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Episode
I The Corsair
Chief Inquisitor Solon Rey licked his lips
as he watched the beautiful woman stretched out in front of
him. She was remarkable to look
at, almost unbelievably so. Her
fiery red hair was so intense in colour that it almost seemed to fluoresce
in the flickering torchlight of the
dungeon. Her green eyes shone
with a luminescence resembling that of some feral
cat. High arched eyebrows framed
her eyes, which were set above a straight nose and a luscious bow-shaped
mouth.
That beautiful face twisted in pain as he
tightened the winch of the rack.
That was how the game was played.
Increase the tension enough to make the victim scream and then slacken
it off a little. He could, of
course, just keep on increasing the tension until his victim was reduced
to a screaming wreck. He had
often done that with particularly troublesome
subjects. But that usually led
to permanently crippling injuries, and he wanted to keep this beauty
intact. She would talk
eventually. He had never tortured
anyone who did not. It would
just take more time.
He raised his
eyebrows. She wasn’t screaming
this time. Last time she
had. She was a tough one, adjusting
to the levels of pain he threw at her.
He would wait a minute and see what
ensued. He watched the rise and
fall of her marvelous breasts. She
had a tremendous figure, a perfect hourglass
silhouette. Even fully clothed
her charms were quite evident.
He had asked that she be given back her
clothes. Quite often he stripped
his victims naked before going to work on them, but this one he wanted to
undress in a more leisurely manner.
Being slowly undressed while helpless was a most effective method
of intimidating a woman or even some men.
She was dressed in a rather exotic manner for a woman, but of course
she was an unusual woman with an unusual
occupation. Her
‘costume,’ as he thought of it, consisted of a white blouse and
black trousers. A wide blue sash
was wound around her narrow waist, one end of it hanging
free. Her feet were encased in
knee-length brown calf-leather boots.
That costume was now somewhat stained with
perspiration. Especially her
white blouse, which was dripping with
sweat. Her erect nipples were
clearly outlined beneath the damp
material. He wondered at the
strength of this woman. She could
hardly be into her early twenties, but he had been “questioning”
her for more than two hours without getting a reasonable
response. Perhaps it was time
to test her pain threshold. He
turned the crank another notch.
“Uiggghh!” Her grunt of pain was just what he
wanted. He would not ease off
the tension this time. Instead
he would watch her and see what
transpired. Studying his helpless
victim was something he never tired of.
Such beauty was meant to be
studied. He shifted his position
so that he could look into the emerald pools that were her
eyes. She stared back at him
defiantly. He saw no fear there,
only rage and hate. He imagined
what she would be like, tied down and naked on his
bed. “Soon,” he thought,
“soon I will find out.”
His eyes shifted down her
body. She was
tall. Probably taller than he
was. He noticed a slight trembling
of her limbs as she fought against the
pain. She must have a very high
pain threshold. Most normal women
or even men would be screaming continuously by
now. He knew what sort of pain
the rack could inflict. Part
of the training of an Inquisitor was being subjected to some of the tools
of the trade. Those that did
not scar or permanently cripple. He
had spent a few hours on the rack himself, while his instructor had shown
him what it could do. The pain
it caused was truly terrible.
Strapped down and helpless, the victim could only endure while her
body was slowly stretched to its limits.
Eventually every joint in the victim’s arms and legs would be
pulled apart and the ligaments ripped off the
bone.
He had not proceeded
that far with the young woman yet.
Such damage to the limbs was irreversible and he wanted this victim
undamaged. Of course, if she
proved too intractable, he would forgo his carnal desires and give her the
full treatment. But for now he
was prepared to be patient.
“Why do you resist, my dear?” he
said. “All I want is a little
information. Give it to me and
I promise as a priest of Jalla, the Just, that you will be spared more
pain. You are being
foolish. You have not even told
me your name.”
The girl said nothing, but her eyes betrayed
her. He had seen a faint flicker
of fear deep in those emerald depths.
He was good at that. Years
of experience had enabled him to discern the faintest race of weakness in
his victims. Perhaps just one
more turn.
“Aaahhh!” Her cry was sharp and not
repeated. But her breathing quickened
so much that she was almost panting, and he could hear the rush of air in
and out of her lungs. That was
encouraging. It was the first
real sound she had made that betrayed the agony she was
in.
