Ardurotica:(6) The Garden

Ardurotica:(6) The Garden

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Sindrah Greve is introduced into the slave garden of Wolfrune, where beautiful male and female slaves live and play, and sate the lust of the highborn.

Summary

Sindrah Greve is introduced into the slave garden of Wolfrune, where beautiful male and female slaves live and play, and sate the lust of the highborn.

Content

Submitted: March 20, 2015

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Content

Submitted: March 20, 2015

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ARDUROTICA%203.jpgThe knights who answered Endric's summons were named Akleon and Rolo. As they drew near, the guard was explaining to Endric that Prince Tycho himself had ordered Sindrah placed in the pillory. The guard's demeanor and tone were those of a defendant pleading on his own behalf. "Even you cannot defy the prince's wishes without risk," he told Endric.

"I have no doubt that your prince wished this girl abused," said Endric coldly. He waved a dismissive hand. "Now run to the slavemaster and tell him I am waiting."

The guard made haste in the direction of the slave compound's gate. The crowd was beginning to disperse, a few people grumbling about the abrupt end to the entertainment. Endric called out, offering a copper talon for a bucket of clean water and another copper for a blanket. Then he told his companions to stay alert as he turned his attention back to Sindrah. Akleon circled round the pillory to stand behind her. "I'll guard the flank," he said, and stole a glance at her ass, then ran his hand admiringly over the smooth curve of it, adding, "and a very fine flank it is." Then he noticed Endric's expression and paled, snatching his hand away.

 A young lad arrived with a bucket of well water and ran off when paid. Endric dipped his hand in the water and gently washed the dirt and dried cum from Sindrah's face. "I can keep them from raping you, but I cannot free you," he told her, his voice gruff but his tone apologetic. "I will watch over you through the night. You have my pledge."

"Please help me!" she whispered. "My father is Rycard Greve! He will reward you handsomely if you will just take me home!"

Endric was stunned. He rose and took a step away, staring at her, before turning to pace, deep in thought and clearly agitated. Then he knelt on one knee in front of Sindrah and looked her in the eye and, with regret, said, "I cannot. I have pledged my sword and those of my men to Tycho Bellam." Rising, he turned and bellowed, angrily, "I would have a blanket NOW!"

Rolo looked sympathetically at Sindrah and murmured, "A Sinistran knight cannot go back on his pledge, girl. And we cannot free you from this stinking pillory because the Prince of Wolfrune expressly commanded that you be put in it. Pledged to the prince as we are, we cannot undermine or disobey his command. At the very least we would be banished from the Order. At worst, we would make the acquaintance of Wolfrune's executioner. On the other hand, while Tycho no doubt wanted you used hard during your sojourn in this damnable contraption, it was only a wish, not a command. A fine distinction, admittedly, but one that may keep our heads on our shoulders!"

Someone ran up with a blanket, which Endric paid for and then draped over Sindrah's body. He then pressed coin into Rolo's hand and told him to bring food. That done, he sat down with his back against one of the pillory's uprights so that Sindrah could see him and sighed wearily. "How long must you be in this?"

"Until the morning."

"Try to rest yourself. Your body will begin to ache before long. But there is nothing you cannot endure. We will stay with you until you are released."

Her voice broke as she thanked him again, and more tears burned her eyes, but she somehow managed to fight them back -- for him. Clearly he was in anguish because his honor prevented him from doing more for her. To see her cry would simply make it worse, and she resolved not to do that to him.

Sindrah thought the night spent in the camp of the slavers had been the longest of her short life. By the time her night in the pillory was over, she wasn't so sure. By midnight she was consumed with agony. Her back from shoulders to hips was on fire. Her feet were blocks of ice -- though not as cold as the one spent at the foot of Bloodroot Pass, this night was cold enough. The blanket Endric had bought to cover her was a blessing. At least she wasn't starving; Rolo had returned with a bowl of carna, cubes of meat in a tasty vegetable paste, and had spoon-fed her every morsel.

True to his word, Endric and his two comrades remained with her until morning broke. There was nary a sign of Chard the slavemaster, or any of his guards, or any of Tycho Bellam's city guards either -- until the morning. Only then did the slavemaster make an appearance, flanked by two of his minions, armed with short swords. Chard was clearly unhappy to see the Sinistran knights.

"I am to deliver this girl to Prince Tycho," he informed Endric, stiffly. "I sent a messenger to him yesterday, so he is already aware of your interference. You would do well not to add to your problems by interfering with me now."

