Lady Aline and the Quim-Hound

(the following story is a sequel to https://literotica.com/s/lady-aline)

Thomas Brown had been seething in impotent rage ever since his foolish, mischievous daughter had taken off her clothes and put on a dog collar to sneak into a ball reserved for nobles. He had had to stand by and watch while his beloved Molly was whipped, and then thrown naked into the stocks for three days, where she had been pelted with rotting garbage, and violated over and over in every orifice. Brown knew that some of their neighbors had been among the men lining up behind Molly's well-whipped ass, which made it very hard to look them in the face.

She had survived her ordeal but his once vivacious daughter had now become a timid thing too afraid to leave the house. The one time she had tried, she had gotten another rotten tomato in the face. The townspeople's taunts made it clear that Molly's reputation was lost forever. Her life was ruined, even if she had not been impregnated during her time in the stocks.

That pregnancy was somehow the worst insult on top of the injury done to him, Thomas Brown thought. Not only had he lost any chance of making a good marriage for his daughter, and walking her proudly down the aisle, regardless of how much of a dowry a man as rich as he could offer; but he would have to support her and her nameless bastards for the rest of his life. And on top of it all, his business dealings were bound to suffer, for who could respect a man whose family had become a joke?

And as he brooded and brooded over the wrongs done to him and his daughter, Brown came to hate the noblewomen Molly had been trying to ape. Granted, they had not been the ones who passed or enforced the sumptuary laws, but that injustice had been done on their behalf. Who were they to parade around naked and carefree in their leashes and collars, exhibiting their tender bodies, while girls like Molly suffered? Every time he saw one of them led past him in the street, prancing and bouncing, he took care to doff his hat and bow his head respectfully, like all his neighbors, so that no one could tell what he was thinking.

He particularly came to hate Lady Aline, whose residence was close enough that he saw her led past him more than any of the other aristocratic ladies. Poor Molly had seen her often too, and no doubt it was Lady Aline that Molly had been trying to emulate during her disastrous outing. Brown hated Lady Aline's serene, untroubled smile. Brown hated every inch of her, from her bare feet to her plump rump, from her puffy pink nipples to her blonde braids. He even hated the throbbing erection he got whenever he saw her voluptuous body in motion and the patch of blonde fur between her legs.

He gradually hatched a plan that would get him the satisfaction of at least partial revenge, turning it over and over in his mind until it began to seem a thing of beauty. And when he shared his idea with Molly, he had the pleasure of seeing her slowly smile, for the first time in ages.

And so it came to pass that one fine evening, as twilight was beginning to fall and the first fireflies were appearing, a group of men with padded clubs fell upon Lady Aline and her attendants as they were heading home from a visit to one of Aline's childhood friends. Her attendants fell unconscious to the street, and a rough hand seized Lady Aline's leash and yanked hard.

She froze in shock at first -- it had been a long time since she had felt more than a gentle tug on her leash from a loving hand -- but she was soon urged forward by a combination of brutal pulls on her collar that almost choked her, and kicks to her naked backside. Aline was normally perfectly submissive on the leash, and followed happily wherever she was led, but not this time! She struggled as best she could, often lying face down on the ground, but she was repeatedly forced back to her hands and knees and led stumbling away. As the moon rose overhead, the last an observer could have seen of Lady Aline was the pale moon of her buttocks disappearing into a dark alley.

Sometime the next morning, Lady Aline found herself crouched inside a wicker dog cage, her wrists bound behind her back with her own leash. There were two other wicker cages next to hers, each containing a similarly bound and naked noblewoman, violently seized at the same time as Aline. Aline knew them very well; they were dear friends of hers. Lady Miriam's black hair framed a pale, tearful face. Like Aline, Miriam was an unwed virgin.

The final cage, to Aline's horror, held Baroness Carlotta, a red-headed matron somewhat older than Aline and Miriam, and a mother who had two small twins at home. It was bad enough that maidens like Aline and Miriam had been taken, but these beasts had kidnapped a nursing mother! Who would feed her babies now? Milk steadily leaked from the Baroness's overfull breasts, as she looked down at them sadly. With her hands bound, she could not even relieve the building pressure. Aline was unsure whether this further cruelty was deliberate, or whether the kidnappers were just stupid.

