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The Count was angry. He paced up and down the Great hall of his castle, shouting his orders to all the servants.

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He looked around at a sea of terrified faces. The Count threw himself down into a large, high backed chair in front of the fire which was burning fiercely in the enormous, central fireplace.

The servants practically ran from the room, glad to escape his anger. They all knew what their Master was capable of when he was angered.

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On his own in the Great Hall, the Count thought about the runaway slave. Candice, was indeed a beautiful woman.

In her mid-twenties, she still had the face of a young and innocent girl; but innocent she certainly was not. Only five feet tall, with long, flaming red hair, she was beautifully proportioned. Her waist was slim, she had beautiful, large soft breasts and a neat, rounded bottom. Her eyes were green, her lips ruby red and her complexion smooth and white.

He had bought Candice from a passing slave trader, just a few months ago and was really enjoying training her. The Slave Trader had whipped her very little because he knew that a perfect body tended to bring a higher price than a damaged one. The Count liked submissive women, he loved to control them and see them tremble at his stories.

He liked to hear them call him Master and sometimes he liked to hear them scream as he punished them for some misdemeanor or other. The Count had, had many submissive lovers, but Candice was his first slave. It thrilled him to have complete control over this woman, to watch her kneel at his bdsm, to hear her beg for every little thing. Of course, he had the power to punish her any historical he wanted without reason, but somehow it was more exciting to have some valid excuse to beat his slave.

The Count had a vast choice of instruments with which to administer his punishments. The choice of instrument was decided by the degree of disobedience. Minor offenses might result in a spanking with the hand, slipper or paddle. Slightly, sterner beatings involved a cane to the bottom, legs, and breasts. The worst punishment that he had, had to administer so far was a whipping with a long, black leather story, which had left Candice covered in deep red welts over her back, bottom and legs.

The Count felt himself getting hard as he thought about the pleasure he had experienced, fucking his slave after that beating. Although Candice seemed compliant enough, the Count had not bdsm any chances. Candice always wore a leather collar, padlocked around her neck, so that the Count could attach a lead or a chain to her.

If the Count was historical away for a few days, then he also placed manacles around her wrists and shackles around her ankles.

That is how she had been left last week whilst he was away on family business. He had no idea how she had managed to escape but he had a suspicion that one of his servants had helped her. They were almost finished now and ready to be used for some advanced training sessions. The Count let his imagination drift and was rapidly coming to a climax when the door to the Great Hall burst open.

Historic bdsm story – runaway slave

She was hiding in a barn belonging to one of the local farmers. The footmen are bringing her story now. The Count went over to the window and looked out. He could bdsm see very clearly as night was closing in, but against the dim horizon he could make out three figures; the one in the center practically being dragged by the two on either side. The Count sat back in his armchair and waited. Soon the door opened again and Candice was thrown roughly onto the floor in front of him. With a wave of his historical, he motioned to the servants to leave them alone.

He looked down at Candice as she lay quivering at his feet, her head bowed in submission. He leaned over and grasped her by the hair, pulling her roughly up to her knees. Already she was beginning to cry. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Count instantly slapped her hard across the cheek.

Slowly Candice rose to her feet; the Count also rose from his chair, and still holding Candice by the hair, he dragged her across the room and over to a small side door. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He could see Candice trembling as he led her down the long, spiral staircase which led to the dungeons, deep down below the castle.

There were no windows down here. The only light came from oil lamps set on the walls, otherwise, it was as black as night. As they came to the bottom of the stairs, he heard Candice gasp as she saw the way he had furnished this gloomy place. In the center of the room, stood a long, stone table with chains at each corner. On the cold, grey, stone walls, were manacles and fetters for the legs. Also hanging on the walls were several whips of various shapes and sizes.

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In the distance, Candice could just make out another contraption or two, but there was not enough light to see clearly what they were. She had a distinct impression though, that one of them was a rack. She turned to her Master and fell on her knees, begging him to forgive her; but her pleas fell on deaf ears. The Count was very angry and meant to have his revenge. Then, you are going to tell me how you got away, who helped you and why you did it. Is that clear? But the Count detected a note of defiance in her voice.

The Count grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to the stone table. His slave obeyed. He fastened both her arms and legs to the chains at each corner of the table.

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He fastened them so tight that she could historical move at all. He walked back to his trembling slave and suddenly realised that she was still partially clothed. He took story of the back of the thin, cotton dress that she was wearing and ripped it in two, exposing her beautiful, naked body to his view.

Without warning, the first blow landed across her buttocks, and Candice, taken by surprise, let out a scream. The second followed rapidly, as did the third and fourth. She was crying even louder now. With that, he released her from the table and pulled her over to the wall. He pushed her back against the rough stone and fastened her hands and feet to the chains that hung there. Her arms were raised high above her head and her legs were spread wide apart.

She did so tentatively. This time she opened really wide and the Count placed the tongue inside her mouth and fastened it really tightly so she could not utter a sound other than a muffled moan. Turning back to bdsm range of instruments on the wall he selected a cane.

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It was long and thin and very flexible. Candice moaned softly underneath the gag. Whoosh, the cane whistled through the air as he struck her time and time again, first across one breast and then across the other, until both were red and sore and crisscrossed with stripes.

Next, the Count focused his attention lower down. He placed his hands between her legs and felt the wetness that was oozing from her cunt.

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For his own amusement, he decided to be angry. Perhaps I am being too lenient with you. Time and time again he caned her cunt until it was swollen and turning purple. It served her right for being so disobedient and disloyal. Yes, she had been disloyal. He turned to Candice and grabbed her nipples, slowly squeezing and twisting them harder and harder.

He could see by the look in her eyes that the answer was no. Before releasing Candice from her chains, her Master placed a blindfold around her eyes.

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He knew that it would be even more terrifying for her, not knowing what was going to happen next. He undid the chains, and Candice almost fell to her knees with the pain that she was suffering, but the Count held her firmly. He led her over to the far corner of the dungeon where he had placed some contraptions that he had devised himself. Candice had been right, there was a rack there too, but the Count had decided to keep that pleasure for another day.

Something a bdsm more severe was required tonight, in order to extract the necessary information from this disobedient, young woman. The Count had originally story these contraptions for some historical sex games, but they could easily be used just as well for torture. Why not a combination of the two, he thought. First, he bent Candice over a type of padded bench that stood on four legs.