Finally, eh? I know, I know. I fail. Anyway, after nearly a year, I'm producing another chapter in my Age of Edward contest entry. I hope it's as good as the first was!



The English Prisoner

Isabella

It took us days to get back to Scotland. We stopped in at an inn so I could wash myself. Emmett had brought me a new gown and shawl to wear when we entered our homeland once again. This was the time to look proud, not like a dirty whore. I had accomplished the impossible. I had captured Edward Cullen, the horrifying English bastard that had been torturing my people since the beginning of this damnable war.

Yes, I was proud of my accomplishments. A woman, a lowly girl like me, had finished a job that had originally been intended for a man. Fools. Only a woman can make a man waver. Only a woman can make a man's mind foggy with desire and lust, two weapons that women have always contained, but have never used.

"Isabella," Emmett said as he entered my room for the night. "The prisoner is being contained in the dungeon in the basement." He chuckled. "Who would have thought that an inn would have a dungeon?"

"Most inns must have a dungeon," I murmured thoughtfully. "Since us Scottish rats are running rampant throughout England."

Emmett chuckled again. "Goodnight, sister. Do not worry about the prisoner. Jasper is watching him for the night."

"Goodnight, brother."

The celebration was immense when we arrived back to Scotland. Everyone in Edinburgh came to worship me and yell at my prisoner. I was like a queen.

My father congratulated me on my success before he left to meet William near the English border. He said he would be sure to remind William to send me a letter of thanks. My cousin was a humble man, and I'm sure he was thanking God for my trickery.

The celebration lasted days. Because I was only sixteen, I was not able to participate in much of the celebrating. Instead, I spent boring nights with my sister, Alice, whom was set to be wed to Jasper, a man who had been serving me. Alice stuck out like a lily in a garden of thistles. She was made to be English, or at least she acted so. She wanted new gowns, she wanted tea parties, she wanted this, and she wanted that. All in a time like this! She disgusted me. As far as I was concerned, she was not my sister. She was a ninny that Mother had adopted before I had been born.

Finally, after everyone left our home, I was able to talk to my prisoner. Although I had lost myself in a fit of lust in England, I would do no such thing now. I had gained control of my sins. Edward Cullen would hold no power over me anymore. I was in power now. He would bend to my ever word and will.

Emmett and Jasper escorted me to the dungeon in our basement. I was wearing a new, clean dress. My hair was no longer a mess, my skin was clean. I was a lady once again. And I was going to make sure that Edward Cullen knew that after I was through with him.

"You may leave now," I told my brothers in Gaelic. That was something I delighted in. Edward Cullen could not understand my language. He called it the Devil's language, senseless chatter. He only called it so because he could not understand it.

I draped my shawl over the handle of the door and walked into the dimly lit room. My prisoner was chained to the wall, his broad shoulders nearly coming out of their sockets. He looked as dirty as I had been when I was brought to him.

"Ah, my Edward," I crooned as I approached him. "How are you, prisoner?"

Edward smiled at me through the obvious pain the shackles were inflicting upon him. "Who have they sent to care for me now? Is Isabella trying to make peace with me by sending me a wench?"

I smirked as I continued sauntering towards Edward. "Do ye not remember yer own prisoner, Edward?"

"Isabella?" Edward asked, squinting. "My eyes deceive me."

"No," I assured him. "First impressions are not to be used. Did yer mother not teach you to not judge a lady by her looks, but by the words that flow from her mouth?"

Edward smirked. "'Tis not a woman's place to have words flowing from her mouth."

My temper flared. "And this is not yer place to be speaking without being spoken to." I presented the room to Edward with my arms. "Welcome to my dungeon, Sir Cullen. I do hope you have enjoyed yer stay thus far."

"It is so much friendlier than my torture chamber," Edward replied sarcastically. "What shall the lady wish to do to me?" His green eyes twinkled with sinful delight. I wanted to hit him for bringing up what he had done to me. Never again would my lust overpower me. I was meant to be a pure woman. I wanted to be a maiden. Edward had ruined my chances of that.

I walked up to him and slapped him so hard the echo rang through the walls. Edward's eyes widened in shock. Redness was already spreading across his cheek.

