a Wicked Conquest

by Valerie Saxon

  Maeve looked at her sorrowfully. ‘I am so sorry, mistress, but you had to know.’

  Rowena nodded. ‘You did right.’ She was suddenly very calm, surprisingly so. ‘When do you sail from this place?’

  ‘Soon, very soon,’ Phelim replied sombrely. ‘Before the winter sets in.’

  ‘Then take me with you.’

  ‘We will take you home,’ Maeve said quickly.

  Rowena laughed harshly. ‘Home? I have no home.’

  ‘Then come with us to Ireland,’ Maeve said excitedly. ‘It should not be too hard to find your mother’s kin.’

  Rowena was thinking of her poor mother and how she had suffered. ‘Aye,’ she said, making her decision, ‘let it be so.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rowena huddled miserably into her mantle, almost wishing she were back in the big bed in the shieling. She tried to breathe some warmth into her hands, wishing she’d had the nerve to slit Sigurd’s throat before she left. She shuddered, thinking of her lot had Maeve and Phelim not saved her, and she thanked the Lord for Algitha’s douches, or she would surely have been large with Sigurd’s child by now. No doubt, during the long dark winter, he would have managed to impregnate her and then his plans for her would have taken off.

  She looked up at the giant oak beneath which she sheltered, listening to the wind whistling eerily through its branches. Her companions were sleeping nearby, exhausted as she was by the sea voyage. But there was to be no sleep for her, her mind far too active for that.

  Algitha had helped drug Sigurd into a deep sleep, appalled at Rowena’s story. Maeve had used some of the potion to drug the men who Sigurd kept on guard during the night, and it was easy after that to sneak away from the farm and steal one of the longboats from its berth and cast off on their adventure. But they had not taken into account the rough weather that set in shortly after their escape.

  The men suffered the most on the journey, as they’d had to put up with all the elements threw at them, while she and Maeve were closeted in a small tent on deck for most of the journey. She watched the men nervously as they steered by the sun and stars, taken note of cloud formation, the colour of the seawater, used a line to search the ocean’s bottom. They had even noted the sea creatures and birds and searched for pieces of driftwood to give them some idea of their whereabouts.

  And here they were in that green, verdant land her mother loved. She dashed away a tear, shivering in her thin clothes. She surmised that dawn would be upon them soon, and with a yawn drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  She was rudely awakened by a sharp kick to her left foot. Having had little sleep she was disorientated, and opened her eyes wondering where she was. But seeing Maeve and Phelim and the other Irishmen talking to some rough looking strangers soon brought her to her senses.

  ‘Who are you? What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded, as one particularly hairy individual hauled her to her feet and dragged her none too gently towards her companions.

  Maeve was smiling and Phelim seemed to be doing some sort of deal. Rowena saw money pass hands and Maeve turned to her. ‘There, we are done. Phelim, our friends and I will make our way to civilisation. You, Rowena, are to go with these gentlemen.’

  Rowena pushed her damp hair out of her eyes, fighting to understand what the Irish girl was saying to her. ‘But, I don’t understand.’

  Maeve gave a cheerful laugh. ‘It is not so hard, lady,’ she said sarcastically, sketching a bow. ‘You took my man, thinking nothing of what it meant to me. From the first day I saw your simpering face I swore to get even, and guess what, I have. We have sold you to merchants who will barter you in foreign lands, where women are bought and sold and treated like dogs.’ She flicked a tress of fiery damp hair from Rowena’s shoulders. ‘You are not shabby looking and will no doubt adorn someone’s bed until he tires of you and sells you on. Or you could be sold to a brothel; I have heard there are many in the east.’

  Rowena’s head swam. She’d been tricked! Maeve and Phelim had sold her to some traders who would use her as they saw fit. She had been saved from Sigurd only to find herself in more danger!

