{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"84aa12b6-f302-445a-b3a0-e9385cf64552","seriesId":"ca587b3e-f76e-4fa4-b647-e845f657fadf","seriesName":"The Bound Knight","currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2022-01-23T16:51:32.81Z","title":"The Bound Knight Ch. 4","slug":"the-bound-knight-ch-4","shortId":"WuxHBJI5","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Moldred encounters an obstacle in his path. Eve punishes her maid.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"3282cd0d-c89a-4d20-800b-37fe6effb634","title":null,"summary":"\n\n Three\nk","wordCount":4073,"readTime":20,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"\n\n

Three\nknights, armor shining, crested a hill. Their horses panted heavily in the hot\nsun, laboring under the full armor of their riders. Sir Aloric, the youngest of\nthe three, had proposed they wear the armor as they arrived at Count\nMevenmein’s court. The others had readily agreed, envisioning a grand entrance,\nbut that had been when they believed themselves less than half a day’s ride\nout. By the time they realized a landslide in the night had made the foothills hell\nto cross, they were already sweating in what were increasingly feeling like\nmetal coffins.

\n\n

“We can\nstill make it before nightfall,” Aloric said, taking off his helmet. Sweat\npoured from his ginger hair over his youthful, fair face. He tried an\noptimistic smile as he looked at the other two.

\n\n

“Hrmph,”\nGastogne snorted, his anger making his already serious face look dour. “We\nwould already be there if it weren’t for all this damned luggage.” He stared\nback the way hey had come, at the baggage train trundling along. Two carts,\nstacked high and heavily laden with goods, were pulled by teams of slaves\nchained to it like oxen. These were no trussed-up pony girls though. These were\nlabor slaves, wearing only a rag on their head to keep their hair up, if they\nwore anything at all. Around them were the dominas – loyal slaves who carried\nwhips and urged the others on, and a few squires on horseback. Behind the last\ncart were another thirty slave girls, shackled and fettered in lines and rows.\nThey each carried a sack – the slaves were responsible for carrying their own\nsupplies. The carts were solely for the three knights and their squires.

\n\n

Gastogne\nwatched them all with increasing frustration. The first cart paused as it hit a\nhole in the road, and the slaves strained to push it out as the dominas\nencouraged them with whips and shouts. “Lazy cunts,” he muttered, looking up.\nThe sun was just past its zenith.

\n\n

“Come\nnow, sir Gastogne,” the third knight said. He rode at the head of them, and it\nwas his family crest that adorned both carts. Of the three, only he still\nlooked fresh, the sweat on his brow barely a trickled, despite how warm his\nlong, blonde hair must have been. Sir Moldred of House Gyvain smiled, and Gastogne\ncouldn’t help but let some of his anger evaporate.

\n\n

Moldred\nsaid, “Don’t tell me you’d prefer to travel like the knights of old? Roughing\nit out here, on our own? I can hardly piss without a slave girl holding my\ncock,” he laughed.

\n\n

Gastogne\nsmiled. “It woudn’t be so bad. We could paint Sir Aloric’s lips and eyes. He’d\nbe a bit flat, but he could pass.”

\n\n

“At\nleast from behind,” Moldred added, and both of them laughed as Aloric stared at\nthem aghast.

\n\n

“I’ll\nfight you both. Right here and now,” he said.

\n\n

“Calm\nyourself, Sir Aloric,” Moldred said, still chuckling. “Sir Gastogne and I are\njust jealous. I’ve seen the way the slaves crowd you.” Aloric sighed. If anyone\nhad said it he would have drawn his sword then and there, but he was used to\nMoldred’s bad jokes. Moldred turned back to Gastogne and said, “And Sir Gastogne,\nwhy the hurry? Even if we arrive tomorrow morning, it will make no difference.\nMevenmein has no knights in his realm. He only possesses an invitation to the\nKing’s Tournament through some ancient decree. Regardless of when we arrive, in\ntwo days that invitation will be yours.”

\n\n

Gastogne\ntook a deep breath and said he agreed, but continued to watch the carts.\nMoldred would never admit it out loud, but he was more anxious than either of\nthem. Gastogne was a commoner, the son of a charcoal maker who owned only two\nslaves and who was only able to have a child after saving for years to rent a\npureborn from Moldred’s father. He had only been able to afford her for one\nyear, but, luckily, she bore a son in that time.

