Free Damsels in Distress by Amanita Virosa Page B

escaped her as she knelt before he bowl and lowered her head to its stale, wholly unappetising contents, blushing furiously and quivering with shame.
    ‘To think, this will be the last place I will ever see…’ Jane sighed miserably.
    ‘What do you mean, my lady?’ Polly anxiously broke into her thoughts. ‘What a thing to say.’
    After the frugal meal Jane discovered from where Lord Makepiece had produced Polly. In a little alcove of the dungeon was a small but sturdy iron cage, into which both girls were herded, Jane having been collared and manacled like Polly. There was barely room for both of them to lie flat, so they sat side by side, cold iron bars against their backs, each lost in her own thoughts.
    ‘It is the truth, I am afraid,’ Jane said sadly. ‘Once I sign Lord Makepiece’s confession my execution is certain. And I must sign for I cannot endure more pain.’
    ‘My master,’ Polly said softly, ‘is fond of beauty, my lady. He does not like to waste it…’
    ‘No,’ Jane said. ‘And he will keep you while you serve his fancy. But I fear that I am more important. Neither Lord Makepiece nor his majesty will suffer me to live.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Polly said, ‘but do not despair, my lady. My master will not see you on the scaffold if he can help it, and he is a clever man. Perhaps he will find a way…’
    ‘Oh, God in heaven have mercy, I cannot bear it!’ Lady Jane groaned again.
    ‘I am afraid that you must bear it, my lady,’ Lord Makepiece chuckled. He patted Jane’s naked thigh fondly and went back to lashing Polly with his leather strap.
    The beast was right, Jane realised as she bit her lip and vainly tried to move in some way that would help relieve the pressure. She was secured astride something he called his ‘hobby horse’. A length of wood an inch wide was set about four feet above the floor, its lower edge set into sturdy posts. The upper edge was cut into serrations, and Jane had been obliged to sit astride the cruel contraption. Her arms were manacled high behind back and fixed to a taut chain that pulled her wrists towards the stone ceiling. Her knees were bound together below the span, and the pressure on her most tender parts brought tears to her eyes, and was soon quite unendurable.
    Then the true cruelty of the arrangement became clear. There was one way she could relieve the pressure of the horse’s teeth as they bit into her vulva; she could try to take some weight on her arms. The problem was that her arms were already wrenched up painfully behind her, and any increase in that pressure sent agonising pains shooting through her shoulders. And yet, despite the cruel cost of pulling down, the action did little to relieve the agony in her privates. There was simply no way she could haul down hard enough.
    Yet every time she stopped trying this desperate stratagem, the pain between her legs engulfed her again. And so, soon enough, knowing it would not work but having no alternative but to try, Jane would grit her teeth and pull down on the chain once more.
    For the first few minutes Makepiece watched her closely, his cold eyes lingering on her writhing, naked body, while he stroked the bulge in the front of his breeches quite openly. Then he ordered Polly to fetch a strap and stand in position, bending from the waist to present her bottom, and grasping the chains at the point where they left her ankle fetters.
    ‘Watch and learn, my dear,’ Makepiece said to Jane, gesturing towards the bending girl’s presented bottom. ‘Polly no longer needs to be chained in position for her whippings, and soon you will beg me to chastise you in the same way.’
    ‘Please, Lord Makepiece, I cannot bear this any longer,’ Jane pleaded. ‘Please, whip me if you will. Flog me instead of Polly; only let me off this terrible thing!’
    ‘And will you sign the confession, my proud lady?’
    ‘Oh, yes sir!’ she wailed. ‘I will do anything, only let me off for pity’s