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Episode
II Return of the Dragon
Zirhan Khan contemplated the sweet curve of
the woman’s back next to him.
She was still not a willing lover, but at least she no longer fought
him; not that he didn’t enjoy forcing her if he had
to. Taking her against her will
was incredibly pleasurable. She
would certainly serve in the place of her daughter until the latter agreed
to his demands. He stroked the
smooth flesh of her flank. He
felt her tense and knew that she was
awake. Gently he pulled her to
him. “Come, my lovely,”
he murmured. He cupped her breast
and rolled her over so that he could gaze upon her
charms.
His loins
stirred. She was one of the most
beautiful women he had ever bedded.
And soon he would have the
daughter. It was only a matter
of time until Slahn broke her, but in the meantime the mother was more than
an adequate substitute. Gently
he parted her thighs, noting the increase in the queen’s rate of
breathing. He was fully erect
now. Shifting his weight he
positioned himself to take her.
“Perhaps I will keep her,” he
thought. Why
not? He would have the princess
as his bride and the queen as his
mistress. It was a pleasurable
thought. Ignoring the tension
of his bed partner he thrust into her.
She moaned as he took her.
“Come my lovely,” he
crooned. “Make your king
happy.”
Princess Vanora
staggered. She was heavily laden
with chains and could barely walk.
She blinked stupidly in the light flaring from the blazing torches
on the walls. For days she had
not been exposed to light for more than a few seconds at a time and the light
of the torture chamber, seemed blinding by
comparison.
Her body crawled with vermin and she was desperate
for food and water, especially the
latter. Khan had sought to break
her by throwing her into the cells of the castle’s dungeons, but in
spite of the cold and damp and the screams and groans of other nearby prisoners,
she had remained steadfast. She
would not freely consent to be his bride.
If he wanted her he would have to take her by
force. She had been quite prepared
to die in the cold, dank cell in which she had been imprisoned, but now it
appeared Khan had lost patience and she had been brought
here.
Vanora looked about her and shivered, but it was
not from the cold. Until her
imprisonment she had never been in this part of the castle although she knew
it existed. Her father had never
used it, but it was one of the first areas of the castle that Khan had
explored. It was now occupied
by dozens of her subjects, especially those who were useful hostages or had
wealth Khan sought to extort. In
spite of his desire to be king of Sandor, he still acted more like a brigand
than anything else.
The room she was in was especially
grim. Lined with corroded and
rotting bits of machinery it seemed like a place out of a
nightmare. Slahn, the Sea Warrior
chief’s torturer, had also brought some of his own equipment into the
room. She
shuddered. Some of it was already
stained with the blood of victims.
It was hard not to weep in fear, but she had to remain
strong. Her father had not raised
her to be a weakling.
She was heavily shackled, iron bands connected
by a short length of chain binding her hands in front of
her. Similar irons, connected
by a length of chain just long enough to allow her to walk, secured her
ankles. An iron collar was around
her neck and another length of chain led from it to the links securing her
ankles. Each link of chain was
large enough to serve as part of an anchor chain for a good sized
boat. Only with difficulty was
she able to bear the burden of the iron that weighed her down, but she held
her head up, her eyes proud and defiant, determined not to show fear in front
of Khan’s torturer. He was
a little man, hardly coming to her chin, but the way he looked at her sent
chills through her body. Escape
was impossible. Even moving was
extremely difficult, but she reminded herself that what she faced was nothing
compared to the humiliation and brutality suffered by her
mother.
She was honour bound to
die before surrendering to the demands of her cruel
conqueror.
“Leave,” Vincius Slahn ordered the
guards. There was no chance that
the princess could escape and he alone was to be present during her
‘interrogation,’ if that was the right
word. He contemplated the task
he had been assigned. He wasn’t
actually going to ask her anything, just convince her to accept Khan as a
husband. It would not be an
unpleasant experience, but it would require all of his
skill. Kahn had insisted that
she be unmarked by the process – at least
physically. Mentally he could
do anything he wanted to her.
Unfortunately, Khan was in a
hurry. He could not afford to
take his time.
He stepped closer to the
princess. She stood proud and
defiant, but he knew that it was all an
act. Already the girl’s
fear was palpable. He would build
on that until he broke her. It
would be a most pleasant task.
The princess raised her head and looked him
directly in the eye. She spoke
in a high clear voice. “You
may do what you want with me, but I will never agree to marry the foul murderer
of my father and violator of my mother.”
