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A maidservant renders … service — #Dungeon Crawl — 04/02/14

April 1, 2014 By Trent Evans

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Greetings Dungeon Crawlers,

This week I decided to return to my fantasy erotic novel, A Lady and a Maid. In this week’s clip, we move to the Frontier and the Palace of Peace where we find Lord Andrus Westwood, his Captain, Lawrence, and their unfortunate companion, the servant, Ryndra…

* * * *

The Frontier

Lord Andrus Westwood dropped his looking glass, reclined back into the worn oaken seat ensconced in the alcove high atop the observation tower. It was probably unnecessary to use the glass in the pitch black of the night, but he thought it at least set a good example for the men on duty in the other three watchtowers. He didn’t need to be up there in the windswept heights above the sprawling Palace of Peace; any number of his men would gladly have taken watch duty for him. Something was bothering him though. It was an unease, a nagging doubt that kept him on watch — despite the fact that he outranked every soldier in the Palace.

It was his job to protect the Frontier, and until his unsettling foreboding abated, he’d do it personally.

The palace itself was the size of a small city, but from the soaring viewpoint of the tower, it was just so much scenery; a cacophony of light, sound, and smell that had no concrete form, a mass of humanity, far below. The palace was the largest of the three main hubs of the Frontier. It was constructed in response to a previous Incursion that nearly wiped out humanity. The humans that remained resolved to never again be caught unawares, undefended, and the Frontier fortifications were the result.

Standing, he stretched his tall, lanky frame, a grimace crossing his features as he worked the stiffness from his muscular legs. A gust of wind played between the four watchtowers, washing over his face, the dark whiskers of his bearded chin stirring. His deep brown eyes squinted at the cold bite of the breeze. It was time to warm up.

He picked up the hooded torch that provided his only illumination there high above the palace, using the leather hood to signal to the other towers that he was going off watch. The other towers would scan his side of the palace until his return. Every minute of warning of an impending incursion was a minute that would save lives. He knew it better than most, but all the men assigned watch duty took it extremely seriously — it was after all their families too in harm’s way below, along with everyone else.

Making his way down the dimly lit staircase that spiraled up within each of the stone watchtowers, Andrus was grateful for the shelter from the chill night breeze. He opened the door to the warm, candlelit watch quarters, his Captain, Lawrence kneeling on one of the bunks.

“Finish up with her and join me, Lawrence,” Andrus said, his lips curved in a weary smile.

“Yes, Sir,” Lawrence said, his voice labored. The captain was bent over the crouching form of a naked girl. Ryndra, the maidservant they’d brought with them to the Frontier had caught the roving eye of his captain. Plucked from her normal scullery position at Westwood, her new duties were comprised mainly of helping Andrus and his captain make their long hours on the Frontier seem a little less lonely.

Andrus appreciated the servant’s firm breasts, agile tongue and warm, soft body. Judging by the vigorous thrusting of his hips and the heavy panting of the prostrate girl, Captain Lawrence appeared to be appreciating her attributes even more.

Stripping off the studded leather armor, Andrus dropped the gleaming steel leg greaves on the floor next to the fire. He slumped into a deep, stuffed chair, his one concession to comfort that no normal soldier would be allowed. Across the room, the girl’s breathless cries rose, interspersed with groaned curses from the rutting captain.

Andrus hated his time off duty. The watch gave him something to occupy his mind, a way to stave off the melancholy that threatened to shroud him in suffocating darkness. He knew he should be concerned about the preternatural quiet all along the Frontier. Quiet was never good. But alone —or nearly so, the nearby copulating couple notwithstanding — his mind invariably went to his wife.

Miriam.

He feared she was lost to him, in spirit, if not in body. She’d changed. The vivacious, adventurous woman he’d wooed and wed as a young man, had somehow transformed herself. She was just as beautiful as she’d been then, perhaps more so, but that wasn’t what pained him. Her spirit, or more specifically, her lack of spirit was his worry. She’d grown twisted and sadistic over the years, and in that time a cold gulf had developed between husband and wife. Andrus had no quarrel with sadism — when exercised with some restraint. He enjoyed the sight of a bound woman in his bed, her ass raised high for the agony of a tight twenty with the cane. He understood well the appeal of exercising sexual dominance over another person.

