The Puritan's Prisoner

This story is based on a roleplay with my much-missed friend ezazal. It contains bondage, humiliation, and sexist teasing, but no sex. Reader discretion is advised.

I.

My name is Rachel, if it please you.

I never meant to cause trouble. I did my work, and obeyed the elders, and when their opinions differed from my own, I kept this to myself... mostly. I dressed in the same modest garments as the other women in the village, with my hair up to keep it out of my face, and followed the many laws, great and petty, which govern our lives.

You wish to know my age? Let us say only that I am still in my early 30s. It has occasionally been said that I am beautiful, but most of the men complain that I am tanned from spending so much time outdoors, and inclined to speak when demure silence would be preferable. I had little expectation of marriage and few pleasures in life here.

But I had my occupations. I gathered stalks, seeds, leaves and roots from the meadows and streams, and when the day's work was complete I would take them up to the windmill to dry, laid out in tidy rows on the floor. There is a stiff wind (as one might well imagine) that pours in through the rotting mortar. I make folk remedies for every occasion, from earache to... unwanted residents. It is good to have a purpose.

I have been known to dance, also, even by the light of the moon, barefoot in the pale green grass where the mill stands tall.

It is a place where I can find solitude, a treasure which in a close-knit village is both rare and fragile. And upon that day my peace was disturbed by an arrival as repugnant as it was, in hindsight, inevitable.

II.

"Well, Mistress," cried Jacob, barging open the door without announcing himself and casting a letter upon the floor. "And what hath thee to say now?"

Jacob is, of course, an elder, a title he cherishes because it allows him to arrogate the rights of the Father over everyone he meets. I raised a single eyebrow, the mildest possible expression of surprise at his sudden entrance, but knew he would regard this as unpardonable insolence. Jacob was a passionate believer in the necessity of mere women showing respect and obedience to men at every opportunity.

"I have nothing to say, Master," I said, smiling with precisely calibrated respect, "except what that letter contains."

(I did say mostly.)

"That letter, Mistress, be naught but lies and villainy," he spluttered. "How dare you presume to criticise the council? And to propose that we give a seat to a woman... why, I can only imagine you've taken leave of your senses!"

He paused, losing the thread of his argument and gazing into my eyes. I am proud of my eyes, which are large and clear and hazel in colour. And on this occasion contained neither fear nor anger, only a sort of amusement.

"The council's decision is this," he went on. "You will stand before the village, recant your heresy, and accept our punishment. Do you submit?"

"Submit. You do love that word."

I ducked a belated one-handed curtsy.

"With all due respect, Elder, the village is changing. We grow large and prosperous, and with expanded trade the world is coming in. Our ways must change to meet the times; a woman on the council would go a long way to addressing that need. If not myself, then another. But women's voices will be heard, Elder.

"This council has my respect, so far as it goes, but not my submission. You have no right to demand it and will not receive it."

With an obvious effort he mastered his anger. Oh, poor slow simple Jacob; I could read his thoughts as easily as he had read my letter, and knowing the state of his prayer book, very likely a great deal more easily. "The hussy wishes to provoke me," he was thinking, "with her fine words and her pretty eyes and her pert bosom. The way to defeat her is with masculine logic and, if necessary, strength." The words would come first, as a matter of form, and when they failed, as they must, he would turn to less elegant methods. I was familiar with male argumentation.

"The world does indeed change, wench," he conceded, with a sly strategising look on his face, "much as it displeases me. But you will find, I think, that some things remain the same. And one of these is the weak submitting to the strong. So has it always been; so shall it always be."

He took off his cloak, folded it neatly, and placed it on a chair. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic.

"God hath ordained that I, a man, be stronger and wiser than thee, a mere slip of a wench. And so I ask one final time: will you submit to be my prisoner and meet thy punishment as the council shall decree? Or must I take you in hand?"

My brows rose steadily to my hairline as I watched him flex his misogyny and his muscles together.

"Is that wise, Elder? A man of your years..."

In attitudes as well as faculties, and like an old boar befuddled. I allowed my eyes to travel over his bared arms and down his front to rest on the inverted V in his breeches.

"Are you fully certain that you're capable?"

