From: M'Lord Tribble <tribble@buffnet.net>
Subject: LordKeep-4 The Crest (SM/Brand/Ds/rom)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.dragon,alt.sex.stories
===== LordKeep Series =====
-- M'LORD'S CREST --
M'Lord Tribble
tribble @ buffnet.net
Keywords: D&S, S&M, Bondage, Branding, Romance (?)
Disclaimer: FIRST: All sentence structure is to be understood by ME, and is NOT a reflection of the English Dept. from West Babylon's Public School District!
SECOND: This work is a labor of love, and the first totally fictional story I've ever written (except for school, see above.)
THIRD: NONE of the characters are 'REAL' people, nor are any of the events. If you know of a situation or an event that closely resembles this, or seems to have been a rip off, please tell me I did it better! 8-)
FOURTH: As this IS my first FICTIONAL story, please drop me a note to say what you thought about it... Or at least to say, 'I read it. I live in....' I'd like to know Who's read it, and where. That's all.
LAST: If you are NOT over the age of consent for your area, and you are reading this, I don't intend to stand trial in a city across the country from my home! STOP READING NOW! (All others are welcome to enjoy!)
Copying Conditions: For your personal collection. Distribution to friend is fine, just no modifications. (No! No spell-checkers either!)
Archive site people - Simply drop me a note telling me the URL so I can see it there.
Archive CD collections - Simply send me an email with an offer for the disk at 1/2 price. (I probe wont take you up on it, but I'd like to know I could. 8-) )
And now.... For something completely different.
"This is MY place... My Keep. I am it's Master, and all here swore fealty to me before all others. I am M'Lord. There is no other name you need address me with. I own this castle, and the surrounding lands. Come inside to the Hall Of Remembrance.... and I will tell you of a tale."
With a purposeful air, he strides down the alleyways and open rooms.... Past the guards and the torches on the wall.... Down into the breast of the Keep... Into the heart of this stone structure.
Finally, he pushes open the twin doors... almost ten feet tall and a deep red colour, the doors swing gently on brass hinges that are so ornate, they look like lace spun from gold. As the doors open, he strides into the Hall Of Remembrance....
And looking about, it is plain to see why it's called that. There are carvings on the columns of great battles of the heart, paintings on the walls of women and men bound in love and servitude, and along the rafters, thin hemp ropes criss-cross holding up various articles of wench clothing.... Some intact... Many more obviously torn from the backs of their owners. And as your eyes grow used to the strange candle lighting in the keep, you can finally see where M'Lord has stopped.
In the center of the room, almost half as big as the hall itself, M'Lord pauses next to a hearth.... "Most would have called it a fire-pit, had it been smaller, and easier to use for the cooking of meals, but this is a sacred place, not a food hall. Please.... There are soft cushions here... Please... Be seated... all of you..."
M'Lord walks casually around the far side of the hearth. Looking down as he circles it... Looking up the diaz to the throne there... and with a heavy sigh, he looks to a water stain on the stone ring of the hearth - the discolouration as obvious to him as if Red Fire Sapphires had been placed there.
Taking a full breath he turns back to the gathered listeners, and sits gently on the rim of the hearth's ring.... and begins his tale of pain........
'She was the most _beautifull_ of slaves a Master could have asked for. She was smart without being threatening. Funny without being insulting. Submissive without being lost. She was beauty, inside and out.
'But one day, her Master wanted to show her what she was, and who he could be. He was kind to her, to a fault. He gave her some directions, without arising her suspicions. And maybe it wasn't the best thing he let happen, but he gave her every pleasure he could. Regardless of his own.'
A little murmur passes from one listener to the other. Unbelieving looks being passed from one to the other.... except for ---
'But there was one day,' M'Lord continued unhurriedly, 'that her Master finally chose to claim her, as he hadn't any other slave in his employ. She was his favorite, and his feelings for her were strong, yet he did not recognize just HOW much so....
'He took her aside, and down to the dungeon of his castle, pulling her behind him by her collar the whole way. She was smiling slightly at the time, no doubt remembering the last time she was brought down to the depths of the castle.
