Okay, I made a few minor changes, words I didn't like, minor typos, stuff
like that. Please post this version. I can't believe I'm allowing this to
be distributed. Oh well, no guts, no fun. Maybe people will enjoy it.

Le Chevalier Captif
a different kind of Gwen story
by Jennifer Greenbury Lackey


        Nicholas woke to find himself chained to his bed. Quite solidly
chained, too - I had ordered the chains especially for this purpose. You
see, after we had made love, Nicholas had fallen asleep in the age-old
way that has irritated women for centuries. I, however, was not
irritated, but delighted, for this was exactly my plan. I got up quietly
and retrieved a bag filled with various toys I had brought with this in
mind. I slipped on a skin tight minidress and a pair of high leather
boots. Checking myself in the mirror, I looked every inch the dominatrix.
I laughed quietly to myself. Wouldn't Nicholas be surprised?
        And he was. After chaining him carefully so as not to wake him
and seeing that he was securely fastened, I took a stiletto knife out of
my bad and studied my captive, trying to decide where to begin. Wake him
first, I decided.
        I put the knife to his throat, exerting just enough pressure to
wake him. "Wake up, Nicholas," I whispered in what I hoped was a
threatening tone. He started reflexively at the knife at his throat, and
found his limbs chained. "Don't bother to test them," I said. "I've made
certain they are strong enough to hold you. You've been a very naughty
boy, Nicholas. Very naughty indeed. Now you're going to pay for your sins."
        "Gwen," he began.
        "Silence!" I hissed at him, cutting his cheek in a flash, very
shallowly. The cut sealed itself almost immediately, but I could see by
the shock on his face that it had its desired effect.  "You will address
me as Mistress, do you understand?" He was apparently stunned into
inarticulation. "Do you?" I repeated, running the knife over his bare
chest, making another shallow cut, this time very slowly.
        "Yes, Mistress," he finally managed. He was trembling, and his
erection was enormous. I thought my masochistic chevalier might enjoy
this. I certainly would.
        I continued making shallow cuts on his chest, licking the
droplets of blood away as the cuts closed. He moaned and writhed beneath
my tongue.
        I looked up at him; his face was luminous with ecstasy. "So," I
whispered, "I'm no longer your sweet courtly lady, am I?"
        "No," he whispered back. "You are my harsh mistress, the avenging
angel come to punish me for my sins." The talk had aroused him even more.
        "And you sins are terrible aren't they, Nicholas? Centuries of
horrible sins," I whispered into his neck.
        He shivered and moaned, "Oh, yes. Sins blacker than the night itself."
        I reached up to the tender inside of his arm, and cut deeply,
pressing my lips to the wound and drinking. He gasped at the cold knife,
and then at the pleasure of my taking his blood.
        I took only a bit, not wanting to deplete his strength too
quickly. His blood tasted vaguely of cinnamon, and was aswim with visions
of his guilt. And visions of how I would make him pay. I took one of
these images as the template for my next activity. I set the knife down,
and picked up a cat o'nine tails. I stood over him, letting the tension
build for a moment and enjoying the sight of this handsome man,
completely helpless and at my mercy. I smiled coldly at him, and swung
the whip, raising welts on his chest which quickly disappeared to be
replaced anew as I lashed him again. With each lash, he moaned and
writhed, obviously trying not to cry out.
        "Oh you'll be screaming soon enough, my pet," I whispered in my
most menacing purr. "You'll beg for mercy before I'm finished with you.
But I'm feeling a little short of mercy tonight." I whipped him harder,
and a tiny scream escaped him. I let the whip connect twice more, and
then set it aside. Let him rest for a moment, I thought.
        I was thirsty and I had brought my own provisions, knowing that
I'd find only cow blood at the loft. I went downstairs and found a glass,
and returned. Nicholas' erection had softened a bit in the interim, as I
had hoped. I found what they refer to as a cock ring in my bag, and
slipped it onto him before he realized what had happened. Then I opened a
bottle and poured the glass full, standing close so he would be certain
