Dare to Defy (12 page)

“There are several areas of a woman’s body that can take a good thrashing without causing harm to an unborn baby. Do you know what they may be?” he asked, standing between her splayed legs to look down to her face.

“The…bottom?”

“Of course, that is given. And the backs of the thighs.” He ran the tawse along the backs of her legs and then drew it to caress the inner thigh. “And let us not forget the parts of the leg that grip a saddle.”

Ilesbet muttered a protest, seeing his intent. “No, not there…please…”

“It is fact that every place that a saddle may touch can stand significant punishment. From the soft inside of the thighs, clear down to the calves.” He ran the tawse’s tips to trace the full length of her legs. “I will not be striking this, however.” He gently touched her shimmering pussy. He stepped back and lifted the tawse in the air, then sent it flying sharply against the span of her bottom.

“
Ow
!!” Ilesbet cried aloud, unable to escape the biting impact of the strap as it melted into her flesh. “Günter! Mercy!”

Günter promptly ignored her pleas, lashing her again three times in quick succession, catching the plump globes and the sensitive crease of the upper thigh. Ilesbet screamed out, begging forgiveness. She squirmed unsuccessfully to avoid the next three bites of the tawse and burst into tears.

“Would you like to try your power on me now, wife?” Günter asked calmly, thrashing her again in a sequence of three across the reddening, welted bottom and upper thighs. “Go on and try! Now!”

“No, no, no,” Ilesbet cried out, shaking her head back and forth as she lifted her bottom off the bed in a futile effort. “I am sorry!”

“I am ordering you to use your power on me, wife!” Günter demanded, the tawse catching her bottom cleanly, bringing the color to a deep crimson. “You will obey me. The power can free you, can it not?”

“I can’t,” Ilesbet wailed, her flesh burning from the kiss of the leather. “You know I cannot! Not even if I wanted to!”

“I told you to use your power, Ilesbet,” Günter continued calmly, the tawse etching her another three times.

“You…take…my ability when you strike in threes!” Ilesbet sobbed, trying to catch her breath as the punishment continued. “I cannot enter the Gates when you do so!”

“So when you are spanked in a series of three, you cannot journey in your mind’s eye, can you? How do you think I learned of that?”

“The gods must have instructed you,” Ilesbet cried, panting as he took a small break from her discipline.

He leaned into her. “Yes, as they made me Guardian of Three. They placed the mark of three upon my right arm to bear witness of my promise to be the Watcher of their priestess. Do you recall what each symbol means?”

“The first for Birth, Life, and Death,” Ilesbet sobbed. “The second is to Love, Honor, Obey.”

“And the third, Ilesbet? Tell me what it signifies.”

She continued to weep. “The third is for Faith, Hope, and Trust. Please, forgive me…”

“The gods are displeased with you, wife,” he continued to lecture. “You shall receive six more lashes for your misdeeds. Can you tell me why you shall receive six lashes?”

“Nooooo,” Ilesbet cried.

Her husband sighed. “These are for your defiance against the Three. The first two are for risking the lives of our unborn children; the next two are for failing to show me honor and obedience; and the final two will be for not trusting my judgment and using your power to restrain me. You will receive them here,” he said, touching the insides of her delicate thighs. “Then, after you join us for sup, you will spend the rest of the evening in the privacy of your room, praying and asking the gods to teach you respect and regard for your husband.”

“Günter, I beg of you…
owww
!” Ilesbet called out as the tawse bit neatly into her inner thigh three times. She howled again as it lashed three more times on the other side, leaving a sting that felt as though it would endure through eternity.

Günter gently untied her wrists and then her legs, lowering her limbs carefully as he gathered her weeping form into his large, protective arms. He cradled her lovingly, rocking her as she cried helplessly through her pain and guilt. Wordlessly, he held her, waiting for her to gather her strength to make reparation for her misdeeds. He was patient, knowing that her punishment had been not only severe, but had prevented her from being lost in the haze of thought and by following the gods’ guidance by striking in threes, it was ensured that she felt every stroke upon her.

