A prologue of sorts.

Firstly it's an adult story written by and for adult types. Secondly believe it or not it's fiction and so is the cast of characters. Any similarities to real folk living or dead are just coincidental, honest. The only similarity betwixt Lien Venrihet and Lord Vetinari is due to the resemblance of various foreign phonetics. Mr. Pratchett's character obviously has too much character to appear in this story and is much cleverer than Lien in any event. Please be aware this story is both bloody and extreme, containing torture, snuff, and the occasional mundane murder with some mutilation thrown in at times. You've been warned so if you still want to, enjoy.

Mad Lews

Lien the Fifth

I

Ascension

Once upon a time, though not nearly as long ago as you might think, There was a kingdom on the island we now call Keltoi, which lies off the northern coast of Galatae. Back in those days the kingdom was briefly ruled by a young monarch named Lien Venrihet the fifth. No pictures survive of this audacious young monarch but by all historic evidence Lien Venrihet (V) had a stature as short as his temperament and his hair and eyes were as darkly colored as his very soul.

Lien like his father before him was a tyrant. More to the point he was the type of tyrant who gave despotism such a sour reputation. He had ascended to the throne when his beloved father Lien Venrihet the fourth (known for brevity's sake as "Lien the Butcher") fell victim to a cut throat band of mercenary assassins.

The coronation ceremony was tastefully elaborate, overseen by the Bishop and attended by all the nobility and as many common folk as would fit within the courtyard. A marvelous military parade followed which included each and every troop within the kingdoms' army. His first official act as King was to have the entire company of Royal Guards arrested.

Now it was no great mystery as to how his loving father had come to such an abrupt end. "Lien the Butcher" was truly feared and despised by all of the nobility. They knew him better and hated him more than most of his subjects, but they were to a man much too timid to actively conspire against him. The common folk simply lived their lives in constant terror. They were much too desperate to waste time or energy on the luxury of hatred. All those who were knowledgeable in the ways of the palace intrigues were quite sure that Lien (the fifth) and his dear mother had joined forces with one or more officers of the Royal Guard to do away with the man who stood between Lien (V) and the throne. It would of course have been very rude as well as impolitic to mention this on Lien's coronation day (or ever if you were inclined to enjoy some of life's simple pleasures such as breathing).

Before the assembled troops of his army Lien had all the officers of the Royal Guard beheaded. This was both reasonable and fair, for they had indeed failed to protect their Liege Lord and were therefore by definition untrustworthy. As it turned out they were also the lucky ones for rank truly is entitled to its privileges. Once the officers had been dealt with (and any co-conspirators silenced) Lien ordered the guard decimated. The proud company of two hundred men counted off and every tenth soldier bravely stepped forward. Each of these men was stripped to the waist and had their hands bound behind their back before they were disemboweled.

A professional executioner did the deed. He avoided severing major blood vessels so these twenty men died slowly squirming on the parade ground as their guts spilled out turning the dust to mud. This exhibition seemed to nauseate some of the nobility but the common folk found it highly entertaining. Even while these men were screaming and flopping about for the better part of half an hour they did not realize that they were luckier by far than the rest.

The remaining members of the Royal Guard first had their hands shackled behind their backs with stiff iron cuffs. They were then brought forward one by one and two assistants used sharpened blades to slit the leather straps that held their grieves, and breastplates in place. Once they had been divested of their armor they were stripped of their belt, kilt, and finally their loincloth. With the jeering crowd shouting out encouragement the naked soldiers trembled a bit as they were each escorted to the very chopping block where their officers had lost their heads.

These poor souls retained their heads but each paid a handsome price with a hairy sack containing two precious jewels. As the shadows grew longer the basket into which the executioner tossed these gruesome trophies grew full.

There is of course no truth to the rumor that the contents of these sacks were served at the coronation dinner. (I would almost be willing to swear to that, though I wasn't actually invited to dine.) After all we are talking of a civilized kingdom here and that sort of thing was definitely frowned upon.

If we were inclined to be fair, we would also note that the executioner worked quickly and efficiently. He used a very sharp blade to do the cutting and seared the wound with a red-hot iron so none of these soldiers suffered too great a blood loss. I leave it to you, gentle reader, to determine whether these small details were an act of mercy.

The naked and freshly gelded guards were forced into a proper a military formation. The crowds howled their derision as they were paraded through the streets of the capital before being marched off in chains to the dreaded mines of Edtilia. Of the 180 led away only 34 survived the seventy-mile trek to the mines and fortunately none of those survived more than a month in the dark tunnels below.

This was how Lien Venrihet the fifth introduced himself to the country he would rule. It wasn't long before the nobility was longing for the good old days when Lien's father "The Butcher" had ruled with a cruelly efficient but otherwise steady hand. His son seemed at first glance to be a bit unstable.

Lien was acutely aware of the ephemeral nature of loyalty and so it astonished no one when a slow but painful wasting disease overcame his beloved mother. Whilst she lingered in aching madness none paid much attention to the wild accusations her troubled mind spewed forth. Most were relieved when she finally found peace in death's cool grasp.

It came as a bit of a surprise that Lien (best known now as "Lien the Mad" for his reputation was only to be outstripped by his youthful enthusiasm) declared that there would be a year of mourning for his mother the former Queen and Grand Matron of the court. His father's death had been honored with the customary month of mourning consisting of black armbands, lowered heraldry, and the cancellation of several Royal balls and parties.

The duration of this period of mourning was unusual enough but the conditions of its tenure were by any measure draconian. All civil affairs were suspended, courts were cancelled, and all construction ceased including many desperately needed repair projects. Work was forbidden and amusement doubly so. Farmer's fields lay fallow and people began to starve. Though there was little enough cause for it, any sign of laughter, song, or dance became capital offences. Women found to be with child were executed on the spot and their spouses impaled beyond the city walls. A veritable forest of stakes sprang up around the city and executions upon the thinnest of pretexts became commonplace. The stench of decaying bodies lay heavy on the breeze. Those who could afford to fled the madness with nary a backward glance.

When the year of mourning ended life attempted to return to normal but it was an uphill struggle. During that interminably long year of bereavement Lien had discovered something very important about himself.

While he had always had a flare for inflicting pain and misery on others he had now come to realize that he found inflicting excruciating pain upon comely young ladies terribly exciting. Nothing whetted the good king's appetites like the wails and whimpers of a winsome wench as she wiggled and writhed whilst a single tailed whip welted her youthful flesh. It was the most exciting sight Lien had ever experienced.

Unless of course one was to consider the sodden thwack of a leather encased cane as it beat out a rhythm upon sweaty bare breasts or buttocks of some luckless lass. This was always accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and that exquisite expression the young ladies made as their salty sweat mingled with the oozing blood seeping from those newly raised welts. That certainly stirred the royal scepter.

Then again one couldn't help but admire the crisp crackle of soft feminine flesh as a glowing iron sank slowly deeper. The heartening howls of anguish that accompanied such an occasion always filled his dark soul with glee.

It was all much more than any young King could resist; and why should he? He was after all, the King. Was not the kingdom placed at his disposal for his education and amusement? Yes when you're the King life is constantly presenting a plethora of provocative sights and sounds all seemingly designed just to entice and distract you from your life's other important tasks.

Lien began to collect peasant girls to play with. They were for the most part very compliant, certainly none dared complain, and a fair number of them survived his interest. Those lucky lasses were allowed to return home after entertaining him. He tended to keep them for a day or two. Rarely one would keep him amused for a week. If a daughter hadn't returned from the castle within a fortnight her parents knew there was no longer any reason to save her dowry.

Lien was a conscientious king. He knew that while he might be producing a fine crop of young bastards it was important that none of these wenches take it into her head that she or her whelp had earned some special favor with the King. This wasn't a problem in reality for he barely could tell one from the next, but he needed to maintain appearances so he tried to spread his attention as widely as possible. To insure there were no mistakes Lien always gave his departing playmates one final gift. All bore a royal crest seared into her right buttock, thigh, or breast. That way Lien could always be sure he never used the same wench twice. He was fussy that way.

