."
The soldier had produced his thick manhood and stroked
it with both hands so that it stiffened and rose in
his gnarled fist. He smiled at the naked young women
before him, never having seen such a glorious body,
never having even imagined one. He drooled and licked
his chops, thinking of how he would gnaw at her
luscious breasts with their hard little nipples.
Quickly his huge cock felt iron hard and forge hot in
his rough hand, its wide head hard ridged and its
shaft knotted with blood vessels.
"He has, as you can see, an enormous spear, more than
two hands it is and as thick as, well, as your ankle I
would say. He will rip you apart, both fore and aft."
The man stepped forward until the head of his huge
phallus pressed against the girl's soft belly. It
leaked a bit of liquid near her navel. The girl tried
not to think. In her mind she recited her rote prayers
over and over, her eyes closed.
"He was on the gate today," said her brother, poking
her with the handle of his whip, "so he did not have a
chance to enjoy himself as the others did. I have
promised him and his mate, who is waiting in the hall,
that they may have an hour with you. That's fair,
don't you think?"
Tamsyn shook her head, unable to take her eyes from
the huge phallus arched up before her, jerking and
throbbing, its single eye bubbling out lubricant.
Snake, serpent she thought and then, no, cudgel, a
fence post. It will never fit in me.
"You have a choice, my dear sister," he said. "You can
come and be my obedient slave, my slut, serve me
faithfully in and out of bed, or you can spend a
pleasant hour with the sergeant here and his mate."
"Go to hell," said Tamsyn, spitting at her brother but
only able to generate a bit of white sputum.
The sergeant covered her breasts with his large,
callused hands, bent his knees and thrust upward,
butting his monstrous manhood into the girl's battered
folds until it broke through her stretched defenses
and lodged in her sore vagina, ripping her open. He
growled, squeezed her nipples out between his thick
fingers and rammed upward, flexing his thick thighs
and bunching his huge buttock muscles. Her young flesh
parted, yielded, sundered as he shoved her ripe body
back to the gray stones.
Tamsyn screamed, feeling herself being torn open
again.
Her attacker changed his grip to her pelvis and pulled
her down on his outsized member, battering at her
cervix and grunting with pleasure, his mouth now
filled with her left breast and the fingers on his
right hand probing and poking at her injured anus. The
rutting soldier pressed her back to the wall, abrading
the skin of her buttocks and shoulders as she arched
under his attack, kicking her legs weakly behind him.
He began smashing into her, driving more than a half-
foot of thick cartilage upward again and again,
butting her tender pubis with his heavy bone.
Tamsyn's mind went blank, she saw nothing and felt
only the pressure of the huge man bashing her against
the cell wall over and over and grunting with effort,
his hairy chest and groin rubbing her skin raw as he
rammed inward, inward, inward. Then suddenly, she felt
something new. He was spurting within her. "No, no,
no," she screeched, kicking her feet as the man leaned
back and laughed with pleasure, emptying himself into
the most beautiful girl in twelve counties. He bit her
nipple and shook his head with her tit between his
teeth, tasting blood.
When he was spent and his huge ram softened, he
nibbled more gently at her left nipple and let his
massive manhood slide from her battered body.
"George," he called as he wiped his cock on her leg
and patted her bruised buttocks.
The door was unlocked and another guard entered as the
massive rapist caressed the girl once more and then
left, locking the cell door again, his breathing still
labored.
In the flickering lamp light Tamsyn watched as the
second guard took off his heavy belt and pulled his
coarse woolen shirt over his head. He was a smaller
man with yellowed teeth and a vile smell.
"Water, please," the girl moaned.
He ignored her plea as he stood on one foot and then
the other to pull off his boots and then stripped off
his britches so he was as naked at the tormented girl
who hung by her arms before him, stimulating his baser
instincts with her undoubted beauty, her ravaged
loveliness. His tumescent penis was not as long as the
first man's, but it was just as thick and gnarled with
pulsing veins, its helmet shaped head a reddish
purple. He shook it out and skinned back the foreskin,
smiling at the young woman before him.