  One of her captor’s tied her hands behind her back with some rough rope, and then he dug his spear into her side to move her on. With Maeve and Phelim’s laughter ringing in her ears she stumbled over the rugged ground as the merchants made for their destination. After being aboard the longboat for so long she was stiff and she knew it would take time for her land-legs to return, but these savages had little pity for her as they poked her with their spears, kicking her when she fell after being unable to keep up with their fast pace.

  They were in a thickly wooded area when loud whooping noises made her blood run cold. Then to her shock many tiny beings dropped from the trees onto the merchants, who were wrestled to the ground and their throats cut where they lay.

  Rowena cowered behind a tree in terror as the blood of her captives ran into the earth, mingling with leaves and mud. The pageant before her was so unreal her mind cast around for something peaceful to cling to. She suddenly thought of her mother’s bower, where she would sit with her family and attend to her needlework. But the gentle scene could not compete with the reality of the grotesque little men who had attacked them.

  They were laughing, their knives making arcs in the air triumphantly as they surveyed their prey, stealing all they were able to lay their hands on. Rowena’s stomach rebelled at the stench of blood and she vomited. Trembling with fear she tried to flee that awful place but her legs froze and she lent against the tree weakly, her bonds chaffing her wrists. The small men moved clumsily on bandy little legs, their awkward gait as ugly as their large heads and hideous features. She had heard Sigurd and his men speak often of similar creatures they’d met on their travels, and they called them dwarves.

  She took deep breaths, trying to suppress her nausea, and then with a swimming head and trembling limbs she turned and staggered through the trees. But before she’d gone far they were on her, pinning her to the ground, their bloodied hands all over her.

  ‘Have pity,’ she cried as they tore at her clothes, but they took little notice until their leader, a little taller than the rest, shouted an order.

  They immediately retreated and Rowena scrabbled to her feet, her bonds making her almost as awkward as the dwarves. They were chattering in Irish and her heart dropped when she heard them proclaim that they would take her with them. But then she realised she should perhaps be relieved, for at least she was saved for the moment.

  Their voices became quieter and the group broke apart, some of the men running off into the trees, while the others dragged her along with them. They only came up to her waist, and she wished her hands were free so she could fight them and escape. But the thought did not linger, for the awful memory of the merchants’ deaths at the hands of the tiny devils made her shudder, and she knew she would not stand a chance against them. Small though they were, they were strong.

  At the edge of the wood was a clearing dotted with small huts, and as the sound of their approach reached the occupiers of the huts, so they came out to greet them. Rowena was astonished to see several tiny women emerge, each one as grotesque in shape and features as their men.

  She was dragged into the middle of the clearing and thrown to the ground. As the damp earth seeped through her torn clothes she saw the men and women embrace, their excitement at their spoils almost palpable. The tiny women danced around her, tugging at her hair, exclaiming at its brightness, prodding her body, amazed at her perfection and beauty despite the cruelty she’d suffered at their hands. The women gathered into a group and chattered slyly, turning occasionally to look upon the stranger in their midst.

  Rowena hoped they would take pity on her, after all, were they not sisters in the flesh? ‘Please,’ she began in their language, ‘release me. I need a drink and my bonds hurt so.’

  The women, am
azed at her use of their language, pointed at her and laughed. One slightly more forward than the rest came to her, her bony fingers poking her ribs. ‘Do not ask us for help. You’re the finest slave we’ve seen in an age, and we’ll make sure you serve us well.’

  The other women sniggered, and overhearing their words two of the men came over to see what was going on. ‘Aye, you’ll serve us well, bitch,’ one sniped. ‘And I think you can start right now.’

  The women watched in delight as the men dragged her to her feet, lifting what was left of her clothes in order to expose her legs and most of her pale flesh from the waist down. They sighed at her beauty and stroked her thighs. She cried out at the roughness to which she was bring subjected, but uncaring of her distress the men took out bulging penises that were huge in proportion to their body size.

  The man they called Aed stroked the length of his cock, and Rowena suddenly wanted to laugh; he was not as threatening as he thought, he barely came up to her waist! But as though he could read her mind he punched her right in her middle and she doubled over with pain. ‘Stay like that, bitch,’ he snarled. ‘That’s exactly how we want you.’