\n\n

Despite\nthis common birth, Gastogne was born a knight – able to wield a crest. Uncommon,\nbut not unheard of. What should have been unheard of was how, despite being a\nknight, the man had still had to scrape for everything. If Moldred hadn’t\ndiscovered his talents he likely would never have gained a crest of his own.\nMoldred fumed at the unfairness of it. In his opinion all men should be judged\nby their merit, not their class. That a man like Mevenmein could hold three\ncrests and one of the most profitable lands in the kingdom, despite his fallow\nblood, was an injustice.

\n\n

Tired\nof watching the slaves push the carts over the rocky path, Moldred said, “Let’s\nride ahead.” The other two agreed, and they took off – the cool wind on their\nfaces. They made it around the bend, before having to once again stop. A\nboulder blocked the path. Clearly knocked loose the night before, it was taller\nand wider than the carts. A crew of six cunts were hacking at it with pickaxes,\nwhile a short, fat man in a tunic lounged in a chair watching them. A seventh\ncunt was crouched between his knees. From the faces the man was making, she\nseemed to be making more progress than the other six combined.

\n\n

The three knights stared at this,\nuntil Moldred finally said what they were all thinking:

\n\n

“Fuck.”

\n\n

Eve was\nnot dead. This was something of a surprise to her as there were multiple points\nwhere she was sure the blonde bitch’s potion burning through her body would\nkill her. It didn’t though, and somehow, despite feeling like it would turn her\ninsides to ash, she was left feeling better and more energized than ever.

\n\n

She\nstood at the cleaning yard, a corner of the grounds near the river where small\nrocks had been laid down to keep the ground from turning muddy while the slaves\ncleaned themselves. With a bucket of water, some lye, and a rag, she slowly\ntried to wipe off the shame and disgust that still covered her body. She was\nalone. She had ordered the slaves that came to pick her up away. When she\nentered the cleaning yard she ordered everyone out. A few slaves spluttered\nsomething about being ordered to clean up, but they weren’t compelled. Besides,\none look in her eye told them she didn’t need a cock to beat them.

\n\n

None of\nthis would have been possible without the potion. She would have been dragged\noff by slaves, who would roughly clean her while she lay there, unable to move.\nA further embarrassment after an already humiliating ordeal. There was a\ndownside to the potion though. The exhaustion and pain had fit how she felt.\nMentally she still had the disgust, the humiliation, but physically the only\nthing she was left with was the arousal. She told herself that was likely from\nthe potion, but she knew that wasn’t completely true. She could still remember\nthe feeling of Christophe first entering her, and though it made her want to\nvomit, it also made her wet.

\n\n

Faye\ndunked her head in one of the larger buckets, holding her head under the water\nas she ran her fingers through her hair – trying to undo the tangled,\ncum-coated knots. The cold water helped clear her mind, but she could only hold\nher breath for so long. She wanted to scream, but there were other slaves and\nmen around. There was nowhere she could go to be alone. Even bathing, she had\nno privacy. So, she shut her eyes tight, and began to scrub her skin furiously.\n

\n\n

“Aye my\nlords,” the fat man said, the belt of his trousers still hanging open. “Rock\nslide last night. We been workin’ at it all morning.”

\n\n

Moldred\nstared down at him. The peasant man’s crew of cunts looked weak and\nmalnourished, skin tight around their ribs. They swung their tools, sweat\ndripping down their nude bodies, with a strength that would make a young boy\nlaugh. At the rate they were going they would be ‘workin’ at it’ all week.

\n\n

“We\nneed to get through,” Gastogne said. “We have urgent business with the count.\nThere must be another pass.”

\n\n

The man\nran his finger through his ear. “This is it, unless you head all the way back\ndown.”

\n\n

Gastogne\ncontinued to argue with the man while Aloric tried to soothe the knight and\nassured him it would be fine. Moldred turned away from them. They had gone over\nthis with the man a hundred times. Nothing was changing. As he was looking\nback, he saw the first members of the baggage train starting to round the bend.\nThey were losing time.

\n\n

With a\ndeep breath, Moldred walked over to the boulder. The slave girl’s, seeing his\narmor and bearing, fell to their knees. He ignored them. Instead, he focused on\nhis chest, feeling the place inside himself where his crest resided. It\nappeared over his breast plate – shining a brilliant white.

