Chains slithered up from the floor. Princess Beatrix soon found her ankles bound to the wall. Another pair of chains did the same to her wrists. She glanced at her trapped appendages, bewildered.
She attempted to walk away from the wall and failed. "Rowan, what is the meaning of this?"
"M'lady, I did not take you down to the dungeon to pardon an innocent man," he said.
"Well, what have you brought me down here for, then?"
"I think the reason will become quite obvious, my dear." The pile of chains at Beatrix's feet rattled, a few raising themselves from the ground.
"Is this your doing, Rowan?"
"I am a wizard, after all."
"I've not seen you perform any magic but cheap parlor tricks. I didn't know you practiced true sorcery. These chains, binding me and rising by your hand, they are an affront to God!"
"There are many things in this world that are an affront to God, m'lady. One of which is your fate."
Two chains rose. One hooking into the knot on Beatrix's belt and the other into the tie on her cloak. They pulled until the knots came undone. The cloak and belt fell to the ground, leaving her bliaut to billow around her body.
"I order you to release me, Rowan. You may be a sorcerer, but I am the princess."
Rowan ignored her order and made a rising motion with his hands. A chain flew from the ground up Beatrix's bliaut. It peeked through the top of the dress, remaining motionless for a moment. Rowan threw his hand downward. The chain followed and tore through the front of her dress and under tunic. The garments fell open to reveal a short chemise underneath. A second chain destroyed the backside of her torn garments, leaving her in just the chemise and knee-high hose.
She glanced down at her half-revealed body and gasped. "My silken gown! This is obscene. Was your intention to defile me? If so, I bid you remember that my betrothed will swiftly put a stop to this."
"That is indeed my intention, m'lady." A chain curled around her calves and worked its way up her leg.
"Stop this at once, Rowan! I order you. If you lay a finger on me, I will scream."
"I shan't lay a finger on you, dear. My magic shall suffice." The chain chilled her skin as it climbed up into her chemise. "I have longed to see your body shorn of its vestments. Will I be the first to have such a pleasure?"
The chain shot up between her breasts and out the collar of her chemise. She struggled against the bonds. Her chin pushed the chain in an attempt to make it drop from her remaining garment. "The commoners may allow themselves to be seen bare, but not I. My body is the province of my husband. Now remove that chain and I will forget this incident."
The chain forced itself downward, pulling the chemise taut. The swells of Beatrix's breasts peeked out of her shirt's expanding collar. She continued her scolding. "One last chance, Rowan, or I call for my husband."
"You have no husband."
"We are to be wed within the week. It is as good as done." A ripping sound distracted her. The chain had begun to dig through the cotton it opposed. "Edwin! Edwin!"
"Yelling will do you no good. Why do you think I brought you down here?"
"Edw– oh!" Her call was interrupted by the chain completing its descent. The chemise fell open at the center and was soon pulled from her body by chains.
"Your figure is exquisite, m'lady. 'Tis a shame all but I have yet to see it."
She shivered, partially from being exposed to the dungeon's cool air and partially from being exposed to the eyes of Rowan. "Please, I beg you to stop."
"Beg, order, what difference is it?" A chain rose, stroked her cheek, and the held her chin up. "What matters is the you will lose your maidenhead tonight."
"No, please, you can't possibly–"
"What is it that I cannot possibly do?" Chains crawled up either of her legs.
She glanced down. The freezing links were wrapped around her thighs. She drew in a sharp breath. "Please, you can't." More chains rose from the pile to bind her. She now wore a belt of iron. Her shoulders were draped with the material as well. The ends of two chains prodded the tips of her breasts. Her nipples grew erect. She cursed the chilly metal for making her appear aroused. With its goal achieved, the material curled around the swells of her breasts.
Tears appeared in Beatrix's eyes. Royal power with no one to exercise it on was useless, much less a force that could counteract magic power. She tried to hold back, to show strength, but she knew there was nothing she could do against Rowan. The feeling of the frigid metal against her skin was becoming overwhelming as well. The chains nearly covered enough of her body to constitute an outfit. A tiny length made its way onto her scalp, forming a small circlet as if to mock her.
"Ah, you still look so regal, m'lady," said Rowan, rubbing it in. She tried not to imagine how she looked at that moment. Regal. Perhaps the princess of distressed damsels, the sovereign of fallen maidens.
A few chains wriggled up her hips to brush against her clitoris and her lips. She shuddered. The icy, unrelenting texture of the chains was so far away from the warm flesh of her own fingers. That novel feeling had actually sent a wave of excitement through her.
She couldn't allow things to be easier for Rowan. Or allow herself to enjoy such an act. She remembered what her mother had told her. "I must be strong, I must be pure, I must be chaste."
"Go ahead and try, m'lady, but you will be begging to be made unchaste over and over when I am through with you." The chains that hung from her shoulders reached down to poke her nipples. The others squeezed and wriggled over her skin. A last one tickled her clitoris.
The motion of the chains was stirring, but it was the temperature that snared her. It was so strange. All her life, she had embraced warm, loving bodies. This was the opposite. Perhaps this was what death's embrace felt like.
Death had no right to feel erotic, though. Perhaps all the other chains would not have incited a sexual feeling if it weren't for the ones that continuously skimmed her nipples and clitoris. Now they pressed harder, stroking each sensitive point with increasing vigor.
"This must be Satan's doing," she said in reference to her increasing arousal.
"No, it is all mine."
She noticed the skin on her chest beginning to flush and her breath becoming shaky. She hoped that Rowan didn't realize that she was alluding to her loss of self-control. To show such a thing would make her as depraved as him. She would be guilty of lust and infidelity; no minor sins.
But the foreign sensations were difficult to fight. Despite the frigidity of her bonds, heat grew in her slit. She had to resist it. "Strong, pure, chaste," she said, barely audible. Her head, however, still hung in shame, as if defeat were inevitable.
The remaining chains at her feet braided themselves together into three separate lengths. One braid patted her cheek in the patronizing manner that it had done before. Another crept up the back of her legs in between the cheeks of her ass. The last did the same, but slid itself against her slit instead. It parted her lips just a slight amount, running over them and working in tandem with the chain that worked her clit. It pushed against her opening, seeming anxious to bury itself inside.
"Rowan, you can't be thinking about putting that inside me. You're not going to...with the chains, are you?"
"Of course I am. When I'm through with you, your womb will be so disfigured that no one could believe it to be a man's work. On your wedding night, Edwin will discover that his newlywed has been violated by a demon. Either that or a man with a member worthy of legend."
"Please. If you must take my maidenhead, take it with your own member. I should not lose my purity to iron."