He left her for about ten minutes while he
continued his patient study of his
victim. Then he moved so that
she could see him again. “I
am afraid I may have to leave you like this for a few
hours. Your body will not stand
being stretched much more without irreversible damage being done to
it. Perhaps you have changed
your mind about speaking to me?”
To his surprise, the girl nodded. Or at least
he thought it was a nod. It might
just be a twitch brought about by the intense anguish of the
rack. He decided to find
out. Moving to the winch he slacked
it off two notches. That would
ease the tension enough to prevent her ligaments being stretched too far,
but still provide an intense level of pain.
He moved so that she could see him
again. “Let’s start
with your name. Who are
you?”
“You know I am called the Red Dragon,”
she answered through clenched teeth.
“I did not ask what you were called,”
answered Rey patiently. “I
asked you your name. Surely you
must have one.”
“When I was a girl I was called
Melissa,” she answered, her lip quivering with
pain. Even slacked off two notches,
the rack was still pulling her body apart.
“You had no last
name?”
The girl’s eyes closed briefly as she
fought the pain. Her breathing
slowed as she regained partial control of
body. “My father was Lusan
Noble. He was an
armorer. His weapons and armor
were beyond compare.”
“He lived here, in
Slandor?”
“N…no…we were citizens of
Tremara. It…it is not far
from here. Near the
sea.” The girl’s words
were bitten off between spasms of pain.
Rey was not an unnecessarily cruel
man. The girl was
talking. He moved to the winch
and slackened it off another two notches.
His victim gave an audible sigh of
relief. There was still considerable
tension on her arms and legs, but the level of pain was reduced from excruciating
to merely painful. “Tell
me of your life and how your came to be
here. Omit
nothing.”
Rey was using another technique he had found
useful. The trick was to get
his victims talking. It did not
matter what they talked about as long as they answered the questions he
asked. He avoided getting right
to the point, as that often resulted in
resistance. So he asked innocent
questions about home and family first.
He usually found that once he victims began to cooperate they would
tell him the more important details that he really wanted to
know. And so he settled down
to hear the girl’s life history.
With the tension on her arms eased, the girl
spoke without hesitation. She
was still in pain, but it was bearable.
The promise of eventually being freed from all pain usually helped
hurry the story along.
“It is a long story,” she
said. “And I am in great
pain. Could you not se your way
clear to easing the rack a bit more?”
“Begin your story,” Rey answered,
“and I will see if what you tell me pleases me enough to make me want
to do that.” The girl made
a soft sound that resembled a whimper and then she began to
speak.
Melissa told most of her
story. It took her quite a long
time to recount all of her adventures, and she left out many of the details
that were personal to her and others that she wanted to keep
secret. By the time she had finished
Rey had a fairly good idea of her
background. During her narration
he had eased off the rack a bit more.
There was still tension being applied to her body but it was
bearable.
She was glad that the Duke had seen fit to
give her some clothing. She had
no idea why he did it, but she was pleased that he
had. Being stretched out naked
would have been much worse. Of
course, the inquisitor could always strip
her. She expected that sooner
or later he would. The way he
looked at her when she was on the rack left little doubt in her mind about
his eventual intentions.
But he had not raped her
yet. No one had so much as laid
a hand on her sexually for over a week.
It seemed that the Duke had lost interest in that sort of torment,
or perhaps he just wanted to see what Rey could
achieve. Rey seemed a strange
man to be the Duke’s Inquisitor.
He was quite tall, but very thin and gangly with angular features
and a scraggly beard that he grew only on his
chin. The rest of his face was
clean-shaven. His eyes were large
and watery, being a sort of pale blue and his mouth was large and thin lipped
like that of a frog. Altogether
he did not look like the most feared man in all of Dakmora after the Duke
himself.
But he certainly knew his
trade. Her sessions on the rack
were incredibly painful. She
had thought that nothing could compare to the pain of the devil’s
whip. He had shown her that she
was wrong. He had her screaming
uncontrollably after only a couple of hours on the
rack. She had not believed that
a mere machine could inflict so much
pain. But Rey was a master in
its use. He played the rack the
way a skilled musician plays his
instrument. She had entered the
dungeon prepared to die rather than reveal a single thing about
herself. Now she had told him
almost everything. Everything
that is except what she was sure Rey wanted to know, but she was sure that
eventually he would get around to that subject.
