Orgasm in Time Ch. 02

Chapter 2

Like Madeline, the parting of Lily's legs in the dungeon, caused her body to lower down the wall, enough to remove the slack in the chains above until they had no more to give and became almost torte.

"That disguise won't fool me." The youngest of the jailors said to the poor innocent cleave gagged girl. "We all know you're a witch, and that's why you're going to be tried as one."

The tallest of the group of three men, wrapped his thumb and finger around one of her wrists, to measure the girth and looked her straight in the eye. "When we get back, we're going to put you in there." He said, pointing to the raised stocks of the pillory standing in front of the wall. "And this time it will be my turn to poke your insides."

Not concentrating on his oldie world dialect, Lily pulled down on the chains securing her wrists and tried to bring her legs closer together, knowing that this position would soon become unbearable, yet she could do nothing about it.

Picking up the whip from the wall, he wrapped it around the stretched up waist of Lily's belly to take another measurement, causing her to suck in thinner and wince with fear as the hard leather, snaked like a flexible bone around her body. "Can't have you pulling free of your chains again can we?" He said, giving her the answer to her question of what he'd been doing with his fingers around her wrist and the whip around her waist.

Looking down at her helpless predicament, she felt thankful for the grace of still having her clothes. The cowgirl boots prevented her ankles from being bruised, and the red chequered shirt, at least kept her chest covered. Her tight bleached blue denim shorts however were digging into the sides of her thighs due to the manacles spreading her legs. This position caused the shorts to ride up higher, forcing the tough denim seam in her crotch, to cut deeper into her most sensitive lady parts, each time she adjusted her stance for comfort.

Left alone to stew and unable to shout for help, the sight of the pillory occupying the same cell, immediately to her right, gave her the shivers. Dreading the boys return, she compared how much more vulnerable being trapped in it would make her, but with the added ache of being bent over for a prolonged period of time. To have to keep looking at the wooden contraption proved to be torture enough, without having to surrender herself to the mercy of it for the abusive rape and torture of her captors.

Eventually, after hours of standing in what had become a stress position, the three men returned, with one approaching her the closest, carrying clothes in his hand.

Reaching around behind her, he passed a sheet of dirty white linen with straps, around her waist to form a skirt. Once tied off he presented her with a large bunched up cloth mop cap and placed it on top of her head, pulling some of the surplus down behind her, out of the way.

Relief came when the men unfastened her ankles so she could stand again, but her worst fears were confirmed when the same two men grabbed an arm each and released her wrist cuffs to drag her over to the stocks, where the third jailor waited with the large clapperboard's open jaws.

The man holding her right arm pulled on the peak of the cloth cap, drawing it down over her face and head, removing her crucial sense of vision.

Pleading into her gag, she felt the relentless rigidity of the solid wood on the front of her throat as her wrists were forcefully pulled into the lower semicircle cut-outs at her sides and the back of her struggling neck became pushed down by the weight of wood from above. The holes for her wrists were tiny and tight but the dangerous one imprisoning her neck had plenty of play around it.

Panicking, her nerves hit maximum when she heard the sound of horse's hooves and the wheels of a cart stop outside the entrance tunnel, followed by more men's voices entering the dungeon cell for what she feared would end in a gang rape.

"I have the manacles you requested." The visiting blacksmith said, "But I'd like to try them for size before we fit them."

Lifting her shirt, the clean, new-born softness of her flesh caught his attention where he lay the hinge of the curved metal strap across her spine to swing the two halves of the waistband closed about her midriff.

Not knowing what the heavy contraption draining heat from her tender skin was, she winced and sucked her stomach in, whilst staggering her rump around like a nervous pony being saddled for the first time.

Having grown up with Madeline and been an admirer of her all his life, the blacksmith couldn't believe she had resorted to such a heinous crime as witchcraft, in seeking revenge against her uncle.

The opportunity presented before him proved too much of a temptation to pass. The underside of her hanging down shirt created an opening for him to take advantage of by reaching up her chest and fondling the cold bullet nipples of her gravity weighted breasts. Lily's concealed lower half of clothing and lack of modern day bra raised no suspicion to the blacksmith as to why this couldn't be Madeline who arched helplessly in the pillory under the weight of his chest as he rested himself on top of her. The curious smell of cleanliness brought his mind back from assaulting her, onto his task of testing the size of her bonds, in case they needed adjusting at the workshop, before being fitted.

Moving around to the front of the pillory, he checked the sizing of her cuffs by pulling each hand as far as he could towards him, through the wooden holes that encircled them, and closing the iron manacles around each wrist, to check there would be no way of her slipping them off.

