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The THC Adult Text Archive: CAIT01.TXT (762 lines)
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Caitlin's Tale (1/2) (ds, bd, f/f, mm+/f)
This story contains an awful lot of sex and nudity, but at least it's
not gratuitous, like on some Emmy-winning TV shows I could mention. If
you're underage in your jurisdiction or are offended by this kind of
thing, then move along, folks, nothing to see here.
Author's note (you just knew there was gonna be one): This story
represents a bit of departure for me. It was written for a very dear
friend who gave me the name of her SCA persona and asked me to write a
story about her kidnapping and ravishment by a bunch of knights. Being
the gentleman I am, I asked her how far I could go with what I did to
this character and was told, in effect, that the sky was the limit. So
I pulled out all the stops and threw just about every kink that didn't
turn my stomach (and a few that did) into the story. The end result was
that this woman didn't like the story very much -- not for what happened
to the girl, but because I got the girl's history all wrong; otherwise,
she thought it was pretty good. That's a pretty bonehead mistake to
make, and I've avoided making it again by refusing to fulfill any
requests except the barest bones of a fantasy.
Free Agent wouldn't let me post this in its original length, so I
divided it roughly in half. If you upload this elsewhere (please feel
free to) make sure you stitch them together before you do.
A final note: This is not the real-life name of my friend, nor is it the
name of her persona, so don't go up to any Caitlins at an SCA fair and
say something that might get your face slapped.
CAITLIN'S TALE
by Lysander
Sit, child. Such a lovely girl. I'll wager the boys fall all
over themselves just to get a smile from you. They did when your
mother was your age, you know.
Such a beauty, but hot-blooded, as your mother tells it. Nay,
it's nae use protesting, for your mother was the same way; as was I
when I was just a village girl.
Eh? You mean your mother never told you? That we were not
always nobility? That we were not always English, nor even Norman?
Nay, child. I am full-blood Celt, daughter of kings, as all of
our blood are children of kings. So you are only one quarter Celt,
but the blood runs thick and the song is loud and strong in your
heart.
I will tell you the story, the whole story, for I have nought to
be shamed about. But you must ne'er tell your mother, save she brings
it up first, for she has lived among Normans and Saxons all her life,
and is forever worrying over what is proper. She tries to deny her
blood, though it rages through her body, and the song, though it
rings in her ears.
The shade-cooled grass tickled her toes as Caitlin walked out
into the meadow. Her mother had sent her after mushrooms and told her
to hurry back, and Caitlin would indeed hurry back -- after she found
enough mushrooms. But who could tell how long that would take? She
could not stand to be too long out of the light and warmth of the sun.
Of course, the moist cool shade of the deep forest was also nice. Her
mother called her fickle, but Caitlin had decided long ago that she
liked many things that seemed opposite to each other. Like the
tartness of pickled cabbage and the sweetness of wild honey; the soft
petals of a rose, and the scrape of the thorns against her smooth
white skin.
It was the same with the boys who lived around her village. She
liked when they followed her around the fields, and she liked when
they ran away every time she showed that she knew they followed her.
She wanted someday for one not to run away, but she wanted to always
be able to make them flee if she wanted. She smiled to herself at the
thought of what she would do if any boy had the bravery to stay.
A shadow fell across her and she stepped back in surprise. So
deep in her thoughts had she been that she had not noticed the man who
had ridden up before her. He sat straight in a high cantled saddle,
astride a gigantic bay gelding. A warhorse, Caitlin thought
immediately, and then silently cursed herself. Of course, a warhorse.
What else would a man with sword and armor ride? He looked down at
her in consternation.
"Are you deaf, girl?" he demanded in heavily-accented English.
"I asked you a question!"
He must be one of the Norman invaders, Caitlin thought. She had
heard that King Edward had fallen somewhere in the East and that the
invaders were swarming over the country.
But he was talking to her. She must not make him angry. "Sir?"
"I asked you who is the local lord and where his keep is!"
"S-sorry, milord. Thane Alfred's castle is on the rise just
east of this meadow."
"And where is this Alfred, girl?"
"Off fighting the Norman bas... Away at war, sir."
"Well if he is still alive, he is thane no longer. These are my
lands now."
"Your lands, milord?" Mother would be so upset. She had known
the thane when she was just a girl, though he had been old and seldom
seen by the time Caitlin was born.
"Granted by Duke William -- King William -- himself, not a month
ago." His grin was very self-satisfied. And there was something else
in his face. She had seen it in the adult men of the village more and
more often over the past year. She blushed bright red under the
mounted man's gaze.
"Is there a stream or pond nearby? I need to water my horse and
clean the dust off. I must look presentable when I take over my new
keep, after all."
"Aye, milord. There is a small pool a few yards that way."
"Lead on, girl."
"Aye, milord."
As she walked, she heard the horse's steady steps behind her.
How could she have been deaf to that noise? Every step, she could
feel the eyes of the knight on her. She knew she was pretty. Dark
auburn hair spilled down her back. Her mother said she was not old
enough yet to wear it up, but that was all right with Caitlin, for she
loved to feel it brush against her. She was pleasingly plump, mostly
from baby fat that seemed to linger forever around her hips and face.
And her bosom had lately grown so much that her bodice was sometimes
uncomfortably tight. She would have to let it out soon... again. She
smiled to herself at the thought of the warrior behind her, unable to
keep his eyes off her. She brushed a hand through her long hair and
swayed her hips a little more than usual as she walked toward the tree
line.
The knight had to dismount as they entered the woods. Despite
the heavy chain that draped his body, he landed almost lightly,
without stumbling. Taking reins in hand, he followed Caitlin to the
little spring-fed pool that she loved to dip her feet in after a long
hot day. He removed the horse's bridle but left him saddled. As the
horse dipped his muzzle in the clear water, he took off his helmet and
Caitlin was able to see his face clearly for the first time.
His nose had been broken at least once, but his face was
otherwise unscarred. Thick black hair covered the top of his scalp,
but his head was completely shaved all around to about two
fingerwidths above his ears. His face had thick stubble on chin and
cheeks, beneath dark brown eyes and thick eyebrows. Caitlin thought
he must be very handsome and felt a slight pang of envy toward his
ladywife.
He pulled a cloth from his saddle bag, wetted it thoroughly in
the cool water, and mopped his face with it. She noticed that the
index finger of his right hand had been cut off below the first
knuckle. "Help me get this armor off, girl." He lifted an arm and
she could see the leather straps with buckles. With trembling
fingers, she unbuckled the fasteners and help her new lord take of his
mail shirt. He removed his thick wool gambeson and then his tunic.
His bare chest was pale, almost white, but thickly covered with hair,
almost like fur. He ran the cloth over his chest and under his arms,
then handed it to Caitlin. "Wash my back."
Silently, intimidated by this large man, Caitlin took the cloth
and soaked it in the pool once more. She scrubbed down his sweaty
back, feeling the hard muscles beneath her hands. Like oak, she
thought. She forced herself to step back when she was through; she
had probably spent too long already.
He took off the steel guards covering his shins and thighs, then
the thick leather breeches. Caitlin knew she should look away, but
could not. His legs and buttocks were also covered in coarse hair,
and also tightly muscled. He was slightly bow-legged from years spent
in the saddle. Without turning or even looking at her over his
shoulder, he said, "Now the rest of me."
She knew she must be blushing all the way down to the bottom of
her feet, but she approached anyway. Kneeling on the grass, she ran
her cloth-covered hand up the back of the knight's right leg, from
grimy ankle to pale buttock. She massaged calf and thigh and cheek.
She gently spread the cheeks open to reveal a dark and hairy crevice,
but couldn't bring herself to move the cloth into it. Then she worked
her way down the other leg. When she finished, she rinsed the cloth
out in the pool.
"Would you..." her voice caught, and she cleared her throat
before continuing. "Would you turn around, milord?" How could she be
so bold?
When the knight turned around, he was grinning lewdly down at
her. Her boldness drained from her in an instant. Her face grew hot
and her heart beat painfully in her breast.
Before her, inches from her face, the knight's manhood thrust
proudly from his middle. It drooped slightly, and the skin was still
wrinkled in spots along the shaft, and only the pinkish tip could be
seen beneath his foreskin. But still, it was huge! Caitlin had never
seen one even semi-hard before, but this one must be the largest in
the world. The scrotum alone would probably cover the whole palm of
her hand.
She washed his legs quickly. Then she moved to his pelvis. His
cock moved back and forth as she rubbed on the surrounding skin,
hypnotizing her. Once, she touched it. With bare fingertips. It may
have been an accident, or it may not, she was not sure herself. But
she was amazed at the softness of the skin, at the way it jumped a
little when her fingers touched it, getting a little harder. She was
entranced.