She breathed a sigh of relief as Rey slacked
off the rack. “That is enough
for today my dear. Tomorrow we
will start where we left off.”
Two guards appeared carrying the heavy chains
that she always wore when she was moved from the torture chamber to her cell
and from her cell to the torture chamber.
“Tomorrow,” she thought.
Rey always left her with that
thought. Obviously he hoped that
it would work on her mind until he started on her
again. She set her
jaw. Well it would not
work. She had given him nothing
of value today; she would give him nothing of value
tomorrow.
“Aaaagghhh!” Melissa’s scream was shrill as the sharp hook
pierced her breast. Rey had changed
his approach this day. Instead
of being taken to the rack, Melissa had been locked into a sort of
pillory. Her feet were clamped
behind her between two wooden boards that were hinged so that they could
be opened and closed. This forced
her into a kneeling position on the floor of the torture
chamber. Her hands had been forced
into a similar contraption that was bolted to the first and so also located
behind her. This resulted in
her body being pitched forward at about an 80 degree
angle. The pain in her arms and
shoulders was enough to make her scream on its
own. Only her Dragon Warrior
training enabled her to tolerate it without shrieking in
agony.
But the reverse pillory was only the first
step. For the first time Rey
had removed part of her clothing.
He had apologized as he
did so. “I am sorry, Melissa,
my dear, but the Duke grows impatient.
I would prefer to use my methods.
They are slow but sure. The
Duke, however, does not share my passion for the art of
torture. He threatened to let
someone else do my work, and I could not have that, and so I am forced to
use other, more brutal techniques.”
As he had spoken, Rey had unlaced the ties
on Melissa’s white blouse, allowing her perfect pink-tipped breasts
to fall free. His eyes followed
the flow of the dragon tattoo.
“Incredible,” he said.
“It almost seems
alive.” He had of course,
seen the tattoo at Melissa’s
scourging. Hidden in the crowd,
he had tried to size up his next victim.
He had been impressed not only with Melissa’s fortitude, but
also her great beauty and the tattoo as well.
”His eyes strayed to her perfect globular
breasts. Even at the awkward
angle of her body they easily held their shape against the pull of
gravity. As she shifted uncomfortably
they swayed most invitingly just in front of Rey’s
eyes. He had been unable to resist
the temptation, and for a few minutes he had amused himself by sucking and
fondling the grapefruit sized
hemispheres. Melissa found the
Inquisitor’s touch disgusting, but there was little she could do about
it except endure, while he suckled at her like a piglet at sow’s
teat.
Then he had produced the
hooks. “I do not want to
use these, Melissa. They will
cause great pain and damage your perfect breasts most
severely. Just answer one question
and I can put them away. What
did you do with the treasure you looted from the
Duke?”
Melissa had long expected the
question. She had no intention
of answering it. If she did so
she could only expect death as a reward.
The Duke would no longer have any reason to keep her alive and would
carry out his promise of public torture and
execution. Also, it was the only
thing she had done right. She
had failed in every other way, but she still had the Duke’s
silver. She would die before
she told Rey where it was.
And so she had said
nothing. And Rey had seized her
left breast and forced the hook through the soft tissue, just blow her
areola. It was as he had promised,
very painful. As her first scream
died away, and Melissa fought back a second, Rey produced a second
hook. “Your body is perfection,
Melissa,” he said, holding the second hook before her
eyes. “It would be shameful
to mutilate it further. Tell
me what I have asked and you will be spared this
torment.”
As before, Melissa did not
answer. Rey licked his lips again
and squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers, he inserted the other
hook. Once more Melissa’s
scream of pain echoed through the large stone-walled
room.
“Remember,” said Rey, “I tried
to spare you this pain.” There
was an eyelet at the end of each hook.
Reaching over her head he brought down a length of string with another
hook attached to it and attached it to the hook in her left
breast. Then he slowly released
it.
“Unnggghhh!”
Melissa grunted in pain as
her breast was tugged upward. The
string he had attached to the hook ran through a small pulley that hung from
the ceiling. Secured to the other
end of the string was a small weight.
