She tries to free herself

Before Charlotte could come to grips with her rapidly changing reality, Black Brand was gone, leaving her shackled to his bed with only the dull roar of the falls to keep her company. Charlotte waited a few minutes hardly believing that he had left her, but as soon as she could slid from her bed and retrieved the pantaloons that had been left at the foot of the bed. Almost immediately she realised that in her present situation she could at best cover only one leg. Instead, she turned her attention to the heavy iron band around her slender calf and the chain that held her to the bed. There was space for only three of her fingers between the cold iron and her skin, and it was immediately apparent that there was no chance to slip the ring over her ankle. The locking mechanism was as effective as it was simple, the square headed screw that tightened the band around her leg was far too stiff to turn without the key, and that was nowhere to be seen.

Refusing to admit defeat Charlotte examined the links of heavy chain that linked the two manacles together. Had she been a smith with a hammer, chisel, and anvil she might have been able to cut through the forged rings, but in her current predicament she may as well have wished for fairy dust to magic the iron from its grip. The other band of black iron was fastened around the cross bar at the foot of the bed, the heavy beam was three inches in diameter and seated firmly into the corner posts. It would take a saw or axe to cut through the hardwood bed frame. Her eyes fell on the small hand axe by the fire; that might work, but unfortunately it was was almost five yards from the bed.

Charlotte next tried to move the whole bed, sliding one end at a time closer to the firepit and the axe; but even as strong as she was, she just couldn't move the heavy four poster across the rough surface of the cavern floor. After what felt like hours of **** labor, (probably actually only ten minutes) Charlotte collapsed onto the firm mattress shaking in anger, frustration and exhaustion. A thin sheen of perspiration coated her skin and her hands and forearms were covered with the grime that accumulated on the bedframe - for all the effort Black Brand spent on making this hide-a-way comfortable he could have spent a little time keeping the place clean!

Charlotte looked around the room again critically, in addition to the layer of soot and dust that covered the bedframe, a pile of soiled laundry lay at the foot of the bed and the bed linens smelled distinctly of his musk. Charlotte realized just how absurd her critique of the outlaw was, it was not like he had manservant to tend to his wardrobe and chambermaids to launder his bedding, but she didn't care. He may pretend to be a gentleman, but what kind of well-bred man would live under these conditions? With the money he took from the Marlton agents he could easily hire a servant to maintain his abode.

A dangerous idea teased at her psyche and although she tried to push it away the thought returned again and again stronger with each revival. It was not all that long ago that a warrior like him might have kept a thrall to tend to his household, a young maid captured from some distant village to cook and clean for him while he lounged by the fire and drank his mead, sharpened his sword and planned his next raid. With the chain around her ankle and her hands covered in grime she looked the part of the thrall kept to cook and clean for her hated foe. Charlotte's mind wandered to the other duties an uncivilized brigand like him might expect from his captured young ****?

In spite of her best efforts to banish the treacherous notion Charlotte found she could not help imagining what would be demanded of a maid carried off by a Norse raider as part of his plunder. No young Englishwoman was safe from the Norsemen's pillaging, young mothers and unwed virgins alike were regularly taken in raids even this far inland from the seas, prized plunder for the pleasure of those brutal men. Neither did religious vows nor high station offer any guarantee, both cloistered nuns and sheltered daughters of the Saxon Lords were highly sought after prizes. These untouched young women would most certainly be **** if they strayed too far from the safety of their fortified walls. Charlotte's hands were twisting into her lap pressing her skirts between her thighs as she wondered what it would have been like to have been one of those innocent maidens taken in an age where the enslavement and **** of the fairer sex was the norm.

Charlotte screamed in frustration. She had no time for these fantasies! She threw herself onto the bed and punched at the pillow in anger, trying desperately to think of a plan of escape, and not about how Black Brand might use her when he got back from delivering her note.

It did not help at all that the bed she lay on smelled so much like Black Brand. With every breath in she could almost taste the smoke and sweat that clung to him like an expensive cologne, and each time she moved her leg the heavy chain around her calf jingled its musical reminder of her captivity. Again her weak-willed mind drifted, one hand slid between her belly and the bed finding the sweet spot between her thighs through the layers of clothing, her other hand pulled and twisted at her suddenly swollen nipples sending jolts of desire from her breasts to her innermost core. No amount of pleading would stop a Viking raider from claiming his prize, the captured virgin's claim of chastity would only enflame the man's lust and not even the promise of a hefty ransom would keep a savage Norseman from taking her for his male pleasures.

Her legs spread open completely on their own and she pulled at the skirts until they were bunched up around her waist so Charlotte could slip her hand under the loosened drawstring of her boomers and touch herself intimately. The heavy iron ring around her ankle made it impossible to forget how less than an hour ago on this very bed she had endured just that fate. A helpless squirming maiden who cried out as a stiff pillar of man-flesh pushed into her ... tearing her open ... taking her maidenhood ... making her a woman ... his woman ... to use ... whenever ... and however ... he wanted!

"Oh God" she moaned into the mattress and her fingers increased the pace even more, "Oh God," louder that time as she could feel how close she was "OHH My GOD!"

The best thing about the shamefully wicked experience, she decided as her body slowly spiraled back to normalcy, was that for once she hadn't had to keep quiet. Her cry of release had filled the empty cave and was likely heard even over the roar of the falls but it just didn't matter because unlike when she touched herself at school dormitories or in her bedroom at home there was no one around for miles. Of course, it was wrong, particularly because of her current situation but being able to scream out as loudly as she wanted without worrying about her aunts or other guests was a luxury she would not get to enjoy very often in her life.

She didn't regret this one small joy in an otherwise troubling experience. Charlotte sat up on the bed and pulled her skirts back into place, the one concern she did have was that she had once again left a distinctive damp patch of feminine juices on both her bloomers and Black Brand's sheets and if he noticed it he'd know exactly how she had spent her time alone.