Lord Daygar - Kingslayer Ch. 13

Lady Annalise stirred beneath him, her tresses of pale gold strewn across the pillow, piercing deep blue eyes examining the features of the young man above her supporting his weight on strong arms as he guided his granite hard cock into her. She knew she had no choice, she had yielded herself to Daygar and he had gifted her to Bessant who bestowed her to his companion, but she was grateful. Daygar had taken her by force, Bessant almost as harshly but Pietro had handled her with extreme care and she hoped he would be allowed to keep her for his own.

Annalise knew her fate lay in the hands of Daygar but the young man seemed to have some influence and if she were good to him he may wish to take her into his ownership. For his part Pietro had no decision to make, he was enthralled by the golden beauty of his dreams and could not believe even now, hovering above her naked treasures, that she was his. His cock had slid effortlessly inside her, stiffened and lubricated by her pretty mouth as she had discarded her robe and knelt before him, her scarlet painted lips and tongue teasing his bald tip before taking him into her warmth.

Pietro hoisted his pole into her wet tunnel as far as his length would allow and tightened his buttocks, heaving his weight between her widely spread legs to explore every centimetre of her secret place. Annalise was panting, her mouth open displaying perfect white teeth, her eyes still scanning his face, her fingers clawing at his side as his cock continued to delve deeper. His thrusts were becoming rapid and now he too was panting as he fought to withhold his essence, not wishing for it to end. Her cunt tightened around him, hot and wet as he pounded her, her delicate body withstanding everything he could give her and then he came in several rapid ejaculations, sending liquid passion deep into the woman he had craved for so long. She responded with her own, showering his probing phallus, her bared breasts dancing before Pietro's eyes bringing him off yet again.

In a much larger adjoining bedchamber a less fortunate Lady Eleanor fought off Bessant's advances. Her first time had been pure lust after an almost sexless relationship with Lord Reynod but she was a Lady and Bessant a mere Commander in Daygar's army. She was having none of it and thwarted his attempts to bed her, slipping from his grasp and using the entire room to display her reluctance to obey a man she regarded as little more than a servant.

Bessant was growing impatient; he would have her with or without her cooperation and her self-important behaviour would merely heighten his pleasure. He stripped his robes away, leaving him naked, his urgency evident in his fully hard cock and yet Lady Eleanor continued to frustrate his advances. He had her cornered, the bear-like warrior in no mood to play any more games, his expression tense as he vented a fierce desire to fuck his prize.

Lady Eleanor squealed her loudest as Bessant tore the dress from her, his hand tightening around the wad of her pale gold hair as he dragged her to the middle of the room like a cat with a mouse, nowhere for her to escape. He was hurting her and unable to free herself from his powerful hands. A woman could never hope to fend off a man on full heat and she went to her knees knowing his battle scarred bulk had probably forced a hundred maidens before her to yield on his cock!

He was harsh with her the first time but her struggles had earned her little respect for her high status as Bessant threw her onto the bed, pinning her to it with his huge weight as he satisfied his desires on her pampered, perfumed body. His hands explored every inch of her before impaling her on his cock, sliding into her as easily as a willing conquest despite her continued flailing arms and legs. His strength had overtaken her and finally she submitted to his superiority, her treasures his to plunder at his leisure, the gnarled warrior had toppled the elegant Lady, her haughtiness banished for good.

Bessant lifted Eleanor's legs by her ankles, holding them high and wide allowing his erection its fullest access, her supple young twenty-year-old body almost doubled beneath his huge frame, twice her age and a hundred times more experienced. He fucked the fragranced Lady until her cries finally extracted the cum from his weathered balls, grunting like an animal as he released his charge, skin of leather against skin of satin as he fondled her bouncing breasts. He was ready for battle as he released the girl and left her bed!

*****

'Have you missed me My Queen?' the muffled voice came from between her thighs.

'Boudina's fingers ruffled through the bundle of hair, a long shiver running the length of her spine as the slippery tongue lashed and licked at her cunt entrance. She licked her lips and threw her head back in ecstasy but didn't answer, holding the head firmly to her crotch for more.

Lady Angelica eventually surfaced, sliding her nakedness up the naked body of her mistress, her ample breasts bobbing and scraping across first Queen Boudina's flat stomach then her even larger breasts. Boudina waited for the breasts to dangle before her face then savoured each nipple in turn wetting them with saliva filled kisses, her fingers tingling at the feel of another woman's silky skin.

