THE ROPE | naked and chained | bdsm stories

He sat upon the bench, the bench her chain would not allow Aveline to reach but which was placed for the convenience of anyone of quality who might wish to converse with a captive of the ring. He was dressed in the leather of the hunt. He was darkly handsome in a way that Malenfant was not, and he was smiling in sardonic amusement at the naked girl, unashamedly enjoying what he saw.

“Lovely black bush,” he commented conversationally. They were the words that wrested Aveline from sleep. She sat up in pure horror and immediately did the things she had vowed she would never do again. A hand and elbow covered her breasts while her other hand hid the object of his remark.

“If you cross your legs you can use both hands on your tits.” He was laughing at her but his voice was casually helpful.

Aveline was certain her blush was vivid, and was angered by his frank appraisal. “Don’t look at me like that!” she commanded. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Why not?” He sounded genuinely interested.

“The Lord Malenfant would not wish it.”

“Corne, come. The Lady Aveline D'Almaine knows better than that. I'l wager the kitchen wenches have briefed ye well enow'.”

There was a way with him that made it hard for a young woman to stand upon her dignity. He was not the kind to be frozen by a glance. With a conscious effort that made her writhe inwardly the naked girl took her hands elsewhere. “They told me of you, messire. I suppose you are Miles Hardwin?”

He gave her a friendly grin. “Miles the Rapist, eh!”

“The least of your endeavours, so I'm told.” Her voice was ice.

“The girls are biased,” he assured her earnestly. “They're apt to praise me because of small favours.”

“Raping and whipping them?”

“Nay, it's t'other way 'round. I whip 'em first.”

The chained girl tossed her hair in outrage at his bland acceptance of outrageous guilt. The links of her chain clinked in response. “You should be ashamed,” she retorted haughtily, knowing it sounded sil y but unable to think of anything else.

“I'm not, y'know. Be glad to do the same for you.”

“You're impossible!” She was trying hard not to share his laughter. She was angry with herself at being so vulnerable to his charm. She glared at him in dudgeon. “If you must stare at me mayhap you'l give me something to wear?”

“The little angels love it, y'know. So would you.” It was as though she had not spoken.

“You're insufferable. If you wish to talk, then unlock this col ar.”

“Bit inconsistent that, wouldn’t ye say! And I lack the key.”

“I am sure you can get it.”

“Mayhap, but I won’t. You're a haughty bit of female. A week or two more on that ring's bound to make an improvement.”

“If you won’t help me, then go away.”

“You don’t really want me to.”

He was right! Aveline was furious with herself. She did not want him to go away and leave her alone with her chain. But that he should know! She felt like a precocious child whose postures failed to impress. She contented herself with a sniff and tart retort.

“Would you want to sit here alone day and night with your neck tethered to a ring!”

“I'm flattered, I relieve your tedium.”

“Ye need not be. I think you're a spoiled brat.”

For a moment Aveline knew fear. She had seen the flash of anger in his eyes. This was the man who whipped girls for amusement. When Miles Hardwin rose slowly to his feet she cringed.

“I'l be leaving ye then.” His grin was ruefuly regretful. “Sorry I failed to please.”

It was like an eclipse of the sun. Aveline's response was involuntary. “No! Please, don’t go.”

He turned and looked down at her in mock surprise. “By all the saints, our chained damsel is human after all!”

“Al right, so I'm lonely! And I'm sick unto death of being chained like a dog. And I'm frightened.” Her eyes brimmed.

He nodded quietly at her distress. “Of course. Why not!” He retired into silence to give her time, then asked, “Frightened of me?”

“Yes,” she sniffed.

“That I'l whip and rape you?”

“I suppose so.” She was past caring.

“Best get it done, eh? Get it over with?”

It was as though he was speaking of a household task. Aveline gazed at him, horrified by his nonchalance. He grinned back at her with such insouciance as to provoke her to forget caution.

“As ye wish,” she declaimed with feigned indifference. “Take me to where I must be whipped.”

“‘Tis wel enough done where ye are, M'Lady Aveline.” She stood and faced him, holding her chain tether in one hand to ease its weight upon her throat. She was a picture of naked defiance but her voice was tremulous. “Here, in the open for all to see!”

“Is it the whip or the fuck for which ye want privacy?” he inquired pleasantly.

“Must you shame me? Is that part of your pleasure?”

“I do not have a key but I have a whip,” Miles pointed out reasonably. “Ye'l run to the length of your chain and then accept thy stripes.

The captive twisted in frustration. “And after?”

“After what?” He was teasing.

“After you have whipped me.”

“Why, then I'l pleasure ye - a fair exchange.”

“Here, in the garden? On the stone?” She was aghast.

“Ye'll not be the first damsel to lay on hard bed.”

She was being played with, and wished she could hate him for it. But the girls had been right; Miles Hardwin had a way with him. She shook her chain wrathful y so that the links rattled through her fingers. “It is not me who says yes, it is this. If it satisfies you to have sport with a chained girl, then' have it.”

