Trinity Chteau: Extreme Taboo Barely Legal BDSM Erotica E-Book

Brandy Anne Koch

• Herausgeber: Palimpsest Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Warning: Very taboo. Not for the faint of heart. May include BDSM, incest, and other taboo and forbidden elements. This is a vintage **full length** (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel.

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CHAPTER ONE - Trapped Tourist
CHAPTER TWO - Permanent Prisoner
CHAPTER THREE - Gift in Chains
CHAPTER FOUR – Agonies
CHAPTER FIVE - The Binding of Miss Genevra Anderson
CHAPTER SIX - The Passionate Pain
CHAPTER SEVEN - Ma's Prisoner
CHAPTER EIGHT - Cut of Cord, Bite of Steel
CHAPTER NINE – Punishment
CHAPTER TEN - Her Master's Slave
CHAPTER ELEVEN - The Rape of Trinity
CHAPTER TWELVE - Prisoner for Life

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Later Genevra was to crossly tell herself she was old enough to have known better. But Trinity had palled and ten pence was not a lot of money. She counted out the coins and, without another thought, inserted her hand and then her arm to claim her prize. It would quite likely be a tour guide or a package of tea bags.
It did not happen instantly. Genevra was busily groping when her wrist was bitten by what she first supposed to be animal teeth. A few moments later she knew it had been encircled within a noose of wire which dragged her hand and arm painfully to where she stood pressed against the wall. Her arm stolen by a force unknown, her eyes roving frantically in search of help. But there was no help, she was alone.
The wrist of Miss Genevra Anderson hurt abominably. Genevra's tugs and twists elicited only pain until she stood panting and flushed to assess her plight. As yet she was not afraid.
Genevra had fought her battle with English facets which leaked in floods and with English heating devices in which there was no heat. No doubt this was one more case in which something was not working according to plan. When someone came to provide release they were going to get a few crisp American observations on English inefficiency.
Her wrist hurt more and more. She wondered if it would do any good to scream.
The school girl was delightfully English. She wore the femininely scholastic white and blue of the island's school uniforms, which Genevra had found attractive when a group were inarching together on the streets or playing in the fields. It was neat and tidy and left no doubt as to the wearer's status. The girl advanced several paces into the room and now stood surveying Genevra with vibrant interest. She might have been eighteen, although there was a hint of wisdom in the eyes which belied the trim white tunic and blue blouse. Brightly she observed, "You can't withdraw your arm, can you? You're fixed?"
For the first time Genevra felt concern, a concern overwhelm by irritation. "Of course I am fixed," she said angrily. "Surely you don't imagine I'd stand like this if I weren't. I'd be grateful if you could get me loose or go and get someone who can."
"You're very pretty," the girl said as though thinking aloud. "You're an American, aren't you? If I led to loose, would you mind being handcuffed for a while?"
 

Leseprobe

Trinity Chteau

Brandy Anne Koch

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE - Trapped Tourist

CHAPTER TWO - Permanent Prisoner

CHAPTER THREE - Gift in Chains

CHAPTER FOUR – Agonies

CHAPTER FIVE - The Binding of Miss Genevra Anderson

CHAPTER SIX - The Passionate Pain

CHAPTER SEVEN - Ma's Prisoner

CHAPTER EIGHT - Cut of Cord, Bite of Steel

CHAPTER NINE – Punishment

CHAPTER TEN - Her Master's Slave

CHAPTER ELEVEN - The Rape of Trinity

CHAPTER TWELVE - Prisoner for Life

CHAPTER ONE - Trapped Tourist

Later Genevra was to crossly tell herself she was old enough to have known better. But Trinity had palled and ten pence was not a lot of money. She counted out the coins and, without another thought, inserted her hand and then her arm to claim her prize. It would quite likely be a tour guide or a package of tea bags.

It did not happen instantly. Genevra was busily groping when her wrist was bitten by what she first supposed to be animal teeth. A few moments later she knew it had been encircled within a noose of wire which dragged her hand and arm painfully to where she stood pressed against the wall. Her arm stolen by a force unknown, her eyes roving frantically in search of help. But there was no help, she was alone.