Slahn’s face remained
expressionless. The girl was
impressive. Breaking her might
be tougher than he had thought. And
more enjoyable. It was time to
begin.
From a table he picked one of his sharpest
knives. He tested its edge, trimming
off a sliver of fingernail. It
would do. “You could save
me a great deal of time, princess by simply agreeing to marry the
king.”
“He is no king,” Vanora
raged. “He is nothing but
a filthy murderer and rapist. My
father was a king. Khan is
scum.” She trembled in anger,
but her fury also helped to mask her
fear. Mentally she called on
the gods to help her to be strong.
She was alone with Khan’s torturer, but she was determined not
to surrender.
“You are very brave,” Slahn
hissed. “But I guarantee
that I will break you. No one
has ever resisted me. I will
break you as I broke all the
others.” He placed his face
so close to hers that she could smell his
breath. “And I will enjoy
doing it.” He smiled and
held the razor edge of the knife just inches from her
face.
“You are very
beautiful. It would be a shame
to mar such perfect features.”
He had no intention of using the knife on her, but he knew that the
princess couldn’t possibly know
that.
The girl didn’t
flinch. Slahn
frowned. She had called his bluff,
but it would be interesting to see how he reacted to his next
action. She was still wearing
the quilted jerkin and trousers that protected her body from the chaffing
of her armour. He inserted the
blade under the edge of her collar and cut through the thick material, taking
care not to graze the soft flesh beneath.
Vanora paled and then flushed as her jerkin
was cut away. Underneath she
was wearing only a thin shirt that fell to her
thighs. Piece by piece her clothing
was cut away until she wore just the
shirt. She was acutely aware
of Slahn’s eyes on her breasts as the twin points of her nipples were
revealed.
Slahn resisted fondling her girl only with
difficulty. Another of Khan’s
restrictions was that the girl was not to be touched
sexually. That privilege was
to be his on his wedding night.
There was, however, nothing to stop him from completely exposing her
body.
“Lovely,” Slahn murmured as he slit
open the front of her shirt.
Vanora’s high rounded breasts swayed as she involuntarily cringed
as her clothing was removed. She
stood naked before the torturer, her chest rising and falling in
fear.
Only his iron will stopped Slahn from running
his hands over the girl’s body.
Even after a week in the dungeons she was still one of the most beautiful
women he had ever seen, and he had seen a great
many. Like her mother, deep blue
eyes were set in an oval face of great beauty framed by raven tresses that
were currently ordered in a neat braid.
She was his height, and she was exquisitely
formed. Long sensuous legs supported
a strong body that in no way was rendered less attractive by her smooth muscles.
Her flat belly was emphasized by her flaring hips, and well formed breasts,
topped by rose-tipped nipples. A
neat dark triangle concealed her sex, the lips of which could just be seen
nestling within the downy forest.
As he studied her, Slahn’s mind was at work, determining how
best to humiliate and break her.
Vanora tried to hide her fear and
humiliation. Looking straight
ahead, she treated Slahn as if he didn’t exist, but he soon found a
way to get her attention. Taking
her arm he led her to what appeared to be a long narrow table, but Vanora
saw at once that it was something
special. At the bottom of the
table were leather straps and at the top was a winch with similar straps
attached to two ropes. The centre
of the table was slightly raised by a rounded piece of
wood. Although she had never
seen such a device before she knew that she was looking at a
rack.
Too heavily chained to resist she allowed
Slahn to force her onto the table.
He quickly secured the leather straps to her wrists and ankles and
then removed the chains. Naked
and helpless, she was stretched full length on the table, her arms drawn
tightly over her head. She prepared
herself for the painful ordeal she knew was
coming. Slahn, however, had a
little surprise in store for her.
Slahn had to exert all of his self-control
as he surveyed the girl’s taut body.
Her legs were slightly parted, held that way by the straps that secured
her ankles. Her high perfect
breasts were emphasized by the arch of her body across the centre of the
table as she was stretched tight.
She made no sound, but the rise and fall of her chest attested to
her fear. Smiling slightly, Slahn
went to the door and whispered something to one of the guards waiting
outside. Then he returned and
simply waited.
Vanora closed her
eyes. The waiting was almost
worse than the humiliation of being stripped and stretched out on the
rack. She was in no pain, but
knew that she had not been placed on the rack without
reason. Slahn was waiting for
something, but what?
The door to the chamber
opened. Vanora opened her eyes
and saw that a young woman had entered.
