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The young woman stood on tiptoe, as steady as could be expected under the circumstances. Her wrists, chained high over her head, were just far enough out of her reach to keep her on the edge of balance. She was breathing in the careful controlled way of someone who is conscious of the need to stay calm.
“You’re sure it’s her?” the general asked, though she did not particularly care if the answer was no.
Her lieutenant nodded. “Has to be. Fits the description.”
General Valen smiled grimly. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
That was the Elaitians for you. They had rules and those rules must be obeyed, never mind what was best for everyone involved. One prince, one princess – never anything more. Any extra siblings created were mere byproducts, royal and honourable but not destined to hold a title. They were sent into the army, whether it suited them or not. The girl currently fighting not to panic in the cell in front of her was the third of King Richard’s daughters. Cecely. An army captain despite how inexperienced she was, an officer on account of her birth but cut off from the honours that should have been her right – at least in Valen’s culture.
Frail. Breakable.
“What do you think?” Her lieutenant raised a knowing eyebrow. “How long before you can get her to talk?”
“A week,” Valen said decisively. “Maybe less. She’s the least of her siblings. She’ll crack.”
“I’ll send word to his majesty.” Her lieutenant looked as though he might be about to say something but thought better of it. “Good luck, general.”
He left. Valen took a moment longer to survey Cecely through the little spyhole in the wall. In that circle of light, she swayed every so slightly, the manacles catching her wrists. She chewed on her lower lip anxiously, eyes flickering around, oblivious to being watched. Valen knew a lot of ways to break a prisoner but she planned to get Cecely talking in a way that was beneficial for them both. Such a frail, vulnerable woman had no place on the battlefield where Valen had made her reputation. In time she would come to see that capture was a blessing.
Valen opened the door to the cell and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind her. Light filtered in through the high slit window, a golden glow on the captive that left the corners of the room in shadow. Cecely watched her cautiously. Valen took her time.
“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” she said. “Are you comfortable?”
The prisoner glared and said nothing. Valen laughed, circling round behind her to unbuckle her cloak and toss it onto the floor. It gave her time to gauge reactions, to watch how resolutely Cecely resisted the temptation to turn and keep her eyes on her.
“Do you know who I am?” Valen asked.
“I recognise you,” was the icy reply. “You are General Valen. The royal bastardess.”
Valen smiled wryly, acknowledging the term that had long since fallen out of use in her own kingdom. In Abtalam, she had earned respect. In Eilaite, she was too feared to be shown any courtesy. They thought it mocked her. They had no idea with what viciousness they in turn were mocked, for the delicately-born royals they sent out as officers. Like this one, who despite her best efforts hadn’t quite mastered contempt.
“That would be me,” Valen admitted. “You may address me as General, should the occasion arise. I am here because we need you to talk.”
Cecely managed a credible fake laugh. “As if I would betray my people.”
Valen circled round to the front of her again, leaning against the door. With great ceremony, she took a handkerchief from her pocket and stuffed it into the spyhole in the wall. Cecely saw the gesture and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You will, sweetheart. You see, I have very clear orders to take from you whatever I think we need by whatever means I deem necessary. You know who I am, so you know just a little of what I can do. You don’t need to be afraid of me. You just need to do what you’re told.”
“I don’t need to do anything,” Cecely snapped. “I demand to be released.”
Valen was surprised into a laugh. “Charming! I wish I could comply. Tell you what, once you’ve given me what I want, you’ll be free to go. I’ll give the orders. As soon as I’m satisfied, you can hurry on back home.”
Her prisoner’s scowl was ferocious but in such a pretty face it was hard to take seriously. Valen meant it, too. If Cecely really did comply, she had no qualms about sending her back home. Though she thought perhaps by the time she was done, Cecely would not be in a fit state to leave.
“I am Captain Roy of the –”
“I know who you are. That is not the kind of information I want from you.”
“You will get nothing else,” Cecely said haughtily.
Valen smiled. “Not yet, naturally. I wouldn’t expect you not to show some pride.”
Unceremoniously, she reached for the fine linen of Cecely’s shirt and gripped it tight. The young woman flinched back, retreating as far as she could. Valen ignored her and yanked. The shirt split clean down the middle, tearing with a rasp before hanging open to show a milk-white stomach, muscles working to keep Cecely’s balance, and the bindings holding her breasts down and secure.
Cecely shuddered but stared straight ahead, all martial dignity and poise. Valen approved. At least the Elaitians bothered to give their sacrificial lambs some sort of training. She tore the rest of the shirt off in scraps and ribbons, discarding them. Cecely made a tiny sound of concern when Valen flicked a knife out of her belt but she merely glared when Valen looked up at her face.
