9 comments/ 16625 views/ 3 favorites The castle of Baron White Ch. 01 By: rainbow_carnage Raya let out a deep, contended sigh as she layback on the grass-patched hillock in the centre of the clearing. All around her the trees heaved and swayed in the autumn breeze, letting their bounty of dying leaves fall to the ground below where they would fester and rot sweetly next to furrowing squirrels, desperately in search of food to store for the coming winter. She let her hand run across her cotton-covered chest, sending ripples of electricity to her nipples, which sprang to loving attention under her teasing fingertips. Autumn was certainly her favourite time of year, she felt freer in the cool warmth of September then in the stifling heat of July. And though everything was starting to fade to winter browns and grey, she knew that this only meant that new life was getting ready to be made from the beauty of the old. She often came to the forest to relax, away from her stepfather and siblings. When her mother was still alive she had stayed at home more, but when she had died just two summers ago, a day from her 18th birthday, Raya had taken to longer and longer trips to the forest. The constant bickering over chores and money made for an uncomfortable home. More often than not, Raya ended up doing it all; it was far preferable to the constant arguments and shouting. Last New Years eve she had spent the entire village party in the local tavern's kitchens. Her stepfather being a regular of the Tumble Down Inn had given permission for her to be of use for the night, simply because he was trying to sleep with the Inn keepers wife. Raya missed all the festivities and had red raw hands for days after. As much as she sometimes hated home, she knew that it was the preferable place to be. Her time to be married off was fast approaching; years of putting it off had only made her stepfather angry and aggressive. The suitors he picked were more than double her age, and often odious, obnoxious fools. Cleaning the house one afternoon she had overheard one suitor promising to uphold his part of the bargain should he be picked to marry her. She had no doubt that this bargain would be her stepfather insisting on having free reign with her body whenever he demanded. Of course the desperate attempt to find a suitor didn't stop his ministrations in the meantime. His attentions to her had become more intimate of late, and to her great despair more bold. He argued that she would never make a good wife without proper training, and that the sooner she learnt the way of the world the better. Thankfully she had managed to escape so far with little more than a few doorway gropings and one very fumbled attempt to kiss her. She shuddered at the memory of his touch, shaking back a sudden need to heave. She looked down at her exposed thighs, lily and goose bumped in the cool air, her skirts lifted up to her waist. Why did she have to think about him now? The warm swirl of her last orgasm was now tainted with the hawk like face of her stepfather. He was five foot ten of waning muscle now going to waste, thanks to years working as a carpenter followed by many more propping up a barstool. Ok, so she didn't just come here to relax, but what she did whilst alone was nothing to be ashamed of she argued with herself. And besides, she'd never been caught before; she'd been here hundreds of times and not once met the so-called keeper of the Barons forest. The Baron was always the subject of idle and more often than not lascivious gossip. She gently tussled her deep red hair, cascading it over her shoulders with a grin. The stories of the Baron may have been horrifying at times, women kidnapped and beaten, taken away and often not heard from again, but Raya couldn't help but feel a hot sexual shiver run through her every time someone recounted one of the numerous legends. Her amber eyes brightened at the thought, how devilish and dangerous the baron seemed. Of course she didn't believe a word of the stories, though it aroused and amused her to hear them. Even with all the stories and legends floating around, no one ever sought justice, either through peoples disbelief or for people thinking the girls in question foolish for going there in the first place. Whatever went on up there, she had never seen a glimpse of it, and she was having too much of a good time to worry about it now. Once more her hand returned to the soft downy haired mound of her sex, and the silky smoothness of her lips, still deliciously damp from before. The village girls had taken to waxing the underside of their privates, and though she had not really wanted to, her friends had held her down the night before and attacked her with it. They laughed as she whimpered and cried at the sharp tugging, hay from the barn tickling her buttocks and straw creeping into intimate places as she tried to wriggle from