Damsel

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “Yes, sir.”

  Baring her beasts seemed more intimate now than any baring of her body had been in the company of hundreds. And now he demanded more!

  Though shaking so hard that her hands could barely work, she awkwardly shoved the rest of her clothes down her hips where they joined the black man’s robe on the stone floor. Both naked now, Cyrus suddenly picked her up, held her against his chest and kissed her on the mouth. His amazing lips seemed to swallow her, while his tongue demanded an avid response, which she gave him—she could do nothing else but what he required.

  Breaking the kiss, he swung her around so that she straddled his hips, her legs going around his waist and hanging on to him. Precarious as the position might be, she felt secure inside his muscled arms, while underneath her bottom, she felt his hard stalk, firm and pulsing against her flesh. So taken with the naughty pleasure, she rubbed her quim against his groin, quietly gasping, “Oh, my lord, what have you done to me?”

  He smiled, and while holding her up with one hand, the other stroked her hair, his palm smoothing her auburn tresses, admiring how they shone. He moved with her against him, rocking her in the odd embrace and circling around as if it were some strange dance. Her eyes were filled with wonder, as he carried her around the room like a young child. Of course, she was not a young child…but every bit a vibrantly sexual woman.

  Suddenly he stopped his pacing and lifted her hips up slightly so that he could position the end of his prick against her love hole. Shoving her down on his tumescent cock, the spear stabbed her cunt deep.

  “Ohmygod!” Her eyes opened wide in awe.

  While she was still adjusting to the stunning impalement, Cyrus drilled her hard, raising and lowering her hips, bringing her love hole on him again and again, their juices mingling, while the smacking noises of their bodies reverberated through the room.

  And this was only foreplay…

  Cyrus strolled with her again as he worked her love hole, enjoying the feel of her small body captured by his, contained and used as it was meant to be used.

  After a few minutes of such spirited thrusts, Roslyn could sense Cyrus’ lust rising, how his eyes became glassy and the sweat appeared gleaming on his black skin. He teased her toward a zenith, so she was ready at any moment to explode on him. But Roslyn waited, panting and breathless. She wanted to know it was right to come. That he was ready for her, that she had his permission; a man like Cyrus would demand she ask. And yet, just when her spasms had reached that painful peak where it would be impossible to stop from careening over the edge, he suddenly moved toward the bed, jerked her off his groin and tossed her to the mattress.

  He practically fell on her, his body crushing her so she couldn’t breathe. They quickly rolled to the side, and as he held her against his chest, he reached around and began to slap her ass. He took a nipple in between his fingers and squeezed, then forced his kisses against her mouth again, only to start over with his teasing torture. She seethed, she grunted, her responses erratic and unsure; tears came to her eyes, joy and pain sharing space inside her slight frame. He fingered her privates bringing her back to that critical edge, then heartlessly tugged the ring, wiping out the pleasure and replacing it with a throbbing pain.

  When he wanted her mouth on his organ, he shoved her head to his prick. When he wanted to spank her, he spanked her. Then when it pleased him to feel her body surge with pain, he twisted a nipple or yanked her nether ring while making her look him in the eye. He smiled seeing the agonized grimace appear on her face.

  For a time, he spanked her sore behind without stopping, enough to raise another fiery burn on the same flesh that Lady Josephine earlier punished. Her body seemed to love this spanking, and she barely cried; the heat of it made her hotter still, soon turning her into a puddle of sensuous desire.

  Maybe she wanted more, maybe not. But it didn’t matter; nothing this day was hers to decide on. Cyrus ruled her with a stolid will, with a command she could not fight. She was so in awe of him, it was difficult to know what she felt but the requirement to surrender.

  Finally, as he toyed with her privates, rubbing her love bud until it was raw and swollen, a crescendoing orgasm was on her again and the spasming quickly revived. She was at that pinnacle again, and sensing her about to explode, Cyrus collected her into his arms, pried apart her inner lips and shoved himself inside again.

