Halgrim's Tower (PM to join)

Knightmare27

Literotica Guru
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OOC:

This is a group RP that tries to be sort of a "dungeon soap opera" with a recurring cast of prisoners and jailers. Anyone who is willing to join: PM me if you are interested!

IC:

Halgrim the Cruel. The common people had not even waited three years before deciding on a name for their new king. The followers of the old dynasty spoke the name with contempt, at least if their heads were not now parts of the skull pyramids that the new overlord had a disturbing habit of constructing. When you spoke to the common people, though, sometimes that name had a certain tinge of awe. The old king had been merciful, yes, but that mercy had always been negotiable. Under Halgrim, all criminals were equally doomed. Executions - always a crowd pleaser - were more plentiful than ever, but even more dreaded was the slavery he had introduced as a punishment for crimes that did not quite warrant death. Thousands of criminals were now breaking stones and rowing ships or had even disappeared. There were wild rumors about them, with most people believing that they had been assigned as slaves to Halgrim's Tower itself, toiling away in the eternal darkness of that fortress of suffering. But since so few people returned from that place, no one knew for sure.

Ah yes, Halgrim's Tower. It had received that nickname despite being only two stories high - above ground. No one except the builders who had helped construct it knew how many stories it was below, and some claimed it had passages leading to hell itself - a rumor that was helped by the screams that came from it day and night. It was a squat, ugly thing, newly built when the tyrant had taken over. Located inside the castle, it had replaced a large part of the gardens. To most, it was a symbol of dread. Some, however, had begun to see it as a sign of justice - quick, brutal, impartial.

One of the few who, of course, knew the layout of the tower like their own home, was Tyann the Jailer. That was because it was his home. A man-at-arms in Halgrim's army even before the conquest, he had been wounded in taking Shipton and, as a reward for his services, given the "lordship" of Halgrim's Tower. Few ever met him, and those who expected an inhuman beast would have been disappointed. He was a slender man, just past middle age, with short white hair. If he had worn a robe instead of the practical, tight-fitting worn leather outfit he wore at work, you could have mistaken him for a kindly priest. His blue eyes were much warmer than the eyes of the ruler of hell on earth had any right to be. His wound had slowed him down a bit - his limp was still fairly noticeable - but he had the military bearing of a veteran and the firm grip needed to keep a tower full of criminals under control. His guards - mostly former soldiers like himself - respected him, and it helped that he believed in getting his hands dirty or even bloody. You would often see him on the lower levels, checking on the prisoners, or even in the torture chambers, overseeing the treatment of more stubborn prisoners. From time to time, he would even act as the torturer himself - especially if he found a prisoner attractive. Lust was the only vice he allowed himself, and only his sense of duty kept it from being exploited by enterprising beautiful prisoners. Of course, more than one had tried to seduce her way out of the dungeon, but none had succeeded yet - though he loved to lead them on.

The top floor of the tower were his sleeping quarters as well as his office. Here, he and a few clerks kept the books meticulously - arrivals, punishments, and the very, very few departures. The ground floor was mostly an entrance hall, with dormitories for the guards on both sides of the mighty iron gate. In the back of the hall, two guards stood watch over a locked iron grating day and night. It led to a spiral staircase four stories deep. On the first level were the cells for prisoners who had earned mercy in some way - petty criminals, repentant or noble ones. They each had their own cell, with a stool, a bed of straw and even - an unthinkable luxury for the unfortunates suffering below - a tiny barred window high in the wall to supply them with light and air. Also on this level were the slave quarters (for the rumors were true, and some criminals were sentenced to spend the rest of their days tending to the other prisoners). The slaves slept on straw on the ground, chained to the wall and kept the tower clean and the prisoners fed. The most heavily guarded room on this level was the kitchen, where some of the slaves cooked the "meat" stew for the first-level prisoners as well as the revolting slop for the lower-level prisoners. This was where the most trustworthy slaves worked, since it was closest to the surface and escape. Still, there were always several guards stationed inside and outside this room.

The second level. A pitch-black pit where only lamps and torches brought some light whenever a guard or slave had to go there. Common criminals suffered here in mass cells covered in filthy straw, often naked and chained to the wall. However, this was nothing compared to the horrors of the third level. Here, even the luxury of standing up was denied. These were holes, not cells, and the prisoners had to spend their days lying down in pitch darkness listening to the screams from below. This was for the worst of the worst - the most heinous criminals and those who had repeatedly resisted torture were softened up here - or sometimes driven insane. And the the fourth level! This was where the rumors of tunnels to hell came from. In a central chamber and several smaller rooms, deep under the earth, tortures were inflicted here on anyone who insisted on their innocence. Often, fear alone did all the work, but sometimes the horrifying instruments on this level had to be used, and most prisoners quickly came to regret their stubbornness.
 