"Stand up, girl," the knight said, bringing her out of her
reverie. She stood before him, head bowed as was proper before a man
of his station. No, that was no good, for her eyes immediately
focused on his cock. So she looked him in the eye. No, that was not
proper, either. So she stared directly at his chest.
"Take off your clothes."
"Milord? Milord, that would not be--"
Without warning, she was prostrate on the ground, pinned by the
naked man, his hands clenching her wrists so hard they might break,
his knees pushing in on her ribs.
"I gave you an order, girl," he said in a normal, soft voice.
But his eyes were angry and his jaw was clenched. "This time only will
I repeat myself. Never again. After this time, I will beat you until
you obey. I will whip you until you bleed. But I can make a whipping
last hours without drawing blood."
His hands and knees tightened around her. "Do you understand
me?"
"Aye," she tried to say, but couldn't. She nodded her head,
afraid to move it more than a fraction of an inch. His hands tightened
further; she could feel the bones in her wrists rubbing together.
"AYE!" she shouted as pain overcame fear.
He released her suddenly. Blood rushed back into her wrists,
making the pain even worse for a moment. He stood back, arms crossed
against chest. "Now. Stand and take off your clothes."
Her hands quivered so violently she could not untie the laces of
her skirt. In fear and frustration she pushed it down her thighs.
Too late, she realized that the way she was forced to move her hips
would do nothing to dissuade the knight from doing what she knew he
would. Even as the garment pooled around her feet, she was pulling
the blouse over her head. The wool caught her shift and pulled it up
as well. Though she knew she would be completely bare in moments,
Caitlin cursed herself for not wearing anything under the shift as she
felt it rise above her buttocks. With the briefest of hesitations,
Caitlin lifted the shift over her head and tossed it to the ground.
She lifted her left arm and dropped her right to cover her breasts and
privates.
"Arms at sides," said the knight, conversationally. When Caitlin
did not immediately obey, he stepped toward her. She let her arms
fall.
Her entire body was exposed to him now. Her breasts were large
and white, but with small, rosy pink nipples. She sometimes thought
they were too large, often getting in the way when she was running or
trying to sleep. But at least they didn't sag as her mother's did.
Her skin was flawless, with a scattering of freckles above her sternum
and below her elbows and knees, milky white everywhere else. Her hips
were wide and sloped gradually down into strong thighs. And between
those thighs was a thatch of light brown hair, glinting red in the
midmorning sun, not yet with the fullness of maturity. "Turn," the
knight said, and she did. Her feet tangled in the skirt and she
stumbled, causing her breasts to bobble in a delightful manner. She
stepped gingerly out of the circle of cloth, making dimples in her
full buttocks. "Your hair is in the way," the knight said, and
Caitlin gathered her locks and draped them over her left breast. Her
back was soft and smooth, with only the slightest bulge over her
shoulder-blades.
Suddenly she felt fingertips between her shoulders and she gave
a little jump of surprise. "Very beautiful," murmured the knight.
His fingertips left goosebumps in their trail. How many times had she
wanted one of the village boys, wanted Conal, to be this forward?
They ran from her as often as they followed her. And the men might
stare at her, but when she met their gazes, longing looks became
sidelong glances. But this foreigner was open enough to say what he
wanted and expect to get it.
"Very beautiful," he repeated as he withdrew his hand. "It
would be a shame to scar it." At that, Caitlin felt a sharp tremor of
fear course through her.
But her nipples hardened like granite.
"Face me," said the knight. And again Caitlin turned. The
knight brushed her hair back and peered closely into her face. "You
have not the look of a Saxon."
"Nay, milord. My mother is Irish. She came here with her
father who was a debt-slave to an English shipmaster. Thane Alfred won
his bond at dice. My father was a Welshman. He's dead, now."
He stared into her eyes for an eternity. Then, as quickly as he
had knocked her to the ground before, he spit on the first two fingers
of his left hand and thrust them between the lips of her sex. Caitlin
winced in pain when they entered, and she gasped when they bumped
against her maidenhead. "A virgin," the Norman said with a smile as
he removed his fingers. "Very good. It has been a long time since I
trained a virgin."
He turned and walked to his horse. As he rummaged through a
saddle bag, he told her to put his clothes back on, never looking back
at her.
"Thank you, milord."
He faced her again, and began sharpening a small knife with a
whetstone. "Do not call me that. Other knights are 'milord' to you.
Not I. I am 'Master.'" Stroke, stroke. "I own you now. You are mine
like this horse is mine, like this knife is mine. I will do what I
will, and you will obey me. Or suffer punishment." He walked toward
her, never taking his eyes off her, stroking the knife along the
stone. He knelt at the pool and dipped out a handful of water. He
damped his face and held the knife out to Caitlin. "Shave me."
Caitlin took the knife and stood behind him. He was still
talking in an unconcerned voice. "Your training begins as soon as I
have taken possession of the keep. You will please me in every way I
say or I will punish you. Severely. I have been given these lands,
and I have been given you. I will use you."
Her stomach roiled with nausea at his bluntness. An afternoon's
dalliance was one thing. He was ungentle and crude, but she found
that somehow exciting. But to think he could own her and use her?
She would be damned before she let a man think he could own her. She
stared at the knife in her hand. It gleamed in the light that shone
through the leaves. She could see her eyes clearly in the steel. She
looked into them as though they were a stranger's. She realized that
she no longer recognized them. She felt like she might spew; so why
did those eyes look so calm? If she was so angry and afraid, why did
those eyes seem so soft and peaceful?
She dragged her gaze away from her reflection and advanced upon
the knight's back. She would not stand idly while this stranger
seized her fate and strangled it. She would do... something. In the
three paces that brought her to the invader, she considered her
predicament. She felt his knees against her ribs, his hands grasped
around her wrists, his voice cruel and cold... and strong. And his
fingertips on her back. But owned? Like a cow or pig? Trained like
a dog or a hawk? Used like an ox or mule? Not her! Boys ran from
her and men refused to look her in the eye. She had once stared down
Father John, by God!
Caitlin brought the knife to his throat. Use me? Own me? The
knife was very sharp. It would part the skin easily and spill his
blood into the pool. Everyone would assume robbers had happened upon
a traveling knight who had stopped to rest. All she would have to do
is apply a little pressure against his neck. Then take his purse, to
make it look like a robbery, and run. Perhaps it would be best to
hide the money for a while to protect herself and her mother. Yes.
That was it. Own me? Train me? Use me?
She rested the edge of the blade against the knight's throat.
Directly upon the large artery. She pushed against the skin.
She scraped away a patch of stubble. Then another. Not a nick
did she make.
When the knight's face was bare, he stood and began dressing.
He left the armor off, tying it in a bundle across the horse's back.
"You could have killed me and no one would have known. You could have
tried, at least." Caitlin said nothing.
"What is your name, slave? Only your Christian name, for you
have no family any longer."
"Caitlin," she answered in a trembling voice.
"I am Sir Robert. But you will never call me that, even when
speaking to other people. I am always 'Master' or 'My Master.' Do
you understand that?"
"Aye, Master."
Robert mounted his gelding and motioned Caitlin westward. "Now
lead me to my new home."
When they arrived at the old stone keep, Ethan Jones, the old
caretaker, was waiting for them with his daughter -- and one of
Caitlin's
best friends -- Heather. Sir Robert ordered Caitlin to stand a ways off
while he spoke to Ethan. Caitlin saw a parchment pass hands. Ethan
peered at it closely. He could no more read than Caitlin could, but
she supposed he was examining the seal. As he handed the parchment
back to the knight, his shoulders drooped in defeat. Caitlin
remembered that he and Thane Alfred had marched together under King
Edward's banner once, long ago. It's not every day one finds oneself
ruled by a strange new master. The thought ran like ice water down
Caitlin's back. Robert then leaned down and spoke to Heather. He
gave her a purse and Heather ran off toward Caitlin's village after a
quick glance in her direction.
Ethan led the knight through the gates of the keep, and Robert
beckoned Caitlin to follow. All three went into the stable. While
Robert unsaddled and rubbed down his charger, Ethan put saddle and
bridle on the old nag he used to run errands for the thane. "He goes
to bring my men," Robert informed her.
"Your men?" He ignored her, and she remembered. "Your men,
Master?"
"Yes, girl. These lands are no mere reward. I am to keep the
Welsh tribes out, and keep the rebels in. Or keep them from crossing
through this section of the March, at least. To do that, I need
soldiers and knights. So I brought my own. They should arrive
sometime tomorrow, with enough servants to run this place."
"But why did you no' bring them with you? Master."
