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Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 01

By: movies_maidens_n_manmeat



This multi-chapter story contains adult material, including rape and non-consensual sex; bondage, pain and humiliation; anal sex and ass-to mouth. If this offends you, do not read this story and do not rate it.

Chapter 01: Innocence Lost

It was the Dark Age in British history, a time of upheaval and turbulence. Missing a real leader, kings and knights were engaged in battling each other or, alternatively, in plotting and intriguing. It was during these troubled times Oruale was born on the green island of Erin. She was the second child and eldest daughter of Egan, the blacksmith, and his wife Fiona. When she was a couple months old, the color of her hair gradually turned red like of her mother's and soon after, a first freckle was discernable on the white skin of her cheeks. 

Egan was an honest and enterprising man, always eager to improve his craft. Soon he took an apprenticeship to become an armorer. He liked to make bold decisions in life. Some of these decisions would turn out very well; on the other hand some of them could turn out disastrously. When rumors from the main island reached him about a young King trying to unify Britain, it was all Egan needed to decide to leave Ireland. He was sure his skills would be needed and living at the grounds of a castle would provide protection for his growing family and secure the education of his children. Since Oruale was born Fiona had given birth to two sturdy boys and a sweet daughter, Bronwyn, the youngest scion of the family and the apple of everyone's eye. 

Thus, Egan in troubled times found an opportunity for himself, at the same time providing protection, refuge and education for his family, in the castle of Sir Lot, ruler of Lothian, the kingdom in the North. Egan's technical skills placed him in a trustworthy position and his children received lessons from the same teachers tutoring the infants of squires and Knights. Soon Oruale made friends since it was easy to like the cheerful redheaded girl with her laughing face, all covered by cute freckles. 

Oruale was twelve years old when she and her friends were playing the timeless game of hide and seek in the forest northwest of the castle, the natural playground for them. In an adaptation, inspired by the actual situation they lived in, the children divided themselves into 'the good ones' and 'the bad ones'. When Oruale and two of her girl friends were captured, three boys, looking menacingly at them and clearly being 'the bad knights', tied the girls to the trees so that they hardly were able to reach the ground with their toes. 

Then they left them for what seem liked hours but in reality were only a few minutes. When the boys returned, they spanked the girls mildly. Oruale joined the two other girls in screaming at the top of her longs as they were expected to do and shouting them to stop. How fortunate the girls were timely 'saved' by 'the gallant knights'! Only when they all returned to the castle Oruale realized she actually had liked the spanking. She also had experienced a strange new feeling between her legs. In bed that evening, protected by the darkness, for the first time she explored that humid region with her hand, seeking to revive those agreeable feelings she experienced earlier.

About a year after that episode Fiona fell seriously ill. First there was help from good-willing neighbors but soon Oruale as the eldest daughter gradually filled in. She was handy and practical, gifted with a terrific amount of common sense. When it became evident Fiona's illness would be chronic, the bright girl gradually took more care of her siblings to emerge as a second mother. The freckled, chubby redhead also physically matured which did not remain unnoticed to the male population of the castle. King Lot was an influential Knight and used to receive several knights from other areas. Many a visitor gave a sympathetic glance to the charming redhead. Although of common birth, the girl had acquired the dignified posture of a woman of noble ancestry. For a bold man like Egan the secret glimpses at his daughter were enough to generate ambitious plans for her. Matching her with a real heir would be out of her reach but some noble Knights like King Lot had several younger sons. Opportunities might present themselves but Egan was wise enough to keep these ambitions to himself. He never confided to a member of his family. To do otherwise he considered improper and dangerous. However, to cherish these ambitions would prove to generate danger anyway.

It happened shortly after her eighteenth birthday, on a beautiful spring afternoon, that Oruale left the castle for a ride. Of course she didn't own a horse. However, being friends with the children of knights and squires, from her youth she had opportunities enough to share their horses or to ride them for a couple of hours. In fact Oruale had become quite a horsewoman. The following day several men would leave to the South to join a campaign against the Saxons. Her close friend Clarisse, the youngest daughter of King Lot had offered to let her ride her horse this afternoon since it wouldn't be possible for the women to ride outside the castle alone after the departure of so many men.

The day before she had asked Gorvenal, the man who took care of Clarissa's horse, to saddle her mare for this afternoon. Oruale normally didn't feel so comfortable with Gorvenal. He always eyed her so intensely and she always felt his glances when she turned her back to him. This time however, he was in good spirits and he even told her about the beauty of the Glamoran forest in spring. She had decided to follow up on his suggestion and soon she was headed to the South. She had heard the men would, the following day follow the same route, an alternative to the regular path to the South. They probably wanted their departure to be as inconspicuous as possible. Gorvenal had been right: the forest was beautiful in springtime. The light illuminated even central parts of the forest which otherwise would be dark and somber. Slowly Oruale took her horse even deeper into the forest. She was unaware being shadowed from a distance.

Rufus of Carlisle smiled while he followed her. The light breeze rustling through the foliage conveniently masked the soft swishing of his horse moving through the grass and leaves. He was the natural son of the ruler of Carlisle, Sir Gormont, visiting the castle as member of the delegation to negotiate support for King Lot's political ambitions. He had noticed the girl and taken interest in her. He even had asked a matchmaker to approach her father. That old bitch only reported him that the man had laughed in her face and told her a bastard would not suffice for his daughter. 

What impertinence from a simple blacksmith who had picked up a few tricks here and there! What he obviously couldn't have cooperatively and legally, he plotted to take anyway. He would just have his pleasure and never would return to this place. In Gorvenal he found a source of information and some more assistance to make a perfect plan. The fellow would follow the girl from the castle to lend him a hand later. He had provided him with a rough mask of sacking: while similar Rufus would wear a knight's helmet that obscured almost all of his face. 

Gorvenal had told him that Oruale used to pick some flowers for her sick mother and his information was perfect. When Rufus saw her dismount he straightened his bow and silently fitted an arrow. He gave a sharp whistle and let his arrow fly. It flew through the air and hit the ground next to her feet. It was meant to scare her and to freeze. His plan worked out perfectly, exactly on cue he saw the masked Gorvenal racing to the scene from the other side. Oruale was horrified when the arrow struck so near. She saw a masked man running at her. All alone and confused, she could take only a couple of steps before he caught her. His intentions were clear when his rough and ruthless hands started tearing her clothes from her. Rufus watched while Gorvenal stripped Oruale from her clothes. She was weeping in shame and fear. When she saw him approaching her, she desperately tried to cover her breasts and her loins at the same time. 

Rufus' heart started pumping faster. The splendor of her nudity exceeded all he had anticipated. She was statuesque with a sinuous, alluring body although perhaps certain areas were wider than to be expected from an ideal beauty. His lips curled, he always liked his meat to be rich. Her breasts were large and firm and their lovely curve made him crave to run his hands slowly around it. Her hips were wide, well molded with luxurious flesh, exactly how he liked it. Her legs were slim, with beautifully shaped firm muscles. 

She gasped when she saw him walking up to her. Gorvenal kept her wrists behind her in a tight grip and had her in complete control. Close up she was more perfect than ever. Now he could admire more of her body in nice detail, the small mole beneath her right breast, and the puckered areola around her swollen nipple. His eyes wandered lower, to the chalky white flat belly, moving in the rhythm of her gasping breath. Farther down was the spectacular beauty of her flaming triangle, totally exposed and visible and yet so mysterious. He would find out the treasure deeply hidden in the bush, and then fill that inaccessible cunt with his prick, so intense and full that she'd never be able to close her legs again. He smiled cruelly musing on this prospect.

Rufus signed Gorvenal to hand the girl over. He turned her around, holding a firm bicep in each hand when he marched her in front of him. She had a firm, straight back, and a lovely curve to her spine. The narrow waist rounded out into the fleshy dome of her bottom quivering sinuously as she walked. He put one hand against her buttocks as she walked. Feeling the smooth silky skin made his hand tingle, brought his cock crushing up against the inside of his clothing, giving it the yearning ache only an intense fuck would relieve.

"I am warning you...! Before I left, I asked Gorvenal to come over. He soon will be here and get you...!"

Rufus smiled behind his mask and just slapped each of her buttocks hard in turn. She quivered and tried to break free but his grasp tightened on her arm so strongly she cried out in pain and froze. Unconcerned Rufus jabbed his thumb between her quivering thighs, exploring her dark secret. She cried out and again tried to squirm away. He grabbed her hair, forcing her body up against his. He felt her buttocks writhing against his erection. He joggled against her, crushing his cock against the dark gorge between the mellow mounds of pale flesh.

"No, no... please..."

Despite her pleas he tied one arm firmly to the trunk of a tree and the other one to another nearby. He handled her struggling legs by tying her ankles to some lower branches, high enough to have them open and wide like a lascivious invitation. Rufus looked down at his victim, enjoying the sight of her body, rippling and undulating to get free. He admired the movements of her beautiful muscles. She was in his power he just could take his time, torturing her as well as himself. 

He kissed and started the foreplay, which he surely would make long and agonizing. Her lips trembled and she tried to draw away but he insisted, forcing them open despite her muffled cries of protest. Then he moved his mouth away to nibble at her nipples. He sucked at her breasts, letting it bulge right into his mouth like a ripe fruit. His mouth was moving southwards again licking at her flat belly. She tried to fight him off with her legs, but the unintentional result was she was hopping and rotating her hips like a lady in heat. After a while Oruale realized what effect her movements had.

"Oh bastard ... you filthy bastard...!"

Unknowingly Oruale had used the wrong words. Suddenly enraged and out of control Rufus slapped her so hard in the face, her head almost was spinning around. It was time to put real fear into this wench. Cold-hearted he watched how she started to cry now she realized how hopeless her situation was. Rufus took off his helmet, he was sure the crying girl would never recognize him.

"You wench. Tell me you yield or I will beat you into submission!"

She only broke into more tears. Rufus grew impatient. His cock was dry and throbbing. It badly needed some wet relief. When he rose, her tear-stained face showed she didn't have an idea what to expect. She would find out soon. He took a dead branch and mercilessly hit her bottom, just below her nude crotch. The small gnarls of the branch were biting into her tender rubbery flesh, leaving red stripes and holes. Oruale ousted a heartbreaking shriek but merciless he hit her again. The girl started to break under the pain.

"I yield..." she sobbed. "I yield... don't hurt me, please..."

Rufus calmly stepped back en slowly began to undress. He stripped gradually, garment by garment, feeling the cool touch on his naked flesh. When he revealed his loins, a rush of excitement ran through his veins as his hot cock shot up into the coolness of the spring air. Oruale had stopped crying, just watching in despair how he was preparing himself for her ordeal. He walked over till he was standing over her head and knelt down to bring his cock closer to her face. Unsupported it was slowly moving up and down as in a provocative, obscene dance. It was just like he wanted; he wanted her eyes to follow it, to take in all the details from his penis, the smallest twist of each vein coiling around his fleshy menhir, the swollen purple crowning the end and the drop of fluid oozing through its eye.

He bent over to her.

"Ask me to put my flesh in your mouth." He whispered in her ear.

Oruale had the feeling she would die in shame and horror. She was about to brake into tears again when she saw from the corner of her eyes how he groped for the dead branch.

"Pppput your flesh in my mouth..." she sobbed.

"Again!! I want it loud and nice!" She saw his arm rising, the branch in his hand.

"PUT YOUR FLESH IN MY MOUTH, PLEASE...."

"Good girl!"

He put his hand around her neck. 

"That was much better. Do you have a good memory?"

She looked at him helplessly. His hand closed even tighter around her neck.

"Remember, girl, you begged for it and in case you forget and try to hurt me... I can break your neck with one twist of my hand. It is very painful and it will take a long for you to die. That would be a shame. So, to make sure, tell me again what and how you will yield to me and how you will proceed."

Over the years, in girl talk at the castle Oruale had absorbed some shredded information how ladies can please their knights when they returned from a long campaign. In some whispered, giggling confessions she even picked up some saucy details. She never expected to have her first experience under these circumstances. As terrified as she was, Oruale remained a practical girl and managed to accommodate his demand.

"Please put your flesh in my mouth. I will suck it and lick it."

Her timid voice sounded so nice Rufus somewhat softened. Tenderly he kissed her forehead and the cute freckles on her face. He would have been a good husband for her, he thought, always preparing her nice and tender. In response he expected her to be nice and naughty for him. He straddled her head, his face between his knees. Looking down at her face, he watched it disappear when he lowered his balls, covered it by his hairy sack like he dreamt he would do. 

He felt his balls tighten under the exquisite caress of her tongue when she started to lick. Slowly he moved his hanging spheres over the soft skin of her face, later replacing it with the heated length of his rod. Only when his rod was just a pulsating mast of flesh, he placed the purple crown against her lips. He felt them open and finally, with a sigh of delight and relief he plunged the whole length of his cock in the cool wetness of her mouth.

Oruale almost suffocated when he had put his sack over her nose. She could barely breathe while she had to inhale the rancid smell of leather and sweat. She had licked and kissed his balls just to survive. She felt completely helpless, ashamed and humiliated, forced to please this unknown, to nibble at his nether parts, to lick his dried sweat. She felt the heat of his member against her cheek, her lips opened and then her mouth was filled. It all was too much but surprisingly a weird sensation was creeping up her legs. Memories from the past flashed through her brain. She didn't get the time to do any more thinking. His flesh was moving in and out and her mouth was taken in a whirlwind of new positions and new penetrations. Desperately she had to open her lips further and further as he invaded her from all angles, deeper and deeper, ultimately making her gag.

Rufus rose and moved over to place himself between her helplessly raised legs. Her mouth had been wonderful. His feelings of revenge had replaced his shortly timed feelings of tenderness. The girl had a mouth, perfect to be fucked. She had been clumsy at first and he was sure it was the first time for her. He had shown her all the tricks of the noble art of mouth fucking. In his desire to humiliate her, he even created some variations of his own. He had pulled out and wiped off his slimy member under her nose, leaving some of her own saliva in one of her nostrils. He even had fucked her mouth from behind her head, forcing her to flex her head sharply backwards. The position enabled him to reach her throat again and again, till she started choking. 

He looked at her body. Her skin was pale with a wonderful matt gloss. She was just a living doll of flesh and blood, a toy for him to play with. With her knees up wide in the air there was nothing she could do to stop him. Like the way he had taken her mouth he just could take her cunt any way he pleased. He had her legs so wide open that even her rich bush was not able to hide that pink spot of delight between her white columns. Another hole waited to be broken in. 

His cock was sticking straight from his loins like a handle. A drop of moisture dripped on her belly. He grinned and knelt down between her legs, staring at the opening he was going to fuck. Surprised he saw she was wet too, a small streak of fluid trickling down from her cunt to her crotch. He wanted to make her humiliation complete, show her his domination, how he controlled her body and her arousal. He inserted two fingers into her wet opening. The walls of her vagina were deliciously soft. When he had wetted his fingers well enough, he brought them to her mouth. She licked them like an obedient puppy. 

He lay down on her and slithered up her body. She gasped, knowing what the weight of his body meant for her. Her breasts were firm and spongy, carrying him like as two living cushions, the nipples burning into his chest. He put his hand down in her V and felt for her moist aperture. He took his cock in his hand, moved the knob forward against the elastic membrane of resistance and then lunged forward. 

A wild cry of despair escaped from her lips as he moved through her tight channel, right into her dark depth, separating the inner walls all the way until it was just too tight to absorb his thickening stem. He pulled back a little and rammed up again, reaching farther this time till he gritted his teeth in the painful ecstasy it brought him. He felt the warmth and fresh wetness of her blood. It made it easier for him to accelerate his strokes and plunge deeper into her squirming channel. 

Oruale was groaning and sobbing continually, her degradation mounting as he plowed faster and deeper into her womb. Gradually she was reduced to a whimpering, sobbing mass of white flesh. Her breasts seem to melt under his hands. She cried out loud when he pinched her nipples between his fingers, evoking fresh pain and humiliation. His loins were in fire, trying to push his cock even further than were possible, wriggling his hips against her pelvis. The filling of her cunt was over-complete so the fleshy rims flattened against his overpowering mast. 


Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 01



Overwhelmed by fear, pain and humiliation, Oruale felt drawn deeper and deeper into a vortex, which threatened to tear her whole body apart. And yet, in the core of this maelstrom a new sensation was growing, emerging from the secret spot between her legs. She had tried to incite a similar sensation with her fingers when she had discovered the use of her covered button but this feeling was different. It started to overwhelm her. It made her loins cavort against those thundering thrusts, her inner muscles contract around the invading mast, the flaming torch that had ignited this unknown fire. Her sobs of despair intensified. It was there... it was THERE...!

Rufus had noticed her change. Her excitement only stimulated him. His buttocks whipped her faster and faster. He gave a staccato series of punishing stabs in which his body straightened and jerked convulsively. Then he staggered back from her, raising from his knees. Her obvious enjoyment had caught him by surprise and now he just wanted to add to her shame. He had ejaculated in her tight funnel but he still had plenty and now he scrambled till he was over her face. Through misted eyes Oruale saw him draw near, his weapon in hand.

'No, no! Please, Noooooo...!"

Desperately she moved her head sideways, trying to shy away from the inevitable. He was too close. She shouted out loud when the thick gobs of goo started oozing down on her face, her eyes, her nose, her lips... completing her ultimate humiliation. She sobbed and kept sobbing while she saw her ravisher disappear behind the turbid slime covering her eyes.

She didn't know how long she had been weeping. A finger was wiping the sperm from her right eye, so she could at least see partially. Gorvenal was kneeling next to her. It revived her directly.

"Gorvenal, you did come... heheheee... it was so awful... hehehelp me..."

It would be over now. Finally... she lay limp, exhausted... expecting Gorvenal would take care of her... Only then she saw Rufus standing behind him, placing his hand on his shoulder in a gesture of trust. In a flash she saw their conspiracy and her world collapsed around her. Gorvenal rose and started to undress. He looked at the sobbing girl. Her buttocks were flattened, soiled from their contact with the ground. How often had he looked at those mountains, watching them chafing against each other. Yes he had desired that arse for a long time but she always had that look of silent rejection in her eyes. He knew he never would have a chance, until the lad from Carlisle had contacted him with his plan. He would have silver, he would find protection and refuge in Carlisle and... he would have the girl's arse after he had finished with her first. It had been a long wait but now it was his turn.

He cut through the cords binding her wrists, only to force her into a kneeling position. Oruale had seen her only hope crumble away. She had no more strength to resist. Rufus wiped some semen from her face before he forced her neck down and applied the slimy substance on her anus. He smiled cruelly during this gesture, it would announce the girl what would be next. It also would show the lad who was in charge. He easily could have him killed after they arrived safely in Carlisle, but he would let him have his silver and his life, knowing he would have a useful subject for his dirty work for life. Rufus considered himself not a vicious man.

"No more..." Oruale murmured. "No more... please..."

Gorvenal was molding her buttocks, restoring those snow-white monuments to their original overflowing glory. He caught each of glossy mountains and put them apart. She stiffened, tried them together and then surrendered when he pulled them wide apart. Her anus disclosed like the center of a flower whose petals are pulled together. Fascinated he gazed at the tiny furrows, radiating from the dark center with crinkled edge. He wondered how her tiny opening would accommodate his enormous erection. It would be a tight fit. He loved the firm enclosure of his shaft, those contractions of a desperate sphincter around the broad base of his phallus. 

Gorvenal let his fingers slowly slide along the lovely curves of her spine. He kissed her just above the opening where he would enter her and drew her buttocks apart like he was opening a curtain. Alongside his cock he let his fingers glide, feeling the way. His index finger led the way past the rubber circle and he nosed his knob after it, following timidly at first, and then pushing insistently.

"No, no... please, no!"

Oruale was aware of the futility of her pleas, adding to her feelings of total degradation. Gorvenal pressed down vertically with his iron rigidity. He felt the top making contact with the hollow spot and placed his hands under her loins, gripping her tightly. First he jogged up and down in little strokes, softening her up while he enjoyed the contact with her mellow cushions. Oruale knew he was to sodomize her. While he sawed in and out, she felt an intense shame building up and yet again she experienced that gnawing sensation, building up from her nether regions. Her whole bottom was about to set on fire.

