Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 05

The memories of her own voice pleading for release from those depraved sexual tortures and being rebuffed with further insult, had Frieda's fevered mind in the darkest of humours.

"Frieda! Frieda! I beseech you! It was the Pastor's wife who had us under her spell! She is the witch! Yes! She is the daughter of Satan who beguiled and made us do her darkest biddings! Release me and I'll see her burned! I'll see her very witchcraft poisoned soul consumed by the flames. And you! You will be my witness against her!"

"Do you think me fool enough to forget that it was you alone who preyed upon my innocence a full two seasons before you offered me to your lady friends? Do you think me witless? I recall that the Pastor's wife was the last of your fine friends to be invited to partake in the debasements and that you had to convince her to do so. Only by your threats to go to her husband with her other out of wedlock affairs did she reluctantly agree to please you. Nay, mistress, your false accusation is worthless. Just as your very soul is worthless to our Lord."

'Tell her, girl. Your momma didn't raise no fool.'

"Then think of your soul, sweet, sweet Frieda. Release me and I shall purchase the indulgence from a Papist priest that shall ensure your salvation. Even if I must travel to Rome itself, it will be done. Just release me and it shall be so!"

Frieda had long suspected that her Catholic parentage was one of the reasons for her mistress's delight in her sexual debasements. How many times had she heard her mother referred to as 'that Papist whore'.

"Nay and again, nay, my mistress, for if I were to release you the only thing you would purchase would be the chains to fix me to the pillory, naked and to be raped and sodomized by every man with a turgid organ to do so. When I leave this vile house, this den of inequity, you will still be bound! As to your being alive...that alone remains to be decided! Nothing would pleasure me more than to beat you about your head until your very brains are dead! And I would use this very rod! The one that has penetrated me so cruelly and so often!

Nay, mistress! My salvation is not your concern. It is your own that should be foremost on your mind! By my actions here I am already damned if I remain in Stuttgart. So I leave this very night! Your life is in my hands, mistress. As to leaving you a lifeless beaten corpse...I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't! So spare me your contemptuous lies lest I take my revenge on your life right now!"

The deceitful woman, bound over the bench went silent as she considered the words that possibly portended her earthly demise. Frieda now stood, naked and proud as she considered what further sexual abuses she might heap upon her tormentor. Still holding the rod, she resisted her dark urges to bring it down mightily upon the head of the no longer tormenting mistress who had mistreated her for so long. 'No,' she thought. 'It would be too easy a release. You shall pay, mistress. You have run a debt that can never be repaid, but at least I will extract the interest. From your vile body, I shall extract my interest and it shall be of the same coin as your debt.'

'Now you're talking, Frieda. The bitch is yours. Play with her.'

Frieda walked around the bench and ran her eyes up and down the near naked woman bound prostrate before her. Then with an angry pull, she ripped the thin shift asunder, leaving her mistress as naked as herself. She mounted upon the back of her now silent mistress and took a handful of her hair. Pulling it back and lifting the head, she leaned close and whispered into an ear.

"If you chose life...you will obey my every word. If you protest...you will have chosen death. Do we have a bargain?"

Her mistress was in an unenviable position, not one from which to seek terms. She said, "Yes...we have a bargain..."

"So quickly you lose your vaulted station, my mistress. I'm sure you will know what is expected of you now."

And with that, Frieda slipped off from her mount and took seat in front on the bench, her womanhood not but an inch from her mistress's face. Getting not the immediate reply to her motioned request, Frieda tapped the rod onto the head between her legs, pulling up on its hair as she did. Her wordless threat was well taken and she thrilled to see the woman's mouth seek out the feminine parts before her. Frieda eased forward and sighed deeply.

'What pleasures...what sinful joys' she thought as her body writhed at the exquisite sensations her mistress was causing to issue forth from her most womanly of places. She closed her eyes and drank in the demonic delights that soon had her panting and moving against the pleasuring mouth that so filled her head with raptures. 'Mother Mary, forgive me' she silently prayed as her body moved in a dance of sexual heat.

Many times Frieda had pleasured herself in the darkness and solitude of her tiny room. But this! This was so much richer...so much more delightful...and so much stronger! Wave after wave of deepest erotic tensions rippled into her from her well serviced vulva. She opened her eyes to gaze at her mistress's mouth, sucking and kissing and her tongue licking and probing...ahhh....ahhh...the pleasures of Lesbos she had heard of and dreamed of coursed through her veins.

