Ransom (Open)

[Dollface]

((Looking for a rapist. Barring scat, anything goes.))

It was an unusually cold night for mid-summer. Cold enough that even the stoutest of city beggars had abandoned the cobble-stoned streets, opting instead to take refuge in an abandoned barn or humble haystack. Behind the lofty walls of the royal palace, the muted tap of footsteps on stone shattered the ominous silence. Gradually, a lone figure came into view, shivering in the cold and pulling her cloak tighter around her slender body, as she glanced around, seemingly waiting for someone.

Her full name was Geneva Cath Deschain XII—Cat for short. She had been named for her ancestor, a long-dead dead monarch who had been renowned for her immense wisdom and military savvy—two qualities which had failed to be passed on to her and her siblings, who had spent most of their lives idling away in luxury, choosing to ignore the doom which was quickly approaching. Like her ancestor, Cat had been born into royalty—unlike her ancestor, Cat had watched her family’s empire crumble, leaving most of her family dead and her people enslaved. Of the royal family, only she and her older brother remained, though that could easily change with a mere word.

Under the rule of the new king, her brother had been locked away as a political prisoner as he awaited the day of his execution, while Cat herself had been banished. Recently, however, she had received a letter from the new king, offering her a chance to bargain for her brother’s life. Cat had nothing to bargain with, something she was sure the king knew, making his offer all the more puzzling. Still, she had agreed to the terms, and several days later had boarded the coach that would bring her to her enemy’s domain.

Upon arrival, she had curiously been told to be present in the palace courtyard at precisely midnight for the bargaining to begin.

As Cat waited, her uneasiness began to grow. She was exhausted from the long travel, but had done all she could to make herself presentable, donning a green silk gown and combing her lustrous dark hair into a simple bun. Nervously, she cast her green eyes about, waiting…

[EvilJ]

The sound of hooves grew louder from the distance, clopping across the cobbles. It became evident as the horses came into view that an entire entourage was approaching; one with at least five horsemen and an ornate carriage in their wake. The horesmen were uniformed, but the uniforms were strange to Cat's eyes. They didn't seem to be those of the king. Tghe men wore scarves over their faces and turbans on their heads and rode abreast of each other with one man trailing behind them and in front of the carriage. His uniform was even stranger than the four soldiers. He wore a white tunic that was laden with gold and jewels that glittered in the dim moonlight and a white turban with a red silk scarf covering his face completely. He wore an equally ornate curved sword at his waist that hung heavy over the side of the horse.

The carriage stopped before Cat and the four soldiers dismounted and filed over to her, flanking her at all sides. (Surely these men didn't see her as a threat? They were armed and she was a mere woman; a countess at that.)The men stood silently, their eyes invisible to her, but burning into her nonetheless. There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the men stood aroung her. The only sound in the night was the shuffling of the horses hooves and the crinkle of the saddle of the man who was still mounted. He regarded her from his saddle as if he was waiting for something from her.

Finally, he reached to his scarf and loosed one side letting it fall from his face. He was a Moor! His skin was dark and his eyes were black as he looked down upon her from the horse. He leaned forward in his saddle and rested his elbows against the horn and squinted at her. He regarded her, not like a human regards a human, but like a cruel child looks at a dying insect in the sun. The silence returned.

"You are Geneva Cath Deschain XII?" He asked. His accent was thick, but he spoke her language perfectly. She stood, stunned.

A soldier moved closer to her, threateningly. "You will answer, woman," he barked. She nodded dumbly. The silence returned. The man stared again.

Slowly, he raised two fingers, pointing them at her and parting them, looking at the soldier who had spoken. The man bowed, stood at attention and moved stiffly behind her. In one lightning move, he yanked her cloak from her shoulders, exposing her creamy white shoulders and her ample cleavage to the mounted man and the night air. The man looked at her. A small, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips. He spoke in his language and the men laughed.

Now, he raised one finger toward the sky and twirled it a half turn. Again the man, bowed then complied, this time gripping her shoulders and swinging her around so her back faced him. The man held her steady and raised her gown high enough for the men to see her calves and even her thighs! She shrieked and slapped the man. There was a silence as they man rubbed his cheek. Then, all of the men laughed uproariously, the mounted man loudest of all.

He signalled the man to hold his horse and dismounted, then strode to her.

"Good evening, Countess." He stared at her but didn't bow, as a proper gentleman would. "You will call me Admiral. There will be no need for you to know my full name. Your king has sent me to you for a bargain- one that many like you in other 'kingdoms' have taken readily." He said the word kingdoms like a curse. He handed her a scroll with the king's seal on it.

"This is for you. It will explain. You will enter the carriage and read it there, where there is light provided."

He snapped his fingers and three men exited the carriage. One went to the admiral's horse and the other two guided her into the carriage. When she got in, they sat on either side of her on the bench. Then the Admiral entered and sat on the plush bench opposite them. He adjusted the flame in the carriage lamp so she could read the scroll.

(I'll write what the scroll says after your post)

[Dollface]

Idly, Cat toyed with the thought of returning to her chambers. It had been over a half hour and there still wasn’t any sign that someone was coming. But the thought of the deal—the one that could potentially restore some of her land and save her brother from execution—kept her in place. Several minutes passed before she heard a distant rumble, like that of thunder. The rumbling grew and grew, until she could just make out a crowd of men on horseback. She warily watched them approach, all too aware of her vulnerability.

It didn’t take long for them to close in on the distance between them, and Cat stared unabashedly at their foreign dress, wracking her mind, trying to place where she had seen soldiers such as these before. They were obviously not the soldiers of this realm’s king, nor were they members of some small tribe, as their richly decorated clothing and weaponry revealed. Dumbly, she continued to stare, suddenly feeling incredibly small. Without warning, the men dismounted, surrounding her from all sides without a single word. Her throat suddenly felt dry as wild thoughts of assassinated royals jostled through her mind. Swallowing, she unconsciously tugged her cloak tighter around her frame, as if they would protect her. The silence was maddening, and seemed to go on forever until one of them men—presumably the leader from the way he remained mounted on his horse—spoke. "You are Geneva Cath Deschain XII?" He asked in an accent that could only be identified as Moorish. Her mind tried in vain to comprehend why she was being met by Moors, rather than one of the king’s own soldiers. One of the soldiers moved toward her, causing her to take a step back in fear, as he demanded her to answer, calling her ‘woman’, much to her surprise. Finally she nodded.

