Freyas Saga Ch. 06

She was pleased to see that the merchant was sweating and looking anxious.

"It seems we've got off on rather the wrong foot," he said. "Perhaps you would prefer to join us downstairs for a drink. Let's pretend this never happened."

"No," said the mercenary calmly. "We can do this."

"Durberry," said the merchant. "For goodness sake."

"If you touch me," she said, equally calmly, "you will regret it."

"I've got a lot of regrets," said the mercenary. "I can stand one more."

"Then make your move," she said, and lifted her sword, adopting the position.

Owyn Durberry stared at her, impressed despite himself: this slip of a girl, no more than nineteen, small and slight but with, he noticed, good technique at holding the sword. She stared at him fiercely, determined to defend herself.

You've sparred all your life, he thought. Good for you, girl.

But I've fought all my life. And there's more to winning than knowing how to wield a sword.

He walked towards her and she took the perfect defensive stance, her sword ready to block his. He raised his, put his back into it, and swung.

His sword clanged off hers and he saw her wince and flinch, her eyes widening in shock at the sheer force of his attack. He immediately swung again and she was very quick about parrying, but his sword battered against hers and she staggered backwards, grimacing as the pain from his blow went up her arms. Then she saw her sword.

It was already quite bent. He swung again and once again, she bravely parried but this time his sword whanged off hers and broke it, and travelling further, slammed against her armoured left arm. She cried out and dropped the broken sword.

He dropped his sword too, grabbed her by the throat and slammed her backwards against the wall. She made a choked gasp and he pulled her away and slammed her against the wall again. She wasn't very heavy and she'd now had two serious blows to the back of her unarmoured head. Her face was turning blue. He was able to lift her up with one arm and throw her across the room; she landed against the fireplace and crashed to the floor, gasping.

"Come on," he said to the others, and they picked up the winded girl and dragged her to the bed. He pulled out his knife and quickly severed the straps of her armour.

She looked up at them, bruised, breathless and terrified. Her face was still unmarked, apart from a scratch on her nose. He could have subdued her further with a punch in it, but she was so pretty, he didn't want them to be looking at her bloody face while they did her.

"Seriously, love," he said, smiling, "you never had a chance. Sorry."

"No," she whimpered. "Please."

They got the last of her armour off and the young man was pulling at her boots. Carfryn was aching all over, heaving in breaths, her arm throbbing with pain, and she felt sick with fear and humiliation. She felt the boots sliding off her feet, and then they were tearing at her clothing. The cloth strained at her joints, and her aching body smarted at the feel of the seams of her breeches and jerkin and undershirt being tugged and torn. She lay on her back, dazed, staring up at them. Her lungs were sore from hauling air into herself.

"You've been quite naughty," said the fat merchant, leering down at her. "Time to teach you a lesson."

"N-no," she said, "no, no, please, no, please, I ... I am a virgin ..."

"Good," said the mercenary. "Not gonna get the pox off you, then." He reached down and ripped her jerkin open, then her undershirt, exposing her breasts. She whimpered.

"Please," she begged them, "please, do not do this! Have pity!"

"You thought you'd be all brave," said the mercenary, pulling her jerkin and shirt off her, exposing her upper body. "You thought you'd make a stand. I admire that, love. But, really."

He grabbed Carfryn's breeches and yanked them down over her hips, exposing her sex.

O god, O god, O god, it is going to happen, I cannot stop it, they are going to do it, I am to be violated this night and I can do nothing, O god have pity on me ...

The youth who was holding her legs pulled her breeches off her, so that she lay naked on her back, and he held her feet still. She gasped and trembled at being exposed so brutally to three complete strangers. They pulled her up so that she was fully on the bed. She lay there, shaking, staring up at the mercenary beseechingly, as he pulled his member from his britches.

O god, please, no, let him be struck down, let him fall dead from a passion, let this not happen, I do not wish to lose my maidenhead thus, please, please ...

"Good god," he said, viewing her, "but you're bonny, my girl." He looked at her small, neat body appreciatively. She had a bruise on her throat and another on her side from where she'd hit the mantelpiece, but apart from that he was very pleased with how easily he'd beaten her. He noted, too, that she was not resisting - protesting, yes, but she'd no fight in her at all, now.

"That's good," he said, "it's much better for you not to fight. You'll get out of this in one piece if you don't."

"Oh come," said the merchant. "I like a bit of struggle." The mercenary looked up at him sourly.

"Don't be a tosser," he said. "Here she is, being nice and obedient. Show a bit of fuckin' respect."

"Please," Carfryn whimpered, shaking her head no, appalled at how swiftly she'd been subdued. The mercenary looked down at her again.

"I don't know about these two, love," he said, "but me, I'm not doin' this 'cos I want to show off what a big man I am, or anything. I know how big I am, and it's not much."

She stared up at him, wide-eyed. He looked down at her, his creased brown face almost apologetic.

