The Bones In The Dungeon 8

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2014 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; FM+/f; D/s; bond; cuffs; chain; gag; dungeon; cell; naked; enslave; bdsm; torment; hum; medieval; denial; cons/reluct; XX

(story continues from )

Part 8: Final Betrayal Part One

I slept well with the self satisfying feeling that I had done the right thing, despite my regrets at trapping the devious bookworm in the cell next to mine for all eternity. My former ghostly dungeon master had recovered my magical book from it's hiding place in the palace library on Halloween, the one day of the year when he could, and it was with this that I freed the real Beth Eckhart and trapped the bookworm whose body I claimed for myself. She had earned her fate with how badly she had treated me, and her revealed true intentions to steal the castle and it's wealth for her own purposes. Henry would never know how close he came to loosing his family estate, nor of my many torments with the effects of the magical seal put on my tongue by the oath I foolishly made to the bookworm in her Beth Eckhart persona.

I wanted my Henry back, even with all his faults, the greatest of which was his deference to thinking with his manhood instead of his mind. He was the man who engineered my freedom not all that long ago, and for that alone I was indebted to him indefinitely, even if he chose another to share his bed with.

He was a magnificent lover, and his desires for the young and energetic Ms. Eckhart could easily be understood, as were her desires to be with him. With the real Ms. Eckhart presumably back at University and the royal palace library, I intended to once again share Henry's bed and take my rightful place as lady of the house.

I was half awake while thinking these thoughts, naked and locked in my cell for what I expected would be my last night ever down in the dungeons, except of course for those times that Henry and I played at our games and tried out the many devices in our restored torture chamber playroom. My pleasures during those times were both incredible, and necessary with all I had been conditioned to expect with the witch's spell turning pain into intense pleasure. Henry had become a convincing dungeon master for our games, but only once I convinced him of my need for the rougher aspects of my former life from time to time.

My thoughts wandered to the hired help, but especially to Master Tucker, and how each would adjust to this second upheaval in our roles at the castle. The ladies of the castle, (who drew far too much pleasure from my torment), would have to be dealt with. I thought turnabout was fair play, and I had it in my mind to give each of them a night of naked and chained chores just like they gave me, complete with a good sound paddling for some perceived deficiencies. If they refused they could always resign, as it would be far more desirable for me to restart the castle tours with a fresh group of tour guides with no knowledge of my prior enslavement in the castle. Even under the best of circumstances it would be difficult to maintain any level of discipline with employees with such experiences, and it would only take one of them to poison the well and spread the tales of my humiliation to any new employees I may hire.

Master Tucker was another matter, and I intended to keep him around, possibly even allowing him to practice on me from time to time. I had no immediate intentions of following through with any more of the private shows the evil bookworm wanted me to perform in. The shows were intended not only to degrade me further, but also to enrich her personally, but I had mixed feelings about those as they did pry some incredible ecstasy from my tortured body. I had grown fond of Master Tucker though, and his compassion was something that I felt obligated to reward, and I thought he could always be useful as a second option for relief if Henry wasn't about...

I became aware of soft female footsteps coming down the rough hewn stairs into the dungeon, only heard because everything else was dead quiet in the castle at the moment. It had to be the real Beth Eckhart, and I expected to hear her gushing gratitude for my selfless gift of freedom as she opened my cell door at any moment. I feinted sleep as she approached, thinking on how I would humbly accept her gratitude.

I was instead startled fully awake by a dropped tin plate, and I jumped up on reflex as my blanket fell to the floor.


I felt the color drain away from my face instantly as my whole body shook in terror, somehow the bookworm had apparently escaped my trap, and I knew she would take her wrath out on me one hundred fold. How that happened I don't know, but magic is not science. I intended to ask my ghostly dungeon master if I survived long enough to do so in the living, but I had much more immediate problems right in front of me on the other side of my cell door...

I repeated the words of my oath to her, as if I could ever forget them and the perfect trap they formed:

"I will not only follow my mistresses' orders..."

"I exist only to serve my mistress..."

"The terms of our agreement are secret..."

I repeated my oath word for word, in essence remaking it with her, for what purpose I was far to terrified to ask.

"I feel it necessary, in light of all that has happened recently to add one" she said to me.

"Repeat after me, 'I will under no circumstance give the location of a single piece of the treasure to another living sole.'"

I repeated the phrase, wondering why it was necessary, but more importantly wondering what went wrong.

Beth pushed the tin plate she had dropped (the one with my breakfast on it) under the bars of the cell door with the toe of her high heeled leather boot. I was surprised that it was a proper breakfast and not the stale bread and water I had become accustomed to, but I was starving and I greedily grabbed it once on my knees.