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Getting caught was most certainly not in her plan. She kept her head low as she was led into the tower. All knew that getting caught in any kingdom was bad but here, in the realm of Halgrim the Cruel it was far worse.

Emmeline was angry with herself. She was better than this but she had gotten greedy. She knew the temple was a bad idea but she also knew the priests tended to keep a great deal of coin on hand. It was supposed to help the poor, the upkeep on the temple but all knew it was to pay off the guards and fill the king's pockets. She figured it was fine to free a little of that coin. Perhaps if she had stuck to just the coin she wouldn't be in this mess now.

The little statue had just been too tempting. Too easy to slip into her pocket. Stupidly, she had not even added it to her sack the thing she could drop if need be. No, she had kept it on her person. A rookie mistake that the experienced thief should never have made.

Now she was in chains and being led to meet the jailer to find out where he wanted her in this place of torture.

Emmeline tried to keep the fear at bay but she could hear the screams, her nose burned from the smells. A cold sweat trickled down her back. She was glad she was allowed to keep her clothes. At least in this moment the slim, dark haired woman had some dignity left. She had no doubt this place would try to take it from her as well as break her spirit.

"New arrival. Stole from the temple of Demara. Found the artifact on her person."

The guard shoved Emmeline forward and onto her knees. He gripped her dark, wavy hair and forced her to look up. Large, bright blue eyes framed with long eyelashes looked towards the man who was to decide her fate. She didn't look like a common thief. Her skin was smooth, pale like a noble's might be. It seemed the woman did not spend a great deal of time in the fields, in the sun.

The grip on her hair forced her head back in a way that strained her neck. The guard did not seem to care. Emmeline clenched her teeth together. She would not give them the satisfaction of any sound of discomfort. If they were going to break her she planned to make him work for it.
 
Tyann looked down at the beautiful young woman sternly, but his voice was soft as he spoke: "Emmeline... I have seen many thieves here, but you had to steal from a temple! Of course, the priests are going to have my head if you are not punished most harshly, I hope you realize that? A normal thief, I could send to a normal cell, and if she repented, she might even get away with whipping, or slavery. But you? Noble girl, by the look of it, so you probably were not even desperate when you stole it. You just took it because it was pretty, didn't you? Took the most valued and sacred thing in the entire temple because it was shiny? I ought to punish you for idiocy as well as sacrilege!"

He slapped her, hard, in the face, but continued to speak softly: "Now, I very much suggest you give a full confession and do not force me to torture it out of you. And then, show repentance! I might yet spare you the hangman. In the meantime, I have no choice but to have you brought to the third floor. There, you will find the harshest of cells... more like holes, really. Maybe a few days lying in the dark, naked, eating slop and listening to the screams of torture will make you more reasonable, although I doubt that..."

Turning to the guards, he said, in a slightly more commanding tone: "Strip her and bring her down to the third floor. Throw her in one of the cells there, chain her up and leave her there for the night. I will see what she has to confess tomorrow morning."

She really was beautiful... it would be a shame if she went to the gallows. He decided to keep that one as a kitchen slave. Hopefully, he could persuade the judge to allow this, maybe by suggesting a huge public whipping in addition to slavery. He did not often get sentimental - especially about prisoners - but he felt it would be a shame if he allowed a noose to close around this pale, slender neck and choke the life out of someone young and beautiful. Much better to keep her around in the kitchens, and maybe for a lonely night or two. She would live, but she would regret it.
 
He knew her name. The muscles in her jaw flexed. It meant it wouldn't take long for him to figure out who she was and that she wasn't from this realm. She had certainly gotten herself way in over her head this time.

The slap was a contrast to his soft voice. He was speaking as if reprimanding a child yet her cheek stung. Her head didn't move with the blow. The guard kept her head very still. It made it hurt worse. She felt it all the way from chin to temple. Tears stung her eyes but she did not cry out. The muscles in her neck strained.

Emmeline felt her heart stop as he told her she was going to be in the harshest of cells. She was still trying to come to terms with the fact that the little statue was so valuable. Sacred? It? Emmeline felt like a fool.

He ordered her stripped. The guards wasted no time. She was hauled to her feet by her hair. Her shirt was cut from her body. The loose, dark fabric fell away to reveal bindings. She had forgone a corset, too constricting for slipping into smalls spaces or running. She bound her breasts down when she went out. The guards looked at each other. Emmeline felt the cold blade of a knife slice the bindings up the back. Firm breasts with the palest pink nipples were bared to the room. She looked almost like porcelain. She turned her head, hiding her embarrassment.

"Lift your foot." She did as ordered and her boot was pulled off. The procedure was repeated with the other boot and then her soft, does skin leggings were pulled down unceremoniously. Everything was left on the floor for a servant to clean up. Emmeline had the sinking feeling that she would never see her pants or boots again.

