from The Dark History of Castle Montenegro...

[GreyJack]

The Count's face darkened as he pushed it closer into Louise's cowering gaze. He gave her nipple a final, heart-piercing wrench and released it, only to slap her breast hard.

"That had better be the very last 'No' I hear from your lips," he growled. He stepped backwards and swept his eyes across the three women. "From any of you! Hear me?"

The Count's boots rang heavily on the floorstones of the dungeon space as he paced quickly back and forth. "My dogs hunt by the scent of prey. So that is what you were. I hunt by eye and I measure sharply. It matters nothing to me what nor who you were before. I suspect you have no learning so your duties here will be simple, but you will learn them well." He pointed at each one in turn. "Kitchen. Halls. Bed. Those will be your duties and your names from now on. You will answer to whichever I call you whenever it pleases me or there is work to be done." A cruel smile curled his lips as he saw how the women's faces registered their shock, their revulsion, and their fear.

He nodded. "I see. Kitchen thinks she will smuggle herself out in a barrel of slops for the pigs. Halls already plots to unbolt the door at night and flee. And Bed believes she will blind me with her naked charms, take my dagger, and plunge it into my heart to gain her freedom." He repeated the nod. "You are neither the first nor shall you be the last to hold such foolish dreams."

The Count walked over to a small heavy wooden chest bound with iron and unlocked it from a key slung on a leather thong around his neck. He reached in and pulled out a thick bundle of thin sagging sheets of some material and tossed them contemptuously on a table. For a long silent moment, he fingered the sheets, his eyes seeming to glaze over, then he snapped his head around to face the women again.

"These," he said, holding up the bundle, "were your predecessors -- that means, for you simple-minded sluts, the ones who came before you. Like you they dreamed of their freedom." He carefully selected the top sheet and held it out for the women to see more closely. It was nearly transparent, but even in the dim light of the candles, they could see the darker round circles of a pair of nipples on the sheet.

Two of the women gasped loudly and shrank back against the wall. The third made loud retching noises in the back of her throat and pulled at the chains on her wrists as if she had suddenly gone mad and wild.

The Count nodded a third time at them. He gathered the bundle of sheets up and tossed them back into the trunk, closing the lid and locking it. "I see we have already reached a little understanding. Good. For now, you..." he pointed at the woman flailing uselessly at her chains, "..will be Bed. So you have many hours to think on how I take my pleasures there. You..." he directed his attention to the taller woman, "will pluck those thorns from your skin and clothes and then be Kitchen for the day. See that my plate is cleaned well. That idiot of a cook is more swine than man. And you..."

The Count walked up to Violet, the blacksmith's daughter. His eyes drank in her firm body and he grunted loudly. He trailed a finger across her cheek. "Halls for now. Sweep and clean, clean and sweep." He moved his open palm back and forth in front of her eyes, then leaned closer, sniffing at her skin. "Humph. Perhaps with the soot washed off you and bent over the dining table..." He looked deeply into her eyes and nodded. "Never been fucked yet, have you, Halls? Of course not, what one of those village scum would dare your father's ire? But here, that will not protect your...virtue." He dropped his hand and cupped it over the mound between her thighs. "This I can take whenever it pleases me...slave."

The Count laughed harshly and swung his gaze across all three women again. "The same for all of you and especially for whichever I call Bed for the night."

From the table, the Count snatched up his riding quirt and flicked it in the air, moving from woman to woman. The tall one and the blacksmith's daughter he unhitched the chains from the hooks, but left their manacles on. "Kitchen and Halls," he keened, caressing each one's face in turn with the end of the quirt. 'Go find your places!"

As they turned in the dungeon doorway, they saw him advance closer to the third woman, still pulling uselessly at her chains. She froze as the Count came closer...he spun her around and ripped open the linen top from neck to waist, running the tip of the quirt up and down the pale unmarked flesh of her back. "Oh," he murmured, "so pretty." Turning her back around to face him, he looked deeply into her eyes, seeming to probe her depths to her very soul. "I shall enjoy taming you, Bed. Indeed, I shall." With a low rumbling chuckle, he turned and left the room.