their grasp. It hurt like burning fire for hours after, but she had to admit that it brought a new wonderful sensation to playing with herself. The softness there seemed endless, and it was hard to think of anything else but her arousal while her sex felt so rudely naked, her rosy inner lips only just peeking through between the outer ones like a rouged red pout. Her fingers danced lightly over the sweetly smelling wetness between her thighs, occasionally dipping into the tightness there and mewling as little jolts of pleasure racked through her temples all the way down to her toes. She brought her other hand down to grip her mound, squeezing possessively and causing a dull ache to fill her pussy. Her mind wandered again, but this time to the young boy that tended the local farriers in town, she pictured his strong and prematurely calloused hands gripping her there, his teeth biting into her helpless nipples as she writhed beneath him. He couldn't be much older than 18 but he was well known among the girls of the village for his unspoken and silent sexual prowess. Though she had never given in to his obvious draw, Raya had often entertained the idea in her private thoughts. She imagined his amber eyes boring into her body, his hands holding her tightly with rough but gentle dominance, as he took her in the stables any way he wished, not uttering a single word as he worked furiously to bring himself off. She felt a flush of shame flicker through her, she had no idea why the idea of his detached pleasure made her so aroused. In her head being used for someone else's pleasure was both repulsive and highly intoxicating, so she let the fantasy take her away and tried to forget the bad elements of her little dream. With her eyes shut, she could almost feel hands on her breasts, pinching and moulding the perky flesh with hunger and deep salacious want. Her breath quickened, as a weight seemed to push down on her body, wriggling against her with an all too real hardness. Her own imagination was startling good today she sighed to herself, but something wasn't quite right. A distinct smell of sour mead and grease filled her nostrils as she chastised her head for getting the fantasy wrong. With a disappointed moan she opened her eyes, ready to resign to the fact that this just wasn't going to happen. As her eyes swam back into light and focus she had to shake her head to understand what she was seeing before her. A ruddy, weasel-faced man had his face inches from her own, breathing heavily on top of her and grinning inanely. This was no trick of her mind, and the realisation of the situation hit her like a slap to the face. Raya went to scream but was quickly silenced by his damp palm slapping across her lips. He pushed his skinny hips and pelvis down heavier onto her, pinning her in place and making sure she stayed perfectly still. For someone as slight as he appeared to be, he could certainly use his body to very good effect, and Raya could do nothing but lay there helpless "What have we here? A girlie, a trespassing girlie, a...dirty naughty trespassing girlie..." He grinned and ground himself rudely onto her belly. "Do you know what I do to trespassing girlies? Do you know what I do to pretty things like you? Eh? Oh yes silly me, you cant answer me with my hand there can you." His laugh oozed like thick tar and from his lips, mimicking the drool hanging from his scarred chin. He lifted his palm from her mouth in mocking then swiftly replaced it as soon as she drew breath to speak. "Oh ho! Now did I say you could speak? I merely said you couldn't with my hand there. Haha...You little bitch!" The man screamed shrilly as Raya bit down hard onto his clammy palm. Taking the momentary lapse in his grasp of her, Raya managed to kick her knee up between his legs hard enough to stun him. In one swift motion she pushed him up and off of her and darted deeper into the forest. She had taken no more than ten steps when she felt his fingers wrap tightly around her wrist, jerking her back sharply into his tight embrace. He held her hands behind her back and pulled her in so her chest crushed against his own, making it hard for her to breathe. "You would do well to mind me girlie...I am the guardian of this forest and therefore my word is law." He leaned in and roughly stole a kiss, his thin, rough lips bruising and wet. "You will have to pay a fine for trespassing here, and some...recompense... for me being so kind as to not turning you in to the castle guards, who I can guarantee are less amenable then I am." His breath made her skin crawl, and every nerve ending in her body twitch in revulsion. He kept grip on her wrists with one hand and brought the other up to dip inside the top of her cotton dress. His fingers slid down slowly, inches from her nipples, when suddenly a raucous cheer rose in the distance and made him freeze and all the birds in