Jacob laughed, his anger forgotten for a moment, realising no doubt how much he was going to enjoy this, how much of a blessing I was bestowing upon him: the opportunity to indulge desire without guilt. I am familiar, too, with men's hypocrisy. It is surely no sin, their supple minds reason, to correct a pretty woman in error, wrestle her slim, firm young body into docile submission and then perhaps thrash her bottom while she gasps and moans in abject surrender to male mastery.

Such, transparently, were his thoughts. To the extent that for a moment he could not remember what we were talking about.

"Capable of putting an insolent wench in her place?" he sneered, eventually. "I think so, Mistress."

He took a coil of thin strong cord from a hook on the wall and stalked towards me, mouth set and eyes glittering with villainous intent.

III.

Jacob's stride was strong. But so linear, much like him. Pigheaded, bull-shouldered, dense as a rock in avalanche. You really should dance more, I thought.

I skirted to one side, maintaining a minimum radius between us and, more importantly, moving my back closer to the entrance. If he thought I was above fleeing from brute strength he was in for a surprise.

"I haven't been called 'wench' in some time, Elder, it's almost flattering," I replied. "But I must remember that most everyone looks young next to you, and I know you think all women are servants. It's precisely that 'place' we have no intention of maintaining."

I wrote that letter, but I certainly wasn't the only woman in the village looking to rise. Some of them wouldn't be above taking a cast-iron pan to an Elder, either, if I could only reach them. It was vital that I elude Jacob's clumsy grasp. And his rope.

"We are all of us servants, Mistress," he said pompously. "It simply happens that men serve God, while women serve men. And you will serve me if I command it, on your knees and with your eyes submissively lowered."

Jacob had much of the ox in his manner. But I saw again that spark of low cunning. He was stubborn, but not stupid: a man does not rise to his level of influence in the council without learning a thing or two about strategy, even trickery. His eyes narrowed, flickering between me and the door.

"You wish to depart, wench? If you do, I must conclude that you find my arguments unanswerably wise, and that you agree with my assessment of men and women's place in this world. Thank you for your obedient concurrence. Go in peace."

He stooped and picked up one of my bags of dried herbs, sniffed it, and raised one eyebrow.

"But my goodness, what a suspicious item! Evidence of sorcery and witchcraft, no doubt. I had better take this for examination by the council."

He held the bag up, and chuckled.

"Unless you wish to take it from me?"

I frowned.

"And why cannot women serve God? Man might be fashioned in His image, but they seem to me a poor proxy for the divine. They can be thieves, for instance, and misuse the powers given them by the Almighty."

I glanced meaningfully at the bag in his hand.

"I am leaving here, Elder, but not because your arguments are wise. In fact, I can't recall you making an argument; you seem to prefer bluster. But I will leave with those herbs. There is a woman in town with desperate need of them."

I did not move towards him but I did incline that way, as if I was ready to dart out and snatch the bag. But I was not quite so reckless as that, with his muscles on full display.

"A woman in town, is there? A likely story."

He lifted the bag a little higher, taunting me, laughing. I wanted that bag, by heaven, and he knew it.

"You need it for a dark ritual, no doubt. You wish to dance naked and summon Beelzebub. How fortunate that I happened across this vital evidence and was able to thwart your satanic plans! Now let us have no more disobedience from you, Mistress: you are caught in the act, so you may as well surrender and allow me to bind you securely. If you are contrite the council may perhaps show mercy."

The self-satisfied look on his face and pompous tone in his voice made him the very picture of a slow-witted oaf with delusions of superiority. But I suspected a ploy. He was luring me in and preparing to pounce. I would not fall for it.

"It does not matter whether you believe me, Elder. I will take my property and depart... once I have given you a lesson in balance and poise."

I feinted at the bag, then stepped back lightly as he snatched at the air where I had formerly resided. I couldn't entirely suppress a giggle.

"Lesson one," I smiled as he narrowly avoided a fall. "Attack where your opponent is headed, not where they used to be."

"Keep talking, wench. Every instance of impertinence will only increase the severity of your punishment. I shall enjoy curbing that tongue of thine!"

As Jacob snarled the last word he leapt headlong at my midriff, arms outstretched to thwart any attempt to sidestep. I instead elected to jump straight up, grasp the beam above our heads with both hands, and whisk my legs out of the way as he barrelled through. He was temporarily blinded by my skirts, and fell heavily into a pile of flour sacks.

"Lesson two, Elder: always think in three dimensions."

