|| SAM's WAR
The d'Arcy Manor Mystery
|BONDAGE FAN FICTION SET IN THE WW-II
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HASTINGS, EAST SUSSEX
Sam paused as she approached the police
station—then broke into a happy smile. A familiar shape
was parked in the slot usually reserved for Foyle's
transportation. A quick glance at the number plate, a hand
passed across a small, shallow dimple in the left rear mudguard,
and her first impression was confirmed—Sam's Wolseley had been
Sam's smile became a wry grin. All right, it wasn't her Wolseley. She
walked a slow circle around the saloon, and gave the roof an
affectionate pat. "Sorry I let that Marie person lay her hands
on you," she muttered. "I'll do my very best not to let anything like
that happen again."
She entered the police station and beamed at Sgt. Rivers.
He smiled back, and tossed her a set of keys. They were
the Wolseley's, of course. "Try not to lose it again," he
Sam laughed as she removed and hung up her coat. "I've
apologized to the boss and to
in question, just now. Perhaps you should hold a muster so
I can apologize to the entire force, en masse."
"Maybe after lunch," Rivers laughed. "You're expected," he
continued, and nodded towards DCS Foyle's office. "In you
Sam straightened the front of her uniform (her spare uniform,
her only uniform
until she could replace the one Marie had stolen), rapped on the
office door twice, then entered. Foyle was behind his
desk, a young Army officer was in a guest chair, and in the
other—"Marion!" Sam cried.
Marion Ravenwood was out of the chair and into Sam's arms in an
instant. The women shared a warm embrace while the men
"I-I'm sorry," Sam mumbled.
Marion held Sam at arm's length. "Sorry? For what?"
Sam's eyes were welling. "I-I couldn't rescue you," she
Marion laughed, and pulled Sam back into an embrace.
"Don't be silly. If you had, you would have ruined
"What?" Sam gasped.
"Let's do things properly," Foyle suggested, and gestured toward
the officer. "Lieutenant John Steed, Military
Sam touched her cap in salute. "Sir." If Sam wasn't
mistaken, his uniform made the Lieutenant a member of the
Coldstream Guards, and she definitely
recognized the commando flash on his right sleeve.
He was a handsome devil, although he hardly seemed old enough to
be a serving officer.
"So pleased to finally meet you, Miss Stewart," Steed said, and
extended his hand. His manner and voice betrayed his
public school and upper class background, but his friendly charm
and boyish smile were disarming.
Sam reached around Marion and took the offered hand.
Steed's grip was firm but gentle. "Uh... pleased as well,"
Sam responded, a blush colouring her cheeks.
"My escort," Marion explained, in a whisper, "in case there are
more German spies lurking in the bushes."
"What were you saying about my spoiling things?" Sam demanded.
"Miss Ravenwood agreed to allow
herself to be captured by our double agents," Steed
Sam frowned at Marion. "You were pretending to be a
Marion laughed. "There was no pretending involved, I
assure you! I expected a little polite pistol waving and
possibly a blindfold, not to be trussed up like a violent
"Lady Jane?" Sam asked.
"She was recruited by Whitehall to serve as Marion's
introduction to the Countess," Foyle explained. "Her
Ladyship's ill-fated rescue was attempted in ignorance."
"As was mine," Sam sighed.
Marion still had one arm around Sam's waist. "Stop that!"
she scolded, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Jane
acted out of pride and a desire to impress her upper-crust
"If Lady Jane's concern for Miss Ravenwood had been genuine,"
Foyle intoned, "she would have welcomed your assistance,
possible hidden affiliations aside, rather than treat you like
"Speaking of affiliations," Lieutenant Steed said, directing his
most winning smile at Sam, "would you be fluent in German or
French, by chance, or, dare I hope, in both?"
"None of that!" Foyle said sternly (the twinkle in his eyes
softening the rebuke). "The Hastings police are already
stretched dangerously thin. I won't have you recruiting my
key personnel out from under me."
Sam blushed at the compliment. "No German or French, I'm
afraid," she told the Lieutenant. "A little Latin."
Steed smiled, and shook
his head. "A pity."