\n\n

Strength\nflooded his limbs as he drew on the crest. With a roar, he shoved both hands\ninto the boulder and pushed. It shifted. He groaned, calling on more and more\nstrength, but the boulder was twice his height and solid rock. With his crest he\nwas as strong as ten men, but even ten men couldn’t have budged it further. He\nrelented, and it fell back.

\n\n

Then,\nbeside him, Gastogne and Amoric appeared. Their crest’s glowed over their\nchests as well, and the three of them pushed as one. It moved, scrapping over\nthe ground. They yelled in triumph as it inched forward. But then, the boulder\nhit a ditch slight incline, and settled in place. They tried again, but could\npush it no further.

\n\n

Panting,\nthe three knights looked at each other. After a moment, Moldred looked back to\ntheir bagged train and roared “Gash!”

\n\n

A slave\ngirl near the front of the train perked up and started running towards him.\nMoldred waited. Technically, ‘Gash’ was not her name. Her name was Gail, or\nGeel, or something like that. Even more technically, her name was Moldred-Gail,\nas pureborns were named after their owners but with a syllable added to the end.\nMoldred disliked both of those. He preferred the more descriptive names given\nto farm bred slaves. Why would anyone ever call a cunt ‘Ann’ or ‘Sal’ over the\nmore interesting, and accurate, ‘Piss-lips’ or ‘Dick-squirmer?’

\n\n

Gash\nran as Moldred waited. She had terrible form, made worse by her swinging tits\nand the high heels locked around her ankles. Her silver hair swaying back and\nforth over sharp, violet eyes. A series of straps crisscrossed her body –\nhiding nothing and supporting her ass and breasts. Moldred knew that on the\ninside of those straps were small spikes that were cutting into her as she ran.\nIn fact, her whole attire was spiked. There were tiny spikes in her shoes just\nunder her heels to keep her from resting. Spikes lined the inside of the heavy\niron collar around her neck. She had dildos in her cunt and ass, both coated in\nspikes that angled down so they were harder to remove. Above those dildos was\nhis crest, branded into her mons pubis. When she finally reached him, she threw\nherself onto the ground at his feet knees first, pressing her forehead into the\nground in a bow. Moldred stared down at her. “Stand up cunt!” he yelled, and\nshe hopped to her feet.

\n\n

She was\npainfully thin, her ribs sticking out like the malnourished cunts trying to\nbreak down the boulder. He could see that her strap suit had been tightened to\nits fullest, but it still hung slightly loose. That was his fault. He was\npunishing her by not allowing her to eat anything other than cum. Soon, he would\nneed to let her eat something – she was starting to be unsightly. He did worry\nthat it might be letting her off too easy though. He couldn’t actually remember\nwhat she had done, but it must have been bad.

\n\n

Gash\nstared at the ground, but he didn’t miss her lick her red-painted lips. He\nalmost sighed. Gash was weak, even for a member of the lesser sex. Worse, she\nwas appallingly obedient. Even without his brand on her, he suspected she would\ndo anything he said. There were few positive things Moldred could say about\nher. She was pleasing to the eye, but that was not to her credit. Every woman, whether\nthey were pureborn or birthed by magic, was given a witches’ brew to ensure\nthey grew in a way that was more appealing. It was said that the more work the\nbrew had to do, the more unusual they appeared. With her silver hair and purple\neyes, Moldred guessed she had been given a double-dose. But, there was one\nthing Gash was good for. She was a genius.

\n\n

“Gash,”\nhe roared again, looking away from her and at the boulder. “If we put all our\nslaves on that, how long would it take to break it down?”

\n\n

For the\nfirst time, Gash looked up. Her violet irises seemed to sharpen as she focused\non the boulder. Her pupils made short, darting movements and he could almost\nsee the wheels in her head beginning to turn.

\n\n

“A\nlittle less than four hours master,” she answered. “There are thirteen tools in\nyour supplies that would be suitable for the task, plus the ones the cunts\ncurrently working are using. Assuming average working speed it would be three\nand a half hours, but the slaves would need to be removed from the carts, then\nreattached once done. The average time for this is around twenty-three minutes.\nIt would be faster with a cantilever, but that would require deconstructing a\ncart or finding a tree or log strong enough to not break.”