He had enjoyed many tavern girls, worn out two wives
and raped a dozen unfortunate females of various ages
in his military career, but he had never seen anyone
as luscious as this dark headed girl with the small
triangle of pubic curls between her long legs and
Sergeant Forest's yellowish spend trickling down the
inside of her plump thighs. His cock was quickly long
and hard, jutting straight out before him.
He petted the girl, stroked her breasts and flank,
rubbed up and down her battered slit with his hot
manhood, lifted her left leg above his hip and then
eased his prick into the ravaged opening while she
begged him not to rape her.
"Please, please, don't," Tamsyn pleaded. "I'm hurt,
torn."
The man smiled as he pressed deeper and deeper into
her, never having felt a woman so young and tight
about his rutting cock. He grasped her firm buttocks
and pulled her to him, held her head with his other
hand and captured her mouth with his lips and jerked
his hips forward to drive his proud pole up into her
to the very hilt, trying to bury his balls in her
vulva.
Tamsyn gasped but felt something else as well. Somehow
the man had rubbed over a place, she could not tell
whether it was within or without, a place that gave
her body a tingling thrill. She shuddered and closed
her mind as the grimacing guard before her began
grunting and ramming, licking at her upright tits and
using his strong legs to batter at her, bouncing her
off the stone wall. He came quickly, crying out with
pleasure, and stepped back to jet a final spurt of
sticky spend on her belly.
He kissed her again, tonguing her mouth, and smiled.
"Damn good, bitch, you're a fine piece." He smacked
her hip and pulled on his clothes and then beat on the
door.
Back came the first man, smiling, his ram thoroughly
revived by listening to his partner's enjoyment. He
untied one of the girl's wrists and turned her to face
the wall, retying her hand to another ringbolt. Then
he had at her cunny from the rear, holding her at the
hips and rutting with a series of groans and grunts,
filling the girl completely, rubbing her nipples and
thighs on the rough stones and taking nearly ten
minutes before he finally ejaculated in her, shivering
with pleasure. He smacked her bottom and beat on the
door.
The second guard coated his prick with the gooey spend
oozing from the girl and then sodomized Tamsyn
viciously, mauling her breasts as he did so. When he
was done and left her slumped against the stone wall,
she was mentally prepared for another rape, but it did
not come. Somehow she slept with her face against the
granite, knees braced on the wall, her arms stretched
above her. Just before the darkness closed on her
mind, she wondered what had caused that brief thrill,
that frisson of pleasure amidst her suffering. She
shuddered and then slept.
The girl was awake at least an hour before the key
turned in the lock, the door opened and her brother
strode in with the many-tailed whip in his right hand
and a tin cup of water in his left. The girl's throat
was almost closed and she groaned involuntarily after
looking back over her shoulder.
"Good morning, sister dear," he said, and then to the
guards, "Untie her."
Tamsyn sank to her knees, her numb arms folded before
her, her mind filled with pain as feeling and blood
flowed back into them. She rubbed at her aching
shoulders and tried to control her breathing.
"Drink?" asked her brother, offering the brimming cup.
She looked up at him and mustered all the hate she
could. "Do you know that those two cretins you left me
with last night squirted in me, both of them?" Her
voice was little more than a croak.
"Damn," said Michale. "I forgot. Ah, but if you are
with child, I can always get it ripped from you."
Tamsyn reached for the cup, her hand shaking, her
swollen tongue between her dry lips, her young body
aching for water.
"Please," she said. She had tried to urinate twice in
the dark, but her body produced only a few painful
drops. Her senses seemed to have been numbed, even her
hearing and taste.
"Ah," said her brother, pouring the water out on the
floor, "manners. You had some I'm sure. Now, grovel
your way over here on your knees and suck my cock."
"No," she cried, unable to take her eyes from the
small puddles of water on the stone floor, "I will
not. Never. Never!" She turned away from him.