Suddenly he broke through and her sphincter held his knob in a tight, almost painful grip, bringing him excruciating delight. Oruale just uttered an agonizing cry. Unmoved he proceeded, pushing his flesh peddle down, feeling his cock sliding deliciously slow into her clamping pressure, the heat soon enveloping the whole length of his throbbing flesh. As a cavorting horse, her hips were trying to throw off their rider. It seemed like his cock would be torn to shreds but Gorvenal held her firm, forcing her back entrance open more and more. He skewered and screwed her from all angles, moving his hips at and across her bottom. His cock was burning and never felt so deliciously crushed and yet so huge and swollen. When he looked down he saw her pale buttocks, containing his darker shaft. The skin was so glossy and smooth, so lovely and exciting. Her prostrate back and her thighs were supporting his loins like a tripod. He let his cock slip out, disclosing a dark open hole and a rim, red from friction.

"You drilled a beautiful hole. Put it in again."

He almost forgot Rufus had been watching all the time but he was happy to oblige his commander. He felt like melting in the inferno of her rectum and barely could keep his deep plunging movement in control.

"Withdraw and show me her hole again."

His voice, giving orders, would convey to the girl that Rufus was her master, authorizing every penetration of her anus, every manipulation of her breasts. He was overseeing her debauchery and added to her disgrace by putting a finger in her exposed gaping hole and bending over to put some slime from the depth of her arse to her nose. By that time Oruale was too exhausted to show her disgust. In addition she was totally absorbed by the weird overpowering feeling creeping up again from her loins. It forced her to spend her last energy in feverish contractions of her sphincter, helplessly entertaining his cock, abandoning any pretence of last resistance. Her guttural moans heralded the acceptance of her complete submission.

Governal desperately looked at Rufus. Down in his balls he felt the fluid of his climax starting to boil. He was gasping for breath, his chest heaving in great gulping breaths. The liquid accumulated at the base of his cock. 

"Come... come in her arse!"

Oruale started sobbing again, recognizing she was to be filled a second time by the defiling sperm of one of her tormentors. Governal couldn't hold it. The wonderful moment of oblivion was there. He felt his sperm rushing along the thick length of his staff. It flowed straight through and spurted from his knob with a force dragging a deep rasping groan from his throat. Again and again he smashed his cock home, disposing himself from his heavy load, letting it shoot deep into her dark tunnel. Oruale could feel his red-hot member spew up molten lava against her most intimate and sensitive receptacle. Starting from way down, her whole body gradually was engulfed by a consuming fire until it was immersed in merciful unconsciousness. 

The following morning the troops found her body near the military road to the south. Rufus had her moved over there to let her live. He considered himself not a vicious man. He also wanted her to remember what had happened.

I would like to thank my editor JayneC for her valuable contribution. 



Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 02



This multi-chapter story contains adult material, including rape and non-consensual sex; bondage, pain and humiliation; anal sex and ass-to mouth. If this offends you, do not read this story and do not rate it.

Chapter 02. Damsel in Distress

It started as the darkest period in her life. A few weeks after the fateful afternoon when Oruale lost her three virginities in the most forceful way, her mother died. Fiona was more affected by the horrible events than her daughter. She seemed to blame herself for not being there to protect her and these troubles of her mind tipped the fragile balance in her body in the wrong direction. In an awkward way Fiona’s death was a blessing in disguise. Oruale’s responsibilities increased considerably and there were so many things to take care of, the girl didn’t have the time to ponder on her unfortunate fate. Egan maybe didn’t always make the right choices in handling the outside world but he knew exactly how to handle his daughter. After a few weeks of sharing her sadness and showing his sympathy he took her apart for a serious talk. He reminded her of the proud Irish heritage of toughness under setbacks and their tradition of never giving up. Oruale hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of and he expected of her to move on. Egan just tapped right into the natural resilience of his daughter. It seemed as if Oruale righted her shoulders and just matured more quickly in to womanhood. She definitely became more sincere but she regained the main part of her original cheerful self. After taking care of the fall out from her mother’s death with cool efficiency, she took care of her siblings with warm affection. 

The gleam of maturity and her proud posture made Oruale more attractive than ever. As always rumors and gossip circulated after her mishap. It was the main reason despite her beauty no knight ever approached Egan regarding his eldest daughter. It didn’t bother Oruale at all to forbear from male suitors. When her siblings reached an age they didn’t need her supervision anymore, her close friend Clarisse, the youngest daughter of King Lot, asked her to join the Court as her lady in waiting. Clarisse somehow always thought herself in a certain way being partly responsible for the terrible events of the past. 

At the Court Oruale learned much more about the politics and the situation in the country. The young King Arthur had kept his promise and led his loyal knights in a crusade to realize a unified Britain and establish law and order. King Lot first was one of his contenders, but later decided to support him and became an ally. His sons Gavain, Agravain and Gareth were invited to join the Knights of the Round Table and his daughter Clarisse was invited to the Court of Queen Guinevere. Clarisse took Oruale with her to Camelot to avoid being the only lady in waiting from the North. At Camelot Oruale effortlessly evolved to a refined Lady, familiar with all the conventions of the Royal Court. 

Once, when she was in Lothian to pay her father a visit, she met Sir Aelfrith from nearby Northumbria. Drawing male attention had never been a problem for his eldest daughter, but Egan was taken by surprise when the knight paid him a visit to ask for his permission to marry her. Aelfrith was twelve years her senior, and relatively unknown. His castle at Bamburgh was under regular pressure by the Saxons and he was deeply committed to the unity of Britain. Much of his time he spent in military campaigns and he never married. Once every couple of months he made a visit to King Lot to discuss common tactical interests. It was during one of these visits he noticed the fine Lady of the Royal Court. Obviously he only needed a couple of conversations to make the decision he wanted to have these conversations the rest of his life. Egan was delighted his ambitions were becoming fulfilled but he was serious enough to start informing the noble suitor about the events in the past. Aelfrith interrupted him and just said he knew. Relieved Egan told his daughter the good news.

In the years she developed to an adult woman, Oruale had noticed all the male attention but she never felt the desire for a casual or permanent connection. After she was raped, she never had any nightmares reliving those horrible events but she did have erotic dreams. In these dreams she often was held in bondage and submitted to pain and humiliation. Surprisingly these dreams were not unpleasant and over the time she even learned to trigger these dreams with her fingers at the juncture of her thighs.

After they first met, she had conversations with Aelfrith during long walks over the castle grounds. He was not particularly good looking but he was kind and very serious, quite different from the young boisterous knights she met in Camelot. She discovered he was an important ally of King Arthur in his struggle against the invading Saxons. After their third meeting Aelfrith told her he had to leave the next week and just kissed her on the forehead. Oruale thought that would be the end of it and was taken by surprise when Egan brought her the news of the proposal. She didn’t hesitate to accept since, although she hadn’t known Aelfrith too long, she felt wonderfully safe with him and she trusted her instincts.

They married one month later. For the private ceremony only a few persons were invited: her friend Clarisse and her brothers, and the closest brothers in arms of the groom. King Arthur showed the appreciation for his ally by sending a representative, his First Knight, Sir Lancelot du Lac. Unexpected disaster struck when during the wedding dinner a courier, all covered in dust and blood, arrived with the alarming news that Bamburgh Castle was under Saxon attack. Aelfrith decided to return to his castle immediately with some of his friends and Lancelot who insisted in accompanying them.

When Saxons suddenly ambushed their party, the whole story turned out to be a trap, a treacherous part of a conspiracy to have a main leader of the British forces killed. In the ensuing fight Aelfrith was severely wounded and, but for Lancelot’s intervention, he surely would have been killed. The following days Oruale nursed her husband, while Lancelot and Gawain routed the Saxons and organized Bamburgh’s defense. Aelfrith was racked by severe fevers and only after ten days he sufficiently regained consciousness to smile to his spouse at his bedside. 

“I feel remorseful I missed our wedding night, I will be bedridden for weeks and too weak to fulfill my marital duties…”

Oruale blushed. To see her husband smile brought Oruale a shiver of delight and his words for the first time reminded of a part of her marriage she had pushed aside because the situation at hand.

“It is the least of my worries, Milord. Thou will regain thy strength soon enough and thy men are eagerly awaiting thy return. I feel so indebted to Sir Lancelot for saving thy life.”

Aelfrith was partly paralyzed and Oruale had to bend over to hear the words he whispered in her ear. When she heard them, she blushed and shivered again.

Oruale hesitated in front of the bedroom door. It had been a hectic day. It started with a restless night, crowded with intense dreams. Twice she awakened drenched in perspiration. In the morning Sir Gawain had left to return to Lothian taking his troops with him. Only Sir Lancelot with some men remained in the castle to guard the life of his host he had saved earlier. Oruale had noticed how involved her husband’s comrades became with his healing. Tormented by his earlier words, she had sought his bedside again to be certain of his wish. She had seen his eyes, clear and confident. He had repeated the words he had ousted the day before, and then he told her even more. At the end of their long conversation he had embraced her, had spoken encouraging words and kissed her tenderly on her forehead, then sent her forth on her assignment…

Now she stood in front of the door to the bedroom of the man who had saved her husband’s life. The whole day she had pondered over Sir Lancelot. She first met him when she arrived in Camelot. Of course she had noticed how handsome he was, his length a noble six feet, his dark sharp profile, his boyish long manes, his smile, so friendly and yet so reserved, making it almost irresistible. He was more than a handsome body however, a great swordfighter, a clever tactician in battle and, most important, gifted with a noble un-selfish character. No wonder he was the out-and-out favorite of the ladies in waiting and Oruale noticed that even Queen Guinevere seemed to have a soft spot for him. Oruale was too practical to have any interest in him. How could a freckled redhead from the North have a chance to win the heart of Britain’s hero anyway? 

That was the past, but now she wasn’t a simple country girl anymore. She had fought adversity and she had matured to a Lady of the Court. She also was chatelaine of Bamburgh Castle and she had to fulfill a commitment. Oruale righted her shoulders and entered the bedroom of her guest without knocking. Her heart was beating fast and she felt a dull ache in her stomach. Still she aired the confidence of an assured lady.

“Milady Oruale…!”

Lancelot rose from the mattress of the huge four-poster bed. In this hot summer night he had left the window open and the light of the full moon showed his muscular torso, covered by his sweat. Oruale held her breath. He was, indeed, extremely handsome. Now she had entered his bedroom at this hour, the erotic tension of the moment hit her and she stopped her movement like her body had hit a brick wall. 

“Milady…! Are you all right?”

Concerned Lancelot had risen even further from the bed. Oruale saw only a loose garment around his loins covering his nude body. It didn’t ease her situation and she could barely find the words she so painstakingly had devised and repeated before.

“Sir Lancelot, I came over here to pay you my respects, to thank you again for saving my husband’s life.”

Lancelot seemed relieved.

“Be assured my lady I have the utmost respect for your husband and his commitment to defend this part of country. I feel only privileged to share the ranks of a hero.”

His words only made it even more difficult for her. Oruale swallowed twice before she was able to continue.

“My husband still is very sick. Since he is indisposed he suggested I would share thy bed so thou might perform the marital duties in his place...”

Now she had said it, Oruale felt a shiver of guilty anticipation crawl up so slowly through her body. What would he say? What would he do? Would it be like those ladies were whispering in heated conversations?

Lancelot left his bed, knelt down before her and kissed her hand. 

“If ye would join me in my bed, milady, I would just take advantage of a terrible situation. It would seem like ye would repay me for a doing I was only fortunate to be at hand.”

Oruale first relaxed and felt an enormous relief. All her shame and fears would be unwarranted after all. Then she was hit by other thoughts. He denies me! I am unattractive to him! He doesn’t desire me! Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. He was kind, of course a knight of the Court would be kind, but he was still dismissing her. She felt stupid coming to his bedroom, putting on a thin nightgown that could easily be removed. What had she been thinking, what had she been daydreaming…?

“Milady…”

Lancelot rose from his kneeling position, took both her hands and kissed them again, looking down on her.

“I know about the circulating gossip that many ladies shared my bed. But these were all damsels who underwent extreme distress. Even after I saved them from a terrible ordeal, they often still felt so ravaged and threatened that I felt urged to comfort them, to offer them solace… Being the knight who freed them, I felt it my solemn duty to offer them comfort after their ordeal. Don’t ye think these damsels in distress deserve these extra gallantry?”

“Dede… damsels in distress” Oruale stammered. When he moved to kiss her hands she definitely felt a blunt object softly bumping against her loins. She died to lower her eyes to have a peek but kept up her appearance of total control. You faint-hearted lass! You had a chance to have a peek! With such carnal thoughts ripping through her mind Oruale urgently needed some meaningful conversation or she would buckle through her knees. 

“Those damsels… I never imagined they went through such a terrible ordeal.” She said with the casual tone, so familiar of Ladies at the Court.

“Oh, but they do, milady. They do…” Lancelot had taken her by her arm and led her to the bed. “Please lay down, so I can acquaint thee with the intricacies.” Before Oruale knew he had her lay down on his bed with her head over the end. 

“Some of these dainty damsels are tied up firmly, hurting their delicate wrists.”

Lancelot took her right wrist, kissed it and tied it to one of the posters with a string he seemed to have at hand. It seemed the most natural action of the world when he tied up her left wrist too. His movements were slow and gentile but yet, the ultimate result was her wrists were tied so firm, her arms were widespread to the utmost and she barely could move them. 

“I sse… se… see now how helpless they must ff.. fee… feel.” Oruale managed to muster out. She hated herself for her stuttering and stammering; it was so immature and unsophisticated. 

“That’s not all, milady. Since the damsels are so helpless the villains often remove their clothes, using force and creating dismay.” 

Oruale trembled when she felt the cool metal of his unsheathed sword over her skin. Then it swished through her thin nightgown and her torso was as nude as his. Immediately she felt her nipples harden.

From her youth when she first started to observe her own body, Oruale felt perturbed over three major issues. First, she didn’t like her freckles at all and no compliments to the contrary ever convinced her. Another embarrassment was the fact she blushed so easily. The more she matured the more she suffered from these give-a-ways, flaring up in the most awkward situations. She considered blushing looked juvenile and insecure. It certainly didn’t fit the profile of a worthy lady. And then there was the main problem with her nipples. It was not their size; her nipples were just regular medium-sized. However, they were extremely sensitive, easily to excite and, once aroused they grew enormously to dark raspberries. Oruale always worried people could notice them through her clothing and, even worse, read her guilty excitement. Now they were totally exposed and to make things worse, she felt herself flushing. 

“This is feeling awful. These damsels surely did suffer…!”

Her voice was rasping the words but her whole world was spinning around. She saw the way the handsome knight looked down on her and her guts churned around within her. Lancelot scrutinized her outstretched nude body with admiration. Her chalky white body had a pink-reddish gloom he never had seen before. Her firm breasts flattened out now she lay with he arms stretched out so wide. They were deliciously crowned by beautiful wide areolas and then, there were those nipples…

“This is ter… terr... terrible…” 

He knelt down, looked right into her green eyes. His lips softly touched hers, his tongue sweeping the inside of her lips. The longer the kiss lasted, the more intense it became. Ultimately he kissed her fiercely, invading her mouth with his tongue while she closed her eyes, dreaming away in delight. The next moment her nipples were attacked by his lips brushing the tender tips, followed by the scraping of his tongue until the swollen morsels were engulfed by his mouth. As a true warrior Lancelot instinctively mapped and attacked her softest spot. Oruale now experienced real torture and her anguish showed in a loud protracted moan. The rhythmic rising and falling of her breasts accelerated proportionally to her mounting excitement, pushing her vibrant elevations further into his mouth. He sucked at her breast like a thirsty nursling, drawing as much of the malleable flesh into his mouth as he could. Just when she thought the level of delight had reached the summit, he proved her wrong when he crushed her nipples between his teeth. He tormented them even more by gnawing at them, rolling them between his fingers, slapping and pinching them. Desperately Oruale tried to escape from this merciless attack. Her torso contorted in one sinuous motion, her arms wrenched at the restraining strings and her hips hammered the mattress to no avail. In the whirlwind of sounds and sensations she heard searing animalistic groans until she suddenly realized they were hers and her body wrecked in a final convulsion. 

“How fortunate those damsels are to be liberated from such awful torture.”

Lancelot had untied her and was massaging her wrists. Oruale was grateful it was all over; she had embarrassed herself enough before her guest. She was sure she was looking awful and couldn’t think how soon she could flee from this place of disgrace. To her despair Lancelot firmly took her arm, and pushed her back to the bed. 

“The torture is often executed in parts, milady. After an initial torment the damsels are exposed to following ordeals, meant to let them suffer from more exposure and humiliation.”

Oruale felt as if ice-cold fluid was streaming down her spine.

No, I couldn’t stand any more. Please. In her thoughts she was pleading with him but in some way the words she intended, failed to leave her mouth. All she could utter was a sob and a moan. In anguish Oruale noticed she softly was positioned down on her back. The noble knight started to tie her again to the bed, the only difference now her arms were fastened to the posters at the head. I have to stop him. This is all wrong. I can’t go along with this. But how could she tell him to stop? He was the First Knight, the Lifesaver…

Lancelot lifted her feet. Her legs were long and stronger than he expected from a lady in waiting. Her calves were taut, muscled and beautifully shaped. He kissed the back of her feet and sucked a curled toe into his mouth. Oruale yelped under this new and unexpected sensation. When he tied her ankles to the bedposts next to her wrists bad memories from the past flashed through her mind. And yet this was so different, his movements so gentle and there were those eyes: smiling at her reassuringly, knowingly… as if he could read in the core of her soul. She was opened wide and when she saw him staring at the center of her crotch, she had the feeling she was melting down of shame… and excitement… 

“These villains, Milady… they dare to touch these damsels with their vile hands at their most intimate places! Did ye ever imagine how these damsels must have suffered…?”

“No! Oh, no!” Oruale reacted mechanically, her voice breaking when she realized Lancelot was going to show her all these inappropriate touching in all detail... 

His fingers moved up along the path up her thighs until he parted the petals with his thumbs. It was only the start. The following hour Oruale learned much more about her own body. She learned about her sensitive bud that could grow and swell until it protruded from under its hood, almost begging to be excited. She learned about her firm thighs turning to jelly in shameless surrender. She heard herself shouting and sobbing, felt herself drooling from her neither mouth. She even smelled her own rich, sweaty scent of desire. I am rutting… I am like a bitch in heat…!

Before Oruale could worry about this observation, she learned about penetration and about breaches being taken. She cried out loud, sobbing, pleading… begging inarticulately for a secret unknown, for a mystery unspoken. She learned about being filled, about being stretched, to limits she never suspected to reach. She learned about the sweet friction and the wet sounds of mating. Suddenly emptiness fell in and when she opened her eyes, she saw… The magnificent monolith of flesh finally was disclosed and presented to her, the purple helmet dancing just inches away from her lips. Her instinct told her what to do and she stretched out to reach out for that beautiful plum. She came short and only when it remained out of reach after some desperate efforts, Oruale realized she had to earn it.




Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 02



“Please, allow me to pay my respect...” she whispered. How she ever scraped the nerve to deliver the words she never knew. Since reason was gone, she only lived by instincts.

Oruale was rewarded for her courage when Lancelot lowered his hips. Cautiously her tongue flickered around his beautiful bulb, carefully avoiding the touch of her teeth. He tasted salty, not like anything she had tasted before. She felt his fingers moving approvingly through her hair, his flesh entering the cavern of her mouth. Licking and sucking she paid her respects to the flesh that earlier had entertained her mouth down below with its movement. 

Again she was fulfilled, with her legs wide open receiving his strokes, enclosing his strength with the wetness of her sheath. She learned to tilt up her bottom rhythmically to meet up his thrusts to let him pummel in to her; to control her circular muscles to hold his iron-hot rod in a tight grip; to twist and coil her bottom around his pole, making him screw into her eager depths. When he presented his mighty meat a second time, she saw it was all wet and she knew what was expected from her.

“More...!” Her voice was firm and decisive. Even in an awkward position a Lady knew what to say and how to say it. Immediately she received more, much more pulsating flesh. Oruale started licking and sucking passionately, hollowing her cheeks, moving her face upwards towards his tender strokes. Her reward was a penetration of her womb, so deep it seemed to reach the core of her spine. Her body arched in response. The base of his mast brushed her sensitive bud again and again. She felt hurled away in a maelstrom of sensations until the emptiness was there again. She howled in disappointment. 

