A Gilded Cage Ch. 03

He stood and strode over to Aneira, and unhooked her leash. "Up, walk slave. And keep up. I don't have time to dawdle along while you crawl."

Her knees were stiff as she stood and she almost fell backwards but he caught her upper arm and held her steady. He was still fully dressed aside from the gloves and cap, a sword still belted at his hip, but the top buttons of his jacket and fine white shirt were opened – she could see the beginnings of a well-muscled chest beneath.

He tidied himself up and buttoned the jacket to the neck with one hand as he walked. She followed at a trot a few paces behind as the butler lead them through the halls. He was tense and busy, and she really didn't want to anger him in this mood.

Rogers meet them as they came down the stairs towards the entrance hall.

"What happened?"

"Sir, eight men, lightly armed, they were caught attempting to cross the lawns. We had them all before they were within a hundred yards of the house."

"Why on Earth did this warrant disturbing me? You have caught some thieves, Rogers, hand them to the local authorities. I'm going to bed. I thought better of you than this, Rogers."

"No sir, not thieves. That is why I called for you sir. They are some of her people sir."

"I apologise. You were right to come and get me."

At the foot of the stairs she could see figures. A dozen or so men dressed like Rogers stood over the bound figures of eight slighter men. They were lined up in the tiled hall, some clearly injured. There was blood streaked from the main doors where they had been dragged across the floor. She studied the faces of each of the men. She couldn't restrain the gasp that followed when she reached the third face in the line.

"What is it girl, upset by the blood?" He turned sneering, but seeing hers his face broke in cruel understanding. "Oh no, it isn't the blood that has upset you is it." He followed her gaze and turned back to her, looking wicked. Without looking back he called to the men behind him. "Have the blonde third in from the left brought to my library, lock the others away." And turning to the butler: "I want plastic sheeting on the floor and all of the carpets rolled away." The man scurried off. "We shall find out what he means to you, pet. You clearly mean enough for him to come on this fool's errand to retrieve you."

He enjoyed the despair that she was unable to hide in those pretty eyes. This could work out very nicely. The lad meant something to her and he did not intend to waste that. He headed off, gesturing for Rogers to follow, two large soldiers, dragging the man between them, bringing up the rear.

The fireplace room had been rearranged remarkably quickly. All or the rugs were gone and the furniture pushed back to reveal an expanse of polished floorboards. Where the hearthrug had been there was now a thick layer of plastic sheeting, extending several yards in every direction. She pushed from her mind any thoughts about the mess from which he might want to protect his things.

The man was dumped unceremoniously on the sheet, a soldier holding each arm, forcing him up onto his knees. His head was lifted roughly. His eyes met hers.

"Aneira! Aneira we were sure you would be here, we came to get you out!"

She tried to convey that he should stop, imploring him with her eye, but one of the soldiers silenced him with a heavy punch to the jaw at a gesture from the general.

He rounded on her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eyes rather than at the man's swelling split lip and the blood dribbling down his chin.

"You will tell me who he is."

She staggered back, collapsing to the floor, sobbing and shaking her head.

"Rogers fetch me the trunk under the window will you?"

Rogers heaved the thing over, and the general rummaged, bringing out a strong pair of shears. He held them in front of her face and called to the soldiers "hold out one of his hands for me, the right. Let's see if he is still up for rescue attempts with a few fewer fingers.

"No!" She pleaded, tears coming fast. She grabbed his boot and pulled herself up to her knees, gripping the hem of his jacket, she begged him. "No, please, please don't. He didn't know what he was getting into, he isn't a threat to you, I'll explain, just please stop." This was no time for pride, she grovelled and begged and meant it.

He bent down to her, caressing her face and holding her into his broad chest, quietly handing the shears to Rogers. He held her like one might a frightened child, encouraging her to associate him with comfort and protection.

"Shhh, shhh now, come on, I've got you, there's nothing to be afraid of. Tell me what you know, pet, be good now." There was still more than a hint of a threat, but she didn't care. He'd force it from her if she resisted, she simply wanted it to be over.