Her brother stroked her back with his whip, laying it
on gently but pulling it away quickly, leaving behind
thin strips of ripped flesh from the barbs in the
leather. Tamsyn moaned and shuddered as he did it
again, reaching to her buttocks with the knotted
strands.
"You are no good to me dead," he pronounced. "Bring
her down to the chamber below." He lashed her again,
producing barely a grunt of pain as she bit her dry
lips.
The two guards grabbed the girl under her arms and
half carried, half dragged her down the corridor and
stone steps to a room she had never seen although she
had lived in the castle all her life and had enjoyed
exploring its hidden passages as a child.
"That table," said her brother, pointing with his whip
at a heavy wooden table some four feet long and two
feet wide. The gril's mind now decided that the place
had been the miller's lair when she was a child. It
was very different now, an evil room.
Tamsyn was bound to the table so that her head hung at
one end on a leather-cushioned edge and her legs were
splayed widely apart at the other, tied to the table
legs with buckled straps, as were her arms. Her
brother took off his long-tailed coat and sword belt
and then wheeled an odd-looking machine between her
spread knees, adjusted the height of an extended dowel
and pushed the rod's leather-clad mock-phallus into
his sister's battered vagina, making sure it was well
seated between her abraded and swollen labia.
He turned the wheel on the side of the machine and the
thick stalk thrust forward about three inches and then
withdrew the same distance with the next turn,
pressing the girl's nether lips inward as it
penetrated her.
Tamsyn whimpered.
"Did you like that?" Michale asked his sister who lay
spread before him, her head unsupported, dark hair
brushing the floor, torn breasts jutting upward. He
attached a foot pedal to a thin leather belt and
stepped to the other end of the table. "Let me
demonstrate how this works. We can attach it to the
water wheel if we wish but that provides only thirty
thrusts a minute, indefinitely of course. We could
leave you on it overnight if you insist."
The words seemed to make no sense to Tamsyn who could
think only of her thirst.
Michale opened his britches, produced his limp member,
pushed down his sister's chin so that her head hung
before him and laid his cock in her upside-down mouth,
sliding it across her tongue and the roof of her mouth
and into her throat. "Now," he said, "each time I
thrust here," he withdrew and pressed in, gagging her
with his swelling cock head, "I can step on this," he
pressed on the treadle beneath his foot, "and you get
it in the cunt." The leather phallus moved into the
girl firmly and stayed there until the man released
his foot and then he pulled back out of his sister's
throat and let her draw a breath. "Isn't that clever?"
Tamsyn tried to shake her head from side to side but
found that the straps and her brother's body
immobilized her. "Let's try for a hundred, shall we?"
he said gaily, and he began moving his cock quickly in
and out of her mouth and deeply into her throat as he
kept time with his foot, shoving the thick, black,
blunt-ended 'dildo in and out of the bucking girl's
aching vulva, bruising her tender tissues.
When he ejaculated, after many strokes, he held his
foot down and kept her throat full until he saw she
was turning blue, her eyes bulging. Then he pulled out
of her, dangling a sticky stream of his spend over her
face and releasing his foot as she gulped for breath.
The girl's whole body shuddered when the leather dildo
retracted, streaked with blood.
Tamsyn moaned and gagged, lifting her head and
swallowing repeatedly. She watched horrified, as her
brother screwed a different device onto the cogged
fucking machine at her knees. This one was a thicker
pole that had rounded bulges and low protrusions all
over it. It appeared to be made of wood with metal
decorations along its sides like domed nail heads.
"You are going to love this," he said as he brought
the blunt-headed ram to his sister's battered anus.
"This has a spring inside it so that the head moves
back and forth and each time it is inserted, it
rotates a half turn. Let me show you." Michale pushed
the device into his sister and turned the wheel four
times, ignoring her screams as the thing twisted and
ripped. Her blood soon spotted the stone floor.
