Princess Jasmine in Peril

This photostory is one of the first things I shot with the gorgeous Jasmine Sinclair back in the early days of the site. It has never before been available for individual purchase... so kick off your shoes, download, and enjoy an epic BDSM tale of Medieval damsels, punishment and bodice-ripping peril!

Princess Jasmine in Peril

Princess Jasmine was sitting in her day-chamber on the morning of the battle, sewing another tapestry to commemorate her father's victory over the forces of the Duke of Navarre. Or was it Burgundy? Or Aix-la-Chapelle? Oh no, Aix-la-Chapelle was the one he was off fighting today. Something about an insult to his maiden daughter's honour. Daddy was always getting worked up about things like that. She supposed she had led the Duke's dashing elder son on a little, asking him to dance twice in the same evening, but she hadn't meant anything bad by it. It all seemed such a silly thing to fight over- they said that Italians kissed hands every time they met! Still, Daddy was such a stickler for all that courtesy stuff. It all seemed a bit silly to her, big hairy knights curtseying to her and writing her poems, calling her the fairest damsel in the twelve kingdoms. Which was all very nice, but how many other girls were there in the twelve kingdoms? Had they seen all of them, and decided she was the best? Or was it that Daddy was a rich and powerful Prince with no sons and an unmarried daughter?

There was the usual cacophony of armour and horses at the gates. Princess Jasmine was mildly surprised that the battle could be over already, but maybe it had only been a little one. It had only been a little kiss, after all. There was a bit of commotion outside and one of her maids screamed. Daddy must have forgotten to clean the gore of his armour again, silly thing.

It took her a minute to realise that the knight in armour who had entered her chamber was not, in fact, her father. She gasped in surprise, then issued a lady-like "Eeek!" as he pointed his unsheated sword right at her!

"You've given me a great deal of trouble, Princess Jasmine. " said the eldest son of the Duke of Aix-la-Chapelle. "You and I inadvertantly caused a minor scandal, but your father wouldn't let it be. Everyone would have forgotten it in a season or so, but instead the old fool insisted on charging out to avenge your honour. Of course, my father had to defend MY honour, and we all rode out to meet on the field of battle. Now there's two dead Dukes on the field of gold outside and I've half a mind to take you out there, strip you bare and spank your backside in front of the peasants."

Poor daddy! He'd always said he was going to die in battle one of these days, but over such a silly thing as a little kiss on the hand! She was just thinking what to say when his Grace, the newly-crowned Duke of Aix-la-Chapelle, put his armoured gauntlet right on her bosom. Any pretty little speech was instantly forgotten. She issued a second lady-like "Eeek!"

"I think you'll find that in a few minutes they're going to come charging up here to find out if I intend bloody murder on their soon-to-be-crowned new Duchess. So this lesson had better be short and sharp!"

A third lady-like "Eeek!" issued from Princess Jasmine as he toppled her from her chair and dumped her, gently but firmly, onto the ground. His armoured fist closed about her throat. She couldn't tell if he was about to kiss her or choke her. Neither could he.

Instead, he unhitched a length of rope from his belt and tied her wrists together with it, then hauled her up over the candelabra hook in the ceiling. "I think, Madame La Duchess, that this should serve as a warning to be careful who you allow to kiss you in future." In his hand he held a small whip. The first swish-crack caused the issue of the fourth lady-like "Eeek!" from Princess Jasmine's perfect lips.

It wasn't a very big whip, and her dress did have several layers, but needless to say no-one had ever raised so much as a hand to Princess Jasmine before. Even Daddy had only ever threatened her. So it was shock, rather than pain that caused her to issue a fifth lady-like "Eeek!" when the whip landed again. Now this tall and very strong (and rather handsome?) Duke was laying the whip into her flanks as if she were a mis-behaving riding filly. He was very determined, give him that, but really it didn't hurt at all, once you got used to the sting. He really was laying it in with some enthusiasm though, so she supposed she's better get into the spirit of things. She eschewed a sixth lady-like "Eeek!" in favour of a tentative "Ow?"

He made the fatal mistake of making eye contact. "This doesn't really hurt at all, does it?"

"Well, a bit. But if it helps, you can carry on for a while... and I am really sorry about your daddy, and mine... it was only a kiss on the hand!"