Cat had been born and raised as a princess; thus, she was used to being pampered and spoiled beyond all reason, while still being treated as a revered figure. Even while living in exile, she still had good food, fine clothes, and servants to tend to her every need. So what happened next was nothing short of terrifying to her.

Before she could react, she felt her cloak being yanked away from her, the delicate fabric falling to the ground in shreds. Frightened, she watched in horror as the Moor made another hand gesture, but before she could ponder its meaning she felt herself being forcibly turned around before her skirt was lifted up into the air, exposing her thighs to the mounted man. Shocked, Cat pulled her hand back and slapped one of the men, her small form shaking with a combination of fear and adrenaline. Almost instantly she regretted her actions, sure that they wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter her right then and there as they laughed and laughed.

But nothing happened.

Rather, their leader dismounted from his horse, introducing himself by giving only his title before handing her a small scroll which she took with trembling hands. Then she was led into the carriage, with men sitting on either side of her, the Admiral sitting opposite of them. Gingerly, she began to expect the scroll. It certainly looked official enough—the king’s seal was on it at least. The Admiral adjusted the light so she could real the finely-written letter better. “Thank you,” she croaked, her throat feeling as dry as a desert. Still trembling, Cat’s long fingers broke the seal, unrolling the scroll slowly…

[EvilJ]

The carriage started off into the darkness as the Admiral adjusted the lamp inside for ease of reading. Cat unrolled the scroll's gilded paper. The handwriting bore the same flourishes as the king's hand always had and Cat had seen his royal seal many times; well enough to know it was authentic. The letter however, was a message she had never dreamed a man who wore a crown could write in good conscience to a Countess.

"Countess Deschain,

I express my deepest regret at not having been present this evening. I would have quite enjoyed your reaction upon reading this.

As you have no doubt heard tale, the Moors are a savage race; their armada vicious. Civilized men such as myself have utter disdain for them, compounded by the fact that the Moors seem not to care one whit about our discomfort or hatred of their ways. In recent days, I have lost two full fleets of ships to these roaming dark-skinned brigands and their coffers are filled to brimming with my jewels. It has vexed me to no end.

It has come to pass, however that I have learned the thick-lipped monsters can be reasoned with in some matters. You merely need to offer them the proper payment. Something they don't have and cannot easily pilfer at sea. I came to learn this by way of several governors and consulates and, sadly, first hand.

My dear cousin Agnetha was making passage through open waters when the mongrels attacked her ship and treated her in a most unchristian manner, having their way with her before selling her to a dusky muslim Admiral. That Admiral, in turn, recognized her and having some knowledge of our royal stature was caught in a quandry. He had grown fond of our Aggy it seems and did not wish to part her company despite her nightly protests (actually, because of those same protests, he confided in his message), but he was loathe to raise my ire as one royal to another. He instead struck a bargain. He would offer my ships safe passage for a time and pay mea handsome portion of the moneys he'd stolen for Agnetha. It seems these men see women as commodities; a silly, apish notion as we all know that women are of only decorative value at best.

The deal was struck and he used Aggy to his pleasure before passing her to his men as a reward. It really is a pity. She was quite young.

Unfortunately, he has grown restless and launched himself back to sea and on the attack of my ships. I have daughters, but it would be unbecoming to offer them to a savage as this for the lives of the peasantry that mans my ships. It occurred to me that you have been quite vocal in your criticism of my throne and have a small following even in your exile. Your brother is no adversary to me, but you, Countess, you are.

So, I have arrainged- in a moment that proves I am a shrewd leader, I might boast- to throw one problem at another. As I promised, your brother shall be freed. He has been told you came to visit him and were set upon by brigands who slew you and were later hung (as I write this, I watch the two thieves I have chosen for this task being led to the gallows before your sobbing snivel of a brother.

You, however, belong to this Moor. I am told he is quite brutal in his manner and voracious in his appetites. I know you to be a shrewish woman; one with a quick mouth and a spoiled demeanor. I suggest you lose those qualities immediately as the Moor has no patience for a woman who doesn't do his every whim. This I have been told by the Governor of an island whose wife is also now the Moors possession. This governor was forced to watch the Moor's first dealings with his wife. The account was frightening and- I can tell you because you will never be free to tell another- quite stimulating. I might try it on a few peasants... merely to understand the mindset of these savages, you understand.

Again, I know you to be a fighter. I suggest against that. Yet, I hope in my heart you ignore my warning. I have long loathed your family. Consider this payment in full.

Enjoy your passage,

H.R.H."

The carriage was arriving at the docks when Cat finished the letter. She could see a huge vessel tied off and the carriage, horses and riders moved up a ramp into the side hold of the ship. Her gaze fell upon the Admiral. He had been watching her as she read, but his eyes were not latched to her face. He had been staring at her bosom as the wagon bounced across the cobbles. When she lowered the paper and looked at him, he didn't shift his gaze as so many men had before. He looked harder.

And he licked his lips like a hungry dog.

[Dollface]

The carriage thundered onward through the moonlight, the horses showing no signs of fatigue as they raced forward. Despite the fact that it was a relatively smooth ride, Cat was having difficulty reading the scroll. Her hands continued to shake, but now for a new reason, a better one at that. Her heart hammered and her eyes began to unfocus, causing the carriage to spin. Surely this was a joke… No one was capable of this amount of cruelty. Some relief flooded through her when she realized that her brother was safe, nevermind the fact that two innocents had to pay for it.

