Oruale and the Saxons Ch. 04bymovies_maidens_n_manmeat©
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."
"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.
The second time her kiss was long and lingering.
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.