Innocence Enslaved (2 page)

“Lick her, wench,” Ranulf commanded gruffly, “and do not stop until I have found my pleasure.”

Drusilla didn’t hesitate and with a grin on her lips, buried her face between Ursula’s rounded thighs. Whimpers and moans of pleasure rose instantly from the bound concubine’s lips as Ranulf walked behind her. He hooked his hands beneath the girl’s knees and pulled them to her chest while he lifted her, exposing her entire slit and ass, and affording his audience a clear view of the creamy dew weeping from within.

“Use your tongue and make her rear hole ready for me,” he charged of the woman on her knees who obediently moved her head lower and slid her enthusiastic tongue over the small, pink, wrinkled orifice.

“’Tis impossible,” the prince uttered in awe, clearly expecting as Ervin did that his massive shaft might rend her in two.

A scream rent the air right on cue as Ranulf’s large, plum-sized cock head disappeared into the woman’s widely stretched ass. He stopped for a moment, demanding of the woman on her knees, “Keep licking, wench, spit on my rod and make it nice and slick.”

With Drusilla’s tongue preparing the way, Ranulf managed to work his vast tool deep into Ursula’s tight channel. By the time he had given her all she could possibly take, the woman’s wails had turned to moans and guttural cries. There was no denying she called out in both pleasure and pain, still she begged, “Take me, sir knight, please.”

He began to slowly fuck her, moving in and out steadily as he gradually increased speed. Before long he was using her ass as roughly as he would a pussy, ramming himself upward over and over while the mouth and tongue that aided his passage worked tirelessly between her splayed and juice-slickened thighs.

“Come, Ursula,” Ranulf commanded at length. The woman immediately complied, her climactic cries inundating the air for an instant before Ranulf’s answering roar drowned her out as he plowed lustily into her from behind and emptied himself inside of her.

After a few moments of heaving chests and satisfied whimpers, he withdrew. Releasing his impaled and incoherent beauty, he set her on all fours alongside Priscilla and Drusilla, and bade them both to lick her clean.

Aroused beyond measure from the overt lust sweeping the room, Ervin reached for his own rod, fisting it through his hose as he watched the still aroused trio on the floor. They seemed insatiable, sustaining their passion as they stroked and kissed each other, caressing up-thrust breasts, sucking hard nipples, and lapping at the glistening lips of one another’s weeping pussy.

“Would you like to pleasure his highness, my lovelies?” Ranulf asked of them. They nodded, smiles gracing their lips as they beckoned to the regent with outstretched arms and parted thighs.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Prince Nordman stand and shrug off his robes. “Ervin,” he said, moving with intent toward the three naked writhing bodies, “won’t you join us? We will discuss your business after we see to our pleasure.”

* * *

At least two hours passed before the prince had found satisfaction and the room had emptied. As was his habit, when done with a wench—or wenches, which was often the case—his royal highness slept alone with guards at the door out of fear of treachery, which considering his own betrayals, wasn’t completely unhinged. Only Ervin still remained.

Thinking to return later to share his good news, he rose from the floor, where he’d enjoyed one of the three women, and searched for his clothing, preparing to leave quietly.

Once his doublet and hose were put to rights, he stealthily moved toward the door.

“What of great import did you rush in to tell me earlier?” his highness called from the vast bed.

“Pardon the disturbance.” With a deferential tone, he chose his words deliberately. “I thought I used greater furtiveness. When I saw you were entertaining, I intended to leave, but I thought your majesty would wish to be apprised of developments as soon as possible.”

Linens rustled as the new king sat bolt upright in bed.

“’Tis done, then?” he demanded. “My father is dead?”

“Indeed, sire. Only moments before I entered, he passed, leaving no further barriers between you and the throne.”

King Nordman stared at him for a long silent moment, then whooped gleefully. “At last, at long, long last,” he cried, practically leaping from the bed in all his naked royal splendor.

Ervin suppressed a grimace as he averted his eyes from the flopping flaccid display and still managed to say evenly, “Congratulations, my gracious king.”

King Nordman slipped on a robe and rushed across the room. “There is so much to do, Ervin. We have a coronation to plan.”