It was not enough to tear the flesh of her breast, but it applied
painful tension, lifting her nipple toward the
ceiling. Rey pulled down a second
hook and applied tension to her right breast in the same
way. Melissa fought back tears
of pain. The awkward position
of her body was pain enough. The
piercing and weighting of her breasts added to the
suffering.
Sweat ran down her body
in rivulets, and her chest heaved from the exertion of fighting against the
terrible agony her body was being subjected
to. But Rey was not finished
with her yet.
He ran his fingers between the hollow of her
breasts and then swept it down over her flat belly to the curve of her
abdomen. Melissa had not been
given a belt and her trousers were held in place only by her hips and a thin
lace tie. Rey pulled the tie
loose and moved his hand toward her nether region.
The touch of his fingers as they cupped her
vulva was almost more than she could
bear. She longed to ask him to
stop, knowing full well that the demented Inquisitor would delight in hearing
her beg for mercy. He would know
that he was close to his goal of breaking
her. Then she would tell him
everything, from the whereabouts of the treasure to the hiding place of her
friends and how to best capture them.
Then the Duke would have it all.
He would have her tortured to death, but not before she was forced
to witness the degradation and torture of her
companions. The thought of seeing
Che Sha and the two Silvani girls stripped and raped before her eyes gave
her strength to carry on. She
closed her eyes and tried to shut out the anguish of her body and the probing
hands of Solon Rey.
Rey spent a long time with his hands in
Melissa’s pants. By the
time he was finished he was quite familiar with her central
anatomy. She was a delight to
explore. He had never encountered
a woman with such firm buttocks, or a more divine house of
love. He had expected her to
be as loose as a ten penny whore after the number of times she had been raped,
but she was almost virgin tight. He
wondered how she managed that. It
was almost as if there was something mystical about
her.
Rey was no more superstitious than any other
man, but he was becoming quite intrigued with this mysterious woman with
the wondrous dragon tattoo. He
studied the image of the beast that covered a good third of the skin on her
torso. It was so well drawn that
it almost seemed real, especially when the muscles beneath the Red Dragon’s
skin moved as they did now. The
woman was in a good deal of pain, and she moved
involuntarily. When she moved
the dragon moved as well. Sometimes
it was hard to determine whether or not it was the woman who was moving or
whether the dragon moved by itself.
The glaze of sweat that covered her body shimmered in the torchlight
of the torture chamber.
Rey shook his
head. The dragon was almost
hypnotic. He still had work to
do. To his intense annoyance
the woman was still resisting. He
had no misgivings about the pain she must have been
in. Why did she not
surrender? Perhaps she needed
a little push to break her. From
the way her body was trembling she must be very
close.
“You are very strong, my dear,”
he crooned into Melissa’s ear.
“But you have lost.
Give in. Free yourself
from the pain. Do not force me
to do make matters worse.”
Melissa’s only response was to slow her
breathing. The pain had her panting
like an overheated dog. But she
must not lose control. She reached
within herself and called on her training, trying to remember what her master,
Chang Jao, had taught her. Slowly
she relaxed willing her body to ignore the pain.
Rey shook his head
again. “So stubborn,”
he said testily. He was tiring
of the game he was playing with this
woman. He strolled almost lazily
to his bench. He stood there
for a few seconds surveying the assorted instruments of
torture. The
clamps? No, her breasts were
already pierced. Pincers to pull
her tongue out of her mouth and an iron spike to pierce
it? No she would be unable to
respond. The
whip? She was in a rather awkward
position for a proper flogging.
Ah! There was the very
thing. The
pear. Yes, she was wonderfully
tight. The pear would deliver
maximum pain.
He picked up the metal object and carried
it back to Melissa. He held it
in front of her eyes. “Do
you know what this is my dear? No,
I see by your eyes that you do not.
Let me show you how it
works.” Holding it in his
right hand he turned a screw on the device with his left
hand.
Melissa tried not to show the added fear she
felt. The object Rey was holding
in front of her was about eight inches long, made of metal, and shaped like
a segmented pear. In the small
end of the pear was a metal screw with a
handle. As Rey turned the handle
the pear slowly began to expand.