Pulling her away from his chest he dried her eyes on his handkerchief before pulling her onto his lap, still cradling her trembling body. She looked up at the bloodied man but couldn't bear to meet his eyes.

"He's a young lord, from my father's court. He knows nothing of war. He can't have known..." She trailed off.

"Yes, that much I guessed pet, but who is he specifically, and what does he mean to you?"

"Telor. He... We... We were engaged to be married before the war."

"And he means a great deal to you?"

"Yes, Lord." She trembled all the more as she said it but there was no point denying what he already knew.

"And she clearly meant enough for you to lose your wits and break into my grounds?" He had raised his voice and was speaking to Telor. He gave no answer, refusing to look at either of them.

"Break the little finger on his right hand" he said turning to one of his soldiers. The crack sickened her. She barely heard his pained yells as she turned back to the general in horror.

"But lord you said you wouldn't..." How could she have been so stupid as to let him trick her?

"No, my dear I said I wouldn't cut them off, and I haven't. I didn't lie to you. He will heal. I cannot, however, allow him to ignore a direct question without some consequence."

"Will you answer me now young lord?" he sneered, "do you care for my little slave?"

"More than my life" he spat, without looking up.

"Well that much is obvious. You were stupid to come. You were stupid to join with those rebels. Your plan had no hope of success. You have thrown your life away."

He gestured for the man to be taken away, and carried her gently from the room. Rogers held the door at the far end for him and he slipped into the cool of his bedroom. The girl could take nothing more tonight, but he was more than satisfied with her progress. He pulled back the covers of his bed and laid her down, cuffing her hands together in front of her and securing the leash to the headboard. One could never be too careful. He had no intentions of waking up to find her about to slit his throat with a letter opener.

He undressed and had a quick cold shower in his personal bathroom, glad to be free of the heavy wool of his uniform. When he returned he found that she was where he had left her, curled slightly, and with some of the coves pulled back over her. He climbed into bed beside her and pulled her gently to his chest to wrap her little body in his. She allowed this without complaint. He wrapped his arms around her and entwined one leg with hers. She flinched, she didn't want him, but she was far too drained to resist. He fell asleep thinking that this was an excellent start after barely more than a day.

*****************************

He woke early, there was a lot to be done, but he was careful not to wake her. It was deeply concerning that the rebels could do anything at all so close to the capital, even if it was a tiny raid with no chance of success. They could not be working in isolation, and he needed to know who. He had people within their ranks but they hadn't reported anything of this sort. It was a problem.

He cleared his desk, pulled a laptop from the top drawer and set about eliminating and circling possibilities from lists of all bodies active in the area. What he really needed was to know where they were hauled up, and then he could simply eliminate them from 18,000 feet. A plan was forming. He wrote a short message to one of his agents in their ranks. He messaged his butler for breakfast and coffee. Thinking it through he sent a second message telling him to bring a hell of a lot of very strong coffee. Dawn was breaking. He had already been up for an hour and it must have been three before he got to bed.

A small pile of pastries and fruit arrived along with a large pot of coffee. He poured himself a mug and swigged it before walking over to his bed to wake her. He released her hands and removed the leash from her collar, brushing the hair from eyes. What a mess she looked with thick, black eye make-up streaked down her cheeks – still pretty though. He kissed her and murmured that it was time to wake up. She recoiled away when she opened her eyes.

"No, girl, don't fuss. I won't hurt you unless you give me cause to. It's time to get up, there's breakfast. Do you promise to behave better this morning?" He spoke softly, as if to a flighty horse. She nodded and stood up from the bed, dropping to her knees. "No sweet, you don't need to crawl. You've been very well behaved so you may walk."

"Thank you lord." She kicked herself for allowing him to treat walking as a privilege, but was far too drained to do anything but what she was told. She felt it all: the loss of her brothers, the aches, the humiliations, and now the capture of her lover.

When she reached the desk, he pulled her onto his lap and fed her from his plate, allowing her sips of coffee, holding the cup to her lips. When they were done, he rested her head on his shoulder and stroked her hair as he continued to work.

