The girl in chains 50

free rope bondage Bondage stories 2011 archive

Yet hanging naked in a void, she found some reassurance in her knowledge of Emma and her lord. She was positive they were not cruel. His words about her use as hostage had been dour enough, but she strove toward a conviction that he would use her as a threat - an outrageous bluff as one last hope of reason with the foe. He would never have his man use his knife upon the rope - surely he would not! Surely... .

She accepted, with a wry amusement, that with the drawbridge down it was possible for the staff of Coudraye to step out upon it and look up to behold a most unusual sight. With her feet drawn back by the ropes on her ankles she was able to look down without straining and observe the wide mouthed, furtive faces taking stock of her sex. They came and went; sometimes they were children. She had little doubt that for many it was their first good look at a secret most girls kept hidden: A full frontal view of her was obligingly vouchsafed. She hoped they enjoyed it. The other possibilities of her fate made their prurience seem trivial.

It matters not at what exact time Aveline became aware of change. Her preoccupation with pain and exposure blunted perception after an hour or two of vulnerability. But her pulse quickened and her eyes once more focused on the fight as the sounds of it diminished with an unmistakable significance. Even at a distance it was easy to see it had become a desultory affair of individual contests absorbed in their urgency of kill or be killed. Men were walking among the soldiers, giving orders and pounding on the back the ones who would not heed. Gradually the turmoil stilled. Here and there men sat upon the riled sward and tended wounds. Others dismounted and shed some armour. It was obvious to the anxious hostage that someone had called a halt to the carnage. Her eyes roved in search of Malenfant but found him not. It was hard to distinguish faces at such a distance, but she knew that had he been there she would have detected him.

They separated from the stragglers, two figures welded close as one, and made a slow and weary progress toward the entry over which she hung suspended. At first she could not be sure, but as they narrowed the gap her heart began to thump and her pulse to quicken. What she saw was incredible and beyond her wildest hope. When it became certain, she closed her eyes and said a small, brief prayer of thankfulness. One of the men was Coudraye; he was wounded and limping, supported by the stalwart figure of the man who filled her dreams. It was Miles Hardwin.

If asked what she had expected of this meeting she could have given no coherent answer. Her knowledge of him and the time in which he had held her captive was so bizarre and beyond the norm it had left her only with an illogical desire to be his forever. She knew others would call her hunger for this laughing man an aberration, a girlish infatuation. She could think of names for it herself. But soon she would face him, hung naked in an obscenity of captivity she longed to hide. As usual she was helpless, and took what comfort she could from his previous familiarity with every inch of her. When the slowly moving pair reached the drawbridge and gazed up, Aveline blushingly reflected that from this man she had nothing to hide.


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