“A simple mechanism isn’t it,
Melissa? I just turn the screw
and it expands. I think you can
imagine where I will place it. But
there is no need for me to use such an intrusive
device. All you have to do is
tell me where you hid your treasure and I can put it back on the
shelf.”
Melissa turned her gaze on the
Inquisitor. A great calmness
settled over her. “I will
die first,” she said. She
knew as she said it that her words were likely to be
prophetic. She had never felt
so helpless before. In a way
she almost welcomed death. That
way she could be sure that she would not betray her
friends.
“Have it your way,” Rey
replied. “Just remember
when you are screaming that I made you a fair
offer.”
Melissa almost whimpered as she felt Rey pulling
down her trousers. He had to
use a knife to slit them so that they would slide down more
easily. As the cold air of the
large room swirled around her nether region she
shivered. But it was not from
the cold, but rather what Rey was doing to her.
His fingers parted her
vulva. Then she felt cold metal
against her labia as Rey pushed the pear inside
her. Even at its smallest diameter
he had to exert consideration pressure to force the device
home. Melissa gritted her teeth
against the added pain. Her vaginal
canal was unlubricated and even the smooth metal of the pear rasped against
her soft tissue. But Rey continued
to work it into her.
The pear was almost two inches in diameter,
and it took Rey some time to insert it all the
way. But finally he was
finished. Melissa trembled at
what was to come. Already the
presence of the metal dildo was painful.
And then Rey began to turn the screw.
Melissa gasped as she felt the metal push
tightly against the inner recesses of her
body. Slowly the pressure increased,
and with it the pain and discomfort.
In spite of her best efforts, she could not stop her breathing from
becoming labored. And still the
pear expanded. Melissa fought
back a scream. Blood trickled
from the torn tissue of her vagina.
She tried to move her knees apart to relieve the pressure, but the
pillory restrained such movement.
“Sera help me,” she
thought. A low moan escaped her
lips. It felt as if Rey was driving
a post into her, instead of simply turning a
screw.
“There, my dear,” taunted the
Inquisitor, “that is about halfway.
Have you reconsidered your decision to die?”
Melissa fought for
control. Her entire body was
shaking with the agony of the multiple
tortures. She did not trust herself
to answer for fear of screaming in pain.
“I’ll assume your silence means
no,” said Rey. He turned
the screw again. Melissa
screamed. But this time Rey ignored
her and continued turning the screw.
Melissa’s mouth opened to scream again, but with a supreme effort,
she stifled her shriek. But she
did not last long. Rey continued
expanding the pear. Melissa felt
as if she was being torn apart. She
screamed again. A long wailing
screech of pure despair.
Rey stepped away from
her. Melissa had lost
control. She jerked her body
spasmodically; blood streaming for her torn breasts and ravaged vagina and
all the time her heart-wrenching cries bounced off the walls of the
dungeon.
Rey said
nothing. He had seen it all before,
but a small smile pulled at the corners of his
mouth. He let Melissa scream
herself hoarse and waited until her convulsing body went
limp. Then he went to
her. Slowly he released the tension
on the pear, letting it fall from her now overextended
vagina. A low gurgling moan escaped
Melissa’s lips as the hideous device was
withdrawn. The sudden release
from pain sent a sensation through her loins that almost felt pleasurable,
although everywhere else she was racked with
pain.
“Now my dear,” said Rey, “the
location of the treasure. Where
is it buried?”
“I can’t… tell
you…where…,” Melissa
gasped. “Can’t tell
you where…”
Rey
smiled. “Yes you can my
dear, yes you can. If you do
I will make the pain go away. You
would like that, wouldn’t you?”
Melissa
nodded. She had been broken,
but did not yet realize it. The
Inquisitor’s words seemed very
reasonable. She would do what
he wanted.
She whimpered as he withdrew the hooks from
her breasts. And she cried out
when he replaced the hooks with two large gold
rings. The pain as he inserted
the rings into the wounds was almost as great as the original
injury. After Rey had placed
the rings, the two guards held her so that the locks of the pillory could
be released and her arms and legs freed.
As the blood flowed back into her cramped muscles pain came with it,
and she shook with agony as her dead limbs returned to
life.
