The Toy

[fuckmeat]

Closed to UnHolyPimpHand

Disclaimer: This thread will feature strong themes of nonconsent, degradation and violence/torture. Anyone expecting hearts, flowers or consensual BDSM will be disappointed. Don't say I didn't warn you.


The cold, hard, stone altar bit deeper into Calina's numbed and yet aching body. Heavy chains shackled her wrists and ankles together and a piece of white muslin silenced her, distending her mouth as it gradually soaked up more and more saliva. Her body was sheathed in a simple robe of the same fabric and the candle-light enhanced its translucence, throwing her slim, pale curves, including the modest but pert swell of her breasts, into sharp relief. Her freshly washed hair was dark brown with glints of fiery auburn that danced in the flickering light. Her eyes were dark green and they roamed over the sparse chapel for the millionth time, flitting apprehensively to the only door and then dropping swiftly, the intelligent focus leaving them as they clouded with fear. She was so slightly built and of such short stature that she could lie full length on the altar if she chose to, which she didn't, curled as she was into as much of a foetal position as her restraints allowed her. Calina had been lying there for hours and for ought she knew, she could lie there many more before anyone came.

That morning she had been working at her mother's bath-house. She didn't pleasure the rich clients who visited herself but she worked hard to ensure the place ran smoothly, cleaning and refilling baths, serving refreshments and most importantly, taking money. Calina was of a marriageable age now but her mother's profession meant that no man would take her to wife. Calina remained virgin, though her theoretical knowledge about sex had been augmented by the scenes she had glimpsed as she went about her duties. Plenty of men and women had propositioned her but both Calina and her mother held out hope that someday she would marry and her virginity was therefore not for sale.

Although Calina's life at the bath-house had expanded some of her horizons, others had remained very closed and sheltered. It was very seldom that she ventured into the town and its bustling market square. Calina found the fortifications that encircled the town oppressive and the great castle that loomed over all seemed to cast a shadow wherever she went. The king was a good man and his people were loyal to him but Calina thought the castle looked menacing and even the nobility who visited the bath-house intimidated her with their superciliousness and finery. Calina had no knowledge of who the barons and knights were or to whom they were loyal. All the politics that people brought to the bath-house went completely over her head, though whatever gossip Calina overheard was always shared with her mother.

That day a lot of finely dressed people had used the bath-house and so even Calina had known that something was going on up at the castle. She had lost count of the number of people she had served wine and food to and virtually every room had been occupied throughout the day, a very rare occurrence indeed. Aurelia had even rented out her most lavish and private suite, complete with a separate exit into a concealed courtyard where a covered carriage could deliver and collect the most high profile client without his or her reputation being sullied. No fewer than three girls had been dispatched to the secluded room and Calina had spent much of her time ensuring that their most important client had everything they could require.

As the sun began to set, a footsore Calina had gone on her usual round dispensing and lighting candles, when she had been summoned to her mother's rooms, where they both lived. Aurelia had been a beauty in her day and still retained a fine bone structure and neat figure that she augmented with tightly laced dresses and discreetly applied kohl and rouge. Aurelia did not see clients herself any more, though she had been known to make the occasional lucrative exception for old times sake. A well turned out servant of some kind was offering her money and two palace guards were stood by the door, their expressions resolute.

"There is no negotiation here." The servant was saying as Calina crept into the room, bewildered. "You can accept the money or you can be stubborn and have your house closed down." The servant's tone was laced with counterfeit concern and dark amusement twisted his features. "You will not even be left with nothing, you will both be permanently silenced. I am sure you don't want that."

Aurelia regarded him levelly, then turned to Calina with the same glacial stare. There was a tightness in her expression that Calina recognised as distress and indignation blazed in her mother's eyes. What on Earth did this servant want that could upset her so?

"Calina, you must go with this man. You must be brave and remember that I love you." Aurelia moved towards Calina but the servant got their first, thrusting her over to the guardsmen, who chained her at wrist and ankle. They dragged her from the room before Aurelia could protest further.

