Martyr's Bargain

The airship pitched and rolled as the storm battered it from all sides. Robert kept a firm grip on the controls as he was tossed about. The rope he'd tied around his waist had already saved his life a few times. The deck suddenly dropped out from beneath his feet and for an instant he was weightless. Knowing what was coming next, he braced himself as the ship came rushing up at him from below. He heard more timbers crack somewhere ahead of him. His thoughts shifted to Emmy - he really hoped the princess had had the good sense to secure herself to something below deck.

He couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction due to the blinding, swirling rain. I have to get us down on the ground, he repeated to himself over and over as he wrestled with the floundering vessel. A flash of lightning a hundred feet away temporarily blinded him. At the same time the ship lurched and he lost his grip on the controls. Robert flew one way, the ship flew another. The rope around his waist snapped taut. He felt the air pressed out of his lungs as the loop tightened. Then he sprang like a yo-yo back towards the steering yoke, smashing his head on the console and losing consciousness.

---

Robert awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and blue skies overhead. His skull pounded with a terrible headache and it felt like he had several bruised ribs. He untied the rope from around his waist and stood up. They had landed, or more accurately crashed, into a broad field of barley. The deck was pitched thirty degrees to the side. Robert looked around to see snapped rigging, tattered sails, and damaged controls, and he wondered if the Ravenwing would ever fly again.

How could this have happened? The weather seers had prophesized clear skies and fair winds for the lowlands and they were rarely wrong. Unless... the collar. Had the comfort he'd given the princess stirred up this storm?

The sound of banging drew his attention amidship. He hurried down to the main deck where even more debris was strewn about. The entry to the cargo hold was still stuck shut by the spar that had landed on it during the storm.

"Emmy, is that you?"

The banging stopped. "Oh, Robert! You're alive! I've been calling out to you for hours with no answer. I was so worried!"

He looked down at her through the thatched hatchway into the cargo hold. Tears once again streaked her face, though this time from relief.

"I'm trapped down here," Emmy said. "The hatch is jammed shut. I've tried everything I can to move it from down here but it won't budge."

"Stand back. I'll see if I can get it open." Robert's muscles strained, his bruised ribs blazed with pain as he gripped the heavy timber that blocked the hatchway from above and dragged it off to the side. He pulled open the door and Emmy bounded up the ladder and into his arms.

"I, uh," Robert stammered. Last night aside, he'd never held a beautiful maiden in such a way and his thoughts turned to mush as he struggled to find something profound or endearing to say. "How about that storm, eh?" was the best he could come up with. He could have kicked himself.

Emmy released her embrace. "Yeah. Where are we?"

"It's hard to say. Those winds could have blown us dozens of miles off course. If we could take to the skies again I might be able tell from the landmarks. But with the state that the ship is in I doubt we could even get off the ground, let alone fly anywhere. Let's check to see if there are any tools or supplies to make repairs with."

They went together to the cargo area below deck. Robert had packed mostly adventuring gear - weapons, armor, food, tents, and so on. He wasn't expecting to need to do anything more than minor repairs and maintenance to the airship, so he didn't have the heavier woodworking tools they'd require. So their hope rested upon what Thorne had packed.

Robert pried open the first of the three large crates that Thorne had loaded. As the side fell away an avalanche of items spilled out onto the deck - whips, chains, cuffs, clamps, gags, hoods, plugs and dildos of all shapes and sizes tumbled to their feet. Robert and Emmy looked at each other and blushed.

"Um, let's check a different one," Robert quickly suggested though he noted Emmy's gaze lingering on a few items as he cracked open the next crate. That one was filled with various lingerie, stockings, thongs, garters, gloves, corsets, boots, and heels. Clearly Thorne thought this trip was going to go in one particular direction.

"Why don't you, uh, continue the inventory," Robert said, shoving the pry bar into Emmy's hands. "I'll go survey the damage."

Robert retreated back above deck and walked up and down the ship to see what shape it was in. Fortunately the hull was pretty much in tact, but when he looked over the stern of the ship his heart sank as he saw that the primary elevator had snapped off. They weren't going anywhere.

There was a rustling from the treeline beside the field and Robert heard a voice call out. "Hallooo? Is there anybody over there?"

"Yes! Yes there is. Who's out there?" Robert replied.

The caller remained hidden in the trees. "You picked a helluva bad spot to land, buddy," he shouted.

"I think, given the circumstances, the landing was as good as could be expected," said Robert. "Who am I talking to? Show yourself."

"I don't think you'll like what you see," the man said.

"Nonsense. I am a knight in the service of His Majesty. There's nothing you can show me that will surprise me."

There was a rustling of branches and the man stepped out into the barley field. Robert's stomach dropped. The man was right, Robert didn't like what he saw. The man had an advanced case of barkflesh. The skin on his hands and face was dry and cracked. He wore goggles over his eyes to protect himself from the sunlight on his extra sensitive pupils. And he had a cough that sounded like a handful of gravel shaking around in a tin can.

"The name's Otis," the man bowed, doffing his cap.

"Sir Robert Goodhart, at your service." He threw a rope ladder over the side and climbed down to meet the man. "I picked a helluva bad spot to land."

"You oughtn't come any closer, sir," Otis warned.

"It's alright. My uncle's family was stricken with barkflesh fifteen years ago when I was staying with them. It turns out I'm one of the lucky few who's immune." He reached out to shake the man's scaly hand. "So I take it I've landed in a quarantine colony then?"

"Yup. Welcome to Avondale."

Barkflesh had afflicted the kingdom off and on for centuries. There was no cure. It only affected men - slowly drying their skin and weakening their lungs until they couldn't breathe on their own and suffocated. It was a mystery why it only affected the male population, a mystery which inevitably led to rumors, conspiracies, and misinformation. One that had taken hold amongst the populace was that once a woman saw a man with barkflesh she became an asymptomatic carrier of the disease and could spread it to others. During outbreaks women would blindfold themselves while the disease raged, in hopes of avoiding the inevitable witch hunts that came about after, when the survivors were looking for someone to blame. An infected man never knew how long he had left to live, sometimes it was weeks, sometimes it was years, but regardless of how long he had, everyone knew it was not safe for him to stay around. Thus, quarantine colonies sprang up in remote areas away from the cities where outbreaks occurred. The infected men gathered together, caring for the weakest among them, and waited their time to die.

