The
A
Cordelia Delacourt Adventure
Chapter
4 Worthy
Subjects
Cordelia sat across from von Thorstenburg and sipped her
tea. It was very fine tea,
“How do you find your tea, Miss Delacourt?” the Baron asked. “I prefer coffee so I hope that it was properly prepared.”
“It’s fine. A little strong perhaps, but of excellent quality.”
“The strength was necessary to cover up the taste of the sleeping potion I had put in it,” the Baron smiled.
“Sleeping potion?” Cordelia responded. “Why would you do such a thing?” She tried to stand up but found that her feet and legs were like lead. Beside her Liz also struggled to rise but fell back into her chair.”
“That should be quite obvious, Miss Delacourt. You and Miss Brown are the perfect candidates for the most advanced version of my bio-mechanical implant. I am going to grant you eternal life.”
“You can’t so this,” Cordelia said, as her senses swam. “It makes no sense. What would you gain by implanting your heinous device in me and Liz?”
“I will gain everything, Miss Delacourt. You see once I have completed the operation on you, then you can complete the operation on me. Not only will you have eternal life, but I will as well. Then we can work and live happily together making even greater discoveries.”
“You speak…as…if we were…husband and wife,” Cordelia slurred. She could barely make her tongue move as she rapidly lost consciousness.
“Oh, but we will be, my beauty,” von Thorstenburg smiled, “And I plan to consummate our wedding tonight.”
Cordelia heard the Baron’s reply, but was unable to answer. Suddenly she was very very tired. Her eyes closed and she slumped forward.
“Let me go,” Priscilla begged. “You have no right to do this. You are a depraved monster.”
“Oh, I agree that I am depraved,” Messalina replied. “Although monster might be putting it strongly. My brother’s creations are monsters, I merely enjoy tying up my sex partners. And as for letting you go I rather like you the way you are. I find it very arousing.”
Priscilla struggled to escape. She was tightly bound between the top bedposts of Messalina’s large four-poster bed, her arms stretched wide so that they formed a V-shape over her head. Her ankles were similarly tied although more loosely so that she was able to kneel on the bed, her ankles anchored to the bedposts at the bottom of the bed. It left her torso angled at about forty-five degrees and her pert backside pushed invitingly backward. Priscilla had never had intercourse before, but she could not help but feel vulnerable to all sorts of sexual invasion, particularly as Messalina had removed all of her clothing.
She coloured in shame as the degradation of her situation hit home. She, who had never considered going to bed with a man, was about to be forced to go to have sex with a woman. And judging from the way Messalina was dressed it would be both a humiliating and painful experience. In all of her twenty eight years she had never been so terrified or ashamed.
Messalina looked at the trembling body of her victim. She had been right. Stripped of her high-necked dresses and numerous petticoats Priscilla was a very attractive woman, with large full breasts that quivered delightfully as she strained at her bonds. Her long dark hair, freed from its prissy bun flowed over her shapely shoulders to the middle of her back. Her waist was narrow, her belly flat, and her legs long and well-muscled from years of horseback riding. They flowed upward into a well-shaped bum that begged to be spanked and eventually fucked. Messalina felt herself getting very wet, but first her victim needed a bit of tenderizing.
Messalina was dressed in her preferred outfit for this sort of activity. It consisted of a pair of short and tight bullfighter’s pants and an equally tight top that showed off her large, firm breasts and erect excited nipples. She was barefoot and intended to remain that way. Her waist length hair was done up in what she considered a Valkyrie braid that swung back and forth against her backside as she moved. She picked up her favourite riding crop and approached her terrified victim.
“You’re a virgin aren’t you?” Messalina taunted. “But I bet you’d like to have that tight little pussy stretched by something other than your own finger wouldn’t you?”
“What are you going to do?” Priscilla quavered, ignoring Messalina’s questions. She looked back over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide with fright.
“I ask the questions here, slave,” Messalina answered. “I asked you a question and I want an answer. How would you like to have something solid in that pretty little cunt?”
“Let me go,” Priscilla wailed. “I want to go home.”
It was a pathetic answer by any standards and it did not please Messalina. She brought the riding crop down smartly across Priscilla’s shapely buttocks.
“Aaaggh!” Priscilla cried. Her body jumped and she gripped the cords binding her wrists. “Stop!” she screamed.
