Irish Captive

Read Chapter One for an introduction to the Lord and his captive.

Characters

His Lord Governor, Sir Groat

Kate Aileen O'Riley

Manu Hasam El Kamal Bey "Manu" – the Lord faithful servant, head of his household.

Teresa and Sonya – two young and not so innocent Spanish maids

Lasana – another Moor, Manu's woman friend.

Tommy – the Lord's groundskeeper

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Kate could not stop shaking. She could not open her eyes. She was burning up and yet she shook as if it was the dead of winter. If this was hell… no, this MUST be hell. But if it was hell, then why did memories of intense pleasure flash in her mind? Pleasure in hell? Ridiculous! From where could pleasure come in hell? If only she could remember her catechism, but she could not, and was left to puzzle at the vague warmth deep in her womb. Beyond that hint at satisfaction, she could feel nothing, just the awful shaking of her body. She had to stop or she would start to wretch again. She had nothing in her stomach and the dry heaves were sapping all her energy. She tried to open her eyes.

It was very bright in hell. The light hurt her eyes. Oh how she hurt. Her arms and legs, her every joint, hurt. And Mary, Mother of God her ass hurt! But from her hurt came a conclusion. She had a body! God, if so, maybe she was alive. Could that be? WAS she alive? She tried to focus her eyes and out of the haze a room began to take form. She was on the floor, chained to the foot of a bed. Her pirate Captain's guards had shackled her there. Her Captain? A ray of pleasure shot through her body at the thought of him. Her energy drained away. She fell into the dark well of unconsciousness.

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In her dream, she was at sea. Although blindfolded she could feel the ship swaying and knew she must be at sea. Her Captain? She must be back aboard his ship. She was naked with her hands tied around the mast behind her, ready to be punished. Why? She must have been headstrong and disobedient as she sometimes was. Her bonds were so terribly tight. Her hands were numb and her arms ached, and now her Captain was slashing at her breasts with his crop.

Her dream digressed, evaporating into a wild hallucination. She was no longer tied to that awful mast. Now she was in a bed, face down, but still tied. Something rough, warm and wet was climbing up her back, as if the tongue of a giant cat was licking her spine, while under her, phantom hands were squeezing her breasts and playing with her nipples. One moment she felt sharp penetrating pain, but in the next, only a warm pleasure so intense it caused her to jerk and throb. On and on the cycle continued, pain to pleasure and back, until she swore she could take it no longer.

The dream shifted again! No longer in bed, panic had taken hold and her dream had become a nightmare. She began to run. The voice in her head screamed, "Run Kate run, save yourself! The Lord Governor will kill you." Escape! That was her only hope. Struggling, fighting with her chains she began to awaken. The steel cuffs cut into her wrists and ankles leaving them bloody and sore, but she still continued to thrash wildly, heedless of the pain.

"Bella! Be still. You are doing yourself harm." The words cut thru the mist of her addled brain. She opened her eyes and looked up at the biggest man, and the blackest man, she had ever seen. Indeed, he was the first and only black man she had ever seen. She fainted dead away.

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"Noble Lord, her weakness and delirium is to be expected. I suspect she has not eaten, nor had water for a day or more during her ordeal. Allow me to tend to her. She will be strong enough to fight you in a few days."

The words filtered into her parital consciousness as if in a dream. The voice was low and strangely soothing. Whoever he was, words seemed to sing, soothing her panic, and she needed him to go on talking. She opened her eyes. Thank God, it was dark now. Someone had turned off the lights in hell.

"Bella, are you awake. You must drink." Large firm hands gripped her head and leaned her forward. She drank from a metal cup. It was cold, sweet water. She tried to focus as she drank. She was no longer on the floor but in a bed against one wall of a large beautifully furnished room. Her eyes became wide with fear staring at the big black man who was so tenderly tending her.

"That is very good, Bella. You must drink to regain your voice. You must eat to regain your fight. I think the Lord will want you to have both."

"Who are you?" She said in a hoarse whisper.

"I am Manu Hasam El Kamal Bey. Man servant to His Lord Governor, Sir Groat. You may call me Manu."

"Wha..?"

"I am a Moor, a Muslim from the great continent you call Africa."

"More water." He fed her a drop more.

"Not too much. Your stomach is not ready."