He struggled to his feet, shaking with anger. He would have been a fearsome sight if it were not for the light dusting of flour.

"Do you mean to chastise me, Master? Have I incurred thy displeasure?"

"Indeed you have, wench. My most serious displeasure."

"Well, Master? I thought you were going to bind me securely?" I giggled again, and playfully crossed my wrists behind my back. "And yet I remain unbound. How disappointing. Farewell, Elder."

I bent to pick up the bag where Jacob had dropped it during his tumble, and winked. He was sure to make another attempt, but was now so blinded with fury that outmanoeuvring him would be a simple matter. The day had turned out a great deal pleasanter than I had expected.

"You may not leave! I utterly forbid it!"

He patted his clothing, creating a small white cloud, and then threw himself into one last attempt at catching me. I sighed theatrically, and danced neatly to one side.

"Lesson thr-"

Something went wrong. My skirt snagged on a loose nail; with a loud tearing sound the fabric parted from ankle to thigh, and I fell heavily to the floor, landing on my bottom.

"Ow!"

I looked up to see Jacob standing over me. His eyes were fixed on my bare leg, and he had what I can only describe as an unnatural look on his face.

"Hussy!" he cried. "Vixen! Strumpet! Thou shameless Jezebel, flaunting thy nakedness! Tempt not an honest man, succubus!"

"It was merely an accident, Elder."

"Silence!" He flexed the cord. "I know how to thwart thy sorceries, wench."

I sighed. So much for my pleasant afternoon.

IV.

I was unable to deny that Jacob had me exactly where he wanted. Masculine strength had won the day after all.

I tried to resist but it did no good. He rolled me on to my front as easily as if I were an old rug, ignoring my justifiably outraged protests, and wrenched my arms behind my back; I could feel the bite of the cord as he crossed my wrists and bound them tightly together. There was a second pain higher up as my elbows were tied too.

While I wriggled and rolled and tried futilely to free my arms from the rope, Jacob paused and regarded me intensely. I thought at first that my unclothed ankles were again inflaming his desire, but when I followed the line of his gaze I realised he was now more interested in my upper body. The painfully tight bindings on my arms were forcing my shoulders back, which in turn caused my bosom to jut out like the prow of a ship and strain against the material of my simple linen dress. I can only imagine that the effect was irresistibly captivating to a man in thrall to his baser instincts.

"This is not pious behaviour, Elder," I complained, trying without success to shield my modesty.

"Silence, hussy!" he said with another sly look, reaching up to grab a ball of twine hanging from the rafters above our heads. "You are trying to bewitch me. Clearly you must be bound more securely."

"What do you m-aahh! Stop that, Master!"

My protests were interrupted when he looped the twine about my chest, cinching it tightly above and below my bosom then knotting it securely out of reach of my fingers. This placed even more strain on the fabric of my dress, stretching the material to its very limits and drawing still more attention to the sinful curvature of my person.

"Avert thine eyes, sir!"

Shocked and desperate, I twisted away from my captor and struggled to my feet - no easy task with my chest and arms so securely trussed. He was so distracted by my unwilling immodesty that this obvious course of action took him by surprise, and I was able to wobble halfway to the door before he reacted. But my advantage was short-lived. The cruel ropes inhibited my movement and upset my balance, making it a simple matter for him to catch me, scoop me up, and place me back on the floor with a restraining hand on my posterior.

"Nay, Mistress, I must insist that you remain with me a little longer," he cried, audibly out of breath. "I see that further steps are necessary on my part, in order to ensure that further steps are impracticable on yours, ha ha ha."

It was alarming - and, perhaps, just a little impressive - to observe the speed and skill with which he roped up my legs at the ankle, knee, and thigh, cinching and knotting with what I felt to be unnecessary vigour at each point. I wriggled and squirmed but only succeeded in making the ropes even tighter... and presenting my captor with the shameful spectacle of my writhing unclothed legs.

"You are hurting me, sir! Kindly remove these ropes and we can discuss the matter like civilised Christians."

"Thou art no better than a witch," he replied, trying his best to look me in the eye and achieving this approximately one third of the time. "There is no discussion with such as thee."

And with that he plucked a handkerchief from his pocket, twisted it into a tight band, and jammed it between my teeth like a pony's bit.

"Rmmnfm phhnph gng, Mnphphmr!" I demanded.