"Because I am no longer a conqueror. I am rightful lord of this
place and need no army to take what his mine." Like me, Caitlin
thought.
"And where did Heather go, Master?"
"To pay your mother. I told the girl that you are now 'working'
for me. No more questions, now. I have been lenient with you because
this is new to you. From now on, you will ask permission to speak to
me. Unless I ask a direct question, which you will answer
immediately. Do you understand?"
"Aye, Master."
"Good girl. Now see if you can find something for me to eat.
Bread and cheese, cold meat. Then we will begin your training in
earnest."
Caitlin sat at the small table in the kitchen and watched while
Robert ate enough for both of them. He had given her permission to
eat as well, but she was much too nervous, frightened and -- she
admitted it to herself at last -- excited. She was naked again, as he
had ordered. She was amazed at how easily she sat there, uncovered.
She did not even feel the desire to cover herself with her arms. She
enjoyed being naked around him, even here in the kitchen or outside in
the courtyard.
She found herself thinking of the feel of his skin when she
washed him, of the hardness of him. She knew that soon he would take
her, and now she looked forward to it. He wasn't Conal, but there was
something similar about him. The life of a peasant and the life of a
warrior had made them strong, but where Conal was bulky, her master
was lithe and wiry. She could never have gotten her arms around
Conal's broad back, but she imagined her master would fit very nicely
into her embrace. Her flesh tingled in anticipation of that even.
Her nipples were hard again, and she felt a delicious warmth between
her thighs. The muscles spasmed occasionally and sent tremors through
her belly.
Robert put a slice of cheese on the last piece of dark bread and
popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he looked thoughtfully at
Caitlin. Unconsciously, she sat a little straighter under his gaze,
thrust her breasts out a little further. He emptied his cup in a
single mouthful and placed his forearms on the table, surrounding the
plate and cup.
"Where shall we begin your training?"
"The bedroom, Master?" Despite her nudity, Caitlin blushed at
her brashness.
Robert seemed to turn the thought over in his head before giving
it a small but firm shake. "No, not the bedroom. You will serve me
in other ways as well. It should be someplace that is normally full
of people, so that when you are serving me, you can look at the place
where a man took you for the first time. The main hall, I think. Yes,
that will be perfect."
They left the kitchen and walked down the short passageway
toward the central building. As they passed the kennel, Thane
Albert's dogs began barking furiously. Robert's face lit up in the
first truly pleasant smile Caitlin had ever seen on him. He walked to
the gate and looked over. Two wolfhounds snarled at him, drool
dripping off their muzzles. Each was as big as a man, and as
ferocious as the beasts it was bred to fight. Robert made to open the
gate.
Caitlin grabbed his arm before he could lift the latch.
"Master! Do not! Only Thane Albert and his huntmaster are able to
handle these animals. When they bait wolves, the only bets made are
on which of these will kill the wolf! They will kill you!"
Robert pried her fingers from his arm and held her at arm's
length. "You show concern for your master, and that is proper, but
you also show a lack of trust. You will have to be punished for that.
After I make these fine dogs' acquaintance."
He opened the gate and stepped into the kennel. Immediately the
dogs rushed him. Caitlin knew they would crush him with their weight
and rip him apart with their teeth and claws. She could not look, but
she could not turn away.
Robert shouted something in French at the dogs. She could not
make out the word, but the dogs halted as though they had run into a
wall. Robert rose on his toes and walked toward the dogs. And they
backed up! Heads lowered and tails tucked between legs, they
retreated from her master step for step. Robert held out his hands,
palms down, and the dogs walked forward and placed their heads against
his hands. He stroked their heads and backs for a few moments before
turning on his heel and walking out of the kennel.
"May I speak, Master?"
"You want to know how I did that." She nodded. "I learned it
from an old woman who practically raised me."
"What kind of woman can teach a man that?"
"She was a... I do not know the word. She... spoke with the
trees." He looked embarrassed, expecting disbelief, despite the feat
he had accomplished with the dogs.
"My mother said her grandmother also spoke with the trees,
Master." He said nothing, merely placed an arm across her bare
shoulders and led her into the keep proper. Strangely, Caitlin felt
not only nervousness and excitement, she felt comfort as she pressed
her bare flesh into her master's (when had she started *thinking* of
him as her master?) side.
The main hall was the central room of the keep. It served as
chapel and dining hall most of the time, but was used when the Thane
heard grievances once a month, and as hospital and dormitory when the
Welsh attacked. At the moment it was empty of furnishings because the
keep's master -- former master -- was gone and likely to never return.
"Go stand where the thane kept his chair." A slight nudge got
her moving; she walked to the spot and stood.
"Thane Albert sat here on audience days and feast days, Master.
This is where the altar stands for Mass."
Robert's long strides carried him quickly to her side.
"Excellent. The center of attention always. Power and sacrifice,
eh?"
A quick search of the small rooms off the main hall found
blankets, pillows and a chair. Pillows and blanket were arranged on
the selected spot and Robert ordered Caitlin to lie down. He sat in
the chair a short distance from her feet.
His voice was soft, echoing slightly in the great chamber as he
spoke to her. "You like the boys, don't you Caitlin? You like to
think about them. At night. The thoughts are pleasant, aren't they?
Is there one boy you think about more than the others?"
Conal, with his dark blonde hair curling around his head. His
shoulders wide and powerful as he tosses hay onto the wagon, skin
glowing under a sheen of sweat. Caitlin nodded. "Yes, Master. His
name is--"
"I do not need to know his name. Do you think of his arms
around you? His kisses on your lips? His hands on your body? I
thought so. And at night, when you want him but cannot have him, do
you pretend that your hands are his? Do you touch yourself as you
long for him to touch you?"
Caitlin nodded. Her eyes were closed as she listened to her
master's soft, powerful voice and thought of Conal.
"Show me."
Her eyes opened abruptly. His gaze bored into her, but he did
not repeat himself. She did not want to make him repeat himself.
She closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was alone, under her
blankets with her mother asleep on the other side of the room.
Tentatively, her hands moved to her breasts. They were too full to
stand up on her chest, but fell slightly to the sides. She lifted
them, caressed their undersides with her hands. She traced patterns
over them with her fingertips. She scraped her nails across the
flesh, making goose bumps rise. With the pads of her fingers, she
rubbed the very tips of her nipples, making them even harder. She
pressed firmly against them, imagining Conal's strong hands on her.
She pulled on her nipples with thumbs and forefingers, but in her
mind, it was Conal's lips tugging on them.
A moan escaped from her lips. It wasn't her tongue caressing
them, it was Conal's. Her hands moved lower, down her belly, fingers
tickling the rim of her bellybutton. As she neared the juncture of
her thighs, she spread her knees apart, as Conal would do. She
stretched her fingers toward her moistening slit; Conal spoke to her.
"You are mine. You belong to me." Yes, I am yours. Her fingers found
their target. While one index finger lightly tapped on her clitoris,
the others traced the lips of her opening. Take me, Conal, take me!
She suddenly buried two fingers in her cunt up to the first joint.
She felt Conal's body crush hers as he laid himself along her torso.
Her breasts were crushed by his hairy chest.
Only... Conal's chest was smooth and hairless. She opened her
eyes in surprise, fingers still working in and on her cunt. Robert
sat in his chair, naked. His prick pointed skyward. "You're thinking
of me now, yes?"
"Master," she moaned. "Take me, Master. Fuck me, please." She
thrust three fingers into herself as deeply as she could. In and out
at a furious pace. But she wanted more. She wanted that magnificent
cock completely in her. More than anything else, she wanted her master
to possess her totally.
He knelt between her thighs. He removed her hands from her
cunt. He sucked the juices from her fingers before placing them on
her breasts. He slowly slid the fingers of his right hand into her
wetness. They were large, and thickly callused, causing a little
discomfort as they pressed deeper. She felt the nub of his index
finger bump into her clitoris. It had not healed smooth. Rough scar
tissue covered the tip, and every move it made seemed to drag her clit
with it. She gasped at the sensation.
She felt his other fingers move inside her, all three of them
she thought. They curled and spread inside her, stretching the
muscles of her sex. Getting her ready.
He crawled above her. Supporting himself with one hand, he
rubbed the head of his cock up and down her slit, wetting it with her
own juices. He guided himself to her entrance. He pushed slowly
until the head was inside. He paused for a moment, too long for
Caitlin. "Do it, Master," she hissed. "Do it!"
He thrust his hips forward and ripped through her maidenhead.
Her eyes closed tightly against the bright lights and her back arched
in an instinctive attempt to escape the source of hurt, causing more
of her flesh to press against Robert's hirsute body. A wordless cry
erupted from Caitlin's lips as her womanhood began in pain and joy.
