Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Shamelessly stolen with minor edits from a posting on Bring Out the GIMP (Girls in Merciless Peril) http://ralphus.net/special/stories/moreauthors/ there listed as “Alice”, by Ed
It’s Good to be the Duke!
Featuring Barbara Karlson and Duke Geoffrey Chaucer (with Wardress Erika von Heim and Lady Katherine (Kathy))
The plot to murder Duke Geoffrey Chaucer failed and most of the killers themselves were now dead. As the Duke’s agents rounded up suspects, other scores were settled. Barbara Karlsson had unwisely refused the advances of the Sheriff. Now he easily induced a suspect to name her as a plotter. Wailing her ignorance and innocence, the beautiful young woman was taken to the ducal Keep. A day later, frantic with fear, she was brought to a luxurious waiting room to face the Duke still wearing the black and red dirndl dress she had on when the soldiers dragged her from her home. Standing at her side was a strong, blond-haired woman with a cruel look on her face, the ducal Wardress, Erika, a German. Another woman, Lady Katherine, Baroness of Newfoundland, a pretty brunette noblewoman, sat with him on a long low couch.
"I have reviewed your situation, Barbara Karlsson, and believe that you may, may I say, be innocent of the illegal plot against my life." His eyes drank in the pert beauty of the woman standing before him. She was mid-height, with a cute round face, but what he found himself drawn to, as always, were the two bulges on her chest filling the white under blouse. The low-cut front of the skirt was designed to lift them this way.
Reluctantly lifting his eyes, he admired her hair; draping to her shoulders it was brown but with a dose of dark red highlights. It added a delicate shade to contrast and highlight the cream white of her skin. Skin such as hers would display the marks of the whip beautifully. Geoffrey congratulated himself again on his plan for her. "So rather than simply sending you to the death that awaits all traitors, I have decided to be generous. You will face an ordeal of my choosing. If you pass it, you will have proved your innocence to me and be free to go. Fail and I will assume that you are guilty and I will have you executed. And you know assassins are publicly boiled to death.
"Here is your choice, Miss Karlsson: You shall be stripped naked to the waist. You yourself will expose your body this way. Once so displayed, you must accept twenty strokes from the whip over the bared front of your body. You will not be tied in any way, but must raise your hands above your head and arch your back to present your front for every stroke. Following each, I will turn over this glass," he indicated a small hourglass sitting on the low table beside him, "giving you one minute to make ready for the next stroke. If you fail to have your hands and arms above your head and out of the way once the minute is done, or touch yourself following any lash to soothe your flesh, you will earn an additional stroke to be administered after the first twenty are done. I expect some screams, but if they hurt my ears, you will earn another extra stroke. Fail to meet the requirements I have described through all the strokes and you will be consigned to the dungeons and there given into the hands of my executioners for punishment prior to your boiling. I need not tell you the death given to traitors is not an easy or a quick one. No, do not answer yet. First you must take a stroll through the lower rooms—just to, ah, fully appreciate the potential consequences of your decision. Erika, take our guest down for a short tour of the lower chambers. Make sure she sees the executioners at work, not just the casual punishments."
Barbara felt the blond-haired woman take her elbow and she followed numbly beside her. The wardress led Barb out of the fine room and then down, down, down many stairs to a heavy iron door. Erika pounded on it. A peephole slid open, then the door itself swung back and Barb was pushed roughly inside. She heard the door guard bolt the door behind her.
She found herself in a dank antechamber. Two corridors led off from it in opposite directions. Immediately upon entering, she heard screams and piteous moans of souls in unspeakable torment floating through the corridors. Erika came up before her and grabbed her hair at the nape, bending her head back to look into her face. "I would have you sent here now, bitch, and given nude to the royal executioners for their bloody work, but Lord Chaucer wishes to give you a chance. Very well, let this excursion show you what awaits below if you fail your test. But you must learn to fully appreciate what being naked down here really means—and for that, you must be exposed yourself. Remove your blouse! The dress can stay for the moment, but I want that shirt off. Now, bitch! The Duke is waiting for you!"