\n\n

“Could\nI move it?” he asked, wondering if maybe there was some angle he could try to\nshift it again.

\n\n

“Forgive\nthis stupid cunt master, but it is unlikely. Your record is one hundred\nfifty-one stone. However, based on the furrows in the ground and the size and\nmaterial of the boulder, it likely weighs at least three hundred.” She bowed\nher head. “This cunt requests a proper punishment for her insolence, master.”

\n\n

“Remind me to flog you later,” he replied\noff-handedly. “For now, stay focused. I want us past this and back on the road in\nthe next half hour. You know what I want you to tell me. Are there any options\nother than the potion?”

\n\n

She\npaused for a moment – trembling. He watched her swaying a bit as she tried to\nstay balanced on her heels without resting her own heels on the small spikes\nbuilt into her shoes. Her thin, weak body sweating in the heat, pussy juice\nglistening around her thighs where the painful dildos just sticking out of her\ncunt and ass made her wet. Finally, she said, “No master.”

\n\n

“Wrack\nyour brain cunt! I only have two, and if I have to waste one here I’m taking my\nanger out on you.”

\n\n

She\ndidn’t even hesitate. “There is no other way master. Not within that timetable.”

\n\n

Moldred\ntook a deep breath. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind she was right. Gash was\nnever wrong about things like these. “Will it be enough? If I use it, it better\nbe enough.”

\n\n

“It\nwill be master.”

\n\n

He\nraised his hand, and he saw her flinch in anticipation. It was a tiny thing,\nonly his familiarity with her let him see it. Too anyone else, she would have\nseemed the perfect, unmoving slave girl.

\n\n

He\nlowered his hand, and rubbed her silver hair affectionately. “Good job cunt.\nYou’ll be punished later for implying my weakness and failing to find another\nway, but for now you deserve a reward.” He pointed at the fat man, who had gone\nback to arguing with Amoric and Gastogne. “I don’t think you’ve eaten today. If\nhe will have you, you may consume his seed.”

\n\n

“Thank\nyou master,” she said, looking up at him with glistening eyes. She sounded so\nsincere and grateful it was sickening. “Thank you for feeidng this worthless\ncunt.”

\n\n

She ran\noff to eat her meal for the day. As she did, Moldred walked back to one of the\ncarts. He pulled out a chest, and, with a key he kept on a string around his\nneck, unlocked it. Inside were two bottles of red liquid packed tight in straw.\nHe took one out, locking the other one back in the chest. Walking back to the\nboulder, he uncorked the one he took out, and downed the contents. His crest\nonce again appeared on his breastplate. As he walked towards the boulder, it\nbegan to shift from white to red.

\n\n

“Three.\nThank you master!” the slave girl shouted as Eve reared back for another strike.\n“Four! Thank you master!” the slave cried, the leather tendrils of the flogger\ndigging into her plump breasts – sending her body spinning. The girl hung from\nthe ceiling by her wrists, the chain between her manacles held up by a hook in\nthe ceiling. She was spinning from the force of Eve’s blows. As she turned\naround again, Eve reared back and struck her behind with all her strength and\npent up frustration. “Five. Thank you master,” the slave, Sloppytongue,\nwhimpered.

\n\n

Eve\nsighed, and rubbed her eyes. They were in her chambers, a small, bare room of\nwhite plaster walls and ceiling, and not much else. A folding straw mat lay in\none corner – Eve’s bed. There were two hooks on the wall, one held a crop, the\nother normally held the flogger she now used on Sloppytongue. A wooden door,\nknee high and square shaped with a bolt to lock it from the outside, was built\ninto one wall. The window was a vertical slit, open to the elements. There was\nno door on the entrance. The slave girl’s cries echoed down the tower stairs. The\ngirl wasn’t supposed to call Eve ‘master,’ that was reserved for men, but she\nwasn’t going to disobey Eve.

\n\n

“Six.\nThank you master!” she cried as Eve flogged her stomach. Red, chafed skin and\nthe beginning of worse wounds already coated her. Sloppytongue was a short,\nthin woman with olive skin and big, brown eyes that reminded Eve of a mouse.\nShe whimpered like one too – twitching her nose as she cried. It was always\nhard to say the age of farm-born slaves, but she looked to be the same age as\nEve. Not that it earned her any pity as Eve landed blow after blow with the\nflogger.