  Before the pain had time to dissipate Aed jumped on the back of his friend, and standing on his shoulders, stuck a stubby finger in her sex, forcing first one then two inside her. Rowena winced, and her flesh cringed as the evil stranger plundered her core. The women saw her discomfort and laughed.

  One called Mageen cocked her head to one side, remarking, ‘Aed has lovely fingers that make a woman tingle, does he not?’ Rowena remained silent and the Irish female tossed her head. ‘Perhaps she is enjoying it too much, Aed. And if she is happy we are not.’

  The other women muttered their agreement and Aed smirked. ‘I cannot help the magic in my hands. And if she’s pleased by them just think how highly she will prize the magic of my cock.’

  The women sniggered and Mageen viewed him with disdain. ‘Then you shall not have all the fun.’ So saying she dived beneath Rowena’s legs and nipped at her thighs with sharp teeth, and even before her cries had died away the teeth found her juicy sex lips and bit them too.

  Mageen chuckled evilly as Rowena cried and begged her to stop, but she was more interested in what was going on above her head to care much about anything else. For Aed, still balanced on his friend’s shoulders, had inserted a wet finger into Rowena’s anus, and Mageen was incensed to see that even that private place was as pretty as a flower that opens its petals to the sun.

  She was able to see his magnificent member throbbing to be allowed entrance to that haven, and as she watched, her tongue between those juicy lips, he removed his finger and vigorously fed his cock into the tight fissure. Mageen gasped and so did Rowena as the dwarf’s obscene phallus ploughed relentlessly in and out of her.

  He was a tiny creature, but when it came to his sex he was all male, and to her disgust, although the first few thrusts were uncomfortable, even painful, Rowena soon began to enjoy every thrust of that tumescent cock.

  The women babbled their excitement and Mageen’s eyes were on the magnificent stalk that burrowed in and out of the new slave’s arse. Her own sex began to throb and she grabbed another of the men, exclaiming, ‘Come, my fine Fennen, let us see how your cock can compete with that fine specimen.’

  She flung herself to the ground between Rowena’s thighs, loathe to deprive herself of the appealing sight of Aed fucking the slave, and lifting her skirts, opened her legs to Fennen. Obligingly he fell on Mageen and began fucking her valiantly.

  Rowena grunted as loudly as Aed and wished she were able to be free of her bonds so she could rub that demanding little nub that throbbed unerringly between her thighs. It was strange to see the dwarves called Mageen and Fennen copulating between her legs, but she had to admit it was a distinct turn on.

  Aed’s crisis was upon him, and within seconds he removed himself from her. He jumped down from his perch and she heard him call out to another dwarf. ‘Take a ride on her, Gregory. Your cock will fair fly in that heaven between her legs.’

  ‘Me first,’ shouted the man called Bard, who had acted as his platform. ‘I think I should be next.’

  A fight arose and there were many flying fists. Rowena dared to straighten up, rubbing her aching back with the knuckles of her bound hands. Mageen and Fennen reached their goals in noisy unison, and while some of the men were fighting over who would have sex with Rowena next, she was commanded to bend over again and was roughly taken from behind by another dwarf, who adopted Aed’s method of jumping on the shoulders of a friend.

  It seemed that all the dwarves were well hung, and Rowena railed at the indignity of her position as she was taken again and again by one dwarf after another. They were only interested in their own pleasure, but their stamina was great and she was worn out and quite sore before they finished with her.

  When she was finally thrust into a hut and left to lie in a heap on the damp ground, her insidious position instilled itself in her brain. Tears flowed, but they were tears of shame as well as despair when she thought of how she’d thrilled to the abuse she’d suffered. Her marriage to Sigurd had opened her up to a world of perversion; would she ever be satisfied with a normal life?