She glanced up at the Admiral, who seemed to be staring at her intently… Though not at her face, Cat quickly realized, lifting the scroll up higher to shield her chest from his view, wishing she still had her cloak to cover her. Panic was coursing through her as she realized that this wasn’t part of some game that the king was playing—this was real, and there would be no hope of rescue, the king had arranged to that by spreading news of her death. Cat knew that she had to do something, anything, to get out of the carriage to freedom. They were in the countryside by now, no doubt that there was a village close by if she moved quick enough. But as she was formulating her plan, she realized with some horror that they were already passing the countryside and heading toward the docks. It wasn't long before the carriage was loaded onto the ship, causing her panic to grow and grow.

The Admiral licked his lips then, still watching her as if she were a piece of meat. Cat, despite her relative innocence, knew that look.

“This is ridiculous," she said suddenly, her voice brimming with as much authority as she could muster. Rising, she glared down at the men before reaching for the carriage door. "Tell your men to keep the ramp in place, Admiral. I'm leaving."

[EvilJ]

The Admiral smirked at the woman and again spoke to his men in their nativ tongue. The men laughed and one of them spoke to the Admiral and gestured at Cat's breasts, raising another gale of laughter. Then the Admiral snapped his fingers.

Like a trained animal, the man who had spoken grabbed Cat's hair and pulled her back into the seat. The tight bun she had painstakingly woven her hair into fell away like a memory as her hair fell free in his hand. He wound it around his fist and his other hand pulled a curved knife from his tunic in a lightning and fluid motion and pressed the sharp blade to her creamy throat. She laid sprawled on the bench across the man's lap and felt her breathing quicken in panic. Her right hand fell on the man's lap and she felt his manhood stir beneath her palm. His hot breath was in her ear and he whispered evenly.

"Woman. You rise when Admiral says rise. You never stand when he sits unless it is his command."

The Admiral rose slowly and looked down at her. He pulled a small vial full of thick amber liquid from a pocket on the carriage door and opened it, then nodded to the other man. The man grabbed her hands and held them by the wrists so tightly the bones ground together. He pressed her hands down to her lap and held them there as the other man pulled her back by her hair and held the knife tighter to her throat. Now, the Admiral leaned over casually and poured some of the liquid across her cleavage and smeared some on her lips. She tried to move her head but the men held her, vice-like in their grip. Some of the liquid seeped into her mouth. It was honey.

The Admiral bent and slowly licked it off her breasts, his eyes locked on hers. Then he licked it off her lips.

"Very tasty." He said. It was obvious he wasn't talking about the honey.

He stood and opened the door.

"Weigh anchor immediately," he commanded. "And have this cunt prepared for my pleasure. Make it quick. I desire her pain with my supper. Perhaps as dessert."

The men scrambled at his command and the hold door began to raise. The two men holding her wrestled her to her feet and one of them twisted her arm behind her as he held the knife under her chin. The other produced a long heavy chain with a collar at one end which he affixed to her slender young throat. He began to lead the way as his partner whispered into her ear.

"I pity I do not get you first, White skinned whore. There may be little of value to you when Admiral finishes."

The man holding the chain tugged her foreward and they went through the narrow ships halls and passed cells. She could see into some rooms to her horror. There were women of all colours and ages in the cells; White, Asian, Red Indians, Indians from the Asian continent. Some were barely of age to walk alone among men, others the age to be mothers of maidens who had gone off to wed. One such woman, a blonde haired one, was bound to the bars in front of her and bent over. Her eyes rolled in agony as she gnawed on a leather strap that was tied in her mouth. Her blue eyes focussed on Cat and she screamed against her gag.


"Cat!" She yelled through the muffle of the strap."My husband sold me to these animals. Now he beds his step-daughter against her will. You must.."

A loud slap on her ass stopped her sentence. Behind her, a huge man wearing an executioners hood undid his pants, blew a kiss and winked at Cat. He lifted the woman's hips and pushed his cock foreward.

"Nnnnn!" She screamed. "Not again! Please!"

The men tugged Cat onward through the maze of cells.

[EvilJ]

The men dragged Cat onward throught the dark hallways of the vessel until they came to a door. The man holding her chain took out a key and opened it to reveal a large, dimly lit storage hold with a wooden beam in the middle of the room. He dragged her to the beam and attached her long iron chain to it, then went to a wardrobe across the hold. He rummaged through it. While this was happening, the man with the knofe to her throat eased his grip and moved away from her. His gaze swept up and down her body and she could see he still had an erection. He stroked and squeezed his cock through his pants as he stared at her. He said something in his native tongue to the other man, never averting his gaze from Cat. The man nodded, but continued to go through the wardrobe.

Finally, the man at the wardrobe made a satisfied sound and pulled soem garments from it. He walked to Cat and dropped them at her feet.

"We will leave and you will put these on. This is the uniform of Admiral's consort. When you are proper in dress, I take to Admiral." He said plainly.

Cat looked at the clothes piled at her feet. Once, when her family was still quite wealthy, her father had taken them to the Orient. A place called Morocco if she remembered clearly.

On one night, she had gone to a royal feast where the wine and food were plenty and a woman had come out in such vulgar attire. The clothing she wore- if a civilized woman could call it clothing- was a top that barely covered her bosom and left her arms and belly bare to aman's sight. She wore no skirt or petticoats, but instead was covered in a gauzy see through pair of pants that fit loosely and were slit up the side to reveal her calves, thighs and even some of her ample buttocks. Bands held the pants on at each ankle and there was extra fabric to allow some modestsy at her nether regions, but she might as well have been naked. Bells and beads hung all about the costume- top bottom and slippers- and all the men, her father included, were quite taken with this woman. The sultan had said she was a new member of something called a "hareem" and was to entertain all. She had done a sultry dance for them that featureed obscene gyrations of her hips and belly and she seemed humiliated the whole time.

Towards the end of the dance, her father had nervously leaned and whispered into the sultan's ear and the man had nodded. When the dance finished, the sultan had spoken in some Arab tongue and the girl appeared to beg some disagreement. Women had come behind her and tied her hands and leashed her and dragged her off as she screamed. Cat's father rose from his pillow and left the room, not to be seen again until late the next day. No one in Cat's family, her mother included, ever spoke of the trip to Morroco again.

It had disgusted Cat then and disgusted her worse now knowing that these men would dream of her wearing such a thing.