"I just wanted to fuck you," he said, and reached down and directed himself into her.

She opened her mouth in pain and horror as she felt him pushing at her sex.

He put his hand over her mouth, muffling her squeal, and he slid into her, gasping "Oh god, yes!"

Carfryn felt him entering her and she closed her eyes and gasped as the pain stabbed at her. Then, beneath that, there was the sickening feel of something else; a knowledge that this was, in so many other ways, right, that that part of a man was made to do this to that part of her, and that in any other circumstances, this would be something that she might have enjoyed.

Instead, the arousal made her feel ill. She shut her eyes tight and squirmed as he fucked her, his weight pressing her slight body into the bed, and she screamed uselessly into his hand over her mouth.

O god, O god, O god ... I am brought down, I have failed you, my brother. I join you in degradation. I am beaten and raped, like you.

She sobbed as he fucked her. Knowing that she was now where Siegfa had been didn't make it any better. His cock inside her, the pressure of his groin on her soft nub of flesh, rubbing at her, made her twitch and whimper and gasp, and as he groaned and spurted his seed inside her, Carfryn gave an agonized moan of humiliation as she, too, felt a hideous wave of heat flooding her body and taunting her: you should be enjoying this, you stupid bitch, you should be welcoming them ...

He pulled out of her and she lay there, sobbing. The merchant was readying himself.

"I don't like the way she looks at us," he grumbled.

"So fucking blindfold her, then," the mercenary said. When the merchant dithered, he picked up her undershirt and tore a strip off it, then Carfryn felt him tying it over her eyes, and she whimpered at the further humiliation.

The merchant got on her, and he was heavier than the mercenary. She submitted, gulping back her sobs, feeling the merchant's cock entering her by now sore but slippery sex, and he pumped in and out of her for a few minutes before stopping to pant for breath.

"Bit out of shape, are we?" said the mercenary.

"Just need to make this a little more spicy," the merchant said, and Carfryn felt him pull out of her. She gasped as he did so, but then he reached down and rolled her onto her belly.

She flinched, and tried to curl up from what she knew he wanted to do to her.

"Oh no," she moaned, "no, please, no, not that, not that ..."

"You want to behave like a boy," said the merchant, "then we'll treat you like one. Hand me that candle."

She flailed her arms behind her, but she felt strong hands grab them, and they were tied together behind her back with another bit of cloth. She lifted her blindfold face and spoke desperately over her shoulder.

"Not there," she begged, "please, I beg you, please, I am a gentlewoman, do not defile me so ..."

She felt the hand smearing the tallow between her bare buttocks and she gasped with alarm.

"Please!" she exclaimed. "Please, no!"

"That should do it," said the merchant, and then Carfryn felt his cock probing between her buttocks, parting them, and thanks to the tallow from the candle, easily going all the way up to her most private part, and pushing at it.

She knew that people did this. She had never been curious about what it was like. She knew that she'd never invite anyone to do it to her. But now it was being done to her anyway, and she had no voice in the matter.

"Oh NO!" she squealed.

"Shut up," the merchant muttered, and pushed her face into the bedspread as he leaned on her and drove his cock between the globes of her bare bum and into her tight anus.

Carfryn screamed into the bedspread, but it was no good; the merchant leaned his weight on her until she was beyond out of breath, and then released her only when he was already pumping in and out of her rear end.

"AAAAAAUUUHHHH!" she howled, hopelessly. "AAAAAAAAUUUNNHHH! Oh GOD! Oh PLEASE!"

"Relax, love," said the mercenary near her ear. "Relax and it's a lot better, I promise."

"AAAAAAAAUUUUUUHHH!" she screamed again.

"Somebody shut her up," grunted the merchant, his cock filling her arse, pushing in and out of her. She heared a ripping sound, and felt yet another strip of cloth being tied over her mouth to muffle her screams.

"Relax your arse, love," said the mercenary. "Trust me. It's not as bad and you'll be less hurt at the end of it."

"MMMMMMFFF!" she screamed. She couldn't help heaving and squirming and writhing to try and throw him off, but it only seemed to arouse the merchant more, and it hurt. She felt the mercenary's hand on her shoulder and she forced herself to stop trying to push the merchant out of her, making herself let him inside her, and the pain eased, a little, but to submit like that made her sob with humiliation. She lay face down, naked, blindfold, gagged and with her hands tied behind her, emitting a low continuous muffled wail of distress while the merchant pumped her arse pitilessly, before he finally cast his load inside her, making her gag and cough with revulsion.

By the time the merchant had spent himself in her, Carfryn was a wrung-out scrap of flesh on the bed; she did not even resist as she felt the youth mount her from behind. She merely whimpered dully as he entered her, made muffled moans of protest as he buggered her, and sobbed as he came in her and pulled out.

She lay there on her belly, sobbing quietly, listening to them negotiating as they divided up her belongings. The mercenary took her armour and sword. The merchant took her clothes. The youth managed to bargain for her boots.

