Whorespawn (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards)

by Georgia Fox

  Alonso, his cock slickly pumping in and out of her mouth, reached for her swaying breasts and pinched her nipples. "Wish we had another brother here to help out," he muttered. "This woman has been neglected and needs a good servicing. We might not be enough."

  Another brother? There were more?

  At that thought, Aelfa's body trembled with a violent orgasm and her knees slid in the dirt, but Sebastien looped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling on her belly. He thrust again, and she felt the hot flood of his semen filling her. A moment later his brother, holding her head gently in his hands, also spent. With his strong thighs flexing, groin jerking, heavy balls hitting her chin, that long shaft poured his sweet and salty cream into her throat.

  And Aelfa could hear a cat purring.

  It took a moment before she realized the sound came from her. Pure contentment.

  * * * *

  Sebastien found a jar of fat with which to lubricate his cock and her arse hole. He straightened out his mantle and sat upon it, drawing his fox down in a squat over his readied organ. A rush of desire coursed through his body as he watched her arse cheeks part to take him in. She had a full, curved shape that might have been made for this sport. Slowly he entered her, one tight half-inch at a time. He was sweating, restraining himself from rushing into the arse pounding he longed to give her.

  Alonso knelt before them both and suckled her large breasts, squeezing them in his hands. Then he kissed his way down to her cunt. Sebastian leaned back, raising his knees so his feet were flat on the floor, his legs spread, his cock impaling her luscious bottom. She hooked her knees over his, opening her cunt for his brother.

  "Give that pussy a tongue lashing, Lon. Make sure she's nice and wet again before you go in."

  "Of course! I don't need lessons from you. I'm thirteen months older, remember?"

  Sebastien chuckled.

  A moment later he felt her bottom tighten on his shaft and heard her tiny cries of breathless delight so he knew his brother was enjoying her pussy just a few inches above her stretched anus. When she came her entire body trembled and flexed. She was stunning, delicious. Sebastien began to suspect he and his brother would never have enough of her.

  Alonso lifted her abruptly, without conferring first, and impaled her cunny on his prick with a grunt of victory.

  Sebastian sat up, annoyed, holding his hard cock which had, moments earlier, been deep inside a hot bottom. "Impatient, eh, brother?"

  Alonso didn't reply but lay on his back with their excited fox bouncing up and down on his erection, both his hands on her arse cheeks, trying to steady her rhythm no doubt before she made him spend before he was ready. Her pussy was like a fleece-lined glove, as Sebastien already knew, and once she was working her inner muscles that way no man stood a chance of holding back.

  For a while he watched his brother's slick cock pushing in and out, then he pressed a hand to her spine, easing her down. At the same time, Alonso obligingly held her buttocks wide apart to show her anus. She was sticky with the seed he'd already spilled in her pussy, and he liked watching it ooze slowly out as his brother's thick manhood filled her again, ready to add more. This pretty filly would get a fine servicing tonight. Sebastien licked his lips and felt his balls aching with need, heavy with more cream.

  "Don't take too long over it," Alonso exclaimed, "or I'll shoot my load again before you're in."

  In his corner, the potter was quiet now. He could be nothing else with that gag tied tightly around his mouth. But he watched all.

  Grinning, Sebastien pressed his cock head to that hole between her cheeks. He heard her shocked gasp, as if she hadn't fully understood what he'd meant when he suggested sharing her with his brother. But there was no more time to prepare her for a double rutting. Too late now for her to protest.

  His cock pushed into her arse again and she cried out, filled now in both holes.

  * * * *

  She couldn't believe what they did to her. Surely they would kill her, split her body in two. Unable to move, pressed between these two hard, muscular bodies, she was forced to simply lie still and take the thrusts from both brothers.

  Alonso nibbled the side of her neck as his cock throbbed in her pussy and Sebastian panted into her hair, moving his hips against her bottom, ramming her arse again and again. Only as his seed filled her back passage and dripped down to her cunt, did Alonso allow himself to fire his own arrow.