“Excuse me saying so, your majesty, but word has spread throughout the palace and will soon ripple across the kingdom. Your father was well loved by the people, and on the heels of your brothers’ deaths, might I suggest a subdued period of mourning before the celebration?”

“Yes, yes,” the king agreed, deflating somewhat, his hand coming up to stroke his jaw in concentration. “I suppose I must put on black and wail about with the others.” He pulled a face briefly, then slapped Ervin heartily on the shoulder. “Only you and I will be the wiser.”

King Nordman eyed him up and down for a moment. The two men were of an age. Where Ervin was tall and sturdy, the new king was a shorter man, rounder, and already going to fat from overindulgence.

“You helped me attain this, Ervin, and I shan’t forget that it was your poison that took Athelmas the Altruistic.” He practically spat his father’s moniker given to him by his grateful people. “Nor will I disremember it was your knife that cut the bindings of the Crown Prince Ardman’s saddle or your hands that loosened the railing that conveniently gave way and sent Hermann, his next heir, and a pain in my royal ass, tumbling to his death. I have you to thank and also to blame for all of these treasonous acts. What say you about that?”

“I say we both have each other over the proverbial barrel, my king, but add respectfully that I live only to please you.”

Nordman eyed him at length, both men clear in the understanding that each had the other by the ballocks. A slow grin transformed the king’s pudgy face. “Such a circumspect answer, Ervin; you always were a sly one. I shall endeavor to keep you on my side. You shall have Lancore as you’ve wanted, my friend, both in reward and as a reminder that if word ever gets out, both of us will topple from our lofty positions.”

“I understand, sire, and will take the knowledge of how this night was arrived at to my grave, as I know you will as well.”

Nordman chuckled, covering his mouth to muffle the growing sound as his joy bubbled. Ervin, as pleased as the king, joined him in silent celebration.

Chapter One

Eight years later
…

The steady clip-clop of hooves droned in Emilia’s ears mingling with the rapid thudding of her heart, which continued to race out of fear. Blindfolded and gagged, with her hands bound tightly behind her back, she was stiff from being restrained for so long, her muscles aching and her body bruised from being jounced and battered in the hard, unforgiving wagon bed. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d been taken. It had been hours, perhaps a day, she couldn’t say for sure, having no concept of minutes and hours, or daylight and dark. Ceaseless sobbing and moans told her she wasn’t alone in her suffering. However, the thick wad of cloth in her mouth prevented her from talking to the others around her. Her mind reeled as she wondered who had taken her and where they were going. More important, how would her family ever find her?

The cart lurched suddenly, throwing her into the body beside her. A muffled grunt emanated from behind her gag as something sharp, an elbow perhaps, caught her painfully in the ribs. As she tried to right herself, she noticed that the wagon had stopped.

“We’ve got ourselves a full load, sir.” The deep, gravelly male voice came from somewhere nearby, from the driver of the cart she assumed.

“Good, good!” came a distant reply.

“Another hour until we reach Burnsley inside the Lancore border. We’ll make camp and I’ll have this lot sorted and tagged appropriately before dawn. You can make your inspections anytime thereafter.”

Lancore?
Emilia’s body stiffened as a wave of sheer terror rolled through her.
Oh, dear God, no!

“How many red?” the distant voice asked.

“Three,” came the quick response from the man in the front of the wagon.

“Excellent! I have a few more stops to spread word of the auction. I’ll see you in the morning.”

In stunned silence, she listened to a horse while it galloped away, the rhythmic pounding on the hard ground jarring her as terror set in her bones.

Short of hell, she couldn’t image a more terrible destination in all the kingdom than Lancore. Run by a tyrannical, despotic lord, it was purported to be the most vile and depraved district in the realm. The people were known for their vice and debauchery, and slavery was rampant.

Her initial presumption was that the group of vagrants her father had recently spotted lurking near his holdings had captured her. This was worse… far, far worse! A poor lot, the vagrants would have surely sought to line their pockets with a ransom from her father in exchange for her return. If the rumors were true, and these men were of Lancore, they would much rather enslave and debase her than give up their fun for mere money. In Lancore, a slave’s life was harsh and there was no prayer of escape.

