Martyr's Bargain

Three months earlier...

"This is it? This is the thing that will save the kingdom?"

"You were expecting something grander?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought it would be more... intricate."

Princess Esmeralda Victoria Theresa de Montblanc, known by most people simply as Emmy, strained to better hear the conversation between her father's two most trusted advisors, Sir John, the High Chancellor, and Sir Percy, the Prime Scholar. She shimmied farther along the secret shaft that connected the advisors' chambers to the little used pantry that was just down the hall. This old castle was full of secret passages and hidden ventilation shafts - it was a wonder how anybody kept any secrets at all. Emmy had made it her mission in her twenty-two years she'd spent living in the castle to try and find all the secret nooks and crannies. Her dislike of confined spaces was routinely overruled by her thirst for adventure.

She stifled a gasp as she felt her dress snag on a rough brick in the hidden shaft. She was sure that the sound of the tearing cloth could be heard outside of her hiding place. She held her breath. Sir John and Sir Percy continued their conversation without any indication that they'd noticed. Emmy shimmied farther along, peeking out of the concealed entrance into the room.

"So how does it work?" John asked, picking up the dark metal band and examining it closely.

"Details are scant," Percy explained. "All we have to go on are rumors and legends. It is over a thousand years old, from around the time of Emperor Aurelion the Great. It is said to have the power to bring peace and prosperity to all the lands."

"But the price..." John added.

"Yes. As I explained in my letter, it is quite important that we find the right person."

"Why can't we just grab someone out of the royal prison?"

"Are you insane?" Percy snatched the artifact out of John's hands. "We don't know exactly what this device is capable of. Sure, it can bring prosperity to the kingdom - it could also bring complete ruin! Would you trust the fate of the kingdom to a common criminal?" He set the item down on the stone pillar it had been resting on. "Besides it must be put on willingly and the collar must accept them - don't ask me how that works."

"What if we didn't explain the downsides? We can tell them the benefits: perfect health, immunity to disease, the knowledge that their efforts contribute directly to the safety of the kingdom."

"Perhaps..."

"We have to do something," John continued. "Every day we lose more men to the barbarians. There's a new outbreak of barkflesh in Windhaven. The droughts in the West are getting worse. And the brigands occupying the Grand Forest grow bolder by the day. Just one of these calamities is enough to stress the kingdom, all together, we might not last another year before this land tears itself apart and we enter a new dark age."

"Still, there is much we don't know," Percy cautioned.

There was a knock at the chamber door. A messenger entered. "My Lords, there is an urgent message from Grayhold which requires your attention."

Sir Percy and Sir John followed the messenger out of the room. Alone, Emmy crawled fully into the room and stood up. She scowled at the rip in her dress. Her handmaiden would have plenty of foul things to say once she saw that Emmy had ruined another dress.

Emmy stood up and walked to the pillar that held this mysterious new artifact. She picked it up and examined it. Looking at it more closely, she could see that it was a collar made of a dark metal that at certain angles shimmered with a cobalt blue sheen. There were fine scratches all along the outside. She realized that there was no hinge to open and close the collar, instead the metal appeared to flex easily in her hands despite its thickness. She pushed the two ends together and the simple clasp to connect them seemed to resist attaching, like two similar magnets pressed near each other. On the side of the band opposite the clasp was a many-faceted gem that was unable to sparkle no matter what way the light hit it.

How could this simple thing save the entire kingdom, Emmy wondered. Though she could feel a strange power emanating from it as she turned it over in her hands. There were more scratches on the inside.

She walked over to a mirror and held the collar up to her reflection. She felt a tremor of excitement run up her spine. Emmy was an avid reader and had read countless tales of daring and adventure. She always got a bit of a thrill when she got to the scenes where the beautiful heroine was locked away in a dark dungeon, bound and afraid and hopeless, at the mercy of her cruel captor. Distressingly, she often found those scenarios leaking into her own fantasies as she lay in bed at night.

As the fourth daughter of the king, Emmy was always considered something of an afterthought. Her oldest sister had been married off to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom, cementing an unsteady peace between two old rivals that had frequently gone to war. Her second oldest sister was an adept at the Cerulean Temple, someday she would become the High Priestess. Her next oldest sister was betrothed to a powerful baron whose wavering support her father needed to maintain control of his kingdom.

Emmy had resigned herself to the knowledge that soon it would be her turn to be married off as part of some deal her father made, probably to some lecherous old creep trying to climb the social ladder in the royal court. Any plans for her betrothal had been put on hold, however, when the barbarians invaded in the Southlands. Her father set off with his army to see to the defense of the kingdom personally, leaving Sir John and the royal council in charge at the capital.

