Anselm's escape

Anselm’s only chance of escape he concluded was somehow to get the guard to unlock his chains... but how?

Meanwhile the maid servant was suffering the full heat of Torquemada’s perverted pleasures as he quickly extracted from her a confession. She was a witch, a heretic, ungodly and she had fed on the babies of the village, drinking their blood and smashing their heads on the rocks below the castle. Her fate was sealed and she was taken away to be summarily cleansed of her sins in the purifying flames of the fire, her stake already prepared with bales of straw. She screamed as she was dragged away and Torquemada felt the intense pleasure of her agony as her pain penetrated the depths of his dark and damaged soul.

Lady Anna Maria would not have it so easy the vile Torquemada had decided. Both he and the Prince would enjoy her company in her dungeon that very night and they would take pleasure from her pain. Her suffering would be long, there would be no quick release for the Prince’s bride to be, who had betrayed him and brought shame on the family. No, both men would enjoy the sexual thrill of hearing her beg for mercy, mercy that would not be forthcoming.

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Anselm began to whistle a sweet refrain, much to the chagrin of the two armoured soldiers standing guard duty outside his dungeon. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying himself in there thought one of the guards and he quickly unbolted the dungeon and walked inside, telling his companion to lock the door behind him. He had been expressly forbidden to unlock the dungeon and he didn’t want Torquemada turning up unannounced and taking umbrage but he also knew that his boss wouldn’t mind so much if he went in and chastised the arrogant prisoner as long as escape was impossible.

Anselm smiled, the first part of his plan successful. What was it with thick people he thought? Wasn’t it enough for them that he was imprisoned in a damp, cold cell, sharing it with rodents and awaiting trial by torture, inevitably to be followed by death in the fires of the stake? No, they had to see that he was thoroughly desolate for every second of his remaining hours of life.

Anselm’s deception continues tomorrow – will the guard fall for his slippery tricks and will his cunning plan be a success? See Silk Stocking Stories tomorrow.