by Van ©2013
BONDAGE FAN FICTION SET IN THE WW-II ENGLAND OF FOYLE'S WAR
CAISLÉAN CILL SEOIGH
REPUBLIC OF IRELAND
Hour upon hour of total darkness, punishing thirst, gnawing
hunger, the relentless pressure of the bandages mummifying her
There was no other way to describe Lady Jane's ordeal... her
continuing... endless... ordeal. On occasion she was aware
of motion, of her mummified, coffin-trapped, and crate-encased
body being lifted or lowered, of the sense of starting or
stopping. But mostly, silence, stillness, and a tingling
awareness of her helpless body. That and the nightmares, her
mind racing as horrific images flashed before her blinking,
staring eyes in the Stygian darkness.
And then, she was lifted and carried, again, then lowered, again,
but this time she heard the metallic shriek of nails being
drawn... the click and clatter of the coffin's hinged clamps being
released... then the lid itself was lifted!
Lady Jane moaned through her gag and clenched her eyes tightly
closed at the sudden onslaught of piercingly bright light.
And she realized she was, indeed, moaning, that she could speak
again, or rather she would be able to speak if she wasn't
gagged. She also found she could move, to the pathetically
minuscule degree allowed by the tight bandages swaddling her naked
form. The important thing was that the drug the Spider Lady
had given her was wearing off, or had already worn off.
Lady Jane opened her eyes—"Mrrr!"—but as if on cue, something, a
narrowly folded dark cloth, was pressed against her upper face,
across her eyes, and was being knotted behind her bandage-wrapped
head. "M'mmpfh!" She was deposited on a hard surface,
hands were holding down her weakly writhing form, then she became
aware of a tugging sensation that had something to do with her
bandages. They were being removed! She stopped
squirming and mewling through her gag and lay perfectly still,
allowing her rescuers to do their work. She drew deep, even
breaths, savouring the sensation as the tight cloth strips
released their slightly elastic hold. She began sensing the
cool air on her bare skin as more and more of her body was
Thank god, she thought. Thank god.
In a surprisingly short time Lady Jane was bandage-free from the
neck down and hands began carefully unwrapping her head.
They left the blindfold in place, gently pulling strips of bandage
from under the cloth as they worked.
They're protecting my eyes from the light, Lady Jane
surmised. They want me to grow accustomed to the light
slowly. Am I in hospital? But she realized she
was on a hard surface, probably some sort of wooden table.
She'd known that all along, but only now began pondering the
implications. If she was in hospital, surely she'd be on a
bed or a comfortably padded examining table. So where was
she? "M'mmfh?" Hands were lifting her limbs and
strapping some sort of wide, padded cuffs around her wrists and
ankles! She tried to pull away and kick, to impede their
progress, but to no avail. She was too weak from her ordeal.
Meanwhile, the bandages formerly wrapping her head and entwined in
her hair had been removed and the wad of cloth stuffed in her
mouth removed. She tried to speak, to beg for water, but her
mouth was too dry. All that emerged was an inarticulate,
whining croak. Thankfully, her effort had been enough.
Her head was lifted and a cup held to her lips. It was
water—cool, clean, and above all, gloriously wet water. Her
head was eased back down and she sighed in relief—but then was
bodily lifted and carried a short distance. The blindfold
remained in place.
"What are you doing?" Her Ladyship demanded when she could finally
speak. Her handlers had lifted her arms and hands, she heard
a pair of metallic clicks, and she was now standing upright with
her arms raised. Her legs were pulled apart, there was
another pair of clicks, and she realized she was in a standing
spread-eagle! "What's the meaning of this? Let me
go!" A series of rapid thuds and metallic clicks sounded,
and Lady Jane's wrists rose into the air, taking her arms and the
rest of her with them, of course. "Stop!" she ordered.
"Let me go at once!" The sound stopped and she was now up on
her toes in full stretch.
Lady Jane could hear her handlers moving about. She could
also hear whispered conversations, quiet laughter, the rustling of
cloth, and the scrape of footwear on the stone floor.
"Who are you?" Lady Jane demanded as she pulled on her padded
bonds and tried to kick. "Let me go!"
The quiet noise continued and Lady Jane's questions went
unanswered. Seconds passed, then she heard the squeal of
hinges, a quiet thud, and then silence.
More seconds passed.
Finally, Lady Jane could take it no more. "Hello? Is
anybody there?" She heard the tap of boots on the stone
floor... and they were approaching. "Who is it? Who
are you?" The footsteps passed completely around her
stretched body, tracing a slow, stately circle, then stopped
behind her back. She felt fingers releasing the knot of her
blindfold, then the cloth slithered away. Lady Jane blinked
and tried to focus as the footsteps resumed, now passing to her
Finally, Lady Jane could see her surroundings. She was in a
dungeon, a stone-walled, medieval dungeon. Further, it was her
dungeon! She was in Castle Killjoy, her estate in County
Donegal, Ireland! Further, the owner of the boots was her
"Carrie!" Lady Jane gasped. "Thank god!"