So for now, at least, Emmy was left to her own devices, which was perfectly fine with her. She was free to explore the castle, seeking out new hidden passages, eavesdropping on the courtiers to get all the latest gossip, or spying on the sweaty, muscular men training in the sparring room - there was one handsome young man in particular that she especially liked to snoop on. In fact, she'd convinced the swordmaster to teach her fencing in hopes of crossing paths more frequently with her crush. Incidentally, she found that she liked the challenge and the grace required to excel at swordplay and pursued it as a new hobby.

Emmy looked at her reflection in the mirror. She imagined herself as one of those fair maidens from her stories. How will I outwit my jailor and find my prince, she wondered.

Maybe I'll try it on real quick, just to see how it looks, she thought.

She pulled the ends apart and slipped the collar around her neck. In the mirror she could see the gem on the front give just the hint of a sparkle. Her body tingled as she guiltily acknowledged how good she thought she looked with the collar on.

She brought the two ends of the clasp closer. She had no intention of closing the collar around her neck and remembered how the ends of the clasp had repelled each other when she had toyed with it before. Only this time the ends didn't repel. Instead they quickly snapped together in a way that startled and surprised Emmy.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as the collar closed fully around her neck. It seemed sized to fit her perfectly, not so tight as to restrict her breathing or prevent her from swallowing, but not loose enough to fit more than a finger or two between the cold metal and her neck.

Emmy felt her face flush as she looked at herself in the mirror again, embarrassed to find that she was turned on by wearing the tight band around her neck. She heard voices coming up the hallway.

I'd better get this off, she thought quickly. She reached her fingers behind her neck and pried at the clasp. It wouldn't budge! The two ends had melded together, with the clasp now forming a ring on the back of the collar. The voices grew closer. In a panic, Emmy tried again and again to pull the collar open. Her fingernails scraped and scrabbled against the unyielding metal to no avail. In the mirror she could see a faint blue light glowing from the reflected image of the gem on the front of the collar.

The chamber door opened. Emmy turned to make a dash for her secret passage, but her torn dress snagged on a table. She tumbled to the floor as the dozen men that made up the King's High Council entered the room. All conversation stopped as they regarded the frantic girl sprawled out on the floor before them.

Sir Percy elbowed his way to the front of the group and glowered at Emmy in surprise and anger. "You silly, stupid girl!" he exclaimed as he saw the collar around her neck. "What have you done?!"

---

Sir Robert Floras wiped the sweat from his brow and drank the cool, refreshing fruit juice that a servant had left for him in his room. A week ago he had been fighting bravely at the king's side when a message arrived by raven. He hadn't seen what it said, but from the king's ashen face after reading it, it couldn't have been good news. Sir Robert was ordered to return to the capital with all haste and personally deliver a handwritten reply to the High Council.

He rode day and night, dodging robbers and bandits all along the royal highway, changing out horses at every stop. He'd arrived late last night while all the city slept, noting an unusual calm among the streets of the capital as he made his way to the castle, something in the air was different.

Sir Robert was always one to wake early, even after days of hard riding. He took advantage of this brief free time to visit his old friend, the swordmaster, for a sparring session. Much of his youth had been spent learning the skills of the sword and there was hardly a man in the kingdom who could match him in a one-on-one fight.

But Robert wasn't just quick with a blade. He was brave and thoughtful and intelligent and creative. With grit and determination he had accomplished more in his twenty six years than most men twice his age. It didn't take long for the king to take notice of his talents. Robert rose quickly through the ranks with loyal service and a reputation for fairness. The king knew he could be counted on without question.

When it came to women, though, Robert always found himself at a loss for words. With his rugged good looks and the good graces of the king he might have had any woman in kingdom, if only he could find a way to talk to one without sounding like a complete fool.

Sir Robert had just finished bathing when a servant arrived to tell him that the council was nearly ready for him. He quickly dressed and followed the servant to the throne room where the council would gather.

"Well, well, if it isn't the brave Sir Robert," said a man draped lazily across the throne. "Is there a kitten stuck in a tree somewhere, or perhaps an old woman who needs help crossing the street?"

Robert stepped more fully into the room. The council hadn't arrived yet. The only other person inside was the man lounging on the throne, a black robe with the hood pulled up concealed his identity, but Robert didn't need to see his face to know it was Sir Thorne Blackrose - the king's chief "fixer" of problems.

"Sir Thorne," Robert replied. "What brings you here? Have the brothels run out of women? No villages require pillaging? Is no orphan in a dark alley in need of a dagger to the ribs?"

"I'll have you know that a well placed dagger at the right moment can do more to further my goals than a thousand brave lads like yourself rushing foolishly into battle," said Sir Thorne sitting up.

"No crime is too great if the end justifies the means, then?" Robert retorted.