“Don’t worry. This one’s not for people.”
She wiggled the short blade up between Cecely’s skin and her winding-cloth. Careful not to cut her, she sliced up and outwards. The winding fell away, the fabric drifting in pieces to the floor. Cecely’s breasts hung free, nipples peaking in the cold air.
“You didn’t have to cut it,” Cecely said through gritted teeth.
“I know,” Valen replied.
She unbuckled Cecely’s belt and the captain’s stomach flinched away from her even as she had no choice but to stand in place.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, the barest quaver in her tone. “How is this necessary?”
“I will decide what’s necessary,” Valen said simply. “I’m afraid that’s how this works.”
She could, of course, undress poor Cecely in the usual way but she had not risen to her current position by being the kind of person who would put her head at the right height for kicking. It was easier to use the knife to slice the breeches apart, let the remnants fall down and kick them aside. Cecely stood shivering, eyes wide and jaw defiantly set, with only a thin strip of linen between her and the world.
“This is very good quality,” Valen mused, pretending not to notice how Cecely startled at the brush of her knuckles against her hips. “The sad thing about good quality linen, however, is that it isn’t very strong.”
It tore apart in an instant. Valen grinned as Cecely screwed her eyes up tight, a muscle in her jaw moving for a moment, as she fought not to react. Valen took a step back to admire her prisoner. She would do this for her country and her king, of course, no matter what the object was but she couldn’t help but be glad it was Captain Cecely Roy. That was a gift, she supposed. Her half-brother, the one she had sworn life and soul to, could have ordered her to bring in an easier target. He had chosen Cecely, and it could only have been to reward her.
There would be time to admire her later. Right now, there was work to be done. Valen patted Cecely’s cheek condescendingly and walked behind her, unhurried. It would do her good to have time to imagine what was coming. From beneath the heap of her heavy cloak, she withdrew the lash she had brought for the purpose. It was just no good expecting even the softest targets to tell the truth before they had had a little taste of the consequences. Everyone had rules for themselves. You had to give them a reason to break them.
Valen took a moment to weigh the whip in her hand. It was cruel, of course, but it would take cruelty to get what she wanted. It would be nice to say she took no pleasure in it but Valen was not accustomed to lying to herself. In front of her, a lily-white back shivered. A delicate little arse was unmarked and untouched. The short-cropped hair of a Elaitian soldier lapped at the nape of a neck just begging to be bitten. It was going to be cruel, and she was going to enjoy every second.
The first blow came down with a crack across Cecely’s shoulder. She shuddered but did not cry out. Valen knew without looking that she would be biting through her lip in an effort to maintain a dignified silence. It was sweet, really, how hard she was trying. Her pale skin bloomed rosy pink. Valen touched it for a moment with her fingertips, felt the gentle heat.
“You could always just talk,” she offered. “It would be less interesting but it would save you some trouble.”
Cecely flinched away from her but did not speak. Valen laughed softly.
“Brave little thing. Very well. Let’s see what you can bear.”
The next blow was hard enough to raise a welt across the captain’s back. Again. Again. Again. Valen had to force herself to stop and breathe. Cecely was shaking but keeping her balance. Her back was angry scarlet, the blood vessels breaking below the surface on her shoulder where the lash had hit more than once.
Beautiful.
Valen drew back her arm for another strike. The pause seemed to have confused Cecely because she gasped like she wasn’t expecting it, sagging forward for a moment, the chains taking her weight. She dragged herself back to her feet and Valen bit back her praise to hit her again.
It took four more blows for Cecely to lose her balance again. She cried out, stumbling forward, knees collapsing. Valen grabbed the chains above her with one hand, wrenching her back to her feet. The little captain had no choice but to follow, pressed firmly into Valen’s chest, her delicate body quivering under the strain.
“Ssh,” Valen soothed, running her hands firmly down Cecely’s arms like she was gentling a nervous horse. “You’re doing so well.”
She could feel the hitch in Cecely’s breath, the confusion, the stuttering of her heart. Good. That was good. That was what it was all about. Get them confused and in pain, push them off balance, and if you knew what you were doing you could guide them back to a balance that suited you. People were easy – and the dear little captain had clearly not been trained to withstand this sort of thing.
Valen stood back and readjusted her grip. The next strike drew blood. Cecely cried out, swaying, but did not fall again. Valen could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she watched a tiny rivulet of blood trickle down over pale skin to pool in the dimple near the base of Cecely’s spine. The world tunnelled. There was only Cecely, and blood, and the whip in her hand.
