The cage | chained captive | bdsm stories

The cage was cruel. Its stout bars were close enough that she could do no more than thrust an arm or a leg between them. They curved inward above her head to an apex as in a cage for birds. It was of no great dimension but large enough to hold a girl. It stood in one corner of the huge chamber wherein stood the pillory. Aveline could peer from her small prison and behold the instrument of her martyrdom in whose firm clutch she had first been whipped. It was a view that fascinated and repel ed, especial y since the intimations that she might once again be compelled to place her neck and her wrists within its embrace.

She was shamed by being kept naked. The lay brother who tended her necessities wore a permanent blush while in her presence. Brother Anselm was one of the few bright spots in Aveline's caged existence. Since she had no choice but to be nude she teased him with her body and her speech. Being a prisoner in a cage made her feel doubly naked; she could hide nothing, and her condition was made doubly trying by the chains shackled to wrists and ankles and joined by their terminus in a ring just above the level of her knees. Standing, they made her wickedly helpless. Sitting or squatting enabled her fingers to reach her face and hair. In having them locked upon her limbs, Father Gabelot had emphasized their chastening affect on the recalcitrant spirit and assured her solemnly she wore them for her own good. Aveline had longed to make a tart rejoinder, but a naked girl locked within a cage becomes wary of what she says.

“Why must I be naked, brother Anselm?” she had asked mischievously.

“That thy flesh be mortified, M'Lady.” It sounded like a quotation.

“But, Anselm, I've been terribly whipped. Isn’t that enough?”

“Virtue is worth any sacrifice.”

“I'm no more virtuous now than before.”

“No doubt the holy Abbot wil whip thee again,” Brother Anselm offered helpfuly as he strove with the problem of examining Aveline's breasts without appearing to do so.

“Do you like my breasts, Anselm? I can’t cover them, y'know. My hands are chained so I can’t lift them above my hairy spot.”

“Ye should not say such things, M'Lady. ‘Tis Satan who prompts thee. ‘Tis my duty to report thy sin that ye may be scourged.”

“But you won’t, wil you, brother Anselm? Would you like me to get closer to the bars so you can see my cunt?”

“You make sport of me, M'Lady,” Anselm complained without noticeable concern. For the first time, he dropped subterfuge and stared fixedly at the captive girl's pubic hair.

The pillory and Father Gabelot had taught Aveline much of men and of herself. She cast aside hypocrisy and knew her body potent as a weapon. Fresh shames as they occurred made her aware of nakedness, but mostly she ignored it. She now wore nudity as unconsciously as she had once worn clothes.

“Anselm, be a kind man and unlock my chains?”

“No!” The young lay brother was deeply shocked.

Aveline realized she had overtaxed his tolerance. Unhappily she viewed the collar and chain and the key to her cage. “Oh, Anselm; don’t do that to me. Oh, please! I'm terribly sorry. Couldn’t I say a prayer or something?”

“ ‘Tis too late, M'Lady. This I do for thine own good.” Ruefully, the caged maiden reflected that the platitude covered most ecclesiastical impositions. Dolorously she watched the lay brother depart. Her pixie humour seemed likely to earn her an uncomfortable day. Her chains were taut with her desire to finger the metal collar on her neck and the chain from it to the top of her cage. But she could touch nothing, and must now stand helplessly in the centre of her small prison, unable to rest or to sit down. It was evident brother Anselm must be treated with more respect. Aveline sighed in wistful longing that she could unsay what she had said. She stamped a bare chained foot and emitted a hearty. “Damn!”

Several days had passed since her time in the pillory. Caged and chained she had wept at the indignity of the cage and her memory of the whip. She had twisted and turned to try and see her weals. Some were visible but most were not. Those she could behold and those upon her thighs which she could touch were frightening in their tenderness and multi-colouration. It had been made abundantly clear to her that she could be scourged again at any time. The Abbot and the Baron Malenfant found no problem i n rationalizing her as a delinquent child.