"I have no intention of doing so," said Endric grimly. "In fact I will accompany you. Your prince is expecting me on another matter."

Sindrah was at long last released from the pillory by one of Chard's men. She groaned as she slowly straightened, stamping her feet as the circulation returned to them, giving the sensation of a million pin pricks. She clutched the blanket round her shoulders for one more moment of warmth before the guard snatched it away. Rolo, in turn, yanked it out of the guard's grasp. "That doesn't belong to you," he chided, sternly. Sindrah's hands were bound behind her back, a lead rope secured round her neck, the other end given to Chard. For an instant Sindrah's eyes met those of Endric. She managed a brave and grateful smile. And then Chard started off, pulling her along behind. The two guards were to either side of her. A backward glance assured her than the Sinistran knights were bringing up the rear.

The streets of Wolfrune had already come alive. Everyone gave the strange procession a glance; some stopped and stared. Sindrah kept her eyes on the worn stones of the lane in front of her until they began to climb a wide flight of steps. Then she looked up to behold what she knew had to be Wolfrune's greathall. It was a small citadel, with crenellated walls, and served not only as the seat of government and residence of the prince but also as a stronghold in the event the city was overrun.

They were passed through the outer gate by the sentries and entered a courtyard shaded by a giant ironwood tree. They were met by a tall thin man in a black-trimmed scarlet robe, accompanied by two slave girls with silver armlets and anklets to which tiny bells had been attached. Each bore the mark of Prince Bellam on the inside of their right forearms.  "So this is the one," said the man, giving Sindrah a slow head-to-toe perusal. He gestured at the slave girls. "Take her to the garden and bathe her. She will be sent for soon, so do not tarry. And do not unbind her hands."

Chard retrieved the lead rope from around Sindrah's neck before the two slave girls led her away. She threw a sorrowful glance over her shoulder at Endric, who was watching her, his features a stoic mask. As she drew near a gate of wrought iron set into an inner wall, she could catch a glimpse of the slave garden beyond -- a fountain in the center of the blue- and white-tiled bath, fruit trees just beginning to bloom, thick furs and plump brightly hued cushions here and there.

More slaves gathered quickly at the gate as a greathall guard unlocked it and allowed the pair of girls who had taken Sindrah by the arm to pass through with her. She walked a gauntlet of willowy naked bodies, mostly girls, some males, and none of them had seen more than thirty summers. A few gave their name and asked for hers. Someone asked where she was from. Others reached out to touch her. There were giggles, and murmured comments. She was pretty. She was plain. She was skinny. She had a nice body.

Sindrah blushed furiously. It wasn't entirely because they were seeing her naked. She knew that if Tycho Bellam's slave garden was anything like her father's the slaves who lived there were not only used by the prince but also men and women of high standing -- and were encouraged to play with each other. So she understood why a few of the boys had their heads together while they looked her over, grinning and talking behind their hands, and why some of the girls looked at her with more than just curiosity.

The novelty of a new slave wore off quickly for some. These dispersed; the rest gravitated towards the baths, where the pair charged with washing Sindrah took her. From there Sindrah could see all of the garden. The first thing she noticed was that there was no place for anyone to hide. The second was that while many of the cushions and furs were occupied by slaves engaged in conversation, in some cases the occupants were engaged in sex. She saw several pairs of girls with arms and legs entwined. Over there, a beefy free man was fucking a slave girl; because of the man's size all one could see of the girl were her legs way up in the air. The free man's slave boy stood by with his doman's neatly folded clothes cradled in his arms, watching slave girls sashay by.

Over there a male slave was fucking a girl from behind, and even as Sindrah's eyes reached them the latter was having an orgasm, her hoarse wails of pleasure piercing the steady din of numerous conversations. Two other girls were standing there, watching and giggling, and one eagerly got down on hands and knees to take the place of the girl who had just climaxed. The male slave scarcely missed a beat, plunging his cock into a fresh pussy. In the back, under the large tarpaulins that provided the slaves with some shelter in inclement weather, one boy had another pinned against a wall and was fucking his ass.

Sindrah knew that this was how Eastland slave gardens were. Slaves lived in the garden, and it was widely held that they fucked out of boredom. The girls were given doses of a potion which prevented them from becoming pregnant and which had as its primary ingredient the milky substance found in the tubular roots of a reed called the lyset, which grew along waterways throughout Eastland and beyond.