  “Come, little one,” he ordered, his voice terse and strained.

  He pummeled her now, with the fucking becoming brutally hard. His hand came down on her ass cheeks again and again, and within seconds of that first thrust, she began to climax. Falling fitfully over the edge, her body fucked back and her mouth opened up in a wild scream while she banged her fists against the bed. As he ejaculated his seed into her pulsing love hole, his guttural grunts joined her cries in the steamy air.

  Afterward, they lay side by side, an odd pair: the enormous black man, his chest heaving upward as he caught his breath, and the languid redhead with the dreamy face, whose body still spasmed in a sweetly fitful way. They both stared glassy eyed into the canopy of the bed above them and rested.

  “Ah, milord…” she breathed in and exhaled with this exclamation.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “You have consumed me.”

  “Indeed. You need to be consumed. Used up. Eaten up. Taken. Broken…” he laughed.

  “You tease me, sir.”

  “And you should be teased.” He turned on his side. “Did it not bring a smile back to this pretty face?”

  “Oh, indeed it did.”

  “Good. Then I have done what I desired to do.”

  But her brow furrowed with worry. “But have I pleased you?”

  He laughed full and big. “If you cannot tell yourself, then you are as dim-witted as you are beautiful. And I will not answer that ridiculous question.”

  She smiled. “I am sorry, milord.”

  She never wanted to leave this bed, his side, his comforting presence. All that she felt about him had to be good, and with that thought she felt her heart ache with concern. Being with a man willing to care for her only fed the desire for love and freedom that still smoldered deep in her heart. Even sex with his splendid man was not enough to make her content. She wanted to be gone from this castle, from the man who owned her body and the shrewish bitch who made her life hell. Too soon after an interval of pleasure, this terrible reality came back to her and she must have frowned, for he asked:

  “What troubles you, harlot, daughter of Ledo?”

  Her father again… “Why do you call me that?”

  “What? Harlot?”

  “No, not harlot. I know that I’ve become that. But you call me Daughter of Ledo.”

  “Are you not Duke Ledo’s daughter?”

  “I am, but it is painful to think of that.”

  “And why? Your father was a great warrior.”

  “A murdered warrior.”

  “That is the sad truth about powerful men. They make enemies, and enemies find them worthy targets. Your father was no different than that.”

  “Did you know my father?”

  “No. But I did know people who did.”

  “Duke Wilhem was his enemy. Which is why I’m here.”

  “So it is.”

  “Had you known him, would you have been my father’s enemy or his friend?”

  “I consider myself no man’s friend or enemy. I survive by being neutral in any cause.”

  “Is that possible?”

  He shrugged and pulled off the bed, going to the chamber pot to relieve himself. Finished, he strolled back to her and stood by the bed with his arm resting on the bedpost, his placid facing looking down on the young woman’s loveliness.

  “Is it possible to be neutral?” he pondered. “Probably not. But my aims are not political.”

  “Then why do you travel from place to place?”

  He gave her a secretive smile. “Hum…let’s just say that my neutrality a
llows me to serve many causes, most especially my own.”

  She looked puzzled, unsure what this meant.

  “Don’t worry yourself over it, girl.”

  But she couldn’t let it rest. “You’re a slave trader?” she asked him directly.

  He laughed. “Maybe I’ve bartered for slaves, but that is not my occupation now. You have nothing to worry about from me.”

  Roslyn could feel her anxiety rise as her mind goaded her to ask his assistance with her great need. Like a pestering child, the dangerous thought had to be slapped down, although she did come back with an innocent query to test the waters.

  “I heard it said that you are a man who gleans secrets.”

  “Secrets? What kind of secrets?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose political secrets.”

  “Did I not say that my aims are not political?”

  “Oh.” She stopped, her mind still furiously working over her dilemma. She sighed. “So, if you’re not political, then those you visit are your friends.”

  “Some are, some aren’t.” He looked at her suspiciously. “What is in your mind, girl?”

  “Are Duke Wilhem and Lady Josephine friends?”