to smell the distinctive scent of human blood. I drank the glass down,
and poured myself another. He was becoming aroused again, as I had
anticipated. I took another drink from the glass, then dipped my finger
in it, and ran it over his lips. He knew all my bottled blood was bought
from blood banks under pretense, rather than taken from kills, but he had
sworn off human blood regardless of its origin, and I knew this was a
cruel torture. I could see him fighting the urge to lick his lips. I
leaned down and kissed the blood away, licking the corner of his mouth
where a drop had run.
        "I am a cruel Mistress, am I not, Chevalier?" I whispered over
his lips.
        "Oh, yes Mistress. Have mercy on me, though I do not deserve it,"
he moaned in reply, to which I laughed cruelly.
        "Mercy? For you? No, my beautiful chevalier, you will find no
mercy at my hands tonight."
        I ran my hands lightly over his body, working my way down to the
inside of his thighs. He was quite hard now, and the ring was biting in
painfully.
        I leaned down and bit the inside of his right leg viciously, and
took a long drink. He screamed in pleasure and pain. I was becoming quite
aroused, and decided I would take my pleasure of him.
        I straddled him, hiking my short skirt up to expose my bare cunt,
and lowered myself onto his hard member.  He gasped as I moved up and
down on him, but he was unable to come because of the ring. I moved
faster, the ring adding extra stimulation. I felt myself nearing the
point of orgasm and I stopped moving for a moment, listening to the
ragged sound of Nicholas' breath.
        "Shall I allow you to come, Chevalier?" I whispered.
        "Please, Mistress. I beg you, give me release." He was truly
begging now, but he didn't sound desperate enough, not yet.
        "No, I don't think so. You don't deserve it, and you certainly
aren't contrite." With that, I began moving again, and he began to moan
loudly, almost shouting. I thrust myself harder and harder onto him, my
own moans beginning to harmonize with his.
        After a while, I halted again, touching his face and looking into
his eyes. "Well, Chevalier?"
        He could barely speak, he was so overcome with the need for
release. "Please, Mistress. I am well and truly sorry. I beg you, take
pity on me."
        I smiled at him. "Oh, my dear, you can certainly do better than
that." I lifted myself off of him, and then thrust downward, as he arched
his back and gasped. I moved faster, my own orgasm drawing very close,
and then I stopped yet again.
        By now he was weeping with frustration, as he begged, "Please,
Mistress, please. Take it off me, I beg you. Anything else, any other
torture, but if I can't find release soon I'll surely explode. Mistress,
please be merciful."
        I laughed,  lifted myself up, and ripped the ring off him, as he
howled in pain. Then I thrust myself back onto him, hard and very fast,
until we both came, he shouting in French, and I probably in Irish, I
don't recall.
        I lay on top of him for a few minutes, and then unlocked the
chains.  I rolled over beside him, and he turned and kissed me, holding
me tight to him.
        "You're full of surprises," he said. "Perhaps it will be your
turn next."
        I kissed him passionately, and laughed. "It will take a bit more
than those baubles to hold me for true. But I just might happen to have
something that could suffice."
        "I'll bet," he said.
        "Oh, by the way, you've called in sick to work today." I grinned
at him.
        "Oh, I have, have I?" he chuckled.
        "Yes, the criminals of Toronto will have to do without you.
There's someone more important who needs incarceration." I licked his
neck, and then sunk in my fangs, drinking deeply as he opened a vein in
my wrist and sucked.  We drank our fill and then were quiet for a moment
as we waited for the room to stop spinning around us.
        "Gwen?" he asked.
        "Yes, beloved?"
        "What else do you have in that bag of yours?"
        "Ah ... Take a look for yourself and see." I giggled, as he
rummaged around. I was sure that he would take his revenge for the little
trick with the blood. I could hardly wait.


lackeyj@indiana.edu    "Just watching the dark" - Richard Thompson
   Any resemblance between graduate students and the living dead
                     is purely coincidental
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