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“Never seen him. But I hear tales that he is quite a sadistic brute with bondage and lash.” He smiled, turned away, and finished quickly. “Take her gentlemen. And give this purse to your master when she is presented. Guard it well, it contains the key to her belt. You may return the purse with the remainder of my tribute.”
The fellows nodded, two of them lifting Charlotte to her feet and dragging her from the room.
Chapter Sixteen
It was to be Rosaura’s wedding day. Charlotte knew her time in Ilusia was at its end, but had not expected this brusque move. She’d hoped to witness the nuptials from some hidden corner of the castle. She would relish seeing the young maid taken by Mountbane’s rude erection, hearing her cries, and enjoying the physical feast that would follow. She imagined that this wedding would not be quite the free-for-all that hers had been. Mountbane, despite this latest villainy with her, had kept his bride-to-be guarded from the scorn and mockery that so often accompanied his scenes of sexual pleasure. It had been suggested that his bride would not be shared except by a few nobles—and just so the rites would be legitimate—and the fair virgin would understand her humble place in her husband’s world. Charlotte had envied her, her sweetness. She counseled and schooled both bride and groom—they both required her ear on ways to secure their relationship. This seemed strange since Charlotte had never known the kind of love they sought to have—except for her brief affair with Tristan.
Charlotte’s melancholy had been strong some days as she gave her wise advice, wishing she could practice these sensible things herself with the man she loved.
She pined for him to no avail, often forgetting the vow she’d made to stall her sexual feelings. Some nights she’d spent awake, her body burning for what it could not have. Her mind joined that torment, seeking the picture of Tristan’s face. Sometimes she failed to remember how he looked. Her memory was a blur.
Now, ripped away from her life and on her way out of Ilusia, she was more despondent than ever.
It took several days before the party of six, five men and one silent, sullen woman, stopped in their safe harbor. Charlotte was initially surprised by Sir Guy’s odd home. They’d been winding their way through a dank forest f
or two days, each day Charlotte thinking that the sun and sky had escaped them. Finally, they reached a small clearing where the woods gave way to a gentle meadow with a brook running through grasses. They’d reached their destination—a well built, but small mountain stronghold made entirely of stone.
“This is the man’s home?” she spat aloud to her companions. She’d hardly spoken a word since they began the trek, only what was necessary. She wasn’t sure she’d ever speak again, since there was nothing left for her heart to dwell on, nothing in her mind. Charlotte dwelled on emptiness, letting her spirit leave her. Why bother with passion, love, or even hope?
“This is your master’s mountain fortress,” one man said.
“And not his home?”
“This is where you will stay until he receives you,” was all the answer she got.
Fine, she thought to herself. The land was pleasant enough; the meadow quite lovely in fact. She could peer out from a window, if that were allowed, and feel the sun.
This secluded retreat was plainly furnished with simple rooms: a kitchen, greeting room, bedchambers and a dining hall. The dank interior gave her chills: the few tapestries seemed gruesome with clearly depicted hunting scenes she would find a horror to gaze on. Immediately taken to a bedchamber, she was locked inside. Another prison—what more could she expect? She liked the sparseness, she decided. With her best desires dead, she had no passion, or desire for ornamentation.
d
On the third day in the forest castle, Charlotte was taken from her room just as the sky outside was beginning to darken. The smell, even feel of the sultry evening hour was in her bones. The chastity belt had still not been taken from her, but that mattered little since her body seemed to follow her mind’s dreary and listless path.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked the men who held her arms with a firm grip she was not unaccustomed to as a slave.
“To your new master,” he replied.
“Ah, at last.” There was just a trickle of desire surging in her belly though it was far from the great bodily roar she’d once known.
On entering the most homey of the castle’s barren rooms, she was warmed by the sight and feel of a roaring fire, which quickly took away the drafty chill that was settling in her bones. She noted a master’s upholstered, gilded chair, a finely carved table laid with a full meal, and a second table with several implements of sexual ravishment ready to be used.
One of the men beside her reached for a blindfold from that table, and turning her around, placed it over her eyes and tied it tightly in place.
“Have you been blindfolded before?” he asked.
“Only a few times, sir.”
“Your master finds that it stimulates sexual desire,” he informed her.
Charlotte wished she could disagree, but she found her body instantly replying to this simple contrivance, her cunt quickly seeking the sensation that had been denied her for some time. And yet, she was afraid to let the feelings build—afraid that, as with Mountbane in recent months, she’d be taken to the pinnacle of her lust only to have her finish ripped away.
Those attending her began to remove her clothes… an act that seemed much easier to endure with her eyes closed. Perhaps this restraint was a fortuitous sign. Perhaps if this master was a loathsome creature with misshapen features and a grotesque figure she could still enjoy the fire of her body without the repulsion of her mind. After her recent travail she held little hope that Sir Guy would be a handsome man—gossip implied he was a gnarled old gent with a fascination for using women and throwing them away. What kind of fate could that be for a romantic woman? Or even a well-schooled slave?
She heard some commotion across the room and waited anxiously as her attendants stepped away leaving her without the advantage of sight or their solid bodies to lean on.
Across the room, the master of this tiny fortress slipped silently into the room and took his seat with the Lady Charlotte before him. He wished to appraise what he had purchased with so much effort. He smiled. She was a glorious woman. Her long golden hair floated about her face, while a pair of full and pink-blushed lips parted sensuously, as though they were ready now to kiss his swelling organ. Did she realize how much vitality flowed through her comely shape?
And still, there were many more attributes for him to see. Wishing to proceed, he waved for his men to complete her disrobing. He would inspect her as he would any slave to see if she was as fit in body as was her flawless countenance.
