tagLoving WivesOruale and the Saxons Ch. 02

Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 02


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.

Chapter 02. Damsel in Distress

It started as the darkest period in her life. A few weeks after the fateful afternoon when Oruale lost her three virginities in the most forceful way, her mother died. Fiona was more affected by the horrible events than her daughter. She seemed to blame herself for not being there to protect her and these troubles of her mind tipped the fragile balance in her body in the wrong direction. In an awkward way Fiona’s death was a blessing in disguise. Oruale’s responsibilities increased considerably and there were so many things to take care of, the girl didn’t have the time to ponder on her unfortunate fate. Egan maybe didn’t always make the right choices in handling the outside world but he knew exactly how to handle his daughter. After a few weeks of sharing her sadness and showing his sympathy he took her apart for a serious talk. He reminded her of the proud Irish heritage of toughness under setbacks and their tradition of never giving up. Oruale hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of and he expected of her to move on. Egan just tapped right into the natural resilience of his daughter. It seemed as if Oruale righted her shoulders and just matured more quickly in to womanhood. She definitely became more sincere but she regained the main part of her original cheerful self. After taking care of the fall out from her mother’s death with cool efficiency, she took care of her siblings with warm affection.

The gleam of maturity and her proud posture made Oruale more attractive than ever. As always rumors and gossip circulated after her mishap. It was the main reason despite her beauty no knight ever approached Egan regarding his eldest daughter. It didn’t bother Oruale at all to forbear from male suitors. When her siblings reached an age they didn’t need her supervision anymore, her close friend Clarisse, the youngest daughter of King Lot, asked her to join the Court as her lady in waiting. Clarisse somehow always thought herself in a certain way being partly responsible for the terrible events of the past.

At the Court Oruale learned much more about the politics and the situation in the country. The young King Arthur had kept his promise and led his loyal knights in a crusade to realize a unified Britain and establish law and order. King Lot first was one of his contenders, but later decided to support him and became an ally. His sons Gavain, Agravain and Gareth were invited to join the Knights of the Round Table and his daughter Clarisse was invited to the Court of Queen Guinevere. Clarisse took Oruale with her to Camelot to avoid being the only lady in waiting from the North. At Camelot Oruale effortlessly evolved to a refined Lady, familiar with all the conventions of the Royal Court.

Once, when she was in Lothian to pay her father a visit, she met Sir Aelfrith from nearby Northumbria. Drawing male attention had never been a problem for his eldest daughter, but Egan was taken by surprise when the knight paid him a visit to ask for his permission to marry her. Aelfrith was twelve years her senior, and relatively unknown. His castle at Bamburgh was under regular pressure by the Saxons and he was deeply committed to the unity of Britain. Much of his time he spent in military campaigns and he never married. Once every couple of months he made a visit to King Lot to discuss common tactical interests. It was during one of these visits he noticed the fine Lady of the Royal Court. Obviously he only needed a couple of conversations to make the decision he wanted to have these conversations the rest of his life. Egan was delighted his ambitions were becoming fulfilled but he was serious enough to start informing the noble suitor about the events in the past. Aelfrith interrupted him and just said he knew. Relieved Egan told his daughter the good news.

In the years she developed to an adult woman, Oruale had noticed all the male attention but she never felt the desire for a casual or permanent connection. After she was raped, she never had any nightmares reliving those horrible events but she did have erotic dreams. In these dreams she often was held in bondage and submitted to pain and humiliation. Surprisingly these dreams were not unpleasant and over the time she even learned to trigger these dreams with her fingers at the juncture of her thighs.

After they first met, she had conversations with Aelfrith during long walks over the castle grounds. He was not particularly good looking but he was kind and very serious, quite different from the young boisterous knights she met in Camelot. She discovered he was an important ally of King Arthur in his struggle against the invading Saxons. After their third meeting Aelfrith told her he had to leave the next week and just kissed her on the forehead. Oruale thought that would be the end of it and was taken by surprise when Egan brought her the news of the proposal. She didn’t hesitate to accept since, although she hadn’t known Aelfrith too long, she felt wonderfully safe with him and she trusted her instincts.

