At such times, all she could do was reflect on where she was, that she had failed the test that would have spared her this fate.  Made to pay the cost of her father's greed – and stupidity.  Her father, who had fled, leaving her to arrest when the assassination attempt he had abetted on Duke Karel had failed.  Then there was the "test" itself, an excruciating ordeal where she had been forced to expose her torso, then voluntarily raise her hands and arch her back to offer her bared chest to a vicious beating at the hands of the Duke's German wardress, Ulrike.  Thirty, forty lashes across her belly and breasts – she couldn't remember exactly how many of those either as the original twenty he required was added to every time she tried to comfort them, if she was slow in presenting her body for the next – even if her screams of agony were "too loud" for him – each set administered with a different and always more painful instrument.  Already in agony, the Duke dangled the hope of lessening the number if she offered her nipples to hot needles, but even that onerous ordeal was futile as the pain of the following strokes was so much worse when they were beaten right afterward.  The searing provoked an even greater agony from the way that burning irritated and sensitized the nerves in her tender teats.  All the while there was the added shame of seeing the man blatantly exposed, displaying his rampant manhood (with the attendant erotic hand and mouth play of the Lady Karlson, a noblewoman he invited to watch) which showed its obvious tumescent delight in her suffering.  Never in her nineteen years had she ever imagined that the torture of a girl could stimulate the sexual pleasure of a man.  Yet so it was.  She had tried to endure the "test" –  tried desperately, but failed.  The pain was just too great to bear and she had finally surrendered to it, simply unable to present her bare breasts even one more time.  Even that didn't spare her.  Consumed with pain and writhing on the floor she was raped.  Virgin she had been, yet he violently penetrated and fucked her like a common field peasant.  And now, because of her weakness, she was facing her deepest, darkest fear: condemned to the dank chambers beneath the Ducal Keep, where she had seen young women like her stripped totally nude and fully tortured, some to death.  Her body had healed, the bruising faded and there had been no torn skin – although her nipples still ached from their searing – but her mind was still tormented by the prospect of what could happen to her at any moment.

She heard the click of metal on metal and flinched.  When the cell door swung open she cowered away, pressing herself back into the corner in a desperate attempt to make herself invisible.  It was Ulrike again, she saw, the one who had administered her cruel test, and Alice quailed.  She knew there was no pity behind those dark brown eyes – no, no pity, only the glee of inflicting ghastly pain.  Alice felt her body trembling as if outside in winter from her fear.

"Come, bitch," the wardress barked.  "The Duke has commanded your presence.  Although," she growled, "I would rather just give you to the executioners and be done with it.  Yet, I obey.  Now up!  And follow me."

Alice gathered her chemise and smock tighter about her, tying the small bows in front.  Unlike those miserable wretches down the right-hand death corridor of the dungeon, here down the left one those "patients" of the doctor were allowed clothing, although she had been denied her shoes and so was left barefoot.  Thank God for that, at least, she thought, thank God I'm not to be naked in the hands of the executioners.  Before her ordeal, Ulrika had taken her on a tour of that other dread hallway, forcing her to witness numerous miserable captives wailing in agony as their naked bodies were burned and bloodied and raped.

Alice began to follow, but found herself hanging back as the wails grew louder approaching the center room of the dungeon.  The sounds of mortal suffering penetrated from one corridor to the other, but now got only more strident as she reached the dank stone nexus.  The wardress stopped, then grabbed her arm to drag her along.  "Stop dawdling, bitch!" she snarled, and pushed her ahead.  "The Duke is not a patient man!"

Alice was desperately relieved when she was led through the corridor and up the stairs away from the hellish dungeon.  She didn't understand why, but she surely wasn't going to object not being led down the other corridor.

Soon she was ushered into the duke's lounge, the same room where she had been subjected to her test.  This time the man was alone on the embroidered couch.  Alice saw his eyes open in appreciation and a shiver ran through her body.

As he was the first time he had seen her, Duke Karel Andressen was taken with the sight she presented.  Not yet twenty years of age, but with a body no less mature for that.  Cute with a small, slightly upturned nose and a faint sprinkling of freckles across the bridge and upper cheeks.  Equally appealing was the fine blonde hair.  Its delicate reddish shading, rare for a Dane, provided a demure contrast to the pale skin of the face and upper chest it framed.  And what a chest.  He had almost forgotten the full proud perfection of her breasts when he first saw them exposed.  Even now, still hidden beneath the blouse, he felt himself stirring from the way the dark red bodice lifted and presented them.  "Remove your dress," he ordered without preamble.  "Like the last time, down to your waist.  I want to see those tits again.  They are simply too lovely to be covered."

Remembering the agonizing ordeal the last time she had been so exposed in this room, young Alice was afraid to obey, but she knew that Ulrike would just strip her anyway and she was terrified of angering the man.  She also remembered – it was etched indelibly on her mind – the various scenes of ghastly bloody torture in the dank rooms below, a fate he had said was the price of failing her test.  That she was here now and not down there gave her a glimmer of hope.  Trembling, she raised her hands up to the red shoulder straps of her kirtle, and slipped them off her shoulders.  Then her fingers went slowly back to the top of the white blouse and undid the knots down the front so recently tied.  When the last was undone, she pulled her arms out and let the top drop to her hips.  Out of habit and without conscious thought, she returned the red straps to her shoulders so the scarlet fabric nestled under the pale globes, a demure enhancement he found exciting as the bright fabric framed the pale white skin above and between.  As before, she instinctively crossed her arms over the mounds to cover and protect them.  But only for a moment.  She knew it would do no good and only irritate the man.  Slowly and reluctantly she pulled the straps from her shoulders and lowered her arms until they fell and she now stood trembling with her full bare breasts presented to his avid gaze.  Alice's body refused her desire to stop shivering.  She was not conscious of the way that made her nipples crinkle and the tips grow out from the aureoles, but the duke did notice and clucked happily.  He congratulated himself for the restraint made to not send for her before.  Not that he hadn't been extremely tempted; the bitch's breasts were superb and he had enjoyed her ordeal immensely, but now that the red stripes of her earlier beating had time to heal the mounds were back to their creamy white perfection.

"Bring the bitch over here," he commanded the wardress.  Ulrike did as he bade, dragging young Alice across the room to where he sat.  "On her knees."  Ulrike pushed her down to the floor before him.  Alice looked up at him but there was no pity there, only cruelty and lust.

   He reached down to lift her chin.  "You failed my test, and should, by rights, be consigned to the dungeon for torment and then the public boiling decreed by law for assassins.  But I am a kind ruler.  Even though you failed, you may still prove yourself guiltless.  I haven't yet decided.  So I will give you a final chance to prove your innocence.  I know you watched how the Lady Constance pleased me during your ordeal.  You shall be given the same opportunity.  Do well and you may spare yourself from execution.  Do poorly and the dungeon and public stage awaits."  He released Alice's chin and lowered the hand to cup one soft pliant bare breast.  "Show me how much you appreciate my mercy."

He gestured and Alice heard the door open again behind her.  She looked back over her shoulder.  Two of the brutes she had seen below dragged a woman into the room.  She was mature, busty, and well fleshed, although not in the flaccid way some women were.  She was also totally nude.  What most captured Alice's attention was her head.  It was encased within a leather shell, covering her head with nothing but two holes beneath her nose so she could breathe.  The wretch squirmed against the men, but was helpless.  She was led to the center of the room and a rope was attached to the back of the hood that held her torso upright.  Then they knelt to attach thin chains to her ankles that held her feet about a yard apart.  Loosely enough that she could dance, yet still prevent her from closing her legs and hide her sex.  It was only then that Alice noticed her strange bondage.  A leather belt had been fastened about her waist, low above the hips, but drawn tight to compress her waist and force her chest into greater prominence.  Steel rings on the sides of the belt anchored short chains attached to wrist cuffs.  Young Alice could see the woman's slim hands alternately struggle up to her chest or down to her loins, but they were deliberately just short enough that she couldn't reach high enough to protect her breasts or low enough to cover her groin and protect her indecently shaved labia.  Close, always close, but her fingers could never quite reach.  No matter how much she tried, it was always never quite enough.  There was something familiar in the woman's appearance, but Alice couldn't quite make it out.  Then, seeing a tiny mole beneath one breast, the recognition came to her with a shock.  The nude woman was none other than the Lady Constance, the same one who had been there as a willing observer when her trial had taken place.  The same one who had so willingly used her body to sexually pleasure the Duke while she suffered so horribly.  At the time Alice had hated her, but now felt pity – even if with a certain small satisfaction – that she was on the other end of the Duke's pleasure this time.

"Leave us," the Duke commanded and the men backed away bowing.  Only the cruel Ulrike remained.  Alice saw her holding the same slim dog whip that had been used to such agonizing effect on her own chest a short time ago.

"Come closer, my dear," Karel said to the girl kneeling before him.  "Closer.  I know you watched while you were tested, so you know that I take pleasure from watching such things.  Closer.  That's it, right up between my legs."  He tossed the sides of his garment apart to expose his already rising sex, fat and twitching above the heavy sack.  "Come now.  Show me that you are worthy of my pity."

