Ten men felt down from the trees on the astonished guards who died without understanding what was going on, throats savagely cut by sharp blades.
Three men in black jumped on the Russian woman, astonished as her men, but she was not killed. Hard hands took off her long black coat, leaving her in her puffed sleeves white shirt.
“Don’t kill her but tie her up!” An imperative feminine voice claimed!
Frightened Charlotte and her maid looked at a woman all in white on a black horse. All was white on her, puffed pants, boots, shirt and even the turban covering her hair and forehead. Only her long eyes were black, glaring at the Russian woman with cruelty:
“Tie her up and tight! I want to hear her crying for help…”
She took something in a pocket in front of her horse’s saddle, something which looked like panties, more yellow than white.
”And when she will cry, stuff that in her big mouth!”
The woman felt down from her black horse and pinched the Russian nose with her right hand holding the panties.
“Smell is good, Ivana Romanov? Sorry, they are not mines but I took for you the panties of a fat woman in slavery. A bitch like you does not deserve the underwear of a Princess in her dirty mouth!”
The Russian woman struggled furiously in the rough hands of her captors while they tried to tie her hands behind her back with a long brown rope. She moved back the head in the desperate hope to escape to the strong and disgusting smell. The men were holding her tight and she couldn’t escape to nothing.
The Princess pulled the panties between her lips opened wide by two men’s hands and she pushed them with three long brown fingers, pushing still when the dirty cloth touched her throat.
Charlotte always bound and now held firmly by two Turk warriors, looked at her enemy with surprise. Romanov? This woman was a member of the Czar’s family?
She observed the scène with some pleasure, seeing the warriors pulling on the rope as if they tried to break the woman's wrists. The French countess had suffered for so long time from the hands of this evil woman. Tie her up, make her suffer, humiliate her!
But Charlotte and her maid always were bound captives! Charlotte could not forget it, with the bite of the ropes in her soft skin and the rough hands pinching her naked arms. Even worst, the man on her left had taken in hand the rope falling down from her poor breasts reduced to the form of two red lemons! And he pulled on this leash, even without any resistance of the white captive. His warrior friend held now Josepha by a long black hair of her armpit and twisted it with a great smile under his long mustache.
The warriors had great difficulty in mastering a furious Ivana Romanov. Finally a big man tore her white shirt, freeing her heavy white breasts. The Turkish princess took one nipple between two long golden painted nails and pinched hard. The woman roared in distress and pain.
“Tie up this cow while I’m holding her tits!” The princess ordered, pulling on the long pink tits.
Rope came around the breasts like for Charlotte and like Charlotte’s nipples, they became red berries repressed by the rope.
This rope was passed two times behind her neck and the men holding her pushed her bound wrists towards it, until her fingers touched the rough rope. It was painful and the Romanov woman roared one more time in her disgusting gag but the men ignored her and joined her bound wrists to the neck rope, immobilizing her hands between the high of her shoulder blades.
The furious woman tried still to dislodge her gag but the rope held her arms twisted behind her back, her shirt opened and her tits held by her enemy.
The Turkish princess pinched harder and she pulled at nipples as if she wanted to tear them away.
Ivana stopped her resistance, glaring at her mocking captor who laughed:
“I see that you know who your mistress is now, Ivana Romanov! Take a leash and tie it to her breast rope, like the French captive. Romanov will walk behind my horse.”
The captives were tied in a coffle, Ivana Romanov pulled by her nipples by the Turkish woman, Charlotte de Maupas pulled by the leash on her breasts joined to Romanov’s twisted forearms and Josepha walking behind her, joined by a neck rope to her mistress’s bound elbows.
Chain of cruelty, chain of pain but the brave captives did not cry.
They walked for hours and it was so long for the two barefoot captives. At least the Russian prisoner had her waders and could jump on the sharp stones when her captor pulled on the leash and she often pulled, only for laughing at her groaning captive.
“When we’ll go out of the forest, Ivana darling, I’ll take off your pants. Better to whip your big ass!”
Charlotte and Josepha knew perfectly the meaning of this. Warriors regularly whipped their naked asses, just for fun. The two captives were obliged to run after the Russian woman, Charlotte pulled by the leash pressing her red bobs, Josepha by the rope strangling her neck!
There were miles and miles before getting out of the forest. Charlotte and Ivana’s breasts were turning purple because the rope tightened around them each time the Turkish woman pulled on the leash and Charlotte’s ass was red by the whip. Finally the company led to a vast grassy expanse, the steppe!
Waiting on the road by the front gate was a horse drawn cart. At the front, a driver held the reins of two dark colored horses hitched to the wagon. As the warriors pushed the helpless captives towards the cart, the driver detached itself from the front of the cart and stepped off it.
Ivana was the first one to be taken. A warrior took her breast-leash while another one tore the shreds of her shirt.
“A nice view for my men!” the princess appreciated.
Ivana was furious and humiliated but she could not do anything but to follow the men.
Josepha was the next one, her ass whipped without any pity.
Charlotte was the last one to be carried around to the back of the cart. As she was lifted up, she saw her fellow captives lying in the back of the wagon, their hair in disarray and looks of anger on their gagged faces.
