Fresh from victory

A little fantasy, inspired by a rather lovely restaurant we visited in southern Spain…

The private dining room, high in the hills, was so beautifully designed, with its candles and its tapestries and its views down to the sea below. Evocative of a hall in some ancient castle, to the extent that had a group of Knights from days of yore appeared and demanded a feast, I should hardly have been surprised.

A castle. A hillside. Knights. Fresh from their victory earlier in the day.

“There’s a pretty one amongst the prisoners down in the dungeon, my lord. One of their commanders, it seems. I think she might be to your taste.”

“Then have her prepared and brought up for me to inspect.”

Dragged from the dungeon. Stripped, three of them manhandling her as she struggled. Forced to the ground.

The pail of cold water. Her head thrust down, held beneath the surface. And again. The icy contents thrown over her. Hands, roughly, touching and cleaning.

Wrists tied behind her back. Led, still naked, up the stone stairs – and into the hall before the Knights.

“Oh, you’re right,” he said. “Very much to my taste.” He took her face in his hand, turning her eyes to meet his.

“Bastard! You will never break us.” As she spat in his face.

“Shall we see?” Clicking his fingers. “Put her in position.”

Taking the proferred leather whip, as his men tied her legs to the table, bending her forward, one grasping each wrist to hold her down, tight.

The first vicious stroke met with silence. Likewise the second, the third. A gasp after the fourth.

“I do like a brave girl.”

The next strokes still harder. Cries after a dozen, screams. A beaten girl losing her fight by the twentieth.

Another click of his fingers. Beckoning a gentleman towards him. “You were especially gallant in battle today. You may use her first, as a reward. Open her up for me.”

Brutally, as the men still held her down over the table. Satisfying himself quickly. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Is she tight?”

“Very, my lord.”

“Excellent.” Another click of his fingers. “Untie her.”

And, as she staggered to her feet, another click, ordering her to his side. “You are brave. And you are pretty. And you understand the consequences of defeat, and our rights.”

Grabbing her hair, and turning towards the door. “And now I intend to celebrate our victory. I shall keep you to myself for the rest of the evening. Count yourself lucky: any other girls in the dungeons ‎may not find themselves so fortunate…”

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