The Trespasser
Daniel opens the old iron gate to the field with a creak, wincing slightly at the loud sound it makes. The sign nailed to it is impossible to miss, “Private Property – Trespassers Will Be Tortured,” but he simply shrugs. The bold, red letters are clearly meant to frighten off would-be intruders, but Daniel isn’t so easily deterred. He steps through and closes the gate behind him with a smug grin, relishing in the thrill of rebellion. The late autumn sun, golden and soft, filters through the bare branches of trees surrounding the field, casting long shadows that stretch lazily across the ground. The crisp air, filled with the earthy scent of damp leaves, feels fresh on his skin, invigorating him.
“No one has the right to ‘own’ land,” he mutters to himself, echoing his own rebellious thoughts. To him, land should be free for all to wander, not boxed in by fences and harsh warnings. Besides, no one really checks these fields. He’s sure of it. He adjusts the worn backpack slung over his shoulder, the weight of it a reassuring presence. Inside are simple tools, the snares he set earlier in the day. Perhaps one of them has caught a rabbit by now. The thought of a meal brings a flicker of anticipation.
As he strolls deeper into the field, he feels a rush of satisfaction; he imagines himself as a kind of outlaw, defying the rules of the privileged. His boots crunch against the frost-covered grass, and a smile creeps onto his face. “Tough guy,” he thinks, picturing himself as some sort of rugged survivalist. He chuckles quietly.
But he’s not alone.
Behind him, unnoticed, a figure approaches on horseback. The rider, Lady Jenna, cuts a striking figure, her posture regal and imperious. Her horse, a glossy black beast with a proud arch to its neck, seems to mirror her demeanor; both rider and animal move with an air of arrogance and command. The sound of hooves thudding against the cold ground doesn’t reach Daniel’s ears until it’s too late.
The sharp whistle of something slicing through the air is the only warning he gets before pain explodes across his face. The riding switch lands with a brutal sting, cutting a harsh line across his cheek. Daniel reels, startled and disoriented, clutching at his face. Before he can fully register what’s happening, two more strikes land on the back of his neck, sending a fresh wave of pain shooting through him. He stumbles forward, spinning around in shock to face his assailant.
“What are you doing in here?” The voice is cold, commanding, with no hint of patience. Lady Jenna sits tall in her saddle, her eyes narrowing as she glares down at him. “Can’t you read?”
“I… I…” Daniel stammers, his mind racing. He hadn’t expected to be caught, let alone confronted by someone who seemed so… menacing.
Crack!
The switch comes down again, this time across his face, and his glasses are knocked off, flying to the ground. Lady Jenna doesn’t even give him a moment to recover. With a swift pull of the reins, her horse turns its head and swings its neck with surprising force, knocking Daniel off balance. He falls hard onto the ground, his palms scraping against the cold, rough earth.
The sharp, authoritative voice follows almost immediately, “Stay down, worm!”
Daniel gasps, trying to catch his breath, feeling both humiliation and anger simmering inside him. But he’s too disoriented to fight back. He drops to all fours, scrabbling desperately in the grass to find his glasses. His fingers brush against the familiar frame and relief floods him. At least they’re not broken.
That relief is short-lived.
Lady Jenna dismounts gracefully, tethering her horse nearby before approaching with slow, deliberate steps. Just as Daniel’s fingers close around the glasses, a sharp, agonizing pressure flares up on the back of his hand. She’s placed her boot; her expensive, polished riding boot; on his hands, pressing down with her full weight.
“Drop them now,” she orders.
Daniel hesitates, grimacing under the pain, but his grip tightens on the glasses. He can’t afford to lose them. Not those.
Her response is swift and merciless. Her other boot comes down onto the back of his neck, driving his face into the soil. The weight and sharpness of her heel digs into his skin. “I said drop them. Now!” Her voice is cold, each word dripping with malice. When he doesn’t respond quickly enough, she slashes his back with the riding switch, leaving fresh, burning welts on his skin.