"Yes...yes..." she murmured, her fevered brain seeking more and more. "Mother Mary! Such delight...such pleasures...such....such...wondrous raptures! Don't stop...don't stop...yes...yes..."

Frieda knew the feelings of sexual release. Many times she had sought them as they had seemed her only friend in a cold and cruel world. But never had she felt the pleasures rise so high. Never had she felt her self climbing up such a mountain of sexual delight. She was getting so that she must burst. Burst, lest the power of her heated desires render her senseless.

Frieda found herself rutting against the face at her vulva. Gone was any feeling of sin. All that consumed her was the deepest of desires to reach the pinnacle of this mountain and fall...and fall...

"Mother Mary...help me...help me...I die...I die..." the frenetic Frieda cried out and then, when she felt the pleasures were now pain, heavy, heavy pain, she felt the joys burst forth and she screamed.

Lazarus himself would have been awakened. Frieda's tortured soul had found release and it bellowed out its freedom. "Joseph...Mary...and Jesus!" With each utterance, she thrust forward into her mistress, her body convulsing with her release. And then with a last wave of pleasure that had her trembling, she fell forward over her mistress and lay gasping.

'Good one, was it? So much better than those little popcorn climaxes you've been giving yourself. Don't stop now, Frieda.'

'If I burn in Hell forever...it was worth it,' Frieda mused as she slowly came back from a place she had never been before. Her young and nubile body was wet with the sweat of her pleasures. She delighted in gently rocking back and forth over her mistress's back. Her tender young bosoms were against the buttocks of her mistress and she felt them calling upon her to intensify their uses. Frieda slowly rose up and dismounted. Her release had not left her satisfied. It had only whetted her appetite for more.

'So, my fine mistress," Frieda began, "how do you reconcile yourself now? Our places have gone half circle and now it is I who revels in your sexual debasements. It is I who now pleasures while you do the pleasuring. What gain is your wealth and position now, my fine lady? What succour do they prevail upon you? None!! What power do they give you over me? None!! What power do I have over you? As long as these bonds hold...I have all power over you and while you might pray for rescue, you know none is forthcoming. As long as I please, you are mine to torment. And remember our bargain. At your first word of protest...I shall beat the very life from you...and cackle as I do so. Tempt me not...for my rage is endless and your debt is unpayable. If you survive the night, it is but my choice. I have others!"

'When you've got them by the short and curlies...their hearts and minds will surely follow. That's my motto.'

Frieda knew not what to consider next. Having never been in a place to decide the fate of another, she considered her various plays. 'As of yet, my mistress, you have not felt the full fury of an assault upon your womanly place. The rod I hold has work to do!"

"Now, mistress, I'll wager you have felt your womanly place filled by the male organs of full half the townsmen of this fair city. Many a time you have filled mine with this rod. Now comes your turn at playing the receptacle of its fullness. I'll also wager that you have sought the most generous of male members to pleasure your...your...cunt! But now it your place to accept this unwanted penetration. And if you have any illusions as to your pleasures at such a penetration...take this!" And with her last word, Frieda placed the rod to her mistress's vagina and thrust it forward.

The shriek of protest was the same as she herself had uttered so many times before. The rod fairly impaled her mistress's womanhood and plunged deep, only to be withdrawn and plunged again and again. Frieda felt a power, a strength that she had only dreamed of as she punished her mistress's vagina as her own had been punished so many times before. As the bound and hapless woman thrashed against her bonds, Frieda exalted in her new found place. Now she was the abuser and her erstwhile mistress was the abused. Her hand was at her own femininity, rubbing furiously, as she assaulted that of the woman whom had assaulted her so often before.

"Now, my vile mistress...what say you now? How feels the rod you so venomously plunged into me? How feels your...your cunt! How feels your cunt as I pummel it as you pummelled me?"

Frieda felt her rubbing increase, driving her to more and more places of darkest appeasement. She thrilled at how quickly she felt the rising tides of her own lustful desires. She both rubbed and pummelled as if the very Hounds of hell were beset against her. With ever increasing heat, she soared to the peaks of lust and...and...crested the mount to fall in an orgy of self abasement.