He left her impaled, the mechanical phallus jumping to
and fro on its internal spring, and moved back to look
at her as her head hung down over the end, her mouth
agape, her mind numb, eyes closed, conical breasts
pointed at the beamed ceiling.
"Would you like to stay here all day so that my guards
can use you during their free time?"
The girl shook her head, tears flowing freely as she
felt her body spasming under the studded phallus's
continuously jerking movements.
"So you will behave, do as you are told?"
She nodded and gasped, biting her lip, her mind able
to consider only pain, desiring only release and
revenge.
Michale went back to her knees and turned the handle
four more times, enjoying the high-pitched screeches
of the lovely girl before him as her body convulsed on
his favorite toy. Then he released the straps holding
her down and let her roll off onto the floor where she
crouched on all fours, sobbing and trembling.
"Come," said her brother, standing before her with his
feet wide apart, "come and suck me like a good whore.
Show me that you know your place." He flopped out his
aroused male member.
Moaning, she crawled toward him, hair dragging along
the floor, breathing rapidly, aware that she had been
deeply and perhaps permanently injured.
Tamsyn grasped her brother's legs and pulled herself
up to take his half-hard cock into her parched mouth.
She circled its head with her swollen tongue, looked
up at him, grasped him tightly at the thighs and bit
down as hard as she could, ripping through the
cartilage and spongy blood vessels of his erection,
shaking her head from side to side and tearing off its
bulging head. Blood spurted into her mouth.
She pushed herself away from the screaming man who had
fallen to his knees with his hand at his groin, spat
out the gory piece of flesh, got to her feet and
looked for water. Finding none she stumbled to her
screeching brother who was bent over on his knees,
blubbering. She kicked him in the face with her bare
foot, jumped on his back and pushed him flat on the
floor with her knees under his armpits while he
continued to moan and writhe, pouring blood across the
stones. Tamsyn began bashing his head against the
stone floor, grasping his hair tightly and using all
the power she could muster and ignoring his cries,
sobbing as she did her work.
The solid clunks Michale's head made turned to wet and
squishy sounds as his face collapsed and the front of
skull broke open, but his sister kept right on
smashing his head up and down on the stone floor until
she was sure he was dead. Then she leaned back against
the table where she had been tortured and thought
about what she must do, her lungs burning. Water, said
her brain.
She licked her lips, tasting her brother's salty
blood, got to her feet and shrugged into his fancy
coat, turning back the cuffs. She swung the sword belt
about her middle, leaving a very long tongue sticking
out from the clasping buckle. The coat tails reached
her knees. She took a deep breath and then pulled the
boots from her brother's splayed feet, stuffed his
stockings into the toes and put them on, surprised to
find a dirk holstered in the right boot's high top.
She kicked the body in the ribs.
With her booted toe, she turned her brother's body
over and was pleased to see the bloody mess she had
made of his face, smashing his nose flat and breaking
most of his front teeth as well as his cheekbones.
Then an eyelid flickered and he stared up at her and
raised his trembling hand, his torn lips trembling.
Tamsyn jumped back. His skull was broken, his features
now unrecognizable, but he still lived. She smiled,
drew his dirk from her boot, showed it to him and then
sliced open his belly, sawed off the rest of his male
member as well as his testicles and threw the bloody
mess in his face. She wiped her hand on his chest as
blood spurted anew from his groin and his body shook
as his entrails emerged in gray-blue coils.
The girl slowly opened the door of the torture chamber
and peeked into the hall, ignoring the low gurgling
sounds her dying brother was making. A guard was at
the far end, near the door to the cells, leaning
against the wall, looking asleep. She had her
brother's short sword and dirk, but the guard was a
big man and she feared his strength. She looked about
for another weapon and then spotted the halberds and
pikes mounted on the wall along with some old shields.
Tamsyn took down a long pike and leaned it behind the
door.
Then she inhaled a deep breath, cleared her throat,
tried to spit, opened the door and in as low a voice
as she could muster, cried, "Guard, come here
quickly." She left the door ajar and stepped behind
it, grasping the thick shaft and hearing the boots in
the hall.