They married one month later. For the private ceremony only a few persons were invited: her friend Clarisse and her brothers, and the closest brothers in arms of the groom. King Arthur showed the appreciation for his ally by sending a representative, his First Knight, Sir Lancelot du Lac. Unexpected disaster struck when during the wedding dinner a courier, all covered in dust and blood, arrived with the alarming news that Bamburgh Castle was under Saxon attack. Aelfrith decided to return to his castle immediately with some of his friends and Lancelot who insisted in accompanying them.

When Saxons suddenly ambushed their party, the whole story turned out to be a trap, a treacherous part of a conspiracy to have a main leader of the British forces killed. In the ensuing fight Aelfrith was severely wounded and, but for Lancelot’s intervention, he surely would have been killed. The following days Oruale nursed her husband, while Lancelot and Gawain routed the Saxons and organized Bamburgh’s defense. Aelfrith was racked by severe fevers and only after ten days he sufficiently regained consciousness to smile to his spouse at his bedside.

“I feel remorseful I missed our wedding night, I will be bedridden for weeks and too weak to fulfill my marital duties…”

Oruale blushed. To see her husband smile brought Oruale a shiver of delight and his words for the first time reminded of a part of her marriage she had pushed aside because the situation at hand.

“It is the least of my worries, Milord. Thou will regain thy strength soon enough and thy men are eagerly awaiting thy return. I feel so indebted to Sir Lancelot for saving thy life.”

Aelfrith was partly paralyzed and Oruale had to bend over to hear the words he whispered in her ear. When she heard them, she blushed and shivered again.

Oruale hesitated in front of the bedroom door. It had been a hectic day. It started with a restless night, crowded with intense dreams. Twice she awakened drenched in perspiration. In the morning Sir Gawain had left to return to Lothian taking his troops with him. Only Sir Lancelot with some men remained in the castle to guard the life of his host he had saved earlier. Oruale had noticed how involved her husband’s comrades became with his healing. Tormented by his earlier words, she had sought his bedside again to be certain of his wish. She had seen his eyes, clear and confident. He had repeated the words he had ousted the day before, and then he told her even more. At the end of their long conversation he had embraced her, had spoken encouraging words and kissed her tenderly on her forehead, then sent her forth on her assignment…

Now she stood in front of the door to the bedroom of the man who had saved her husband’s life. The whole day she had pondered over Sir Lancelot. She first met him when she arrived in Camelot. Of course she had noticed how handsome he was, his length a noble six feet, his dark sharp profile, his boyish long manes, his smile, so friendly and yet so reserved, making it almost irresistible. He was more than a handsome body however, a great swordfighter, a clever tactician in battle and, most important, gifted with a noble un-selfish character. No wonder he was the out-and-out favorite of the ladies in waiting and Oruale noticed that even Queen Guinevere seemed to have a soft spot for him. Oruale was too practical to have any interest in him. How could a freckled redhead from the North have a chance to win the heart of Britain’s hero anyway?

That was the past, but now she wasn’t a simple country girl anymore. She had fought adversity and she had matured to a Lady of the Court. She also was chatelaine of Bamburgh Castle and she had to fulfill a commitment. Oruale righted her shoulders and entered the bedroom of her guest without knocking. Her heart was beating fast and she felt a dull ache in her stomach. Still she aired the confidence of an assured lady.

“Milady Oruale…!”

Lancelot rose from the mattress of the huge four-poster bed. In this hot summer night he had left the window open and the light of the full moon showed his muscular torso, covered by his sweat. Oruale held her breath. He was, indeed, extremely handsome. Now she had entered his bedroom at this hour, the erotic tension of the moment hit her and she stopped her movement like her body had hit a brick wall.

“Milady…! Are you all right?”

Concerned Lancelot had risen even further from the bed. Oruale saw only a loose garment around his loins covering his nude body. It didn’t ease her situation and she could barely find the words she so painstakingly had devised and repeated before.

“Sir Lancelot, I came over here to pay you my respects, to thank you again for saving my husband’s life.”

Lancelot seemed relieved.

“Be assured my lady I have the utmost respect for your husband and his commitment to defend this part of country. I feel only privileged to share the ranks of a hero.”

