Caught up!September 17, 1716. Governor Windar’s Plantation
The sun was up and I was finishing the morning repast that Mary had brought me, when they returned, Windar, Tree and their men. “I trust you had a pleasant night, Dark Princess?” Windar asked, an evil smile on his ugly face. “Perhaps you have had some time to reconsider your foolish obstinacy. Your treasure shall do you no good, as you will hang, no matter whether you disclose its whereabouts or not. Why suffer further hellish torments? To what purpose?”
I maintained my stony silence, because the thought of this man stealing what was mine and my crew’s was too appalling to contemplate. “Very well, then,” the Governor continued. “Know you, Princess, that I will have your information, and these men will not be as gentle with you today as they were yesterday. Bring the brazier!” Two of the men dragged over an iron pot filled with coals simmering at a low heat and placed it near me. One of them had a pair of bellows in his hand, which he used to stoke the coals. I could feel the heat radiating from it as he fed the fire.
Tree approached, carrying two iron pokers, which he held close to my face. “These are going in the coals, Princess, and when they are nice and hot, then you can imagine where they will go. Unless, that is, you decide to be sensible and share your loot with His Excellency.” My stomach churned. I knew this would be awful, worse than the flogging yesterday, especially when the pokers were touched to already ravaged flesh. I wasn’t sure that I could bear this, but I had to summon my inner strength and try my best.
“We shall leave you for a time to think about that prospect, my Princess. When we return there shall be no mercy,” Windar vowed. “You are already sweating from the heat of the fire, though it be at some distance from your body. Imagine how those pieces of iron taken straight from the coals will feel on your flesh. And then think how they will feel inside your most delicate parts.” He turned and left, taking the men with him.
I know not how long it was before they returned, but return they did. By that time, perspiration was flowing from every pore, due to both the heat of the fire and my own fear of what was to come. “Have you decided to reveal the location of your buried treasure?” Windar asked. I was too frightened to speak, so I just shook my head.
“Very well. Remove her lower garments. We must have access to all her most private parts,” Windar ordered. Tree’s ruffians leered as they moved forwards to grasp my pantaloons and lower them to my ankles. They then took hold of my most intimate undergarments and lowered those. They briefly undid the shackle around my ankle so they could remove the garments completely, holding me tightly as I struggled, before reshackling my ankle.
I was now quite naked as the day I had been born, a state in which I had never before appeared in front of any man. “Tie her arms behind the post and chain her other foot to the other post over there,” Tree ordered. His men rushed eagerly to comply, stretching my body out to accommodate the placement of the posts. When they were done, I was not only naked, but my most intimate parts, the seat of my great pleasures shared with beloved crewmates, were exposed to the leers of these vile men.
And leer these ill-begotten apes did, pointing and nudging each other. I could see the lust in Tree’s eyes. Would they have their disgusting way with me? I believe they would have, had Windar not been a man whose greed exceeded his lust. “Alright,” he cried, “Enough of your standing around. I need to know where this wench has buried her treasure. Tree, it’s time for the pokers.”
Not one to disobey his paymaster, Tree placed a thick leather glove on his right hand and grasped a poker from the coals. He brought the end near my face so I could feel the intense heat radiating from it. Then, he grasped my right breast in his left hand and lowered the poker so that the tip was just an inch or so from the nipple. “Make ready, Princess, for I think this shall smart a mite,” he said, before touching the iron to the exquisitely sensitive bud and holding it there.
The pain was indescribable. My entire body burned, gyrating wildly in a futile attempt to escape the searing agony. I screamed like a wild animal. Finally, the poker no longer white hot, Tree removed it, though that barely eased the ferocious agony. I looked down at my poor breast. The nipple was no longer apparent, just an area of seared flesh.
“Now, Princess, God in His wisdom, has given you two breasts for us to roast should you continue in your stubbornness,” Windar warned me. I looked away, determined to deny him satisfaction despite the agony I was feeling in my breast. “Tree, the wench is obstinate. We must continue on the other side.”