"Thank you". The words didn't come from my lips in gratitude for the meal provided by my mistress though, but from hers.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Thank you for releasing me Ann", the real Beth Eckhart stated in a soft and heartfelt way.

My head was spinning, my selfless trick worked, but the innocent looking Beth tricked ME into reaffirming the oath with her, plus an additional condition.

I stopped eating on my knees and just looked up into her eyes begging for an explanation, but already knowing a horrible trick had been played on me.

"The scheme you and the dungeon master cooked up worked perfectly, I am free, and the devious bookworm is trapped. I spent the night with Henry once back in my own body after many months of passively watching all the happenings of the dungeon, and as you well can imagine it was wonderful. The oath you originally made with the bookworm may or may not have carried over to me, and I thought it safest to just have you reaffirm it with me, just in case."

She stopped there, as if that answered all the questions I could possibly have.

"Your welcome, now open this door and let me out."

"I don't think so Ann. What would the hired help, or even Henry think if I suddenly permitted you to resume your former life? They would wonder what happened while 'we' were out last night at that Halloween party, and they would ask all kinds of questions. No, I think I like you right where you are at the moment."

It felt as if I were having the worst nightmare possible, and all I needed to do was to climb back onto my cot and reawaken to freedom.

Sadly that didn't happen, and I remained on my knees as she once again began to speak. It seemed the most natural position for me in her presence.

"Ann, if you truly wanted freedom you would have read that last page yourself. I would have unfortunately remained trapped, but you would have had Henry, and the devious bookworm would have got what she deserved at the hands of the evil duke's spawn. You are either saintly, or far more comfortable in the dungeons than you would like to admit to yourself. I wouldn't blame you for the latter, you've spent several lifetimes down here, and it's this control and torment that I believe feels the most natural to you."

"If you're obedient to me I intend to slowly permit you to earn some limited privileges, as you can obviously tell by my choice of breakfast for you. If you choose not to cooperate however, I'll have no choice but to be seen punishing you in some humiliating and apparently painful way. Remember, Henry thinks he has given control of your discipline over to me, and if I fail to train you up properly he may appoint another to take my place. The devious bookworm has every one upstairs believing you want this to get into the proper mindset for live dungeon shows, as well as believing you get off on all manner of torment no matter who delivers it. I have no plans of ruining their good intentions with a dose of reality either. Just think how terrible all of the ladies would feel, as well as Henry, if they were to discover that their well intentioned torments were quite real and painful for you, and inflicted involuntarily on a somewhat innocent soul."

"Yes ma'am", I answered. The words just rolled off my tongue naturally without any conscience thought.

The real Beth broke into a broad smile, "I like the sound of that, respectful, with just a hint of fear".

I was released from my cell and allowed to bathe and dress in costume once we came to an understanding. More cleaning and dusting during the day where the visitors could see me toil as part of the show, as well as full nights of naked and chained chores to maintain the castle in it's pristine condition despite all the foot traffic. It seemed the best of both worlds from the hired help's point of view, and with Beth now in charge of my night duties her employees were free to go home with their families. None of them seemed to mind not touching a mop or bucket anymore, and between tour groups they made lists of things that I needed to attend to at night when the castle was empty.

I was still stripped to prevent me from ruining my costumes sooner than necessary, and to remind me of my place, as if I could possibly forget it. She seemed delighted to keep me chained like a naked slave girl at night in her finely clothed presence, but at least I was only cuffed after I prepared their dinner and did the castle's laundry in the carriage house. They apparently enjoyed the predictability of my noisy and slow hobbled pace, and I caught myself taking precise eighteen inch steps even when not hobbled. The carriage house was a much newer structure not present when I was originally captured all those centuries ago, and it's access necessitated my naked passage outside the castle proper in all kinds of inclement weather to reach it.

Beth also took a certain dark pleasure in scheduling me to clean near their bedroom in the early part of the night, presumably so they could be amused by the rattle of my chains while her and Henry made love. I was panel gagged as well so I wouldn't be tempted to disturb their quality time with any attempted complaints, and I felt like little more than a toy performing for their entertainment, entertainment I would rather be receiving from Henry first hand.

That first night I received ten solid smacks with a leather paddle from Beth, for not making ENOUGH noise with my chains. I bore down on my gag with the painful smacks delivered by a fellow woman, and therefore not modified by the conditions of the witches protections.

Beth knew this, but I'm sure Henry didn't as he watched my punishment at Beth's hand, likely thinking my muffled yelps were just as pleasurable as the ones he used to give me. Henry must have enjoyed watching my punishment, because his impressive manhood was presenting itself in the most of obvious of ways through his shorts at the conclusion of it.

