Irish Captive Ch. 1

Lord Groat took a sip from the brandy glass in his hand, and tried to focus his thoughts closer to the problem at hand. Now that the damned Americans had gotten away with their treason, the Republican disease had taken hold all over. First in France, all in fever and turmoil over something the mob in the street called Liberty and Equality, and now it had spread like a blight to Ireland at England's back door.

It was those meddling French again, they and the Pope, who were behind it all, spreading radical ideas to stir the simple farmers of this rocky god forsaken island into revolt against the lawful writ of the their English King. Well, the Lord Groat, was Governor now, and he bloody damned well would not stand for it! He would restore order here if he had to shoot every treasonous troublemaker on the island.

A knock came at the door. That would be guards returning with the O'Riley woman no doubt. What was her name? Katherine or something like that he seemed to recall. Whatever her name, she was revolutionary bitch who must be made an example of in the event there were others out there who might have ideas of trying to assassinate the King's Governor. And yes, he was sure there were others, perhaps hundreds of them.

The King's first man in Ireland broke his revere. "Come In."

A burly red coated Captain of the prison guard drug a trailing red headed woman across the threshold by her hair, and threw her down on the floor at the feet of Lord Groat. Once on the floor the woman seemed to recover quite quickly from her mistreatment. She curled her legs behind her, pushed herself up on one arm to sit on a hip, and stared intently and defiantly at the big man in the chair. He was studying his captive with no less interest.

He knew her to be a forty-year-old village schoolteacher, but even with her disheveled hair and prison grime she looked at least five years younger. Uncombed her auburn mane fell down her back to well below her shoulder blades. Attractive she was for sure! Clean her up a bit, and she would make a fine ornament in any man's bed. That, Lord Groat decided was a possibility to consider and explore even if she was a participant in some traitorous conspiracy. A taste of the whip and his great cock would cure her of that political nonsense soon enough.

It was plain that the woman sprawled on the floor had been treated roughly by the troopers. Bruises were already beginning to show on her arms and one cheek. Her off the shoulder peasant dress was torn at the top exposing a good deal of cleavage, and one breast had been left in sore danger of complete exposure.

To all appearances there were no petticoats underneath her dress. Lord Groat wondered if the weird pagan mythology the Irish were so fond of required a female assassin to dispense with bloomers and underpants on the day she set out to do murder. Then he remembered..., certainly she had been stripped and searched after capture. Whatever had been under that dress was now long gone, sacrificed to the pleasure of his soldiers who had done their duty to make sure she had no hidden weapons. Lord Groat smiled as his mind's eye pictured that search. "Ah," he thought, "the joys of being a simple soldier."

"So this be the little Bitch who shot at me is it." Lord Groat asked of no one in particular. Then addressing the woman on the floor directly, "Well woman, what have you to say for yourself. Who put you up to trying to kill me?"

His question broke her from her reverie. "D'anam don diabhal!"

The Officer of the Guard brought her from the prison backhanded her across the face with no hesitation. "Speak English, you Irish whore!"

She spat the blood from her cut lip at the captain's boot. He raised his hand to strike her again, but the Lord stopped him with a wave of his sword. Groat spoke again to the woman at his feet. "I am a forgiving man. I would prefer not to hurt you before I have you shot, bitch. Tell me, who told you to kill me? Who gave you the pistol?"

"As if I would need more reason to kill you than that tyrant's Sash you be wearin'", the woman replied, her Irish brogue thick around her words. "Mayhaps you think me so stupid that I would have to be told that our good Irish air would be cleaner if you were no longer breathing it."

"Another of these stubborn Irish with a bad mouth," Groat thought to himself, "but at least this one is a pretty lass. Breaking her proud attitude might just be entertaining. Yes entertaining indeed." Groat rose taking off his coat as he moved to a chest of drawers beside his bed. "Strip her!" He instructed the guards, "and bring in the rack as well. We will see how she talks when she is stretched a little. More politely I'm sure."

Her dress dissolved into rags as the guards ripped it from her back. As they did so, Lord Groat stripped himself to the waist for the entertainment to come. All the while more soldiers were carrying in a sturdy wooden frame about 9 feet tall by 7 feet wide made of heavy 3" square wood beams held together with right triangle plates of sheet iron at the corners. This open box frame, the guards bolted upright on top of an equally solidly built square base. Once assembled as a single unit, the frame and its base made up a standing torture rack upon which an unfortunate prisoner could be hung and then stretched until either his will or his bones were broken.