Some men, perhaps one in a hundred, were, for unknown reasons, completely immune to the disease. These men often took jobs as Protectors in the Royal Med Corps, an organization tasked with keeping the infected inside the colonies and the uninfected out. In their jurisdiction they had absolute authority and the penalty for violating the quarantine was death.

"Are there any other survivors on the airship?" Otis asked.

Robert looked over his shoulder. "No," he lied. "Can you take me to the leader of the colony?"

"Sure. Follow me."

Robert was led to the village. Houses and workshops lined either side of the street. From how built up it was, this colony must have been around for many years. As he walked along next to Otis various scarred, cracked faces peered out of the buildings at him. Visitors, understandably, were a less than rare occurrence. They stopped in front of the largest house in the village where a tall, proud old man stood waiting for him. He wore a sort of metal girdle whose spinning gears and puffs of steam seemed to help the man breathe.

"Greetings, visitor," the old man wheezed. "I am Lord Callum Goldfeather. Welcome to Avondale."

"The Lord Callum?" Robert gushed as he introduced himself to the old man. "Famed scientist and inventor? Holder of over a hundred royal patents?"

"One and the same," Lord Callum nodded proudly with a raspy cough. "I hear you arrived here on an airship. I simply must have a tour."

"Not so much arrived as crashed, I'm afraid. It's in pretty rough shape," Robert replied.

"Then you may be in luck," Lord Callum beamed. "We have in this camp many former members of the king's royal air foundry. You may not be aware of it, but I invented much of the technology that made airships possible. Me and my team had just finished construction on the very first prototype airship, the Zephyr, when an outbreak of barkflesh hit our foundry. I never got to see it fly," he lamented. "Come, take me to your ship straightaway."

Robert hurried after the surprisingly spry old man as he began walking down the street. He had to think of something fast before they stumbled across Emmy. Robert didn't believe any of the old wives' tales about female carriers, but if any of the residents saw her looking at them then there was no way they'd be allowed to leave the village.

"How is it you came to be here?" Lord Callum asked.

"The storm that blew through last night brought us down," Robert said.

"You flew through that?" Lord Callum asked, shocked. "You are either incredibly brave or remarkably foolish."

"The storm sprang up out of nowhere. I was lucky to survive."

Lord Callum came to an abrupt halt as he spied the ship. A look of wistful familiarity twinkled in his eyes as he lifted his sunglasses and drank in the fine curves of the Ravenwing. "Simply remarkable," he muttered to himself.

Robert jogged ahead of the growing throng of spectators that approached the ship. "I was on a highly secretive mission for His Majesty delivering a precious cargo when I crashed into your quarantine colony," Robert said loudly enough that he hoped Emmy could hear. "I can allow you to visit any part of the ship except for the rear area of the cargo hold."

Lord Callum and his men followed Robert up the rope ladder onto the deck of the ship. The air filled with technical jargon as the former builders and engineers pored over every detail of the Ravenwing. They excitedly discussed the new innovations that had come about since they last laid hands on a set of blueprints for an airship. Robert followed them about answering any questions he could, though it seemed Lord Callum and his men knew more about the ship than Robert ever could. All the while, Robert kept a sharp eye on the entrance to the cargo hold to make sure no one stumbled across Emmy's hiding place. When Lord Callum had finally had his fill of looking over the ship he sent his men back to the village then stood with Robert on the main deck.

"It's a fine ship indeed," Lord Callum said. "The damage from the storm is significant. The craft is certainly not capable of flight in its current state, but I don't think there is any damage here that is beyond the skills of me and my men to repair."

Robert breathed as sigh of relief. There was still hope for their quest after all.

"There is, however, the matter of our payment," Lord Callum added.

"Of course," Robert replied. "My mission is of great importance to the royal council and I have been granted a fair sum of gold to pursue it. I'm sure we can come to a reasonable agreement."

"Keep your gold," Lord Callum scoffed. "What use is money to a dying man? No traders visit us in this colony and, even if they could, the Protectors would never allow them to remove money or goods past the quarantine boundary. No, I am talking about something more precious than gold. Our interest is in the companion that you keep in the hold of your ship."

Robert tried to maintain a tight poker face. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied.

"I am not a fool, Sir Robert! So don't treat me like one! We could sense her presence even before Otis came to greet you earlier today. When a man has gone a decade without seeing a woman he gets a sixth sense for when one is near. Who is she? Your wife?"

"No."

"Your family?"

"No."

"A servant, perhaps?"

"I suppose you could put it that way," said Robert, unsure of how to describe his relationship but certain that it would be better to keep the princess's identity protected.

"Then you won't mind at all if she, um, visits with us," Lord Callum declared. His tone implied that these visits would be more intimate than a friendly chat about the weather. "Any man who volunteers to work on your ship shall be granted time alone with your companion in exchange for his labor. I personally guarantee that she will come to no lasting harm from her service. These are our terms."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then the two of you will spend the rest of your days in Avondale. The Protectors know these lands better than anyone and patrol them frequently. No one has ever escaped quarantine on foot. The airship is your only way out. You know where to find me while I await your decision."

"I'll consider what you have said."

Lord Callum departed, leaving Robert standing alone on the deck of his broken ship with the proposal spinning in his thoughts. He decided there was nothing left to do but talk to Emmy about it. He descended into the cargo hold and knocked on Emmy's door. When there was no answer he opened it any way.

---

Emmy had heard Robert's warning when he returned to the ship with the craftsmen and had hidden herself away in her quarters. Being alone in hiding gave her time to think, too much time perhaps. That storm that had swept the ship away, could it have been caused by the collar? Sir Percy had said that the collar wearer's pain brought good to the lands around them. Was the opposite true as well? Laying in Sir Robert's arms after the terrible ordeal that Thorne had put her through was, by contrast, one of the most comforting moments of her life. Had that comfort triggered some awful response from the collar? That bright, unsettling red light that had shown from the gem on the collar when the storm struck was something she had never seen before. In all the other, much unhappier, times wearing the collar the gem had glowed with various intensities of blue. Was the color a warning that trouble was imminent? And was the only remedy more suffering? The terror of the storm, at least, seemed to have sated the collar's need for distress - for now.

