Prisoner of Darkhaven (7 page)

Two smaller chairs sat at his right and left. Although, not as

grandiose as the king's, they were still elegantly made and larger than

any chair Elise had ever sat in.

Duke DeMumart walked ahead of her. Two of his guard stood at

either side and led her down the long walkway. Once she stood in

front of the Dais, Elise got her first real look at the King.

He was nothing like she expected. In fact, unlike all the stories of

his manly prowess, before her sat a short balding sickly man who

looked much older than his professed thirty years. If he had not been

wearing the fine silk purple robes of a King, she would have mistaken

him for a pauper. No wonder, people never saw much of the King in

public.

He stared at Elise with little interest. Duke DeMumart approached

him just before stepping and motioning to her.

"Your Majesty, I present Lady Elise Brenton of Haven."

She curtsied as low as she could. "Your Majesty," She stood.

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King Horace blinked several times, his expression very confused

and a bit guarded.

"Who is she?"

Elise arched her brows. Who is she? She looked at the king then at

DeMumart, back to the King. DeMumart huffed loudly.

He rolled his eyes, "The girl from the village who passed your

tests."

"My tests?" The King looked even more bewildered.

DeMumart stepped up to the dais and leaned down to whisper in

the King's ear.

After a long moment, King Horace motioned her closer.

"Duke Mumart..."

"DE-Mumart ... Sire." The Duke looked quite irritated.

The King glanced up at him. He nodded like a child accepting his

discipline. "De-Mumart, has advised me that you have proven

yourself worthy to be my wi..."

Before he could finish, DeMumart sunk his nails in the king's

shoulder, causing obvious discomfort. He bent low again and

whispered something else in the King's ear.

Horace blinked and cleared his throat, "It would appear something

is amiss, Lady Alice."

"Elise!" DeMumart nearly bellowed. He dug his nails further into

the king's bony shoulder.

This time Horace flinched, but made no attempt to loosen the

Duke's grip.

"Yes ... ahh Elise. Well you a ... see..." he reached up with a

shaking hand and tugged on the Duke's coat, "What exactly is amiss?"

Frustrated with the King, Duke DeMumart raked a hand though his

hair and stepped in front of the still highly bewildered King. "It

would appear that his Majesty does not feel you have yet proven

yourself worthy to be his Queen."

It suddenly occurred to Elise what was going on. "Perhaps you

should give the King time to rest before making any decision. He

appears to be quite stricken."

DeMumart traveled his unnerving glare over Elise, head to foot.

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"The King is in perfect health..."

He hissed the words at Elise, quite affronted that she would

challenge any authority; he obviously had over the King. The King

seemed to be under some kind of trance, or perhaps influenced by

some unnatural force. Horace's eyes looked glassy. Elise wondered if

he even had a clue where or who he was.

"With all due respect, my Lord Duke, I feel that the king is not of

his right mind in these matters." Elise looked up. It took every ounce

of strength in her body to keep her shaking knees from buckling. The

Duke was an intimidating presence. Why she had decided to push his

fragile control was a mystery.

What she did know was that DeMumart was not at all what he

seemed. Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her wrist

and twisted it painfully. Elise cried out, tried to pull her arm free.

DeMumart smiled evilly and jerked her against him. She turned

her face away from his frightening visage.

"Since you are so sure of yourself, little wench, I give you one

more task."

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DeMumart had locked her in a room. She was to stay there until

the morning, at which time the Palace Guard would come for her.

Her third task
. What was she going to do? Four times already she had

tried to summon Damien, however something prevented it.

Perhaps Damien was too involved with the Damnation Scrolls to

hear her. He had told her of the curse that keeps him prisoner within

the walls of Darkhaven Castle. How she wished she could help him.

She told him that when she was queen she would do all she could for

him.

Sadness settled in her chest. The thought of being with anyone

other than Damien was heartbreaking. Yet, she saw no other way out

of their dilemmas. Damien had been less than thrilled with her offer.

She knew why. However how could they ever be together?

No matter what happened, she would vow to help him. All he

needed was the name of the Demon who cursed him. It was simple

enough. Unfortunately, part of the curse was that Damien could never

remember. It seemed futile.

"Oh Damien, why can't you hear me?"

The door to her room slammed open. Duke DeMumart stood in the

entranceway. "There has been a change of plans."

Two burly nights entered the room and grabbed Elise by the arms.

"Where are you taking me?" She twisted and kicked frantically to

get a way.

Duke DeMumart led them through a secret passage way hidden in

the wall of her room. Pulling a torch from the sconce he used to open

the doorway, he took them down a steep staircase. It wound around

twice until they reached the lower bowels of the castle.

Elise recognized the horrid stench of rotting flesh. It was dark,

damp and cold. The clanking of metal and stone told Elise exactly

where DeMumart was taking her.

"No, no! Please I've done nothing! No!"

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The two big men dragged her into the

cell and hoisted her up. DeMumart came up behind her and clamped

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on two wrist shackles that left her dangling in the middle of the cell.

He grabbed a flogger that was hanging on the wall behind him.

He put the handle under her chin and lifted her face, forcing her to

stare him in the eyes.

"I know you possess no magic, bitch. So tell me how you were

able to perform these tasks I gave you?"