Into the room ran the man, his short sword in his hand
and Tamsyn kicked the door closed. When he turned, she
lunged at him with her spear, driving the sharpened
steel head through the man's chest and out his back as
he stumbled over the table where she had been tied.
She let go the pike and he fell on his side, kicking
his feet and pulling on the long shaft buried in him.
Tamsyn drew her brother's sword and approached the
fallen guard. She smiled down at the dying man,
recognizing one of the soldiers who had sodomized her
on the stage. She hacked at his groin and his face,
wiped the sword on his belly and left the room feeling
much better about herself.
Tamsyn knew the castle as few others did even though
she had never discovered the torture chamber her
brother had constructed at the end of a locked
hallway. She made her way up a very narrow, circular
stairway that corkscrewed to the sleeping floor. There
she emerged in a corner of a bedroom where her younger
brother had slept to find young May sitting at a desk,
a book open in her lap.
May dropped her book and leapt to her feet, her hand
at her mouth as Tamsyn smiled and put her finger to
her lips. "Water," said the blood-spattered young
woman, "do you have any water?"
May nodded and pointed to a pitcher and basin. Tamsyn
lifted the pitcher with both hands and poured the
water down her throat, never having tasted anything so
good. She let it dribble over her chin and splash
across her chest, paused, took a deep breath, and
drank some more. Slaked, she put the pitcher down and
turned to the young girl.
"Are you all right?" she asked, raking back her dark
hair with both hands and stuffing it into the back of
her collar.
May shook her head. "This man, Lord Philip he's
called, he makes me, he does awful things to me." She
put her face in her hands and wept. Tamsyn hugged her
and patted her back.
"Where is he now?" Tamsyn asked.
The girl shook her head. "They were supposed to have a
meeting with your brother this morning."
Tamsyn smiled. "They won't unless it's held in hell,"
she said.
"Will he come back here?"
May nodded. "He can't seem to leave me alone. He paws
me and bites me."
Voices in the corridor alerted them, and May resumed
her seat with her book while Tamsyn stood by the door,
her brother's sword in hand, her heart beating fast.
The latch moved, the man said something with a laugh
and entered, closing the door and seeing the girl in a
man's coat and boots, a sword in her hand and a fierce
look on her face.
"Not a sound," Tamsyn said to him. "Sit."
The man blinked at her and cried, "Guards, guards,"
and Tamsyn drove her sword through the middle of his
chest, cleaving his heart. She pulled loose as he
crumpled, clawed at the floor and kicked his feet
twice before he was still.
"Fool," Tamsyn said quietly, wiping her blade on the
man's back. She quickly locked the door and the girls
waited, but no one answered the dead man's call.
"Where is your sister?" asked Tamsyn.
"Across the hall," May said, pointing.
"Let's go there, both of us."
May nodded and Tamsyn unlocked the door and looked out
into the empty hall. They entered the room on the
other side and stood quietly, watching the thrashing
that was taking place beneath the covers on the bed.
"That's Charles McKenzie horsing my sister," May
whispered hoarsely. "He's probably still got his boots
on."
"Stay here," Tamsyn said and then she approached the
high bed, tossed back the covers and poked the rutting
man in the ribs with her straight sword. "Get off,"
she said sternly as he gaped at her.
The man rolled off the far side to the floor and
Margaret scrambled out, pulling down her nightgown and
running to her sister.
"Who the devil are you?" the man demanded, his proud
manhood now limp. He was weaponless, in his
shirtsleeves and indeed, still booted, his breeches at
his knees. "How dare you?"
Tamsyn paused, considering the question but now
lowered the tip of her blade. She smiled to herself.
"I am the Duchess, you cowardly dog, and you are a
varlet, not fit to clean this chamber much less
fornicate in it."
"Damn me," he said, "you're his sister."
Tamsyn nodded and smiled. "Move to the window. I'll
give you a choice. Die here on my blade or see if you
can fly."
