SirSTRYKER
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Joined: 8/15/2004
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THE PRINCE OF SPRUCE
As the story is told, by the old ones around a campfire to the young children gathered by…
“High above the forest on the mountain is a dark and twisty trail which leaves to His Castle. No brave hunter of this village dares climb the trail. Oh a few did, but none have ever returned. This is why some of you littleones are fatherless. It is best to leave what ever is up there alone as it does us. Until the full moon rises high in the sky and the clouds seek shelter in the heavens. On such a night as this, all young maidens must seek cover in barns, under branches or such. For these be the selections of the carriage and horsemen. Never once has a chosen girl been seen in our village again.”
The old man stoked the fire and sparks flew high above their heads. Some of the children screamed with fright, others huddled each other and shook in their boots. The old man smiled and puffed his pipe. Just then one of the mothers came to collect the children and said, “Don’t listen to such old stories. There has been no carriage and horsemen down in this village for nearly three years.”
“Hush woman,” the old man chided, you’ll provoke the Prince to wrath.”
“I believe not in Prince or His wrath,” she snorted and spat into the fire. She grabbed her 12 year old son and 18 year old daughter by the ears and hissed, “Off to bed with you to,” and departed.
Meanwhile, deep within the walls of the Castle, the Prince called His court of warriors to His throne room.
“The use of the captured slaves has begun to bore Me friends. I seek a new conquest, one with fire in her heart, and purpose of character that I may find a challenge in breaking to My will. Therefore I send forth My carriage and six horsemen. Ride hard and fast past the village below and beyond. Seek out and find the raven haired beauty in a distant land. One who knows not of the goings on in this Castle. Fetch and bring her to Me unharmed or I assure you her fate shall become that of the one who does.”
The court of warriors all bowed and kneeled at His command. Soon the stables were alive with the sounds of horses being dressed in full battle gear. Metal hoods over their faces, Long heavy metal saddles on their backs. The armor of the warriors only added to their weight yet the horses all knew the time had come.
A large round carriage had been brought out by three slaves. It had knives sticking out from the wheels to cut those of any who drew too close to it. The harness was set for six full stallions to pull. A driver climbed aboard with a coachman. Three riders in front and three behind dressed in full battle gear, swards, bows, arrows, and stringed hammers, all at the ready.
The quest had begun and the large gates of the Castle were opened. Soon the sound of rumbling thunder could be heard echoing throughout the dark, misty mountainside, and it was heading swiftly downward.
Upon the faint hearing of the pounding hoofs, the old man dropped his pipe in the flames. He abruptly stood and as his mouth fell open, his voice turned to alarm.
“It comes, it comes, the carriage, the carriage, run children and hide yourselves well.” Several scared voices screamed in panic. Mothers gathered their children. Men pulled hay bags to their doors. Within moments the thunderous sound of heavy laden horses slammed through the tiny village with swift movements. One brave man approached a rear rider from the side. He had a pitchfork in his hands and stuck the rider deeply in the back of his thigh.
The horse rose up on its hind legs and whirled about. The warrior reached down to the wound and ran his fingers through the blood then lifted his face shield and licked his own blood. Then he drew out his double edged sword and raised it above his head. With one mighty swing he dislodged the farmers head from his shoulders. The lifeless body fell to it’s knees then to the ground on it’s back. A woman screamed and ran to her dead husbands limp body. The warrior starred down at the woman, noticing her hair a light color, snorted and spat on her dead husbands body, then dug his spurs deep into the haunches of his steed and rejoined his place at the rear of the others.
The roaring sound continued to a faint roar. The villagers soon began their normal lives, having averted being selected this night. Shudders were opened and peering eyes followed the rising trail of dust in the distance.
As the warriors raced on in quest for the one the Prince sent them after, they passed several villages and neglected many a well endowed woman, not finding the one they sought.
Alas, many miles from the Castle, they drew near a tiny village and decided to drop by the local inn to quench their thirst and permit their steeds to feed and water themselves.
There, serving her guests was a lass with her hands full of cups of beer. She had a long flowing maiden dress on with a apron covering all but the tops of her ample cleavage. Her face was hot and sweaty from her duties. She used the back of her forearm to wipe her brow. It was at her returning to the bar that one of the warriors noticed her long single braid of long black hair hanging down from under her white head scarf.
“Perhaps our journey ends here?” a husky voiced warrior whispered to the others, as he wiped the wetness from his drink from his lips.
“She’s but a child, merely 20, I shall not ride three days back only to be punished by the Prince for failure,” a solemn and battle hardened warrior snorted.