The wrist of Miss Genevra Anderson hurt abominably. Genevra's tugs and twists elicited only pain until she stood panting and flushed to assess her plight. As yet she was not afraid.

Genevra had fought her battle with English facets which leaked in floods and with English heating devices in which there was no heat. No doubt this was one more case in which something was not working according to plan. When someone came to provide release they were going to get a few crisp American observations on English inefficiency.

Her wrist hurt more and more. She wondered if it would do any good to scream.

The school girl was delightfully English. She wore the femininely scholastic white and blue of the island's school uniforms, which Genevra had found attractive when a group were inarching together on the streets or playing in the fields. It was neat and tidy and left no doubt as to the wearer's status. The girl advanced several paces into the room and now stood surveying Genevra with vibrant interest. She might have been eighteen, although there was a hint of wisdom in the eyes which belied the trim white tunic and blue blouse. Brightly she observed, "You can't withdraw your arm, can you? You're fixed?"

For the first time Genevra felt concern, a concern overwhelm by irritation. "Of course I am fixed," she said angrily. "Surely you don't imagine I'd stand like this if I weren't. I'd be grateful if you could get me loose or go and get someone who can."

"You're very pretty," the girl said as though thinking aloud. "You're an American, aren't you? If I led to loose, would you mind being handcuffed for a while?"

Genevra hoped she had not heard aright. But the girl was carrying a handbag and from it withdrew a pair of steel bracelets of the kind usually carried by policemen. She held them up and said, "Pretty and they don't hurt a bit. You will let me, won't you?"

The child must be insane, Genevra thought. But to become the plaything of a teenage moppet was less unattractive than standing where she was. "You're being ridiculous," Genevra told the nymphet with acid certainty. "Please get someone in charge and put an end to this nonsense. Damn it, girl, let me loose!"

The teenage tone was heavily disappointed. "It doesn't really matter because I can look after you anyway. But it would have been much nicer if the two of us would have just had fun. First thing is I have to put these on your ankles."

What happened then was beyond Genevra's comprehension. She needed one foot to stand on and, when she used the other to kick at the schoolgirl who advanced towards her, she found her foot captured by teenage hands and quickly encircled with a steel cuff that snapped shut with a firm click. Genevra's trapped wrist hurt enough to reduce her motions to a pitiful protest. Quickly the girl dragged down her foot and snapped the other cuff on her other foot. When a loop of twine went around her free wrist she would have stamped in indignation and disgust had her feet not been joined. When the schoolgirl tugged suggestively, it hurt almost as much as-did the wire. But the most shameful thing was still to come. The bag yielded a collar and a leash. No matter how Genevra fought, the band of leather was soon buckled tight around her throat, it's leash dangling over the swell of young breasts. The battle was lost.

Genevra's wired wrist came loose without her knowing how the act was done. She was given no chance to examine the scarlet circle on her skin before it was encircled in twine behind her back while she tottered uncertainly on feet held close together by steel.

"There, that will do nicely," the moppet said as she cut the twine to leave Genevra's wrists cinched by a mere couple of strands which hurt too much to struggle. "There, unlock your ankles now but I do hope you'll be sensible."

The moment her feet were free, Genevra took a flying leap towards the door but the leash was clutched in a strong young hand to snub her neck painfully, and bring her to a flushed and panting halt. She stood and glared in mute outrageous.

"It will take you a little time to get accustomed to helplessness," the moppet said cheerfully. "I could hurt you if I wanted to jerk on this leash. After a while you'll get accustomed to be led around like a puppy dog.

"My name's Erin, what's yours?"

"None of your business. Look, girl, you've had your fun now turn me loose. I'll be out of her in no time and won't bother you again."

A vicious tug on the leash was her answer. Then another and another in harsh command to reduce Genevra to a disgusting knowledge of being controlled. "My name is Genevra Anderson," she said unhappily. "I come from California in the good, old USA. And I can assure you when I get near a police station you're going to be a very sorry girl."

"You'll never see a police station again. And you won't be going back to California." Erin's voice was a bright as good news. "Let's stop gabbing and I'll take you to the really and truly old part of where we'll be in time for the afternoon class. Don't be silly or I'll break your neck."