"You will remain silent like a good obedient wife." And he knotted the handkerchief tightly behind my head. "Or you will be chastised, like this."

SMACK!

"Mmmphh!"

His large muscular hand gave a firm and exceedingly painful slap to my bottom. He smiled, evidently finding the exercise satisfactory.

"Have you learned your place, wench?"

I was furious. How dare this pig-headed brute treat me like a common servant! I have no doubt that my eyes sparkled with anger.

"Cmrphnnnmm nnph, Mnphphmr!"

SMACK!

"Mmmphh!"

"Ho ho! The devil is strong in this one. Even now you are trying to seduce me, twisting and flaunting that sinful, dangerously beautiful body in your well-earned ropes. What a wicked deviant you are."

A deviant! He was the one who bound me in a way that put my body so shamefully on display! I bucked and thrashed uselessly against the ropes, mewling furiously through my gag.

SMACK!

"Mmmphh!"

Once again, I was obliged to concede that his strength exceeded my own. My bottom hurt, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could endure this treatment.

"Art thou ready to behave more decorously, hussy?"

"Nn, phnr!"

SMACK!

"Mmmphh! Nn, phnr!"

SMACK!

"Mmmphh! Nn, phnr!"

SMACK!

"Mmmphh! Nn, phnr!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Mmmphh! Mmmphh... Ymph, phnr."

"Ho ho, the unruly wench changes her tune! You are ready to do as I bid, hussy?"

"... Ymph, phnr."

"You will be obedient, and know thy place, and acknowledge me as your superior?"

"Mmmphh... Ymph, phnr."

"Ha ha! Excellent. The council will be pleased by such meek contrition. They may even choose to be merciful."

"Phm cnnncnm?" My eyes widened with alarm. What had the council to do with anything? I had a dreadful premonition.

"On the other hand, they may choose to make an example of you, and I would not blame them. After all, you did attempt to seduce one of their most respected members, as I shall testify."

"Phmphphnfm?"

He laughed at that. "Yes, you foolish wench, I shall 'phmphphnfm'. Now let us get you properly leashed and we can be off."

Chuckling and quite appallingly pleased with himself, Jacob took one final length of twine and used it to tie a makeshift leash about my throat. He did this using a cunning knot with which I was not familiar; this ensured that the leash would remain snug without tightening so much that it choked me.

"Comfortable, my dear? I suppose not, ha ha."

Getting up to go he tugged gently on the leash, and I took the hint, struggling to my feet and following obediently behind him. With my ankles bound I had no choice but to hop.

"That's it, wench. Hop along behind me! Very pretty you are in your ropes and gag, all humbled and obedient. Much better."

Yet another sly look came across his face. "I suppose," he added slowly, "now that you've been properly broken, you might even make an... adequate wife. If only a good man was feeling generous and offered to take you off our hands. You would like that, I'm sure."

"Hmmph."

SMACK!

"Mmmphh! Ymph, phnr."

"That's right, wench. You would be lucky to find a husband, at your advanced age and with your history of impertinence. You would have to prove you can be appropriately meek and demure."

"Ymph, phnr."

"But that's quite enough chatter from you. Be silent for the rest of the journey and I may choose to chastise you only ten or twelve more times."

I rolled my eyes, but there was no defying him. He had won, and regardless of my feelings on the matter I was going to have to face the council. I gathered my courage, sighed quietly into my gag, and hopped as fast as I could.

V.

Meetings of the council of elders habitually took place behind closed doors, which is to say in each of their respective homes on a rotating cycle. (My letter had, incidentally, contained an eloquent denunciation of this practice as being against fairness and transparency, and liable to encourage cronyism and the consumption of snacks.) I was surprised, therefore, when Master Jacob led me not to a house, but to the village hall.

"Wmhm nrm mmm hmrm, Mnphphmr?" I asked, breathing heavily into my gag. Hopping was very tiring.

"We are here to enact not merely justice, but public justice," he replied. "Which is, I believe, precisely what a certain conniving Jezebel demanded in her letter."

"Mh nn."

"Quite. You should be careful what you wish for, hussy. In you go."

He moved behind me and poked me in the, well, behind. Needless to say I was shocked and appalled, and very nearly fainted. I asked Jacob to kindly restrain his animal instincts, but he only laughed at my attempts to speak.

