Barbarian Tales
Episode 1
Mistress of the Sword
by L'Espion
Chapter
6: The Brothers Belehm
Shailaja’s brothers
followed her from the inn. They
had anticipated her decision to accept their advice and had all the supplies
she would need to make good her escape, including a pouch containing a small
amount of coin. More important
than the money, so far as Shailaja was concerned was the fact that they had
brought her armour and weapons.
They had also brought the thick white bear hide robe from her
bed. She had taken the robe from
a white bear that she had killed with a single cast of her spear at the age
of fourteen springs. Nights in
the mountains of Kaltara could be cold even in the warmest days of summer
and the robe would be welcome.
She stowed away all of the
gear and then parted from her brothers.
This time she could not hold back a few tears as they gave her in
farewell what they had denied her in
greeting. Her brothers wept as
well, Kaltaran men not thinking it shameful to display
emotion. And then she was gone,
riding west into the Mountains of Storms.
She rode as far as she could,
taking advantage of the long summer day.
It was a bit of a strain on Halvar, but she planned to go more slowly
once she was well away from Lorholm.
While she rode she pondered
her predicament. Try as she might
she could find no neat solution. As
an outlaw she could not plead her case before the Grand
Council. And if she could not
plead her case she could not have the ban that had been placed upon her
removed. Nor could she ride to
Prithia to confront the liars who had defamed
her. She would almost certainly
be killed or even worse captured.
She could imagine what a spectacle the Prithians would make out of
the barbarian witch who had murdered their emperor.
There seemed nothing for
it but to follow her brothers’ advice and hope that somehow they would
be able to convince the Grand Council that she was innocent of the charges
laid against her. She did not
have much hope that they would succeed, but it seemed she had little
choice.
She camped at dusk, building
a small lean-to for shelter and sleeping a few hours before
continuing. She did not expect
to be followed, as supposedly no one other than her brothers knew she had
returned home. However, as she
prepared for the day’s ride she realized that she had not thought much
about where she was going or what she was going to do with
herself. It came to her that
grim as her situation was, it would give her an opportunity to do something
she had always wondered about. Her
only time outside Kaltara had been the forced journey she had taken as
Cleron’s prisoner. Now she
had the opportunity, welcome or not, to see what the rest of Vedra was
about.
“I will go west through
the mountains,” she mused, “until I reach the
sea. I should find somewhere
to go from there.”
Actually she had a pretty
good idea of where to go. She
had always been interested in stories of other lands and the geography she
had studied under her mother’s guidance had acquainted her with much
of Vedra, or at least the northern region of the
continent. She was a bit hazy
about the south, but so were most Kaltarans as few of them had ever journeyed
that far.
Maybe I will be the first,
she thought. It was exciting
to think that she might go where no other Kaltaran had ever
travelled.
He mind made up, she headed
west to the high country, seeking the mountain passes that were deep in snow
even in high summer. She felt
no danger in doing this due to her experience and the mount she
rode. Halvar could not have been
better suited to take her through the dangerous mountain
passes.
The first part of her journey
was made through alpine pastures rich in grass and flowering
plants. These provided plentiful
food for her mount and she made good time, reaching the snowline in the first
quarter of a moon. She now had
even less fear of pursuit as anyone following would have to trace her tracks
through the snow and a single storm would cover all traces of her
passing.
As she travelled her plans
became more definite. She would
cross the mountain passes and then head southwest toward Kaltara’s west
coast. The
Going that direction would
require that she cross three ranges of mountains, but it would make also
make her trail almost impossible to follow and she was confident of being
able to provide for herself in the wild.
Kaltarans were raised very
close to nature. Children were
usually taken on the hunt as soon as they were able to ride, which was usually
some time short of their fourth spring.
By the time they were adults all were skilled hunters, and it was
no boast to say that for her years Shailaja considered herself the equal
of any.
And so by degrees, she made
her way across the Mountains of Storms, and reached the most westerly range
by the end of summer. She encountered
dangers, but none that she could not avoid, coming close to serious injury
only twice. The first when a
cave bear staged an ambush from the side of the
trail. Fortune smiled on her
that time as the wind shifted just prior to the attack and Halvar picked
up the scent. He shied away and
the bear missed them by the width of a hair.
Plenya were not known for
their speed, but Halvar exceeded himself that day, leaving both the bear
and a trail of droppings in his path as he took them both to
safety.
The other danger was a great
fall of snow; what Kaltarans called an
avalanche. This phenomenon occurs
when a vast accumulation of snow becomes so heavy that it fails to hold to
the mountain slope on which it lies.
