A whipping as an example

The huddled group of prisoners were marched through that awful open gate by their captors. After what had happened to Dennis, no-one was brave enough to try and escape again and when the iron bars slammed shut behind them Marcus felt a cold chill, like part of him knew his only good chance had just been ripped from his grip. No, he couldn't think like that! They couldn't watch him all the time!

**** for some hope, the young prince scanned his surroundings. In the flickering light cast by the torches their captors were holding, he could just about make out that they stood in some kind of lavish garden, rather like the one outside the castle. There were trees and flowerbeds, surrounded by pools of crystal-clear water. Here and there he saw the shadowy shapes of marble statues, all of them exquisitely carved. Marcus blushed faintly as he realized each sculpture depicted a naked boy or girl tightly bound in some way, their faces hungry with obvious arousal. Some of them were in very naughty positions indeed, perfect marble butts or boobs thrust forward like they were trying to show off. What kind of place was this?

"Let me go!" Marcus flinched at the scared shout, his head snapping back to where a pair of men were dragging the struggling Dennis through the gardens. Kriss was stalking behind the groom, a furious scowl on her face. Worse still, she had that long, black whip still held in her hand. Dennis was pulled past the crowd of prisoners, over to another part of the garden where instead of plants or statues there was something far more sinister.

Looming there in the dark stood a collection of wooden and metal devices the likes of which Marcus had never seen before. He recognized only one, a pillory he knew could be used to punish criminals. What were these other things though? Like the triangular chunk of polished wood with shackles dangling above it, or the padded bench with all those leather straps and cuffs. The young prince swallowed, a shiver passing down his spine. The one thing these scary-looking things seemed to have in common was the all the rather obvious restraints.

The pair of men holding Dennis dragged the struggling groom over to one of them, a simple wooden post, with a second horizontal bar close to the top. The boy's arms were yanked up and shackled there, leaving him pressed face-first against the wood, his back to all of them. Craning his neck, he could just about turn and look behind him, but no matter how much he pulled against the restraints he couldn't struggle free. He was looking very frightened now, his face pale and sweat gleaming on his forehead. His anxious eyes snapped to Kriss as the scary blonde stalked up behind him, unfurling the whip in her hand.

"Strip him." She grunted. Her henchman leapt forward and ripped the shirt of Dennis' back. The groom pulled against the shackles, kicking back with one leg, but the pair easily dodged his feeble struggles. He was left shivering against the post, the muscles of his naked back exposed and ****. Marcus froze, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. Kriss was going to whip Dennis! "Watch this closely, you sniveling shits!" The armored woman turned to sneer at the cowering captives. "Any one of you try to escape, disobey an order or just plain piss me off and you'll get the same!"

She flicked her wrist back, the whip uncoiling like a serpent. There was an indrawn breath from the watching captives, but no-one dared to look away. Then she flung her arm forward. There was a vicious crack as the whip leapt through the air and landed full across Dennis' straining back. Marcus winced at the awful sound, then again at the shuddering, gasping breath from the groom's straining lips. He sounded like he'd tried to breath and scream at the same time, and managed neither. Kriss drew back the whip again, showing no mercy. Again it whistled through the air and lashed across Dennis' flank, wrapping around his belly. This time the groom did scream, pulling at the shackles with all his strength. Another lash, leaving a vicious red welt all across his back, like a line of fire scorched into his skin. His anguished howl made the young prince tremble like a leaf, tears in his eyes as he watched the poor suffering boy.

"No!" Charity shrieked suddenly. Her hands still bound together, she stumbled out of the huddled group of prisoners, her face a mask of horror. Marcus watched, too terrified to move, as one of the henchmen leapt to intercept her, grabbing her viciously by the waist. The girl didn't even seem to see him, her gaze fixed on Dennis, still twitching and sobbing like a wounded animal against the post.

"Not so fast, girl." Jana cooed, her elaborate dress sweeping around her body as she stalked out to face poor Charity. Kriss had turned too, the whip hanging idly from her wrist.

"Well, well, what have we here?" The armored sister sneered. "Sweethearts you think, Sis?"

"Seems that way." Jana cocked her head, staring at the sobbing Charity like she was a mildly annoying insect. "The shabby groom and the snooty noble's daughter, sounds a little like a fairy tale. Did Daddy know you were slumming it with the peasantry, girl?" Charity didn't reply. Somewhere she'd found the strength to glare back at the two sisters, drawing herself to her full height and standing there with a face like ice. Marcus had no idea how she could be so brave. If these two had even looked at him that way, he'd be cowering like a mouse. "It seems we have another lesson to teach here, sister." Jana cooed, a note of sick anticipation straying into her voice. "I think I'll handle this one."

"You want to play your creepy head games go ahead." Kriss sneered, whirling back to face the sobbing Dennis. The whip unfurled again, landing in the grass at her feet. "I'm not finished with our stupid escapee just yet."