When she thought that everyone had left the ship Emmy pushed her door open a crack just in time to hear the end of Lord Callum's conversation with Robert. She fumed as she heard her body being discussed like some commodity to be bartered and traded. She retreated back to her room and angrily shut the door. She was pacing back and forth in her cabin deciding what to do when Robert's knock came a moment later. She ignored it but, of course, he entered anyway.

"Emmy," he began.

Slap! Her hand struck Robert square in the cheek. "You'll consider what he said?!" she raged.

"Emmy wait, I-"

"I'm your servant?!" He caught her other hand as it spun towards his face and used her momentum to twist her against the wall, pinning her in place against the bulkhead. She struggled to twist free but was no match for his strength.

"I never agreed to what he proposed," Robert said keeping his voice even.

"I am not your property! I am a princess of the royal family and I will not be treated this way!"

Robert leaned in close. "You are my responsibility," he said sternly. "You stopped being a princess the moment you put that collar on." He caught himself as he found that he was repeating what Thorne had said to him previously. A glimmer of doubt crossed his expression and his face softened. "I came here to discuss our options with you."

"What happened with the storm yesterday was my fault," he continued. "I was warned about what the collar could do and I failed to heed that advice. Now we're in a bad situation and we don't have a good way to proceed. I don't have the necessary expertise to repair the ship by myself. And I doubt we'd be able to evade the Protectors if we tried to-"

"I'll do it," Emmy interrupted.

"What?" Robert said, disarmed by the sudden turnabout.

"I said I'll do it. The storm was not your fault it was mine. I should have never meddled with the collar in the first place. Everything that's happened to me since then has been my own doing. But you're right. The collar is now my burden to bear."

"You heard what Lord Callum said. Do you know what you're agreeing to?"

"I know. I know. Now stop asking me about it before I change my mind."

Robert held his tongue. He let Emmy know that he would inform Lord Callum of her decision right away. Later, despite his insistence that she join him for dinner that evening, she chose to eat alone. The onus of the collar weighed heavily on her thoughts all night, keeping her awake until the wee hours.

---

Robert felt absolutely awful as he returned to Lord Callum to deliver the 'good' news. This was not the honorable quest he thought he'd be leading. He felt like some back alley flesh peddler as he ironed out the details of the deal. It didn't help that as he spoke with Lord Callum he realized that he had been on the other end of just such a negotiation months earlier when he had asked the king for Emmy's betrothal without her knowledge or consent. He told himself he had done it then out of respect and admiration for her, but now he saw it for what it was - two men bartering over a prize.

He had hoped that when he returned to Emmy they could have a talk, a real talk about their relationship and their roles on this journey, but she refused his invitation to dinner, insisting she wanted to be alone. He worried for her. Yes, the collar was her burden, but he hoped to help her carry it in whatever way he could. There was just so much that they didn't know yet and until they got some answers, uncertainty was the rule of the day.

It was with a heavy heart and a feeling of dread that he turned in for the night, laying his weary head on his pillow and drifting off to sleep. Only a few hours had passed before the door to his cabin burst open and Emmy flew into the room.

"Sir Robert," she stammered with a look of alarm. "I, uh, I need to be punished!"

The terror of the storm and its immediate aftermath had left the gem on the collar glowing with a blue light which, Emmy noted, had slowly dimmed over the course of the day while they inventoried the ship and investigated the damage. Her earlier anger at Robert had perhaps slowed the discharge but not stopped it. Now, as Emmy stood uncertainly in Robert's cabin, one could see just the slightest tinge of an eerie red light where the blue had previously shown prominently.

Before she knew it Robert sprang into action. In a whirlwind of sudden movement that caught her by surprise he had stood up, pulled her nightshirt up over head, and dragged her naked body facedown across his lap as he sat on the bed. Smack! Smack! Smack! Emmy squirmed as he beat a steady rhythm on her firm round behind with his open hand. "Oh, oh," she panted as his target shifted from cheek to cheek, his large hands leaving red handprints where they landed. Smack! Smack! Smack! After another minute Emmy stopped him.

"Sir," she said, "this isn't working."

"Why not?" asked Robert, confused.

"I, uh, I'm - this is turning me on," she admitted sheepishly, hating the way her body betrayed her. Her face blushed so red with embarrassment that it easily rivaled the glow of the gem.

Robert's brief look of confusion slowly morphed to realization and soon his own face had flushed enough to match Emmy's.

"Oh," he said, taking a moment to think, then he shifted her to the floor and grabbed a stash of ropes he kept nearby. "I think I have an idea."

His hands moved so fast they were like a blur. In an instant he had her ankles tightly bound together. Then her thighs. He crossed her arms behind her back and soon had them tied as well. She was like putty in his hands. He bent her this way and that, each turn adding another layer of rope from the shrinking supply he kept next to him. He wound the rope binding her wrists several times around her waist, cinching each loop tighter than the last. Emmy grunted as she felt her midsection compress.

His prowess with ropes was impressive. There was no wasted movement. Every twist, every turn, served only to tighten her bondage and further restrict her movement. In an instant her pussy was absolutely pulsing with desire. Emmy's humiliation deepened. Why does this happen to me, she wondered ruefully as she felt her arousal seeping down her leg.

Soon Robert's supply of ropes was exhausted. Emmy lay squirming on her stomach on the floor of the cabin. Robert stepped back to admire his work for a moment, then abruptly left. Emmy felt a tinge of disappointment. Was he just going to leave her here like this?

But Robert soon returned with a bundle of additional supplies in his arms and then got right back to work. He took a thin cord and used it to tie her two big toes together. He gathered her hair back from her face and bundled it into a neat ponytail which he then used as a handle to pull her chest up off the floor, exposing her large, soft breasts. A glimmer of metal caught Emmy's eye as he squeezed open a small clamp and pressed it to her nipple.

