Captain of the Guard

The Captain of the Guard has lived in the castle most of his life, yet never set foot in this room, sealed for years before the new regime took over. He is hanging upside down, stripped bare, his legs tightly-roped, arms bound behind him. A small open window seems to mock his imprisonment, a night sky brimming with stars just beyond it.

The blood is rushing to his head and now comes the clop of approaching footsteps from the nearby hall - Clarissa's boots, the Queen's torturer and occasional lover. A woman who has treated him like a rival since the Queen appointed her, three long years ago.

Things were not always this way, the kingdom had been a happy place before the current young Queen and the Captain had been one of its most decorated soldiers. (Some would say most decorated but the Captain detested self-admiration.) Now it seems certain his lean, battle-hardened frame belongs to a condemned man. He may not be killed tonight, no there is most likely too much enjoyment for Clarissa to gain from his humiliation, but his fate is still sealed.

With a CLANG, the heavy cell door opens and Clarissa's muscled legs come into his view. He hears her low breathing, deviant and sexual. She greets him in a throaty voice, the sick pleasure contained in it makes his head burn hotter.

But he cannot be angry any more, he has become too weary. A deep, three year long tiredness since the death of the great older Queen, the flight of her chosen successor and induction of the Queen's corrupt daughter. He thinks on this as Clarissa stands before him now, her muscled frame filling out an animal-hide corset and loincloth. And he realizes she has dressed up for him, hates him this much. She will extend his torture as long as she can, dominate and humiliate him. Clarissa runs her hand (up) from his shoulders to broad chest and past his flat stomach. Then, stopping at his cock, she takes it in a firm grip, she brushes it like a favorite pet. "I knew I would get you in here eventually, Captain. Every inch of you belongs to me now."

The Captain hears an odd whistling sound and realizes she holds one of her many torture instruments an instant before his buttocks are whipped, hard. He almost cries out but holds his cry. Hears the exhale of his torturer as she doubles her efforts, bringing the whistling lash down again and again.

The Captain tries to think of something else. And he finds there is one thing he can focus on, only one, he lets his mind drift to it. To her. To the reason he is in this situation with - oddly - little regret.

------

A mere three hours earlier, the Captain stood outside the Great Hall in full military dress. The uniform had a centuries old design, ribbons of color each with their own symbolic significance, three dozen medals representing different battles where he had served the kingdom. The collar was tight on his neck but he gave no sign, waiting for Clarissa's personal bodyguards to allow him inside. In the past the guards would have been under his command but again, much had changed.

The doors opened revealing the opulent throne room of the Queen, though any view of her was blocked by Clarissa, standing in his way. Even Clarissa's clothes were a contrast to his, dark and sheer. Clarissa sized him up as she always had, then turned and motioned for him to follow. At the center of the Great Hall sat the Queen, barely twenty years old, drinking port with red-stained lips. She was lean and severe-looking, a young woman too slothful to toil yet too paranoid to rest. Cruel, calculating and forever unsatisfied, if Clarissa was the muscle, the Queen was the mind.

A coarse-grained horse blanket lay on the ground at the Queen's feet. The Captain had been summoned here but he would let the Queen tell him the reason when she was ready. He felt it was not proper nor his place that he should ask. Finally the Queen shouted drunkenly, "At ease, Captain, relax!"

He nodded but did not slacken his posture. She continued "A big day, historic day." She snorted a laugh, port wine coughing up through her lips. Then she reached down toward that covering on the floor and yanked it off.

A stunningly beautiful young woman was revealed, crouched in a fetal position. She was roughly the same age as the Queen, bound and gagged, meeting no one's eyes, still determined to hold on to what dignity she could. Even the Captain, a veteran of war and strife, was moved by her plight.

Her (he couldn't even think of the woman as a simple prisoner any longer) once elegant clothes were covered in mud, as if she had been dragged through it. The Queen voiced surprise, "Captain, don't tell me you don't recognize our guest?" At this, Clarissa stepped forward and roughly yanked the prisoner's face up. The Captain knew her then. This was Rachel, the Old Queen's choice for successor. And some would say, the rightful heir to the throne.