“Please, accept my apology,” Ilesbet finally muttered into his warm chest. “I was foolish and am so sorry I caused you grief.”

“You frightened me, my love. Not just with your disregard to your babies, but by your willingness to use your power on me. That can never happen again, understand?”

“Yes, Günter. I see now how it hurt you. I am so sorry,” she sniffed regretfully.

“You are forgiven. By me. You still must seek forgiveness with the gods, however. After you dine.”

“Dine? I do not wish…”

“You will sit and share the meal with the family, and you will do so with grace. I will not have you starving my young ones because you wish to save yourself from embarrassment.”

“Can I not have food brought here?”

“And be coddled by the maids? No. It is decided. Clean yourself up. I will bring you down to the dining hall myself when it is time.”

“Günter?”

“Yes, my darling?” He turned to gaze as her.

Ilesbet blushed, looking down. “I love you. I am truly sorry.”

He kissed her lips gently, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “And I love you, my defiant little wench.”

Daynel paced the length of the tiny cabin, trying to determine her next move. She had no illusions, despite the newfound “courtesy” she was being shown, that she was anything more than Ethan’s captive. But how to escape this floating prison? She looked out the small window from which she emptied her chamber pot, and began to form a plan in her mind. The fit would be tight, and the risk high, but Daynel saw it to be the only way to gain freedom. But when? And to where?

Baldric had told her that the Eastern Islands were only accessible by the Great Waters, and had indicated that they would have been taking a ship from the same port on which Ethan was docked. Was there any chance that they would bypass the islands on the way to the southern kingdom? Regretting that she had paid virtually no attention to her tutors in geography, Daynel fell to the second distasteful measure. Prayer.

“I am not to be disturbed for any reason,” she announced to the guard at the door. “I am in prayer and, if disturbed, I have no control over the power,” she lied. The look of the guard’s face convinced her that her tale was believed. She further instructed him that they could leave food inside of her door, but were not to speak or touch her for any reason. She would be covered, Daynel informed them, with a shawl, but her body would be visible to them at all times.

True to her word, Daynel sat cross-legged, in sight of the door, and covered with a large blanket as she prayed. Some meals she ate, others she did not. For four days, she practiced this pattern, waiting for the time when she knew she was to escape. She did pray during this time, asking for a sign…anything to let her know that her time to gain her freedom drew near. On the fourth day, a swallow perched in the window of the cabin. Daynel swallowed back a squeak of excitement. Land was close by!

After leaving her evening meal at the door, the guard returned to his post, bored and disinterested. In minutes, she heard his snores and began to gather items from around the cabin to be covered by the blanket and disguise her absence. The decoy looked convincing, especially in the light of a candle, and Daynel carefully pulled herself through the small window. In the past, she had hated her size. Her family had teased her for years, even her younger male cousins, about her tiny stature. She had been accused being one of the faerie-folk or a wood-nymph, and not a human being. Günter warned them on multiple occasions that what she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. She proved him right by leaving each of her male cousins at one time or another with either a swollen lip or a blackened eye. Even her twin brothers, large as they were, had tasted her temper after they teased her, and had been forced to limp painfully out of the room on more than on occasion.

This evening, she thanked the gods for her size, grateful that her small stature allowed her the means to squeeze through the window. She shimmied, unnoticed along the back edging of the ship’s broad stern and across the starboard side to where she climbed into a longboat. Gritting her teeth, she struggled with the tight lines holding the craft in place. The splash would be heard clearly if she was not careful! Again, she lifted a prayer to the gods for help…actually, it came across more as a demand. And they answered!

