Elena's Conquest Page 16

  ‘Well, Leofwin. You may know that I am in charge of this castle while my lord Aimery is absent. And it is my duty to see to your punishment.’

  ‘May your precious lord Aimery rot in hell,’ said Leofwin the Saxon, slowly and clearly. A gasp went up from the guards at Isobel’s shoulders; she held up her hand to restrain them.

  ‘Have a care, my fine Saxon,’ she said silkily. ‘Remember that it is up to me to determine the severity of your punishment.’

  His eyes flickered with lazy scorn. ‘Do what you will. You can think of nothing new.’

  Isobel’s eyes danced. ‘Oh,’ she murmured, ‘you would be surprised. I can think of lots of things, Leofwin.’ She turned suddenly to the sergeant at her side. Take off his clothing.’

  Leofwin’s head jerked up at that and he gritted his teeth as the sergeant ripped at the ragged breeches that were his last vestige of modesty. Leofwin closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself, as his nakedness was revealed.

  Isobel gazed with pleasure at the heavy pouch of his balls hanging amidst the blond nest of hair between his legs, at the long, thick phallus that lay prone between his powerfully muscled thighs. Raising the whip, she drew the tip of its lash gently along his buttocks, thrust into prominence by the posture that the fetters forced on him. Then she let the lash dangle between his cheeks, drawing the leather up slowly. The man Leof­win bit his lip to stifle a groan, and Isobel saw, with delight, how his phallus was beginning to stir into life. The soldiers, gathered around, were grinning openly at her subtle torment of the prisoner. Isobel turned again to the sergeant. ‘Encourage him’ she said pleasantly. ‘Our poor guest seems a little - reluctant - to entertain us.’

  With a grin, the sergeant thrust out his big fist and bent down to grip Leofwin’s swelling shaft. Swiftly he pumped up and down a few times, drawing back the foreskin so the smooth glans was revealed. The other men murmured in appreciation as the Saxon’s tumes-cent member throbbed and grew to impressive propor­tions, jerking up against his belly as the sergeant gave it a last, appreciative rub and reluctantly let go. Leofwin had closed his eyes; his mouth was set in a gaunt rictus of mingled shame and pleasure. Isobel, watching with rapt pleasure, brought the whip sharply down across his tautly-muscled buttocks and Leofwin groaned aloud as his now rampant penis jerked hungrily into thin air.

  Isobel said, ‘So, my proud Leofwin. Do you still consider that we can think of nothing new to torment you?’ She picked up the man’s discarded clothing and tossed it at the sergeant. ‘Make him decent again, and have him taken down to the lower dungeon. In chains.’

  ‘But my lady, the girl is still down there, as you commanded.’

  ‘You heard me!’ Isobel snapped dangerously. ‘Do it -now!’ As her men started to unfasten the stocks, she fingered the whip softly, with pleasure.

  Elena, lying on the straw in the corner of the dark cell, looked up with a start. She heard footsteps; someone was coming down the stone steps outside. Perhaps they brought bread and water again. Or perhaps Aimery was back? No. She swallowed hard at the ache in her throat. Hadn’t she heard, with her own ears, that it was Aimery who’d ordered her to be kept in solitary confine­ment down here? Gytha’s words had haunted her all day, He hates all Saxons - especially women - with a deep, poisonous hatred.’

  The bolt was rasped back. The door was flung open; the sudden light from the stairwell all but blinded her. A man in ragged breeches, with his arms chained behind his back, was kicked and shoved down the stairs; he fell, and the two guards behind him started to pull him up roughly. Behind them stood the lady Isobel de Morency who carried a gleaming torch, which she stuck into a cresset fixed to the wall.

  The prisoner was pulled to his feet and held upright by the guards, his arms still in chains. He spat out a harsh Saxon oath at his captors; Elena, pulling herself to her feet, stared into his familiar face.

  Leofwin. Leofwin, the captured rebel, with his gaunt, proud features and his blazing blue eyes.

  Her own eyes widened in distress at his humiliation. He caught her gaze and shook his head very slightly, as if to say, ‘No. Don’t talk now. Don’t let them know that you know me.’

  Isobel, her hands on her hips, was saying with silky relish, ‘We’ve brought a friend for you, my little Elena.

  One of your own kind, to keep you company down here. You Saxons are used to wallowing in filth, aren’t you? I should think this cell is quite luxurious for you both!’

  Leofwin jerked himself free, sending his guards flying; they scrambled to get a grip at his chains and wrestled him, still struggling, to his knees.

  Elena, unable to bear any more, launched herself towards Isobel. ‘Leave him alone! What harm has he done? Why should he be punished like this?’

  Instead of answering her, Isobel turned towards the guards. ‘Get out’ she told them.

  ‘But my lady - ‘

  ‘I can deal with them. Both of them. Get out.’

