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DUNGEON MEAT
By Llabmik
Chapter 1 – Highborn Bitch
Grand Duchess Isabella lifted her nose in utter contempt as she watched that despicable worm, Lord Escobar, toady to the Grand Inquisitor. The lickspittle courtier had a peculiarly fawning expression on his face as he talked to the ancient priest. She would never have invited either the Grand Inquisitor or Lord Escobar to one of her parties, but their hostess, the Queen of Spain, sadly had to cater to all factions.
Feeling immensely superior to such grubby riff-raff, the Grand Duchess chatted amiably with the Queen, admiring the expensive decorations and high-priced entertainment. As far as the Grand Duchess Isabella was concerned, the Grand Inquisitor was just a glorified garbage collector. His filthy, shabbily dressed victims babbling hysterically like retards in front of the crowd at an auto-da-fe were obvious rejects that had to be cleansed for the good of all. The minor garbage was strangled before being burned. The more disgusting garbage shrieked long and hard for the cheering crowd as they twisted and writhed on seats set on poles high above the flames, being slowly roasted for the edification of all.
Truth to tell, Grand Duchess Isabella rather enjoyed watching the lower orders being forced to scream and squirm. After all, they were barely human and only existed to serve and entertain people like her. It's not like they were real people.
As a member of the nobility, she had a balcony seat at each auto-da-fe and was closer to the agonized victims atop their poles than were the teeming masses below. She felt scant sympathy for such filth and avidly watched the grimy, horrified faces contorted in hideous agony as they slowly cooked over the long tongues of flame. It was a real turn-on. It was a shame her husband was dead, because she had really enjoyed fucking his brains out afterwards. Perhaps she could quietly arrange to have sex after the next auto-da-fe with some young stud who could make her eyes roll back like a shark. She looked around the room speculatively.
The Queen discretely raised her fan to cover her mouth, knowing the look of a cunt on the hunt. She nodded surreptitiously across the room at a young, black haired buck with the physique of a matador. She whispered urgently to Isabella.
"Try Ricardo. Fucks like a mink. Keeps his mouth shut."
Isabella nodded appreciatively.
Lord Escobar glanced over at her as he talked. Isabella arrogantly averted her face, affecting not to notice him. The slimy twerp had actually proposed to her, obviously in pursuit of her late husband's vast holdings. The Grand Duchess was certain that she could do much, much better and have fun with a few Ricardos along the way.
Face haughtily averted, Isabella failed to notice the Grand Inquisitor studying her speculatively while she in turn scoped out young Ricardo.
The Grand Inquisitor was ever on the prowl for easy pickings to further enrich the already overflowing coffers of the Holy Church. There was, of course, a finder's fee (a percentage of her estate), which Lord Escobar would collect if his allegations proved true.
The Grand Inquisitor inspected Isabella carefully. A full figured female, whose ramrod stature not only reflected one born to command the lower orders, it also presented her tits nicely. Isabella's creamy complexion was as flawless as fine porcelain. Her spoiled, pretty face reflected a lifetime of arrogance bossing obsequious servants and grovelling peasants.
Her coiffure was one of her many glories. Isabella's personal hairdresser, Carmen, had worked her magic with slim deft fingers. The buxom beauty's long black hair was fancifully woven around, and held in place by, a large, elaborately carved and beautifully lacquered wooden comb. Needless to say, Isabella's only acknowledgement of this skilful service had been a small condescending nod after inspecting Carmen's work critically in a mirror. Why should she do or say anything more? After all, Carmen was just doing her job.
Carmen's rival, Rosita, had beavered away industriously between Isabelita's legs in a bid to try and get Carmen's job after the Duke's death, but it really wasn't the same as a man. It took the edge off her sexual appetite, but the appetite for men remained, burning steadily in her loins. To Rosita's immense frustration, the Grand Duchess could tell the difference between a tongue whore and a hairdresser and thought more highly of the hairdresser.
Isabelita would hardly have drawn much solace if she had heard what young Ricardo was saying to that old roué, Father Carlos.
Father Carlos raised his eyebrows.
"Young Ricardo, how can you prefer older women?"
Ricardo smirked smugly.
"They don't yell. They don't tell. And they're grateful as hell!"
Ricardo winked across the room at the Grand Duchess, speaking to her on the sly with the language of the eyes. She batted her long eyelashes back at him. Her fan fluttered suggestively. Affecting not to notice, Father Carlos addressed young Ricardo quietly.
"You're not the only man ogling that prime piece of flirting fuckmeat. You had best bed her quickly, for I see the Grand Inquisitor and Lord Escobar eyeing the newly made widow like starving wolves circling a straying lamb."
Ricardo nodded. It was common knowledge amongst the courtiers that the Grand Inquisitor had found that widows were easy pickings, suddenly lacking the protection of a powerful husband.
If what the sagacious Lord Escobar had said about the unwillingness of the Grand Duchess to quickly form a protective alliance were true, the Inquisition would make short work of her. The highborn bitches often foolishly believed that the exalted positions of their late husbands still protected them. Having led pampered existences, reality was often a rude shock to them. The Grand Inquisitor always marked the haughtiest, snottiest ones for future reference. A spoiled, pampered beauty was always where the true money was and, after all, teaching her humility was his Christian duty.
Grand Duchess Isabella looked like she would be an interesting student.
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