[Dollface]

The sudden flare of confidence she had felt mere moments ago dissipated at the sound of their laughter, causing her to hesitate. But then, what had she been expecting? To shame them into turning the carriage around, dropping her off where they had found her with apologies and promises of a new cloak to replace the one they had ruined? Did she really think that, no matter how eloquently she spoke, her words would have any effect on them? Sadly, the answer to both questions was a resounding ‘yes’: she hadn’t been raised to think any differently. Cat’s moment of hesitation gave one of the Admiral’s brutes just enough time to grab her by the hair, loosening the dark strands from their bun and dragging her back onto the seat, where she fell into a heap on the brute’s lap. Writhing in place, trying to escape, she felt the man’s organ stir under her palm, causing her to squeal with disgust as she jerked her hand away. It took a moment for her to register the blade at her throat, but once she did, Cat’s struggles quickly ceased as she looked from man to man, her eyes wild and chest heaving. The man’s instructions not to stand unless ordered, were barely noted—she was too busy watching the Admiral as he produced a small vial from a pocket on the carriage door.

Once again, the men acted quickly. Cat’s wrists were painfully clamped together and pressed into her lap before she even had time to react, while the knife was pressed further down on her throat, leaving her whimpering as the Admiral approached. Shock was one word to describe what Cat felt was the honey was drizzled over her cleavage, as if they were pastries being garnished, but one word probably wouldn’t do what she felt at that exact moment justice. “W-what are you--?” Her words were quickly cut off as the Admiral pressed a honey-slathered finger to her lips, coating them. She then watched as he bent down, licking the honey off of her breasts and causing to her to instinctively recoil from the touch of his wet tongue. The same favor was then preformed to her lips, making her feel unclean and longing for a bath.

Cat was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to notice that the Admiral was preparing to leave; but his next few words jerked her from her reverie. ‘… have this cunt prepared for my pleasure. Make it quick. I desire her pain with my supper. Perhaps as dessert.’ Her head jerked up. “Excuse me?” She demanded, fire flashing in her eyes. “You have had your fun. Now, if you don’t permit me to leave the ship this very instant, I’ll have no choice but to--.” Instead of finishing her sentence, the young woman shrieked with pain as she was forcibly hauled up, her arm twisted painfully behind her back and the knife once again pressed to her throat. Dimly, she felt something being fastened around her throat, as the man holding the knife to her throat casually leaned forward, whispering to her, calling her a whore as if she were some common street-walker instead of royalty. But before she had a chance to respond, Cat felt her body being jerked forward by her neck. It didn’t take long for her to realize that it was a leash—she was being led around like a dog!

But the horrors didn’t end there. Cat stared dumbly as they passed cells, each holding a different, tortured woman. Suddenly, she heard someone call out to her; Cat’s eyes widened with horror when she saw the blonde woman, bound and as naked as the day she was born apart from a cruel-looking leather gag. The woman had been born into nobility, and had disappeared without a trace months ago, her grieving husband claiming that she had been taken vandals and was undoubtedly dead. Cat stood, feeling rooted to the ground as she stared at the woman who was yelling something that was rendered indecipherable due to her gag. Then another man appeared, his face barely visible thanks to the hood he was wearing. Cat watched as he freed his cock and lifted the woman’s hips as she screamed. Feeling sick, Cat was all too glad to follow the man who was leading her when she felt the tug on her throat.

After what seemed like ages, they finally arrived to their destination: a grim little storage room. She watched as her chain was affixed to a sturdy wooden beam, then turned her attention to the other man, her cheeks burning with humiliation when she noticed him playing with himself as he stared at her. “Stop it. That’s disgusting.” She said weakly to no avail. Crossing her arms in an attempt to cover herself, she glanced over at the other man and watched as he pulled something out of the wardrobe before bringing it to her, instructing her to put it on. She stared down at the colorful fabrics and instantly felt revulsion rising up inside her as memories of that evening in Morocco. Rage flooded her system. Before she knew what she was doing, Cat stomped on the sultry garment with one foot, furiously grinding it into the ground until the fabrics were dulled with grime. “I. Will. Not. Be. Dressed. Like. A. Whore.” She shouted, still determinately abusing the clothing, which were now no more than rags. Still she continued to maul at the outfit as if it were a deadly cobra, stopping only once she was sure it was destroyed. Panting, Cat glared at the men, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction.

[EvilJ]

The man who had carefully searched the wardrobe for the perfect out fit stood, waiting for Cat to reach down for her new uniform. This would be his cue to leave, but instead of gathering the uniform docilely, the strange White woman had stomped on the garments, tearing them beyond recognition. Her jaw jutted out defiantly and her green eyes blazed as she barked at the men.

“I. Will. Not. Be. Dressed. Like. A. Whore.” She said in a commanding voice after she destroyed the uniform.

The man who chose the outfit looked confused for a moment. Surely this wench knew her plight. Was she, perhaps, affected by some madness that only White women could be saddled with by the Almighty? Her actions were, in a word, suicidal. Had the Admiral not wanted her unblemished and unmolested in his quarters, the slaver would have slit her throat for such action- worse, he would have tossed her to the men in the lower galleys who lived in the dark among the rats.

He was truly faced with a difficult situation. Either this woman would be dressed, unbruised, in time for the Admiral's late supper (a meal he'd be having within the hour) or his own head would adorn the mast. That was the price of failure. He almost panicked for a moment. regaining his senses, he went back to the wardrobe and withdrew a similar outfit. The only differences were the coluor of this one and the fact that the top was even smaller. He set the outfit on the floor beside the other and took a calm breath.

Then he grabbed her arms and twisted both of them behind her. She was a noblewoman, her body healthy and robust, but she was no match for a man who had boarded ships and cut men's throats from ear to ear during war; much less two such men. He held her fast as she squirmed, careful to actually cause her pain without breaking any bones. His free arm snaked around her throat and tightened like a boa. His muscles were like ropes of metal and her breath was nearly crushed from her as she was bent back off her balance.

