Chains

Chains slithered up from the floor. Princess Beatrix soon found her ankles bound to the wall. Another pair of chains did the same to her wrists. She glanced at her trapped appendages, bewildered.

She attempted to walk away from the wall and failed. "Rowan, what is the meaning of this?"

"M'lady, I did not take you down to the dungeon to pardon an innocent man," he said.

"Well, what have you brought me down here for, then?"

"I think the reason will become quite obvious, my dear." The pile of chains at Beatrix's feet rattled, a few raising themselves from the ground.

"Is this your doing, Rowan?"

"I am a wizard, after all."

"I've not seen you perform any magic but cheap parlor tricks. I didn't know you practiced true sorcery. These chains, binding me and rising by your hand, they are an affront to God!"

"There are many things in this world that are an affront to God, m'lady. One of which is your fate."

Two chains rose. One hooking into the knot on Beatrix's belt and the other into the tie on her cloak. They pulled until the knots came undone. The cloak and belt fell to the ground, leaving her bliaut to billow around her body.

"I order you to release me, Rowan. You may be a sorcerer, but I am the princess."

Rowan ignored her order and made a rising motion with his hands. A chain flew from the ground up Beatrix's bliaut. It peeked through the top of the dress, remaining motionless for a moment. Rowan threw his hand downward. The chain followed and tore through the front of her dress and under tunic. The garments fell open to reveal a short chemise underneath. A second chain destroyed the backside of her torn garments, leaving her in just the chemise and knee-high hose.

She glanced down at her half-revealed body and gasped. "My silken gown! This is obscene. Was your intention to defile me? If so, I bid you remember that my betrothed will swiftly put a stop to this."

"That is indeed my intention, m'lady." A chain curled around her calves and worked its way up her leg.

"Stop this at once, Rowan! I order you. If you lay a finger on me, I will scream."

"I shan't lay a finger on you, dear. My magic shall suffice." The chain chilled her skin as it climbed up into her chemise. "I have longed to see your body shorn of its vestments. Will I be the first to have such a pleasure?"

The chain shot up between her breasts and out the collar of her chemise. She struggled against the bonds. Her chin pushed the chain in an attempt to make it drop from her remaining garment. "The commoners may allow themselves to be seen bare, but not I. My body is the province of my husband. Now remove that chain and I will forget this incident."

The chain forced itself downward, pulling the chemise taut. The swells of Beatrix's breasts peeked out of her shirt's expanding collar. She continued her scolding. "One last chance, Rowan, or I call for my husband."

"You have no husband."

"We are to be wed within the week. It is as good as done." A ripping sound distracted her. The chain had begun to dig through the cotton it opposed. "Edwin! Edwin!"

"Yelling will do you no good. Why do you think I brought you down here?"

"Edw– oh!" Her call was interrupted by the chain completing its descent. The chemise fell open at the center and was soon pulled from her body by chains.

"Your figure is exquisite, m'lady. 'Tis a shame all but I have yet to see it."

She shivered, partially from being exposed to the dungeon's cool air and partially from being exposed to the eyes of Rowan. "Please, I beg you to stop."

"Beg, order, what difference is it?" A chain rose, stroked her cheek, and the held her chin up. "What matters is the you will lose your maidenhead tonight."

"No, please, you can't possibly–"

"What is it that I cannot possibly do?" Chains crawled up either of her legs.

She glanced down. The freezing links were wrapped around her thighs. She drew in a sharp breath. "Please, you can't." More chains rose from the pile to bind her. She now wore a belt of iron. Her shoulders were draped with the material as well. The ends of two chains prodded the tips of her breasts. Her nipples grew erect. She cursed the chilly metal for making her appear aroused. With its goal achieved, the material curled around the swells of her breasts.

Tears appeared in Beatrix's eyes. Royal power with no one to exercise it on was useless, much less a force that could counteract magic power. She tried to hold back, to show strength, but she knew there was nothing she could do against Rowan. The feeling of the frigid metal against her skin was becoming overwhelming as well. The chains nearly covered enough of her body to constitute an outfit. A tiny length made its way onto her scalp, forming a small circlet as if to mock her.

"Ah, you still look so regal, m'lady," said Rowan, rubbing it in. She tried not to imagine how she looked at that moment. Regal. Perhaps the princess of distressed damsels, the sovereign of fallen maidens.

A few chains wriggled up her hips to brush against her clitoris and her lips. She shuddered. The icy, unrelenting texture of the chains was so far away from the warm flesh of her own fingers. That novel feeling had actually sent a wave of excitement through her.

She couldn't allow things to be easier for Rowan. Or allow herself to enjoy such an act. She remembered what her mother had told her. "I must be strong, I must be pure, I must be chaste."