His words only made it even more difficult for her. Oruale swallowed twice before she was able to continue.

“My husband still is very sick. Since he is indisposed he suggested I would share thy bed so thou might perform the marital duties in his place...”

Now she had said it, Oruale felt a shiver of guilty anticipation crawl up so slowly through her body. What would he say? What would he do? Would it be like those ladies were whispering in heated conversations?

Lancelot left his bed, knelt down before her and kissed her hand.

“If ye would join me in my bed, milady, I would just take advantage of a terrible situation. It would seem like ye would repay me for a doing I was only fortunate to be at hand.”

Oruale first relaxed and felt an enormous relief. All her shame and fears would be unwarranted after all. Then she was hit by other thoughts. He denies me! I am unattractive to him! He doesn’t desire me! Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. He was kind, of course a knight of the Court would be kind, but he was still dismissing her. She felt stupid coming to his bedroom, putting on a thin nightgown that could easily be removed. What had she been thinking, what had she been daydreaming…?


Lancelot rose from his kneeling position, took both her hands and kissed them again, looking down on her.

“I know about the circulating gossip that many ladies shared my bed. But these were all damsels who underwent extreme distress. Even after I saved them from a terrible ordeal, they often still felt so ravaged and threatened that I felt urged to comfort them, to offer them solace… Being the knight who freed them, I felt it my solemn duty to offer them comfort after their ordeal. Don’t ye think these damsels in distress deserve these extra gallantry?”

“Dede… damsels in distress” Oruale stammered. When he moved to kiss her hands she definitely felt a blunt object softly bumping against her loins. She died to lower her eyes to have a peek but kept up her appearance of total control. You faint-hearted lass! You had a chance to have a peek! With such carnal thoughts ripping through her mind Oruale urgently needed some meaningful conversation or she would buckle through her knees.

“Those damsels… I never imagined they went through such a terrible ordeal.” She said with the casual tone, so familiar of Ladies at the Court.

“Oh, but they do, milady. They do…” Lancelot had taken her by her arm and led her to the bed. “Please lay down, so I can acquaint thee with the intricacies.” Before Oruale knew he had her lay down on his bed with her head over the end.

“Some of these dainty damsels are tied up firmly, hurting their delicate wrists.”

Lancelot took her right wrist, kissed it and tied it to one of the posters with a string he seemed to have at hand. It seemed the most natural action of the world when he tied up her left wrist too. His movements were slow and gentile but yet, the ultimate result was her wrists were tied so firm, her arms were widespread to the utmost and she barely could move them.

“I sse… se… see now how helpless they must ff.. fee… feel.” Oruale managed to muster out. She hated herself for her stuttering and stammering; it was so immature and unsophisticated.

“That’s not all, milady. Since the damsels are so helpless the villains often remove their clothes, using force and creating dismay.”

Oruale trembled when she felt the cool metal of his unsheathed sword over her skin. Then it swished through her thin nightgown and her torso was as nude as his. Immediately she felt her nipples harden.

From her youth when she first started to observe her own body, Oruale felt perturbed over three major issues. First, she didn’t like her freckles at all and no compliments to the contrary ever convinced her. Another embarrassment was the fact she blushed so easily. The more she matured the more she suffered from these give-a-ways, flaring up in the most awkward situations. She considered blushing looked juvenile and insecure. It certainly didn’t fit the profile of a worthy lady. And then there was the main problem with her nipples. It was not their size; her nipples were just regular medium-sized. However, they were extremely sensitive, easily to excite and, once aroused they grew enormously to dark raspberries. Oruale always worried people could notice them through her clothing and, even worse, read her guilty excitement. Now they were totally exposed and to make things worse, she felt herself flushing.

“This is feeling awful. These damsels surely did suffer…!”