"Ahhh! Ahh!" Emmy howled. She bucked against his grip as the stiff jaws of the clamp pinched shut. Her nipples were especially sensitive and the clamp he had chosen was particularly cruel.

Robert was thrown by her intense reaction to the nipple clamp. He reached up to remove it, fearing it was too much for her, but Emmy pulled away.

"No!" she said with obvious strain in her voice. "Leave it. I can handle it." Though the quiver in her words suggested otherwise.

Robert pondered the remaining clamp. With a determined look he lifted it to her other nipple and squeezed it open. He braced himself for her reaction as he slowly let the jaws close on her tender flesh.

"Argh! Ahh!" The ropes creaked as the pain flashed through her body and she reflexively twisted away. If her hands had been free they'd have flown to her tits to try and save her from the crushing pain.

He lowered her body back to the floor and released his grip on her hair. Emmy's breath hissed as her upper body mashed her breasts against the hardwood, twisting the clamps and pressing them into her chest.

She was only down for a second though before Robert again grasped her hair and yanked her head back. She opened her mouth to grunt and found a length of rope pulled between her teeth. Her eyes widened in surprise as he again released her hair, but this time her head was kept elevated by the rope he kept in his grip. With the strain on her neck she wasn't expecting the pull at her feet. The rope binding her toes drew forward and was tied off on the rope between her teeth. Robert wound the rope once more around her head adding another length between her teeth and then he did it again. Now when he let go her back remained arched, her toes pointed painfully to her head, the ropes drawn back hard into her open mouth. Her tongue ran along the coarse fibers as they sapped the moisture from her mouth and robbed her of her speech.

"How's that?" Robert teased. "More to your liking?"

"Ugh! Ugh!" Emmy grunted as she explored her bonds. She could do little more than shimmy her hips and flex her legs, though the latter only served to increase the severity of the arch in her back.

"Goodnight, Emmy," he offered sincerely.

Emmy expected Robert to retreat back to his bed to go to sleep, but he didn't. Instead he took up a guard position to the side of the room. He stood with the practiced precision of a disciplined soldier - back straight, eyes forward - where he maintained his watch through the night

---

Somehow Emmy had managed to fall asleep eventually. Though she couldn't crane her neck to see him, Emmy could feel Robert's eyes exploring her naked, bound body as she had writhed on the floor. She squirmed in her bonds trying to find the least uncomfortable position. But with every passing moment her strength waned and she surrendered to the pull of the ropes.

He awakened her at first light. Her body was so stiff, so sore that she could hardly move as he rocked her back and forth, untying the ropes. When the last one was pulled free she curled into a ball and moaned as her aching muscles slowly uncramped and full circulation was restored to her extremities.

Robert waited a few minutes to allow her to recover then he helped her sit up. She winced as the clamps still attached to her nipples twisted along with the movement. She lifted her arms to remove them, grabbing one in each hand, eager to be free of the cruel pinch.

"Ohhhhhh!" she howled in pain as the sudden inrush of blood set every nerve in her sensitive nipples firing. She suddenly became aware of how wet her pussy was. What is wrong with me, she wondered. Why does this get me so aroused?

Robert examined the gem on her collar. "Looks like that helped," he observed. "The gem has switched back to blue, though it's not as bright as I've seen it at other times." He took the clamps from her and stowed them in his pocket. "Breakfast is waiting for you in your room. Why don't you go eat and get some proper rest? Lord Callum and his men will be here later this morning."

He helped her back to her quarters then left to attend to other matters. Emmy wolfed down the large breakfast he had left for her then crawled into her cot and fell fast asleep.

She awoke this time to the sound of sawing and hammering. Surely the workers haven't started already, she thought. Robert would have told her. Besides, the men hadn't received their... payment. She hurried to wash up and get herself ready. Robert arrived just as she was finishing up.

"Good morning," he said as he entered the room. "I was just getting the..." His words trailed off as he caught a look the princess. She stood there shyly smiling, a sight to behold in beautiful black lingerie. Sheer stockings ran up to her thighs, held in place by the garter belt resting atop her hips, nicely framing her freshly shaved pussy. A black leather corset narrowed her waist, accentuating her hourglass shape and rising just high enough to support her full tits which were proudly lifted and presented by the corset. Black elbow length opera gloves covered her arms and she wore strappy black four inch heels on her feet. Her golden blond hair had been washed, brushed, and twisted into a braid that ran down to the small of her back.

She pursed her crimson painted lips and smiled. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, um, I was just, I mean you are, um, I mean you look," Robert stammered with growing color in his face.

"Oh, this?" she said coyly, with a quick spin to give the full effect. "I just figured that if I'm to be passed around like some prized object that I ought to make myself look like I'm worth all the trouble."

"Yes, about that," Robert said, slowly recovering the use of his tongue, though still unable to tear his eyes away from her gorgeous body, "the workers had a few requests that I wanted to run past you."

"Oh, this ought to be good. What's the first one?"

Robert reached into the bag he was holding and pulled out a red ball gag.

"So I take it they're not interested in some sparkling conversation with an elegant and sophisticated woman?" she said sarcastically.

"It would appear not," Robert agreed.

"Fine," Emmy grabbed the ball gag. "Next?"

"Many of the men believe the superstition that if a woman sees an infected then she becomes a carrier, so they insisted that you not be allowed to see them. They drew up some plans for a box for you to stay in while they, um, visit, with you."

"Is that what all the sawing and hammering was this morning?"

"Yes. Come, I'll show it to you," he said.

Emmy followed him up out of the cargo hold and onto the main deck. She paused as Robert stopped next to the box.

"They want me in that?!" she asked, her face growing paler.

She gazed at a box that was about two feet wide, three feet long, and one foot high, mounted on a post that left it waist high. There was a hole cut in one end through which her midsection would fit, leaving her standing, bent over at the waist with her ass and pussy readily available for easy access.

"And they wanted me out in the middle of the deck?" she added, a bit of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Well, no," Robert admitted. "That was my idea. Lord Callum promised that they would behave, but I figured the men would be better able to control themselves if the others could keep an eye on them."

"Mm-hmm," Emmy acknowledged, holding her tongue and trying not to point out that an audience was absolutely the last thing she wanted while she was being whored out to a bunch of strangers.