  He laughed. “Hardly. The pair is foul as foul are. But they are good entertainment, and I bear them no ill will.”

  “I see.” She felt the door closing on her plans, and yet the painful urgency of her situation forced her on, tempting her to say what was on her mind.

  Cyrus read her anxious feelings. “You best spit out what troubles you, Lady Roslyn, because you’ve already condemned yourself.”

  “Condemned myself?” Her face paled.

  “Have you not, speaking this way, in this house?”

  Had she condemned herself?

  “Only if you were to speak of our conversation to Lady Josephine.”

  “Although you’ve hardly done anything but ask a few innocent questions,” he conceded. Was he baiting her?

  “Oh! But I do know secrets, important ones!” she could not refrain from replying.

  “And I suppose you have a price for those secrets?”

  “Yes, but just a simple one.”

  “Then speak it.”

  She came back boldly, without thinking, “My freedom. I want to be free of these people and this place.”

  He nodded. “A worthy goal for a woman so abused.”

  Her heart leapt on that. “So then you’ll help me?”

  “If your secrets were of value to me.”

  She cocked her head, believing she had secured his favor, although it was difficult to tell. Still, her body shivered with excitement as she spilled out all she knew. “If I were to tell you that in a fortnight, Duke Wilhem’s army will be marching through the southern mountains, would that be enough of a secret to win my freedom?

  He raised his eyebrows. “Interesting…”

  “But is that enough?”

  “That is a damnable thing,” he said, “to those beyond the southern mountains. There are those who would pay dearly for that information. Those who have no use for Wilhem’s desire for conquest, which,” he laughed, “most don’t.”

  Her heart was lightened. “So you will assist me?”

  “Perhaps.” He nodded. “Perhaps.”

  “Oh, please, sir, don’t let me hang like this!” she implored him.

  He appraised her for some minutes, his eyes scrutinizing her so closely that her nakedness became her shame again.

  He took her chin in his hand and held it fast. “It was my thought to help free you, Lady Roslyn, daughter of Ledo, and that has not changed.”

  “Oh, milord!” she fell on him sobbing.

  “But understand,” his brow narrowed, “that your freedom comes with prices that might be difficult to pay or even understand.”

  She pulled back and looked up, questioningly.

  “In time, you’ll understand. In time.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Betrayed Again

  Roslyn spent the night with Cyrus, slavishly attending to his sexual needs, then he sent her off in the morning with little more than a kiss to her cheek—as if she were a child! Although, she’d made several halting attempts to peek into his mind, she found that her further inquires met with little information.

  Once she was dismissed, she returned to her own chamber, feeling like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.

  The day had come and gone and still no word when she was finally summoned by Anne, who led her to the Duke’s private office. Inside, sat the two who owned her, the Duke and Lady Josephine side by side, expressions grim enough to make her shrivel into nothing. Cyrus sat to one side with his big body lounging back in the chair, casual as you please.

  “Why, here’s our little traitor!” Lady Josephine’s eyes gleamed with anger. Her husband’s were hard and cruel.

  Roslyn froze.

  “Come here,” the woman ordered.

  She didn’t budge.

  “Now!”

  Roslyn started forward…

  “On your knees!” the woman shouted, more shrill than Roslyn had ever heard her, which was saying much.

  Roslyn dropped to her knees.

  “Crawl, you stupid girl, crawl!”

  Her knees hurt as soon as they hit the stone, and with every labored move, they throbbed. When she reached the pair, she bowed at their feet, her head to the floor in abject submission.

  A cruel twist this was. She trusted the man, that scheming man!

  “I want her hanged for treason!” Josephine cried out. “She deserves no less! Let her go into the underworld where her kinsmen rot. Let the last of Ledo’s line be destroyed, just as she would destroy us!” The lady was so overcome that she slumped back into her chair exhausted and had to fan herself to revive.