Emilia shuddered, recalling the stories mothers and fathers back home told their children to get them to behave. No need for monsters, dragons, or frightening creatures of myth and lore; if they didn’t deport themselves accordingly, the loathsome earl of Lancore would come snatch them away and make them rue the day they acted naughty, and they didn’t want that now, did they?

As the driver snapped the reins with a ‘giddap’ to the team, a hitching sob arose from her chest as the wagon rolled on, taking her closer to her inescapable and ill-fated future.

They drove on, for how long she didn’t know. When they slowed a long time later, the dampness in the cooler air and the sounds of croaking frogs and crickets told her it was night. The wagon had no sooner stopped when she and her cohorts in this nightmare wailed and pleaded for mercy from their captors as they dragged them out with rough hands. Their entreaties fell on deaf ears, even when several women came to aid the men. They were as harsh and hardhearted as the men, talking amongst themselves and casting aspersions on their charges as if the women they cared for so callously couldn’t hear or understand.

They proceeded to remove her dress, the one with the ugly brown paint stains. She’d been experimenting with linseed oil and beeswax to make a new kind of paint, but it had turned out like something found in the pigsty, at least according to her brothers, who began tormenting her as they usually did. In a temper, she had stormed out of the house, intent on taking a walk to cool her head before returning home. Instead, she’d been seized from the road in front of her house, her unsuspecting family none the wiser. She’d been warned not to run off more times than she could count, but she’d always felt safe in and around her home. Until that moment, she had naively thought nothing could touch her.

As unseen hands stripped her bare, scrubbing her tender skin with rough cloths and stiff brushes, using icy cold water and harsh soap, she cried helplessly into her blindfold. They poked and prodded her with their fingers, dipping into intimate places that no one had ever before touched. Both male and female, their voices rose, echoing in the night as they disparaged their ‘pathetic offerings’ and speculated as to who would bring the highest price.

The only time they removed her blindfold was when they washed her hair. Yet, with several pair of hands scrubbing and dunking her head in the trough, she wasn’t allowed a single glance at her surroundings.

After the humiliating cleansing, she was left naked and bound, shackled at the ankle to the other captives, her vision once again taken by a tight black cloth. They were then led in a shuffling line to what Emilia could only assume, by the smell and rough straw beneath her bare feet, was a barn. Without a blanket, they had huddled together in the prickly straw, trying to keep warm, and although she thought it was impossible, somehow she’d slept.

She awoke stiff and sore to the door banging open. What followed was a series of humiliating examinations as a man came to inspect each of them. Her anxiety grew to alarming heights as she listened to the others ahead of her ordered to open their mouths, arch their backs, spread their thighs, and bend over, crying out from the occasional slap when they objected.

Emilia’s turn came last and by that time her captor’s patience was waning. Taking out her gag, he demanded she open her mouth, squeezing her jaw and forcing her to when she didn’t comply fast enough. He inspected her as one would cattle. Her skin was rubbed all over, the muscles beneath were pinched and squeezed, her body turned this way and that. Then it got worse; she was bent over. She resisted mightily, sobbing as loudly as the others had during their ordeal, especially when her bottom cheeks were spread wide. As she twisted and jerked from his probing, he’d had enough, and slapped her bottom harshly.

“Cease fighting me, slave, or I’ll have four of the men hold you down. They’ll enjoy watching as I finish my inspection, which I will, whether you cooperate or not.”

What choice did she have? Soon his fingers had delved inside her. After several moments of that painful degradation, the man proclaimed, “This one is a dove.”

Emilia didn’t know what that meant, but didn’t think it boded well for her when the man gave a sly chuckle and drawled, “Excellent.” Then he clapped his hands once, startling her. “These will do nicely. Prepare them for auction.”

Handlers came in to groom them next. Her long hair was brushed without concern for the snarls and tangles, a cold substance that she assumed was a skin cream of some sort by the floral smell was smoothed all over her, including between her legs, before she was slapped sharply on the behind.