He couldn't see the gagged source of the moaning coming from inside the pulled down bonnet hood, which again raised no suspicion of the girl in front of him still being that of Madeline, the accused witch. Her beautifully manicured fingers and the delicacy of her palms should have raised the alarm, but obliviously he continued with his task of checking the shackles.

"These are fine." He announced, "Bring her to the workshop so I can hammer them in place."

Lily felt the freedom of the pillory's top half being lifted, allowing her to remove her wrists from their entrapment but not her neck. Two strong hands held her head in place long enough for the pillory to be slammed shut again, imprisoning only her neck with her arms now free. Collectively, the men tied her wrists behind her back before finally releasing her neck from the wooden stock and leading her outside where her carriage awaited.

Two of the men rode with her on the back of the flatbed cart, as the gagged and hooded girl was paraded in shame through the village, along their short journey to the Blacksmith's workshop.

The heat from the furnace told Lily where they were before her head became free of the bonnet, allowing her to see again. Still gagged, she took a look at the blacksmith who did a double take when he saw that this wasn't the Madeline who he'd grown up in the village with.

A well-practiced flick of her blond hair revealed to the blacksmith, a beautiful yet terrified face, partially obscured by the knotted cloth gag between her lips, but none the less, stunning him instantly.

Lily noticed the look of captivated interest her introduction had put on his face, giving her hope of him being able to help her.

"Bring her here." The blacksmith said to the three jailors.

With one man behind and the others either side, they ushered her towards the anvil where the blacksmith stood.

Clearly proud of his skilled work, he held a finished cuff up in front of his body and tested the hinge by operating the stiff action, open and closed, destroying Lily's hopes of help from him.

She knew it pointless to resist and so walked amongst them, not quite taking on board the severity of what was about to happen.

The blacksmith didn't stop at trying the cuff on her wrist for size again, he asked one of the larger men to hold it closed and turned to the fire with his tongs.

Lily kept catching glimpses of the warm metallic bracelet that the man held against her skin.

Thankfully and thoughtfully, the manacle had been hammered out slightly all the way around the curved edges of its circular rims, preventing it from cutting into her skin.

The closed cuff provided a kind of protection from the grip of the man who held her. It didn't matter if he crushed the manacle closed with force, or gently, the solid ring of armour saved her from any attempt at brutality from him.

All attention switched to the glowing pin that the blacksmith brought back with him from the fire.

She couldn't help but put up a slight struggle as the two men behind, pushed her forward and the big guy holding her wrist, placed the locking side of the cuff over the edge of the heavy metal anvil.

"Hold still or you'll get burnt." The blacksmith warned her.

Like the hinge, the closed side had intermeshing holes where the pin would drop through and prevent them from being separated by mirroring the hinge on the opposite side once it had been hammered in place. However, the blacksmith had purposely cut out a notch in the middle of these locking holes, so that a metal chain link could be incorporated into the cuffs locking mechanism, where it too would be held by the same pin.

"Up a bit." The smith ordered.

She watched in disbelief as the man holding her wrist raised the cuff slightly, so that the blacksmith could slide the small glowing rod of iron, half way up through the intermeshing holes of the closed manacle.

Slipping the link of chain into the gap, gave him the go-ahead to fully insert the hot pin and integrate the metal ring into the interlocking holes.

Without instruction, the man forced her wrist back down so that head of the pin rested on the edge of the anvil, ready for the blacksmith to splay the narrow end with his hammer.

In a matter of seconds, the point of the pin had been mushroomed out, to match that of the pin running through the hinge mechanism on the opposite side.

Still gagged with the knotted cloth, she again tried to protest her innocence through her eyes and muffled screams.

Once the blacksmith had delivered the final blow with his hammer, all the men stood back to look at their joint effort of the partially restrained witch.

The show she put on proved quite entertaining. With one man guarding the door and the others strategically standing around the workshop positioned so she wouldn't be able to reach for anything to use as a weapon, the men watched as she dived for the cold water trough, to cool the latent heat of the pin.

Although pointless, she tried tugging at the cuff, sliding it up and down her wrist the few inches it allowed.

Trying to rotate her wrist proved difficult because of how the finished item had been tailored into a slight oval shape, purposely to restrict her from being able to do this.

The men looked at each other and laughed, mocking her into belittlement.

Lily quickly untied the cloth gag from behind her head and threw it to the floor.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" She shouted. "I'M NOT A WITCH. I'M FROM THE FUTURE!"

One of the jailors approached her and picked up the dirty rag from the floor. "You need to be wearing this." He said, threatening her by holding the knot tied in the middle, up in front of her face. "We don't want you casting spells on us."

The shock and disgusting thought of having the filthy wet rag stuffed behind her teeth again frightened her enough to stand quietly, in the hope it wasn't too late to convince them not to use it.

She looked timidly at the cuff around her wrist and toyed with the single round link of chain attached to it. Rather than being oval, the solid circular ring of iron, could be spun through the cuff like a keyring through a key.

