Ardurotica: (7) The Choice

Ardurotica: (7) The Choice

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Sindrah Greve must choose between the pillory and submission to Tycho, and is forced to prove herself worthy of the slave garden by bringing herself to orgasm in front of the Wolfrune noblemen.

Summary

Sindrah Greve must choose between the pillory and submission to Tycho, and is forced to prove herself worthy of the slave garden by bringing herself to orgasm in front of the Wolfrune noblemen.

Content

Submitted: April 03, 2015

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Content

Submitted: April 03, 2015

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ARDUROTICA%203.jpgThe tall man in the scarlet robe led Sindrah Greve by the rope round her neck into the great hall proper, an airy chamber with a high ceiling, polished ironwood columns and braziers spaced along the walls, illuminating a crowd of about twenty men who, by the quality of their clothes, Sindrah took to be highborn. They were gathered along the walls in small conversation groups, or stood near the throne at the far end of the hall. A few of them glanced at the tall man who entered with the naked, bound slave girl in tow. 

As the man who held her rope paused just inside the opened doors, Sindrah glanced over her shoulder at one of the two sentries who were posted just outside the doors. He was staring at her ass and he grinned slowly as his eyes rose to meet hers. She looked over her other shoulder. The other guard was looking at her ass, too. While knowing that they were looking at her and what they were thinking embarrassed her, it also triggered a sensation in her loins that quickly spread, making her skin tingle. She could feel the slightest current of air on her naked flesh. 

When she peered past the tall man she gasped softly. Endric stood at the other end of the room, at the foot of a dais upon where Tycho Bellam sat on a carved rosewood throne. On the wall behind the throne was a black banner adorned with the scarlet symbol of Wolfrune, a bird of prey perched on a sword, wings spread. Endric's focus was on the prince, who was speaking.

"The Erlocks have emerged in force from the Blackfell and invaded southern Raislin, burning and looting and raping, in such numbers that my spies tell me the clanhold is filled with refugees. Now some of the painted devils have attacked my northern outposts. That is why you are here, Endric. Ride hard for the keep at Vorake, on the north fork of the Lorath River. The arrival of Sinistran knights will improve the moral of the men there, and hopefully stiffen their backbone. I hold your pledge until the Erlock threat is removed."

Endric bowed at the waist. "We will ride at once and be at the Lorath on the third day."

He turned and the small crowd of highborn who had gathered round the dais parted to let him pass, with Akleon and Rolo in tow. Tycho looked across the hall at the tall man in scarlet, with Sindrah peeking from behind him, and rose from the throne to gesture them closer. 

"My friends! The slave garden of Wolfrune is the finest in all of Eastland. And now, I present the newest addition to the garden. This slave girl is the daughter of Rycard Greve, no less."

Gasps and excited murmurs arose from the others as they stared at Sindrah while she was led to the dais. She kept her eyes down until she passed Endric, who had stopped in his tracks. Their eyes met, and Sindrah could not bring herself to look away. His gaze seemed to calm her heart. Seemed to make all else around her fade away. She was still looking over her shoulder at the Sinistran knight when the tall man leading her by the rope stopped at the foot of the dais. She bumped into him. 

A man engaged in hushed and earnest discussion with several others stepped forward to address Tycho. "Why have you done this, milord? You risk war with Ironhall to the east, while the Erlock horde cross our western border!"

Another man spoke up. "Ransom her to Greve at once, my Prince," he urged. Several others voiced their support for this suggestion.

Tycho's features were dark with anger. "ENOUGH!" he roared. The hall fell silent. Tycho descended from the dais and pushed the tall man in scarlet aside, grabbing the lead rope from him. He walked in a slow circle, forcing the others back from the dais, glowering at each in turn. "When my father sat in that throne, Wolfrune was weak and Ironhall was strong. All of you are old enough to remember the raids. They took our livestock, our women and boys. They put our villages to the torch. They burned our crops. They stole our talons. They grew so bold they even attacked this very hold. We pushed them back, barely." 

He paused, looked back at Sindrah, who had been stumbling along behind him. Moving swiftly, he circled round behind her, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her naked body against him, his grip tight enough that it lifted her to tiptoes. 

