A Secret

"Hmm," said the prince. He circled around her, as she watched him over her shoulder, cringing when he lifted his hand again. This time he struck at her ass. Again, the contact was blocked, but not as completely as it used to be. She jumped and shrieked, throwing her head back.

He continued the onslaught, stroke after stroke. She was compelled to dance upon her tiptoes. "You piece of shit!" she raged, even as tears streamed down her cheeks, "You vile wretched hateful turd!"

"Such language," he remarked, "My, my." He noticed his eyes were drawn again inexorably to her dainty feet, hopping in place, or kicking uncontrollably behind her in answer to each new lash. To the apprentice torturer he said "Remove her other boot and the stocking. Let's have her absolutely bare from top to bottom."

"As you wish, my liege."

"Don't!" she cried, as the man tugged at the boot, "Don't do that! No!" Then she seemed to realize the absurdity of the protest—its pointlessness, and the weakening of her resolve that it indicated. Why should she care about the remaining boot and the stocking after everything else they'd taken from her? Because it was the last of her things, of course. She was no longer capable of feigning lofty indifference to such complete exposure. "Why must you—" but her voice dwindled, she did not finish the question. She stopped pretending to be baffled. The witch could no longer carry it off with that wonderfully snide aristocratic conviction she had performed so perfectly when their contest began.

And after the boot and stocking had been peeled from her leg and flung aside, the apprentice torturer stroked and fondled the revealed foot in the same fashion as he had done to the other, as well as her calf. While he did that he bent to lick and kiss her instep, and then he nibbled at the smallest of her toes, and suckled on it. The witch groaned, low in her throat, and her panicked gaze flicked back and forth between the kneeling man and the prince behind her, watching and smiling and all the time fiddling with the loops of his whip ... She could no longer determine which of the pair was more threatening, more fearsome.

"Now tell me, Thayra," said the prince, "how does it feel ... how does it feel to be whipped while you're naked?" He struck at her again and again, again and again. The apprentice torturer had scrambled backward out of the way when he saw the prince lift his arm. "Utterly naked—your magic no longer covers you, at least not as it did before. Your protective spell is wearing thin. Isn't it? Thinner and thinner. You never imagined you would experience something like this, did you? Not a sorceress as powerful as you've always been. But your power dwindles, it seems. You are weaker than you thought. There is no evading the whip anymore, is there? How do you like the sensation? Tell me!"

"Ahhaahhaahh! Gods! Oh my Gods!" she howled, "You can't do this to me! You can't do this!"

"But I can! There's no escaping it, witch. You can no longer shield yourself, can you? Can you?"

"Oh no! No! It's not fair! Noooohhoohhoo!"

The whip still wasn't touching her, yet red stripes appeared across her back and buttocks, then her breasts and her belly. She continued to leap and kick and twist and shudder—a beautiful, captivating dance, in his eyes at least. "Stoppit! It stings! It stings! Oh Gods make him stop!"

"If you want it to stop," he said, "it's me you must plead with, not the Gods. Me!"

"You're so cruel! You're evil! Evil! I hate you! I hate you! Ahhahhhaahh! I can't bear it! I can't bear it!"

"You brought this on yourself, witch! Every stroke!" Yet he did allow her brief moment of respite, for it was equally delightful in its own way to watch her trying to rally her strength and renew her courage with great heaving, gasping breaths. Soon as she had gathered her wits and straightened her stance, he set once more to work with a roar: "Take what you've earned! Take it!"

"Ahhaaahhuuhh!" Exactly as he expected, her efforts had been fruitless. The instant the whipping resumed, her poise was lost and she danced again for his entertainment. "Ahhaarrhhaah! All right! All right! Stop it, Prince Stellan! Just stop! Stop! Stoppit! Ahhaahhuuhh!"

"Why should I? Why should I stop!"

"Because ... because I ... just ... Please! Please! No more! I just can't stand anymore! Ohhoohh ohhoohh please! Oh Gods! Yaahhaahh! Pleeezze! I beg you! I'm begging you! Pleeezze!"

He had done it. She had begged him—he had got her to beg! He realized the moment she started, he had ejaculated in his pants.

As soon as the whipping ceased, a purple shimmer swirled around the witch's body, erasing all the red stripes. Her magical defenses were not completely shattered—given the moment's respite, they healed her. Thayra moaned loud and long as this happened, squirming her thighs together as she did, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Her pretty toes curled tight. "Ohhuuuhh. Uhhhnnhhn." Clearly the healing was pleasurable for her. The magic was overcompensating for the torment he had just inflicted. Fascinating.

He now had the means to force the crown's location from her. Surely it would only take another few moments, if he went to work with the whip again. And yet now that triumph was within his reach, he held back. He realized he didn't want to achieve the victory this way. Not with violence. Not with agony ... or rather, not agony of that sort.

Not when he knew there was another way, and it was sure to succeed just as well.

Thayra hung limp in her chains, gasping and twitching. She had not lost consciousness, but she would not raise her face. She could not bear to look him the eye.