“Shall I tell you more about the fate of these hapless damsels?”

How long will this take? When will it end? Why does he let me wait so long?

“Please…” she heard herself saying.

“Some of these villains leave such a deep impression with these damsels… they swallow their pride!”

In her bewildered state it took some time for Oruale to understand the significance of his words. 

“Show me… please… “ Her voice was begging. The lady was gone, only a damsel in urgent need was left, begging and pleading. His flesh was plunging in her mouth, first moving in a feverish uncontrolled rhythm, then slowing down in long extended strokes, deeper, deeper… and deeper. Till she almost suffocated, inhaling air in screeching gasps, desperately absorbing the length of the spear, that was reaching for the far depths of her throat. With her head bended backwards, the movements of her arms restrained, Oruale helplessly received the multiple invasions of her oral cavity. She felt all inflamed when she felt his bludgeon of flesh swelling even more. Then the Lady in waiting didn’t have to wait any more. Stream after stream of a warm, sticky liquid was deposited back in her throat. She couldn’t do anything but swallow. The skin of her long neckline moved sinuously when she gulped the abundance of fluid away. 

The overwhelming mixture of flavors and aromas, combined with the emotions racing through her mind almost left her unconscious. She started to float away into that dreamy state of warmth and happiness when a movement between her thighs suddenly awakened her. It isn’t over yet! Only the thought brought cold sweat flowing from her pores. His rough cheek was moving against the skin of her inner thighs. 

Oruale sobbed in agony when Lancelot drew her swollen bud of pleasure into his mouth. She writhed under the tantalizingly slow lash of his tongue. Her hips were bucking in his grip, but he held both of her buttocks ruthlessly still in his hands, licking and lapping at her. Just when she thought she couldn’t hold it, she felt a thick finger invading her secret crater. Her bottom was pinned down helplessly while he relentlessly kept lashing at her swollen berry. She felt his teeth, barely touching at first, then tenderly biting, stronger and stronger, almost pressing the juice out of her poor berry. Finally, an intense pain hit her, sharp teeth, crushing her most tender spot… It nudged her over the top and sent her flying, catapulting her into a white dazzling world of rapture.

Afterwards Oruale barely noticed how she was freed from all restrains. She only moved closer to the warm muscular body next to her, seeking the comfort she had earned so strenuously.

I would like to thank my editor JayneC for her valuable contribution.



Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 03



This multi-chapter story contains adult material, including rape and non-consensual sex; bondage, pain and humiliation; anal sex and ass-to mouth. If this offends you, do not read this story and do not rate it.

Chapter 03. Warrior's Woman

Oruale felt desperate. When she awoke in the morning, she had found Lancelot already gone for his early morning ride and in panic she had fled to her quarters.  How could I? Yes, it was her husband who had implored her to visit Sir Lancelot's bedroom that night, to pay her respects for saving his life. It was Aelfrith who had suggested sharing his bed so Lancelot could replace him in performing his marital duties. She had done it all for Aelfrith only. It had been so perfectly clear to her how she had to perform this task: to remain courteous and restrained, to provide her Guest of Honor some female company and warm civilized affection. 

It all went out of hand when he started to tie her up. She had felt so exposed, so available, with those dark cravings creeping up. After what happened years ago she never had really craved for the pleasures of the flesh but suddenly, unexpectedly, those raw feelings had permeated her whole body. She had to admit she hadn't handled those feelings very well. I did it all wrong. She dreaded herself for mishandling the situation completely. How delighted she had submitted to his manipulations. How jubilant she had welcomed his penetrations. How greedy and eager she had slobbered his flesh into her mouth. "Shameless, completely shameless." She had acted like one of those women who didn't mind having a one-night connection... Oruale would rather have stayed in her own bed the whole morning to avoid meeting her husband, but she was too realistic and too dutiful to do so. Exactly at the usual time she entered his room to visit Aelfrith at his bedside. She was resolved to avoid speaking about the events of the night before at all costs, and only if absolutely necessary, to mention it briefly.

When she had greeted and embraced him as usual, she sat down in her seat next to him as a dutiful spouse. All her intentions were shattered by his first words.

"Tell me about last night...!"

Of course Oruale tried to concoct a decent story around the lewd events that happened. Aelfrith only looked at her friendly, soothingly taking her hands 

"There should be no secrets between husband and wife...!" 

She saw his eyes looking into hers and knew her case was lost. Stammering and faltering she told her story, carefully trying to find the right words, the most discrete words. Please, don't let him ask me for more details. But he did, making her worse fears come true. Her blushes and her stammering simply were giving her away, signaling to him the exact moments in her story where to ask for explicit details. It didn't leave her any way out. Suddenly Oruale gave up. With her eyes looking down she told him everything, about her embarrassment, her pleasure, her vile actions and her shattering climax, speaking faster and faster till she abruptly stopped at the end. 

In the following silence she didn't dare to look up, fearing shouts of anger, sneering words of scorn or the worse: silent looks of reproach. Oruale was sure she wouldn't survive the last. Although she knew him such a short time, she knew Aelfrith well enough to know he could be terribly hurt. For what seemed to be an eternity she waited with her head down, her heart pounding, her hands clenched together. She felt his rough warrior fingers touching her under her chin, gently raising her face towards him. His eyes were smiling, with a slight twinkle, like those of a naughty boy. Then he reached for her and kissed her forehead in a tender gesture.

"We are all different and we all have our own desires. I have learned mine are different from most men. I meant to discover yours together, my lady. But since I will be indisposed for some time, don't be embarrassed to find yours on your own..."

Oruale felt so relieved. In a sudden impulse she rose and unladylike spontaneously kissed her husband on the mouth. He laughed...

"Ho...! My lady. I still cannot accommodate your desires...!"

"It doesn't matter. I can wait for you, weeks, months... it doesn't matter at all! I will stay at your side as long as you want me." Oruale wanted to say so much more, she wanted to hug him, feeling a need to show her warmth and affection, her gratitude and respect... she almost stumbled over her words in her hurry to tell him... tell him of her overflowing relief. He just smiled and put his finger over her lips.

"Shhhh... calm down, my lady. No, you certainly won't have to wait for me for months, tonight you will pay your respects to Lancelot again!"

He looked at her startled face, kissed her frowned forehead again and gave his instructions.

Again, Oruale found herself in front of the door to the bedroom of the man who had saved her husband's life. In a certain way she felt less nervous than the night before, but now she worried about the instructions she had received. She was frightened and she had pleaded with Aelfrith. She sighed... pleading with Aelfrith, it became so predictable how that would turn out! In a moment she would open the door and enter Lancelot's bedroom again. Only this time there would be no pretence of being a Lady. Both of them would know she was just a woman, offering her self to be fucked, to have her cunt filled by his fine cock. "Fuck... cunt... cock..." Aelfrith had forced her to repeat these words over and over, so often she didn't blush anymore pronouncing them. He was a warrior and a soldier... and warriors spoke different from courtiers. To become a warrior's woman Oruale had to become strong and learn the warrior's language. She didn't dare to think of yet another word Aelfrith taught her to use.

It was time. If she cherished any hopes to become a warrior's woman, she at least had to complete her first mission. Again Oruale righted her shoulders and entered the bedroom of her guest without knocking. Again her heart was beating fast. It was all déjà vu.

"Milady Oruale...!"

Lancelot rose from the mattress of the huge four-poster bed. In this even hotter summer night he had left the window open and the light of the full moon showed his muscular torso, covered by his sweat. Oruale held her breath. Every time she saw him, she couldn't help noticing how extremely handsome he was. He acted to be surprised but she knew he was not. Unworthy of a noble knight he looked at her breasts through her transparent nightgown like every other man would. Oruale felt her nipples swelling on cue. She also saw Lancelot didn't have any undergarment this night. He was completely naked.

"Milady...! Can I be of your service...?

The sight of his nude torso and semi-erect staff didn't make it easy for Oruale to formulate a decent answer. Unspoken lewd thoughts were circulating in her mind. You can rip off my clothes and fuck me as you like. She swallowed twice before she was able to continue. 

"My husband is still unable to perform his marital duties and requests your assistance..." 

"I feel honored and privileged, milady."

Lancelot rose from the bed, took her in her arms and kissed her softly. Oruale felt fortunate this time he acted like a true knight of honor. It allowed her to whisper softly in his ear.

"My husband also would like to remind you that since the front gate often is heavily guarded, a stronghold often is easier entered through the hind gate!"

"I feel fortunate to profit from his knowledge... " Lancelot beamed his approval. 

He turned her around in his arms and slowly slipped her nightgown from her shoulders. Since Oruale had refrained from any undergarments, her nude body was unfolded before his eyes like a work of art. Despite the events of the night before she still felt very vulnerable showing her nude body to a man, other than her husband. Reflexively she shielded her red triangle with her hands but when she looked at him, she saw to her dismay her action only brought his weapon to fuller erection. I am acting like a tease. She slowly removed her hands again. Watching his erection, she saw she only made things worse. 

Lancelot wrestled with his own problems. He had first met Oruale years ago at Camelot and remembered her as a nice and friendly girl. She didn't stand out amidst all the ladies in waiting, many really beautiful and sophisticated. However, she looked different in her home environment. He had lain with her last night but only now he took the time to admire her body at ease. He felt blood racing to his erection when he looked at those beautiful long legs. Her flaming red triangle was simply sensational. A man's hands easily could get lost in such a marvelous bush. Her thighs, too wide for a fashionable beauty but luxuriant and fleshy, were perfectly shaped to absorb a lover's thrusts during the mating game. And her breasts: how had she succeeded in covering them so efficiently, the knights in Camelot barely paid her any attention? Only now Lancelot had the opportunity to admire them in their full glory. The two elevations of luxurious female flesh were a trifle asymmetrically positioned which for him only increased their appeal. How wonderful it would be for a warrior to bury his head in tiredness against those warm vibrant cushions. Of course he then still would need some distraction to keep his hands busy. Those nipples seemed to be created specifically for that purpose. Normally Lancelot would need minutes of nipple-play to have them swell to a size this lady obviously was able to reach in seconds, only by letting him gaze at them. Lancelot felt his seed boiling in his balls. He needed to unload soon, either in her cunt, her mouth or her arse.

Thinking of her arse, he suddenly remembered the words of her husband, when he visited him at his bedside in the afternoon. Lancelot had great admiration for Aelfrith as a soldier and credited him immensely for finding and marrying this undiscovered treasure. Most knights would have liked a tumble with this lady but were obviously too biased to consider marriage. Aelfrith had spoken to him as a fellow soldier, taking him in confidence.

"Listen Lancelot, me being single so long and participating in all those military campaigns, you might have guessed I fancy men more than women. I married Oruale because I am very fond of her and I need a strong woman beside me who can manage my estates at Bamburgh Castle. I think she is a very special lady, with unchartered desires I hoped to unveil. She could become a real warrior's woman but unfortunately I will not be there to provide her guidance. Because of the wound in my back I am partly paralyzed down my middle and I might be unavailable for marital duty for months. I urgently need a man to prepare Oruale for the future. The man has to open up the orifice I like most, to disclose her unknown desires and make her familiar with the way soldiers and their women live out their passions. To be familiar with the ways of the Court will not be enough for her to survive. You once saved my life and you are the only man I trust with this delicate task."

Lancelot felt honored, flabbergasted and aroused by his request. He first discussed the matter with his host at length before he accepted. Watching Oruale moving awkwardly with her hands at her crotch, Lancelot had to admit she definitely needed some tutoring. Most men with lesser self-control would have flung her on the bed and unceremoniously fucked her silly. Instead she now could put her arms around him and bury her head in his shoulder.

"I am not good at this. You have to be patient." She whispered, but for a warrior's woman Lancelot had more than tender loving care in his mind.

"It isn't patience you need, milady. You need passion...!"

"Passion...?"

The following moment she felt his mouth coming down on hers, forcing her lips open. It triggered her smoldering sensuality. She pressed herself against him with an urgency she didn't remember ever having experienced before. The following moment they fell on his bed, a ball of limbs: kissing, stroking and grabbing... When she found his member, she boldly moved over to her object of desire, crawling over his supine body. Held at its base, the proud cylinder pointed straight up. Fascinated Oruale focused her eyes at the crown. It stood so proud, so delicately sculptured, so engorged with blood, so enticing and appetizing... Suddenly she experienced an unstoppable inclination to giggle.

"You think my lance amusing?" His voice sounded detached.

"No, not at all, I was only thinking of all the noble-borne Ladies at Camelot, who crave for your attention. And here I am, an Irish-born lass... and I am holding your most precious treasure in my hand." She looked back at him and started giggling again like a young girl, soon coaxing him along in laughter. Relaxed Lancelot folded his arms behind his neck and let himself lay down completely on his back. 

"I had a talk with your husband. He wants me to make you a warrior's woman...

Oruale saw the ripe fruit throbbing just before her eyes... She looked back at him, suddenly again aware of the gnawing urge in her stomach. I have to remain calm.

"What would a warrior's woman do now...?"

She wished he would grip her head and force her mouth over his cock. It would allow her to resist, at least for a short time. 

"A warrior has to seize the opportunity when it's there..."

"Then I have to expedite my schedule." She whispered.

Tenderly her soft lips enfolded his helm, her tongue sweeping along the ridge, exploring the tiny eye. She felt powerful having his rod in her mouth, letting the length of his shaft slide into the channel of her throat. For the first time she took her time to give her full attentions to his glorious rod, licking along the puffy vein running the length of the shaft to the tiny hole at the top. Lancelot pulled her hips over him and his tongue slithered between her lower lips. Before she knew his mouth closed over her slit, sucking in her juice, teasing her bud. Untroubled one finger pushed its way down her most secret passageway, rotating into its dark depths. Oruale gasped at this unexpected move. Hit by a jolt of pleasure she brought her head down, her mouth engulfing the length of his cock with her mouth. I am sucking and being sucked at the same time. The conversation with her husband that morning, flashed through her mind. 

"I don't want to deceive you, I don't want have any pleasures of the flesh behind your back." She had expressed her concern.

"You won't deceive me at all. I will be with you... watching you."

"Don't be silly, you can't even leave your bed."

"Oruale, I will be with you in spirit. And when you tell me everything the next morning, I will see what you are doing in minute detail..."

She felt her heart sinking to the ground. Look, how we are sucking away at our private parts. The prospect she eventually had to tell her husband about this experience worried her and heightened her excitement at the same time. It almost felt if Aelfrith actually was watching her. Watched how she eagerly was sucking the pumping cock of another man into her mouth. Slimy fluid was slobbering down from the corners of her mouth. Do I really have to tell I am encouraging him by stroking his sack with my fingers? She noticed her stimulation was successful because she was almost gagged by the all too happy cock in her throat

"You have a talented mouth." 

Dripping wet with her drool his impressive erection slipped from between her lips. Straddled above her, Lancelot brushed his shaft against a swollen nipple. It sent ripples of excitement through her body. This is not fair. Oruale knew she would melt away under his titillating strokes, making her weak and wobbly. Lancelot sensed the heat she exuded and calmly extended his edge, applying the same treatment to her other nipple. She tried to pull him away with her hands but he held her wrists and pinned them over her head. Completely in control, he continued tantalizing her nipples with his prick, only interrupted the moment he slapped his flesh against her face. He is playing with me. He will get me wild with desire and then he will have his way with me, demand those nasty things warriors enjoy from their wenches. Oruale was in dismay. How would she be able to face Aelfrith after this? Lancelot left her no time to give this problem much consideration, just intensifying his activities to his hearts content. He concluded this satisfying session by plunging his cock deep in her welcoming mouth. Squeaking she inhaled some to catch her breath while he let her cool down. 

"I love the taste of your cock." Oruale was astonished at her own boldness. A true lady never would say anything like that. May be a warrior's wench would.

"I could let you taste some more..."

Oruale looked at him.

"Do I have any choice?" Of course not, you know better. He will let me suck him at the most obscene places. Why did she get all excited at this thought? I am acting like a harlot.

Oruale didn't deliberately tried to be a tease but her words, implying she would do all he pleased, were enough to make Lancelot wild. He took a clutch of that flaming red hair and, rougher than he intended, dragged her head to the edge till he held it dangling down. She felt strangely excited by the way she was manhandled. He wants me! He really wants me... His trembling cock was positioned just in front of her lips. He is going to fuck my mouth. She closed her eyes when the inevitable happened and his proud pillar was pushed deep into her throat again.

Soon Lancelot let her expend her work area. When her lips touched hairy wrinkled skin Oruale opened her mouth and immediately it was filled to its maximum capacity. Her nose disappeared in dense brushwood, forcing her to inhale all its rich odors. There were more areas to explore. Her mouth was led to the deep gorge lined by short downy hair, where fluid had accumulated. Oruale followed the trail, spooning the fluid with her tongue and slurping it with her lips till the dark canyon was completely dry. 

"Kiss me where you wish to be breached!"

Oruale might have little experience with lovers but she was not naïve. She knew exactly what Aelfrith's words had implored when he mentioned entering the hind gate. 

"That's not the way to summon a Lady..." She felt an urge to start giggling again.

"Do you ever want to be a warrior's woman?" Lancelot said. His tutoring certainly went smoothly.

"I do." Oruale whispered resignedly.

At the end of the deep gorge her tongue met with the dark crater of his anus. Her lips curled around the irregular rim and clamped down at his brown eye. I am sucking his arse. How low can I go? She felt both guilty and excited. She cherished his anus with the tip of her tongue. His hands were fondling her breasts, stimulating her swollen nipples with his fingers. It make her suck harder, delving her face deep between his buttocks. It brought all the lust in Lancelot to the surface. Alternately he let her suck his cock and his arse. He could go forever like this, but then remembered he had a mission to complete. When his long penis escaped her mouth he slapped her face, signaling the time had come. She was drooling both from her mouth and from her cunt.

Oruale rolled over to a kneeling position, presenting him with the white moons of her up pointed bottom. 

"You have a nice bottom."

"My skin is too white." 

Oruale always was overcritical at her own body, but these words suited Lancelot fine.

A pink gleam of her skin certainly would look much better. Determined he slapped her cheeks with his hands, first at the right and then at the left. She shrieked, more of surprise than of pain. Not-understanding she looked back at him.




Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 03



"Your husband told me you would best being pierced when pink!" Actually Aelfrith hadn't said anything like that but Lancelot liked to improvise and a sweet lie in this situation wouldn't hurt. Or, maybe it did! He spanked her buttocks again, increasing the force of his slaps, turning her skin considerably closer to the desired color. Oruale shuddered in excitement. 

"Did you like to be spanked when you were a little girl?" he kept slammed at her, incresingly more painful. How could he know? Instinctively she tried to turn away, but his hands kept coming down at the vibrating flesh of her cheeks and her thighs. The river in between started flowing. Yes, yes, yessss... Her bottom felt hot. Satisfied with the pink coloring her cheeks, Lancelot let an oozing drop from the head of his penis fall down in its center. The sphincter reacted nervously. He introduced a finger in the resisting opening and than another one. It was hot inside. Mercilessly he rotated his fingers in her contorting, hot furnace. He ignored her protesting moans. When she raised a hand to slow him down, he just brushed it away. Oruale was a tough woman. She wouldn't mind experiencing some more pain.

The head of his cock rested at the pit of her arse. When he pressed forward, he felt her delicious grip around the dome, filling him with an exciting wave of sensation. He heard her stifled gasp. Her hole was tight, pulling back his foreskin, which felt painful and delightful at the same time. Finally he was totally in, the length of his member completely surrounded by her wonderful inferno.

"Quite a woman!" Lancelot thought. She seemed so restrained and detached when he first met her. Now he was fucking her butt and she was returning his trusts with the passion and lewdness of a courtesan. She had an amazing control of her constricting sphincter which made this fuck absolutely delightful. Still he knew another way to spice up this mating even more.

"What about tasting my cock now?" 