Her voice was rasping the words but her whole world was spinning around. She saw the way the handsome knight looked down on her and her guts churned around within her. Lancelot scrutinized her outstretched nude body with admiration. Her chalky white body had a pink-reddish gloom he never had seen before. Her firm breasts flattened out now she lay with he arms stretched out so wide. They were deliciously crowned by beautiful wide areolas and then, there were those nipples…

“This is ter… terr... terrible…”

He knelt down, looked right into her green eyes. His lips softly touched hers, his tongue sweeping the inside of her lips. The longer the kiss lasted, the more intense it became. Ultimately he kissed her fiercely, invading her mouth with his tongue while she closed her eyes, dreaming away in delight. The next moment her nipples were attacked by his lips brushing the tender tips, followed by the scraping of his tongue until the swollen morsels were engulfed by his mouth. As a true warrior Lancelot instinctively mapped and attacked her softest spot. Oruale now experienced real torture and her anguish showed in a loud protracted moan. The rhythmic rising and falling of her breasts accelerated proportionally to her mounting excitement, pushing her vibrant elevations further into his mouth. He sucked at her breast like a thirsty nursling, drawing as much of the malleable flesh into his mouth as he could. Just when she thought the level of delight had reached the summit, he proved her wrong when he crushed her nipples between his teeth. He tormented them even more by gnawing at them, rolling them between his fingers, slapping and pinching them. Desperately Oruale tried to escape from this merciless attack. Her torso contorted in one sinuous motion, her arms wrenched at the restraining strings and her hips hammered the mattress to no avail. In the whirlwind of sounds and sensations she heard searing animalistic groans until she suddenly realized they were hers and her body wrecked in a final convulsion.

“How fortunate those damsels are to be liberated from such awful torture.”

Lancelot had untied her and was massaging her wrists. Oruale was grateful it was all over; she had embarrassed herself enough before her guest. She was sure she was looking awful and couldn’t think how soon she could flee from this place of disgrace. To her despair Lancelot firmly took her arm, and pushed her back to the bed.

“The torture is often executed in parts, milady. After an initial torment the damsels are exposed to following ordeals, meant to let them suffer from more exposure and humiliation.”

Oruale felt as if ice-cold fluid was streaming down her spine.

No, I couldn’t stand any more. Please. In her thoughts she was pleading with him but in some way the words she intended, failed to leave her mouth. All she could utter was a sob and a moan. In anguish Oruale noticed she softly was positioned down on her back. The noble knight started to tie her again to the bed, the only difference now her arms were fastened to the posters at the head. I have to stop him. This is all wrong. I can’t go along with this. But how could she tell him to stop? He was the First Knight, the Lifesaver…

Lancelot lifted her feet. Her legs were long and stronger than he expected from a lady in waiting. Her calves were taut, muscled and beautifully shaped. He kissed the back of her feet and sucked a curled toe into his mouth. Oruale yelped under this new and unexpected sensation. When he tied her ankles to the bedposts next to her wrists bad memories from the past flashed through her mind. And yet this was so different, his movements so gentle and there were those eyes: smiling at her reassuringly, knowingly… as if he could read in the core of her soul. She was opened wide and when she saw him staring at the center of her crotch, she had the feeling she was melting down of shame… and excitement…

“These villains, Milady… they dare to touch these damsels with their vile hands at their most intimate places! Did ye ever imagine how these damsels must have suffered…?”

“No! Oh, no!” Oruale reacted mechanically, her voice breaking when she realized Lancelot was going to show her all these inappropriate touching in all detail...

His fingers moved up along the path up her thighs until he parted the petals with his thumbs. It was only the start. The following hour Oruale learned much more about her own body. She learned about her sensitive bud that could grow and swell until it protruded from under its hood, almost begging to be excited. She learned about her firm thighs turning to jelly in shameless surrender. She heard herself shouting and sobbing, felt herself drooling from her neither mouth. She even smelled her own rich, sweaty scent of desire. I am rutting… I am like a bitch in heat…!

Before Oruale could worry about this observation, she learned about penetration and about breaches being taken. She cried out loud, sobbing, pleading… begging inarticulately for a secret unknown, for a mystery unspoken. She learned about being filled, about being stretched, to limits she never suspected to reach. She learned about the sweet friction and the wet sounds of mating. Suddenly emptiness fell in and when she opened her eyes, she saw… The magnificent monolith of flesh finally was disclosed and presented to her, the purple helmet dancing just inches away from her lips. Her instinct told her what to do and she stretched out to reach out for that beautiful plum. She came short and only when it remained out of reach after some desperate efforts, Oruale realized she had to earn it.

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