"You will dress. In this. Or you will be taken to Admiral naked," he hissed in her ear. "On this ship, a naked woman does not stride many steps. I would not be blamed by Admiral if others hurt you. You wear the hareem garb and they know not to. Naked... you are just a White woman to be shared. To death."

As he explained, the man who had been stroking his cock approached her, drawing his knife. He pressed the blade to her face, then slid it down between her breasts. Slowly he began to slice the dress down the front, taking careful time to slice the fabric into unwearable rags. Soon all that she would be left wearing were her ankle high laced boots.

[Dollface]

A triumphant smile crossed her lips as she gazed haughtily at the men, one boot still pressing the rags into the ground, her hands on her hips. One of the men—the one who had selected the outfit—looked like he was on the brink of panic, which pleased her to no end. At that point she felt almost invincible—like she had conquered some great evil and was rubbing its face in her victory. Of course, it was merely the destruction of an outfit not exactly a ticket home, but she was more than happy to celebrate what few successes she had during what was turning out to be a very bad night, to say the least. Had she been less naïve, Cat would have probably been on her knees by now, begging for forgiveness and pleading for mercy; instead she simply continued to grin at her captors, savoring the sweetness of the moment.

But the victory was short-lived. The smile quickly melted off Cat’s full lips, replaced by a look of apprehension when the man went back to the wardrobe, selected another outfit, then approached her, placing the new, undamaged garment by the first. She was just beginning to happily contemplate how she would go about the destruction of this new uniform, determined to destroy every single article they brought her until there was nothing left, when her arms were grabbed with a vice-like grip and twisted painfully behind her as she screamed. Another arm, this one pressed against her throat and almost crushing her windpipe, and the screaming stopped completely, replaced by the sound of the countess futilely gasping for air. Her small body struggled helplessly in the man’s grasp, his hot breath skimming across the side of her face as he spoke. ‘You will dress. In this. Or you will be taken to Admiral naked. On this ship, a naked woman does not stride many steps. I would not be blamed by Admiral if others hurt you. You wear the hareem garb and they know not to. Naked... you are just a White woman to be shared. To death.’

Hot tears began to roll down her features at his words. “Please, I’ve done nothing to you… I just want to go home,” the words were whispered imploringly. “This is a mistake.”

If she was planning on saying anything else, she was rendered speechless when the other man stopped rubbing his cock and produced his knife, holding the blade to her face for one agonizing moment before sliding it down, easily slicing through her dress and underclothes, exposing the inner curve of her breasts. “Stop! Please stop!” She cried out in horror, not wanting these… savages to see her naked. “I’ll wear the uniform.” She said, her voice quivering ever so slightly. The hold on her neck and arms was almost immediately released and Cat took a big gulp of air, beginning to sob. Her body shook as she bent over with one hand clenching the shredded fabric around her chest in an effort to cover her breasts, quickly gathering up the uniform. The man who had selected the outfit in the first place seemed relived, then left, promising to return shortly. The other man lingered for a bit, looking pointedly at her semi-exposed breasts and licking his lips before following his comrade.

Alone, Cat tested the collar around her throat, only to find it securely fastened. Disappointed, she slowly began to remove what remained of her dress; tears stained the smooth fabric as she finally let it fall to the floor, feeling as if she was losing a piece of herself in the process. Finally, she began to yank the hated uniform she had been provided with over her body, wanting to get the process over with as quickly as possible. When she was finished, Cat gazed down at her body, now clothed though just barely. The top, if it could be called that, strained to cover her breasts, which looked to be in grave danger of slipping out at any moment, while the gauzy fabric of the bottoms showed off her legs, only really covering her most intimate parts. She had opted to leave her boots on, as they gave her some comfort.

She tried as best she could to shield her body with her hands, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty as she waited for the men to return, her heart pounding.

[EvilJ]

In minutes, the door re-opened. To Cat's horror, only one man entered; the cruel one with the knife who had been leering at her. He stood and stared at her hungrily and she tried to cover her body but was unable to sufficiently shield all of the exposed parts at once. If her hands covered her breasts, the flat pearl-white flesh of her belly and thighs were his to feast upon. If she covered her belly, it made her breasts swell and threaten to slide from the top she wore. If she tried both, her legs were exposed to the crotch in the see through garment.

She could see his cock hardening again and feared the worst- that this man would risk his own death to sample her body. Then, he turned away and went back to the hallway. After a moment of near silence, she could hear a woman crying and begging. The man re-entered, dragging a woman of noble blood with him. She had long red hair and huge breasts and wore nothing but a blindfold and the same style boots Cat was wearing. The guard led her by her hands which were bound behind her. In his other hand, the guard carried a torch.

He shoved the woman into the room and she landed at Cat's feet, sobbing about a ransom having been paid and that the men had done enough and begging to be released. The guard ignored her and picked up Cat's dress and tossed it into a metal bin. He applied the torch to the expensive frock and it crackled and popped in flames.

Now the man moved to Cat and drew his knife again. He pulled her to him and held the blade to her throat looking down at her trembling body. He pushed her against the beam and pressed the knife to her and undid his pants, letting his cock spill out long hard and black. Cat closed her eyes, thinking this man would surely rape her now. Instead, he reached down and pulled the other woman up to his cock by her hair. He slapped her face hard and pushed his cock into her lips, saying "Pleasure me with your mouth or I cut your throat, Duchess."

The woman complied, but the guard wasn't looking down at her. He was eyeing Cat as he played his knife across her pale flesh. The knife and his fingers exlored Cat's body as the Duchess sucked his cock, her hands bound behind her and her breasts swaying. Her sobs filled the room.

[Dollface]

Footsteps sounded from outside the door, causing Cat’s heart to beats faster. The Admiral’s final words to her men, that she was to be prepared for his pleasure, entered her mind, which she immediately tried to push away. The door opened. Cat had been trying to brace herself for whatever was coming next, but courage quickly failed her when the more sadistic of the two guards entered. She took a step back, trying to get as much space in between them as possible, the terrifying thought of being raped by this no-doubt insane man in the dank storeroom reared its ugly head. He stared at her, making her feel naked and vulnerable, like an object with only one purpose…

Mercifully, he left after a couple of seconds, only to return moments later. The sound of a woman’s sobbing filled the room, causing Cat to tense up, listening as the sounds came closer and closer. The guard finally reappeared, this time leading a nude, bound and blindfolded woman who looked oddly familiar. The woman was thrown to the ground by Cat’s feet, causing her to back away in alarm. Through her garbled cries, Cat could hear he woman begging to be released, crying that a ransom had been paid. She watched with horror, realizing that this woman was none other than the king’s cousin Agnetha. She barely noticed when her dress was scooped up and incinerated, she was too busy staring at the crying woman in front of her, wondering if this was to be her fate as well.