\n\n

“Thirty.\nThank you master,” she finally cried, and Eve threw the flogger to the side.\nEve didn’t feel any better. If anything, punishing the slave had only increased\nthe pent-up hunger inside her. “That stupid witch,” she muttered. “Healing\npotion my ass. There was something else in there.” She rubbed her thigh,\nwanting desperately to move her fingers just a bit higher, but not daring too.\nShe didn’t have a brand yet, so theoretically she didn’t need permission to\ncum. But she wouldn’t dare it. She knew the penalty.

\n\n

“Mistriss,”\nSloppytongue said hesitantly, tears falling down her face and over her chest.\n“Has this cunt done something to offend you?”

\n\n

“You\nsaid you had a message from my father?”

\n\n

The\ngirl nodded.

\n\n

“So,\nyou left your cell. Did I tell you you could leave your cell?”

\n\n

The\nslave bit her lip. It wasn’t really fair, and Eve knew it. Another slave,\nlikely one of the Dominas, had almost certainly let her out and given her orders.\nStill…

\n\n

Eve\nslapped her breast, sending her spinning as she yelped. “What’s the message?”

\n\n

“You must\n– Umn, Master Mevenmein says you must report to his slave quarters to be\nprepared for tonight.”

\n\n

Eve\nfrowned. She knew what was happening tonight. There would be a feast for the\nguests. Her father would undoubtably have something picked out for her to wear,\nbut she could use the normal slave quarters to put on jewelry and whatever lace\nnonsense he had bought from the last trader to pass through.

\n\n

“Did he\nsay what I’m being ‘prepared’ for?”

\n\n

“No.”

\n\n

Eve\nslapped Sloppytongue’s other tit. She yelped and Eve asked, “But, you asked\naround like a good cunt, right? What’s the rumor?”

\n\n

“Moldred,”\nshe said, more question than answer. When Eve didn’t immediately hit her, she\ncontinued, “The rumor is he will bestow you on Master Moldred.”

\n\n

Eve\nrubbed her eyes again. It wasn’t surprising, but the last thing she wanted to\ndo was spend the night with some brutish knight with a vendetta against her\nfather. It was only then that she noticed she had been running her hand up and\ndown her thigh the entire time. She forced herself to stop, and instead let\nSloppytongue down. The slave’s legs immediately collapsed as they touched the\nbare stone. She was a good slave though, and quickly turned her fall into a\nbow.

\n\n

“Fetch\nmy chamber pot,” Eve ordered.

\n\n

Sloppytongue\ncrawled to the small door that led to her cell. Most of the rooms in the manor\nhad at least one slave cell. Boxes, built into the wall, too small to stand or\nfully lay down, that could be locked from the outside. Sloppytongue’s cell\nwould have been cramped without the ceramic pot she pulled out of it. It was\nclean though, proof that the cunt was following at least some of Eve’s orders.

\n\n

Sloppytongue\npulled her legs under her, and placed the pot so it rested on her thighs. She\nopened her mouth, looking up at Eve with her tongue handing out. Eve sat over\nthe pot, relieving herself. It had been a while, and it came out a forceful\nsteam. At least a few drops landed on the slave girl holding the pot up. Once\nshe was done, Eve bent back, and Sloppytongue, living up to her name, cleaned\nher with her tongue. Eve moaned and had to bit her hand to stop from rubbing\nher clit over the girl’s face. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop once she\ndid.

\n\n

Bladder\nrelieved and chamberpot partly full of sloshing liquid, Eve walked over to the\nslave cell and held the door open for Sloppytongue. She crawled in, carrying\nthe pot with her. She curled up as best she could, making room for the pot. Eve\nshut the door and locked her into the dark, tight cell. Eve knew from\nexperience how miserable it was to be trapped in such a tight, warm space with\nnothing but the smell of another person’s waste to keep you company.

\n\n

As\nusual, as she walked down the stairs of her tower she felt somewhat bad for how\nshe treated Sloppytongue. She might have been a farm slave, but in the grand\nscheme of things she wasn’t much lower than Eve herself. They were both\nchattel. But, as the preacher’s taught, women were made to suffer for the\nenjoyment of men. Her father wouldn’t have ordered Sloppytongue to obey Eve if\ndoing so hadn’t brought him pleasure. So, Eve made her suffer, and took solace\nin the small amount of power it let her feel.

