Free Damsels in Distress by Amanita Virosa

on them, for the ogre was again moving around to take up position behind her.
    ‘Such a lovely body, Lady Jane, I truly ache to flog it,’ he said in a low growl, and then she heard the awful hissing sound again.
    ‘Hush, hush, my lady,’ Makepiece said softly, ‘I have not skinned you, quite. Such fair flesh will be unmarked once the sign of these whipcord kisses fades.’
    Jane could not respond. Indeed she could do nothing but sob. The flogging had been simply excruciating. Her tormentor had concentrated on her back, whipping her mercilessly as her shrieks echoed around the dungeon. Her bottom and thighs had taken their share of whipcord lashes too. To Jane it had felt as though her whole back and behind was being flayed.
    And still her hide was burning. In her young life she had never imagined, much less experienced, such intolerable discomfort.
    It took time for the scalding sensations to subside a little, and time for her to stop breathing brokenly and quell her gasps and sobs. At last the pain became a duller throbbing, and only then did it occur to her that Makepiece had apparently left her alone.
    At that moment a sound from a particularly gloomy corner of the dungeon made her start. She heard the rattle of a key in a lock and a girlish voice cry out. Another victim of the evil man!
    Blinking away the tears that still blurred her vision, Jane strained to peer round into the gloom. Two figures emerged from the shadows; the familiar bulky form of Makepiece, and a slighter one, a girl. She was naked, but there was an iron collar around her throat, and her wrists and ankles were fettered with heavy chains.
    ‘This is Lady Jane, our latest guest, Polly,’ the brute announced. ‘You will see to her needs.’ Lord Makepiece reached out and patted Jane’s swollen cunny. ‘One need in particular, to start with.’
    Polly’s body was lithe and shapely, and she was pretty, with wide eyes and long black hair, tied back into a ponytail. The girl’s skin was pale and flawless, except for a few livid welts curling around her flanks. She blinked solemnly at Makepiece’s order, and then anxiously licked her lips.
    ‘Yes, my lord,’ she said softly, dropping to her knees in front of Lady Jane, her chains clinking in the stillness of the dungeon as she moved.
    Jane felt the naked girl’s tongue on her inner thighs, and could not quite suppress a gasp. She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from moaning as the girl began to lick upward, towards her pulsing sex.
    ‘I rescued Polly Fletcher from the gallows,’ Makepiece droned, Jane barely hearing his ominous words. ‘Like you, she is a traitor, I am afraid. Or at least, her husband was involved in a plot. She has been here for three months now and has quite repaid my generosity.’ Lord Makepiece sniggered, moved to the rack and leaned against it, and Jane watched aghast as he unlaced his breeches and took out his swollen cock. But then Polly’s inquisitive tongue reached her nether lips and she bucked in response.
    ‘That’s it, my pretty Polly, lick the little trollop until she begs for more,’ he encouraged between chuckles, openly caressing his engorged cock as he watched.
    In a futile attempt to retain the last scrap of her dignity, Jane tried her best not to respond to that cunning mouth, but it was quite hopeless. Polly flicked her tongue around Jane’s labia with immense expertise, and even before it began to tease her clitoris she was closing her eyes tight and writhing in her bonds. When she opened her eyes again she saw the leering grin of Lord Makepiece, lewdly pumping his bloated cock in his fist, and looking down she saw Polly’s naked body and gently bobbing head, and the combination of so much visual stimulus swept forth an intense orgasm that near took her breath away, her gasps and shrieks filling the dungeon chamber once again.
    ‘Ah!’ Jane gasped in pain.
    ‘I’m sorry, your ladyship,’ Polly said in a soft voice, ‘the brine stings, I