"What a smooth customer," Marion muttered, and all present
laughed. "Anyway..." she continued, giving Sam another
hug, "your concern was
selfless, and you were very brave."
She turned to Foyle. "I'm taking her to lunch."
"It's quite a bit early for lunch," Sam observed.
"Lunch, breakfast, whatever," Marion muttered. "We can get
some coffee, at least." She guided Sam towards the door.
Sam glanced at Foyle, and he smiled and nodded. She smiled
back, nodded at Lieutenant Steed, and they headed for the
door. Sam looked Marion up and down as they walked.
"You're none the worse for wear, I see."
"Oh, what the Countess did to me?" Marion laughed. "That
was nothing. Let me tell you about the time I was the
prisoner of a Turkish warlord. The old battleaxe who ran
his harem, the senior wife, she
knew a thing or two about tying people up, and she hated foreigners.
Anyway, it all began when—"
The door closed and Foyle and Steed could hear no more.
"Wouldn't you like to be a fly on the wall while she tells that tale," Steed sighed.
| SAM's WAR
The d'Arcy Manor Mystery—EPILOGUE
An hour later, a late breakfast in their stomachs,
Sam and Marion were leaving a rather scandalized tea room in their wake. Sam
smiled. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to return to the establishment
in question, but she wouldn't trade Marion's friendship for all
the tea and biscuits in Hastings.
Sordid tales of Turkish seraglios aside, Sam had finally learned
something more of Marion's current adventure. The
Wolseley—Sam's Wolseley—had visited no less than three
safe-houses as the Countess and her maids spirited Marion to the
coast. Troops had descended on each nest of spies as soon
as they departed, and apparently, MI-5 had made quite a
haul. When they reached the coast, a fishing boat and its
traitorous captain and crew were added to the bag. The
Countess was "captured", but the two maids escaped. There
were whispers that the Royal Navy had sunk a U-boat just off the
coast, but it might or might not have had anything to do with
the Countess' plan.
"We'll never know what really happened, will we?" Sam muttered
as they walked the streets of Hastings.
"Want my best guess?" Marion asked, and Sam nodded.
"Okay—the Countess is completely opportunistic, playing both
sides against the middle. She either got turned by MI-5 or
saw an opportunity to sell out the Germans at a profit.
I'm betting she was supposed to expose the German sleeper
network without blowing her cover, but something went wrong when
we got to the coast."
"What?" Sam asked.
"How should I know?" Marion laughed. "I was bound and
gagged and blindfolded, with wax stuffed in my ears, remember?"
Sam took Marion's hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Anyway, " Marion continued, "something
happened and they had to take the self-serving bitch into
custody, possibly to maintain the cover of other aspects of the
operation. Who knows?"
Sam sighed. "And the maids?"
"Minions," Marion said with a dismissive shrug.
"Servants, hired help, henchmen—"
"I know what minions
are," Sam laughed. "They weren't captured?"
Marion shrugged. "Apparently not. Johnny thinks
they've fled to a prearranged rendezvous in Ireland."
"Lieutenant Steed," Marion purred. "There's so much gossip
leaking about this fiasco... I'm beginning to suspect most of it
is purposely being spread, to mislead the Germans. Anyway,
you're right. We'll probably never know what really
happened—not all of it."
Sam smiled as they neared the station. Samantha Stewart, Counter-Spy!
a delicious fantasy, but now it was over, and she was back to
her duties as a police chauffeur.
As they approached the front door, an army staff car and a
light, 4x4 lorry pulled up and stopped. Several soldiers
jumped from the back of the lorry and took up guard
positions. All were armed with sten guns or American
Thompsons. As Sam came closer, she could see that they
Foyle and Lieutenant Steed emerged from the station, and as Sam
and Marion approached, a commando Sergeant exited the staff car
and opened its back door. He reached inside and helped a
female passenger emerge, and she was—the Countess!
She was dressed all in black, as Marion had seen her before, and
had added a black trenchcoat and a hat with a transparent veil
of black lace—as stylish and glamorous as ever.