Oruale knew when she was challenged. This cannot be true, it is disgusting. She thought of Aelfrith. He had put her in this position by choosing Lancelot as his replacement. If she would do it, it would be her husband she would serve. I should say no, it is sickening and filthy. It felt like Aelfrith was watching her, testing her, challenging her. She felt hot and feverish. You are a warrior's woman. You have to be strong. She remembered his words and suddenly she knew she could do it. I am a stubborn Irish, those men will not challenge me and get away with it. She only had to gather her courage. She felt so excited, her buttocks were glowing and in the center her arse felt in flame. Screaming loud she let his cock slip from her bottom. Turning around she looked at his long gleaming pole of flesh, free from the containment of her arse. Sobbing in despair she launched forward, attacking that arrogant prick, taking it full in her mouth to chastise it... absorbing it, sucking it, licking it... The wonderful scent of his maleness mixed with the wicked taste of her own arse. 

"You nasty girl...!"

She was spanked again, harder than ever before. Was it a punishment or a reward? This is depraved. She was moaning and groaning, trying to escape his hands... but not really! Sometimes his slaps were barely missing her bud of pleasure and she felt her excitement growing. He parted her cheeks like an orange and penetrated her arse again, purposefully hurting her since she seemed to enjoy the pain, moaning in lust when acid spasms ravaged her foundation. He fucked her roughly and coarsely, maltreating her breasts and her nipples like a drunken soldier till she was howling in delight. When he pulled back, she was due for cock-cleaning again and she sucked it, fresh from her arse, hollowing her cheeks...

"Nasty, nasty girl...!"

He switched to a short broom he picked up from a corner. The tiny twigs castigating her heated bottom made the pain excruciating... and wonderful! Howling she tried to escape, sliding from the bed, crawling away from him. He overtook her and fucked her arse there and then, right on the floor. They were copulating like rutting animals. Her arse was distended more and more. Oruale was sobbing in delightful submission. This is passion, this is the wild passion he was talking about. She felt his fat cock rotating in the tight confinement of her rectum, picking up more of her juices, preparing to challenge her again. She started crying. This is not fair. He is playing dirty. He pulled out, stepping back two steps, his prick standing tall. Turning around she prepared her jump, looking like a predator deprived of its prey, her eyes wild, her tongue licking around the corner of her mouth. Slowly crawling to him, she noticed he stepped back teasingly. He is humiliating me. He wants me crawling for him. And she did, crawling like a bitch in heat towards her master. She howled in frustration when he stepped back again and again. She followed him with that tempting cock dangling in front of her face, till she made a leap forward and was rewarded with the musky taste of her own arse. She was crying when her own juices filled her mouth. It felt so disgusting so utterly humiliating. If Aelfrith would see it, I would die in shame. Knowing herself, she would cave under his questions and he would extract each gory detail from her. Still crying she ran to the bed, let herself fall down on her back with her arms shielding her face. She didn't want to see him, neither his glorious body nor his triumphant prick. Why am I raising my legs? Why am I holding my ankles? When Lancelot pushed her knees to her shoulders, he saw the open hole of her arse, gaping at least an inch wide. He certainly had opened up that orifice. Aelfrith will be pleased. 

Clinching his jaw Lancelot put the elasticity of the hole to a last test. When he entered her, both of them had the feeling this would be the one... his tempo slowed down as the intensity and the depth of his thrusts increased. He felt she was working towards the climax too. Her anus clenched the base of his cock, massaging it in short powerful waves. She is a natural. If Aelfrith ever would extend his fancy, he would find out his spouse could accommodate him more than adequately. Lancelot braced his feet against the mattress for the last stretch. Folded double to serve as a cushion for his blows, Oruale heard the wet loud sounds of their clashing bodies. His cock is all wet with my juices. She felt he was going to come. 

"Not in my mouth again, please." 

Oruale realized she pleaded to no avail. Why can't I make sweet love like a regular Lady? She noticed in the subtle change of his balance he would scramble to his knees. 

"Noooo!" She shouted loud, trying to shield her mouth with her forearm.

If Lancelot might still considering his choice, her shout of despair finally made him decide on the option that would provide the most resistance. With the cool precision of a professional soldier he forced her mouth open. He admired her resistance. She was all arms and legs, trying to fight him off. Then came the fun part, getting all those limbs under control, one after the other. He kept her waiting for a moment, waiting for the moment of ultimate defeat when he plunged his slime-sheathed shaft in her defenseless mouth. 

Lancelot penetrated deep, purposefully introducing as much of their juices as possible. This should be an educational training for her, to experience additional humiliation. She was great in defeat, gyrating lasciviously in ultimate pleasure. After a moment his invading flesh received the proper honors by her licking tongue, her cheeks providing the additional suction. Although the muffled guttural sounds from her throat sounded alarming, her nether lips were that much swollen they were clearly visible under their red foliage. Lancelot reached for the broom and turned around to distribute his reward for her fine efforts. Her little bud was hard and pushed up from its hood. With a swooshing sound the broom came down, hitting her exactly at her exposed berry. She exploded on cue as a shattering force of nature. Fascinated he watched her glorious body twitch and turn in racking convulsions of delight. Respectfully Lancelot let the storm wither till the warrior's woman fell soundly asleep against his shoulder.

*

I would like to thank my editor JayneC for her valuable contribution.



Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 04



This multi-chapter story contains adult material, including rape and non-consensual sex; bondage, pain and humiliation; anal sex and ass-to-mouth. If this offends you, do not read this story and do not rate it.

Ch 04. The Dungeon

The Saxons were a nuisance. Years ago they started arriving from their country over the sea. They came, lacking directions and order, scattered in time and place. They unloaded from ships of all types and sizes, seeking fertile ground and Lebensraum. They were not considered of any importance at first, bands of rogues, more annoying than dangerous. At a certain time their settlements merged to larger areas and their arrival developed to an invasion. They were barbarians, fighting almost uniquely as foot soldiers, lacking the chivalry of knights and horsemen, but they were resilient which meant they became more than an annoyance. 

Their presence certainly meant a nuisance for Oruale. She awakened with a feeling of total satisfaction, a deep satisfaction she never experienced before. Again she found an empty space next to her. He cannot wait to leave me. But then she heard the sounds from outside drifting in: the sounds of troops, preparing to ride out. When she reached her quarters she learned about the unrest southeast of the castle. Saxons were harassing farmers again and Lancelot prepared troops to drive them out as soon as possible. 

With her husband partly incapacitated, the following days Oruale was occupied with a zillion things to look after at the castle. More time was needed to deal with the Saxons than initially anticipated and reinforcements from King Lot soon were on their way. Only during the lonely nights Oruale found the time to reflect on the future of her erotic needs. She looked forward to the moment Lancelot would return from the campaign. Knowing Aelfrith, without doubt he would send her out to Lancelot's bedroom again. 

She relived that last wonderful night. Clearly she remembered the pain. Did she really enjoy the pain? It was exciting. Yes, perhaps I enjoyed the pain… It was a passionate night and she had been submitted to acts, loathsome beyond belief. Did I really enjoy those disgusting moves? Oruale pushed her head deep in the cushion while her thighs were rubbing frantically against each other. Of course not! However, in all circumstances Oruale remained honest and practical. Reluctantly she admitted to herself the excitement she experienced. Yes, it was filthy, it felt so humiliating, but yet so exciting... Ultimately Oruale came to a compromise with herself. In the future she would definitely resist being subjected to such vile acts. Resist firmly but not too long. Then she would yield. How delicious to yield while she was still resisting! To have her arms raised, her thighs spread, her mouth opened followed by her ultimate surrender, that distasteful… delicious surrender! Sweet surrender. She heard one of the ladies in waiting mentioning it during her time in Camelot. She never understood what it meant, until now… With those thoughts in her mind, her eyes closed and her hands busy, the First Lady of Bamburgh Castle brought herself to a sweet, scintillating orgasm. 

The following day Sir Agravain brought reinforcements, his troops staying for one night before proceeding to the area of the skirmishes. Under those hectic circumstances Oruale again emerged as a leading figure, closely working together with Narpus, the senior administrator. The man was an old friend of the family and regarded Aelfrith more or less as his son. He was very pleased his protégé found himself a bride and since the moment Oruale arrived at Bamburgh Castle, she felt warmly accepted by him. 

When the reinforcements were deployed, events soon took a favorable turn. After a few days Lancelot returned to Bamburgh Castle. Immediately after his arrival he reported to Aelfrith and the two men had a long meeting. Only then could Oruale make her daily visit to her husband.

"Lancelot and Agravain managed to chase away the main force of the Saxons." Aelfrith told her.

"That's wonderful news. I wonder what those Saxons are after next."

"I have the same question. Fortunately Lancelot and Agravain were able to take some prisoners. They will arrive tomorrow for interrogation. Those Saxons can be pretty loyal and stubborn. Tell Narpus to prepare the interrogation room this afternoon."

"The interrogation room?"

"Yes, in the dungeon we have a special room, to be used as interrogation room. It's a high safeguard room with thick walls, so no sounds can reach the main part of the castle."

For some reason Oruale felt uncomfortable, just by hearing his words.

"I want you and Lancelot to inspect the interrogation room this evening. The preparation will be completed by then."

"Why me?" Oruale snapped, showing her increasing uneasiness.

"Because you are the chatelaine of the castle, my dear. You should acquaint yourself with all that's going on within the castle walls."

Oruale had no tenable defense against this iron logic. Why did the mention of the interrogation room made her all edgy? Was it because the association of interrogation with pain? For the first time she was ready to concede pain had provided her with wonderful excitement. Yes, I enjoyed the pain.

"You will need a special outfit when you descend into the dungeon. It is cold and damp there. Ask Narpus for Storeroom Two and you will find all you need."

"Storeroom Two?"

Aelfrith smiled.

"There are still quite a number of rooms unknown to you, here in the castle. Being so near to the sea, some of our lands regularly become inundated when we have extraordinarily high tides or extremely bad storms. While wading through inundated areas for assistance or rescue, we use special high boots, reaching to the groin, and long gloves, almost to the elbow. All this stuff is kept in Storeroom Two. You will find it easily."

Oruale still didn't understand why she would need this outfit in the dungeon, but she already asked so many questions, she decided not to ask for even more clarification. It would make her look silly, or suspicious, or both.

When Lancelot came over to her room that evening, Oruale saw to her relief he wore the same high boots and absurd gloves she had received. I am worrying too much. She remembered how Aelfrith smiled at her when she left him. He is a good man and I can trust him. Trying to make small talk Oruale accompanied him down the stairs, leading to the dungeon. She was glad Lancelot was with her. The light of his torch made long shadow at the walls. Added to the damp, stuffy air, it made for a creepy atmosphere. 

As soon as they entered the interrogation room, Lancelot lighted the torches at the wall so they had enough illumination for their inspection. It was a rectangular room, about 15 feet long and 12 feet wide, with a high ceiling. The room was rather empty except for two tables, placed cross-wise. The front table had a long rectangular plateau and leather straps emerging from the corners. The table in the back was a much smaller table but in a certain way even more frightening. It was anchored firmly to the floor and had a strange looking, cylinder-shaped object mounted. It looked like a trestle, rounded at the top. At the base of the two tables a large mat was placed on the floor. For the rest Oruale noted only the many circular metal rings mounted at the wall and protruding from the floor, some provided with leather straps. The whole room looked meticulously cleaned. Only then Oruale noticed the small board fixed to the farther wall and the three objects, placed on it. Suddenly she felt fear.

"Everything looks fine to me, I think we can go." 

Oruale wanted to leave this place as soon as possible but Lancelot looked doubtful. 

"Everything is looking fine but we don't have the faintest idea if the inventory will meet its purpose."

"What do you mean?"

"Look all those appliances…" He pointed at the two tables and the objects at the wall. "We haven't used them. We really don't know how they will operate in practice."

Oruale saw all her expectations for the evening coming shattering down. Earlier she had wondered what would happen after they had finished the inspection. Was she expected to follow him to his bedroom again? Aelfrith hadn't alluded to anything of that kind. Oruale silently had hoped he would. Lancelot had been out campaigning for more than two weeks. She remembered the saucy stories at Camelot of ladies welcoming their knights returning from campaigns. After handling their swords rather well in the battlefield, those heroes's were all too eager to return their fleshy swords in their proper sheaths… And now this!

"Interrogation must be very painful." Fear was accumulating as a knot in her stomach and yet… amidst the fear a core of excitement seemed to emerge.

"Just for villains who have something to hide, milady. For others there is often only a fine line between pain and pleasure!"

Lancelot allowed his words settle down in her feverish mind. In the whirlwind of emotions the core of excitement and anxious expectation was definitely growing.

"Shall we proceed with our inspection and include some practical tests, milady?"

His innocuous words only increased her fears. I should tell him I want to leave. Her instinct told her to shout for help, to run away as fast as she could. That conduct, however, would be unworthy both for a Lady and a Warrior's woman. Of course there was another instinct, passionately knocking at the door, urging her to look for pleasure unknown. The presence of two instincts entangled in an internal struggle made her desperate. I will lose my mind. She was not able to produce an audible reply. Trembling she just nodded. 

"I would hate to damage your outfit." Lancelot whispered softly.

His words only confirmed the worse of her fears. No, no, please let me go! Somewhere her mind told her to let him know she wanted this development of events stopped. She was used letting other people know what she wanted. But mesmerized she just let him remove her clothes, one after the other. She was left only her high black leather boots and her long black elbow gloves. When Lancelot put the metal cuffs round her wrists, she found out why the gloves came useful. Because of the leather covering her wrists, the iron cuffs didn't hurt too much.

I am deceived. She thought of Aelfrith with his confidence-building talks and his reassuring smile. I hate him! How easily she was entrapped. She thought of that other deception, long ago. Again she was tricked into a humiliating situation. Am I that dumb? Her hands were pulled high till she was totally stretched-out. Other cuffs were placed around her ankles, forcing her to spread her legs. I even can't rub my thighs. Her most intimate parts were exposed. I have to stop this. I will shout and say 'No'. But she knew she wouldn't and the knowledge of her own inability to do so, aggravated her desperation even more. She felt her fluid trickling down the inner side of her thighs and she knew he would notice. 

"Aelfrith was right" Lancelot thought of their meeting. First he had reported on the Saxons and they had discussed the current problems at length. Then their discussion had shifted to a more pleasant problem, how to handle his spouse. He had reported the activities in his bedroom, the night before he had to leave so precipitously, how passionate she had reacted at his playful spanking. Aelfrith suspected she was a real submissive and urged him to explore this clue vigorously. Lancelot felt some reserves but ultimately agreed with his plans. He looked at his subject with more than average interest.

Oruale looked marvelous. With her arms suspended from a bolt at the ceiling the whole length of her nude trunk was available for his admiring glance. Her raised arms lent her back a slender sinuous grace. Her waist flared out smoothly and broadly over her hips to the wide pillows of her beautifully rounded buttocks. The light of the torches enhanced the reddish gleam of her skin, matching beautifully with the color of her hair. He loved the locks flowing from her head, the charming red patches in her armpits and of course the flaming triangle, drawing all his attention to her secret place as if he wouldn't be interested otherwise. Aelfrith was a genius to set her up in the high black leather boots and those long gloves, heightening the flow of her shapely arms. The sight offered both the exaltation of classical beauty and the excitement of utter decadence. Her bottom cheeks were overflowing from the upper edge of her boots, presenting rich luxuriant flesh. Between them her dark arse was clearly visible, almost begging to be penetrated. It all made for a sensational spectacle of a sensuous woman wickedly offered to him. Aelfrith is a real connoisseur of the arse. He exactly knows how to present this delicacy at its best. 

The sight of the perfect roundness of her buttocks with the shadowed swamp in between was almost unbearable. It was impossible to remain inactive. Carefully Lancelot stretched out a hand to the tempting triangle with the esteem he would show approaching a sanctuary. He dipped his fingers in her wetness like he would dip them in holy water. His cock was hard as a ramrod, desperately needing to be embraced by a yielding sheath or dipped in a smoldering oven. Yes, Oruale was ready to be pained, to be arse fucked. 

What a difference with those fragile dainty ladies of the Court. Here was a woman being an efficient leader, used giving orders in a cool, composed way. But hidden under that cool covering, he just unveiled a sensuous body with smoldering dark desires. Having observed her reactions until now, he was convinced his lashes would ignite a fire within that body, yet unknown to everyone including herself. That beautiful reddish skin would burn in heat and those meaty hips and buttocks would melt to jelly. Her firm confident voice would break to a mumbled begging and her modest smiling mouth would shift to a hungry sucking-machine. And he, Lancelot was invited by the owner to take this thoroughbred for a test ride.

I am the chosen one! I am going to fuck that beautiful arse. Lancelot knew there would be no restrictions. He could be rough and wild. He could have a fuck, as filthy as could be, submitting this glorious body to obscene acts and positions as he pleased. He could take his time to experiment with her, to stretch her limits of endurance, both in pain and in perversity. Lancelot made a solemn promise to Aelfrith. Before he returned to the South that beautiful arse would be fully prepared to receive its rightful master as often as he would like. But first he had to take care of the pain and submission business…

Through troubled eyes Oruale saw Lancelot approach with a wooden tray carrying the three frightening objects she had seen before: a vicious looking cane, a haunting riding crop and finally a special whip, sporting a dozen or more soft leather lashes, about one foot long. 

"You may choose which appliance we will subject first to a practical test, milady."

Her eyes wandered from left to right and finally looked up to him helplessly.

"I was informed the crop would inflict the most intense pain." Lancelot said courteously. "The special whip will build up the pain gradually. The cane would be rated in between. Please express your preference"

He had to come closer to hear her whisper.

"The crop… the crop."

Lancelot had all respect of the world for her courage. On impulse he kissed her softly on her nose. 

"Your freckles are charming…" His words didn't make any sense, but he guessed a compliment would always be welcome. Soon he found out his consolation was ill advised. As distressing as her situation was, it didn't prevent Oruale expressing her displeasure over his remark.

"I hate those freckles. I wished no one would see them!"

At that moment however, she was confronted with other problems. She saw Lancelot holding the crop on both his hands in front of her face, like he was presenting a ceremonial object to her.

"According to formal protocol you should kiss the object of your choice before the procedure as a sign of approval and after the procedure as a sign of satisfaction, milady." 

Oruale raised her head just to reach the crop and applied a brief kiss. Obviously this didn't meet the standards of protocol, because Lancelot remained in the same position, keeping the crop in front of her. 

"Please…"

The second time her kiss was long and lingering.

"Very well."

Lancelot took the crop and let it slowly slide over that beautiful curved back. Oruale shivered in the sheer pleasure of anticipation. The crop moved lower and lower, reaching the chasm dividing the cushions of her bottom. Her breath quickened. It went slow, so agonizing slowly… Then she felt the end of the crop touching her swollen lips, teasingly parting them. She tried to slip away, moving her bottom sideways but of course there was no escape. She just had to endure how her bud was stimulated by the short fibers of the stick, grating against her most sensitive spot. With subtle movements Lancelot directed the pleasures surging from her lower body. His slight stirrings bridled her completely like the signs of a horseman controlled his mount in dressage. With her face down, her overflowing red hair masking her face, Oruale just sobbed and sobbed.

Suddenly the crop was gone and she felt the two warning taps, one on each bottom. It is going to happen, it is finally going to happen! The crop came down with a loud smack, biting in her flesh. She felt a scalding pain hitting her and she cried out loud. The pain also brought the other sensation creeping up between her legs. When the second lash came hissing down, she screamed and sobbed again. Stroke after stroke Lancelot let his lashes explode on those gorgeous buttocks. Oruale went on tiptoes, wriggling her hips, trying to absorb the burning pain. Her shuddering breasts were pushed forward in the air. Having laid down a pattern of crimson lines on her buttocks Lancelot shifted his attention to her tummy. Although she was shouting out loud, writhing and shuddering under each lash, it looked like she was holding up rather well. After twelve lashes, six on the bottom and six on the tummy Lancelot decided to conclude the first series. Just to make sure everything went well, he put his hand between her legs. He was delighted to find out she was soaking wet.

Lancelot presumed he earned a reward for all his hard work. In good spirits he proceeded with reconnaissance in the humid forest. He soon found his way to the dry ground and its central pit. He translated her signals of high-pitched sighs and moans as signs of encouragement. Soon one finger wormed its way into the hot crater, followed by a second and a third. His push was rewarded by a tight grip, welcoming the introducers. This lady was hot, very hot indeed! Lancelot felt his blood pounding in his temples. 