Aveline recalled the first time she had stepped into the cage and turned awkwardly in her chains to behold the Abbot close the door and snap the lock. Her sense of confinement had been claustrophobic, her nudity an invitation to peer through the bars in lewd enjoyment of her plight. The Abbot stepped back and did just that.

“Our naughty little bird will not fly away.”

Aveline hurt from the whipping and her tractioned toes. She was shamed and frightened.

The Abbot seemed an unpredictable malignancy. “Reverend Father, if I promise to be good is there need to chain and cage me thus?”

“Rail not against thy fortunes, child, less worse befall.”

“What is to become of me, Father?”

“A change of heart perhaps.” He gave her a sly wink. “I understand certain matters at Broule ... “

“I can be free if I agree to marry the Baron, is that it?” Gabelot raised his eyebrows in holy horror. “Let us not deal in temporal matters in this holy place.”

“But that is the reason I am imprisoned and punished, isn’t it?”

The Abbot shrugged. “Reports of thy progress will be sent to Broule,” he admitted guardedly. “Should'st thou have a special message for M'Lord Malenfant I would ensure it reached his hand.”

“I will be punished until I write that missive, will I not?”

“We but strive to return ye into grace.”

“He wants me only to breed sons. Must I do this, Father?”

For a moment Gabelot was silent in thought, then cocked a quizzical eyebrow and intoned, “They would also be the sons of Holy Church.” He allowed the silence to fall again before suggesting softly: “Yet I have considered another and nobler path for thee to follow.”

Could good come from this man! The chained girl doubted it. Despite her doubt, hope flared anew. “Please, Father, tell me.”

“The holy convent of Saint Agnes adjoins our abbey, Aveline.”

To be a nun! Her whole being recoiled. “I ... I am not worthy, Reverend Father. I ... I have been soiled. I cannot take the vows.”

“Ye may take them, girl, rest assured of that. The Revered Abbess Cissota would welcome thee, ‘Tis the only way I know to end M'Lord's interest in thy flesh.”

“M'Lord Malenfant would never sanction it.”

Gabelot smiled in wisdom. “If ye choose of thine own wil to embrace holy orders, and if I and the Abbess hold thy person safe, M'Lord Malenfant wil relinquish ye. He wil not take thee by force from Holy Church.”

Aveline sighed in memory, and wriggled fretfuly against brother Anselm's colar. The Abbot had left her alternatives. They were clear and precise. She wanted neither. But rejection had gained her nothing but to sit or stand, naked and chained, within the smal barred prison from which she now saw no hope of escape. She could be locked thus forever.

It was tiring and dispiriting to have to stand uselessly in the centre of her cage, unable to raise her fettered hands, unable to reach the bars to lean on them and rest. Aveline tried, but the col ar 'round her neck and its punitive chain snapped her back into punishment no matter where she turned. She would have to stand listlessly and hope the lay brother would feel pity for his naked charge and remove the metal band from her throat before night when he came with the blanket he would take from her again with the new day.

Aveline realized her incarceration went beyond imprisonment. It was more than the simple loss of liberty. She would be kept in some degree of shame and discomfort as a process of attrition to bend her wil without breaking the beauty of her body. Woeful y she understood how well designed the treatment was for a girl such as she. Each day in the cage increased her longing to get out of it. Each hour chained told her clearly the intent of her shackles; they were to punish. Actually, it mattered not at al that she was chained. She could do nothing, go nowhere. The chains robbed her of nothing save dignity and comfort. Their clinking response to her every move kept her constantly aware of what she was.

It was natural to think of capitulation. Wryly she wondered what would be done with her should she agree forthrightly to Malenfant's demand. She could not envisage either freedom or kindness. She would probably be delivered back to Broule as tightly bound as when she had left it. They would take no chances with her. Then she would share the Baron's bed, opening her thighs to the thrusts of his phallus until the day her belly began to swel with the fruit of his seed. She shuddered at the prospect.