The man shook his head. "No, please," he cried,
dropping to his knees and putting his hands together.
"I'll give you anything, my home, my wealth. I have
gold, lots of gold hidden away."
"You have a wife, children?" Tamsyn asked, poking at
his wrinkled forehead with her sword. He had gray hair
at his temples she noticed.
"Oh yes, yes, certainly. You may have them, your
servants, slaves, whatever you want."
"Margaret," Tamsyn said, "please take May out in the
hall."
"No, no," the man screamed scrambling to his feet and
making a dash for the door.
Tamsyn gripped her sword's leather bound handle with
both hands, bent her knees and slashed him across the
small of his back, cutting nearly halfway through his
body and severing his spine. He groveled on the floor
briefly, pouring dark blood from his mouth.
Tamsyn stepped over him, noticed that his fingers
still clawed at the floor as the women went into the
hall. "Where is that guard captain?" she asked. "Does
he have a room up here?"
Margaret shook her head. "Poor woman. She broke a
window and cut her wrists the first day. He threw her
body in the pit with the three your brother killed.
She was so lovely."
"Where is my father's head? I saw from your room that
there are still two heads out by the stage."
"In the hall. It's on a pole behind the chair where
your brother sits to dine," Margaret said.
"What's going to happen?" asked May, her lips
quivering.
"We are going to have a conclave, a meeting, to
announce the changes. I am now in charge. They must
swear their allegiance to me as their leigelord."
Tamsyn considered and decided what she had said was
true. She would have to get her young brother home,
but until he was of age, she was lord of the manor.
"You could use some britches," Margaret said.
May smiled and giggled, the happiest sound Tamsyn had
heard in a long time.
"Would you two go along and tell all the servants to
come to the hall. I will see to the guard captain.
When most are assembled, ring the bell and call in the
guards."
Tamsyn treaded through a narrow and dark passage that
sloped downward, descended to the castle's main floor
and approached the guardroom near the huge front door
with its heavy bar. She entered without knocking and
found Captain Derek and another guard looking at some
sort of plan. She recognized the man who had come to
her room to bring her to her brother three mornings
ago, a good bit younger than Captain Derek whose cock
she had sucked with May's virginal blood on it. Vivid
memories came flooding back.
Tamsyn stood at the door, her sword sheathed, her
breathing rapid. The men stared at her and the younger
one started to draw his weapon but the Captain held
his arm. "Yes," he said, "what is it you want?"
"You have sworn fealty to the lord of this manor, have
you not? Both of you?" she asked.
"Of course," said the captain of the guards. "Who are
you?"
Tamsyn tossed her hair out from within the high collar
of her brother's coat. "I am the rightful Duchess. You
know my name."
"Your brother?" asked the other guard, "what of your
brother?"
Tamsyn smiled. "Dead, I fear, quite dead. I want his
body drawn and quartered when we are done here, He
killed his father and the murdered innocents and
violated women. Two others are to be treated the
same."
Derek shook his head. "I swore my loyalty to him,
young lady, on my knee, to your brother."
"Then you are discharged. You may leave my service and
this keep. I will give you one hour. After that you
will be considered an outlaw."
"No," said Derek with a sneer, "I think not, you
bitch." He drew his weapon and came around the table.
"Stop him," ordered Tamsyn of the other guard, "stop
him or you are damned as well." She drew her own sword
and backed up against the door, heart racing.
Tamsyn watched in horror and amazement as the young
man drew his blade and sliced off his captain's head
with a single movement. The severed head bounced back
toward the guard's feet and the spurting body tumbled
sideways and fell two steps from the girl.
"Thank you," she said, sheathing her sword. "You are
now captain. We are meeting in the hall. Come." She
exhaled, hoping the hard part was over. “Our new life
has begun, just begun.”
Continued in part 2...
Archivist's Note: This author did not provide an email
address so it will do the reader no good contacting
the archive staff for further parts. Check back at a
later time to see if there have been any updates to
this story by the author.
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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 74