A call from the ship’s mast alerted the crew to an upcoming storm and the men began to maneuver quickly to secure the hatches and tie down anything loose. Daynel crouched fearfully in the bottom of the small vessel as the storm quickly rode over the ship, the shouts of the gods thundering around her as a fury of lightning bolts were cast into a rolling sea. Lightning struck the main mast, lighting it in flames along with the haphazardly wrapped sails. A loud creak was heard as one of the ropes gave way and the longboat fell to the open sea. Daynel clutched the benches, flattening herself as the barque was tossed helplessly in the waves. Her stomach churned sickly as she was pitched about in the swells, and her body ached with cold and fear. Hours passed before the sea calmed and a soft rain began to fall. Daynel turned to her back to face the sky, opening her mouth to allow the sweet water to wet her parched, salty lips. She closed her eyes and thanked the gods for her escape, surprised to realize that she was sincere in her prayer. The gods, or at least her prayers, had become her companions and offered her comfort as the sea turned to a gentle rocking, like that of a mother holding a child. In moments, the exhausted woman fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

A shadow fell across her face, blocking the warm heat from the sun. Daynel blinked, opening her salt-crusted eyes painfully as she tried to focus on the face of the woman looking down at her.

“She lives!” the woman called out, waving her arms in the direction of a hill. Daynel wrinkled her brow, unable to pull herself up to sit. Her arm rested at her side, bent strangely.

“My boat…where is…oh…” Daynel groaned, clutching the broken limb.

“Silence, child. We will take you to the Healer. Your craft was destroyed on the rocks off shore. The gods just have had us watching for you so that you did not drown once washed to safety,” an older man said.

“How long have I been here? Why did no one try to awaken me?” Daynel asked, accepting a water skin.

“We are forbidden to awaken the Others,” the woman said, wiping Daynel’s face with a wet cloth. “Those who come here by accident must awaken themselves.”

“Who are the Others? As for awakening myself, that is ridiculous. I could have died!” Daynel said sharply, looking around her. The people stared at her in astonishment.

“The Others are those who are not one of us. We are the followers of the Dragon Priesthood. As for you dying, of course you could have, and that would have been by the will of the gods, not ours.”

“Who in bloody hell told you such a tale?” Daynel snapped, her head aching painfully.

“This island houses one of the temples belonging to the Dragon Priests, and we serve and obey their commands. Now that you have awakened on your own, we may care for you,” the older man explained. “Bring a cart so we may take her for healing.”

“I must find a ship and be returned to my home. My kingdom is in grave danger.”

“We have no ships. Very few come here and all are destroyed in the surf. It must have been the gods’ destiny for you to arrive unscathed.”

“I would not call this unscathed,” she hissed, clutching her arm to her side. “The gods and I will be having a little talk about this detour later.” She saw a cart coming toward them. “No carts. I can walk and…oh, my…” Daynel groaned, suddenly realizing that her right leg was also injured. The gods were making certain that she was not leaving this place any time soon; that was for sure. Well, they had better be prepared for the earful that she planned to subject them to when she felt stronger!

Daynel gritted her teeth as she was placed in the small wagon and taken up a long, narrow road to the base of a mountain. There, she was given more water and fruit, and then watched in astonishment as her rescuers turned silently and left.

“Where are you going? Don’t leave me alone!” Daynel called out. “Come back, please!”

“You are in the hands of the gods, now. We have done our duty. May they be merciful to you this day, nonbeliever.”

Daynel’s eyes filled with tears, unknowing if the stinging in her eyes was the product of fear, anger, or pain arising from her injured limbs. With her right ankle possibly broken, she knew she could not transport herself to the building that rested atop the steep mountain, nor could she return to a village of people who would not dare to defy their priesthood’s instructions. How could people allow themselves to be led so blindly as sheep to slaughter?

“It is about faith and trust, daughter,” a voice said from behind her. She turned sharply to face a weathered old man adorned in a long, gray beard and dressed in a magenta robe. “Their obedience shows that they have faith in their gods and trust those appointed as leaders. We have been expecting you.”

“Who are you? How did you know what I was thinking? Are you able to read thoughts? And expecting me?” Daynel babbled, confused and more than a little frightened.

“Have peace, child. I will not harm you. I am called the Healer. Your questions are the same as all the Other nonbelievers who have come to us. As for expecting you,” he bowed graciously, “we were told that a chosen one was coming so that we might prepare.”

“Chosen? Who told you and where…”