To the apprentice torturer, the prince said: "Do you wish to fuck this sorceress?"

That got her to lift her head, fury renewed. "No!" cried Thayra, "Not that! Don't you dare!"

The man brushed his fingers against Thayra's sex. The lightest of touches, yet it made her squirm and squeal. He looked to the prince and nodded. "Very much, my king. She's a fine randy filly, and no mistake. And the whipping hasn't cooled her ardor at all. Hell of a thing, that. She's wetter than she was, in point of fact. Not normal. Part of the magic, would be my guess. When she just healed herself."

He was not a king yet, but he liked that the man had addressed him so. "Yes, that was my observation. A startling reversal for her, judging from her expression. Take her then, my good fellow. Take her now."

"You won't!" the witch insisted, "My spells won't permit you! Not that!"

"Perhaps," said the prince, "Or perhaps she is mistaken. Have you the courage to try?"

"Her magic won't stop me, your grace, even should it set my cock ablaze."

"Very good then. But if you accomplish this, you must maintain your discipline. That is an order. Do not spill your seed until I give you leave."

"I understand, your grace."

"And you are not to allow her to climax, either. In fact that is far more important to my purpose than holding off your own."

"As if I would," he heard the witch mumble behind him.

The apprentice torturer chuckled as he strode behind her and took hold of her hips. "You think not?" he whispered in her ear, "I may yet surprise you, sorceress."

"Miserable brute," she said, "You can't do this to me! Not to me! You can't!" But then she screamed as she was penetrated.

It was not an instantaneous business. The torturer had indeed experienced difficulty breaching her passage, but after several long drawn-out moments of straining and grunting, there was faint greenish flash between their bodies, and a fizzling sound. The last vestiges of her protective spell had just given way.

The expression on her face was priceless. It was a look more of wonder than of terror. Not to say there was no terror mixed in it, yet wonder overwhelmed the dread and washed it away. It was a face of discovery and astonishment.

At the sound of her cry—"Nuuuhhaahhhuurraahh!"—the prince felt himself instantly stiffen once again in his pants, every bit as huge and awful and aching as it was the first time.

3.

Four times the torturer brought the pair of them to the brink of completion, and then removed himself for several minutes, in order to cool down and begin nearly afresh.

Thayra wailed and whimpered, yet she endured. She did not break. She did not beg. Not yet.

But when she was fucked, the witch moved in rhythm with the man. Actually she hurled her hips backward against his thrusts with greater ferocity than the torturer used. Braced, the prince could not help but notice, up off her heels, on the balls of her feet, her pretty toes clenched in cracks between the flagstones. She had abandoned any pretense that lust had not entirely consumed her, and that she craved for climax. The apprentice torturer had lived up to his reputation in every regard. He had driven the witch to a sexual frenzy.

This was not to say she looked or sounded happy about it. Her face contorted with rage, she was fucking him as savagely, as wrathfully, as he was fucking her. Or trying to, at any rate. Striving with all her strength to reach her orgasm while the man continued to deny her, right at the final threshold. His timing was exquisite. The prince knew he could never have held her off—or himself—in the torturer's place. He yearned to be the one fucking the woman, rather than a mere spectator, but had he attempted it, Thayra would have rapidly cheated him of this final conquest. No question of it.

Just watching, the prince found himself at the limit of his endurance. If this continued any longer, he would have to open his clothing to get at his manhood, which was so engorged it had become painful, and then he would masturbate, regardless of them seeing him shame himself. Either that or he should send away the apprentice torturer and whip the secret from Thayra.

He would hear her beg again, if he did that. Only it would not be as satisfying.

He wanted her to beg to come. That was what he needed now. If he went back to whipping her she would beg for it to stop. He'd already heard that. He wanted to hear her beg for more. That would sound so much sweeter. It would be a thousand times greater humiliation for her and a million times greater triumph for him.

But could the apprentice torturer achieve it? He pulled away for another break, wiping his face with a scrap of the witch's ruined dress from the floor. Thayra whined piteously when his cock slid from within her. "No! Don't stop again! I nearly—Damn you! Damn you!"

"Patience," said the torturer. "If you want more pleasure, you should ask in a nicer tone." The brute's stamina had proved prodigious. Practically superhuman. Surely he could not keep going much longer? If the witch outlasted his effort, the prince knew he would not be up to finishing the task himself. More than likely he would climax before he got himself inside of her. He would not be able to prevent it.

She would have bested him after all—bested the pair of them—in spite of everything else he—or they, in fairness—had accomplished. He might whip her to death in a fury afterward, and it wouldn't matter in the slightest to him. It wouldn't erase his defeat.

"Gaawwwds!" Thayra had just been penetrated for her fifth fucking. For the first time since the man had started this, she looked over her shoulder into his eyes. "Ohh. Ohh. Listen to me. Listen. I can't stand much more."

The apprentice torturer beamed. "Told you, sorceress."