II

Annabel's Wedding

There were two people who could speak honestly and openly to Lien without (much) fear. One was his jester, who helped to maintain Lien's healthy disposition and emotional stability (such as it was). He was always free to speak his mind in jest or rhyme. The only other soul with such freedom was the Chancellor Lord Chambly who oversaw the welfare and wealth of the Kingdom. Lien (The Mad) was the third King Venrihet Lord Chambly had served under and he did so with grudging admiration. He had sworn over forty years ago that he had seen the worst humanity had to offer (after all he dealt with diplomats almost daily) yet this particular family continuously present him with new and inventive surprises.

With a delicate shudder for any hopes and plans the future might have harbored, Lord Chambly informed Lien that the time had arrived for him to produce a legitimate male heir. Unfortunately for the young Noblewomen of his kingdom this was not something Lien could do by himself.

When it came to royal heredity only a proper lady of Nobel birth would do. Other than that there were really very few requirements. She need only be a virgin, comely enough to hold Lien's interest, and she must be willing or at least able to endure Lien's particular proclivities, which were by now as varied as they were legendary but they inescapably involved dispensing pain upon the object of his affection.

Oh yes there was one other small detail, the lady must bear Lien a son within a year and a day of the wedding.

Inevitably there were some young ladies of the Nobility whose ambition exceeded their good sense. Annabel was the first of these youthful Noblewomen to win favor with Lien. She was of slight stature, well matched to the king. Her hair was a mass of golden curls, her bottom was ample but not excessive, and her breasts were quite breathtaking. In short she was a perfect matched for all of Lien's needs.

The wedding was tastefully excessive. Hundreds of flower girls carpeted the streets of the Capital with hand crushed gardenia blossoms. The scent became quite overpowering. The Bishop officiated and blessed the joining. Her parents sobbed through the entire ceremony. At the lavish reception Lien, in a pique of generosity, issued a general amnesty for all those Nobles who had fled the country during that dark year of mourning, since none of them were present to hear this generous offer none took him up on the deal. Surely it was the thought that counted.

Lien and Annabel entered into their state of wedded bliss. She learned to endure numerous hours of suspension whilst he played his leather crop or cane or flogger across her lithe young body. He was delighted to learn that she could squeal as loudly and squirm as enthusiastically as any peasant wench. For her part Annabel endured his peculiar foreplay for it inevitably lead to a deposit of the Royal seed placed somewhere upon or within her now royal personage and often enough she was able to coax the Royal scepter into it's proper sheath.

She seemed almost relieved when after just nine weeks of marriage she was able to proudly announce that she was now bearing Lien's child. The Royal physician was summoned. He examined the queen and could not help but notice the ligature marks upon her wrists and ankles as well as those about her neck and the purple rings around the base of each of her breasts. The fifty or so fresh welts and bruises that covered most of her body were also hard to miss. He mentioned to the good King that as a precaution it might be wise to refrain from being " Quite so enthusiastic" with the Queen for the duration of the pregnancy.

Lien had the man eviscerated and a second physician was summoned. When the third doctor in as many days repeated the same advice in terms that were a bit more delicate to Lien's ears the King realized he might need to pay attention to these men of science. Annabel for her part tried to feign disappointment at this turn of events but in truth she was too excited with the prospects of motherhood to really pull that off.

The Queen retired to her bedchamber to await the blessed event. Lien sulked about for a few days genuinely missing his playful exchanges with the lovely Annabel. Eventually he sought solace with the Inquisitors who resided in the depths of the castle dungeon. These three men were highly skilled professionals, the best that money could buy, and they shared a number of professional interests with the young King.

Edward was a true artist with the whip whose work was known and admired throughout the civilized world. Clive worked wonders with the blade, it was said he could completely remove the skin of a living person by simply peeling away from a single incision across the abdomen. His utterly stripped victims would live for days howling and screaming until they eventually died from dehydration. William specialized in all manner of asphyxiation, drowning, hanging, garroting and interestingly burning at the stake. This latter form of asphyxiation lead to a sideline interest in heated irons, boiling oil, and painful burns in general.

They were all willing to offer advice to the King on the newest techniques for intensifying and prolonging painful stimulus. They had each been trained on the continent and were justly proud of their extraordinary ability to obtain voluminous and detailed confessions from the sundry prisoners they entertained within the confines of these dungeon walls.

Lien in exchange for these educational opportunities brought his newfound friends some of his freshly fetched peasant wenches and together the four men explored the limits of stimulation a healthy young female might endure.

While the Queen in her bedchamber never actually heard the screaming she was of course aware that Lien had returned to his former pursuits. She simply counted it among her blessings that he was working through these issues elsewhere and not saving his pent up lusts for her.

And so life in the castle settled into a normal routine. The queen remained behind locked doors, occasionally (two or three times a week) a young woman from the working class was hustled down into the dungeon in the dark of night. Some of them emerged within a few days only a bit the worse for wear but grateful to be alive. These fortunate ones were all marked with the Royal brand and therefore free from fear that they might ever again return to that dark pit. This routine allowed Lien to maintain his composure as he awaited the arrival of his son and heir.

At last the blessed day arrived. But as we all know even the best-laid plans of Kings and Queens may sometimes go awry.

Annabel gave birth to a fine young baby. The newborn was by all accounts a healthy energetic child with a marvelous sense of adventure. It was terribly tragic when at the tender age of but a few moments she slipped away from her loving father's grasp and fell or leapt from the battlement. Details remained a bit sketchy.

She plunged headfirst into the moat. It seems likely that the fall would have killed her and she never had to suffer through the slow and distasteful drowning in the noxious sludge that filled the moat. This cannot be said with complete certainty however for her body was never actually recovered. Annabel was inconsolable for she had never had a chance to name her newborn baby girl.

The Queen sank into what may well be the first recorded case of postpartum depression. Not only had she lost her child but also she now had barely four weeks left to produce a man-child to inherit the throne. The task was of course impossible and the King feared that in her present state the good Queen might do harm to herself before the appointed time.

Fortunately Lien had three good friends who were only too happy to watch over the Queen and keep her healthy and alive until her fateful anniversary. A special rack was constructed in the dungeon. It was rectangular in shape and rotated upon a horizontal pole some three inches in diameter and made of ironwood. The Queen was stripped of any clothing that she might be inclined to use in a suicide attempt and then she was mounted upon the rack. The unique construction of the rack held the now naked Annabel in place transforming her into lovely feminine X once her wrists and ankles were attached to the corners of the frame. Her hips rested uncomfortably against the horizontal axis. The rack was capable of rotating so the good queen could literally be turned head over heels. The outer ends of the wooden axial had two circular wooden templates between the outer frame of the rack and the sturdy beams that anchored the axis. A total of 24 holes were drilled along the circumference of these circles which allowed the rack and its human cargo to be halted at various positions throughout its rotation and secured in place by two simple pegs.

The King became quite giddy when he saw the arrangements prepared for his wife.

Lien decided this was an excellent time to reacquaint the queen with her matrimonial duties. After spinning the rack through a few revolutions her body was turned to a single notch beyond horizontal (hips a little higher and head a fraction lower)and the rack was pegged in place. Edward unlimbered a nine tailed flogger and warmed the Queens Royal buttocks before Lien forced his way into her narrow rear passage. The sobbing Queen received her husbands eager and energetic adore which quickly ended with a grunt and a sigh from Lien.

He ordered his three Inquisitors to come up with some unique way to celebrate the Queen's matrimonial failure and then he left to attend too the affairs of state. He promised Annabel he'd drop in on her in four weeks time and asked with a chuckle if she might be available on that date.

