Cute Girls

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.

ase her master first.

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.”

Tags: Fetish, Story