The kidnappers had struggled to fit the Baroness into her dog cage; they had underestimated her dimensions. The Baroness's already massive bosom had been expanded by pregnancy and nursing, not to mention the load of milk it was currently bearing, and it was only after a great deal of cursing and pushing on her pale, freckled breasts that the kidnappers had managed to squeeze them inside and close the door to the crate. It might have been a comical sight, if Aline had been in any mood for laughter. As it was, even crammed inside a tight dog cage, and even with the bluish bruises forming on her buttocks (the Baroness had evidently also struggled and received a hearty kicking), Carlotta was the very picture of a magnificent fertility goddess. Aline was proud of the look of steely defiance on the Baroness's handsome face.

The location of these wicker cages and their silent, fleshy occupants was obvious enough. They were being stored in the cabin of a medium-sized trading ship, at anchor in the city's harbor and gently rocked by the lapping waves that Aline could hear through an open window. It was sunny outside, and the cool breezes would have been pleasant in any other circumstances. If only they were not ladies, they could have called out for help; but to a woman, they would have died rather than disgrace their families by speaking.

Unfortunately, Lady Aline and her comrades in misfortune knew only too well where their first sea voyage was to take them. Thomas Brown and his daughter Molly had gleefully informed them that they were being shipped to Constantinople, where they would make him a fortune by being sold at auction at a Turkish brothel with which Brown had had previous dealings (apparently they were not the first girls to be shipped in cages this way, just the first noblewomen). Aline's and Miriam's virginity would fetch a high premium, and the ship's captain, who was to get a share of the price they would fetch, would make sure that they remained unmolested until they were sold.

That was not a consideration for Baroness Carlotta, who was well past being a virgin. Brown took pleasure in informing her that she would be entertaining the captain and crew all the way to Constantinople. "Looks like the crew will be having fresh milk too," he joked. Carlotta looked back at him with disdain.

Molly had launched into a tirade about how badly she had been treated, though Lady Aline had no idea why all of that should have anything to do with her. And who cared who impregnated a commoner? It was going to happen sometime. Aline just shrugged, which set Molly off even more, shrieking and spitting in Alina's face. Eventually, however, Molly and her father tired of taunting women whose only response was haughty silence, and left them alone to ponder their terrible futures in despair.

Aline had been so looking forward to her wedding! She recalled a discussion one summer afternoon among her maids. They were a filthy-minded lot, which Aline quite enjoyed. (They also might have spoken more freely around her because they sometimes seemed to forget that Aline could understand human speech, even if she no longer used it.) Anyway, they had had an animated discussion about whether it was better to hold out for the cock of your dreams, or just enjoy the cock you had inside you. The maids' consensus was that you should just enjoy the cock you had. Aline was not certain that she could learn to be that philosophical about it.

Aline had not entirely given up hope, though, even though the ship carrying them might be leaving in less than an hour. Brown had mentioned that their families were scouring the city for them, and he wanted to get under way soon. She knew--she was absolutely positive--that Hercules would find her in time, and save her and her beloved friends. Hercules was her father's favorite, and her father, she suspected, quite possibly loved Hercules more than his own sons. Aline trusted Hercules completely; but she had to give him what help she could.

Aline and her friends looked at each other, and nodded grimly. There was no time to lose! They all closed their eyes, and set about making themselves as wet as they possibly could with their hands bound behind them. Aline knew that Baroness Carlotta had an advantage over her and Miriam; she had had extensive experience with sex, and solid memories of the very solid cock that Aline had had the privilege to see thrusting deep inside Carlotta at her wedding reception. (Aline herself had had more than one wet dream about that splendid cock, though she still felt guilty for dreaming about one that belonged to Carlotta.)

Aline, and presumably Miriam, had only their fantasies to work with, and no practical experience of sex; but Aline was an avid spectator and knew perfectly well what went where. Occasionally rubbing her thighs together as best she could, she lost herself in fantasies about her wedding banquet, and how it would feel to be impaled by her future husband's enormous cock, over and over, in front of her cheering family and friends. (She did not know for sure that it was enormous, but she was an optimist!)