“Ahh, but she’s perfect in beauty friend,” the first one added.
“But it’s her attitude and fire in her heart that must complete her. For this we must test the wench,” yet a third warrior spoke.
The sudden tapping of their cups on the wooden table sounded their agreement.
The serving girl heard the noise and turned and said,
“Dear Sirs, you will wait your turn as I am quite busy as you all can clearly see at the moment.”
“She’ll do just fine, My brothers, I’ll stake My life on it.”
Another warrior snorted, “If you guess wrong friend, the operative words you speak will indeed be “STAKE and YOUR LIFE! Nevertheless, drag the wench to the coach and we shall find out soon enough.”
With little scuffle and not help from the inn keeper or his patrons the raven haired wench was draped kicking and screaming over the shoulder of a large warrior. She was bound hand and foot and tossed into the coach. The horses groaned and whined as spurs dug into haunches and they once more headed towards the dark hills.
The frightened and jostled hostage sat and bounced from wall to wall inside the carriage during the rough ride. The sounds of the beating, driving hoofs drown out her cries of displeasure.
On and on spurred the horsemen. The crack of the whip landed on the lead horses. There would be no stopping for food or water now. The quest had been hopefully satisfied. All the warriors knew the price for failure, yet onward they sped, towards the Castle.
As they neared the top of a ridge, they heard the trumpets blare and saw the creaky old drawbridge descend over the moat. The captive woman peered out the window in an attempt to see where she was. There were no familiar signs of her village. No family to rescue her and she’d been without the comfort of a pee pot for some time. Sweaty, dirty, road weary and scared she felt the coach pull to a stop.
She glanced outside and saw a balding, yet burly blacksmith being tossed the length of rope from a warrior. The other end was securely tied to the girls wrists. The blacksmith snatched her from the coach and she landed on her stomach with a thud. The black smith used the length of coarse rope to slap it against the girls bare back.
“AAAAAAAAggggggghhhhhh,” the unsuspecting girl screamed.
Suddenly the warrior who spoke in the girls favor whirled on his horse and drew his sword. The sharp edge of it poked into the large arms of the blacksmith drawing a trickle of blood. The blacksmith flinched and winced at the pain.
“Touch her again and you shall hammer with your left hand blacksmith,” the fierce warrior warned while staring into the lowering eyes of the blacksmith.
After helping the girl to her feet, the blacksmith then caught the reigns of those who tossed them to him. As he was turning to lead them to the barn and tend to them, the now standing woman spat directly into his face. The warriors laughed and smiled at her spunk thinking perhaps they have indeed chosen well.
Once taken inside the dark walls of the Castle, the girl was thrown into a cell. There was straw on the stone floor, she was afraid yet still angry at having been captured and treated so roughly.
A few cells down she could hear sobbing and crying and the moans of other women. She shuddered to think what might become of her. A sudden sharp piercing scream came from behind a large wooden door. The screams continued as the sound of a woman being extremely tortured became clear as to what may become of the one called Raven Hair, as the warriors named her.
After three hours of the poor woman behind the doors cries for mercy, Raven Hair saw two large hooded men dragging the pass out body of the tortured woman towards her cell. They waved their hands at Raven Hair and she moved back as the cell swung open. The men simply tossed the limp body of the unconscious slave girl on the floor and slammed the cell door shut.
Raven Hair watched as the two men stared at her then turned and reentered the chamber behind the wooden door.
Raven Hair took pity on the bloody bruised girl and cradled her head in her lap. She softly ran her fingers through the slave girls matted unwashed hair and gently stroked her bruised and dirty face. The girl suddenly awoke with a start. She didn’t know where she was and only felt the touch of Raven Hairs hands on her.
“Please, please I beg no more no more..” the girl screamed.
Raven Hair was shocked and tried to comfort the girl. She told her to hush that it was over now and not to be afraid. But the girl still had yet to regain her full composure. She shifted up on her elbows and it was then that Raven Hair saw the cuts on the girls back. It sickened her to see it.
During the girls torment, one of the men had her tied to a plank on the wall, and had used a razor sharp sword to slice her soft back open. He must have taken great care not to cut too deeply since none of the wounds were life threatening, yet they must have hurt like Hell. From the designs that were cut into the girls back it looked as if some ancient writings to Raven Hair.
As the girl winched in pain at the attempts of Raven Hair to loosen what was left of her dress, she laid on her stomach breathing heavily. Raven Hair looked at the blood streaked skin on the girls back. Then she saw that the girl had also been burned with hot pokers on her thighs and ass cheeks. The blackened skin charred and marked permanently. There were also tell tale marks of the whip quite visible on the girls shoulders, back, thighs, and legs.
