Rebel Princess
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2017 by Serena Christian

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Captured and now helpless in the hands of the merciless Chief Torturer. The undercover Princess knows the time has come for her to show her strength of character and resist the evil forces of greed and violence.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Coercion   NonConsensual   Rape   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Humiliation   Rough   Torture   Public Sex   Royalty   Violence  

Alice was caught up in a net after the explosion that put the main rail line from the coast out of commission for at least two weeks. She was all innocence and tears for her initial interrogation and she impressed the veteran interrogator with her ability to absorb the pain he dished out with controlled whimpers rather than distressingly outright screams of despair. He wrote that fact in his report to his superiors and it was that little mistake that caused Sir Alfred to descend the stone staircase to the dungeon to view the subject stretched out on the table with her limbs secured at all four corners.

The head torturer was ecstatic to have so beautiful of a subject to receive his attentions.

Alice did her best to look unconcerned but it was difficult in such a situation. They hadn’t done anything to her of a sexual nature as yet. In the back of her mind, she knew instinctively that was just a matter of time and it would be used to get her to “break” and deliver actionable intelligence for their special squads of anti-rebellion destruction. They all wore hoods over their heads not wanting to be recognized and retaliated against at a later date.

Two of the hooded goons were hovering over her tempting naked form with disgusting inquisitive fingers. The torturer made no effort to dissuade them because he considered such foreplay a “softening up” part of his “breaking” process and necessary to get any subject in the right attitude for divulging information they could use in their struggle to defeat the forces of rebellion against the royal family.

The chief interrogator stopped one of the younger apprentices from mounting the girl and stretching her rectal channel because it was far too premature for such complex methods. Anything could happen in these early stages and it was not wise to commit to a certain line of questioning before some of the boundaries were at least scouted out and determined to be the best course of action. There was no doubt this girl had a superior pair of buttocks but perfection of anal passageways was not the ideal route to attempt in the initial stage.

They had made an analysis of the residue found on the female detainee’s hands and clothing and discovered it was a potent form of homemade explosive that was linked to the railroad sabotage.

That was all they really needed to simply execute the girl out of hand without any further discussion but the executioner was tempted to keep her around a bit longer for his own enjoyment and to break up the boring hours of constant torture.

It was his assistant the fancy Nancy water expert Oswald that reminded him of the fact the girl spoke with a posh flavor that was not easily hidden even when efforts were made to seem coarse or common. The chief interrogator paused in his morning abolitions to look down at the stretched out female on the main processing table. She was strangely sleeping peacefully as if she was in the safety of her mother’s home with a lock on the bedroom door to keep out the riff raff. His sense of duty reminded him it was a perfect moment to allow the apprentices to have their bit of fun but something held him from that final lifting of the single finger to start the action. He was not an emotional man and was certainly not prone to faults of pity or showing mercy to innocent captives and it was totally uncharacteristic of him to be so cautious in his processing procedures. After a long period of contemplation, he came to the conclusion that he had hesitated because the girl resembled the Queen mother Elizabeth in all her regal splendor. He had been privy to her counsel back in the days when she was the supreme ruler of the royal lands and he doted on her favor even if it was merely a wave of her precious hand. He was so taken aback that he sent one of his minions down to cover her loins and chest with some soft leather wraps to restore a degree of normalcy to her current situation.

He immediately reported his suspicions to Sir Alfred because he felt the possibility was too far above his role that it would be too risky to take any action one way or the other. Captain Igor had survived longer than any other Interrogator because of his sense of proper behavior in such matters that should not concern the common-born.

Sir Alfred looked at the sleeping face of the captive and he too was of the opinion it was like looking in the face of the Queen mother and not some disloyal Rebel female with her guilt written all over her skin and clothes. At least, the explosion had not caused any casualties and he would be able to use whatever form of punishment he deemed appropriate in the circumstances. Of course, the normal course of events would be to eliminate the perpetrator without further discussion of the pros and cons of punishment.

He ordered the girl to be clothed and bound and he made certain she was hooded and gagged as well to insure complete discretion in the move to his estate castle on the other side of the river. The river folk were just coming awake in the light of the morning sun and they only knew it was another day in the constant struggle between the factions of the royal family that were disputing the terms of dissolution of the kingdom into several fiefdoms of separate control. The disappearance of the Queen and her immediate family was a disgrace to the royal family and most of the court was torn between loyalties to this faction or the other depending on blood relationships or connections of a physical nature.