Again, Robert held himself still above her. He was buried
completely inside her, his groin pressed into hers. She pushed
against him with her hips. "Fuck me, Master. Fuck your slave."
So he did. His strokes were slow and steady. Almost all the
way out, then all the way back in. Caitlin thrust her hips against
him, desperate to have him inside her. Quickly Robert's thrusts
matched hers. Frantically, they fucked each other. Robert let his
arms collapse and he fell on top of Caitlin. It knocked the breath
out of her for a moment, but she wrapped her arms and legs around his
back, trying to draw all of him into her. Only his hips moved now.
They pounded at her violently, painfully. But the pleasure, the
rapturous pleasure, washed the pain away.
She was his, truly. His possession of her was complete, total.
His panting in her ear was as sweet music, his coarse hair on her soft
skin was as velvet, his pounding at her groin was as a gentle caress.
Everything about him was perfect, broken nose and missing finger and
all, for without those flaws he would be someone else, and it would
not be her master making her a woman, but someone else in another
body.
This was a hundred, a thousand times better than when she
pleasured herself at night. She could not predict what Robert's next
move would be. Would he caress her breast or pinch her nipple? Was
he going to speed up or slow down his thrusts? Was he going to kiss
her lips or her throat? Would he ever stop? Please God, don't let him
stop. She felt the wave building up, the pressure inside her
increasing, demanding release. Sweet release. Her body was no longer
hers, not even Robert's. It was its own being, and it had power of
its own, which it was going to release. Soon... soon... soon... Now!
"Oh God! Master! Fuck me!" she screamed as her climax took
her. "Aye! Aye! Aiieeee!!!"
At the same time, Robert lay stock still on top of her as he
emptied inside of her. Give me all of you, Caitlin silently cried.
For minutes they lay like that, master on top of slave, bodies
quivering against each other.
Robert stirred first. Slowly, he withdrew from her warmth. He
knelt above her and walked on his knees until he was astride her
shoulders. His cock was above her face, streaked with her blood and
soaked in their mingled juices. "Lick it," he told her. "Take the
blood back into you."
Caitlin's tongue stretched up toward the half-hard cock above
her. Hesitantly, it touched a spot of pink on the underside.
Robert's cock jerked in response. Emboldened, Caitlin sent her tongue
all along the underside, gathering up her blood and their spendings.
Greedily, she lapped at the shaft. She peeled back the foreskin and
sucked the head into her mouth. She circled the rim with her tongue a
dozen times, and felt him harden in her mouth.
She wriggled out from between his thighs and knelt on hands and
knees, so she could get at more of his cock. She licked and sucked on
the shaft until it was spotlessly clean. And she kept licking and
sucking. Her head pushed it in all directions, and her mouth chased
it. She took the head between her lips once more, and moved further
down the shaft until it nudged the back of her throat. She tried to
take even more, but gagged. She wanted him to come in her mouth. She
was determined to taste his seed.
But he pulled out and stood. Caitlin let out a small whimper
and tried to suck him back in. "No," he said, pushing her head away.
"It's time for your punishment. Lean over the chair and wait until I
return."
When he was satisfied with Caitlin's posture, he walked out of
the hall, cock swinging in front of him. He was gone an awfully long
time, Caitlin thought. She reached underneath her, between her
thighs, with one hand. She diddled her clit, and snaked a finger
between her labia. Lazily, she played with her sex, awaiting her
master's return.
She heard a whistle and then a sharp sting on her left buttock.
She shrieked, from surprise more than pain. Robert stood beside her,
a thin birch branch held tightly in one hand, a stern look on his
face.
"I did not give you permission to play with yourself. Ten
lashes. Outside the kennels, you displayed a lack of trust. Ten
lashes. You spoke without permission. Five lashes. But you spoke
out of concern, so I will withhold five lashes. Twenty lashes in all.
You will count them, and if you miss one, we will of course begin
again."
"Yes, Master," she answered meekly.
Whistle. Sting. "One, Master."
"The number will be sufficient."
Whistle. Sting. "Two."
The individual strikes were only annoying, but their cumulative
effect was painful. "Five."
She began to squirm under the assault. Her thighs rubbed
together between lashes. Partly this was to relieve the pain, partly
it was to stimulate her clitoris.
Oh God. Was that ten or eleven? She could only guess. "Ten."
Whistle. Sting. "Eleven." Would he never reach twenty?
"Nineteen."
Whistle. Sting. "Twenty." She heard the branch fall to the
floor. Then she felt her master's hands caressing her reddened
buttocks. The flesh was so tender that at first his touch was more
painful than the branch's, but soon his hands were soothing away the
pain. Robert fell to his knees and planted his face between her
buttocks. His tongue and lips roamed over her weeping pussy. He
sucked on her lips. His tongue darted into her over and over. He
nibbled on the folds of flesh surrounding her cunt. He sucked her
blood-engorged clit between his lips. The fluttering in her stomach
began again as his mouth worked its magic on her sex. "Oh, Master!
I'm going to... I'm going to..." He sucked hard on her clit, drawing
in air at the same time so that her button vibrated against his lips.
She cried out her pleasure and passion, and collapsed across the arm
of the chair. "Mmm, Master..." Darkness.
When Caitlin awoke, it was to the sun shining in her eyes. Had
she slept the entire night? No, it was just dusk. Shielding her
eyes, she looked out the window. She saw a line of packhorses and
wagons following a pennant. She thought she could make out several
women. Robert's men and their servants.
She found her clothes lying across a chest but left them there,
and went to search for her master. She heard his whisper from behind
the first door she came to. Does a slave open the door or knock? She
knocked and heard Robert call her in.
He sat on the edge of his bed, naked. Kneeling between his legs
was a woman, also naked. Caitlin only noticed her long blonde hair,
slim back and waist, and rounded buttocks covered with pinkish red
stripes. Robert's hands held her head and she could tell by the
slurping sounds that she was sucking his cock. But that was HER job!
Rushing across the small room, she grabbed a handful of blonde
hair and pulled, hard. She smiled in satisfaction at the resultant
scream. "What do you think you're doing, bitch?! He's mine! Do you
understand me?"
She looked down into tearful, fear-filled eyes. It was Heather.
The closest thing to a best friend she had. Her friend, sucking her
master's cock! Still holding Heather's head back by the hair, she
slapped her ex-friend across the face, as hard as she could. She
raised her hand for another slap, but was stopped by a crushing grip
on her wrist.
She turned to see Robert's angry eyes focused tightly on her.
His jaw was clenched, and she could see a vein throbbing in his
forehead. She felt her stomach sink in fear. He had been stern with
her, cold with her, but this was the first time she had ever seen
anger in his face.
"I am yours, slave?" His voice was like steel, cold and hard,
cutting. "I am yours? No. You are mine, as Heather is mine. You
are both my slaves."
"But--"
"SILENCE!" He took her other wrist, forcing her to let go of
her hold on Heather. "Heather saw us. Saw me taking you, saw me
punishing you, saw your reactions. She asked to serve me as well. I
accepted," he concluded simply.
"But that is irrelevant. You do not control my body, I control
yours. Who I..." He squinted, trying to remember the word. "Who I
fuck is no concern of yours. Who you fuck is entirely up to me." His
voice lowered, almost as though her were talking to himself. "I
thought you had learned, but I see you have not. I have never had to
punish a slave for something so serious, for believing *she* owned
*me*. Perhaps when my men come..."
"Master?"
"What!"
"I saw... I wanted to tell... That was why I came looking for
you."
"What are you babbling about?"
"Your men, Master." She pointed out the window.
He watched them for a minute. "About half an hour away." He
stood, pulling on a tunic. He looked down at Heather, who knelt on
the floor, silently crying. "Your father will be with them. Merde!"
As he finished dressing, he spoke to Caitlin. "If you cannot
learn with one master, perhaps you can learn with two. You are both
my slaves, but from this moment, you are also Heather's. You will
follow all her orders that do not conflict with mine. You will...
Merde! We'll work this out later. Heather, do what you will with
her, but do not mark or injure her. If you strike her, you may only
use your hand, on her head or face, only your open hand. Anything
else is your decision. I have to go head off your father."
He strode quickly out of the room and Caitlin was left alone
with Heather, who had stopped crying and was now looking eagerly and
maliciously at her. And grinning evilly.
"I'm really sorry, Heather. Had I known it was you, I'd not..."
Heather only peered stonily at her.
Caitlin dropped to her knees and bowed her head. "I'm sorry,
Mistress."
Heather stood. "Better. But you still have to be punished.
However, first let's see if you are as good as our master at sucking
cunt."
She reached down and jerked Caitlin's head back by the hair.