It tears loose and roars down the mountain, taking with it rocks,
trees, and any living thing in its path.
It was such an event that
roared toward Shailaja, making the very ground shake with its power and pushing
a great wind before it. So great
was its speed that there was no escaping it through running, and its width
was such that Halvar could not outdistance
it. Happily, through the blessing
of Marana, they were close to a large rock
overhang. Kicking her heels into
Halvar’s side she made it to the rock only heartbeats before the vast
mountain of snow and rock swept past.
With a sound like that of the gods come to battle it roared by on
either side of them. Safe from
its deadly path she waited it out and then continued with her
journey.
So remote was the route
she had chosen that she encountered none but the creatures of the
wild. However, as she crested
the final pass that changed. Coming
toward her were three men. They
were on foot and led several mules on a
string. From their garb she took
them to be hunters, no doubt making their way into the mountains in pursuit
of game and furs.
Not wishing to cause them
any alarm she halted Halvar and studied them as they
approached. The first thing she
noticed was that although they all appeared to be well-made men, none had
the height or colouring of a Kaltaran.
She found that interesting as she had seen few who were not of her
race, Cleron and his Prithian warriors being the
exception.
Kaltarans were generally
fair-skinned; light of hair and with eyes that were shades of blue, green,
and grey. Shailaja’s hair
was as red as the coals of a fire when blown upon and her eyes were as green
as emeralds. Those before her
had hair of a dark brown and skin a shade darker than
hers. She could not see their
eyes from where she was but when they moved closer she discovered that they
matched the colour of their hair.
With some interest she watched as the strangers
approached.
None matched her in height,
the tallest coming to her chin, but they were all broad of shoulder and deep
of chest. It was obvious that
they were men used to heavy labour.
She also noted that none of them were armed with more than bows and
daggers indicating that they were not warriors and probably intended her
no harm.
As they approached within
hailing distance she greeted them in the traditional salutation of her
people. “Greetings
strangers. I give you Marana’s
blessing.”
The men stopped and regarded
her for a few heartbeats before replying.
“Greetings, lass,” the first of them finally
replied. He looked to be in his
mid-thirties, and his bearded countenance was open and
friendly. “The blessings
of Teloch be upon you.”
The man’s accent was
thick, speaking Kaltaran with an inflection she had not heard before, but
the return greeting proved her guess correct, Teloch being the Kaltaran god
of the hunt. The fact that the
strangers did not appear to be Kaltaran did not in any way disturb her as
it never occurred to her that any other gods except hers
existed.
She let them approach closer
before offering any further information and noted that the three men were
all close in age and bore a strong resemblance to one
another.
“I am Shailaja of the
Kaltara,” she continued, “and I offer you the friendship of the
road.” She deliberately
refrained from using her titles.
She was not yet out of Kaltara and although it was extremely unlikely
that word of her flight had preceded her, there was no point in leaving anyone
behind her who might point any pursuers in the right
direction.
“I am Sheb, son of
Belehm, and these are my brothers Dain and Lahn,” the oldest man
replied. “I see by your
weapons that you are a warrior of Kaltara.”
That she was a warrior should
also have been obvious from her hair, which she wore in a fighting braid,
and the fact that all Kaltarans, both male and female were warriors, but
these were not fighting men and so she said
nothing.
“We are bound for the
mountains,” Sheb continued.
“We are hunters from Svend and plan to spend the winter in search
of furs.”
That explained their
appearance. Although Svend was
part of Kaltara, it was not a traditional part of that realm, having only
been acquired through conquest a century before in order to provide Kaltara
with its only ice-free port. The
people who inhabited the coastal area were much like Sheb and his brothers
in appearance, being more closely related to the people of Tungay than to
those of Kaltara. She later learned
that many of the coastal people hunted and trapped during the winter and
fished or farmed during the spring and summer
months.
“That is a most impressive
mount you ride,” Dain observed.
“I have never seen quite so fine an
animal. Do you intend to take
it to Svend?”
What she was to do with
Halvar was a subject that she had thought on at length without reaching a
conclusion. As well suited as
he was to the mountains and northern wilds of Kaltara, a plenya was not a
creature who fitted well into warmer
climes. She had considered abandoning
him partway down the last pass before reaching the coastal plain, knowing
that he would have no difficulty surviving alone in the mountains and might
even find his way back to Lorholm if it suited
him. It seem proper to give him
his freedom as he had been hers since he was but four springs and was more
to her than just a means of
transportation. But he
was also a source of wealth. If
she was to take a ship to Tungay she would need money for the passage and
the money her brothers had given her would not last long once she reached
settled lands and was forced to pay for her food and
lodging. Difficult as the choice
was it would make more sense to sell him than set him
free. She was not sure what
Dain’s question was leading to, but it set her mind to the possibility
of a sale.