Thorne lowered his hood and glowered at Robert. A thick scar ran from his temple to his cheek, passing under the eye patch that obscured his left eye. His close-cropped black hair had splotches of gray. His crooked nose, broken several times in brawls, twitched.

"Don't lecture me, boy! You may look down on what I do, but the fact is that the kingdom needs people like me. People who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty. People who do the work that must be done."

"Yes, as long as that work fills your pockets with gold," Robert added sarcastically.

Thorne stood up. "I am very good at what I do. If His Majesty chooses to express his gratitude for that with piles of gold, then I am happy to oblige," he said testily.

The exchange was interrupted by the arrival of the High Council. "My Lords," Sir Robert bowed to the men as they entered. "I bring a message from His Majesty." He reached into his tunic and produced a letter with a wax seal bearing the signet mark of the king. Sir John took the letter and quietly read the contents before handing it off to the rest of the council.

"It seems His Majesty and the council are in agreement," John announced. "Sir Robert, Sir Thorne, you have been summoned to help solve a matter of some delicacy." He turned to the praetorian guard next to him. "Bring in the prisoner."

The guard left the room and returned a moment later accompanied by the rattle of chains. A dirty, hunched figure was prodded into the throne room. She wore the trademark uniform of an inmate of the royal dungeon - a rough burlap sack with holes cut in the corners and top for her arms and head. A thick cloth bag covered the prisoner's head, though her muted sobs spilled out from behind. Steel shackles connected her wrists in front of her with a short chain. More shackles hobbled her ankles as well. Yet another chain linked the two sets which was short enough that the woman needed to hunch forward to shuffle in on her bare feet. Though burlap covered the prisoner from her neck to the tops of her thighs, Sir Robert could see a plethora of bruises all up and down her extremities - most apparent were the fresh cane marks that ran up and down the front and back of her thighs.

"This is your mission," said Sir John. He yanked the hood off of the prisoner. The girl's teary blue eyes blinked against the bright light. The large red ball gag filling her mouth quieted her gasp from the sudden reveal. She briefly met Robert's gaze then quickly looked away in shame upon recognizing him.

Robert was stunned. "What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded, his hand swiftly reaching for his blade on immediately seeing that the prisoner they brought in was Princess Emmy.

"Stay your hand," John demanded, stepping uncertainly behind his guards. "The girl did this to herself!"

Robert's eyes narrowed. "You'd better have a damned good explanation for why a member of the royal family should be treated this way." His hand never left the hilt of his sword. Thorne stood indifferently off to the side, a look of utter bemusement on his face.

Robert studied the miserable, wretched girl. Her long blond hair was a mess of knots and tangles. Tears streaked through the dirt on her flushed cheeks. A two inch metal collar was locked around her neck, a gem the size of a peach pit was affixed to the front, it glowed with a piercing bright blue light. Her fair skin was streaked with the telltale marks of a flogger in addition to the ugly welts from the cane. His heart lurched to see the young woman so miserable.

John grabbed the elbow of the guard who had brought the princess in. "Why don't you go have the princess cleaned up and prepared for travel? I will finish briefing Sir Robert and Sir Thorne."

The princess was taken away and the rest of the council dismissed. Robert's eyes never left Emmy until she was out of the room, though even after she was gone he remained tense, uncertain whether he was caught up in the midst of some foul conspiracy against the king.

"Many months ago our scholars learned of the existence of an ancient artifact that claimed to have the power to restore peace and prosperity to the kingdom. Through great effort and expense we managed to recently acquire that artifact. It goes by several names: the Cerulean Band, Atalia's Collar, the Martyr's Bargain. Regardless of what you call it, every rumor about it said the same thing - whoever wears the collar, their misery will bring prosperity to the lands around them. For some silly, stupid reason Princess Esmeralda has put the collar on herself. She claims that she did not mean to do so."

"This is absolutely unacceptable," Robert interrupted. "It must be taken off of her immediately."

"You and I, and His Majesty, are in agreement," John said. "However, it is not quite as easy as that. Simply put, we cannot remove the collar. We have tried everything at our disposal - saws, files, and blades of all manner. We cannot so much as make a scratch on it. That is where you two come in."

"We'd only had the artifact in our possession for a few days before the princess's unfortunate, er, accident. There is a great amount we do not know about the collar. Your mission, Sir Robert and Sir Thorne, is to seek out the wisdom of the greatest philosophers, historians, collectors, artificers and alchemists in the kingdom to learn more about the collar and, hopefully, remove it from the princess as safely as possible."

"You expect me to believe you have the princess's safety in mind?" Robert demanded. "I saw the condition she was in. You have treated her terribly. You should be tried for treason for what you have done."

"You misunderstand, Sir Robert. Admittedly, we know very little about the collar, but we do know some things. Yes, her suffering can bring prosperity to the kingdom, but conversely, her comfort is said to bring ruin. We simply cannot risk the danger that represents. Believe me, we tried absolutely everything in our power to remove the collar from the princess but when that failed we had no choice but to obey the constraints of its parameters.