Beyond the door the passages became a labyrinth. The unwilling tourist sensed the passage of centuries as she was led pass rooms that spoke of other days. Sometimes she called for a halt to demand release but was always defeated by the vicious circle around her neck against which there was no defense. Little by little the bewildered girl trod the dust of centuries.

The classroom was startling. It was vivid with life about twenty naked girls sat at twenty desks, busily writing and only spared Erin and her charge a brief glance before returning to their work. At the front, behind a large desk, sat a woman who gave Genevra a brief appraisal before nodding approval at the girl holding Genevra's leash. She indicated a desk and Erin led Genevra to it. There she was sat down and a shiny metal cuff locked around her ankle. Her ankle was now linked to the desk by heavy links of chain. With a snap of a pocket knife, Erin cut the twine holding Genevra's hands and marched from the room without a backwards glance, seeming satisfied over a task well done.

Genevra's protests, fighting for utterance, were delayed by pure astonishment. Each of the girls had an ankle chained as was hers, but in addition, all were naked in a total absence of covering which left the new girl staring in dismay at more breasts than she had ever previously seen.

In all her twenty-six years, Genevra had never felt more at a lose. She busily massaged tender wrists, scarlet and indented by the twine and wire. It was a good feeling to possess hands once more. A feeling offset by the shackle on her ankle, a shackle at which she kicked in indignation with a resultant clatter of links which should have drawn attention but caused no eyebrow to be raised.

It was infuriating and defeating to stand and endure a humiliation none cared to notice. Defiantly she shouted, "I'm here, damn you, I demand release! I don't know what sort of game you're playing but someone is going to prison over this!"

Genevra might as well have kept quiet. No head was raised, no eye turned. It was as if her shout had been lost in the wind. She stood back to test her tether which at best was two feet long. And then to kick it savagely in another attempt to find a weakness or demand attention. Genevra was conscious of making an outrageous amount of noise but no one turned their head. And the woman at the desk up front remained concerned with something on her desk. Since she had proven herself unable to leave, Genevra sulkily sat down.

Someone would say something, something inevitable had to happen. This ignoring of her presence could not possibly go on and on. It was a nightmare Genevra was determined to sit out until she gained an authoritative ear. Never in her life had she been thus encircled by nakedness. Only the woman at the front of the class and herself were clothed. It was a bad dream from which she would soon awake.

With commendable patience, the new girl settled down to sit it out. Her reward was long in coming but eventually the mistress stood up and, carrying an unbelievable burden, made her way from desk to desk. At her approach, each girl submissively expended a pair of wrists upon which handcuffs were tightly clasped before a key unlocked the shackle down below. It was obviously a ritual long repeated, and each girl, when her hands were chained, left the room without a spoken word. The atmosphere was eerie in its expectation of submission and by the total obedience of the naked girls. Determined not to shame herself further, she watched each pair of wrists fastened together and each ankle unlocked. When the classroom held only herself and the mistress, her heart was thudding so painfully she fear the mistress could hear it. When the mistress, showing only a small amused smile, dangled empty handcuffs before her eyes, Genevra put her hands behind her back and glared defiance.

"You would do well to join the other girls, dear. They're going to wash up and then have dinner. I expect you're hungry." The voice was exquisitely modulated. The mistress was an educated woman.

Genevra found herself inc-lined to obey. She, too, wanted a wash up and dinner. And above all to leave the unbelievable atmosphere of the classroom. But if she behaved as had all the others, it would be an admission of defeat Tartly she said, "I reject this whole piece of nonsense, this whole silly game you play. Let me loose and let me go, and I'll consider it never happened."

"You have seen it happen, dear. It will continue to happen, dear. You can never influence rituals so deeply entranced as ours. Give me your hands."

It would be so easy to just accept the handcuffing, and then to leave the room. Perhaps then she would discover the answers to a hundred questions. As Genevra considered its power over her, the ankle shackle seemed to bum her skin. She retorted, "You can't expect me to cooperate in anything you're doing. Can't you see how outrageous this is for me!"

"Of course I can, dear." The voice was gentle, almost kind. "Hold out your hands for these pretty bracelets so that you might take a step towards reality. Surely you do not wish to sit here like this all evening?"

