(with grateful thanks to JB)
As if it had something to add, the empty cavern, gaped at him. MiLord hovered at the elbow of his retainers, trembling like an autumn leaf ready to fall early in the summer breeze. In his head, musicians seemed to play the same tune over and over again. He would have dance like clockwork, such was the success of her wind-up stratagem. He swallowed and felt sick.
"All the pretty ones," he murmured. "All Agatha Witch's pretty ones fled. Who could have taken the whole two gross horde?"
As soon as the words leaked out of his mouth, they formed a cloud through which he could not see the future, save the rage of the witch.
Out onto the steps he wandered, under the rising sun, beginning now to tremble in earnest. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He sought to reassure himself, but was lost in the soft comfort of the fog that surrounded his thoughts, thicker than the mist now gradually receding from the chateau lawns.
He began to walk down the stone steps and onto the grass, disappearing into the mist as he would wish to be swallowed up and hidden from Agatha's warty wrath. Where would he find two hundred and eighty eight bats to replenish the missing pipistrelles? There were not enough bats in all the belfries of Miramur.
The witch was gone a hunting new and powerful remedies that could, he had no doubt be turned to ill cause were she to find herself batless in Ilmarel. She would not endure the silences of her lonely cottage outside the town, devoid of their piping cries from the rafters.
He wandered into the very edge of the forest, heedless of the bushes and brambles tearing his clothes to old rags. He looked back at the perfect silence of the lawns, knowing that Agatha was watching from the shadows, somewhere far off.
Sitting on the dewy grass he began to find a sense of proportion under the liquid eye of the sky. He sat so still that even the hares did not notice him as he tried to read the whereabouts in their hoppings. Swifts and housemartins wheeled overhead, making letters in the sky, gulping out their hunger. Alas, the letters thus formed were to brief and birdlike to read. He sighed and held a blade of grass in either hand to anchor himself to the messages of the warm earth.
Looking up from his conference, he watched MiLady walking over the distant cornfields and wondered at the seeming unsuitability of her wandering in the scathing sun, risking exposure to rough peasant folk among the dark barns. He watched the scampering goyles at her feet but knew he had warned her to ride outside and only to walk through the corridors in these turbulent times.
The train of brocade that should have swept the flagstones as she swayed, lithe in green satin, was matted with dirt. Dirt...no it could not be...could it....not the pugnacious little claw marks of Agatha's pipistrelles...Surely not?
Ra Goyle was trailing well behind the others chittering merrily, but the merriment turned to squeals of rage as the goyle was seized and lifted high into the air.
"You will follow your Mistress, Goyle," he ordered the writhing creature. " and you will have her come to me in the Great Hall. She has questions to answer and belfries to fill."
The guilty look on Ra's knobbly features gave all away. He would gently bring her back to question her on the matter. MiLord would be kind though she would see the anger etching itself across his brows. He would enclose her hands in his as he demanded tearful explanations. He might, should the truth be revealed swiftly, forgive the sin and kiss the tears away.
So long as the creatures in his trust were unharmed, he would feed her and them still from his fingertips. He refused to think of himself, but simply waited for the truth to out. The good keeping of Miramur was in her hands, its heart and honour beating faintly, too quietly for any to notice save her and him.
Could she cup the freedom of his trust again to her breast. And if so would her teasing feed it? Would she love it enough to carry him to the secret hide?
The thought circled in the air like a the last swift of summer. It hovered outside the window of his thoughts for a moment and waited for her message. It waited attendant on their needs and desires as if it had something to add.............
......and he found himself walking up to Minxette, sound asleep, sprawled on the bed and tapped her on the shoulder with a scroll, pinching her irresistible, yet rather red (he wondered why) rump to ensure attention.
She squealed and opened her eyes sleepily.
"Spare a few bats from the pot.........I wonder if she would," he muttered irritably and thrust the parchment into the girl's hands. Obediently she began to read the words MiLady had written there in her scrawled and signed confession:.....
"......He demands MY presence. This could be an advantage I think. I can distract him gently with coy apologies while you take the others and dig under the sides of the barn. Be so quiet, they will be waiting for you," she spoke softer to emphasize her point.
And beware my darlings, he has placed a special guard this night who will do her best to escape punishment by beating you at this game. Do not let her make you fear the final goal." MiLady said in her strongest voice this time.