I hopped reluctantly and with difficulty up the wooden steps, growling into my gag. Jacob was in no mood for patience: any time he felt I was moving too slowly I received another prod.

"Mmmph! Phphnp phhnph!"

"Silence, wench. I cannot abide laziness."

"Hmmph."

The door to the hall stood open, as if in expectation of our arrival, and the hubbub of conversation drifted out into the soft evening air. I was painfully aware of my bonds and disheveled clothing, and could feel a blush spreading across my cheeks as I hopped through the door and into full view of the entire village, a leashed and hobbled prisoner. The room fell instantly silent, with every eye upon me.

"Pmmnphm, Jnncnh, nnph lmnhm phhnph!" I pleaded, looking back.

"Shut your mouth," he replied cruelly. He followed me into the room keeping a firm grip on my leash, tugging it back any time I got too far ahead and prodding my bottom any time I got too near. "Behold!" he added more loudly to the crowd. "Behold what happens to wenches who do not know their place."

There were several gasps, a number of boos, and one distinct but highly inappropriate guffaw. Mistress Thrash, my next-door neighbour and a woman who had never liked me, then cried out that she had long seen it coming, that it was no more than I deserved, and might I suffer full sorely for my disobedience and sin.

The staring continued as I hopped through the hall, mmmphing and blushing as I went. I did not like being the focus of attention. I particularly did not like the looks of lust (from the men), malicious triumph (from some of the more conservative women), and, perhaps worst of all, second-hand embarrassment from the young women I considered my allies. It was bad enough to be Jacob's humbled captive, but the humiliation of being paraded in public view in ropes and a gag, unable to escape or even speak in my own defence, was almost unbearable.

I reached the front of the hall, then looked back at my captor for further instruction. There was a small raised platform from which the elders were accustomed to deliver edicts and homilies. Surely I was not expected to mount this, tightly bound as I was?

"Up you go, wench," he snarled.

"Ymn phnmn mm np!" I complained through the gag. "Mn cnn'ph gmph np phhmrm!" I motioned towards the stage with my head, mutely appealing for mercy or assistance.

Jacob laughed. "Poor little thing," he said indulgently, playing to the gallery. "The sinful creature was so proud and defiant and now she needs my help. Don't worry, my dear, I will aid you." He snatched me up in his arms and dumped me bodily on to the platform, where I squirmed around helplessly and tried not to show my undergarments to the men in the front row. Jacob followed me up with an agile leap and "helped" me to my feet, his hands making quite unnecessary contact with various intimate parts of my body. I complained about this, but my complaints came out as muffled and wholly unintelligible groans. Jacob only smiled, and knotted my leash securely to the top of the lectern.

I pulled and strained but the leash held me firmly in place, just as the other ropes prevented any possibility of escape, and the gag kept me silent. I was once again exactly where Jacob wanted me, and wholly in his power.

"The prisoner is ready!" he proclaimed. "Let her trial begin."

VI.

"I entered the windmill," Jacob began, with one hand on his chest and another on the bible, "and surprised the accused in the commission of the most heinous and wicked occupations. She was attempting to commune with the Devil."

"Phhnph nph nnphrnm!" I protested, although my words were again muffled by the gag.

A member of the council stood up and raised a hand. He was the most recent addition to their number and stretched the definition of "elder" to its very limits. He was 19 at a push, and had been blessed with the name Praise-God-Reject-Wickedness-Cancel-Christmas.

"I wonder, Master Jacob, if we should remove the cloth from the accused's mouth?" he said tentatively. "After all, she cannot speak up in her own defence if we cannot understand her words."

"Ymph! Pmmnphm phnhm nff phhm gng!"

"Nay, Master Christmas, that would be most exceeding unwise. And I shall tell you why. This wench, I say, is a witch!"

"Mn wmnphch? Phhnph nph nhphnrn!" That last word was impossible. "Nhphnrn!" I repeated, squirming in my tight ropes. But it was absolutely no good. I was completely helpless.

"Silence, hussy. Yes, a witch. You have all seen her, I make no doubt, creeping about the village in search of ingredients. Collecting stalks, seeds, leaves and roots. For what purpose, I ask? For the casting of spells. Who among us has not suffered? Fevers, boils, tooth decay, weight gain, business problems, lost saucepans, noises in the night, unhappy chickens, money running out, hot weather, cold weather, food not tasting nice, problems in bed, bad luck, unrequited love, typos, paper cuts, split ends, spilt milk, loss of appetite, ennui, angst, melancholy... if anything has gone wrong, you can be sure it was witchcraft, pure and simple."