Vanora had never seen her before and supposed that she was one of
the Sea Warrior’s slaves. She
was carrying a bowl and a pitcher.
Setting the items down on a table next to the rack she looked at Slahn
expectantly.
“Clean her up,” Slahn ordered, wrinkling
his nose. “She smells like
the inside of a pig barn.”
The girl approached Vanora and then looked
at Slahn. “It will take
more than one pitcher of water, lord,” she
said. “She is filthy and
her hair is swarming with lice.”
“Then get it, you stupid slut,”
Slahn said tiredly. The girl
nodded her blonde head and scurried rapidly from the
room. She returned a few minutes
later carrying two large buckets of
water. Taking a bar of soap from
her apron she whipped up a lather and began to bathe
Vanora.
If it had not been for her degrading position,
the bath might have been pleasant, but stretched out like a side of beef,
under the leering gaze of the torturer; it was merely another shameful
ordeal. And as the girl finished
washing her hair, it got worse.
“You brought a razor?” Slahn asked
the woman. In reply the woman
nodded, curtsying slightly.
“Then shave her,” Slahn
ordered.
Vanora quivered as the razor touched the skin
covering her mound of Venus. The
girl did not cut her, but the experience was
mortifying. Stroke by stroke
and hair by hair, her dark pubic forest was removed until she was reduced
to the state in which she had been born.
One of the characteristics of her womanhood had been removed, leaving
her feeling even more naked and helpless.
She felt as if she had been defiled even though Slahn had not touched
her.
Slahn
swallowed. What Khan was asking
of him was almost too much. He
had tortured women before, but he had never been forbidden to lay a hand
on them. His loins felt as if
they were about to burst.
“Come here,” he ordered the
girl. The blonde moved toward
him, her eyes downcast. It was
obvious that she was terrified of the
torturer. “Undress,”
he ordered.
“Please, lord,” the girl
pleaded. Her hands twisted her
apron plaintively.
“Do it,” Slahn
hissed. “Or it will do it
for you.”
Head down and trembling, the girl untied the
strings confining her bodice. The
loose dress slipped from her shoulders revealing her pale nude
body.
Vanora saw that the girl was quite pretty
with large, well rounded breasts, a narrow waist, and strong
hips. Slahn dragged her over
to a large wheel that was set in the centre of the
room. Terrified, the girl allowed
herself to be tied to the wheel,
unresisting. Her body was arched
face up upon the wheel, her ankles chained to the
floor. Then, while Vanora watched
in horror and disgust, Slahn raped the whimpering
blonde.
Having satiated his lust, Slahn pulled up
his pants and returned to his royal victim, leaving the girl weeping on the
wheel. “One more chance,
princess,” he gasped.
“Surrender now. I
will not ask again.”
“You are filth,” Vanora
replied. She was controlling
her fear only with difficulty, but she made no effort to control her
scorn. “I do not fear
you,” she lied. “You
are beneath contempt.”
“We will see,” replied
Slahn. “Just remember that
you had your chance to cooperate.”
Slahn went to the windlass at the top of the
rack. He checked the padding
on the leather straps first. He
had no intention of damaging her in any way, but he was going to make her
next few hours as painful as possible.
Once he started he would not stop until he had her screaming at the
top of her lungs. No one derided
him and escaped punishment.
Vanora made no sound as Slahn turned the windlass;
not at first anyway. But the
advantage was all on the side of the
torturer. Normally the use of
the rack would create almost crippling pain, but he was constrained by
Khan’s conditions. However,
he could inflict pain with the machine without destroying the
victim. It just took a bit longer
to obtain the desired results.
Click!
Click!
Click!
Vanora clenched her teeth as her body was arched over the raised centre
of the rack. Her arms were slowly
pulled from their sockets, inflicting terrible pain, but Slahn made sure
that there was no permanent damage extending her until she thought she could
stand no more and then stopping just before her ligaments began to rip
loose.
She showed no pain, but the anguished rise
and fall of her chest and the patina of sweat that pebbled her body told
Slahn what he wanted to know. Soon
she would break. It was just
a matter of time.
Seven hours later he was not so
sure. During that entire time
the girl had not let out even the faintest sound other than her
breathing. He knew what the rack
could do. Even when not at full
tension the pain it generated was extreme and it became more and more
excruciating as time passed. The
girl should have been screaming, but instead she lay as if she was in some
sort of trance. Her breathing
was still agitated, and her body shone with perspiration, but her eyes were
closed and she almost seemed to be
sleeping. Yet he dared not tighten
the winch any more than he already had.