They carried her to the
rack. Melissa only knew that
she was being allowed to lie down for the first time in
hours. She did not even complain
when she was turned face down and the leather cuffs were fastened to her
wrists and ankles. Rey spent
a few minutes cleaning her up. He
lifted her head and gave her a drink of a bitter tasting stuff that would
help stop her bleeding. Otherwise,
as his experience had taught him, she would bleed for days where the pear
had ravaged her.
Now she was
ready. This time she would answer
his questions. He turned the
windlass on the rack, tightening the ropes holding Melissa’s arms and
legs.
“No!”
Melissa’s protest was weak but
audible.
“Please…no!”
Rey tightened the
ropes. Melissa gave an almost
inaudible moan as her body was stretched
out. Rey clicked the windlass
two more times.
“Mmmmm!”
She was too weak to scream.
Rey nodded. The tension
was just right.
“Now, my dear you must answer my
questions. If you do the pain
will go away, but if you do not, it will get
worse. Do you
understand?”
Melissa did not
answer. Rey gave the windlass
another click.
“Ahhh! Yes…” Melissa gasped,
“I understand.”
“Good now tell me where you buried the
treasure.”
Tears rolled down Melissa’s
cheeks. Her breathing was tortured,
as if she had run a great distance.
“Nowhere,” she groaned.
“It’s buried
nowhere.”
Click!
Rey turned the windlass another
notch.
“Ahhh!” From somewhere Melissa found the strength
to scream.
“That is not the answer,
Melissa. Tell me where it is
buried.”
“I
cannot. There is… no buried
treasure.”
Rey place his hand in the small of her
back. “So smooth,”
he thought, “so soft.” He
had waited long enough. He had
made progress today. Tomorrow
she would tell him everything.
He slacked off the ropes on her
wrists. Melissa gave a sigh of
relief as the tension eased.
Several more turns and the ropes holding her wrists were completely
slack. Moving to the end of the
rack he pulled her halfway off so that she lay bent over the rack with her
feet touching the floor. The
ropes still attached to her wrists kept her from falling to the
floor. He moved closer to her
and loosened the ties on his trousers.
He was already erect and the Red Dragon’s backside was completely
vulnerable.
He placed his hands on her muscular buttocks
and spread her cheeks. At the
last second the redhead realized what he was up to and came out of her
stupor. “Oh no!” she
moaned.
“Don’t! Please
don’t!”
Rey found her tight
anus. It was a battle, but he
forced his way in. The redhead
writhed feebly; too weak to fight back or even tighten her
sphincter. But she could still
scream.
“Ahhh!”
Her voice was so hoarse that
it came out like the caw of a sick crow.
She kicked her legs weakly and then screamed again as Rey pushed into
her.
“Should have taken you earlier,”
he muttered, “when you had more
fight.” He gripped her finely
curved hips and drove forward with all of his
strength. The thrust took him
deep with the moaning woman, but she had nothing
left. He raped her for half an
hour before he ejaculated. But
he was not satisfied.
“I’ll have you again,” he said “and next time
the way a man takes a woman.”
Melissa whimpered as the rawhide thong tightened
around her left breast. Her right
demiglobe was already compressed in the same
way. She had recovered from her
last session with Rey. He had
left her alone for a week while the Duke’s doctor ministered to
her. Somehow he had convinced
the Duke that he needed time and that she needed to be in perfect health
in order to be tortured properly.
For awhile she thought that she was simply going to be taken out and
given the public execution that the Duke had promised the people of
Dakmora.
When the guards had come for her she had already
prepared herself for her death. It
was with a strange mixture of relief and fear that she saw
Rey. So she was not going to
be executed, but she was going to be
tortured. She looked the gangly
Inquisitor in the eye, refusing to turn her gaze away from his disconcerting
watery gaze.
But he did not take her right
away. Rey ordered her to strip
first. Melissa considered resisting,
but realized that Rey would probably get more enjoyment out of forcing her
to strip than just watching her. So
she removed the simple sackcloth robe that she had been given while recovering
from her injuries. She was almost
healed. Her vagina was still
very sore, and the double puncture wounds made by the rings in each breast
still ached, but the Duke’s personal physician was a man possessed of
great skill. Some even claimed
that he had made a pact with Mysara, goddess of
healing. Whatever the source
of his skill, Melissa had healed rapidly enough that
Rey considered her fit for another
session.
