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The most beautiful girls are mostly the most unfortunate ones in life: prone to be caressed and undressed, used and abused by their mistresses and masters - but our brave heroine Justine is fighting back against the primitive male domination and only in this courageous way she wins herself a true lover . . .
»A feisty fairy tale which would make the Marquis de Sade turn in his grave!«
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
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Damsel in Distress
A feisty Tale of Hope and Despair!
BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 MunichDamsel in Distress
Damsel in Distress
by Pierre d’Amour
BookRix Edition 2016
Copyrigh by Amé
Pierre d’Amour:
DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
A feisty fairy tale, which will make
the Marquis de Sade turn in his grave!
Cover Model Courtesy of
Armstreet Medieval Costumes
1 - Poor Innocence
POOR INNOCENCE
It was a late afternoon in August when I was roaming the dark forest for fresh mushrooms and sweet raspberries, and when I found a nice berry bush I filled my basket with joy: my uncle Hannes would be happy about a fine dessert tonight! Hannes was not really my uncle, but he had won me from my drunken father in a cheating card game, and now I just belonged to him! My poor father had died shortly afterwards from humiliation and shame, but everybody said, that I was much better off now! Hannes was a rich and greedy man: the powerful major of the little sad village of Sorrowhole in the Kingdom of Darken - he was also a hopeless drunkard and an addicted gambler, but there was always plenty of food in the pantry, and my dresses were from the finest he could buy! He had never managed to keep a wife for more than a year, and I was breaking the record already - but I was only a housemaid and had to obey all his perversities!
I did the all cooking and the cleaning for him, I washed his clothes and made the bed - yes: there was only one in his big house, and he liked it like that! And for all my strenuous efforts I got spanked for the slightest mishap and seriously caned for the graver ones - and if I hadn't done any thing wrong at all he did it anyway! Sometimes my poor bottom was so sore that I couldn't sit on it anymore, and I had vowed many times to myself, to run away, far far away from him and his senseless brutality - but I had no idea whereto I should have run and I was scared from the dark world outside: so I sadly never did it! Oh - through all this musings I had completely missed to see the black storm clouds mounting over the treetops, and suddenly it was as dark in the forest as in a dungeon, then the heavens opened up above me and drenched me completely under a relentless waterfall in just a minute - blinding lightening flashed all around me, trying to strike me, and the deafening roar of the thunder scared me like a little girl!
And then I lost my mind: I dropped the berry basket and pulled my wet skirts up and run like a headless chicken with no sense of direction! My greedy uncle Hannes would surely kill me for the lost wicker basket, and that certainty made me run even faster: I bumped into a wet tree, I fell into a prickly blackberry bush and I stumbled over a fallen log and ended up in the mud - it wasn't to be my lucky day! Under a huge boulder I found some shelter to wait out the fury of the storm - my heart was beating like a jungle drum and I was soaked to the skin, I was cold and shivering, I tried to pray to the Lord, but with my trembling lips my prayers turned out more like curses: it was him who actually had sent the freaking storm after me! Since my earliest childhood I was living in constant fear of the monsters of the forest: the grandmother-devouring wolves and the blood-sucking vampires, child-roasting witches and princess-torturing queens - too many horror stories were fed to me much too early, the nightmares were never ending!
After the rain had stopped I found a path through the woods in the last daylight and I followed it to the end, clenching my little dagger hard in my fist. In a clearing stood a little stone hut with a thatched roof on top, and from the chimney rose a plume of smoke - it wasn't built of honey bread or chocolate cake, but it attracted me anyway: It would be warm and dry in there, and a lovely old woman was cooking a hot supper on the fire: I was save at last! But it wasn't an old lovely woman which answered my knocking at the door: It war Prince Charming himself, dressed in an open leather vest and dark brown breeches - certainly a wood cutter for the dark landlord, the King Darken the First, so I guessed! He had unruly red hair on his head and the same bushy curls under his chin, but when he saw me standing all wet and shivering in the door frame, he was greeting me with a big smile: »Welcome to Petter's Paradise, little Princess - just come in and make yourself comfortable!« And with a deep courtesy bow he invited me inside.
I knew that those sort of men were pretty dangerous to young princesses like me, they were always intent to take advantages of their momentary misery, they always forced them to get naked and then they did the unspeakable to them: but whatever that really was I wasn't too sure about! I remembered the innocent games with the neighbour's son Caspar in the past: he was keen to show me his pecker, and he had told me, that he could make children with it when it was fully grown up! And of course: he wanted to see mine too, but there was nothing to see on me, just bare pale skin and a narrow slit to pee through, and poor Caspar was always pretty disappointed with my female charms! Hannes was never able to do the unspeakable to me: he definitely drank too much and his pecker was constantly refusing to grow up - sure: at night he touched me everywhere in his bed, he loved my little breasts and my sore bum, but he was better at snoring next to me than to make me a woman, which he had promised me frequently!
Petter had poured me a cup of hot tea with two spoons of sweet honey in it and a dash of strong rum - to prevent me from catching a cold, so he explained! Then he tied a long cord line in front of the hot fireplace, to dry my clothes, as he said: he was a dangerous man and he wanted to get me naked! He asked me my name, when I was struggling with my wet dress like a clumsy girl, and replied to his annoying question: »Virginia it is, Master Petter!« I couldn't give him my real name without risking to be returned to my brutal uncle early next morning, so a little lie came in quite handy here! Petter laughed and followed on with his enquiries: »And how old are you, sweet Virginia - if I may ask?« Now this was getting tricky: I had finally managed to undo all the strings and hooks of my tight felt corset and to take a deep breath! »Eighteen!«, I bluffed and Petter just laughed again! »Oh, and still a virgin then so I would presume?«, he was taking up the joke, and he sounded an appreciative whistle, when my long gown rushed to the floor!
And because he saw me now in my wet undergarments, sticking to me like a second skin he added with a chuckle: »And a very pretty virgin at that, as far as I can see!« My nipples were sticking through the thin fabric of my chemise like pebbles and the flimsy petticoat stuck to my bum like a Christmas wrapper to enhance its erotic shape, perfectly designed by the Lord to attract such lewd men like him! Shame was reddening all four of my cheeks, but at least I was growing warm so close to the fire! The evil Petter promised me a woolen blanket as soon as I had all my clothes on the line, he was torturing my virtues - but he was right and I knew it: shame can lead to terrible colds and lethal lung infections! So I hung my petticoat on the line and the chemise too, I tried to be brave! I hated those bloomers with the open back, my uncle had insisted of wearing, because they were practical for groping my buttocks and for spanking my poor bottom, but I had to get out of the dripping wet petticoat if I ever wanted to get dry!