Idgit and Ra took things in hand and made the necessary preparations for the challenge. Tiny tools, sacks, dark glasses over their glowing night eyes. They lead the troops out into the night stooped low and hiding behind stone and tree as they grow closer.
She went to her rooms in the castle and primped, powdered, perked and pranced in preparation for her little dance of distraction. Deciding on a soft lace dress of cream that fit her form so well and no big skirt this time. A low neckline and tight sleeves pulling material taughtly across her chest. Breast outlined in the lace she took a deep breath to see if the tight material would hold.
Walking out of her rooms she faded down the long hall and stairs to the main salon where he waited. Sitting high in his chair, this was not good. He only did this when in a terrible frame.
She made herself known by the noise of her shoes and skirt when entering but he did not turn to look at her. Only guffed and grumbled as she approached. Standing beside his chair she waited quietly for his first words.
It didn't take long for the red of his face was apparent in his voice.
"How dare you put me in this position, I do not wish to battle the witch yet you promote the idea by your deeds. What possible thought could be roaming that brain of yours to bring such problems to me?" he asked her impassioned and beet red.
"MiLord, do you remember bringing me here to join you?" She asked softly.
"Of course silly woman, and the reason I did also. What has that to do with this predicament you create?"
She moved closer to him, "and do you remember MiLord, the moments we spent gazing over the sea from my windows?"
"Yes, pray tell the reason for this conversation." He spoke harshly.
Stepping closer to him and laying a hand on his chest, "and MiLord, do you remember..............?"
.........and she just smiled.
"Yes MiLady I do." His tone changed to a softer comment with each word. His hands ran up and down her arms feeling the heat from her skin through the lace fabric of the gown.........
In the meantime the raid begins, soft pattering on dirt goes unheard by the guards. The shadows in the wind flow together. Minxette in charge of the bats was busy chattering with the guards as the building was surrounded unseen. Digging under the foundations walls each Goyle finds a way into the sanctuary.
They begin fill their bags with tiny screeching pot pie filling. They flap and yowl gaining the attention of the guards and Minxette. The bags are filling fast as the goyles traverse rafter and pole gathering with all their hearts.
When the doors of the sanctuary open there is a mad rush for the exit that knocks all in its way to the ground rolling in the dust. The goyles escape with their bags and find their way to the woods. Each taking a different direction to throw off any posse.
In the castle the Marquis is finding a gentleness toward MiLady. She sees the escaping pets and knows she has the time now to prove her guile.
"Come to the window MiLord, You need to see this."
He looks past the woods at the shadows chasing here and there then turns to here in fury. "You tempt your fate Lady." He only spoke these words and was off to take charge of the search.
She stood gazing out the window and wondered if maybe she had gone to far....... "
..........He looked at Minxette and frowned as she put down the parchment, lowering her eyes to the floor, looking extremely guilty, but still sitting on the couch, unsure of his changing moods.
"Do you realise what your negligence has allowed, Minxette. An explanation is required for your inattention," he paused and smiled briefly, adding" .......and it had better be saucy."
She looked up at him in a tentative grin, but saw the clouds rolling across his face and decided to remain silent and shame faced. All the time in her mind she recalled the little orgy that she had indulged in with the guards after he had left her not quite satiated the night before.
"It was for Bernard, Master," she began her lips quivering, a teardrop forming in her eye and beginning the slow trickle down her cheek.
"You expect me to believe that, you indulged yourself for the vicarious enjoyment of Bernard F. Bat?"
"Yes, MiLord," she trembled feeling the growing rage, but unable to contain her curiosity. "....F master?"
"F for fruit, for he is the fruitiest bat I know," he quipped....and then resumed his stern visage, running a finger over her lips. She licked them obediently.
"I have been scouring the grounds with bison, buffaloes and beadles since the early hours, because you indulged in your own sweet pleasure, my pet," he growled. "What were you at with those guards, that left you so exhausted you could be bowled over by a pack of nebulous goyles?"
She sat on the edge of the couch, shamefacedly remembering the way Bernard had squeaked lewd suggestions into her ear, causing her to summon the special guard and indulge her most depraved fantasies. If MiLord lifted the blue nightie, he would see fresh whip marks. She knew that her bottom must be quite red with the spanking that she had so craved from him. She had to consciously hold herself still from the itch to wriggle at the continued stinging. The burliest of the special guards -- that bouncy beadle -- had been so pleased to inflict that upon her eager little backside. (Thank god -- it had not been the bison she sighed in relief).