But such thoughts were forbidden. Though the Old Queen had decreed Rachel over her own daughter, protocol had not been followed and the Queen had died amid a looming civil war over the outcome. The Captain loved the old Queen but he had followed orders, helping to place her daughter while Rachel had been forced to flee the country under cover of night. Apparently, for the young Queen and Clarissa, exile had not been punishment enough.

"Strip her." The Queen's order was directed to Clarissa who answered that it would be her pleasure. Every stitch of Rachel's muddy clothes were quickly ripped and then cut from her body. Totally exposed now, her nude form resembled a fine work of art - pert and full breasts, a flat stomach and though she wasn't especially tall, long shapely legs. The girl was slim but had lean strong muscles and the Captain didn't doubt she could put up a fight if given the chance.

Clarissa puled Rachel to her feet and suspended the bindings on her hands high above her and secured them to a buckle on the wall, forcing the girl onto her tiptoes. An instant later cold water doused Rachel's body and the nude girl shivered. The Captain knew usually such proceedings took place in Clarissa's private dungeon, but the Queen wanted to watch from here, even seemed aroused. To the Captain this was an abomination of what had once been the great hall. A place he had believed in, fought and suffered for, now a circus. Another bucket of cold water splashed across Rachel's midsection and the Queen chortled, coughing up more port, staining her lips like blood.

Clarissa held up a thin wooden rod, "How many lashes my Queen?"

The Queen giggled - actually giggled- and then decreed, "Count off one hundred and then ask me again."

The Captain, a man of few words, finally spoke up, "No! That could kill her." Suddenly, all the air seemed to leave the room. The Queen looked shocked at his insolence but Clarissa had the hint of a grin, sensing a man digging his own grave.

Clarissa turned back to her prisoner, and now the girl was meeting someone's eyes, the Captains - until Clarissa struck the girl's bare buttocks with the rod, WHAP! The Captain felt as if he had been struck himself. Clarissa reached back to deal another blow, the first already having reddened the girl's buttocks. The Captain took a step forward to help the girl, his own actions surprised him, he thought his heart had hardened long ago.

The Captain's hand caught Clarissa's wrist. "Guards!" the Queen belted as Clarissa's personal bodyguards stormed the room. The Captain didn't resist, he saw Clarissa grin but then looked over at the gorgeous creature that was Rachel. Wanted to drink her in, for this to be his last sight if his life was ending...

Rachel's eyes met his and then all was blackness.

--------------

The torture continues. The Captain is slipping in and out of consciousness. He feels Clarissa's hands all over his body now, she is telling him of the awful, public things she will do to him. How she has waited for this day. How the future belongs to her and her kind.

A RAPPING on the cell door takes her attention away. With not a little frustration she leaves the Captain for a moment, the blood still rushing to his head, the pain from dozens of lashes all over his body. He hears Clarissa exclaim with glee, a frightening sound when it comes from her, and then he sees the cloaked figure and his heart sinks...

Rachel enters the room. She, not Clarissa shuts and locks the door behind. The woman who would have been queen asks simply, "We have an agreement, then?"

Clarissa waves off the guard outside the door and answers they do but tells Rachel to explain it to the Captain, "I wish to reward your act of kindness, sir. I will pleasure you and only Clarissa will be here to witness it."

Clarissa interjects with a sneer, "This time...But if the show is enjoyable, I may have you put it on for the Queen!" The Captain wants to tell Rachel that this is a devil's bargain, whatever thanks she means to give him it is not necessary - but Rachel crouches, puts a finger on his lips. It is a kind gesture and the first time he has been touched with affection in far too long.

Now she removes her cloak, she is not as one might assume, nude underneath, instead she wears a two-piece undergarment of exotic silks from a far-off land. It befits a princess but perhaps only one in hiding. Rachel looks at the Captain with kindness and an instant later she is upon his inverted body, rubbing her hands over every bit of him, every striated muscle, every battle-earned scar. She stops at his already hardened member - and a moment later her mouth engulfs the shaft, deep throating every inch of him. The Captain exhales, her mouth feels so warm and somehow... safe.