"Have you noticed that the air in the capital is clearer? The day after we accepted that the collar could not be removed from the princess we conducted an... experiment. You know the wildfires that have been raging in the forests outside the capital? They have been burning nonstop for months, fouling the air, sickening the populace, filling the rivers and lakes with ash. Within an hour of the test the winds in the mountains calmed and a steady rain fell, completely extinguishing the fires."

"That could just be a coincidence," Robert pointed out.

"Indeed," John agreed. "The next day we continued the experiment. We later received word that the heavy rains that extinguished the fires had created a landslide that revealed significant new silver deposits in the mountains. We had thought all the precious metals that made this region wealthy had long since been mined out. The evidence may be circumspect, but we believe the power of the collar to be real."

"And so," John added, pulling some papers from his robes, "we come to your mission. You have several objectives. First, you must learn everything you can about the collar - how does it work, what is it capable of, how do we remove it. Second, until we know more about the collar we feel it is not safe for it to remain in the capital. So the princess will accompany you on your quest. The experts that you consult may benefit from access to the collar and its wearer anyway. Third, the council is of the opinion, and His Majesty agrees, that while the collar is worn it should be used for its intended effect of bringing prosperity to the kingdom. Though the princess may suffer, we must remember that her sacrifice is for the greater good."

Robert could hardly believe what he was hearing. This was a quest unlike any he could have ever imagined.

"The road ahead will be long and difficult - for all parties involved. You will have all the support we can provide you. Our original intention was for Sir Thorne to lead this mission alone. He has the, um, talents, we feel are necessary to make full use of the artifact. However, per the message we just received, His Majesty has insisted that Sir Robert be given the responsibility of leading the mission. As such, Sir Robert, you have the full authority of His Majesty and the council in this endeavor. Anything you need, you may have. Sir Thorne, you will accompany Sir Robert. While you are on this quest you will obey his every order. Is that clear?"

Thorne bristled at the question. He obviously resented being put under the command of a man half his age. "Crystal clear," he scowled with a defiant glare at Robert.

"Excellent," John pushed a stack of parchment to Robert. "This is a summary of everything we have learned about the artifact. Much of it is rumor and hearsay, it is up to you to divine the truth and learn more. And here is a list of the various historians, philosophers, artificers, and alchemists who may be of use. Our original intent was to assemble the group here to study the collar, but now you must go to them.

"To that end, we are well aware that traveling the highways of the kingdom is often not safe for even the bravest hero, especially not one accompanied by a princess of our royal family. An attachment of praetorian guards would draw far too much attention to the artifact, so instead you shall be granted the use of our newest airship, the Ravenwing. It was just commissioned last week. Supplies are being loaded as we speak. Sir Robert, I understand you are an experienced airship pilot. Hopefully this will help speed you on your journey. Good luck."

---

Robert held tightly to the controls as he steered the Ravenwing up and away from its docking spire at the palace. He was eager to be on his way. It'd only taken a couple hours to gather everything he thought he'd need and have it loaded on the airship. Though Thorne delayed their departure by some time with his own baggage, which he insisted he could not leave without.

Robert spent that time plotting out their course. Their first stop would be the town of Maplebrook to talk to the "broker" (actually an art thief) who sold the collar to the council. This would be one of the meetings where Robert would be glad of having Thorne around. Several of their leads were known or suspected criminals, and Thorne knew how to speak their language. In evaluating their list of leads Robert had divided up the contacts between those where Thorne would work best and those where he would excel.

The Ravenwing leveled off five hundred feet above the capital and Robert pointed it between the soaring peaks that flanked the city on either side. In the distance he could see the scorched, black lands that a year ago had been vibrant forest. The fires were gone - completely extinguished by the recent rains. The realization of what that meant for Emmy, and himself, settled uneasily in the back of his mind.

It took a couple hours to finally clear the high pass out of the valley that held the capital city and begin a descent down into the lowlands of the kingdom. Robert was afraid to leave the helm until they were out of the mountains. Airships were still a very new invention and many an unfortunate captain had been wrecked in the swirling, chaotic winds that whipped off the high peaks. As he navigated the narrow pass Robert was astounded by how unnaturally calm the winds were. He hardly had to steer at all. The royal weather seers had assured him the winds would extremely favorable for at least the next week in the lowlands. Robert read their current good fortune as an auspicious start to their journey.