The man had finished with her gown. Cat cried out with surprise as he pulled her close, once more pressing the knife to her throat, her body trembling. He then shoved her against the beam, the knife still trained against her neck as he undid his pants with one hand, releasing his member. Cat couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, instead she simply turned her head away and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the pain she was sure would come. Instead, she heard the sound of someone being slapped, hard, then the harsh voice of the guard commanding the other woman to pleasure him with her mouth—a phrase Cat had never heard.

The duchess’ sobbing was muffled then, and Cat felt the knife leave her throat, the cold steel trailing its way across her smooth skin, leaving goosebumps on her exposed flesh in its wake. With his other hand, he began to explore her body as if he were inspecting a horse; his fingers traveling over her breasts, grazing her nipples, before gently running further down, lightly touching her sex. Cat’s eyes fluttered open with shock when she felt his fingers, and she tried to push his hands away. Looking down, she gasped when she saw the duchess bobbing on the Moor’s cock, an act she had never heard of, much less seen being preformed.

It was all too much.

Lifting her hand, she slapped the guard hard across the face. Almost immediately, Cat let her arm drop back to her side, regretting her actions. They had punished her already simply for destroying a uniform, and now she was alone with a knife-toting savage and a hysterically sobbing woman.

[EvilJ]

The guard barely felt any discomfort when Cat's soft hand smacked his face, but he could see her obvious fear. The lust in his eyes fired stronger and he turned the knife upward, so the tip was balanced against the soft bottom of Cat's jaw. then he pressed it upward, slowly and sadistically until Cat's head was pinned to the beam under the pressure of the blade. His free hand slid down her shoulder and arm caressing the flesh of it until it met the hand she had just used to slap him. He took her hand in his and growled for Aggy to suck his cock as if her life depended upon it.

He moaned softly and cradled Cat's hand in his. She could feel a map of callouses raking her flesh. Then he leaned forward, inhaled her perfume, moaned again in ecstasy and whispered into her ear as he exhaled.

"This is the second time you have used this hand to strike me, whore," he said evenly. He moaned again as Aggie endeavoured to please him. The next phrase seemed to cause him rapturous joy:

"When the Admiral has finished with you- if you survive- I will cut it off. Say your goodbyes to it, now."

Then he tightened his grip on her hand. It was as if he had inserted her delicate fingers between stones and stepped on them with all his weight. He rocked the fingers together in his hand, grinding them with such force Cat was sure he would snap the bones. She raised onto her toes as he did it and the blade followed her. Now his lips touched her ear, his breath filled her nostrils; all old liquor and meat and rotting teeth.

His voice lowered to a growling whisper as he told her in excruciating detail of the myriad of tortures that she had just purchased for herself in the future and Aggy tonight as her effigy. There was no detail spared and his imagination seemed as boundless as it was cruel and he called her names that were reserved for bad servants and criminals, if ever used at all. There came, in the midst of the vulgarity, that Aggy would probably not survive the night. And that it was her fault. He actually thanked her for that, saying that he had wanted to muster the passion to kill this one and now he had it and she would die. Slowly. Aggie could hear none of it over her own sobs and the sound of her mouth on his cock.

He released her hand and pawed at her buttocks while staring into her sea-green eyes then he stiffened. For a moment, Cat thought, hoped, that he had been stricken from behind, but he leaned foreward and the knife drooped from her throat and his face fell to her neck where he inhaled deeply and moaned. He barked at Agnetha that she "swallow" "it" and not lose a drop, then his big body shuddered against her and he relaxed. He rested for a moment and slowly bent down to pull his trousers up. Then he regained his composure as he re-fastened the buttons on his pants.

Aggy coughed a bit and rubbed her face on his pants before being dragged to her feet by her hair. He undid her blindfold and for the first time, Cat could see the extent of Aggy's fear. It was a deep river coursing through her youthful form and every inch of her body quivered as she stood on her toes under his grip. Cat had seen Aggy many times beforeand she was always arrogant and forceful. Now she was a shell of a frightened girl; one that had no idea what fate awaited her tonight.

Her pale freckled skin shuddered as she begged. "I did as you commanded. Please. Did I not please you? I did as you commanded!"

The man sneered and looked at Cat as he spoke. "You are not done for this night, Red hair. Tonight, I take a special price from you. One that this whore has gained you." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a key that he used to unfasten Cat's leash from the beam and her chain fell heavy to the floor.


Aggy looked confused and frightened. He dragged her out of the hold and stopped at the door long enough to call out that Cat had "just finished dressing for the Admiral" and that it had taken her clumsy fingers an eternity. Aggie stared at Cat imploringly before he started to drag her away into the darkness of the hallway. She could hear them fade away through the open door and silence returned.

[Dollface]

Cat closed her eyes as the knife was pressed against the bottom of her jaw, convinced that it was all over. They would kill her, dump her body at sea and that would be that. Somehow, though it frightened her, the thought of death was becoming comforting—especially since she had seen what Aggy had been turned into. His other hand felt her arm, sliding down to her own hand, the one that had slapped him twice already. She felt him cradle it gently as he moaned, his voice drunk with pleasure, which only seemed to increase when he told her to bid her hand goodbye, suddenly crushing her hand in his own as if he was going to tear it off. Cat squirmed in pain, trying to free herself, certain that he was breaking every single bone in her hand.

He whispered to her then, of all the things that would be inflicted on Aggy on that night and herself in the future, things that made her stomach clench by their mere mention. She didn’t entertain any fantasies that he could be bluffing—one look into his eyes and Cat knew that he meant every word.