He leaned back and spoke to the wardress.  "You may begin, Ulrike."  He looked down at the girl kneeling between his legs.  "And you, too, may begin.  Do this well and who knows . . ?" he dangled the possibility of salvation before her.  Alice looked up again at the swelling organ before her.  Even as she watched, it grew longer and harder, rising up between his legs toward her.  The last time she had been given this opportunity, the unexpected drop of liquid that emerged from its tip had shocked her, sent her reeling, and repulsed her so much that she refused – and earned many more agonizing strokes to her breasts.  This time, after days in her cell, listening to the inhuman wails of demonic suffering that constantly penetrated through the walls, she determined to do whatever he wanted.  Anything, she would do anything to spare her body the pain he could inflict on her.  Slowly, tentatively, she reached one small hand up to touch the shaft.  She jerked her hand back when she felt it twitch at even this first delicate contact.  This wasn't her first time feeling an erect male.  Once before, with Piers van der Maar, a boy slightly older than she, he had opened his pants and guided her hand there while he reached under her blouse to fondle her breasts.  That had created unknown sensations in her young body, a surprising moist heat between her legs.  She found that playing with the vibrant sausage between his legs was fun, the way it responded to her fingers, twitching as if with a will of its own, and the way he moaned in delight at the touch.  It hadn't gone much further.  When he tried to talk her all the way out of her dress, she remembered her mother's warning about boys and refused, bolting up and running away.  Now she was faced with that situation again, only this time to spare herself hideous pain.  Forcing herself, she reached back between the man's legs, touching and caressing the insistent rod there with a feather-light touch.  Every slight caress made it tremble and grow even harder.  Then she heard him speak above her.

"'Rike, my dear, please begin."  Alice turned her head and saw the brutal woman smile and shake out the slim whip behind her.  He looked down at Alice.  "No, piglet, you just continue.  Your fingers feel very nice."  Then he grinned. "Unless you want to take her place, eh?"

"No, oh no!"

"Then, pray, continue."  He lifted a hand. 

Ulrike nodded her head.  Looking to the standing woman, she drew her arm back and took aim.  An instant later the thin leather instrument in her hand flashed out to wrap around the woman's waist an inch below the navel.  The effect was immediate.  The helpless wretch lunged against her bonds and a muffled whine came from beneath the hood.  A second stroke followed an instant after the first, higher up this time to snake over the prominent rib cage, leaving a bright red line behind to mark its passage.  Karel leaned back on the couch and reached for his wine.

Ulrike strode briskly around the woman, sweeping lash after lash to her nude body with the whip.  She sometimes swung it up and around her head to gather speed for the stroke, then stepped away for a backhanded cut from the other side.  She sent a few harsh slices to the jiggling buttocks, followed by three across the Lady's back, then with a step to the side, two more crisp cuts from behind crossed Connie's stomach and abdomen.  Finally, knowing well her master's preferences, the next sought out the naked breasts even as the woman's hands were still trying to cover the places just found by the previous cuts.  The pain was ghastly, but with her eyes blinded by the hood she also never knew where the fiendish whip would strike next.  All she could do was react after the attack.  Her fluttering hands lifted and dropped, close, but never quite enough to protect her flesh even if she could predict where the next would fall.  The cruel wardress was in constant motion, striding around the hapless victim.  A crisp forehand and backhand slash reached around from behind, each curling around a separate leaping breast's bottom bulge, producing new whines of suffering from beneath the black hood.  Ulrike moderated the speed of these lashes so the thin whip didn't so much impact the mounds as caress them like a lover, following the contours.   Ulrike judged it time to bring the pain to a new level and, lowering the whip, waited for her opening.  There.  She swept the lash up off the floor so the tip snapped savagely against the exposed labia.  Down flew the woman's hands, trying desperately, frantically, to cover her loins – but again just short of being able to reach and protect them.  Even as her frantic hands tried to protect the notch between her legs, Ulrike sliced one, two, three, four rapid horizontal slices across the middle of her leaping bare breasts with fiendish aim to find the broad rosy nipples for the first time.  The hands jerked up at the first, but could do nothing to prevent the others from striking the leaping globes.

The whipping continued.  Ulrike was a master with the biting leather.  A strong woman, she used her shoulders to add speed to the biting lashes.  Three sliced across Constance's shoulders, making her lunge forward.  Then, at the moment of greatest forward extension, two rapid forehands exploded across the thrusting breasts.  While Constance thrashed from the hellish pain in her chest, Ulrike glided back behind to drop the whip and bring it viciously up between the thighs with a sharp twist of her wrist so the very tip snapped against the defenseless bud of her clitoris.  A keening whine came from beneath the hood and her shapely legs pranced below her, a lascivious testament to the intolerable genital pain.  Her hands wrenched down to cover her sex, but couldn't quite reach far enough.  They tried again as a second stroke bit into the female lips, but with the same maddening futility.

Young Alice glanced over her shoulder occasionally in horror at the moist snaps.  She had suffered before this once haughty woman, heard her laugh at her pain, yet could feel nothing but pity now.  The method of binding was diabolical in its simplicity – the collar rope to hold her nude body erect, light ankle chains that held her legs apart to expose her genitals, and always the frantic frustration from the fiendish way her hands were bound.  Lady Karlson's naked body wriggled in agony.  Even muffled by the leather hood, the sound of her anguish was still audible.  Without the hood they would be screams, pleas, and whimpers for mercy as the bitter leather caressed her nude body.

Ulrike was a woman who loved her work.  She held her arm a moment and moved close to the woman's side.  She laughed as she teased the noblewoman's breasts with her whip, prodding them with the folded leather, letting her know where the next attack would come, smiling at Connie's inability to protect them from even this harmless touch.  She actually cackled at the woman's sudden jerking response when she brushed the rounded loop against the rigid tips of her nipples.  She leaned in to the hood, close enough and just loud enough that only Constance could hear her.  "Bitches like you, they come and go to please my Duke.  Noble or common, they come and go to please him.  Only I remain.  Only I understand what really pleases him.  You have seen a glimpse of that, but you never really understood.  Even now you just begin to understand.  These plump globes of yours now, you have seen how it pleases our Duke to see them whipped.  Well, now it is yours that will please him.  Steel yourself as you can, your ladyship," she added maliciously, "I know how to really make them suffer.  All to please my Lord, of course."

She stepped back, sweeping her whip behind her as she did so.  And took aim.  Despite her words, her first lash didn't go to the heaving breasts, but instead carved the thin skin just beneath them.  Agonizing enough, yet still teasing with the threat of what was to come.  She waited a moment, playing with her victim, feeding her fear, then making good on her promise to use the next to explode against the shivering under curves, distorting the tender flesh as it bit deep and making the plump globes dance.

Alice didn't realize that she was staring at the woman's whipping until she felt Karel's fingers turn her face back toward him and the rigid and insisting rod between his legs.  He had permitted the brief indulgence, but now his intent was obvious.  Forcing her gaze away from the scene behind her, Alice lifted one small hand to touch the insistent rod between his legs, trying to ignore the vicious snaps and pitiful whines behind her.  She brushed the shaft with her fingertips along its length.  One finger nail slid up the underside to the swollen head, then traced around the corona.

"Ah, yes," he moaned leaning back.  "That's it.  That's it.  Continue."  He lifted his hips a bit to better present his sex to the girl's hand while his eyes took in the sadistic entertainment before him where the wardress continued her cruel work.

Ulrike varied the lashes, both in speed and aim.  She teased a couple of times with light lashes, playing with her prey, then suddenly five hard and fast horizontal cuts across the very center of her breasts, for the first time slicing the woman's rosy aureoles.  Each time the woman wrenched her hands up to cover the globes – and each time they fell that achingly little bit short, her grasping fingers reaching, reaching, but always just not far enough to protect her bare breasts and now the nipples from the bitter strokes.  Ulrike left Connie's chest and moved behind her again to sweep six harsh right and left cuts to curl around the inner thighs.  Followed, as always, with a sharp rising snap aimed to bisect her yawning thighs and explode against the vulnerable bud atop the labia, a hideous sexual pain beyond any other, a fiery eruption between her legs.  Insupportable pain, unendurable pain, yet she could do nothing to stop it.  Her clitoris, a concentrated mass of nerves, had swollen from the snapping tip of the whip, a concentration of fiery sexual agony out of all proportion to its size. Young Alice Turner could hear the slapping noises of the beating behind her, remembering with each one her own torment.  She knew the sharp, searing agony of that thin whip biting her bare breasts, and bad as her ordeal was she was only nude to the waist and so never experienced the thing slicing her genitals, a vicious pain she could only imagine.  Yet here before her – literally in her hand – was possible salvation.  Swallowing her revulsion, she lightly grasped the rigid male shaft, provoking a twitch of delight.  She shut her mind to the sounds behind her – she could do nothing to stop it – and focused on doing what she could to save herself.  With a feeling born more of instinct than skill, she caressed the throbbing rod in her hand.  She circled it with her fingers and pulled down toward the base to draw the skin tight.  With her other hand she traced one fingertip up and down against the underside, pausing a moment to lightly tease the triangle just beneath the turgid head.  After a few such strokes she saw how effective her play was when a small bright drop of fluid emerged from the tip, the very same indication of pleasure that had so sickened her before – and condemned her to so much suffering when she recoiled from it.  She was still revolted, but had learned the hideous consequence of that squeamishness.  Swallowing down the bile, she continued the lissome play.  She daubed the clear bead with a fingertip and used it as lubrication rubbing the turgid glans, then gliding the finger down the throbbing shaft.  She took another grip to make the skin of the man's scrotum tight and delicately caressed it.

The Duke leaned back and unconsciously lifted his hips a bit more. "You are doing well, piglet," he said after a while, "but I don't think you are doing all you can.  Your fingers are enjoyable enough, but I believe your mouth can do better.  I think that could convince me of your innocence better than any words that might come out of it."

Alice understood what the man wanted.  During her first ordeal she had seen the very same woman now writhing to the whip use her mouth and tongue to stimulate the shaft twitching inches before her eyes.  She had never imagined that such a thing was done, much less that any woman would degrade herself by willingly doing it.  Now she was faced with performing that disgusting act or be given naked to the savage hooded torturers below for an agonizing death.  No, she thought, anything but that.  She rose up higher on her knees and took hold of the duke's thighs.  She dipped her head and opened her mouth, extending the tongue.  She touched the swollen head with the pointed tip and licked it tentatively.  The entire shaft jerked in response and she flinched back instinctively.  She glanced up and saw him looking directly at her, an amused question in his eyes.  Well girl, the look was saying, which will it be?  Alice steeled herself and opened her mouth to resume the odious task.  She reached with her tongue again, this time to the base of his erection and licked up the underside all the way to the top.  She could feel it trembling to the touch.  There was an especially fierce tremor when she laved the tiny delta just beneath the tip.  "That's good, Missy," he crooned.  "Just like that.  You may live after all."  She felt him lean back again.  It was only then that she realized that the noise of whip and suffering had ceased behind her.  "You may continue now, 'Rike," he said.  The sound of leather striking female flesh came immediately as the wardress resumed her cruel work.

