Lady Bildoe Torments The Barbarian Chieftain

For amusement of the court, and to appall his foes, Prince Christian of Chrisylvania had required to be built a device of the devil that came to be called, "The Box." More aptly, it might have been called "The Coffin," for it took that shape, though standing on end and bolted to the floor. By opening a door at its back, the prisoner could be entered, and, when the door closed, almost immobile.

At the box's front, at the level of man's fork, was a hole of just two inches diameter. The padding within the box was so arranged that the prisoner's body was held pressed forward, back arched, and hips thrusting. Out of hole jutted his private parts, the inner contours of the box being such that he was unable to withdraw those parts or move them to the slightest degree.

The prisoner, putting panic aside, perhaps, breathed easily, there being a current of air rising from holes in the box's base and the floor below. The prisoner, however, stood in complete darkness, unseen, except for those parts energetically thrust into the room before him—his only representation to the world outside his prison. The privileged visitors to the inner palace room looked immediately to "see" the latest prisoner, although that was but his penis, testicles, and the hair surrounding them.

It was a cruel device, withal, and of a psychological refinement, leaving the most sensitive and private parts of a prisoner entirely vulnerable and at the whim of those he could not see and scarcely hear.

Deneen had come to appreciate this. In a wild mood, one evening. After carousing about the town with companions, he declared that he would put this notorious box to the test and so experience for himself, in some small way, what prisoners must feel. There was no denying wishes of the head of the prince's personal guard and so, dismissing the remonstrance and jokes of his companions, all—both gentlemen and ladies—set off for the room, with many a jest and jeering threat.

Once there, his companions stripped him bare and inserted him into the box, so that, the door closing, he no longer heard the excited tittering of the ladies of the court or the ribald jokes of the gentlemen. Indeed, his sensations focused on the slight coolness of that one part of his body not enclosed in the box.

Deneen, a man of the fiercest bravery and valor, reported later the most terrifying sensations (and this from a man securely among friends) as, with all else in darkness, his body immobile, his every attention became focused on the parts now beyond his reach and control. These parts felt at once enormous, in being singled out and exposed, losing all proportion to the rest of his body, but also supremely vulnerable as he could neither protect himself, even by look or word, nor brace for a blow that he could not anticipate.

And yet, he stood in perfect physical comfort, his arched back supported at every point and even much of the weight taken off his feet as he stood in a frozen gesture of thrusting his hips forward.

Deneen had warned his companions against taking advantage of his position, and with much good humor they had made their pledges; but he realized, now, that he could not know who might set aside that pledge and have their way with him. Many there were in court who envied him, not least the reputation of his manhood's size and virility; among many women there was a yearning, he knew, to experience that manhood.

The strange apprehension, near panic, that he felt caused him, after a few moments, to call for his release. This he did, but heard no reply from the world outside The Box. He began to imagine he had been deserted—or could it be that his voice could not be heard? Perhaps his companions, thinking it a fine jest, had gone off to continue their reveling, intending to return after Deneen had gotten a good fright? He began to sweat all over his body and to call out more loudly. Did they not realize that other visitors to the room, finding the box, would think it but the latest enemy of the prince and have their will of him? Or the palace guard, on its rounds, thinking it but a prisoner, amuse themselves?

With these imaginings, he felt his emotions escaping his legendary discipline. He thrashed his body to no avail, seeking to withdraw his dangling manhood into the box, when he heard, quite distinctly, the sound of people entering the room outside the box. In a moment, his body became rigid, braced for some unseen, unknown attack.

His companions gone, had some band of revelers come to see what misery they could inflict on the latest prisoner in The Box? Deneen ached now in every limb from the bow-string tension of every muscle. He felt his penis and testicles a huge and provocative excrescence in the outside world, dominating the room outside and all attention. He groaned inwardly. He longed from freedom of his hand to fly downward to cover himself.

At that instant, he cried out as he had not since childhood. A firm hand, he could not say if a man's or a woman's, had closed over his testicles. He suppressed yet another scream. The anonymous hand pulled his testicles downward, causing the head of his penis to emerge from its cowl of flesh, for he was uncircumcised. The pressure slowly continued and increased, so that his testicles were drawn right down, which had the effect of lengthening his already admirably long penis and exposing the head outside of the foreskin.