Looking for any signs of an opening, she could find not even a blemish in its smooth finish. Being about the size of the cuff itself, the ring looked strangely disproportionate compared to the chain links of the manacles they'd used on her in the dungeon.

"Bring her here." The blacksmith told two of the men as he handed a second cuff to the big guy next to him.

Turning and wiping his tongs, he walked towards the fire whilst the two men guided Lily back over to the anvil.

"Hands in front or behind?" The blacksmith asked.

Seeing the open manacle in the big man's hand, caused Lily to hesitate and stop walking voluntarily. The two guys had to drag her to the anvil, where the red hot locking pin approached, to seal her fate.

"PLEASE. NO!" She shouted, trying to shake herself free of the men's grip. "You're making a mistake."

"Turn her around." The big guy announced, much to the undiscussed agreement of the other two jailors holding her arms.

"NO!" She screamed as all three men now fought her, each with their own individual role of getting the second cuff around her wrist whilst holding the ring of metal behind her back ready to be locked in place.

As before, the hot pin entered into the bottom of the intermeshing holes, half way, until the iron ring had been pushed into its slot, were the locking pin could then be completely inserted and the cuff forced down onto the anvil.

"PLEASE DON'T!" She begged at the top of her voice.

"Stay still, or you'll get hurt." The big guy warned her.

Lily's pleading turned into a screaming sobbing as the hammer blew down to complete its job of cuffing her second wrist to the ring, behind her back.

"Keep her there." The smith told the men, turning away for only a second, then back again with a larger version of the hinged cuffs, obviously destined for her neck as a collar.

"No, please." She sobbed, watching him approach, holding the forged iron ring low enough for her to find reassurance from its inside girth of the necklace.

Although it didn't look like a choker, the nine inch diameter still felt intimidating as the jailors took it upon themselves to raise her hands up her back, in a reverse prayer position, ready to lock everything together.

Having the midsection of her body now clear of her arms, the blacksmith wrapped both halves of the clamp around her belly, constricting it by only two inches, ironically matching the measurements of the pair of jeans she'd previously outgrown, and currently wore under the rag of a skirt, as cut-off cowgirl shorts.

"THAT'S TOO SMALL!" She panicked.

He had to agree that there did seem to be an optical illusion when looking at the size of the metal belt and the width of the shirt covering Lily's waist, but this was the second time the dimensions had been checked, so he didn't care for listening to her complaining.

Holding onto the sides, with its hinge at her front, he ignored her whimpering into his ear, and explained to the men, who'd also been fooled by this mathematical deception, that they needed to lower her arms so he could join all of her irons to the single circle of chain link.

Realising the error of their ways, the joint effort by the guys behind her, located the slit manufactured into the locking holes and inserted the iron ring to await the blacksmith's retrieval of the final locking pin from the fire.

The belt could be seen to press into her shirt, producing a slight overhang above and below where the metal band dug in to her waistline as she breathed heavily with panic and struggled against it.

Repeating the process as before by inserting the pin half way up through the intermeshing locking holes, pausing to pass it through the ring, being held in place by the gang of men. He then slipped the pin all the way home and rested its base on the anvil ready for hammering into shape.

Exhausted from the stress, she gave in and cried as the pounding signified her guilty sentence without so much as a trial.

"Ok, you can let her go." The blacksmith announced, stepping back with the hammer in his hand.

The brutes released her to run over to the water-cooling trough, away from their overpowering and unsporting torture.

"YOU EVIL BASTARDS!" she screamed. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

The pins in her cuffs had already cooled and the lock of the waist belt had dissipated its heat quickly into the metal around her stomach, causing warmth through her shirt but no burning of her skin.

Her phobia of not being in control of herself took over her mind, causing hyperventilation and panic.

The four men watched in delight as she pulled at the cuffs, trying hopelessly to find a way to get her wrists free of the unbreakable metal.

The best she could do was to slip and rotate the waistband around the shirt to either side, far enough to reach her front, but with only one hand at a time due to the limitations of her other hand being so far around her back.

Testing the confines of her bonds up and down she found that she could reach from the middle of her back, all the way down to between her legs, if she bent backwards far enough. But these extreme positions couldn't be held for long, as the pain in her wrists forced her to stop.

The blacksmith approached her with a length of rope. "Better get used to those because they won't ever be coming off." He confirmed, much to Lily's horror. "Those things are on you for the rest of your life, however long or short that may be."

She pulled against her bonds once more, turning her side towards him far enough to see the cuffs that were now beginning to torment her mind more than her body.

"We can all stand here and watch you struggle until you realise that they won't fit over the bones in your hands. I made them specifically for you so that they'll remain on your wrists until you're dead and buried. Then when you're in the ground, you could even argue that they'll be on you for the rest of eternity."