Ulrike had performed such sessions many times for her duke before and understood what he wanted from her now, to prolong the pleasure of having the Turner slut licking his shaft.  She slowed her rhythm, allowing up to half a minute between lashes.  She also changed her focus.  He was especially fond of seeing the bare breasts of a woman beaten, she knew, and so began directing her strokes elsewhere so he wouldn't come too quickly.  That could earn a punishment.  There was plenty of as yet untouched skin, so she wouldn't much appreciate the change.  The woman's plaintive sobs of pain seemed just as loud when the darting whip curled around other parts of her body.  Karel spread his legs slightly wider apart and sipped his wine, watching Constance cavort under the stinging leather avidly as the little redhead laved his rigid penis between them. 

SWICKKT!  SWICKTT!  SWICCCT!  Three measured cuts came from behind to strike the woman's front, the first to the abdomen below the navel, then the stomach, and finally the heaving rib cage just beneath the dancing breasts.  The duke laughed in appreciation of the artistry.  Connie reflexively tried to cover the area hit, but each one that followed struck just above the frantic hands.  Ulrike constantly varied her attack.  She repeated the same rising pattern behind the woman, starting at the thighs above the knees, up again to the center, one where they met the buttocks, lower back just above the rounded cheeks, and ending with a slice across the shoulders, for the first time drawing a small spot of blood.  She waited almost a full minute for her victim's contortions to settle a bit then launched a crisp rising uppercut to snap the very tip into the woman's helpless labia and explode against the aching clitoris.  "HEEEEEEEEE!  HEEEEE!  HEEEEEEEE!" she squealed beneath the hood as her hands dove down in the always impotent attempt to protect her flesh from the biting leather.

Duke Andressen watched the lascivious performance with delight.  Such displays of torture inflicted on naked females always excited his sadistic nature – the waltz of the whip, he called it – and having the semi-nude teenager licking his sex during it only added to the erotic pleasure.  The spectacle had been going on for almost an hour now and he decided to end it in the way he liked best.  He reached down and lifted Alice's chin.  "You have been doing well, piglet – not skilled, but well enough considering your inexperience.  That little tongue of yours seems to know sometimes exactly what my cock wants, but it is time for that mouth of yours to learn a new skill.  I want you to take me all the way inside it now.  All the way until the end tickles the back of your throat.  I want you to suck on it the way you did at your mother's teat.  I want you to bob your head up and down on it.  I want you to imagine I was fucking your mouth the way I did your cunt the last time we were together in this room.  Do you understand?"  He saw the shock at his words in her blue eyes, the way she had to force the revulsion down.  Although she had seen Lady Karlson do this very thing, she had quashed the thought to the back of her mind.  She had licked the hard shaft of flesh, fighting against the urge to gag every time a fresh bead of the viscous fluid of his arousal emerged from its head and she had to use her tongue to lap it up, she had done all that, but now realized even all that wasn't enough, that there was still this final indignity.  She swallowed, her brain filled with the images of nameless victims screeching their agony in the rooms below as their naked bodies were burned, stretched, or ripped to bloody shreds.  No, anything to avoid that hell.  She felt her head nodding her acceptance.  "Good," he said, releasing her chin.  "I thought you would see the wisdom since you impressed me as an intelligent girl.  You have my leave to begin."  Swallowing her gorge down again, she opened her mouth and took the quivering rod inside.

Ulrike knew that this was inevitable and what was required of her now.  It wouldn't be long now, she knew from experience.  She looked at her victim.  Livid crimson welts adorned her, front and back, neck to knees, the thin stripes standing out in angry contrast to the white skin.  The nude body was gleaming with the sweat of torture, droplets oozing from it and running down to splash onto the floor beneath.  The woman's deep chest was heaving, drawing rapid wheezing breaths through the two holes in the hood over her nostrils.  Despite the prolonged ordeal she wasn't yet at the point of collapse or passing out – Ulrike was much too skilled for that – so she would continue to give good sport, especially now when it was most desired.  She changed the slim dogwhip for an inch-wide belt of supple leather.  The duke would want a hard rapid beating to take him over the crest.  He hadn't told her to whip the woman to death so she wasn't going to presume and rip the skin.  There was some scarlet mixed with the sweat running down her body, but very little considering she had endured dozens of lashes already.  An occasional bloody drop even fell from her swollen genitals.  Ulrike knew her master enjoyed seeing that obvious evidence of torture, but was judicious in how much she drew absent specific instructions.  The strap would be agonizing enough considering how fiercely aggravated the nerve endings were beneath the welts, but wouldn't cause any permanent damage.

From his seat, Karel saw the switch of instruments with approval.  Promoting her to the position of Head Wardress, despite her German birth was a good decision that had been well proved over the years.  She was the only one of his servants he allowed to see him overtly indulging his lusts, another rewarding decision.  How well she knows me, he thought, then settled back to enjoy the finish of the morning's entertainment.

Down between his thighs little Alice was giving adequate, if amateur enthusiasm to the task of sucking his cock.  Another time or two and she might develop genuine talent for it.  Too bad Lady Karlson had irritated him; she could have given an expert's instruction.  Perhaps not a bad idea at that, he mused.  The bitch would certainly be less haughty after this experience.  He stopped the speculation and turned his full attention to the action before him.

Ulrike moved to a spot to Connie's right and focused her gaze.  SWAPPPT!  The first strike by the belt burst across the upper slopes of Connie's chest, pushing them down so the flesh of the under curves billowed out.  As the instrument came away, the two mounds shook and jiggled vigorously back into shape.  SWAKKKT!  The stocky wardress returned to the heaving bare breasts, attacking from below this time, burrowing into the tender protuberances to lift and set them cavorting on her chest.  SMACKKT!  The next was a punishing blow straight across the very middle of the tits that flattened the aching nipples causing the flesh to bulge out above and below the belt, drawing a particularly high-pitched squeal from beneath the hood.

Karel's gaze was fixed on the sight before him.  The couch was placed close enough that he could easily hear the whines that followed every moist impact.  He enjoyed listening to his victim's screams, but knew that this forced blindness added to her misery and he could imagine the wails this torment would have produced easily enough.  While his eyes were glued to the vicious beating, his consciousness was increasingly drawn to the exquisite sensations growing in his groin.  Alice hadn't mastered the up and down motion, but was making up for that by vigorously sucking on the erection with every abbreviated bob of her head.  Coupled with the way her slippery tongue slid against its underside up to the turgid glans had him steadily nearing his climax. 

Ulrike was reading the signs of his face and body as she continued Connie's vicious beating, gauging his arousal.  She sent a few strokes over the upper belly and rib cage to prolong the event, but she saw the moment he crossed the line of growing excitement and his climax became inevitable.  She now turned all of her attention to the bare breasts.  WHAP!  WHAP!  WHAP!  WHAP!  WHAP!  Again and again and again, as fast as she could swing her arm, the strap whistled through the air to punish the leaping globes.  No part of them from beneath her chin to where they rose above her ribs was spared.  The tops and bottom curves took a steady beating, but most struck the middles to catch some portion of the areolas or flatten the bloated teats in their center.  Every swing tugged the fleshy mounds to the side as the leather retreated, distorting their pear shape and making them sway.  The pain was excruciating, yet impossibly increased with every new stroke.  Her feet danced and the chains holding her ankles apart tinkled against the floor.  Her hands jerked frantically against the cuffs holding her wrists to the leather girdle about her waist, but she couldn't protect the breasts from the fiendish beating.  Her sweat-shiny nude body writhed in a maddened frenzy of agony.

Desperately ignoring the hideous sounds behind her, Alice continued bobbing her head and sucking, if anything increasing her efforts in near panic from them.  Her head lifted and all of the suction concentrated on the turgid glans.  Her tongue rubbed against the frenulum just beneath – always the most sensitive spot, now more stimulated and responsive than usual – and Karel felt his groin erupt.  His eyes closed and he grasped Alice's head, pulling it down until her lips encircled the base of his twitching penis, so far she could feel the hot spurts of his orgasm against the back of her throat.  He then jerked her head up and down convulsively.  Jet after molten jet of semen shot from the head and the man lost himself in the exquisitely intense sexual pleasure.  The sensations flooded his mind, wave after cresting wave of it, his entire existence focused between his legs.  He didn't know that his deep, rapid gasps for air were almost identical to Connie's. 

Finally, after a minute, an hour, or a year the excitement began to subside.  His breathing slowed.  His hands allowed Alice's head up and he pushed it back and away so sharply that she toppled to the floor at his feet.  Slowly he returned to the time and place and his eyes opened.  He became aware that his forehead was beaded with sweat when the salty liquid stung them and he wiped it away with one hand.  He saw Lady Karlson before him, still held upright by the collar around her neck, her nude body covered by a pattern of overlaid stripes, the two quivering breasts vividly flushed from the savage strapping they had endured to take him over the edge into sexual rapture.  Ulrike had stopped their beating when she saw her master begin his release, not from any pity, but because she was entranced – even excited herself – by the convulsive power of his orgasm.  Like him, she took pleasure from the suffering of others, but she could only imagine the depths of pleasure the man so convulsively displayed.

Karel took a few gulps of wine and looked down at the cowering girl at his feet.  Damn, that was delightful, he thought.  There might yet be some value to sparing . . . Wait, what's that!  Alice's face was turned up toward his and there, there, at the corner of her mouth dribbled some milky liquid!  He felt a sudden rage.  The bitch.  The little bitch hadn't swallowed everything he had given her!  Spit.  It.  Out!    Alice saw the sudden change and slid backward in fear.  What had she done, she wondered, to effect this furious reaction.