"Was this to your satisfaction, milady?"

He presented her the crop that had tantalized her. Oruale couldn't answer. The grip was all sticky with her juices and she just sucked and licked it like a sweet. When she was finished, Lancelot pushed himself against her back and took her breasts in his hands. Those mounds had taunted him for ages and now he finally had the opportunity to palm them.

"Your right breast is placed lower than your left, milady. Allow me to put them in proper place."

Lancelot frantically went to work to remodel and reposition those pliable dunes. Oruale only could howl her appreciation for the conscientious efforts of her knight to improve the appearance of her front strongholds. His manual work at the top turrets let stabs of erotic torture flash through her convulsing body. Lancelot decided he needed some rest after all the hard work. When he untied his companion, she fell down on her knees, breathing heavily. Although she looked exhausted, he didn't help her but let himself down on the mat. It would make a nice assessment of her awareness always trying to please her master first. 




Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 04



Over the two nights she had spent with Lancelot, Oruale had learned to trust her erotic instincts. Even now, when she was half in stupor, her instincts told her to go for his prick. Knelt on all fours, she looked around and saw him, not far from her… He was lying down, his erection straight up, just waiting for her to make her move. Why does he do something like this? Why doesn't he just submit me to his wishes? Slowly she crawled to him, instinctively keeping herself low. She already learned never to touch a warrior's sword with her hands. Only wenches used their hands, offering cheap pleasure and instant satisfaction. Ladies who surrendered used their mouths, their lips and their tongue. Only a mouth delivered pure delight and was able to perfectly clean a fleshy sword. 

Carefully Oruale started at the base, tenderly licking the wrinkled covering of his balls, meticulously cleaning the male jewels from sweat and dirt. They felt heavy in her mouth obviously carrying the load, accumulated in the last two weeks. Next she worked her self up the massive, unyielding monolith to the top. She let the shaft slide against her cheek and felt it pulsing against her skin. It felt so hot and alive. She marveled at the wonderful shape of the fruit at the top. Tenderly she cushioned her lips over the helmet, taking it all in the warmth of her mouth. The following test was the most difficult of all, a hallmark of the progress she made in pleasing her warrior. She inhaled firmly, hallowed her cheeks and started the long road down, taking him in her throat. Her lips reached far over the halfway point but fell short almost an inch. Why is he not helping me? She tried a second time with an improved result but only the third time she received his sign of approval, his hand first softly stroking through her locks, then pushing her down, inescapably till her lips touched base. Her breath changed to a high squeak but she didn't gag and her lips remained firmly in place. Finally she yanked her head up, exhaling with a long drawn-out scream. Excited she watched the proud result of her efforts: a perfectly shaped obelisk, coated in glistening slime. It is mine, it's all mine…! With her breasts high, her thighs wide, she squatted above his loins, directing his massive spear in her welcoming sheath.

The moment she slid down and took him inside Oruale felt something was wrong. His body seemed to freeze and turn her away. Abruptly he rose from his lying position, pushing her over roughly.

"Aelfrith will not be pleased…! I gave you a clear sign what was expected from you."

Immediately Oruale realized her mistake. Of course! My arse! I should offered him my arse… 

"I'm sorry, let me make amends for my mistake…"

It was too late. Lancelot already had taken a grab in her hair and dragged her with him. Oruale burst into tears over her stupidity. Everything seemed going so well and now… Her crying increased in intensity over her enormity. Of course she knew she was sent to Lancelot to be tested. Twice she was submitted to the test her husband and master had drawn up for her. She had done so well, she had been so near. This blunder was inexcusable.

Dragged by the hair she was taken to the second table and bent over the wooden beam. Crying she felt her ankles and wrists strapped firm. Her whole body was stretched out as a big arch, her bottom being the highest point. She just could see Lancelot approaching her from behind, the cane in his hand. When he walked around and presented the cane for her to kiss it, she burst into another series of pathetic sobs. After applying a heartbreaking kiss she started to beg for mercy. 

"Have mercy, peleeese…"

Her desperate pleas didn't make it easier for Lancelot. He had agreed with Aelfrith he would submit his wife to at least three series of canings. After the first series he was relieved she made a mistake, which offered him the pretense for a second series. He had enjoyed her cock-sucking immensely. It hardly would be impossible to fake a fault in her perfect deep-throat technique. He sympathized with the red heap of misery but as Aelfrith explained to him, it was all for her own good. Some knight, a confidant, had to chastise that wonderful body for the first time. And he was the chosen one. He took the cane firmly in his hand. With her body bent forwards, her legs properly spread, the view from her naked behind was stunning. Her long thighs with their smooth skin ran up to the hollow at their tops. Her plump outer sex lips pushed out at him, exposing the captivating inner lips with their undulating edge. They were nicely imbedded in he flaming red fleece. Her taut buttocks merged into smooth hips whose swell narrowed to her graceful waist. Still there was the mystery of her brown rose whose radiating grooves he could observe in minute detail. 

There was another detail he noticed. Although she was still was begging for mercy and a stream of tears was flowing from her red eyes, some slimy tears were dropping from her nether mouth too. It is not all misery this lady suffers. Obviously she experienced some tender sensations and Lancelot had trouble to restrain a smile. 

"Your failure to follow a clear sign, normally would get you at least ten strokes with the cane. However, since this is your visit to the dungeon I'll give you five assuming you will not test my lenience again." Lancelot said with a voice as harsh as he could produce. He heard the sound of sobs hastily gulped back.

"Now count down loud and clear! Starting now!" 

"Five…" she moaned with broken voice. 

A desperate shriek escaped her as his first hissing stroke hit her. Although he was making much noise Lancelot still restrained himself in the force of his blows. He had a furious erection and since he still was determined to enjoy her body, it was in his interest to keep it fully operational. When he untied her, she fell on her knees, immediately rubbing her inflamed behind. She made a heroic effort to subdue her sobbing. He allowed her some moments to calm down before he reminded her of her next duty.

"Now you will be chastised with my fleshy sword, milady and you will pleasure me …"

Oruale felt her whole bottom was raw and painful; it seemed in fire and she had no means at her disposal to quench it. In addition she felt the gut-wrenching fire within but at least she had some pointers to handle that emergency. This is the ultimate test. I cannot botch up. This was not the time to keep crying. She crawled over the mat and turned to confront Lancelot's fleshy sword. Even though her drying eyes she noticed how angry it looked, all red and swollen with bulging blue veins. She had to relieve its tension and offer solace and comfort. On al fours knelt before him, she opened her mouth like a pet dog begging for a bone. Her breasts were swaying cheerfully, exhibiting their perfect pear-shaped form. 

Kind-heartedly Lancelot slipped his furious cock inside. She was even better than the last time. Her soft lips enfolded his helm and her tongue explored its sensitive eye. She took him gently and slowly, allowing him all the time to enjoy the sweet game the tip of her tongue was playing. In due time she leisurely took him deep, caressing the full length of his shaft with the channel of her mouth and throat.

When she turned, she showed having learned from her mistake. With her bottom high she spread her cheeks with her hands, submissively presenting him the orifice of his choice. Lancelot didn't even try to soften her pain and humiliation. First he explored the red center of her brown carter with two fingers and then entered her with full force, penetrating her ball-deep. Oruale felt her bowels being filled, and then filled some more until she cried out in anguish. She felt his pubic hair against her bottom cheeks and knew she was fully impaled by him. He speared up remorselessly into her tight dark tunnel, paining her, letting her slide into the inky darkness of pain and pleasure. 

Suddenly she felt him slowing down and she knew why. She was trying to block her mind for the coming activities. The other night she had acted in an impulse, as a reaction to a challenge. Now it would mean her intentional surrender and acceptance of total humiliation. It would signify unrestricted nastiness just to please the man who ignited the fires in her body. Lancelot nourished exactly the same ideas from another perspective. By the time he was finished with this lady, she would have learned to love the taste of a cock just drilled up her backside to the hilt. The sooner she learned to master this pagan worship of his pole the sooner she would experience the delights of this nasty game. Being a real submissive, she had all the qualifications to become an excellent prick cleaner. 

When Oruale turned around his erection was bouncing up and down in front of her face but she wisely kept her hands to her sides. Always eager to assist a lady, Lancelot took her head with both hands till his cock was just in front of her open mouth. He guided his thick column into her mouth without much consideration. Oruale cringed when the smell of her own arse filled her nostrils. Yet the feeling of inevitability and humiliation excited her beyond belief.

"Close your lips over the shaft."

Her wicked maneuver had brought him an exciting titillating pleasure, exceeding all his expectations. She was real sweet, sucking and licking his throbbing erection in total abandon. With one hand under her chin and another over her head he forced the full length behind her lips. She sobbed in submission while saliva ran down from her chin. When she finally let him loose, he rewarded her with two blows of the cane at her swollen sex lips which brought her at the brink of orgasm. 

Again she presented the sight of her black booted thighs topped by the wealthy flesh of her bottom. The creamy cheeks were richly decorated by the red slashes of his cane. Pleased Lancelot noticed the anus was already showing a nice gape as result of earlier activities. He pushed her head down, forcing her to hollow her back and present him with a still more tempting sight. With his legs wide outside her hips, he penetrated her straight down, drilling his rod into the far depths of her bowels. Moaning she absorbed the sledgehammer blows of his battering ram. When he pulled out, he stood high above her. She only had to turn her face to him with her lips invitingly open and his humid rod came straight down again. With her bottom still glowing her excitement was soaring to new heights. Lancelot was so impressed by her performance he just let her do it another time. Again he could enjoy the transition from the clinging ache of her contracting sphincter to the soft relief from her sucking mouth. 

After rewarding her with two blows of his whip, now hitting her lower tummy, Lancelot lay down for a well-earned rest. Oruale had all the intelligence of a fast learner. Perfectly posed, presenting her breasts like a figurehead, she let herself down on his glorious totem pole. Hopping up and down, she did all the work, offering him the exciting site of her bouncing tits. She tortured herself by gyrating on and on. He assisted her by supporting her hips, then teasingly letting her slip. She wailed when she felt herself impaled over the full length of his spear. 

Sobbing she fell sideways from her throne and started crawling low to his loins. But by the time she reached the spot between his outstretched legs, she didn't cry anymore. His prick, lay flat over his belly and she looked up to him waiting for his approval to touch it. But he didn't and she had to pick it up with her mouth before she let the helm disappear in her mouth. She felt his hand stroking approvingly through her hair and then his voice.

"Again!"

She knew, she had to move better. Panting she clambered upright and nailed herself once more. He almost felt harder than a rock. Lancelot watched how she combined a toppling forward and backward movement of her hips with a rhythmic clinching of her sphincter to one undulating torture of his shaft. Growling loud he ruffled his cock up her ass in a hectic, foolish tempo until he unloaded jet after jet of his seed deep in her bowels. 

When she let herself slide off his hips, she saw his member was still half erect, all covered by slime and sperm. Without a word spoken, she knew what was expected from her. After chastising her, it waited for her sign of satisfaction. Between her legs she felt her horror and excitement over what she was going to do. She looked at his face for a short moment, lowered her eyes and slavishly started licking at his reviving erection. Starting at the base it took her long a long time before she reached the ridge at the top. When she closed her mouth the smell of his sperm, her own juices and her anal musk hit her like a brick wall. When the hand over her head pushed her down she faded away in the dark ecstasy of total submission. With the energy of two weeks abstinence piled up in his balls he soon exploded again. A surge of seed was dumped at the back of her tongue. Before she could swallow it all she was dragged by her hair to the table.

"You lewd lady!"

Before she knew her arms restrained upwards. It felt like a relief and she voluntarily brought her legs in the air to be restrained wide. Almost passionately she kissed the whip with the soft leather lashes. The whip was purposely designed to drive the victim slowly to the pinnacle of pain and pleasure. Lancelot went to work, swinging the whip in a short arch so that it slapped hard against the open lips of her sex. As he pulled back the separate leather lashes with strings of firm nodes were stroking against her most sensitive parts in a long teasing movement. He found a nice rhythm of hitting and teasing and the alternating waves of pain and pleasure had his companion gasping and craving for relief. Slowly Lancelot increased the intensity of his lashes. Although he intentionally didn't hit her slit directly, he was certain the force of these lashes would find its way to the tender pink flesh of her inner lips and to her bulging bud. By this time Oruale was in such despair, she raised her loins each time she expected a lash. She didn't notice Lancelot took the cane in his hand again until the full force of his blow hit her at her most tender spot. Her desperate shriek at the top of her lungs reverberated through the dungeon. 

Respectfully Lancelot watched his hostess wrestling and wriggling with her restrains in the throes of ecstasy. He couldn't remember being so aroused. In fact he nourished a formidable erection again. Being an honorable knight he decided not to penetrate her abused bottom another time. Seeking for an outlet for his overheated member he had a flash of inspiration. Walking around the table he made his way to the other end. Lady Oruale still was enjoying the aftermath of her shattering climax. Tapering off, with her eyes closed, she was breathing in heavenly bliss. Startled she suddenly felt the touch of heated flesh against her face. Will this never be over? She felt the full length of his penis brushing against her nostrils and experienced a familiar heat re-emerging from her body. His breathing went fast and she sensed it would not take long. Then she received the treat of a third deposit of a true warrior's weapon. Thick globs of sperm splashed her face hitting her left eye. Mewing softly she endured her baptism of seed. His hand covered her face and spread the slime evenly over her cheek. She heard his hoarse whisper.

"Rest assured, milady. I can't see your freckles now…"

Dedicated to my editor JayneC for her continuing support.



Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 05



This multi-chapter story contains adult material, including rape and non-consensual sex; bondage, pain and humiliation; anal sex and ass-to mouth. If this offends you, do not read this story and do not rate it. 

Chapter 05. Under the Birch Tree

The day after she had inspected the dungeon, Oruale had to report to Aelfrith as usual. She found it extremely difficult to tell him about what had happened and she couldn't stand the twinkle in his eye. Her devilish husband was amusing herself at her expense!

"You deceived me…!"

"You are an exceptional woman, you only have to learn the reality of your nature, my dear." Aelfrith said, kissing her hand. 

Oruale warmed up to his words and then told him her story without holding anything back. She knew it would be futile to omit the gory details. Aelfrith would extract them from her anyway and she had enjoyed herself too much.

"There is nothing wrong having a submissive nature." Aelfrith said after she finished. She noticed the sincerity in his voice. "However, you made a serious mistake. Never ask for mercy! You may beg, kneel, crawl or cry, but never ask for mercy again. You have too much pride in you and you will always remain my wife. Promise me!"

Oruale always felt shivers when Aelfrith was speaking to her with that gravity. He used to look her straight in the eyes when he was in that kind of mood and his message never failed to reach her.

"I promise." She said earnestly.

In the following weeks the Saxon threat finally seemed to be averted. Aelfrith thought the situation was safe enough to send Oruale to Camelot to convey his regards to the King for making Lancelot available in his struggle against the Saxons. Accompanying her, Lancelot at the same time would make his return to Camelot. Away from home no decent dungeons were available, so the traveling couple had to limit themselves. During her stay in Camelot, Oruale continued to make her nightly visits to Lancelot's bedroom. The noble knight strenuously trained his companion in the use of the little opening he so conveniently breached earlier. 

One of those nights, when their bedroom door accidentally fell ajar, Oruale heard a light rustle from the corner during their enthusiastic joust. Someone is watching us! Instead of reacting with fear and shamed, the awareness of being watched only added to her excitement. Driven by an awkward urge she deliberately performed the most lascivious actions with passion and abandon. Lancelot hadn't noticed the intruder and just enjoyed the effect to the fullest. What man, even a noble knight, would ask questions when a worthy Lady acted out like a lewd harlot in his bed…? Oruale cherished, sucked and licked his cock after its trip through her darkest tunnel with such affection it made his blood boil and he just repaid her by contributing his part to this mating with equal ardor.

Only after a shattering climax Oruale knew the intruder was gone. She wondered who it would have been. A maid maybe, or one of the ladies in waiting. It might generate gossip but Oruale didn't care. Her reputation in Camelot was already tarnished, anyhow. She noticed it in subtle questions and sniggers from several ladies of the Court. In some way they had noticed… Oruale smiled. She knew her behavior was unorthodox but she couldn't care less. It only deepened her smile. Undeniably, among the ladies Lancelot's bed was the most envied spot in the whole castle. And she kept it occupied, night after night…

When Oruale met the Queen during the afternoon tea, she couldn't help noticing how depressed she looked. It seemed she also was averting her eyes. Oh no… not the Queen… Suddenly everything was falling in place. The glances between Lancelot and the Queen, the way his voice seems to change when he mentioned her name. Lancelot and the Queen… they are in love! But the King, they both adore the King. This was a perilous subject of national importance, she shouldn't even let her thoughts dwell on this…! And instead, she had stumbled right into this vulnerable balanced triangle, intoxicated by her own pleasure. I am acting selfishly. I have to leave as soon as possible.

Oruale left Camelot the following day. She told the King and the Queen, Aelfrith would need her presence for his recovery. The long trip to the North took exactly two days. It provided her time to ponder over matters of her own heart. She loved Aelfrith; he was her husband and her mentor. Above all she felt he was her Master. Of course Lancelot was endowed with an extremely handsome body, a kind and noble spirit, and… he was a fabulous fuck! He had led her into pleasure and excitement beyond belief. Yet, her great love was Aelfrith and she always had the feeling it was him who had handled her like a puppet, pulling the strings at the right moment. It was he, letting her seek for balanced satisfaction in her dark dungeons of desire. She loved Aelfrith and now she was rushing back to him, to her place next to him, the pace where she belonged. 

"Lancelot, I have to return. You know I love Aelfrith… I know you understand what that means…" Saying goodbye to Lancelot was not easy. He was such a good man and a good lover. She hesitated and than added "I hope you will find your Love too…" Yet, when Oruale left him, she felt very worried.

Arriving at Bamburgh Castle to her utter delight she found out Aelfrith miraculously was in a recovery process. His paralysis faded away and the functions of his lower body returned much quicker than expected. After some weeks he was able to ride a horse again and he furiously exercised to regain his martial skills. His speedy recovery even frightened Oruale a little but she became quite convinced when he, for the first time in her marriage, could show her his proud erection. She blushed as could be expected from a bride admiring her precious gift for the first time in the flesh. The same evening Aelfrith invited her for their first trip to the dungeon. Oruale enjoyed, fully enjoyed, the meticulous inspection of all appliances. The complete review took almost the whole night and proved to be very satisfying indeed.

It was the start of the happiest period of her life. Oruale fully blossomed into her role as chatelaine and devoted wife. Almost weekly they made their trips to the dungeon and for the rest they shared a bed and did it the way he preferred. She felt safe with Aelfrith and it was a perfect arrangement. Of course he had his campaigns when he would have his friends. Oruale didn't like it too much but Aelfrith provided her with so much else, she didn't worry.

Only the Saxons remained a nuisance. Early in his recovery they thought Aelfrith would be still too weak to lead and they tried to make a surprise attack from the North West. However, Agravain who had managed to gain access to their plans intercepted their forces. There were several wounded and Oruale was put in charge of their transport from the nearby battlefield. When a truce was called and the Saxons leadership came over for negotiations, Oruale for the first time met the Saxons eye to eye. 

Their delegation was led by their Leader, Alric, assisted by his two sons, Sigbert and Egfrid. Alric probably would be called a King, if he had been British, but the Saxons called him Leader. He was an older aggressive looking man with a big scar over his left cheek, making him even more frightening. His eldest son, Sigbert, was a main Chieftain. He clearly was a warrior, a blonde giant measuring at least six feet two. Oruale silently admired his impressive muscular figure. She thought he definitely was handsome and his open face made him almost a blonde, Saxon version of Lancelot. As an enemy he certainly was drawing respect. His younger brother, Egfrid, was considerably smaller, a regular guy  of five feet ten. He was blonde too and looking not unattractive. Alric clearly was the Leader, not only of the Saxons but also of the delegation, with Sigbert adding muscle to his arguments and clearly acting as his right hand. Egfrid was mostly silent, only observing the participants of the discussions with keen eyes, entering the discussions only now and then. Oruale soon shifted her attention to his older brother who was a sight for sore eyes, considering the appearance of the whole Saxon delegation. Their dresses really were rather… basic, but at least they didn't smell as was rumored.