However—she was a prisoner! Her wrists were cuffed in
front and padlocked to a thick leather belt buckled and locked
around her waist. In addition, her ankles were shackled
and a steel chain attached to the belt kept the hobbling chain
off the ground.
"It's our captured spy, herself," Marion laughed as they drew
near. "You look good in chains, even if they are just to impress the
The Countess ignored Marion, but she favoured Sam with one of
her evil, aristocratic
smiles. "Driver Stewart," she purred. "It's a
Sam's heart was pounding and her face flushed, and she became
aware of mild pain in her right hand. She opened her fist,
and flexed her fingers. The Countess was sitting on the
ground, a dazed expression on her face and her hat skewed at a
rather comical angle. "What happened?" Sam asked.
Marion was trying very hard to contain a giggling fit, and
failing. "You coldcocked her!"
Sam blinked in surprise. "I what?"
"You punched her lights out!" Marion chortled, and could contain
herself no longer. One hand keeping her hat in place, she
bent at the waist and quaked with laughter.
Foyle, Steed, and the Sergeant were doing a better job of
controlling their mirth; but all present, save Sam and the
Countess, were clearly amused.
Sam blushed, furiously.
Foyle cleared his throat, and assumed his official frown.
"Prisoners in custody are not allowed to lose their balance at this
station. Do I make myself clear, Sam?"
Sam blushed even brighter. "Yes, sir. Sorry,
sir. Won't happen again, sir."
"See that it doesn't," Foyle said, then nodded to Lieutenant
Lieutenant Steed cleared his throat and nodded towards the
Countess. "Sergeant?" The Sergeant lifted the
Countess to her rather wobbly feet. "Miss Ravenwood, this
is the woman who attempted your abduction?" Steed asked.
Still laughing, all Marion could do was nod. Steed turned
to Sam. "This is the woman?"
"Yes, sir," Sam answered. "She was the leader."
Steed nodded and the Sergeant returned The Countess to the back
of the staff car. He then climbed in beside her and pulled
the door closed. Steed opened the front passenger door,
then turned and gave Foyle a smart salute. "Chief
Superintendent, thank you for your assistance."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Foyle responded with a smile, and shook
Steed's hand. "Let me know if I can be of help in the
future, although I would appreciate being involved a little earlier in the chain of
events, should similar circumstances arise."
Steed's smile became rather apologetic. "Unfortunately, my
superiors tend to value secrecy over local expertise."
"I understand," Foyle responded.
Steed turned to Marion and touched the brim of his hat.
"Miss Ravenwood, I hope to see you in London."
"It's a date, Johnny," Marion answered, then winked at
Sam. "I'm a sucker for a man in uniform."
Steed smiled at Sam. "Miss Stewart, we're all in your
debt." He snapped another salute. "It was a pleasure
to meet you."
Sam blushed and returned the salute. "Lieutenant."
"Ain't they a cute pair?" Marion asked, directing her remark to
Sam smiled, closed her right hand in a tight fist, and shook it
in Marion's grinning face. "You want some of this as
Steed laughed, and climbed into the staff car. The engine
started, the commandos climbed into the back of the lorry, and
the army vehicles departed.
"Where are they taking her?" Sam asked, quietly.
"Scotland," Marion answered. "To a castle... some place."
"Officially," Foyle said, "she'll be interrogated, and
eventually... she'll meet the fate of any captured spy."
He noted Sam's grim face, and smiled. "Unofficially, since
she actually isn't a
captured spy, I suppose she'll cool her heels in some chilly
suite of rooms, enjoying the view of a half-frozen loch through
the frosted panes of draughty windows, for the duration...
unless Military Intelligence has further use for her."
Sam nodded, then turned to Marion. "You're going to
Marion nodded. "On the afternoon train."
Sam glanced at her boss. "May I drive her to the station,
"Of course," Foyle answered, then motioned towards the station
entrance. "But first, we have some unfinished business."
Sam was confused. "Sir?" Marion took her by the arm
and led her into the station—and Sam's eyes popped wide.
| SAM's WAR
The d'Arcy Manor Mystery—EPILOGUE
What had to be every constable in Hastings not
occupied by patrolling duties was crowded into the entry hall
and the area behind the sergeant's desk. All were in
neatly pressed uniforms, with their helmets or caps firmly on
their unsmiling heads. The exception was Milner, although
he was in what Sam recognized as his best suit.