As he pawed possessively at her backside, Cat forced her trembling body to remain still, allowing his hands to journey wherever they wished—she was too terrified to protest. Suddenly, his hands stopped their roving and Cat could feel her body tense just before he fell forward against her, almost pinning her to the beam with his weight. For just a moment, hope bloomed in her, maybe her brother hadn’t believed the king after all, maybe someone had come to rescue her. Instead, he simply moaned, and barked another order at poor Aggy, crushing Cat’s dream of rescue in the process.

The guard straightened then, his mind seemingly unclouded. With one hand, he roughly hauled the still-sobbing Aggy to her feet, threatening her as he half-dragged, half-walked her out of the room, leaving the door open.

Cat was still shaking, her face wet with tears and her legs barely managing to provide support. Whatever happened to Aggy tonight would be her fault, she knew. Somehow, she had to stop it. The shadow of the other guard, the one who had selected her uniform, appeared to the doorway and Cat rushed over to him, falling to her knees in front of the visibly surprised guard. “Please, you have to stop him!” She begged, her voice cracking. “He’s going to kill her! He’s going to kill Aggy!” She was borderline hysterical, raving to the guard about the grave danger Aggy was in, about what he had threatened, how she was almost certain that he had forced Aggy to put his manhood in her mouth (whoever had heard of such a thing?!), how he had almost crushed her hand, and had vowed to cut it off at a later date… The words rushed out of her, she couldn’t stop them even if she wanted to as she pleaded with the bewildered guard.

[EvilJ]

The man averted his eyes from the site of Cat on her knees in front of him; not out of any modesty, but out of self-preservation. He knew that if he raped her before the Admiral was thouroughly finished with her, it would be his life. Instead, he knelt behind her and bound her hands with a strong rough hemp before shoving past her and picking up the end of the chain.

He lifted the heavy chain and wrapped some of it around his arm then gave it a stern yank, pulling Cat to her toes, her throat agaianst the back of his shoulder and her face almost level with his.

"Stupid bitch," he growled, "You should be more concerned with what will become of your pretty flesh than hers."

And they were off into the empty halls. In just one turn, the light of the upper deck shown through an open hatch, but they took another turn and went down another set of stairs, this one lined with lanterns and torches and brightly lit. It had only one door and the man knocked on it.

"Enter if you have the woman. Leave otherwise," came the Admirals voice from inside the room.

They entered. The room was huge and baroque in it's comforts. It had a giant bed- one that could sleep four or five in comfort- and unmatched tapestries piled on the floor and walls. The Admiral sat at a table, eating mutton with his fingers and flanked by two young women, one a jewel of the Orient, the other a swarthy Eastern Indian at his feet. They were dressed in garb like Cat's and had like gold chains fastened to their throats and dog dishes in front of them. The Indian girl looked upon Cat with recognition and climbed into the Admiral's lap. At first he went to push her to the floor, then she tongued his neck and whispered into his ear, all the while staring at Cat in contempt. The Admiral smiled in pleasure. It was a cruel smile.

Her captor dragged Cat to the far end of the room and fastened her chain to a beam there. This beam was different than the one in the hold. The one in the hold seemed to be there as part of the ship, but this one was study, yes, but much thinner and had loops on various levels. It was placed in this room for a reason.

As the man fastened Cat to the pole a thought occured to him. He wondered if Cat had realized her missed oppurtunity in the hold. The hall behind him was silent, the door open and the path to the deck almost devoid of men because they were preparing to shove off. The chain would have been heavy, but a truly selfish woman would have forgotten Aggy and taken the chance to run and made it to the docks. Then the men would have had to hunt her down. He smiled as he realized that would have included the man who presently had the Red haired one. It would have most definitely saved the girl's life (if indeed his cohort was going to kill such a fine specimen) even if Cat would have been recaptured. He chuckled to himself at her lack of stategy and how easily White nobles were broken into quivering masses of sexual slavery.

He leaned into Cat's ear and shared the thought. Then he laughed out loud andshared it with all in the room, slapped her cheek lightly, bowed and left the Admiral's quarters.

The Admiral ate, his eyes on Cat. Then he spoke.

"It seems," he said, "that your father was a connosiuer of dance. This girl says your father enjoyed her older sister's dance so much, in fact, that he requested a private performance. I know a 'noble' like yourself would never recognise this girl. She was one of the girls who served you food that night, therefore she was invisible to you, eh? She was also present for the private performance. At your father's request. He wanted an audience for it all, hm? Such a 'noble'... man."

The Admiral pulled at the bone in his hand with his teeth.

"Pity we have no music," he said casually, "but surely you remember the dance,hm? Show. It. To. Us." his eyes leveled on her, black and evil.

"Dance, bitch."

[Dollface]

Once, when Cat was quite young, she, her brother, and their small army of nannies where shipped off to her grandparent’s country estate for the winter. They were well known for their eccentricity, her grandparents—and seemed to cause controversy simply by existing, which cheered them immensely.

Her grandfather was a drunk, and when he wasn’t busy pouring scotch down his throat, he was out wandering the vast estate with a crossbow in hand and a sword at his side—not always the best of combinations. He was missing two fingers and an ear.

Meanwhile, her grandmother was prone to fits of rage, followed by periods of extreme lethargy. She and Cat’s grandfather were married when, after a burst of friendliness, she became pregnant with Cat’s uncle. At first, he had resisted the idea of marriage, ignoring his future wife’s pleas to ensure that their first child would not be born a bastard. Finally, she approached him with an ultimatum: either he put a ring on her finger or she would cut off his manhood, a notion that he laughed off. The next night, he caught her hiding a hatchet under their mattress.

They were married a month later.

“Crazy she-devil won, but it all worked out in the end, I s’pose.” He would always finish telling the story with a contented grin and a few big gulps from his hip flask. Their story was like the world’s most unconventional fairytale, but like all fairytales they all lived happily ever after.

During hard times, Cat liked to picture herself as a fairy tale heroine, since they always seemed to triumph at the end of their ordeals, no matter how arduous they were; it was a simple coping mechanism that had never failed to bring her some comfort.