"Bloody stupid stiff necked old farts!" thundered the Duke. He threw the whip to the floor, grabbed the princess by the arm and firmly but gently forced her back into her seat- where he bound her. "You stay there, or else!" he exclaimed, and stomped off, all jingling spurs. It isn't to see much of a man's behind in armour, but Princess Jasmine had the memory of the dance to help her. He wasn't that good at knots, either. She supposed that it wasn't easy to tie them tight wearing steel gauntlets. She had nimble fingers, and she thought she might be able to get them undone in quarter of an hour or so...

He pre-empted her decision by coming back into the chamber, sans gauntlets but equipped with more rope and a silk scarf. He tied her considerably more securely to the chair, then knotted the silk gag before inserting it into her mouth.

Now there were limits! Princess Jasmine wasn't sure about the chivalry of whips and so forth, but she was pretty sure that gags were not de rigeur for an honourable knight, let alone a Duke! She gave him a hard glare as he retreated from the chamber once again. His face registered a certain amount of surprise- he'd never seen any woman's eyes flash so steely cold before, and it was doubly unexpected coming from this tiny princess.

Princess Jasmine was quite annoyed. A lady-like "Eeek!" was out of the question, so she settled for a forceful "Mmmmph!". Fortunately the un-lady-like utterance was also unintelligible!

Princess Jasmine fixed the Duke with a sharp look upon his return. He had a couple of other people with him, but they stayed in the outer room. She kicked out at him when he came near, but a Princess' soft, small bare feet do not make much impression on a Duke's armoured codpiece. "I apologise for the gag, Princess. It was uncalled for, and uncharitable to boot. Do I have your word that you will not scream if I remove it?" She nodded.

"Thank you." He removed the gag, ignoring her kicks. She caught her toe against his greave, and bit her lip at the unexpected pain. She looked him full in the eyes, but somehow couldn't think of anything to say. He just added a second rope to haul her legs out of harm's way, then turned to the outer room and led in the two men who were waiting there. One was her confessor, Father Jean, and the other was her father's youngest councillor, Sir Etienne.

"So, Sir Etienne, are we agreed?"

"We are."

"Princess, do you agree with me that this annual slaughter over who has looked and whose daughter has to cease?"

"Well, yes. It is so silly..."

Sir Etienne spoke "Princess, we have a plan that will prevent more senseless battles, but we need your help to put it into play. The younger members of the councils are all agreed. It is time to bring Chivalry back to Earth. What we need is a symbolic gesture, from someone really, really important. From you, in fact."

Father Jean interrupted. "Regardless of this foolish plan, we have at least one duty to perform. I know we haven't got the crown here, but I believe we need a Duchess and the blessing of God will have to suffice. Princess, please bow your head."

She started to protest that she didn't think it was right to be crowned Duchess when tied to a chair, but the look in the Duke of Aix-la-Chapelle's eyes stopped her. She bowed her head and joined Father Jean in the short prayer as he sprinkled holy water very gently over her hair.

"Now, do I have a second duty to perform, your Grace?"

Duchess Jasmine wondered which of them he was speaking to, until the Duke went down on one knee, took her hand and kissed it for the second time. Surprise was replaced by shock when he asked her to marry him. In their twilight years they used to tease each other than the issue of a sixth lady-like "Eeek!" was probably not the proper response at such a moment.

The Perils Of Princess Jasmine (Part Two)

Her Grace, Princess Jasmine, Duchess of Aix-la-Chapelle was happy, most of the time. She'd got her hands on the reins of power, and she was doing a pretty good of steering (even if she said so herself). Her husband dealt with all the wars and statecraft, and she dealt with making sure everyone had enough to eat and that the trade routes stayed open so they could all have the nice things they wanted. The people loved her, the merchants were delighted with her, and even the clergy grudgingly accepted that she was quite good at running the domestic affairs of the Duchy. The only person who never seemed to be impressed was her husband, the Duke. She didn't quite know why. Was it that he thought warcraft was more important than making sure the bread got to the ovens? He seemed to spend a lot of his time on the tourney field. Far more than he spent with her, in fact.

So Princess Jasmine had been secretly having lessons from the Captain of the Guard, Sir Jean de Fountainbleau. She was a natural, he said. Not much strength or power, but the ability to put what she had to the best possible use. And she was fast, and very lithe and limber. Sir Jean was another bluff knight, not usually one to fall to women's wiles... but he taught her willingly. Perhaps he'd seen something in her... because he taught her hard and taught her very well. The first time she vanquished him, his scarred face spilt open in a wide smile of pride in his Duchess.