The captain screamed as the blows came hard and fast, criss-crossing, raising welts. She shuddered and shook, losing her balance, stumbling forward. She half-turned, only to catch a blow across her side that had her howling. The lash caught her across the arse, breaking the skin, and Valen tossed the whip aside before she could lose her composure completely. She grabbed her prisoner around the throat, wrapped one arm securely around her waist, held her upright and a little too tight as Cecely shuddered and sobbed.
Valen wanted to eat her alive. She wanted to make her bleed out on the floor. She wanted to hurt her like this delicate little thing, this princess disguised as a soldier, had never been hurt before. It was too much, too easy, too available.
“Good girl,” Valen rasped, pressing an urgent hungry kiss to Cecely’s neck. “So brave.”
Cecely whimpered in confusion but submitted, letting herself be manhandled. She didn’t try to pull away as Valen’s hands roamed, clumsy in their eagerness, round her waist, her thighs, up over her breasts. She let out a breathy groan when Valen pinched a nipple tightly but did not fight it. Valen kissed and bit at her neck, murmuring nursery nothings, praise, flattery, sweet nonsense. One hand slipped between the two of them to cup Cecely’s arse, squeeze around the mark she had made. There was blood on her palm when she brought it back. Valen bit down hard on Cecely’s neck, shook her slightly, did not let go until she could taste blood. When she pulled back, Cecely’s skin was already blotching purple. It would be black by morning.
“Such a pretty thing,” Valen whispered, taking Cecely’s earlobe in her teeth. “Too pretty for a place like this.”
She gave her prisoner time, letting her hands roam without direction, squeezing and touching and only occasionally pinching. She kept them too close for Cecely to even think about moving. She kissed and licked and bit. She wanted her overwhelmed but not broken, not yet. Cecely sagged against her, resigned to her fate, until Valen slid one hand down to gently probe between her thighs.
“No,” Cecely whispered. “No, not there.”
“Ssh.” Valen kissed her cheek at best she could from behind her. “I’m not going to hurt you, not here. Be a good girl now. Spread your legs.”
Cecely clamped her thighs shut even tighter but Valen managed to wriggle two fingers through. She explored as best she could. Cecely froze for a moment, before her whole body tensed in a shock of sensation. Valen chuckled against her ear.
“Right there, huh?”
“Please,” Cecely begged. “Please don’t do this.”
Valen stroked her as delicately as she could. Cecely’s thighs managed somehow to squeeze even tighter around her. Her breath came in harsh panicked gasps. Valen kissed tenderly over the bruises she had made, forced her way in a little further between her legs to find the telltale wetness that told of her prisoner’s submission.
Ah.
“Good girl,” she whispered. “You see? I said it wouldn’t hurt.”
Cecely was stiff as a board, every muscle tensed, utterly silent, but Valen still had the freedom to touch her. She rubbed her clit, too light and delicate to bring any relief but just enough to set the nerve endings firing. Her other hand cupped a breast, squeezed gently, circled the nipple with her thumb.
“I can make it all stop hurting, sweetheart,” she said. “Just say the word. I can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”
Cecely seemed to flare back to life. She turned her head sharply, teeth snapping, making a valiant attempt to bite Valen’s nose off. The general laughed and drew back, leaving her captive swaying without her support. She generously chose not to comment on the stickiness that clung to her fingertips or how Cecely’s hips tried unconsciously to follow her hand.
“No?” she teased. “We’ll have to stop playing games then.”
She reached for the whip and surveyed the captain’s back. Nothing had cut too deep yet. There was plenty of damage she could do before she risked permanent harm. She drew her arm back.
The first strike nearly knocked Cecely off her feet. She let out a choked cry, her whole torso swinging towards the ground before the chain caught her and forced her to drag herself up. Valen grinned. The next blow really did knock her off her feet, her whole weight on her arms, and Valen did not give her a chance to stand up this time. She hit again, and again. Cecely screamed, scrabbling to stand, her skin splitting under the onslaught. Valen felt the feral urge again, the desire to take and hurt and eat. She kept going, the crack of the lash echoing in the cell, Cecely’s screams getting sharper as the pain grew.
Beautiful.
Valen stopped when Cecely’s screams gave way to choked sobs. She dropped the whip and circled round her prisoner as the captain struggled to get back to her feet. She stood and watched, heart pounding, skin prickling with lust, as Cecely tried uselessly to maintain her balance on weak knees.
Her face was flushed and blotchy. Tears spilled silently from wide, unfocused eyes. She had bitten her lip so hard there was blood on her teeth, just visible between slack parted lips. Her eyebrows were able to furrow, just slightly, as Valen cupped her chin with her hand but no more clarity reached her eyes. Valen kissed that pliant mouth, tasted iron, felt dizzy from the thrill of it.