Often Sindrah had surreptitiously approached the gate of the Ironhall slave garden, which had a door much like that of the garden in which she now found herself. She would watch, red-cheeked and wide-eyed, at all the coupling that went on. Many of the slaves knew her by sight, and some would approach the gate, both male and female, and whisper that they wanted to 'serve' her. A few would go into great detail, which never failed to run her off, overcome by embarrassment. The guard's custom was to stand a discreet distance away when any free person came to the slave garden gate, so as not to overhear the conversations -- a custom for which Sindrah had always been grateful.

The slave girls escorting Sindrah, helped her step into the bath and seated her on a tiled, crescent bench. They began to wash her, using bars of heavily perfumed tallow soap. She stiffened as their hands roamed over every inch of her body, but there was nothing overtly sexual about it -- they were just performing a task. She briefly resisted their spreading her legs to wash her pussy and inner thighs, but they giggled, and she relented, blushing. "How old?" one asked her. "Eighteen," murmured Sindrah. "So young and pretty," replied the girl and smiled a warm, friendly smile. Sindrah managed a half-hearted smile in return -- one that froze in place as another slave girl walked over.

She was tall, with the dusky skin of a Xandaran and violet-blue eyes that roamed hungrily over Sindrah's body. Wisps of peach-colored silk adorned her armlets. Delicate golden rings dangled from her pierce nipples. Her body was voluptuous and she looked better fed than the other slaves in the garden. Her pussy was shaved, and its moist pinkness was in sharp contrast to her chocolate-brown skin. She gave the slave girls washing Sindrah a look and they both slipped away while she moved round behind the bench, lightly slapping a switch cut from one of the fruit trees into a palm. "Stand!"

Sindrah cringed and stood reluctantly, dripping wet, the hands bound behind her clasped tightly together. She cast an anxious look over her shoulder.

"I am Valetta," said the woman, her lips curling as she drew the switch softly across Sindrah's ass cheeks. "You might think we are all the same here in the garden. But you would be wrong. I have been here the longest, and all slaves answer to me and do my bidding. You are the lowest of the low." By now she once again stood before Sindrah, and leaned in to whisper, "Even if you ARE the daughter of a prince."

She straightened, laughing at the startled expression on Sindrah's face. "You wonder how I know this. The guards tell me all I wish to know. In return I make sure they get their pick of slaves to use, just as would a highborn." Valetta stepped closer, reaching up to tweak one and then the other of Sindrah's nipples. Sindrah gasped, her heart racing. She knew what the woman was after even before Valetta added, "But I think I will have you first."

"And I think you should share."

Sindrah looked round sharply, to see the slave boy who had been fucking girls one after the other standing there, arms folded, a smirk on his lips and his cock fully erect. He was lean in the hips, broad in the shoulders, his skin pale, his unruly hair black and long, half-concealing his face.

Valetta's eyes flashed and narrowed. She was clearly displeased. "You can wait until I've had her, Narl," she said curtly.

Narl chuckled and shook his head. He didn't seem at all subservient in Valetta's presence. "This one doesn't want to please you, can't you tell? She will need to be persuaded." And he grabbed the rope binding Sindrah's hands together and lifted it sharply, so high that Sindrah, forced to bend over, yelped as pain lanced through her shoulders. Her face was now so close to Valetta's pussy that its exotic scent made her nostrils flare.

"No please!" she gasped. "I - I dont want...." and yelped again as Narl shoved two fingers into her pussy and wiggled them inside her.

Valetta's eyes smoldered with desire to feel Sindrah's breath on her. "Then come," she told Narl. "Bring her to my cushions."

Narl kept Sindrah bent over, marching her behind Valetta, who led the way to an array of cushions on a lush white fur. Valetta arranged herself on the largest cushion, one leg straight, the other bent at the knee and falling to the side, sliding a hand down over her mound to spread her folds, fully exposing her glistening coral-pink cunt. Narl shoved Sindrah onto her knees, then let go of her ropes to snare the back of her neck with both hands before she could straighten. Sindrah was aware that other slaves were gathering as she sobbed, "No, NO!" an instant before Narl plunged his cock inside her from behind and pushed her face between Valetta's hot silky thighs. Sindrah's cries were muffled with her lips pressed against the warm pink slickness of Valetta's pussy.

Sindrah tried desperately to turn her head but only succeeded in smearing Valetta's juices over her face. She had seen slave girls having sex together in her own father's garden. The sight had intrigued her, but she had been so obsessed with boys and their cocks that she didn't much dwell on women having sex. Now, being forced to pleasure Valetta made her balk; it seemed even more humiliating than being taken by Narl. Valetta grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted, causing her to scream into the Xandaran's pussy. "Use your tongue, bitch!" Even though her glistening cheeks were bright red with shame, Sindrah obeyed just to end the pain. "Ooooh yes!" exclaimed Valetta, her hips beginning to buck as she rubbed her dripping cunt against Sindrah's mouth. "You're going to learn to love pussy, girl!"