“I’ll stop when I get an answer I like,” Messalina said. She struck again with the riding crop and then again.
Priscilla screamed delightfully, but Messalina wasn’t at all concerned about the noise. The thick stone walls of the room would contain all sound, and even if they didn’t no one would come. The servants had explicit instructions not to interrupt her until she rang and that would not be for many many hours.
Messalina gave her victim a good six strokes before repeating the question. “Now that you’re warmed up how would you like something inside that delectable pussy. Isn’t it just begging to have something thick and hard in it?”
“Noo!” Priscilla wept. To give her credit she resisted cooperating until the fifteenth stroke. By that time her shapely derriere was nicely crisscrossed with red welts although nothing had broken the skin. Still, it must have been very painful and Priscilla was sobbing steadily by the time she gave in.
“Yes, I want it yes,” Priscilla moaned. “Please stop hitting me. I’m in terrible pain.”
“At last,” Messalina said. She didn’t know if she could have held out much longer. She was dripping wet and anxious to get at her victim. She tossed aside the riding crop and removed the rest of her clothing. Completely nude, she strapped on a device she had designed herself. Claudius wasn’t the only one in the family with a penchant for invention, their interests just lay in different directions.
It was a special harness that held a large ivory phallus. The phallus was fitted so that it jutted out at an angle of about forty five degrees, perfect for impaling Priscilla’s helpless and sweating body. The genius of the design was in the fact that a second, more sharply curved phallus was pointed backward at Messalina’s dripping vulva. As she thrust into Priscilla the second phallus would penetrate her and at the same time stroke her throbbing clitoris.
“You’re going to enjoy this,” Messalina purred as she climbed onto the bed directly behind Priscilla’s inviting derriere. She moved in close and then applied a slippery lubricant to the phallus before proceeding. She only had to lubricate the one pointed toward Priscilla. Her own vagina was more than ready.
“Please don’t,” Priscilla sobbed. “I’m a virgin and what you are doing is against God’s laws.”
“I make my own laws,” Messalina laughed. She slipped between Priscilla’s legs, placed her hands on the crying woman’s hips and eased her way forward.
She did not take Priscilla quickly. Messalina liked to draw out the pleasure of the rape. Slowly she probed the lips of Priscilla’s vagina, teasing her way in. Nevertheless, Priscilla moaned in terror. As she touched the tip of the ivory phallus to her victim’s vulva, Messalina felt the second phallus caress her clitoris. She let out a low moan and shoved it in a little farther. Priscilla cried out as she was penetrated for the first time, and Messalina moaned in pleasure as her sex toy began to slide into her.
It was an incredible sensation and one that soon had Messalina gasping in erotic delight. At the same time Priscilla cried out as her tight vagina was forced open. Even the gentle entry of the ivory phallus required some effort. Priscilla was incredibly tight and the phallus Messalina had chosen was large. Soon she was perspiring from the effort and groaning in sexual ecstasy as her own phallus was driven ever deeper.
“Oh God,” Messalina groaned. “This is incredible.”
It was incredible for Priscilla as well, but in an entirely different way. The pain of penetration was agonizing and the terrible degradation of her ordeal had her crying out in pain and weeping in shame. And it got worse as Messalina quickened her pace, eventually heaving her body in a sexual frenzy against her unwilling partner. Priscilla screamed. It felt as if she was being torn apart. And then Messalina slid her body forward, gripped her breasts and shrieked as she climaxed.
Priscilla sobbed in pain and mortification. She could hardly believe what had been done to her. She had suffered a fate worse than death and at the hands of a woman at that. Even worse, however, was the shame of what she had felt as the rape began. As the huge ivory phallus had penetrated her there had been a brief instant of pleasure. It was a feeling so disgraceful that it had left her morally devastated.
She felt Messalina climb off her. The woman was panting heavily, her sweat-streaked body gleaming with sweat in the candlelight. “That was delightful, Priscilla,” Messalina said, her mouth curving in a cruel smile. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a better fuck. Somehow though I don’t think you enjoyed it as much as I did. However, I am more than willing to reward you in some way and I can’t think of anything you’d like better than a little bit of tongue-work on that sweet little cunt of yours.”
“Wh… what are you going to do?” Priscilla moaned.