“Halvar has been with
me a long time,” she replied.
“I had not thought to part with
him.” The last was a lie,
of course, but aside from the fact that it is a good bargaining technique
to appear reluctant to part with any item of value, if Dain and his brothers
were indeed interested in buying her mount then she wished to know a bit
more about his buyers before letting him
go. She would not turn him over
to any who might abuse him.
“He will find the lowlands
not to his liking,” Dain remarked.
“The warmth and damp of the coast is ill-suited to such a beast,
and we could make good use of him.”
“Perhaps it is something
we should discuss a bit more,” Shailaja
replied. “It is just afternoon,
but I am willing to camp early if you are.”
The three brothers looked
at one another and then nodded agreement.
“It will be our pleasure,” Sheb
smiled. “Seldom do we expect
to meet anyone on the way to the high pass this time of
year.”
“Especially anyone
of your remarkable beauty,” Lahn
grinned. It was the first thing
he had said, and the remark brought colour to Shailaja’s cheeks, even
though similar things had been said about her on previous
occasions.
The place where they had
met was close to a small stream Shailaja had passed a short time before and
she mentioned it as a good campsite.
However, her suggestion was
rejected. “We have a cabin
back the way you have come,” Sheb
said. “It is just off the
trail and will be better than an open camp.”
Shailaja was surprised that
she might have missed something as obvious as a cabin, but agreed to accompany
them and turned Halvar around. They
moved up the trail a few hundred yards until they came to a large rock
outcropping and Shailaja saw why she had missed the
cabin. It was set out of sight
of the trail, some hundred paces into the
forest. Since the brothers had
not made use of it since last winter there was no trail leading to it as
there might normally have been.
It was built out of stone
with a roof of planks and shingles, and was about the right size for four
or five travellers. Reaching
the door, Sheb opened it and stepped
inside. Shailaja led Halvar to
the back of the cabin and tethered him in a stand of pines with access to
good grass. He had drunk at a
stream no more than a half turn of the glass before so she judged he would
not need water until morning.
Removing his halter, saddle, and travelling bags she carried her gear
to the cabin.
Dain and Lahn had gone with
her to tend to the mules and together they entered the
cabin. Shailaja saw that it was
indeed better than camping out of doors.
On one side of the single room were six bunks, three set low and three
set high. On the other was a
fireplace in which Sheb had already kindled a flame, and in the centre of
the room was a table with a bench on either
side. Other than that it was
bare, but it certainly looked comfortable enough.
Shailaja had the meat of
a young buck she had killed the previous day and she offered it as her
contribution to the camp. It
was gratefully accepted as the three hunters had only dried meat, but they
did have a good supply of spices and flour with which to add to the
meal. They all removed their
outer garments as the fire provided a pleasant
heat. Setting the meat to roast,
Shailaja sat at the table and helped Dain with the
flatbread. While she worked she
exchanged information with the brothers as to what they had seen on the
trail.
The conversation continued
that way until the meal was cooked.
They had venison, flatbread, tubers cooked in the coals, and a drink
called spahr which Lahn tapped from a keg he took from one of the pack
animals.
“I’d never go
into the mountains without this,” he
chuckled. “If a man can’t
have a woman to warm him then spahr is a good
substitute.”
This observation produced
a laugh, and Shailaja laughed too, although not quite as heartily as the
three men. She felt somewhat
uncomfortable with the way the three men looked at her and she was not used
to having received such a comment from those so much older than she
was. In addition, her misadventure
with Cleron had somewhat poisoned her outlook toward
men. However, she took the comment
in fun and hoped it would go no further than that.
Perhaps suspecting she was
uncomfortable, Dain changed the subject to the question of Halvar while Lahn
took to pouring the spahr. He
handed her a cup while Dain made the first proposal.
“We have five mules
and can spare two if you are willing to trade with
us. So large a beast can certainly
carry as much as two mules and from the looks of him he is well suited to
the cold and snow of the mountains.”
“Two mules for one
such as Halvar would certainly be a bargain for you,” Shailaja
countered. “And I am not
sure that I know you well enough to part with
him. I could only let him go
to someone who will treat him well.”