"You did. I was wrong to doubt you. I admit it. You have proved your ... talent. Ahh! Uhhuh!"

"Do you surrender then? Are you ready to give up your secret? Tell us where the crown is, and I will let you come. We shall come together, you and I. Are you ready?"

"Not yet, torturer. Soon but not quite yet. Soon I will have to yield. Very soon. Not quite yet."

"Are you sure?" He sped his thrusts. "What is the use in fighting me any longer?"

"Because I must. It is my duty. For the future of the realm, I must endure. I must resist to the limits of my power."

"You have no power left, and you know it. You cannot deceive me. You cannot deceive yourself either, not anymore. You only continue to resist in order to prolong your fucking. Isn't that so?"

"No! No! You're wrong! That's not true at all! That can't be true! No! I would never ... I would never ... Ohhuuhh! Uhhuuh! You're forcing me against my will! You're torturing me!"

"Yes. Yes I am. This is the cruelest of tortures. Because you're loving it! You are loving this big cock of mine, aren't you?"

"No! No! Noohhuuhhaah! Please!"

"Please what? Shall I stop? Shall I take it out again?"

"No! Not yet! Not yet! Just ... just please ... Ahhaahh! Ahhuuhh! Slow down a little! Please! Don't stop and don't take it out but slow down, just a little. Listen to me! Give me a moment to speak! Ahhaahuuh!"

"You speak fine as we are. Give in, woman! Tell us the hiding place. We've played this game long enough! Have we not? Give in!"

"Please, I beg you! Please!"

"The crown! Where did you hide the damned crown? That is all that matters. That is all I want to hear from you! Tell me!"

"No! Don't make me! Please don't make me! Listen, if you do this for me—if you relent—I will pledge myself to you! I swear it! I will be your concubine. I will be your slave!"

"Foolish woman, you are a slave already."

"But if you listen to me I will be yours. Yours alone, is what I mean. And then later I will use my magic to increase your pleasure when you fuck me! Once my power is restored, I can make your cock double itself. You can fuck my ass at the same time you fuck my cunt. When you come, you will come twice at the same moment. I swear I will do this for you, and perform many other marvels! If you help me now! Don't force me to give up the secret! Save me from this vile prince!"

"What?" cried the king, "The impudence! He cannot save you! He's only the apprentice torturer!"

"You are mighty," continued Thayra, ignoring his interruption, "You could be much more. Kill the prince—it won't take you a moment, and you know it. Kill him for me now and then release my chains. I will do the rest. I will get us out of this place, together, one way or another, whatever is required. Then I swear, soon as we're free and safe, my body will serve yours forevermore. Please! I beg you! You'll never have a chance like this again—a sorceress for a slave! All to yourself! Think of it! Only you can save me now!"

The apprentice torturer had stopped fucking the witch, although for the moment he remained implanted within her. He looked thoughtfully at the prince. He rubbed the stubble on his chin.

"You ... you wouldn't dare," sputtered the prince, "You are my man, you said it yourself. You pledged me your fealty! An oath like that cannot be forsworn!"

"He killed his own parents," said the witch, "How does he dare talk of duty and honor? The prince is a vile worm. Crush him like one! Do it now!"

"She's lying to you—you'd never get out of this castle alive, if you listen to her. You think she'd stay with you? Never! Moment she's free and has her full power back, she'll blast you to cinders. Remember all the soldiers that she slew?"

"Yes," said the man, "I recall. You speak true; she might very well betray me. And yet, thinking over her offer, I figure it's worth the risk."

He removed himself once again from Thayra and stalked toward the prince, who even as opened his mouth to shout for help, found himself unable to stop looking at the man's wobbling erection and all the shining juices dripping off it.

Then almost before he realized it was happening, the apprentice torturer had grabbed him by the ears and twisted his head around to snap his neck.

"Unchain me now," said Thayra.

"I will," said the man, resuming his position behind her, "Just another minute."

"But wait. First let me—Ohhuuhhaahh! All right. All right. If you insist. Finish it. Let's finish it. Uhhnn. Uhhnn. Ohhoohh. Ohh. Uhhn. You're slowing down ... W-why are you slowing down again?"

"You don't have to tell me where the crown is—I don't care. And I understand it's important to you to keep it hidden. Still, if you wanna come, I wanna hear you beg me for it."

"Can't we get away from this dungeon first? Somewhere safe? Then I promise I—Ahhaah! Ahhaah! All right! All right! Gods! Gods above! Haaaahuuhhaah! Huuhhnn. All right. I give in! I give in! I ... I wanna come. I do. I need it. I wanna come. I've never been fucked like you fuck me. I can't believe you make feel this way. Please. Please let me this time. Let's finish this!"

"Do you swear to be my slave? Do you swear to serve my cock, whenever I command?"

"I do! I do! Dear Gods, I swear it. I pledge myself! Make me come. Please. I beg you. I beg you for it. Make me come, and I'm your slave forever. I swear it! Oh please! Please! Ahhaahhuuhh!"