Caitlin's mouth opened wide to gasp, but was silenced by Heather's wet
slit. Caitlin had tasted her own juices, mixed with Robert's and her
own blood. She could taste Robert in the drippings from Heather's
pussy, so she knew he had already fucked her. Had she been a virgin,
as well? Heather's fist tightened in her hair and she growled down at
her, "I said lick my cunt!"
Dutifully, Caitlin's tongue ventured out to the slit that was
smearing its juices over her mouth. She dabbed at the labia,
gathering up the fluids that clung to them. She discovered that she
liked the taste. Her tongue grew more insistent, poking at the
entrance, forcing its way past the yielding lips. She tasted the musk
of Heather and smelled her sweat. Pubic hair tickled her nostrils as
Heather ground her sex on Caitlin's mouth. Ever deeper, her tongue
explored the girl she had grown up with, straining against the inner
muscles.
She looked up Heather's body, between her apple-sized breasts to
a face screwed up in passion. She plastered her mouth to her pussy.
She sucked hard on her labia, on her clitoris. She nibbled on her
flesh. Heather hunched against her face, moaning in pleasure.
Caitlin tried to push her whole head inside Heather, so great was her
hunger for the girl and her desire to please her mistress. Heather's
body jerked and convulsed. Her body bent forward, as though she were
trying to curl into a ball. Suddenly, Caitlin's mouth, her entire
face, was flooded with hot musky fluid as she brought her first woman
to orgasm.
Heather fell back on the bed, overcome. Her legs were splayed
wide, and Caitlin could see her pussy lips still quivering slightly.
She reached between her thighs to her own cunt and slipped a couple of
fingers in. She frigged herself frantically, almost clawing at her
pussy, desperate to come. Heather stood over her again and planted
her wet slit on Caitlin's face.
"Whatever you do, don't stop sucking."
Happily, Caitlin complied. She would gladly suck all day on the
pussy above her, whether ordered to or not. She heard Heather grunt,
and the flavor of her secretions changed slightly. Then, they were
obviously more bitter, and the scent was sour rather than musky.
"Swallow it," Heather ordered, just as Caitlin realized what was
happening to her. As her mouth filled with urine, Caitlin tried to
pull away. But Heather was holding her too tightly. Her thighs kept
Caitlin's head immobile, and her mouth was too tightly clamped to the
other girl's pussy for her to even spit it out. She had to swallow or
choke, so she swallowed.
As soon as her mouth was empty, it was filled again. She
swallowed yet again, but this time the flavor did not have time to
register in her brain. All she could think about was her utter
humiliation. Sir Robert would likely never know anyone in her
village by name, but Heather's friends were her friends, she could
keep this moment secret or not. Caitlin's pride was completely in her
hands. She had power over Caitlin now, even more than Robert had
given her.
Of their own accord, her hands went up to Heather's breasts.
She fondled and caressed them as she swallowed as much of Heather's
piss as she could. Some of it ran down the sides of her face, along
her neck, and down her body, and it felt pleasantly warm on her skin.
Heather didn't have much urine in her, apparently, for the flood soon
turned into a trickle, and then stopped.
"Clean me. With your tongue."
**This Story is brought to you with the blessings of**
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** Internet Address 204.179.147.2 or RNE.COM **
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The THC Adult Text Archive: CAIT02.TXT (602 lines)
Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message.
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Caitlin's Tale (2/2) (ds, bd, f/f, mm+/f, )
Caitlin sucked hard on Heather's cunt, to get the dregs. She
licked up the stray drops on her labia and upper thighs. She lowered
her head to lick up the drying rivulets that had escaped her mouth.
When she was done, she sat back on her heels. Heather inspected
herself closely and, satisfied, dressed herself. "You're a mess,
Caitlin. Clean yourself up before our master gets back." Then she
left.
Caitlin found a washbasin and cloth. She cleansed the urine
from her face and body and rinsed out her hair. Then she went back to
her room and dressed. When she thought she was presentable, she went
off in search of her master.
Robert and Heather were in the courtyard. He was giving the
servants their orders, in both French and English. They were to
unpack only the essentials, then go to bed, for the day would start
early. Then he turned to the warriors.
They were a fearsome bunch, Caitlin thought as she looked at
them from the shadows of a doorway. There were eleven of them, all
wearing armor of some sort. All had swords; some carried bows and
quivers, others rested lances on the ground. Only a handful were
unscarred. Three were missing an ear, and one of those had a patch
over his left eye. Robert spoke to them in English, but she noticed
that he spoke clearly and used simple words.
"We'll start patrols the day after tomorrow. I've sent the
caretaker of this keep to spread the word that the levees must be
ready for inspection by the end of this week. I want you all to speak
English all the time, even among yourselves. We'll be dealing with
Welsh as well as Saxons, so we need a lingua franca." For some
reason, this brought laughter from the otherwise terrifying group.
"Wash the dust off, have a small drink, and meet me in the main hall
in about half an hour. I need your help with a personal matter."
The men spread out to get a feel for their new home, and Robert
walked toward the main hall. He saw Caitlin in the lengthening
shadows. "Walk with me," he called. She trotted over to him. "Did
you hear what I said to the men?"
"Aye, Master."
"The 'personal matter' I need their help with is you."
"Me, Master?"
"I have decided not to punish you for your... impudence,
earlier."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Master!"
"Instead, I shall teach you exactly what it means to be my
slave. You must serve me willingly. If you do not wish to, you may
leave and never hear from me again."
"I am yours, Master. I want to learn."
"Very well. Tonight, you are not mine alone. You will serve my
men, in every way they choose."
She stopped in surprise. Robert stopped as well, and looked
down at her. "All of them?"
"All of them. Or cease to be my slave and leave my sight
forever."
"Master, I would... I would rather be punished."
He stepped closer to her. "No. Punishment will only teach you
how to act like a slave. This will teach you how to think as a slave,
how to *be* a slave. But the choice is yours." He continued toward
the hall.
She watched him go. She remembered the whipping earlier. She
thought about the humiliation she had felt as Heather had voided
herself in her mouth. And she thought about the taste of Heather's
pussy, even soaked in urine. She thought about Robert's cock, filling
her body. She jogged up to Robert and stood before him, head bowed,
chin on breast. "Teach me Master. Teach me how to be a slave."
He lifted her chin with his hand. He looked down into her eyes,
searching for sincerity. "This will not teach you how to be a slave,
but what it *means* to be a slave. Yes, I will teach you." Then he
leaned down and kissed her lips, almost gently. She rose on tiptoes
to meet his kiss, but he drew away. "I must prepare things. Wait in
your room, naked. But do not touch yourself. Heather or I will come
to collect you."
The wait seemed interminable, but Caitlin sat on her bed, hands
folded in her lap. Eventually, Heather opened her door. She was as
bare as Caitlin, and her expression was serious. "Come," was all she
said.
The main hall smelled strongly of sweat and horseflesh. The men
stared at them with open lust as they walked into the chamber. Tables
had been set up along the walls to either side. Thane Albert's chair
sat on the spot where she had given up her virginity. The soldiers
were still dressed as they had been. A few were still armed, but most
were not. She noticed a giant standing beside Robert by the empty
fireplace. He looked a little like Robert. The same hair, the same
eyes, except they were not as cold as her master's, nor as commanding.
A sword hilt jutted over his right shoulder, and when he turned she
saw that it was longer even than Thane Albert's two-handed sword. The
man had to be almost seven feet tall! How had she not noticed him in
the courtyard?
The others were spread out in little groups of three or four.
None bothered to hide their stares as she and Heather walked by. She
wanted to cover herself, but since Heather did not, she would not.
They walked past a doorway leading to nowhere. No, not a doorway, a
wooden frame, taller and wider than a doorway. Leather cuffs hung
from ropes attached to the upper corners. Two more cuffs were
attached near the bottom. She could not study it further because they
had reached Robert.
He seemed to notice them for the first time as he cut off his
conversation with the giant in mid-sentence. "Ah, Heather, Caitlin.
This is Etienne, my little brother." Caitlin felt her eyes widen, and
Robert and the giant laughed. "Well, he is my younger brother, at
least. He has been bigger than me since he was eight and I was
eleven."
Etienne's eyes wandered up and down Caitlin and Heather.
Caitlin saw his crotch begin to bulge and she felt a new wave of fear
course through her body. Surely a horse would be smaller! Robert
seemed to read her mind, for he said, "Don't worry. Etienne will try
to hold himself back until we think you're ready." He took Caitlin by
one arm and led her back to the center of the hall. "We might as well
begin now, don't you think?"
"If you say so, Master," she answered.
"I do. Heather. Heather!"
She looked up from Etienne's groin. "Yes, Master?"