It was a gentle enough, but this manipulation of his privates by unknown hands caused Deneen's stomach and thighs to quiver as though with a will of their own. He could imagine, outside the box, the young royal roustabouts and their girls grinning at his poor exposed parts and deciding, among themselves, what must be done to cause the prisoner the most acute grief.

Suddenly, though, the door at his back swung open, hands took his shoulders, and he was eased out of the box by laughing, chattering friends, who assured him he had been in the box for only several minutes, none had heard his cries, and certainly they had not left the room. But to his inquiry as to who had taken hold of his testicles, caused his moments of terror, his companions replied only with a knowing laughter. Nor did Deneen even discover whether the hand that "stripped" him of the very last garment over the private meat had been man or woman.

Deneen had not forgotten this experience when, most of a year later, a rumor went round the palace that the expeditionary force to Feroe, returning from its engagements with the barbarian tribes, had brought as prisoner a huge wild man, a chieftain, black as the depths but brave and terrible in battle, who had caused many casualties before his tribe was defeated and their leader marched away in chains.

In anger at this barbarian's successes against his legions, but also to amuse the court, the prince had ordered the prisoner stripped naked and inserted into The Box. To do so, it was said, had cost five strong soldiers bruises and left one in care of the bone-setter. For the prisoner, seeing what his fate was to be, had fought like a mountain bear, laying about him with maiming kicks and butting with his huge head.

He had fought all naked, arms bound behind him, and the soldiers had summoned half a squadron to their aid before they laid him down, the captain's hands in a murderous grip on his great black testicles. They then had lifted him bodily, three hundred or more pounds of muscle, and thrust him into the box, taking care—but with no gentleness—that his pubis thrust neatly and tightly through the display hole.

The bruised and battered soldiers would have taken a coward's revenge on him, then, but for the discipline imposed by the captain, who himself sported a badly discolored eye.

The tale then swept about the palace of all the had occurred, gathering exaggerations as it went, till the lords and ladies in the entourage of the Prince clamored to see for themselves. Thus, after dining, that evening, more than a dozen ladies and gentlemen, all bedecked in finery, hastened to that private sector of the palace where The Box stood in a locked room. Deneen was not among them, being on duty that night, but later was regaled, and in much lascivious detail, with the tale of what occurred.

They entered all as a group, talking excitedly, laughing, the women blushing and protesting lack of interest. Led by Count Darcy, they clustered round the box and at once fell silent. Several moments passed, thus, until one of the ladies gave a shrill giggle, tinged with hysteria, and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. Above the hand, her face flushed the deepest red. For out of the box, like some weird growth, projected genitals of truly heroic size, black as ebony, set in a riotous garden of black hair in tight small curls. The ample hole scarcely could accommodate the huge member, which hung in a great arc, fully 12 inches long and thick around as an eel. Below was the crinkled black basket of the testicles, bulging, and much to be envied by the horses in the prince's stable.

All casually, and with great aplomb, the young Count Darcy stepped to the box and took hold of the defenseless parts, hefting them. He turned with a grin at the flesh that far more than filled his hand. More than one lady of the court turned away, perhaps in modesty, perhaps to bear no longer an imagining of what this manhood must do to any female body ravished by the barbarian chieftain.

From within The Box came a roar as of a beast awakened, so all the party recoiled; but the stout box did not move, for all the violent exertion within it, and the great penis and testicles remained placid, testifying to the helplessness of the occupant.

Count Darcy stood aside with a grin to display the prize he held in his hand, as though it were some perfect fruit in the marketplace. They crowded round, now, examining the hefty meat. "For once," said Count Darcy, "the soldiers do not exaggerate! The man is an ox. I hold full two pounds in my hand. I have never seen its like.

Just then, the prisoner roared again his fury from within the box, some threat in an unknown tongue against his tormentors. So terrible was the cry, that Lady Errard stepped back and her face paled.