Duke Andressen turned to his wardress.  "Take Lady Karlson down," he snarled.  "She may yet serve my pleasure, and dead she is useless.  As useless as this little bitch."  The overhead rope was unfastened from the collar and Constance's naked body immediately collapsed to the floor.  It lay there twitching, her fluttering hands even now unable to soothe the beaten flesh.  Karel looked back down to young Alice.

"I thought for a while there that you might become a talented cock-sucker given time.  I gave you every chance to spare yourself and then you spit my seed to the floor!"  Suddenly aware of what he meant, she wiped the corner of her mouth and looked with horror at the small creamy glob on her hand.  She didn't mean to.  She was choking and it just happened.  "Ulrike!  Take this slut to the mangle room.  I shall be down shortly.  This one I shall see to myself."

The wardress stepped forward and grabbed Alice's arm, wrenching her to her feet.  "No, oh no no no," Alice cried.  "NOOOOOOO!  You promised.  You promised!  Please, you said I would be spared!  You said that!"

"Oh, did I?  Well, that was with the expectation that you would perform adequately when I gave you this second chance.  Instead you insult me!

"Ulrike, to the dungeon with her!"

"NOOOOO!" Alice bawled in terror.  Her knees buckled and she would have collapsed to the floor but for the wardress's hold on her arm.  She was still screaming, "NOOOOOOOOO!" as she was dragged from the luxurious suite.

*   *   *   *   *

An hour later the heavy iron door to the room swung open with a groan of its ancient hinges and Karel entered, dressed again in his finery.  He looked around the small, torch-lit room.  Two of his executioners stood there, powerful bare-chested men wearing the black hoods of their occupation.  Both bowed immediately to their master.  Alice Turner was on the floor still wearing her dress, pressed against one wall, arms wrapped tightly around her body.

This time there would be no ceremony.  "Strip the little bitch," he ordered, eyes shining.  "I want her bare as the day she was born."

Alice looked up, eyes wide with horror as the two executioners turned toward her.  "No, please, please!" she cried desperately.  "Not naked!  Please!  Pleeeeese!  I beg you!  Oh, please I don't want to be naked, not here, not here!"  The first time she had been made to expose herself she had done so out of terror, hoping that doing so might spare her the savage bloody torments she had seen being inflicted during her tour of these dread rooms.  It was horrid, making her an accomplice in her own shaming and ordeal.  And even then it was only stripping to the waist.  Not so this time.  The men ignored her pleas and grabbed her.  Their hands wrenched at her kirtle and skirt, ripping them savagely apart and away, then the bodice beneath, using a knife when some bit of fabric proved reluctant to reveal the flesh beneath.  In less than a minute, the girl fell back to the straw-covered floor, naked.  She scurried back into the corner, trying to hide herself with one arm across her chest and the other covering her loins.

She wasn't even given a moment before the men grabbed her.  She was flipped face down like a sack of potatoes.  Her arms were wrenched back, the forearms laid one atop the other and tied at wrist and elbow.  Then while one held her struggling body still, the other pulled cords down from eye bolts in the ceiling and tied them about her ankles.  As soon as he finished, both went to a windlass and started cranking the drum around.  The ropes grew taut and she was lifted off the floor until her pale red hair just brushed the straw beneath.  The bolts were placed a yard apart so her legs were separated as she was pulled up to reveal the shell-pink lips where they met.

Andressen walked up to the hanging girl.  Inverted this way, the fleshy breasts sagged a bit toward her head, a change of shape that presented the more sensitive under curves better for the lash – indeed, the duke occasionally specified this method of binding for that specific purpose – although that wouldn't happen this time.  It had the added benefit of making it all but impossible for the victim to swoon no matter how excruciating her torture.  He examined the helplessly exposed genitals.  He played with the pouting lips, enjoying their smooth elasticity.  His finger paid special attention to the small rosy pea nestled demurely at the top, brushing it lightly.  The girl squirmed at the intimate fondling, all the while whimpering in terror.  It was only three – four years ago that she had discovered it one night when her hand wandered down there as if of its own accord and a fingertip touched it.  She gasped at the sudden, intense sensation even that light contact created.  Her entire lower body had suddenly become wonderfully warm and moist.  She parted the feathery lips hiding the bud so she could rub it directly.  Instinctively she wet a finger to make the tentative stroking more lubricious.  Soon she felt the warmth between her thighs grow in heat until almost painful.  The finger rubbed harder and and faster, beyond her control, then she gasped and her entire body was overwhelmed with a pleasure she never knew existed.  She flopped back against her mattress, gasping with the sensation slowly fading in her loins.  Whatever the nub was, she soon found her hand returning to it at night with the same exquisite pleasure.  And now that special bud was being callously manipulated by this cruel man.  Even in her terror, she could feel the effect, the way every nerve of her young body began to tingle with enhanced sensitivity.  Alice shivered, as much from shame as unwanted arousal. Duke Andressen noticed the reaction to his intimate manipulation, as well.  It was always so with the ripe young ones.       He turned to the two hooded men.  "Look you, the minx is actually enjoying it.  Well, that will soon change.  She will be riding the horse soon and I want her ride to be a memorable one, so I you two warm her up between her legs first."

Suspended nude, hands behind her back, young Alice could do nothing to avoid what was coming.  The two men moved to places in front and behind her dangling body.  One had chosen a tawse, a short strap split down its length into two flat leather tongues, while the other selected an equally short braided whip.  The older looked to the duke who just nodded.  He turned to his partner. "Awright, Bram, let's get started," and he raised his arm and directed his gaze down between Alice's trembling thighs.  SMACKKKT!  Straight down into the inviting target.  Scarcely had the tawse retreated from her notch than the other's thin whip hissed through the air to slice the helpless labia from behind.  The stroke was delivered so only the final few inches impacted and the snake's-tongue tip bit into the gently rounded mons above.

"HaaaaaAAAAAAAAA!" little Alice's scream ripped through the room.  SWACCKKK!  Thwickkkt!  SMACKKT!  Swickkk!  SMACKKKT!  One after the other the split belt and the slim whip flew down to burst into the girl's gaping notch.  Again and again and again in a relentless measured rhythm a few seconds between.  She writhed like a thing possessed, twisting beneath the ropes suspending her from the ceiling like the worm on a fisherman's hook.  She wrenched at the cord holding her arms behind her back in a desperate desire to free her hands and protect her genitals.  She gasped for air.  The effort made her belly suck in and out rapidly and each inhalation set the bones of her rib cage into high relief while the bare breasts juddered above.

Ten, twenty, thirty, the cruel instruments punished the girl's helpless sex.  Each created a different kind of pain and left different marks behind.  Expert with all of the various implements of torture, the older one with the tawse finished his strokes with a slight twist of his wrist so the twin leather strips would separate slightly at the moment of impact and catch a small piece of skin between them, a fiendish refinement that added to the pain by cruelly pinching the delicate female flesh in addition to the force of impact.  After less than ten minutes – an eternity of suffering for young Alice – the girl's labia was swollen and flushed a bright red in contrast to the creamy thighs and lighter cinnamon curls of her pubic patch.  Three blows later and the hand twist captured a piece of one lip and cracked it open to draw the first blood of the beating and wrench a loud keening wail of agony from her.  Not to be outdone, the younger executioner behind brought the serpent tip of his whip down a little harder to rip the other lip and splash a few red droplets of its own.

"AAHHHHHHH!  AHHHHHHH!  NO MORE!  OH, PLEASE NO MORE, NO MORE!  Duke Andressen raised a hand and the blows stopped.  No more?  Oh, piglet, there would be much more.  Your torture will increase until you beg me for a quick death that you will never receive.

He walked up to examine her more closely.  Alice's naked body twitched beneath the ankle ropes.  Despite the cool dungeon air, she was already sweating.  The duke watched as a few drops beaded and ran down her body, reflecting the flickering torch flames before splashing to the floor under her head.  The entire area between her twitching legs had puffed up half again its original size and flushed a furious scarlet.  Karel wiped off the labia and saw that, while bleeding, the damage to them and the clit was minimal.  Good.  He went to a small table where a glass and flask of wine waited.  It was a luxury not available to the executioners in their daily work, but something always present when the duke came to personally supervise or partake in the play.  He sipped and contemplated the sight she presented, hanging from the low ceiling, shivering and whimpering in her utter misery.  After several minutes, he stood.  "Right," he barked, "the bitch has rested enough. Take her down and mount her, but first I want her revived."

  The younger executioner dipped a small bucket into a barrel of brine and then dashed the contents over Alice's dangling nude body.  She immediately jerked as the cold water shocked her system into full sputtering awareness.  Still throbbing from the beating, sharp new stabs of pain erupted between her legs when the salt entered the rips on the puffy labia and she squealed.