"Did you strike Caitlin as punishment, earlier?"
Heather grinned widely. "No, Master. I didn't have the
chance."
Caitlin wanted to speak up, to say that she had been punished,
but she did not feel a slave should try to defend herself against one
who had been given power over her.
"Then you must punish her now. Would you like to give her a
spanking?"
"Yes, Master, very much!"
Robert nodded his approval for her enthusiasm. "But first, go
to the kitchens and bring back the pot of water over the fire and the
device on the table. And hurry."
She dashed off to carry out her orders, little breasts bobbing
as she half-ran out of the hall. While she was gone, all the men
pretended to ignore Caitlin. They all stared at her, to be sure, but
their conversations seemed to be about other things entirely. Heather
soon returned with a small black pot. It was not very hot, despite
being over a fire, for she carried it barehanded by the wire handle.
In her other hand dangled something that looked like a large onion.
She couldn't tell what it was, or even what it was made of. It was
flexible, but didn't look like it was leather.
Etienne lifted her by the waist, eliciting a small shriek. He
placed her on her hands and knees on one of the tables and pressed
lightly on her back, signaling that she should remain in that
position. Robert tested the water with his fingers. Apparently he
found it satisfactory, for he placed the "stalk" of the "onion" into
the water. He squeezed on the bulb and air bubbles formed and burst
in the water. Then he released the pressure and the bulb began to
slowly expand. The water level in the pot dropped noticeably.
When the bulb had expanded to full size, Robert pulled it out.
Caitlin noticed that the "stalk" was actually a narrow tube, with a
nozzle attached to the end. He moved behind her and placed the very
tip of the nozzle against her tight bunghole. He pushed, not very
hard. He relaxed, then pushed again. Caitlin tried to make herself
relax, to help her master, but she could not. She wanted to please
him. There was not very much pain from the probings, but she could
not force herself to relax, so she was about to ask him to push
harder, when he pulled the nozzle completely away.
"She is too dry," he said, mock frustration in his voice.
"Heather! Get over here and get her ass wet!" She heard a hand dip
into water. "No, stupid girl! Use your tongue!" Caitlin imagined
the look of shock that must have crossed Heather's face. You are a
slave too, love, remember? She wiggled her bottom at Heather. Robert
must have approved, for he was silent and his hand did not slap her.
Heather's hands parted her cheeks. She could feel her friend's
warm breath on her crinkled hole. Heather was shuddering in
revulsion, she surmised from the way the air moved over her backside.
She felt the wet tip of the other slave's tongue and she nearly
melted. Heather's tongue lightly touched her back entrance, tickling
more than arousing, but Caitlin knew that, once the girl applied
herself, she would enjoy the sensation very much indeed.
"Lick it, girl! Get your tongue up there! See if you can get
it inside." Caitlin heard words of lewd encouragement from the other
knights. Heather pulled her cheeks wider apart, and Caitlin felt her
face make contact with her buttocks. The flat of Heather's tongue
swabbed along Caitlin's twitching asshole. It felt rough and
slippery. It felt exceedingly strange and wonderfully pleasurable.
Caitlin began to twist her ass against Heather's face. But Heather
grasped her butt to hold her still. Her lips formed an O matching her
asshole, and Caitlin felt the girl's tongue press insistently at her
hole. Now she was able to relax, and Heather's tongue forced its way
past the ring of muscle.
With her tongue, Heather began to fuck Caitlin's asshole.
Caitlin was certain she would have an orgasm, just from the sensual
contact of lips and tongue to rectum, and from the knowledge that all
these men were watching them, but Robert's voice interrupted them.
"Enough. She's ready now." She felt the tongue slowly withdraw from
her body. Heather gave her asshole one last kiss before stepping
away.
Robert stepped up behind her again. Again she felt the nozzle
on her asshole. But now, she was wet and relaxed. The nozzle slid in
easily. Then, Caitlin felt a tickle in her bowels. She looked over
her shoulder. Robert was slowly squeezing on the bulb, forcing the
water through the hose and nozzle and into her ass. The water was
warm, and the sensation, while unusual, was not unpleasant. Her
master squeezed harder on the bulb, and the flow of water increased.
She felt herself filling up. She felt like she had to go to the
privy. Badly. Now. But Robert kept squeezing on the bulb, forcing
more water into her bowels. How much was in that contraption, anyway?
She thought she would burst, she felt so full.
Finally, mercifully, Robert finished. He tossed the infernal
bulb to one side, and Caitlin expected to be allowed up so she could
void her bowels. "You may begin spanking her now, Heather." No! If
she had to endure a spanking with all this water in her guts, she
would explode for certain!
"Try to hold it in, Caitlin," Robert told her. "It will only be
twenty strokes."
She steeled herself for the coming torture, but was still
surprised when she felt the first smack of Heather's opened hand on
her buttock. She was certain she felt her anus open and she expected
to make a terrible mess. But she managed to keep control. As she did
for the next half dozen strikes. And the next half dozen. But around
the fifteenth, she knew she could not last.
"Master!" she cried. "I can't hold it any longer!"
The smacks stopped and Robert asked, "Are you certain?"
"Yes, Master! Please, please let me go!"
"If I let you go now, we will start again, from the beginning,
but the number will double."
"Yes, Master. Please may I go? I'm going to burst!"
"Very well."
Etienne helped her down. Fortunately, he took her by the
shoulders this time instead of the waist. Robert ordered Heather to
accompany her and help clean her. With tightly clenched cheeks,
Caitlin waddled out of the hall. Heather had gathered up some cloths
from somewhere and was holding one elbow to help her maintain her
balance. But she couldn't make it to the privy. It was the most
embarrassing thing she had ever done in her life, but she leaned
against a wall, spread her legs, and let go.
As Heather was mopping up her legs, she let Caitlin know how she
felt. "Stupid bitch! You're disgusting!"
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Consider yourself lucky I
didn't let loose when you had your hand in the way. Besides, if you
hadn't hit me so hard, I could've made it."
"Well you shouldn't have slapped me earlier!"
"Well you shouldn't have volunteered to become Master's slave."
Heather stood up and tossed the soiled cloth away. She looked
directly into Caitlin's eyes. "Can you blame me?"
Caitlin was taken aback and couldn't answer for a moment.
Finally, she dropped her gaze and said, "No." She waited a few
heartbeats before she continued. "You've got a delicious pussy."
Heather's teeth were startlingly white in the half darkness.
"And you've got a delicious ass." She lifted her hand to gently touch
one of Caitlin's breasts. "Let's get back inside."
Inside, the last of the soldiers were taking off their clothes.
More scars were in evidence, as were hard-muscled bodies. Robert's
brother may not have been as big as a horse, Caitlin thought, but he
wasn't much smaller. Though it was hard enough for the head to be
almost fully exposed, his cock hung halfway down his thigh. And
Etienne had long thighs. Most of the men seemed large to Caitlin, but
none as large as her master and his brother.
"The men have drawn lots to see who will go first," Robert said
from the back of the crowd. "Ralf."
The one-eyed man stepped forward. He was probably the oldest of
the group, with wrinkles beginning to form on a face that was already
leathery from days in the sun. He grinned at her and she could see
that many of his teeth were either missing or broken. Those that were
left were a disgusting shade of brown. He saw where she was looking,
and he could see the expression on her face. He ran his tongue around
the inside of his mouth and grinned even more lewdly. "Not pretty is
it, girl?" He stalked up to her and touched her lips with gnarled
fingers. "But you've got a pretty one, eh?" His breath stank of
garlic and dried beef. "Very pretty. But can you do anything with
it?"
His hands landed heavily on her shoulders and he pushed her down
to her knees. His rampant cock stared her in the face. His hips
moved it closer to her lips. She opened her mouth wide and took the
head in her mouth. He smelled of stale sweat and his cock tasted like
stale piss. It was unwashed and sticky. She took as much as she could
into her mouth. As her tongue roamed over every inch she could reach,
Caitlin reached up between the man's heavy thighs to take his balls in
her hand. They felt full, and his nuts seemed to float in semen.
Soon, she had licked half his cock clean, and tasted nothing but
heated flesh. She moved back and licked at the bottom half of the
prick. It bounced around in time to the flicks of her tongue. She
moved down to his balls. She sucked them into her mouth and laved her
tongue over them. Then she moved back to the head.
When she had the head back in her mouth, Ralf placed his hands
on either side of her head. He began to move her head back and forth
on his cock; she rested her hands on her knees and let him control
her. He moved her head faster and faster, until she was in real pain,
and began to resist despite herself. She began to whimper in pain.
Ralf took mercy on her. He held her head still and began to fuck her
mouth. His prick began to leak, and she swallowed the thin salty
fluid, her mobile tongue moving all over the front half of his cock.