Daniel lets out a cry of pain, his body surrendering. The glasses slip from his fingers and fall uselessly to the ground.
“Stop whimpering, maggot!” she sneers.
She releases her boot from his neck and steps in front of him. As Daniel looks up, he sees her lighting a cigarette, her cruel smile illuminated by the flicker of the flame. She takes a long drag, the smoke curling around her lips. With a deliberate exhale, she blows the smoke into his face, her eyes glinting with twisted satisfaction.
Her boot raises, poised over his fallen glasses. Daniel’s heart races. “Please,” he starts to beg, but it’s too late.
Lady Jenna presses the heel of her boot down on the glasses, twisting it as if crushing a bug underfoot. The sound of the delicate frames snapping sends a fresh wave of panic through Daniel, and his pleas dissolve into a whimper. She looks down at him with that same wicked smile, clearly savoring his distress.
“When I have finished my cigarette,” she says, her tone almost casual, “I will punish you properly for trespassing on my land.” She pauses to take another deep drag, exhaling with an air of boredom. “Now, take off your rags, pathetic excuse for what you deem to be ‘clothing’ and lie flat on your face.”
Daniel, trembling, does as he’s told. He knows better than to argue. Stripped to the skin, the cold air bites at him, but it’s nothing compared to the growing dread in his stomach. As he lies face-down in the dirt, her boot rests on his back, heavy and unyielding. He feels utterly powerless.
The stub of her cigarette lands on his bare skin, burning hot and searing his flesh. He yelps involuntarily, his body tensing with the pain. Lady Jenna grinds her boot down onto it, twisting it slowly, drawing out the agony as much as she can. Daniel squirms, but he doesn’t dare try to move away.
Craack! Craack! Craack! The switch lashes across his back again, each strike sharper than the last, the pain leaving deep lines that criss-cross his skin. His body convulses under the assault, but he doesn’t make a sound. He knows if he does, it will only be worse.
“You’re not permitted to move,” she snaps, each word cutting as deep as her blows.
With calculated precision, Lady Jenna walks a short distance from Daniel, her movements elegant yet brimming with menace. As she unfastens the coiled whip from her belt, the power in her presence radiates like a storm about to break. The leather uncoils in her hand, snapping through the air like a predator testing its strength. She doesn’t even look at Daniel as she flicks the whip, sending a loud, terrifying crack that splits the silence around them.
Without hesitation, the whip comes down across Daniel’s back, its bite sharp and unforgiving. His body jerks violently, a low groan escaping his lips as he tries, in vain, to escape the sting. She lashes him again, and again, her arm moving with a practiced ease, delivering pain without mercy. Each stroke is precise, though her aim is indifferent; whether it hits his back, his arms, or his legs, it doesn’t matter to her. All that matters is the sound of leather meeting flesh, and the satisfying whimper that follows.
Daniel writhes beneath the assault, a pitiful creature reduced to scrambling in the dirt, trying to evade her whip. But there is no escaping Lady Jenna’s wrath. His frantic rolling only makes her smile, a dark gleam lighting up her eyes as she enjoys watching him squirm like an insect caught in a web.
“Keep moving, worm,” she mutters, her voice dripping with disdain. “It won’t make a difference.”
After a dozen lashes, she pauses, surveying the pitiful scene before her with a calm satisfaction. Daniel’s skin is marked with criss-crossing welts, his body trembling from both the cold and the searing pain. Lady Jenna slowly coils the whip, her fingers moving with a languid grace, as though the violence has barely affected her. She replaces it on her belt with a sense of finality.
But her punishment is far from over.
While Daniel lies gasping and twitching in the dirt, she walks calmly to her horse. Each step exudes authority, the quiet confidence of someone who holds complete power over another. From her saddle, she retrieves a length of rope, her movements deliberate, as though savoring what comes next. Returning to Daniel’s side, she looks down at him, her lips curling into a cruel smile.