The convent of Saint Agnes would be even worse. Nuns were prisoners, held by bars as wel as vows. Aveline had heard stories of convents and what went on behind their walls. Her bel y might be in as much hazard of protrusion as at Broule. And to be shaved! She had a momentary vision of being held fast by many holy hands while some beldame shaved her pate to make her bald. She shuddered.

A naked girl, chained and caged as was Aveline, must seek solace in her thoughts or become hysterical. She had no pleasant prospects on which to dwell, so turned her mind in feminine curiosity to Miles Hardwin. She knew herself as much prey to his charm as was Ismay or the other girls. It mattered not, she might never see him again. But for a girl in prison he was an exciting memory. It was better to think of his laughing masculinity than to reflect on Plinlymon and shed the tears her fettered hands could not reach up to dry.

“A penny for thy thoughts, girl.”

The female voice struck the dreaming captive like a blow. It was a strong and vibrant voice, but an amused one. Startled, Aveline gazed through the bars to behold a nun.

“I am called Cissota, Aveline.” The deep, dark eyes that were stil young twinkled at the prisoned girl's surprise. “Or the Mother Superior of Saint Agnes.”

Despite qualms, Aveline was overjoyed to be in the company of her own sex. Her instant reaction was natural. “Thank Heaven! Oh, Reverend Mother, can'st thou please release me?”

“I suppose that could be arranged,” the Abbess conceded without interest. “I suppose that idiot Gabelot bedecked thee with irons enough for a brace of felons?”

“He and brother Anselm. I am being punished, Reverend Mother.”

“So it would seem,” the Abbess said dryly. “And I've a suspicion of the motive. Turn ye

'round, girl, and let me see thy back.”

Aveline felt foolish as she swivel ed her col ar and shuffled her chained feet to obey. She knew herself unlikely to run counter to the demands of this vivid personality. The Mother Superior was youngish for her eminence and had a way with her. The exclamation that greeted the display of whip marks on the maiden back and bottom was not the one the shamed girl expected.

“The damned old rascal! And he never invited me! Gabelot's going to get a piece of my mind.”

Cissota sounded more amused than angry. “Was it thy first whipping, child?”

“Yes, madam, I thought I would die.”

“He had ye in the pilory, eh?”

“Yes. I am held close captive.”

“I'd hold thee close captive too, child, an' I had thee. Turn around again. I'd loose ye if I had the key.”

Aveline turned and faced the woman in whom she saw fresh hope. The Abbess of Saint Agnes was a far cry from the girl's envisioning. She radiated a force the Abbot lacked. “Please help me,” she begged piteously.

“Does thou wish to become a nun?”

“No.”

“Hmmmm, a pity! I'd make a pretty postulant out of you.”

“I am not a religieuse, Reverend Mother.”

“Who is, girl! I'm not, nor is the Abbot. I'd let thee scourge a novice now and then.”

It was borne on Aveline that she was being bribed, and with a stranger coin than she had ever known. Her face betrayed her bewilderment.

“But, Reverend Mother, I do not understand. Why?”

“You know perfectly wel , girl, and don’t pretend. Our noble Abbot did not whip thee for the good of thy soul. I'l wager the old rogue got a rampant prick and used it.”

Aveline flushed. She had learned much in the pil ory. She seemed likely to learn more now.

“It was most shaming and hurtful, madam.”

“Oh, aye, I'm sure it was. I just wish I'd been there - damned old hypocrite! I suppose he got a wet hand?”

It was a puzzle finally at last into place. The chained girl blushed anew. Perhaps her manually invoked sensations were not from Heaven after all! Her wish to get free of the Abbot became stronger than ever. She strove for compromise. “Reverend Mother, I would be happy if ye would take me hence. ‘Tis so wrong I be kept here naked among men - and chained so that I can cover nothing.” She looked wistful y through the bars. “But in honesty I must tel that I have no wish to be a nun.”