The truth of his statement distracted her from him threading the rope through the ring connecting her cuffs to her waist belt and pulling her back, towards the solid wooden pillar holding up the roof of the workshop, where he tied it off.

"She'll be quite safe here with me now while I make the rest of her shackles." He assured the others, insulting her by patting her twice on the backside, with the words "Won't you."

"He's right the largest of the men said, after what he considered to be a gruelling day. "Let's leave him to it."

The younger man had to agree. "Let's see if you can get out of this one." He said, reaching behind her and rattling the security of her restraint set. "She has a history of breaking free from her shackles, so keep an eye on her." He thrust the keys to the dungeon into the blacksmith's hand and turned towards the others.

The three men laughed again at her dismay, and exited the workshop, followed hastily by the blacksmith, wanting to clarify the timings for his next course of action.

"How long do I have?" he asked.

"Will she be ready by the morning?" the big guy asked.

The blacksmith almost coughed in surprise at their misjudgement of how long they thought it would take to make the rest of her shackles.

"Certainly by tomorrow afternoon." He replied, pushing his luck, not realising that he was actually giving these men a welcome break from their secondary duties as jailors.

"Fine by us." The self-elected young spokesperson said. "We'll be in the packhorse tavern if you need anything."

The three men laughed, welcoming the idea of a night on the ale. "You've got the keys, do you want to make it two days?" The large man pressed, pushing his luck for the whole weekend off and receiving a cheer of laughter from the other two.

Not considering this a chore at all, the blacksmith could already feel his cock pulsing at the thought of what he'd just been offered. "That would help me out because I need to get more iron. So yes, leave her with me and I'll see that she gets fed and watered. See you in two days."

"Two days." The smaller man confirmed to the blacksmith, elated at being given the weekend off.

It would only take the blacksmith a couple of hours to manufacture a collar and leg cuffs, meaning he would have the rest of the time to abuse, or at least tease her restrained body at his will.

He gladly closed and bolted the door to his workshop so they couldn't be seen or disturbed.

"What's going to happen to me?" She asked, watching him approach with a suspect look on his face.

Without replying, he stood in front of her and began to work on the shirt buttons below her new waist belt.

Starting at the bottom, he unfastened the first few, then stopped to divert his attention to stripping her of the rag of a skirt that the jailors had tied around her.

Letting the wraparound fall to the floor revealed, for the first time, the jaw dropping sight of her denim shorts, complemented by a polished brown leather belt and cowgirl boots.

Lily watched the look of amazement in his eyes as his hand slowly reached out and felt the straining blue cloth of one of her tightly packaged bum cheeks.

Walking around behind her, he pulled just enough of her shirt up through the metal waist belt to clear his obstructed view of her rear, and began to explain. "I'm going to keep you here for a couple of days and finish off your shackles, then hand you back to those guys for you to await your trial."

"Please." She begged, "You have to believe me. I'm not the person you think I am. I'm not a witch, I don't know how I got here but I'm here from the future."

The blacksmith laughed at her claim of prophecy.

"It's true." She insisted. "Look at my clothes for god sake, they're not from this era are they? What year even is this?"

"Here in Hexcross, it was 1609 when we last celebrated." He said, smiling confidently back at her, like he'd just corrected her wild proclamation.

"Jesus Christ! That's over 400 years ago." She replied. "The packhorse tavern. How old is it?"

He laughed again. "The Wilson family have run that place since it opened 30 years ago. Why?"

"That's now a grade one listed building." She told him.

Confident of his safety, he untied the rope from around the wooden pillar, coiled it up and threw it onto a pile of woodcuttings by the wall.

Standing in front of her, he looked at the shirt covering her chest and questioned her comment about grade one listed buildings. "A what?"

Uninterested in her answer, he really wanted to finish looking beyond the magically round plastic buttons holding her shirt closed, so asked her, "Where did you say you got these clothes?"

Nervous of the beautiful girl standing before him, and feeling not fully immune from a kick in the balls, he chose not to bare her chest and help himself to a handful just yet. Instead, he walked around her and had a better feel of the tight denim, concealing her behind.

Squeezing her bum in all directions, he tried to see if he could burst her shorts open, where it looked to him as though they were about to rupture at any moment anyway.

"I told you, I'm from the future."

Ignoring her claim, he continued his inspection of her body by kneeling behind her and lowering his hand from her cheeks to the bare flesh of her thigh.

There wasn't a hair to be found. The soft smooth feel tempted his other hand into joining in the search, stopping when they reached the tops of her cowgirl boots.

"Where are you from?" he asked, finally realising that something was different about her.