"Perhaps some of you remember my beloved Sela. My betrothed. Do you not remember that on the day the Ironhall knights stormed our walls and fought their way into Wolfrune that when they did at last withdraw they took captives with them? One of those was Sela. My father refused to pursue them. Because we were weak, and that was his doing. When I told him I would go alone to rescue my love he had me locked away. His own son! He told me no mere woman was worth my life. No mere woman!" He placed his chin on Sindrah's shoulder and murmured in her ear, "Your father took a liking to my Sela. At first she was his slave, then became his bride. He called her Bres. Your mother."

"So this is about revenge," said Endric coldly.

Tycho looked at the Sinistran knight. "You're still here? Are you not supposed to be on your way to Vorake?" He turned his attention back to Sindrah, and now his free hand roamed over her naked body, squeezing her perky breasts, sliding down her fluttering belly. He turned slowly, holding her fast in front of him, showing her to all those in the hall. "She looks very much like her mother did at her age. I was not afforded the pleasure of laying with my Sela." His hand reached Sindrah's mound, his fingers gliding between her soft folds to touch her slick pussy. She clamped her thighs together, blushing. "Whereas she bore Greve's daughters, she would have borne my sons, and an heir to the throne of Wolfrune." He curled his finger deep inside Sindrah's pussy, and she gasped and squirmed. Again he whispered in her ear: "When I fuck you I will close my eyes and think of your mother." With her hands still bound behind her, she could feel his erection.

He marched her up to the dais, then let go of her and spun her around by the shoulders, before pushing her down onto her knees, which he kicked wide apart. Producing a dagger from his belt, he cut the ropes that bound her hands behind her. Then he backed down the steps. "I told you yesterday you would have one final choice to make in your life. The time has come. You will submit to me, and live your life in my slave garden. Or you can spend the rest of your days as part of the entertainment for the crowds that gather at the compound -- or in the pillory on the street."

Her eyes, brimming over with tears, begged for mercy, but she said nothing. Her bottom lip quivering, she glanced past the gloating Tycho at Endric. There was both compassion and anger in his expression. His hand gripped the bushkar. Part of her wanted him to rescue her from this ordeal. But she could think of nothing worse than that he might die in the effort. She looked him in the eye and gave the slightest shake of her head, a sad smile touching the corners of her mouth. She didn't look away from him, either, as she murmured, "I submit to you." Endric let go of the Eastland greatsword. To her relief there was no disapproval in his expression. His face became a stoic mask and he gave a short nod then turned to leave the hall, Rolo and Akleon in tow.

Tycho yanked on the lead rope. "You will call me master, slave."

Sindrah's pride made itself known as he sneered that word. SLAVE. She bristled, but remembered the torment and humiliation of the pillory, and while she didn't expect being part of Tycho's slave garden to be a big improvement over that, it certainly could not be worse. "I submit to you, Doman," she murmured, her eyes cast down.

Now Tycho was gloating. "Ah if only your father were here to see you now! I am sure he would love the next part of your submission."

Sindrah felt a shiver dance down her spine. "What next part...Doman?"

"You will entertain my clan brethren by playing with yourself until you cum. Prove to us that you are a slut worthy of Eastland's greatest slave garden."

Incredulous, Sindrah had to look up at him then. Her cheeks burned, her eyes darting round at the highborn men. Some of them had been none too pleased when Tycho Bellam introduced her, but now every man was looking at her as she knelt naked on the dais, facing them, her thighs spread, her pussy in plain view. Her heart lurched into a gallop. Her mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert of Caskeen. She shook her head slightly; she didn't think she could do it. In the past few days she had been humiliated time and again, but always she had been bound, helpless as all manner of things were done to her. This -- this was entirely different. This she had to voluntarily do to herself.

Tycho read her expression and pulled on the rope again. "Do what I tell you, slave -- or back to the pillory. And this time no one will rescue you!"

Sindrah wept quietly. She could not bear to think of spending another moment in the pillory. She HAD to do this -- but how? She slipped a hand down her taut belly, watching it as it descended; she could not bear to look at the men who were also watching that hand. She tried desperately to transport herself, in her imagination, back into her room at Ironhall, where she had done this before. That didn't work, though, because then she had been alone, not stared at by twenty men. Her slender finger slipped tentatively between the soft warm folds of her labia, and she rubbed her hooded clit with the base of that finger. She sobbed in despair, simply too self-conscious to feel much of anything other than supreme embarrassment.

Tycho yanked on the rope again. "Spread that pussy, girl! Show us how wet you are!"

She used her thumb and middle finger to spread those labial folds, to expose her pink glistening pussyvagina to their eyes. The tip of her forefinger probing into that tiny little hole.