She imagined how good it would feel to have his abundant seed spilling out of her, while he stood up and waved the white towel with her hymen's blood for everyone to see, and then led her on his leash back to her cushion on the floor of the banquet room, the center of everyone's attention. How everyone would envy her! As her breath came faster, she started imagining having cocks in every orifice: her husband filling her warm, moist sheath, her brother in her anus, and maybe even Hercules in her mouth (this fantasy caused her some embarrassment, but it wasn't as if she would ever tell anyone), all thrusting into her in unison. She realized, with a sense of triumph, that she was now dripping wet.

A couple of sailors entered the cabin to check on something, and found the three women still safely secured, but all sweaty and panting fast, with the strong smell of female arousal permeating the cabin. They joked about how these horny bitches must be really anxious to get to Constantinople and get to work, and strolled out again. Idiots...

As they left again, leaving the door partly ajar, the three women all raised their buttocks as high as they could inside their dog cages, and aimed their dripping genitals toward the cabin window, frantically swaying their hindquarters back and forth as hard as they could to try to catch the breeze.

Aline knew that their time was running out. Would this even work before the ship set sail?

Then, at long last, Aline heard what she had been straining her senses to hear. It was the deep-throated baying of an enormous hound! He had caught the scent of their olfactory signal flair! Aline reacted at once, in a way that would have shocked Brown, who ignorantly assumed that speechless meant voiceless. She threw back her head and howled in return, as loudly as her lusty lungs could manage, and she was immediately joined by the rage-fueled howls of Lady Miriam and Baroness Carlotta. The volume of their howling was astonishing, and Miriam's soprano, Aline's mezzo-soprano, and the Baroness's contralto howl harmonized with the rapidly approaching hound's bass voice into a strangely beautiful clarion cry that reverberated over the harbor. The sudden clamor was probably giving their kidnappers heart attacks, or so Aline hoped. It would certainly be heard by their rescuers.

She soon heard thuds and the click of claws running over the deck in the direction of their cabin, along with the sound of heavy boots pelting after them -- her father's guards, she guessed -- along with the clash of weapons outside the cabin. A moment later, a massive hound burst through the door, and charged toward Aline's dog cage. It was her beloved friend Hercules! Half-sobbing in relief, Lady Aline turned to press her backside against the side of the cage just as Hercules reached it and pushed his muzzle through the bars, sinking his nose into Aline's damp quim. His cold nose made Aline squeak a bit, but it was quickly followed by the quim-hound's long tongue, frantically licking Aline's genitals. Hercules had been trained all his life to seek out Aline's quim by scent; he adored it, and he was obsessed with getting his tongue as far into her as he could.

Aline smiled happily and let the quim-hound claim his reward, as Miriam and Carlotta looked on indulgently. What a good boy! Her friends had their own quim-hounds homing in on their pussies as well, of course; Hercules had just gotten here first. Aline had known he would!

What Brown and Molly had not known was that the kingdom's great houses, being perfectly aware of how helpless and defenseless their wives and daughters were, had long taken additional security measures, in addition to the attendants and guards that usually surrounded noblewomen. To ensure that a lost lady could always be found, a unique breed of quim-hounds were trained to hunt their own mistresses, and could track their prey -- the quim of the lady they were bonded to for life -- perfectly over long distances. They could follow that scent anywhere, ignoring any other woman's privates. Quim-hounds had one-track minds!

Aline and Hercules had been together since he was a tiny quim-hound puppy. She had cradled him in her arms and comforted him when he was crying for his mother, and they had slept together in the same bed on the floor for a long time. She loved feeling his little head resting on her neck, and his delicate snores in her ear. She had spent many nights snuggling his furry warmth to her breasts and belly, and he soon imprinted on her. They played puppy games together, and spent many happy afternoons chasing balls (Aline won at first, and then Hercules as he become larger and faster), and wrestling naked in the grass.