A guard lifted the chains, pulling her wrists upwards. Her body was completely on display to them. The other guard began running his hands over her body. "Need to make sure you aren't hiding anything."

Her chin quivered but Emmeline didn't make a sound. She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew all three men could see all of her. The guard holding the chains pulled them upwards tighter. The motion made her breasts lift. Her nipples grew hard in the exposed air.

The other guard began to slowly touch her. He parted the cheeks of her ass, running his fingers up between them. His hands touched every part of her and then finally, he came to stand in front of her. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

He let out a soft groan as his fingers touched the soft dark hair that covered her sex. She didn't have as much as some women, it was fine and even delicate. His fingers parted the lips of her sex. "I was hoping you'd be wet. Oh well..."

A dry finger pressed into her. Now, Emmeline cried out and turning her head, spat at the guard.

He pulled away and wiped his face. "Bitch. Some fight in this one."
 
When he saw her pale, naked body, he was more thankful than ever before for his thick leather clothing which was now hiding a huge bulge... the sight of this innocent, yet guilty girl, naked, made him even more determined to save her life and keep her for himself.

Still, he tried to be as dignified as possible as he approached the naked, shivering thief. Without changing his expression, he suddenly punched her in the stomach, hard. Yet his voice remained calm. "You will be here for quite some time, so it is better if you learn the rules quickly. The most important rule is: Prisoners have no rights. You must earn everything here, by obedience and respect. Spitting at a guard shows you have not understood that yet, so I had to punish you."

He took a step back and sounded more official now: "A full confession now would be very much in your interest. If not, we meet in the torture chamber tomorrow morning. Guards - take her down."

The group approached the grate, which one of the two guards there unlocked. The other one hurried to get the jailer a lantern, which he took and proceeded to lead them downstairs. It was a long, narrow and well-used stone stairway they entered, the grating slamming into its rests upstairs. For the first few steps, there was a little bit of light, then only Tyann's lantern. Its red-orange light threw long shadows on Emmeline's naked body and gave it a mysterious glow that made her look even more beautiful.

They reached the door to the first level and stopped for a bit. "Our luxury cells. Full of things you will miss very soon, like daylight and fresh air. Oh, how you will miss them!". On they went, down to the second floor door. "Common cells, the normal place for a thief like you. But you committed sacrilege, so on we go." Finally the third floor. The taller of the two guards turned to unlock the door, but the jailer stopped him with a gesture. "Wait. Our guest deserves to know what is in store for her."

The guard understood and smiled nastily as they continued ever downwards. The last floor. A guard was posted in front of the door and hurried to unlock as he saw the group approaching. It seemed as if even the door was determined to add to the atmosphere as it swung open with an ominous creak.

Inside, silence, and the smell of stale air, sweat and blood. No one was being tortured at the moment, so the torches on the walls were unlit and most of its horrors were, probably to the relief of the young captive, hidden by the darkness. They stepped in.

"And this is why a confession would be so good for you. Not only would it lighten your conscience, it would also mean neither I nor any of my colleagues would have to apply little tricks like this one", he said, carefully taking thumbscrews off a shelf close to them. He held them very close to the woman's face so she could take in the details.
 
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The punch knocked all the air from her body. She would have fallen to her knees if the guard was not still holding her arms above her head.

Emmeline struggled to catch her breath. They didn’t care though. She was being moved, forced to walk with them. Tears stung her eyes and then fell onto her cheeks. Her lungs burned, she stomach hurt and the chains were rubbing her skin raw. She wanted to cry out for them to stop, for them to release her. She wanted to tell them who her parents were but all that would cause more danger to her life, more pain.

As she was led through the tower Emmeline tried to memorize the path. If she could escape she needed to know how to get out.

The lower in the levels they moved the danker and staler the air grew. On the last level Emmeline stared, wide eyed in horror at the room. Then, her eyes grew larger and her fear was clear as the man held the clamp to her face.

Emmeline was opening shaking now. “You would torture a woman?”

——
“She is gone and far longer than the other times.” The man shifted uncomfortably. He knew his lord would be displeased.

“No sign of a body? No ransom? Did you get the -“

“We have checked everywhere my lord.”

“Send out word to a few of the neighbouring kingdoms. I need her found. If she falls into the wrong hands it means we have nothing to stop Halgrim from invading us. The marriage was going to unite Loterring with us, we would have been a strong front to fight him off. I need her found. And gods save us all if Halgrim finds out.”
 
He laughed at her surprise: "Would and do, almost daily. Here in the torture chamber, everyone is equal. If you do not confess, we will make you regret that decision, and then regret ever having been born."