He placed the cup on the side table and rose to call for food. A few feet from the door a crash turned him around to find his charge sprawled on the floor beside the bed. She had tried to get out of bed, fallen and hit her head on the table. He cursed in at least 3 languages.

"You are surely a stubborn woman, Bella. Like all the Irish I meet, you are stubborn and will not do as you are told. Well, if you will not submit on your own accord, I have my ways. Your mind and body will be still while I heal you."

He put her in bed, still without a stitch of clothing. In the Lord's armoire he shuffled through the great one's shirts and chose one of the finest velvet. He was ripping it to shreds when the Lord Groat returned.

"Manu! Have your lost your mind! What are you doing?"

"Noble Lord," Manu answered calmly. "She will not be still. I must quiet her to heal her. This velvet will constrain her without doing additional injury." Groat stared at the woman bound to his bed. Blood was still oozing through bandages at her wrists and there were angry cuts on her ankles. There was no sympathy in his voice as he spoke to Manu.

"She's a damn assassin, Manu, not a child to be coddled. I do not care if she is healed or not. I allow her to live only to force her to admit that she is my property, my slave! Should she refuse, she will not draw another breath."

"Ah Lord, you have only your lust in mind, but in this condition she is of no use to you. She has no strength to fight, no fire, and I know your rod is at is most regal when challenged. I will heal her and she will fight you like a lioness, claw at your back like a tiger."

"Manu…" But he did not finish the thought. It was a lost cause to argue with such a man. How often had he cursed the day he took a learned stubborn moor as a servant. He knew Manu. Whenever he found a bird with a broken wing, he could not help but to heal it. Lord Groat himself, however, refused to acknowledge such tenderness. The weak and the sickness were to be despised, not coddled.

"Manu, I am going hunting. I will return in four days. If she meets my needs, and accepts me as her owner and master by that time, she can live. If not, she will die. Do not waste too much of your time, and do not grow fond of her. I am leaving Duke to keep an eye on both of you." The huge mastiff that had been sitting quietly at his side came to attention.

"Go to Manu." The dog obediently walked to the large man's side, sat and put his head in his hand. "Keep an eye on that black bastard and my Irish Vixen."

Duke rubbed his head against the big black man's leg. The Lord sighed and looked to the ceiling. As he left he mumbled, "I almost dare not leave. These Irish are insidious. By the time I return even my dog will have gone over to them. Damn the Irish anyway."

As he stomped down the stairs he was heard to say, "And damn this Vixen as well. I will go hunting for some other Irish fox, and forget this Vixen bitch." From somewhere inside him, a small voice said, "If you can."

Manu put a salve on her wrists and bound them in clean cotton. Then he tied them together with the velvet. The result was a soft and quite strong pair of handcuffs. He then attached the velvet ties to a robe sash that in turn was tied to the bed headboard. If she stayed in the middle of the bed she could get her hands down to her face, but no further. She could get her feet on the floor, but not stand up. He left her naked.

With her body under control, he next dealt with her mind. From a cabinet on the wall, he removed a small bottle, and mixed two drops of the liquid with the tea the maid had brought. He offered it to her lips and she drank it all. Now she would be still and she would not hurt herself.

Kate lay quietly, and Manu made her whole body the subject full reflection for the first time. In the moonlight, she seemed to glow. Even experienced as Manu was in female flesh, he was taken aback by her beauty. Beaten, abused, tortured on the rack, and finally raped, yet she retained that tempting seductive quality that drove men into foolishness. "Such women are dangerous," the moor reflected as he considered the future.

"What has the Lord gotten himself into, Bella?" He talked to her as if she could hear him. "I do not think he will be able to take away the light from your soul. He will be moonstruck. And he will be lost. We must handle him carefully or he will fight against it. He does not like losing… even to one as fine as you." He smoothed her matted hair away from her face. "But we will handle him, Bella. You and I, my Bella Luna."

Manu called his two female servants, Teresa and Sonya, to the room to help him care for his Bella Luna. Both were very young Muslim girls Manu brought with him from Morocco who spoke only Spanish. As they prepared Kate's bath, Manu released her bindings and removed her bandages. She was just barely conscious as he lifted her from the bed and eased her into the tub of hot lavender scented water.