Sam frowned as she removed her coat and cap. "What—?"
"Keep your hat on, please, Driver Stewart," Foyle said.
"Sorry, sir," Sam mumbled, apologizing for her impatience.
"I meant that literally, Sam," Foyle added, in a whisper.
"Oh!" Sam positioned her uniform cap back atop her head.
"Come to attention," Foyle said, and all present, with the
exception of Marion, braced and stared straight ahead.
"For courage and initiative in the performance of her duties,"
Foyle said in a formal tone, "Samantha Stewart, Civilian
Volunteer, Motorized Transport Corps..." He reached into
his coat pocket and produced a silver medal with a red
ribbon. "...is awarded the Medal of the Order
of the British Empire for Gallantry."
Foyle handed the medal to Marion. Smiling brightly,
she pinned it to Sam's left breast pocket.
"I-I didn't do anything," Sam objected in a whisper, her
eyes welling. "I couldn't rescue Lady Jane, or Marion,
or even save myself, for that matter."
Foyle smiled. "Your prudent
course of action would have been to escape the manor
and summon help. Of course, that would certainly have
taken hours, and additional hours for us to respond. Alone
against superior odds, you acted, gallantly.
all very proud of you, Sam."
"Hear, hear!" the constables muttered.
"The proper citation and an engraved medal should be
arriving some time in the future, but—"
"He wanted to give you the award before the fools at Whitehall
change their tiny minds," Marion interrupted.
"That's not true," Foyle responded, with a wry smile.
"Well, not entirely. The actual citation will be
classified, and they're still arguing about the details of the
cover story they're going to give the press. At some
point, there'll be another presentation ceremony, with your
parents present, of course."
"Oh, sir!" Sam sobbed. Marion gave her a hug, and Sam
quickly regained her self-control.
"Isn't that just like a woman?" one of the constables whispered
to Sgt. Rivers.
"Don't let Sam hear you say that," Rivers whispered, "or she'll
clean your clock."
"I wasn't serious,"
the officer hissed.
"I know that, lad," Rivers whispered, "or I'd clean your clock."
| SAM's WAR
The d'Arcy Manor Mystery—EPILOGUE
ONE MONTH LATER
CAISLÉAN CILL SEOIGH
REPUBLIC OF IRELAND
Lady Jane's hands were shaking with anger by
the time she finished reading the letter. It was from one
of her few remaining "friends" in His Majesty's government, and
had included a clipping from the London Gazette, announcing the award of the
British Empire Gallantry Medal to one Samantha Stewart, an MTC
volunteer police driver in Hastings. Phrases like "bravery
and initiative" and "assistance to authorities" were bandied
about without making it clear exactly
what it was she had actually done.
"What she did was give Sir David an additional means of
deceiving the Abwehr,"
Lady Jane muttered to the empty room. "That snip-of-a-girl
gets a medal—and I get
exiled to Ireland!" She threw the letter down on her desk,
and stared out the window. On a clear day, she had a
breathtaking view of the Derryveagh Mountains from this tower;
but today, to match her foul mood, all she could see was a wet,
grey fog. She was dressed in riding costume and a warm
sweater of local wool, and the room was well-heated—but she
shivered as she watched water drip down the outside of the thick
Lady Jane turned and stomped from the room. She made her
way down the tower, through the Great Hall, and into a small
sitting room. Like d'Arcy Manor, Castle Cill Seoigh had
its own hidden doors and secret passages. Lady Jane gave
an iron sconce a slight turn to the right, until she heard a
quiet click, then pulled it away from the wall. A section
of stone wall beside the fireplace opened. She entered the
narrow corridor thus revealed, and descended a set of stairs.
The stairs emptied on a labyrinth of torch-lit corridors, and
Her Ladyship tapped along in her riding boots, making turn after
turn with easy confidence. She came to her first
destination, a shallow, arched alcove off a side corridor.