Miles gazed upon her pride with frank approval. “So ye accept my whip with goodwil?”

“I suppose so... Yes.”

“And what comes after?”

Once more she shook her tether at him. “It is this that accepts that. Pretend not that I have decision.”

They faced each other: the smiling man and the naked girl. Aveline stood defiantly but her heart was pounding. Miles Hardwin was impossible to assess. He was a contradiction. When he gave her a slight and sardonic bow and a careless salute with a negligent hand, she watched him walk away from her and knew only that she wished he would not go. She almost cal ed to him to stay, but bit back her cry. She had said enough, perhaps too much. He would return soon enough, and be carrying a whip.

It was a long wait. Aveline stood beside her ring playing nervously with the metal links that held her captive. She faced a new and terrifying experience: to be whipped ... naked ... on her bare skin! To be unable to flee beyond the pitiful length of her chain! She had no idea of how she might behave, whether she would stand contemptuously or grovel in anguish. And then while her weals were fresh and scalding, to lay them on the stone and invite his manhood, she had little idea of that either. The five who had staked her down and ravished her had taught her nothing. But perhaps she would be bound this time too and thus be exempt from response.

She almost hoped it would be so.

When a dawning realization that Miles Hardwin would not return seeped into her awareness, Aveline was furious, first with him and then with herself that she had been vulnerable enough to be so touched. She tried to close her mind to a vision of herself clasped in his arms, her own around his neck. For a moment he had dispel ed her loneliness and her fear. She wanted him and felt wanton in her need.

“Is it not tiring to stand and hold thy chain, Mistress?” Ismay laughed at Aveline's sudden start and flustered look. “So Miles Hardwin came to look upon thy breasts and bush, M'Lady. I'l warrant he found them to his taste.”

“He promised to whip me,” Aveline acknowledged bitterly.

Ismay tril ed merriment. “ ‘Tis a good sign. He does not whip Gudron the cook.”

“How can you talk so!” Aveline was irritated with the world. “The manner of his way with us is despicable.” Ismay's eyes sparkled.

“Yet ye loved it.”

“I did not! And even if I did, what good would it do! He walks away and leaves me chained.”

“M'Lord Malenfant has the key to thy chains and M'Lord Miles the key to thy heart,” Ismay giggled delightedly.

“Don’t be a stupid girl. I've seen him but once.”

“That's all any of us saw him - the first time!” Ismay's giggled broke out afresh.

“Is it true that only thy Lord Malenfant can free me?”

“ ‘Tis true, Lady. Honestly ‘tis true! It has been so with all of us. It pleasures him to be far distant and know we must stay chained to his ring.” Ismay sighed. “It is the way of nobles that we serve their whims.”

“So if il befall him in some far corner of the Realm I must stay thus for life!”

Ismay was intrigued by the plaint. “Doubtless someone would then summon the smith with his tools to cut thee loose. It would take no less.”

Aveline sniffed disdainful y and felt doubly captive. “Has he gone back to his hunt?”

“Miles Hardwin? Nay, he busies himself with M'Lord's affairs.” Ismay twinkled mischief. “I'l wager he makes ye wait. When you believe yourself forgotten he'll come striding in with his whip.” She pretended to give the matter thought. “After the noontime would be my guess.”

But Ismay's guess was wrong.

It was Amiot who brought back the clothes and produced the key. She held it for the chained girl to behold. Her expression was uncertain as though release from the ring might be no boon.

“M'Lord Malenfant is back, child.”

“Can I not bathe, Amiot? I have been here long.”

“We wil take the time, Aveline.” Amiot smiled. “Carry thy garments. Here, hold them and bend thy pretty neck.” It was a moment the captive girl would long remember. Her col ar and its chain fell to the stone with a clatter. Seeing the coil of links and the opened circlet they looked so innocent, it seemed a purely whimsical thought that they could hold a girl forever.

It was the same man in the same room. Aveline wore the same garb and the same emotions.

Nothing had changed. “Wel ?”

“I am well, Lord. And thee?”

Malenfant gestured angrily. “By heavens, girl, are we to bandy pleasantries! Has’t nothing more purposeful to say?”

“No, Lord.”

He stood, glaring. “I've not been harsh with thee.”

“The ring was not a happy place, Lord.”

“Mayhap it wil be less so come winter.”

Aveline caught her breath. He was capable of making good such a threat even though it meant her death. She said nothing.

“I want no bride scarred by the lash.” Malenfant surveyed her irritably. “Any sane man would suppose thy time on the ring enough. Did'st do no thinking at all?”

“Only in sorrow at my plight.”

He scowled in vexation. “Do ye want the whip?”

“No, Lord.”