"So for their next request," Robert began.

"Save it," Emmy interrupted. "I don't want to hear any more. They're going to end up doing whatever they want to do and it's my job to grin and bear it, or," she held up the ball gag, "gag and bear it."

"You don't have to do this," Robert insisted. "We can find another way."

"No. The mission is too important. The sooner we can get this collar off, the sooner I can get my life back."

"Ok," Robert said. "The workers will be here shortly. We should get you into position."

She handed him back the ball gag and held her hair up out of the way so that he could buckle it into place. Then he went to the box and swung open the hinged top. Emmy followed and leaned over the opening at the end, resting her corseted waist on the supple leather that lined the opening. The pliable leather ensured a snug fit around her torso, holding her fixedly in place and blocking any light from the opening.

"I was thinking," Robert said. "And until we know otherwise, I believe it's unsafe to let the charge on the collar get too low. I don't know how often it needs to be, uh, serviced. But we don't want a repeat of what happened last night. So I figured I'd make a few modifications to the box design beyond what the workers requested."

"Mmmph?" Emmy didn't like the sound of this.

He held up a small coil of rope. Emmy's arms were twisted up behind her back with her wrists crossed near her shoulder blades. Severals loops of the rope later and they were securely held in place. But Robert didn't stop there. Emmy groaned as he yanked her head back by her braid and tied that off onto her wrists. When he let go she couldn't lower her head without wrenching her shoulders back painfully. She was stuck facing the side of the box opposite the opening that held her waist.

"The notes I read seemed to suggest that it wasn't just physical discomfort that affects the collar. So I thought we'd try this."

He disappeared from view then came back holding a mirror that he carefully positioned in on the side of the box so that Emmy was staring at the reflection of her face.

"I believe you're familiar with the scrying mirrors?" he asked. "You will only see your own reflection in that one. While this one," he held up the companion mirror, "acts like a window the user can look through to see inside your box. It'll be mounted conveniently on top!"

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Emmy complained. She had assumed that being enclosed within the box would allow her some refuge, some privacy. But this would take all that away. She would not be the anonymous plaything in the box - her voyeuristic patrons would see every flinch, every shudder, every gasp while they used her. And she would see those reactions as well!

"Even the newest members of the quarantine village have been here for nearly ten years, so there's very little danger that anyone will recognize a princess from the royal family."

"And just in case this is not enough," Robert added. "I made one more modification to make things a little less comfortable."

Emmy scoffed at the implication that she was at all comfortable. Here she was, bound, exposed, gagged, and displayed for all to see. She couldn't help but wonder if this was all for the sake of charging the collar, or if perhaps Robert was taking advantage of the situation for his own pleasure.

Robert kneeled down beneath her and flipped a latch. Emmy startled as she felt a section of the box beneath her chest begin to slide away. She lifted her body when she felt her tits begin to pull to the side. But, she quickly discovered, when she relaxed her back once more to rest upon the bottom of the box, the area beneath her tits was now covered in dull wooden spikes!

"Nngh! Nnngh!" Emmy protested, quickly lifting herself up away from the spikes.

"My hope is that the collar will have a full charge when we leave," he explained. "Now, I'll ask you one last time because once I close this box there's no backing out. Are you sure you're willing to do this?"

Emmy was having some serious second thoughts, but she wasn't willing to back down. She wanted to prove to herself, and Robert, that she could do this.

"Uh huh," Emmy reluctantly assented.

"Alright. I'll have you out of there as soon as I can," Robert said. "And I'll do my best to keep an eye on everyone."

He carefully closed the lid. A pair of latches snapped shut on the outside, emphasizing that the decision of when she could leave the box was not up to her. Now surrounded on all sides by thick wooden walls, Emmy realized just how confining her situation was. She had never been particularly comfortable with small spaces. When she shimmied through the narrow secret passages of the castle she could always reassure herself that the exit was just a little ways ahead, but there was no exit from here - she was trapped.

She shifted uncertainly, trying to quell a rising panic. The pale blue gem illuminated the interior of case, casting soft shadows on her worried features. She looked at the frightened girl staring back at her in the mirror that wasn't just a mirror. Was Robert watching her right now through its voyeuristic companion?

She tried to force her attention outside the confines of the box. She could feel a gentle breeze blowing against her bare skin. She could feel the ship's sturdy timbers beneath her. And, unfortunately, she could feel her feet just starting to cramp in the high heels she had donned so cavalierly that morning. She had selected the least intimidating pair from among Thorne's collection, something she might have even considered for a social function back home. Had she known she'd be standing on her feet all day she definitely would have reconsidered. What's worse, the strappy little buckles across the top of each shoe ensured that she couldn't even kick them off if she tried.

The distraction was enough to keep her mind off the walls of the box that seemed to be closing in on her, at least for now. Soon there would be other distractions - what, exactly, she couldn't be sure of. It was those unknowns that kept her wondering. As her mind played over the various possibilities she started to feel her pussy respond. What is wrong with me, she thought once again. Why do these precarious situations keep turning me on?

After a short time she heard the clomping of many pairs of boots on the deck along with muffled conversations. She couldn't make out anything that anyone said but the general joviality outside the box stood in stark contrast to her anxiety within.

She jumped when she felt the first gentle touch of a finger softly tracing her thigh. She winced as her head banged against the top of the box from the surprise. Then - laughter? She was mortified to have the men see her aroused from this situation. What must they have thought of her? There was some spirited discussion and the hand pulled away. Perhaps someone had gone out of turn?

The way it was supposed to work was that each man was granted a numbered token to mark his place in line. When it was his turn he'd drop the token in a jar and then he'd have fifteen minutes to have his way with her, as marked by a small mechanical timer.

Clank! The first token dropped. The hands that grabbed her now were decidedly less gentle. She felt a firm grip on each hip then a sudden thrust as the man unexpectedly buried his dick balls deep in her unready pussy. "Ungh!" Emmy grunted as he bottomed out against her cervix. The abrupt shove sent her reeling forward and her tits mashed against the spikes. She quickly righted herself in time for the next hard thrust. It was like he was trying to put ten years worth of fucking in as little time as possible. She tried to brace herself as he slammed into her again and again and again. It was as if she was not a woman to him, she was an object, nothing more than a warm hole for him to park his meat. She wondered if he even looked at her face while he fucked her. Did he see her pained grimace with each hard thrust? Maybe he did and got off on her discomfort.

