("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: yolanda1.txt (MMF, reluc, v, fantasy) Authors name: Elmer B. Ben (elmerbigben@hotmail.com) Story title : Yolanda's Story -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Yolanda's Story (MMF, reluc, v, fantasy) by Elmer B. Ben (elmerbigben@hotmail.com) *** Yolanda Price awakens to find she has been transported to some strange place and time out of sync with all she has previously known. It is an English speaking country, perhaps eighteenth century England, but this is also unclear. At any rate she is befriended by a helpful rogue named Tom Turner. Tom, unhappily, turns out to be an enemy of the king. It is here Yolanda's troubles truly begin. Yolanda's Story The Arrest And Interrogation The Trial Yolanda In Prison The Punishment Part I: Yolanda relives the terror up to now... The cell was cold, not unbearably so, but it certainly was uncomfortable. Yolanda shivered despite the thin woolen blanket that covered her. She lay back on the pile of fresh straw that had been provided for her and tried to blot out the horror of the past few days. Where was she? What had happened to her? What would be the outcome of all this? Would she ever return to the comfort of her twenty first century suburban home? The thought of that home and what she had left behind brought fresh tears. She didn't know where she was now or to what point in time she had been transported. She could not sleep; sleep was impossible. She could only relive the events of the past few days in her tortured mind. She had been at the Farmer's Market gathering the last items for the evening meal when they approached her. Two men in three quarter length coats, peaked hats, breeches with knee stockings and high buckled shoes. "Yer name Yolanda Price?" Yolanda nodded in the affirmative. "I be Constable Barnstover an' this be my assistant Oliver Korn." He indicated a lanky goofy looking youth with stringy hair and buckteeth. Oliver had a perpetual silly grin on his thin pock marked face. Constable Barnstover was a bull of a man, not tall but stockily built. His cocked hat sat atop a shock of dark red hair. His face maintained a built in scowl and he tended to draw his lips back in a sort of snarl when he spoke. "I have here a warrant for your arrest and have been ordered by the magistrate at Derry to take yer into custody at first sight." Yolanda started nearly dropping her recent purchase. "Why what am I being arrested for," she asked. "The warrant charges harboring a fugitive from the King's justice and aiding and abetting him in concealing his ill gotten gain. Er, what say ye to that?" Before she could answer Yolanda was manacled and propelled toward a waiting carriage. The horror had begun. Yolanda and the Prosecutor: His Excellence, she learned was his Title and was to be so addressed, sat back in his large leathern chair and took a good sip of brandy from the snifter he was holding. He offered her a glass but she refused demanding to know what this was all about. "I hear you are new in these parts" he stated failing to answer her question. "Yes I don't understand why I am here myself. I know I don't belong here, nor do I belong here in your presence for I have done nothing wrong." His Excellence shook his head in puzzlement. "I do not understand why you say you do not belong here. Surely you deserve to stand to be before me for official inquiry. You are charged with harboring a fugitive. It is a crime against his Majesty. surely you realize that." What fugitive. I know of no criminal. I know of only man in this strange country and he is no fugitive from your justice." "You speak of Tom Turner. But he is a fugitive, a thief and a brigand. Is he your lover?" Yolanda gasped. Surely Tom Turner, the only man who had shown her kindness since she had arrived in this awful place could not be what His Excellence made him out to be. "Well, that's it isn't it? He has already admitted to the same. It was he who named you as concealing his person from the authorities. Where do you think we got your name for the warrant? No one knows you hereabouts. Have you been sent as a spy from the Prussians, or sent perhaps by the Russians possibly? I assure you we will find out and you will be severely punished for what you have been charged with." Yolanda rose briefly from her seat across the broad desk from the Prosecutor. "I'm sorry I did not know he was wanted and I am most assuredly not a spy." We will soon know. I advise you to tell all now, both about your mission here and all you know about Tom Turner. If not you will be subject to the most painful and humiliating examination." With that the Prosecutor set his glass down and called for the guard. Knowing nothing, really, about Tom, except that to save himself some additional anguish whether physical or mental he had betrayed her, falsely, to these cruel people. Also, being at a loss, herself as to why she was in this strange time and place she could only deny taking part in the espionage of which she now stood accused. Examination, she learned, was another word for questioning or more harshly, interrogation. Failing to obtain the desired information the next step could only be described as torture. Yolanda could offer no explanation for her plight nor any secret knowledge she might harbor of Tom Turner's nefarious activities. Yolanda's fate it seemed was sealed. It was now Prosecutor became what could only be described as solicitous of Yolanda. After all, she appeared a very comely, very comely indeed, wench. Her face angelically lovely, her lush mane of dark auburn hair framing that lovely face possessed highlights galore, He longed to run his fingers through that thick curly hear, perhaps grab a handful and pull her head back to kiss her roughly and thereafter demand his due. Her figure was somewhat obscured by her floor length dress and the voluminous petticoats that were the order of the day. He vowed he would remedy that soon enough. "You have, I would venture, heard of the third degree?" he began. She nodded her assent. "You have just experienced the first, questioning. I'm sure you know the third---- expiation." "You mean torture don't you? Why don't you say it? It will do you no good for I know nothing and could tell you nothing of what you seek, even to save myself from your cruelty." "You know I'm beginning to believe you but I must know and you will tell all, unfortunately only after your are very tired and in terrible pain and---" He paused. "Unfortunately, only after your beautiful body has been scarred by the terrible instruments we shall have to employ to secure your cooperation." Yolanda shivered, she suddenly felt very faint. Was there no way out of this nightmare? "There is of course the second part of the process. You are to be allowed to inspect the implements which we use and be explained the methods that would be employed should you still refuse to cooperate. This is the second degree." Amanda sighed a deep sigh of relief. The worst was not to come, yet. "But