She was still crying when they lowered her and untied her ankles.  One lifted her from the floor and carried her like a child to a device in the center of the room, the dreaded horse, a simple wooden wedge that tapered to a sharp edge at its top.  There was a darker half-moon toward the front, mute evidence of the blood of countless women who had ridden it.  Holding her small form easily, one leg was lifted over the apex and she was lowered.  The older man reached between her thighs to spread the tender lips apart with calloused fingers so the edge perfectly bisected the inflamed slit before she was settled fully astride the hellish thing and her full weight rested on the ridge.  There was a sharp gasp of breath, then the girl let out a keening shriek of agony.  Not only did it seem to be cutting her in half, but the careful positioning ensured that the sharp edge pressed against the fiercely irritated nub of her clitoris.  The men simply continued the mounting, lifting the ankles and locking them into metal cuffs behind her.  A rope hanging above was fed through the armpits and across her chest below the neck to hold her torso upright.  There was one last refinement, one worthy of Satan himself.  A short vertical frame was carried forward and positioned closely in front of her.  Between the uprights were two iron rollers, studded with small nubs, like a washer woman's mangle used to wring the water from clothes, only this one had no such innocent purpose.  One executioner pushed against her back while the other moved the thing to the front of the horse and secured it there against her chest.  The duke himself came forward to assist with the preparation.  He reached through the rollers and gripped Alice's pink nipples, pinching the tips to pull her breasts through while the men turned wingnuts at the ends to bring the rollers together and capture the mounds between them.  Steel rods extending from the bottom of the frame extended through holes in the top to press the mounds closely together  They stopped when the globes started to distort and bulge out, not crushed, just trapped by the cylinders now pressed firmly against her chest.  To finish the hideous bondage, a belt was passed across her back and buckled, holding her torso tightly against the wringer.  Karel nodded, satisfied.  He raised his face to the waiting men, looking into each set of cold eyes beneath the black hoods.  "Bring the brazier over.  In front where the slut can see it."  Other than groaning, Alice seemed almost oblivious to what was happening to her – until she saw the mounted basin.  Her pretty blue eyes grew large as saucers when she saw him thrust a steel rod into the shimmering coals and the cruel look on his face. "You want we should grease her tits, Lord?" one said.  It was a standard preparation: Rubbing melted fat on the victim before applying the hot irons kept the metal from sticking and charring the skin.  It didn't make the pain any less intense, of course, but without it the burning destroyed nerve endings, ruining them for any subsequent torment.

"No, bring the lard bowl to me.  I will do it myself."  The small tub was brought to him and he scooped out a small dollop, but instead of slathering it over the girl's entire breasts, he only rubbed it into the valley between them where they pressed together.

So, both men thought.  Now they knew.  This would be the end of her.  The duke might even torture her to death himself.  They hoped not.  While neither was averse to fucking a recently dead wench, it was always more enjoyable when they were still alive and responsive, however little.  When he had finished the greasing, he said, "Make sure there is adequate fuel in the brazier and then you both can leave.  I won't need you any longer."

"As you say, Lord.  Me and Bram will be outside if you should need anything."  Once the door closed behind them, Karel turned his attention to Alice Turner.

"There, now.  We are alone.  I have been looking forward to this."

"Please, oh please, don't hurt me any more," the pretty teenager blubbered.  "It hurts, it hurts so much between my legs.  Please!  I did what you wanted!  I sucked you like you wanted.  I'll do it again, I will!  I promise I'll do better.  I'll suck it as often as you want.  I will, just please take me off this thing!"

"I know you would," he purred.  "I knew you would before you did.  Do you think you are the first woman who said no the first time?  Who failed the test?  And then promised to do anything I wanted the next time?  Oh, no, piglet.  There have been many, although I must say that I enjoyed your first trial more than most."  His hands went to the captured breasts,  pinching the pink teats, already almost fully erect from the constriction.  "I was almost ready to spare your life, even though you failed.  That was one chance I gave you.  Then this morning I gave you another chance to live.  While I confess to enjoying your efforts during Lady Karlson's punishment, you went and ruined it.  Not surprising since you clearly never did it before, but still a disappointment.  No matter.  It has been a while since I played with a wench personally.  And I have no desire to take you off the thing, as you called it.  It is one of my favorite devices and your plump chest could have been made for it."

Karel continued casually fondling Alice's bare breasts.   "I was prepared to have Lady Karlson tortured to death for my amusement and have you take her place as my preferred playmate.  Connie really is superb at pleasing my cock, but she adopted an attitude that made her indispensable.  The presumption irritated me, so I choose to start teaching her the error of that with the minor entertainment you observed.  I'm sure she knows that now."  He chuckled.  "And that she will be even more inspired now.

"Ah, that reminds me."  He reached down and opened the front of his pants.  He dropped them to allow his already engorged penis to spring free.  He sighed happily.  "Oh yes, that's better.  I find playing with a pretty young wench down here more enjoyable being exposed this way.  I could have done this during the beating of your cunt, but it doesn't do to be casual in front of the help.  One other thing I will tell you now, not that it will bring you any comfort.  After so recently coming down your throat the edge is off my excitement, so I will be able to play with you longer before I feel the urge to do so again.  No, nothing will stop this game before the end.  Now, let's begin, eh?  I think I should squeeze those melons of yours just a bit more first, though."

Karel turned the nuts a little more, judging the effect with an expert's eye.  Alice could feel the pressure growing in her mounds as the mangle compressed them further.  Soon she felt the first pang of actual discomfort in them and her eyes closed.  The man had been looking at her face for just this moment and stopped.  He moved to the side and did something she couldn't see.  He then took hold of the crank and rotated it ever so slowly.  The adjustment disengaged the bottom roller so only the upper one turned.  Her lovely blue-green eyes grew wide with horror as her breasts moved beyond the rollers.  With only the one turning, the globes didn't move straight forward, but curved downward to present the upper slopes.  The skin there stretched taut.  Karel could clearly see the pale blue webbing of blood vessels beneath the fine white skin.  When he was satisfied, he returned to her front and examined his handiwork.

Only the top of the aureoles were visible.  The teats had engorged from the internal pressure and pointed toward the floor.  She opened her eyes and saw the erect rod between his legs inches from her face and groaned in mindless fear.  She looked up into his eyes with a silent plea for mercy.  Karel just smiled and reached down.  He couldn't see the tips, but enjoyed the sensation of the nubs moving under his fingertips.  Alice instinctively tried to pull away, but the belt held her torso in place and even the tiny bit she could move only caused pain in the firmly captured globes. 

After a minute of this play, he said, "You seem to be enjoying this, piglet, and I can't have that.  This is supposed to be punishment for a crime, after all."  He removed his hands and stepped away.  "It is time to get serious."  He chuckled again.  "You just wait here, I'll be right back."

He left her and went to the table where the executioners' tools lay.  While Alice watched in fear he picked up a short whip, swishing it through the air, but set it back down.  He did the same with the tawse that had just been used between her legs and still carried a stain of her genital blood, but it too was laid back down.  Then he lifted a third tool and swept it through the air.  Nodding, as if satisfied, he turned back to the girl and showed it to her.  She drew a sharp hissing breath and shivered.  Oh no, no, no, her mind screamed.  It was the Malacca, the slim hardwood rod that had been used at the end of her test, the thing that had finally broken her.  "Ah, I see you remember this.  Yes, for the next bit I need precise control and nothing is better than the rod."  The Duke swept it viciously through the air again with another sibilant hiss.  "This will do perfectly."

The man returned to the girl's right side.  He waited a moment – he knew it would compound her terror – then lifted the cane and brought it down to impact the taut skin with a sharp crack.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" Alice screamed.  Her body bucked in a desperate attempt to escape, but the rope under her armpits held her upright and the rollers held her torso firmly against the frame.  The only thing her maddened reaction did was increase the pain between her legs where the sharp wood ridge dug into her genitals, but she was only aware of that as a deeper misery compared to the sudden sharp line of fire on her chest.  Crack!  Swackt!  Crack!  Crackt!  Karel swept the rod against the trapped mounds rapidly, striking them from where they emerged from the wringer to where the pink areolas began.  Alice's wails filled the room, broken only by her gasps for air.

Andressen administered only a dozen blows before stopping.  He knew that the window of maximum sensitivity from the mangle's compression was limited and he had something else planned before then.  He transferred the cane to his left hand and reached toward the brazier with his right.  He grasped the wooden handle of the rod embedded in the coals and drew it out.  Alice stopped her wails and her eyes opened wide, staring at the brightly glowing tip like a cornered mouse facing a snake.  "Nooo," she mewled as the realization hit her. "No.  No.  Nooo!  NooooEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!" The horrified protest turned instantly into a strident shriek of agony when he lowered the radiant yellow wand to her flesh and drew it back along one of the welts left by the cane.  "HEEEEEE!  HEEEEAAAAAHHH!"  Alice's throat gave pitiful vent to her anguish as the luminous implement touched and slid across one raised line after another.  The skin was coated with sweat so each passage was marked as the moisture turned to crackling steam.

He halted the attack after searing half of the weals.  He waited until the girl recovered some of her wit, then slowly and deliberately so she could see and appreciate it, stabbed the iron back into the brazier.  Alice threw her body against her binding again in frenzied panic with no more success than before and only the same increased gnawing in her groin.  Karel looked at the image she presented.  The wood between her quivering thighs was now gleaming with bright scarlet blood from the sharp ridge.  The upper slopes of her breasts displayed two distinct records of their torment in contrast to the white skin: Still hardening ruddy welts and darker brownish lines from where the red hot iron burned them.  He had debated whether to spoil the superb female mounds this way, but the almost painful sexual throbbing in his rigid penis told him it was the correct decision.  Yes, best to do it before he had grown bored with them.  It took only a minute before the rod was back up to shimmering yellow heat.  He pulled it out of the brazier, tapping it against the side to dislodge some incandescent bits of ash.  He held it briefly in front of Alice's face to terrify her with its promise of agony, then dropped it to sear the lower welts to the top of the pink aureoles, wringing loud shrieks from her at every sputtering passage across the skin.  When the glowing iron had kissed most of the welts, he returned the poker to the coals and approached her, eager cock preceding him.

Some time after the hellish horse had been crafted and mated to the mangle frame, an executioner had shortened the wedge with this exact thing in mind.  Already positioning the breasts at the correct height, the shortening made them more easily presented for a man's erotic pleasure.  There were even small wood blocks at its base so the torturer could step up higher to place his sex level with the victim's head should inducing her to use her mouth on it be desired.  Very, very few women refused to accept a man that way when told that doing so would get her off  the horse and end the ghastly pain afflicting her.  It never did, of course, but the duke's executioners were unanimous in their opinion that it made for an unequaled sexual experience.  Foregoing that for the moment, Karel simply pushed the head of his penis into the groove between the mounds and slowly slid it up and back.  Pressed together as they were by the vertical rods, neither the cane nor the iron had touched the flesh there and so the shaft slid easily against the slippery skin.  The man could almost feel her suffering through his cock.  It was tempting to simply continue with the delightful tit fucking to ejaculation, something he had often done when younger, but with the years had come experience at extending his pleasure and her body had much more to offer.