Tree grasped a fresh hot poker from the brazier and, without the warning he had delivered before searing the first nipple, he touched it immediately to the other one. I shall not trouble the reader with a repetitious description of the agony that ensued, which was every bit as bad as when my first breast had been cooked.
“Well, my dear,” Windar said, once my screams had died down to mere whimpers, “I think you know where the next poker goes.” He looked down between my legs, which were spread widely apart, displaying my feminine parts quite obscenely and allowing full access to such objects as hot pokers. I followed his eyes, disgusted at his vile prurience, yet also horrified at the pain that heated iron applied to that most sensitive flesh would bring me.
“Governor,” Tree interjected, “I don’t think it’s quite proper to abuse a lady there.”
“Well, Tree,” he responded, “If you are too genteel to do it, I will, for I must know where that treasure lies. Give me your glove.”
Tree removed the glove and handed it to Windar. “Princess, prepare to feel the worst agony that a woman can feel. Unless, that is, you prefer to tell me what I need to know,” the Governor said. As he spoke, he slowly and deliberately moved the red, glowing poker between my legs approaching my inner sanctum ever more closely. I could feel the heat burning the sensitive membranes, even when it was an inch or two away.
“Last chance,” Windar said. I shook my head. He touched the tip of the metal to my inner folds. I wish I could say that I was brave, but I screamed like a wild animal as he held it there. Finally, he took it away. “Next, it goes inside.”
This was too much. Even though I had long planned for this eventuality and the bulk of our booty was safely out of Windar’s reach, the idea of this evil man getting even a small fraction beyond what we agreed on was repugnant to me. But my poor abused body had reached the end of its resistance. I broke down sobbing, “There is some treasure buried on Ocracoke. I will show you where it is. Only, for the love of God, stop. I cannot bear any more. Please, Governor, you have defeated me. Now, please have mercy on a poor woman such as myself.”
Windar smiled down at me. “I knew, Princess, that even a brigand such as yourself would cede before my power. I will stop now. But, pray tell, what do you mean ‘some treasure’? Where is the rest?”
I saw no reason to be evasive now. “Governor, knowing the kind of person you are, I have never kept more than a small portion of our treasure, that needed for current expenses, in your domain. All of the rest has been placed for safekeeping with the one person in this world I trust completely, my brother, Matthew Lodge of Boston, Director of the Merchants Bank of Boston. You are welcome to try to pursue your quest in that fair city, where he and the rest of my family are leading citizens, known and respected by all. You may contact our solicitor, Mr. Hugh Lewis Dewey, Esq., of the firm of Dewey, Cheatham and Howe (authors note: This firm remains down to the present one of Boston’s leading law firms, with branches throughout the world, wherever attorneys practice their arts).
“Now that is a wonderful story, Princess. Perhaps we ought to discern whether you continue to espouse it when the poker is inserted inside you?” Windar retorted.
“Governor, I think she is telling the truth here,” Tree interjected. “Such a devious plan is exactly what a buccaneer as crafty as our Princess would do. I say, we have her show us whatever is on Ocracoke and then hang her. The longer she is alive, the greater the chance that either her crew will come and free her, for many of our brave militia men have dispersed to tend to their harvests, or that your rivals, the Governors of Virginia or South Carolina, will see opportunity and intervene.”
“I hate to admit it Tree, but in this instance you do speak sensibly. Let her dress and recover a bit and then tomorrow, Princess, you will take us to Ocracoke and show us what is buried there. And should you attempt to trick us, I shall have you back here in the same position and there shall be no mercy whatsoever. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Governor, and I assure you every word I have said is true.”
“It had better be,” Windar replied. “I shall send Mary in to dress your wounds. Then you may rest, for tomorrow we sail for Ocracoke.” He turned and walked out, followed by Tree and his men.
You were right, Windar! It's a rollicking good story!
And now it's on my watched threads!
That torture was exquisitely awful.
(It's almost astonishing how often a sentence like that gets written in this thread.) Were someone to aid them in rescuing their Princess and Captain, I daresay they might be most hospitably grateful.
Anyone got a ship?
. Maybe you should open a Maison d'Amour in your town. You could provide various "services" to both genders. You might be able to recruit both staff and customers from CF.