  She lay there in a daze, held hostage by two powerful bodies, their semen pouring into her. And Aelfa did not feel like a sinner at all. She felt cleansed, renewed. Almost as if they'd baptized her in a religion of their own.

  Chapter Five

  They washed her off with water from a jug by the cooking pot. "We can't leave you here," Sebastien exclaimed, helping her dress. "You must come with us now."

  He was startled when she boldly replied, "No, thank you. I'll stay here."

  She was braiding her long, lush hair, turning away.

  Catching her by the elbow, he spun her around again and pointed at the man on the floor. "With him?"

  Her eyes dulled. "It is my life."

  "You speak nonsense, woman. You cannot stay here with him." He looked again at the small bruise under her eye and another by her collarbone. "Come with us."

  "Do you usually rescue the women you fuck? Do you take them all with you?"

  "No, but this is—"

  "This is the same. Go. I will stay."

  He couldn't understand it. Sebastian studied her face, but this time it was closed off from him. There was a new expression, determined, decided. "If he beats you?"

  "I am his wife. His property. He may do with me as he pleases. Is that not the law laid down by men?" On this last word her eyes flared and he felt as if she'd plunged his own knife into his groin.

  Alonso walked up to them. "It's late and the Baron expects us before nightfall. What do you want to do about the potter?"

  Sebastian's pulse quickened. He couldn't leave this woman with a man who would hurt her. So he took his knife from his belt. "I'll cut his throat."

  "No!" The redhead grabbed his wrist.

  On the floor at their feet her husband stared, his eyes big and round, peppered with red dots, the gag still stretched over his mouth. He writhed like a hooked fish, trying to work free of his restraints.

  "I'll manage with him, as I always have," she said. "Just go. I do not need to be rescued by you. I've survived eighteen years in this world of men."

  Again with that word loaded down by disdain, he thought. Were all men the same in her eyes?

  She was anxious it seemed to be rid of them. Sebastien didn't like this at all, but she was right in that he didn't make a habit of keeping women with him. He liked to ride free and unfettered without the burden of a woman at his side. And Alonso, having worked up an appetite, was keen to eat at the Baron's hall. Few things got in the way of Alonso's appetite. It was a surprise he remained lean considering the rate he put other folk's food in his belly.

  "The Baron will pay us well to work for him, but he'll think us unreliable if we're late, Seb. Make haste."

  Again the woman urged, "Go. There is nothing for you to do here."

  Still he hesitated. After walking half way to the door, he turned back and crouched to hiss at the potter, "You touch her and I swear I'll come back and kill you with my bare hands. I'll feed you with your own prick until you choke on it."

  That threat laid down clearly and succinctly, he stood and handed his knife to the woman. At least she had something to protect herself. It occurred to him that he didn't even know her name.

  She looked down at the knife hilt and slowly took it from his hand.

  * * * *

  Aelfa wondered why he delayed. What more did he want from her? He'd surely had everything. He and his brother.

  Eventually they left on their horses and she bolted the door again behind them.

  She looked at the knife in her hand and then at her husband, still g
agged and bound in his corner, his face almost purple now with rage, his eyes wide and glassy.

  If she cut him free she knew very well what would happen to her.

  The knife blade gleamed in the light of the fire. She thought of thrusting it into his belly and watching his entrails ooze out. Payback for five years of rape and beatings. But then she would be a murderess. Would that not make her a worse sinner than she was already? There were so many layers of sin, and it seemed to her as if women were accused of most, whereas men always found excuses to absolve themselves of guilt. Just like the potter, blaming her for the things he did to her. Claiming he did them for her own good.

  She looked at her face reflected in the blade and saw the bruise under her eye. A mark left by the potter's fist. Thus she remembered his knuckles landing across her cheekbone yesterday morning. It was often his way of waking her if the cockerel had not.

  Edwyn was banging on the back door of the cottage, and the bolt would not hold forever.

  This was her chance, but she had only a very narrow window of time in which to take it. If she dare.

  Suddenly she felt the warm trickle of semen running down her thigh. A rush of sensuous delight lifted her, made her float, just like the water in her lake. There was something she could get from men after all.