After a couple of minutes, Karel stepped away.  He turned the wings atop the frame, easing the compression.  Alice moaned as the blood began to flow back into the captured breasts.  As bad as the pain was from the pressure, beating, and burning, the fresh influx of blood revived the nerves in a way that only accentuated the pain in her mounds.

He was a connoisseur of these things.  He had learned how to gradually increase his victim's pain while also prolonging his own sexual delight.  Patience prolonged – and so enhanced – pleasure, he knew.  It was something he discovered soon after his father, Hendrik, the previous Duke, died and the new young duke began to indulge his absolute power.  The old Duke Andressen had compelled his scion, Karel, to accompany him to the dungeon to observe the cruel interrogations or punishments, then later accompany him to the fatal public consequence of peasant sedition.  "It is distasteful, my son," he had said, "yet must be done.  No challenge to our family can be allowed.  This is the price of that power."

What old Hendrik didn't know, and never suspected, was the unexpected and intense arousal such scenes engendered in the young man standing beside him.  Distasteful, father?  Don't you see?  This is wonderful. What use is power if you don't use it to please yourself?  Of course, he kept these thoughts to himself.  A clever boy, he recognized that the old duke could never understand this truth so  obvious to him.  He's ancient, out of touch, he thought.  That wilted sausage between his legs has forgotten the pleasures of youth, my youth.  When old Hendrik died in his sleep a few years later, the new Duke Karel immediately explored his new authority.  Presiding over a few tedious ducal court hearings, possibly seditious men were added in the dungeon by their daughters.  

The men were publicly flayed, boiled, or had limbs amputated.  The younger, more attractive women he condemned to more severe punishment than their offenses deserved.  He would watch when it was administered and always afterward go straight to his bedchamber where there was a servant wench waiting.  Soon though, even that left him unsatisfied.  There just weren't enough female offenders to keep him amused the way he desired, so he sent his men out to the countryside to "find sedition."  The guard officers quickly realized that was wherever a pretty young woman might live.  He ordered the expansion of the castle dungeons and established the division between those condemned to immediate hideous death and those held for his future attentions.  That was fifteen years ago and the teenage Duke was now in the full flush of manhood.  He no longer felt any of his youthful confusion over his sexual desires.  He was the Duke; his pleasure was the LAW.  The indulgences that followed and increased were only that due an Andressen.  He kept the girls only until they became tedious.  Alice was an unexpected delight after her father fled following a crude assassination plot.  The "ordeal" he thought of to prove her innocence, that of forcing her to willingly present her bare breasts to the lash from fear of the hideous tortures below was an inspired idea.  The administrator of the "test" was, as always, his ducal wardress, Ulrike.  A vicious bitch.  She enjoyed the infliction of pain.  No sex – although he was never sure what she liked in that way – but it didn't matter.  She did her job with obvious enthusiasm and she understood his desires.  She was a valued employee.

This play now didn't need her.  No, now he felt like entertaining himself.  Karel resisted his groin's mindless desire.  As insistent as his throbbing penis was, he slipped it from between Alice's captive mounds and walked back to the table for a glass of wine.  From there he watched as the florid breasts faded back to their original pale color where the cane and iron  didn't reach.  He gave them a few more languorous minutes to fully restore their responsiveness.  Only then did he rise and return to her.  "Time for the next stage, piglet," he said.  "You didn't really think it would end so soon, did you?"

Faced with the understanding that her ordeal wasn't over, Alice started begging.  "Please, no more, lord, no more.  I hurt so much already.  I'm sorry I offended you, truly I am.  It was an accident, I couldn't help it.  G-Give me another chance.  I will do better, I will!  Only st-stop hurting me.  Please!" she ended with a wail.

The man only smiled and his hands busied themselves with the frame.  He tightened the screws, then changed the setting and started turning the crank.  This time the lower roller remained still so the opposite effect was achieved and the undersides were thrust forward when the upper one turned.  Since most of the soft breast meat was there, this time the meaty breasts maintained the rounded shape as they bulged out.  Karel continued his slow turning until the pink disks pointed almost straight up.  Satisfied, Karel locked the mangle and returned to her front.  His hands rose to her chest again, fingers gently fondling them.  Even squeezed as tightly as they were, the trapped breasts still possessed a yielding resilience.  He didn't have to locate the nipples by feel, either.  They now lifted themselves up toward his fingers as if begging for attention. 

It was the only plea from her he was willing to grant, so he gave them what they asked for, pinching and twisting the erect tips.  Even though he was sure the girl knew that her tits would be his focus, it added to the horror by confirming it this way.  He could feel his penis twitching between his legs, freshly engorged during the new preparation in anticipation.  He felt a slightly different lubricious sensation when it gave birth to a new droplet of fluid from the slit at its tip.  He continued playing with the teats to enhance that subtle feeling while it oozed all the way out and finally dripped down to the floor.  While his hands fondled Alice's nipples, he leaned his head forward and down a bit so he could smell her better.  She exuded a delicious aroma, a blend of naked young girl, fresh pain sweat, both built upon the perfume of fear.  Even the room contributed its part, an atmosphere  created by years of misery within its walls.  The duke didn't know why the unique bouquet aroused him almost as much as the feel of her skin, the sight of her tortured body, and thrill of inflicting lash and iron to her flesh, but the pleasurable throbbing in his rigid penis was all the evidence he needed that it was so.

He noticed that the girl's eyes were again tightly shut. He slapped her cheeks to force them open.  "I am going to beat your pretty breasts again now, but first I want you to understand what will come after."  He showed her the now cooled dark iron rod, then deliberately stuck the end into the basin of glowing embers.  Alice's eyes bulged and a whimper of horror came from her.  It was exactly the reaction he wanted.  "Yes, piglet, I will apply this rod to your plump tits again, but it takes a while to get as hot as it must, so first a few strokes with the cane, eh?  The iron should have a target and there is nothing as responsive as a freshly rising red welt to guide it.  So let us give it what it desires, eh?"

Karel returned to Alice's right side holding the cane.  He started by sliding it over the taut rounded globes, teasing with the promise of the agony to follow.  He drew his arm back slowly, prolonging the girl's terrified anticipation, then launched a short, crisp stroke to punish the bulging lower curves where they emerged from the mangle.  He immediately followed it with a swift vertical stroke that just caught the bottom of the roseate disks at their tips.  "AAAAHHHHAAAHHH!  Oh, please, please, please stop!  Please stop hurting me!  I beg you!  Oh, my poor breasts hurt, they hurt so. . ."

The girl's desperate pleas only spurred him on.  "Of course it hurts.  I know it hurts.  That's why I am doing it." One should always increase the pain, he knew from experience; anything less is a waste of effort the bitch wouldn't appreciate.  Two more strokes attacked the trapped mounds, striking the most out thrust curves.

"Please, oh please stop hurting my poor breasts," Alice pleaded.  "They hurt, oh they hurt already so much, so much.  Whatever you want, please stop and I will do whatever you want.  Anything, anything you want, just stop hurting me there!"

"Anything?  Oh, my poor stupid piglet, you are already giving me what I want.  Your pain.  Your pitiful begging.  And your delicious screams.  I find those particularly stimulating.  That is all I desire from you.  Come now, let's have some more.  Sing for me."

WhisssssskKKKTTTT! Just lower with a slight upward motion that both dug into the captured flesh and lifted it with the impact, setting the mounds into a constrained dance against the rollers.  WhisssskkKKKTTTTTT!  This time a rising stroke precisely where the bottom of the breasts emerged from the cylinders.  WhssssSSSSKKKKK!  WhissssKKKTTTTT!  Again and again the man attacked the defenseless under curves with the Malacca cane.  He varied the force of the blows, sometimes just a series of sharp rapid blows, other times holding his hand before twisting his shoulders to launch a viciously powerful cut that exploded against the rounded curves, burying itself into the curves so deeply that the flesh curled around it before shuddering back, quivering beyond the mangle's rollers. 

WHISSSSACKT!  "HEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!  Oh, God, no more, no more!"  Again and again the man swept the rod out to strike the bulging under curves.  He knew that the bottoms were more sensitive and the way they seemed to reach out for the rod excited him.  Thus far he had been holding the speed of the strokes back a bit, so he sent the next three lashes with all of his power.  The smacks of impact were louder, the wench's shrieks were louder, and two of the three cracked the taut skin of her bulging under curves so thin rivulets of bright shiny blood oozed down over them.  Down in his groin, he felt his hard erection twitch up, rendering its own fleshy male salute to the sight.

Karel administered twice as many strokes to Alice's proffered lower curves as he had the upper slopes.  Sticking out as they were, the female flesh seemed to almost beg for the cane.  Every stroke dragged another ragged scream from Alice's throat.  It felt as though her entire chest was being bathed with boiling oil and yet, impossibly, the pain continued to reach a new peak with every new blow.  As bad as it was in total, the savage agony also had separate variations.  Alice's captured breasts still ached from the beating of their tops and the hideous branding.  Allowed to return to full responsiveness when he changed the way they were offered to the rod, the bottoms were screaming with the new acute pain wrought by the Malacca's strikes.  Even compressed as they were, the naked breasts still jiggled after every stroke, something that always amused him.

Once, years before, he had posed this uniquely feminine trait to the royal physician.  After being unable to visualize the medical explanation, he had the old man accompany him to the dungeon and a female prisoner brought out.  While he watched, the doctor used one of his scalpels and flayed her breasts, explaining as he did.  Peeling away the skin, he showed Andressen how, unlike the buttocks (also freshly skinned), the flesh underneath wasn't muscle, but yellowish fat.  It doesn't make them any less sensitive, the doctor explained to the young man's questions, they were likely even more so because of the softer, more elastic padding.