The slave girl groaned at each touch of Raven Hair. Slowly she sighed and turned onto her bloody back and leaned her head against her comforters lap.
“What have they done to you, those pigs?” Raven Hair asked.
The slave girl swallowed hard and softly spoke.
“I was once the pride of the whores in the sight of the Prince. He would summon me above the others to dance for Him. I was treated like a Queen until one night about a week ago He summoned me to His chambers. I had been up dancing all day and was tired and asked His guard if I might rest up this one night. When the guard returned those two you saw earlier were with him and I was brought down here. What you see now is what happens to a slave who dares refuse the Prince of Spruce.”
The slave girl coughed and spat up blood. She had been indeed tortured beyond belief and beaten worse than a stubborn mule in the field. Raven Hair shivered at the results of the punishment. She wished somehow she could comfort the girl but there was nothing she could do but say,
“Hush now sweetie, it’s over now and you are safe here. Try to rest and let those nasty wounds heal.”
A faint smile crossed the slave girls lips as again she passed out.
The next day two slave girls dressed in white robes came to the cell. They ignored the beaten slave who heard them and cowered in the corner and bid Raven Hair to follow them. Looking back at the stiff and sore slave girl, Raven Hair followed the women.
They lead her down the hallway to a room full of half dressed women. There, they began to remove the girls clothing. Raven Hair slapped at the hands of the slave girl attempting to open her blouse, but the girl softly said, “It must be so. You must be prepared according to the desires of the Prince.” Having spent the night with one who suffered the wrath of this “Prince of Spruce” Raven Hair allowed the women to undress her.
The other slaves watched. Some in disgust, some in wonderment if she would be the One. Three other slaves gathered around Raven Hair and lead her to a pool of warm water. She sat and was bathed from head to toe. The women treated her as if she was a child. Washing her body with tender care.
After her bath, Raven Hair was seated on a cushion and her nails were done, both fingers and toes. Her hair was brushed one hundred times with loving care. Makeup was applied to her and she was adorned with silk clothing. Golden sandals were placed on her feet and she was lead down the hall and into a room with a lone wooden chair. She sat and waited.
Above her, unknown to her was a balcony with a curtain covering it. Behind the curtain sat the Prince of Spruce. He spied down on the lovely creature below and His heart fluttered. She was precisely what He’d hope for. But could she stand the test?
Raven Hair turned her face upwards at the sound of two hands clapping once. She could not see who it was but she did hear the door open. Her eyes widened as she noticed it was the same two hooded men who had dragged her cell mate in last night.
The large men roughly grabbed the girl and snatched off her fine silk clothing. She tried to fight them off but it only added to their sadistic pleasure. One man open handed slapped her face nearly knocking her to her knees. The other kicked her sharply in her ribs. She yelled and rolled on her back, sprawled out naked and in pain. Each man then grabbed a wrist and drug the girl to the rack on the wall. They used rough ropes to tie her wrists high above her head so that she was standing on her tip toes. Then they spread her legs apart and bound them at the ankles. She was naked and exposed, hurting and angry. She hissed and spat at her attackers but knew that she was at their mercy.
One of the hooded men snatched her long dark hair forward and began a series of face slapping. Soon enough her lip cracked and she spat blood. The lovely painted face was now marked and bruised from his hard palm. She screamed and cried and it made him hit her all the more. When she passed out, she was shocked awake by the cold water the other hooded tormentor tossed on her limp body.
Then she shivered and her nipples hardened at the coldness of the water. This one noticed them and set a metal rod in the fireplace. As the metal heated and turned a bright red he grabbed the poker and approached the girl. Her eyes widened and she screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” but to no avail. The man touched the heated end of the poker to the girls nipple. The scent of burning flesh filled the room.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh” she screeched. The pain was immense like nothing she’d ever thought of before. The man returned the poker to the flames and spit on the tip of it, the hissing sound informing him it was time to burn her again. This time he laid the hot poker on the bound slaves right thigh.
“IIIIIIiiiiieeeeeeeee, you bastard.” she yelled and tried to shake the hot poker off her thigh. Undaunted the large man held the hot poker to the soft tender skin until the stench made him turn his own head away.
Once the branding had finished for the moment, the other hooded man approached the terrified Raven Hair. This one held a dagger in his hands. He laid it close to her face allowing her to ponder the impending destruction it would soon create. She was to afraid to even attempt to move her face away. Yet the glare in her eyes showed defiance. The defiance of one captured, yet not beaten.