Calina was cast across a horse like a sack of flour, covered with some cloth, cautioned to be still and quiet and then borne to the castle. She was ordered to bathe and the same servant took a blade to Calina's pubic hair, leaving her bald like a child. Finally, she was dressed in the muslin robe and with a long cloak thrown over her, she was hustled at knifepoint through the castle to a lavish suite of rooms including the private chapel in which she now found herself. She was chained to the altar and the heavy wooden door was locked and barred behind the servant when he left.

She was not stupid, Calina had deduced that she was here because someone wanted her virginity enough to bribe and blackmail her mother. It had to be somebody high up, even within the royal family perhaps. But the king was good and kind and his children were all known for their generosity and moral fortitude. Calina did not know about the rest of the nobility but the suite she had passed through had the look of a permanent residence rather than a guest room.

She was past crying now, past yelling into her gag and struggling against her chains. Now she just lay there resignedly, her stomach lurching with terror whenever she dwelt on who her abductor might be.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Prince Henry Gainsborough

Prince Henry Gainsborough sighed as his father went on, his old tedious droll, like nails on a chalkboard to Henry. All these tedious meetings with nobles and councilors, they bored Henry to tears. The appearance of his most trusted servant Oswald, made the young prince breathe a sigh of relief. It seemed his package had arrived, the long awaited prize he had requested.

Most of the nobility had heard the rumors. The chaste daughter of a common bath-house whore, whose beauty alone made her the object of widespread, unrequited lust. Rumor had it that nobles and statesmen had offered fortunes, small and large, for the chance to be the girl’s first; all had been refused without consideration. Henry talked often of his sexual conquests, comparing and contrasting with the cooks and generals and dukes. Henry had never laid eyes on the girl, not being the sort who would pay for what countless would gladly throw at him, all in the hopes that they might bear his seed and rise to his level. Henry wasn’t the sort to allow that either.

Now, at last, it was time for Henry to see if these rumors were true. See just how lovely this daughter-of-a-whore really was, and if she had been a worthwhile purchase. His father, the king, had been a lifelong Catholic and wanted Henry to be active in the church, even providing his son with a private chapel to pray in. But Henry had long given up believing in fairy tales of all kinds.

This new acquisition finally gave him a reason to go into the small, stone temple that adjoined his bedroom.

Henry slipped away from the proceedings, not even bothering with an excuse or gesture to the statesman, still making his case to the king. He led Oswald out into the hall and closed the massive throne-room doors behind himself.

“Did you meet much opposition from the old-whore?” Henry asked, walking with purpose toward the wing of the castle that was his alone.

“Not much Milord, she tried to protest at first, but when I explained her situation more fully, she relented without further negotiation.” Oswald smiled, confident that his superior would be pleased with the fruits of his labor. “And if I do say so myself, Milord. The rumors of her beauty were not exaggerated, not in the slightest. She is as lovely as a Spring day, I hope your majesty will be pleased.”

Henry glanced over his shoulder, green eyes firing sparks at his assistant.

“She hasn’t been touched has she? I didn’t pay good gold to have her sullied by the likes of you.” Henry spat, rounding a corner sharply on his heel. “I’ll be greatly displeased if the rumors of her chastity are proven false, regardless of her beauty.”

“Of course not Milord!” Oswald squeaked, caught off-guard by Henry’s sudden harshness. “I have seen to her care myself for the duration. I can assure you, beyond any shadow of a doubt that she has remained untouched since in my care. If the girl has been in any way sullied, it was long before I ever met her. I have every confidence that she has never known the intimate touch of a man.”

“You can tell that just by looking at her, can you?” Henry asked sarcastically as the duo reached the heavy wooden chapel doors.

“You’ll understand once you see her Milord. Please, enjoy yourself. I’ll see to it that you are not disturbed.” Oswald grinned, bowing low and extending an arm toward the door. “As I’ve said before, I think Your Majesty will be pleased with the preparations I’ve made to the girl. Please, to your pleasure.”

With that, Henry made his way inside, slamming the door behind himself. From the back of the cathedral, it was difficult to tell much about the girl. She was slender, fair, bound and frightened. Henry smirked at her wrapping, remembering what Oswald had said about “Preparations”. The translucent white fabric was utterly appropriate. Purity worn thin, chastity, but only barely.