The duke only stopped after two dozen strokes had punished the upturned tits and he dropped the cane.  He immediately turned to the brazier and grasped the iron's handle.  He withdrew it from the coals, watched by the girl's terrified eyes, then touched the glowing red-yellow end to the base of the bloated breasts just above the rollers and dragged it back, sputtering all the way.  He moved the rod up to the next welt and seared it.  The iron remained hot enough for two more passes, each higher up the curves.  The girl shrieked her agony to the room continuously, not stopping even when Karel returned the poker to the brazier.  It was back up to heat before she regained her reason, but he waited for that before pulling it out of the basin.  Karel wanted her to see, to know what was coming.  He swept it through the air to scatter the sparkling ashes away before holding it up in front of her face again.

"No, oh god, no," she whimpered in fear.  "Please, no more, no more, no more.  Just k-k-kill me and be done.  Oh, god it hurts.  My poor breasts hurt so.  No more, I beg you.  NO MORE!"

Andressen didn't even bother to respond to the girl's desperate pleas.  Stepping to the side of the cruel mount, he pressed the radiant iron to the far side of the bulging left breast beneath the upper roller and pulled it back toward him.  "HAAAAAAHHHHH!  AAAAAHHHHHHH!  AHHHHHHH!  OH, GODDDD IT HURTS!  K-KILL ME, PLEASE K-K-KILL ME!"

The duke only laughed and went to the trapped right breast and dragged the glowing iron back over another of the rising welts.  HissssSSSSS.  "EEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!"  HissssSSSSSS.  Back to the to the left.  "AAARRRAAAHHHH!"  And again, this final assault to both trapped globes, sizzling across the sweaty skin right at the lower edge of the girl's broad nipples.  "HEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!  OH, GOD, NO MORE, NO MORE!"

Lost in her agony, it took some time before Alice could open her eyes and regain control over her rasping breaths.  The first thing she saw was the duke standing before the horse, the rod once again embedded in the coals.  He stepped forward.  The agonized girl couldn't ignore the rampant shaft pointing toward her.  Whimpering in misery, she watched a fresh bead of fluid, testament to his arousal, emerge from the swollen tip and drip down to the floor.  As bad as the pain in her breasts was, the thought that it brought this man such obvious sexual pleasure made it even worse.

Karel moved closer still.  Aiming his rigid penis into the valley between the globes just above the bottom roller, he leaned forward until the glans touched above her sternum and slowly pushed to slide its length against the greased flesh until it showed beneath her chin.  He reached down with his hands to cover the upturned globes with his fingers, then slowly rocked his hips to languorously fuck the girl between her aching breasts.  Slowly, slowly, he pushed the shaft up and back between the mounds, his precum mixing with the melted lard to lubricate its passage.  The feeling was delicious.  There were so many ways to use a lusty young wench for pleasure.  So many ways to fuck one, her mouth, her cunt, even like this between her tits, tits that were now beautifully decorated with red weals and darker burns.     The agonized girl was moaning piteously.  Sharper gasps came when he pinched and twisted the nipples between his fingertips.  He played her teats as he would a violin all the while continuing his slow hip motion.  Only when he felt his orgasm all but imminent did he stop.  No, not yet, he thought.  Soon, but not yet.  I must savor this and there is still the possibility of one elusive, ultimate pleasure.  He let his erection slide out of the slippery cleft between the globes.  His hands left the breasts to turn the screws the other way, easing the pressure and allowing them to return to their previous shape between the rollers.  Still held within, of course, but no longer so harshly compressed.  Karel went back to the small table and refilled his wine glass.  He was aware of the way his penis was gradually diminishing between his legs absent the immediate stimulation, but it was a calculated thing.  This next time, he silently told it, next time you will get what you want.

Poor Alice Turner, meanwhile, was groaning in pain.  As bad as the beating and burning of her breasts had been at the time, now that the constriction was eased blood returned to the flesh and reinvigorated the nerves, enhancing the pain even without active torment.  It was only now, even as the nerves in her tits were reawakening, that she became more aware of the hideous pain between her legs where her genitals rubbed against the wooden ridge.  Even the natural physical reaction of sweating from the effort of enduring the fiendish breast torture only added to the sting as the salt further inflamed the raw nerve endings down there.  Oh, god, she thought, please please let me die.  I can't endure any more.  Dear god, no more, just let me die.  Let me die...

Alice's misery was only interrupted when she saw the duke approaching again.  She begged, she pleaded, she promised, her words running on almost incoherently, but he ignored them, intent on his task.  After another quick adjustment to the frame, he turned the screws again to draw the rollers down into the captive globes.  When they were where he wanted, he pulled on the handles.  With both studded cylinders rotating now, the bare breasts emerged from between them straight out, finally offering their very middle to him.  Although both tops and undersides were grotesquely marked from cane and hot iron, there remained a band of milky skin between with the pink disks of the nipples as yet untouched between the weals and burn lines.  The duke held there, with only half of the globes protruding from the rollers, not yet at full extension.  He stepped up on the small blocks so his groin was at the level of Alice's face.  The sadistic anticipation of resuming her torture had his sex almost fully hard again.  He leaned in until his erection was only an inch away.

"Do you want it to end, piglet?  Do you want me to have you released, to be taken off the horse?"  

Alice nodded her head vigorously in assent.  "Alright, then.  You offended me before when you had the chance to spare yourself, but I am benevolent.  Here, I shall give you a final opportunity.  Use your mouth.  Please me, please my cock."  He moved his hips forward a bit, so the turgid glans almost touched Alice's lips.  "Please me now and save yourself, eh?"

Consumed with pain, Alice Turner reached with her tongue until it touched the insistent head.  It was the only part of his erect penis close enough, so she licked at it.  The man moved his hips slightly back and forth to extend it forward just enough for her to reach, then withdrew it.  In, just enough that the tip of her small tongue could lave at the bulb and its sensitive underside, then back again.  He looked down and chuckled at her efforts, at the way she so desperately tried to move her head forward and reach his sex with her tongue.  Strapped so tightly to the ridge and mangle, her head was all but immobile, but still she tried to reach it with her tongue, to elongate it far enough to lick the elusive glans.  The reaction her tongue provoked was expected and the head oozed another dribble of clear fluid, mute testament to his arousal.  The thing that she had once recoiled from she now strained her head forward to consume.

Duke Andressen played with Alice this way a while, closer and back, allowing her tongue to reach for and lave at his penis and then back it away.  Teasing, always teasing, always playing with the tormented girl's frantic desire to spare herself more pain.  He allowed himself a couple of minutes of enjoying her tongue, then stepped back off the blocks.

"Nice, very nice, piglet, but unconvincing, I fear.  I don't believe you are sincerely apologetic about insulting me, so your punishment will continue.  Before I take the cane to your breasts again, though, I have a little surprise."  He held a small tool up before her face.  Oh God, no, she thought, not that.  It was the long steel needle that had caused her so much anguish near the end of her first ordeal when she had been forced through the hope of ending the vicious beating of her breasts to offer her nipples to him and that fiendish needle and asking, asking him to pierce the beaten and swollen teats with the hideous thing.  "Ah, I see you do remember," he chuckled.  "How much it hurt when I used it on your cute little buds, and how much more the cane hurt when it struck them after.

"It's cold now, though, and while it would hurt, it is most efficacious when hot.  Well, that is easily remedied."  He stepped back and inserted the tip into the shimmering coals.  He didn't return to playing with her breasts and nipples this time, but just stood beside the brazier humming to himself.  He looked at the captive girl.  Alice wasn't looking back at him, but instead was staring at the instrument sticking out from the embers much as she had the pokers.  She knew that it was absorbing heat, getting red hot.  The irons were ghastly, but this thing she knew – and knew he would use it on her much more sensitive nipples.

"No, oh god no," the miserable girl whimpered.  "Please no more.  Please not that.  Oh, I hurt, I hurt so.  Please, I beg you, stop hurting my poor breasts.  K-Kill me now.  God, let me die.  Oh, it hurts me so..."

"Kill you?  Oh, no.  Not yet.  You must pay for your insult.  I have permitted those tits of yours enough rest.  Now I must prepare them for the end game."  He grasped the handles and cranked them slowly further, watching as the already fiercely abused globes were drawn further forward, nipples leading their painful thrust.  He only stopped when they were distended from the rollers at their furthest extent.

Feeding Alice's terror, the duke pulled the needle from the brazier, examining it for suitable heat.  Almost, he thought, another minute should do it.  Never one to bypass the slightest refinement to add to his victim's misery, he spent the time stoking her fear.  He lightly, almost tenderly, played with Alice's nipples while he waited.  "These sweet berries are sticking out the way I like – they hardly couldn't with all that pressure in your tits – but I think the hot needle will make them even harder, even larger."  Alice could only groan in pain.  "Ah, you have nothing to say.  No matter.  The needle is ready now, and your reaction to it will be all the comment I need."

The brazier was close enough that he didn't have to remove his hand from the left cone while withdrawing the fiendish thing.  He knew that the skewer was so thin that it lost heat quickly and so acted fast.  His fingers pressed down on the breast and the other hand positioned its point close to the teat.  He paused the briefest of moments to aim and then pierced it slowly almost an inch deep into the breast.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHEEEEEEE!  AAAARRRRRHHHH!  AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Alice wailed.  Red-tinged steam hissed out of the teat, accompanied by the crackling sound of burning flesh.  "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!  OH, GODDDDDD!"   Worse, this was so much worse than the first time, the more so as he buried it deeper into the teat.  This time he also left it inside longer, a full count of five before pulling it out with a twisting motion that tore the just charred internal tissue as it withdrew.  "AAARRRHHHH!  NO MORE!  DEAR GOD, NO MORE, NO MORE!  K-KILL ME, I BEG YOU!  OH, THE PAIN, THE PAIN!"  When the point emerged Andressen was gratified to see a spot of blood follow it at the tip of the girl's nipple.  Perfect.  I may have been correct, he congratulated himself.  This bitch may provide me the ultimate delight.