He got as close as possible and gripped one of her hands. They were soft, cold and felt like shivering silk in his large, rough paws. His thumb stroked hers as he continued. "Tomorrow morning, these tender little thumbs will go between the big metal bars on this thumbscrew. And then I will tighten them. Tighter, tighter... until your thumbs turn dark red and start bleeding. But do not think it will be over then. The true agony comes next, when I loosen that screw and the blood comes shooting back. That is when some faint from the pain, but do not think we will give you a long break just because of that."

He took the next instrument, a thick, rough rope with wooden handles at the end and gave it to the guards. He then took her small, tender hands and pressed the wrists together as the guards wound the rope around them as tightly as possible. When they were done, they both took a step back, as did Tyann.

Suddenly, without warning, they pulled on the rope as hard as they could. Rough hempen threads dug into her pale flesh almost like blades. Then, just as suddenly, they started pulling back and forth together, as if sawing wood. The rope slid over her tender skin again and again. They stopped and made another loop about her arms, a little farther up.

As they pulled it tight again and began their awful sawing, the jailer watched the prisoner's face closely. Eventually, he gestured for them to stop and said: "Just a demonstration what the torture of the rope can do. Tomorrow, it will not stay at two loops. Tomorrow, we will go all the way up to your elbows. Oh, and do not worry if it feels like your arms are breaking: That is just a feeling. They will be fine."
 
He touched her, his thumbs touching hers. It was almost a tender, caring touch. It turned her stomach as he described what he would do to her thumbs. How could he be so heartless? He seemed to enjoy the idea of causing her pain. Clearly he had done it before as he described it in great detail.

Emmeline could almost feel it just from his words. She felt herself grow tense with fear. She watched as he gave the guards some sort of roped contraption. Her hands were held as it was tightened. They all moved away and Emmeline looked around frantically. The pain was sudden and intense.

She cried out. “Stop!”

It felt as if they were cutting her hands off. Then the rope was added to her arms. Again, she screamed as the rope bit into her soft flesh. Emmeline was sobbing. She had never experienced such pain in her life. She looked up, eyes wide with fear. It was almost as if her mind was elsewhere though, like she was retreating from the pain in her mind.

His voice brought her back. “Stop, please...” She pleaded with him softly. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him who she was. In truth she wasn’t entirely sure that would help her. She regretted coming here, the one place she should have avoided. She regretted going into the temple, she regretted taking the statue. She regretted everything.
 
"We have stopped, girl", he said, soothingly. "If you scream that loudly today, do you even want to imagine what tomorrow will be like?"

The guards unwound the rope. The whole area where it had been was smeared with blood and deeply indented. Her hands had gone almost purple. He held them again and rubbed some life back into them. "Your poor, poor hands. And to think that we are not even torturing you yet..."

He stepped a bit into the distance and lit two torches next to a ladder-like contraption. The fires flared up and suddenly revealed it, as if it had appeared directly from hell. He had her brought a little closer and touched a winch at the bottom. "The Stretching Ladder. Your feet go here" - he patted the rope around the winch, "your hands go there" - he pointed at a hook at the far upper end - "and you will be stretched in between them. Simple, yet relentless. And it will render you totally helpless. So use your imagination and think what else we can do to you while you are up there."

He stepped closer to her again, sure that his lecture had had the desired effect. "So, to answer your question, we do torture women here. And they all confess. The only difference is how long they scream before they do. So, tell me, Emmeline: How long do you plan on screaming before you spill your secrets? Think."
 
“You know my crime. You know my secrets.” She shrunk away from him a little. “Please. Let me serve time and then let me go.”

Emmeline stared at the ladder and visions of being stretched and prodded, touched or worse, defile her.

She tried to sound confident. She tried to stand taller but there was still pain in her hands and in her arms. She was still aware that she was naked and trapped in this room with these men. She knew she was helpless. Now, it wasn’t just about sparing herself the pain. She needed to get out of this kingdom. She needed to get away.

“You have it. Please - whip me and let me go.” Her eyes were wide, blue shiny with unshed tears.
 
"I know your crime, yes. But I must hear an actual confession from you, and you must tell me everything about your crime. If not, I fear we will have another meeting tomorrow"

He took her chin in his hands and looked into her eyes. "You are terrified. Good. You should be. Maybe a little bit of you is still telling you that you can get through this, that you can hold on to your secrets. Do not listen to it. It is your enemy. Tell me the whole truth, and you shall have the whip you so desperately crave. We might even spare your life."

"Enough for today", he finally said. The guards escorted her up the stairs and towards the third floor door. It unlocked and in the blackness behind it was a long row of reinforced wooden doors. They were all only knee high, showing quite clearly what tiny cells lay behind them.
 
Emmeline blinked away tears as he held her chin.

She was led away, forced into her cramped cell. She could only really feel what they were doing as the chains were locked in place. She laid there as they secured her, as if the chains were actually necessary. The cell was locked and she was pitched into complete darkness.