King Lot, flanked by Aelfrith and Agravain, led the British delegation. Oruale was brought down to discuss matters of the Saxon wounded and could stay a little longer because she also was the hostess of the castle. She did her best to act with dignity and to suppress her curiosity.

"How did I do?" she asked Aelfrith when she rubbed herself against him in their bed.

"The negotiations were laborious" Aelfrith answered. "But you did well."

"What do you think of the Saxons?"

"Alric fosters a policy of expansion, we have to look out for him. Remind me to send a report to Arthur."

"What about his sons?"

"Sigbert is a strong soldier. It will be difficult to beat him, but I'm sure we can handle him ultimately."

"I noticed he gave me the eye." Oruale said. In some way she felt pleased being admired, even by an enemy and only for a second. The hulk was not so barbaric, that he couldn't appreciate a real lady when he saw one.

"I don't like the younger one."

"He didn't say too much."

"That's the problem… Mostly he is just observing, but when he speaks, he mostly hits the nail on the head. He is dangerous… he can manipulate people!"

Oruale had difficulty to suppress a smile inside.

"It means he is very similar to you, my dear…"

"I never manipulate people!"

"You could fool me." Oruale cooed, softly massaging his penis.

"You are impertinent. It's too late now, but tomorrow I will take you to the dungeon to be seriously punished!"

"I can't wait." Oruale whispered, moving down to take his growing erection in her mouth.

Her efforts only resulted in a generous, liquid advance of her punishment. Aelfrith would firmly fulfill his promise the following night. Only after shaking through three orgasms and shedding numerous tears, was Oruale allowed to leave the interrogation room. All through the night she lay prostrate to rest her abused back and buttocks. She did with a happy smile on her face. The following morning Aelfrith left for one of his tours along the border to see if the Saxons were keeping the agreements of their last talk. One of these agreements implied the Saxons would pick up their wounded. Aelfrith being away, Egfrid was announced to Oruale when he arrived to fetch them. As usual he was rather silent when they made the rounds along the Saxon wounded. Even then from his scarce questions Oruale could infer the Saxon warriors probably received better care under her supervision than they would have received from their own people. Inwardly quite satisfied with herself, she tried to maintain a worthy demeanor. After this episode the Saxons remained quite for about six months and the happy couple fully enjoyed this quiet spell. 

In the rhythm of life, periods of prosperity and happiness are often followed by periods of disappointments and setbacks. Suddenly a wave of unrest washed over the country, starting from the South. The Northeast didn't escape from this increasing tension and abruptly fate stabbed like a treacherous knife when Aelfrith was hit by an arrow from a sniper. He was still conscious when he was brought to the castle but after a couple of hours the fever came in and he passed away one day later. 

For Oruale this loss brought more than sorrow, her whole world seemed to crumble. With her usual resilience, she tried to contribute to the castle defense against the Saxons who took this opportunity to start an advance but the picture of her raving husband kept hunting her.

"Milady, you have to seek refuge somewhere else. It is much too dangerous, here."

Despite her protests, Narpus made arrangements for her to leave for Camelot. Although she objected first, Oruale ultimately had to submit she was in no condition to take charge of her regular responsibilities. 

Apart of her own loss, the return to Camelot was not a happy one. The grand days of chivalry were past and the ideal of the Round Table shattered. Because of her own situation Oruale barely had kept up with the dramatic events that took place recently. Lancelot and the Queen were found guilty of treason. Brokenhearted King Arthur was forced to condemn his Queen to burn at the stake. However, on the eve of the execution Lancelot rode to the Queen's salvation. Now the King was deserted by his Queen and his First Knight, urged by their enemies to form an army to seek justice in battle.

The ever-changing political situation, the come and go of knights and soldiers preparing for battle, almost let Oruale forget her loss. Aelfrith died because of his love for his country, but now the country itself was in dire despair. Strangely enough Oruale quieted down amidst the turmoil around her. She liked to take a walk through the castle garden near the North gate each afternoon, far from the hustle and bustle at the main gate. She was plunged deep in thoughts when she heard a familiar voice.

"Lady Oruale, finally I meet you. How inconsiderate of me not having an audience with you much earlier."

It was King Arthur. He looked awful. It seemed the last months he had aged several years. She saw the deep grooves in his face, permeated by a sad gravity. It shocked her and she barely found the words for a formal reply.

"Sire, I am so grateful enjoying your hospitality and protection. With the current state of affairs I never could have expected more."

Arthur suddenly remembered Aelfrith had been one of his strongest supporters.

"At least allow me to make good for my negligence." He said remorsefully. "Please sit down and tell me whether you have some friends to help you to get over with your loss. I assume you don't have to walk alone on the grounds all day." 

"The Ladies have been very supportive of me." Oruale reassured him. In reality the Ladies were not overanxious to comfort the woman who, not a long time ago, deprived them of the enjoyment of Lancelot's attentions before he became the Queen's champion. "But I admit sometimes I feel lonely."

"I know the feeling. Please tell me if I could be of any help."

Oruale looked at him and suddenly felt a deep sympathy for him. From the way he looked, the King must have felt forlorn. It was abundantly clear to her that he much more needed to be comforted than she.

"Sometimes I have trouble handling my natural urges." Oruale replied with her eyes down. Then she raised her eyes to him, looking him straight in the eye. "If you would allow me an audience in your bedroom tonight, it might fulfill my needs." Oruale had matured that much she didn't even blush when she spoke the words. 

Arthur saw no cuteness in her eyes and, not unaccustomed to ladies sharing his tent during a campaign, reacted as might be expected from a King trying to be help a lonely widow.

"It will be an honor, milady."

That night they made love in the majestic, royal bed. He was eager and hungry, she was eager to please and console him. There was no lust in her loins, but they provided him sweet comfort and relief. Oruale felt like she was nursing a wounded soul like she had nursed wounded warriors before. For the first time she felt good about herself again, being in charge and serving her country. The mating didn't arouse her too much, but Arthur had a massive, thick cock which pained her a little, giving her a nice warm feeling. 

They made love the next night again and this time Arthur felt so relaxed after his orgasm he, unbidden, started sharing his thoughts with her. 

"You know how much Guinevere meant to me. Lancelot is my best friend, my confidant and my First Knight. I both love them dearly but I noticed Ginny becoming attracted to him. Then I discovered they were meeting each other in secret. I felt desperate. What could I do? Should I have banned Lancelot? Should I have talked to Guinevere? I decided to ignore the issue, trusting on their discretion." 

Oruale just listened to him. Although she had a definite opinion, she was supposed just to listen. But apparently Arthur noticed a flicker in her eyes.

"Tell me, what would you have done?"

Oruale was startled by his unexpected question. It was thin ice, where she was drawn.

"Milord, it would be presumptuous to comment on the choices you made." 

Arthur was not so easily put off. 

"No, speak! They told me you are a sensible and practical woman."

"Well, milord…" Oruale hesitated but then saw his encouraging eyes. "I would give her a good spanking, milord…"

Arthur couldn't believe his ears.

"I beg you pardon…"

"You heard me well, milord… A good spanking!"

"I've never spanked anybody my whole life…! I mean… Did your late husband (bless his soul)… did he ever spank you?"

"Oh, of course!" Oruale said cheerfully. "It can be quite exc… it often can resolve differences quite satisfactorily."

When she saw his dumbstruck face, she continued in a light-hearted tone to raise his spirits.

"I would recommend the manual approach over the knee. The intimate skin contact makes it perfect for married couples. Through this intimacy spanking quite often results in f… other recreational activities."

Arthur still showed a look of dismay. There he was: the King of Britain, struggling with his problem for ages, analyzing and re-analyzing his options during sleepless nights. And this unconventional lady just came with a 'solution' in minutes. Funnily enough, this 'solution' might have worked out quite well. It at least would have added some pleasantry to working out their problems. Oruale interpreted his long silence the wrong way.

"If you don't have any experience, you could have a try out on me." 

With these words Oruale rolled over till she laid invitingly bent forward over his knees with her bottom up. Fascinated Arthur looked down at the opulent twin mounds displayed before his eyes. Inadvertently his right hand closed to a fist and then opened again in preparation of the first blow. Before he made the first move, Oruale had reached for her undergarment and pulled it over her bottom, looking over her shoulders expectantly. This time there was cuteness in her eyes.

"I… I thought there would be skin contact…"

"You are supposed to rip off the clothing from my bottom, call me names and than start the spanking." Oruale explained patiently. "Sometimes it's even nice to have some introductory wrestling."

"I see I have a lot to learn." Arthur said timidly.

"Then I will make it easy for you." She removed her garment and offered him her naked bottom again.

Reluctantly Arthur brought his hand down for the first smack. He waited for some seconds, and then realized he had to continue. Then he hit her another time, and again… 

"You can hit me harder, milord. It is supposed to be a punishment…"

Until now his hits felt like some playful stimulation to her.

"But… how do I know I am not hitting you to hard?"

There was some serious tutoring to do. Oruale let herself slide away and set up to her knees.

"Milord, there are only two situations you might consider to stop. If I would say something like 'by Camelot' it will be a sign for you to stop. On the other side, if you observe my sweet honey you can let events have its natural course…"

Arthur was overwhelmed by all the new information that was poured over him. By Camelot… sweet honey… Slowly he was starting to understand… By the time he did, he watched the redheaded lady in front of him taking a full swing. Before he knew her hand slapped him right in the face…

"Don't ever think of seducing me again… luring me into your bed…!"




Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 05



Arthur felt the sting of her blow. In a reflex he gripped her wrists and pushed them down. 

"You brute… pervert… keep your hands off me…!"

She resisted, mowing with hand and feet. Arthur felt his blood pounding in his temples when he saw her round mounds of flesh again. Then he smacked his hand down in earnest… Oruale howled in a mixture of pain and happiness. I slapped the King of Britain in his face. She thought of Aelfrith who taught her everything and a tear flowed from her eyes. He would be so proud of her. The King would first spank her to shreds and pieces before he would fuck her into oblivion. She closed her eyes and let his furious blows rain down at her overheated bottom. He had broad rough hands, unexpected from a King, and he definitely had talent. 

"Let me hear if you have anything to say, by Camelot!" Arthur snarled.

"Fuck you…!" Oruale shouted at him. He was talented but he had to do much better before she be any chance would use the safe words. Silently she hoped her foul mouthing would give him the right idea. When Arthur pushed her on her back and split her thighs wide, he did just like she expected. Still she put up fierce resistance, forcing him to play rough to submit her. Only when he almost choked her with his hand around her throat, she loosened up her body. 

"Don't make me pregnant, you bastard." She mumbled hoarsely. "At least fuck me the gentleman way…"

"The gentleman way…? You are speaking gibberish, you harlot…!"

Groaning Oruale turned onto her stomach. Do I have to tell him everything? She reached between her legs to take a scoop of her sweet honey, applying it to the puckered crater between her cheeks. It was the best she could do other than hire a ranger to guide the royal rider into her darkest canyon. Her bottom felt like it was wrapped in a smoldering blanket. She felt his knob knocking at her hind gate and the next moment it was all in, the massive invasion adding to her excruciating pain. He was pounding her mercilessly, the power of his battering ram reverberating as far as her bursting berry. It felt tremendous; it was so long ago since she felt anything like this. When she felt him expend, she turned around without hesitation took his spear in the cavern of her mouth. With his roar of excitement, his hand gripping her head and his rod pumping like crazy between her sucking lips Oruale drifted away in the abyss of submission.

"That was amazing" Arthur said when he was slowly recuperating from his orgasm. 

"I told you punishment can be very… redeeming."

"Were you always… spanked, or did you receive other forms of punishment?"

Oruale first hesitated to disclose more but then saw no reason not to acquaint him.

"Sometimes my presence was requested down in the dungeon to be whipped. However I wouldn't commend the use of a whip to a novice."

Now it was Arthur who hesitated.

"Before I became King, I was known as Garth. I worked as a simple lad at a farm, rounding up cattle and sheep. I didn't use the stick or the whistle as so many others. Instead I used the whip and I became quite proficient. Do you know I could wipe a fly from the rump of a cow with one hit of my whip?"

"No, I don't." 

In some way Oruale had difficulties imagining the King as a whip expert. It wouldn't matter anyway, because she already decided she would leave Camelot the next day. It was much too dangerous to mingle in royal affairs.

"I want to show you something."

Arthur slid from the bed, picked up a key from the nightstand and walked to the large cabinet at the far side. He knelt down to open the lowest drawer and returned with a large object he carried on his open arms. When he placed it on the low table Oruale saw it was a leather casing, about three feet long. It must contain something precious considering the way Arthur was handling the case.

"Open it." 

He had released the clips at the side and spoke like his words were part of a solemn ceremony. Oruale was impressed, prepared for the unexpected. Nevertheless, after she opened the lid, she recoiled with a gasp… It was a leather whip! In the light of the room the bullwhip showed a shining patina, providing the leather a dark maroon color. The massive handle was cone-shaped with a wide rounded base. The whip it-self was made of several, extremely thin strips of leather twisting around a central core. The casing was specially made for this whip, allowing it to make a curve and a counter-curve so the total length of five-six feet could be accommodated. 

"This is the whip Excrucitor." 

"I never heard of it."

"Only a few of my relatives have the knowledge, I never told the people."

His face looked stern.

"My sword Excalibur is well known. In contrast almost nobody knows a few weeks before, I found this whip entangled in the branches of a tree. Only my brothers and my father ever knew. Later, when I took the sword from the stone and the old Druid Merlin explained its significance when he visited me at home and showed him the whip.

"What did he tell you?" Oruale asked, increasingly fascinated by the sinister attraction of the whip.

"The old Druid went into a trance, then blurted out some mysterious gibberish"

The Birch Tree embraced.

Twigs dropping in the whitest snow.

The King embraced.

The sacrificial sword planted deep into the darkness.

The Whip embraced.

Drops of blood lashing the triangle in torment.

Oruale knew there was a deeper meaning to these words but she didn't dare to ask.

"What do you think of Excrucitor? Did you ever use it?"

"When I am holding Excalibur, I always feel the sword will lead me to my bright side and bring me victories. Nevertheless it might have a core of tragedy." Arthur sighed and paused, he must think of the events in the last months. "When I am holding Excrucitor, I am afraid the whip will lead me to my dark side and bring me agony. Here too, it might have the core providing salvation. My fear, though, prevented me ever using the whip in battle. I only held it to get a feeling for it and to exercise for the situation I had to use it. It flows easily from the hand and I am confident I can hit a fly with pinpoint precision with Excrucitor as accurate as with my old whip."

Oruale shuddered when she looked at the tail end. Shining tiny black gems were interweaved into the thin strips of dark leather. The small specks would cut into the flesh making the whip feel like a real scourge. Being so small, the particles were only visible because of their reddish black shine but their effect wouldn't be less painful. Oruale was gripped by a strange fascination. Since she learned about her own nature, she understood why…

"It's hematite, the blood stone." Arthur explained. "It's the stone protecting the warriors but it's also the stone of purification. I always have the feeling the use of the whip leads to purification. The hematite crystals in its tail are often incorporated in jewels of mourning."

"I happen to be in mourning." Oruale spoke out her thoughts. Then she took courage. "Would you allow me to be kissed by… it?" She felt even calling its name was fraught with danger.

The King tensed up at her words.

"What is your birthday, milady?"

Oruale was flabbergasted. It was the last question she expected.

"I was born on New Years Day, milord." She saw him mumbling, but she couldn't hear a word. Suddenly he seemed to have reached a decision.

"Tomorrow afternoon you will ride with me." Arthur said regally. "Now we will have to rest. I will return you to your bedroom."

Around noon the following day two riders left Camelot, taking the road to the forest area in the northwest. First they met other riders but after thirty minutes the road was completely deserted. After another twenty minutes ride into the thick of the forest they reached an open area and dismounted. From a distance Oruale already could recognize the lonely birch tree at the far right corner. To the left she saw a stone table with a square top in front of an impressive monolith.

It's an altar… it's a sacrificial altar!

"Are there many people visiting this place?"

"None! This is Royal Domain. Only the King or the Queen and their company are allowed to come here. Once, Ginny had her yearly picnic in May at this place."

They had sparsely spoken to each other since they had left Camelot, each of them lost in thoughts. Oruale had a sleepless night, tossing and turning in her bed, musing on the enigmatic words she now knew by heart after repeating and repeating them again and again, wondering about their meaning and significance. They made more sense to her now.

What's your magic number, milady?" Arthur asked when they walked up to the tree. He already knew the answer but he wanted her to be aware of it too.

"Three… my magic number is three."

As they approached the birch tree, Oruale now understood its significance and the reason Arthur asked for her birthday the night before. In the Celtic Zodiac each month is associated with a tree sacred to the Druids. The period around New Year corresponded to the Birch Tree. It was her Zodiac sign…

The Birch Tree embraced.

She ruminated the words in silence. By the time they had crossed the field, Oruale knew what was expected from her. Without speaking a word she took off her clothes till she was naked except for her black riders boots and her black gloves. She had given her outfit a lot of thought too, remembering how Aelfrith had sent her to the dungeon. Because those wonderful memories she had chosen for an outfit somewhat similar. 

Oruale looked at the tree. It was a tall tree, about fifty feet high, a weeping birch with the youngest twigs draping at the end of the branches. Without hesitation she stepped up and threw her arms around the trunk as in a tight embrace. Arthur was well prepared too. He moved her hands higher over a protruding stub and then tied them firmly together with a leather strip. Next he broke fresh twigs from the tree, disposed from the leaves and fastened three of them together to make a very special broom. The broom certainly wouldn't be used for regular sweeping. In nature the twigs of the tree ultimately would break off and fall to the ground, but these twigs would fall on the whitest snow. 

Oruale had her hands so high, she had to hollow her back, her bottom cheeks conveniently presenting themselves, just in case Arthur would be in doubt where to direct his attention to. Her splendid bottom cheeks were the most amazing he ever had seen. Under the reddish shine of the twin mountains the contracting gluteal muscles made for a thrilling spectacle. The sight was almost too perfect for words. His hands tightened around the handle of the broom. It wouldn't take long before the white snow would be flawed by red stripes crossing all over the expectant vibrating surface.

Small hard burls were scraping against her skin, following the gracious curve of her lower back in a slow, teasing caress. Oruale wondered how many blows of the birch broom she would have to greet. Secretly she hoped for a symbolic birching of three or nine slaps. Arthur ceremoniously rounded the tree, once, twice and a third time ending at her back. She felt him raising the broom.

"Count till thirty-three, milady."

Thirty-three! So far for a symbolic birching. 

"One…" 

The first strike felt more like a playful touch than a real punishment, which make her relax. However, with each following blow Arthur increased the force of his blows and by the time she counted "Ten!" she already was shouting the number out at a high pitch. Blow after blow came down at her heated bottom. She felt fortunate to have her gloves, considering the way she was hanging at the tied knot. At least the pressure at her wrists remained tolerable. With each burning blow she feverishly chafed the fork of her thighs more and more against the rough bark of the birch, bringing her heartwarming sweet enjoyment. Her crotch wriggled against the tree, fueling her inner heat to frantic heights.

When her voice was reduced in a rattling "thirty-three" and she had absorbed the last blow with a piercing screech she was finally released. Her arse looked raw and was so overheated she was unable to walk. Instead she tiptoed and jumped till she collapsed forwards on the stone altar, her abused red-striped white mountains arching upwards into the cool air. Her hands were crawling forwards till they suddenly a reached a wooden bar she gratefully gripped and squeezed in her flaming pain. His hand in her back pushed her engorged nipples against the hard cool surface. Another hand was pushing her lower back down and she had to spread her long legs wide to accommodate for the difference in length with the height of the altar. 

The King embraced.

The sacrificial sword planted deep into the darkness.

She felt the plum of his penis pushing against the entrance to her dark tunnel. The following penetration of her anal channel was instant, massive and merciless. The King's cock felt extremely wide. Without any concern he bumped against her tail, unconcerned her tissues were sensitized by the foregoing birching. Instinctively her body tried to slip away, only slipping into even more masochistic positions. When her pelvis ultimately tipped over, her body was reduced to one gaping hole, presented for his pleasure. 