The alcove was occupied—by Marie the maid—and by a particularly
The apparatus was T-shaped, and consisted of a vertical iron
pipe supporting a horizontal, triangular iron bar. Marie
was straddling the bar, up on her toes. Her sex was
cleaved by the bar and her ankles locked in wooden stocks
mounted around the pipe's base. She was naked, other than
the several yards of hemp rope binding her arms to her
sides. Her wrists were crossed, behind her back, twisted
upwards in a double hammerlock, and lashed to her other
bonds. Finally, a large rag was stuffed in her mouth and
held in place by several strands of hemp wrapped around her head
and knotted at the nape of her neck.
Marie's skin glistened with sweat and her blonde locks were a
dirty, tousled mess. Her breasts bulged between neatly
hitched bands of rope, and her nipples were captured and
stretched by tiny, cage-like clamps. The gleaming devices
were as well-crafted as fine jewellery, but designed for
torment, rather than decoration. The prisoner squirmed
weakly in her bonds, her blue eyes begging for mercy.
Lady Jane's cold stare and cruel smile made it clear that mercy
was the last thing on
her mind. "Not quite so full or yourself now, are you,
Ducky?" she purred, then reached out and gave the tiny wheel of
the left nipple clamp a quarter turn. Marie's eyes pinched
closed, and she whined through her gag. The irony was
delicious. With the Countess a prisoner, the maids had
made their way to the Castle, as ordered; but instead of
sanctuary, they themselves were
made prisoners. "I promised you one full day and one full
night of torment for every hour I was locked in that horrid
cage," Lady Jane continued, then gave the right nipple clamp a
Marie whined again, and a tear rolled down her bulging cheek and
disappeared into the coarse cloth of her saliva-stained gag.
"I always keep my promises," Lady Jane vowed, then turned and
walked away, down the dark corridor.
Marie sighed in despair, knowing that eventually her aching toes
and straining feet would tire, and her full weight would settle
on the ridge of the bar already cleaving her crotch. It
was going to be a long day.
| SAM's WAR
The d'Arcy Manor Mystery—EPILOGUE
Lady Jane came to a heavy oak door bound
in iron. She threw back the bolt, entered the chamber
beyond, and found the Honourable Carey d'Arcy, and Zaza.
A member of a junior
branch of the family, Carey was a permanent resident of Castle
Cill Seoigh. Like her slightly older cousin, her hair was
straight and copper-red, and her fair skin was prone to
freckles—several million of which were currently on
display. She was dressed in boots and jodhpurs, like Lady
Jane, but Carey had removed her blouse and brassiere, and was
naked from the waist up. She had a flogger, a dozen
ribbon-like tails of soft leather dangling from a braided
handle, clutched in one gloved hand. Her smooth, toned
skin and pert breasts were glistening with sweat, and she was
panting from exertion. Exactly why she was in such an exercised state was
Zaza was naked, and her lower body was pressed against a short,
vertical post embedded in the stone floor. She turned her
head and gazed back over one shoulder, and Lady Jane could see
that her mouth was stuffed to capacity with a burlap rag, and a
thin leather strap cleaving her lips made sure it stayed
there. The sturdy oak column was about four feet in
height, and Zaza's ankles, knees, crossed wrists, and waist were
bound to the post by leather straps, all pulled tight enough to
dimple her skin. The skin in question was shining with
sweat, like Carey's—but, in addition—from her back, to her rump,
to the backs of her calves—Zaza's body was flushed a rosy pink
and criss-crossed with countless thin, angry stripes!
There was no blood, but obviously Carey had been causing their
French guest a great deal of discomfort, for a great deal of
"I believe Marie has had enough of a ride for the day," Lady
Jane announced. She found a towel next to Carey's neatly
folded blouse, and tossed it to her cousin. "It's a little
early for her evening gruel and to be chained in her cell for
the night, but you may indulge yourself with rope on the bondage
table, if you're in the mood."
Carey let the flogger drop from her hand, patted her face with
the towel, then gave her torso and arms a brisk rubdown.
All the while, her green eyes were on her older cousin.
Carey had been Mistress of the Castle for several years, until
Lady Jane's return and rightful assumption of the title.