Men are such uncouth creatures, the Queen mused as Angelica's soft lips met hers, sucking them together in a bond closer than either had made before. Boudina's fingers slid between the woman's legs, the tip of her forefinger finding her clit and working it gently. Lady Angelica stiffened with delight, her nipples hardening to rock as her mistress worked her way inside her, still kissing passionately, tongues visiting each other's mouth. Now Angelica's fingers toyed with her own clit, the blood rushing heatedly to her cheeks as she felt the tenderness that had been missing since her banishment from the Citadel.

Boudina caressed her faithful companion, trying to say thank you for the ordeal of giving herself to the womanising Lord Selwyn in return for valuable information. She had thought of Angelica and his treatment of her as she had sliced his bastard cock from his balls, the ultimate retribution for a serial fucker!

*****

Natalia had not dared speak as she followed Scabious to her new home, the filthy farmer towing her along by her leash, the dog following freely! On the very edge of the City perimeter was his hut, willow lathe and cow dung walls providing one simple room. He pulled her inside the dingy pit; her nose wrinkling at the smell then spoke for the first time. 'You'll share my bed when I want you, otherwise you sleep with the dog,' he said nodding towards a pile of straw already occupied by the hound. 'Don't speak unless I tell you to and always call me Master.' Natalia nodded contritely.

Already Scabious was wondering if the slave girl would be worth the effort. He lit the fire and produced some vegetables before explaining how they would be prepared, by the time the paltry meal was ready he had done most of the work!

'Come here girl,' he commanded. Natalia quivered at the tone of his voice, she knew she would be almost useless to him and his smallholding and feared what he might do with her. It was difficult to judge his age, his hair was straggly and all but grey and his face wrinkled beneath long whiskers and dirt but there was no doubting his strength. Natalia knew he could do with her what he wished, both legally because of her slave status and because he could so easily overpower her, she trembled as she neared his side. 'Take off that dress,' he said simply. 'Let me see what you have to offer me.'

Natalia stripped the simple dress from her shoulders and let it fall to her feet standing naked before him, shaking from the cold and embarrassment. Scabious surveyed his latest asset, slowly taking in every inch of her from head to toe. 'You'll not be much use in the fields, a boy would do more. Do you know how to please a man?'

'Yes Master,' she squeaked nervously, hearing her own voice for the first time in days.

'I've seen you suck a cock but can you do the rest of it?' he said stroking her narrow yellow strip of wispy pussy fur, the only reminder of her once glorious golden hair, his finger nuzzled the beginnings of her womanhood tightly locked behind her closed legs. 'Answer me girl or you will feel my whip?'

Natalia stiffened at his harsh threat. 'Yes Master,' she squeaked again, slightly parting her upper thighs to allow his finger to slide along the crease of her entrance. 'Please don't whip me, Master,' she pleaded in a weak voice. His finger vanished inside her but she resisted the urge to move away, standing firm, pushing herself further onto him. She could see the bulge at his crotch growing rapidly.

'Kneel to me girl,' he husked, fishing out his stiffening cock.

Natalia responded immediately, her shaven head bobbing gratefully into his groin, his cock possibly the longest she had ever encountered. She had no desire to feel his whip, her hand encircling his erection tightly, plying it back and forth as she sucked its bulbous end. She had hoped to bring him closure but he didn't, hoisting his bulk from the seat he quickly dispatched her to the floor and climbed on top of her between her legs. His length speared her to her full extent and rode her earnestly for what seemed like hours before finally jetting his load inside her; then he chained her next to the dog and slept like a pig!

*****

Kandalla was in total disarray; Commander Bessant led his huge army to the next large encampment, the fiefdom of Malova Manor some hundred miles from Pietro's village, much further than he had ever ventured before. He now rode rather than walked and sat proudly next to Bessant as they marched ever closer. Annalise may be his love but Pietro's stomach churned at the prospect of the prizes to be had there, he sat high in the saddle, not yet an accomplished horseman but eager to learn.