Ralf began breathing hard, panting. "I have to sit down," he
wheezed. He backed up toward a bench. Caitlin followed on her hands
and knees, lips locked around the head of his prick. When he was
seated on the bench and reclining against the edge of the table, she
rested her forearms on his thighs and bobbed her head up and down on
his shaft. Her fingertips tickled his balls as he continued leaking
into her mouth. She thought he would never come.
She felt fingers on her pussy, probing her cunt. She wiggled
her ass to encourage whoever it was. She was wet, dripping. She
needed to be penetrated. She felt a cock nudging past her opening.
She tried to open up for him, but he seemed to be having difficulty
finding her entrance. She whined in frustration around Ralf's cock.
"What's the matter?" she heard one of the men shout. "Used to
old Marie, boy? Not every slut's got a cow's cunt, you know!"
The laughter from the others was drowned out by Etienne's
booming voice. "If anybody knows about cows' cunts, it's you Guy!"
The resultant laughter was even louder. But Caitlin didn't pay
attention, because the man behind her had finally managed to sink his
cock into her. At the same time, old Ralf finally shot into her
throat. She thought the reward worth the wait, as his load was thick
and copious. She tasted a hint of garlic, and a nutty flavor. She
swallowed most of it greedily, and what small amount leaked out, she
lapped up eagerly.
The man behind her immediately began pounding her pussy.
Despite the suddenness of his climax, Caitlin felt a small orgasm as
well. Both men got up and were replaced by two more. The prick in her
cunt felt enormous, the one before her face was slightly smaller than
Ralf's. She heard Etienne's shout again. "Tell us if her tongue
feels like a cow's, Guy!"
"At least I won't have to cover my prick in salt!" He laughed
at his own joke, but began to groan as Caitlin swallowed his cock. As
the man behind her thrust into her, she was rocked forward on her
hands and knees. She had taken Guy as deeply as she could, and the
first thrust forced her to take him so deeply that her lips and nose
were buried in his pubic hair. She gagged and backed off immediately.
As she was coughing, trying to catch her breath and not retch, the man
behind her kept fucking steadily. Guy stroked himself in her face.
"If you're not up to sucking, slut," he said, "at least you can lick."
He raised his knees to his chest. Below his hanging balls,
Caitlin was staring at his dark, hairy asshole. She buried her face
between his asscheeks and began to lick. Her face was slammed against
the man's ass again and again. She wrapped her arms around Guy's waist
and pressed her face tight against him. She remembered how good
Heather's tongue felt inside her ass, and she tried to worm hers
inside Guy. His ass tasted tart and musky, but not as bad as her
mother's cabbage. The man behind her began to scrape his fingers
across her clit. She felt his smooth chest against her back. He
pulled her hair to one side so he could see her licking out and
tongue-fucking Guy's asshole. "You've got a tight little pussy, slut.
So tight and wet. But I bet your ass is even tighter. Do you want me
to fuck your ass, slut?"
She pulled her tongue from Guy's ass, and panted her answer.
"Sweet Jesus, yes! Fuck my ass! Fuck my tight ass!"
"No!" she heard Robert shout. "She is my slave, and I will be
first to take her asshole."
"Yes, Robert," the man answered meekly. But he continued to
fuck her proudly, and that was the most important thing.
"Oh yes, Master! Please fuck your slave slut's ass! Will you
do it next, Master? Please will you fuck my ass next?"
Robert stood beside her, watching her service his men. "When
you've made Guy and Michele come. I'll fuck your ass for you then."
"Oh thank you, Master! Thank you."
She bent to her task with new enthusiasm. She twisted her ass
against Michele, trying to make him come as soon as possible, so that
her master could fuck her ass. She was actually able to take Guy into
her throat once, for a moment. She stroked his prick while she sucked
hard on the head. And she twisted her forefinger up his ass, which
made his cock twitch violently. A few strokes of her hand and finger,
and Guy was shooting into her mouth. She gobbled down his cum and
spit out his prick. "Come, come, come," she chanted at Michele. His
thrusting speeded up and became more ragged. His stubbled face
screwed up, almost in agony. He groaned loudly and shot his semen
deep into her pussy.
"Now, Master, now! Fuck me in the ass!"
Robert did not kneel behind her as she expected. Instead he
lifted her off the floor and laid her lengthwise on her stomach on the
table. "Heather," he called. Caitlin turned her head and saw Heather
a few feet away on a bench with her fingers buried in her pussy.
Immediately she stood and walked over to their master. Robert
continued. "You did such a good job getting her ass wet before, you
can do it again."
This time, Heather eagerly buried her face between Caitlin's
buttocks. She attacked the prostrate girl's asshole with her tongue.
Her tongue circled Caitlin's anus a few times, getting it slick with
saliva. Then she stiffened her tongue and forced it into the hole.
Caitlin's asshole sucked the muscle in, and Heather was actually able
to wriggle her tongue around inside her. Caitlin bucked her ass up at
Heather's face, trying to get even more of her tongue inside her.
Heather moved lower, licking her cunt, sucking out the sperm of the
two soldiers who had already fucked her there. She heard Robert
laughing as he pulled the girl away from her pussy. Then she felt his
cock enter her pussy in one long stroke.
He fucked her slowly for a few seconds, then withdrew from her
body. Slick with the cum of two warriors and one slave, his prickhead
poked at her anus. Hands pried her asscheeks apart, forcing her
asshole to open wider. Slowly, painfully, Robert forced his cock into
her. It seemed to take hours for the head to fully breach her
entrance. And Caitlin loved every second of agony.
Almost anticlimactically, the ring of her asshole clamped down
behind the head of her master's cock. The rest was easier to take, as
the bulbous head stretched open her back passage to allow the rest of
his cock to move into her. "Fill me, Master!" Caitlin pleaded. "Fill
my ass with your cock! Fuck your slut's ass!"
Robert laid down along her back, pressing her breasts into the
tabletop. He held onto the edges and used the leverage to push down
even harder. He was heavy, but Caitlin barely noticed. Almost all
her attention was focused on the fullness in her ass. Robert fucked
with shallow, slow strokes. Caitlin bounced her hips against him. She
was his slave. If he was going to take her, it was only right that he
take her fully. Robert must have understood her message, for he began
to lengthen his strokes and quicken his pace. Soon, he was giving her
his entire length on every stroke. She wanted him to fuck her
forever.
Suddenly, Heather's blonde pussy was before her face. "Lick
it," Robert said. "She deserves pleasure from something besides her
fingers. And you are the only one we will fuck tonight."
That's a shame, thought Caitlin, for she would have loved to
suck the sperm from her pussy, or from her ass. But this is nice,
too, she reflected as Heather lifted her pussy to her mouth. All too
soon, Robert flooded her ass, and Heather flooded her mouth, and she
flooded the table.
After that, the men took her three at a time. Actually, she
climbed atop one man, and rode his cock. A second entered her slick
ass, and a third presented his cock to her mouth. The ones in her
mouth and ass came quickly, and were replaced by two more. These two
also spent while the first man remained hard within her. One more man
entered her ass. The cock in her pussy finally came, but the man it
was attached to could not get out from under her. By the time his
prick softened and fell out of her cunt, the other climaxed deep in
her rectum. She had not been fucked by the same cock twice, and she
had taken them all except...
"Etienne? Where is my master's brother? I want his cock inside
me!"
"You may fuck my brother when I say so. Right now, there are
only two cocks you are allowed to touch."
Caitlin looked over to her master. Robert stood there, stout
ropes in either hand. At his feet sat the two wolfhounds. Long
tongues hung out of their mouths, dripping saliva on the floor. Long
thick cocks, pink and swollen, jutted from the sheaths under their
bellies.
Her mind told her that she should be revolted, that her stomach
should be turning at the thought of what her master expected of her.
Her mind told her she should leave and never return, rather than
degrade herself in such a way.
But it was her body that was in control. And her body was
filled with lust. Her body demanded cock, any cock. And the dogs
were huge, as big as most men, with large cocks, almost as big as
Robert's. Her mind began to listen to her body. If she took on the
dogs, the other men would fuck her. She would be allowed to fuck
Etienne. She glanced over at her master's brother. If anything, his
cock was bigger than before. Her eyes went back to the dogs. Look at
them! her body said. They'll feel so good inside me, pounding away at
me. You've seen how they fuck bitches, imagine them fucking me like
that, fast and hard and powerfully. Think of it!
Robert saw her staring transfixed at the dogs, at their pricks.
"Is there something you want to ask of me, slave?"
"Please, Master. May I fuck them?"