They were just looking for a scapegoat! The whole thing was horrifically unfair.

"My friends, it terrifies me to think: if I had not surprised her as I did, and wisely taken the precaution of trussing her as tightly as possible and placing a good strong gag in her wicked mouth, then she would have cast a spell upon me! And if we are so foolish as to let her speak and wave her arms around, she could cast a spell upon any number of us. It simply is not worth the risk."

Master Christmas gave this some thought, and briefly discussed the matter with the other elders.

"Very well, Master Jacob. Your point is well made: the accused must remain tightly bound and gagged for the safety of the village. Kindly proceed."

"Thank you," said Jacob. "The ropes and gag are for her good as much as for ours. Deep down she prefers to be kept well bound, I assure you." And he directed at me a smile so infuriatingly smug and triumphant that I could not stand it. I strained at the ropes and mmmphed furiously into my gag.

"Mn cmrphnnnmm dn nnph!"

"You there!" cried Mistress Thrash, delighted to have the opportunity to get involved. "You men! Secure the accused at once! If she gets loose it will put us all in peril."

Several of the burlier villagers fell upon me at once and went to work with armfuls of twine. In no time at all I was twice as helpless and extraordinarily uncomfortable.

"Mmph!" I cried out pathetically, but my gag too had been reinforced with several more layers of cloth and almost nothing could be heard.

"Anyway," said Jacob. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted..." And he directed at me a look of amused scorn. "When I entered the mill this wench was attempting to commune with the Devil himself."

"Mmmph!"

"Her body was racked with wicked desires and her eyes rolled back in a frenzy of sinful longing."

"Mmmmphh!"

"She had constructed a circle of dark symbols, and was crouched within, chanting and cursing the names of each elder individually."

"Mmmmmphhhh!"

"Fie," said Master Christmas. "That is very bad. Is the circle still there, that it might stand as evidence against this woman?"

"Alas, it was trampled and wholly obliterated in the ensuing struggle. For when I espied the wench's wicked occupation, and implored her to have a care for her immortal soul, she threw herself at me."

"Threw herself at you?"

"Threw herself at me."

"Nh, hnmm nhphnrn."

"Silence, captive. Yes, she threw herself at me, rending her garments and attempting to seduce me. Look upon her now and you will see the womanly inducements she employed."

I was already, unhappily, the centre of attention. But now the eyes of my audience dropped from my face and fixed upon my body: the body I couldn't hide from their scrutiny because of those cruel constricting ropes. I tried to twist away from their hard faces and judging eyes, but it was no good. I was too well bound. The ropes held me fast. They could look at me, and I couldn't stop them.

The villagers gazed at my breasts, forced to jut outwards by the tight ropes binding my wrists and elbows so uncomfortably behind my back. Then they gazed at my legs, uncovered from the ankle to well above the knee. My unfortunate accident had torn the dress, which would have been quite immodest enough; but in the process of binding my legs, Jacob had ensured that the tattered remnants were caught up in the ropes and provided me with no dignity whatsoever. I knew he had done this on purpose, to humiliate me as much as possible and put me thoroughly in my place.

"The Jezebel attempted to seduce me," said Master Jacob, "by flaunting her body and pledging her participation in the most sinful, unbiblical acts. Repellant, horrifying acts such as rope bondage, wrists and ankles bound cruelly tight, her pert breasts straining to escape their fabric prison, breath ragged, gagged mouth moaning submissively as she strained and squirmed helplessly..."

Jacob paused, looking confused. I blushed deeply.

"I mean to say," he went on, "all of this was her idea, obviously."

"Nn nph wmnphn'ph!"

"Be quiet, you," he said quickly, before turning to the villagers. "I ask you all, in faith, who is more likely to plot such wickedness: a mere unmarried girl, or a respectable elder such as myself?"

There was several seconds of silence while the village gave this their full consideration. But I knew what they would decide in the end.

"Master Jacob is right!" cried Mistress Thrash. "This girl is a shameless hussy! She affects to blush like an innocent maid, while plotting how best to befuddle our menfolk with her sinful charms. She must be punished!"