Barbara saw no escape. The single door was bolted and locked and Erika was much the stronger. She reached up to slide the black shoulder straps off to the sides and then her small fingers went slowly, but steadily to work on the buttons of the white blouse beneath, starting at her neck. One after another, they opened until the final button parted and Erika could see the line of living white flesh between the fabric sides. Barbara looked up, pleading silently before continuing, but there was no pity in Erika's dark eyes. She slipped the thin cotton off her arms and dropped it to her feet, momentarily stripped to the waist. Then the shoulder straps slid up over her shoulders again, but she couldn't lower her arms, crossing them across her chest to cover it. Erika would have none of it. “Drop those arms, bitch! Your notions of modesty have no place here! Drop them, I say!” Barbara tentatively did as she was ordered. Both cheeks immediately blushed to announce her embarrassment at the way she was now exposed. The front of the dirndl pushed up against the bottoms of her now bared titties, lifting the firm globes prominently on her chest while the bright black and crimson fabric made the full globes above appear even more milky white. Erika next bound Barbara's arms overlaid and crossed behind her back, hands on elbows, pulling the arms back and forcing the beautiful feminine gourds to stick out even further. Lastly, she pulled Barbara's hair behind and tied it into a single tail down the back of her neck. Then she walked around to examine her handiwork. The wardress smiled at the sight. Her Duke relished seeing young female breasts suffering under the lash and this little slut sported a pair of beauties. And she, Erika, would have the enviable task of flogging them. First, though, she would see to it that the prisoner came to fully appreciate the horrors of failure. Erika gave her a push down the right-hand corridor.
“Those doors down the other way are just holding cells and the physician maintains his surgery at the end. We keep him busy. No prisoner is permitted to die before the full punishment has been administered, but sometimes the executioners get a little overzealous in their work and the physician must heal the criminals so they may receive the full sentence. Now let's get started; the actual work lies this way.”
The tour was a trip through a hell the girl could scarcely believe as she was shown the dread activities. Room after room, tableau after lurid tableau, she was made to view the hideous punishments inflicted in the lower dungeon. There was no single Torture Chamber; every door opened upon its own pit of suffering. There were a few men, but mainly women here, all tightly bound to various demonic engines of torment. All, she saw, had first been stripped naked to make even the most private parts of their bodies available to the ghastly instruments of torture, and all had their arms and legs tied or chained to prevent their understandable efforts to protect those parts from the pitiless instruments. No abuse was too intimate or too extreme in their pursuit of bringing endless and intolerable agony to the helpless victims. Blood flowed from crushed and shredded flesh. Countless hard red welts stripped bare vulnerable skin.
Never had Barbara imagined that such ghastly human suffering could engender sexual arousal, but almost everywhere she was made to look, the executioners were naked as their prisoners, often sporting huge erections, and active rape was commonplace. The raping was bad enough, but Barbara Karlsson was truly appalled to see the special fiendish attentions the mainly male executioners applied to the bared sex organs of their female prisoners. The captives' legs were always spread wide to reveal the private parts between, exposing them to be beaten raw and bloody, or seared with flame and red-hot iron. Barbara could only imagine that hellish pain; she had once touched a hot stove as a small child and remembered the pain in her burned fingertips—and that had been less than a second's touch!---how much worse it must be to feel a slim rod glowing dull-red with heat pressed long and sizzling against that most delicate feminine flesh. She was thankful that her own slit was hidden, but still intensely aware of the way her lovely breasts sat naked and exposed on her chest.
The Duke had ordered twenty strokes over the bared front of her body as her "test". Barbara was no fool and knew that her tits had been bared to make them available for the torment such an order doubtless meant, but the horrors she had seen inflicted on the bared chest melons of the female captives down here chilled her blood. With her twin beauties thrust out high above her dress and her arms bound behind her back, she was terrified at her utter helplessness to protect them from the horrors in these rooms, and she had also noticed the bald lustful way the Torturers examined her bared breasts, as if already thinking about how they abuse them. But the Duke had said that her hands would be free during the ordeal. There was that, at least. Surely nothing could be worse than being tightly bound and totally naked—defenseless--while these fiends attacked her poor nude body with their whips, irons, blades, and pincers.