As the airship rode the gentle breeze down the final mountain and into the lowlands Robert was finally willing to step away from the helm. He locked the controls and decided it was time to have a chat with the princess. He had briefly checked in on her as the ship was loaded, but at the time she was sleeping and he hadn't yet worked up the nerve to discuss the mission with her in detail. He could feel Sir John's instructions in his pocket, the last sentences etched in his mind. "She must never know of the good she is doing. She must only know pain, suffering, strife, frustration, and despair. The fate of the kingdom depends on it." His advice weighed uneasily on his mind.

The airship was fairly small compared to the massive wooden galleys that plied the oceans and seas. The helm occupied the top of the quarterdeck on the rear of the ship. The captain's quarters, shared by Robert and Thorne was beneath that. Underneath the main deck was the cargo storage. A section of that had been cordoned off to serve as the princess's quarters.

Robert descended the stairs into the hold. He stood outside the door to the princess's room wondering whether or not he should knock. After an embarrassingly long time he decided to enter. He turned the knob and pushed against the door, but it didn't move. He pushed harder, still nothing. It had been barred from the inside! Robert pounded on the door, demanding that it be opened up. When there was no response he threw his shoulder against the door, but the solid frame held steady. He tried a few more times to no effect before he remembered the scrying mirrors.

In the eagerness of the council to see the mission succeed, they had granted Robert the use of several rare and useful artifacts. Among them were a pair of ordinary-looking hand mirrors, one Robert now held in his hand, the other was mounted inside Emmy's quarters. When he placed the activation stone next to his mirror the image changed from his reflection to a view from the other mirror as if he was looking through a window. He could hardly believe what he saw.

Emmy had been stripped of her dress and stood naked with her arms bound together behind her back at elbow and wrist. Her feet had been pressed into a pair of white five inch heels. A spreader bar held her ankles shoulder width apart. A thin rope had been tied tightly around the base of each breast, a dangling end from each rope was tied off on a knee so that the princess was forced to lean forward in a low squat or else feel the hard pull of the ropes on her bound tits. However, she could not squat too low because a rope led from her wrists to the ceiling above. The lower she sank, the more severe the strain was on her aching shoulders.

A red ball gag filled Emmy's mouth. A trail of drool fell past her lips and collected in the growing puddle beneath her, suggesting she'd been in this position for a while. Her tired legs were trembling. Her bound tits shaded to a light purple from the tight tie and the pull of the ropes.

Standing a few feet behind Emmy, watching her struggles with a sense of sadistic pride was Thorne. He held a tankard of ale in one hand and a leather flogger in the other. He grinned as Emmy relented to her weakening leg muscles and sagged down into a deep squat. Her anguished moan was loud enough for Robert to hear through the door as she shifted her pain from the pull on her tits to an agonizing twist of her shoulders high up behind her back.

"Sitting back down again already?" Thorne taunted, seeming to project his voice for Robert's benefit. "Come now, princess, I thought you were stronger than that." He swung his flogger down between her legs. Splat! Emmy quaked as the leather strands made contact with her pussy.

"Ungh! Ungh!" she protested, earning several more swings of the flogger.

"Perhaps a nice assfuck will help to restore your vigor?"

Fresh tears ran down her face as Thorne laid into her with the whip. Her already pink ass began to glow red under the onslaught. Splat! Splat! Splat!

"Up! Up!" Thorne insisted. "Present that beautiful ass to me. Be a good girl and I'll even use lube." Splat! Splat!

With tremendous effort Emmy raised herself up out of her low squat. Her tired legs shook unsteadily. Her roped tits stretched toward her knees. Her aching feet wobbled in her heels as she lifted her round hips high.

SPLAT! Thorne delivered his hardest swing yet across Emmy's upturned ass. The blow sent her reeling forward, only the pull of the rope holding her wrists to the ceiling prevented Emmy from toppling over. It took all her remaining strength not to fall back down into a squat.

"Attagirl," Thorne smirked. He set down his tankard and pulled his hard cock out of his pants. He dipped his fingers into a jar of lube and slathered his member, then jammed a couple of greased fingers into Emmy's asshole to loosen her up. Emmy squealed as her ass was invaded by one, then two, then three of Thorne's thick fingers, but still she held her pose. Once he was satisfied that she was ready enough, Thorne withdrew his fingers and wiped them clean in her long blond hair.

Now he lined up his rock hard cock with her asshole. With a firm grip on her hips he pressed just the tip of his dick into her puckered hole. Emmy wailed. Thorne sighed with pleasure. "Nice and tight! Just the way I like it," he remarked. "Now start fucking me. Come on!" he added with a smack on her ass.

Emmy rocked gingerly back and forth, slowly inching his cock deeper with each pass. But it wasn't fast enough for Thorne. "Not like that!" he roared, grabbing a handful of Emmy's long blond hair. "I said FUCK me!"