“I can see you still need to learn a few lessons in respect,” she says, her voice low, a promise of more to come. Her words hang in the air like a cold threat. She steps forward, her boot finding its way between his legs, pressing down without warning. Daniel gasps, the sudden pain forcing his body to tense.
“Stop whining, you pathetic wimp,” she snaps. “Hold out your hands!”
Shaking, Daniel does as he’s told, his body trembling with the effort to comply. Lady Jenna binds his wrists tightly with one end of the rope, her movements swift and efficient, like tying the reins of a disobedient horse. She pulls at the other end, the rope cutting into his skin as she pulls him closer. Her boot grinds into him harder, the pointed heel digging cruelly into the tender flesh. Daniel’s squeal of agony only serves to amuse her.
A sharp, mocking laugh escapes her lips. She revels in the power, in the way he crumples beneath her dominance.
“Enough!” she snaps, her voice cold and commanding. “Get up and follow me.”
She yanks at the rope, and Daniel scrambles clumsily to his feet, his legs barely supporting him. She leads him to her horse with the ease of someone dragging a disobedient pet. Reaching the saddle, she ties the loose end of the rope to it, securing him like an animal to be led.
“Down on all fours,” she orders, her tone leaving no room for defiance. Daniel hesitates, casting a fearful glance at her imposing horse, but one look from Lady Jenna’s narrowed eyes silences any protest. “Now.”
With a trembling breath, he lowers himself to the ground, his fear of the massive animal battling with the sharp pain in his limbs. But Lady Jenna isn’t satisfied with mere compliance. She presses her boots against his sides, forcing him into position with cruel precision. The sharp sting of her heel digs into his ribs as she uses him as a human mounting block.
She climbs onto him, her weight bearing down through the sharp heels of her boots. Daniel cries out, but the sound only serves to bring a delighted smile to her face. With a calculated press of her foot, she shifts her weight and rises gracefully into the saddle, her movements smooth and practiced.
Before Daniel can even think to rise, Lady Jenna urges her horse forward, the beast surging into a canter. The rope tightens instantly, jerking Daniel off balance and pulling him along the rough ground. He crashes to the earth, dragged mercilessly behind the horse as dirt and rocks scrape against his skin. For fifty agonizing yards, he’s dragged like a rag doll, his body bouncing and skidding across the unforgiving terrain.
Then, mercifully, the pace slows.
Gasping for breath, Daniel somehow manages to scramble to his feet. His legs shake with the effort, but he knows better than to stop. Lady Jenna doesn’t even glance back at him as her horse shifts into a trot, the pace forcing Daniel to run to keep up. The rope tugs at his wrists, pulling him along in a desperate, stumbling sprint.
“Faster!” she commands, her voice cutting through the cold air. “You’re not moving fast enough. If you fall again, I’ll drag you all the way back.”
The threat is enough to make Daniel push himself harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his muscles scream in protest. But no matter how fast he runs, it’s never fast enough for Lady Jenna. With a wicked grin, she raises her switch and brings it down across his back, the sharp crack of leather against skin spurring him forward.
She lashes him again, her laughter mixing with the sound of the whip as it cuts through the air. Each strike is deliberate, designed to push him to his limits, and then beyond. She watches with delight as he struggles, his body faltering with exhaustion, his breath coming in desperate, ragged sobs.
“Soon,” she says, her voice cold but triumphant, “you’ll be as well-trained as one of my horses. They’ve learned to respect me; and so will you.”
The estate looms closer in the distance, but to Daniel, it feels like a lifetime away. Every step is agony, every lash of her whip a reminder of the power she holds over him. But Lady Jenna isn’t concerned with his pain; only with her control. With each crack of the whip, each command barked from her lips, she asserts her dominance, relishing in the raw, intoxicating feeling of power.
For Lady Jenna, this isn’t just about teaching a lesson. It’s about breaking him; piece by piece, until there’s nothing left of his defiance, only submission to her will.