Stable Boy
- 2 years ago
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"How many more, Raymond?" You ask, idly studying your fingernails.
The shirtless man standing in the courtyard, breathing heavily, turns to face you. "Only one, my Queen. A stable boy accused of theft by his employer."
Without looking up, you reply, "Very well. Have him brought in. And get this one out of my sight." Your eyes flick dismissively at the unconscious man suspended by his wrists at the whipping post about ten meters in front of your elegant throne. "
"Yes my Queen" comes the reply. You watch as your executioner cuts the man's bonds, allowing him to fall lifelessly to the ground before dragging him out by his bruised wrists.
Watching peasants undergo their post-sentencing beatings was once the most exciting part of your duties as Queen and judicial Overseer. Now it just felts stale. Day in, day out, watching the same thing over and over, heating grown men cry shamelessly, it got old over the years. Though your sadistic side still enjoys the spectacle, the process has become something of a chore. None of the men passing through your courtyard draw your interest. Sometimes you see blood drawn, which is always enjoyable, but beyond that your duties have become rather boring lately.
As you consider this, the last prisoner of the day is brought into the courtyard. He is bound by the wrists, wearing the same tattered rags as the rest, but something about this one catches your eye. The first thing you notice is his size. The man casts a shadow that nearly fills the courtyard. His ripped tunic reveals large muscles which glisten in the sunlight. He clearly works hard each day; this man is no stranger to physical labor. As you look up and down his bulky figure you realize the prisoner is a good deal younger than any other. While most of the men sentenced to beatings are old or out of shape, this one has quite a bit of life left in him.
"How old are you?" You ask.
"I am 18, Ma'am." The man meets your gaze directly, as though not afraid of the fate that awaits him.
"Do you know why you are here?"
His mouth turns upward in a humorless smile. "If I had to guess, I'd say it has to do with he whip your executioner is holding and that giant wooden post in the ground over there."
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It was 1am and Dave was doing his rounds. Tonight wasn’t strictly necessary as the riding stables he was working security for had no horses in, they were all away to the races. Dave however was a man of routine. Ex-army and took the job seriously. It wasn’t his night tonight either, he was doing the shift for one of his team so that they could have the night off and party. The grooms had taken the chance to clear the stables out and instead of relining them with hay, they had left them to...
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