Arthur felt carried away in this glorious copulation. He knew he just had to fill the part of King in this ceremony and he was not supposed to enjoy himself so much. But good heaven, the grip of her arse was an utter delight! He jabbed thickly into her, filling her with his bludgeon, forcing it to the hilt without mercy. The enclosure of her darkness felt excruciating and painfully wonderful. He continued his slow, powerful strokes. With each plunge Oruale felt her sphincter stretched more and more. His stabs were brutal and relentless until her gape was melting around his hot, palpitating organ. 

She cried out loud when she felt a last needlepoint of sharp pain and his sperm gushed into her bowels to fill the great gape between her shivering cushions to capacity. The sensation of his hot liquid streaming inside made her sob and scream at the same time. When she felt him pulling back, she knew the moment was there to show her appreciation. She dropped to her knees, her eyes focusing at the scepter that gave her such bliss. The staff, still half erect, was slowly bobbing up and down before her shimmering eyes. With her hands on the ground she slowly crawled forward and let her tongue roll over his tight scrotum. She closed her eyes when she smelled the aroma of her own arse and then moved along his shaft. Slowly she licked the slime off his penis like a grateful puppy. Passionately she indulged in one of the most obscene, humiliating and submissive acts a woman could perform for a man. 

Arthur felt his blood pounding in his head and its pulse echoed in his genitals. Never had he experienced anything only remotely similar like this. Was it the nastiness, the ritual or this woman? He didn't know. He thought of Guinevere the only woman he loved, but yet there was the resurgence of his flesh and the returning urge in his loins for this red-haired lady. With an agonizing howl he gripped her face and plunged his pole in her mouth. Within seconds he was pumping in and out like a man possessed. Ultimately he honored her ceremony of submission with a second outpouring, thundering along his burning tube into the far end of her constricting throat. 

Warm-heartedly Arthur straightened Oruale from her kneeling position and prepared her for her final reward. First he disposed of her boots and gloves, then tied her hands up high and wide and finally spread her ankles to iron rings mounted in the ground. Everything is prepared for a sacrifice. Her nude body was stretched in a large inverted Y, proudly highlighting her jutting breasts. Her shivering buttocks, already marked with numerous red stripes, presented themselves for some more loving abuse. 

Arthur carefully fetched the mythical whip from its case. Oruale heard from the swooshing Arthur started swinging the whip in large circles above his head. Excrucitor differed from other whips, making a dark sound like a low rumble. The Whip embraced. Oruale dug herself in. "One!" The first lash embraced her like a burning flame circling around her body. Her cry melted into helpless grunting when another fire started licking its way along her calves. 

"Two!" This time the whip lashed her lower body and made her stomach clench. For the first Oruale realized the individuality of Excrucitor's blow. Because of its length and its unique tail, after the first impact the whip circled on, finally wagging its painful end to another hit. Each lash felt like a shortly spaced double lash. Tschik, Tschik. A double kiss. Oruale felt the second kiss just missed her sex lips. 

"Three!" For the first time Excrucitor hit her breasts, the after-crop punishing her flat stomach. In an instinctive reaction she tried to bend forwards, but her restraints held her tight and her efforts only resulted in a series of plaintive little yelps. "Four!" Her widespread legs were too inviting. Like a snake Excrucitor twisted its way up, leaving the second impact just next to her swollen sex-lips. Fixed as her ankles were, Oruale's feet nevertheless started the urgent shuffle of torment. 

Blow after blow, each stroke was accompanied by a burning embrace and a second staccato hit. The scourging lashes were covering her everywhere, approaching her nipples and her clitoris more and more. Her whole skin felt aflame. Semiconscious Oruale heard the counting past ten and the she knew. "3 x 3 x 3" Twenty-seven! Excrucitor would consume her and she wouldn't make it. By Camelot! She had to tell… she had to! In panic she decided to get the words out. She tried desperately, but she couldn't, the words just refusing to leave her mouth. The lashes kept coming in their terrifying double hits and just as inevitable her internal fire blazed out of control, the flames sneaking up her extremities like she was a Lady at the Stake. 

She became conscious of Arthur in front of her, swinging Excrucitor in wide circles as he let the leather sing its ominous melody. She closed her eyes. He can hit a fly with his whip. Whack! The tail of Excrucitor hit her full at her right breast, scorching her nipple. A guttural cry rising into the empty sky escaped her throat. She sobbed and cried while her head dropped. Calmly he waited until she had raised her head and presented her breasts like a martyr. Whack! Her left breast was shaking under the impact of the furious blow. Her left nipple now tortured by numerous pebbles burning in the swollen, sensitive currant.

Arthur walked over to her back. Oruale was just hanging in her restraints but he noticed her legs were spread even more. She was softly whining at an awkwardly high pitch. Drops of blood lashing the triangle in torment. WHACK!! Excrucitor hit her at her lower back, the tail snaking between her legs, inflaming her crotch till it reached her slit and scourged the ultimate target. Oruale convulsed and for a moment remained frozen in an extreme overstretched position. The fire in her lower belly exploded. The molten heat blinded her to a swelling climax. She came and came, her body moving in endless convulsions, till the ecstasy was slowly receding into an emptiness that seemed to take forever…

Arthur let her sleep in an Inn before they returned to Camelot the next morning. They barely spoke to each other, each of them feeling an exalting sense of purification. Arthur still had his political problems but for his heart he felt having found a way to conciliation. For Oruale feelings of mourning were purged. She would return to Bamburgh Castle to pay all her attention to the problem of the Saxons.




Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 05



I would like to thank my editor JayneC for planting the seed of birching.



Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 06



This multi-chapter story contains adult material, including rape and non-consensual sex; bondage, pain and humiliation; anal sex and ass-to mouth. If this offends you, do not read this story and do not rate it. 

Chapter 06. The Saxon Sword

Standing on the crest of the hill, Egfrid the Saxon overlooked the rolling landscape before his eyes. The lush grass of the meadows showed the bright green of early spring. This was beautiful, rich fertile land, farmland his people desperately needed. Years ago, when he was only a boy of ten, he had made his first crossing to this island. As the youngest son of one of the Saxon chieftains he had the opportunity to make these crossings several times afterwards. Each outward crossing after some time was followed by a return trip to take more people and fresh forces to join the pioneers and the soldiers. As young as Egfrid had been, each time he returned to this island, he always felt deeply this land was his future, not only his future, but also the future of his people.

Of course there were the Britons. It was unbelievable; they were so busy fighting each other, they barely noticed their arrival. The Britons were weak, the Romans had easily overpowered them and when the Romans left, the Britons hadn't achieved anything. People like the Britons never really had experienced the ordeal fighting against barbarians like the Huns and the Vandals. They never endured the raw force and the brutality of these people. Fighting almost seemed like a game to the Britons. Under leadership of their "king" they invented some new pastime for themselves. They were so proud of their skills to fight on horseback, they were jousting each other in tournaments! Of course those arrogant bastards felt superior to the Saxons, who they considered merely rogues and villains.

Egfrid straightened his jaw. His thoughts drifted away to his father. Alric was a great Saxon Leader. He was one of the few Saxon Leaders who had established a bridgehead on the island. He was an incredibly courageous, powerful fighter and so was his eldest son. Egfrid felt always somewhat uncomfortable when he thought of his older brother. Sigbert was such a good fighter and with his blonde hair he was tall and good-looking. Compared to him the younger son almost looked like a wimp. Egfrid had the utmost respect for his big brother but he knew very well he could stand his own. He never eagerly tried to compete physically but in contrast to all the symbols of brute force around him, the younger son of the great Leader over the years learned to rely on his knowledge and intellect. Listening carefully to the stories of battles and adding his own observations, he acquired a natural insight in military tactics. It gave him great satisfaction that the last years he was often consulted in strategical and tactical matters. He also learned a lot about human character, just by observing others and listening to them. Egfrid liked to analyze and dissect a person. It often proved to be very useful. 

Egfrid saw the silhouette of Bamburgh castle at the far end of the plain. He remembered his visit almost a year ago when he first met that Lady, the chatelaine of the castle. Egfrid wasn't as good looking as his brother, but he never experienced any trouble having a woman. Among his own people there were women enough to have a fling with a Chieftain's son. When the Saxon forces were on the move, his soldiers always offered him the best-looking British wench to be raped. The Lady of Bamburgh castle, however, was different. Unlike any woman he ever met. She seemed a typical British Lady, in disdain to look him, a Saxon, in the eyes. He remembered the way she had shown him the Saxon wounded when he came to fetch them. No, she didn't say anything, but in her green eyes he read the unspoken words "This is the way we treat our wounded enemies". He barely could hide his emotions but fortunately she didn't notice. 

As always only his brother caught some of her attention. Her husband, however, had intensely watched him. Instinctively Egfrid felt that this knight would be his main strategic adversary, a man to be seriously reckoned with. Luckily this problem was solved when the arrow of the Jute sniper found its mark. Those Jutes sought after the respect of the Saxons and the Angles, always afraid they wouldn't take them seriously. They never crossed to this island in many numbers, but their marksman arches were among the best.

Now the Lady has to manage on her own. In a certain way he felt great respect for her. She seemed so well in control but Egfrid had learned to trust his instincts. Despite her coolness in some way he surmised she had a deep sensual core. Why did this woman excite him so much? Thinking of her, an awkward, strong mixture of urges was stirring his loins. Egfrid straightened his jaw. He didn't merely want to have her; he wanted to control and to humiliate her. It would be his retribution for the disdain she showed him. Unfortunately he didn't have a plan to achieve his craving. Suddenly his mood changed. Perhaps he did have a Plan to administer her pride a severe blow. 

Egfrid smiled when his mind brought him back to the present. Recently the British King Arthur experienced some marital problems but what happened then, stunned the Saxon camp. Led by "chivalry" the Britons shifted to internal fighting! Little tactical insight was required to let his father and other Saxon Leaders decide to march up southwards to lure the weakened British forces into combat. Of course his father and his brother, the great warriors, would lead the forces in the South while Egfrid, as so often was left to stay, fulfilling the harmless border duties. 

Egfrid had patiently waited for a chance like this. He had ordered Oswald, his right hand, to spread the news that all the Saxons had left for the South. He hoped the knights at Bamburgh Castle would be tempted to leave for the South also to join their threatened countrymen. He actually let a substantial part of his forces leave the castle so their spies would confirm the rumors. However, under cover of the night, the men had backtracked, silently returning to their original positions. Only a minor part would march on to confirm the image the Saxons were definitively on their way south. The deception worked like a dream. The chivalrous knights of Bamburgh Castle couldn't be fast enough to join their brothers in arms, leaving only a minimal garrison in the castle. It was a perfect setting for a trap.

Two weeks later Oruale felt devastated. When she returned from Camelot she found the Saxons unexpectedly quiet for some time. May be it was because Gawain just won a clear victory against them, but even after defeat the Saxons continued to cause trouble. This time they were so quiet Oruale had the opportunity to make a visit to old King Lot to pay her respects and to visit her father Egan and her younger sister. It was some time ago when they last met and Oruale was delighted to see how Bronwyn had blossomed into a beautiful woman. Oruale had been almost a second mother to her sister during her youth and seeing her now made her immensely proud. To Oruale her sister represented the image of beauty she always had dreamed for herself: a svelte brunette with a perfect skin, unblemished by any freckles. The two women soon were engaged in sisterly chat and banter and Oruale was not at all surprised when she heard that Gaheris, one of King Lot's younger sons had taken interest in Bronwyn. Knowing her father, he must be delighted at the prospect of his youngest daughter becoming a real princess. Of course she asked Bronwyn about her feelings for her noble suitor.

"Gaheris is a nice man. He is really very sweet and tender in bed... But to be honest, I like men better when they are a little rough... you know what I mean." She giggled. "How was Aelfrith in bed...? And were the Knights in Camelot any good? I heard from Clarissa that you befriended Lancelot when you lived there. Did you... did you ever... fuck...?"

Oruale was aghast at her sister's frankness. She was quite accustomed to some saucy talk among ladies but Bronwyn's bawdy words were not becoming, even in an intimate talk between sisters. She certainly could not confide in her the secret intimacies she experienced. Instead Oruale was contemplating to formulate some suitable pointers, when her father who at that moment entered the room saved her.

"Did Bronwyn already tell you the great news?"

He didn't wait for her answer.

"Bronwyn is going to marry Gaheris!"

"Father, that's not for certain." Bronwyn tried to calm him down.

"Don't be silly, girl. He already approached me. You are practically engaged."

Yes, those were happy days and when Oruale returned to Bamburgh Castle even the troubles with the Saxons seemed much improved. However the situation changed rapidly. Terrible news came in that Arthur died in the battle at Camlann. Immediately reports were flowing in of Saxon troops moving to the South, probably gathering in Kent to form a big army. When several knights expressed their wishes to reinforce the British forces in the South, Oruale immediately complied. She always felt strongly engaged with the British interest. When it was confirmed most of the Saxons were moving to the South, even more forces left the castle. Supported by the wise old Narpus, the confident of her late husband, everyone was convinced Oruale would be able to manage the current affairs at the castle.

She didn't expect to be confronted with anything serious when she saw a dozen drunken Saxon youngsters harassing a couple of British farmers. It happened in the morning, just when Oruale did her regular walk on the castle ramparts. It was impertinent how this Saxon scum dared to badger British farmers right outside her castle. Indignant she sent out a patrol to deal with the Saxon youths. The cowards started to run for cover in the woods the moment they heard the gate coming down. After taking care of the shaken farmers, the men chased the Saxons into the forest. It must have taken a long time to find them because they had still not returned when the night fell. Although Narpus uttered a note of caution, Oruale sent out a second patrol to look out for them. The problem with Narpus was, that he always was calling for caution.

Only when the second patrol too didn't return, fear was trickling in that both patrols might have been drawn into a diabolic ambush. The situation worsened when the first farmers arrived, fleeing from Saxon troops who were ravishing the countryside. Fires in the distance, lightening the darkness of the night, bore further witness of the Saxon rampage. Throughout the night farmers kept arriving indicating the Saxons were less interested in killing then they were in burning and damaging their farms. At the meeting with Narpus the following morning it became clear to Oruale how desperate the situation had developed. Overnight over two hundred people, including many women and children had sought refuge in the castle. Saxon troops were closing in for a siege. 

"Where are all these troops coming from? I thought they had left for the South" Oruale said.

Narpus shrugged his shoulders.

"They have deceived us, milady. The troops we thought were leaving for the south, obviously recanted. Now they have a great superiority in forces and, even worse, our food supplies are not adequate to accommodate so many people for a long siege. I think they purposefully let all those people take refuge." 

Oruale pondered who would have devised such an ingenious plan. Suddenly she remembered the words of her late husband of the young Saxon chief: he is dangerous... he can manipulate people. He certainly manipulated her into a dead end. 

"What can we do?" She knew his answer already.

"We could negotiate the terms of surrender to save lives."

They didn't have to wait long. After another day a delegation of the Saxons presented themselves to negotiate the term of surrender.

"We don't have the intention of surrender. We can hold out for several months until the forces of King Loth will come to our relief." Oruale said coolly, pretending she was in complete control of the situation. Yes, now she recognized the youngest son of the Saxon Leader but she still failed to retrieve his name.

"Unfortunately I know that you are low in supplies and men. My men cautiously kept all the fields intact, so your farmers can starve to death while our farmers will harvest their crops. If I want, I can order a full force attack and your troops will be massacred. King Loth will not be able to send troops he doesn't have and if he would decide to make a heroic attempt, my men will be waiting for him and this episode will cost even more lives. My men will be anxious to attack. I restrained them the other day but when the castle falls they finally have the possibility to entertain themselves with the women and their daughters you are keeping within these walls."

Oruale shivered. The Saxons were infamous for the way they treated their female prisoners.

"There is no need to harm innocent civilians, Sir Egfrid" Narpus said. "Allow the civilians a safe free guard. There is no need for bloodshed of the innocent." Oruale knew that Bamburgh Castle had long since lost its strategic importance of former days. It would be a great personal loss for her, but not for the British cause. Now she also remembered the name of her Saxon opponent. She noticed how presumptuous he was. Annoyed she realized she was completely unable to read his thoughts. 

"Those are truly noble words, worthy of a British gentleman." Egfrid said to Narpus. "I'm not a knight, just a Saxon chieftain. But I was taught that in negotiations, to realize a concession, it is customary to offer a concession in return. Unfortunately you don't have anything to offer me." 

"We will consider surrendering the castle." Oruale said bravely.

"This castle, despite it serving as your home, is of no importance to us, milady" Egfrid said affably. "However, surrendering your castle would increase in appreciation if it would be linked to your personal surrender and you would accept our Saxon hospitality indefinitely."

Oruale didn't immediately realize the hidden meaning of his words.

"Out of the question!" Narpus answered for her. "This is an outrageous demand...!"

The moment Oruale realized the significance of Egfrid's words, the hidden threat almost choked her. The two men kept discussing but she didn't hear their words, plunged in her own thoughts.

"Leave us, Narpus!"

"But milady, his demand doesn't have any precedent..."

Oruale suddenly felt sure of herself.

"Leave us, I have to discuss this matter with chieftain Egfrid between the two of us."

Reluctantly Narpus left, taking Oswald, the other Saxon, with him. When the two men had left an awkward silence fell until Oruale confronted him and quietly asked.

"What do you really want from me?"

Oruale was not prepared for the change in his behavior.

"I want you to respect me! I want you on you knees!"

As his voice rose, his face changed into a savage grimace. It lasted only a second, but then he was his in control of himself again. It didn't make his following words less threatening.

"As our prisoner you will serve me and my people"

Oruale had instinctively recoiled at his outburst, but she too recovered fast.

"What did I do wrong?"

"You were too noble, milady. Didn't you think yourself to be superior nursing our wounded soldiers, exceedingly far superior to us, merely barbarians? Didn't you enjoy feeling so superior?"

"I did not!" Oruale said indignantly, but her light blush belied her and she realized he had read her all the way. Egfrid just smiled knowingly.

"I have seen it in your eyes, milady. And your eyes don't lie... Anyway, you must be grateful I am offering you another opportunity for nobility. Accept our hospitality and serve us... and your people will have a free passage to safety."

Oruale shuddered, apprehensive at the downward spiral to an inescapable vortex she wouldn't be able to escape.

"What will you want from me?" she repeated hoarsely.

"If I let your people exit freely through the gates of your castle of bricks and stone, wouldn't it be reasonable you would allow me free entrance through the gates of your sanctum of flesh...?"

Oruale was stunned. This man was a manipulator of the worse kind and he had a morbid way to put his obvious intentions into words. It was unthinkable to put her fate in his hands... on the other hand, he showed a kind of cruelty Oruale was sure he wouldn't hesitate to put his threat into action and many of her people would die. Suddenly Oruale was overcome with guilt. It is entirely my fault; I made that hasty decision to send out those patrols. I cannot allow my people to suffer. 

"I will be available to you only, for one day and not one hour more!"

Oruale was surprised at her own courage. For a second he looked even more surprised but he regained his composure immediately.

"Tsk, tsk... the reputation of our traditional Saxon hospitality wouldn't stand for a stay less than one year, milady, not even by one day!" 

At his last words she heard such a steel determination in his voice that Oruale knew any more negotiations on this point would be futile.

"How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won't pursue my people when they have left and kill them anyway?"

Only for a second she saw his anger again but his reply, although razor-sharp, was soft-spoken.

"You will have my word as a Saxon! Look at the scar in my face."

He showed her a white scar in his neck, just below his ear.

"When a Saxon youth becomes an adult, his honor is carved in blood. We don't need any documents and papers to keep our word"

"Because most of you cannot write or read" Oruale thought silently.

"Saxon warriors have their own code of honor." Egfrid continued. "We don't need to chatter at a round table to know what we are and what we want!" 

He paused intently to allow his sneer to sink in.

"How do I know you will deliver? How do I know you will pay your respects? Are you up to that challenge?"

"I am." Oruale said bravely.

