The Darkest Knight Ch. 04

The scrabble to come up with a suitable implement for thrashing the Princess was fast and furious.

Trousers could have been falling down everywhere as belts were removed; some of leather, others of rope and servants were sent scurrying for much more 'rigid' devices.

A broadsword was offered up to an amused Lucius who politely refused and then a pitchfork, which had him howling with mirth.

'Why ever do you keep that in here?' he asked, eyes sparkling.

'To remove louts like 'im Sire,' came the response, as he pointed at Mr velvety flat out and snoring on the floor.

'Ahh,' nothing wrong with a friendly poke at closing time, Lucius surmised.

Byron having made a run to the stables for his Master's crop re-entered the auction room flushed and panting. The door slammed behind him and he pushed the latch firmly to.

Lucius raised one eye slowly up towards him from the dais.

'Oh Bloody Hell,' he cursed under his breath, having just realised what the 'look' meant. He'd forgotten he was supposed to be rather heavily into his cups.

Byron dropped to his hands and knees and made an ostensible drunken crawl down the aisle, receiving a few 'helpful' kicks of jeering encouragement along the way, knocking him black and blue. Why was there always a downside to cunning plans?

Finally reaching the edge of the stage, very relieved no-one's foot had found any of his more delicate appendages he handed the crop forward to Lucius with a glare and an award winning slurred speech:

'Taaaa Daaaaa.'

Lucius couldn't help a grin as he took the wicked looking, slim leather crop into his keeping.

'Thank you dear boy,' the Prince said, his eyes already returning to Rosalind's pale flesh, 'you have my permission to pass out at your leisure.'

'Yes Siiiirre,' slurred Byron whilst thinking darkly 'what and miss all the action? You must be flipping joking.'

A great performance then ensued of the valet, half stumbling, half crawling back to his chair in which he proceeded to obediently collapse into. Shutting his eyes, Byron would have started snoring loudly, if he didn't already know he'd get a clout for it later.

* * *

Lucius meanwhile was fully occupied on the task at hand.

'As our slave Princess is a novice,' he addressed the crowd, 'we'll just thrash her arse today.'

He undid both of the eye bolts above the Princess' head, releasing her arms. Immediately she tried to blindside him with a manacled wrist. Lucius, having expected it, twisted both wrists behind her and pushed them up high, causing her to howl in pain.

'Make that back AND arse.' He yelled menacingly in her ear to much applause.

'You can't do this!' wailed Rosalind, now completely immobilised with her face being pressed hard into the cold stone wall as Lucius turned her around. She could feel the soft skin of her cheek grinding against the abrasive surface, her arms protesting violently as she was resecured but this time with back towards the audience.

'Made that BACK, ARSE AND THIGHS,' Lucius roared in her ear. 'Feel free to keep going, the more body parts the merrier I say.'

As it happened Rosalind's face was pressed that tightly into the wall, Lucius leaning his weight against her to secure the eye bolts, all she could do was moan weakly in response.

The Prince stood back to admire the ivory expanse of soft, unblemished and delicate satin flesh before him. What bliss it was, to be the first to mark it.

Firstly, as a test stroke for his audience, but in reality to see whether his new slave would wince or not, he let the crop whistle through the air.

Rosalind's face snapped back over her shoulder and then, curiously, stayed there as if goading him to start. Her eyes sparked pure fury and fire, flames leaping from them trying their best to scorch him. Lucius had never had a slave before who wanted to watch as the whip came down upon them and as his dark eyes connected with her tempestuous ones, he felt a sharp stab of desire slice through him. Damn, he was REALLY going to enjoy this. With no further ado, the crow flew.

SMACK.

Rosalind had to bite down hard on the howl she wasn't prepared to share with an audience.

Lucius watched her intently. Her eyes spoke volumes, both of pain and murderous intent. Alas she'd have to wait in line, there was a big queue of people wanting to kill him. He smiled at the satisfying bright red welt springing up against such a pale relief -- the after image of pain.