He returned the skewer to the raised basin beside him.  Alice, for her part, could only gasp for breath after ragged breath, still held firmly to the mangle.  She scarcely knew when the needle was ready again until she felt his hand move to the other mound and then the hideous agony surged through the other nipple.  The same technique was employed: gliding the glowing metal sliver down through the small center hole an inch deep into the breast, hissing all the way, then pulling it out with the same twisting motion to leave slightly torn flesh behind its passage out.  As before, young Alice's shrieks of agony interspersed with pleas for either pity or a quick death rang through the dismal room.

He discarded the needle now.  It's hellish task was done.  Fascinated, Karel stared at the projecting breasts.  While he watched, the right's nipple was expanding, swelling out even harder and more bloated until it matched its twin on the left.  He could feel the thrill of sadistic lust in his now re-erected penis.  Feeding its desire, he lightly flicked one engorged teat after the other, reveling in the gasps and hisses of agony that drew from her, each rewarded with a twitch of excitement from his hard sex.  Tears ran down her cheeks and sweat beaded her forehead beneath the matted red-blonde hair.  Alice's cute face was cute no longer, but for the man the grimace of agony on it gave her a deeper beauty than before.

"There, now," he said to her.  "Now these berries are ripe enough for the picking."  Karel picked the rod up again and moved to Alice's side.  "You will let me know how much you appreciate this, won't you?"  His arm drew back and then swept forward to strike both projecting bare breasts across the nipples a finger's breadth above the flinty teats. "AAAAHHHEEE!  HEEEEEEE!  HEEEEEEEE!  HEEEEEEEE!" She shrieked.  HisssssTHWACKKT!  Back to the disks, this time the same small distance beneath the tip.  "HAAAHH!  HAAAHH!  HAAAHHHH!  HAAAAHHH!"  Then the third stroke landed, this time between the first two, a bitter stroke that flattened the points down into the broad pink areoles.  "AAAHHHEEEAAAHHHH!" The loudest, most ragged scream of suffering yet.  Karel smiled at the look on her face.  Eyes wide and bulging with utter disbelief, shock that such hideous agony was possible.

Karel smiled down at her.  "Yes, beating those nipples really hurts, doesn't it?  Especially after the hot needle kissed them, eh?  Sorry, piglet, but I must return to them.  Those plump berries really offer such a marvelous target that I have to give them the attention they so beg for."  HisssWHACKKKT!  HisssWACKKKKT!  HisssWACKKKT!  Again and again he swept the rod to strike Alice's helpless nipples.  The way the mangle trapped the breasts held them firmly in place for the cane.  Each stroke was rewarded with a frantic shriek of pain.  With the pressure within her breasts forcing the blood into them, poor Alice's teats, already so aggravated by the hot needles, became a screaming focus of anguish with every harsh stroke against them, beating the engorged tips down into the distended breasts.  Pain, oh such pain.  Poor Alice couldn't remember such pain, couldn't imagine such monstrous pain.  Even when she was forced to offer her tits to the lash she had never felt such pain.  Concentrated now on the tips of her burned nipples, it was even more intense.  She thought she screamed after every stroke.  She could not be sure.  Her throat was raw, she vaguely knew that, but her entire miserable existence was now only the hellish pain afflicting her breasts.  It felt like they were consumed by fire.   HsssTHWACCKKT!  "ARRRRAAAAHHHH!  AAAAAHHHHHH!  OH, NO MORE!  PLEASE NO MORE, NO MORE, No more, no more," she begged, her voice dying away.  "Please stop hurting my breasts.  Oh, they hurt me so.  Please no more, no more.  Dear god, no more..."

Karel delayed the final consummation of his game as long as he could, delivering a dozen lashes to the distended naked breasts, every one finding some portion of the helpless nipples.  The girl's screams had him fiercely excited.  It was time to see if cute little Alice was capable of providing the supreme erotic pleasure. Tossing the cane aside, he stepped in and took hold of the two handles.  He edged closer, legs separating over the end of the wedge until the end of his jutting sex was an inch away from her rigid left teat.  He lifted his face so he could look straight into the girl's eyes.  They were still a beautiful blue-green color, but now filled with the misery of her excruciating ordeal.  Down below his sex was following its own need, compelling the hips closer and closer until the turgid head  touched the bloated tip.  As if commanded, a large new bead of clear liquid emerged from it.  Directed by touch alone the man's loins moved ever so slightly about, forward and back, rubbing the swollen glans over the teat, its fluid mingling with the girl's nipple blood for lubrication.  The tiny hole in its tip pushed against the teat as if a reverse perversion of fucking.  The feeling was wonderful, but the sweetest sensation came when the bulb slid up so the nubbin caressed the exquisitely sensitive delta just beneath it.  Karel could feel the heat from the recent searing and his body shivered with the erotic excitement.  The duke spent a languorous few moments with this sublime foreplay, but his shaft was trembling with its eagerness for release.  Close, so very close. 

He began pulling on the handles, now working the rollers in the opposite direction, drawing the flesh back out of them –  only this time deliberately leaving the cylinders set closely together.  He pulled the handles with ever more force.  The mounds were held tight, so the already unendurable compression increased, gradually, constantly.  Alice shrieked, lost in the agony assailing her captive breasts.  The wails grew increasingly louder and more ragged, erupting from her throat as rapidly as she could draw breath.  The flesh captured between the mangle's rollers bulged more and more, the skin taut as a drum head and flushing vivid red beneath the darker purple welts and angry burn marks.  A bit more, a bit more, and the inevitable consequence finally happened.  He saw the moment in her eyes an instant before, the shock of mortal agony.  The inexorably rising pressure could no longer be contained and a spray of scarlet shot from Alice's nipples, dousing his groin.  Already aroused to its limit, Karel's throbbing penis erupted.  The spurts triggered by the hot red blood provoked an orgasm so powerful he shut his eyes from the erotic intensity and gripped the handles tightly to steady himself.  His cry of delight mingled with the girl's screams of unendurable suffering.  Karel gave himself fully to the sensation of molten liquid flowing through the pulsing shaft.  After an hour of constant sadistic stimulation, its erotic need could no longer be restrained and he lost himself to the unbelievably intense eruption between his legs.  Spurt followed spurt after spurt as his balls threw their semen through the throbbing shaft and out to mix with the agonized girl's hot breast blood.  The sensation was exquisite, almost unendurable.  Karel's hips ground and rotated with the passion of his release.  "Ah, ah, ah, ah!" he exclaimed in accompaniment to Alice's continuous ragged shriek of agony, thrilling to the molten surges erupting through his cock.  "Ah, ah, ah, ah!" his eyes closed as he gave himself fully to the intense sexual pleasure.

Finally the surges lessened and he was able to open his eyes again.  Alice's bellows had stopped sometime during his ejaculation and there was a wild look in her eyes.  Still alive, yes, which pleased him.  The last woman to give him this supreme sexual thrill died providing it, but she hadn't been as young and strong as Alice Turner. 

He only stepped away when the sensations between his legs fully subsided.  His legs felt rubbery as he made his way back to the table.  His hand was shaking as he poured wine into the chalice.  He balanced with one hand, gulping it down.  He looked over at the girl.  The front of her breasts still showed between the mangle, but gone was their full roundness.  Drops of blood continued to leak from the nipples and splash into the pool of crimson in front of her.  Karel shook himself.  By all that's holy, he thought, that was amazing!  He sat and poured himself more wine, his hand steadier now.  After a few minutes, he used a wet cloth to clean his crotch and legs before climbing back into his trousers.  He checked his appearance in a mirror mounted on one wall.  It was an extravagance all the way from Venice, but one he had purchased for this and one other torture room where he was likely to get spattered with blood during his play.  Good, some splashes on the tunic bottom, but that couldn't be helped and it's not as if my executioners don't know what I do with these wenches. The duke went over to the mangle and regarded Alice, her nude body shivering as if outside in winter from the all-consuming agony.  He reached one hand down to the crushed left breast, now all but deflated.  He lifted a drop of blood from the nipple to his lips savoring it briefly.  He grabbed a handful of  Alice's hair and pulled her head back so he could look down into her weeping face.  "You suffer much better than you suck, piglet.  I might have given you time to get it right, but nothing you could do with your mouth compares to what your tits just gave me.  Now after the mangle, your breasts are no longer appealing, so I have no further use for you.  My spies have informed me of another family that might be plotting treason.  A family with two nubile daughters.  Frankly – and I tell you this since you shall never tell another – it doesn't matter.  The parents shall burn and the daughters shall entertain me.  I suspect that one will prove more amenable to my pleasures once she has watched her sister suffer."  He paused a moment, and Alice could see his eyes lose focus, looking toward her but not really seeing her.  "Yes," he crooned, more to himself than her, "yes, having a mother and daughter together in the dungeon can make for good sport, but I like my victims young, and even a young mother is still older than I prefer.  Sisters, now . . . Sisters, young sisters, provide a unique stimulation.  You can play one against the other, forcing one to torment the other.  It may take a while, but soon enough one breaks under the pain and then will subject the other to things my own executioners are reluctant to do."  The duke's eyes came back into focus and he shook his shoulders, regaining control.  Now back in the moment,   Then he stepped briskly back.

Opening the iron door, he called for the executioners.  They had been waiting outside, listening to the screams and imagining the events within, but well knew their master's games.  Both bowed.  "You may have her now.  Do what you like."  He lifted his hand, forefinger raised.  "But I want there to be enough of her left alive for the public boiling.  The people must understand the price of any insurrection and wretch being boiled to death does that better than any proclamation.  It doesn't matter whether she can walk to the cauldron or not, just so long as she is strong enough to scream.  I shall attend, so make sure I am not disappointed."  He looked at one then the other with cold unblinking eyes.  A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth and the two men felt their blood chill at the sight.  No, one of the first things they learned – and no few previous executioners forgot to their regret – was that they never wanted to disappoint their duke.