She sipped at the spahr
and found it very much stronger than the ale she was used
to. Indeed, the single sip sent
fire coursing through her mouth and down to her
stomach. However, she was not
about to show that a Kaltaran warrior could not hold her drink and only nodded
appreciatively.
“I am glad the spahr
is too your liking,” Lahn grinned.
He tipped back his cup and downed it at a gulp, an action that was
followed by his brothers.
Not to be outdone, Shailaja
too tossed the fiery liquid back.
It made her nose run and her eyes water, but she kept it down and
held out her cup for more. This
time she planned to sip more cautiously, having proven her ability to hold
her drink.
“We have a little
coin,” Sheb said.
“Perhaps we could add somewhat to the
offer. As you can see from our
mules we care well for our animals.
Your Halvar would be well taken care of.”
Shailaja considered the
offer while sipping at the spahr.
She found the second taste not as fierce as the first and tipped it
back, following the three brothers in their
actions. Lahn immediately refilled
the cups and the brothers raised them in
salutation. By now she was beginning
to feel some influence of the drink, although her three hosts seemed to be
handling it without difficulty. Not
wishing to let down the honour of the Kaltaran people she too
drank.
Lahn was once again quick
to refill the cups and Shailaja drank more slowly as the discussion returned
to the topic of Halvar. Sheb
reassured her that her mount would be well cared
for. “Judge from our
mules,” he urged.
“Tomorrow when it is light you will see that they are indeed
in fine condition. I promise
an animal as valuable as Halvar will be treated at least as well as our
mules.”
The offer seemed more and
more reasonable. And as Lahn
poured still another round of spahr she agreed to see the mules tomorrow,
and then if satisfied, make the trade.
This brought another spate
of drinking to honour the agreement.
By this time Shailaja found that the spahr went down
easily. Lahn seemed to have an
inexhaustible supply of the drink, refilling everyone’s cup as quickly
as they emptied.
Shailaja soon became very
comfortable. Well fed and thoroughly
warmed by the spahr and the fire that still burned in the hearth, she was
feeling very relaxed in the jovial company of her hunter
hosts. Somewhere in the back
of her mind common sense was shouting a warning, but she downed a final cup
of spahr, and nodded to Sheb.
“I will see the mules in the
morning. For now I need
sleep.”
Or at least that is what
she attempted to say. For some
strange reason her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth and when
she attempted to rise she found that her legs would not
move.
Shailaja tried to shake
her head, but instead of clearing her vision
swam. Dimly she realized that
her head was lowering to the table, and one of the brothers had to move the
remains of her meal to keep her from plunging her face into
it.
“By Teloch,” one
of the brothers exclaimed. “I
thought she’d never go down.
You sure you were giving her the uncut
stuff?”
“I was beginning to
wonder,” a voice that sounded like Lahn
answered. “She drank enough
to put three women under, much less a
girl.”
“Yes, but she’s
quite a girl,” another voice stated.
“You think she’s ever been
breached?”
“I would guess
not.” It was Sheb’s
voice this time, although it seemed farther and farther
away. “However, I think
we are going to enjoy finding out.”
Shailaja felt a sensation
of touching and movement and realized that she was being helped to her
feet. She mumbled something about
being tired and got an exclamation of
surprise. “She’s still
awake. Maybe we better tie
her.”
“Let’s see
what’s under that jerkin first,” Lahn’s voice
proposed. “We can tie her
to the table afterwards.”
She was plumped down onto
the table top, and suddenly hands were moving over her body, tugging at the
ties on her clothing. She knew
that there was something wrong with this, but seemed to lack the strength
to do anything about it.
Nevertheless, she pushed out with her arms and heard a surprised
response. “She’s damned
strong for someone who’s just had enough spahr to give me a month’s
headache,” Sheb said.
“Help me hold her.”
More hands clasped at her
and more ties were loosened.
Suddenly she felt her jerkin being pulled over her head, and then
the ties on her shirt were undone.
She felt first one arm and then the other removed from the sleeves
and then felt the cooler air of the cabin on her
skin.
“Get rid of that,”
Sheb ordered. “Let’s
have a proper look at her.”
Fingers fumbled with the
knot between her breasts that held her bindings in place and then her breasts
were freed. “By Teloch,
she’s got breasts like the goddess of war
herself.”
“More like
Selene’s,” Dain corrected, referring to the goddess of love and
beauty.
“Ripe and round as
melons, with nipples like plump raspberries.”
The touch of hands moving
over her skin brought forth a moan.