'Just as a man is dark when he is "down", so too did this place she was in turn darker and more foreboding. As they traveled past the upper-dungeon's level, she began to worry.
'"M'Lord", she said. "We have passed the place where we would go to.... play, sir." She was blushing greatly as she realized that wherever they were going, he was choosing the path.
'"Yes, we have, Little One. And deeper still we will travel" he spoke back. She knew enough to not ask further, fortunately. For one blow from her master could have taken her feet from her, and she would have slipped on the moist granite steps. And her master did NOT want her damaged......yet.'
The listeners on the cushions trembled slightly, and turned their heads to see each other, to retrieve some feeling of shelter from the others around them.... except for ---
'She thought this a curious answer, as they finally entered into a doorway one flight down from where he last spoke.
'He threw her into the opened room, and quickly locked the door as she staggered and fell to the floor, now covered with straw and mud from the floor. She smiled, slightly, and spoke to tease her master. "Sir, you know
'The guard in the shadows grabbed her quickly and pinioned her arms behind her, wrapping her arms in heavy cord to hold her in place. She struggled and fought and cursed with fire in her eyes.... Until her master slapped her across the face.'
The audience all quivered slightly, and several touched their own cheeks in sympathy.... except for one who closed her eyes.
'"You have been mine, and very willing to me, wench. But tonight, I am taking from you that which you will give to me... and I will take that which you will not." And with that, he pulled his dagger from his belt, and cut her clothing away. The guard held her tightly and silently, keeping her still as she struggled and fought with the guard, cursing her master's name as she did so.'
...and the one in the back slowly lifts her eyes to see the torn and tattered green dress in the rafters.... Dusty now, and a dull heather green.
'And when she was removed from her clothes, her master placed her on her back on a stretching rack, as the burly servant untied and retied her to the rack, arms up. Her master then had the small burning-stand brought over - filled with small coals, and his branding iron inside... it glowed a deep red from inside the pot.
'"And now, little one," he said as he pulled out his burning die. "You are tied and strapped so as not to move. You gave me your devotion before. Will you give me your body totally now?" She looked up with panic in her eyes, realizing the truth of her peril. Wanted or not, she was going to be branded by him. NO - Wanted or not, HE was going to brand HER. Burned with his symbol.... his coat of arms.
'She thrashed and struggled and yelled and begged for a time, until she was worn out, and he approached. Spoke he, "Thank you for your gift to me. I will treasure it always." And as she... panicked... and... she...'
Blanched, M'Lord turns from the gathered people, staring into the hearth. 'You may all exit now. It seems this talk is more exhausting for me tonight. You may all retire, and sleep sound. The guards will show you up to your rooms...'
The gathered guests stand, and murmuring about M'Lord's health, file out in a large group....all but one.
'M'Lord? May I speak?' Her eyes were lowered to her hands in her lap. Her hair framing her face like the morning fog...
A pause, then.... 'Yes, Sabrina. What troubles you?' He turned from the fires of the hearth to look at her.
'Sir, why did you not go on?' The worry in her face as readable as in her voice.
'Because, pet. I do not wish to be reminded of that night. I uncovered a part of me that I am unsure of. If it be Man or the devil itself, I don't know...'
She had crawled over to him, and was hugging his legs with the loyalty of a horse, and the fierceness of the heart of a lion.... And she did something she promised she'd never do in his presence....
She stood.
And as did so, she placed her fists together at the wrists, thumbs up, and spoke. 'Where ever you take me, M'Lord... I will follow. Gratefully.'
And as she opened her hands...
His crest looked at him, in dulled pink lines on her palms.
And he wept one tear into his beard.
Yet, sabrina knew what was coming. And contrary to common belief, I did give her the chance to back out of what I had chosen to do.
She chose not to.
And hearing her silence during that branding of her palms, was without question, the most frightening sound I never heard.
Until our next time, I will wait: As before, at the side of the hearth. Gazing into the small flames within, thinking about my slaves.
...With this one tear still on my beard.
--M'Lord Tribble
=========================Next: Second Loss========================= Visit LordKeep at http://www.buffnet.net/~tribble/Welcome.html
Go back to the main erotica page.