“Good girl.” She spoke against her mouth. “You’re so brave, sweetheart. I’m not going to do that again. You’re safe with me.”
She reached down and this time Cecely did not have wits enough to clamp her legs closed. She was open and pliant, still wet to the touch, still hot against Valen’s hand. She whimpered as Valen touched her, trailed her fingers through her folds, learned the shape of her.
“Beautiful,” Valen breathed, pressing the tender kiss of a bridegroom to Cecely’s bruise-purpled throat. “You’re so beautiful.”
She pushed one finger inside. Cecely whimpered, shaking her head the tiniest amount, her eyes gazing pleadingly up at the general. Valen smiled at her, kissed the tip of her nose, and pushed in further.
“Tight as a virgin,” she murmured. “Am I that lucky, sweetheart? Has nobody ever touched you this way before?”
Cecely closed her eyes to avoid looking at her and Valen knew she was right. It made some shameful animal inside of her growl possessively. It really said all that needed to be said about the Elaitians. They had a creature like this, so pretty and so fragile, and what had they done? Made her live like a nun and fight like a soldier. Not if Valen had anything to do with it, not anymore.
She forced in a second finger and Cecely groaned, her head falling backwards, exposing the column of her throat. Valen kissed it tenderly, nipped only lightly, felt the pulse jump against her lips. She crooked her fingers and the muscles, clamped so tight around her fingers, twitched. She laughed against Cecely’s skin.
“That’s it, beautiful,” she crooned. “Give in. Let me teach you something.”
She pulled her fingers out and thrust in harder, deeper. A pained gasp was shocked out of her prisoner’s mouth. Valen began to work her fingers faster, forcing Cecely to open up, testing out every angle on her. When she found one that made Cecely cry out, startled, she did it again. Cecely’s eyes screwed up tight, the chains rattling as her arms shook, and Valen couldn’t help but laugh at her.
“You like that, sweetheart? You can have more. You’ve got to learn to ask for these things.”
Cecely whimpered as Valen ducked down to take a breast in her mouth. She kept her fingers moving faster and faster but she savoured the taste, the vulnerability of soft skin and the raw straining nipple. Cecely stumbled, inadvertently forcing herself deeper onto Valen’s fingers, and the sound she let out was closer to pleasure than pain.
Valen held Cecely’s nipple between her teeth for just a moment longer than necessary, dragging it with her as she drew back. Cecely groaned, swaying towards her. Her tear-filled eyes looked dazed. Valen could feel her muscles tightening, building towards something. She shoved her fingers deep inside and crooked them, stroking fast and hard.
“You can let go.” Valen kissed her fiercely. “You can give in. Let it happen. Stop fighting. Be a good girl.”
Cecely came with a hoarse cry. Her eyes rolled back. Her knees collapsed. Her limp weight fell against Valen, breath coming in hot pants against her neck. Valen kissed her forehead condescendingly and withdrew her fingers. For lack of something better to do, she wiped them on Cecely’s thigh.
“Good girl,” she said gently. “You did wonderfully.”
The captain seemed a little out of it. When Valen stepped away from her she swayed, her weight resting on her wrists, the rest of her body slack and useless. Her eyes were barely open. It was a beautiful sight. Valen wished she had a way to preserve it forever.
Valen released the chain and Cecely dropped. Her legs gave out beneath her without the manacles taking her weight and she sprawled across the stone floor, trembling and weak. Valen locked the chain back into place, keeping her bound but now on a long enough leash to lie against the floor, her wrists only suspended a few inches from the ground. She shucked her jacket, approaching slowly but deliberately.
Cecely’s blue eyes shivered open, wide and wet. She attempted to slither backwards but Valen dropped down over her, caging her with her arms.
“It’s alright, little princess,” Valen soothed. “I’ll look after you.”
A tremor passed through Cecely’s jaw. “I’m not a princess. I’m a captain in the Elaitian army and –”
“You’re no soldier, darling. It’s alright. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“I am! I –”
Cecely broke off as Valen interrupted her with a fierce, possessive kiss. The young woman squirmed as best she could and managed a sharp bite on Valen’s lip. Valen bit back in retaliation, sucking Cecely’s tongue in her mouth.
“You’re a lady, sweetheart,” Valen said, once she had released her and Cecely was red-faced, panting, and outraged beneath her. “A lovely little flower, to be cherished and despoiled in equal measure. You’re not a warrior.”
“Please,” Cecely gasped. “Please, I don’t –”
Valen pushed herself back, sliding her hands down Cecely’s torso to grip her thighs.
“Let me show you, darling,” she murmured. “Let me show you what you could be.”