There was a small hubbub of agreement, which gradually swelled until it was universal. I sighed. Quietly.

Master Christmas stood up again and waited for the noise to die down.

"Thank you for your testimony, Master Jacob," he said. "It took, I am sure, both courage and integrity to bear witness to this wench's sin. I know your aim is not to persecute this young woman but merely to help her reach a state of salvation."

Jacob had the good grace to look embarrassed by this unwarranted praise. The teenage elder now turned to me.

"Mistress Rachel," he began. "Your ordeal is almost over, my dear, and there is no need to be afraid. Your sins have been laid bare to the world, and they must be judged, and punished. But they will be judged and punished justly. You are in good hands."

I knew what was coming.

"And now," the youngster went on, "I turn to the president of the council to deliver his verdict on this sad case. The floor is yours... Jacob."

VII.

"Thank you, Master Christmas. I am thoroughly aware of the responsibility which rests upon my shoulders. I will bear that weight with care and love and righteousness, amen."

"Amen," said the villagers, somewhat on auto-pilot.

"Now," Jacob went on, "the first question I must consider as presiding judge is this. Should this wicked, sinful wench..."

"Wmhnph dn ymn mmnn, phnnfnm?"

"Goodness me! I appear to have presupposed the young lady's guilt! How clumsy. Pray forgive me, Mistress. Let me phrase that differently. Should this... erring, weak, Devil-led-astray young hussy be tried for her easily proven sexual licentiousness, or for her undoubted witchcraft?"

He stared hard at me. I had a momentary vision of empty shackles bolted to tall blackened stakes, and shuddered. But then Jacob chuckled, and I relaxed as far as the ropes allowed. His aim had been merely to frighten me.

"Witchcraft is such a difficult crime to substantiate, is it not?" he grinned. "Even in very obvious cases such as this one. And after all, is there any need to bother ourselves with such matters? The court has, thankfully, extremely broad powers to punish sluttish behaviour, particularly since we wisely passed the Female Submission Act of 1651. Need we seek out more serious crimes? I think the answer is no.

"The only question remaining, therefore, is this: can it be proven to the judge's satisfaction that Mistress Rachel is a hussy, harlot, Jezebel, slut, floozy and bimbo? I will now sit in deliberation, consider the evidence both for and against the accused, seek wisdom from the Almighty, and do my humble best to reach a true and just verdict."

Jacob paused, and adopted a sombre, pompous expression. He closed his eyes for perhaps 12 seconds.

"Yes. Yes indeed. I have made my decision. The verdict is..."

I protested into my gag, but nobody paid any attention.

"Guilty. Obviously."

The hall was filled with whoops and cheers - wholly inappropriate, I felt, whether or not one believed the verdict to be just - and the villagers stood to applaud. I blushed with frustration. I must await my turn to speak, I decided, and then win over the crowd with an eloquent defence.

"Has the prisoner anything to say before I pass judgment?"

I nodded eagerly, and waited for my gag to be removed. But nobody showed any inclination to do so.

"Well?" Jacob said impatiently. "What is it you wish to say?"

"Mm gng, phnr. Mn cnnnnph phpmnh!"

"Fie, foolish wench. You cannot possibly think we are going to ungag you? We have no wish to suffer your spells and hexes, mistress. Anything you have to say can be said through that gag."

I really should have seen this coming.

"Wmmmm," I began, "phhnph phrnnm nph mn fnrcm..."

"The trial is a what, mistress?"

"Mn fnrcm."

"A flurse?"

"Mn fnrcm!"

"I'm sorry, my dear, but you really must speak up. I can't understand you at all."

"Phhmn rmmnfm mm gng!"

"Remove your what?"

"Mm gng!"

"You exhaust my patience, mistress. If you refuse to speak more clearly the court must manage without your contribution."

"Dnmn ymn!" I pulled and strained at the ropes, trying desperately to free my hands so I could take off the gag. But they were so tight! I was quite, quite helpless. It was appallingly frustrating to be bound so tight and silenced so completely, all while being bullied and mocked by the worst man I had ever met.