  “Oh, milord, please no!” Roslyn offered up her only plea to the Duke. “I only hoped for my freedom. Surely, you understand how this life pains me. But I have served you in the ways you asked. And I will do so…”

  “Shut! Up!” the Duke interrupted, voice clipped, the words enunciated with deliberation.

  Roslyn’s eyes filled with pitiful tears.

  “Be remorseful all you want, but it will do no good,” the man went on. “You have condemned yourself, little harlot. I don’t care how lovely that pretty body of yours is, or how youthful your sexual vigor, you have earned the sentence I will hand out. I have dealt with you kindly, good lady. I brought you into my bed, giving you a place of honor in my home. I nurtured our pairing, as you well know, and you repay me this way, sharing the secrets you overheard, with a man you believed would betray me to my enemies. How vile you are!” he stood up shouting. “You reprehensible bitch! You…will…die…for this!”

  “Oh, please no!” She was overcome by sobs, while Lady Josephine, looking much recovered gloated by her husband’s side.

  “May I speak, kind sir?” Cyrus’ resonant voice seemed to thunder quietly through the room…interrupting the bristling mood, settling the anger and halting Roslyn’s painful sobs. Roslyn stared at her betrayer, her tears still glistening on her cheeks.

  “I’m sure your lust for revenge runs deep, Wilhem, but do you want the death of Ledo’s daughter staining your hands?”

  “We have just cause!” Lady Josephine cried.

  But all Cyrus had to do was raise his hand and she mellowed quickly.

  “I think there might be a better solution to your dilemma regarding what to do with the girl. She is just a girl. Think what you could bring down on her that would be far better than death.”

  “Better than death?” the lady looked at him curiously, fanning her face even faster.

  “There is a merchant caravan on its way from the East. To the East it will return once it travels through this region. You sell her to them, turning a high profit, considering who she is, and in turn, she will be sold to the brothels and harems in the foreign lands, where she will be used…She’ll be stripped, branded, brutally whipped each day, living in shackles. She�
��ll eat on the ground like a dog, relieve herself in the dirt. Her life will be a living hell of hard sexual abuse. In little time, her fair face will grow old and hardened, she’ll shrivel like a woman three times her years. When she is no longer good for sexual sport, she’ll be traded to the caravans as a whore and beggar—and if she wishes to live, she’ll grovel before men to survive.”

  Cyrus stopped his monologue, appraising the faces of his audience.

  “You know this?” Lady Josephine asked with great interest. “About such a caravan coming here soon?”

  “I was three days, perhaps a few more ahead of it. You are their most northerly destination.”

  The lady’s eyes were bright with wily satisfaction once again.

  She turned to her husband, “My dear, I think this might do, hum?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I will think on it.”

  “Meanwhile, she will be punished!” the woman declared. “It has been too long since our dungeon had a proper candidate for torture. But we have one now. We’ll have that little strumpet servant of hers too.” She sighed as if weary. “Oh, dear, this excites me so.”

  The Duke rang for his servants, and while the three above her looked on in judgment, Roslyn was taken away, led to the foul dungeon where she would be subjected to her next trial.

  And this was a reprieve from death? her beleaguered mind wondered.

  ***

  Sometime later in a back corridor of the castle, Lady Josephine, looking positively radiant, met in furtive conversation with her lover Louis.

  “It is done!” she exclaimed in an excited whisper.

  “She has betrayed you!” the boy looked surprised.

  “You did fine work, my love. Believed every half-truth you told her.”

  “And Cyrus was willing to tell you of her falseness?”

  “Of course. He adores me, darling, just as you do,” she sighed a bit regretfully. “I merely told him that we feared she was plotting against us and to look out for her treachery. She fell right into our hands.”

  “She’ll be hanged at dawn?” he wondered.

  “I would have done so…but there’s another scheme afoot to sell her. Been some time since we’ve auctioned a woman of such noble standing. She’ll bring much gold.” The woman sighed. “It was my finest performance, I think. The hurt of betrayal, the righteous indignation…oh! I was meant for these treacherous machinations!”