Slowly the man slide the flat of the dagger down her face, her neck and her shoulders. Then using his left hand, he lifted her right breast and made a slicing movement underneath it. She hardly felt the cut as the blade was so sharp, but soon enough the warm blood flowing down her belly caught her attention.
“Nooooooooo pleaseeeeeeeeeee noooooooo,” she screamed. Her pain had engulfed her. The more she breathed and screamed the more she bleed. The man then sliced her third rib area. Crimson blood flowed freely down her side. Her cries fell on deaf ears as this one knew how to cut yet not kill.
He took great pleasure in nicking her skin with the edge of the blade. Her legs were a favorite target. The curve of her calf found the sting of the slice. Blood ran down her ankles. He cut and sliced her inner thighs. She shook like a wounded animal. Screaming, crying, pain like she’d never knew before.
The hooded cut man took her left fist and unfolded it. Then he sliced her palm open. She soon had a hand full of warm blood and in her defiant state shook her hand and made the blood splash against his hooded face.
A smile crossed the face of the Prince of Spruce who was seated behind the curtain in the balcony watching. He loved the spirit of the girl. Again He clapped His hands and the two tormentors dropped their instruments of torture and began to untie the bleeding girl.
They then turned her around and bound her bloody body face first against the wall. The larger of the two then dropped his pants and produced a well endowed hard cock. Without warning he grabbed the sluts hips and spread her ass cheeks apart. He spat on her ass hole and with all his might roughly shoved his big cock deeply into the girls ass.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhggggggggggg,” she shrieked attempting to escape his plunging in her ass. The man held fast at her hips and rammed his cock deeply into her. She felt her asshole ripping apart and could feel the blood trickle down from it. He used it as a lube and continued to force fuck the girls ass. As he began to pound deeply into her his balls bloated and he grunted. Shortly afterward he came deeply into the bound bloody girls ass. She hung limply as he snatched his still large hard cock out with a popping sound.
The other hooded man walked to the door and waved his hand. A small blonde naked slave girl entered the room. She immediately walked over to the bound Raven Hair and knelt. Tenderly she spread the girls sore and bloody ass cheeks apart and began to lick softly at her. She licked and sucked the girls ass hole swallowing the hooded mans cum along with blood and ripped tissue and anything else her slut tongue could find.
Raven Hair never had a been with a woman before, and she wanted to vomit in disgust but somewhere inside her it was comforting. She found herself groaning in a different way now. She pushed her ass back on the girls face and bent her knees. The girl knew what she wanted, so did the hooded men, so did the Prince.
The slave girl now licked at the wounded woman’s pussy lips. Raven Hair soon forgot the pain of the hot poker and the cuts and hung bound ravishing the talents of this slut beneath her.
She ground her pelvis as best she could on the sluts face and allowed her tongue to flicker against her clit.
The world seemed to stop as this tongue brought Raven Hair to the brink of orgasm then the hand clapped from above once more. The slave girl shrank away from Raven Hair leaving her shaking from lack of fulfillment. A torture worse than that she’d received thus far.
Before she could even recover from her near orgasm the first hooded man now held a cat of nine tails in his hand. She heard a swishing sound as it flew in her direction but it took a second or two for her to realize where the sudden pain in her back came from. As the hard leather bit into her skin she shrieked,
“Aaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeee”, and quivered. Again and again the lash landed leaving new marks in some places and re opening cuts from before. Blood splashed off her back as the large man continued to whip the skin off her back. Thirty full strokes were applied to her, although she had passed out at twenty, they continued.
When Raven Hair awoke it was her who was now resting her head on the knees of her cellmate. She was quite bewildered and extremely sore. Open wounds and burn marks abounded her pale white skin. Her cellmate tried to comfort her. The beaten girl tried to speak,
“What, where, why?” she asked incoherently.
Her cellmate hushed her and said,
“Just you rest now child, it’s just the beginning. You have to be tested and tried and hopefully you will be found worthy.”
Raven Hair opened her eyes and asked, “Tested, worthy? Worthy for what?”
The cellmate softly sighed and said, “Be strong little one and hope that you are indeed worthy for if not you will be given to the warriors as their whore, a fate worse than you’ve ever encountered.”
“But the things they have already done to me, I’ve never…” her voice trailed off, but before she passed out on her cellmates knees she clearly heard her say,
“I know child, you’ve never met the Prince of Spruce, yet.”
To be continued...
_____________________________
B.O.H.I.C.A. (bend over here it comes again.)
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THE PRINCE OF SPRUCE by SIR STRYKER - 
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