The screams of the other prisoners immediately filled her ears. The smells wafted to her, filling her nose to the point where Emmeline thought she might vomit. It took very little time for her fear and sadness to overwhelm her. She began to cry, deep wracking sobs that shook her whole body.

There was no rest for her. Sleep was kept at bay by the noises of the tower. She had no idea if it had been five minutes or five hours.

In his chamber a servant waited with documents.. It was reports from various spies and informants. The going’s on of the kingdom, the black market and suspected thieves and spies - all the information came through the jail. It was how the guards always seemed to be able to catch all the criminals.

In this pile of papers was a report about Lady Emmeline, daughter of the Lord Glenfeld of Jura. She was to be married to the son of the Lord of Lotering. It would unite the kingdoms and they would have a united front against their lord here. She was missing and there was a reward for her return home. Of course, there was more advantage of the agents of Halgrim’s kingdom found her first.
 
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Tyann tried to banish the image of his young, pretty prisoner from his mind until shortly past midnight. Finally, he sighed and took his keyring. Her night would not be as lonely as she had feared...

The guards opened the door to the cells as he approached. They knew exactly what their commander was up to, but knew him well and thus remained completely expressionless. He continued downstairs, to the third level, then through the door, then...

He paused for a moment. He could feel his heart throb and his penis burn with blood. His mouth was dry with anticipation as he carefully locked the door to the stairway, then unlocked the door to Emmeline's cell. She had not been sleeping, and looked at him as he thrust the lantern into her tiny hole. The guards had removed her transport shackles and attached her ankle to a long chain mounted on the wall. She was still enchantingly beautiful, only a thin layer of dirt marring her skin for now.

He crouched to get a better view. "Good evening, Emmeline. Do not be scared. It is not time for your torture yet... I just wanted to get a better look at our new arrival. Surely you must be desperate to stretch your legs, right? Come on out, and show yourself to me."

He stood back and waited if she would comply. After a few hours in there, the invitation to stand must have been tempting. Even just looking into the cells on this floor always made him shudder with the thought of being locked in there for days...
 
The sound of his voice made her jump. She almost started crying in relief as he offered her the chance to get out and stretch her legs. She didn't care that she was naked and he would be able to look at her. She wanted out of this hole, out of this cell. She wanted to move.

Slowly, Emmeline made her way out of the cell. Her body screamed at her as she stood. Joints ached. Blood moved along her body. She felt slightly dizzy. She raised her arms slowly stretching them over her head.

"Thank you." She turned her eyes to the jailer. As she lowered her arms she brought one to cover her chest. The other moved to hide her sex from his sight. Emmeline knew she was totally at his mercy. She could see no way to escape and though in appearance he seemed like she might be able to overpower him she knew that was deceiving. She had felt the grip on her chin, on her arm. He was much stronger than he looked.
 
He placed his lantern on a shelf and looked at her for a moment before he came closer. His hands gently brushed over her cheeks, then he pulled her closer. Her hair brushed against his chest and he stroked it as he whispered to her:

"What a waste to hide such a beauty away in the dark... Come on, do not be shy. Remember that you will be under torture tomorrow, and we will see everything you have to offer no matter how much you hide it now. You have so much to be proud of - except, of course, for your judgement as a thief."

He smiled and knelt down in front of her. His fingertips caressed her ankle where she was shackled to the wall. Then they slowly moved upwards on the insides of her legs until they reached her hand covering her sex. His right hand took her fingers while his left rested on her shoulder.

"It honors you that you are trying to preserve your modesty. You are a virgin, I trust? Not used to being seen naked by men? Oh, what men have been missing out on! If I was a judge, I would consider that alone to be a crime of the highest order, Emmeline!"
 
OOC
LaVonda
Age: 22
Weight: 165 pound
Height; 5'7"
Facial features: dark hair, cream coffee eyes, pierced ears mixed
lineage, a servant mark on left cheek resembling a she wolf
Body type: svelte figure. 36D 37 42
Other distinguishing features: mark of ownership Brockenshire Brothels a black rose on left shoulder. Golden tattoo on stomach of a.lion, a mark from orphanage summer 14 (date she arrived at ophanage) on her back centered , two red teardrops on right arm (symbolizing she lost newborns during birth)

IC:

Lavonda was brought to judgement by several soldiers. Her crime was arson and her partner in crime had died in the fire along with several other people and sluts that were "owned" by the brothel

LaVonda told her side of the truth. A patron had been smoking in the lace room. She admitted to being aware of his pipe habit as he had been there several times before. LaVonda said the Mother aka owner had collected the fee and they went upstairs.