first in order to impress you with the full effect of you education it is best you be in the state you would be were you to undergo the ordeals of which you will learn. That is you must be naked during the demonstration." Yolanda was startled by this and the further order to strip immediately, down to shoes garters and stockings. When she hesitated the Prosecutor shrugged indifferently. "Very well." He motioned to two surly looking unshaven brutes dressed in oily looking leathern breeches, shirtless, hairy chested fiends who leered expectantly at Yolanda's slight figure. "Strip her well. Cut her clothes off and dispose of them in the forge" he ordered. Yolanda gasped her protest. "No," she cried. "I'll do it." The Prosecutor's mood changed from solicitous to threatening. "Too late," he shouted. "You must learn to take us seriously." With that one of the brutes grabbed both her wrists holding her arms high above her head. The other producing a large, evil looking knife, grabbed her dress collar slipping the blade between her garments and the soft skin of her back. With a few deft strokes he sliced away her garments from neckline to hem. The cold steel of the knife barely touching her sent cold chills down her back. With one hard pull he tore the rest of her flimsy covering. Her flesh spilled out of the torn garments, quivering in the dim light of the chamber. She instinctively crossed her arms over her now bare breasts then one small hand moved quickly to the dark triangle at the apex of her ivory thighs. She shivered both from the cold and the terrible embarrassment she felt at her exposure. She could do nothing save stand there helplessly while all three men feasted their hungry eyes on her voluptuous form. For an interminable time she stood there while they admired her succulent nudity. She looked down at her feet and spied a shard of the dress she had worn. She started to bend over to pick it up and one of the brutes snatched it from her grasp at the last moment. She felt the hard slap of a doubled up belt across her naked buttocks as the other gave he a smart whack for her trouble. Without thinking she uncovered her pubis to rub her smarting posterior. Suddenly discovering her error she moved quickly to re cover her privacy. The Prosecutor grabbed her wrist before she could do so. "Hands at your sides" he ordered. She quavered at his demeanor. Thus they tormented and teased Yolanda for several minutes. At last a heavy leathern belt was strapped about her waist and from it were restraining cuffs, which secured her hands at her sides. She was then taken to the far dungeon where the fiendish devices used to extract both information and confessions from helpless prisoners were shown and explained to her. There was the iron maiden, the stretch rack, the torture chair with the hole in the seat and the pot of glowing coals below that opening. There was the forge and the bellows from which protruded the handles of various hot pokers and tongs. There was the wheel over which the unfortunate victim could be placed on his back and stretched by an expansion of the spokes of the wheel. Then there was the wheel which could be turned to immerse the criminal's h ad and shoulders for endless seconds, then to bring him or her up from the water sputtering and choking to be subject to further questioning or to give his/her confession, guilty or nor, in order to avoid further anguish. The last item a large X frame rack from which Tom Turner hung by his wrists, naked, weights hanging from his testicles. Yolanda cried out in anger at this. Tom uttered an agonized "I'm sorry Yolanda. I didn't mean to---." His words died away to a nearly soundless mutter. Yolanda was quickly led away and as she was taken from the chamber she spotted one of the sadistic brutes that worked in this hellish place take a red-hot smoking iron from the forge. Tom's scream echoed down the hallway as she was hustled away. Her knees gave way and she fainted. It was much later she awoke, The shoes and stockings were gone replaced by crude sandals on her feet and a flimsy shapeless gray shift the covered her body. They were her only clothing. She lay in a very comfortable bed in what appeared to be a man's bedchamber. A fireplace burned cheerily at the far wall across from the bed a trio of candle sconces further illuminated the room. Shadows danced played on the light hued walls, the lames from the candles and the fireplace flickered and danced as well. Yolanda reached for a cover. It was then she discovered the Prosecutor sipping his accursed brandy and studying her intensely. It was then, too, she discovered she had been bathed and her hair carefully brushed. She felt languorous and comfortable. Had she been drugged? His Excellence rose and covered her with a blanket. "Rest well, Yolanda. I need nothing more in the way of information from you. Tom has told us all we need. I need only your confession to some minor matters in order to justify my holding you. We'll discuss that in the morning. You can save both yourself and Tom further pain if you comply." Yolanda complied. There was little else she could do. There was one more thing though. One more price to pay to secure her freedom. That was to giver herself to the Prosecutor. She complied with that demand, also. She wanted only to leave this place, to be free, one more humiliation did not matter that much. It was not that easy and the time did not pass that quickly. The Prosecutor was not a one-night stand man and his sexual appetite tended to the kinky at times but he did make her orgasm time after time. She was his sex slave for more than a week before he tired of her. For what seemed endless hours she laid trembling and quivering under his ministrations. She learned sexual practices that would make a New Orleans whore blush. But at last she was free. She walked from the jail into the clear bright sunlight of day breathing once again the clean fresh air of liberty. How good it felt! One day her horrible, frightening experience would fade from her thoughts and she would be truly free and--- and ----happy. Perhaps she would never escape this strange land and this time out of place into which she had been thrust but even if this were to be the case, she would find happiness---- somehow." As these thoughts crossed her mind she espied dour constable and his witless assistant. "Ay there Miss Yolanda Price, I have again a warrant for yer arrest." "And what for, pray tell, this time," she called out angrily. "Warrant charging escape from custody and requested by His Excellence, the Royal Provincial Prosecutor," the constable answered. If you liked this let me know and I'll continue with the trial, imprisonment and eventual punishment of heroic Yolanda, as well as the surprising conclusion. Enjoy reading of her travails as she is "fucked over" by the men in her life. Cordially, Elmer ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider seeking professional help. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 17