Still helpless in the drink-induced stupor, she resisted only weakly
as she was laid upon the table, but she was suddenly awake at the touch of
leather on her wrists.
“What are you doing?”
she gasped. She tried to pull
her hands free as Dain wound the rawhide around them and attempted to secure
them to the leg of the table.
“By Teloch, she’s
still awake.” Sheb marvelled.
“I’m beginning to think that spahr wasn’t properly
distilled.”
“So much the better
if she is,” Dain observed.
“I’m looking forward to using
her.”
Shailaja began to struggle,
weakly at first, then harder as she realized what was
happening. “Damned wildcat;
help me hold her,” Dain yelled.
She almost succeeded in
freeing her hands from his grip when Sheb added his weight to the
contest. He was a little less
subtle. “She’s as strong
as a mountain cat,” he grunted.
“Settle down, girl.
We’re not going to hurt you.”
Shailaja was less than convinced
of that and managed to raise her head enough to sink her teeth into his
hand.
“Devil cat!” Sheb
roared. He brought back his arm
and then returned it as a fist, striking her just below her left
eye. The blow hurled her back
onto the table, and temporarily left her at the mercy of the three
men.
Once again her wrists were
held and separate leather thongs were wound about each of
them. Her arms were then pulled
over her head and tied to each corner of the table by securing the thongs
to the table legs. She kicked,
but Sheb grabbed one leg and Lahn the other, keeping her
pinned. Then while she struggled
Dain began to unbuckle her belt.
Truly awake now, she kicked desperately, hardly able to believe that
this was happening to her again.
She was a Kaltaran warrior.
How could she be so stupid as to be captured by three backwoodsmen?
But captured she was, and
stripped to the waist while three men tried to remove her boots and
trousers. She fought frantically,
but with her wrists tied to the table all she could do was inconvenience,
her captors as first her boots and then her trousers were
removed. Sheb and Lahn held her
legs tight while Dain tied them, looping a length of leather about each ankle
and then bending her legs at the knee and tying each ankle to the table
legs. After rendering her helpless
they stepped back to admire their
handiwork.
“She
is a goddess,” Sheb
remarked. “Or as near to
one as we are like to see.” He
stepped forward to stroke Shailaja’s thigh, sending shivers through
her body.
She lay panting from exertion,
her mind clearing, as fear drove part of the befuddlement of the spahr from
her mind. The heaving of her
breasts drew the attention of the three men who moved forward to touch her
body. Captured and helpless,
she heaved against her restraints, cursing the youthful naiveté that
had allowed her to fall into the hands of her captors.
“Let me go,” she
demanded. “I am a warrior
of Kaltara. You will pay for
this outrage.”
“You are a woman on
her back with her legs spread,” Lahn
laughed. “And that is the
way you will be treated.”
“We will have you as
often as we wish, warrior,” Sheb added, “and then we will decide
about keeping you or sending you on your way.”
“You will be a little
sorer for the experience,” Dain
grinned. “But if you behave
and wiggle your hips while we enjoy you we won’t treat you
harshly.”
“I will have vengeance
for this,” Shailaja shouted.
“You will rue the day you acted in so base and treacherous a
manner.” She strained harder
at her bonds, arching her back, but succeeded only in driving the leather
thongs painfully into her flesh and exciting her captors.
They were all over her now,
moving their hands over her thighs and breasts; pinching her nipples into
painful erectness; and testing the warmth of the tender area between her
thighs. She was helpless to stop
any of it and struggled helplessly, her body quivering with anger and her
mind filled with not just a little fear.
She had never felt so helpless,
so weak, so … aroused.
The last was a complete
surprise, so much so that for a few heartbeats Shailaja went completely still,
but there was no denying it. Her
very helplessness had ignited the fires of which Usha had spoken and Cleron
had noticed, an event her captors were quick to take note
of.
A familiar red glow suffused
her upper body as she realized that the very act of being made captive and
bound hand and foot had set her inner fires to burning, raising the heat
of her body and causing the juices of Selene’s Grotto to
flow.
Sheb’s laugh filled
the room. “Feel the fires
within her. I’ve never felt
such heat in a woman. She burns
for her use.”
“Release me,”
Shailaja groaned. “Release
me or you will pay with your lives for this
insult.”
“She protests too much,
I think,” Lahn grinned.
“I’m beginning to wonder about her never having been
breached.”
“Let me see,”
said Dain. He moved his hand
between her thighs and touched her in such a way that she had to cry
out.