For the next few weeks the queen never left the accommodations of her rack. The three masters of the dungeon feed and watered her as needed at least for the first few weeks. Bodily functions occurred as they will and lackeys cleaned up after her for after all she was still the Queen. Her complaints grew fewer as she glumly concluded they were falling upon deaf ears. When there was but ten days before her appointment with Lien her feeding regime changed drastically.

She was now given only water, clear broth, or clarified wine. When Annabel refused to endure this diet a funnel was forced into her mouth and the nourishment poured directly into her gullet until she needed to either swallow or drown. Twice a day she was upended, with her head dangling near the floor and her bottom pointing straight up. The very same funnel was force past her ass cheeks and into her greased rectum until her clenching muscles made a firm seal.

Slowly buckets of water were poured through the upturned funnel and her belly swelled. She hung there for a time her disheveled and now filthy blond curls brushing along the grimy floor until one of the three (usually Clive for he had a soft spot for Royalty) turned her right side up again and yanked the funnel out of her. Her distended abdomen would spew out the liquid and her emptied belly would eventually regain its proper shape. Then some hapless lackey would have to clean up the mess.

Sometimes out of sheer boredom the three would play spin the Queen giving Annabel's Royal buttocks and thighs a stern paddling that would start her spinning at a good clip. Then they would wager as to which position she would finally stop in, calling out heads or tails up. They also enjoyed discussing various plans for her upcoming tortures and eventual execution, sometimes they solicited ideas from the sulking servants who were forced to clean up after the Queens twice-daily effluence. It was truly amazing to discover how inventive servants could be when fear and disgust motivated them.

The Queen was far past the stage of begging, long ago Annabel had offered them the use of her exposed charms, first in exchange for a quick and painless death, then pleading for just a quick one. Of course that was not an option. Lien would be terribly disappointed if she failed to provide an entertaining show.

In the end the three comrades developed a plan that would allow each of them to showcase his own area of expertise. Edward grumbled a bit because all he was ever allowed was a chance to prepare the victim for the others. While he could easily use his chosen implement as a method of execution the idea of whipping the Queen to death was considered far too mundane for a Royal execution. Besides Clive and William would feel left out.

Lien arrived the day before his wife's appointment to hear what plans his friends had come up with. As they described the details of their plans for the Queen Lien became so excited he needed to make a brief visit to Annabel's rack and relieve himself within her openly displayed charms. He stood between her widespread legs debating which opening to pursue but in the end plunged between her pouting nether lips just for old time's sake.

He was disgusted with the condition into which his beloved Annabel had sunk. As soon as he was finished Lien insisted that she would have to be bathed and properly groomed before he would allow her to be executed. She was a Queen after all and she should try to look like one.

The following morning, after Annabel's bowels had been flushed one final time, she was released from the rack for the first time in four weeks. She was too weak to walk and had to be carried to her bedchamber. While she might have craved some solid form of sustenance her maids had been threatened and sternly warned. She was allowed nothing, not even a drop of water. Her handmaidens bathed and perfumed her body and her hair was scrubbed dried and brushed.

While the Queen was being transformed into some semblance of her former glory her rack and the dungeon cell were undergoing a thorough cleansing as well. Seats and benches were set up for invited guests. She was allowed to make the return to her cell wearing a rich silk dressing gown of royal purple.

She entered the cell with the dignified air of a returning luminary as she paraded past the small assembly of men and took her place before the waiting frame. She shrugged the gown off her shoulders then allowed it to flutter to the floor. Lien inhaled sharply as he watched his lovely Annabel surrender herself to the fate he had ordained. She stepped up onto the frame moving her hands and feet to form a human X waiting to be bound in that now familiar position. Clive gently but firmly attached her ankles to opposite corners at the base of the frame. She shuddered delicately when he pressed her forward bending her at the waist. Her hands were forced lower and she was instructed to grasp the bottom crosspiece of her rack. She was now positioned with her body forming a delectable U sharply bent over the ironwood pole her head looking back from between her wide spread legs at those that had come to watch. Her golden locks dangled lower still nearly sweeping across the floor. Her hands were secured with coarse hemp and the men debated the wisdom of gagging her. In the end Lien decided he wanted to hear her screams.

Edward began the proceedings using a simple quirt. He started on the backs of her knees, which by happy coincidence were exactly parallel with her magnificent breast which peaked out from between her wide spread legs. Her teats were still tender and enlarged from her recent pregnancy. Annabel might have been courageous but Edward was most efficient and had her screaming and pleading long before he finished with her knees and nipples He worked his way methodically upward along her thighs and across the curve of her rump. He needed to move to the other side of the frame in order to continue down her back. In the end Edward probably applied a hundred strokes give or take. He never broke her skin and barely bruised it but her flesh was glowing bright red and her voice was becoming hoarse as he finished up.

Clive stepped forward and rechecked her bonds. Once satisfied he pulled up a stool and sat down before the Queen. With a small but very sharp knife he made a shallow incision midway between the lady's navel and sternum. It wasn't a large incision not even half a finger length nor was it very deep. He used the Queens fallen gown to stanch the flow of blood then brought forth new implements. Two blunt silver probes entered the fresh cut. Annabel began to screech and squirm as he teased apart the muscle tissue that lay beneath the oozing wound. He worked with a delicate but firm touch separating the strands of muscle. Annabel's screams became truly hysterical as his probes dug deeper until at last her voice broke. Long before he had worked his way through the abdominal muscle wall it became necessary to tighten the bounds on her wrist and ankles. Her Golden locks were tied to the base of the rack to keep her from squirming excessively for this was indeed delicate work and Clive needed to be extremely careful.

Once Clive had opened a sufficient tear in the layer of muscle he carefully pierced the inner membrane and clear fluid dripped from the opening. He used a wooden hook a little larger but otherwise not unlike those that the women of the castle might use for tatting. He fished about slowly and gently within her belly with this improvised instrument.

For her part Annabel was doing her best to bellow out her pain but something had snapped inside her throat and her voice truly was broken. All that came out was the sound of a rustling scrape as she panted desperately. If the gods favored her it is quite likely she was mercifully insane by this point.

Slowly Clive drew forth his prize. First a small loop no more than a hands breadth. Still he pulled with steady strength. Annabel looked on without comprehension as a slimy loop of oozing rope dangled before her face. Clive rose from his stool and handed off his victim to the care of William.

William continued to elongate the strand of intestine Clive had liberated. When the loop was long enough to reach the ground he doubled it over twisting it into a single strand, then he pulled out a bit more. When he had a goodly length of a triple thick twisted strand he circled it around the Queens neck and motioned to Lien that all was in readiness.

Lien strode forward to inspect the preparations. Annabel was bent over the axis of the frame, her neck encircled by a looped strand of her own intestines, ready to be strangle at his leisure. He griped the slimy coils in his left hand then ran his right along the exposed loops to gather some of viscose fluid they were coated in. He used this to prepare his love's rectum for the coming invasion.

It was apparent that the angle of approach was all wrong so Clive and William loosened her hair from base of the rack and rotated her feet forward almost a quarter of a turn. Edward quickly pegged the rack in place so the Queen would remain stable in that position.

Lien plunged into her backside while at the same time twisting on the intestinal garrote that closed about her neck. The feeling was truly exquisite. Every time he tightened his grip on the intestines that were strangling her it sent spasms of pain rippling down her bowels and Annabel's stretched rectum contracted around the invading rod of flesh. Within moments Lien was spewing inside her and by rights Annabel should have slipped away at that point or very soon thereafter.

Lien was just too enthralled with these new sensations to let that happen.

He loosened the grip on her entrails and she drew in great gasps of fresh air. He allowed her (and himself) a few minutes to recover and then repeated the performance. A half hour later on the third repetition it had become necessary to truly jerk upon her now bleeding bowels to get a reasonable reaction so Lien finally allow his wife to pass away but the incredible experience had infatuated him.