Alice was jostled inside the bindings of the sack as the coach rumbled swiftly to Sir Alfred’s castle. She was overjoyed to be removed from the torture table more from her sense of shame at being displayed like some toy for low-born viewing rather than her fear of physical or carnal torture of her beautiful body. She had always taken the best of care of her body because she wanted to have it in perfect order for her chosen mate. Lady Alice had no thoughts of romance or finding her Prince in the midst of the troubles, but was more than willing to be the consort of whatever royal male her Queen mother assigned to her as her official mate. She knew it was her duty to spread her legs and receive his seeds as required by centuries of rule under the seal of her family name. Her closest confidant, the Lady Rose had given her instructions on her required performance and she had even given her assorted “dry runs” with male pages and servants sworn to secrecy. She was fully swaddled in protective cheesecloth to prevent any touching of her private parts and was bounced and pounded by the rutting males in the throes of instinctive mating passion. It was amazing to her to see the long lines of cream coming from these role players spurting out with the force of water from a damaged dam and to watch the contorted faces of the young lads mounting her with the enthusiasm of joyful release. They shouted obscenities at her masked face never suspecting her true identity and her virginal ears blushed at the implications of her submission to their demands. It was true that she was technically still a virgin but she had full carnal knowledge of how a male mates with his partner and she learned little tricks of twisting and turning in different directions to maximize the pleasure of her taker.

The castle of Sir Alfred was a dark and dreary place and the residents were generally far too frightened to have a casual conversation with anyone. Even Sir Alfred’s visiting relatives were cautious about saying anything that might be construed as implying dissatisfaction with the regime of the splintered royal family. Lady Alice was carried on the shoulders of a pair of coachmen right up to the secluded wing of the castle intended for the use of the family members only. She was taken into a bath and allowed to take her time making her toilet and only two young girls far too young to be devious or mean-spirited assisted her in finding suitable items to wear that were constructed of good material and handsome fit. Her feet were a bit too small for the shoes lined up for her and she was given a pair of youngster’s shoes that were almost a perfect fit.

She constantly scanned the room and the hallway for anything that could be pressed into service for use as a weapon but came up empty-handed. It was too late to turn back the clock but she was gratified that she was out of the hands of the chief interrogator and safely ensconced under the wing of Sir Alfred.

Alice had not met Sir Alfred officially as yet but she was told he would be back to the castle within a few days to help expedite the wedding of one of his nieces to a distant relative of the missing Queen.

Her arrival was so low-key that most in the castle were not even aware of her presence. In a way, that was of benefit to Alice because it allowed her roam without interference and her two young companions gave her excellence guidance on the ins and outs of which corridors were the best to follow in her explorations of her new environment. She met quite a few supposed high-born individuals and merely kept her head down low and allowed the two girls to engage in all the casual conversation. Nobody seemed the least bit interested or curious about her and she surmised it was because of the drabness of her dress and lack of a title to preface her name.

They came upon a large unfurnished room with a stone floor that had two men sparring with blades right in the center. Since they both wore the protective shirts and trousers to ward off a blade, she assumed they were practicing some dueling tactics to improve survival in a real engagement. The young lad with the thin blade was laughing and making silly comments that brought nothing but a frown to the brow of his opponent. Alice thought him to be uncommonly handsome and he did look quite dashing in his swordplay routine. She also was able to quickly determine he had a lot to learn in the art of swordsmanship and in this dangerous time and place he had better learn quickly in order to have a long and happy life. The older man was so slender that one would almost think it was a woman under the protective clothing. The tone of his voice and the style of his swordplay was more than enough to confirm him to be a French master called Anton of Monte Carlo.

It was a fact that the aforesaid Anton, the sword tutor, was a former mercenary in the employ of the Vatican for certain shadowy projects in foreign places. Alice recognized him easily because he was the tutor employed by her concerned mother to teach the young Alice all she needed to know to defend against attackers and actually enable her to build on her own style of blade fighting for situations that had deteriorated into a struggle for survival in a land of thieves and murderers. It was obvious to her that he had recognized her immediately but had shielded his knowledge from the young lad because it was a matter for only he and Alice and nobody else needed to share in their relationship.

The two young girls with Alice were giggling and she could see they were both pleasantly enamored of the young man and excited to see him up close and in person. She heard them whisper his name to each other calling him,

“Young Master Tom”.

She had to admit he made a dashing figure, but he was much too pleased with his own image in the wall mirror for her liking and she had no doubt he was pleasuring his nights with the available female residents of the dreary little castle.

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