"I certainly will not sit her all evening. I'll go to the police and get this whole thing over with!"

It sounded pompous and absurd. Genevra wished she had kept quiet. Her metal clad ankle made boasts and threats sound empty. More quietly she added, "I am afraid. Please tell me what this is all about?"

The mistress sighed. And ceased to offer the bracelets and chain. "Humility is hard to come by." She said it as almost an admission. "But perhaps if you sit her long enough in this room, you will learn its wisdom. Au revoir, dear. I will leave you with your thoughts. Consider what you have seen. Do not panic, you will not be forgotten."

It was as incomprehensible as all the rest. Genevra watched the stately departure of a woman still beautiful despite her age. The door closed and Genevra became alone. Ghosts hovered and watched. But Genevra, seated at her desk, had a disgusted feeling of having missed her cue.

With none to see or hear, it was a pleasant relief to fight the metal shackle.

Venting her spleen upon the only enemy she could touch, Genevra kicked and tugged and heaved against the steel by which her foot was held until, exhausted and feeling foolish, she sat and lifted her ankle to the desk top to examine the shining links. The examination found no flaws. The only break in the silvery surface was an orifice for a key she did not have. It was by no means a commercial handcuff nor did it look like any other handcuff she had ever seen. It was a wide and exquisitely made circlet which fit her ankle as snugly as if made to measure. Allowing her foot to fall back to the floor, Genevra buried her face in her hands and wept.

The captive girl's loneliness of defeat was measured in hours, during which time she fought again and again the links by which she was held while her mind ceaselessly searched for an answer. Throughout it all, Genevra was aware of an unreality as if in a dream were nothing was sane. Somewhere there would be an answer. But supposing that answer didn't come? Perhaps all those naked girls carried forever an unanswered query they no longer spoke aloud. Perhaps each of them had come to in the same manner as herself! Genevra found no comfort in the though.

It was Erin who Anally broke the solitude. Cheerful as ever, she offered the handcuffs. "I think you're ready now. Stick out your hands, darling."

Genevra thrust forward her hands and watched her wrists encircled by the smooth, shining metal which controlled her. The leash was snapped back on her collar to make her again the submissive property of a teenage girl.

The delayed dinner in the deserted dinning hall was expansively delicious. Genevra ate ravenously under the watchful eyes of her mistress, handcuffed wrists imposed only a small handicap in the use of knife and fork, an unexpected degree of freedom which left Genevra wondering if she could get the best of Erin in a struggle. As though to answer her thought, Erin said, "It's best not to fight me. You'd be terribly punished. And you wouldn't find the freedom you're looking for. Don't fight. Let me be your guide. Soon I'll take you to my mother and she'll explain everything. Mother's a wonderful woman."

"Your mother? What on earth!"

Erin's giggle was delicious. "Mother owns , darling," she explained simply. "Now she owns you. And after she's told you why, you'll feel a lot better. That's the reason I run around loose the way I do-I'm the daughter of the house!"

"Have you thought about going to prison?"

"Oh, darling, don't be silly. Mother's terribly rich, and rich people never go to prison. Come on, dear, we've got many things to do."

Genevra followed the leash. It seemed more likely to lead her to the truth than any act of violence she could try. With joined hands sedately before her, she followed where she was led.

"The is my bedroom," Erin said as she thrust her charge against the wall to exchange the leash for a short chain that was padlocked on to her collar. "You're going to undress now, so I'll let you have your hands. Please struggle all you want, I'll simply watch."

The handcuffs fell away and Genevra knew herself almost totally free. She had both arms and legs so only the collar made her subject to another's will. Her freed hands flew instantly to her neck to discover the measure of this new bondage. While Erin watched in obvious amusement she remarked, "There's nothing you can do, dear. I'll just leave you there until you do as you're told. You know what comes next, don't you?"

It took Genevra only moments to guess. Cheeks suddenly flushed, she affirmed, "I'm not going to. It's indecent. I won't go around without clothes. Even if you leave me like this all night, I'm not going to do a strip-tease. Forget it!"

