‘Sit,’ he instructed. She did so, and promptly let out an anguished cry. Zelig started to count but got no further than two before the woman stood up again. The crowd yelled, some in triumph and some in dismay, with the woman’s master yelling loudest of all as he promised her a whipping. Dejectedly she went back to her place, and Zelig covered the stone with straw and placed the basket over the top to conserve the heat. The board moved on to the next player, Quinn, and Lia saw Odetta watching anxiously as her man rolled the dice.
‘Two thistles,’ Zelig said.
The next two players rose to their feet and came forward, as did Odetta. She began to take off her clothes, her face set, and whilst undressing the two men each picked up a long thistle from a pile of cut stalks. Odetta, naked now, raised her left leg and held it out to the side, and with her arms stretched out too she balanced somewhat precariously on one foot.
‘Begin,’ Zelig commanded.
The two men began to whip Odetta with the thistle stalks, one concentrating exclusively on her sex while the second moved around her, targeting her breasts, ribs, belly, buttocks and thighs. Zelig, who was again counting aloud, hadn’t explained the forfeit, but Lia deduced that the men were trying to make her lose her balance while she was desperately trying to keep it. Odetta did indeed come perilously close to putting her left foot down, and it was only by flailing frantically with her arms that she managed to stay upright.
‘Nine… ten!’ Zelig announced. He tapped Odetta on the back with his stick, and she toppled over with a cry of relief and sprawled on the ground, where she lay panting. The men dropped the thistles and resumed their places, and Odetta rose and went back to Quinn, who grinned and slapped her playfully on the rump.
Then the game continued until it was Hadwin’s turn, Lia’s heart thumping as she watched him roll the dice, and she peered anxiously over his shoulder as the pieces came to rest, though the symbols meant even less to her than they did to Odetta.
‘Cunt stretch.’
That sounded dreadful, and when Lia tried to move her legs refused to work. One of the spectators pushed her in the back so that she stumbled forward, and Zelig took her arm and led her to the centre of the circle where a post stuck up from the ground. It was a living sapling, Lia saw, the size of her forearm in diameter and chopped off at knee height. The tip had been shaped into a smooth cone, and smeared thickly with lard. Zelig told her what was required, and she squatted over the stump and lowered herself until the tip entered her vagina. She pushed down on the cone, feeling it expanding inside her, and came to a halt with her sex stretched.
‘Lower,’ Zelig said. ‘Much lower.’
She tried, squatting lower, but it was impossible. The pain was intense, and she whined through clenched teeth as she tried in vain to sink further onto the thing. ‘I… can’t!’ she gasped. ‘Can’t… do it!’
‘Fail,’ Zelig adjudged. ‘Go back to your place.’
She straightened, groaning with relief as the thing slid out of her, and went back to Hadwin. He said nothing, but his look told her she would be punished later, and punished severely.
Next to go was Tilda, and she was fortunate in that she had to suck two cocks only. The game continued in this same fashion, with the board going round and around and one female after another stepping forward to face the challenge set her. The stone proved impossible to endure, with all who sat on it rebelling immediately. The stump was almost as difficult, with both the cunt stretch that defeated Lia and the arse stretch proving the downfall of many. Sucking cocks was the easiest forfeit, though a plump young woman who had ten to suck failed after the eighth, and an older woman who had nine managed them all then promptly retched and voided the lot a split second before the stickman touched her to signal a success.
Lives were lost steadily, and one by one the women started to drop out. Following her initial failure Lia’s performance improved, and she survived a four-man thistle-whipping, much to her astonishment for she was certain she’d fail, then successfully sucked three cocks, then six. Her good fortune continued with a ‘no forfeit’ throw by Hadwin, but after that luck seemed to abandon her, for on his next turn he threw the ‘stone’. Lia knew it would be bad for no one had yet succeeded, but she wasn’t prepared for the sheer heat that scorched her buttocks when she sat on the thing. She lasted for a count of four but the pain was simply too great, and to the obvious disappointment of the crowd she jumped up with a cry.