The only upside to her assailant's intensity was that he couldn't last long. After only a minute or two of hard heavy humping the stranger buried his cock deep inside her and came. She could feel his dick twitch as he fired burst after burst of hot, sticky cum up into her pussy. Then as abruptly as he arrived, he left.

Emmy was left standing with his runny jizz slowly dribbling out of her cunt and pooling on the deck beneath her. The mental image of her gaping snatch gradually oozing the sticky white goo caused no small amount of shame to Emmy. Look what I've been reduced to, she thought as she closed her legs to try and preserve some small amount of modesty. She was glad to be rid of the man but couldn't help but be offended by how quickly he lost interest in her once he came. Was she not even worth the whole fifteen minutes he'd been allotted? She was just a means to an end, and once her means had been thoroughly coated in his end she was no longer of any use to him. She was just a toy to be used and discarded.

Clank! The next token dropped and as if to confirm her feeling of objectification she immediately felt her legs pulled apart. A leather cuff wrapped her ankle, then her legs were forced even wider and another cuff enclosed the other ankle. She tried to adjust her stance to improve her balance but now realized that her legs were held apart by a spreader bar connecting the two cuffs.

Emmy mewed in frustration. Her freedom of movement had been restricted even more. She couldn't even close her legs since, apparently, that was the antithesis to her purpose - she was just a fucktoy, and fucktoys don't close their legs when there are hungry cocks about.

This next stranger took his time. His hands explored up and down her smooth stockinged legs. He patted her firm round rump and gently pinched her buttocks. After he'd finished playing he got down to business. He wasn't as rough as the first stranger and, much to Emmy's chagrin, she soon found her body reacting positively to the sensations. Her mind told her that this was wrong, she should be disgusted by being treated this way. But against her will she could feel her body responding to his hard dick sliding in and out of her. The conflict caused her no small amount of shame and confusion as her pussy grew wetter and his hard cock slipped blissfully in and out of her.

Just as his time was about up the stranger quickly pulled himself out of her warm wet pussy and blew his load onto the small of Emmy's back. Emmy cringed with disgust, her enchantment broken as her mind reeled. Somehow being painted with a man's sperm seemed more degrading than having it blasted up into her snatch.

Clank! Clank! Clank! More strangers arrived and had their way with her. Emmy remained the docile obedient fuckslut that they wanted her to be. But the strain of her position and the seemingly unending stream of horny men were taking their toll. Her neck and shoulders ached from the perpetual tug-of-war between her wrists and her braided hair. Her back protested the effort to keep her tits up off the spikes. Her feet were sore from the painful high heels strapped to her feet. Cum pooled on her back, ran down her legs, caked her ass, and filled her cunt. Her pussy was getting sore from the continuous fucking. Her last customer was a fair bit bigger than average and had battered her box with no regard for her pained squeaks. She found herself wishing her poor pussy could just get a break.

Clank! The next stranger approached. Emmy bolted upright, knocking her head on the top of the box as the man stepped up and jabbed a finger into her dry asshole. No! Not that, she pleaded in her thoughts. Her pussy needed a break, but this was certainly not what she had in mind.

She clenched and squeezed and pushed against the finger invading her ass but that only seemed to encourage him. Soon there were two fingers eagerly probing her tight asshole, slowly sliding in and out.

After a couple minutes of play the fingers came out. Emmy braced herself for what she expected next. She was surprised, then, when instead of the stranger's hard cock she felt the cool touch of the round metal tip on a steel butt plug. Insistent pressure nuzzled the lubricated tip in past her sphincter. The tapered plug grew wider as it pressed deeper, stretching her tight hole with every push. At its widest it was just a bit thicker than the two fingers that had previously occupied her asshole. Emmy grunted as her ass stretched to accommodate the intruder. The man was patient but persistent and soon Emmy felt her asshole close around the narrow base, holding the plug inside her. It couldn't have been more than a few inches long, but the plug left her feeling plenty full.

With her backdoor now occupied, the stranger turned his attention to her pussy. Emmy could immediately notice the difference as he slid his cock inside her. With the plug in her ass, her pussy felt fuller and tighter. Perhaps the stranger thought so too. He came in her cunt after only a minute or two of fucking. Then, like the others, he disappeared, leaving the plug shoved up her butt.

Maybe it's for the best, Emmy thought. The plug may dissuade other guests from trying to fuck her ass.

Clank! The next stranger seemed to validate her theory. He was more than content to use his oversized cock to try and rearrange Emmy's insides before adding his load to the sticky growing puddle on the small of her back.

The visitor after that, however, had other ideas. Clank! Emmy felt a tug on the plug. She fought back. She clenched her ass, resisting his pull. But he was determined and she was fighting a losing battle. After a short struggle the butt plug popped free. The stranger hardly missed a beat before he thrust the tip of his lubed up dick in to take its place. Emmy squealed as his cock stretched her aching asshole. She wriggled her hips in protest, pretty much the only movement her bondage allowed her. The man quelled her protest with a firm grip of his hands around her waist. Then he began working his cock back and forth, delving a little deeper into her ass with each thrust. Emmy's face became a mask of pain and humiliation as he quickened his pace. In. Out. In. Out. Her insides stretched and shifted to try and accommodate the stiff cock. His hard balls-deep buttfucking knocked her body around within the box. When he finally came Emmy could feel his slimy cum fill her guts. He pulled free, leaving her stretched out asshole oozing his runny jizz.

Clank! Clank! Clank! Now her gaping, winking asshole seemed to serve as beacon to all who saw it, advertising that her back door was open for business. There were few who could resist the call. Emmy felt more and more degraded with every hot load fired up into her bowels. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to get away. But she was trapped, powerless to do anything but endure.