Henry examined her with his keen, emerald eyes. His ring laden hand moving possessively up her calf to her thigh, her skin was even more perfect and soft to the touch than it was to the eye. His had moved higher still, looking her in the eye for the first time. She was gagged, likely to prevent her from screaming, but the stone walls held sound in remarkably well, bouncing sound around as echoes until it all but faded from existence.

“I’m going to remove your gag, but if you make a fuss I will cut out your tongue. Understood.” Henry asked, searching her eyes for recognition. She was unlikely to have been very educated, given her lineage. While one hand slid between her silken thighs, running the edge of his hand against her bare, shaven mound; the other hand gently removed the piece of fabric from her mouth. “I’m relieved to see that rumors of your beauty were not exaggerated. What is your name?”

While Henry spoke to... it. his left hand gently parted her nether lips, sliding his index finger up the middle to tease the underside of her clit. He needed to check for her maidenhead, he had no desire to do so while she was dry and clammy thereby risking the prize be lost to his fingers.

“My Father, the king. He has issued a proclamation, that all whores, beggars, invalids and the offspring there of are to be summarily purged. Executed to relieve the strain they place upon our economy as well as the public threat they pose to law abiding citizens.” Henry said matter of factly, the ability to lie without flinching was one of the few traits Henry was glad his father had passed onto him, he continued to coax and tease the girl’s young, inexperienced clit. “I have ordered to have you brought here in order to save your life. If you ever leave this room, you will be discovered and put to death. I have used every ounce of my power and influence to have your life spared, but I must inform you that your mother, your friends, your family, your... associates. Nearly everyone you have ever known will be dead by sundown. Your beauty and your purity alone have spared you the same fate. Are you not grateful?”

Without waiting for an answer, Henry moved to her feet, staring now at her sex with the same intent focus as he had done to her eyes a moment ago. Fingers on both hands now spread her, after moving a candle closer to light her nether regions. His middle finger abandoned her clit, sliding into her now wet and fragrant sheath, feeling out her flower with measured diligence and caution.

“I’m relieved to see that those rumors were not exaggerated either.” Henry smirked, neatly lifting his long golden chain from around his neck and hanging it over a nearby crucifix.

 

[fuckmeat]

Calina flinched violently as the chapel door slammed. This was not the gentle tread of the servant who had prepared her and brought her here. This was a man who was comfortable in his surroundings, who had a sense of possession. He was little more than a looming shadow until he drew close. As she lifted moist eyes to focus on him, Calina actually cried out into her gag. Even without his finery and jewellery she would have known who he was. There were many artistic renderings of him about the kingdom and he strongly resembled his father. Like many of his subjects, she had seen him from afar at state and religious events. This was the Crown Prince Henry Gainsborough, King David's eldest son and the heir to the throne.

His hard green eyes moved over her possessively and Calina physically squirmed beneath his gaze. His hand reached out for her, strong, tanned fingers sliding over her pale calf and up to her thigh. She knew the look he had, it had been worn by countless men she had encountered at the bath house, who had paid for time with a woman and regarded her as hired property. There was a lecherous edge to his stare that turned her stomach. His hand was at the apex of her thigh when Prince Henry deigned to meet her eye and he seemed to see the muslin gagging her for the first time.

“I’m going to remove your gag, but if you make a fuss I will cut out your tongue..."

He spoke slowly and a little loudly, as though she was deaf or witless. Calina glared at him, unable to believe how primitive he seemed to think she was. She nodded her comprehension and compliance, not trusting herself to successfully keep the indignance from her voice. Prince Henry pulled the sodden fabric from her mouth and Calina stared up at him fearfully as her dry lips connected for the first time in many hours and she attempted to swallow. His fingers explored higher still, brushing over her shaved sex. Calina shuddered violently

“I’m relieved to see that rumors of your beauty were not exaggerated. What is your name?”