"I live here in Hexcross but in the future." She repeated. "I don't know why but I have somehow travelled back in time to this exact same place, only it's well over 400 years earlier."

The virgin blacksmith couldn't believe the beauty of the curves in front of his face, so he closed his eyes to savour the moment. Moving closer, he touched his nose against the cloth, near to the crease at the bottom of her bum cheek, just above where the cut-off jeans had been turned up and sewn into a hem. Inhaling a lungful of air, he took in the sweet floral smell of the fabric conditioner, making him curious to know what her globes might taste like when naked.

"So heavenly." He whispered.

Still dazed, a mindless glance to his right, saw a pair of recently sharpened, sheep shearing shears within reach, so without care of the consequences, he took hold of them in one hand and pushed his other hand into her back pocket.

By pulling her shorts away from her body and towards him, he spoilt the form fitting shape enough to gain a section of torte cloth where he could pierce the point of the shears through the denim, without touching her skin. Once inserted, he carefully used both hands to cut a horizontal slit with the sharp tool, along her cheek immediately below her back pocket, then marvelled with delight as the whiteness of her plump flesh bulged out from the inside.

"What are you doing?" She shrieked, twisting her body away from him and pulling free of the cutters.

He pushed her firmly against the post. "Stand still or you'll make this worse."

With the cut already started, he found it easy to re-insert the point of the scissors and extend the line in the opposite direction, broadening the slit to the full width of under her back pocket.

"Stop it! Please?" She pleaded.

The blacksmith laughed loudly at his creative design, clearly amused by her burst of bum cheek breaching the tight shrink-wrapping of denim.

"Nearly finished." He told her, beginning the process again by slipping his hand into her other pocket, only to discover the tiny little silver handcuff key that had travelled through time with her.

"What is this?" He asked, trying to identify the type of stainless steel, not yet invented.

Lily remained facing the wooden post. "It's a key. From the future." She told him.

Looking up, he noticed part of the fascinating perfection of printing on the label peeping out from underneath her leather belt.

"And what's this?" he asked, twisting the leather of the belt up, out of the way so he could see the whole thing.

The Levi Strauss and Co, logo pictured two horses pulling in opposite directions, both attached to a pair of jeans between them, demonstrating the supposed strength of the denim.

"That's the levis trade mark they put on every pair of jeans." She told him. "Does it say something along the lines of Levis original clothing?" she asked, straining unsuccessfully to look down behind her, and asking the question from memory.

"It might do, I aren't much good at reading." He told her, "But I can make out this date. It says May 20, 1873."

"Yes that's it." she said. "That's when they started making jeans. In 1873. That's in about two hundred and fifty years. So you see, I am from the future."

He couldn't argue that the strength of the fabric was something he'd never seen before and the printing on the label seemed very futuristic.

"Look at my boots." She insisted, "Look at the quality. Look at the stitching. You cannot do that by hand, look how thick the leather is underneath."

He inspected the bottom of her boot as she stood with her lower leg kicked back towards his kneeling position.

"Where did you get these?"

"I told you. From the future." She reiterated. "The machines to make these haven't been invented yet."

Letting go of her boot, he stood to face her.

The frown he held, hinted that he may be beginning to believe her.

"Who is it that you think I am?" she asked.

"Everyone in the village thinks you're Madeleine." He told her.

"My name is Lily." She explained. "You've got the wrong girl."

"I know you're not Madeline, but what have you done with her?" he asked, "If you've harmed her I will make sure you burn!"

"I haven't done anything to her."

"But it is true that you switched places, like witchcraft?" He concluded. "I could call on the magistrates immediately."

"Please no, you can't hand me back to them. Release me from these shackles and tell them that I escaped."

"Ha, ha, ha." He laughed, "Release you. How? Those things won't come off."

"Why can't you cut them off?" She asked.

"Because cutting is for wood, and solid iron, is a far cry from a tree."

Lily's voice raised and octave, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the only way to get those things off you is to heat the pins and chisel the heads off them. The problem there is that I would have to put your hands in the fire to heat the iron."

Lily pulled her right wrist to her side, spinning the waist belt easily around the remainder of her tucked in shirt, to have a look at one of the manacles.

The blacksmith stood in front of her and began loosening the rest of the buttons of her shirt. "You get familiar with them and I'll get familiar with these." He said, unable to resist the temptation of her breasts any longer.

Lily immediately stood to attention, and spun the belt back around to rest her wrists in the small of her spine behind her. "You like her don't you?" She asked.

The blacksmith tried not to react, but Lily could tell he and Madeline had chemistry. "I'm not keen on this either." He told her, referring to the ease of her belt rotating around with the dry cloth lubrication keeping it away from her skin. With only two buttons holding her shirt closed across her chest, he pulled the rest of it out from the waist belt and let it drop down to her sides.