One of his servants, May, accompanied by one of his more physically imposing looking guards, took the girl away to wash and tidy her. He called for Rogers, rubbing sleep from his eyes. There was a knock and he called for the man to enter.

"Sir, you called?"

"Yes. Have you had any luck with them?" Rogers looked as dishevelled as he must. He too was wearing just his shirt, black trousers, and high boots. His eyes were red and the shirt was flecked with blood.

"Some, but not much, sir. I do not believe they are concealing much though, simply that they know very little." The general gestured for him to go on. "All are young and have no military background. It appears they are simply servants of the young man who knew her, along with two of his close friends. He is the only one that knows anything, and he is the only one not to have broken."

"Thank you Rogers, go and get some sleep. I'll break the young man this afternoon."

This was good news. It seemed these poor idiots had gone on a suicide mission on their own, with little or no help from the rebels. It could have been a lot worse. He decided to work off some of the tension by going for a run. He had a pleasant route worked out around the perimeter of his estate which came in just short of ten miles. If he pushed himself he could make it round in under an hour but he wouldn't worry about that today.

When he got back, his shirt soaked through in sweat, he found her sitting neatly on the chaise lounge, her guard standing stiffly beside her. May had worked wonders again. Her hair fell across one shoulder in elegant curls and for once he had instructed for her to be allowed clothes. She was clad in the most he could bear for her to wear: flowing lengths of fine blue silk shot with green and belted tightly at her narrow waist. It was fine enough that he could see the shadow of her pink nipples showing through. He had certainly not allowed her to wear underwear.

He flashed her a smile as he pulled off his drenched shirt, balled it up and tossed it at her, for no particularly good reason. She wrinkled her nose.

"Do I smell pet? I bet I do. You'd better get used to my sweat, I'll work one up in you soon enough." He strode over to retrieve the shirt, kissing her forehead as he bent down. "You look far prettier than any of those society hags at supper last night. I know where I'd prefer to have my cock." And with that he left to shower.

He swept back into the room, light cotton shirt hanging open. As he pulled on his boots he looked up at her and called over: "are you going to be good or do I need to have you on a leash again?"

"I'll be good lord."

"Excellent. Follow between me and Davies. And keep up. He stood and opened a drawer and removed a flogger with a thick handle and half a dozen knotted leather thongs. Noticing her distress he laughed and tucked it into his belt. "Not for you sweet, not unless you are planning on giving me cause." She shook her head vigorously; it looked far nastier than the riding crop.

They marched in file through his library and took a narrow, steeply descending set of stairs at the far end of the corridor. The walls were undecorated and the floor simple flagged stone. A maze of doors led off on all sides but the general had no trouble finding his way. At last there was one of heavy steel, far more substantial than any of the others. He tapped in a key code and strode through, Davies closing it with a thud behind him. There were cells opening off on all sides, each containing one of the men from the night before. They looked rather worse for wear. She didn't want to imagine what state Telor was in. As it turned out there was no need to imaging. A door at the end lead to a wide stone room and Telor was strapped to a wooden cross in the middle of it.

It was less bad than it might have been. She could see nothing that wouldn't heal. His jaw was swollen; his chest was bare and covered in small cuts; several more of his fingers were broken. He lifted his head and spat blood on the floor in disgust.

"You'd bring her in here? Why, to show her what will happen if she doesn't behave? You monster."

"Brave boy, stupid though..." he mused as he brought up a chair from near the door and sat directly in front of Telor. He leaned back, looking for all the world as if he was sitting in front of the fire on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

"You are wrong though, this isn't to show her what I might do. It wouldn't work anyway. She knows I wouldn't ugly her up without a good cause; I like her quite as she is... though her arse looks better after a good thrash."

Aneira felt her cheeks redden and stepped back, only to feel Davies strong hands on her shoulders, holding her in place.

"You bastard what have you done to her?! How could you after all you did to our people?! She's an innocent girl for fucks sake man."

"Oh not that innocent anymore are you pet?" She backed further into Davies chest, unwilling to look at either of them. "How did you get so far into the country without being caught? There were dozens of road blocks. I will hear every detail of your journey." He knew it was a simple enough case of his having taken back roads but intended to start off with the easy things.