Erika had been following Karlsson's growing terror with amusement. “Alright, bitch, back upstairs with you,” releasing her arms.
When Erika returned with pretty Barbara in tow, Duke Chaucer noted two major changes in her: Most obvious and welcome, of course, were the two lovely naked breasts sticking out from the top of her dirndl dress. The globes were every bit as lush and splendid as their bulges under the blouse had promised and he felt a delicious twitch in his loins at the sight. The other change was the look of haunted terror now in place of the earlier defiance in her eyes. He was not surprised. After the horrors she had just witnessed, the wench now understand why she should fear being naked in their hands. Especially when the naked parts were her young female breasts. Good, time to get started.
"So what is it to be, girl? Present yourself for twenty strokes of the lash, here and now, only bare to the waist—or I will condemn you to a painful death in the chambers below, naked as the day you were born?"
"I... I'll do it. I'll do it!" Barbara's voice was close to panic. "I'll take your challenge, I'll do it, I'll do it!"
"All right then," Geoffrey said, "let's get started. Drop your dress down to your hips, girl, you must be completely bare to the waist for the test. Erika, secure her ankles, would you? I don't want the wench to turn her back—certainly not with such an intriguing front to play with." The female wardress went down to her knees and quickly tied the girl's feet a yard apart to rings set in the floor for this very purpose. This would keep her facing the Duke throughout the ordeal, although her arms would be free. Numbly, Barbara's hands reached behind her for the back laces, tugging them open. In a moment, the laces were open and the dress top hung loose on her body. The Duke and his lady both leaned forward, eyes bright, and he gestured sharply with his hand. Get on with it, wench, the hand said, peel the top all the way down. There would be no escape, no reprieve. Resigned, she looked down again and slipped the straps off her shoulders and let the patterned red and black fabric float down. Feeling a sudden chill as her torso was exposed, Barbara hugged herself. Again, the hand gestured, upward this time, insistent, and she obeyed, raising her hands up above and behind her head. Erika grabbed the waistband of the girl's scarlet dress and tugged it a bit further down until it caught over her hips, baring her abdomen a hand's-span below the cute dimpled navel. Now the lovely girl stood vulnerable and helpless before them, arms raised and gloriously nude to the waist.
To be continued
It’s Good to be the Duke!
Featuring Barbara Karlson and Duke Geoffrey Chaucer (with Wardress Erika von Heim and Lady Katherine (Kathy))
The plot to murder Duke Geoffrey Chaucer failed and most of the killers themselves were now dead. As the Duke’s agents rounded up suspects, other scores were settled. Barbara Karlsson had unwisely refused the advances of the Sheriff. Now he easily induced a suspect to name her as a plotter. Wailing her ignorance and innocence, the beautiful young woman was taken to the ducal Keep. A day later, frantic with fear, she was brought to a luxurious waiting room to face the Duke still wearing the black and red dirndl dress she had on when the soldiers dragged her from her home. Standing at her side was a strong, blond-haired woman with a cruel look on her face, the ducal Wardress, Erika, a German. Another woman, Lady Katherine, Baroness of Newfoundland, a pretty brunette noblewoman, sat with him on a long low couch.
"I have reviewed your situation, Barbara Karlsson, and believe that you may, may I say, be innocent of the illegal plot against my life." His eyes drank in the pert beauty of the woman standing before him. She was mid-height, with a cute round face, but what he found himself drawn to, as always, were the two bulges on her chest filling the white under blouse. The low-cut front of the skirt was designed to lift them this way.
Reluctantly lifting his eyes, he admired her hair; draping to her shoulders it was brown but with a dose of dark red highlights. It added a delicate shade to contrast and highlight the cream white of her skin. Skin such as hers would display the marks of the whip beautifully. Geoffrey congratulated himself again on his plan for her. "So rather than simply sending you to the death that awaits all traitors, I have decided to be generous. You will face an ordeal of my choosing. If you pass it, you will have proved your innocence to me and be free to go. Fail and I will assume that you are guilty and I will have you executed. And you know assassins are publicly boiled to death.