"Of course, the other thing is that if I let you go, I'll suffer the same fate as you." He warned her.

"You have to help me?" She pleaded.

Lily had tried telling him, asking him and now she found herself begging him, none of which seemed to be working. The only thing left to try would mean reverting to natures secret hand of seducing him. Having the advantage of twenty-first century sexual experience, she would only have to show him a little carnal knowledge from the future to win him over.

"I'll bet you enjoyed playing with my tits earlier didn't you?" She asked, jiggling her breasts in front of him. "Have you and Madeline ever been together?"

"You are a very gifted lady." He replied, looking down as he spoke, showing his embarrassment of her questioning whilst giving her the opportunity to let rip into his medieval naivety.

"Well now you've got my hands behind my back like this, you could do anything you wanted to me. You could make love to me for as long and hard as you wanted. There's a chance we might even cum together and there would be absolutely nothing I could do..."

Lily's face froze with her eureka moment of realisation. "Oh my god that's it." Her smile turned genuine with delight as she realised that she would simply have to go through with an uncontrollable orgasm to wake from this recurring nightmare. "You have to make me orgasm when I'm restrained and can't stop you."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, reacting to her sudden forwardness towards him.

"You have to fuck me when I'm tied up and find my pleasure points that make me lose control of myself. That's how I got here, and that's what I need to get me back home."

The blacksmith took a step back from the ranting woman, cautious of her coming on to him so hard and so fast.

"Don't you see? These chains are perfect."

"Perfect for what?" He looked at her confused as to why she would suddenly be liking the irons, placed around her as a punishment before her sentencing.

"Listen. I have a mental state of mind that causes me to freak out when I orgasm. And if my hands are tied and there is nothing I can do to stop it, then this is the nightmare I end up in."

He watched as she got onto her knees and confidently assured him as she knelt with her words, "If you'll just stand still for a minute and give me a chance, then I'll show you."

Holding her breath, her lips traced the shape of his erection, up and down his groin behind the cloth of his trousers.

The smith didn't hesitate to smile and oblige, without words. He knew his position and what he needed to do next, so dropping his clothing to the floor he listened to her continued rambling speech.

"I have to do this first, so that an inexperienced boy like you doesn't just cum inside me and leave me unfinished."

Whatever that meant, he didn't care. He guided his cock towards her false mask of smiling, and welcoming lips, where she took care of it inside her revolted, but never-the-less, courageous mouth.

"Have you been with any woman before?" She asked, pausing for breath after her first taste of his disgusting manhood.

His "Oh my god!" reply confirmed to her that he hadn't experienced anything of the sort before.

Avoiding the stench proved impossible each time she had to breathe, so she closed her eyes and thought of how missing her boyfriend Sam was the reasoning for doing this.

He found that he could power himself all the way to the back of her throat by clamping his fingers in her hair and pulling, which pleased him hugely each time he made her gag or choke during this voluntary act of her pleasuring him.

It wasn't long before she braced herself for the climax by introducing a little 'lower teeth restriction' and turning her head sideways so that his aim hit the inside of her cheek, which allowed her to spit his cum on the fire as soon as he let go of her hair.

Standing to her feet, she drown her mouth in the dirty, lukewarm water of the quenching bath and swilled it out many times, taking care to not look too revolted in front of him.

"How did I do?" She asked, knowing he'd had nothing in the past to compare her with. "Let's give it a few minutes before we carry on." She promised, thankful and relieved that she'd now eliminated any chance of premature ejaculation. "I'm assuming you have a mattress?"

The blacksmith confirmed he did, by pointing in the direction of the far room, hinting that Lily go take a look at his proud assembly of hay, topped with rags and wrapped in a blanket, with a wooden board surround.

Observing her walk, he studied how the backs of her thighs worked in harmony with each cheek above, by eating and swallowing that section of her shorts into a distinctive smile, every step she took.

Watching her moves, caused loss of control in the Neanderthal part of his brain, which then began diverting blood to his groin once again. "You can lay down." He told her, pointing to the comfort of the single bed where his head now had plans for what to do to her.

Initially, Lily lay on her front, but the blacksmith knelt next to her and rolled her over to tackle her leather belt, before the fastenings of her shorts.

Expecting laying on her cuffs to be painful proved not to be the case. She found that having the metal rings attached in line with the waist belt took the weight of her body and protected her wrists. In turn, the belt protected her from the discomfort of the manacles digging into her back.

Naked from the waist down, he rolled Lily onto her front again and pulled down her shorts to her ankles. The sight before him warranted a kiss on each cheek before laying on top of her and expressing his second wave of readiness by pressing his erection into the crevice of her buttocks.

In desperation she quickly bent her legs to roll over and shimmy herself back into the middle of the bed.