“Work over your honey pot,” Messalina answered, as she stripped off her leather harness and set the double phallus carefully on the foot of the bed. Lying on her back she wriggled her body so that her torso was between Priscilla’s legs and her head directly below her prisoner’s dripping vulva. She looped her arms around Priscilla’s thighs, her hands sliding up to grip her buttocks.
“Oh no,” Priscilla moaned. “What are you doing?” She could hardly believe the incredible sensation of Messalina’s tongue as it slipped between the soft folds of her vulva.
“Sampling your sweet nectar,” Messalina answered. She buried her mouth in Priscilla’s soft muff, her tongue working unbelievable magic.
For a few moments Priscilla fought back the sensations rising within her. Then she began to moan.
Cordelia awoke with a bitter taste in her mouth. For a few seconds she recollected nothing and then gradually her last seconds of consciousness filtered through her awakening mind. Remembrance of the Baron’s last words had her suddenly wide awake. A shiver of fear ran through her when she found that she could not move.
She was lying in a large bed, but one that was not her own. She was held down by cloth straps crisscrossing her body from her neck to her feet and her wrists were pulled out to the side and similarly bound. The only direction she could look easily was straight up and she saw that the high ceiling was one huge mirror. It appeared concave so that her body and surroundings were slight magnified. It enabled her to see that several people were standing at the foot of the bed. She also noted that she was dressed, which was a great relief considering von Thorstenburg’s last comments. However, she was not wearing the dress she had worn when she had been drugged. Instead she was dressed in a filmy white gown that was belted jut below her breasts. She sensed that she was wearing little else and wondered who had undressed and then dressed her.
At either end of the bed were two huge ivory swans, their wings outspread
to form a sort of canopy over the bed.
The swan motif as well as the colour white seemed to be very popular
as it was repeated in the colour of the walls and bas-relief swans cut into
a frieze that ran around the edge of the
ceiling.
“Bizarre,” Cordelia
thought. But then everything
about the events of the last day had been bizarre, and now she was a
prisoner.
The Baron must have noticed her awakening, because one of the figures at the foot of the bed moved and then he was standing at her side looking down at her. He too had changed his clothing, and was dressed in white with a wide red sash running diagonally across his chest. “Ah, Miss Delacourt; you have awakened. I hope that you are feeling well.”
“Let me go, Herr Baron,” Cordelia demanded angrily. “You cannot hope to get away with your mad scheme. I will not be a part of it no matter what you do to me.”
“I think you will,” von Thorstenburg replied in the manner of a parent speaking to a stubborn child. “I have a number of ways of compelling your cooperation.”
Cordelia shook her head, but remained silent waiting for von Thorstenburg to continue.
“First I believe that once I have completed the implant you will appreciate the wondrous gift I have given you. Think about it, Cordelia, eternal life. The power to explore the universe to its fullest without fear of death. Second, I have your companion in my power. It has not escaped my attention that she is much more than your servant. In fact you are as devoted to her as she is to you.”
“Where is she?” Cordelia demanded. “If you have harmed her I won’t rest until you are dead.”
“Fiery words, Cordelia. But rest assured she is safe and well and will remain that way unless you prove too stubborn. Right now she is someplace you can’t reach her.”
“You are a coward,” Cordelia said. “Threatening a young girl’s life in order to force my cooperation.”
“Miss Brown is far from being a young girl,” the Baron replied. “She is a mature woman who rivals you in beauty, although she lacks your brilliant intellect. Do you know how long I have searched for a woman such as you? As soon as I read your account of your adventures I knew that you were my perfect mate. Fate brought you into my hands and now that I have you I refuse to let you go. We will be married within the hour and consummate the marriage tonight.”
It had not escaped Cordelia’s attention that the Baron was now calling her by her first name, but she refused to acknowledge the familiarity. Instead she demanded to see Liz. “I want to see Miss Brown. I want to see that she is alright.”
“And you will,” the Baron replied, “but not until we have our post nuptial breakfast tomorrow morning. Now, I will not tolerate further delays. I want your promise of cooperation and I want it now otherwise you will never see Miss Brown again.”
“What about Aunt Priscilla. Do your vile plans include her as well?”
“I am afraid your aunt does not meet my standards. I have placed her under the protection of my sister. She is being quite well cared for I assure you.”
Cordelia was not assured, but it appeared that she had little choice.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, although she thought she knew.
“Father Luke,” von Thorstenburg called, “please come here.”