"And so to your sentence," he continued when it became clear I was defeated. "Here is my decision: you shall serve as my humble and obedient servant for one month. If you are not humble and obedient, the sentence shall be extended until you are. Should you break any of the rules it pleases me to set, or fail to perform any of the tasks it pleases me to require, the sentence shall be extended until I am satisfied. Your servitude will continue, indeed, for as long as is necessary to tame you fully and remove all traces of independence."

The shifty, half-guilty expression I had noticed earlier returned to Jacob's face.

"I must warn you," he added, "that I have many important matters to occupy my mind, and may forget some of the rules at first. But be assured that I will let you know if you break any that I had previously, and quite innocently, forgotten.

"I would ask if you have anything to say but we both know that would be a waste of time, do we not?"

"Mmmph!"

"Just so. Which reminds me of one further condition of your servitude. You shall for the duration be locked into a scold's bridle so that you are not again tempted to spread your lies or to seduce your humble and God-fearing owner... er, I mean elder. Steward of the court, would you assist the prisoner with her new garb?"

A handsome and rather muscular young gentleman approached me and tipped his hat in a gesture of mock respect. Steward of the court indeed! He was the blacksmith's apprentice. We had shared a kiss behind a haystack two harvests ago.

"Would you mind turning around, mistress?" he asked with a knowing smile.

I could see there was no point in resisting. Hopping up and down precariously, huffing and grunting into my gag, I managed to rotate on the spot so my bound hands faced towards him, and towards the other villagers. I could feel the apprentice's warm breath as he came up close, and his strong fingers on the back of my neck as he worked at the tight knot securing my gag. Then it was loose, the sodden cloth was removed, and my mouth was free. Here at last was my chance.

"Please! All of you! I have done nommpphh!"

The apprentice ignored my protests and forced the bridle's iron bit into my mouth, where it pressed down painfully on my tongue and reduced my words to garbled nonsense. Then he buckled the straps quickly and ruthlessly: one around my cheeks, another around my temples, one over the top of my head, and a last one under my jaw. He pulled them all to the tightest notches possible. I was silenced again, but with the added humiliation of the device's symbolism. It represented the subjugation of independent women. I was bridled. Defeated. Tamed.

As if to emphasise this fact, the apprentice finally hung a small wooden board around my neck. I did my best to look down, which was not easy while wearing the bridle, and saw a brief message daubed upon it in red paint: "JEZERBEL. TALK'S TO MUCH. DO NOT UNTIE!!" I rolled my eyes.

"She is ready, if it please the court," said the apprentice, manhandling me so I was again facing the crowd. As he did so, his hands roamed freely over my posterior, and I squeaked quietly in futile protest. It was all so unfair. I was punished as a hussy, but the men were all free to enjoy my body without the slightest consequences.

"Thank you, boy," said Jacob. He turned to me. "Do not weep, my dear. Even the most wicked of sinners can redeem herself through submission and obedience. I am sure you can learn your place if treated firmly. And if there comes a time when I am fully satisfied with your behaviour and demeanour..." He paused. "... I may choose to take you as my wife."

I gasped.

"Quite! What a privilege that would be for you. Be warned, however, that I am a firm believer in the importance of discipline in the marital home. Now let us go, wench."

He unhooked my leash from the lectern, grabbed me without the slightest hesitation - it appeared that I was now considered fair game for any man who wished to snatch me up - and lifted me down from the raised platform. When I was settled on the floor of the hall I stood for a moment, looking about me bewilderedly and trying to grasp my misfortunes. My wrists and elbows were bound tight behind my back, drawing back my shoulders and forcing out my bosom, which strained wantonly against the thin fabric of my dress. My legs, roped up at the ankle, knee and thigh, were quite useless for anything other than hopping, not to mention almost bare under the tattered remnants of my skirts. I squirmed and strained one last time against my cruel bonds but couldn't find a trace of slack or the faintest chance of escape; I was completely and utterly helpless. And speechless: the scold's bridle prevented any intelligible speech and virtually any sound at all, as well as advertising to all and sundry my defeat and degradation. I even had a sign about my neck shaming me for having had the audacity to speak my mind and warning other women of the consequences if they ever stepped out of line.

My defeat, my humiliation, was complete.

Jacob took up the end of my leash and gave it a gentle tug, smiling and indicating with a gesture of his head where he wished me to go. I wanted so dearly to resist him one final time, but I had no energy left for the fight.

I sighed, lowered my eyes submissively, and hopped after my new owner.

FIN