"Lord Jesus, I kill me...I die...I die...let me never stop this death! Satan, fill me with this heat forever! Again! Once more! Take me with your member, Satan! Impale me on your lusting pole! Thrust it to my depths! Fill me! Fill me!"

Frieda's hand was fury itself as she drove to another release. In but a moment she was calling out.

"Yes! Yes! I die again! Again! Again! Lucifer, take me! Take me!" And once more, Frieda felt the dissolution of her soul as she trembled at the alter of lust. Her very bones were but milk as she shuddered and quaked at the surge of vile pleasures washing through her formless body. Her eyes rolled back and she howled the cry of the wolf, standing over its dying prey.

'Mother, this is sin...and I embrace it!' Frieda thought. 'I am damned or not...but this is my place now! A seeker of pleasures and a despoiler of women! Such ecstasy! Such fulfillment! My destiny awaits!'

'But how to make good my escape?' she thought. 'To stay here is death. Only to flee is life. But how to make my fortune?'

As she posed the question, the solution was already in her quick mind. Her mistress had lived very well after her husband's death. No widow seeking the surcease of a wealthy benefactor was she. Golden guilders she must have. A treasure trove of them and Frieda was determined to claim them as her own.

Her lust for sexual pleasures was now matched by her lust for her mistress's gold. Taking her mistress's head in her hands, she whispered close. "Where is it? Where is the hoard of gold you use to live your life of debauched pleasures. Tell me or I'll see your brains on this very rod!"

"Nay, sweet Frieda! I have none! I eke my existence on the mercies of others! No golden treasure sustains my life! I am but an impoverished widow, bereft of my late husband's support. I beseech you! Penniless I am, adrift on this ocean of poverty!"

"Nay, my mistress of venomous lies! Make your choice. Your money or your life!"

And with that, Frieda brought down the rod upon her head, not to stun but to remind.

"Wait! Wait, sweet Frieda! I have but a little. In my purse, in my boudoir...a few guilders you may find. Take them and leave me! Leave me penniless and go!"

"A few guilders! I have less interest in that than I do in your life, false mistress! Reveal to me your hoard or I'll anoint your verminous body with lamp oil and toss the match myself!"

"Nay, sweet Frieda! Burn me not for a beggar...for a beggar I am! No hoard sustains me! My husband left me to eke out a miserable life of poverty!"

'We shall see, my mistress of dubious truth. We shall see!" And with that, Frieda left the sunken chamber and went for the store of oil in the kitchen. Returning she poured a copious amount over her hapless mistress and then stood back. Taking a burning candle. She waved it in front of her mistress's eyes and hissed, "One chance only, you despicable spawn of the Devil's seed. Reveal what I seek or feel the fires of Hell take you to your final resting place...the Devil's own kitchen, hotter than any fire you have ever felt! Roast in eternal Damnation, you bitch of evil! Your life means less than that of a worm! Burn, for all I care...and good riddance to you!"

'You tell her, Frieda! And if you don't burn her...beat her brains out! On second thought, do both!'

Frieda passed the candle close to her mistress's oil soaked face. With a heartfelt surge of self protection, the bound, and evil woman capitulated. "You drive a hard bargain, Frieda. You can have my gold and I hope you choke on its weight! I wish you a long and excruciating death! In my study, you will find it. Behind the painting of my husband, you will find a hidden alcove. Plunder it and be gone! If I ever have the pleasure of meeting you again...your life is forfeit. Think upon the pains I will inflict upon you as you plunder my treasure! To the very ends of the earth I will follow you! Never cease to look behind because I will die before I give up my quest to see you raped, sodomized, hung, drawn and quartered! I will see your giblets roasting on a brassier as you draw your last breaths. Think upon this curse as you fill your pockets. As the weight of my gold bears you down, so shall my vengeance hold you in its thrall. You will never be rid of me...my sweet, sweet Frieda. I shall prevail and you shall perish in an agony of pain! Doubt me not, for I shall seek you out! From the depths of Hell's perdition, I shall follow you! My vengeance shall exceed your most worldly resistance! You shall die with my cackling the last sounds of your execrable life! Take my gold and flee! You'll not be long in enjoying it! I shall have it back and so much more! Your slow and excruciating death shall be my most wondrous revenge! You shall be rid of me in death and nothing less!"