Less than ten miles from them a rabble of eight men had left the fields in search of prizes of their own, nothing left to lose but try to join Daygar's forces. They had a pitchfork and sticks between them when they spotted the horse-drawn carriage easing a path along the rutted track at the bottom of the valley. The thought of riches waiting to be plundered emboldened them, even the two armed escorts couldn't prevent them taking the risk; the life of a common serf was expendable, even to the serf himself. They slid down the valley sides to intercept the small party, surprise on their side.

*****

Grojon went in with a fearsome frenzy none of his men could remember. He was at the head of ten thousand men when they fanned out against Centria's City walls, Zoran's well equipped but pitiful number of men could hardly believe the sight as the giant army of the six nations stormed towards them. Vadris had ousted the occupying army Daygar had left behind easily under the command of the lazy Lord Selwyn but nothing prepared them for this. Retreat was impossible, surrender unthinkable so desertion became the only realistic option, dropping finely crafted Zoran steel weapons in their wake. Lord Cevert had arrived almost at the same time from the east bringing the might of Daygar's garrison from the neighbouring Mercuria; the result would be a foregone conclusion.

Queen Boudina was still happily embedded in the fragrant treasures of the luscious Lady Angelica when the City walls caved in beneath overwhelming forces and within minutes engulfed the Citadel itself. Desertion was rife, they had experienced the wrath of Daygar's army before and had no reason to do so again, the Citadel was an open door and five minutes later it seethed with invading soldiers.

Boudina and Angelica were both still naked when the sound of approaching hoards filled the corridors outside the royal bedchamber. Just a handful of handmaidens were left stranded with them as they fought to secure the reinforced doors to the Royal apartments bolting and barring each of the massive doors. They were trapped, unable to get out but no one would get in easily.

The 'Bitch Queen' cursed Vadris's men at the top of her voice, cursed her own for their cowardice and herself for her complacency in thinking it would be that simple to retake her throne. The noise was deafening as a herd of men pounded at the great doors. Lady Angelica wept as she struggled into her petticoats and gown whilst Boudina donned her simple black gown and strapped two swords to its tight leather waist belt.

***** The carriage and horses were a fearsome sight as they thundered through the makeshift barricade, scattering the pathetic pile of logs and branches in its path and trampling two of the serfs into the ground. They would rot where they fell. One them had managed to mount the leading horse, another the carriage with the other four trailing behind waving their simple weapons. A long sword emerged from within the carriage spearing the assailant through the neck releasing his hold and sending him spinning off into the woodland but the other had some success in slowing the horses.

It was enough for the others to catch up, swarming over the rear and front of the carriage, taking the driver first, the whole thing almost capsizing as the wheels bounced over his body. The two armed escorts had tried to lead the party away until the carriage was invaded, one turned to assist whilst the other went on ahead at a gallop towards the Zoran border about two miles away. The long handled pitchfork found its mark seconds before its recipient took the head of the man who had just killed him. The escort crashing to the ground behind his horse as the headless serf went to his knees before crunching on his chest.

The three serfs clung to the sides of the carriage as it gradually slowed to a halt, yanking open the doors on either side, one drawing the short straw, shrieking as he tumbled backwards out of it with the long sword right through him. There was to be no further defence as the banshee cacophony of female screams echoed around the forest. Three women of high status clutched one another in a huddle for safety as two serfs out of the original eight finally took control of the carriage.

Molda was the first to speak. 'Money, jewels, gold,' he shrieked, shaking with fear as he prodded a stick towards the women.

His brother Jalka repeated the demand and the elder of the women broke the silence shouting and pointing towards the strongbox beneath the seat opposite the terrified women. 'Please don't kill us,' she shrieked.

Molda pulled the black painted box out of the carriage onto the ground and smashed the small padlock with a stone then fell back in shock. The hoard was vast, gold and jewels beyond his imagination and coin aplenty. His brother stood over the box and shook with surprise.

'Quick, let's go.' Jalka boomed, kicking the lid back over the box and stooping to pick it up.

'What about them?' Molda said suddenly eyeing the women in finery he had never even dreamed of.

'Fuck them,' Jalka hissed. 'Let's get out of here, that horseman will soon get help.'

'That's what I intend to do,' Molda grinned. 'Fuck them, right here. Who's to stop us?'

'They're high-borns, not for us. We can buy hundreds of women with that hoard.'