Annabel was buried with some modicum of dignity in her family's burial plot. No one was sure how she would be officially mourned and there was some understandable anxiety about that. It turned out to be unfounded for Lien simply ignored the fact that his first wife was gone. Certainly no one planed to mention the immense pleasure he had derived from killing her.

The search for a new Queen began the next day.

                                 III

                         Delectable Delia

Lien immediately set about the task of finding a suitable replacement for Annabel. The lovely Lady Delia was the next most foolish Noblewoman to be found in the Kingdom. Like Annabel, she was short; some might even say she was a bit plump, but in a very pleasing way. Her hair was of a reddish hue that might be call a light burgundy and she had a smattering of freckles that contrasted very well with her uniquely pale flesh. She was sweetly curved and had a generous bottom offset by her even more abundant breasts but her most startling feature was her deep emerald eyes. Lien was infatuated.

It did seem she had not a dram of selfish ambition and truly wished only to please Lien. It might be possible she was exceptionally clever and thought if she could make him totally euphoric with her presence, he would come to believe he couldn't live without her. I, for one, felt her actions were without guile and were honestly inspired.

This wedding was unlike Annabel's in every particular save one. The wedding was small and private. A simple monk presided. No formal feast followed. Lady Delia's parents did, however, sob through the entire service.

Lady Delia meekly followed every whim of her husband. She seemed to revel in any and all torments he devised for her. She was exceptionally proud of herself when she managed to endure his various tortures without so much as a peep, let alone an objection. For his part, Lien was a man obsessed. Annabel's final performance was indelibly engraved in his memory and he desperately yearned for a way to reproduce the sensations generated by her terminal spasms. His new wife bore this quest without complaint.

He only made use of her bottom of course. He tried a number of methods to achieve those clutching contractions including partial asphyxiation and searing her flesh with hot irons whilst they coupled. That caused more screaming than clutching. He had Clive slash at her belly during their congress, which caused tremors of fear, but it just wasn't the same. The new Queen’s nipples were pierced and fitted with silver rings and when these were savagely twisted in the throes of passion, it certainly caused spasms of pain. Those spasms nearly duplicated Annabel's final grasping but still the sensation fell short.  When four months had passed and Lien had yet to make use of the entrance to her womb, Delia's fate was already sealed. In truth, Annabel had slain her as much as Lien would some eight month hence, but she really didn't seem to care. Her one goal was to please her Lord and she continued in that struggle without pause.

Eventually she convinced him to allow her to use what oral skills that she possessed. Whilst she had been a technical virgin when they met, (certainly no male flesh had passed betwixt her nether lips or the narrower adjacent passage) she was truthfully virginal only in the most Clintonian sense of the word. She did possess some skill and experience with her eager mouth as her parents’ gardener and the stable boy could attest to.

Lien was indeed amused when she shamelessly begged to kiss and lick him in that manner and for a brief while, allowed her to suckle upon his manhood. They were both content but for very different reasons. Eventually Lien returned to his anal obsession. Still, Delia had reintroduced Lien to the possibility of some variety in their passion and as the months passed, he became more and more likely to vary his assaults upon her most willing body. When there was but a month left before their fateful anniversary, Lien was at last coaxed into using her in a manner more befitting the relationship of a husband and wife. Delia was pleased and very proud, not because this was some form of moral victory, Lord knows it was far too late to save her from her fate. No, she was pleased because Lien had found her worthy to give him pleasure in this most common of manners.

In fact the two of them had carefully avoided talk of the coming anniversary.  Early on in their marriage, she had offered to undergo a duplication of Annabel's demise so Lien could once more experience that particular form of ecstasy he sought so diligently. Lien was overjoyed at the sentiment but wouldn't hear of it. He was only allowed to execute one Queen a year and he wanted each occasion to be uniquely memorable. He asked his beloved not to speak of it and to try to enjoy what time they had.

It should be noted at this point that Delia had a positive influence upon his governance as well. Lien was observed smiling upon occasion. Random and arbitrary executions dropped to a mere handful on any given week. Court judgements seemed to follow some logical progression from the written laws for the most part. Her most important contribution, however, was the fact that Lien was spending the bulk of his time with her, allowing other cooler heads to do the work of Governance. Alas, it could not last.

Lien seemed to be truly saddened when the fateful day arrived. He had brought Delia to the heart of the dungeon where his three friends awaited the loving couple. Lien paced the room, hands clasped behind his back as he tried to explain what must happen to his Delia.

"The rules are the rules, love, and since you've proven yourself to be barren, my dear, you need to make way for a woman that can bring forth a Royal heir for the sake of the Kingdom. I hope you understand."  He looked over at her lovingly; tears had begun to well up in her eyes.

"The truth of the matter is that since I can't have you for myself any more, I've decided to share you with all my friends."

Delia looked perplexed at first and then enlightenment seemed to dawn across her face. She tugged and tussled her way out of her gown tossing it to the side and once naked sank down onto her hands and knees on the cold dungeon floor.

"Who will be first M'lord?" she inquired.

Edward, Clive and William all looked upon the luscious nude in horror. Lien stared in disbelief for a few moments then burst into peals of laughter. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched his sides and tried to regain his composure. Delia became confused once more.

At last he regained his breath.

" Yes, yes she's right my good fellows. She deserves this and I insist. Clive, you get under her and fill her sweet cunt; Edward, her ass is yours and William, don't strangle her when you stuff her gullet."

Now it takes a special type of courage to cuckold a King even if he is directing the affair. The saddest aspect of this entire "Menage-a-Quatre is that it probably encompassed every true friend Lien possessed. It speaks volumes of the trust these three men placed in Lien's friendship that none suffered any performance anxiety as Lien directed the foursome, choreographing their actions down to the minutest detail. Edward came first followed rapidly by William and sweet Delia gagged and retched a bit as she tried to swallow it all down. Clive continued to pump away holding onto those Royal hips that straddled him until he climaxed with a groan.

The three men rose and sheepishly dressed while the nude queen lay collapsed in a puddle of sweat and semen. Lien was humming to himself, as an enormous grin spread across his face. 

When the men were ready, Lien extended his hand helping Delia to her feet. She was a bit sore and the men's ejaculate was seeping out of her various openings as she was led, still naked, up the stairway into the forecourt outside the castle kitchen.

The Head-chef and his Sous-chef were waiting by a long wooden table. Delia followed behind Lien and hopped up onto the table lying back when he directed her, his hand patting the tabletop. Lien stroked her between her parted thighs and it was such a marvelous feeling that Delia allowed herself to lay back and drift off. Only when her head lolled to the right did she noticed the trench filled with glowing coals. Slowly but with mounting dread their words began to penetrate her consciousness.

The Head-chef wanted her bled out, gutted, washed, spitted, stuffed and then basted up, before he'd even consider putting her on to roast. Lien wanted her alive when she went over the coals and hoped she could be kept alive long enough to feel herself begin to cook. Clive was trying to mediate between them, but the chef was very stubborn.

When the horror of her situation began to permeate her senses, Delia tried to bolt upright. Lien was still stroking her and he used his other hand to press her back down onto the table. He leaned forward kissed her fully on the lips and asked what was wrong.

Like any woman who was about to be gutted skewered and slowly roasted to death Delia had a few concerns but the one she choose to address first was…

"My hair! Lien, please don't let them burn my hair. I beg you darling, if you ever had feelings for me, save my hair please!"  

Lien was a man in love so he promised her that he would have Clive shave her head before she was put on to cook and that he would treasure her burgundy locks for as long as he lived. This seemed to calm her.

In the meantime Clive's discussion with the Head-chef was going nowhere. Finally the fat fellow threw up his hands and stomped back into the kitchen. The man was insufferable. Lien would have terminated the fat little bastard ages ago but good chefs are hard to find and worth their weight in caviar. 