“Want your cake and eat it too, eh!” The Abbess eyed her shrewdly. “I have a cage like this at St. Agnes, d'you wish to enter it?”

Absurd and incomprehensible! But stil ... “Gladly, if ye can take me from here,” Aveline ventured uncertainly. “Mayhap I'l whip thee more than the Abbott and brother Anselm put together?”

The chained girl twisted in confusion so that her links bespoke her distress. “But, Reverend Mother, to be whipped ... it is so awful and I have done no wrong!”

“Don’t you really understand ... honestly?” Once again the Abbess' glance was sharp.

“Nay.” Aveline looked beseechingly through the bars. “Oh, Mother Superior, I am so lost. I thought I was a woman but it seems I am a child.”

The Abbess nodded. She knew innocence when she saw it. “ ‘Tis best ye know, girl, so I tel it as it is.” She gave the captive a comradely but sardonic grin. “For Gabelot and I - and a few more here and there - the most exquisite joy we can be vouchsafed is to whip a girl such as thee. In thy writhings and thy screams we find a thousand ecstasies.”

She had guessed it but failed to believe. Aveline's first comprehension was a quick memory of Miles Hardwin. He and the castle girls had made light of it. But surely Ismay and her friends could never have been whipped as cruelly as the Abbot had whipped her! Dealing in a currency she had never before known, Aveline's voice was hesitant.

“If it must be, Reverend Mother, so be it. I must strive to understand. If it gives thee joy to whip me, take me hence. Leave me not caged here in Aubyn. Messire the Abbot deceives me.”

“What are you two hens clucking about?” The voice sounded irritable as the Abbot came striding into his captive's vision.

“About thee, who else!” the Abbess rejoined tartly. “ ‘Tis a pretty kettle of fish I find: a sweet young fil y well striped and me told not a word of it! Gabelot, ye're an old fraud.”

“Come now, Cissota, ye'd not be here now if I'd wished to hide M'Lady Aveline.”

“I'd not be here if I'd not smelt a rat and come searching. You're a lucky dog. I'd have thought Malenfant would have whipped the lass into submission himself,” the Abbess laughed shortly,

“Or given her to young Miles to rope and rape.”

“M'Lord Malenfant wishes the blessings of Holy Church upon his union. He relishes no arguments of bastardy with his heirs.” Gabelot thoughtful y surveyed the caged girl. “I had thought to return him a grateful y agreeable damsel within a week. But now I have my doubts.”

“Her distaste for Malenfant's babes be stronger than thy right arm, man?”

“Nay, I can break her well enough; she is but a girl.”

“Well, then?”

The Abbot gave his col eague a cynical leer. “Would we not be simpletons to part with such a pretty piece?”

“Indeed we would,” the Abbess Cissota agreed heartily. “What had ye in mind?”

“Surely you can think of something?” said the Abbot petulantly.

“Mayhap I could.” The strong female mouth tightened. “Providing ‘tis I who gets the girl.”

“I could scourge her weekly?”

“We can take turns. For ful possession I'l exchange thee a douce little novice that arrives next Thursday. She'l be grateful for thy whip; she thinks she harbours a demon - at least her parents do.”

“Is she of the quality of Lady Aveline?”

“I have never seen a maid of the quality of what you've got in that cage,” the Abbess admitted forthrightly. “I lust for her. Couldn’t we take her out and give her a few stripes? I'd like to hear her scream.”

“She screams superlatively wel, Cissota,” Gabelot assured proudly. “But I'd as lief give her time to heal a bit before we mark her afresh.”

Aveline had no choice but to listen to the cynical discussion of her disposal. But she listened in dismay. Her chains now weighed twice as much and the bars had doubled in size. It appeared she had little to look forward to. But she knew that if she must be the prisoner of one of these two bickering cynics she preferred the woman to the man.”