"She is pretty, " acknowledged one of the onlookers. "But she has no passion. She is cold as a fish."

Sindrah watched her own finger slipping in and out of her tight young pussy, thankful that Endric was not still present to watch her in this new degradation. If only she had met the Sinistran knight in Ironhall, in the greathall presided over by her father. Her mind slipped instantly into a fantasy -- of Endric visiting her room in the middle of the night, when the greathall slept. She would sit up in bed, gazing wide-eyed and breathless as he disrobed to join her, throwing the silken sheets back to expose her body to his view. She would quiver with delight to feel his skin against hers, his hard honed body pinning her down, his big strong hands roaming over her slender curves. And she would quiver again when he growled, softly, "I am going to make you mine!" And she would slowly spread her thighs, offering herself to him, bringing her feet up, knees bent, as he positioned himself between her legs, and she would glance down to see his big cock poised to plunge inside her, the swollen knob nudging aside her delicate pink petals....

Kneeling on the dais, her eyelids fluttered closed, her head rolling back, and a soft moan escaped her lips as she suddenly plunged her finger inside her grasping pussy, then again, and again. It wasn't enough -- she employed her other hand, two fingers, plunging to the hilt, her little fist slapping wetly against her cunt. A murmur of appreciation rose from the men watching. She heard that murmur, but in her mind it was the sound Endric made as he sheathed his thick, throbbing cock inside her for the first time!

Bolts of wildly tingling pleasure shot through her, wrenching breathless little cries from her lips. She rocked back, propped up on her elbows, planting her heels, her hips beginning to buck. In her now-vivid fantasy she was wrapping her legs round Endric, clinging to him with arms and legs and pussy, his grunts of pleasure music to her ears as he used her hot juicy cunt to stroke his cock, her high breathless cries providing accompaniment.

Tycho and the other Wolfrune noblemen watched, spellbound Her soft round ass began to bounce on the dais as she was now down on her shoulders, finger-fucking her pussy while rubbing her swollen pearl. Some of the men moved to the foot of the dais for a better look. Some had their hands under their clothing. Sindrah was hardly aware of them now. The fantasy was so real, more so than any she had entertained before, since this time she had a frame of reference. Thanks to Tycho Bellam and Narl, she knew what it felt like to have a cock inside her pussy -- and what it felt like when a man found release.

The men gathered round the dais gasped as her legs suddenly flew high in the air, flailing a moment, toes curling, and then came down with a slapping of bare feet on stone. Her slender body arched, rigid, and then began to twist and writhe. Her soft little cries were replaced by a hoarse wailing as she kept her fingers buried inside her pussy, her juices drenched her hand as she climaxed, imagining that those fingers were Endric's cock, jumping as it filled her with his load. She felt giddy with happiness that she had pleased him. She felt her vaginal muscles clenching her fingers spasmodically as the ecstasy sweeping through her took control of her body. 

The violence of her orgasmic convulsions lessened, and she lay there, limp, her legs spread wantonly wide, slowly removing her fingers from her soaked, reddened pussy, leaving it completely exposed to the view of the men she had nearly forgotten as she imagined how Endric would stay inside her for a while as they shared passionate kisses.

The man who moments earlier had claimed her to be as cold as a fish, spoke up. "I was wrong about this girl. She has fire!" He glanced ruefully at his hand as it emerged from under his garments, sticky with his cum.

Tycho climbed onto the dais and loomed over Sindrah. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with an expression of triumph on her face. She had done what had seemed to her impossible. He leered down at her. "A shame your father isn't here to see you like this, wet and open like an eager slut." He grabbed a handful of her golden hair and pulled her up onto her knees again, then turned and looked over the heads of the men round the dais, gesturing at the one in the scarlet robe who had brought her into the chamber, and who since had stood near the guarded doors. "Take her back to the garden. Make sure she is given the potion at once, as I am certain my brethren here will be wanting to sample her delights -- assuming their wives allow it."

The thin, taciturn man in scarlet took her lead rope from Tycho and led her through the crowd of noblemen, who clearly were now quite interested in her. One touched her breast in passing, another her ass. Her passion had subsided and now she was plunged back into reality, her fantasy but a wonderful memory. She tensed and blushed as they laid hands on her. She didn't doubt that Tycho Bellam was right. Many of these men would come to use her. She clung to the hope that she could close her eyes and think of Endric every time it happened.

[to be continued]


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