"Let the invaders come some day, while the Duke is away!" Sir Jean thought to himself. "They'll find my fine Princess Jasmine more than a match for any petty Baron in all France!"

But Princess Jasmine had her sights set closer to home than the petty Barons of France. She just wanted her husband to take some notice of her, to acknowledge her contribution to the Duchy and take her into his confidence about the politics that welled all around them like brackish springwater.

So she strode out to the practice field to challenge her husband to a duel.

His amazement knew no bounds. He had not even see her in her armour, though of course he had known that she had been fitted for harness and helm. He thought she wanted to parade in ceremonial armour. So seeing her in a Milanese war-harness was quite a shock. Seeing the way she brandished the hand-and-a-half sword was even more of a shock.

"Fight me, my Lord Duke. I demand satisfaction!"

"Don't be so stupid dear, I don't want to hurt you!"

She leant forwards, apparently lazy, like a stretching cat. But the tip of her sword had finished up half an inch from his left eyeball.

"I demand satisfaction, my lord. Or I will rule this Duchy alone!"

His sword brushed hers aside, his shield readied. He stepped back, confused, looking at his wife in a new light. No lady-like "Eeeek!" today.

She came at him like a tigress. He parried half her thrusts, but many got through his guard. God-damn, she was FAST! His own counters and ripostes were half-hearted at best. Hard to fight at your best when you are fighting someone you never thought of as a warrior. But his real undoing was the tree on the practice ground. Perhaps it was fed up of having its poor trunk savaged in practice, because it decided this would be a good time for the Duke's boot heel to find a protruding root. Over he went. His shield dropped... and the Princess was on him. A twist of her blade, and he was disarmed. She planted her boot on his chest and looked down at him.

"Now, my Lord Duke, may we please discuss the politics of our shared domain?"

That evening, she dressed in her favourite gown, the one she had worn on her wedding day. She and the Duke had had a heart to heart, and he had agreed to take her fully into her confidence in matters of state. How could he not? That she had shown herself capable on the field was a minor thing, but that she had showed the determination and dedication to train herself, behind his back, just to be damn sure of getting his attention... now THAT was something truly to be admired. He had, once again, underestimated his wife.

But there was still a matter of discipline. The tale of his fall at her hands was, of course, heard in every tavern in every corner of the kingdom by sundown. He wasn't quite a laughing stock, but he could be soon if something wasn't done about it.

She was faintly surprised when he dressed for dinner in harness rather than in doublet and hose. She was even more surprised when he gathered her up in his arms, kissed her (as best he could through the helm) and carried her downstairs to the great hall. The hall was full, but the High Table had been removed. In its place was a chair, where he seated himself. A steward placed a fleece across his lap. He caught hold of her hand.

"Today our Duchess demonstrated her mastery of the martial arts of the tourney field. But she also demonstrated a certain disregard for her husband. Let it never be said that the Duke is one to resent the prowess of his wife. But also let it be said that he will brook no disrespect, from whatever source!"

And he dragged her over his lap and laid his hand on her perfect backside. The first spank was greeted with a lady-like "Eeeeek!". She supposed it was only fair... and the little bit of her that wasn't kicking and wriggling as the heat spread through her buttocks admired her husband's solution to the possible morale problem her victory had posed!

Having her skirts pulled up in front of the assembled crowd wasn't quite what she'd banked on this morning when she set out for the tourney field. She wriggled and kicked, first to put on a good show, but then because he'd found out that he needed to plant leather-gloved hand on bare flesh in order to have a real effect on her. Her bum cheeks glowed like the fires of winter when he had finished with her. He was dismayed that he had not managed to make her cry... but he knew, now, of just what stern stuff Princess Jasmine was made.

She smiled as his final few blows landed. When she got of his lap, she stood, rubbed her sore bum only once, and bent down to kiss him. As she leant close to him she whispered...

"My lord- shall we go and make the Duchy an heir?"

The Perils Of Princess Jasmine (Part Three)

Since her husband's untimely death in a minor border skirmish four years ago, Princess Jasmine had ruled the Duchy alone as regent for her only son. All the neighboring nobles had made overtures of one sort or another- from proposing marriage to declaring war. Princess Jasmine had dealt with them all with the same icy cool. Prospective suitors were accommodated, fed... and sent packing. War bands met well-drilled and disciplined troops, led by a diminutive figure encased in glittering steel. Trade was conducted in an open and even-handed manner, and levies were at all time low. The peasants loved her, her nobles respected her, and her enemies had a healthy fear for her.