Carrie d'Arcy was dressed in riding boots of brown leather, tan
jodhpurs, and a long-sleeved blouse of white cotton. A shawl
of Irish wool was over her shoulder and she removed and tossed it
on the torture rack behind her, together with the narrowly folded
black cloth that Lady Jane surmised had been her blindfold.
Lady Jane also surmised the rack was probably the "table" where
her bandages had been removed.
Lady Jane's blood ran cold. Her cousin was unsmiling, and
was making no move to free her from her bonds.
"You ordered me to prepare the dungeons for the arrival of a
prisoner," Carrie said. "I have, and that will be the last
of your orders that will ever be obeyed in Cill Seoigh Keep, dear
cousin. I was mistress of this castle for many years before
you usurped that position, and now I am again."
Lady Jane tugged on her wrist bonds. She realized they were
the padded cuffs used to restrain prisoners who were about to be
punished. Their black fleece linings prevented damage to the
wrists and ankles as the victim hung in their grip, and
suffered. "Carrie, please!"
"I've received a long letter from Madam Fah lo Shuee," Carrie
said. "She expresses her displeasure with the d'Arcy family
and suggests a means of redress." A smile finally curled
Carrie's coral lips and dimpled her freckled cheeks. "I find
her demands completely reasonable... even pleasant."
"What are you talking about?" Lady Jane said. "Please, let
"There is an interesting item in yesterday's Times,"
Carrie continued, ignoring Lady Jane's entreaties. "It would
appear the St. Johns Wood mansion of Lady Jane d'Arcy has been
completely destroyed by a mysterious explosion and fire.
There were no Luftwaffe aircraft over the city that night, so it
was almost certainly not an aerial bomb. Unnamed sources at
Scotland Yard suggest a black market petrol cache might have
somehow been set alight." Carrie shrugged, still
smiling. "In any case, based on interviews with the staff,
it is very much feared that Lady Jane, herself, died in the
fire. Investigations continue."
Lady Jane stared at her cousin in horror. "Carrie, please,"
"My solicitor says in seven years we can have you declared legally
dead," Carrie continued, "and I will finally become Lady
Carrie d'Arcy. And this will finally be my
castle. And your properties in Canada will be mine, as
well. As for the ruins of the mansion in St. John's Wood,
the land is quite valuable, and it will become mine, too.
Sir Dystic will retain the estate in Sussex, of course, assuming
our dear cousin returns from the war."
"Carrie, let me go," Lady Jane begged, "I beseech you."
"And incur the wrath of the Si-Fann?" Carrie purred. "I
think not." She lifted the black blindfold cloth from the
rack, pulled her long, ginger-red curls back, and used it to
enforce a tight ponytail. "You will never leave Cill Seoigh
Keep again, Jane. I'm having the North Tower renovated as
your new quarters. Workmen will begin installing bars on the
windows next week, and I'm having the door replaced with something
considerably more substantial. Also, the smith has begun
work on a new set of chains. Collar, manacles, fetters, only
the best for my dear cousin. Oh... and a belt, a chastity
belt, to keep your fingers out of mischief."
Lady Jane continued staring in horror. "Carrie," she
"Do you even know the name of Cill Seoigh's smith, dear cousin?"
Carrie inquired. "His family has served ours for
centuries. Do you even know his name? Do you know the
names of any of the staff, other than those maids
unfortunate enough to serve you personally?"
Lady Jane tugged on her bonds, again. Carrie was unbuttoning
her blouse. "I... They're staff," Jane answered. "Of
course I don't know their names. Why should I?"
"Why indeed," Carrie chuckled. "All of them are very sorry
to hear of Her Ladyship's tragic passing." She pulled the
tails of her now unbuttoned blouse from the waistband of her
jodhpurs, unbuttoned the cuffs of the sleeves, then shrugged out
of the blouse and tossed it on the rack, next to her shawl.
"They've already begun calling me 'Lady Carrie.'" Isn't that
delightful? I find it quite delightful."
"You'll never get away with this!" Lady Jane warned. "I have
"Your so-called 'friends' all think you're dead," Carrie
interrupted, "remember?" She reached behind her back,
unclasped her bra, then pulled it off and tossed it on the
rack. Smiling at her helpless cousin, she began doing a
series of stretching exercises, twisting her torso at the waist
and flexing her arms.
"I'll pay you," Lady Jane said. "You can have Castle
"I already have Cill Seoigh!" Carrie shouted, her freckled
face suddenly in an angry scowl, "and I already have your
money!" Her features relaxed into a gloating smile. "I
have control of your money, anyway. And in seven
years, it will all be mine. Now..."
Lady Jane watched as her cousin walked to a vertical wooden rack
set against the far wall. Hanging from pegs were an array of
whips, riding crops, canes, and multi-tailed floggers.
Lady Carrie selected a flogger with twenty long, narrow tails of
butter-soft leather, turned, and strolled towards her helpless
cousin. "Allow me to welcome you home, Jane," she
purred. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."
Jane tugged on her bonds and tried to think of something to say,
something that would get her out of this mess, something that
would make her cousin see reason. Nothing came to
mind. "Carrie, please."
She heard the rattle of the tails as the flogger was drawn
back. And then—"Ahhhhh!"—her back exploded in pain.
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