Erin did the unexpected. Grasping her prisoner in loving arms to kiss and whisper urgently, "Genevra, do it for me. Take your clothes off, it's such a simple thing to do. I don't want to leave you here all night. It's horrible to stand against that wall as it gets darker and darker and you realize you can't do a thing about it. Don't you realize you can't sit down? Please...."

The young voice and the young body held so close and so alive were hard to resist. From the beginning Genevra had felt a attraction towards this girl. And she was aware that she had not been fighting perhaps as hard as she could have. In an honest assessment, the captive girl could thing of no single instance of loosing an opportunity to escape. But she still wondered if she could have done something more.

Her fingers felt the band around her neck, and the chain that padlocked her to wall, feeling with utter certainty that decision was not hers. She could do as she was bid or undergo unpleasant results. Genevra sulkily exclaimed, "Can't you understand how crazy all this is for me? I can't possibly be anxious to please or be obedient. Erin, please, be a sweetheart and let me loose!"

"Take you clothes off."

"Why should I? I mean, give me a good reason!"

"Would you like to wear a school girl outfit, same as me?"

"Of course not! I'd look silly."

"Then take you clothes off. Mother always says that bare skin if Trinity's own uniform."

Genevra's mind was a turmoil of conjecture, at the forefront of which was a vision of herself chained to the wall as darkness fell and the dreary hours extracted their toll of her strength. And increasing fear. She knew herself a victim of an insidious program by which her freedom had already been taken and replaced by shame, humiliation and bewilderment. For sure she had no wish to be like the girls she had seen in the class but was the removal of her clothes beneath Erin's amused gaze such a terrible thing?

"Why can't you take me to your mother the way I am?" she asked without much hope.

"Mother wants you naked, so that's the way it will be. Don't you see how wise it is, dear? Being without clothes will put you in a much more sensible frame of mind. Mother always knows best."

The flimsy things of summer were easily removed but Genevra's distaste for her task slowed the inevitable to slow, angry tugs which stopped when she reached her panties. "Surely you'll let me wear these?"

"No. You must take them off." Erin's eyes were glowing with delight.

The unwilling captive must now grab the chain with one hand while pulling and pushing with the other. The removal of shoes and nylons were a knee bending exercise, leaving Genevra standing splendidly in total nudity. Erin's hushed exclamation of, "Gosh, you're beautiful," did little to ease her mind or erase the wounds of shame. Genevra said no word but fought her hands away from the shielding of her breasts.

The urge to cover herself against the fascinated stare of a teenage girl was strong but Genevra knew it would only shame her more and bring a grin to Erin's elfin face. She allowed her arms to hang limply at her sides while watching her companion gather up her expensive scraps of clothing and the shoes, and dispose of them in an empty drawer. She held up the handcuffs again. "Time for these again, dear."

Hating one more surrender, the now naked girl extended bare arms to watch her wrists snugly circled in the pretty bracelets. Her neck was freed, the leash snapped back upon its ring, and once more Miss Genevra Anderson meekly followed a girl she could not hate.

Patrician was the word for Lady Alyath Hardcastle. Hers was a face of character, modified by a glint of humor in warm grey eyes and at the corners of thin, decisive lips.

"I knew you'd be beautiful," Lady Hardcastle said with swift assessment. "Stand still and let me examine you. Erin, you may leave."

Genevra was certain that leaving the room was the last thing Erin wished to do. But the teenager was obedient as if having delivered Genevra into her mother's care was the completion of a task. The mother gently raised the handcuffed wrists to place them behind Genevra's neck, leaving her nudity totally exposed for the sight and probing fingers of her new captor. At the end of the search which left nothing unexplored, Genevra's hands were once again lifted above her head and allowed to fall into whatever awkward pose the handcuffs might allow.

"I am pleased with you, dear." The approval was almost clinical. "You are fully up to my standards and will be a wonderful addition to the Class. I hope you will enjoy Trinity as much as I love it."

"I want to go home."

"Yes, of course. That is a early phase which will pass."

"You've kidnapped me. You could go to prison!"

Lady Alyath smiled. Her tone was calm, without haste. "I inherited Trinity and with it a vast amount of money. From the beginning I knew there was but a single wish I had to make come true-to own a stable of young ladies like yourself who I could train and dispose of as I will. I am not a lesbian, remember that."