Robert pretended to look shocked. "You want to fuck these
*dogs* slave?"
"Yes, Master." She was pleading now. She knelt on the floor a
few feet from the men, and from those dogs. "Please will you let me?"
"I may. Is there anything else you want to do?"
"Oh, Master! Yes! I want to suck their cocks too. I want to
swallow their seed! But I want, more than anything else, for them to
fuck me. Please let me fuck them, let me suck them! Please?"
"Fuck no you slut . Turn around."
Caitlin fell to her back. She spread her legs and pawed at her
pussy. "Please, Master. May I fuck your brother now? Please will
you let me feel him inside me?"
"No. You're still not ready."
Robert helped her up and led her over to the wooden frame. "If
you want Etienne to fuck you, you have to be bound in this frame."
The frame was almost eight feet tall. She noticed that the
lower half had holes at regular intervals in each post. Two pegs were
placed in each post just lower than the levels of her knees. Robert
helped her step onto the pegs. While he held her steady, two of the
soldiers put her wrists in the upper bracelets. They were stiff and
lined with soft fur. Then they put her ankles in the other cuffs.
When she was bound hand and foot, Robert pulled out the supporting
pegs, leaving her dangling by her wrists.
Caitlin groaned in painful ecstasy. "Will Etienne fuck me now,
Master?" she panted. "Please?"
Robert just grinned at her. "No. But everyone else will."
"Ooohhh, Master!"
Ralf stepped up to her, breathing heavily in her face. He
grabbed her roughly by the buttocks and lifted her onto his cock. She
felt another cock nudge against her asshole. When Ralf let her sink,
she was impaled front and back on two hard, long pricks. She sighed
contentedly. Four hands lifted her, using her entire body to stroke
the members inside her. Her arms were too weak to lift herself very
high, and her feet had nothing beneath them; she could not even wrap
her legs around Ralf. She could only rely on the strength of the
soldiers to satisfy her.
Even though Caitlin was somewhat small, even though they were
used to wielding heavy weapons in combat, even though there were two
of them, the men could not raise and lower her body fast enough.
Bending at the knees, they began to spear their pricks up into her
holes. They fucked into her at the same time, lifting her as her cunt
and asshole resisted their entry. She rose and sank on the stiff rods
inside her, over and over and over again. Eventually, the warriors
came inside her. They were replaced by two more, who fucked her to
the edge of insensibility, through innumerable orgasms. Five times in
all she took cocks in her cunt and ass, hanging from her wrists.
Only Robert and Etienne were left now. "I'm ready now, Master.
Please let your brother fuck me. Please let him fuck me."
Robert bent down to unbuckle the ankle cuffs. He placed the
pegs in the highest holes and lifted her to stand on them. Her head
was now above the crossbar. She was too high for Etienne to fuck now.
She wondered what her master had planned for her.
Etienne stepped out of the crowd. Caitlin was too fascinated by
the giant's cock to notice what he carried. Then she saw. His sword.
Still in its scabbard, he set its tip against the floor. It was a
two-hand sword made for a giant's proportions. The hilt was nearly
two and a half feet long, and the pommel was bigger than her fist. It
reached almost to her cunt. In fact, she could look down and see
droplets of sperm fall on the pommel from her leaking pussy.
"If you can take this," Robert was saying, "I'll know you're
ready for Etienne." Caitlin shivered in anticipation.
While the brothers held the sword steady, Caitlin slowly lowered
herself to the hilt. Her pussy lips touched the steel ball on the
end, and she was surprised to find that it was not cold. She twisted
her hips about, rubbing her cunt on the ball and on as much of the
grip as she could reach, getting it wet with the juices that were now
veritably pouring out of her. The grip was wrapped in leather strips,
well-worn from use. But even so, she could feel the roughness left to
the edges as she stroked her clit up and down its length.
Finally, she thought she had gotten it wet enough. The leather
felt wonderful, but she was determined to fuck this sword so that she
could fuck Etienne's... sword. Perhaps later she could wheedle a
leather-hilted dagger from one of the warriors for her own use. The
ball at the end of the hilt wasn't really a sphere, it was more
egg-shaped, for battering at enemy heads. Caitlin rotated her cunt on
the rounded tip of the pommel, widening her hole to accept it. As she
sank lower, she continued moving to and fro, stretching the muscles to
accommodate the rapidly widening pommel.
When she reached the widest point, she found she could not
stretch any more. She resorted to brute force, pushing directly down
upon the steel. She looked down to see how much she had gotten in,
and saw Robert looking up at her, an approving smile playing across
his lips. She redoubled her efforts. Then, suddenly, her muscles
stretched and she dropped like a rock on the sword hilt. She caught
herself before she fell too far. The pommel had entered her so
suddenly, it had caused some pain.
Robert stood and massaged her clit with his middle finger. This
caused her to relax even more, and she was able to once again begin
moving down lower. Her pussy lips wrapped around the leather strips.
They clung to the hilt. She had never felt so full. The pommel felt
heavy in her pussy. It stretched her walls more than they had ever
been stretched before. Again she looked down to see how far she had
taken the hilt inside her. About half was buried inside her. She
twisted around a little. This was all she was able to take, she
decided.
She began to stand up on the pegs again. Slowly, she moved off
of the weapon. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could see the
outline of the pommel inside her belly. Up and down she moved on the
hilt. Each stroke took half a minute. Then a quarter. Soon, she had
relaxed enough that she was taking a foot of leather-covered steel in
little over a second. She wished she had Etienne on top or underneath
her. He would fuck her hard and fast. But the leather felt wonderful
against her clit. She felt a pair of lips on hers.
It was the first time she had been kissed that night, and it
surprised her. Only one man was tall enough to kiss her on this
perch. She opened her eyes to see Etienne. But if he was kissing
her, who was holding the sword? She glanced down. The sword was
still standing on its tip, her pussy the only thing keeping it from
toppling.
Faster she moved on the sword, squatting and standing, back as
straight as she could manage to allow as much of the rigid steel as
possible in her. The pommel was so filling, and the leather wrappings
so stimulating, she knew she would climax at any moment. Faster and
faster she fucked the weapon. She was moving almost as though she
were fucking a man now. She squatted and stood, squatted and stood,
and then...
She heard a clank as the sword fell to the floor.
"Nooo!" she sobbed as she tried to fuck empty air. She had been
so close. Only one thing could be as filling as that sword. Master,"
she pleaded. "Now Master, PLEASE!"
"Take her, brother," he said simply.
Etienne's powerful arms wrapped around her waist. In a single
motion, he brought her down on top of his prick. He wasn't as wide as
the pommel had been, but the girth of his prick was constant all the
way to the root. He lifted and lowered her on his cock as though she
were a feather pillow. He crushed her body to his. He had been
waiting all night, watching her suck and fuck all those other men, and
dogs, and even his own sword. He flooded her pussy with his cum. So
forceful was his ejaculation, that it forced out the spendings of all
the others she had had that night.
Stay hard, she prayed. Stay hard. She finally had him and she
could not stand the thought of losing his cock so soon. Her prayers
were answered. He stayed firm inside her. He continued bouncing her
on his groin. She screamed her climax in his ear, her strongest one
of the night. She went completely limp. She hung from the crossbar,
her legs relaxed around Etienne. Only his grip on her ass and thighs
kept her from sliding off of his magnificent member.
She felt someone loosening the bonds that held her to the frame.
She felt herself falling, but she didn't care. She was completely
filled. Strong hands caught her and she vaguely realized she was
being carried, Etienne still rampant in her cunt, to a table. She
felt the giant's body on top of her, she felt him fucking her
savagely, but she was too exhausted to care. In a way, she barely
noticed it. Her body kept climaxing, and she heard her own screams of
passion. But her mind was somewhere else, retreating from the
overwhelming sensations.
I think I remember more men buggering me, even Etienne, that
night. And the dogs again. And dear Heather. But it is mostly a
blur. I might be just remembering other nights when Heather and I
served our master by serving his men. Of course, it lasted only a
year. Robert was felled by one of those Welsh arrows on a raid. Then
Heather wed Etienne -- and the girl was even smaller than I was! --
and they left. When the king gave the keep to a new knight, I was
more or less included, by my own choice. But the new man was no
Robert, and one day I learned what it was like when the tables were
turned. But that's another story.
But wait! I hear your mother coming. Get your hands out of your
skirt, girl!
...but ye have to be careful not to let it cool too long, or it
loses its flavor and... Oh, hello, daughter! Just telling the little
one some of the things a woman must know.
Copyright 1994 by Lysander
**This Story is brought to you with the blessings of**
** Rusty-n-Edie's BBS (216)726-2620 **
** Internet Address 204.179.147.2 or RNE.COM **
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