After the newest captive was dropped, none-too-gently, in the back of the wagon with the others, the warriors climbed onto the wagon. At a signal from them, the driver flicked the reins, and the wagon began to roll forward. Charlotte could hear clomping of hooves, the grinding of wheels, the creak of the timber wagon but she only exchanged sad looks with poor terrified Josepha.
Where did the Turk army take them?
After a long way in the steppe, the wagon stopped.
“Right!” The princess said, pulling back on the reins of her horse. “Let’s get this lot packaged and be well away from here before any Russian army comes and help them.” She turned to look over the prisoners, a cruel, greedy look in her eyes as she looked over her load of captive females.
Two warriors hopped down from the wagon and ran off into the woods. A second later, they returned, rolling a large wooden barrel. Standing it at the rear of the wagon, they popped the lid. Apart from a strong smell of beer, the barrel was empty.
The princess and the driver had, meanwhile, climbed into the back of the wagon with the captives. They grabbed Charlotte and lifted her up. The squirming girl was lowed into the open barrel. Josepha was grabbed next and joined her in the wooden prison. The two warriors on the ground dropped the barrel lid back into place, muffling the two young women’ sobs. Rolling it out of the way, they retrieved another empty barrel and rolled it to the wagon and set it up to push a groaning Ivana Romanov inside.
“You can keep your pant on you some more time!” The princess laughed at the terrified captive.
Charlotte and her maid were loaded into the same barrel. The naked captives found themselves pressed against one another into the tight confines of their wooden cage. The barrel lid was slid into place overhead, plunging the French girls into pitch black darkness. They felt their prison shift around them as the warriors rolled the barrel out of the way. Faintly, muffled by the wooden walls surrounding her, Charlotte heard another empty barrel being rolled up.
When the three captives had been sealed up, the barrels and their helpless occupants were tipped over and rolled back up into the bed of the wagon. When the final one was in place, the kidnappers got the wagon moving again.
Charlotte groaned into her gag. As this nightmare journey continued, conditions in the barrel quickly became intolerable. Though small holes had apparently been drilled into the barrel, allowing enough air into the confined space to keep the two captives from suffocating, the air still became stuffy and hard to breathe. Though a canvas tarp had been thrown over the wagon bed to shield the barrels from the hot sun, it soon became stifling hot inside of them. The two captives, pressed tight against each other, were both sweating heavily.
“How long before all of us are completely cooked?” Charlotte wondered miserably. She couldn’t understand why this was happening to her… She was just an innocent spy!
Around four in the afternoon, the princess pulled off the road, into the shade of a stand of trees. The little army dozed in the shade for about twenty minutes. Before resuming their journey, the barrels were opened and a welcome drink of water for the captives given from a leather skin. Then, the poor women were gagged once more and the lids closed up to resume traveling.
Little changed, for the captives, until several hours later. It was past sundown when the wagon came to a sudden, jarring halt. Charlotte was jarred from the fitful sleep she’d managed to snatch despite her uncomfortable circumstances. She always felt the strong smell of beer but it was covered by their perspiration and gagged as she was, she had to breathe through the nose!
The sweating girls were extracted from their tiny jail just to see Ivana taken out and pushed towards the princess.
Two warriors took her legs up and the princess came to her victim with a cruel look
“Help me to take off her pants!”
At these words, the Romanov woman tried to rush but the men held her tight. She roared furiously in her big gag all the time her enemy stripped her slowly.
“Tie her hands to this branch!” the princess ordered.
Poor bound wrists were pulled high over her back, pushing her bare ass backward. Ivana grunted louder. She grunted even louder when the princess took a whip. Fifty violent blows on the pale skin, in the joy of the troop!
Princess Aïcha gently stroked the red marks left by the whip on the arched ass of her helpless captive. The whispered in the sobbing woman’s ear:
“Do you remember the time I was hostage in your sinister castle, Ivana? I’ll never forget it!”
They left her sobbing on the grass while they installed the camp, at least ten large tents.
The princess came back and she pushed with kicks her defeated enemy to her own tent where they disappeared.
Following the instructions of the princess, a warrior freed Charlotte of the terrible bondage she suffered since the morning but he did not touch the gag. He even twisted her sore arm behind her back again when she tried to take off the full tasting panties stuffed in her mouth.
Ten minutes later, Charlotte and her maid were lying on the grass, their hands pulled towards two opposite trees, but before tying up their wrists their captors had tied their legs. Left Charlotte’s ankle was tied very tightly to Josepha’s upper thigh, with a rope digging deeply in their flesh, until the sole of her foot pressed her maid’s pussy. Then her right ankle was tied as so tightly to the other side of Josepha’s left thigh.
Josepha ankles were tied in the same way to Charlotte’s right thigh, the black woman’s right sole pressed against Charlotte’s pussy.
Finally the men pulled on their wrist ropes until they were fully stretched on the ground, eyes facing the rising moon, their hairy armpits exposed to the mocking looks of the company.
“Sorry that Princess Aïcha does not authorize us to play more with you! And she takes her fun with the Russian captive!” A warrior said sadly.
Charlotte felt Josepha naked sole moving on her exposed pussy, brushing her red hair…
Would they be able to sleep?