But then maybe they were always locked at this hour. It was no concern of mine. And surely they’d be open in the morning.
And turning on my belly, I snuggled close to my Master again.
Revelations and Mysteries
As soon as Beauty was bathed, her long hair washed and dried, Mistress Lockley paddled her through the crowded Inn and out under the torchlit Sign of the Lion to stand on the cobblestones.
The square was crowded, young men drifting in and out of the various Inns, most village tradesmen and a very few soldiers. Mistress Lockley straightened Beauty’s hair, gave a rough fluff to the curls between her legs, and told Beauty to stand straight with her breasts thrust decently forward.
Almost at once Beauty heard the loud approach of a horse, and looking to the right at the far end of the square, she saw the open gates of the village and the dark shape of the countryside under the paler sky and the black figure of a tall mounted soldier approaching.
The hooves clattered on the stones, echoing up the walls, as the horseman pounded towards the Sign of Lion and reined in his mount sharply.
It was the Captain, as Beauty had hoped and dreamed, his hair a cap of gold in the torchlight.
Mistress Lockley pushed Beauty forward, away from the Inn door, and the Captain walked his horse slowly around Beauty as she stood bathed in the light, looking down at her own shivering breasts, her heart thumping deliciously.
The Captain’s huge broadsword flashed in the light, and his velvet cloak fell down behind him to form a deep rose-colored shadow. Beauty’s breath halted as she saw the brightly polished boot and the powerful flank of the horse passing again in front of her. Then, as the horse came dangerously close and she almost backed away, she felt the Captain’s arm catching her up and lifting her high into the air to bring her down facing him on the horse, her naked legs closing about his waist as she threw her arms around his neck tightly.
The horse reared and raced forward, out of the square and through the village gates, and along the road through the open farmland.
Beauty was jogged up and down, her sex spread wide open against the cold brass of the Captain’s belt buckle. And her breasts were pressed against his chest, her head tucked beneath his head against his shoulder.
She saw cottages and fields flying by under the dim crescent moon, the dark outline of an elegant manor house.
The horse turned into the denser darkness of the woods, galloping on as the sky vanished above, the breeze lifting Beauty’s hair, the Captain’s left hand bracing her.
Finally Beauty saw lights ahead, the flicker of camp-fires. The Captain slowed his pace. And they drew near a little circle of four snow-white tents, and Beauty saw a score of men gathered around the large fire in the center of the circle.
The Captain dismounted, setting Beauty on her knees at his heel, where she crouched, not daring to look up at the other soldiers. The tall trees towered over the camp, delineated in a ghastly flicker of firelight.
Beauty felt a thrill at the lurid flicker, though it struck some deep chord of terror in her.
And then to her shock she saw a rude wooden cross staked in the ground facing the fire, a short stubby phallus sticking up where the two beams were fitted together. The cross was not quite as high as a man, and the cross-piece was nailed to the front of the other beam, the phallus jutting up and forward at a slight angle.
Beauty felt a catch in her throat as she stared at it in the grim unsteady light of the fire. And she looked down at the Captain’s boot quickly.
“Well, are the patrols back?” The Captain was asking one of his men. Beauty could see his feet planted before her. “And you’ve had no luck?”
“All the patrols are back but one, Sir,” said the man, “and we have had luck but not what we expected. The Princess is nowhere to be found. She may have made it to the border.”
The Captain gave a low disgusted sound.
“But this,” said the man, “we flushed from the woods just over the mountain at sundown.”
Timidly, Beauty looked up to see a tall, large-boned naked Prince pushed forward into the light of the fire, his body streaked with dirt, his balls laced up tight to his erect penis, with a pair of heavy iron weights dangling from the leather. His long full head of brown hair was snagged with bits of leaf and earth. His legs and massive chest exuded power. He was one of the biggest slaves she’d ever seen. And he looked directly at the Captain with large brown eyes that showed resentful fear and excitement.
“Laurent,” the Captain said under his breath. “And no alarm yet even from the castle that he is missing.”
“No, Sir. He’s been flogged twice; his buttocks are raw, and the men have had a go at him. I thought it was what you would wish, no use keeping him idle. But we waited for your command to mount him.”
The Captain nodded. He was eyeing the slave with obvious anger.
“Lady Elvera’s personal slave,” he said.
The soldier who held the Prince’s arms pulled the Prince’s head back by the hair; and the light shone full on the Prince’s face, his brown eyes flinching, though he still looked at the Captain.
“When did you run away?” the Captain demanded. He took two long strides towards the Prince, and twisted the Prince’s head back even more cruelly. Beauty could see them clearly against the light of the fire, the Prince bigger even than the Captain, his body shuddering now as the Captain examined him.
“Forgive me, Sir,” the slave said under his breath. “It was late today that I ran away. Forgive me.”
“Didn’t get very far, did you, my pretty Prince?” the Captain asked. He turned to the officer. “The men have taken their pleasure of him?”
“Two and three times over, Sir. And he’s been run and whipped well. He’s ready.”
The Captain shook his head slowly and took the slave by the arm.
Beauty’s soul trembled for him. As she knelt in the dirt, she tried to keep her legs apart and her glances furtive.
“Did you plan this attempt with Princess Lynette?” the Captain asked as he shoved the slave towards the cross.
“No, Sir, I swear it,” said the Prince, stumbling as he was thrown forward. “I didn’t even know that she’d run away.” He kept his hands clasped on his neck, though he almost fell. And Beauty saw his backside for the first time, a perfect mesh of pink stripes and white welts all the way to his ankles.
As he was turned around with his back to the cross, his cock pulsed under the lacings. It was large and red, the tip moist, and the slave’s face was coloring darkly.
An excited murmur rose from the company, and Beauty heard men stirring and moving about in the shadows beyond the light of the fire, as if drawing in closer.
The Captain motioned for his men to lift the Prince.
Beauty’s throat thickened and went dry. The soldiers lifted the slave, spreading his legs way out on either side of him, and fitted him down on the wooden phallus.
He gave a harsh groan.
A low cheer went up from the soldiers.
But the Prince groaned even louder as his widespread legs were bent all the way back to lie atop the crossbeams. It made Beauty’s thighs ache to look at it, the Prince bound flat now to the cross, sore buttocks against the beam under him, the phallus deep inside him.
But it was not finished. As the Prince’s arms were laced behind the cross, his head was being bent all the way back flat on top of the upright beam, a long leather belt bound across his open mouth, and buckled to the wood beneath his ears as he stared straight up into the sky helplessly. Beauty saw his glossy tangled hair fall down in back. She saw his throat undulating with his silent swallows.
But the display of his bulging sex seemed the worst, and as the lashings were torn off the cock, it wagged and quavered, pulling at the heavy weight that hung from it. And Beauty felt her own sex again twitching and flinching.