It was all the more degrading with Henry excitedly watching, as it implied he not only approved of my treatment, but sanctioned the one delivering it. My torment had become foreplay for Henry, but Beth was quite irritated as her flushed appearance indicated I had interrupted her fornication before her anticipated conclusion, and likely because she wondered herself if Henry's manhood was responding to me, or her.

The two left me on my hands and knees with my ass stinging from Beth's powerful blows, and as I toiled at my chores for the next hour while trying to rattle my chains loudly enough to avoid another paddling, I eventually heard Beth's many howling orgasms, orgasms that should have been mine.


When I tried to talk to Henry the next day about all that happened, I found my lips once again magically sealed. I could tell that he thought all that was happening was to my liking, and he was quite full of himself with the wonderful gift he thought he had arranged for me at Beth's powerful hands. The real Beth kept Henry blissfully happy in bed, and she resumed the daily management of the castle in a far more compassionate manor than the bookworm ever had. As a result the other employees were quite devoted to the "new" attitude they thought Beth had developed, as was Henry. She sent Henry on many errands away from the castle, ostensibly to collect new devices for the expanding dungeon tour, and to promote the live dungeon shows I was to perform in whether I wanted to or not.

Beth had watched the films of my torment being made from her cell when she was no more than bones, and she told me she was contacted recently by the group that bought the first ones from the bookworm, and they were extremely satisfied and wanted more.

There were collectors of such films, and these men, (and rarely women), had an eye for detail and could instantly tell if there were any special effects employed in their production. A natural film was worth the most, two cameras filming a single event with no editing being the criteria. These men wanted the recorded event for their own collections, and preferred to have the editing done themselves before trading their dark movies between the like minded collectors, as if members of some sadistic movie club. A film could be offered up as is, or be a commissioned piece to encompass a specific act or series of acts. These collectors were primarily men of means who were used to getting what they wanted, and at the moment I was a hot commodity that the opportunistic Beth wanted to cash in on.

She told me all this not to gloat, but merely because she had to tell somebody, and she realized I had no choice but to keep her secrets. I was the one person in the world that couldn't betray her no matter what, entirely due to my oath to her. I was to be her "cash cow" she had explained once after her third glass of wine, and that no matter what I would be in the movie business until I failed to turn a profit.

The only variable, (she warned me with a wag of her tiny manicured finger), would be if I would be allowed to get something out of the experience for myself. The money they offered was incredible, and she opined that she may have wasted her time at university, as just a few years in the dark movie business could set her for life. I didn't necessarily like the idea of being her retirement plan, but she didn't ask me either. Part of me wondered if she intended to make any cameo appearances in the films, or of I would be performing exclusively with her customers.


In the weeks that followed I found parcel after parcel in our post box with familiar names and addresses, some even from overseas. Beth had me collect the mail while naked and hobbled at night because it amused her, but I had to be careful of the odd passing car late at night catching me at the box on the outside of the heavy gate. The parcels were addressed to Master Henry, and I attended the first one he opened from the man in Kent who had bought two gold coins. He had a hastily hand written note inside the box containing the coins that told of the ghosts that had haunted his home recently, and their demands that he return their treasure immediately to it's rightful place. The man didn't want his money back, only a written response that assured him the treasure was "freely" accepted back into Henry's possession.

I realized this is how my ghostly dungeon masters were going to assure the return of their treasure, and earn their eventual release. The oath preventing me from revealing the treasure's many locations to any other living human was meant to keep it away from the evil dukes spawn, even if they somehow managed to get their hands on me once again. I thought that unlikely with the treacherous bookworm trapped as she was, but the fact that I was compelled to make that additional oath left me with little confidence.

From Beth's twenty first century point of view my oath to her was a simple insurance policy to ensure she stayed on the good side of our ghostly dungeon masters, and I had to wonder if the idea was all her own. The premium I could have to pay for this insurance of my silence could be quite steep, especially if the evil duke's spawn ever got their hands on me again. They knew my secrets and could exploit them indefinitely while having a little revenge on my bound body for all the hardship I caused their heir in the living.

The countess was an especially sadistic woman, I had experienced many men with that particular virtue, but not any women even close to her lacking human empathy. I was wise enough to realize that given enough time, her and her accomplices together with their modern sadistic toys would have me begging for mercy. I wouldn't be able to tell her where the treasure was under the conditions of my oath, but she couldn't know that. I would eventually be reduced to a whimpering play toy for their amusement once they broke my spirit, and that in itself would allow her evil family a victory over my own that just couldn't stand.


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21.03.14 | updated - 07.05.17