"Here is your choice, Miss Karlsson: You shall be stripped naked to the waist. You yourself will expose your body this way. Once so displayed, you must accept twenty strokes from the whip over the bared front of your body. You will not be tied in any way, but must raise your hands above your head and arch your back to present your front for every stroke. Following each, I will turn over this glass," he indicated a small hourglass sitting on the low table beside him, "giving you one minute to make ready for the next stroke. If you fail to have your hands and arms above your head and out of the way once the minute is done, or touch yourself following any lash to soothe your flesh, you will earn an additional stroke to be administered after the first twenty are done. I expect some screams, but if they hurt my ears, you will earn another extra stroke. Fail to meet the requirements I have described through all the strokes and you will be consigned to the dungeons and there given into the hands of my executioners for punishment prior to your boiling. I need not tell you the death given to traitors is not an easy or a quick one. No, do not answer yet. First you must take a stroll through the lower rooms—just to, ah, fully appreciate the potential consequences of your decision. Erika, take our guest down for a short tour of the lower chambers. Make sure she sees the executioners at work, not just the casual punishments."
Barbara felt the blond-haired woman take her elbow and she followed numbly beside her. The wardress led Barb out of the fine room and then down, down, down many stairs to a heavy iron door. Erika pounded on it. A peephole slid open, then the door itself swung back and Barb was pushed roughly inside. She heard the door guard bolt the door behind her.
She found herself in a dank antechamber. Two corridors led off from it in opposite directions. Immediately upon entering, she heard screams and piteous moans of souls in unspeakable torment floating through the corridors. Erika came up before her and grabbed her hair at the nape, bending her head back to look into her face. "I would have you sent here now, bitch, and given nude to the royal executioners for their bloody work, but Lord Chaucer wishes to give you a chance. Very well, let this excursion show you what awaits below if you fail your test. But you must learn to fully appreciate what being naked down here really means—and for that, you must be exposed yourself. Remove your blouse! The dress can stay for the moment, but I want that shirt off. Now, bitch! The Duke is waiting for you!"
Barbara saw no escape. The single door was bolted and locked and Erika was much the stronger. She reached up to slide the black shoulder straps off to the sides and then her small fingers went slowly, but steadily to work on the buttons of the white blouse beneath, starting at her neck. One after another, they opened until the final button parted and Erika could see the line of living white flesh between the fabric sides. Barbara looked up, pleading silently before continuing, but there was no pity in Erika's dark eyes. She slipped the thin cotton off her arms and dropped it to her feet, momentarily stripped to the waist. Then the shoulder straps slid up over her shoulders again, but she couldn't lower her arms, crossing them across her chest to cover it. Erika would have none of it. “Drop those arms, bitch! Your notions of modesty have no place here! Drop them, I say!” Barbara tentatively did as she was ordered. Both cheeks immediately blushed to announce her embarrassment at the way she was now exposed. The front of the dirndl pushed up against the bottoms of her now bared titties, lifting the firm globes prominently on her chest while the bright black and crimson fabric made the full globes above appear even more milky white. Erika next bound Barbara's arms overlaid and crossed behind her back, hands on elbows, pulling the arms back and forcing the beautiful feminine gourds to stick out even further. Lastly, she pulled Barbara's hair behind and tied it into a single tail down the back of her neck. Then she walked around to examine her handiwork. The wardress smiled at the sight. Her Duke relished seeing young female breasts suffering under the lash and this little slut sported a pair of beauties. And she, Erika, would have the enviable task of flogging them. First, though, she would see to it that the prisoner came to fully appreciate the horrors of failure. Erika gave her a push down the right-hand corridor.
“Those doors down the other way are just holding cells and the physician maintains his surgery at the end. We keep him busy. No prisoner is permitted to die before the full punishment has been administered, but sometimes the executioners get a little overzealous in their work and the physician must heal the criminals so they may receive the full sentence. Now let's get started; the actual work lies this way.”
The tour was a trip through a hell the girl could scarcely believe as she was shown the dread activities. Room after room, tableau after lurid tableau, she was made to view the hideous punishments inflicted in the lower dungeon. There was no single Torture Chamber; every door opened upon its own pit of suffering. There were a few men, but mainly women here, all tightly bound to various demonic engines of torment. All, she saw, had first been stripped naked to make even the most private parts of their bodies available to the ghastly instruments of torture, and all had their arms and legs tied or chained to prevent their understandable efforts to protect those parts from the pitiless instruments. No abuse was too intimate or too extreme in their pursuit of bringing endless and intolerable agony to the helpless victims. Blood flowed from crushed and shredded flesh. Countless hard red welts stripped bare vulnerable skin.