With her knees in the air, the blacksmith splayed her legs and lay himself in the prone position on top of her even more defenceless body, where her shorts now held her ankles together around her boots and his weight pinned them into the mattress.

Lily closed her eyes and tried to imagine Sam, whilst giving encouraging instructions to the blacksmith, who she so desperately wanted to be her ticket home, by calling out "Yes!" each time he hit her G-spot.

Her eventual screaming, due to her agoraphobic condition, led to him covering her mouth to muffle the noise of her overreaction and hold her head still whilst the rest of his body stopped her from doing any harm.

Lily bucked and fought against his weight in time with her wailing and screaming before her thrashing eventually turned to solid rigidity during her forced orgasm beneath him.

Even before opening her eyes, her nostrils told of her failed attempt at returning home by the ever present smell of burning wood in the air.

Seconds ago the sex had felt good but now the reality of being stuck in this nightmare quickly reached its peak, breaking her spirit, and causing her to curl up into a ball and cry.

Her mind fighting for answers as to what she'd got wrong and the blacksmith snoring next to her kept her awake beyond midnight. She eventually gave in to her insomnia and stood from the mattress to go outside and relieve herself.

The cloth rag used to gag her would make do instead of the luxury quilted toilet paper she'd been accustomed to, so she picked it up behind her back and untied the knot from the middle.

Sliding the bolt of the front door happened quietly and the hinges didn't creak, freeing her to walk outside and find a place to go.

Moisture from her skin had adhered the smooth inside of her waist belt to her body, making it difficult to rotate in either direction without the friction reducing shirt being tucked into it any longer. Sucking her stomach in allowed her to crack the sweaty seal all the way around and spin the metal waist band so she could reach her right hand far enough forward to unfasten her leather belt, together with her shorts and drop them to the ground.

Leaning back against the outside wall of the workshop, she relieved herself and used the cloth to firstly wipe her front, then spin the belt around to wipe her rear. Kicking up her shorts with one leg, allowed her to grab hold with her hand and fasten them, along with the leather belt, using an ingenious technique.

Closing the door however, proved to be a different story. She pushed it with her foot but didn't quite stop it in time with her hand before it banged against the frame, waking the Smith with a startle.

"Get back here!" He shouted, running to bolt the door before she could escape. "How dare you take advantage of my kind hospitality. I ought to lock you up in the witches' chamber, where you'll have to sleep on the hard stone floor!"

"The witches chamber?" She asked.

"Yes, the witches chamber." He replied.

"Powers of unspeakable nature?" Lily pressed further, for clarification.

The smith looked at her and casually replied, "According to the old hag, yes that's right."

"Wait." Lily interrupted, "Let me just run through that again."

He remained silent and listened to her recite her version of the spell, cast by the executed witch, years before.

"Any woman in here after me in this chamber, will be granted on ravishment powers of extreme nature." She recalled, solely from memory of the written version in her village pub.

Her look of elation and tears of relief welling up in her eyes confused the blacksmith but not enough to justify comment.

"Take me back there." She pointed in the direction of the dungeon. "None of this is my fault. You see, in the future, that cursed chamber is our bedroom. It's an annex joined onto our apartment. That's where it must have to happen."

Not sure about half of what she'd just said, he listened to more of her ever increasing tall story.

"Come on. Let's go." She egged him along. "You have to help me."

"I'm not helping you with any sorcery." He humoured her looking at the state of her open shirt trailing to one side behind her back, displaying her chest in front of his face. Standing in front of her he took hold of the patterned cotton, bringing each side around to her front, then took it upon himself to tie the two sides of her shirt in a triple knot, which supported the underside of her breasts, but without covering them.

Although he thought she must be mad for volunteering a blowjob and sex with him last night, in her current state of bondage, he couldn't tear his mind away from the idea of holding onto this beauty before him.

"I've decided I'm going to keep you for myself." He said, staring at her pushed up breasts. "So I want you to stay here and stay quiet, unless you want me to make a head cage with its own metal tongue to press down and keep that pretty little one of yours, still."

Shocked, Lily swallowed nervously as his fingers cupped the underside of her chin and his thumb toyed with her lips in the silence that followed.

"Then how would I kiss you?" She whispered in reply.

The moment the tip of his thumb touched her lip again, she slowly lunged for it with her open mouth and sucked it in, ever so carefully as to not touch it with her teeth.

Lily looked at his lack of interest and realised that she had to deviously devise another way to lure him, because her lustfulness alone wasn't going to get her an orgasm in the dungeon.

"You won't have heard of the Hexcross hoard yet will you?" She asked, "I could make you rich." She told him.

He laughed and pulled enough cloth of her shirt over her breasts to augment them tightly together with less cleavage showing in the middle, by fastening three of the necessary buttons up above.

