Rainstone Ch. 01

The whip scoured over her flesh. It left flickering trails of fire across her skin, the pain almost too much for her to bear. She hung from her wrists, from where he'd tied her when she'd once more displeased him.

Who was he?

Her father, the king of the Fourth Kingdom and ruler of all the lands he could see. He was a tyrant and a bully, beating his only daughter when he found fault with something in his palace. That was her charge, to run his kingdom, leaving him to play with his whores, to fulfill his fantasies and to drink himself into ruin.

His heart raced now as he lifted the whip once more, the knotted ends skittering across the stone floor and leaving a trail of blood and flesh. He let the whip sing as it came toward her back, making sure the ends flicked under her arms and struck her breast. Her screams were beautiful, lusty and pained, making his cock harden under the ornate codpiece he wore.

"Enough, Your Majesty. Soon she will be scarred and then who will want to marry her? You must think of her worth upon a marriage contract." Smeadly Aloysius was quick to hurry to his king's side. He stroked the king's hand as he spoke, whispering the words urgently into the man's ear. "She is of marrying age, Majesty. It is time she brought some wealth to your people."

"To my people, Smeadly? Or perhaps you mean to you?" He glanced over to where his daughter hung, her head bowed, her ebony colored waves of hair sticking to the blood on her back. What skin was left unmarked was clear and creamy, making his hand itch to lift the whip once more. "Release her," he called to two of his men who stood staring in horror at what their king had done. "Send her to her chamber and have her maid attend her. I will see her upon the morrow." He tossed the whip to one of the boys standing close by, bidding him to clean it and return it to his possession post haste.

Then he returned to his meal and the company of his favorite of the castle's whores, a slovenly blonde who fawned over him. She had fed him the best of the food upon the platter, letting him lick his wine from her over-blown breasts, laughing at everything he had to say.

Neither watched as the young girl, barely eighteen years of age, was cut down from her bonds, carried gently out of the room and up to the third storey of the huge castle to where her father had banished her years ago after the death of his beloved wife.

* * * *

Anya Rainstone roused as the pain of her wounds became almost too much to handle. She managed not to scream as she was placed, belly down, upon her bed. A shiver of cold overcame her as metal pressed against her spine and then she heard a rip as the rest of her dress was torn from her, pulled gently from under her, leaving her naked upon the bed.

She heard a soft moan and then a hand was upon her slender thighs, stroking her flesh. Anya wanted to move, to get away from that hand but even the littlest of moves made her back burn like fire. Fingers wandered over her bottom, stopping to squeeze the firm flesh before pushing between her thighs, pressing into her dry flesh. She was unprepared for what happened next.

Another hand landed upon her leg, pulling it away from her other, opening her to the fingers that invaded her privacy. She tried to shift that leg closed once more but the hand held it open easily. "No," she moaned softly, barely able to breathe as the fingers that were slipping over the now wet flesh of her sex began to ply soft caresses to her clit, coaxing that tiny bud of flesh to peep from beneath its hood, standing straight and hard. It almost seemed to beg for more as her hips began to dance against the hand.

Tiny whimpers of pain and pleasure came from between her parted lips. Her lips had once been so lovely but were now cracked and bleeding since she'd bitten them to keep from screaming as long as she could. She denied her father some of his pleasures, making him work hard to get anything from her.

Her cheeks grew flush; her head began to spin as the hand between her thighs found the virgin portal to her core. It circled the soft, sensitive flesh, gathering her moisture and using it to pleasure her clit.

"She's going to come upon my hand," a rough male voice said.

"Oh, aye, that she is. She's so beautiful, I want her to come on my cock," his partner said, his hand moving from the inside of her thigh to poke roughly at her. "I want to take that virginity."

"You cannot, no matter what her father does to her; she's still a royal princess of the seven kingdoms."

Anya heard their talk but she didn't care. Her body felt empty even as they continued to touch and caress her. She felt feverish and needy inside like she'd never felt before. Is this what the women of the court talked about? If it was, she wanted more.

She mewled, feeling something tightening inside of her, pushing her body back against those two hands. Even when a finger was pressed against her small rosebud, she didn't protest, only cried out as a burning pain mixed with the pleasure.

"I knew she'd like this," the crude voice of the rough man said. He pushed inside of her until he could go no further, pulling out to add another finger, using the creamy moisture of her cunt to stretch that sweet rosebud. "I can't take her virginity down there, but no one said a princess had to keep her back door pure." With that, he climbed up on the bed and slapped the smooth, ivory buttocks of the princess.

"You can't do that to her back," the other man said, hurrying his caress, wanting the princess to feel some pleasure in her life.

"I ain't going to do nothing to her back," the man said, yanking on the ties that held his codpiece closed. With a growl, he spit on his hand, coating his cock with saliva before angling it down toward her hole. "She's going to love this."

The other man pulled his hand out, lifting his fingers to his nose as he watched his friend begin to push through the tough ring of muscle that clenched to keep him out. He could smell the princess upon his hand, her arousal rich and fragrant, better than the most exotic perfume.

"Quit fighting me, Princess," the man growled, slapping a hand against one beautifully pale buttock and leaving a bright red print upon it. "You'll like this, just stop fighting and let me in."

* * * *

The pleasure was gone, the hand that had been so delicately taking her to places she'd never been before had deserted her. Now there was just the rough hands of the other. Anya cried out as he pushed his ugly hardness into her, the head finally pushing past where she'd tried so hard to keep him out. He moved against her in a jerky motion that sent waves of pain through the marks on her back, tearing open the ones that had begun to scab and sending fresh blood to pool on her lower back and drip onto the bed.