"Secure in The Box," said Count Darcy easily. "But he does not take well to fingering," he grinned and raised his eyebrows, "his prick..." a wild giggle from ladies of the court, "or these gigantic balls." He went on, "The savages are possessed of every superstition and taboo as regards these matters. All of their intimacy is conducted in accordance with the most elaborate rules. You may not touch your lady but beneath the full moon..."

The lords and ladies all laughed at this, and seemed more at ease. Having delivered himself of this wisdom, the Count let drop the prisoner's privates from his hand.

The Lady Bildoe, with the group that evening, as she often was, stared with a more than natural intensity at what protruded from the box. By then almost 50, she had the reputation at court of an old jade. No man of the court, from 18 to 70, lacked acquaintance with her arts. Most respected them; some had tired of them; but at almost 50 Lady Bildoe was handsome. Too many sins were recorded on her face, too many years of powders and waxes, but nothing could conceal the bones that lent the face its unequaled beauty and power. And, though marked with every excess, her large and pure blue eyes had not dimmed. She had taken care to grow more slender with each year, so that now her body seemed too thin, like the figure of a girl at 17, but her big bosom, strapped in place with the greatest finesse, yet stood forth with too much prominence.

Lady Bildoe had the sad reputation of hating every man who had made love to her and few ladies of the court could claim she did not share with them a knowledge of their husband. Thus, although her wealth and rank assured her a high place at court, she spent her days among those who had scant affection for her. This she knew, and grew bitter.

On this evening, she boldly approached The Box and, as she did, unclasped from her neck a string of exquisite pearls, as dazzlingly bright as the poor captive parts were dusky. With cocked head and frown of appraisal, as though judging an arrangement of spring posies, Lady Bildoe carefully wrapped the pearls around the whole affair that protruded from The Box, making several tight loops, her long fingers traveling through the thicket of curled black hair. The prisoner's whole penis and testicles were grotesquely adorned in the pearl choker like the slender neck of a lady. At the same time, the bands caused the ample sac, squeezed at its base, to bulge and the skin stretch smooth. This made the great prick itself bulge and thrust off at a jaunty angle.

Thus satisfied, Lady Bildoe retreated a few steps to view her handiwork. The lords and ladies all clapped their approval. But Count Darcy nodded only slightly, gazing at the bejeweled flesh. At last he said, with a tone of approbation, that Lady Bildoe was clever indeed, and now that she had dressed her "little man" must make love to him.

"My Lady Bildoe," he said, with a cordial smile, but no warmth, "I will make you a wager."

The others glanced at Lady Bildoe with smiles that mingled apprehension but also gloating. For no one, for any reason, declined the sporting wagers of Count Darcy and remained at court. Nor was there one among them who would not risk life itself to avoid such exclusion.

Smiling broadly, with a glance at the gathered lords and ladies, Count Darcy said, "You will employ all your wonderful...arts," and with this, he paused and grinned at the others, "to keep this manly engine in a state of the greatest tumescence for a full hour."

Now wild giggles, quickly suppressed, arose from the ladies, who glanced not at all kindly at Lady Bildoe, who had begun to scowl in indignation. She would return not their glances nor the suddenly intense glances of the men, for it was deemed base indeed for a lady of the court to consort with a man of the barbarian races—though many a man of the court quite freely enjoyed the women prisoners of those same races.

"But," said the count, holding up a forefinger, "on no account shall you cause us all to be showered with an eruption of..." he waved at the giant penis..."this engine. You will employ your arts to walk this line between the greatest arousal and...actual relief. If you succeed, for one hour, your reward will be munificent. If you fail, your punishment will be...suitable. What say you?"

Lady Bildoe had been an intimate of the court, and Count Darcy, too long to hope for reprieve. A ready and sporting assent, without demurrer, to any proposition, however appalling, was reckoned to one's great credit with the count. So, with a face masked in utter indifference, and avoiding the curious stares of the others, Lady Bildoe nodded once to the count, saying, "It is a most amusing wager."

She curtseyed once, to the count, and stepped forward, never more admirable in her self control.

"But wait," added the count, "we must ready ourselves." Chairs quickly were arranged in a semi-circle close around The Box. The lords and ladies then seated themselves, the count at their center, and servants brought drinks and delicacies to be set close at hand.