A few seconds later the second man in the room moved into view. He was wearing the vestments of a priest of the Roman Catholic Church and carried a Bible.
“What is this?” Cordelia asked. “You have found a priest who is corrupt enough to perform this illegal marriage?”
Von Thorstenburg’s lip twisted in a sneer. “Father Luke has a weakness for certain young members of the cathedral choir. He has agreed to sanctify our marriage in return for my continued silence.”
“That is disgusting. Such a marriage could not possibly be binding,” Cordelia protested. “And in any case I am not of legal age. My father would never consent to such an arrangement.”
“I rule here,” von Thorstenburg said
pompously. “The age of consent
in
“If I agree will I be untied?
“Of course. I don’t doubt that you word as well as your love for Miss Brown will keep you from doing anything foolish. However, just in case I am wrong you should know that I have several men stationed outside. They can be in here in an instant.”
“The bastard is afraid
of me,” Cordelia thought.
And why shouldn’t he be?
If he had indeed read her book he would know that she was an accomplished
swordswoman and had some skill in hand-to-hand
combat. He was relying upon his
control of Liz to keep himself safe.
Resignedly she nodded her
agreement. She had little
choice. There was little doubt
that the Baron would carry out his
threat. As long as Liz and Aunt
Priscilla were held hostage she had little choice but to
cooperate. It reminded her of
the time she had been held prisoner in the African city of
“Excellent,” the Baron said. “I am going to untie you. Please do not disappoint me.”
The Baron removed the restraints from her wrists and the rest of her body and helped her to stand. For an instant Cordelia considered resisting. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, but the Baron had stacked the deck against her. She might be able to subdue him and the priest, but it would not get Cordelia back or save Aunt Priscilla. And there were the men the Baron had mentioned waiting in the corridor. There were others to consider beside herself. All she could do was hope that the opportunity to escape would offer itself. She certainly had no intention of having the Baron consummate their forced marriage. However, she hoped that sometime between the end of the marriage ceremony and the marriage bed she would learn where Liz was being held. If she did not she would act anyway, assuming that Liz was probably held prisoner somewhere in the Baron’s laboratory. She was not about to abandon her companion for any reason.
Liz’s shoulders and arms hurt ached abominably and her body shivered from the cold. It had taken her a few moments to orient herself, but she now knew exactly where she was and her body shuddered from more than just cold. She was hanging from one of the slabs in the “people room” in von Thorstenburg’s underground laboratory, her arms legs and torso banded by leather straps that held her immobile. She was also completely nude, her nipples standing out like thimbles. She was alone except for the other occupants of the room, but somehow she had a hard time thinking of them as people.
Burned into her mind were von Thorstenburg’s words before the drug in her tea had taken hold. She knew why she had had been drugged and she knew that the same thing had been done to Cordelia. But Cordelia was not in the laboratory and that meant that the Baron must be proceeding with the other part of his plan. Perhaps even now he was bending her to his will.
The thought sent a surge of adrenaline through her and galvanized her to action. She strained at the straps. There was one around each of her wrists and another just above each of her elbows. It made moving her arms almost impossible, but she tried anyway. As she struggled she remembered a stage magician she had seen before she had met Cordelia. She was working the streets near the theatre district at the time and had gone with another dollymop, a girl called Ruby, during one of their infrequent days off. “He had called himself “the Great Roderick” and the finale to his act had been escaping from a situation similar to the one she was now in. She had quite enjoyed the performance and had shown her appreciation by giving Roderick a discount on her services after the show. She had found that there was more than one reason why he was called Great.
She wasn’t exactly sure how Roderick had escaped from his bondage, but she reckoned if her could do it in five minutes then she should be able to work her way free eventually.
Half an hour later she wasn’t so
sure. She had rubbed both her
wrists raw and was breathing heavily.
As she struggled she became more and more frantic, certain that the
Baron or one of his assistants would come through the
door. She succeeded only in working
herself into a state of exhaustion.
But Liz had not survived the brutality of the back streets of
She wasn’t free, but the strap was a little looser and she put all of her remaining strength into pulling at it. With a popping sound the last of the threads gave way, freeing her arm below the elbow. With some contortion and the loss of a bit more skin she managed to work the rest of her arm free. She was then able to undo the straps on her left arm and then those on her legs.