This was soon followed a trio of guests who had a sadistic streak. She wasn't just a fucktoy to them, she was their paintoy. Each one tried to top the next at getting a reaction out of her. The first produced a dildo, slightly larger than the average man, and used that to stuff her ass while he fucked her pussy. Emmy felt like she would burst as the double penetration tested the capacity of her overtaxed holes.

The next visitor applied a set of weighted clamps to her labia, first using the chains attached to them to yank her body left and right and up and down before finally dropping the weights and jackhammering her pussy so hard and fast that they swung wildly about while he had his way with her. All Emmy could do was scream and cry and hold on for dear life.

The last in the series was worst of all. He warmed her up with a hard spanking. His huge hands clattered into her butt cheeks like thunderbolts, rattling the latches on the box with each blow until her ass glowed pink and she was wailing for him to stop. When he did, though, he shifted his attention to her labia clamps. Emmy moaned as she felt him lift the weights free from the chains, then she shrieked as he suddenly yanked downward and tore the clamps free without pinching them open. A wave of pain crashed over Emmy and her knees went weak.

But the monster wasn't finished. He pawed at her throbbing pussy, parting her aching lips with his meaty fingers, then, snap! Emmy screamed and saw red as one of the cruel clamps closed around her swollen clit! She thought she would pass out when he dropped the weight and the chain snapped taut.

She was still screaming when he yanked the dildo out of her ass with one swift pull and replaced it with his massive cock. Now he picked her up in his large hands, lifting her feet free from the deck. Emmy kicked and wailed as he ravaged her. With her feet unable to keep her upright, her breasts mashed hard into the spikes. His violent thrusts shook her back and forth, raking her tits across the dulled points with every vicious slam.

The rough fucking lasted less than a minute before she was suddenly dumped back to the deck and his cock pulled out of her battered ass. Emmy was too lost in her own pain to know whether or not he came or was pulled away by the others for being too rough. The commotion she heard outside the box seemed to suggest the latter.

She was left hurt and sobbing within her lonely box. The gem, which had grown gradually brighter and brighter as the day progressed, now beamed as bright as daylight, clearly illuminating her bedraggled face. Black tears streaked her cheeks. Her lipstick was smudged and smeared around her lips. Her wrists trembled as she struggled to hold them up on her back to relieve her aching neck.

Clank! Emmy wailed in despair. How long could this continue? She was totally spent. She'd been used, degraded, and abused. She was past her limit.

She gasped as the cruel clamp pinching her clit was removed and groaned as the returning blood flow brought a fierce, throbbing pain. Then she felt a cool sensation - a damp towel was being used to wipe clean her pussy, clearing away all the accumulated cum that had been deposited in her cunt. Then her ass was cleaned up. The cool towel was like a soothing balm on her battered cheeks and overused holes.

Once she was relatively clean the towel was discarded. Now she was visited by a tender, gentle touch. Soft fingers danced along her labia, caressing and massaging her sensitive bits. Once again she could feel her body responding positively to the touch. No! Don't do it, her rational mind insisted. This was probably just a ploy to humiliate her further - to show everyone how the wanton fucktoy can't help but get off after hours of sex and abuse - to reinforce that they are in control of her body, not her, and they could do whatever they want.

But it feels so good, her body replied. Who cares about the motivation, just go with it - an argument that became more powerful once the stranger's skilled fingers began circling her swollen clit. She failed to stifle the moan that gathered in her throat. A finger slid into her pussy and she couldn't help rocking her hips back and forth as she fucked herself on it. A sheen of sweat covered her body. All her aches and pains temporarily took a back seat to the growing bliss between her legs. The fingers moved faster to match her excitement, dancing around her clit and massaging her pussy. Emmy's whole existence collapsed down to the few square inches between her legs. It could have just been her imagination, but the light of the gem on her collar seemed to start pulsing in time with her throbbing cunt. Faster and faster until... she came, hard. The entire ship seemed to tremble under the wave of bliss that crashed over her. Her body tensed. Her legs stiffened. And a scream of pure pleasure was choked away by the ball gag firmly clenched between her teeth.

As the aftereffects ebbed Emmy's mind took over once more, reminding her that she had just orgasmed in front of a ship full of men that had spent the past few hours debasing and abusing her. This was the greatest humiliation of all.

Was this stranger truly just trying to make her feel good, or was he using her own body against her to emphasize that she was not in control of it? Either way his mission was complete. As one final act of mercy he unhooked the spreader bar from the cuffs around her ankles and, even better than that, removed the high heels from Emmy's aching feet.

Emmy immediately shifted to a more comfortable stance, her sore feet feeling infinitely better as she stood flatfooted on the deck in her ruined stockings. The afterglow of her orgasm faded, leaving only the shame of her situation. She waited for the next inevitable token to drop, but it never did. After another fifteen or twenty minutes she could hear the latches on her box being undone.

The top swung open and Robert was there to help her stiff body upright. He quickly untied her wrists, freed her gag, and wrapped a robe around her naked body with a hug.

"It's over," Robert said.

Emmy turned to him and gasped. "What happened to you?!" she exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her own aches and pains when she saw Robert's black eye and bloodied knuckles.

"It's nothing," he assured her. "Just a little disagreement between me and a couple of fellas who don't know when enough is enough."

He led her back down to her quarters. "We all agreed that you gave more than your fair share. They'll finish the last of the work while you rest in your room."

Emmy looked about as she descended the ladder to the cargo hold. All around her she could see signs of repair and improvement. Lord Callum's men must have been particularly motivated. The ship would be better than new by the time they were finished.

"I've explained to them the urgency of our mission and they've agreed to work through the night. We should be able to set sail at first light."

He left her to clean herself up. Emmy was happy to be alone with her thoughts for the rest of the day. Her time in the box had taken a toll on her. It wasn't long before the sound of saws and hammers returned as the workers came to finish the job.

---

Lord Callum was awakened just before dawn the next day by shouting and clamoring from some of the houses down the street. He and his men had worked late into the night, making good use of the new spark torches his head electromancer had designed last season. He hoped that the ruckus wasn't him missing the maiden flight of the new and improved Ravenwing. Sir Robert had promised he wouldn't leave until first light and Lord Callum dearly wanted to see the magnificent craft take to the air.