Fortunately the Sous-chef was a much more reasonable chap. Clive explained the options to Lien. Delia could be bound to a grill and roasted whole. She'd live the longest this way, but would be inedible if (well, actually when) her intestines burst. She could be partially gutted bound to a grill and roasted. This would make for a better meal but she would only live for an hour over the coals, two hours tops if her mouth and nose were kept covered with a wet towel and she was roasted slowly over a low heat. That was the option Clive suspected would best serve Lien's purpose.

There was a third option, one that severely challenged Clive's skills but it was the very one he truly hoped he would be allowed to attempt. The kingdom had considerable experience with impaling and a number of victims had lived for hours after being completely run through. Certainly with his knowledge, skill, and some special equipment he happened to have lying about in the dungeon, the Queen could be spit roasted and live long enough to savor the burn.

Lien was intrigued.

A servant was sent to fetch Clive's medical bag and a specially constructed impaling stake. The upper quarter of this stake was a hollow tube and a number of small air holes perforated the stake along the hollow end. This, in theory, allowed the victim to continue breathing even though the stake protruded from her throat.

      

Clive's Mum had always hoped he'd become a doctor. From the earliest days of his childhood he was encouraged to explore how insects, birds and other small animals were put together. This of course involved taking them apart slowly and carefully. He would no doubt have made an excellent physician but for the small mindedness of the locals in his hometown. When a spat of disappearances involving young women began, suspicion was directed toward poor Clive. Just because the first three females to disappear were his bratty younger sister, her annoying best friend and then his own inattentive girlfriend was no reason to cast their suspicious eyes on him.

Really, a bit more sympathy might have been in order. Then he wouldn't have been compelled to kidnap the Mayor’s daughter and remove her plump belly, spleen, and half her liver before sewing her up and sending her home. In retrospect he probably should have killed her and disposed of the body like all the others, but as it turned out, he needed to flee into the night.

The medical schools would have nothing to do with him after that stunt, even though the Mayor's daughter lived (and was a good deal slimmer for the remainder of her life.) Clive found other uses for his skills, but he truly wished he could have made his Mum proud.

Lien had Delia stretch out face down on the table. Her hands and feet were bound to the table legs and Edward began to tenderize her flesh with a bamboo cane.  After twenty minutes, she was untied, rolled onto her back, and rebound so Edward could work over her breasts and belly. By the time he was finished, Clive's equipment had arrived.

Delia was unshackled and turned sideways across the tabletop. Her head hung off one edge of the table. Her view of the bed of coals was upside down and not ten feet away and she started to sweat from the heat. Edward held her shoulders steady while Clive shaved her head, gathering her long lustrous red hair into one of Delia's own silk purses. Once he had rendered her head clean and smooth he moved down to her other end to deal with the furry little patch between her legs.

Because she was lying across the width of the table now her bottom barely rested on the surface. Lien stood between her legs holding her steady while Clive scraped away the little patch of hair. When her mound was as smooth as a baby’s Lien actually bent to kiss his wife there, something she had never expected as long as she lived. She shivered as his tongue probed her depths and was panting with desire in no time. Naturally, Lien decided a bit too quickly that it was time for his pleasure. She groaned in frustration as she felt the first stirrings of her own orgasm beginning to slip away.  

Edward held her under the shoulders pulling her forward. Lien pushed himself into her well-lubricated opening. He grabbed hold of her thighs and leaned back. Delia was being stretched taut between the two men with Lien buried deep within her. Clive placed a leather strap in her mouth and told her to bite down hard. She blinked looking up and Clive was standing over her a razor sharp knife in his right hand.

"This is going to hurt like hell and she's going to want to jerk about so keep her stretched real tight."

She was aware of William now clutching her ankles and adding his weight to the strength of Lien’s grasp. Her eyes never left the knife as it descended toward her belly. The tip touched her rigid abdomen. She closed her eyes and bit down hard.

Clive slid the blade into her just below the sternum and tilted the blade upward as it slid down to her belly button. Clive was quick and he pulled the knife away before she could react. Delia desperately tried to sit up but the three men held her flat, stretching her across the table.  Clive had set the knife down and was also pressing her down onto the table. She'd bitten through the leather strap and now she screamed out to announce her agony to the world. Her body shook from side to side. Lien smirked and began thump out a steady rhythm, gliding in and out of her.

It wasn't that large a cut, but it was as much of an opening as Clive needed. He reached inside and began to sort through the contents of her abdominal cavity.  Her entire belly rippled with pain-filled contractions and Lien came like a bull. He discharged into her with a contented sigh and then withdrew.

Clive knew time was his enemy so he worked with quick efficiency. He pulled out the intestines letting them flop into a bucket below the table. Delia's stomach and gallbladder followed. Delia was still alive, a fact that she continued to demonstrate with her unending scream. Her kidneys, liver, uterus and bladder were all left in place so none of the major blood vessels were disturbed. The procedure was by no means bloodless, however, and Clive used clean cotton rags to mop away the excess blood.

Lien insisted that he be the one who pushed the impaling stake in.  Her bottom hadn't been prepared but in a rare pique of gentleness, he smeared some of his dribbling seminal fluid over the tip of the stake before forcing it into her dry, narrow opening. She screeched in pain and wailed even louder as the stake was forced past her sphincter muscles. Clive reached within her belly and guided the stake up toward her chest. Delia's struggles were lessening as she slipped into shock and Clive was able to introduce the tip of the stake into her esophagus and ease it upward toward her throat. Delia was gagging and turning purple while Edward tilted her head back, allowing the stake to slip forward out of her mouth and into the open air.   

A raspy whistling replaced Delia's gurgling sobs. The purple faded and a somewhat paler tone returned to her flushed face. Her chest was moving once more. Clive was justly proud, he had done it! She was still alive. If only his Mum could see him now.

The Sous-chef set a bucket of stuffing on the table. It was a chestnut and current concoction with breadcrumbs, freshly chopped celery and green onions. Clive helped pack her belly before stitching up her wound. The Sous-chef amused himself by packing her vagina. Delia seemed to respond to his manipulation even as her body shuddered on the skewering shaft. It seemed that she was trying to rock her hips for him as she pressed her mons upward.

   Tears were falling from her open eyes as she was rolled over onto her belly and her knees were bent forward, splayed wide against her breasts. Her ankles were crossed above the stake and bound in place.  Her wrists were pulled down past her spread knees and bound to her crossed ankles. Thus, her body weight was evenly distributed around the spit. Once more, she was rolled onto her back.

Lien ran his fingernails down her taut inner thighs and then across her firm rump. She responded well, shivering in place, The tempo of the whistling noise coming from the hollow end of the spit increased. The chef started to baste her body with a blend of drawn butter infused with thyme and lemon grass and mixed with balsamic vinager. The brush seemed to linger lovingly over her now erect nipples. Even secured as she was now, her body started to shake and her chest rapidly expanded and contracted as the basting brush glided between her legs. The chef reluctantly stepped back from the delectable Queen. Four servants lifted the pole and Delia was carried to the roasting pit.

   She was unquestionably alive when they began to slowly turn the spit. The chef continued to baste her skin as it turned from pale white to bright red. A half-hour later, her breathing had slowed but still, her chest was visibly moving as the spit slowly rotated over the coals. When the chef needed to puncture her breasts almost an hour into the roasting, her hands and feet twitched a bit, but that was the extent of Delia's reaction. Grease flowed through the holes the fork tines made and the fluid hissed and flared as it hit the glowing coals. Clive swore he could still see her eyelashes fluttering as her body slowly rotated round. By the time another half-hour passed, there was no question that Delia had passed beyond all pain. 

Some onlookers claim they saw a tear in Liens eye, but it was probably just from the onions that had been put on to roast along with his sweetheart. Delia continued to cook through the afternoon and a memorial banquet was held that evening.

Naturally Clive did the carving. She was served with carrots, onions, stuffing, potatoes (both jacketed and mashed), and a superb brown gravy with bits of ground heart, liver and kidney in a burgundy reduction.