"I will be blunt, milady. I will enter your body through each of your three orifices. I am giving you fair warning. You can still recant and choose to remain at your defenseless castle, watching your people being massacred from the ramparts. I will make sure you will not be harmed so you will have ample opportunity to enjoy the spectacle while your virtue remains untouched."

Oruale felt an urge to slap at his smiling face. Instead, she walked calmly to the door and called the other negotiators in. She had already made her decision.

"Chieftain Egfrid and I have come to an agreement." Oruale said, giving her opponent a nod to proceed.

"Lady Oruale agreed to surrender the castle. All the people will be allowed to leave unharmed. There will not be a Saxon pursuit. Lady Oruale expressed her appreciation for our gesture and agreed to stay and be our guest for one year exactly."

Both the British and the Saxon co-negotiators were aghast.

"They will harm you, milady!" Narpus blurted out.

Egfrid had to answer both Narpus and his own friend. He first spoke some incomprehensible words in his own language to Oswald and then turned to Narpus.

"I guarantee you. When Lady Oruale returns, her skin will be as unblemished as it is now..."

"It is all right, Narpus." Oruale said. "Make the preparations to abandon the castle."

The relinquishment of the castle started in the morning of the next day, exactly as the negotiators had agreed. The moment the Britons started to leave through the front gate, the first Saxons entered through the hind gate. The military quarters emptied as the Saxons took over. A Saxon woman in her fifties arrived at Oriole's quarters and immediately took over control. Hilda was firm but correct and seemed competent and efficient in a quiet way. She had served at the court of King Aese of Kent and systematically went through Oriole's wardrobe.




Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 06



It happened that first night.

After Oruale was served a light supper, she heard from Hilda what was in store from her.

"You are expected to pay your respects to our Chieftain, milady."

Hilda also selected the attire for her visit and obviously she was carefully instructed. She chose the same dress Oruale wore when she showed Egfrid how she had taken care of the Saxon wounded. It was a simple blouse and a long skirt in light green, which seemed fit to her height. Beneath her blouse she had used a bodice to keep her overflowing bust in control. Oruale remembered she had chosen the dress intentionally to avoid any emergence of feelings of lust from the Saxon. Obviously, the robe had failed her completely. When she asked Hilda to hand over her under linen, Oruale received a stiff reply:

"I have been advised you won't need it, milady!"

The man did anything to impose his will on her. Since the guestroom was situated at the other end of the castle Oruale had to walk un-chaperoned through several long cold corridors. Finally she experienced how wrong her choice for the dress had been. Every now and then, when she met a Saxon guard, the man looked her up from top to toe and when she finally arrived at the guestroom and reported to the two men standing guard in front of the door, they boldly looked at the top of her bodice. One of them said something in their dialect which brought a sniggering chuckle from his fellow guard. Obviously, the whole Saxon nation was aware what would happen behind the closed door.

"Your evening entertainment has arrived, chief" the sniggering laugher announced her.

"Grindan, Grindan... Mind your manners! The lady is only visiting me to pay her respects."

The guards smiled knowingly

"Yaah, anything you say Egfrid." The man called Grindan said. "We'll see if the lady is still walking so stately when she leaves this room. I bet she will walk out straddle-legged when you are finished with her." The two guards burst out in wild laughter. 

They are drunk, don't take notice. Oruale was telling herself.

"Your men seem to amuse themselves." Oruale said after she entered the room.

"Why shouldn't they...? We scored an important victory. And it brought me the pleasure seeing you in this outfit again. What can I do for you?"

"You know for what reason you have appointed me here."

Again, she noticed a change in his eyes, showing how determined he was. This was a man to be reckoned with seriously. She couldn't comprehend she had overlooked it completely the first time they met. Was her attention completely drawn to his brother? Looking into those penetrating, steel blue eyes, Oruale suddenly felt the irrational need to confront him, to let him know she wasn't afraid.

"I detest you."

Her snarl didn't have the desired effect.

"I would be very disappointed if you didn't, milady. The main joy in riding a wild horse is in taming it...! Only I'm not sure about the best approach. You could help me, you know... do you have any suggestion how I could persuade you?"

He didn't expect an answer and Oruale just didn't react. Of course he could impose his will over her, but she would be passive and let him have his way until it was all over. It would be a sacrifice to tolerate him again and again, but it would be for a good cause. She was so enthralled in her thoughts she only heard the last of his words.

"... but may be your secret is concealed in the interrogation room. For what reason you would make regular visits with your husband to the dungeon in the dead of the night, when nobody is present to be interrogated? My spy suggested some intriguing possibilities." He watched her face and continued. "Tell me, milady. What was happening in that interrogation room I should know to make you more sympathetic to consummate our agreement? Tell me..."

Oruale felt cold sweat breaking out under her skin. He knows... Aelfrith always took great care no servants would notice when they descended to the dungeon. She was sure only a single confidant might have noticed and even with them their secret would be safe. But a spy! Of course a spy would hide, just trying to gather information for the enemy.

"I really don't know what you are implying..."

But Egfrid unerringly had picked up the flicker in her self-confidence.

"Anyway, as you owe me a tour through the castle, I suggest we make a detour to the dungeon so offering you the opportunity to clarify your interest in that room."

Knowing this would mean she had to enter dangerous territory, Oruale did try to divert his intention. It only enforced his determination and ultimately she led him the way to the dungeon. She hadn't entered the room since her husband died. Everything was still there, the long rectangular table with the leather straps emerging from the corners, the table in the back with the cylinder-shaped trestle, and the large mat on the floor, the site of so many of their happy activities. The circular metal rings mounted at the wall and protruding from the floor, seemed untouched since their last visit. Oruale felt a hot flush creeping up her spine when old memories flashed through her mind.

"Interesting... This seems a very private room to me, perfect for the activities I had in mind..."

Oruale was on the verge of telling him she preferred they would proceed to her bedroom but then realized a British Lady could hardly invite a Saxon Chieftain to her bedroom. She noticed the man was drawing near to her till their bodies were touching. His hand pushed her chin upwards so she was forced to expose her eyes to his penetrating gaze. 

"I am going to sit down while you will remain standing and do as I wish."

For the first time that night Oruale felt fear trickling in. It wasn't fear of pain, because she could handle that very well, or a fear of rape because she had learned to handle that too, but it was a fear she would enjoy the way this man chose to handle her. Enjoyment would mean he would prevail and signify her ultimate humiliation. Oruale couldn't bear to think of his triumphant smirk if that ever happened. 

"Peel off your clothes... slowly... Start with your bodice..."

Oruale hurried to untie the buttons and strings of the constricting garment when Egfrid suddenly jumped from his chair and slapped her busy hands hard. She gasped in surprise but before she could cry out, he touched her chin softly to calm her down.

"I said: slowly. I am warning you. When I inform you of my wishes, I will proclaim it only once..." Completely at ease he regained his seat. "You may proceed..."

Shaken by his outburst, Oruale resumed releasing herself from her bodice but it seemed to her now as if the buttons were more tightly knotted and she had trouble to loosen them. It seemed ages before she reached the last button. Egfrid watched her in amusement. The nervous movements of her fingers, the soft blush on her cheeks and the slow unfolding of more and still more of her glorious flesh was a most entertaining erotic spectacle. He felt his rod rising in his trousers. 

"You may cover your breasts when you drop your bodice."

Although somewhat surprised, Oruale was grateful she didn't have to expose herself completely. Egfrid let her nurse this prospect for a minute before he administered the next blow.

"Now slowly uncross your arms and put your hands above your head...!"

Oruale felt ice needles slowly creeping up her spine. He is treating me like some cheap dancing girl. She wanted to shout "NO" but she knew there was no escape. With a sob she unfolded her arms and moved them slowly upward till her hands met over her head. Egfrid barely could hide his excitement. This slow unfolding of her charms was as much a torture for him as for her. Finally her well rounded, alluring breasts jiggled into view. As soon as he saw them, he knew he had struck a hidden treasure. The two ripe golden fruits were adorned by pouting tips like deep amber stems, rooted in their dark, circular bedding. The charming defiant crowns were twitching in the rush of cool air over their responsive flesh.

"Approach!" he said, with his voice carrying a slight tremble. "Now lean over me and put your hands on the back of my chair." 

It didn't matter she obeyed reluctantly, her dangling pears came wonderfully near. He could distinguish the peachy down of her skin, the wrinkled landscape of her areolas. When his lips closed over her swollen nipples, she shouted out a loud cry like a wounded animal. Her body seemingly tried to escape but didn't, and her cry ultimately converted to a soft, throaty mewing. It was a shout of defeat and both man and woman knew it. Sobbing Oruale allowed him to nibble at her excited raisins and maul them with his teeth. She hated her nipples for being so sensitive, for growing harder, even in the mouth of her enemy. To make things worse, she felt herself getting wet...

"On your knees! Open my trousers!"

This time Egfrid noticed there was no hesitation when the red-haired lady went to her knees, only emitting smothered groans which could be interpreted either as a sign of defeat or a sign of eagerness. With agile fingers his loins were disclosed and there it was, his Saxon sword of flesh, sprouting from between his legs like a solid branch of a tree, the blood-gorged head so swollen and shiny.

"Swallow it!"

There was another sob before his cock vanished in the crevasse of her face. He saw her eyes flare wide when his hand in her red mass of hair pushed her farther down. He heard the gagging, gulping sound of her throat. Only when his pubic hair tickled her noble nose, the depth of her swallowing was to his satisfaction. 

"Let me feel your tongue!"

She obeyed, flicking his saliva-encompassed organ with her sensual, lively tongue. Oruale didn't know why she so willingly was stimulating his erection even more. May be it was the challenge, urging her to let his arrogant symbol of male domination disappear deep in her mouth. Egfrid felt his balls were almost ready to burst. He needed a change of scenery. Freeing his member from her mouth, he spread his thighs and hooked the back of his knees over the armrests of his chair.

"Lick my Arsch!" He let his bottom slide down a little to provide her easier access for the task he had in mind for her.

He didn't use the correct word, but his intention was clearly enough. Seeing his hairy cleft originating from the depths of the dark eye, Oruale suddenly flinched. 

"N... no... nooo..." she stammered. "You cannot ask that from me!"

"You stupid wench! I don't ask... I demand...!"

In one fluid moment his hands were gripping her neck and her hair, pushing her face forcefully into his dark ravine. Her shriek of terror faded away when her mouth was firmly pressed into his anus. Oruale fought for what she was worth but her struggles were no match for his iron grip. She went limp and suddenly Egfrid felt the little top of her tongue started moving along the length of his crack. He heard her sobbing softly but the wetness of her tears on his skin only increased his excitement. 

"See... it's not too unpleasant...!"" He said. "When you keep weeping any longer, your tears will stream down the valley and it will take you longer to suck my arse dry."

Oruale shivered at his mocking words. He never let an opportunity unused to humiliate her. Worried she felt a familiar sensation creeping up between her thighs and prayed he wouldn't notice the sopping wetness of her cunt. She was making sure other matters temporarily absorbed his attention. Her wet tongue slid up and down the crease between his taut buttocks, spreading her saliva all over the smooth surface. Her mouth neared the orifice of his anus and accidentally flicked over, making him groan. 

"Suck it! Now!"

Egfrid felt his seed accumulating in his anxious, aching scrotum. Reluctantly her tongue slid in, seeming to thicken in the slender of his anus. Then the red-haired lady tongue-fucked her victor up the arse. Her lips kissed his anal mouth while the tip of spongy warm tongue was entering repeatedly. His sphincter trembled under her delicate oral attention. He rose from his sitting position whelk the muscles of his buttocks tightened in anticipation of what to come.

"On your hand and knees! Your tail in the air!"

After she meekly complied, he patted her arching cheek and fingered her rear opening.

"Rest assured it will not be my tongue that will go up your arse, milady!" He smirked.

On her hands and knees Oruale offered the oval sumptuousness of her tight-creased rump. Egfrid reached for her fleshy rounded buns with both hands. He peeled those ovals open to reveal their valley and the funnel to her anal depths. The swollen head of his bulging prick touched the coiled sphincter, which sent a shiver throughout her lithe body. She whined and whimpered when she his engorged crown started to wedge itself into the tight ring of her anus.

"Be careful, please..."

It was not what he wanted. He wanted to pain and control her, to transform this proud, stately lady to a whimpering, twisting and jolting heap of female flesh. Holding her steady with both hands, he pushed through her hind gate. She felt skewered on a thick red rod of swollen flesh. He plunged in, again and again. She trembled under the force of his jabs. Then, with an arse full of cock, she sagged with her dark-crowned tits dangling. His hard-driving cock was buried deep up her back, prodding her bowels. After a while he pulled out slowly, letting his cock ooze slowly from her tight fitting anal tube. Then he reversed his motion, sinking it again far up inside her smoldering arse hole. 

Egfrid began fucking her arse in earnest. He fucked her hard, buggering her deep, driving his spike to the very depths of her tight rectum in a frenzy of lust and power. Her breasts were swinging and dancing beneath her bowed body. They became a prey for his reaching hands, immediately starting to play with the oversize nipples whose extreme sensitivity was exploited mercilessly. His cudgel of flesh circled round and round in her bowel chamber. His skewering bone stretched the tenderest spots of her inner flesh until she moaned and whimpered in masochistic delight. Creamy fluid was drooling from her neglected cunt hole. She was wet in her rectal tunnel and when he pulled out the hole between her cheeks remained wide open for him, almost begging to be re-entered. It was a perfect time for her ultimate humiliation. He dislodged and stepped back. 

"Get down on your knees and let your mouth pay homage to my Saxon sword!"

His flesh certainly felt hard as steel but, different from a regular sword, it was oiled by the juices of her anal channel. The sight obviously was too much for the lady. She ignored his command and in a foolish way, shouting "No... no...!", Oruale tried to scramble on her feet and pull away from him. 

Egfrid's patience ran out. He decided to show this woman once and for all she had to obey him immediately and unconditionally. This room seems perfect to enforce his will and find the most effective and pleasurable method. They struggled briefly but then he pulled her by the hairs to the long rectangular table. Oruale maintained a heroic struggle, but he was much too strong and by the time they reached the table she was exhausted. Without too much trouble Egfrid succeeded in getting her on the table, each of her extremities firmly fixed by the leather straps at the corners. When he calmed down he looked down at the sight of the hapless lady, spread out wide and completely nude, ready for his punishment and his pleasure. Her only defense lately consisted in saying "no" and calling him "pervert" and some other names, which really didn't help her case. He had been right all the time, she had a spectacular body. He took his time to knead those malleable mounds; he just couldn't get enough feeling of the rich elasticity of that flesh flowing between his fingers. When he scratched his fingernails over her wide areoles and started to play with her swollen nipples, her shouts of protests suddenly transformed in restrained groans of lust. Egfrid was an accurate observer and this unexpected success called for verification. So he repeated his playful manipulation and executed it a third time, just to make sure. Her reactions to each repeat were more intense than the previous one, and the third time she was shouting out in pleasure and her whole body was twisting within her restraints. Egfrid watched her in fascination and almost forgot to apply the proper corporal punishment.

Egfrid rather fucked her in the arse again but out of principle he couldn't allow her to escape her punishment. He looked around and saw the three objects, next to the table: a solid cane, a vicious looking riding crop and a frightening whip. Uncertain he took the three objects in the hand. He noticed she was watching him. 

"Which one...?!"

She averted his eyes, breathing heavily. When their eyes crossed eventually, he saw her lips moving. Inpatient he signaled her to speak louder and leaned over to her. Oruale relived memories of yore. 

"The crop..." She whispered. "The crop..."

When the first blow came down she was relieved it was less painful than she had experienced in the past. She noticed he was shifting his blows systematically over her body, carefully observing her reactions. The bastard is looking for my sensitive spots. After her breasts and her midriff, his blows were creeping down to her tummy, where her sensations of pain and pleasure would be the most intense. When the first blow on her tummy hit her, he immediately noticed the difference. Then he hit her at the exact place again... and again... She shrieked out loud, yelling, groaning in torment. He just looked down at her with that knowing smirk. He even reached out between her legs to confirm she was excited, that she was writhing in lust. He applied some of her cunt-juice on her upper lip. Just to let her know he knew... Bastard! Filthy bastard! She felt all on fire down below. She was ready to be fucked...! Even by him!

He read her perfectly and started to loosen her ankles from the leather strips. She felt relieved that the torture would end now. They would move over to the mat and fuck like rabbits as she had done before. To her dissatisfaction he kept her wrists tied up and before she knew he was moving one ankle up above her head. The bastard is folding me in two! She shouted, cursed and pleaded but it didn't help. She even tried crying, but he just laughed at her.

"You are strong milady, much too strong to cry." 

Finally he had her doubled up totally, her knees almost at the same level as her shoulders, her bottom rearing up in the air as a giant peach with her flattened rosette in the center. Oruale knew she couldn't escape her fate, she wasn't even allowed the time to pity herself. He clambered on the table while his finger was prodding in her nether hole. The latest developments had dried up her juices. Her feet being pressed almost to her face, Oruale had a clear view between her legs of his manhood, slowly wobbling up and down in front of him, ready to pound her into total submission. He knelt before her helpless body and pushed the massive crown against the sphincter of her anus. 

"Aaaaagh..."

The following moment the round, knobby head of his cock was sinking into her hot cauldron. Oruale shouted out at the top of her longs. She felt the strength of his overpowering hips generating a heat she couldn't bear but couldn't escape. Soon her shrieks broke off into desperate sobs. His swollen prick was moving up the tight tube of her bowels. Spread completely open as she was, his stalk undisturbed submerged itself completely in her tightest and most private passage. Egfrid felt the tight clasp all around his intruding man meat. He strained with his whole body, pushing off from his feet, skewering, plumbing the farthest recesses of her rectal tunnel between the creamy, shuddering cheeks. Again and again he speared himself into her helpless hole. 




Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 06



Oruale moaned in agony. The pain of her dilated asshole was unbearable. Feverishly she sought to escape this excruciating fire. As always Egfrid read her thoughts

"You could pay tribute to my Saxon Sword..."

Oruale knew, she knew what he wanted... it was would mean her utter degradation. 

"Please... "Oruale sobbed. "please..."

"What....?"

"Please... I... I will pay... aagh... I will pay tribute to your sword."

"You mean my sword I have buried deep in your arse... like this...! And this..."

"Aaaaagh... aaagh..."

The redhead's pale cheeks trembled under the punishing blows of his haunches.

"Yes, take this...! You have my Saxon Sword up in your Arse... A good barbarian cock, right up in your ladyship's arse...! Tell me what you want...!"

"Please... give me your cock... aaagh... Yes, I will play tribute with my mouth..."

"What do you mean? I have my cock in you dirty arse right now.... Tell me, what you want!

"Please...! Put... your cock... in my mouth." Oruale almost whispered. This was too much.

"You mean right from your arse...? Speak louder, milady, so I can hear." 

Deliberately Egfrid prolonged this moment of her ultimate defeat. 

"Yessss!" the once so dignified Lady sobbed "... in my mouth, right from my arse."

Her body cringed in utter defeat but paradoxically she felt a scorching heat accumulating in her neither parts, a desire for fulfillment, an urgent craving she never experienced before. 

Egfrid felt the pulse of victory beating in his throat. This was what he had prepared for the last year. Oruale looked up and saw him standing, his legs spread wide, his mighty Saxon Sword hanging over her. Totally helpless and defeated, she could only move her head. The muscles over her throat tightened when she opened her mouth and reached out to receive him. Then the slimy sausage came down and her senses were submerged in tastes and odors of her own. She sucked with her cheeks hollowing, her head rotating around her conqueror's sword, showing her complete surrender. Suddenly an orgasm unleashed within her, flooded her while she continued licking and sucking.

"Take it... take it deep..." Egfrid gasped, grinding his hips in her face. Gasping he fucked the mouth which had judged him but now was transformed to just an accommodating, wet cavity. He fucked that wonderful, fascinating face. He saw her eyes, closed in rapturous surrender. She was in unbridled heat, gnawing and sucking wildly at his manhood. Then Egfrid lost any coherent thoughts, he just felt an overwhelming sense of power, a sharp, urgent need accumulating in the base of his cock. When he exploded, he pumped copious spurts of his seed into the contracting channel of the lady's yearning throat.

Dedicated to my editor JayneC for her continuing support.