But what Miriam indulged in … was something else. He had to keep close eye on her, more than a Lord should need to. She was constantly pushing limits, chafing under the limitations of his dictates. He’d even had to take a husband’s prerogative, and spank her himself a time or two. Afterward, she’d seemed more malleable, more willing to see things his way. However, all too soon, she would drift off course again, succumbing to her obsessions. He despaired that there was no going back to the Miriam he still loved, but no longer recognized. He knew that things would come to some sort of resolution upon his return to Westwood in four weeks time. He only hoped that his fears were unfounded.

The rider that had arrived with news two nights ago didn’t encourage him though. As he’d suspected, she was continuing with her unhealthy obsession with tormenting the commoner farmer, Clayton McClearn. He didn’t understand the fixation she had on him. He’d attempted to draw it out of her before his departure for the Frontier, but she’d demurred, saying his concerns were misplaced. He had offered to have McClearn summoned to Westwood for a meeting with them both, but she’d laughed off the suggestion as foolish. Frustrated, he’d left with strict instructions to her to leave the man and his family in peace. He’d have to deal with her disobedience upon his return

Lawrence, his shoulder-length blond hair swinging at his back, walked by Andrus’ chair, sitting in his own on the other side of the fire. He crossed his legs, his shirt only partially buttoned, sweat gleaming on a well-muscled chest.

“Had enough of her for now, Captain? You’ve been doing more fucking than soldiering on this trip.”

Lawrence stiffened, sitting straighter in his chair. “Milord, I—”

“Carry on,” Andrus said, waving a calming hand. “I’d rather you get it out of your system now, before something happens. I need you on the line fresh if, Gods forbid, the nocturne decide to move. And that’s another thing — it’s ‘Andrus’, out here. Ballocks to titles.”

Lawrence sat back in his chair, finishing the buttons on his shirt. “Thank you, Milord — Andrus. You know you have me, whatever comes.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Captain.” Andrus nodded, a hand extended toward the girl. “So, did she restore you?”

Lawrence smiled, his prominent canines gleamed in the candlelight, lending him the look of a satisfied wolf. “That she did.”

The girl knelt in a compact posture on the bed, a thin white cotton top her only covering. Her gleaming eyes dominated her pretty face, the orbs reflecting the flicker of the firelight.

“Come here, girl,” Andrus said, turning in his chair, beckoning her to him.

She hesitated a moment, no doubt trying to ascertain what her Lord had in mind.

“You’ve nothing to fear, girl. Come, sit with me.”

She moved to his side, her hands clasped before her, the strong smell of Lawrence’s semen mingling with the alluring musk of her sex. He drew her down upon his lap, tucking her head under his chin, a broad hand clasping the curve of her naked hip. her body was tense, her hands twisting together.

Andrus looked down upon her, a smile on his lips. “You’ve been hard used, Ryndra. You’ve naught to fear from me. Take your ease, dove.” He held her tighter to his broad chest, nuzzling the girl’s straw colored hair.

Relaxing, she sighed, laying a hand upon his breast.  “Thank you, Milord.”

He held her for a few minutes, the intent gaze of Lawrence upon Ryndra the entire time. Perhaps his randy Captain was not quite as sated as he’d initially seemed? Andrus tucked the hair back behind Ryndra’s delicate ear, his rough fingers stroking the tender flesh of her earlobe.

“Do you need me to take watch, Sir?” Lawrence sat forward as if to rise, a deliberate nod of his head toward Ryndra.

Andrus shook his head, his lowered hand signaling the Captain to stay.

Lawrence sat back once more, his long fingers drumming the handle of his chair. “Anything new on the towers?”
Andrus shrugged, his hand caressing the breathtakingly soft cheek of the girl in his lap. She was a lovely girl indeed, and not for the first time, he was glad his Captain had pressed her to come along on the trip. His cock began to stir, and despite the fact that Ryndra was nearly half his age, he didn’t feel like fighting the rise of his desire. It was a way not to think. It meant he hadn’t succumbed to his melancholy.

Yet.

“Turn, girl. No, facing your Captain.”

Her limbs were tense, but she obeyed, allowing Andrus to splay her thighs open upon his. Her sex was fully exposed, something not lost on Lawrence, whose possessive gaze took in the lovely sight.