LaVonda said the man was a soldier if some kind due to the ribbons on his vest. She described them perfectly but said she told him to extinguish the pipe to avoid a fire. When she refused to get on her knees he punched her and knocked her into the table where he put his pipe prior to hitting LaVonda
The table broke and the pipe flipped off and into the curtains
The room instantly became a flaming blaze. LaVonda looked back at her hands and sobbed.

"Before we knew it the flames escaped into the rooms above. I crawled to the door just as the ceiling fell into the lace room. I couldn't see where the patron was as dark smoke was billowing everywhere. I began screaming FIRE FIRE and stumbled down the stairs. I grabbed a pail and started throwing water inside. I couldn't see very well but my first efforts seemed useless"

The Madame was given the opportunity to testify and blamed LaVonda completely for what happened.

Honestly she wasn't to blame for the fire but she was guilty for not providing the services paid for..

Her Justice was ten years at Halgrim's Tower
LaVonda couldn't believe that she was being sent there but didnt fight it. She was judged and eleven people died in the fire. And now she was being transported to the Tower for her internment.
 
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Tyann kissed Emmeline on the top of her head, then whistled for two guards to push her back into her cell. "I will see you tomorrow", he called after her as the low door slammed shut. He returned to his quarters and took off his clothes. When he was completely naked, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply as the memories came back. Seeing her, touching her, feeling her racing heart - the poor thing had to be frightened to death! - against his skin. His penis was already rock hard, and even the slightest touch sent waves of lust through him, but he still took his time playing with it, moaning heavily as he sunk into the images... he came, opened his eyes and smiled at the massive wet spot he had left on the opposite wall. It took him quite some time to fall asleep with the thought of seeing her again the next day.

He woke up early, as was his habit, washed, got dressed and had a quick breakfast of bread and cheese. Afterwards, the captain of the guards came to give his morning report. Since he mentioned a new arrival at the gate, Tyann decided to go downstairs and look for himself.

The young woman who awaited him, surrounded by guards, wore a mark, and that meant she was a slave. He found those more challenging than free people. Those who were not used to having no rights were normally shocked and confused and did not fight back. Slaves, on the other hand, already were used to being degraded. They tended to adjust quickly.

According to her paperwork, she had already been sentenced - to ten years of slavery here. Anyone who laughed at the idea of sentencing a slave to slavery stopped when they realized just how wretched and miserable he could make that sentence here.

"Do you know how lucky you are, LaVonda? Do you know that the sentence for arson is death by burning? I do not know what you did for the judge to be that lenient" - though I have a suspicion, he added in his mind - "but you are lucky to be alive and not an ash heap in the marketplace. Many people died because of you, and it is an injustice that you are still alive. So I will make it my personal quest to make the fact that you are still alive a punishment instead. I will make you pay for your crime.

Now, we just so happen to be short a cleaning slave for our torture chamber. Unlike some other jailers - filthy bastards, the lot of them - I want my instruments taken care of. They are my tools, and besides - what good is it if I extract a confession but then an infection finishes them off before they can receive their just punishment?

You will spend the next ten years in the slave quarters, chained on a bed of straw, with only a narrow slit in the ceiling providing light and air. Every day, you will go to the fourth level under escort and keep everything spotlessly clean. If we draw blood - you will wipe it up. If some unfortunate vomits under torture - you will be there with a bucket of water immediately. So you will live for many years, underground, toiling away cleaning instruments that I will use on you if you show the slightest hint of willfulness. Understood?"
 
It wasn't simple modesty that caused Emmeline to hide and shrink away. It wasn't just fear. Her captor, her keeper...she wasn't quite sure how to think of him yet, he had pegged it exactly. She not never been touched, fondled or even look at by a man. The closest she had ever come to anything sexual was when she and lady in waiting had practiced kissing when they were in their early teens. It had happened a handful of times before her governess had caught them. Her knuckles had been smacked for being wicked. Even as she grew and suitors began arriving, Emmeline kept a careful distance and her father had kept her under guard.

It was part of why she had taken to sneaking out at night and stealing things.

Now, she wished she was more like some of the other ladies of the court. She wished she had ducked away for stolen kisses and caresses. She wished she had listened more when the maids talked of being bedded by men.

Emmeline feared he was going to touch intimately her now but he gave her the briefest of contact, kissed the top of her head before having her put back in her cell. She struggled as the guards forced her in.

Once more she lay in the dark. She began to cry as she thought about what was going to happen to her the next time they pulled her out. Exhausted sleep came by force, not by choice.

The sound of the cell being opened startled her awake. Emmeline was trembling uncontrollably as they pulled her out and began escorting her down to the next level.
 
"Do you know how lucky you are, LaVonda? Do you know that the sentence for arson is death by burning? I do not know what you did for the judge to be that lenient"

LaVonda lowered her eyes as she was trained to. It was disrespectful for a brothel slave to look a man in the eyes unless granted permission to do so.