He yanked on her hair, pulling her head back and up. Her upper body followed, cruelly pulling on her tightly tied tits. Emmy rocked backwards with a scream as Thorne's cock buried itself fully in her ass. He shoved her forward with his hips, sliding his dick most of the way out. Then he yanked on her hair again to drive her back. In. Out. In. Out. Emmy was a crying, wailing ragdoll in his hands as he ravished her ass. After a few more thrusts he released his grip on her hair.

"Come on, whore! I've showed you how to do it. Now get to work! I'm not untying you until I've filled your guts with my cum!"

Emmy threw herself back against Thorne's hips with a grunt, capturing his full length in her ass, then rocked forward. She repeated it again, and again, and again.

"Yes! That's it!" Thorne effused. "Now squeeze my cock as you slide forward. Yes! Just like that! My god, you're a natural!"

The compliment seemed to sting the princess as hard as a blow from the flogger, but she kept doing as Thorne instructed. Soon she was huffing and puffing with exertion as she rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth. Again and again and again.

Then after another minute or so Thorne threw the strands of the flogger around and beneath Emmy, catching them in his other hand. He pulled back on his makeshift lasso, drawing the ropes running from Emmy's tits to her knees tighter and lifting her feet from the floor. Feeling like her tits were being yanked off, Emmy followed the pull of the ropes, folding herself nearly double, wrenching her bound arms upward. If not for the upward lift of Thorne's flogger, nearly all her weight would have been suspended by her shoulders, threatening to dislocate them. The movement drove Thorne's cock deeper than ever into her ass where he held it, and came. Emmy could feel his throbbing cock twitch as he fired burst after burst of hot sticky cum deep into her bowels while she screamed and screamed.

When he was finally spent he dropped Emmy back to the floor and slid his softening dick out of her ass, tucking it back into his pants. For the first time Thorne seemed to acknowledge the pounding on the door from the irate Sir Robert who had watched the entire scene unfold with ever-growing fury.

"Now who could that be?" Thorne said coyly. "Perhaps the brave Sir Robert wants a go." He turned to answer the door, then on a second thought spun back towards Emmy. "We can't have you making a mess on the floor though," he explained as he took the handle of his flogger, dunked it in lube, and unceremoniously shoved it up Emmy's well-fucked asshole. The overtaxed and exhausted girl dropped into a squat, shifting her pain from her breasts back to her shoulders.

Thorne marched to the door, unbarred it, and flung it open. "Oh, hi Robert," he said casually, as if Robert hadn't just bloodied his knuckles pounding on the door for the past several minutes. "She's all yours." He shoved past Robert and made quickly for the stairs.

"Thorne!" Robert howled and ran after him. He caught up to him on the main deck, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around to face him. "What the fuck was that?"

"Oh, you know," Thorne answered. "Just another day at the office."

Robert's right hook caught Thorne by surprise and sent him sprawling to the deck. Robert pounced on the stricken man, grabbing him by the collar. "The princess is in my charge! I am responsible for her welfare! You had no right to do what you did to her!"

"Oh, please," Thorne spat out the blood pooling in his mouth. "Spare me the noble knight act. The princess stopped being the princess the moment she put on that collar. She is a tool now - a tool meant to be used, just as the council instructed."

A red-faced Robert shoved Thorne back down against the deck. "That isn't what they intended!"

"Isn't it?" Thorne said. "The brutes working in the king's dungeon only think in terms of immediate gratification - the swing of a whip, the snap of a cane - a quick flash of pain that is almost as quickly forgotten. I've read the notes. The collar works from continued distress. And I've learned in my years that a nice tight bondage position can do wonders towards that goal. This is what the girl needs. This is what she deserves."

"Not like that!" Robert growled between gritted teeth.

"Tell me," Thorne continued. "Have you looked around at the countryside that we've flown over in the past few hours?"

Robert sat back in confusion. "Go on," Thorne urged. "I'll wait."

Robert's curiosity got the better of him. He got up off of Thorne and walked to the railing. He gazed out at the land beside the ship - dusty, brown scrublands, cracked and dry, spread as far as the eye could see.

"No, to the stern," Thorne said stepping up behind him.

Robert turned his head and almost couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Behind the Ravenwing, and spreading out in its wake the land had sprung to life - green grasses dotted with blooming wildflowers, birds chirping, nature flourishing, it was completely and totally transformed.

"The power of the collar is real," Thorne said. "And it is our responsibility to restore the kingdom."

Robert didn't want to believe that what he had just seen below deck had resulted in what he was seeing now. It didn't seem fair.

Thorne sensed he had made his point and the argument was won. He leaned against the railing, dabbing his split lip with a handkerchief. "Our new toy is actually quite a bit of fun," he quipped. "Everyone probably assumed she was some innocent maiden. Well she's not so innocent anymore, eh?"

Robert tore his spellbound eyes away from the verdant green landscape behind the ship. "What did you say?" he asked, his temper rising again.