“What did I miss while I was up in the clouds freezing my balls off, Lawrence?”

The captain’s gaze rose, but just for a moment. “Laird’s patrol is late.”

Andrus snorted. “So, in other words, the usual.”

Lawrence nodded, sitting forward, his elbows braced on his thighs, his gaze focused once more on the girl’s displayed pussy.

“Maybe not so usual, Andrus. He’s two days late.”

That was something else entirely. “Did he take the northern leg?”

“Aye.”

Andrus slipped a broad hand down over the girl’s sex, the seething heat of her flesh hot against his palm. She stiffened in his clutch as he ground the heel of his hand against her clit.

“She likes that,” Lawrence said, smiling.

“So she does,” Andrus murmured. He kissed the girl’s ear, and she turned her head toward his lips.

“I’ve a retrieval party out looking for them,” Lawrence said, his posture straight, his flies straining against a now obvious erection. “But the last time any patrol was more than a day overdue, they never returned.”

“Did his route take him as far as The Ford?” The girl inhaled sharply as Andrus slipped a finger into the soft sheath of her pussy.

“It was supposed to, but we’ve had riders arrive from there saying they never laid eyes on him.”

“If I know Laird, he’s probably passed out drunk, knee deep in slave girls. Isn’t there a House Nightshade at The Ford?”

“Aye, but I doubt that’s where he hides. We’d have heard something. That man is as subtle as a storm. Somebody would have talked.”

Andrus thrust a second finger into Ryndra’s clenching sex, the girl moaning at the stretching. She was so petite that he had little doubt her narrow passage was sore tested by the width of his thick questing digits. The wet sound of his fingers plundering her increased in volume as he thrust faster, the girl shifting in his lap, her hand clasped around his corded forearm.

“Do I need to bind you?” His voice rumbled against her hair. “You know better.” 

She shook her head, dropping her hand from his arm.

“Good girl. I think I have a better use for those hands of yours. Lift your shirt.”

She turned her head to look at him, her blue eyes uncertain, the corners of her pretty lips turned down.

“Do as I say, Ryndra. I shouldn’t have to ask twice.”

Her hands flew to the snug hem of the cotton, lifting it slowly.

“All the way now, let your Captain see those breasts of yours. Perhaps he’ll want to suckle them? You’ll let him if he does.”

She turned her face from Lawrence, nuzzling her head under Andrus’ bearded chin, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

“Good”, Andrus said, making sure the fabric was clear above the swells of her youthful bosom. Her high breasts were not large, but were perfectly suited to her petite frame. The nipples were a deep pink, the areolas crinkled. He stroked the tender flesh with a finger, watching the nipple draw tight.

“Andrus … ” Lawrence moved to stand, his hands moving at his flies.

“Go to him, dove,” Andrus whispered into her ear. “Serve him well. I’ll be watching.”

She slipped from his lap to kneel before the Captain. Her hands went between his legs, and Andrus watched her slowly move her head as she took Lawrence into her mouth. Her round little bottom swayed as her movements became urgent, the clutch of the Captain’s hands in her long hair growing more insistent.

Andrus could wait no longer, his cock painfully twisted in his trousers. He stood, opening his flies and moved to stand close behind the girl, gazing upon her as she serviced the Captain. Her lips were stretched tight around Lawrence’s cock as she bobbed up and down the stiff shaft, gleaming saliva leaking from the corners of her mouth. Andrus lay a hand against her hollowed cheek, caressing her, and she moaned around the hard shaft. Lawrence gritted his teeth, his hands clasping her hair in two fists.

Andrus nodded to Lawrence, and the Captain used her hair to pull her off of his cock. She peered up at him, confused.

“My Lord, what can I—”

Lawrence sat down again, drawing her between his thighs, his fist entwined in her blonde tresses. His long, wet cock bobbed as he shifted forward, and she bent over him. The posture threw out her lovely soft bottom, beckoning Andrus. He dropped to his knees behind her, and laid the throbbing shaft of his penis across her buttock. She froze.

“Keep going, Ryndra. I didn’t tell you to stop,” Lawrence said, his voice thick. He pulled her further downward onto his cock, and she gagged as it struck the back of her throat.