“Ye seek to shame me, girl. ‘Tis a female ploy. But I'l have it not. If thy back must bear stripes it shal bear them.” Malenfant gave her a quick, shrewd glance. “I suppose young Miles gave ye a visit?”

“He, too, spoke of the whip, Lord.”

“Aye, he would! And the clucking pul ets, what was their counsel?”

“That I wed thee.”

“But ye heed them not. Would ye deign to bear a son for Miles Hardwin?”

“I want no sons or daughters, Lord.”

A glimmer of amusement flickered across the Norman features. “Ye'l gain one or t'other, girl, if your Miles has his way with thee. There's no virgins in Broule.”

“If ye did not keep me chained, Lord, I might promise it would not happen.”

Malenfant laughed outright. “A wench has few bonds besides the Ring, but as far as I've heard there's none that failed to spread their legs.”

“They are serving girls, Lord, lonely in their colar and grateful for the honour.”

“You're telling me thy cunt is never moist?”

Aveline knew his vulgarity deliberate. He was seeking flaws in the armour of her maidenhood.

Again she kept silent.

“What think ye of Holy Church?”

The question seemed out of character. Aveline parried it: “I have no inclination to a nunnery, M'Lord.”

“Humph! I'd stretch thee on the rack first. But if a priest bid thee wed, would'st thou obey?”

“Such a one would be false. I would heed him not.”

“ ‘Pon my soul, girl, I have a liking for thee. You're vexing enow', but there's a spirit I'd fain not break. I've a notion to let young Miles whip and bed ye to his heart's content - or til thy bel y swells. A maid carrying a whelp welcomes the altar.”

Aveline's heart skipped a beat. Malenfant knew a maiden's vulnerability. No matter how high her courage, it would fall before the compulsions of impregnation. She would welcome the whip rather than the sprouting seed within. In a pathetic burst of honesty she pleaded.

“M'Lord, I know this can be done to me. Every girl knows. It is a nightmare we live with til we wed. Even then, I think there are those who live in fear of it. Perhaps I am one. I ask of you: punish me as you must or as you wish, but do not do ... that other.”

“Damn me, ye'd take torture first?”

“Yes, Lord.”

The Baron gazed at her quizzicaly, half amused by her obstinacy. “Have ye ever been whipped or tortured, lass?”

“Of course not!” Aveline angrily repudiated the implied stigma. “But I am sure you are right, my courage might prove less than I would hope. It is a thing 1 cannot know until it happens.”

“Then we should make it happen?”

“No! Oh, please, Lord, no!”

He viewed her with patient exasperation. “Come, M'Lady Aveline, we have a problem. What would ye have me do?”

“Send me home, Lord. Forget this ... this wedding and making me with child. Please send me back to Plinlymon. I would honour thee for it always.”

“Aye, no doubt.” He rubbed his chin in a perplexity she was sure he did not feel. “I'l send ye on a journey but ‘Tis not the one ye'd choose.”

It was Adam Godsoule who answered the summons. His eye lit appreciatively at sight of Aveline and her fine raiment. She was little like the naked girl he had bound upon the horse.

“Ye know what to do, Adam,” Malenfant said heavily. “And the fewer who know or see the better. Use the cart.” He turned to the fearful girl. “When ye wish to return here ye have but to say - and to promise.”

“Her clothes, Sire?” Godsoule was embarrassed.

The Master of Broule eyed his property. “Aye, ye're right. They're no befitting. Deal with it.”

Godsoule took his captive to Amiot who nodded understandingly. “I get thy clothes again, M'Lady,” she said with wry humour.

Aveline stripped. It was becoming a familiar exercise. Her days chained to the ring had robbed her of shyness. When she was nude she held out her hands and asked dryly, “No doubt you'l want these?”

“Behind your back, lass.”

The captive girl stood erect and turned as- directed. When her palms were pressed together she came close to protesting that there was no need to tie her so painful y, but it could only vex her companions and would serve her naught. She bit her lip as her wrists were tightly bound, and then her elbows joined. It was painful and shaming but seemed the customary method of ensuring a girl did not wriggle from her tie. She refrained from comment.

“Ye have a rug, Amiot?”

“Aye, and I'l have it back.”

They wrapped it carefuly around her nakedness so that she was hidden within its folds from toe to the top of her hair. A cord went around the middle to keep it secure. Godsoule picked her up and threw his burden over a sturdy shoulder. “Be as kind to her as ye can, Adam,”

Amiot said wistful y.

It was Broule's only farewell.

Aveline, bound and naked and uncomfortable, could guess their passing. She could see nothing. When she was laid gently upon straw she knew it for a cart. With his customary concern for his Master's interests Adam Godsoule slipped a noose around one of the slender ankles within the rug and tied its other end to a stanchion of the clumsy vehicle. His captive grinned rueful y in the knowledge she would not stray.

It was a miserable ride. Before it was finished Aveline thought longingly of the horse. With her elbows on fire and a rope around her ankle she wasted no single wish upon escape.

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