Lady Bildoe stood impassively, just to the side the box. She was erect, chin lifted, hands clasped behind her, gazing neither at the audience nor the subject that soon would require all her attention. She might have been a saint at the stake.

"Lady Bildoe," said the count, now, "you should set about your work with no sense of impropriety. I am familiar with the conception that the barbarian male is beneath a woman of birth, but I hold that to be a superstition without merit. It is without foundation. The pursuit of sensual pleasure by civilized persons should be hedged about with no prejudices. It should be guided only by their untrammeled desires. Nowhere in reason is written a rule that we must deny ourselves pleasure. For what evidence could be adduced for such a rule? What but fears or the narrowest bias? Where is it written that to ply this magnificent cock is base, and yet..." he smiled broadly, "to ply mine is noble?" I reject such a distinction as unworthy of a people guided by reason. With this, he scowled quite terribly around the room as though accusing his listeners of the offense of which he spoke. Not a head failed to nod assent to his argument. The count finished with "I shall hear no more of it at this court."

The court settled himself in his chair and said, as though to brush away the topic, "and so begin, loveliest Lady Bildoe."

With the grace of her years at court, Lady Bildoe took a cushion from one of the chairs and set it at the base of the box. With her slender hands, she swept back her magnificent red hair, taking from her purse a pin or two to fasten it back. For one moment, she stood, head flung back, wonderful hair pulled cleanly from her face, so every man present recalled why he had longed to take her to his bed and every woman recalled her jealousy of Lady Bildoe in her prime.

Sensing their lust, their envy, and their pleasure at her humiliation, Lady Bildoe smiled around the circle, but most particularly at the men, whose eyes fastened upon her in mockery. With the most graceful turn, she settled her knees on the pillow, as though a devotee at the foot of an idol.

Unhurriedly, as though moved only by curiosity, she took the huge penis in her long, pale fingers. A great roar of anger came from within The Box, more the sound of a lion than a man. Lady Bildoe seemed not to notice. She went on inspecting the great cock, lifting it, turning it. It was indeed a full 12 inches long. In girth it was almost too large to enclose within her hand, her little fist squeezing it. Its color it was a glistening black, with a scroll of dark veins on its surface. Below hung a sac large as a purse, all crinkled and gently conforming to the shape of the two massive testicles.

With the gingerly fingering of Lady Bildoe, performed with seeming detachment, the dangling cock swelled and rose. The barking threats within the box continued, but with less vehemence.

The savage races do no circumcise, so a thick cowl of skin covered the huge head. With two slim fingers, Lady Bildoe now drew back this cowl as far as it would go, revealing a berry of satiny flesh, which formed a knob still larger than its stock. Lady Bildoe turned to her audience with a smile, displaying this great fleshy prize.

The men nodded, although an eyebrow or two lifted, and it was not difficult to guess that each made a quick comparison, which did not cheer him. The women took in the display without changing expression, nor could one guess their feelings at that moment.

Now, taking a good grip at the base of the shaft, Lady Bildoe shook it gently, as though she were waving at the attentive circle. As she did so, the growls from The Box subsided still further. In her hand, as she caused it to bow and rise, the penis swelled and grew. Indeed, it seemed to lengthen with each nod and the great black head seemed to glisten. Lady Bildoe watched the captive penis attentively; the profile of her face, as she did, had the purity of a girl, an impression enhanced by the long, luxurious red ponytail down her back.

Slowly, as though a miracle of levitation, the defenseless penis rose and grew rigid till it pointed upward from its nest of ebony hair. Lady Bildoe's exquisite long fingers now traveled in long strokes from its thick base in the undergrowth of hair to its glistening head, all along the shaft, and down across the dangling great testicles. Her fingers then would repeat the caress, now on one side, now on the other, smoothing and shaping the shaft as though it were clay subject that she molded by her artistry. Her audience gazed with astonishment that it made no attempt to conceal. The lips of more than one lady parted unconsciously and were idly traveled by the tip of her tongue. But none noticed, for all eyes were on the spectacle that Lady Bildoe created. The rod stood so stiffly that it arched back toward the box, standing at attention with rigidity of any soldier at inspection.