“Stop,” she
moaned. “Release me now
and I will let you live.”
“I think not,”
Dain replied. “I think you
want this.” He moved his
hand again and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying
out. “Let’s answer
the question that’s been on everyone’s
mind.” He touched her deeper,
his fingers parting her petals and she moaned, a deep moan of incredible
need, and then his fingers plunged deeper
still.
“Oh Marana give me
strength,” Shailaja whimpered.
She twisted under his touch, her body writhing, suddenly consumed
with a terrible and urgent need.
“I think she’s
been having us on,” Dain grinned.
“I’ve never seen a woman so
ready. Give her a little more
time and she’ll be begging us to take her.”
“No,” Shailaja
moaned wretchedly, “Please stop.
You can’t so this.
I’m a warrior of Kaltara.
You must release me.”
“You hear that?”
Lahn chuckled. “She wants
release. But I think she should
beg us for it.”
“No,” Shailaja
cried. “I want you to let
me go. Stop touching
me.”
Dain’s fingers were
moving inside her now, bringing her pain of a different
sort. She twisted in agony, and
as Sheb bent to suckle her nipples something seemed to burst
inside.
“It hurts,” Shailaja
moaned. “Please
stop.”
The heat of desire spread
from her loins like a great conflagration, spreading out to consume everything
it touched. The slightest touch
of Dain’s fingers on her swollen petals brought such intense longing
she wanted to scream and as Sheb’s tongue flicked over the hardness
of her nipples and the wetness of his lips teased them she whimpered as if
in acute agony.
“Do you really want
us to stop, warrior?” Lahn taunted.
“Yes,” Shailaja
cried. “Please
yes.” Lahn’s finger
found the apex of her petals and touched the tiny hooded bud that was hidden
there. “No,” Shailaja
whispered, her voice barely audible, and her teeth clenched against the
unbearable torment. “No.
No!”
Dain had finally finished
his exploration. He held up two
fingers that were soaked with the dew of Selene’s
Grotto. “It seems she has
been breached, but the taking will still take some doing, I almost lost my
fingers in there.”
“No!” Shailaja
screamed. In one final and frenzied
attempt to escape she heaved her body against the restraints that bound her,
the leather cutting deep into her flesh and the table rocking with the violence
of her efforts. But the bonds
held and left her almost sobbing in the anguish of her
need.
Dain moved between her legs
and delivered the blow that broke her.
Bending low, his tongue stroked her petals, parting them so that he
could fully taste her sweet dew and then moved upward until the warm moistness
of his tongue stroked the bud at the zenith of her
petals. Her passion burst forth,
her petals swelling like a ripe peach and she screamed for
release.
“Stop!” Shailaja
screeched. But the arching of
her body gave the lie to her words.
She was begging for release, but cruelly, the brothers made her wait
while they decided who should have the honour and pleasure of being the first
to take her. All the while she
moaned and gasped, as Dain and Lahn continued to stroke and lick her most
sensitive places.
Sheb held up three straws
and Dain chose first. Frowning,
he spat into the fire.
“Damned if I’ll win with this
one.”
Lahn was the next to draw
and smiled as he viewed his straw.
Sheb confirmed his victory by revealing that he held the shortest
straw.
Sheb grinned in
resignation. “I will take
her lips and Dain can have her breasts while you see to breaching
her. Leave her tight enough for
me to enjoy when you’re through.”
“It will take a good
deal more than me to loosen this one.
She’s as tight as a temple nun.”
“Shailja moaned
again. Whether it was the effect
of the spahr or the treachery of her body, she was in agony, her nipples,
throbbing with desire and Selene’s Grotto aching with need.
Patience, warrior,”
Lahn smirked. “All will
be done in good time.”
He loosened the ties on
his trousers and let them drop, revealing his swelling
manhood. Slowly he approached
her, stroking it to even greater rigidity as he prepared to enter
her. In agonized anticipation
Shailaja watched him approach and whimpered partly in fear and partly in
expectation as he hesitated.
Why Lahn did not take her
she didn’t know. Her body
cried out to have him between her thighs, but she could not bring herself
to say the words. To be once
more taken against her will and used to satisfy the urges of a man was almost
too shameful to contemplate.
“I think you want me,
in spite of your protests,” Lahn
drawled. “Let me take you
and satisfy your needs while you satisfy those of my
brother. Take him in your mouth
and I will see that you are well used.
Refuse and you will wait on me until I am
ready.”
Shailaja moaned in
protest. What Lahn asked was
impossible. She could never shame
herself by doing as he asked. But
her body cried for release and she writhed on the tabletop in
protest.