the nearby trees flutter and flee towards the sky. "Cursed Lords!" The guardian scowled. "Not only am I not invited to their precious party, I am being shunned for a minor indiscretion!" he spat angrily. "She was asking for it after all, how was I to know she was married to that fat idiot of a deputy..." The guardian stopped in his tracks, and an obvious flicker of an idea crept across his devious and cruelly cunning features. Raya trembled slightly as she watched the change in his eyes, she knew that whatever he had planned it would mean trouble for her, and she didn't really want to find that out. Struggling against his hold, she resorted to some of the cruder language she had learnt from her friends, as it seemed for now, her mouth was her only weapon. "You kiss your mother with that mouth??" The Guardian chuckled before landing a resounding slap on her skirted backside. "You might just have had a very lucky escape" The guardian glanced up and towards the direction of the castle, the devious grin well and truly back on his face. He pulled her in tighter to his wily and sweating body, her nipples rubbing uncomfortably against the material of her dress and against the guardian's own chest. "So girly, no more of that language from you or I'll wait a few minutes to beat politeness back into you. Besides...you might just be the ticket to get me back onto that feasting table." ********************************** The guardian kicked the door hard with the flat of his foot, and the door sprang open as a wall of noise hit them hard. Inside, the light was a warm orange; no doubt from the stained windows, but the air was cool, almost chilly. "Here we are girlie..." The guardian growled venomously, his gap toothed grin widening as he let his eyes fall down the swell of her cleavage. "...Lucky for you I need a bargaining tool, or that pretty little arse of yours would be mine." As he spat and drooled the implications of his words into her ear, he grabbed a fistful of her hair in his gnarled hand and lifted her gaze to her soon to be fate. Raya gasped in pain, but fell silent when she let her eyes register the site before her. The great hall was sparsely decorated, save for a formidable feasting table, animal skins nailed to the wall like ghastly works of art, and lit sconces casting nearly imperceptible shadows across the wood floor. The sconces no doubt only aflame already for the tradition, rather than to provide light as the night had not yet come on, though the sun was starting to become weary. Jesters leapt in twirling arcs, singing crude ditties and roasting the guests with practiced ease and professional grace. The long table in the centre of the room was a veritable battleground of meat, bread and mead. All around it Lords and dignitaries laughed raucously and punched the air at the festivities, throwing half eaten treats to the snarling wolfhound beasts behind them. Raya's skin goose-bumped and she felt a distinct blush rise across her face and chest. If she didn't know better, she would barely be able to distinguish man from beast such was the startling similarity. Yawps like barks and growls, drooling lips and hair filled chins, playfully savage fighting over the morsels of food before them. She was beginning to think that the guardian might not have been such a bad choice, despite his own self-advertising. Suddenly she felt her hair being tugged sharper, as the guardian dragged her deeper into the hall and shoved her face first onto the floor in front of the very centre of the long feasting table. She bit her lip to not let out a yelp of discomfort, refusing to let the guardian enjoying this little act of dominance. "My Lords!" The guardian cawed in his grim but piercing voice. "I bring You a gift..." The conversations and howling laughter stopped abruptly, plates and tankards made smattering metal applauses as they were dropped from the ham like fists of the revellers. Thunderous expressions of anger disappeared swiftly into lecherously pondering faces as they studied the tiny figure in front of them. Mutterings of wonder and approval started to rise from the throng as the noise slowly started up again. "Look what we have here!" Came the drunken cry of one of the nearest Lords. "New entertainment for the evening. Where ever did you find the wench? She can't be from around the villages, she looks like she actually washes" The comment brought a burst of laughter and agreement from the now drawing crowd, the thirty or so figures shoving each other with swift digs to the ribs, just to get a closer view of the gift huddled on the floor. Slowly, Raya lifted her gaze off the floor, and was met by the collective hungry eyes of the Lords. Suddenly filled with a dark anger Raya stood and faced them, her jaw jutting out in defiance. "Actually...I am a village we...I mean girl. Your gardener or whoever he is trapped me and dragged me