"but you are lucky to be alive and not an ash heap in the marketplace. Many people died because of you, and it is an injustice that you are still alive. So I will make it my personal quest to make the fact that you are still alive a punishment instead. I will make you pay for your crime.

LaVonda nearly cried. She didnt know how close to death she came. But still there was truth in his words. If she hadn't fallen on the table the fire wouldn't have started. LaVonda felt she deserved nothing more. Her nightmares were just as frightening as his revelation of how close she came to sharing the fate of those who died.

"Now, we just so happen to be short a cleaning slave for our torture chamber. Unlike some other jailers - filthy bastards, the lot of them - I want my instruments taken care of. They are my tools, and besides - what good is it if I extract a confession but then an infection finishes them off before they can receive their just punishment?"

LaVonda knew what he meant. She too has suffered an infection from a dirty blade. It lead to many visits from the leech who caused her to bleed the infection out. A horror she never wanted to go thru again."yes Master."

You will spend the next ten years in the slave quarters, chained on a bed of straw, with only a narrow slit in the ceiling providing light and air. Every day, you will go to the fourth level under escort and keep everything spotlessly clean. If we draw blood - you will wipe it up. If some unfortunate vomits under torture - you will be there with a bucket of water immediately. So you will live for many years, underground, toiling away cleaning instruments that I will use on you if you show the slightest hint of willfulness. Understood?"

LaVonds couldn't believe her luck. A bed of straw! That was far better then the wet muddy floor she slept on at the brothel when she wasn't entertaining a patron. "Yes Master thank you."

The duties started before she knew it. Her escorting guards took her down to the torturing place and with a bucket of water and soap she immediately started her sentence by scrubbing the floors with a large brush. LaVonda begins to hum as she works. Not complaining about the strain on her back or the size of the floor she was suppose to clean. In fact she even thanked someone for showing her where to change the water or get more soap.
 
He followed the guards who were escorting her down to her new workplace, since he had an appointment with that beautiful thief to keep this morning. She had seemed quite frightened when he had visited her, and, as much as he loved his little instruments, he hoped he would not be forced to use them on this one too much. Whatever it was she was holding back had to be something she could not reveal even when she was quite obviously dying of fright. She was no ordinary thief - but who was she?

Somewhat to his disappointment, his speech to LaVonda had not crushed her spirits at all. What had this prostitute seen that she took with such enthusiasm to a life in darkness cleaning a torture chamber of all places? Even he shuddered a little while trying to imagine an answer.

This slave was adapting to her new life even better than he had expected! Whoever had been her previous owner had to have been a complete monster... on the one hand, it was an incredibly pleasant surprise to have his workplace cleaned by the most hard-working slave ever... on the other hand, he almost felt as if he was not punishing her at all.

No matter. He had more important things to do. Just now, the guards brought in Emmeline for her session. She looked much worse for the wear now, pale and shivering, with tears in her bleary eyes. Clearly, she had not slept very well. The guards pushed her into the chamber and locked the door behind them.

The new slave was cleaning the torture chamber at a nearly alarming speed. Not even the near-darkness and the many dangerous spikes and edges seemed to stop her from cheerfully cleaning the place to a state it had not been in for years. As he went through the chamber, lighting the lamps on the walls, the yellow, flickering light fell on floors that were spotless for the first time in years. And she hummed all the way!

Now one of the guards handed her a wire brush, and she set about the metal instruments with the same energy. Spikes, chains and winches - nothing escaped the meticulous hands of his new slave. He wondered what she thought about all the tools she was cleaning: Was she even wondering what they were good for? Did this place scare her at all?

First, he addressed LaVonda:

"Attention, slave! You may take a break now, but watch closely. This will be your daily work from now on, so learn quickly. I want you to assist me in this, bring the instruments and clean them after use. I want them polished to a shine, or you will be the next one to feel them!"

Then, he turned to Emmeline: "You still have not told me the full truth about you. I can feel it. You are holding something back, and I hope you help me discover it. You now have had a full night thinking about what I showed you yesterday, so I will not bother threatening you again."

He led her to a rough oak table with a larger version of the thumbscrews built into it. "Kneel", he said. "and put your thumbs in there, please. So far, I have been merciful, tried to use words to get to the truth. But now we are in the place where words end. So I ask you for one last time to tell me the full truth about you. It will be so much better for you."

While he waited for her to do as he told her, he beckoned LaVonda closer. He then turned the handle of the thumbscrews so that the upper iron bar came down quite easily. He then opened the thumbscrews again, just as smoothly.

"See how smoothly it operates? That is because it is absolutely free of rust and dirt. After I am done with this girl, I want it just as shiny and smooth as it is now, understood? Her thumbs might bleed a little, and I want that gone, too, do you hear me, slave? If I find a single spot of red on this table, you will not be quite as happy as you seem to be now, believe me."