The tub was small, and Kate sat with her knees up and splayed to the sides. Her breasts lifted as Manu tilted her head back to wash her hair and scalp with a gentle massage as the girls scrubbed her stomach and between her thighs. Kate began to moan, and her nipples hardened, sensual responses not overlooked by the maids. Their interest in the soft feminine body in their care showed a marked increase as they searched for sensitive nooks and crannies with soapy hands. The maids had stripped to the waist to save their blouses from the wet, and in their new enthusiasm, their own ample breasts were soon dipping into the tub and brushing sensually against those of their charge.

The moaning from the tub became louder and Kate's breath quickened. The two maids tittered at her reaction, and as if by secret signal between them, they increased their sensuous assault. One took those captive soapy breasts into her hands, kneading and pinching the now rock hard nipples. The other concentrated lower down, massaging the inside of the semi-conscious woman's thighs before touching her sensitive core. Kate responded by lifting her hips to grind her pelvis against the girl's hand, even as her own hands reached for the naked breasts hanging over her. The giggling of the maids had gone now, passing into sighs and moans of arousal.

Manu freed one of his hands and reached for the pitcher of water to rinse her hair. The girls frowned unhappily. They knew their job must be finished quickly now. Kate groaned in protest as her breasts and clitoris were abandoned, and the soft female flesh in her own grip slipped away as the maids stood back from the tub. Unsatisfied and disappointed, as the three women were, the bath was never the less finished, and Manu lifted Kate from the tub and laid her on the bed. First he rebandaged and retied her wrists. He dried her as the girls stood topless and at attention, hopeful of the opportunity to finish their erotic exploration of this lovely woman. They were not the only ones that wanted more. As he dried her, Kate tossed and twisted as if trying to find those soft sensual hands again.

Manu yielded to the moment. As he paused to go to the cabinet for scented body oil, the girls knew exactly what to do. The girls had given many a body message to Lord Groat, and Manu, and to the women who had shared their beds. They removed their remaining clothing and climbed nude into the bed on either side of the freshly scrubbed Kate. Manu smiled with satisfaction as he filled each of their palms with oil, and Kate was soon a prisoner to four hands stroking and caressing her body. Two brown bodies pressed against an alabaster white one glistening with the sheen of sweet scented oil. Slick eager hands teased Kate's breasts and nipples, then searched between her legs with lubricated fingers that first explored her clit and then inside of her cunt with the steady rhythm of sexual intercourse.

As Kate's moans increased and her breathing quickened, the maids spread her legs and mounted her thighs with their own pussies. The hand at her cunt pressed a finger deep inside her, moving faster now, stroking her like a tiny cock even as its thumb rubbed over her clit. Her body tensed and her cunt began to spasm, and at that magic moment, the second maid slipped a finger into her ass.

"Ah ah ah Argh," Kate screamed, arching her back and lifting her hips and buttocks off the bed, carrying with them the two small brown girls as they humped her thighs. At the peak of her climax, each maid squealed with her, one in chorus, the other in quick sequence. Three passions momentarily spent, the women fell relaxed into a sprawling heap, although the hand's of maids continued to move slowly over Kate's breasts and sex until the Irish woman was breathing evenly in a deep sleep.

Manu could not believe his Bella Luna. She was indeed a lustful animal. She would not be easy to handle. But properly trained, the Lord would want for no other. He wondered if the Lord knew that?

Manu let her sleep through the night tied loosely to her master's bed. Manu slept on a cot with the dog Duke on the floor between the cot and the bed. Twice during the night Kate raged and struggled with her nightmares. Each time Manu would awaken to sit beside her and sooth her with his voice. More drugs would likely only increase the fierce dreams, and that could mean a rough morning. He feared that the morn would be rough enough as things were. He was right.

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His captive woman awoke with the dawn full of fury, anger and terror. Tied she might be, but she meant to fight the small brown girl who stood beside her be with a bowl of morning soup and a cup of tea.

"Go n-ithe an cat thu' is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat!"

Manu did not know Gaelic, but he knew a curse when he heard one. She was on her third round of curses before he spoke. He did not raise his voice. Tenderly he explained, "Bella, you are tied here so you can heal. You must eat to heal. Please let Teresa feed you." The young maid took one look at struggling, screaming woman on the bed... and moved further out of harms way.