Andrus ran his hands over the girl’s bottom, savoring the silky smoothness of her flesh. She had surprisingly generous buttocks for so slight a girl. He squeezed one of the globes, enjoying the feel of its soft weight in his hand. She wriggled her hips at him, and he slapped her bottom in response. The muscles of her trim thighs clenched at the sting, and she murmured around the Captain’s cock.

Andrus placed a palm on each of her cheeks and yawned them apart, fully exposing her charms to his gaze. The cleft was still slick with oil, her dainty rosette an inflamed, swollen red, still gaping open slightly. The Captain’s semen leaked down from the well-used opening, her perineum wet with his seed.

Andrus chuckled, glancing up at Lawrence. “No wonder she was making so much noise.”

Lawrence grinned, the cords of muscle standing out on his neck, his face flushed.

Andrus moved his hard cock down, the broad head leaving a sticky trail across her buttock. His cock brushed her cleft, the meatus just kissing the girl’s sore bottom hole, and she tightened.

“Easy, dove,” Andrus said, his hand stroking the curve of her hip. “Your Captain has served you well there already. I want something different.”

He drew the head of his cock through the soft folds of Ryndra’s pussy, up, then down. She moaned around the Captain, who growled at her to keep sucking.

Andrus eased forward until his cock was bedded fully, his hard legs tight against her trembling thighs. She shuddered against him, the sounds of her sucking the Captain’s cock filling the room.

“Gods! This cunt is tight.” He thrust languidly, gazing at his shaft glistening with her juices as it pistoned in and out of her sex. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply of her scent.

Lawrence grunted, thrusting his hips quickly, Ryndra gagging again as he drove deep. Andrus grasped her around her incredibly narrow waist, pulling her more fully onto him. The two men pounded into her, rocking her slight body between them.

The first to break, Lawrence held her face down upon him as he groaned out his climax. She coughed and sputtered when he finally let her up off of his spent cock, the brisk thrusting of Andrus continuing to jostle her.

Andrus held out little longer than the Captain. The Lord groaned, his balls tingling as he poured his seed into her. He kneaded the girl’s buttocks as he knelt over her, panting.

Taking a handful of Ryndra’s long blonde hair, Lawrence used it to clean his flaccid cock, leaving her with a pat on her flushed cheek. She hung her head, trembling, waiting for Andrus to catch his breath. He finally released her with a gentle smack to her bottom, and he stood, tucking himself back into his flies. He watched her pull her shirt back down over her breasts, glancing up at him as she did so.

He smiled at her, nodding his head. She inclined her head in reply, and retreated to the bunk she’d come from, curling up on her side to rest, the swollen lips of her pussy glistening with his semen.

Andrus slumped back into his chair, taking a deep drag of mead from the cup Lawrence offered. He stared into the dancing orange hues of the popping fire, wondering again what to do with his Miriam. What was she up to? Why did he feel guilty for using the servant girl, when he had a very good idea of what Miriam got up to with the servants in his absence?

Lastly, he wondered where in God’s name that idiot Laird had gone…

* * * *

I just realized that there is very little actual BDSM in this clip … which is quite unlike me. Hmm. Hopefully, you’ll excuse me for being off my perv game this week. (I’m sure nobody actually read this far anyway, but if you did, thank you:)

Now, please take a few minutes to visit the other blogs sharing their depravity with us this week.

Happy Crawling!

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Filed Under: Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop Tagged With: A Lady and a Maid, BDSM erotic romance, books, D/s, D/s erotica, dubious consent, Epic Fantasy Erotica, excerpt, forced exhibitionism, forced oral sex, menage, MFM menage, sexual slavery, Trent Evans erotica

“Sophie’s Ordeal Continues…” — Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop

March 11, 2014 By Trent Evans

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Hello Dungeon Crawlers,

This week, I’m continuing with more from the depravity filled epic-fantasy erotica title A Lady And A Maid. The two noblewomen from last week, Lady Miriam and her friend Countess Sandra, have just pulled Miriam’s plaything from her cage…

* * * *

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Filed Under: Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop Tagged With: A Lady and a Maid, bdsm erotica, breast discipline, breast punishment, corporal punishment, D/s, Dominance and submission, dubious consent, Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop, Epic Fantasy Erotica, erotica excerpt, F/F BDSM, forced exhibitionism, Master/slave, needle play, pain, sexual slavery, Trent Evans

“An evening’s diversion for two ladies of quality” — Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop

March 4, 2014 By Trent Evans

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Hello Dungeon Crawlers,

It’s the second week?!? How did we last this long? Well, miracles never cease:)

This week, I’m continuing from the depravity filled epic-fantasy erotica title A Lady And A Maid. The two noblewomen from last week, Lady Miriam and her friend Countess Sandra, have just witnessed a bracing (and arousing) public whipping of an errant wife by her stern husband.