Turning back to Emmeline, he asked: "Well? You have had enough time to consider my offer. Reveal your secrets, and I may even spare you the death penalty. You might only get slavery instead. Now, admittedly, most slaves are not quite as cheerful about it as this one", he said, pointing with a grin at his eager new servant, "but it is still better than entertaining an entire marketplace full of commoners by slowly choking to death, I would say. On the other hand, you can make me torture your secrets out of you, which would hurt a lot more and would also end with you as a slave. Only in that case, you would not be able to work for the first month or so of your slavery as you recover from the quite, quite serious wounds an annoyed jailer can cause with all the instruments here. So, what will it be?"
 
Emmeline blinked as the lamps were lit. As her eyes adjusted she could see all the things around her. Fear gripped her. She wanted to run. She wanted to flee.

When he addressed her Emmeline stiffened. He led her to a table and Emmeline tried to pull away. She knelt, fearing what he would do if she resisted and fought him. Shaking hands lifted to place her thumbs in the screws. She wanted to vomit. She hadn't eaten in a long time. Had not had water.

He turned to talk to a woman. Emmeline fought the urge to bolt. He turned back to her. He spoke of death.

"I don't...I don't know..." She didn't want any of the options he had presented her.

"You know my secret. You know what I did. I stole the statue. I thought it just a bauble. I swear I did not know it was anything special. Please. I promise I did not know. I have no other secrets. I am a thief." She looked up at him, large blue eyes full of tears. She thought she could be stronger than this but talk of death, the pain he inflicted yesterday had begun to break her will.

All that mattered now was that she protected her identity. There was no telling what would happen to her if they learned the truth.
 
Her stubbornness tinged his still soft voice with a little bit of anger. "You are no mere thief!", he hissed softly, grabbed her thumbs to position them correctly and brought the top bar down on them so they were stuck, but not being squeezed yet. Positioning was key in this method - the pressure had to be right in the middle of her thumbnails. Too far up, and she might slip out as her thumbs got slippery with sweat. Too far down, and he could maybe damage a joint. No, the position was perfect. Now, the screws would cause horrible pain, but no lasting damage. Excellent. She could not very well be a kitchen slave without usable thumbs, after all.

He stood right behind her, his left hand around her shoulder. The fingers dug deep into her left breast as his right hand pulled the screws just a little bit tighter. He could feel her heart speed up as the bar hit the soft resistance of her flesh. Slowly now - he had to give her time to feel this to the fullest. If he turned too quickly, he might cause unnecessary damage. If he was patient, then she would feel every turn of the screw. Another one - then he turned and looked into her large eyes, waiting for her reaction.
 
The hiss of his voice caused her eyes to open wider. He intended to hurt her.

His fingers gripped her breast and she flinched. The screams tightened. The first ones Emmeline bit down on her lip to hold in her pain. Almost immediately sweat began to bead on her forehead.

It was slow the pain growing as he slowly tightened.

"I am a thief. I have stolen from numerous places. Trinkets mostly...some coin..." She panted out the words.

"Please, no more..." She tried to move her body from his hand but his grip was tight on the soft flesh of her breast. Her nipples were hard in response to the cold, stale air and the rush of blood through her body. Her adrenaline had kicked in and she desperately wanted to get away.

"I will no longer steal. I didn't know what it was. I thought it was pretty..." Emmeline thought she might get sick if the pain grew any worse.
 
"Your hands are so beautiful", he said, softly caressing her wrists from behind, "tell me your secrets if you do not want ugly blue lumps for thumbs for quite some time, girl!"

He now needed two hands to close the thumbscrews further. Her flesh had given way as far as it had, and was bulging, fiery red, from the edges of the instrument. He was at the bone and had to be very careful. With great concentration, he closed the thumbscrews further, listening intently so he could hear any telltale cracks over her labored breathing. He prided himself on not breaking bones, especially when they were as delicate as this thief's.

He paused for a moment so she could catch her breath and feel the new pain. Patience. Do not overwhelm her with agony, give her time to experience what you are doing to her. Besides, it gave him a great opportunity to admire her beauty even in suffering: All her muscles were taut, and all of them were visible under her alabaster skin. She was clearly at her limit, but there was still something she was not revealing.
 
The pain was excruciating. Her thumbs felt as if they might burst. She was shaking. Tears streamed down her face. She was having trouble breathing.

“I am from Jura. I snuck into the kingdom.”

Bile rose in her throat. Sweat dripped down her back. Hair plastered to the back of her neck. “Please, you were right. I am a virgin and I am not used pain or punishment or -“. Indeed her stomach wanted to revolt. She panted harder. “Please stop. I thought it was just a bauble...I just want to go home...”

She was shaking but it was hard to say if it was fear, pain or her body starting to shut down.
 
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