But still the embassies came, from Dukes and Princes and Kings from afar who saw a very young widow on a very rich throne. Princess Jasmine could not stand alone, and must perforce entertain the tedious courtiers sent with flowery prose to flatter and deceive. Presents- they always bought rich presents. Heavy perfumes, delicious sweetmeats, fabrics from the Indies (though never anything truly useful like a stud warhorse, a sword or a engineer who knew how to reinforce curtain walls). This latest fop was particularly tedious, she thought to herself as she politely showed willing by nibbling on a candied almond that was far too sweet for her tastes. She wished he would get to the point, say "My Lord wishes to marry you" and go away. The droning monotone of his delivery deprived the poetry he was reading of even the merest hint of meaning... just a long, slow, tedious drone...

She felt herself drifting off to sleep, tried to catch herself, found she could not. She was just about to dismiss the courtier when he suddenly stopped talking, stood up straight and strode directly towards her! But the drugs in the sugared almonds would not release her from their grip, and with one lady-like "Eeeek!" Princess Jasmine slumped, gracefully, in her chair... unconscious!

When she awoke from her drugged slumber, Princess Jasmine was surprised to find herself both still alive, and still in her throne room. Her final thought as the embrace of the black poppy had claimed her was to wonder whether she would see her husband in heaven or not. Still befuddled, she looked around. There were no guards to be seen... in fact the place was deserted. She wondered if she had really just fallen asleep and dreamed that she had been drugged. But as she shifted position there was a grating sound of rusty metal on metal. Through the haze that still surrounded her she looked down to see the ball and chain fastened to her wrist... and the steel shackles around her ankles! This was no dream, she really had been drugged!

She tried to fight the stifling languor of the black poppy, but she could barely even muster enough willpower to call for help. She knew her thoughts should be racing to her son, to the duchy, to the murders and intrigues that might be going on all around her... but she could not even think, let alone walk! Her cry for aid emerged as a soft whisper... "help". The only person to hear her was her assailant, who stood unnoticed in the shadows. He stepped forward, and stuffed a silk scarf in her mouth.

"That should keep you quiet should you regain your voice. Now then" he picked her up and lifted her off her throne, fumbled with a small secret compartment hidden underneath where she had been sitting. " Ah! That'll do. Now then, your Royal Highness, we have business elsewhere..."

She fought to clear her head, but she could not resist as he clapped her in irons ready to carry her off.

rincess Jasmine was no stranger to being bound, of course. Why her own dear husband (God rest his soul) had tied her up and carried her off on their wedding day. But that had been with soft white rope, and she had known that if necessary she could probably have squirmed her way free in the end. The touch of cold steel at her throat cut through the haze in her head from the drug she had been fed. Cold steel. The collar was very heavy and immediately started to weight down upon her. Her assailant fastened the collar about her with some sort of device. This was no rope to be wriggled out of. This was inescapable cold steel. Quickly, he fastened manacles about her slim wrists and ankles, and gagged her with a scarf just in case her guards were recovering from the drugs he had slipped into their beer.

Although she was still befuddled from the narcotic sleep of the drug, Princess Jasmine knew that this man was truly dangerous. Through all her perils and trials, she had never before felt in danger. But this man would extinguish her life as soon as look at her. For the first time, she was genuinely afraid. But she was a Princess, and she had ruled her Duchy, and she was not about to let any assassin have the pleasure of seeing her fear. Besides, if his mission had been to kill her, she would already be dead. So she watched, and she waited.

Her captor busied himself about the room, pulling out odd sheaves of paper, taking a copy of a treaty here, ripping one up there... Princess Jasmine had a half-hearted attempt to escape, but the whole situation was very intriguing. Her head was clear from the drug, though she didn't think her captor quite realised it. Besides, getting out of steel manacles always left such horrible scrapes and cuts. Finally, he seemed to have finished. She heard the sound of horses in the courtyard- presumably his accomplices, ready to carry her off. Oh well, she thought. It won't be my first bound horse-ride either! I wonder who is behind all this? The quickest way to find out seemed to be to play along... so whenever her captor glanced in her direction, she played dead.

She wasn't fooling anyone. When his preparations were complete, her attacker stepped over to her and grabbed hold of the chain from her collar. He pulled her into a sitting position before him and stuffed another sweetmeat down her throat before gagging her once more. As the world faded to black once more, Princess Jasmine heard the clatter of hooves in the courtyard and felt herself lifted over hefty shoulders and carried off!