Now, they’ve moved inside the hushed sanctum of the inner keep for more … intimate pursuits.

* * * *

Westwood Manor

“What’s she done to deserve this, Miriam?” Sandra, her rouged lips pursed, glanced over at her friend.

Miriam strolled over from her great mirror and stood close to her friend, affectionately clasping an arm around her waist, her shapely dark-haired form pressed to Sandra’s side.

“Oh, she still has this silly idea that she gets some say as to what, or more to the point, whom she lays with,” the handsome lady said, wagging a long beringed finger up and down dismissively. “She’s being shown the error of her ways.”
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Filed Under: Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop Tagged With: A Lady and a Maid, bdsm erotica, BDSM fiction excerpt, caging, captivity, dubious consent, Epic Fantasy Erotica, F/F BDSM, forced exhibitionism, sexual slavery, Trent Evans erotica

“Discipline on Display” — Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop!

February 25, 2014 By Trent Evans

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Hello Fellow Pervs,

This is the kick-off week for the Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop hosted by Romancing The Kink! To be blunt, Sheri and I haven’t a clue how well this thing is going to go off, but we’re crazy enough to plow ahead anyway:)

We both noticed a paucity of weekly blog hops for BDSM-flavored work, so we thought: “Hell, rather than crashing other peoples’ places with our depraved prose, pictures, and ruminations, let’s just open up a cold, drafty dungeon of our very own!”

Okay, we didn’t really say that, but it was close. Where was I? Right, my first entry.

I decided to post a scene from a fantasy erotica novel of mine called, A Lady And A Maid. This is a twisted, pain and pleasure drenched epic fantasy and paranormal cross-genre … thingie. Anyway, I loved writing it, and a sequel is on the way by the end of this year (God willing).

In this scene, two of the cruel, jaded nobles that hold an iron grip on the realm of Muurland witness the unique way a peasant husband addresses a disagreement between he and his wife — and there are plenty of witnesses to said “addressing”…

“Discipline on Display”

By

Trent Evans

The carriage bounced violently, nearly throwing Sandra from her seat. She rapped on the dark wood ceiling with her fist. “For Goddess’ sake Raffer, watch the road! You’re shaking me to death back here!”

“Apologies, Countess,” her driver said, the sound muffled through the wood.

In truth, though the rough ride was indeed unpleasant, she was angry that the jostling of the atrocious “road” had interrupted her pleasant reverie. Her husband had been an absolute animal that morning — so unlike his usual inattentiveness. She’d taken to indulging him in his little games, allowing him to spank her buttocks, and tie her hands and feet to the bed before thrusting himself to ecstasy within her clutching sex. He’d even lapped at her cunt until she’d screamed down the walls. Such was a most rare occurrence with her husband of late though, he being less often predisposed to what would most readily satisfy his rampant cock.

Though his unexpected amorous attentions had caused her to miss her planned rendezvous with the captain of their estate guard, she’d consoled herself with the not one but two orgasms she’d unexpectedly been allowed at her husband’s bidding. Still, her husband’s unexpected use of her had delayed her. Her dashing, blond captain with his thick cock and hard hands would just have to cool his heels until next time.

The carriage turned off the dirt road, the hooves of the horses clopping on cobblestones. They’d arrived at Westwood Manor.

The carriage followed the roadway through a tall, looming portcullis, which opened onto the green grass of an inner courtyard. The bleached stone walls soared overhead, engendering a feeling of both grandeur and security. Heavily armed men patrolled the crenelated battlements above, the bright red uniforms of the garrison soldiers a striking contrast to the austere gray of the stone fortifications.