She was heavily laden with
chains. It was obvious that her
reputation was still respected in spite of the fact that she had made no
effort to escape. Not that she
had been given much chance, as she had never worn less than fifty pounds
of iron, except when she was chained to the rack or some other fiendish torture
device. She wondered what delights
Rey had to show her this day.
This time it was the wheel, which was merely
a variation on Rey’s favourite instrument of torture, the
rack. With quick efficiency,
Rey removed the shackles she wore while transferring her to the
wheel.
The wheel was actually more like a large revolving
drum. It stood almost two heads
taller than Melissa and was about an arrow shaft
wide. Along each rim were a number
of eyebolts to which chains or ropes could be
secured. Melissa’s arms
were stretched over her head and secured to eyebolts on either side of the
rim. Then the wheel was rotated
slightly so that she was lifted about a foot off the
ground. The chains holding her
ankles were chained to large rings in the stone
floor. All Rey had to do the
cause her excruciating pain was to rotate the wheel a few degrees.
Rey stood in front of the helpless
redhead. He still marveled at
her incredible beauty. There
was indeed something almost magical about
her. How else could she have
healed so quickly? The Duke’s
personal physician was highly skilled, but he had never seen anyone recover
the way that she had. And then
there was the dragon tattoo. The
more he looked at it, the more it intrigued
him. It really did seem like
a living creature. Whoever had
created it had been a true master of his
art. Each scale was minutely
inscribed and coloured with carefully chosen shades of red
ink. It must have been excruciatingly
painful for the girl to have had such detail carved into her satin
skin. Small wonder that she endured
pain so well.
His brow
furrowed. Was it is imagination
or had the tattoo changed? It
seemed that the angle of its head had changed a
little. He shook his
head. That was
impossible. Tattoos did not
change. No doubt it was a trick
of the light or a slight change in the curvature of the girl’s
breasts. He licked his
lips. It seemed he did that every
time her gazed as her naked bosom.
And why not. Breasts like
those cried out to be suckled.
He moved between her
legs. Her body was tightly stretched
and he knew that she must be in considerable
discomfort. But she showed little
sign of the pain she was enduring.
He moved the outside of his hands up her inner
thighs. Her flesh was warm and
yielding, and yet strong and firm.
Reaching the point where her legs came together, he moved his right
hand over her vulva. Slowly he
parted her soft vaginal petals and inserted his middle finger into
her. He felt the redhead’s
body tense and there was a slight interruption in her breathing as he touched
her. He gave a little grunt of
satisfaction. She was still alarmed
by the touch of a man. Strange
in one who had been raped so often.
By now she should have been used to
it.
He pushed his finger in as far as it would
go. The Red Dragon’s warm
flesh closed around his intruding digit like a velvet
vise. So tight, and yet he had
loosened her until she resembled a cheap whore only a few days
ago. He gazed at the head of
the dragon again. Its ruby-like
eyes glared back at him with its fixed unblinking
stare. He moved his hands to
his waistband and undid the ties that held up his
trousers. He would take her like
a woman now, as he had promised himself.
Melissa tried to remain impassive as she was
raped. Rey was not physically
impressive, but rape was something she never got used to, no matter how many
times it happened. Certainly
she learned to handle the violence of the act better the more times it was
done to her, but she never got over the humiliation or degradation of being
forced to submit to the sexual act.
She found herself wondering if other women felt the same
way. Probably they
did. And did that apply to whores
also? How many of them had chosen
their trade freely? Was being
a whore like being raped for money?
Her thoughts returned to
“So,” bellowed a voice, “this
is why you delay your questioning of the dragon
bitch? I suspected as
much.”
Rey almost wet himself as Duke Roland strode
into the room. His engorged phallus
deflated like a burst balloon.
“Your excellency,” he gabbled, hastily pulling up his
tight-fitting trousers. Clumsily
he attempted a hurried bow and almost fell
over. His pale face alternately
coloured and returned to its normal pallor.
“I have been waiting two weeks for this
redheaded bitch to speak, and you convinced me to wait longer, insisting
that your methods would get the best
results. So far as I can see
they might get her with child, but I doubt that you will make her
talk. She has already seen more
cocks than most hens.”
“My lord, I did not expect you, but please
be assured that my methods are in your
interest. I have determined through
my torture that the Red Dragon fears rape more than she does the
rack. The rack is only
pain. Rape is the ultimate
humiliation.”