Despite the severity of the situation, Calina's eyes widened. She thought he must be jesting with her. She had no notion that her looks were talked about. Calina always felt skinny, pale and undeveloped beside the lush, curvy beauties her mother employed at the high class house she ran. Nor could she comprehend how it affected men to know she lived a chaste existence in the midst of a bath-house, glimpsing the occasional scene by accident but remaining ignorant about how sex felt and could be enjoyed. Her mother hadn't even told her about most of the offers for her maidenhead, thinking that to do so would make her daughter conceited or worse still, tempted to accept a generous offer.

Belatedly she realised that he had asked her a question.

"Calina."

There was no other name she could give him. Her mother, Aurelia, had never uttered her family name, nor the name of Calina's father. She had always said she would never bring shame on either family by linking herself to them. Aurelia freely admitted that she couldn't be sure who Calina's father was. The name she protected was that of the man Aurelia had calculated was the most likely candidate, based on her clientèle at the time of conception and Calina's appearance. If the man had ever known of Calina's siring or contributed anything to her upbringing, Aurelia had kept it to herself. Calina had gone through a phase a few years ago on trying to guess who might be her father from the handful of ageing clients Aurelia retained. Her best guess was a Baron by the name of Fitzwarin. His eyes were the same dark green as her and the salt and pepper in his hair didn't disguise the face it had once been her own shade of glossy auburn flecked brown. She also fancied that their jawlines were alike. Fitzwarin held a keep towards the north, where he had a wife and three strapping sons. He ruled the land in the name of King David, to whom he was intensely loyal.

Calina gasped aloud as Prince Henry pushed a finger between her tightly clenched sexlips, pressing up against the sensitive spot there, the one girls at the bath-house discussed a lot when they thought she wasn't listening. His fingertip wiggled gently, sending jolts of sensation through her. Calina tried to stay still and quiet but suppressing the sensations stirring in her belly just seemed to make them stronger. Her sex began to exude wetness, another aspect of sex the girls had been vocal about. It was deeply embarrassing though, to have this man, the Crown Prince no less, pressing his fingertip into the strange wetness between her thighs. Calina flushed scarlet and refused to look at him. Then to her amazement he started talking, his cultured voice delivering the most devastating news in a mild and conversational tone, as though commenting on the weather. The whole time he kept right on touching her. It was utterly bizarre.

“My Father, the king. He has issued a proclamation, that all whores, beggars, invalids and the offspring there of are to be summarily purged. Executed to relieve the strain they place upon our economy as well as the public threat they pose to law abiding citizens. I have ordered to have you brought here in order to save your life. If you ever leave this room, you will be discovered and put to death. I have used every ounce of my power and influence to have your life spared, but I must inform you that your mother, your friends, your family, your... associates. Nearly everyone you have ever known will be dead by sundown. Your beauty and your purity alone have spared you the same fate. Are you not grateful?”

His finger suddenly withdrew. The prince then fetched a candle and placed it between Calina's thighs. She froze, terrified of being burned as he pushed his finger inside her. He had taken more care than his servant had done but it was still a degrading experience for Calina, to have her purity violated so crudely just to ascertain that it still existed. She knew he would find what he was looking for but Calina was still revolted by the smug satisfaction in his expression.

“I’m relieved to see that those rumors were not exaggerated either.”

He took off a long, ornate necklace and Calina didn't see where he put it. She began to panic now, assuming he was beginning to disrobe so he could rape her. It didn't seem possible that one swift, brutal act from this privileged man who could surely have any woman he wanted would ruin her chances of ever marrying. She whimpered and then sobbed, tears starting in her eyes both at the graveness of what the Prince had said and the humiliation of having to lie there bound and be interfered with while he had said it. He removed the candle and she tried to close her legs but he wouldn't let her. Grateful? She should be grateful for this? Anger blazed in her veins, eclipsing her fear and arousal. Finally, Calina found her tongue, her pretty porcelain features twisting with rage and hatred.

"I'm sorry my Lord." She said, her tone clearly stating otherwise. "But I would much rather have died with my mother than been brought here for you to defile."