here! I demand to talk to whoever is holding this thing right now!" Raya stamped her foot impatiently to accent the "now!" When her demands were met with chortles and snorting she felt some of her resolve leave her to fight the battle alone. Apparently the angry words of a rather small and dishevelled girl were just not going to cut it. "As I said she is a gift to You my Lords, I found her wandering the forest alone and everyone knows that it is strictly forbidden and out of bounds for commoners and whores..." He jabbed Raya in the ribs hard and crudely licked his lips. "I could have made use of her myself but I knew that tonight was your annual gathering so of course it is my duty to..." "If you are going to lick our arses guardian then do so, but don't pussy around like a common snake! You make me sick man." parried Lord Mortimer; a rather gross, fat and sweating man sitting to the far right of the table. He waved a chicken leg in the air idly as he spoke, randomly taking chucks out of it with hulking great bites. "She's a pretty wench I'll give you that, but I can't help but think you are just trying to carry favour with us. I say we take the girl and throw the blackguard out." "Aren't You interested in the girl, Lord Mortimer?" Interjected the guardian. "You say she is pretty, and my bringing her here must make my graces with You a little? Surely with Your well-known appetites You could make some use of her? I mean we've all heard stories about that young thing from..." "What do you suppose I am to do with her?!" Interrupted Mortimer with a bellowing and dark laugh. "Well...my liege...Sire...I think that should be entirely up to You." The guardian simpered wetly, landing a solid slap across Raya's right cheek when she tried to make verbal protest. She landed once more on her knees before the table, this time not able to hold in a yelp of distress. Raya felt a sickening shudder fall through her, dragging all colour and hope from her body. So this was the penalty for trespassing was it? A gift to be given to the highest biding pervert? Small beads of rancid sweat leaked down the guardians face and began to drip onto the perfectly varnished flooring. His ruddy face flushed with the effort his mind was making, thinking quickly was not normally his strong suit. He knew that his chances of gaining favour back at the Lords table was fading fast, and he would have to resort to drastic measures if someone didn't take the bait he had so deftly poached from the forest. His prayers were answered by the loud booming voice of Lord Mortimer at last. "If she's a gift then bloody well unwrap her already!" "Yes! Lets see the wench for what she is, and god help her if I'm not impressed..." Growled another. Small tears trailed down her newly red cheek, her hand gently massaging the area in quiet resignation. She knew that if she was to escape she must do it, and do it now. Swiftly jumping to her feet, Raya sprinted towards the door she had been dragged through. Just as she got few paces from the heavy handles, three of four pairs of hands gripped her legs, arms and waist tightly, painfully drawing her back into the thrall of the room, grubby and calloused fingers tearing at her clothing leaving it in disarray on the cold floor below her feet. Her eyes barely focused on their lecherous faces as her head swam in panic and confusion. Their lusty jeering and crude gropings made her stomach churn, most of the noises around her drowned out in the loud rush of blood in her ears. She knew what was about to happen, but was surprised to find other conflicting emotions to the fear and disgust that almost consumed her. She was horrifyingly aware of her own arousal, little flames of desire burning hot in her loins, making her nipples hard and her pussy lips swell rudely. Her face darkened to a deep red in her humiliation, knowing that in mere seconds her most private parts would be on display to the large group of noblemen so eager to steal her virtue. In no time at all the last piece of clothing was thrown to the floor, and Raya was left to stand perfectly naked before the Lords. A smattering of applause and mutterings of approval floated around the room. Raya instinctively covered herself with her hands, barely able to cover her newly near nude pussy and her now achingly erect coral pink nipples. "Very impressive guardian...very, very impressive..." drawled Lord Mortimer He slowly trailed one fat finger down the contours of her face and neck, laughing as she tried to fend him off as he pushed her hands away from her breasts. He pinched the erect nub cruelly between his thumb and forefinger and was pleased when he heard a disgruntled whimper escape her lips. Raya's back arched tightly and her breath caught in her chest, the sensation both disgusted and thrilled her, she cursed her own body for betraying her so cruelly. A fresh wetness seeped between her