"Those girls in the classroom-they're prisoners?"

"I prefer to call them slaves. The purchase and ownership of slavegirls is an ancient institution. It is not an openly acknowledged today but still a fact of human existence." Lady Alyath smiled benignly. "Your spirit is troubled but that will pass. You will become one of many girls for whom I have opened doorways to a new and wider life. You see, dear, when you and I start to bore each other, I will make a gift of you to some man or woman I wish to honor. It will be someone who will cherish you keep you safe. Try and find comfort in the thought of no longer needing to make a living or to worry about your future. Trinity has taken you for its own."

"It's difficult for me to believe, it's so outrageous!"

"That why you will be whipped tomorrow. To gain a fresh perspective, every one of my girls is whipped every two weeks. You will be no exception. Erin keeps a list to remind me which girl or girls is to be punished every day."

"But I haven't done a thing to deserve punishment. In fact, you have no right....

"You will feel differently after receiving discipline, dear. Don't look so upset, I do not speak of a flogging. The instruments used are humane and the marks they leave upon your skin will disappear in a couple of days. The girls come to look forward to the erotic excitation the whip brings to their loins."

Genevra looked down at her sliver bracelets and wrists, then up to the calm, aristocratic face of a woman who aspired to be her owner. This whole thing had gone beyond the bounds of reason, and Trinity's new possession knew it was time to call a halt. It was like telling the tides to cease their motion, but she had to try.

"You seem to think I'll accept this whole outrageous," she exclaimed, "but I won't. I absolutely refuse to be whipped or turned into a slavegirl. This is as far as I intend to go. I demand my freedom."

"You will feel more sensible after your whipping, dear. And remember, you can earn punishment every day if you so desire. There are so many painful or disagreeable things Trinity can do with you that I hate to enumerate them all."

They measured each other without hostility. Genevra never knew her transition from freedom was being cleverly controlled. She knew that to protest or bluster would diminish this woman's assessment of her worth. Treats are for the weak, the strong keep silent. She shrugged away the things she had no wish to hear.

"You have had a trying day," Lady Alyath suggested. "I will take you now to the other girls who will tell you everything I have not. You may sleep as late as you wish. You can hold your own leash, I'm not going to tug at it as though you were a puppy dog. I'm sure you'll be sensible."

The huge dormitory was bright and cheerful, and alive with girls. All the nakedness Genevra had seen in the classroom was chatting cheerfully but fell silent and the mistress of Trinity intruded upon their time of play. Curiosity mixed with sympathy was mixed in every eye.

Genevra was led to a cot and her left ankle shackled to the floor in the same manner as in the classroom. Every girl was similarly fastened save for a few whose chain was attached to a metal collar on her neck instead of her ankle. The good-night kiss Lady Alyath planted upon her newest acquisition was warm and loving for a girl who watched her new owner leave and close the door before turning to meet a multitude of laughing eyes and excited lips.

Their stories varied little. All had been snatched from life by the Arm hand of a woman of whom they spoke in awe. Two girl who had been whipped that day exhibited the whip marks on their skin with an inordinate amount of pride. Genevra was told earnestly not to be frighten and to abandon thought of escape, no girl every escaped the restraints of Lady Alyath, none every would. If they seemed happy in captivity, it was because they knew it useless to sit and mourn or weep each other's shoulders with tears. They had been captured and enslaved, and that was the end of it. They laughingly admitted a wish to become a gift to something tall, dark and handsome, and very rich. Their captivities varied from as little as three months up to a period of several years. They assured a bemused Genevra everything would fall into place for her in a week or so. Comforted by companions in distress, she slept.

CHAPTER TWO - Permanent Prisoner

As Genevra Anderson's first year as a captive within the stone and iron of drew to a close, California faded from her mind to be replaced by memories of her slow subjugation to the will of Lady Hardcastle. It had taken the American girl almost the entire twelve month period to accept her condition and become reconciled to the clutch of steel and chaff of rope. And, most potently of all, the vanishing of shame over complete nudity the ancient place imposed.