In spite of her exhaustion she wasted no time scrambling down from the slab. She stared at the door, wondering what her next step should be. She wanted to dash to Cordelia, but feared that the other side of the door might be guarded. If it was, then getting out of the laboratory without help would be almost impossible. And then she got an idea.
In spite of her lack of formal education and rough manners, Liz was far from stupid. Although she had been silent when the Baron had bragged about his creations she had not been unobservant. She had watched carefully as he had flicked switches and turned dials and although she could not remember the exact sequence she was desperate enough to give it a try.
She moved to the console in front of Heinz and started with the switch von Thorstenburg had touched first and was rewarded with a satisfying hum. The fluids in the tubes connected to Heinz began to move and she touched the dials next, noting that as she moved the dials the flow fluids either increased or decreased. Having determined the principles behind the first console she turned to the next one. By this time Heinz was awake, but she made no move to release him before dealing with the next man.
Methodically she moved from console to console, awakening all of the sleepers, and then came to her most important decision. She was still nude, and although that was the condition of the now awakened men and women she hesitated to release them from their restraints. They outnumbered her five to one and in spite of von Thorstenburg’s description of the men as miners and the women as plague victims, she was disturbed by the obvious cars of ropes on their necks. She had seen marks like those before on the throat of a man who had been hanged. The former sleepers had been executed and she didn’t want to find herself at the mercy of a gang of criminals.
However, she realized that she didn’t really have much choice if she was going to have any chance of escape. Turning to the only one of the five whose name she knew she spoke. “Heinz, I am going to release you. Our only chance of escape is to work together. We must find clothes and then a way out of here. Do you understand me?”
Heinz nodded. Liz’s German was not anything close to as good as Cordelia’s, but she could manage and he obviously understood. She pulled a lever and moved his slab to the horizontal and then undid the straps. However, Heinz was not yet free. The tubes containing the fluid that flowed in and out of him were still connected and Liz had no idea how to deal with them. Fortunately, Heinz did. Reaching over with one of his free hands he turned a fastening where the tube entered his body, shutting off the flow of the fluid. Then he calmly detached the tube. He repeated the process with the other tubes, completely freeing himself. To Liz’s immense relief the man made no hostile moves, but simply stood waiting while she copied him and freed the others.
To Liz they were an eerie group. Each was marked by the scars of a rope on his or her throat. It was like being among the walking dead and their ghostly silence added to the effect. The only sound they made was a slight electrical hum along with the whirring of gears. She noted that one of the women made the most noise and guessed that she had probably been von Thorstenburg’s first implant. She shuddered, at the thought that the mad Baron had intended that she and Cordelia share the same fate.
As she finished releasing the last of the implants, the second man she had released did something she had not expected. He walked across the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out several surgical knives. Although not very long they were razor edged and would make deadly weapons at close range. To her relief he held them out to all of the people in the room, even her. However, she could not help noticing the predatory gaze of the man as he handed them to her. She had seen that expression in the eyes of many a man and she knew exactly what it meant. She resolved to make sure that she was never alone with any of the men she had released.
It was an incredibly strange situation. Having released the captive implants, Liz realized that she was the only one who could speak. As a result it made sense if she took charge, but she hesitated, unsure whether she would be obeyed. She tried to think of what Cordelia would do. Born into the British upper class, Cordelia had ordered servants about from the time she was a young girl. Liz, on the other hand, was much more used to taking them. “Well,” she thought, “if I’m going to get out of ‘ere. I better take charge.”
“Alright,” she said aloud. “We’re going through that door. There might be someone else on the other side who will try to stop us. If so we fight our way through. It can’t be any better that hiding in here.”
To her surprise and immense relief the mute men and women merely nodded their agreement. Liz went to the door and pushed it open. In the cavern-like room the hum of the dynamo filled the air, but there did not appear to be anyone in the vast space. Liz stopped and held up her hand. “Let’s see if we can find some clothes. I don’t fancy walking around naked any longer than I have to.”
Once again the men and women following her did what she ordered. Liz began to feel a lot better about the situation. Maybe she would get out of it somehow. She felt even better when one of the women located a closet containing suitable clothing.
It was not the type of attire polite society would have deemed proper for
a young woman, but Liz was not in polite
society. She pulled on the male
servant’s clothing, glad to have something to cover her
body. Now it was time to find
out what had happened to Cordelia.
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