Narl was grunting like an animal as he used Sindrah's tight wet cunt to stroke his cock. His body was bent over hers as he kept both hands on her neck. His balls spanked her clit as he rammed his manhood to the hilt inside her with each stroke, his lean flanks slapping loudly against her soft ass and thighs. That tingling heat radiating through her body added to Sindrah's shame. The harder Narl fucked her the faster it spread. She was drawn into a fog of delirious arousal in spite of herself. Her tongue grazed Valetta's exposed pearl and the Xandaran shuddered, moaning loudly. Her other leg now bent at the knee, her feet tucked under her ass, thighs spread wide open, she leaned back on the plush cushion, holding onto Sindrah's golden locks while the fore- and middle fingers of her other hand, wet with her nectar, kept her labial folds spread. Her urgent hip thrusting caused Sindrah's tongue to slide inside her. Valetta's body spasmed, and her moans grew louder. Her tangy sweet juices, Sindrah found, were not at all unpleasant.

Seeing that Valetta had hold of the new slave girl's hair, Narl slid his hands down Sindrah's back and gripped her slender waist. On only one knee at first, he got his other foot under him and with knees bent kept ramming his long curved cock into the slippery hot pink vise of her cunt, now at a different angle. As the surging pleasure magnified in intensity, Sindrah's eyes, squeezed shut, flashed wide and she found herself looking over Valetta's shaved mound, between her ample breasts, watching the Xandaran's face twisted in a rictus of ecstasy.

Valetta's eyes, glazed with pleasure, met hers, and then her head fell back and her body arced off the cushion Her quivering thighs abruptly clamping round Sindrah's head. Sindrah felt and tasted her gushing nectar and began to panic because she couldn't breathe. Without the use of her hands she was helplessly trapped, pushed into Valetta's crotch by Narl's vigorous thrusts. Suddenly Valetta let go of her hair, and those thighs relaxed. Narl's next thrust pushed Sindrah forward just as she raised her head and gasped for air, and she ended up with her cheek on Valetta's mound when the orgasmic storm burst inside her. Her feet beat an erratic tattoo on the plush fur rug, toes curling, while her pussy convulsed, vaginal muscles clenching Narl's plunging cock spasmodically. In the next instant Narl cried out, a hoarse shout. He crouched there, rigid as a statue, his cock buried in Sindrah's spasming cunt, jumping and spewing his load.

Sindrah became aware again of the circle of slaves that had gathered round Valetta's cushions, because there were gasps and giggles and a smattering of soft applause as the three participants climaxed in quick succession. Sindrah closed her eyes and tried to normalize her breathing. Narl slowly became animated again; he looked down at Sindrah's swollen pussy clinging snugly to the base of his cock as though he was stunned by what had happened. Then a girl's soft voice was heard -- "She made Narl cum so fast!" as though it was some sort of miraculous event. A half-dozen other slave girls giggled. Flustered, Narl pulled his cock out, looked round at all the faces and then hastily escaped through the circle at its thinnest point.

Recovered enough to sit up, Valetta gazed down at Sindrah and chuckled, then called two girls by name and told them to bathe the new slave again. Sindrah found herself back on the tiled bench with two pair of soft hands soaping her up and rinsing her off. One of the girls whispered, "How did you do it? How did you make Narl cum so quickly?" The other one chimed in: "Narl prides himself on his stamina. He claims he can fuck girls all day before he cums!" The first one added, "He won't be so arrogant now!"

As Sindrah sat there shyly and listened to them, Moran's words came back to her. You have the face and the body that will give you power over men. She looked down at her pussy and worked her vaginal muscles a few times while the girls were busy washing off her back. When she looked up she saw one of the slave boys strolling by, grinning at her. He stopped to face her, pulling on his dangling cock. Though her cheeks were red, Sindrah didn't look away. She watched him with her soft lips parted breathlessly, the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth.

A commotion at the gate drew her attention. The tall thin man clad in the scarlet robe whom she had seen earlier in the courtyard entered the garden and, spotting her, approached. Sindrah rose, her heart racing. The man carried a lead rope; he put the looped end over her head and pulled it snug round her neck.

"Come," he said. "The prince will see you now."

[to be continued]
 


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