'We can't buy them,' Molda insisted. 'This is our one chance to sample some genuine breeding.' With that he threw back the carriage door and entered, his breath sucking inwards like a vacuum at the sight of the three young women. They were obviously sisters each having the same golden brown hair, dancing in long ringlets halfway down their backs, ribbons neatly tied into bows on top of their heads. The dresses were of similar design in satin and lace but each a different colour, the sight triggered his cock to attention. Jalka followed him into the carriage with a similar effect.

'Who are you Sirs?' the elder woman said in almost a cry. 'What are you going to do with us?'

'They're going to rape us then kill us,' the youngest shrieked, her shrill voice almost deafening.

'Who are you?' Molda demanded.

Again it was the elder of the sisters to speak. 'I am Lady Lawinia, daughter of Earl Minetto, these are my sisters Lady Rosa and Lady Emile. You have our treasure now please leave us alone.' The pleas sounded pitiful but fell on deaf ears, both brothers were overcome by their beauty and both sported cocks swollen to bursting and desperate for attention.

Lady Lawinia could see the lust in their eyes and sought to minimise what she knew would come. 'My sister is too young; she is yet to turn eighteen and must not be touched. Please don't rape us.'

Now Jalka's cock was bursting inside his tight tunic pants. 'You out,' he ordered pulling the girl from her seat and pushing her out of the carriage, slamming the door as she exited.'

The two serfs had them in their power. 'No one will get hurt,' Molda promised, his eyes scanning the vision before him. 'I've always wondered what lay beneath a Ladies skirt,' he added lunging across the carriage at Lady Lawinia, his hand vanishing between the folds of silk and linen. The woman's eyes widened with shock as he explored the hidden world beneath her skirts, his rough dirt ingrained fingers smoothing over her silk stockings, finding garters of fine lace and ribbon then soft skin.

Lady Rosa squealed next to her sister as Jalka ravaged her, his hand finding the folds of her labia, fingering her delicate entrance before feeling his way inside. His other hand tore away the front of her bodice spilling her milky-white breasts out into the open, his mouth covering her nipples in turn, sucking the nubs from their areoles. She could only lay back in the luxuriously padded seat as the serf fondled her treasures, her womanly strength no match for a hardened labourer.

The sound of tearing fabric hailed the sight of Lady Lawinia's more ample breasts bobbing into view at Molda's hand, her squeals deafening in the small confines of the carriage as he grabbed her curls and dragged her from her seat, kneeling her in the space between them. His cock was already bobbing freely waiting for her luscious mouth, his hand pressing her head to his spread legs, his fingers teasing the pretty bows on the ribbons in her hair. She accepted his length rather than risk retribution and sucked his cock as if she had yielded to a Lord.

Lady Rosa soon found herself in the same position as Jalka's cock slid between her lips, his fist full of her curls as he guided her ever deeper along his throbbing shaft. The stench of his clothing made her wretch against his cock but he persisted and forced her to suck him harder.

Jalka's eyes were on stalks as he pushed Lady Rosa backwards, throwing her dress upwards revealing slender shapely legs sheathed in silk, garters of ribbon and lace and milky white thighs as her skirts reached their limit. Neither had ever witnessed such intricate garments and clean bodies, their own filthy from endless days in wet fields or sweating beneath a hot sun. The girls in their little village were simple and similarly filthy with dirt-brown dresses and ragged hair; that had been their only reference but these two Ladies were something very different. The serfs had not dreamed of such finery because they didn't know it even existed!

Molda forced Lady Lawinia onto her back his hand canting up her skirts and petticoats, parting her legs with his as he guided his rampant cock to her entrance. Beside her lay her sister, Jalka preparing Lady Rosa in the same way, his cock nudging at her labia. He needed little effort to push his bulb into her, raising a scream as he forced her tight cunt to accept a cock for the first time, beginning to pump her slowly before tightening his buttocks and grinding into her.

Lady Lawinia winced as she felt the thick hot shaft of the lowly serf penetrate her. Not since her ill-fated match with Lord Reynod had a man entered her and then it had been just once before he announced his betrothal to Lady Eleanor. That had been over two years ago. It had been too long, her cunt had ached for some male attention almost every day since but she had not anticipated spreading her legs for a mere serf. It was obvious Molda knew his way around a woman, his fingers had wetted her before taking her with his rock-hard erection and now she fought to suppress the squeals of delight after years of suppressed yearning.