She pulled at her nightie self-consciously and remembered the huge member of the Beadle that she had enjoyed in so many ways. She licked her lips at the remembered pleasure of the special guard's special endowment........recollecting how they had tossed and turned through the night together, a bare half an hour after MiLord had been called up to the interview with MiLady.
She had wondered what all the rustlings had in the cavern through the wooden doors that should have been left open. She remembered how she had blushed at the thought of 566 eyes staring at her lusty bouts and how Bernard......F........ Bat had wanted a private viewing of her salacious pleasures. Minxette herself had been too full of joy to wonder longer as impalement had followed impalement.
And now, she was silent as he lifted her up, pulling her by the hair. She sighed enjoying the powerful grip of his Mastery and he glared at her, hissing: "This is supposed to be a punishment, you kinky devilette."
"The cavern cannot remain empty," he murmured, looking into her deep green eyes menacingly. "There are manacles, if you recall, to be filled by pretty wrists."
"Nooooooooo," she begged (eagerly and so full of contradiction).
"And Bernard........(a little muffled squeak came from under the couch).......yes you, young fruitus....can join you tethered on your shoulders."
Minxette gasped but remained head down while Bernard Bat, emerged from the couch a disheveled creature, his eyes reddened by the sights he had seen. He held a brush in his hand and his little leathery wings were streaked with paint. He offered up the little canvas to MiLord and he smile...briefly......to see the image of Minxette, her face suffused with pleasure, her eyes glazed, as a man, unidentified save for the Miramur signet ring, pumped her from the rear.
Minxette peered over his shoulders and blushed to see the overwhelming pleasure that the artful Bernard had captured in her face. Minxette put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Bernard tittered behind folded wings.
"Have the pair of you no shame," he almost shouted, almost annoyed now, but rather enjoying his moment of contrived rage. He pulled Minxette up by her shiny new white collar before letting her loose to drop at his knees. He attached her leash and pulled her unresisting from the room, Bernard perched on her back, the nightie ridding up her backside to reveal the abuse to which it had been subjected during her night of revelry. He led her into the cavern, where the "special guard" lolled having been bowled over by first Minxette and then the massed charge of the Goyles.
"I should not have indulged your whims last night, pet," he murmured caressing her cheeks and her chin, before bringing his glove down onto her face with a gentle slap. "You should have been chained in the cavern as I had first intended. You have one bat left to guard"..... (looking grimly at BFB)......."so he can share your punishment."
He pulled her over to a thick white post to one side of the cavern. He picked up a long length of brass chain and ripped the blue nightie from her. The cloth tore with a satisfying rip and fell to her feet. The beadle scurried over and sniffing it longingly, stuffed it in his pocket for later use.
She wriggled with pleasure as the cold metal chains laced around her naked limbs winding up one arm, across her chest and down the other arm to wrap around her wrists. She loved the coolness of the brass on her naked skin and shivered as the chains laced back under the warmth of her breasts, up over her breast bone and round her neck. The thought of being imprisoned at his mercy made her wet between the legs. She crossed her tanned legs to prevent the moisture seeping down her inner thigh.
"Disgusting, slut," he mouthed as his hand discovered the seepage when he made to wind a chain between her legs. "You are getting too much pleasure out of this for it to be a punishment."
She blushed, while squeezing her heated inner thighs against the refreshingly cool chain. He chuckled at her efforts to extract the last ounce of pleasure from her predicament, forgiving her for his batless state for a moment.
"What a pretty picture the slut makes," he smiled to himself. She murmured in appreciation of his comments or rather in further delight at her situation. Inspired to further great art, Bernard set up his easel at the other end of the cavern, his own little claws chained to the floor as a punishment, a restraint and a protection.
"So paint me a picture of this then, Bernard," MiLord instructed as he tied a black strip of leather around Minxette's jaw, to stifle the rising moans that were beginning to echo round the cavern. Minxette opened her mouth to allow him to gag her and closed her eyes, thinking of the pleasure that she was deriving from this latest punishment.
"And I wonder, if MiLady can rescue you too, Minxette, if of course you want to be, while I lead the chase for these damned recalcitrant goyles of hers. At least her focusing on your freedom and how she is to win that for you, might spare a few bats from the pot............peace, Minxette," he instructed as her green eyes whirled restlessly. "It is surely not as if you had something to add?"
Click on the image to indulge your whims further