On the next turn Hadwin rolled ‘arse stretch’, and the moment Zelig announced it Lia knew she was out of the game. She gave it her all nevertheless, squatting on the sapling determinedly, but once again it got the better of her.
Tilda had dropped out in the previous round, and they stood with their masters, no more than spectators now, and watched the concluding rounds. The eventual winner was Quinn, for Odetta failed only one forfeit and that was the stone. Lia and Tilda were then taken back to the cart while Quinn took Odetta off in search of another game of forfeits.
‘They need some hard training, these two,’ Hadwin said to Tormod as they fastened the chains around their slaves’ waists once more.
‘Aye,’ the other agreed, ‘we’ve been too soft with ’em, but we’ll remedy that tomorrow.’
On that dire note he went off to find a dice game, saying he thought his luck must surely change for the better, while Hadwin stayed with them and demanded they both give him something by way of an apology for their feeble efforts. He lay propped up against the cartwheel and had the two girls kneel on either side and lick his cock simultaneously. Lia’s tongue inevitably came into contact with Tilda’s, a sensation she found secretly pleasurable. Tilda seemed to enjoy it too, and what started out as an accident soon became intentional. Hadwin noticed but didn’t complain. Indeed, he seemed fascinated by it, and insisted they kiss properly. Lia loved the sensation of Tilda’s tongue probing inside her mouth, and felt passion stirring in her loins. She ventured to stroke Tilda’s breasts, feeling the nipples harden to her touch.
‘Lay her down,’ Hadwin growled. ‘Lick her cunt.’ It wasn’t immediately clear who he was talking to, but Lia took the initiative and was soon licking Tilda’s sex lips hungrily, while Tilda moaned deliriously as she lay squirming on the ground. Hadwin watched in silence for some time, then took a more active role, kneeling behind Lia and squeezing his cock into her bottom. Thanks to the stretching she’d received from the stump it didn’t hurt as much as usual, and she was able to concentrate on pleasing Tilda, using all the skills she learned as Elfrida’s bondmaiden. Tilda’s climax was astonishing, judging by how loudly and for how long she gasped. Hadwin came soon after, then disappeared without a word, leaving the two young women to their own devices. They lay curled in each other’s arms, with Tilda murmuring contentedly and promising she would return the favour after she’d had a sleep, for she was just so tired…
They woke to find Odetta shaking them. She seemed agitated as they sat up and rubbed their eyes. It was late and the camp was quiet, everyone having settled down to sleep.
‘Quinn told me something,’ Odetta said. ‘It’s about you, Tilda. Tormod’s sold you.’
‘Sold me?’ Tilda said faintly. ‘Why would he… who’s he sold me to?’
‘A captain from a cavalry company,’ Odetta said. ‘Tormod kept gambling even after he lost all his loot, and now he’s had to sell you to pay off his debts. This captain’s coming for you first thing in the morning, Quinn said.’
Tilda and Lia looked at each other, at a loss for words. Lia thought she couldn’t bear to be parted from her good friend, and from the forlorn look on Tilda’s face she was feeling the same. They’d always helped each other and drawn strength from each other, and for them to be separated now was just too cruel.
But cruel or not the captain arrived at dawn just as Odetta said he would, a big man in plate armour riding a big black horse. Tormod led Tilda forward, and the man frowne
d.
‘Cover her,’ he said, taking off his cloak and throwing it none too gently at Tormod, who hastily did as he was told, wrapping the cloak about Tilda’s shoulders and fastening the clasp. ‘Give me your hand, girl,’ the big man said. He reached down and grasped Tilda’s outstretched arm and swung her up behind him.
‘Nay, captain, you’ll spoil her with soft treatment,’ Tormod protested. ‘You should make her walk and beat her often.’
‘Aye,’ Hadwin chipped in, ‘and make her carry a load, too.’
The man stared at them as though they were halfwits. ‘Mules are for carrying loads,’ he said flatly. ‘Pretty girls are for fucking and for keeping a man warm at night.’
Without a further word the man gruffly spurred his horse and rode away, and Lia’s heart was aching as she watched them go, for somehow she knew she would never see her friend again.