Resting along the bottom beam of the box was a leg spreader bar. An inch or so back from each end of the bar a leather ankle cuff dangled from a link of chain. At mid bar three links of chain anchored it to the center of the frame's bottom beam. At the top of the frame was a similar spreader bar for the victim's arms with the same leather cuffs at each end. Like its bottom counterpart, this bar too was centered inside the frame, but instead of a fixed connection of short chain, a length of rope ran from the middle of the bar up through a pulley hanging at the center of the top beam. Mounted high up on the side of one of the upright beams was a notch and brake caspin wheel where the rope could be tied off and drawn tight with the mechanical leverage of the pulley and wheel.

Once the victim's wrists and ankles were cuffed, and his/her arms and legs were spread to the ends of the two bars, the poor prisoner the rope through the pulley, and tightened by the wheel, raised the top bar and could be stretched as tight as a violin string across the frame using pulley and caspin wheel. That, however, was not all. At about half way up the frame a half dozen eyebolts at 3" intervals protruded at right angles, both front and back, from the two upright beams. These eyebolts were the anchor points for an optional third bar about 8 feet long with 4" of padding in the middle covered with leather.

With a victim already stretched tight by the top pulley, the ends of this mid-bar could be slid through the eyebolts so that it ran from one side beam to the other, either in front or behind the tortured captive, thus stretching him/her even more tautly across the frame. When the bar was used behind the victim, his/her groin and privates would be thrust forward to be even more accessible for torture. Used in the front of the victim, his/her ass would be forced outward in a similarly prominent manner. Whether the eyebolts on the front or on the back of the side beams were used to hold the middle bar in place depended on the degree of additional stress desired for the poor victim.

Or, if the additional mid-bar was used in front of the victim still another option was possible. Instead of using the pulley at the top of the frame to stretch the arm bar upward, the rope on that bar could be threaded into a second pulley attached to the bottom beam. When the rope was pulled tight downward, the victim's arms and torso would be forced to bend double over the padded bar, stretching him/her toward the bottom beam. With the victim draped over the bar, his/her ass cheeks would be left tight and defenseless to the whip, paddle or cane with genitals equally open and vulnerable to the pleasures of the executioner.

Lord Groat stood leering at the naked woman who was being held upright before him by a big lobsterback soldier with his hands under her armpits. Groat cursed at the slowness of his solders, and the perspiration seeping thru the dark mat of speckled gray hair on his chest testified further to his impatience. Sweaty and bare chested in his tight riding britches and black boots, with a cruel riding crop in his hand, the Lord was the perfect picture of a sadistic executioner. He opened a drawer and removed a perfect 8 inch replica of a penis carved from animal horn. A second probe followed the first from out of the drawer, this one a tapered round wedge a little over half as long as the penis replica. Kate had never seen an anus dildo before, but before this night was over she would become intimately knowledgeable about their use.

The naked woman was trembling, and fright showed in her eyes. She was aware that an awful ordeal lay before her, and she was clearly terrified at the prospect. Lord Groat viewed the situation more pleasantly. He could feel his penis rising inside his skintight pants as he thought of having this beautiful woman stretched to his rack, helpless and at his mercy. His voice was hoarse in anticipation as he gave his order to his guards.

"FASTEN HER TO THE BARS!!!"

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Terror griped Kate. She had stood up well till now, but what was this big man going to do to her? What was the apparatus to which her arms and legs were being cuffed? She was to be tortured and beaten that was for certain, but what else was in store for her. Would the English beast also use her sexually? Most likely so. Against those tight pants the bulge she had seen earlier was growing, surely an erection on the rise. He was big too, very big, she could see that quite plainly.

He was going to rape her she decided, but faced with that reality, she was astounded to find her mind and body betraying her. What was that across his cheek? A long deep scar? A saber cut most probably, exactly like one she had always pictured on her imaginary pirate Captain's face. How may nights had she masturbated while dreaming of a man with exactly that same scarred face laying between her legs with his cock deep in her cunt?