  She looked down at the squirming, hissing potter at her feet.

  Oh, she dare. She dare now.

  * * * *

  "You're quiet, brother. Did the redhead wear you out?"

  Sebastien shrugged. "Perhaps. I wish we had not left her there."

  "You offered to bring her and she wanted to stay."

  But he couldn't understand why. Surely she had no fondness for a husband that beat her. "I should have slit the foul wretch's throat," he murmured.

  Alonso was calm, pragmatic. "The woman didn't seem too troubled when we left her. Since you gave her that knife she might do the job herself. Besides, we're here for business, brother, not pleasure."

  Sebastien frowned. Little late for that, wasn't it? They'd just enjoyed a good hour of pleasure. Apparently Alonso could now set that aside and turn his mind to other things.

  Arriving at the Baron's hall, they found two grooms waiting to take their horses and a page waiting to show them inside. Their visit was eagerly anticipated, and Sebastien knew why. The Baron needed their ruthless skills to help subdue a group of Saxon rebels who continually raided his property and sought to stir up trouble. It was not the first time the brothers d'Anzeray were called upon for similar service. As mercenary warriors with a reputation for blood thirst they were in high demand around the country. But they had not yet discussed the prize purse with their would-be employer and he no doubt planned to greet them with a fine feast to show he could afford their price.

  It was six years since King William won this land for the Normans at the Battle of Hastings, but many Saxons still refused to lay down their weapons and accept defeat. In groups up and down the country, they fought bitterly, tenacious to the death. Consequently, although the king had given out large parcels of this conquered land to his noble friends and loyal knights, many found themselves fighting every day to keep their war prizes out of the rebels' hands. This was no time for the victors to rest on their laurels, although many noblemen were so fat and lazy that they wanted to do just that. They were accustomed to having other men fight on their behalf as everything they possessed came to them as favors or through inheritance. These were the men who called in mercenaries like the brothers d'Anzeray. Lounging on soft, pillowed seats, hiding behind high walls to keep the unclean rabble at bay, these desperate, lazy, stupid, rich men needed someone else to do their dirty work. The best kind of work as far as Sebastien and his brothers were concerned.

  The Baron Louvet was everything they expected. A plump, noisy fellow with unkempt sandy hair, a florid complexion and burgeoning jowls, he was seated in his great hall about to dine in the company of his most high-ranking tenants. His wife, who also waited to greet them, was much younger, a tall, whip-slender creature with a plain face and the droopy demeanor of a willow tree. She sat at her husband's side and kept her eyes downcast, presumably staring at her knees. Only once did Sebastien see her look up and then it was to regard the brothers with a very superior expression, as if she smelled something bad under her nose, before she quickly averted her gaze again to whatever absorbed her attention under the trestle table.

  "We are honored to welcome you into our home," the Baron exclaimed jovially, almost falling out of his chair, his casual manner and pose so very different to that of his prim young wife. It was almost comical to see them side by side. "I hope you will find all to your liking."

  "We have so far," Sebastien replied, thinking of their naughty little fox.

  "Good. Good! You will find we have many advanced comforts here. Come dine with us and we shall talk of this business with which you might be of help to us." He gestured for the two men to join him at the head table.

  There was one chair beside the Baron and one beside his wife. Sebastien, who considered himself the better negotiator, took the seat on their host's side, forcing his brother to sit with the haughty lady. Since Alonso's first interest was the food he really didn't mind being pushed off onto the plain wife and he was happy to let Sebastien do the talking.

  The first dishes were served and the wine poured.

  Baron Louvet, clearly already drunk to some degree, wanted to know all about their journey and whether they'd had any good hunting lately. Leaning heavily on the carved arm of his chair, he devoted his attention to Sebastien while ignoring his wife.

  "When I was a young man like you, d'Anzeray, the world was my oyster. I rode hither and thither with nary a care in the world." He sighed heavily. "How quickly life changes and one is burdened with responsibilities. Now my legs ache, my bones wither, my stomach exists in an eternal state of conflagration and on some days it hurts to use the damn privy." He shook his rumpled head and tossed a lump of meat to the hounds that hovered nearby. "I would give my soul to be young again, like you. To ride hard all day in the hunt and never feel a single pain in the joints. To eat and drink everything before me and still look down at a flat belly. To have a hard cock when I want one. To take a piss without it burning."