But that pain was nothing compared to what she was feeling in her bottom. "No!" she tried to shout, but it came out as little more than a whimper. "Please, it hurts."

"You're raping her," the one guard said to the other who was now grunting as he tried to push more of himself inside the beautiful princess.

"What the hell do you think you were doing to her?" the other man grunted.

Anya couldn't hear their words; all she could do was wiggle against the pain and pray for it to end. She dug her nails into the sheets, her face buried in her pillow as another slap was delivered to her already sore buttocks. "Hold still, bitch!"

Then suddenly he was gone. Voices surrounded the bed, some shocked, some more concerned than anything else.

"My princess," her maid, Sonya called to her quietly, covering her to the waist with a clean sheet, "I am sorry I was delayed." Tears fell down Sonya's pale cheeks and she knew she would be called to explain where she was while the royal princess was being raped by the guards sent to keep her safe.

She would take her punishment as long as she wasn't removed from service of the princess. She loved the abused woman like a sister for they'd been raised together.

Another thought had her grimacing in fear. If she was removed from the princess's side, she would no longer be protected from King Philonius. The king had kept a royal eye upon her since she was sixteen summers and only the protection of the princess had kept him from ripping away her virginity, taking her in the hall in front of his troops. If she pleased him, he would keep her. If not, well, his troops weren't known for their gentleness.

"My princess," Sonya said again, carefully pulling Anya's hair from out of the frightful wounds upon her back. "Open your eyes. Those men are gone and you are safe."

Anya opened her eyes, staring around her with trepidation. "Get rid of them," she whispered.

"You heard the princess," Sonya said. "Out."

"But her wounds..." the local healer began.

"She said out, she meant out. If we need you, we shall summon you once more." She ushered him out in front of her, taking the pot of salve he held out to her.

"Use that on her back. It can be used on her...well, anywhere else that might hurt as well," the man said, his cheeks growing red.

"Thank you, I shall be sure to tell the princess of your generosity."

The healer bowed his head. He'd been called here for the princess more times than any other member of the royal household. Their king was a villain, evil in every way. He was lazy and slothful, but was too skilled with the sword for anyone to try to wrest his lands away. He surrounded himself with others who were just like him, making the royal court a place of little but libidinous pleasure where young women were stripped of their honor, sent packing back to their homes in shame.

He'd delivered many offspring born from that shame, he'd seen too many men and women abused and crippled by these men. But the most he could do for the princess was to carry her secrets and hide the king's abuse. He prayed every day for someone to come and rescue this kingdom, but its secrets stayed secret, its wounds healed but lay festered beneath the new skin.

He would hide this shame as well, though with a heavy heart and self-hatred.

* * * *

Anya felt Sonya's soft hands on her wounds and hissed. Even as gentle as Sonya was, the whipping had been severe and she felt every touch. "I want to get dressed," Anya said.

"Oh, no, Princess. You can't move. These will tear open and bleed anew."

Anya used the same forceful will that had her taking the whipping without screaming and pushed herself to a seated position on the side of the bed. "You will attend me, Sonya. I am going to the pond. Find me my breeches and shirt."

Sonya did as she was bid, grumbling every moment of the while. "Princess, it is dark, there are strangers about. It is not safe for you to ride the countryside alone."

"Then you shall come with me, but I am going, Sonya. I need to go."

Sonya watched as the princess struggled into the boy's breeches and the billowing white shirt. It stuck to her back where the blood still flowed, staining the pristine white shirt with crimson stripes. Sonya knelt at her side, slipping shoes on the princess's tiny feet before helping her up.

"You're determined to do this?" she asked the pale faced girl.

Anya couldn't speak, she nodded her head, swaying at the pain it caused to make even that tiny of a move. She couldn't stay here though. She could feel the danger creeping around her like an insidious monster.

"I'll have horses brought around," Sonya said, heading toward the door. Anya's pained whisper stopped her.

"No, my father would hear of any horses being called for. I do not want him to know I'm going, Sonya. We'll leave by the side gate and take the path through the woods to the clearing. The moon is full tonight; we shall have plenty of light to see by."

"And the beasts of the forest will have plenty of light to choose the tenderest parts of our bodies to feast upon. Anya, you're not thinking right. You were raped and your father beat you. You should be in bed, healing not wanting to traipse all over the country." Sonya stood, hands upon her slim hips as she blocked the young princess from reaching the door. "I-I don't think I can let you do this."

Anya smiled, wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead. "Let me?"

"I-I, well, I could go to your father and tell him your plans."

"You won't do that though." Anya leaned against the wall, gathering her strength. "Climb into my bed, Sonya and pretend to be me. If you are found out, tell them that I forced you to do it." She pushed past her maid, amazed when the girl stepped meekly out of her path. "Thank you."

"You won't be thanking me when you reside in the belly of some foul beast," Sonya grumped, pulling on the laces that held her gown closed. She slid it off, laying it carefully over a chair before climbing into the bed in her shift and bloomers.

Punching the pillows, she beat them into submission since she couldn't do the same to the princess. Candles were blown out and then Sonya saw a quick glimpse of light as the princess slipped out of the room.

"She'll be the death of both of us," she muttered, turning on her side and staring moodily out at the full moon that lit up the night.