  The guards reluctantly obeyed, closing the heavy door behind them. Isobel turned towards the still kneel­ing Leofwin. ‘Well, my fine Saxon, it seems as if you have found yourself a little champion here. A soft heart, hasn’t she, our little convent girl? A pity, though, that she’s a slut.’

  Elena whitened. ‘No. I beg you …’

  Isobel advanced slowly on her, her silk gown rustling against the straw scattered on the floor, the flames of the torch bringing the fine fabric to life. ‘Oh, yes, a slut. Tell Leofwin here, convent girl, how you let the Breton ravish you - how you welcomed him into your lonely bed on your very first night here, and moaned aloud with pleasure - go on, tell him!’

  Leofwin looked up at her steadily. ‘It’s all right, Elena. I know she’s lying.’

  Elena hung her head, feeling sick. Isobel chuckled.

  ‘No lies, my fine Leofwin! Why, she couldn’t wait for it, could you, Elena? Show him - show him that tender, luscious body that you allowed lord Aimery to use as a plaything!’

  ‘No,’ whispered Elena. ‘No …’

  Isobel moved meaningfully towards the kneeling Leofwin, and Elena saw that she was carrying a small but lethal whip, which she trailed lightly across his bronzed, muscular shoulders.

  ‘Show him, Elena. Or he will suffer. I mean it.’

  Her heart thudding with shame, Elena slipped her ragged tunic from her shoulders and stood very still, her cheeks burning with silent degradation in that dark prison cell. The torchlight flickered on her soft skin, on her high, pouting breasts, on the shadowy triangle of soft golden hair at the apex of her slender thighs. Isobel jerked Leofwin’s face upwards with the handle of her whip. ‘Look’ she commanded exultantly. ‘Isn’t she pretty? A pity my lord Aimery tired of her so quickly, but then he gets his fill of these eager, insipid Saxon wenches -’

  Leofwin looked, but it was as if his eyes did not see. The strained sinews of his powerful torso gleamed in the half-light; his handsome face was bleak as he said quietly, I’ll take no part in your games, lady.’

  ‘No?’ Isobel laughed, and moved suddenly to crouch on the straw at his side, heedless of her fine gown. ‘Well, my proud Saxon. What have we here?’

  And she reached out delicately, to cup the Saxon’s groin. With a low chuckle of satisfaction, she brushed her fingers along his ragged breeches, then reached for the opening, ripping it apart.

  Between the man’s powerfully-muscled thighs, his phallus, so recently erect, was again stirring helplessly. Isobel stroked it gently, lasciviously, with light, teasing fingertips, then moved her hand carefully to cradle the heavy bag of his testicles in her smooth palm. The Saxon groaned aloud in despair and closed his eyes; Elena stood frozen, watching, equally trapped by Isobel’s power.

  Isobel continued to stroke lightly, relentlessly at Leofwin’s hardening flesh until the long, thick shaft reared high against the man’s flat, muscled belly, throbbing angrily.

  ‘Such a fine big weapon,’ murmured Isobel huskily as she stroked the silken skin with her fingertips. ‘How I
wish I had time to savour it fully.’

  Elena’s head jerked up. The lady Isobel was about to leave? Then this humiliation, for both of them, was about to end?

  Isobel, rising slowly to her feet, caught the sudden flare of hope in the naked Saxon girl’s haunted blue eyes. ‘As for you, my dear Elena,’ she went on softly, ‘you, I am happy to say, will have all the time in the world. He is yours. My present to you. Use him well, won’t you?’

  Elena said, with quiet scorn, T will do nothing of the sort.’

  Isobel arched her dark eyebrows mockingly. ‘Still defiant, my dear?’ Then she gazed thoughtfully down at the helpless Leofwin’s still massively rigid penis, and trailed the tip of her lash along the velvety, purple glans. Leofwin shuddered in spite of himself at the subtle promise of pain.

  ‘If you do not obey my orders, Elena,’ said Isobel silkily, ‘then this man will be punished. By me, person­ally.’ Elena rubbed her hand across her eyes in fresh despair, Leofwin clenched his jaw. ‘Do as I command,’ continued Isobel sweetly, ‘and you will both be rewarded by your own gratification. Is it so very much to ask? A satisfactory - more than satisfactory, I should think - mutual pleasuring?’

  She started to walk towards the door, and at the top of the stairs she turned round. ‘By the way, don’t think to deceive me. I assure you, I have very reliable ways of knowing whether or not my orders have been obeyed.’

  Then she was gone, the heavy door bolted behind her.

  Elena sank to her knees, and wrapped the torn tunic forlornly round herself to hide her shame. How Leofwin must despise her. How she despised herself.

  Isobel climbed the stone stairs quickly, and went down a long, dark passage at the back of the great hall. No-one was around to see her; the castle seemed strangely deserted in Aimery’s absence. Using one of the keys fastened to her girdle, she opened a recessed door and went quickly inside, shutting it behind her. Good; Alys had prepared everything, as she asked.