Until now.

They had all mocked her missed opportunity, something which Cat had never even considered until now. She stared down at the ground as the laughter began to dissipate, her mind numb. The cabin door quietly swung shut as the guard left, leaving only silence apart from the Admiral’s chewing. When he finally spoke, Cat’s heart sank to the ground, unshed tears prickling behind her eyes, as the Admiral insulted her father and commanded her to perform the disgraceful dance her family had witnessed in Morocco.

She wanted to yell, to scream at the Admiral that her father had been a good, honorable man. That he was a saint compared to the Admiral himself, and that the Admiral should consider himself fortunate that her father wasn’t alive today, for he would surely tear the Admiral to pieces, sending him to burn for all eternity as he richly deserved.

Instead, Cat halfheartedly began to dance, her eyes still cast down on the ground, feeling the Admiral’s own eyes burrowing into her, as if her were trying to read her very thoughts. Her body moved woodenly, dancing to the beat of a nonexistent song in the most conservative way she could think of without completely defying the Admiral. The coarse rope which bound her hands together bit down on her soft flesh, causing a dull ache in her wrists with every move her body made. Still, she didn’t stop, too afraid of the consequences.

[EvilJ]

The Admiral looked at the girl sway stiffly and confusion crossed his face. He had been told the girl was spirited, yet here she was dancing-rythmlessly, but dancing nonetheless- without a word of protest. Had they already broken his toy? He eyed the young countess lasciviously and knew, broken or not, she'd be on the end of his member soon and dancing to the tune of his lust.

He reached under the pillow he sat on an pulled out a short knife and handed it to the Asian who had never laughed and never raised her eyes in the time Cat was in the room. She flinched as he reached for her and said one of the few phrases she knew in English "Please... no more rape me."

He smiled and unclipped her chain and gestured with the knife. "You. Cut her hands free. Cut her hands free." He said evenly. The girl understood and stood up, moving for Cat.

"She will cut your bonds. You will dance better. Like the whore you are,"he said. The Indian girl smirked as the Asian drew closer.

[Dollface]

Cat’s head jerked up at the Asian girl’s broken words. ‘Rape’. It was something that Cat had feared would ultimately happen, but had kept it pushed out of her mind. Of course, she was being treated as a slave, for that is what she had become in a matter of hours, but Cat was too naïve, too used to a life of comfort and luxury to really believe that she was in bondage. And even if she did, she probably would have expected a fine prince to rescue her—which, in truth, would have been the cruelest form of torture of all.

She stopped her dancing as the Asian girl approached, standing very still as the knife sliced through her bonds, restoring the circulation to her hands. She rubbed her wrists gingerly, feeling the tingle of blood rushing into her hands as she did so. After a moment’s hesitation, Cat resumed her dance, her use of her hands not making the spectacle any more erotic—in fact, Cat mostly kept her hands behind her back, her eyes still looking to the ground as she prayed to be struck dead, not wanting to endure any further humiliation.

[EvilJ]

The Admiral smiled. For some reason he looked pleased. He sensed defiance in Cat, some corner left unbroken; a toy for him to play with. He shifted the Indian onto his lap and reached into her top, fondling her full breast. She shifted and moaned, but Cat couldn't tell that it was a moan of pain, not pleasure. The Admiral had, in fact, found the girls nipple and was now squeezing it between his fingers, his palm flat to her bosom. At the familiar sound, the Asian girl hurried to the Admiral's feet and fastened her chain. She knew the difference between a pleasured moan and one of suppressed agony. She had heard it well in her own throat. When the Admiral did it to another girl in front of her, it usually was followed by an equally unpleasant sensation.

She began to beg while looking at the floor, tears welling in her eyes. "Please... no more rape me," she begged quietly. The Indian girl moaned again, this time a bit louder and squirmed on the Admiral's lap. This caused the tears to spring freely from the other girl who began saying the words over and over and clutching his leg.

At no time during this spectacle did the Admiral avert his eyes from Cat. He was utterly fixated. His smile remained. He half nodded.

"You will dance better. Whore," he said as if it was a forgone conclusion."And you will do it now. And as you do it, you will denounce the family that bore you and the kingdom that you lost to the King who sold your worthless cunt to me. You will tell me- in detail- what a whore your mother was and what a coward your father was and how pleased you are to be my personal consort. My slave. You will say all of this with your tongue as you dance. Like a whore. Now."

His smile had not become more cruel. His demeanor had not changed.

Perhaps, his eyes... there was something different about them. He was staring more intently than ever, studying her every gesture. And he waited.

[Dollface]

Cat tried to block out the Indian girl’s moans, and the Asian girl’s cries in broken English to not be raped, as she concentrated on her dancing. She glanced up once, but immediately put her head back down again when she saw the Admiral groping the Indian girl’s breast, blushing furiously all the while.

Her dancing was not good to say the least; in fact, she seemed intent on dancing as poorly as possible—her way of subtle defiance. Nevertheless, she froze at the Admiral’s commands to denounce her family and country. To admit that she was a slave to this savage was something she simply could not do, no matter how determined she was to remain in control of the situation. But something within her was starting to break, the same thing that caused her, while still keeping her eyes to the floor, to say:

“My father was a coward—.” Cat hesitated for a moment, feeling at odds with herself. Tears began to visibly stream down her cheeks as she contemplated what she would say next—weighing between getting punished and not betraying her kin. Finally she spoke again, eyes blazing:

“My father was a coward when it came to some things, he wasn’t a perfect husband to my mother, nor was he a perfect citizen. Still, he worked hard when it came to my siblings and I, and no matter what, he was always there to protect and guide us. He was a perfect father,” her voice shook, but she continued. “ And my mother was far from a ‘whore.’ She was always faithful despite his shortcomings. She was a skilled musician and spoke several different languages, so she was not lacking in mental capabilities either. Finally, my country was wonderful until the current king came along. My cousin, the former king, would have never allowed the sale of women. Much less your treatment of them. And I am not your slave; it's only a matter of time before someone rescues me," she finished, with more confidence than she felt.