I knew that letting the Baron seduce me was unladylike, but I’d had just a little too much wine after dinner to be thinking clearly. Anyway, we ended up in his bed where he was finally about to get to the good part when he suddenly came all over my belly. Perhaps it was the wine, or the simple fact I hadn’t had sex since I left Paris three months earlier, but I lost it and said something I probably shouldn’t have and in a moment of anger slapped his face. In the dim candle light, I never saw the punch coming.

Anyway, I awoke down here in the dungeon of the Baron’s castle, naked and secured within the spike lined chair with the Baron’s hooded executioner standing over me, “So Lady Margret, I think just about now you must be regretting all those unfortunate things you said about the Baron’s manhood not to mention that ill-advised slap to his face.”

Seeing the sudden look of terror in my eyes, the executioner quickly added, “And its best if you try not to struggle. The chair’s spikes, while exceedingly uncomfortable, shouldn’t break your skin if you remain absolutely still. However, if you decide to struggle, they’ll gradually rip your skin and muscles to shreds.”

Realizing that the horror of her situation was only now starting to overwhelm Lady Margret’s senses, the executioner smiled behind his face concealing leather hood, “The Baron told me you were mine to abuse as I desire, his sole requirement, that you would still be alive in the morning when the Baron comes down to enjoy your execution.”

Shocked I replied, “Execution, how dare he, I’m a lady of the royal court!”

I could almost hear the humor in the executioner’s voice, “That may be all well and good back in Paris, but here in the outer providences the rule of the council of Barons is absolute. Tonight, you’ll sit where you are, screaming in agony for my amusement, but in the morning you’ll be chained to the wheel as I use a heavy iron cudgel to methodically break and crush the bones and joints of your body until you die.”

Pausing to walk over and remove a red-hot iron from the heat of the flames, the executioner smiled darkly as he turned to Lady Margret and asked, “Shall we begin?”