Rachel moves her head up and down, faster and faster her hands on his buttocks, his muscled thighs and then on to his bound calfs.

Clarissa cannot believe her eyes, she leans then sits down, enjoying the sight. For a moment, even in the depraved depths of her cruelty, she is jealous of them both. Prisoners or not, their is love between them and Clarissa can't understand it, it dwells somewhere in kindness, an undiscovered country for her. The knowledge of this makes her hate them both even more. She will enjoy the sight for now bu st their punishment will be even more severe. And this thought makes the torturer smile.

The Captain is in bliss for a few moments, it is better than any sensation he has ever known. Rachel can feel this too, she is glad to take him, her mouth full, her hands rubbing his strong legs. She bobs harder than ever, faster than ever. And finally the Captain gasps and begins to explode into her mouth...

Rachel sucks every drop, and there is so very much, but she doesn't swallow all of it. Clarissa laughs, the show is ending but Rachel spits up a small amount of cum into her hand and...

..Flings it at Clarissa's face! It gets in the torturer's eyes and Clarissa is furious. Once more the Captain feels Rachel's hands upon his legs and then...

..Then he is falling, onto the floor, only Rachel's strong arms block an injury. He realizes, though his arms remain bound his legs are free! He sees Rachel holding a tiny concealed blade in her hand, must have been hidden among her undergarments, she has been cutting away at the ropes all along!

Things happen very fast now - Clarissa rushes at Rachel in blind fury but the former victim takes her tiny blade and stabs Clarissa's thigh! The torturer cries out, used to inflicting pain but not receiving, she backs away, then limps for the locked door, her guards just on the other side but...

...Rachel tackles Clarissa, for the smaller woman it's like trying to hold a bucking horse, Clarissa now dragging Rachel and within arms reach when...

...The Captain dives on Clarissa with his strong bare frame, chest-pins her - buying Rachel enough time to rise to her feet. Clarissa struggles, looking up to see Rachel's foot coming down, knocking her unconscious.

-----

It is mere moments later and yet the world has already changed forever. There are guards beyond the door but it stays locked from inside and for at least a brief time, the room belongs to the lovers. Rachel has freed the Captain's arms now and immediately used the binds to tie Clarissa to her own rack - for there are at least a hundred lashes in Clarissa's very near future. As Rachel undresses her unconscious prisoner, she turns to the Captain and there is love in her voice, "You must go, now. It is a long drop into the moat below but the waters will save you. I have friends just beyond the grounds, waiting for you."

The Captain questions her, "You mean waiting for us...?"

But Rachel shakes her head, "I must remain here, I will run no longer. But my handmaidens will receive you and are instructed to do whatever you say, fulfill your every desire. I do this for the kindness you afforded me and because, if I ever do claim my throne, it is men like you who will help make it possible."

The Captain again wishes to protest but she touches his lips with her finger, it warms him even more than it did before and she adds "But if, if you do come back and rescue me... I shall make you my King."

The Captain finally nods. Outside the door, guards are stirring and he knows he must go. He reaches down for Rachel's dropped cloak, to cover himself but she blocks it from him, "No. Whatever paths you chose before, today you were reborn. Take nothing into your new world from this old one."

She kisses him and he thinks he hears her breathe as their lips meet, "except for this."

She speaks one more time, rubbing his broad chest, his cock already stiffening again, "Let my handmaidens see you as I have."

Then she backs away, it is time. The Captain faces that window, wants to look at the woman he loves but he does not gaze back, instead leaping into the abyss...

...Nakedly he plummets through space until his body hits the moat's freezing water. Seconds later finds him crawling onto land and sprinting for a horse-drawn wagon, three beautiful handmaidens waving him to them like mythic Sirens.

He runs naked, cold and wet but he knows there is warmth just ahead. And one day he will return for his true Queen, a man reborn.