"Go ahead and try, m'lady, but you will be begging to be made unchaste over and over when I am through with you." The chains that hung from her shoulders reached down to poke her nipples. The others squeezed and wriggled over her skin. A last one tickled her clitoris.

The motion of the chains was stirring, but it was the temperature that snared her. It was so strange. All her life, she had embraced warm, loving bodies. This was the opposite. Perhaps this was what death's embrace felt like.

Death had no right to feel erotic, though. Perhaps all the other chains would not have incited a sexual feeling if it weren't for the ones that continuously skimmed her nipples and clitoris. Now they pressed harder, stroking each sensitive point with increasing vigor.

"This must be Satan's doing," she said in reference to her increasing arousal.

"No, it is all mine."

She noticed the skin on her chest beginning to flush and her breath becoming shaky. She hoped that Rowan didn't realize that she was alluding to her loss of self-control. To show such a thing would make her as depraved as him. She would be guilty of lust and infidelity; no minor sins.

But the foreign sensations were difficult to fight. Despite the frigidity of her bonds, heat grew in her slit. She had to resist it. "Strong, pure, chaste," she said, barely audible. Her head, however, still hung in shame, as if defeat were inevitable.

The remaining chains at her feet braided themselves together into three separate lengths. One braid patted her cheek in the patronizing manner that it had done before. Another crept up the back of her legs in between the cheeks of her ass. The last did the same, but slid itself against her slit instead. It parted her lips just a slight amount, running over them and working in tandem with the chain that worked her clit. It pushed against her opening, seeming anxious to bury itself inside.

"Rowan, you can't be thinking about putting that inside me. You're not going to...with the chains, are you?"

"Of course I am. When I'm through with you, your womb will be so disfigured that no one could believe it to be a man's work. On your wedding night, Edwin will discover that his newlywed has been violated by a demon. Either that or a man with a member worthy of legend."

"Please. If you must take my maidenhead, take it with your own member. I should not lose my purity to iron."

"I need you to be utterly ruined, m'lady. Unable to be married. What if your suitor or his successors are able to overlook what may have been a one-time infidelity? But they will not be able to overlook infidelity that has stretched all your orifices wider than those of a common harlot or street whore. Any gentleman will be disgusted at how thoroughly the good princess has allowed herself to be violated. But that is not all."

A chain holding up a tankard appeared before Beatrix's face. The rim of the cup pressed against her clenched lips. She tried to hold them closed, but the movement of the chains on her body made her quiver. There was no strength in her jaw. Liquid poured down her throat.

"Now you shall forget this by morning. And by the eve of your wedding, Edwin will find your belly has begun to grow, as if you were with child. You will believe yourself to have been taken by the incubus."

She whimpered as the last few drops entered her mouth. The tankard clanged against the ground. "Rowan," she said through labored breath. Despite the fact that she knew she was about to be desecrated, physically and spiritually, a forceful wave of pleasure ran through her. The chains that caressed her most sensitive spots did not seem to increase their speed or pressure. The wave, rather, seemed to flow from the inside out. It was not just pleasure, but desire. Need. "Why?"

"When you are thought to be carrying the devil's spawn, you will find no suitors. The king will despair that you cannot marry. That is when I will offer to take your hand and become heir to the throne."

"Never," she whispered. The braid of chains that rubbed her lips came forward through her legs, the tip lifting itself in the air.

"Ah, but I see that you are already enjoying the thought of making love to me by the way those chains glisten with your fluid." The braid retracted back into its original position. The chain on her clitoris pushed hard, sending that strange mixture of pleasure and pain out from the bud through her body.

"Ah!" she squeaked. "Then take me. Oh! Ruin my body so that you may not enjoy it in your private chambers."

"Do you forget what I am? I have already concocted a brew that can restore a woman's maidenhead. I shall take the sweet virgin princess every evening."

The braid at her mouth traced the outline of her lips. The ones at her slit and anus entered the openings. "No. Edwin." She had tried to shout his name once more, but it came out as a sigh of defeat.

"Now, silence," said Rowan. The chains slid into her mouth and depressed her tongue. The tips of the braids thrust into her in unison, starting shallow and moving slightly deeper with each stroke. Her insides did nothing to warm the metal. The cold that enveloped her body had become internal as well.

The coldness moved further inward. It was as if she were losing her body inch by inch to the cold, to Rowan. Her lips hadn't clenched to resist the chains' penetration. Nor had her anus. Indeed, with every thrust, she came closer to climax.

It hit quickly. Her scream was muffled by the chains in her mouth. Her hips wriggled, using what little freedom of movement they had. It seemed as if she were struggling against the chains, but in reality, she was pushing back against them to fill herself even further.