Frieda had no more use for her foul mistress's empty threats. With a careful blow, she brought down the rod on her mistress's head, leaving her victim senseless but very much alive. She then left the chamber and began her preparations.

Entering her mistress's boudoir, she dressed in simple but costly clothes, as a woman on a travel. Leaving any thoughts of her own poor clothing aside, she filled a trunk with the finery of a woman to the nobility born. A second smaller trunk she filled with the accoutrements befitting a lady of her ill gotten status. Fine perfumes, jewellery and make ups she tossed in with cool detachment. When she well convinced she could pass as a lady of high birth, out on a travel to a new country, she brushed out her hair and applied make ups to brighten her visage and also to disguise her features. When satisfied with her deceit, she strode into her past mistress's study and pulled the portrait of the deceased husband aside.

Hidden cleverly was a cupboard. Pulling it open, Frieda stared at a treasure she had difficulty believing could be before her. A chest was there which upon opening was full to the brim with golden guilders. A second chest, equally as large was teeming with glittering jewels, pearls of exquisite quality and chains of the finest wrought gold. Before her was a treasure to afford her a life of luxury, wealth beyond Crocious and every whim her newly darkened heart could conceive. Visions of women, pleasuring her to ever heightening peaks filled her mind and then were replaced by the images of men with thick, thick oak hard erections, filling her womanly and her dark orifices, driving her to ever more wickedly and Damnable pleasures. Orgies of sexual lust and fulfillment occupied her fevered mind as she ran her hands through the King's ransom contained in the chests.

She was now only concerned with her escape, how to get herself and her new found treasure far from the city. She walked to a window and gazed at the Moon. It was at least five hours until dawn be her reckoning. The city seemed fast asleep and her escape would have to wait until the sun was up. Until then, she had work to do.

Her once mistress was where she had been left, trussed to the bench that had so often been Frieda's place. She knew that if she left her mistress alive, her own life was forfeit. She fully believed her mistress's threats. The only way Frieda saw to live was to end the life of her tormentor. But first, she had more to avenge. Two years of vile abuse could not let her end her tormentor's life with mercy.

'I like the way you're thinking, girl. Fuck that bitch! And do it until you're exhausted!'

Frieda paused in her thoughts and once again prayed for surcease. "Mother Mary," she intoned out loud, "take from these thoughts of violent end. Relieve my burdened mind and purify my blackened heart. Let me slip away befouled by no more darkness. Let your mercy fill me and guide my hand. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Santi...Amen."

Frieda held her head low and her eyes closed. Hoping for the spirit of grace to rise in her, she felt only the cold heart she had known for two years. 'So be it," she murmured and returned to the chamber.

Her once mistress turned her head at the sound of her return. "Find it, you Papist whore? Then leave and await the guards who will pursue you to the ends of the earth! They shall drag you back in chains and dispose of you at my doors. When I have finished with you in this very chamber you shall spend weeks at the pillory, men's seed dripping in rivers from every hole your cursed body does posses! Your days are numbered, you poxed and filthy spawn of Satan's lust! When the men have had their fill of you, I'll see you roasting at the stake and all the seed of all the men in Stuttgart won't staunch the flames! I curse you and your poxed body to Hell!!"

'Whoa, girl. You gonna take that? You gonna let the bitch have the last word?'

Frieda felt no insult but only her growing sense of strength. "You forget yourself, mistress," she hissed and taking up the rod, beat down upon the oil slicked body before her. Careful to not render her tormentor senseless, she rained down blow after vengeful blow upon legs, buttocks, back and feet.

The shrieks of her mistress and the cries for mercy were lost upon Frieda. Down came the rod until her arm ached and her breathing was staggered.

"Now, my well reminded mistress! Our bargain still stands! You have come close to choosing death! Tell me again your plans for my future! Tell me again and choose your words well...for they...may...be...your...last!"

With each choked word, Frieda had brought down the rod with vicious anger upon the beaten buttocks below her. With heaving chest she stood back and surveyed her wrath. The pummelled woman was now silent, even as the bruises and welts appeared on her once pampered body. Frieda felt as if another guided her movements as she again mounted her tormentors back and put the rod under her chin, to pull back with deadly intent.