Wild Sorcery - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Welcome to Hosk

When I finally reached Hosk about nightfall, it was not much of a sight. A wide paved road led through the hamlet to a large castle of black granite rising from a small rocky island in the middle of the mountain lake overlooking the town.

There were few people about this late, which I was both glad for. Because bound and exposed as I was, I was embarrassed to be seen like that, and because I really needed help. I saw a public house with a painted sign depicting a tall ape. 

I walked to the door. “Hello?” I called. “Can you help me?”

The door swung open to reveal a dwarvish matron. She had hooded blue eyes and waist-length, curly brown hair worn in a braided style. Her dress was almost armor-like, and was mostly green. She stopped on seeing me and looked me over with a distasteful expression, like I was a particularly ugly bug. She seemed particularly contemptuous of my bare, pierced breasts and pierced pussy peeking out through the rents in my dress.

“Please, madam,” I begged. “I need some place to sleep tonight, and something to eat: have been upon the road alone for many days. I was robbed, and then-”

“Fine!” she snapped angrily, cutting me off.

She grabbed me by the hair and cruelly jerked on it, pulling me in. Ignoring my yelp of pain, she slammed the door behind me.

Within was a wide stone-floored dining hall, dominated by a huge oaken table standing on six thick legs, but I barely had tome to take it all in, because my sudden captor threw me to the floor.

“You came late in the day, so there’s not much time for you to labor,” she snapped. “You probably planned it that way, didn’t you, you oath-breaking slut!”

I got my knees under me and raised my head, “I am not an oath-breaker, I- aah!”

She cut me off with a kick in my stomach. “No one asked you!” She kicked me again, knocking me over onto my side. “You will only speak when I ask you a question, and you will call me Mistress, for I am the Mistress of this house. Do you understand, slut?”

I nodded desperately. “Yes, Mistress! I understand, Mistress!”

“Good!” She kicked me once more for good measure, then turned and walked away.

I slowly got back to my knees and knelt, silently awaiting her return. I thought that trying to get up off the floor would only make things worse.

The mistress of the house returned, bearing a short whip and a large brush. “Don’t you dare look up!” she snarled, slapping her whip at my bare breasts. “You are not worthy to pollute any one of this house with your filthy gaze!” She whipped me again.

Crying from pain, I hurriedly lowered myself to the floor again. “I’m sorry mistress!” I cried.

She paused. “That’s better.” She threw the brush down before me. I saw it had a large round knob on its back. “Sweep the floor,” she ordered.

I turned away to reach for the brush with my bound hands, but she stopped that with another slash of the whip. “No!” she snapped, slashing at my breasts with her whip. “With your mouth, slut! use your mouth!”

Whimpering, I obeyed, wrapping my lips around the knob. It was so wide I had to press down to get it past my teeth into my mouth. I gripped it with my teeth then slowly, awkwardly, began to brush at the floor.

The mistress of the house watched me in silence for a while. “That’s good,” she said grudgingly. “I must go to oversee the cooking; if I find a single spot of dust when I return, I will make you wish you never knocked on my door!”

Too late, you horrible bitch, I thought, watching her depart out of the corner of my eye. I already wished that.

But still, frightened of her, I hurried to go on brushing the floor. I crawled on my knees across the floor, then tripped on the trailing rags of my dress to fall painfully on the hard stone floor. Whimpering with pain, I crawled to my knees and started off again, painstakingly lowering my face to the floor, then slowly scraping the brush along it.

The third time I stumbled on my dress and fell, I stopped in the middle fo the floor and cried helplessly. My knees were raw and my mouth ached from the knob on the brush.

A pretty scullery maid walked in. “Oh, you poor dear!” she exclaimed upon seeing me.

At last! A person sympathetic to my plight! I moaned softly, and tried to shake the brush from my mouth, but it was stuck tight.

“Oftentimes I must brush the floor,” she went on. “It looks like your dress is troubling you,” she said sympathetically.

I nodded, a little pathetically.

“Well, then,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll take it off for you!”

“Mhmmm!” I moaned, shaking my head; the rags of my dress were troubling me, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be stripped naked by a perfect stranger!

But she did not ask me, nor mind my opinion, but came right over and grabbed my dress. I squealed through my brush-gag and tried to wriggle away, but she easily caught me and held me still.

She deftly unclasped my dress and pulled it off of me, despite my desperate wails and whinings; her nose wrinkled in disgust as she held it up between forefinger and thumb. “Phew! You need to keep out of the muck!”

“Mhmph!” I grunted angrily, glaring up at her.

“What is this?!” the mistress of the house thundered from the doorway.

We both jumped and turned, frightened, to face her. “Her dress is dirty,” the scullery maid said quickly. “I was worried she would scuff the floor with it.”

“Huh!” the mistress of the house grunted, striding over to loom over me. “You probably would do that, you slut.”

“Mhm-hmm!” I protested, shaking my head.

She slapped my breasts with her whip. “Back to work!”

Obedient, for I had no other choice, I returned to my slave labour.

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I swept the floor gain and again; I swept every inch of the floor several times, afraid that the mistress would be angry if she were to return to find any dust on the floor, and quite terrified of what she would do if she returned to find me not working.

Finally, the mistress of the house returned. She watched me awkwardly painfully work, stretching myself as far as I could go, dragging my breasts and aching knees across the hard floor, fearfully glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, hoping she would not take exception.

She watched me for a while, then finally she came over, stooped, and ran her finger across the floor. I waited breathlessly for her reaction.

“All right,” she said. “You’re done.”

I sat back on my heels with a sigh of relief; she came over and took the brush in her hands and pulled it free.

I gasped for breath, working my dry jaw and licking my cracked lips, happy for the moment just to be able to move my jaw.

Without warning, the mistress grabbed me by the hair and jerked me to my feet. “Come on, slut!” she snapped when I cried out.

I barely got my feet under me in time to save my hair from being being pulled out by the roots. She dragged me from the hall and into the kitchen, and there she threw me to the floor.

“Stay there!” she snapped. “I’ll feed you.”

Obediently, I knelt there and watched her while she took up a wooden bowl and placed it on the counter, then she took various things and placed them into the bowl. She took the bowl and put it down before me.

“There,” she said. “Eat.”

I looked into the bowl and almost gagged, then I looked wordlessly up at the mistress. It was a disgusting sodden mess of scraps.

“If you’re not hungry, I’ll take it back,” she said threateningly, reaching for it.

My stomach rumbled and, reluctantly, I lowered my face into the bowl and slowly began to eat.

It was revolting, but a sudden sharp swat on my ass made me cry out in surprise.

“Eat it up!” she snapped. “This isn’t some fancy restaurant; eat faster!”

I moaned, but chewed faster.

The mistress of the house lashed me again. “You’d better finish it all!” she said. “Clean the bowl!”

My hunger overcame me and I began to eat faster, disregarding the horrible taste. I had walked and labored hard and without a bite to eat all day. Even naked, kneeling bound on the floor eating out of a bowl like a dog while a sadistic mistress lashed my ass to make me clean my bowl, I was happy to get it.

Continued in Chapter 17

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