The whole repair operation had nearly ground to a halt when Drogar took things too far with the girl. The lousy brute was dumber than a bag of hammers, but they needed his strength to move some of their heavy equipment about. Fortunately he was near the end of the queue, so it wasn't too disruptive for the men when it was decided after what he did to be done with the girl. Lord Callum himself had abstained from the festivities altogether, instead focusing solely on coordinating the upgrades to the airship.

He rolled out of bed feeling surprisingly spry despite the lack of sleep he'd had the night before. He grabbed his pouch of coal powder to top off the breathing apparatus that he wore to pump fresh air into his withered lungs. The device had sustained him for years, pushing his life expectancy far beyond what anyone suffering from barkflesh could expect to have. Only this morning the machine's spinning gears and pumping bellows seemed to press his diaphragm too hard. My calibration must be off, he thought. I'll need to fix that later.

He went to change out of his nightclothes, catching his reflection in the mirror as he went to his armoire. He stopped, stunned. Staring back at him was not the cracked and broken old face that he had seen grow progressively worse every day for these last ten years, but rather the face he remembered from before his life was turned upside down by disease. His heavy gasp overpowered his breathing apparatus, causing several gears to slip and grind. He shrugged the machine off and took a deep breath. There was no pain. There was no rasping. There was only glorious fresh air. He was cured!

He raced out of his home and into the street to find each and every one of his companions similarly improved. It was a miracle! His shouts of joy joined the hoots and hollers of the growing throng of men as more and more awoke to find that their symptoms were gone. He spent the next minutes dancing in the street in his nightclothes until someone remembered that the Ravenwing was leaving soon. The gathered crowd raced to the barley field like a bunch of schoolchildren, pushing and shoving and skipping and jumping the entire way.

They arrived just in time to see the airship surge past the top of the treeline, gracefully ascending higher and higher as it circled over their heads. The men were awed into silence seeing their life's work come to fruition. Then Otis remembered the fireworks he'd set up to celebrate the send-off of the ship.

---

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

Robert banked the Ravenwing around the sparkling fire crackers as he circled around the village of Avondale to gain altitude. He was surprised that no one had come to see the moment when the ship first left the ground. He gave them a few extra minutes, but wasn't willing to delay his mission any longer.

The ship flew better than it ever had before. Lord Callum had walked him through all the improvements they'd made. Their work was nothing short of amazing. He pulled out his spyglass to see the gathered men below as they shrank in the distance.

"Emmy!" Robert shouted. "Come quick! You have to see this!"

Emmy was hiding below deck to avoid accidentally seeing any of the infected before they left. Now she hurried up the ladder to join Robert at the back of the quarterdeck. He handed her his spyglass and pointed to the men below.

"They're cured?!" she exclaimed. She'd seen drawings showing what men afflicted with barkflesh looked like - these guys looked totally normal.

"I think they might be," Robert replied.

"Did, did I do this?" she stammered. "I mean the collar."

"It must be. Barkflesh is incurable. You cured the incurable disease! This is incredible!"

"Should we go down there and investigate?" she wondered.

"No. It might not be safe. The Protectors could come along and force us into quarantine. Or the men may not let us go if they think our presence is the only thing keeping their disease at bay. We'd best continue along on our mission."

---

Emmy waited until they were well on their way before she went to find Robert again. As she approached she noticed that his black eye was completely healed. Perhaps the collar's magic did more than just cure barkflesh. She had noticed that on the days when she awoke with a charged collar that she herself seemed restored - the marks on her body faded quickly, the aches soothed away, the pain just a terrible memory. At first she had simply attributed it to her youthful vigor, but now she was beginning to understand. What other wonders was this collar capable of?

With that revelation also came a pang of guilt. Despite the miracles the collar could perform, she still desperately wanted to be free of its curse. How much more suffering and humiliation must she bear to satisfy its requirements? And was she strong enough to endure it?

"We need a plan," Emmy finally said to Robert. "The power of the collar is unmistakable. We've now seen what it can do, good and bad. It's reckless for us to continue on without learning more about even the basics of how it works."

"I totally agree," Robert said.

"You said it'll take us about a week to get to our next destination. I propose that we run a few trials to see how long the collar can go between charges. We'll keep a close eye on the gem since that seems to indicate the status."

"That's a good idea," Robert nodded. "About the punishments, though. It's difficult for me to gauge where your limits are. I was thinking that we could come up with a safe word or something for you to use in case things get too intense."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"If I think that I have a way out then the punishment won't be as effective. I have to know that there is no escape and I have no control. It will make charging the collar more effective."

"But what if I go too far?"

"I'll just have to trust you," Emmy replied. "You will need to do your own experiments to find my limits and I have to accept that sometimes what you give me will be too much, but it's up to you to decide. With this collar there is so much more at stake than my own welfare. Used properly, maybe we can find what other miracles it has in store."

Robert nodded. "You say that now," he said with a smile, "but will you feel the same when you're bound and naked, swinging from the rigging of the ship?"

She could see the ideas turning over in his mind. Was this prospect exciting for him? "My fate is in your hands. I just have to hope your judgement is better than your negotiating skills," she teased.

"Hey! What's wrong with my negotiating skills?"

"You really think using me was the only way those men were going to fix the Ravenwing? I heard the way they talked about the ship while they wandered about. They would have fixed it just for the joy of seeing it fly."

"But then why did you agree to Lord Callum's proposal?"

"One, we are in a hurry. They would have come around eventually, but we might have had to wait a week or so. Two, I'd much rather have our ship repaired by happy, focused workers. If I'd held out then those guys would be thinking with their dicks and burning brain cells trying to figure out how to fuck me the whole time. And three, something horrible was going to have to happen to me anyway - it's the nature of wearing the collar it seems. We might as well have gotten some use out of my suffering. And, hey, if it happened to create a cure for barkflesh then that's all the better."

"Huh," Robert scratched his head. "I guess I hadn't thought all that through. I wish you would have told me this though. We're a team. We need to start working together."

"Agreed. So where are we off to anyway?"

"Galehaven. There an archeologist there who specializes in artifacts from the time period this collar is believed to be from. Hopefully he can tell us something more about it."