  Sebastien hastily swallowed a gulp of wine to hide his smile. Sounded like their father, he mused, glancing across to catch his brother's eye and see if he heard. But Alonso was devouring his food with both elbows on the table, hunched over the meat as if he thought it might still have the capacity to run away from him. The Baron's wife watched with undisguised revulsion, not that Alonso cared or even noticed her expression.

  A pleasingly curved serving girl approached with a jug of wine to refill their goblets, and Sebastien watched her with an appreciative eye. She looked back with evident interest, leaning over to show off a fine set of bubbies as she poured. But he found his mind wandering back to the redhead, his little spy and wanton, wicked playmate.

  He should not have left her behind. As much as he tried to shake off this extremely rare, dare he say it—honorable—thought, it returned again and again to prick at his conscience, which was an item he'd never even known he possessed until then. What was it about her that made him feel differently? Usually such a coupling was pleasurable, satisfying and soon forgotten. Not this time. He thought of her face and her bright green eyes as much as he remembered her milky skin, her tits or the sweetness of her pussy. In actual fact he would have liked to talk to her a while, find out more about her. And that was a distressing development for a d'Anzeray.

  In common with his six brothers, Sebastien liked his freedom. He fought for whom and for how much he wanted. And he fucked the same way. No one dared stop him from doing exactly as he pleased, and it had been much the same for his five and twenty years. He thought he was invincible.

  But ultimately, as his father would say, every man has his weak spot.

  Sebastien had always laughed that off.

  Could thi
s strange redhead be his weak spot?

  "I am told you and your brothers can never be tempted into serving one master for long, d'Anzeray," the Baron exclaimed abruptly. "Perhaps I might make you an offer to surpass any other." He picked at his teeth with a slender spear of bone. "If you could gift us with your presence here until the rebel mob is thoroughly routed once and for all."

  Sebastien tapped his goblet with restless fingers and threw a sideways glance at the other man. Apparently, like many of his kind, Louvet believed the Saxon rebellion would be curbed in a matter of weeks or months. Even six years of battle skirmishes up and down the land had not taught them otherwise. He admired their optimism, but he knew the Saxons were a stubborn lot of scrappers and it would be years before this island was settled for good. By then some other race could sail over the seas to claim it. They would always be looking over their shoulders and certainly he couldn't imagine peace in his lifetime. But why say all that to a man willing to pay a large price for his services?

  "And what is it that you are willing to offer, Baron Louvet?"

  The man pushed a leather bag across the table toward him. It looked heavy, bulging with coin or gems. Perhaps both. "Mayhap this will help entice you to stay?"

  Sebastien took another mouthful of wine and swilled it around his mouth. He recognized the taste and knew it was wine from Gascony, where he had spent much of his youth. It brought back memories of his father urging him to take his first sip.

  "The sooner you get accustomed to it, boy, the better. Build an immunity to the juice of the grape and know your limits."

  When discovered by his mother later, he had been more than a little tipsy, but the subsequent vomiting taught him a good lesson. Of course his mother got angry. Oh, she had a temper. That Spanish Temper, as their father referred to it dismissively—when he was not being entertained by causing it.

  When Sebastien was born his mother had already given Guillaume d'Anzeray four bastard sons and two more came after him. For all her complaints about being taken advantage of, she didn't seem to learn from it. Sebastien couldn't understand why she continued to have babies with their father after the first was born. After all, as a boy he'd soon learned not to drink too much after that first bout of wretched sickness, but his mother seemed to forget the discomfort of child-bearing the moment each babe was put into her arms. She had railed and cursed at their father for giving her seven illegitimate boys all while he was married to a fine Norman noblewoman—with a rich, landed father. She had frequently thrown things at Guillaume and told him never to darken her door again. But despite the fact that she claimed each one was a mistake, she loved her sons and protected them with the ferocity of a lioness.