The Countess gathered her rich burgundy cloak about her lithe form, allowing the driver to help her down from the coach. The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. Fall was coming fast to the Westlands of Muurland.

Raffer steered the coach over to the stable block, trailing a cloud of dust in his wake, leaving the Countess alone in the courtyard.

Countess Sandra Holstenborg was a regular visitor to Westwood Manor, the familiar nods and curtsies from passing footmen, grooms and maids alike attesting to that fact. She was happy to be there, as always, and was looking forward to some much needed leisure time with her friend, Lady Miriam Westwood.

A crowd’s loud cheer arose, echoing off the battlement walls. The Countess turned toward the sound.

“They’re getting an early start this morning, Sandra. Looks like you’re just in time.”

“Miriam!” The Countess spun about, rushing to her friend and embracing her, planting a warm kiss on her soft lips.

The Lady was wrapped in a dark gray ankle length coat, the collar lined with a soft ash colored fur. Her sable locks were wrapped atop her head, a pair of neat carved hair sticks holding it in place. Her radiant grin warmed Sandra’s heart, if not her body, chilled as it was from the long carriage ride. Sandra pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“Let’s see if we can find something to warm us up shall we?” Miriam winked, extending her arm to her friend.

Beautiful as it was, the huge courtyard at Westwood Manor had more practical uses, such as the spectacle that greeted the two noblewomen. Tucked into a corner of the yard, next to one of the stable buildings stood a simple wooden gibbet, and two sets of worn stocks. A crowd of commoners had gathered round the gibbet, cheering and shouting out ribald comments on the spectacle. A young woman, her dress rucked up to the small of her back embraced the stout wooden pole of the gibbet, her arms lashed around the weathered oak by means of several iron chains. Her sweat-soaked blonde locks hung limply down her back as she sobbed her present misery away.

A brawny man of perhaps thirty stood to one side. In one hand, he held a multi-thonged lash of soft leather, while with the other his fingers traced the patchwork of pink and crimson weals patterned over the forlorn girl’s bare buttocks. She stamped a foot, the generous flesh of her bottom shaking as he pinched a particularly inflamed lash mark between work hardened fingers.

“Think you’ve had enough, Emma?” He turned to the crowd, his eyes flashing. “What say you?”

The crowd cheered once more. An older man standing near the two nobles, dipped his head toward the handsome woman standing with him. “A fine flogging there, eh Clara? Reminds me of the last time I had you at the pole too many years ago.” He grasped the woman’s hand, and she blushed furiously.

The man with the flogger turned and laced another stroke across the proffered buttocks, eliciting a cry of anguish from the bound woman. She clenched her blazing bottom, her feet pounding the dirt.

“What’s happening,” Sandra whispered to Miriam. “Why is she being whipped in public?”

Miriam shrugged. “It’s one of the traditions I’ve decided to revive. Back when my grandfather ruled these lands, before the magistrate system, the commoners would come to this square to air grievances and work out compromises for their problems. A sort of town meeting, you could say”

Sandra raised an eyebrow, her heart beating faster at the enticing spectacle. “Some compromise.”

Miriam smiled. “They do have creative ways of resolving their, ah, disagreements. The crowds love it though, and they’re grateful for the entertainment.”

“What’s that poor thing done to deserve such a skipping?” In truth, Sandra couldn’t really object, for the sight had her heart pounding and her clit singing. The bound young woman was blessed with a well-fleshed backside, and the sight of the inflamed weals across the smooth firm flesh was a pleasing visual tableau indeed.

“Seems she made a scene in the market earlier this week,” Miriam said, laying a hand on Sandra’s shoulder. “Her husband — that’s him whipping her — wanted her to make amends with one of the vendors at the market. Apparently, he hoped the public setting would prevent his headstrong wife from causing an uproar. He was wrong.”

“What was it all about? Must have been serious to occasion such a penalty.”

Miriam chuckled. “I suppose it depends upon your perspective. It seems the vendor at the marketplace was a former competitor for the husband’s affections, and he wanted to be able to do business with her. Well, his wife would have nothing of it.”

“I can certainly understand that. Cruel man to ask that of her.”

Miriam grinned. “Indeed. I think it’s diabolical — and delicious.”

Sandra blinked at her friend. “You do?”

