The Fall of Lady Westwood (9 page)

Andrus looked down upon her, a smile on his lips. “You’ve been hard used, Ryndra. You’ve naught to fear from me. Take your ease, dove.” He held her tighter to his broad chest, nuzzling the girl’s straw colored hair.

She relaxed, laying a hand upon his breast. She sighed, her breath ragged. “Thank you, Milord.”

He held her for a few minutes, the intent gaze of Lawrence upon Ryndra the entire time. Perhaps his randy captain was not quite as sated as he’d initially seemed? Andrus tucked the hair back behind Ryndra’s delicate ear, his rough fingers stroking the tender flesh of her earlobe.

“Do you need me to take watch, Sir?” Lawrence sat forward as if to rise, a deliberate nod of his head toward Ryndra.

Andrus shook his head, his lowered hand signaling the Captain to stay.

Lawrence sat back once more, his long fingers drumming the handle of his chair. “Anything new on the towers?”

Andrus shrugged, his hand caressing the breathtakingly soft cheek of the girl in his lap. She was a lovely girl indeed, and not for the first time, he was glad his Captain had pressed her to come along on the trip. His cock began to stir, and despite the fact that Ryndra was nearly half his age, he didn’t feel like fighting the rise of his desire. It was a way to quiet the turmoil in his mind, to simply feel. It meant he hadn’t succumbed to his melancholy.

Yet.

“Turn, girl. No, facing your Captain.”

Her limbs were tense, but she obeyed, allowing Andrus to splay her thighs open upon his. Her sex was fully exposed, something not lost on Lawrence, whose possessive gaze took in the lovely sight.

“What did I miss while I was up in the clouds freezing my balls off, Lawrence?”

The captain’s gaze rose, but just for a moment. “Laird’s patrol is late.”

Andrus snorted. “So, in other words, the usual.”

Lawrence nodded, sitting forward, his elbows braced on his thighs, his gaze focused once more on the girl’s displayed pussy. “Maybe not so usual, Andrus. He’s two
days
late.”

That was something else entirely. “Did he take the northern leg?”

“Aye.”

Andrus slipped a broad hand down over the girl’s sex, the seething heat of her flesh hot against his palm. She stiffened in his clutch as he ground the heel of his hand against her clit.

“She likes that,” Lawrence said, smiling.

“So she does,” Andrus murmured. He kissed the girl’s ear, and she turned her head toward his lips.

“I’ve a retrieval party out looking for them,” Lawrence said, his posture straight, his flies straining against a now obvious erection. “But the last time any patrol was more than a day overdue, they never returned.”

“Did his route take him as far as The Ford?” The girl inhaled sharply as Andrus slipped a finger into the soft sheath of her pussy.

“It was supposed to, but we’ve had riders arrive from there saying they never laid eyes on him.”

“If I know Laird, he’s probably passed out drunk, knee deep in slave girls. Isn’t there a House Nightshade at The Ford?”

“I believe so, but I doubt that’s where he hides. We’d have heard something. That man is as subtle as a storm. Somebody would have talked.”

Andrus nodded, thrusting a second finger into Ryndra’s clenching sex, the girl moaning at the stretching. She was so petite that he had little doubt her narrow passage was sore tested by the width of his thick questing digits. The wet sound of his fingers plundering her increased in volume as he thrust faster, the girl shifting in his lap, her hand clasped around his corded forearm.

“Do I need to bind you? You know better.” His voice rumbled against her hair.

She shook her head, dropping her hand from his arm.

“Good girl. I think I have a better use for those hands of yours. Lift your shirt.”

She turned her head to look at him, her blue eyes uncertain, the corners of her pretty lips turned down.

“Do as I say, Ryndra. I shouldn’t have to ask twice.”

Her hands flew to the snug hem of the cotton, lifting it slowly.

“All the way now, let your Captain see those breasts of yours. Perhaps he’ll want to suckle them? You’ll let him if he does.”