“Please, may I go to the convent?” she asked plaintively.

“For heaven's sake, man, take that absurd col ar and chain off the girl. It does no good to keep her standing there like that,” the Abbess demanded crossly.

“I wil not countermand authority,” Gabelot said stiffly.

“Horse turds!” the Abbess snapped impatiently. “If she must be uncomfortable put a crotch cord between her legs or tie her elbows or something. I've told you before: Anselm's a fool.”

“Anselm has a high regard for the maid.”

“I'm sure he has. The poor boy probably had to manhandle his cock thrice daily to find relief from such loveliness. I'm a woman and she's got me sopping. How the devil can you stand it?”

“ ‘Tis a sad tax on celibacy,” the Abbot admitted cheerful y.

“It would be if ye practiced it,” Cissota retorted tartly. “Come now, can I take the girl home with me?”

“Please, Reverend Father, let me be taken to where there are women to keep me,” Aveline pleaded.

“Thy ripe little arse wil get warmed more in St. Agnes' than it wil here, my girl,” the Abbot warned darkly. Aveline subsided into a baffled silence and listened to their discussion of ways and means. It became evident that young women were traded back and forth between them in the manner of domestic animals. They were stil preoccupied with pros and cons when they drifted from the chamber, their voices echoing back until silence once more enveloped the forgotten nudity in the cage. The chain and the col ar were stil upon Aveline's neck. She stood, weary and without hope, while a tear found its way down her cheek. She tried to brush it away, but no matter how she fought her chains or contorted her limbs she could not achieve the small pathetic task.

There was a guilty look about brother Anselm when he removed her colar. No doubt he had received a reprimand. Aveline sank thankful y to the floor of her cage but exploited a possible advantage.

“Dear brother Anselm, please unlock my chains too. I am most weary.”

“Prisoners must be chained at al times, M'Lady,” Anselm declaimed stiffly.

She had naught to lose, why not be wanton! “But I am not a prisoner, brother Anselm, I am just a girl being punished,” she pointed out sweetly.

“Thy chains are punishment.”

“But I mustn’t be punished all the time. Even bad girls need a rest.”

“Thy chains are not onerous, M'Lady.”

“Please cal me Aveline. May I be let out of the cage so as to walk around? Oh, please let me!

Chained like this I can’t possible give you any trouble. I can only shuffle.”

“The Abbot would not approve.”

“Yes, he would. He and the Mother Superior were talking about such things. They did not like that col ar you locked on my neck. It was cruel to make me stand all day.”

“You were impertinent.”

“I'm terribly sorry, you can whip me sometime for it. But if you let me out of here now I could stand very close to you. It would be nice.”

Brother Anselm's breath visibly quickened. He swalowed a prominent Adam's apple and looked longingly at Aveline's breasts. “Would you get back in the cage when I told you?” he inquired doubtful y.

“Of course I would!” Aveline rattled her links. “Chained the way I am I can’t possibly not obey you. Besides, I'd be grateful.”

Brother Anselm unlocked the cage door.

It was half wonderful and half infuriating. She was free of the cage, but the equally hated chains limited her to short, noisy steps and hands primly joined below her navel. She made a hobbled circuit of the big room and came to stand before the brown habit and the nondescript male within. She looked up into worshipping eyes.

“Dear brother Anselm, you are so kind to me. I would that I could repay thee.”

“Charity comes from above.” Brother Anselm sounded a bit uncertain of his declaration. He raised a quaking hand and touched a nipple as though to make sure it was real. “Thou art most lovely, M'Lady.”

“I am, aren’t I!” Aveline agreed ingenuously. “Touch my other one too, please. And while you're at it, rub my nose. I can’t reach the way you've got me chained.”

Brother Anselm did as requested. He did not do it well. He was trembling.

“If you sort of rub both of them gently they'l get hard and stick out more,” his captive informed helpful y.