Fresh fruit and a chocolate torte (the former Queen's favorite) were served for dessert

A number of the nobility raised some ethical concerns about the rather cannibalistic aspects of the feast, but the Bishop assured them that the meal was indeed a ceremonial ritual and not to be confused with the devouring of human flesh for nutritional sustenance. Wine flowed liberally, which helped steady the nerves of many. In any event, Lien was insistent upon the Nobility's universal participation and as usual, he got his way. When the meal was over and the roast picked clean, the King's dogs managed to scurry off with most of the bones and so, poor Delia was never properly interred.

Lien did allow a month of mourning for the passing of his sweet, young Queen Delia before he set about the quest to find yet another.

    

  

                               Rachel's Revenge

                               

       Delia had been truly loved and admired throughout the Kingdom; one and all mourned her passing. However it didn't take a great deal of intellect for those Nobles of the fairer gender to notice a fatalistic pattern emerging. When the memorial month had passed (remarkably without more than the usual amount of senseless violence on the part of Good King Venrihet (V)), word was sent forth that the king would entertain those young ladies who had hopes of becoming his newest prospective spouse. Lord Chambly was somewhat taken aback when the invitation failed to garner a single response.

       Lien was perplexed and more than a little perturbed that his magnanimous offer should be ignored. He and Lord Chambly joined together to create a list of the ten most appetizing young ladies who by virtue of rank and birth would make a proper Queen. These luckless lasses were summoned to the Royal Court and suffered a thorough and most degrading examination by both Lien and the Royal Physician. You might imagine Lien's surprise to find that not a one of these fine young ladies had maintained her maidenly virtue. The process was repeated with another ten Ladies of the court but with identical results.

       The Royal Physician was then sent forth, cold speculum in hand, to search the Kingdom for a virtuous and maidenly Noble Lady. The initial results were anything but encouraging. It seemed at first glance that during the previous fortnight every young Noblewoman of a marriageable age had offered herself to just about any willing male, the exact reasons for this extraordinary coincidence remained unclear. The Royal Physician was near despair as the investigation continued.

       Now Lord Chambly was a widower who doted upon his only child, a daughter named Rachel. She was a winsome lass of some 20 years, a bit tall, a touch thin. Some of her more snippety rivals went so far as to call her gaunt, though never to her face. She had lustrous raven hair that fell past her shoulders in soft full curls. She had wide-set eyes that were sharp, quick, and bottomless. More than one hapless suitor had become lost staring into their depths. She was taller than most of the woman-folk of the Kingdom, and as tall or taller than a fair number of the men (Lien among them). Her father had educated her far beyond what was temperate for one of the fair sex, her quick wit and sharp tongue kept most men and boys at bay. She was however betrothed to a lad named Jacob Renswurt the son of a wealthy merchant and destined to become the Lord of some minor Barony in the eastern regions of the Kingdom.

       When a large portion of the landed gentry had fled the Kingdom, Lord Chambly had come up with a rather clever plan to repopulate the ranks of the Nobility and fatten the treasury all in one brilliant stroke. The plan allowed some of those with sufficient wealth to purchase a Noble title and the associated estates. Those gentlemen who benefited from such a transaction were given a quick course in chivalrous behavior, and thus properly equipped were sent out to earn their Noble reputation. The object of such quests was to vanquish a few scalawags and ruffians, rescue a maiden in distress if possible, and slay any spare dragons you might come across. If you hired a bard to accompany you the tales of your heroic deeds would circulate and your reputation could be fixed in myth in a year or two. Then the brand new Noble could retire to his estate, oversee his peasant's labor, send in his royal tithe, and get down to the serious business of begetting an heir or two.

It was an enlightened and progressive plan to be sure, though, of course, those more established in their Nobility vehemently opposed it.

       Lord Chambly was the most important Noble in the Kingdom, second only to the King himself. A marriage to his most eligible daughter would be a boon to any family that managed to arrange such a coup. Naturally Lord Chambly dreamed of a union with any of a half dozen lads from the more powerful families of the Kingdom. Such a bonding would help tighten his control over the Kingdom, and it's impetuous ruler.

       Children always seem to have a way of taking ones nobler impulses and throwing them back in your face at the most inopportune times. Thus it was with Lord Chambly, while he championed the cause of the Nouveau Nobility he had created, he had not in his wildest nightmares imagined his own daughter would sink to the depths of marrying one of those ingrates.

       She was unshakable in her desire. He begged, pleaded, reasoned, and threatened all to no avail. The worst part of it was the lad she had set her sights upon. Jacob was a tall gangly lad with a tangled mop of bright red hair. His huge ears stood out to the side and seemed ready to flap in the wind, an idiot's grin was always on his face. He looked a fool and acted the part as well, a nice enough fool perhaps, but totally unschooled in the arts of intrigue and unskilled in deceit or deception. The boy possessed a charming innocence that Rachel adored, but it left him a helpless babe before any conniving jackal who could smile pleasantly as he robbed the boy blind. It was a dangerous failure for any noble but more so in this particular kingdom, where life and health were as much at risk as mere wealth. This young man's ineptitude could endanger his daughter. Yet in the face of foolish and youthful love Lord Chambly the most powerful man in the Kingdom was completely powerless.

  

Rachel and Jacob had sworn fealty to each other and He had set off upon his quest. He felt it somewhat disingenuous to hire a bard to sing ones own praises and perhaps a bit unmanly as well. Thus he was currently starting into the third year of his adventure and by the most optimistic predictions might have a few more years to go (barring a confirmed dragon slaying of course). At first Lord Chambly had been relieved by this respite but he was now resigned to the fact that Rachel was determined to wed this young dullard and she was at least as stubborn as the King himself.

         The Royal Physician was no nitwit. He knew the dangers he courted as his search for a Noble virgin ascended the rungs of power within the Kingdom. Rachel was the very last of the Noblewomen to be tested and the good doctor suffered numerous scratches about the head and shoulders, nearly losing his good right eye in the process. Regrettably for all concerned Rachel was indeed the last virginal Noblewoman to be found in Keltoi.

       Lien was somewhat relived by the discovery, but less than enthused; Rachel and her Father were summoned for an audience with the King. He cheerfully informed her that he had chosen her to be his next Queen despite her ungainly height and scrawny appearance. Naturally his manner did nothing to ingratiate himself to Rachel who informed Lien in no uncertain terms that she was betrothed, and would remain faithful to her love until death did they part. In any event she would never consider marrying Lien until ice skates were being issued to the denizens of Hades. 

Lien greeted this news with a crooked grin. It was always so convenient when people helped clear a path for the plans he had already had set in motion. Young Jacob Renswurt was recalled to the capital and he arrived within the week. His disposition was as blissfully ignorant as ever when he strode into the Royal audience chamber. He suspected some aspect of his quest for glory had come to the Kings attention and he was to be ennobled in a timelier manner than he had ever dared hope. He became a bit confused when he found his tearful beloved and her glum looking father already sequestered in the Royal audience chamber. He rushed to embrace Rachel only to be restrained by armed guards. Lord Chambly, Rachel, and Jacob all listened numbly to the king's proposal.

It was within Liens purview to simply take Rachel by force of law and hold her until he was done with her. The crafty Lord Chambly wisely pointed out that without the sanctification of marriage any offspring would have to contend with all the other Royal bastards for the throne.

Lord Chambly had no wish to see his daughter wed young Renswurt. The lad was both helpless and uncompromisingly innocent. In the entire world there might be one person who was less suitable for the hand of his daughter. That would of course be Lien himself.

Lien in his more reflective moments realized he needed his Chancellor, or at the very least the insights and guidance of Lord Chambly made Liens life far less complicated. He was dimly aware that it would indeed be best if he could gain the cooperation of the elder in this venture for Rachel's hand in marriage.