She turned her face from Lawrence, nuzzling her head under Andrus’ bearded chin, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

“Good”, he said, making sure the fabric was clear above the swells of her youthful bosom. Her high breasts were not large, but were perfectly suited to her petite frame. The nipples were a deep pink, the areolas crinkled. He stroked the tender flesh with a finger, watching the nipple draw tight.

“Andrus … ” Lawrence moved to stand, his hands moving at his flies.

“Go to him, dove,” Andrus whispered into her ear. “Serve him well. I’ll be watching.”

She slipped from his lap to kneel before the Captain. Her hands went between his legs, and Andrus watched her slowly move her head as she took Lawrence into her mouth. Her round little bottom swayed as her movements became urgent, the clutch of the Captain’s hands in her long hair more insistent.

Andrus could wait no longer, his cock painfully twisted in his trousers. He stood, opening his flies and moved to stand close behind the girl, gazing upon her as she serviced the Captain. Her lips were stretched tight around his cock as she bobbed up and down the stiff shaft, gleaming saliva leaking from the corners of her mouth. Andrus lay a hand against her hollowed cheek, caressing her, and she moaned around the hard shaft. Lawrence gritted his teeth, his hands clasping her hair in two fists.

Andrus nodded to Lawrence, and the Captain used her hair to pull her off of his cock. She peered up at him, confused.

“My Lord, what can I—”

Lawrence sat down again, drawing her between his thighs, his fist entwined in her blonde tresses. His long, wet cock bobbed as he shifted forward, and she bent over him. The posture threw out her lovely soft bottom, beckoning Andrus. He dropped to his knees behind her, and laid the throbbing shaft of his penis across her buttock. She froze.

“Keep going, Ryndra. I didn’t tell you to stop,” Lawrence said, his voice thick. He pulled her further downward onto his cock, and she gagged as it struck the back of her throat.

Andrus ran his hands over the girl’s bottom, savoring the silky smoothness of her flesh. She had surprisingly generous buttocks for so slight a girl. He squeezed one of the globes, enjoying the feel of its soft weight in his hand. She wriggled her hips at him, and he slapped her bottom in response. The muscles of her trim thighs clenched at the sting, and she murmured around the Captain’s cock.

Andrus placed a palm on each of her cheeks and yawned them apart, fully exposing her charms to his gaze. The cleft was still slick with oil. Her dainty rosette was an inflamed, swollen red, and gaped open slightly. The Captain’s semen leaked down from the well-used opening, her perineum wet with his seed. Andrus chuckled, glancing up at Lawrence. “No wonder she was making so much noise, man. You spared her nothing, I see!”

Lawrence grinned, the cords of muscle standing out on his neck, his face flushed.

Andrus moved his hard cock down, the broad head leaving a sticky trail across her buttock. His cock brushed her cleft, the meatus just kissing the girl’s sore bottom hole, and she tightened.

“Easy, dove,” Andrus said, his hand stroking the curve of her hip. “Your Captain has served you well there already. I want something different.”

He drew the head of his cock through the soft folds of Ryndra’s pussy, up, then down. She moaned around the Captain, who growled at her to keep sucking.

Andrus, eased forward until his cock was bedded fully, his hard legs tight against her trembling thighs. She shuddered against him, the sounds of her sucking the Captain’s cock filling the room.

“Gods! This pussy is tight.” He thrust languidly, gazing at his shaft glistening with her juices as it pistoned in and out of her sex. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply of her scent.

Lawrence grunted, thrusting his hips quickly, Ryndra gagging again as he drove deep. Andrus grasped her around her incredibly narrow waist, pulling her more fully onto him. The two men pounded into her, rocking her slight body between them.

Lawrence was first to break holding her face down upon him as he groaned out his climax. She coughed and sputtered when he finally let her up off of his spent cock, the brisk thrusting of Andrus continuing to jostle her.

Andrus held out little longer than the Captain. The Lord groaned, his balls tingling as he drenched the walls of her pussy with his seed. He kneaded the girl’s buttocks as he knelt over her, panting.