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Henry turned in a flash at her "apology" and rude words for Him. It was bad enough that she had referred to him as mere "Lord" rather than "Majesty" or "Highness", but when she used that word... "Defile." something in the Prince which had been winding tighter and tighter for years, snapped. Before that word had even stopped echoing in the young man's ears, he had already been slapping her for some time, rapid, blind, furious, open hand slaps to her face, again and again. If he'd had time to think of it, he might have shown her the courtesy of removing some or all of the thick gold rings that adorned every finger of his hand. Once Henry realized what he was doing, he slowed down, but didn't stop. He took a moment to hold out his hand straight, mentally weighing the added weight from the rings and then swinging his palm down with all the might of his shoulder and slammed that weighted paddle across her face.

The girl was bleeding from her lips, and it wouldn't be the last time.

Oswald's preparations of her seeming like mere impediments now. As Henry tore the thin woven fabric easily from her body, the other dealt a backhand to the as yet unmarked side of her face. One of his rings left a cross-shaped indentation, the cross in white, the surrounding welt was florid red.

"You don't have any idea, do you silly thing?" Henry said, once he was finally observing her nude body before him, like a bare canvass now that her face had already been marked. "Since you called it that, I'm going to show you exactly what it means to be defiled. I'm going to take my time, do it slowly, make you wait for it, until it's the only thing you even remember. The defilement I mean. Furthermore, you will learn to regret referring to Me as mere 'Lord'. To the likes of you, I am His Royal Majesty or Your Highness. Is that understood? Answer me, cur!"

While he waited none too patiently for her to answer, Henry grabbed the candle still by he feet. He held it over her body and began to slowly drip the hot red wax down the center of her body like a count-down to her reply. It didn't really matter what she said. The Prince had even forgotten what he'd asked as he watched her writhe in agony under the hot, crimson rain. He let a faint chuckle escape him, suddenly strangely childlike as he watched her squirm. It reminded him of burning ants with the magnifying lens when he was much younger.

"You're so pathetic, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your life is so worthless even you aren't glad to have it." Henry taunted, hooking his boot under one of the chains and stepping down to pull it taught, preventing her from doing much to protect or defend herself. "Maybe I'll just kill you. Then I won't have to worry about how to feed you without word getting out. Or ponder how we'll dispose of your waste. It's much easier to sneak out a body than a whole bucket of shit three times a week. You'd better start making a case, otherwise I'll certainly cut out your throat when I'm done with your body."

The wax was dripping onto her nipples now, one then the other. He flooded them until the wax rolled down her sides, making her flinch and try to fight the chains to wipe the dripping heat away. Lastly he threw the candle forward, as though he were tossing a drink into her face, emptying the bowl of wax across her face in thick, liquid globs, they dripped down joining with the blood and wounds her mouth had expelled from the previous flogging to paint her in vibrant stripes of red, crimson and pale.

The king grinned at his handiwork, exchanging the dry candle for another from the alter with a fresh pool of wax.

"I'm afraid I've forgotten your pathetic, peasant, whore name again. What was it?"

 

[fuckmeat]

The blows rained down so fast that she couldn't even draw breath. The only thing to be said about the speed and brutality of his attack was that the prince's swinging arm at least kept his snarling face obscured. Calina closed her eyes, feeling his rings ricochet off her cheekbone and eye socket, splitting her lower lip as yet another open-handed blow smashed into her. By the time he was done, her left eye was swollen shut, the side of her face was red and puffy and she was bleeding from her busted lip. Calina's eyes flew open as he ripped the muslin from her and without warning he dealt her a vicious backhand.

"You don't have any idea, do you silly thing?"

His hard, lecherous gaze swept her body again and Calina squirmed beneath it. Until Prince Henry's servant had 'prepared her' she had never been nude before an adult male in her life.

"Since you called it that, I'm going to show you exactly what it means to be defiled. I'm going to take my time, do it slowly, make you wait for it, until it's the only thing you even remember. The defilement I mean. Furthermore, you will learn to regret referring to Me as mere 'Lord'. To the likes of you, I am His Royal Majesty or Your Highness. Is that understood? Answer me, cur!"