Never had Barbara imagined that such ghastly human suffering could engender sexual arousal, but almost everywhere she was made to look, the executioners were naked as their prisoners, often sporting huge erections, and active rape was commonplace. The raping was bad enough, but Barbara Karlsson was truly appalled to see the special fiendish attentions the mainly male executioners applied to the bared sex organs of their female prisoners. The captives' legs were always spread wide to reveal the private parts between, exposing them to be beaten raw and bloody, or seared with flame and red-hot iron. Barbara could only imagine that hellish pain; she had once touched a hot stove as a small child and remembered the pain in her burned fingertips—and that had been less than a second's touch!---how much worse it must be to feel a slim rod glowing dull-red with heat pressed long and sizzling against that most delicate feminine flesh. She was thankful that her own slit was hidden, but still intensely aware of the way her lovely breasts sat naked and exposed on her chest.
The Duke had ordered twenty strokes over the bared front of her body as her "test". Barbara was no fool and knew that her tits had been bared to make them available for the torment such an order doubtless meant, but the horrors she had seen inflicted on the bared chest melons of the female captives down here chilled her blood. With her twin beauties thrust out high above her dress and her arms bound behind her back, she was terrified at her utter helplessness to protect them from the horrors in these rooms, and she had also noticed the bald lustful way the Torturers examined her bared breasts, as if already thinking about how they abuse them. But the Duke had said that her hands would be free during the ordeal. There was that, at least. Surely nothing could be worse than being tightly bound and totally naked—defenseless--while these fiends attacked her poor nude body with their whips, irons, blades, and pincers.
Erika had been following Karlsson's growing terror with amusement. “Alright, bitch, back upstairs with you,” releasing her arms.
When Erika returned with pretty Barbara in tow, Duke Chaucer noted two major changes in her: Most obvious and welcome, of course, were the two lovely naked breasts sticking out from the top of her dirndl dress. The globes were every bit as lush and splendid as their bulges under the blouse had promised and he felt a delicious twitch in his loins at the sight. The other change was the look of haunted terror now in place of the earlier defiance in her eyes. He was not surprised. After the horrors she had just witnessed, the wench now understand why she should fear being naked in their hands. Especially when the naked parts were her young female breasts. Good, time to get started.
"So what is it to be, girl? Present yourself for twenty strokes of the lash, here and now, only bare to the waist—or I will condemn you to a painful death in the chambers below, naked as the day you were born?"
"I... I'll do it. I'll do it!" Barbara's voice was close to panic. "I'll take your challenge, I'll do it, I'll do it!"
"All right then," Geoffrey said, "let's get started. Drop your dress down to your hips, girl, you must be completely bare to the waist for the test. Erika, secure her ankles, would you? I don't want the wench to turn her back—certainly not with such an intriguing front to play with." The female wardress went down to her knees and quickly tied the girl's feet a yard apart to rings set in the floor for this very purpose. This would keep her facing the Duke throughout the ordeal, although her arms would be free. Numbly, Barbara's hands reached behind her for the back laces, tugging them open. In a moment, the laces were open and the dress top hung loose on her body. The Duke and his lady both leaned forward, eyes bright, and he gestured sharply with his hand. Get on with it, wench, the hand said, peel the top all the way down. There would be no escape, no reprieve. Resigned, she looked down again and slipped the straps off her shoulders and let the patterned red and black fabric float down. Feeling a sudden chill as her torso was exposed, Barbara hugged herself. Again, the hand gestured, upward this time, insistent, and she obeyed, raising her hands up above and behind her head. Erika grabbed the waistband of the girl's scarlet dress and tugged it a bit further down until it caught over her hips, baring her abdomen a hand's-span below the cute dimpled navel. Now the lovely girl stood vulnerable and helpless before them, arms raised and gloriously nude to the waist.
To be continued
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