A straightforward plan of bribery and blackmail seemed the simplest approach. Lien bribed his chancellor with an ironclad promise that his daughter would be used strictly for breeding purposes and would otherwise remain under guard neither touched nor tormented by the good King. Lord Chambly and the King himself would jointly control access to his daughter. Lord Chambly could have her examined by a physician to assure that she was not otherwise abused. Details of the frequency of sexual congress would be worked out between the two men but they would be limited to sexual unions for procreative purposes only. Should she bear a son within a year she would live out her life in the relative comfort of her bedchamber and never be bothered by Lien again. Should the couple fail to produce a son she would simply be beheaded and the matter would be laid to rest.

It was perhaps the best bargain that could be forged under the circumstances. Lord Chambly hemmed and hawed but in the end could do nothing but acquiesce. Rachel however was another matter.

Lien knew that blackmail could work wonders when bribery failed. This was the sole reason young Renswurt was still breathing. While Rachel listened stone faced, Lien explained in gleeful detail exactly what might befall her true love should she be unwilling to marry her King. Jacob was a stalwart lad and begged his beloved to be true to her desires but as it turned out it was Rachel's desire that Jacob live a bit longer.

The wedding was a civil ceremony, which took place immediately. It was presided over by a judge and witnessed by Renswurt and the assembled guards. Lord Chambly remained dry eyed and stoic throughout the service though he seemed to be grinding his teeth. The bride and her former betrothed were each secured within locked rooms after the ceremony though the accommodations were starkly different.

Rachel took up residence in the Royal bedchamber. Two female servants and her own handmaiden attended her every need save one. Her true love had been placed forever beyond her reach. Marian, a lady in waiting, had been Rachel's companion and friend for as long as either remembered. Though she herself was the daughter of a minor Noble she was pleased to serve as Rachel's handmaiden and was fiercely loyal to her friend. The four women settled into a pleasant enough existence that was interrupted only by the too frequent invasions of the Mad King.

Lien was unable to torture the object of his matrimonial duties because of the agreement he had struck with her father. This turned out to be a major problem. Lien seemed to suffer from a rare and somewhat embarrassing debilitation. He was in fact totally dysfunctional as a man unless he could hear the wail of a tormented female's voice and observe the writhing body of a lass twisting and squirming under the lash. While Rachel's first instinct might well have been to laugh at this absurd situation she wisely refrained. Without a performing Lien any hope of living past their first anniversary was moot. It was the lovely Maid Marian who led the couple to a practical compromise.

She had been listening at the doorway on the occasion of Lien's first visit. As his dilemma became obvious taunts and accusations were bandied between the young couple. Despite his best efforts there was no way he could become stiff enough to force his way through the virginal portal. True to his nature he blamed Rachel for his failings complaining bitterly of her ungainly height, scrawny figure, overly protective father, and even the inclement weather, all of which were conspiring to undo him.

The maiden Marian, realizing the true cause of Liens predicament, stripped herself bare, entered the royal bedchamber, and positioned herself against the headboard facing the wall with her tempting pale rump in plain view of the mad king. A puzzled Rachel lying below looked up at her nude friend in time to see Lien attack her wagging bottom with a handy belt. The King grew stiff and hard as he walloped away at Marian's squirming buttocks and when the young maiden wailed in anguish Lien was at last able to ravish his waiting bride. This most memorable event lasted but a few seconds ending with a grunt and a groan. Rachel's disgust was thinly disguised as Lien went soft once more between her thighs. Marian sobbed quietly above the entangled couple having shared in this regal befouling of her best friend.  

Gratitude may not have been Rachel's precise emotional response, but it will be sufficient to say she appreciated the sacrifice Marian had made. While the result may have been distasteful, Rachel realized it was required. Lien strutted about the room like a proud peacock having accomplished his goal. His gratitude for the fair maiden's assistance extended far enough to allow for her to leave the chamber and seek a medicinal unguent for her freshly striped rear.

Lien left shortly after performing his marital duties. Rachel was thankful she was spared the need for polite conversation with the man who would eventually kill her true love and probably herself as well. Marian took full advantage of her freedom and didn't return until shortly before dawn. The two women commiserated over the cruelty of fate and as the sun rose they began to make plans for their future.

Lien might not have found Rachel particularly attractive, and he bemoaned his inability to torment her in a physical sense, however the intricacies of their arrangement and the obvious disgust of both the women for their roles excited and fascinated him. Soon he was visiting his new wife's bedchamber four or more times a week. Marian was always bound nude between the canopy posts while her friend Rachel would lie waiting below. Lien would waste little time immediately attacking the maiden with whip or crop until both women were wailing and begging for his mercy.

Once he had become properly stimulated he would fall upon his bride and within a few short moments the deed would be complete. Off he would strut leaving it to Rachel to release the bound and bruised Marian from her bonds. Marian was then allowed some freedom to roam beyond the confines of the Queen's bedchamber. Indeed within a week Marian had found her way into the dungeon and had made the acquaintance of Clive, Edward, and William. She had ulterior motives of course and was most persuasive with these three gentlemen. Let there be no misunderstanding here: we are talking of only one gentleman at a time for she was a Lady, and only with her mouth for she was saving herself for… well more on that later.

On her third visit the three agreed to allow her to visit alone with the prisoner.  Edward was forced to search her most thoroughly and for reasons of dungeon security she was divested of her garments before being allowed to enter the prisoner's cell.

Jacob was startled from a deep sleep by the vision of a nude angel descending into his personal hell. It took a few moments to ascertain Marian's identity for he had never seen this much of her nor had he ever imagined her stripped, striped, and bruised. Marian knelt before young Jacob Renswurt as he languished chained to the wall.

"My mistress begs your forgiveness good sir for she is the true cause of your present position." Marian began. Jacob tried to protest but she hurried on, silencing him with a finger laid across his lips.

"Rachel refuses to allow you to die a virgin and so she has sent me in her stead."

Now Jacob wasn't the brightest of lads but he was smart enough to realize he should not under these circumstances assure this young maiden that he was no virgin. His silence was rewarded with a coy smile as Marian stripped the rags from his waist. He worried a bit about appearing too eager but there was little he could do but respond to her kisses and caresses. While his chains prevented him from lying down with her she was more than willing to accommodate him on her hands and knees pressing back against his manacled body and filling herself with his rampant manhood.

The three warders, while aware of what was transpiring, did nothing to interfere. The lady had properly bribed them with her gilded tongue, the prisoner was a pleasant enough chap, and Lien had specifically ordered he not be tormented or abused for the time being. In truth the three didn't even indulge in any voyeuristic urges. Well maybe Edward peeked, but only to assure that no escape attempt was being fomented. Of course Lien was informed of the encounter, but that happened much later.

When the couple had consummated their coupling young Renswurt was in tears. He begged Marian's forgiveness for his boorish lust, and he begged Rachel's forgiveness for the weakness of his flesh. Marian kissed away his tears holding him to her as he sobbed and shook. She reassured him that Rachel wanted this and all would be well between them. She departed with a promise to return if all went well.

In fact during the next two months Marian did visit young Renswurt almost a dozen times. Lien could not help but inform Rachel of this betrayal by her lover and her own handmaiden but Rachel's reaction was a disappointment to the Mad Monarch. She professed that she no longer had any interest in Jacob and claimed to be pleased Marian was able to comfort the poor lad. Lien felt a need to whip Marian's bottom with greater enthusiasm on that particular visit but neither Rachel nor Marian showed any signs of acrimony over the affair with the prisoner.

Lien ordered that the visits cease. It was less than a week later that the Royal physician confirmed that Rachel was impregnated. Lien was actually relieved that the entire affair with the Chancellor's daughter was now in the hands of fate. He could go back to tormenting peasant wenches who were much less demanding. That pleasant diversion would keep him entertained while awaiting the appearance of Rachel's offspring. Should luck bless them with a male progeny she could live, otherwise… well he might have to search outside the kingdom for his next bride.  There was of course a minor detail that needed attending to and Lien issued the necessary orders.