  She laughed mirthlessly – yes she would, given the chance. But she was slave to this community of ruthless dwarves, and they would no doubt use her until she was too weak to serve them any more. But her mind would not go beyond that point, for the horror of what would happen then was far too terrible to contemplate.

  ‘Get up!’

  Rowena had fallen into an uneasy sleep only to been awoken by a cruel kick in the ribs. She looked up to see Mageen glaring down at her. ‘W-what time is it?’ she asked, letting out a small cry at the cramp in her arms from being bound in one place for far too long.

  ‘Time you got up off your lazy arse and attended to our meal,’ Mageen replied, spitting into the dirt at her feet. ‘Then when you’ve cleared away you can entertain us again. We are looking forward to it. Get up, slut!’

  Wearily Rowena was dragged into the clearing between the huts. She looked around her fearfully. The fire that had smouldered earlier was giving off bright flames, and over it hung a cooking pot. A woman was stirring it with disinterest, and Rowena was stunned to realise it was Maeve.

  Mageen pushed her towards the fire. ‘There is much to be done. Fetch some water. Then you can peel the vegetables and put them in the pot.’

  Maeve saw her with much surprise, but there was no time to talk for Rowena was untied and a rope was bound around her waist instead. One of the men supervised her as she was made to fetch water from a stream nearby, and as she bent to retrieve the water he lifted her ragged kirtle with the stick he held, chuckling lasciviously at her nakedness.

  ‘Get your hands off me, you filthy snake!’ Rowena hissed, throwing the water she’d gathered into his face.

  His eyes narrowed to aggressive slits, and he angrily swept the stick in an arc and brought it down on her legs. At the same time he jerked on the rope wound around her waist, and Rowena cried out in pain and found herself laying half in the stream and half in the mud, her legs throbbing from his attack.

  ‘Spread your legs, bitch!’ the dwarf growled, beating her once more so she was swift to do his bidding, and without further ado he began fucking her with violent gusto. Mageen came to see what was keeping them and her laughter blended with the dwarf’s loud breathing. Then they were joined by more of the community, who laughingly egged him on, and when he finished she was made to refill her jug and retrace her steps to the fire.

  Maeve surveyed her with interest. The lovely girl who had stolen her lover was covered in mud, her clothes hanging from her like rags. Her beautiful red-gold hair drooped over her shoulders thick with dirt, dripping filthy water over her body. Maeve’s eyes glowed with spite, but not for long for Mageen, alerted to her new slave’s inattention to duty, slapped her a
rm.

  ‘If you can’t summon the energy to cook, maybe I should beat some into you.’

  Maeve apologised and returned to stirring the pot, and shivering in the crisp air, Rowena joined her at the fire. She was tethered to a ring in the ground, as was Maeve, and gathering up a knife she began to scrape at the vegetables.

  ‘It seems as though your fine plans have come to naught,’ Rowena remarked, glad of the warmth of the flames that licked at the peat in front of her.

  Maeve began to cry softly. ‘They took us off guard, killed the men and brought me here.’

  Rowena bowed her head over her task. ‘I am sorry for your loss, though you thought nothing of my plight.’

  Maeve’s green gaze took in the sight of the dwarves around them. ‘Your plight, but not mine for long. I aim to escape from these deformed pigs as soon as I can.’

  Rowena raised her eyebrows. ‘You must be careful of your child.’

  ‘There is no child.’

  Rowena seethed silently. ‘I see. All the same, mark me well; these people are far more ruthless than you can imagine.’

  Maeve tossed her head. ‘I know about ruthless and cunning, as you know to your detriment. They are no match for me.’

  Rowena said no more. She would not waste her breath, but she was every bit as desperate as Maeve to escape.

  The weeks went by and nothing varied. Rowena and Maeve were made to wait on the little community and were treated cruelly in return. They were often whipped for small offences and used regularly for the pleasure of their perverse captives.

  One day Rowena lay in the cold, comfortless hut, her body and her beautiful hair filthy for she was not even allowed to wash, when she was awoken by the usual kick in the ribs from Mageen.