Carey hid her resentment well... but not well enough.
"Perhaps I'll do just that," Carey muttered, tossed the towel in
a corner, and headed for the door. "Hmm... perhaps I'll
hog-tie the English slut and lash her to the table for the
night." The door closed, and she was gone.
Lady Jane smiled and began unbuckling Zaza's restraints,
starting at her ankles.
When only her gag remained, Zaza took a step back from the post,
and stretched. She unbuckled the gag strap and spat the
rag to the floor, then smiled weakly. "Merci, madame," she
"Oh, don't thank me yet," Lady Jane purred. "Your
punishment isn't over." She found a length of rope,
stepped behind Zaza, and began binding her wrists behind her
back. The naked maid made no effort to resist.
"Madame ees most cruel,"
From her manner, it was a compliment, rather than a complaint.
"I've received news from London," Lady Jane said as she
worked. She had finished binding Zaza's wrists and was
wrapping loops of rope around her elbows, arms, and torso.
"Your mistress is incarcerated in a castle near Gairloch, and
probably won't be allowed to return to d'Arcy Manor until the
end of the war."
Zaza winced as her rope bonds were cinched and tightened.
"And what of Marie and myself?"
"His Majesty's forces believe you are probably dead," Lady Jane
answered, then pointed at the floor. Zaza sighed, dropped
to her knees, then settled on her side. Lady Jane found
more rope and began tying the maid's ankles and knees.
"They believe the Abwehr have
no interest whatsoever in your fate; however, according to my
friends in Dublin, the Republic's counter-espionage service is most interested."
She tied a final knot and stood, gazing down at her helpless
captive. "If Marie or yourself set foot outside this
castle, you'll be arrested immediately."
"We are most grateful for madame's protection," Zaza said, a coy
smile curling her lips. Even gleaming with sweat, her skin
soiled from the dungeon floor, and her pageboy tousled and limp,
she was a seductive sight. "A pity my mistress could not
also make her final escape."
"Yes, a great pity,"
Lady Jane muttered. "Castle Cill Seoigh has many empty dungeon
cells. A pity that insufferable 'MTC Driver' isn't here as
"Mademoiselle Samantha?" Zaza asked, still smiling. "Zhe
one with zhe rosy cheeks and pretty pink lèvres?"
Lady Jane nodded. "They gave the trollop a medal," she hissed.
Zaza laughed, then stifled herself when she saw Lady Jane's
"Get up on your knees," Lady Jane ordered, and began unbuckling
Zaza struggled to the ordered position. By this time, Lady
Jane had her jodhpurs and knickers around her knees, and was
holding up her sweater and blouse, in front. Zaza smiled
at the sight of Her Ladyship's milky white thighs, plump sex,
and copper-red pubic bush.
"Do a good job," Lady Jane growled, "or you'll spend the night
tied in a tight ball, in my tiniest
cage, in my deepest dungeon."
"Oui, madame," Zaza
whispered, shuffled forward, wet her lips, and set to work.
Lady Jane gasped, braced her booted feet wide apart, arched her
back, and put her hands behind her back to grip the top of the
whipping post. The tails of her blouse and hem of her
sweater settled over Zaza's bobbing head. Her face
flushed, Lady Jane began to pant as Zaza licked and probed her
most intimate flesh with her lips and tongue.
Jane imagined Samantha Stewart in Zaza's place—naked, bound, and
helpless—humiliated, her spirit broken—using her treacherous
mouth for a much better
purpose than lying about her loyalties and spoiling Lady Jane's
"There must be a way to lure
Ireland," Lady Jane muttered, "to Castle Cill Seoigh—and into my
power." Zaza made a questioning noise as she continued
servicing her current mistress, but was ignored. "There
must be a way, and I'll find it," Lady Jane vowed, "no matter
how long it takes!" She then screamed, as Zaza took her over the edge.
d'Arcy Manor Mystery
Many thanks to Mr. B (Gillian's husband) for
helping me scrub the Americanisms from my prose;
…& it is my heartfelt prayer that Gillian B looks down from heaven, reads this
story, and smiles.