thighs and Raya sagged in near defeat, sobbing too much to curse her tormentor now. Without warning, Lord Mortimer slapped a heavy hand against her thigh so she would open her legs, and then thrust a solitary grubby digit up to the first knuckle in her slick cunt. He chuckled over her squeal of shock and withdrew the coated finger, bringing it to his lips thoughtfully, then lifted it to the other Lords and let out a booming and mocking laugh. The castle of Baron White Ch. 01 "What did I tell you about those village sluts? All gagging for a bit of rough treatment! What say you friends? Shall we give her what she wants, or should she be punished for being a hungry little tart?" The sheer strength of the roar from the waiting Lords made it quite clear to Raya what their decision was. She was going to be punished. Two of the burliest and largest Lords swept forward and grabbed an arm each, dragging Raya forward towards the feasting table. With careless ease they swept the food away from the knotted surface and pushed her down so she bent at the waist, and each pinned an arm out sideways. "You can't do this to me!" Raya yelped angrily. "You bastards! Let me go or I'll make trouble for you! I'll tell everyone in the village what you get up to up here..." Even as she said it she knew that the threat wouldn't mean a thing to them. Their parties were stuff of legends, and most of the village took the view that anyone stupid enough to not take heed of the stories, deserved everything they got. Raya writhed and squirmed as much as possible but quickly discovered that her hands would not come free from their grips, if anything they gripped harder the more she tried. The fat and sweating hand of Lord Mortimer swiftly came down and gripped her hair, pulling her head up from the table. He slowly tilted His head towards her and forced her gaze to His. "Now, now my dear, lets not make this into an ordeal. Behave and you will get to go home to your village and tell them whatever you wish. Perhaps it'll secure more wenches for next years party aye men?" The Lords shouted various encouragements and agreements, obviously eager to get the ball rolling. "Tell me young whore, is it to be the hand, the belt, or the whip?" He jerked her hair on each important word, making her pay absolute attention, and to humiliate her that little bit more. "Fuck you!" Raya screamed through gritted teeth, arching her back in a futile attempt to lash out at Lord Mortimer. Suddenly, a heavy hand came down hard on her left buttock, followed quickly by another to her right. Raya whimpered with a yelp of surprise, her skin rippling and goose bumping with the sudden and painfully intimate strike. "Wrong answer girl..." Lord Mortimer growled salaciously before raining down another series of quick spanks to her slowly reddening cheeks. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Raya felt his fingers pinch the red handprints he had left, no tenderness here, but an almost clinical examination of her skin and flesh. "I say hand first..." A new volley of blows struck down onto her quivering flesh, the strikes getter harder and slower with each strike, cruelly building tension and making her wonder when the next would come. Lord Mortimer laughed his bellowing laugh as Raya winced and whimpered at each spank, her cries making his cock prime and swell, raising the front of his perfectly tailored trousers. Her head swam with the realisation of her defeat, and the stinging of her flesh. Her whole body began to heat and tingle, spreading from temple to toes in a sickeningly familiar way. She bit her lip hard as he began to speed up the spanking, each time he caught the inner crease where buttock meets thigh her cries turned a little more into anguished whimpers, almost needy. Tears rolled down her cheeks leaving tiny salty marks on the feasting table, running into the knotholes and filling up the dents and scratch marks like small sorrowful lakes. The stinging was turning into a hot ache and though she knew she was raising her behind now to every strike, she could not stop herself from doing so. Her cheeks blushed scarlet from her sobs, but also from the embarrassment of her body's fresh betrayal. She could barely make out the talking around her, the tones of their voices far more easy to register than any words. Somewhere beside her she could hear leather moving through material, and she became dimly aware that Lord Mortimer had stopped his attentions to her now evenly dusky pink buttocks. Her eyes began to refocus, and she saw a few of the Lords sitting back in their chairs, gently and lazily running a damp palm over their stiffening cocks, rudely protruding from their flies. Their eyes were hooded under heavy lids, mouths twisting in greedy need as they watched the way her nakedness squirmed under the ministrations of Lord Mortimer. The Jesters had gone, and the servants