"You can have this," said the merchant's plummy voice, and she felt something being tossed onto her bare lower back. She heard them leave the room.

After a moment, she realised that they had left her the copy of the Book. As a joke.

She lay, aching, exhausted; her body mauled and dripping with sweat and semen, her flesh scored and scratched and bruised, her soul blazing with abjection and humiliation. How blithe she had been; how confident.

And here she was. Naked and trussed up, and her arse still aching and pulsing from the buggering she'd been given.

O my brother. My dear brother.

At last we are one.

***

Dovid sat in his room, on the bed, the Book open in front of him, listening with horror to the muffled screaming coming from down the corridor.

It would have been easy to go to bed and just block it out, pretend it wasn't happening. After all, it was happening to the woman of the word.

But, she had asked him for a copy of the Book, and he knew she'd been reading it. So she had an interest, at least, in righteousness.

I did what I could, he told himself. I warned her. It is not my fault that she paid no mind.

When I get home I will have to tell Ben Yosef about this. He will be able to tell me whether I did well or ill.

He sat for a moment in silence, hearing the screaming turn into choked pleading that he couldn't make out.

Oh G-d. Your ways are very strange.

That poor woman.

He forced himself to concentrate on reading more of the commentary on Hafesh, and his efforts were rewarded insofar as it managed to distract him from the sounds coming down the corridor. But then he was rudely interrupted by a banging on his door.

He put the Book down and went over and opened it.

The three men were outside.

"All right, bookman," said the mercenary. "Did you tell the girl that we were planning to go after her?"

Dovid looked at them, weighed up his chances of survival, and decided to tell the truth.

"Yes," he said.

"That was annoying of you," said the mercenary. "I had to fight her. Don't dabble in our affairs and we won't string you up from the nearest fucking tree. All right?"

"I understand," said Dovid.

"Good lad," said the mercenary, nodding, and moved off.

The merchant paused, spat in Dovid's face, and walked off, looking pleased with himself.

As Dovid slowly wiped the spit off, he saw the youth standing there.

"Can I help you," he said.

"Is it true you people drink virgin's blood?" said the youth.

"No," said Dovid, appalled.

"That's what your kind would say," said the youth, and punched Dovid in the face. Dovid reeled, but by the time he'd recovered his full sight and staunched his bleeding nose, the youth had gone.

Dovid shut the door, thinking, Well, if that is what I get for intervening in the affairs of people of the word, I am well out of it.

He undressed and donned his nightshirt, snuffed out the candle and got into bed, his face throbbing with pain.

As he lay there, he heard an odd noise.

It was a sort of repetitive thumping noise, but it would happen for about half a minute, in brief bursts, then stop, and there would be a minute's break, then it would happen again.

He lay there, wondering what it was. Then he noticed it was getting louder.

Dovid was in no mood to go looking for trouble. He lay in bed, listening and wondering if perhaps it was some sort of household ghost.

But then he heard another noise; a rhythmic shifting sound as of a weight being dragged along the floor. It wasn't loud, but it would get louder, and then it would stop. Then it would resume, louder, and then stop.

Then he heard the thumping noise. It was someone banging his door.

He knew that he knew what was making the noise. He just didn't care to think of it too much.

G-d, please, make it go away, make it go away ...

Thump thump thump thump thump

G-d, you are clearly testing me this night and I would have liked some notice of that.

Thump thump thump thump

It is not my business.

Thump thump thump thump thump

Clearly you mean to make it my business, G-d.

Dovid got out of bed and tiptoed across the dark room to the door. He lifted the hook, turned the handle and opened it. The moonlight shone in the corridor.

There was nobody there. Then he looked down and his heart lurched.

It was the young woman.

She was lying on the floor, naked, a blindfold tied across her eyes, a cloth gag tied over her mouth, her hands apparently tied behind her back. She was bruised and scratched and her skin glistened with fluids Dovid did not especially want to know about. She was trembling and making a little Huhhh, huhhh, huhhh noise in her throat.

He realised that she must have somehow got out of her room, just as she was, and dragged herself down the corridor, knocking on each door as she went, with her head or her feet, in a desperate attempt to get help.

He looked down at her, and for the first time in his life, he knew without having to ask himself what was the right thing to do.

He leaned over, grabbed her under her armpits and dragged her into his room. She was cold and shivering. Then he shut the door and locked it and grabbed the bedspread and knelt down behind her and untied her wrists and wrapped her in the bedspread and cradled her, and took off her blindfold and her gag.

"Please ..." she whimpered, staring at him through bloodshot eyes.

"You're safe now," he said, holding her, feeling utterly futile. "I promise. You are safe."

"Thank you," she said faintly, and she closed her eyes and gave in to her tears.

"There's no need to thank me," he said. "I didn't do anything."

He knelt on the floor, holding her, as she wept.