Chapter Twenty-one
If Tilda’s fortunes were improved by the fall of the dice, Lia’s were most definitely worsened, for Hadwin insisted on sharing her with Tormod. So she now had two lashing her on with their knotted ropes once the journey resumed, and two to please during the noon break and again when they camped at night. She missed Tilda dreadfully, for Odetta was new and a little strange, though friendly enough for a foreigner.
That night they took her in turns, then after resting a while they took her together. Not far away Quinn was fucking Odetta, and elsewhere in the camp Attlander women were being subjected to similar treatment. Lia guessed that most of them would be sold when they reached their destination, for surely these soldiers had women waiting at home, and would have little need of a slave. She had mixed feelings about being sold, for though she would certainly be glad to see the back of her persecutors, there was no guarantee her new owner would be any less cruel. If the fates were unkind, he might even be worse!
The future was still foremost in her mind the next day as she trudged along behind the cart. They’d left the forest and were now in open country that reminded her painfully of home, with its gently rolling hills and tilled earth. She was left in peace for much of the morning, for Hadwin and Tormod stayed at the head of the company chatting to Zelig, though the sergeant did return just as they reached the outskirts of a village and gave her a spiteful, and completely unwarranted slap around the head.
‘Stop that!’ someone cried. ‘You there… stop that instantly!’ A short, tubby man wearing a brown priest’s robe came running out of the village chapel, his face furious. He snatched at the pony’s halter and the cart lurched to a halt. ‘How dare you treat this young woman in this fashion, and her one of God’s creatures? How dare you?’
Hadwin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Best mind you own business, father,’ he said. ‘She’s a slave taken lawfully in raid, and she’s mine to do with as I please.’
Others drew close and there were ominous mutterings. Tormod approached fingering his dagger and Lia held her breath, afraid for the little preacher. But it was soon clear he wasn’t in the least intimidated, for he flew into a violent rage, demanding her release and threatening to excommunicate the lot of them if they didn’t comply instantly.
‘You shall burn!’ he screamed, gesticulating wildly, his face red as a beetroot. ‘You shall roast in Satan’s fires for all eternity! Lord God, I pray thee give these sinners a sign! Show them the torment that awaits them in hell! Show them, Lord!’
All eyes turned heavenward, and though there was no sign that Lia could see, a miracle was achieved nonetheless. To her astonishment the men backed away rapidly, casting anxious looks at one another. Hadwin, no less cowed than the rest, fumbled the key from his pouch and hastily unlocked her chain. The priest stepped forward and seized her wrist, then dragged her back to the chapel at a run. Once inside he slammed the door shut then dragged her on with barely a pause, up the aisle and out through another door at the rear. Not far away was a small thatched hut, to which he took her, shutting the door and barring it. Only then did he release her and sink into a chair, red-faced still and panting.
‘Did I fool them, do you think?’ he asked, once he’d got his breath back.
‘F-fool them, father?’ she said uncertainly.
‘Indeed,’ he said, with a sly gleam in his eye. ‘The threat of hellfire usually does the trick, though not always. Those men aren’t quite the rogues they pretend to be. There’s marauders I’ve met in my time would have cut my throat and laughed as they did it rather than hand over a juicy little strumpet like you.’
She didn’t know what to make of the priest – if indeed he was a priest, which she was starting to doubt. He looked like one, but he certainly didn’t talk like any priest she’d ever met. She glanced around the small room, which was simply furnished with bed, table, stool and the chair the priest was sitting on. The whitewashed walls were unadorned apart from a plain wooden crucifix and a rushlight holder by the door. At the back of the room was a curtained alcove.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked suddenly, jumping to his feet. ‘I enjoy fighting the good fight, but I’m always ravenous afterwards.’
He drew back the curtain to reveal a small larder from which he fetched out a platter of cold meat, cheese and bread which he set on the table, then returned for a wineskin and two wooden beakers.
‘Sit,’ he said, indicating the stool. ‘Eat. I’m Father Ellard, incidentally. What’s your name?’
Lia told him, and he nodded. They ate in silence. He poured wine for them both, and held up his beaker for a toast.
‘To your freedom, my dear,’ he said cheerfully. ‘What will you do now?’