“No, don’t, you can’t –” Cecely broke off with a startled whimper as Valen effortlessly raised her legs off the ground, evading the feeble kicks. “I am a soldier, I have rights!”
“No, my pretty one. No, you don’t. But it’s okay. You have me to take care of you.”
Cecely was tired. She had had a difficult day. It was no effort at all for Valen to part her legs and hook one knee up over her shoulder. It was no effort to ignore the little captain’s desperate attempts to protest. It was certainly no effort to finally relax her self-control and plunge, as she longed to, into the sweet heat between her prisoner’s thighs.
Cecely’s cunt was pink and raw from Valen’s fingers. It was obvious from the way Cecely’s body jerked that she was incredibly sensitive. Valen kissed her with all the heat and hunger she could bring, no mercy and no patience. She lapped at the slick wetness betraying her captive’s needs, sucked her clit between her teeth until Cecely sobbed, never allowed a moment for her mind to reset. Valen didn’t want her to think. She just wanted her to feel.
Cecely’s protests dissolved into pitiful whimpers. Her hips bucked. Her thighs were trembling enough to make her legs quake where they wrapped around the general. Valen listened, watched her through her eyelashes as she fell apart, head dropped back, chest heaving, a flush spreading down across her whole lily-white body.
Cecely came so easily it was like her body had been begging for it. Her thighs clamped tight around Valen’s head. A cry shook from her mouth, her spine arching, and Valen felt the spasm against her mouth, the clenching of muscles. She did not stop. She restrained herself just enough not to bite down and instead ate more, driving her tongue deeper into Cecely’s wet cunt, seeking a reaction.
Cecely wailed. “No – it hurts, please – I –”
Valen ignored her. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Cecely’s protests had become wordless gasps and moans, her body submitting, giving itself over to the easy pleasure Valen was providing. Valen worked patiently, focused, shutting out the rest of the world. When her tongue started to ache, she moved to suck Cecely’s clit instead. When she needed to breathe deeply, she returned to the tongue. Little by little, Cecely softened beneath her. Soon she was pressing herself into Valen, lifting her narrow hips, begging for more.
Valen gave it to her. By the time Cecely came again, she was so exhausted that her thighs barely tightened. She shook from head to toe in a spasm that seemed never-ending. When at last she collapsed back, limp, her limbs still twitched as though wracked by aftershocks. Valen sat back on her haunches to stare down at the remains of the royal captain.
“That’s it,” she murmured, tracing patterns up Cecely’s inner thigh. “I’ve got you. You did everything right.”
She dragged herself back to her feet, stifling a groan. Dungeon floors were no good for kneeling on. It would be a relief to have Cecely somewhere with cushions, maybe even a carpet. She stretched, joints popping, and watched as Cecely’s eyes closed fully, the strains of the day finally overtaking her. She smiled.
Valen loosened the chain and Cecely’s wrists at last hit the floor. It was the work of a moment to unlock the manacles and release them. Valen tenderly kissed the raw flesh, chafed and torn, before she folded bloodless hands back down towards their owner’s body. She rubbed them to get the circulation back, smiling as a few drops of blood oozed out of the cuts as colour returned to stark fingers.
The little captain lay sprawled across the dungeon floor, legs spread. Her pussy was exposed, red and a little swollen. Even in sleep, her chest rose and fell a little too fast. Valen kissed her slack lips, gently ran her fingertips over raw nipples and bruised hips. Cecely did not wake as Valen expertly levered her into a sitting position, slumped against the general’s shoulder. Her back was a chequerboard of purple and puce, the bruises giving way to narrow cuts and smears of dried blood. There was blood, too, on the stone floor of the cell.
“Poor little thing.” Valen kissed the top of her head. “However did you survive this long in the army?”
She reached across the cell to grab her cloak where it still lay in a heap on the floor. Carefully, she draped it around Cecely’s shoulders. She scooped her up, gathering her close to her chest, wrapping the cloak further around her until her battered and naked form was entirely concealed from view except the pink tear-stained face peeking out. Valen hefted her weight effortlessly. Cecely stirred, blinking muzzily, a sound somewhere between fear and confusion but a long way from words escaping her.
“Sssh, my pretty one.” Valen kissed her forehead. “I’ve got you. It’ll all feel better in the morning."
Valen didn’t think the captain even registered what was said to her, only the soothing tone. She slipped back into sleep, cheek pressed to Valen’s chest, body limp in her arms. Valen smiled grimly and began to carry her out of the dungeon and up the stairs. She might have been too pessimistic in the estimate she had sent to her brother. If things carried on this way, she’d have Cecely wrapped around her finger before two days were out.