Lawrence used Ryndra’s long blonde hair to clean his flaccid cock, leaving her with a pat on her flushed cheek. She hung her head, trembling, waiting for Andrus to catch his breath. He finally released her with a gentle smack to her ass, and he stood, tucking himself back into his flies. He watched her pull her shirt back down over her breasts, glancing up at him as she did so.

He smiled at her, nodding his head. She inclined her head in reply and retreated to the bunk she’d come from, curling up on her side to rest, the swollen lips of her pussy glistening with his semen.

Andrus slumped back into his chair, taking a deep drag of mead from the cup Lawrence offered. He stared into the dancing orange hues of the popping fire, wondering again about what to do with his Miriam. What was she up to? Why did he feel guilty for using the servant girl, when he had a very good idea of what Miriam got up to with the servants in his absence? Lastly, he wondered where in God’s name that idiot Laird had gone.

Chapter Six

East of The Night Road — The Frontier

T
he cat slashed into the exposed flesh of the captive man’s back, his hoarse cries lost to the depth of the nighttime sounds of the forest.

“I’ll ask you again, human. Where is Westwood?”

The man, his voice hoarse from his screams, shook his head, frantic. “I told you! He’s at the Palace of Peace. I’ll take you to him. No, don’t!”

He yelled again, as the leather of the cat cut into his flesh once more. The skin along the right side of his rib cage was raw, and threatening to break. The two figures holding his outstretched arms, shook the man between them as if he weighed nothing, his head lolling wildly on his shoulders.

“Try again, Laird”. The tall, broad-shouldered figure who wielded the multi-tailed whip, stepped around to stand in front of the kneeling captive. “Where is Westwood
Manor
?
It can’t very well be at the Palace. Tell us, or we’ll make this last.”

Laird shook his head, looking down.

The black-clad captors exchanged disgusted expressions. The tall man reached out and slapped Laird across the face, rocking his head to the side, blood flying from his nose and mouth. Laird slumped, his head hanging down.

“Your race disgusts me” the man said, wiping the blood from his hand on Laird’s sweat-soaked hair. “So pathetically weak. You’ll betray your closest friends just to avoid a little pain.”

One of the men holding Laird tilted his head to the side. “Maybe we should try one of them, Valery?”

Several bound and gagged soldiers lay on the forest floor a few paces away, their striking blue uniforms appearing almost purple in the darkness. Their frightened eyes shone bright in the moonlit forest, their gags allowing only muffled sounds. Several of the soldiers struggled at their bonds, while others appeared almost catatonic with fear, lying as still as the dead.

Valery, his dark coat swirling about his ankles turned and walked over to the bound captives. He picked one of them up by the hair, the man yelling through his tight gag. Valery pulled the man up until he hung suspended, his bound feet kicking above the soft loam of the forest floor.

Valery turned to look back at the whipped captive. “So, are you going to be a leader? Someone who protects his men? Or shall I start on them too?”

Valery’s fingertip traced the pulsing throat of the suspended man, the long, sharp nail cutting a narrow furrow into the skin. Blood oozed into the laceration immediately, but the wound was not deep. The man shrieked into his gag, his struggles increasing.

“All right! I’ll tell you. Please, let them be.” The kneeling, defeated Laird lifted his head, his eyes glazed with pain, his lips and teeth smeared with blood.

“So tell us human, and this will end quickly. Mercifully.”

Laird swallowed, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Westwood Manor is due west of the Palace of Justice. Two hours ride along the Night Road. Now, let them go.”

Valery heaved the suspended man onto the ground. The soldier groaned and rolled onto his side. Valery strode over to the kneeling captive in less time than it took to blink an eye. Laird looked up at him, firming his chin. He nodded, closing his eyes, tensing for the killing blow. Valery drew his hand back, the razor sharp nails extended.

“Marshal Valery!”

He turned toward the voice. Another tall man, dressed in the same long coat that Valery wore, rushed forward, flicking a glance down at the kneeling Laird.