Her tongue continued to flutter against the links, but she could only produce a guttural noise as her jaw opened further. Somehow, the coldness was adding to her pleasure. The warm hands and member of a lover could never do this.

Her lips had clamped onto the braided chains and seemed to pull them up into her body. Now her labia writhed on them in ecstasy. This movement slowed as the end of her orgasm neared. She couldn't believe the chains had forced her climax. But she had endured.

The feeling swelled once again in her groin. Her eyelids flickered. How could this happen a second time? Quite easily, her body seemed to respond. She trembled in the confines of her chains, losing all control of her muscles as they contracted and released involuntarily. When the second peak hit, her body began to lift off the ground. The chains carried her a few feet upwards while she thrashed against them.

"You are undone, Beatrix." Rowan smiled. She closed her eyes to avoid the sight of him. Having lost her sense of equilibrium and sight, she had entered a world where only the cold existed. It invaded her body, creeping deeper into her. It felt as if the chains would continue to push until they converged on her heart, whereupon she would be rent apart by their force. Did Rowan know how deep the chains had gone?

The chains that had been draped around her neck pulled taut to choke her. The ones inside her crept closer to her heart. The rest squeezed tighter than ever. Her breath stopped. And still, all this only intensified her rapture. Her body and mind shattered, the little pieces falling away into an abyss of nothingness. Death must have been making love to her. ---

Beatrix awoke to find herself in her bed, nude beneath the covers. Her hand trembled as it reached to touch her chest, to feel her heart. Its beat was still there. Her hand then moved to her slit. Rowan had kept his promise. The walls of her womb had become so loose that she could no longer squeeze her fingers tight with them as usual. When she withdrew her fingers, they ran with blood. She opened the curtain on the four-poster. A tankard and cloth sat on the bedside table. She took the cloth and pushed it through her lips, using it to explore her now distended insides as she cleaned up the blood. Her sore muscles couldn't keep her hand from shaking.

Rowan appeared by the bedside dressed only in his chemise. He lifted the tankard and handed it to her. "Drink, for strength." She took it in her free hand and gulped down the liquid inside.

She handed the cup back to him. "Rowan, my womb," she whispered.

He stroked her hair. "I know, my dear. That will soon be remedied." His words proved correct. The lingering pain gradually lifted from her body. Then she felt herself tightening around her finger. She threw back the covers to inspect herself. A new maidenhead was forming at her opening.

"How did it feel?"

"It was– I can't even describe, Rowan. I thought I would die. But the closer to death I got, the more pleasure I felt. The chain, choking me, I didn't expect that. But it was a stroke of genius. How could you have known what that would do to me?"

"Oh, there have been attempts made at hanging me."

Beatrix giggled, then frowned. "The potion. I forgot about it. My belly, will it–"

"Vinegar and water, dear. That's all it was." Rowan pulled the hem of his chemise upward. "But I want to know. Did I play my character right? Was the royal adviser evil enough?"

"Deliciously evil."

"You can see what I thought of your princess." He touched his erection as he lay next to her. "So persistent, but inevitably yielding."

"I took pleasure in her as well. Feeling her chastity being stolen away." Beatrix shivered. Her nipples hardened. Her fingers were covered in more moisture. She pulled her hand from her slit, thinking the bleeding had started again. It was lubricant, not blood. She met even greater resistance when she slipped her fingers back in. A great warmth emanated from her center. The contrast with the deathly cold she had just been subject to intensified the arousal welling within her.

Beatrix entangled herself in Rowan's body. Her hips gyrated on his thigh, rubbing her lips against his skin. His hardness pressed against her belly. "Suddenly, I'm overcome with lust again, Rowan."

"There was more in that potion than a remedy for your aches."

"I can feel it." She shivered as he kissed her neck. "I need it now. Would you deny a lustful, virgin princess her wish?"

He pushed his hand between her legs and his thigh. "You are not quite a virgin yet, my love. Allow your maidenhead a few more moments to revive."

She moaned. Her fluids now coated his thigh. "It saddens me, though."

"What does?"

"That I cannot give you what you've given me."

He smiled and caressed her cheek. "You are the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. That is enough. Besides, a wizard can do things for himself."

She nuzzled against him. "A wizard is the best husband."

"Well, I may not be Merlin, but I do pride myself on my knowledge of the erotic arts."

"Merlin," she said. "I wonder what he could do to a woman."

The thought alone caused her to lose control. Her hips pushed hard against Rowan's thigh.

"Do not give the old fool a second thought, Beatrix! He has been under the spell of the Lady of the Lake for ages." He rolled on top of her and pierced her still growing maidenhead.

"Oh! Make me the Lady of the Lake, Rowan!" Orgasm took Beatrix once again.