Unaccountably, her reaction now was the same as it had been then. From somewhere deep in her ovaries came a flood of hormones into her bloodstream. Her nipples were becoming hard and stiff. Her pussy was moist, no not just moist, wet...so wet that she was leaking onto her thighs.

Then she remembered her dream on the floor of her cell. Of course! Her mind is repressing the awful certainty of her fate by sending her back to the safety of childhood, back to the harmless game of pirates. The thought reassured her. This resemblance of the big man before her to her imaginary Captain is only coincidence, or perhaps another trick of her mind. Surely this flicker of passion, and the sensuous reaction of her body was not to this English brute, but merely a quirk of her subconscious rooted in an almost forgotten child's fantasy. The thought comforted her. Perhaps she was not really a slut after all.

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The guards were finished cuffing the arms and legs of the Irish woman to the two spreader bars, but as they were about to stretch her to the rack using the top pulley, Lord Groat stopped them.

"No, use the mid-bar and pull her over it. I want her ass. I wish to mark it as mine, and she has a pair of lovely holes back there where I intend to amuse myself before I use her tits."

As ordered, the mid-bar was inserted in place across the frame in front of Kate's crotch, and the lower pulley used to pull the arm spreader bar toward the bottom beam. The tortured woman was thus stretched tightly into an extreme stoop, leaving her lovely ass, anus and pussy totally exposed to the not so tender mercy of the English aristocrat. In his hand was a riding crop that he brought down savagely across the poor woman's buttocks three times in quick succession. Kate screamed. The blows hurt like the fire of hell itself, and a red haze of pain blinded her for a moment.

"Now woman you belong to me," Lord Groat said as he examined the three fiery red welts across the white female flesh. "Three chevrons to match those of my Sash of Office. Three chevrons that mark you as the Governor's property, you Irish whore. You will do well to remember henceforth whose slut you are now."

Groat tossed the crop aside and began to explore the exposed ass, stroking the cheeks tenderly, then running his hands down her tightly stretched thighs. Minutes went by. A finger toyed with the lips of her pussy for long moments, discovering a moisture there that could not longer be kept secrete. Next his hands were examining the higher hole, a gentle probing at first, until without warning the tip of an index finger disappeared into the rectum to the first knuckle as if testing the resiliency of the sphincter muscle.

Kate let out a gasp of shock and surprise. No man had ever penetrated into her most private opening. "My God," she thought, "this is awful, painful, maddening. I am so ashamed, and it hurts so to be stooped and stretched like this. My bottom is on fire from that terrible crop. Now this man has his finger in my ass. Why then am I so aroused? Why is my pussy wet? Why do my nipples ache for attention...his attention? How can I be so mistreated, so humiliated, and yet, like an animal bitch in rut...be so ready to be fucked?"

Lord Groat was pleased. His dick hardened as he considered the erotic possibilities that were unfolding for his pleasure. He thought, "What a prize! What marvelous potential! Stripped naked, painfully bent double on the rack, her ass cheeks marked with the crop, and the tip of my finger in her ass, yet her pussy is flowing like a river."

Lord Groat shook his head in wonder at the possibilities here. His mind raced! "What a unique idea. It will be the talk of London. Who of the many King's servants has ever made a sex slave out of a female assassin?" It was such an unusual and visionary stroke of genius that the idea grabbed at his fancy even as it turned him on.

Groat reached for the longer of the carved horn dildoes he had laid aside earlier. Pressing the big head between the lips of Kate's exposed pussy; he slid it down her slippery channel in a gradual but continuous thrust. The woman moaned, the taught muscles of her legs visibly twitching under the stress of the rack and the stimulation of the dildo. Leaving the artificial cock in place, one of his hands began to stroke the inside of her spread thighs, while the other returned to probe at her anus, up to the second knuckle this time. The moans from the female head just below his knees became louder.

"Like that do you? Like my finger in your ass? Makes you all hot and randy doesn't it bitch?" Groat asked as he twisted the invading digit to increase the poor woman's torment. "Tell me! Tell me you like it, bitch. Beg me to fuck your ass. Or would you rather have another taste of the crop?"