Manu tried another approach. He raised his voice slightly. "Mistress O'Riley, you are naked, tied to the Lord Groat's bed and if you were to escape the guards would rape you, then take them to their captain who would rape you again. When finished with you, they would kill you. All with his Lord's blessing. If you should desire to live, or even if you want to die quietly and easily, you must do as I say."

Kate had very little strength left. She heard what he said and he was right, she had little choice. She stopped struggling. She ate half of the soup she was offered before she talked again.

"Manu? (He nodded) Why am I not dead?"

"The Lord wishes it so."

"Why do you tend to me?"

"The Lord wishes it so."

She was fed the rest of the soup. "Why am I bound? And if you say, 'your bloody Lord wishes…'"

Manu interrupted a bit angrily. "You seem to want to hurt yourself, Bella. I want you healed and the Lord wants you with your strength back." Before she could say anything else, he gave her a full cup of tea. By the time she had finished the tea, her head felt fuzzy again.

Manu tucked the covers around her. With her hands at her face, she mumbled, "I will be no one's prisoner. I will not serve the English." She turned to her side and brought her hands down from her face, before curling up into a ball and drifting off to sleep. Just before dropping off, Manu heard her add, "My Captain will take me away." Manu did not know whom she might mean, but he was sure it was not the Lord's Captain of the guard of whom she spoke.

During the day, Manu and the girls coaxed her to eat and drink with the help of Manu's powerful drugs. Her morning outburst had spent her remaining strength and set back his hard work. He could not afford another such tantrum. Four days was all he had to restore her health and fire. By then she must again be an adversary worthy of the Lord's attention.

The girls bathed her again that night, and again Manu allowed them to give her release. It was late now. Manu had finished his other household duties and made sure the other servants had seen to theirs. He returned to the Lord's bedchamber to light incense and make certain his charge was in a deep sleep. The scent of healing herbs filled the air as he doused the candles and settled into his cot. He hoped he and his charge would be able to sleep through the night.

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"What manner of demon was he trying to drown this night?" Thomas, the groundskeeper wondered to himself, as watched his Lord sitting sullenly by the fire, staring at the flames as if his mind was far off. Thomas had come to know how moody his powerful employer could be, and tonight he was drinking particularly heavily… a full flask of brandy and the three tankards of ale. Coor, how the man could drink! But something more than just liquor was at work tonight. No, something else was stuck in the great man's craw, eating at his bowels.

Called from his regular duties this morning, Thomas had welcomed the opportunity to go hunting and escape from his nagging wife, but the day had not been the usual easy joy he had expected. No, today he had chased over his Lord over hill and dale, riding like the devil himself just trying to keep up. He was a good rider too, as good as any man on the estate, but Hell's furry had been in Lord Groat. They had chased the fox and hounds like a pair of mad men, never slowing the pace. The dogs, worn to a frazzle with sore paws, were now sleeping by the fire, exhausted.

At last the Lord stood and spoke morosely to the groundskeeper. "I'm going out to tend to the horses, Tommy. Don't wait up for me."

With that he turned, grabbed his great coat and left without another word. Tommy thought he'd better not do as he had just been told. Better that he stay awake and look in on this drunken nobleman after a while to make sure he hadn't sampled from that short flask of brandy from his coat pocket one too many times, and passed out in the cold. There had to be a limit to how much liquor a man could take, even for Lord Groat. Tommy thought, "Damn him anyway, better if he would go on and pass out quickly that I can tuck him in for the night. It had been a hard day, and it was long past time for a man to be resting his tired bones.

Groat stormed out to the small barn. He had been like that everywhere today, storming. He had stormed out of his own house. Stormed over the hunt. Ever since that scene in his chambers, his loins had ached. He could not clear his head of the picture of that wrenched Irish red headed Vixen laid out on his bed like some offering in a temple, her wrists bleeding. In his heart… no damn it, he didn't have a heart, so what should he care. Without any particular plan or intent, as if by instinct, he saddled his horse, and was soon out of the barn at a gallop.

How had it come to this? She was a rebel and an assassin. He should have left her to be used by his men and then shot, but his head spun as he remembered her on the rack. He could still see her there quite clearly, covered in sweat and yet somehow holding her own against the pain and humiliation of the rack, and even his best strokes with his crop. He had to have her. Certainly, if he could not have her, no one else would.