Thankful, but without acknowledging his gesture of decency, she quickly followed up on her promise by telling him the story of the Hexcross hoard.

"I know where there is a Viking hoard of gold coins."

Given the weirdness of the situation so far, she succeeded in gaining his ear with the mention of the gold.

"How much gold?"

"Thousands of gold coins." She began describing. "Jars and jars of gold, buried in the hills, just out there." Without the use of her hands, Lily pointed with her head towards the door of the workshop. "Please, just let me prove this one thing to you."

She could see temptation in his eyes as he looked and pondered whether or not to believe her.

"Where is it?"

Happy that she'd got his attention she proceeded to explain. "It's by the overhanging stones. To the right hand side of the last one, where the ground turns green again."

The blacksmith opened the door and looked out across the valley at the cliff face of stones that had been his view all his life. "Where?"

"Come on. Grab something to dig with and I'll show you."

Adrenaline flowing, she led the way with him at her side, carrying a kind of shovel, hoping that the early morning light would give them the advantage of working undetected until the rest of the village awoke.

Being familiar of the exact spot of the monument marking where the hoard had been discovered in 1936, it took the blacksmith only twenty minutes to uncover the top layer of coins from the first of many jars she'd promised him.

Glad of his jubilation, she warned him, "You'll have to keep the gold buried until you can find a time to come back and take them without anybody seeing you."

"You're right." He replied, stuffing as many coins into his apron pouch as he could.

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?" He asked, wide eyed and clearly not wanting to walk away from the find.

"You see those jars that there in?" She requested, "Could you promise me that you won't break any, because I already feel bad enough about changing history like this."

The smith nodded and the two made a hasty retreat back to the workshop. On their journey, Lily knew she needed to cheat him into having sex with her in the dungeon, so as light began to come up, she suggested heading straight there and hiding out, rather than risk been seen walking through the village to the workshop.

The bared gate at the entrance to the tunnelled out, brick lined corridor lay open and inviting for someone in need of hiding.

The two jogged inside and were able to catch their breath once under the domed roof of the chamber where the door had also been left unlocked.

"You know, you need to hide that loot somewhere safe." She told him. "If I'm going to be tortured, then it's best I don't see where you put it."

"True." He agreed, centralising the knot in her shirt below her breasts.

"Why don't you go hide it now? Nobody out there is looking for you. I'll wait here and you can maybe bring back some food. That way I won't be able to tell anybody where you've stashed the gold and you'll be able to simply deny it."

In response, he stood in front of her and placed his hands on her bum cheeks to pull her against him.

There could be no greater attraction than that of gold to a young man who'd chosen a career in metalworking. But this beautiful girl who couldn't refuse him, and the vision of hot liquid yellow happiness melting in his furnace, made him feel on top of the world.

"You are my angel." He told her.

Seizing the moment, she planted her lips on his and forced his tongue to feud with hers, inside her mouth.

Twisting away, he continued what he wanted to say, "The problem is, I don't have the keys on me for this place, to keep you from running."

"I won't go anywhere. Not like this." She rattled the metal of her cuffs behind her back. "This is a safe place for me."

"Turn around." He told her, meaning for her to face away from him.

He guided her over to the wall where the pillory stood, then stopped and turned her back to face him. With his hands in her hair, he stared at her willing lips, unable to bear looking into her eyes.

"You're right, there are ways to remove those manacles." He confessed, "The problem is, I've decided that I want to keep you in chains, all for myself, and get that gold away from here."

Before Lily had any time to comprehend what he'd just said, she felt her hair being dragged over to the open pillory where he accidently banged her neck against the internal curve of its lower stock.

Being over cautious with both hands, taking care to not trap her skin, he let go of the hinged top half, allowing the upper plank to slam closed under its own weight, which encouraged the crude staple and hasp locking mechanism to swing closed due to the arc of its curved momentum.

"Ahhh!"! She yelled in shock, dancing and wriggling her behind, to pull herself free of the pillory's hold.

"I'm sorry to have to do this." He grumbled quietly into her ear. "But I need to get the keys to lock you up properly, before I start looking for a safe place to stash all that gold."

"I can't breathe!" she panicked, steadily calming and realising that whenever she stopped struggling it relieved the pressure on her neck.

His reassuring gentle tickle of fingers over the well-presented bulge of her backside protruding through the cut in the denim, gave her enough confidence to remain hopeful of being able to use him to return home.

Although not locked, the catch on the side of the pillory being only a few inches away from her fingertips, may as well have been on the other side of the room.

She only had to go as far as considering attempting to touch it, before realising it would always be out of reach.

"Don't leave me like this!" She shouted after the blacksmith, receiving a reply of the squeal and slamming of the bared gate at the end of the corridor, without the sound of it being locked.