“A woman is most wondrous.” This time the brother's exclamation did not sound like a quotation.

“If you'l take these chains off me I can put my arms around your neck. I think that would be nice. I've been so lonely in that cage.”

Brother Anselm was very young. He was visibly affected. It occurred to him, unexpectedly, that he had been very lonely too. It had been his family's idea that he become a monk, not his own. The naked girl's musk was enveloping him in potent waves. Aveline rattled her chains as though striving for a bliss denied.

“Perhaps your hands,” said brother Anselm.

It was as though he was asking her permission. He was in a daze of apprehension and lust.

Aveline's heart leaped. To have her hands returned to her would be a boon indeed. But with her ankles joined she would stil be helpless.

“You are so thoughtful,” she whispered. Backing away a step, she offered her fettered hands as best she could. Brother Anselm unlocked the metal bands from the slender wrists so that they and their chains and ring fell with a clatter at her feet. He was in a dither of awareness at the girl's nudity.

“Thank you, oh, thank you!” Aveline's gratitude was genuine. Knowing her feet stil captive, she advanced brother Anselm's demoralisation one more step. She clasped her arms about his neck, nestled her head on his shoulder, and thrust her pelvis hard against his. Even through the coarse folds of the monk's habit she could feel the man's erection that was her most potent ally. “You're such a wonderful man,” she breathed ardently.

The monkish neophyte was floundering in a sea of sensations similar to those Aveline herself had suffered in the pil ory days before. For the moment he was living on faith alone; faith that in some way this warm and vibrant female thing and himself would become resolved. He grasped her right breast and patted her left buttock as samples of advancing bliss.

In the ful blush of female power, Aveline took a verbal step that, a month previous, would have been unthinkable and impossible. “Would you like to feel my cunt, dear brother Anselm?” she asked demurely.

She felt him tense, his hands stopped their play, inarticulate sounds fought within his larynx.

Gently, she took his wil ing hand from her bottom and thrust it between her legs. When he had cupped and kneaded the moist lips long enough, she asked winningly, “Would thee not like my legs apart? Without the chain I could spread them wide.”

“I dare not loose thee, M'Lady.”

“ ‘Tis easy done.” She kissed his neck. “I would not run away.”

“But, the Abbot! If he should come!”

“He would not be pleased -- even as I now am. Come, Anselm, a girl's legs have uses as wel as her arms.”

“Thou art not cozening me?”

“I am yours to do with as ye wish, Anselm. Take me.” Aveline looked down at the unimpressive head and fumbling hands. Her heart was thumping painful y as she watched the freeing of her ankles. Her battle was half won, but there remained the doors and walls of Aubyn.

She allowed the panting lay brother to play with her body to his heart's content. She shrewdly guessed him virgin and fearful of the taking of a girl. When he began to fumble with his clothes she held his hand. “Not here in Aubyn, dear Anselm, not in this holy place.”

“Then where?” He was once more tense.

“Get me hence. We wil flee together. A man such as thee should ne'er be a monk. Take me away.”

He was an easy prey to sure al ure. He had found the habit and the Abbey little to his liking.

Away from it, and with this glorious girl! His mind reeled at the possibilities. A wet and thrusting Venus mound aided decision. Yet brother Anselm was not entirely lost to caution.

“I wil have to bind thee.”

Inwardly Aveline cried desperately: No! No, no, no. She wanted no more of bonds. But she kept her peace and asked diffidently: “What on earth for?”

“I ... I scarce know thee. ‘Tis asking much.”

“Ye do not trust me?” Her question oozed reproach.

“I ... I - ‘Tis not that,” he floundered, seeking plausibility. “Yet I would fain have thee secure.

Bear with my wish.”

The almost free girl understood his wish well enough, but his prudence was not her profit.

“You see!” she said accusingly. “Ye trust me not. Oh, Anselm!” She pretended to sob into his rough wool. “Oh, dear, dear Anselm, do not tie me.” She ral ied her pelvis to her cause.