"When I first tied her up there was no hiding her excitement. Her pussy was wetter than the Emerald Fens in monsoon season. This girl's a real bondage slut. She may squeal and squirm and scream, but deep down she craves the abuse. She wants it. She needs it. I bet I was the first one to ever cum in her ass, though," he said proudly. "It's a good thing the notes say that the collar prevents her from getting pregnant, otherwise you and I might be in some trouble," he added with a wink.

Robert turned to Thorne. His tightly clenched fist trembled with the urge to clock Thorne again. "I want you off my ship."

"What?"

"Grab your bags. You're getting off here."

"You can't be serious," Thorne protested. "We're in the middle of nowhere. You can't do this!"

Robert stormed into their shared quarters and began stuffing Thorne's things into a rucksack. Thorne followed him, continuing to object.

"Oh, I see what this is," Thorne said. "You want her for yourself. Is that it? You don't want to share. Well tell me this - does the princess know about you did?"

Robert paused packing. "Know what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. It's my job to know secrets. All secrets. Like the request you made of the king before the two of you ran off to fight the barbarians a couple months ago."

Robert paled. "How did you know about that?"

"I told you. It's my job to know secrets. So tell me - does our fair Princess Emmy know that you asked her father for her hand in marriage?"

"No. No she doesn't," Robert stammered. "And she never will."

Robert finished packing and hauled the rucksack outside. He took a long rope, tied off one end to the rigging and tossed the rest of the length overboard, then he thrust a sheet of paper into Thorne's hands. "I'd had my doubts when we left and you have confirmed them. I divided up the list of experts between us according to who'd be the best point of contact. You will find out everything you can and meet up with me in the city of Cloudspire in three months time."

"You're not even going to land? I'll die out here!" Thorne objected.

"The royal highway is two miles due north. It will take you west to Maplebrook after a half day's journey. You have a canteen and rations and I've left you with plenty of gold to outfit yourself with what you need to complete your mission. I wish it hadn't come to this."

"And if I refuse to go?"

Robert tossed Thorne's rucksack over the side of the ship and put his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"So that's how it is," Thorne said. He knew he was no match for Robert in a one-on-one fight. "I'll go. But know this - the next time you walk through a dark forest, you'd better watch your back."

Thorne grabbed onto the rope and ungracefully rappelled down to the ground. Robert didn't look back as he pulled up the rope again then hurried to the helm to adjust the autogyro that held them on a consistent heading. They had a new destination now that they were bypassing Maplebrook. Then, he went to go look in on Emmy as he should have done before they'd left the capital.

A million thoughts raced through his mind as he descended the stairs into the hold. What if Thorne was right? What if everything he'd seen was truly necessary? Who else knew about his requested betrothal? If Thorne knew, did Emmy know too?

Robert had admired Emmy for years. He was an aspiring member of the king's court and she was a princess in waiting. They crossed paths many times at balls and feasts and tournaments. He never had the courage to approach her one on one. She wasn't like the other girls in the court - she was adventurous and daring and intelligent. He'd even seen her learning to wield a sword. He was sure they'd get along great, if only he could work up the necessary bravery to talk to her.

He had reason to believe that Emmy fancied him as well. On several occasions he had been training in the sparring room, hard at work, only to find the princess spying on him from one of the hidden passages into the room - the girl wasn't half as sneaky as she thought she was. At every tournament he was sure to see Emmy sitting front and center in the stands when his time came to battle. He felt like they were meant for each other. But now...

He took a deep breath and opened the door to Emmy's quarters.

---

Emmy's thighs burned from the strain of her position, even squatting low did little to alleviate her overtaxed muscles. She didn't dare drop any farther - the pain in her shoulders would be even more unbearable. For now, at least, her tits were spared the cruel pull of the ropes tied tightly around them. She could feel her pulse throb in her aching breasts with every beat of her heart. Her backside still glowed from the sting of Thorne's whip which was now lodged uncomfortably deep up her ass. The long strands dangled down like some perverse tail, a humiliation piled atop her pain.

The strain on her shoulders was growing worse. Emmy reluctantly decided to raise herself up once more and shift her torture back to her bound breasts. She pressed her agonizing toes against the floor. The cruel high heeled shoes were absolute murder on her feet, but she knew that if she kicked them off she'd have even less support for her pained shoulders. Her upper body lifted higher, her arms, held high up behind her back came lower, but this was in trade for the increasing pull of the ropes on her tits.

She cried in frustration. She cried in pain. She cried for the unfairness of it all. Ever since she had put on the awful collar she'd known nothing but agony and fear and despair. At first her father's ministers were intent on removing the collar as quickly as possible. Emmy screamed in terror as she was held tightly against a table and all manner of saws and blades passed millimeters away from her throat. She heard their curses and laments as every attempt inevitably failed.

