|| 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 said.
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
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 everything."
"What?" Sam gasped.
"Let's do things properly," Foyle suggested, and gestured toward
the officer. "Lieutenant John Steed, Military Intelligence."
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
"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 lunatic."
"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 an enemy."
"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
"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 were commandos.
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
smiles. "Driver Stewart," she purred. "It's a pleasure
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 well?"
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 London?"
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
superior odds, you acted, gallantly.
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
"Don't let Sam hear you say that," Rivers whispered, "or she'll
clean your clock."
"I wasn't serious," the
"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 panes.
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 cruel apparatus.
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 quarter
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 quite clear.
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 time.
"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 gasped.
"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 angry
"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 her
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.
| The 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.