“Oh yes, Sandra. It’s obvious he just wanted an excuse to display her charms in public and thrash her bottom for her. I mean look at the girl. She’s delightful.”

“Yes,” Sandra breathed. “She is at that.”

Sandra wondered if the young woman might be paid a visit by a few of Miriam’s soldiers in the near future. The Lady’s tastes were well known to her subjects. Judging by Miriam’s avid, dark-eyed gaze as she watched the flogging, the punished wife might soon find herself the newest addition to the Lady Westwood’s retinue of “serving girls”.

The man, running his hand over the bright red stinging buttocks of his wife turned to the crowd once more. “Would anyone else like to address my wife’s misdeeds? Anyone?”

The bound woman snapped her head around, looking at her husband over her shoulder. “Kenneth, please no!” Her face was a mess. Tears drenched her flushed cheeks, her fair hair matted to her wet forehead. She cried out as he cracked a heavy palm across her backside, the flesh quivering with the blow.

“Quiet, Em! You know better than to speak. Face forward now.”

His wife turned her face away, resting her forehead against the post. Her back hitched as she wept.

“My arm grows tired,” the husband called out, raising the flogger. “Surely, there is another who can deliver the last fair dose of discipline she so obviously needs?”

Miriam clutched the Countess’s hand in hers. “Watch this.”

“I will try.” A mature woman of perhaps forty, her dark hair flowing over a form-fitting dress of teal cotton stepped forward from the murmuring crowd. “I think I can give her what she needs.”

The crowd roared its approval, several hands clapping the woman on the back in encouragement. The heat between Sandra’s thighs increased as she noted the firm set of the man’s strong jaw, and the glittering gaze under prominent brows. She could see steel in the depths of his eyes as he smiled at the woman who’d stepped forward. There was a heated familiarity there.

“That’s her,” Miriam whispered.

“Who?”

“That woman is her former competitor. The woman from the market.”

Sandra gasped, even as her pussy leaked a bead of moisture down her thighs. Diabolical indeed. “That poor woman must have a hard go of it married to such a brute.”

“Oh, let’s not protest overmuch,” Miriam said, elbowing her friend. “He’s a fine specimen too, Sandra. She’s lucky to be in such capable hands.”

She wouldn’t argue it, for she was drawn inescapably to hard, even cruel men. Men such as her own husband — bastard though he sometimes could be — were irresistible to her. Sandra herself possessed the same streak of cruelty, though it was not quite as pronounced as the outright sadism her friend Miriam was known for. She’d long ago stopped asking herself why she was the way she was, and just accepted it as the way of her nature.

The woman gripped the flogger as the husband stepped forward to stand next to the post, his hand bracing the heaving shoulder of his weeping wife. The crowd hushed once more in anticipation. The woman glanced up at the husband, who nodded his head.

The flogger slashed in with a smack, leaving a further set of tracks on the vulnerable buttocks, and the wife groaned, twisting her hips away.

“Hush now, Em,” the husband said in a low voice, his head close to his wife’s ear. “Just a few more strokes and it’ll be all over. Be strong now, my love.”

His wife’s shift had slipped down somewhat, partially concealing the martyred buttocks. The aggrieved woman, the tails of the whip swinging back and forth in her hand, waited as the husband stroked a hand down his wife’s flank, his fingers gathering up the folds of her shift to secure it high up on her hips once more.

“Come, Sandra, I’ve something else to show you.” Miriam laced her arm in her friend’s, leading her away from the fascinating scene.

The sound of the next strike of the flogger greeted their ears as the two nobles strolled through the massive black doors of the inner keep…

Copyright © 2012 Trent Evans

All Rights Reserved.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the scene half as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you’re interesting in reading more, A Lady and A Maid is available at all e-book retailers. Or you can just wait until next week to see what else I post then:)

Please take some time to visit the other site’s in this week’s hop. You’ll find some great stuff!

Hope to see you all back here in a week for the next Dungeon Crawl.

Best,

Trent

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Filed Under: Dungeon Crawl Blog Hop Tagged With: A Lady and a Main, bdsm erotica, corporal punishment, Epic Fantasy Erotica, erotica excerpt, Flogging, forced exhibitionism, Master/slave, public punishment, public shaming, Trent Evans erotica, wifely discipline

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