Lien was entertaining a set of triplets at the time and they were actively contesting to see which of them would be allowed to make it out of the castle alive. Their enthusiasm was most charming as they bathed him with their tongues, so he had no time or interest in observing a simple execution.

In theory Rachel should never have been told about the execution, as Lien was unsure of her reaction.

William was assigned to do the deed for without Lien's attendance there was no particular reason to inflict prolonged pain. Why William informed the Maiden Marian is unknown. Her eager applications of those very persuasive lips were the only reason he allowed her to attend the event. In a hurried whisper Marian assured young Renswurt that his death would be avenged and in a very real way he would outlast the Mad King. He stared at her in puzzlement, feeling in these final moments that his entire world had gone quite mad.

Jacob was garroted in his cell. It was done neither quickly nor slowly, but with a deliberateness that all true professionals strive for. Marian on her knees before the poor lad offered what comfort she could in his final moments, and it can be reported that he died with a smile upon his face. Some wags claim that Marian ran from the execution chamber to Rachel's bedside, her jaws clenched shut as she transported Jacob's seed to the only woman with an honest claim to it. That is of course the stuff of myth and legend for the Mad King had defiantly already impregnated Rachel; such an exercise would have been pointless (and a doubtful biologically possibility in the best of circumstances).

The women remained sequestered within the Royal bedchamber. The only visitors were the Royal Physician and Lord Chambly himself. Lien had other interests to entertain him and Rachel was left in peace. Within a few weeks the two servant women were let go and replaced by an aging nurse who had attended Rachel in her childhood. The nurse was also well schooled at midwifery. Marian had also conceived but this remained a well-guarded secret.

Within a few months, actually about the time Marian was beginning to show, Lord Chambly reached the conclusion that the Royal Physician could not be trusted and so he was also barred from the Queens chambers. Lien was unconcerned with this change, and on those rare occasions when he did visit his wife Marian remained out of sight. The two women had no doubt conceived nearly simultaneously. A fact made more probable by the propensity of women who live communally to eventually synchronize their monthly flows and therefore one would presume their periods of fertility. Indeed the two women grew closer as they jointly experienced the joys and tribulations of their gravid state.

The months passed too slowly for them and too quickly for their keepers. None to this day will say whose child was first born. It matters little for they each bore a son over a 12-hour period. Events that occurred beyond that point are cast in a haze of confusion. Marion took the child she would claim and fled the castle. Rachel and her child were seen by Lord Chambly and the Royal Physician who declared them both fit, ascertained the masculinity of the babe, and made some uncalled for comment about the child's length, enormous ears, and unusual hair color.

Lord Chambly had the good doctor arrested for sedition and thrown in the dungeon.

   

Thus it was that on the eve of February twenty-ninth (coincidentally eight months to the day after young Jacob's death) Lord Chambly announced to the court that King Lien Venrihet (V) had a son. Lien was of course overjoyed for the line of succession was now assured. The celebration lasted into the evening. Perhaps King Lien (V) used this period to contemplate his own mortality and his place in history, who really can say. In any event a number of witnesses confirmed the fact that he was slightly inebriated when he undertook the climb to his wife's chambers to meet his newborn son. Lord Chambly accompanied his liege for this momentous meeting.

Both Chancellor and wife would later attest to a joyous acknowledgement by Good King Lien of his son and heir. In a strange break from tradition Lien insisted his son be named Jacob. The Queen herself would later bear witness to this radical departure from convention.

It was during Liens return to the banquet hall that the tragedy occurred. Whether from poor lighting, slippery stone steps, or an over indulgence in alcohol, a terrible accident befell poor Lien. Before Lord Chambly could react Lien had tumbled backward down four flights of the tower stairs. In the process he somehow managed to impale himself upon three separate crossbow bolts that had been carelessly left upturned on the stone stairways. He lay twitching and gasping in a growing pool of blood at the bottom of the stairwell while shocked servants gathered around to stare.

The Queen and Chancellor arrived with all due haste and organized search parties of servants issuing detailed instructions on possible locations in which the doctor might be located. The Queen would occasionally poke the groaning monarch with her booted toe to make sure he was still alive. Shortly after Lien stopped responding to these jabs Lord Chambly Remembered that the King's doctor had been relocated to the dungeon and swiftly sent word that he was needed. Despite the best efforts of Lord Chambly and Queen the Royal Physician failed to arrive in time, and so alas poor Lien's soul fled this life for warmer climes.

Lord Chambly himself led the investigation. It was determined that the Royal Physician's negligence was mostly responsible, though the Chef having served Tiramisu, Champaign, Brandy, and Absinthe at the natal celebration may well have contributed to the monarch's mishap. The Chef and Physician were promptly executed and the matter was laid to rest. After these two executions the Chancellor dismissed Edward, William and Clive with a handsome severance, as the Kingdom would have little use for their skills in the future. All three had no difficulty finding gainful employment on the continent.

 

It was most fortuitous that Lien had acknowledged a legitimate heir before his untimely demise. Over the next 16 years Lord Chambly and his Daughter Queen Rachel served as regents for Prince Jacob Venrihet (I). The lad grew tall and lanky, He was a well-tempered soul with a head of startling red hair and enormous ears which everyone politely ignored.

Fate was not so kind to Lady Marion's child. Lien (for she had named him after the late king) was a slight child, dark haired and of dour disposition. No doubt being constantly hailed as Lady Marion's bastard son did nothing to improve his temperament. Even when Lady Marion married the Duke of Winfrey the lad was not spared. The eventual appearance of half siblings only made him grow bitterer. Had he been of a larger stature he might well have become a bully but instead he spent his youth in a constant state of frustration.

In later years he did find a niche within the kingdom. He cut a dashing, if demure, figure as a cavalry officer in the kings army. Even at his young age he was a respected tactician known for stealth and guile. Unfortunately he was cut down during a strategic redeployment along a disputed border on the northern frontier. Capt. Lien died on his birthday, by strange coincidence cut down by three crossbow bolts 25 years to the day after his namesake perished in that tragic accident at the castle.

 

Prince Jacob grew wise beyond his years. He was well schooled in diplomacy and governance by his wise Grandfather and loving Mother. When he came of age his coronation was a tasteful and moving ceremony and by all accounts his reign was relatively peaceful and enormously prosperous. His physical appearance was often disarming to both friend and foe but behind his amiable charm lurked a shrewd, thorough, and honest mind. He was beloved by his people who prospered under his long and peaceful reign. 

The End….

                                                                            

An Epilogue                                        

Well maybe every little bitsy detail didn't turn out exactly like that. I know that niggling know-it-all sitting next to you is fairly bouncing out of his chair eager to tell you of those few minor details I might have glossed over.

Yes, it's true that when Jacob reached maturity he sought the hand of Lady Marion's eldest daughter, Penelope, in marriage.

Indeed it is a fact that both Queen Rachel and Lady Marion vehemently opposed that union.

Eventually Lady Marion told her daughter the true nature of Jacob's paternity shattering the young lovers hopes and dreams.

Once such a secret is revealed it inevitably spreads like oil across the surface of a millpond.

Those very rumors about King Jacob's legitimacy were a major cause for the decades long altercation that would later come to be known as "The War of the Pond Lilies". The dreadful ending of that tragic misunderstanding is known to all.

Jacob lost his head  (though it was nothing like the orgy of Regicide that would sweep the continent in later years) and the Isle of Keltoi was shattered into the three kingdoms that exist there to this day.

On the brighter side of things Jacob's son (Jacob Venrihet (II)) did reclaim the throne of the largest of these kingdoms a few years later.

So much for what history teaches, and I say good riddance to it. I think we can all agree my ending was the way things were supposed to turn out.

© Mad Lews