merely stood to the sides of the hall in seeming ambivalence, no doubt used to the type of scene before them. There certainly wasn't going to be help from them. Without warning, a loud whistle of leather cut through the air and exploded onto her vulnerable thighs with a heart-stopping crack. Raya's head jerked up in a silent cry, her lips parting slightly in a devastating pout as her eyes darkened to a deep amber green. It felt like getting slapped in the face by a wave of icy water, leaving her breathless, and close to floundering. Like the radiating pain was the only thing keeping her afloat. Just as the heat returned she heard the whistle again, leaving her no time to recover. It bit and cut into her skin leaving a blazing red welt across the middle of her buttocks. Her breath caught again, leaving her silent and barely breathing. Five more blows struck down wickedly close to the first mark, the skin a livid scarlet and red, her flesh singing a desperate song of pain and confusing pleasure. Her head was telling her of the cruelty of this man, the revulsion it felt for him, but her body was crying out for the sweet torment of the lashing and the dark sexual pleasure that it rammed deeply into her trickling cunt. As her body adapted to the onslaught, her breathing became deeper and shallower, all cries of pain melting away into high pitched whimpers of pure animal need. Her hips rolled and encouraged the beating with un-abandoned lust. Her body shook as she shut her eyes, picturing anyone to take her mind away from her hideous, salivating tormentor. Her pleasure built unexplainably, reaching hidden and unknown areas. Her skin was aflame, her stomach felt like ice and her fingers itched to rake over the table and leave deep grooves, if she didn't get release soon she would simply die. Through the haze she could hear Lord Mortimer's sickly thick drawl. "Jesus, look at the hot little bitch...You'd think she was enjoying this!" he laughed, striking her more fervently. "We'll just have to find another way to punish the slut, and then she can deal with us all." Lord Mortimer threw the belt down onto the flagstones and gripped her hair again whilst bringing one of his fat fingered hands down to her sweetly flowing pussy. She had been so close...so close and now she writhed again in heated frustration as she floated at the brink. Running the length of his palm up between her buttocks he drew the slickness over his hand and brought it to her face. "Look here, look at how turned on that made you. Only perverts get turned on by being thrashed girlie" he threw a look over at the Guardian who had been edging to the end of the table the whole time, attempting to sit unnoticed. "You've done well in your choice you snivelling wanker, but don't be so quick to think you can rejoin us. Hold her tighter! Lets see just how much of a slut she can be." He commanded. Lord Mortimer ran his whole palm up from her mound to her rosy puckered arsehole, and down again, in teasingly slow movements. Raya felt the pressure building in her stomach, this repulsive man was actually going to make her cum, and she would welcome her release despite the circumstances. "Now my pretty wench...ask for your release, beg Us" cackled the Lord. Raya mustered the final dregs of her resolve and forced her head up as far as his holding hand would allow. "...fuck you...I wont beg you..." she breathed. His stroking became harder and faster as he swore at her impudence, never dipping into her silken depths, only insinuating the possibility. His cold possession of her sex strangely added to the sensations, like her earlier fantasy of the farrier. At that thought, the image of the young farrier emblazoned itself in her mind, blocking out Lord Mortimer all together just as he pushed a solitary finger deeply between her pouting sex lips. Her body seemed to explode as she bucked and shivered under the tight bonds of the minor Lords hands at her wrists, almost jerking them from their duties and startling them in the process. Her cries escaped her parted lips and reverberated around the hall reaching the cobwebbed edges of every far corner, as tiny droplets of sweat glittered between her shoulder blades down to the dip of her lower spine. After a minute or so, her body fell flat onto the feasting table and she fell silent once more, her skin quivering softly. She could feel herself floating somewhere above her body, it felt tranquil and soft, but not quite right, in her current state she couldn't begin to work out why. As her eyes swam back into focus, Raya noticed the night had well and truly come on, and she also saw out the corner of her eye the large doors open slightly and a figure creep in and sit down, but before she could properly register it Lord Mortimer began to bellow again at the top of his lungs. "Come up my friends! Slick yourself with her juices and ready yourselves for