Elise flinched. She tried to turn her face away from his hideous

expression.

"I-I have no idea what you are talking about!" her voice shook as

the words spilled from her lips.

DeMumart growled low, reminding her of the rabid dogs, she had

seen in the village square. He yanked her head back with a fist full of

hair. "Liar!"

He walked behind her and swished his flogger through the air.

Elise braced herself for the first strike.

Thwack!

She arched her back and cried out. It stung. She knew he had

drawn blood, for she felt the wetness seep from the welt DeMumart

had surely caused.

"Tell me!" His voice echoed inside the tiny cell. He waited.

Elise bit her lip to keep from crying out for mercy.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

This time she screamed. Her body tensed with the pain throbbing

in her back. Elise could barely get enough air in her lungs. Each time

she inhaled it made her back burn as if someone had thrown salt in an

open wound.

She gasped short ragged breaths. Her body shook. DeMumart

moved to her front again. He grabbed a fist full of hair again and

jerked her head back so that her face was an inch away from his.

"Tell me!" His voice was almost whispered, yet the tone remained

deadly.

Elise trembled. Her mouth went dry. The burning in her back

slowly diminished into a dull pulsing ache.

"M-my Lord, I ... I sw ... swear I have n ... no idea what it is you

ask."

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DeMumart snarled. "Don't you now!" He came around, glaring at

her face. Roughly, he yanked her head back with a fist full of hair

once again. His breath wafted over her cheek. He smelt of death.

Elise tried to cringe away from him. "Little bitch! Do you think to

fool me! Have you any idea who I am?"

She shook her head, trembling with terror.

DeMumart smiled evilly. He ran his hand down the front of her

dress, over her heaving breasts. Just below her waist, he grabbed a

fistful of satiny material and tore it from her body.

Elise hung with her lower body completely exposed and vulnerable

to whatever DeMumart would do.

He forced her to face his penetrating stare. Purposely he stood

there eye to eye with her, knowing it tortured her to anticipate his next

move. A depraved smile stretched across his face.

Without a word, he slowly brought up his hand. Long bony fingers,

grew longer and unnaturally twisted together until it formed a long

thick rope of flesh. Thorns about an inch long, sprouted from the

perverse appendage from tip to base, where his knuckles would have

started.

Elise winced.

He turned from her and walked behind her. She tried to turn her

head to see where he had gone. However, the way her arms were

hung over her head, prevented her from looking over her shoulder.

She whimpered with trepidation.

Her gut twisted when she heard something being dragged across the

stone floor. An instant later, DeMumart returned with a coil of rope.

He grabbed one of her legs roughly, startling her. She tried to squirm

out of his grasp, however he overpowered her attempt.

To her left she saw a wooden column, which had several hooks and

latches, It appeared to be a whipping post of some kind. Suddenly her

leg was stretched to the side and rope looped around her knee. When

she realized that DeMumart meant to tie her leg to the post she cried

out and thrashed against binds.

Thwack!

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The sting of anther lash stopped her struggling. DeMumart reared

back and gave her another thrash;

getting her unwilling cooperation, or else suffer another bout of

painful whipping.

Once he had her leg secured to the post, he did the same on the

other side.

Elise could do nothing but hang limply with her thighs pried

obscenely apart.. . The terrible Duke stood back with a smirk on his

ugly face. He looked at her exposed pussy and licked his lips.

She shook. The thought of this vile man touching her intimately

made her sick. Desperately, she tried to close her legs, however the

ropes had been securely tied. She couldn’t budge from the

humiliatingly helpless position. .

Shaking her head violently she beseeched DeMumart, "Please ... p-

please ... no ... no!"

He tossed his head back and laughed. His voice more demonic then

human. When he looked back at her, he slowly descended the spiked

torture-weapon of flesh created with his own fingers, until the tip

pressed against her vaginal opening.

Elise screamed!

"Now bitch tell me or I will tear you to shreds. TELL ME!"

He jabbed her, just enough that the tip of his finger-phallus,

breached her slightly. She cried out in a mixture of terror and pain.

The spikes had not entered her, yet the knowledge that she was close

to being penetrated by the horrific thing was unbearable.

"I ... I ... don't know!" Elise couldn't find the courage to speak. Her

body shook violently. Her heart pounded against her ribcage

threatening to burst right out of her chest. She tried to speak again,

but the words were incoherent, due to the heaving breaths and

uncontrollable sobbing.

It only angered DeMumart more. He snarled at her.

"You deserve this for your insolence!"

He pulled his hand back, preparing to impale Elise.

"My Lord?"

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DeMumart stopped at the sound of his servant's voice. Growling he

turned to face the man who interrupted him.

"What!"

The young man came to a halt before his master. His eyes grew

large, his face blanched. Elise still hung with her thighs wide open,

exposing her most intimate flesh to anyone passing by. The servant

swallowed and quickly averted his eyes. He gave DeMumart a slight

bow.

"His majesty is having another fit. He is convinced the shadows in

his room are attacking him. H-he is calling for you."

DeMumart rolled his eyes. His lips thinned to a grim line. He

yanked his hand away from Elise. As quickly, as it had formed into a

weapon, it unraveled and became normal once again.

He turned to the servant. "Take her down."

The man blinked several times. "Where shall I bring her?"