* * *

Byron cracked one eye open from his slumped position on the chair, jolting nearly as much as the Princess when the next blow came down. Thank the Gods she wasn't screaming. He had a feeling that ear plugs may well become a necessity if those two got married. Thinking about it, ear plugs wouldn't cut it either... he'd probably be forced to look for other career opportunities in a Castle far, far away - at least 500 leagues away. Oh Good Lord, what if he couldn't find a job and faced unemployment at a mere 29 years of age? Things could get very stressful. He started a deep breathing, I'm on my island in the sun type meditation mantra to try and calm himself down.

* * *

Rosalind was trying hard not to let a whisper leave her lips. Her teeth embedded themselves in her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood and resolutely she held herself stiffly upright. If only she realised now, that barely a day would go by without that backside of hers being tanned red and raw, she may well have given in to howling inanely. Her new owner was nothing, if not a diligent Sadist.

'I want to hear that word 'Master' slave.' Lucius was now alternating strokes, diagonally across both back and arse; delighting in the way her body jumped and her arse cheeks quivered with each stroke. 'Feel free to beg for mercy at any time,' he drawled softly in her ear.

'CURSE YOU,' Rosalind managed to choke back at him, through the pain which was becoming unbearable as her back and arse were now covered in thick, red swelling lacerations.

'Oh you will be frequently, except when I choose to gag you,' came the retort.'

A titter of amusement went through the crowd.

* * *

The other of Byron's eyes flicked open. Now gagging had possibilities. Quick as a flash the stress of being homeless and jobless had disappeared and his mini vacation to a nice Caribbean island ended abruptly without a whisper of sunburn. He could breathe again. The Gods WERE merciful.

* * *

'I will never let you NEAR me,' came the roar from the Princess.

'If you're a good girl I might let you NEAR me,' Lucius replied, his lip curling upwards, but then added as an afterthought, 'perhaps even if you're bad actually AND that's an extra 10 lashes for talking back slave. I have never heard a Princess show such disregard for her superiors!'

'SUPERIOR, you must be out of your...' Rosalind's retort was cut rather short as the crop once again found its mark and she needed every ounce of concentration to quell the screaming that was fighting to break free of her.

At no time did the Prince's strokes falter upon their intended target. Always precise, measured and with the same amount of unerring force they found their target again and again. Letting the pain build, making sure the blistering heat of his strokes would eventually be her undoing.

Lucius wanted her a sobbing, pitiful wreck of a slave -- always make the initial lessons the hardest and you'll enjoy an easy life, was his motto.

To her credit, she was putting up a damnably good fight; but there was no way she could win.

Over and over the blows rained down and finally, all fight lost, Rosalind began to sob.

'Let me hear Master slave, or I promise you won't sit down for a week.'

Even through the intolerable red mist of pain consuming her, the Princess shook her head in defiance.

'Lucius had to admire her spirit, he'd not seen any slave take as much as she for their first thrashing, men and women alike. Royalty were such a pain in the arse. His lip quirked at his own joke.

Fine, it was time for the finale then.

He started with a series of brutally hard whacks, leaving only enough time for him to swing the crop back before the next was delivered. Back, arse, thighs... everywhere was red, skin engorged with blood and so raw that at last she was screaming.

The room collectively winced once more at the horrendous noise those lungs could produce. It was a blessing though, because his arm was starting to hurt. Damn, he was going to need to work out in order to keep this one in check. It spurred Lucius on; more upon more blows were heaped upon her until her head rocked dizzily on her shoulders. The pain was so blinding now, she could barely see straight.

His fingers started to slip in and out of her, testing for telltale moisture. Confusing the signals her body was sending, he could see her eyes in their struggle to decipher between pleasure and pain. He was rewarded with slick heat and a rocking of her hips in response. Even better, the lass hardly knew what she was about, lips parting on a sigh before it was choked back hastily. His thumb began rubbing her clit in gentle circles, arousing her horribly as the nub swelled instantly under its touch. Again and again he caressed that little bud, watching her eyes glaze and her lashes flutter hopelessly in response. Satisfied she was as aroused as she could be, Lucius placed the crop between her legs and rubbed gently, dark eyes boring into hers....

'You have 3 seconds to say Master, or this will be the worst pain you have ever encountered slave'

'Three,' he yelled and the crowd helped him by joining their voices.

'Two,' an almighty roar now.

'ONE,' and all eyes looked to the sobbing, dribbling, shuddering Princess hanging before them and wondered what would be forthcoming.