Experience told him that even one more click of the windlass would
probably result in permanent damage.
He couldn’t afford that if he wanted to keep his head, but what
he was trying was not working. He
had to find a way to speed up the
process. Perhaps another night
in the cells would help. It would
give her body a chance to really appreciate the abuse it had suffered and
would give the girl time to contemplate her
fate. He began to undo the straps
that secured her to the rack.
Vanora moaned as the terrible tension in her
arms eased. She was desperate
for water and her throat was so dry that she could not make a coherent
sound. But she sensed that she
had won a small victory. For
some reason the torturer had not tightened the rack as far as he
could. It had been a painful
experience, but she knew that it was nowhere as bad as it might have
been. Slahn seemed to be acting
with some sort of restraint. Why
had he simply not pulled out her toenails or used hot irons on
her?
Slahn released the straps that held her wrists
and ankles. He had no fear that
she would escape. No one jumped
off the rack after a seven hour session; even one as tame as the trial he
had just put the princess through.
The girl could not stand on her own and Slahn had to support her as
he lifted her from the rack.
Lowering her to the floor he called for the
guards. This time two female
attendants entered the room. Khan
would not allow any man other than Slahn to touch the
princess. They picked her up
from the floor and dragged her from the
room.
Vanora bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering
as she was half-carried half-dragged through the underground
corridors. She was taken to a
different part of the dungeons, this one a little higher up than
before. She was dumped into a
dark, dank room, but one that was noticeably dryer and cleaner than the one
she had been in before. There
was even a straw pallet in one corner for her to sleep
on. And most importantly just
before the two women left and took the torch with them, she spotted a small
bowl of water and a plate of food.
As the door to the room slammed shut and the bolts were thrown she
crawled over to where she remembered the food and water to
be. She moved slowly, and not
just because she was in so much pain.
Spilling the water would be a
disaster. She found the bowl
and carefully raised it to her lips, licking it dry when she had emptied
it. Then she tried some of the
food.
It was standard prison fare; a crust of dry
bread and something that might have been bits of
meat. She ate the bread and then
curled up on the pallet. She
was asleep almost instantly.
The guards came for her
early. Too
early. She heard them coming
before they reached her cell and managed to scramble to the bucket in the
corner before they threw open the door.
The light of the torch blazed in her eyes as she huddled on the floor,
still too weak to stand. She
was seized by the same two females who had taken her to the
cell. Hauling her to her feet,
she was returned to the torture chamber.
Slahn watched the female guards drag the princess
into the room. She was weaker
this time, much weaker. She
couldn’t possibly last much longer.
Today, however, he would not use the
rack. This time he ordered her
taken to the wheel.
He had the two women strap her to the wheel,
securing her arms over her head.
The girl moaned once more.
Perhaps he should have left her on the rack a little longer, but he
had to report to Khan this afternoon.
He wanted something positive to tell
him. He could not afford to wait
forever. He rotated the wheel
a little, lifting her feet from the floor then he strapped her ankles to
the lower part of the wheel. Her
body now conformed to its curved surface.
Now there was just one more
detail. Moving to the wall he
pulled a lever and was rewarded by a splashing
sound. Everything was
ready. Pulling another lever
he watched as the wheel slowly began to rotate, carrying the girl’s
body upward.
Vanora fought back the urge to moan once
more. Anything she did to show
her pain or discomfort would simply tell the torturer that he was on the
right track. Slowly the wheel
carried her upward and then she rotated over the top and started her slow
descent. Somewhere very close
by she could hear the sound of running
water. As the wheel tipped her
upside down and moved her head toward the floor the sound
grew.
Water! She licked her
lips with her swollen tongue.
Half delirious with thirst, Vanora almost
drowned as her head plunged into the flowing water that was driving the
wheel. She had just time to take
a quick breath before her head was completely immersed in the cold water
and it took all of her self-control as the shock of the cold water struck
her fevered body. She didn’t
have time to count the heartbeats, but it seemed to take forever for the
wheel to rotate her to the surface.
She came up gasping and was slowly rotated upward, her body gleaming
in the torchlight. The sight
had Slahn slavering. He ordered
the two female guards from the room and from a position in the dungeon where
the girl could not see him, and abused himself until he was too sore to
continue.