"Now that I've done what I wanted to do, I shall continue to do what I should do," I murmured. "I have been entrusted to squeeze the information from your brain, Sir, and that's exactly what I shall do. Shall we do this the easy way or the hard way?"

"What does the hard way entail?" The pig still thought I would fall back into my sins.

"The hard way," I told him, "entails me finding a scythe from a farmer and castrating you like the pig that you are."

Fear was struck into Edward's eyes, but he tried to hide it. "Surely the lady would not resort to such a deed especially when my prick had filled her days ago."

I tangled my fingers in Edward Cullen's dusty brown hair and made his face look up to mine while I snarled, "That alone should be enough for me to remove yer prick, ye English bastard."

"Ye seemed to enjoy it whilst 'twas happening," Edward countered through grinding teeth. "Ye are a Scottish whore, anyway."

I threw his head against the stone wall, making him close his eyes in pain. "I am not a whore, bastard. I am a lady. Yer stupid slaves stripped me of my maidenhood. I am but sixteen-years of age. If ye would have done this in the time before the war, ye would have been stoned to death."

"Sixteen?" Edward hissed. "Only sixteen?"

"I am but a child," I continued as I paced in front of my prisoner. "If I was to tell anyone of what happened to me, ye would surely face a painful and torturous death." I smiled to myself. "Thankfully I am too proud to announce such an embarrassing fact. Therefore, I get to torture ye myself."

"Believe me when I say I wouldn't touch thee with a stick if I had not been in charge of retrieving information," Edward spat at me. He looked me over like I was the vilest creature to walk the earth. "Yer nothing but a Scottish bitch."

I hit him with a closed fist this time, causing his lip to catch on his yellow teeth, making the blood flow down his chin and onto his dirty tunic. Then I grabbed his hair and forced him to look at me.

"Tell me what yer master is planning to do to my people," I breathed menacingly.

"Never," Edward seethed. "Ye think you know how to torture people. Ye know nothing. Yer but sixteen. NaŃ—ve and stupid, even more so than the average Scotswoman."

"Just because I have no prick to resort to does not mean I do not know how to torture ye," I replied as I walked over to the table and picked up a horse whip. "Ye resort to yer sex. Of course women would rather tell you the truth than have to have your disease infested prick in their mouth."

Edward laughed humourlessly. "Yes, my disease ridden prick. 'Tis disease ridden because of yer dirty women, wench."

I smirked as I walked back to my prisoner. "Ye can say what ye want. 'Tis clear who is charge here." I ran the whip along my hand. "Such a shame yer chained to the wall. I would ask ye to remove yer own shirt like a real man would, but since ye are not a real man, ye do not deserve such honour."

The knife I had hidden under my dress was pulled and I cut the shirt off him, making sure to catch some skin as I moved the knife from his chest to the bottom of his torso. I pulled the shirt from him and undid the shackles on his hands.

"Get on yer knees," I commanded stoically, "and face the wall."

Edward, surprisingly, did as I told him. Clearly he did not want to do this the hard way. I whipped him as hard as my body would let me. The lashes on his back began bleeding after I stroked him the fifth time. I went five more times simply for my own pleasure. I walked back to the table and threw a pitcher of cold water over his back. I wanted him to be able to settle in. It was going to be a hard night for him.

"Do ye have anything to tell me?" I asked sweetly as Edward laid his forehead against the wall.

"No," he ground out before standing and looking at me with a fire that rivalled Hell itself. "I have nothing to show you, wench, except that England shall overcome Scotland once and for all. Ye shall see. And then ye shall suffer under me once again. Next time I won't be so easy on ye."

"Ye are willing to fuck a sixteen-year-old wench again? How old are ye, Edward?"

"Twice yer age," he said in disgust. Why should he be disgusted? Before the war broke out, I was due to be wed to someone thrice my age now, and I had only been twelve at the time.

"Am I not young enough for ye?" I whispered in his ear. "Would ye rather have someone younger, more willing to bend to yer will?"

"I would rather have anyone but you," Edward told me with clenched teeth. Then he grabbed my waist. I had forgotten that I had unshackled his hands. He held me tightly to his body and whispered, "Ye have a lot to learn, young Isabella. And I have a lot to teach ye."