Lia hadn’t even begun to think on such matters. It would take many days to reach her homeland, and there seemed no way she could return to Attland safely. A young woman alone on the road would be prey to every rogue and ruffian she met, especially a foreigner like herself. She would find herself back in chains before she knew it. ‘I don’t… I…’
Father Ellard smiled sympathetically. ‘Perhaps you’d care to stay here with me for a while, as my housekeeper? I had one before, but she took up with a soldier and went off to war as a camp follower.’
‘Thank you, father,’ Lia said with relief. ‘I’d like that very much.’
‘It’s settled then. The first thing we must do is see to your wounds… no, the very first thing we must do is get you bathed. Follow me.’
He took her around the back of the hut to a lean-to shelter, beneath which was a big tub. Firewood was stacked against the wall, and Father Ellard lit a fire and put on a pot of water to boil. While they were waiting he asked her about her home and family, and she ended up recounting her adventures. As her tale unfolded he tutted and shook his head at the wickedness of men, and when she’d finished he patted her shoulder.
‘You’re a brave and resourceful young lady,’ he said. ‘I’m happy that I was able to be of service to you.’
The pot was boiling now, so he mixed hot water and cold in a bucket, and told Lia to climb into the tub. He found her soap and a washcloth, then poured warm water over her in a steady trickle while she washed herself. She hadn’t realised just how many wheals and cuts and scratches and fading mosquito bites she possessed, until the soap sought them out and she gasped at the stings. Father Ellard washed her back and her hair, then helped her from the tub. He patted her with a square of linen to dry her off, then took her into the hut and told her to lie face down on the bed.
‘Soothing balm,’ he said, producing a small pot of creamy white paste, ‘prepared by an old crone who lives in the forest just a short distance from here. The villagers are forever wanting to burn her as a witch, but I won’t allow it.’
He gently spread balm on her wounds, from her neck all the way down to her ankles, but most especially on her buttocks and in and around her much-abused anus. She sighed contentedly as the aches and pains ebbed slowly away. He turned her over and treated her front in a similar
fashion, spending longer, especially on her breasts. Lia said nothing, however, revelling instead in the luxury of freedom from pain. He took longer still on her sex lips, rubbing the balm in thoroughly with his fingertips, treating her labia, then her clitoris. As he soothed that sensitive nub she began to moan, and though she tried her hardest, she was unable to keep her hips still.
‘Does this give you pleasure, my child?’ he murmured.
‘Yes father,’ she whispered guiltily. ‘Is it sinful that it should?’
‘There are some who say it is a sin, but for myself I cannot see it so, for God made us the way we are, able to experience pleasure as well as pain. The sin, it seems to me, is to challenge the wisdom of His creation and deny ourselves that pleasure.’
He said nothing more for a while, and soon Lia felt her climax approaching. She spread her legs, and Father Ellard covered and mounted her, as she suspected he would. Within the folds of his gown he was erect, and he craftily penetrated her, thrusting rapidly, almost desperately, and in a very short time he ejaculated into her. She thought that probably he hadn’t had many women in his life – it was even possible she was the first – so she hugged him affectionately, savouring the gentle human contact. But to her dismay and confusion he tore himself away and rolled onto the floor.
‘Weak,’ he moaned, holding his head in his hands. ‘I am weak! The devil tempts me with soft flesh and I yield.’
‘Father…?’ Lia said anxiously.
‘You must be cleansed,’ he wailed. ‘It is not your fault, child, but you must be cleansed, for the good of your body as well as your soul!’
He hurried to the larder and returned with a stone bottle and a cloth. He poured liquid onto the cloth and swabbed between her legs. A fiery pain engulfed her and she screamed. The acrid smell that filled her nostrils told her it was no more than vinegar, but to abused flesh it burned like acid. She tried to push him away but he was a man possessed with the strength of ten. He shoved the neck of the bottle into her vagina and upended it, and fresh agony swept through her. Finally he desisted and ran out of the hut, wailing that he had to pray for both their souls. Lia remained on the bed, sobbing, her knees drawn up and her hands pressed between her thighs.
Bondmaiden Page 18