the imminent party! We'll drink to Baron White and his lousy bastard son." Raya fought the noise and the fuzziness still in her head to make herself search for the new presence in the room. He was sitting directly in front of her in one of the many high-backed chairs so far unnoticed by the revellers. Unlike the other Lords he sat silently, a darkly shadowed face that she could not entirely make out through her tears and tussled mess of red hair. She knew his eyes were locked on her as everyone else's was, but it wasn't quite the same lust or gluttony that was being slapped on by the others. His raven wing eyebrows arched wickedly, giving a slightly aroused, half amused, but mostly concerned air to Him. It made her distinctly un-nerved, and devastatingly curious. Suddenly, the unknown figure rose from His seat and climbed onto the feasting table, His booted feet knocking over the discarded tankards and pheasant carcasses in a seemingly unmindful way to the distress and destruction He was causing. He stopped at the edge of the table, mere inches from Raya's tear stained face, and fixed His fiery gaze at the wiry guardian, whatever recognition might have been in His expression was tempered by a sneer of disgust. "What's the meaning of this?" He barked demandingly. The other Lords back away a little and fell respectfully silent, their faces now full of reverence as they stared up at Him. He seemed completely untouched by the drunken revelry around Him, and stood waiting for the reply of His now even more simpering guardian. Now He was out of the shadows, Raya could clearly see the formidable man for what He was. Standing an easy 6ft, He was an impressive sight; His dark blue eyes were glittering behind a swept curtain of dark brown silken hair. A sharp goatee beard that made His face devilishly handsome framed His swarthy features, and gave a deeply rooted aristocratic air. The others may have been born Lords, lived like Lords, and celebrated as such, but this man seemed to embody what a Lord should look like, the power and presence radiating clearly for all to see. His leggings hugged muscular thighs and narrow hips, while His sleeveless shirt revealed lean, sinewy biceps. On the upper muscle of his left arm there was a heraldic tattoo bearing a lion seemingly hunting a kill, teeth around its haunches. But on closer inspection Raya realised that the lion was in fact mauling a lioness, and not a deer as she had first thought. Without having to ask, she knew who this was, this was the owner of the castle, this was Baron White. "What is the meaning of this!?" The Baron repeated, as he jumped down off the table, snatching a cane from one of the swiftly returning servants. "Answer me now man or I'll stripe you with this very birch!" "Nothing my liege..." stuttered the Guardian. "Merely entertainment for your fathers benefit, and of course..." "And of course he is not present as you well know, he is nursing a hangover from the first days festivities! Killian stopped abruptly as a muffled whimper reached his ears. Raya fell from the feasting table and slumped into a silent foetal heap on the cold stone floor below. Her hair fanned out and danced around her like autumnal leaves on their final decent, the only part of her now moving thanks to a low breeze whistling along the slabs. The young Baron knelt down on one knee beside Raya's prone body; gently moving the sweat soaked hair from her blushed and mottled face. He gazed at her for a few moments, tracing with His eyes the lines of her parted lips and the dark eyelashes that swept her cheeks, trying to remember all the details of her soft features. In one swift motion, He lifted her around the waist and under the knees, drawing her into His arms before turning to face the waiting Lords. She was lighter than she seemed, he was surprised as how easy it was to lift her. "All of you, leave now and I will forget what I have seen here this evening. I may even forget to tell my father, but do not doubt that I will make all your lives a nightmare if you touch this girl again. Is that clear?" There was a disgruntled and angry muttering of assent from around the room, it was obvious that they had no choice but to obey, but they certainly were not happy about having to do so. Killian turned on His heel and stalked to the end of the hall, shifting the door open with His boot. Before leaving he glanced around the hall once more, Lord Mortimer had turned a dark purple colour, his features a twist of fury and outrage. "Watch your step boy! The others might be afraid of you but I'm not...your father will hear about this, but from me and not you. I think we both know where he will show his loyalty. It wont be with his good for nothing son! I'll take real pleasure in seeing you fall when you take over as baron" Without another word Killian turned and left the great hall, Raya still held fast in his arms.