Anselm had found an inspiration, one not without truth. Holding the naked girl at arm's length, he said urgently: “But I must! Does’t not understand! If I am to take thee from Aubyn it must 9

be as a prisoner in the eyes of those who wil witness our passing. I can say I deliver thee to the Abbess at Saint Agnes.”

Aveline's heart sank. His logic was hard to refute. It was a perfect cover for escape. None but the Abbot himself would question their mission. Being so close to freedom she loathed the thought of being again rendered helpless. To have walked to St. Agnes in chains would have been impractical -- but bound! It was perfect. Reluctantly she capitulated.

“Can I be covered?”

“Prisoners are never covered, M'Lady.”

That looked after that! She looked at him coyly: “Call me Aveline.”

“Aveline.” He savoured her name on his tongue as his eyes adored. “I wil find rope.”

The big chamber had everything. When Anselm found what he required, his wanton captive held out her hands in meek surrender.

“Behind thy back.” He flushed awkwardly. “‘Tis custom.”

Masking her irritation with a smile, Aveline turned and crossed her wrists. “There,” she said with mock cheerfulness. “I told thee I'd be obedient.”

His hands were male and felt strong to her as he grasped her own and placed them palm to palm.

“No! Not like that.” She turned to face him. “That way means you're going to tie my elbows too, doesn’t it?” Brother Anselm's features became uncertain. She sensed how easily he could panic. He nodded, unhappy at her revolt. “Please,” he implored earnestly. “It is always done.

I want no questions.”

“But if you tie my wrists I'l be helpless enough!”

“Perhaps. But ye are a prisoner in transit. Such are always made doubly secure. Please ...

Aveline.”

His use of her name touched her. She was fearful, too, that his courage might fade with his erection and she find herself back in the cage. With a wry moue of resignation she once more turned her back. This time she placed her hands palm to palm herself.

It was hard to stand passive and be bound. The ropes being tightly knotted into her flesh by unexpectedly competent fingers seemed a negation. But brother Anselm was her only hope, she had best accept him with good grace. To be surly or resentful now might turn him back to a jailer. “Ye tie a girl with skil , Anselm,” she said admiringly.

“What is worth doing is worth doing wel,” intoned the lay brother reverting to type.

His absurd predictability made her wish to giggle and sustained her patience while he bound her elbows. He was far from gentle, as though he indeed did not trust her. When he made them meet and pul ed tight the several bands of rope she winced and choked back the vexatious words it would be best not to utter. He had her now. It would be best to behave.

“You're so clever, Anselm,” Aveline looked up with worshipful eyes that obviously had impact on her companion's morale. She wriggled painful y. “I can’t possibly get loose, I just know I can’t.”

He seemed pleased, and again dampened his hand upon her sex, seeking courage. “Look at no one,” he cautioned. “And try and look sad and without hope.”

Aveline rubbed her head against the shoulder of her rescuer. It was all she could do: There remained a single concern. “Anselm, when we go beyond the walls I must not be naked. On the road t'would draw attention.”

Impatiently, he found the blanket she had used of nights, folding it over his arm, he said curtly:

“Come.”

The stil captive girl found herself actually grateful for the ropes within her flesh, and for her nudity, and for the guiding hand and voice of brother Anselm. They passed enough questioning eyes for her to know she could never have reached the small door in the wall of Aubyn alone.

Brother Anselm even had the key.

It was like the non-logic of a dream. Brother Anselm stepped through the narrow portal, there came a solid thump and he disappeared to one side. Stepping out herself she beheld him upon the ground. A startled masculine oath was uttered at her back before she was picked up bodily and thrown across the withers of a horse. A strong hand steadied her as the animal leaped forward beneath the rider and his female prize. The male voice that laughed down at the bound girl had a familiar ring.

“ ‘Tis fate ordained, M'Lady.” It was Miles Hardwin.

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