"I'll tell you nothing." He spat another mouthful of blood.

"Davies, pass me a knife. No, stop, I have a better idea. Davies, pass me the girl." And turning back to Telor: "if you won't talk I'll beat her instead. Let's see if that loosens your tongue." Davies walked her up to his commander and she numbly complied.

"I'm sorry to do this pet, I really am, you've been so good, but he's forcing my hand. Would you prefer I had to scar your pretty boyfriend? No, of course you wouldn't. Now bend over my lap."

He gestured to Davies to give her a bit of help as she was shaking such that she could barely move. There were tears beginning in the corners of her eyes but she fought them back. She guessed his game and would not help him in breaking the man's spirit.

He lifted her skirts and tucked them up into the belt, exposing her smooth round arse. He caressed it and allowed his hand to wander down her slit to her clitoris, his eyes never leaving Telor.

"Now I will ask you again, tell me all about your journey here."

"Go to hell."

"Foul mouthed little lad isn't he." he said to nobody in particular. "Well that's five for the refusal, and another five for using bad language in front of my slave. Keep still dear, it'll soon be over."

He smacked her hard, bringing up a red hand print on her left cheek. She held in her cries. By number eight she let out a gasp, and ten earned him a whimper.

"So pretty when it is all red" he cooed, caressing her arse. "But then I suppose that you hadn't seen it before yesterday so don't have much to compare it to. She was a virgin when I took her after all. Could you not get it up?"

"You'll pay for this, there are others, there are people coming for you."

"Ah, now that is the sort of thing I'd like to hear about. Would you like him to tell me what he meant by that pet?"

Confusion edged through the pain: loyalty to her country or avoidance of pain – which mattered more to her? Well he hadn't hurt her that badly yet, indeed it had barely registered after all he had done. Loyalty it was then.

"No lord." She whispered.

"Are you enjoying yourself pet? Shall I get the crop and do this properly? It doesn't seem to have had much effect on you."

"No, I'm sorry, no please don't, I'm sorry lord I only meant..."

"Better". His fingers had crept back down over her arse and found her clit again. She moaned a little into his thigh, the shards of pleasure clouding her thoughts.

"Get your bastard hands off her."

"Five more for foul language it is then. I'm sorry pet, but he will learn courtesy somehow." He withdrew his fingers from her clit and delivered five sharp smacks that nearly broke her resolution not to cry out. His fingers returned to their work.

He was enjoying this. The anguish on the lad's face was delicious. He enjoyed smacking the girl anyway but his reaction was far better than hers ever had been. He noticed that the man was no longer looking him in the eye, but watching the progress of his fingers. She moaned softly into his thigh, furious with herself for not repressing it better.

"Stop it you're hurting her!"

"I dearly hope you've never fucked a woman with ignorance like that lad. That was not a sound of pain, was it pet?" He dipped a finger into her moistening cunt. The lad reacted far better to this than he had when he smacked her. He was onto something here. He tickled the spot of rough skin just inside her and grinned as another little moan broke free of her restraint.

Aneira didn't know what to do with herself. She could ignore the pain of him smacking her but this was different. Her body was betraying her. She was allowing herself to be used and she hated it but she couldn't help but enjoy his touch. There were two fingers now, working in and out of the tight little whole, the thumb never leaving her clit. Her hips moved with his hand without any conscious decision of hers to do so. And then the hand was gone.

He held up glistening fingers to Telor's face. "Do you know what that is, lad? It means she was enjoying herself. Your little lover was preparing her body for my cock. Davies," he called over his shoulder, "if you were feeling up a woman and your fingers came out soaked like this, what would you think?"

"I'd think she wanted me inside her sir."

"Have him brought up to my bedroom and fixed to the wall, I intend to continue this in private."

He wiped his fingers on a handkerchief and stood her up. "Follow, slave, quickly."

She did as she was told and trotted along behind him as he strode back upstairs. He walked into the library, but not into his bedroom. He took her through a door to the left, hidden by bookcases, which led to another narrow corridor. He stopped just inside and turned to her.