\n\n

Besides,\nthere wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she was going to get ten times worse from\nthis visiting knight.

\n\n

Moldred\nstood surrounded by the rubble of the shattered boulder. On his chest the crest\nstill glowed red. Gastogne and Amoric were speechless. Even the peasant man\nstared, completely forgetting the silver-haired pureborn with her lips around\nhis cock. Moldred’s veins bulged under his skin as he looked ahead. He could\njust make out the manor of Count Mevenmein in the distance.

\n\n

He\ncouldn’t focus on it though. The potion had done more than just increase his\nstrength. It had left him with a hunger in his loins. He ripped at his armor.\nThe metal held, but the leather straps keeping it together tore under his\nstrength. His cock stood up straight as he freed it – twitching as blood pumped\nthrough it. He looked around, and saw plenty of fresh meat to feed it.

\n\n

The group\nof slaves that had been hacking at the boulder stared at him with fear in their\neyes. They were dirty, scrawny things, but there was a hole between their legs.\nThey saw his intent, and tried to run, but they couldn’t have outran him if all\nhe had was his crest. With the potion, he was on the first of them before she\nhad taken two steps.

\n\n

He\ngrabbed her, lifting her by her hips and spearing her down on his member. She\nscreamed and groaned as he lifted her up and down like a masturbation toy. Her\nface distorted in pain and from him shaking her up and down. He came almost\nimmediately, shooting ejaculate that burned to the touch into her. A strange\nside effect of the potion that he was still too horny to notice. She was so\nbattered, it took her a few moments to notice the scalding liquid that filled\nher.

\n\n

Moldred\ntossed her to the side as she screamed in pain. Then pounced on the fleeing\nslaves, knocking one to the ground. He shoved himself into her rear, moving his\nhips so fast his body blurred. He took each of them, catching them and leaving\nthem twitching, broken messes that oozed his seemingly endless sperm from their\norifices.

\n\n

By the time his senses returned he\nwas inside Gash, slamming his cock into her cunt as she half screamed half\nlaughed in pleasure. Her eyes rolling into the top of her head and her tongue\nhanging out. He slapped her, and removed himself, exhausted. She looked back up\nat him with disappointment, but said nothing.

\n\n

Ignoring\nthe twitching slaves writhing in agony from his still cooling cum, he walked\nback to where he could see Mevenmein’s manor in the distance. As he stared at\nit, he walked over to the edge of the cliff, and pissed. He imagined the liquid\ncovering the castle, drowning everyone inside.

\n\n","authorName":"GRL","authorUserId":"3e550e6f-26b6-43ae-9e40-8d32a7c33e65","rating":5,"ratingCount":1,"reviewCount":1,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Extreme","Fantasy","Bondage","Domination","Exhibitionism","Humiliation","Masochism","Mind Control","Pain","Rape","Sadism","Sex Toys","Submission","Non-Consensual"],"language":"English","readTime":20,"recommendations":[{"id":"d624942c-098d-4827-bcd0-e2d87a99e9a0","title":"The Bound Knight Ch. 1","slug":"the-bound-knight-ch-1","shortId":"zRqvcjFQ","synopsis":"In a dark fantasy world where women are the property of men, a young woman is forced to disguise herself as a knight to accept a duel for her family. Will victory bring her freedom, or even greater bondage? Chapter 1 - Count Mevenmein and a mysterious stranger ride in a carriage through the woods while the Count's slave pleasures them both.","rating":5},{"id":"59bb57ba-5131-4591-bed4-a0fd262f74ea","title":"The Bound Knight Ch. 5","slug":"the-bound-knight-ch-5","shortId":"99YEz85s","synopsis":"A decadent banquet. Eve wears torturous attire as she and Moldred meet for the first time.","rating":5},{"id":"1706aa01-7886-46bc-bda1-054447dde7eb","title":"Poor Ms Winter?","slug":"poor-ms-winter","shortId":"OSCKrtuu","synopsis":"The masochistic and submissive Ms Winter should be more careful who she rents from - in this case, someone suitable sadistic...","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}