“I have never seen
such stubbornness,” Lahn commented.
“Any other woman would be begging me to put this inside
her.” He ran his hand the
length of his shaft as he spoke.
Shailaja almost sobbed in
pain and frustration. But she
could not bring herself to beg for release or to surrender to Lahn’s
demands to pleasure his brother.
“I’ll put some
more spahr into her,” Dain
suggested. “It may make
her more agreeable.”
Shailaja was not about to
accept any more of the drink willingly, but she could do little to stop Dain
from bending her head back over the edge of the table so that her mouth was
forced open. Using a clay bottle
from one of the shelves in the cabin, he transferred some of the spahr from
the open cask and forced it between her lips.
Shailaja fought to prevent
what he was doing, but in spite of her attempts to turn her head, Dain poured
the fiery liquid into her mouth.
She tried to spit it out, but some of it ran up her nose causing her
to cough and sneeze. In order
to keep herself from drowning she was forced to swallow, and swallow again
as Dain kept pouring.
Shailaja’s senses swam
as the powerful liquor took hold.
She could feel her resistance to Lahn’s demands weakening and
then she felt something else as well.
Lahn was between her legs, his thighs pressed against hers as he leaned
over her. He first kissed her
nipples and then gave each one a sharp nip before stroking the swollen lips
of her petals with his member and finally giving in to his
lust.
As Dain had predicted, it
was no easy thing. Shailaja cried
out as her nether lips were parted and then whimpered partly in relief and
partly in pain as Lahn took her.
There was much grunting
from the hunter as Lahn forced his way into
her. Shailaja cried out, arching
her body into his, unable to prevent the carnal response her passion
demanded. But then her gasps
of pleasure were cut short as Sheb touched his manhood to her lips and then
eased it into her mouth.
Shailaja grunted, almost
gagging at the unexpected intrusion, but the effects of the spahr rendered
her helpless to resist as Sheb’s member slid to the back of her
throat. At the same time Dain
massaged and nibbled at her breasts while his fingers stroked the throbbing
berry at the top of her petals.
Barely aware of what she was doing, but overcome by the intense
stimulation, Shailaja’s lips and tongue began to work on Sheb’s
staff, quickly bringing him to the edge of
release. He pulled back slightly,
preserving his throbbing erection while he continued to tease Shailaja’s
lips with the tip of his phallus.
Lahn took her slowly and
deliberately, drawing out his pleasure rather than ending it
quickly. Each powerful stroke
brought Shailaja pleasure and pain and her body responded, her desire increasing
as she writhed upon the tabletop.
Inside her something was happening that was beyond her
experience. Like the slow building
of pressure behind a dam the heat within her increased until like a dam breaking
she was overcome by the most incredible sensation of pleasure she had ever
experienced. Something surged
through her and ended with such a wondrous explosion that she screamed in
ecstasy, her body heaving uncontrollably.
The incredible outburst left
her drained, barely able to move, as Lahn continued his pleasure, stroking
into her until he was well satisfied.
“Such is the way of
all women beneath a man,” Lahn
grinned. And then it was Sheb’s
turn. He took her much harder, plunging deep within her so suddenly she cried
out at the strength of his thrust.
He continued in this way, driving hard into her again and again as
if he were hammering a spike into a log.
It was a painful and shameful way to be taken, as if she were no more
than a piece of meat to be used any way her captors wished, and indeed at
that moment, she probably was.
Fortunately, however, he lasted not nearly as long as Lahn, seeding
her in less than half the time it had taken his
brother. However, he also brought
her very little pleasure and quite a bit of pain and she was greatly relieved
when he finally finished.
“So should a woman
be used,” Sheb said with
satisfaction. “Hard and
fast, and with much pleasure for the man.”
And
no pleasure for the
woman,
Shailaja
thought. But she did not say
it, instead she lay panting in shame, already close to exhaustion from what
had been done to her.
Then it was Dain’s
turn. He took her slowly at first,
much in the way Lahn had, and then quickened his pace to match
Sheb’s. As his strength
and power quickened Shailaja felt the wave of pleasure mounting within her
once more. She moaned softly
at first, and then began to groan loudly, finishing with the same cries and
screams she had uttered when Lahn had taken
her. It left her barely able
to move, but that was of little consequence to her
captors.
She was treated to another
complete round, beginning with Lahn and finishing with Dain once
again. This time it gave her
not the slightest pleasure, that element of her nature seemingly
depleted. For the three brothers,
however, it proved most pleasurable, as it always seemed to be for
men.