His vile threats made her grimace in disgust. She knew from the bathhouse that men could drag out their sexual liaisons for hours at a time but this challenge was something else again. She still couldn't believe that it was the heir to the throne who was doing this to her. Her grimace twisted into a glare of withering contempt as she realised how he had told her to address him. What a little brat this man must be.

"Oh no. You will not be 'his royal majesty' until you wear your father's crown." She corrected him, talking thickly through her split lip, beginning not to care what he did to her as adrenaline-spurred panic forced its way past her fear and made her reckless. She would have said more but his royal highness chose that moment to lift a heavy red candle and something in the movement told her that he wasn't merely seeking to get a better look at her. His eyes glittered with intent as he held it over her... before tipping the candle to spill crimson wax down her chest and then her abdomen. Calina bucked and cried out, fighting her shackles and although the wax stung like hell, it didn't actually burn her skin.

"I do not wonder that no woman in the kingdom will lie with you, if this how you treat them!"

Calina heard more rumours than most folk did, the bath-house was a boiling crucible for such tidbits. It was well known that the Prince had sired no bastards as he grew through young manhood, though his father before him had been quite the womaniser befor settling to marriage and the full weight of his royal duties. Many out it down to the Prince's piety but the less charitable were apt to suggest that he lacked the hammers and anvils to beget his own offspring. Even the prince's younger brother had been accused lately of siring a court whore's baby, though Calina had no knowledge of whether that suit had been upheld. Perhaps he was abusing her like this because he was infertile? Or even better, impotent? There were a lot of myths and mysteries surrounding sex and the begetting of children. Perhaps someone had told this desperate man that defiling a virgin would cure his ailment? Anything was possible.

"You're so pathetic, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your life is so worthless even you aren't glad to have it." The Prince informed her. He continued to spatter her with the wax, pinning down her chained legs so she couldn't try to twist away. "Maybe I'll just kill you. Then I won't have to worry about how to feed you without word getting out. Or ponder how we'll dispose of your waste. It's much easier to sneak out a body than a whole bucket of shit three times a week. You'd better start making a case, otherwise I'll certainly cut out your throat when I'm done with your body."

"My life is not worthless just because you are too privileged and cosseted to attach value to it!" Belatedly Calina realised she was supposed to be begging for mercy but she was too livid with indignation. He turned his attention to her delicate, pale pink nipples, covering them with wax as though she hadn't spoken. The molten wax on nipples that had been bullet hard in the cold air of the stone room made her scream and buck, shaking with the force of pain and... something else... that rocked her slim body. Calina's alabaster pale face, now red and swollen from being beaten, flamed a deeper scarlet with humiliation and shame. It made everything so much worse, knowing throughout all this that he was making ready to rape her. It was beyond obscene.

"Do as you will then, I cannot stop you." She snarled hotly as she writhed beneath the wax. "Just know that I was raised just as Catholic as you were and I know that none of the heathen old wives tales you've been listening to will avail you if your seed is barren!"

He tossed hot wax into her face in reply. Caline only just managed to close her one functioning eye in time to save its sight. She screamed as the wax stung her battered face. The Prince moved away but she heard the quiet, unmistakeable sounds of one candlestick being exchanged for another. This wasn't nearly over and that knowledge made her begin to shudder violently. She was blind now, one eye swollen shut and the other glued closed with wax. If she had felt vulnerable chained at wrists and ankles to the altar, if she had felt exposed when he stripped her, it was nothing to how she felt now, naked, bound and unable to see the next blow.

"I'm afraid I've forgotten your pathetic, peasant, whore name again. What was it?"

She was far too petrified to try backtalking him again and it was finally dawning on her that casting aspersions on his potency would prove to be a very unwise move. Her head turned blindly towards the sound but even though she was sightless her head was bowed, finally attempting deference.

"C-c... Calina." She stammered. "Please don't hurt me any more. You don't need to hurt me... your highness."

She was shaking from head to foot now, the kind of jerky, reflexive movements that meant she was going into a state of shock. Her terror was absolute now, raw and animalistic. Her constant internal monologue had been stripped back to something far more primitive. There were simply no words for what she was feeling. Words were now utterly inadequate, meaningless.