Vanora’s body
quivered. She had lost track
of the number of times she had been immersed in the cold
water. Her strength was almost
at an end. Each time her head
went under she wasn’t sure if she could hold her breath long enough
to survive. But she had no intention
of surrendering. Even if she
drowned she would not give in to the evil torturer.
The door slammed open and Khan strode into
the room. His eyes swept the
interior, first resting on Vanora’s tortured body and then seeking out
Slahn.
“By
the gods!” he swore, his hand going to his
sword. “While I wait for
you to break the girl I find you here playing with your
pizzle.”
Slahn slunk from his hiding place, his legs
shaking and his narrow features pale.
“My lord,” he said, his voice shrill with fear, “I
was but doing as you asked. You
said to break her without damaging her and she is almost
broken.”
“Fool,” Khan
sneered. “I should skewer
you where you stand. But I have
need of your service. The girl
is ready, you say?”
“I’m sure she is, lord, or nearly
so.”
“I say she is,” Khan replied, striding
toward the wheel.
Vanora was being slowly rotated
upward. Even in her disheveled
state she was beautiful, the water glistening on her velvet skin, and streaming
from her erect nipples. Khan
stood in front of her and raised his hand; Slahn took his cue and stopped
the wheel.
“So princess,” leered the Sea Warrior
chieftain. “Do you accept
me or not?”
Chilled and exhausted from her ordeal, Vanora
could not speak. She opened her
mouth, but only a feeble croak issued from her
throat.
“At last,” Khan
smiled. “You are a witness,
Slahn. The princess has consented
to be my bride. Send for the
priest.”
Slahn scurried to the door and barked out
an order to one of the guards stationed
there. “Cut her down,”
Khan ordered as the torturer returned to the room, “and see if you can
get her to stand long enough to be married.”
Still mindful of Khan’s restrictions,
Slahn sent for the two female guards.
The Sea Warrior chieftain did not seem to
mind. Instead he seated himself
on a stool and studied his bride-to-be as she hung
helplessly.
Vanora struggled to
speak. “I… did
not…c…con…consent,” she
gasped. “If you… take
me… it will be…rape.”
“Actually,” Khan grinned, “I
prefer rape. In any case I did
not hear that, did you Slahn?”
“I heard the princess consent, my
lord,” Slahn replied. “I
congratulate you on your marriage.”’
“I will…not…consent,”
Vanora gasped. Her head dropped,
exhausted by her brief efforts to speak.
The priest
arrived. He was a man Vanora
had never seen before. No doubt
Khan had recruited him from the temple purely for this
purpose. His eyes widened in
horror as they saw her helpless form.
“My lord,” he sputtered.
“What is this? What
have you done to the princess?”
“Nothing yet,” Khan
replied. “That is why you
are here. The princess has just
consented to be my bride.”
“That…is not…true!” gasped
Vanora.
At that moment the two female guards
arrived. Slahn ordered them to
take her down. A few minutes
later the serving girl Slahn had raped appeared carrying a
gown.
“Dress the princess,” Khan
ordered. “The ceremony will
take place here.”
“But my lord,” the priest
protested. “This is most
irregular. The marriage of a
princess calls for a state wedding.
And did I not hear her say she did not freely
consent?”
Khan glowered at the priest, who cringed
appropriately. “I have sacked
every temple in Sandor with the exception of the order you
serve. I expect you would desire
to keep it that way.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” the priest
quavered. “I will perform
the ceremony.”
The serving girl and the two female guards
helped Vanora into the gown. She
was dragged across the floor of the dungeon to stand by Khan, one of the
female guards supporting her on either
side. She remembered very little
of the ceremony, other than the fact that she protested its
legitimacy. Somewhere toward
the end she lost track of what was going on around
her. When she recovered
she found to her surprise that she was in her own room in the royal
apartments. The two female guards
and the serving girl were there with her.
“My lady,” said the blonde girl,
“forgive me, but Lord Khan has ordered that I ready you for the wedding
night. I am to insure that you
are well enough to receive him.”
“Receive him?” Vanora
asked. “I will not receive
him. I will kill myself
first.”
“My lady,” said one of the female
guards, a strongly built redhead.
“We are here to ensure that you will honour your new
lord. We will not allow any harm
to come to you.”
Vanora held her head in her
hands. She had resisted Khan
to the best of her efforts. She
had endured shame and torture. She
had seen her mother dishonoured in front of her
eyes. And yet she had
lost. Khan had forced a sham
marriage upon her and as soon as she was strong enough he would consummate
the union. Tears filled her eyes
and she wept.
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