Aline received her share of bruises and scratches in those days -- puppies played rough! -- but she took it in her stride; she could hardly get angry at her little baby. Lady Aline's maids loved him, too, and would pet and reward him when he grabbed Aline's leash and started tugging her around, with Aline cheerfully following him. It was so cute to watch the little puppy pulling his (then) much larger mistress around! Quim-hounds were bred to be aggressively dominant toward their mistresses, after all, and his instincts told him she needed to be led.

They still played together and cuddled often, though to Aline's regret, they were no longer able to sleep together now that Hercules was sexually mature, and so much stronger than she was. Her big quim-hound often accompanied her on her walks, on separate leashes. Aline had to be careful to keep her rump well away from the bright red erection that Hercules frequently sported while he was playing with her, and sometimes her more muscular attendants had to step in when it looked like Hercules was preparing to mount her. Aline loved spending time with Hercules, though, in spite of the occasional risk to her virginity. The main purpose of that play from her father's point of view, of course, was to make Hercules as familiar as possible with Aline's personal scent.

Hercules had received intensive training and countless drills in finding Aline and retrieving her. He was trained to return Aline to a specific location, and they had arbitrarily picked the fountain at the center of the garden. Whenever he found her, he either nosed her quim or licked it, as if to assure himself that he had found the right one, and then seized her leash in his powerful jaws and started dragging her away, so that Aline perforce had to scamper after him on all fours. (At this point, Hercules was much stronger than she was, and could take her wherever he pleased.)

When the sturdy quim-hound triumphantly delivered Aline to the fountain, he was always extravagantly praised and given treats, while Aline sat by him smiling at his obvious pride. Sometimes he insisted on holding onto her leash for a while, though, with a see-what-I-found-can-I-keep-her look on his face, basking in his accomplishment a little longer, before finally allowing someone else to take his naked prize's leash and lead her away.

Aline's maids loved playing this game almost as much as Hercules did, partly because they would make bets on it. One of them would keep Hercules at the fountain, quivering with impatience, while the others led Aline away and hid her. As soon as Hercules heard a maid calling out the "Quim!" command, he would be off like a rocket, questing for Aline's scent. The maids hid Aline behind bushes, at the center of a hedge maze, under the bench in a potting shed... Hercules always found her within minutes, and began racing back with her.

Once they stuffed Aline under a bed in an upstairs bedroom (that was uncomfortably tight for Aline, who really did not appreciate having her bare breasts squished against the floor, which seemed disrespectful), but Hercules soon found her anyway and dragged her out from under the bed by her leash, out into the hall, and down the stairs, heading for the garden fountain as fast as the powerful quim-hound could make Aline move. He was not trained to be gentle with her or worry about skinned knees, just to get her back as fast as he could. Aline wasn't sure which of her maids had won the bet that time.

Aline could occasionally see her mother being used to train her own quim-hound, a no-nonsense, grizzled veteran named Brutus. Aline chuckled to see Brutus loping along with his prey in tow, her limbs flailing and frantically trying to keep up without being dragged along the grass; Aline hadn't realized that her sedate mother could even move that fast. Aline wished that it would occur to her father to have a quim-hunting competition between Brutus and Hercules; she just knew that Hercules would be the best! She was so proud of his skills.

Now, all that training and practice had paid off. Aline knew she would have been lost forever without her beloved quim-obsessed hound, and she loved him even more. She was glad that she had had the presence of mind to lay a scent trail for him the previous night. The kidnappers had stupidly thought that she kept collapsing to the ground in paralyzed fear, when she had actually been pressing her quim to the ground for Hercules's sake.

Aline's father suddenly entered the trading ship's cabin, wearing his sword. Another father, in another kingdom, might have been shocked by the sight of a hound's tongue buried deep in his daughter's quim; he might have cursed and kicked the dog away from her backside. Aline's father, however, simply dropped to his knees and hugged the quim-hound, praising him profusely for finding his little girl, and petting Hercules gently. He let Hercules continue claiming his reward a little while longer, and then ordered him to sit; Hercules withdrew his tongue from Aline and obeyed, panting happily.