Then they seemed to have turned their ire on her. With no explanation she was stripped naked and hauled off into the dungeons where she suffered terrible indignities and abuse. She was whipped. She was caned. She was berated. All the while Sir Percy, the prime scholar, sat in the corner taking diligent notes. There was no one to comfort her. No one to rescue her. No one to give her so much as a kind word. She was all alone.

After nearly a week in the dungeons - it was difficult to tell time in the windowless cell she occupied - she was told she was going on a journey. Imagine her total humiliation as she was hauled before the entire council and the handsome Sir Robert half-naked, dirty, bound and gagged, and discussed like she was nothing but a problem to be solved.

She thought that boarding the Ravenwing would improve her lot. She was cleaned up, given a dress, and taken to her room aboard the ship. She laid down on the hard cot, which was leaps and bounds better than the hard stone floors of the dungeon, and fell asleep immediately. She was awakened some time later by Sir Thorne, who quickly disabused her of the notion that things would be any better for her.

The sound of boots on the deck behind her snapped Emmy back to the present. A tremor of fear ran down her spine. Was Sir Thorne returned to torment her further? But the footfalls were softer, more tentative. She ventured a glance behind, wincing as the move yanked especially hard on her left breast. Sir Robert! She quickly dropped herself into a squat, lowering her outthrust pussy to the deck as if that might somehow preserve her modesty despite the flogger prominently jutting out of her ass and her total nudity aside from her heels, ropes, and gag.

She suddenly became aware of how wet her pussy was. She could feel a small dribble of her arousal shake free of her labia and land on the deck beneath her. Her face flushed. She prayed that Robert hadn't noticed. She hated how being so vulnerable turned her on. She hated how, despite all the pain, despite all the exhaustion, despite all the fear and humiliation, a part of her wanted nothing more than for Robert to come up behind her right now and fuck her brains out.

She was no innocent maiden. For years she'd had her dalliances with various stable boys and kitchen hands. But they were just there to satisfy an urge. They always left her feeling unfulfilled and wanting something else, something better.

Meeting eyes with Robert had spurred him into motion. Any hesitancy he had evaporated and he quickly drew his dagger from his boot. With a quick flick he slashed the rope holding her wrists up to the ceiling. Emmy collapsed into his arms and cried with relief. "It's ok," he said. "I'm here now."

She pressed herself into the warmth of his body, soaking his shirt with her tears while he cut away the rest of her bindings, gently worked the flogger from her rear, and slipped her feet from her dreadful shoes. He removed the gag from her mouth.

"Sir Robert," she sobbed.

"Shh," he quieted her. "Don't speak. He's gone and he's not coming back."

He picked her up in his arms, carrying her weak and tired body as if she weighed nothing. She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs and into his quarters. He set her down on his soft bed and pulled a nightshirt over her head. Emmy was so exhausted, so overwhelmed, so overcome with everything that she just laid down in the bed and sighed. Robert kicked off his boots, set down his sword, and crawled into bed beside her, cradling her in his arms, transferring her his warmth.

The weariness of Robert's long travels and the exhaustion of Emmy's ordeal caught up to them both and the pair was soon fast asleep, snuggling together in the large bed illuminated by the blue glow of the collar, whose stark brightness was fading rapidly.

---

Emmy was jostled awake as the ship lurched hard to the side. Another turbulent shake sent her slamming into the bulkhead beside the bed. The ship's sturdy timbers creaked and groaned. She sat up and tried to find her bearings. The room was completely dark except for the bright, blood red glow of the jewel on her collar.

Robert was already out of bed and putting on his boots. He threw open the door to the cabin and was immediately blasted backward by a fierce, icy wind that buffeted the room. The torrential downpour that came with it instantly soaked through his clothes. He turned back to Emmy. A grim look of determination hiding the fear he showed in his eyes.

"Get below deck! It'll be safer down there!" he ordered.

He helped Emmy to her feet and guided her through the door. She clung shivering to his body as they walked together on the pitching and rocking deck to the cargo hold. Above, ropes whipped wildly about where they had snapped free from the rigging. Robert yanked open the latticed hatch to the lower deck and guided Emmy down, then threw the hatch closed behind her.

"What are you doing?" Emmy shouted over the roaring winds and din of thunder. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"I have to try and steer the ship down! Go! There's nothing you can do to help me up here!"

His eyes grew big and there was a loud crack as a spar broke off the mast and crashed down onto the deck. Robert dived out of the way just in time to avoid getting crushed, but the debris now blocked the door to the hold. Emmy couldn't come out to help even if she wanted to. She watched Robert regain his feet and dash up to the helm on top of the quarterdeck, disappearing in a torrent of wind and rain. Then she made her way back to her cabin to find a place to ride out the storm.