My eyes widened as I felt his prick against my stomach. The filthy bastard. I tried to calm myself. I squirmed in his grasp, but he was still stronger than me, even after days of famishing in dungeons.

His breath was hot against my neck and the heat erupted like a war cry and invaded the rest of my body, settling between my legs. He swung me around and threw my body against the wall, his lips moving against my neck, his tongue lapping against my skin. My legs twisted within the many layers of my dress. My hands tangled themselves within his hair once again, but this time, I brought his face to mine to meet his lips with such a hard, raw passion that it took my breath away.

My mind was overpowered by my lust, and I could not seem to find the reasons I once had to keep myself from letting my body be overtaken by this fiend. This outrageous, undeserving fiend.

"Mo Dia," I moaned in a shaky breath. "Eideard."

"You are mine," Edward reminded me, his eyes holding mine with an intense fire that made my knees buckle. "You must never forget that." He unhitched my dress as quickly as his clumsy fingers could. Soon, I was in nothing but my undergarments. He pulled my undershirt off, revealing my bare torso to him. He grabbed both of my breasts with his hands. "These are mine." His hands continued down my body and into my underpants, his fingers sliding along my sex. "This is mine."

I nodded and moaned, "Tha."

Edward tugged the last shred of clothing I had on off my body along with his pants and thrust into me so hard that it made my mouth bob open and my eyes roll into the back of my head. He had to hold me up against the wall so I was high enough for him to fuck me.

"Who do you belong to?" Edward asked possessively.

"Sibh," I sighed as my back arched against the stone wall.

Edward's tongue ran from the hole in my stomach to the valley between my breasts slowly. My hands shot to his shoulders to help hold myself up. I looked down into the green eyes that could so easily possess me.

"And who do you belong to, Eideard?" I asked in a husky voice.

Edward's eyes danced as he replied with, "You, Isabella." And then he thrust into me again, making me forget how to formulate words.

My sex tightened around Edward and I felt the tenseness tugging at my stomach. I was going to fall off the edge quickly. Edward kept thrusting and grunting and panting my name.

"Mo Dia," I screeched as Edward thrust into me once more before I fell into the pleasurable oblivion. Edward followed me soon after, resting his head against my stomach as he cursed over and over as he poured himself into me.

Edward kept me against the fall as he came down from the pleasure I had provided to him. Then he released me and I slid down the wall, my back cutting itself against the uneven stones.

My legs shook beneath me as I pulled myself back together. I had finished dressing before Edward did, so I quickly chained his hands back up and finished pulling his pants up for him. He looked at me with a lazy grin.

"Ye will be back," he said confidently, "and ye will not be here for information from my mouth. Ye will be here for the same reason that ye came to me today."

"Ye are mistaken, Sir Cullen," I replied nonchalantly. "I shall not make the mistake of letting you loose again. Ye were right. I do have a lot to learn."

"I shall be yer tutor, then," Edward murmured in a completely evilly delightful voice.

"And I shall be yer torturer," I snapped as I smoothed my dress. "Do not think that this is an occurrence that will happen again, Sir. Ye shall never overpower me like that again. Do ye understand?"

"Oh, I understand what yer trying to do," Edward answered. "But I know it shall not work, sweet Isabella. We both know you cannot resist. Neither of us can. So what is the point in even trying?" He smirked a snake's grin. He truly was Lucifer in disguise. An archangel in the disguise of an English man. This was God's test for me. And I had failed.

"As ye said before, ye are English, I am Scottish," I concluded as I walked to the door and put my shawl on. "I would not touch ye with a stick if we were in any other situation."

Edward cackled as I slammed the dungeon door behind me and locked it.


It's not as long as the first one, but I did write this in like two hours. Pretty dece. Almost 1,500 words per hour.

Good news: This isn't the end.
Bad news: I'm not sure on updates.

I'm in the middle of doing The Twilight Twenty-Five, and I have another WIP on the run, Carpe Diem. But, seeing as this is seriously addicting for me, I may be able to pump out chapters regularly.

Freak, I had to cross my legs while I wrote this chapter. I was panting. It was disgusting.

Hah, here's hoping you all had the same reaction so I don't feel like such a skanky whore

Mary

*Some translations:
Mo Dia - My God
Eideard - Edward
Tha - Yes
Sibh - You