Kate struggled with her reply. She had never taken a man in her nether hole before, yet this finger now invading her bottom was sending sensual signals through her body. May the Blessed Virgin forgive her! This pig was the enemy! He must not know of her weakness, but what of the crop? He had hurt her so with that. God, she couldn't stand another cut across her ass, but even as she hesitated, a pair of savage strikes landed on the back of her thighs. The pain was excruciating, even worse than the three across her buttocks.

In her agony Kate screamed in pain. "No, I won't beg to be raped." She told herself, even though she realized she had no choice. She did hurt so! "Do what he wants. Stay alive," a voice inside told her. Through her sobs she finally answered aloud, stammering and sobbing between words, "Yes, yessss me Lord, I do like it. O-only...I am a virgin there Lord. Please S-sir..., f-fuck my ass if that pleases you, but t-take me slowly..., s-stretch me f-first that I might b-better p-pleasure your big c-cock. Anything you want Sir, only please gently..., and, God..., please don't crop me again."

"Yes, my pretty assassin," the Lord Groat answered, "I shall do just that, and right here I have the perfect tool, one made for the purpose in fact."

With that the Governor sank the bone anal spreader abruptly into her exposed ass, all the way past the tapered bulge, in a single sudden thrust. Kate screamed in pain and surprise. Never in her sexual experienced had she been hurt so, but then never had she been so filled with either real or artificial cock. More telling, never had she been so completely at the mercy of a man, and she found the feeling of being totally mastered to be exciting beyond anything she had thought possible. A fire burned in her belly..., a fire that she instinctively understood she would never again be able to extinguish.

"All right men," Lord Groat ordered, "straighten her up. I want to play with those lovely tits for a while. "

The guards released the arm bar rope from the bottom pulley and restrung it to the top hoist. Before the tortured woman was pulled up tight across the rack, however, the middle bar was removed. The strongest and heaviest guard then put his weight to the caspin wheel, stretching the naked woman taut and upright across that awful open box. She screamed as her joints cracked and her arms and legs gave in their sockets. She screamed again when the middle bar was put in place just under her buttocks. Not only did the bar further stretch her even tighter; it also shoved her pussy outward where the butt end of the horn dildo was obscenely on display between her legs.

"Tell me my Irish bitch," Lord Groat asked. "Are you ready to change sides now and become a loyal subject of his Royal Majesty, your lawful sovereign?"

Kate's only reply was a long low moan of pain. For that failure the Lord's riding crop landed across her nipples. The moan became a scream, followed by a babble of pleading. "Oh please, have mercy. Kill me now and get it over with. You have no cause torture a poor woman like this."

"To the contrary you Irish trash, I have every cause." Lord Groat exclaimed, punctuating his words with another slash of the crop, this time across her belly just above her dildo stuffed cunt. "Not half day ago, you tried to put a bullet in me, and if that was not enough you are not a 'poor woman' but a traitorous revolutionary. That, it seems to me to be quite enough 'cause' to do with you whatever I see fit. And if perchance, you are expecting to escape your just punishment with a quick death, then think again Irish slut."

Still another strike of the crop landed across her upper thighs that was answered with still another scream as the King's Governor continued. "I have decided not to have you executed. Instead I shall keep you as a female slave. You will warm my bed and pleasure me with your body after I spend a hard day dealing with whomever of your traitorous confederates I have not yet caught and hung."

"No I won't do it. You will have to tie and rape me. I will fight you every time you try to use my body. I will never consent," Kate exclaimed through her sobs.

Lord Groat smiled knowingly. "You think won't you do it, but you will. It will be too painful to refuse, and anyway when word gets back to your former friends that you share the King's Governor's bed, tied and raped or not, you will never be trusted by them again. The word will get to them you can be sure because I will see to it that it does, and that word will describe in detail how you squeal in delight as you snuggle up to me as service my cock,"

"Now you red headed whore," Lord Groat asked her waving the crop at her defenseless breasts once more, "do you acknowledge that I own you and that you will serve me with your mouth, your cunt, and your ass, or would your rather to continue to hang there on the rack until I tire of hearing you scream? In the end, you know as well as I, it will make no difference. You will be my slut, and I will fuck you as I please. Your career as a republican revolutionary is over bitch. Make it easy on yourself...how will you have it, with pain or without."