However, their night of
pleasure and Shailaja’s night of shame was not quite
over. Breaking out the spahr,
they toasted her beauty and the pleasures of her body as she lay bound to
the table. They even dripped
a few drops of the fiery liquid between her lips before deciding that there
were more interesting places to put it.
Spilling the spahr onto
her body, Lahn proceed to lick it from her breasts and nipples and then poured
it into any hollow of her body that would contain
it. Thus he licked it from her
navel and drank from the hollow of her
neck. And then he poured it lower,
much lower.
The touch of spahr to
Shailaja’s petals was like that of molten lead, as her scream of pain
bore full witness. Lahn used
this as an excuse to act the healer, using his tongue to remove the burning
liquor, and then he continued to administer to her, licking, sucking, probing
until she felt desire stir within her once
more. There was no hiding her
state of arousal as the sound of her moans soon filled the
room. This in turn stimulated
her captors to give her a final round of
use. This time their grunts of
pleasure were joined by her moans and groans of
passion. Once again her body
succumbed to the pleasure inflicted upon it, twisting and turning in response
to the ministrations of her captors.
She was helpless as they did what they wanted with her, and although
the sensation was much less than the first time Lahn had taken her, she was
filled with shame that she was unable to prevent the response of her
body. When Dain finally finished
with her she lay exhausted upon the table, her body smelling of the scent
of men and her chest heaving from
exertion.
Inside the cabin the fire
now burned low, but there was little need of its heat, the air being warmed
by four sweating bodies. However,
the air was so close that Sheb threw open the door to let the cool night
air in. As the sweat cooled upon
Shailaja’s body she suddenly felt chill and Lahn heaped a few more logs
on the fire to hold off the cold.
It was then that Dain let out an exclamation.
“Look here,” he
cried. “See what she has
done to her wrists and ankles.”
The other two men came to
see what had disturbed him and muttered in surprise
themselves. “We will have
to find some other way to bind her,” Sheb
observed. “Remove the thongs
quickly before further damage is done.”
Dain and Lahn saw to
Shailaja’s wrists while Sheb attended to her ankles, however, they were
careful to give her no chance to escape.
Before removing the thongs about her ankles Sheb tethered her legs
just above the knees and Lahn and Dain kept a strong grip on her arms as
they untied her wrists.
They need not have
worried. So exhausted was she
from her ordeal that she was barely able to sit upright and would have put
up a very poor fight. However,
before releasing her arms a length of leather was stretched across the small
of her back and tied just above each
elbow. Only then were her injuries
attended to.
They were not particularly
severe, but they surprised her captors.
Her struggles had caused the thongs binding her wrists and ankles
to bite into her flesh, removing a good deal of skin and leaving a bloody
mess.
Dain quickly dug into his
pack and brought out a small bundle.
Opening it he revealed it as a kit containing healing supplies and
tools and items for dealing with
injuries. Sorting through them
he took out a small jar of ointment, but first he revealed another use for
spahr.
Pouring a small amount on
a cloth, he first used it to clean her
wounds. Shailaja did not flinch
during the procedure in spite of the fiery sting of the spahr as it contacted
her raw flesh. Satisfied that
her wounds were clean, he then smeared the ointment on them and wrapped them
in the same strips of the cloth he had used to clean the
wounds. Through all this she
sat quietly, too exhausted to do much
more. But her mind burned with
shame and anger, both for what she had suffered, and for what she had allowed
to happen.
She had learned a brutal
lesson; that a lone woman among men must be ever wary, no matter how friendly
or harmless they might appear. She
knew that in battle the three men combined were no match for her, but they
had overcome her with ease due to her own stupidity in letting her guard
down. It was a lesson she would
not forget. Never again would
she trust herself among men, no matter how innocent they
seemed.
It never occurred to her
that she might not escape. Her
captors seemed too weak to keep her prisoner
forever. Sooner or later they
would let down their guard and that would be all the chance she
needed. She would just have to
wait until the opportunity presented itself.
In that mood she was led
to one of the beds. To ensure
that she stayed where her captors wanted her, a leather thong was placed
around her neck and secured to the top of the bed
frame. As her arms were already
tethered nothing was done to secure them further, but the loose thong connecting
her knees was shortened, bringing her knees
together. Unable to move her
head more than a few inches, she was helpless to escape even if she had not
been so exhausted. Temporarily
resigned to her fate, she let her head fall to the mattress and
slept.
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