The Duke did not seem
convinced. “I had expected
better results than this,” he said.
He moved close to the helpless redhead and placed a hand on her flat
belly.
“She seems hardly
to have been touched.” He
lifted one of the rings piercing Melissa’s
breasts. “Except for these
ornaments, what have you done? What
have you learned?”
Rey spluttered out a few of the facts that
Melissa had divulged to him. The
Duke turned a dark glance on his
Inquisitor. “I needed to
know nothing of he adventures abroad,” he
roared. “Where is the
treasure?”
Rey went silent, his pale features and his
wide mouth making him look like some strange albino
frog. The Duke lowered his
voice. “Rey, you have never
failed me before. But I think
that this dragon bitch may have bewitched
you. I think today I will have
a hand in her torture.” He
looked at the rawhide thongs that were slowly distorting Melissa’s
breasts. “I see that you
have at least gotten started.
Let’s see if I can’t speed things
up.”
The Duke strode to a bucket a few feet
away. Stooping he held up two
more lengths of rawhide.
Let’s see if stretching those tits will get any kind of reaction
from her.” Deftly he tied
each of the two thongs to the rings in Melissa‘s breast and then extending
them he tied each one to a ring in one of the ceiling
beams.
Melissa grunted in pain as her breasts were
pulled into sharp points. Already
the slowly shrinking rawhide bands that Rey had tied around her breasts were
causing her considerable pain.
“There,” said the Duke, leering at Melissa in
satisfaction. “That should
make a difference. Now we just
let the rawhide do its work, but perhaps a little entertainment while we
wait.”
The Duke unbuckled his belt and set aside
his sword. Then he unlaced the
front of his trousers. “You
remember this, I’m sure,” he said to
Melissa. “It is eager to
reacquaint itself with that tight honey pot of
yours. And thanks to my Inquisitor
it has already been well lubricated for me.”
Melissa fought back tears as the Duke entered
her. To be ravished again by
the villainous nobleman was humiliating in the extreme, and the anguished
expression on her face revealed the shame she
felt.
Duke Roland grinned into the face of his victim
as he tightened his grip on Melissa’s
backside. “Don’t pretend
you don’t like this, you little bitch,” he
taunted. “You’ve got
a real man in you now. One that
knows what a woman wants.”
“You are filthy scum,” Melissa
gasped. “The only way you
can get a woman is to take one by
force.”
“Bitch!” exclaimed the Duke, thrusting
hard into her. “Bitch,
I’ll have you begging for this before I’m
through.” He hammered into
her as hard as he could, trying to inflict maximum
pain. To his consternation, Melissa
showed none of the fear and anguish she had when he had first captured and
raped her.
“Uuunnggh!”
Melissa
grunted. The bands around her
breasts were very tight now, causing her breasts to bulge out like inflated
bladders. The pain was intense,
and Duke Roland was adding to it through his savage
thrusts. Melissa’s hair
flew wildly in all directions as he drove in and out of
her. Soon she was groaning as
her beautiful breasts were both squeezed and stretched by the rawhide tethers
the Duke had added. With the
Duke shaking her like a rag doll she feared that the rings piercing her breasts
would rip out of her tender flesh.
“Aaahhh!
Aaahh!” cried the Duke as he
climaxed. Breathing heavily,
he staggered away from the moaning form of the woman he had just
violated. “That’s how
it’s done, Rey! The way
a real man does it! He turned
to the angular Inquisitor.
“I’ll give you two days.
Either she tells where the treasure is or I’ll deal with her
myself. I’d do it anyway
if I didn’t have so much else to attend
to.” With that the Duke
of Dakmora turned on his heel and left the
dungeon.
Rey had been standing sulkily in one corner
of the dungeon. “Two
days? He gives me just two
days? The man has no soul, no
sense of artistry. I’ll
give him his two days, but there won’t be much left for him to
execute.” He moved over
to Melissa and with an intense fury, he cut the rawhide tethers stretching
her breasts as well as removing the two compression
bands.
“Now,” he
growled. “That’s enough
games. You will tell me what
I want to know or I will destroy
you!” Pulling a lever, he
rotated the wheel. Melissa screamed.
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