  The room was small but luxuriously furnished, with silk hangings covering the bare stone walls and rush matting on the floor. There was a low bed and a carved wooden chest and, because there were no windows, the room was lit by two wax candles in wall holders.

  Isobel went purposefully over to the far side of the room and knelt down on the floor, lifting up the edge of the matting.

  Yes. This was the place. Below her was a crack in the wooden floorboards, that had been cunningly, secretly enlarged to form a spyhole into the room below. Pillow­ing her cheek on her arm, she gazed through the crack. The glowing torch she’d left for them lit the scene perfectly. She was directly above the cell where the chained prisoner Leofwin was locked up with the insipid Saxon girl. How virginal she looked, with her pale golden hair and girlish figure! How, oh how could Aimery be so besotted with her?

  And what, she suddenly thought, would the Breton say if he knew what she, Isobel, had done?

  Frowning angrily, Isobel turned her gaze on Leofwin. She felt herself soften and melt as she gazed on his proud, handsome face, his mane of fair hair, his heav­ily-muscled torso that gleamed so enticingly in the flickering light. She’d have him later, perhaps. She made herself a secret promise. Then, filled with eager anticipation, she settled down to watch.

  Still kneeling in the straw of the cell below the castle, Elena lifted her pale face and pushed back her tangled blonde hair. ‘Leofwin,’ she said quietly, I would do anything to save you from punishment. But I must tell you that everything the lady Isobel said was true. I have no excuses to make. I - I understand that you will have nothing but scorn for me, will not want to touch me

  She tried to keep her voice steady, but it broke slightly at the end. Leofwin, who had listened in silence, said huskily, ‘Elena. Come here.’ Puzzled, she moved slowly across towards him and knelt on the straw to gaze anxiously up into his face.

  Leofwin, taking a deep breath, drank in the sight of her; the pale gold, tousled hair framing that lovely, innocent face; those dark blue, anguished eyes and the small rosebud mouth. Even in her rags, he realised, she was still the loveliest girl he had ever seen.

  Softly, he said, ‘Elena. You are beautiful, and your body longs for pleasure - the pleasure that only a man can give you. There is nothing wrong with that. But did you know that Aimery le Sabrenn bears a personal hatred for all Saxon women?’

  She nodded, the sudden pain clouding her eyes. ‘I know now. But why, Leofwin? I had heard that most of King William’s commanders were stern, but fair, that the king himself is anxious for peace between Normans and Saxons. Why does the lord Aimery hate us so?’

  ‘I have heard that he was once betrayed by a beautiful Saxon lady, with whom he was in love - betrayed by her to the rebels. He escaped, but was scarred for life. That, it seems, is the reason for his cruel vengeance.’

  She tried to look calm and sensible as she nodded again, but he saw the tears glitter suddenly in her translucent blue eyes. ‘Oh, Elena,’ he groaned out sud­denly, ‘that you should suffer so. Elena, kiss me …’

  With a little gasp, she suddenly flung her arms around his neck, running her hands through his thick, tangled mane of hair. He was pressing hot, burning kisses against her cheek; finding her lips, his mouth devoured her, his tongue thrusting and probing, and she responded dizzily. Her torn tunic slipped unnoticed from her shoulders; her soft breasts nuzzled the hard, ridged muscle of his broad chest, teasing his brown nipples into hardness, until his breathing became harsh and ragged. He strained at the chains that shackled his hands behind his back, but he was cruelly pinioned still. Elena, seeing his silent struggle, bent to kiss his straining shoulder muscles, to lave the hard buds of his nipples with her small tender tongue.

  ‘See, Elena’ he grated out hoarsely. ‘See what you do to me …’

  With a little gasp she looked down, and saw how his penis’ darkly-engorged, had reared anew from his ragged breeches. The blood pounded dizzily in her temples at the throbbing masculinity of it. With a soft moan, she reached to caress its magnificence softly with her fingertips; it quivered, jerking towards her eagerly. Her flesh was on fire for this proud, beautiful Saxon man; already she could feel a melting in her loins, a soft ache in her secret parts, a sweet yearning not properly assuaged by the girls’ caresses and the French soldier’s lascivious kiss. She wanted him; oh, she wanted this man, to take him within her yearning, quivering flesh …

  With a little whimper, she kneeled upright, her hand gripping and stroking at the long, bone-hard phallus, as she thrust her breasts eagerly into his mouth.

  He lapped hungrily, wickedly, laving her heated nipples with cooling saliva, sucking on them with deeply satisfying caresses that made her throw her head back in blissful arousal, her hand still clasping the strong silken shaft of his penis. ‘Oh, Leofwin, please …’

  Turn round,’ he muttered huskily. ‘Turn round, my Saxon princess. On your knees. Ah, yes, that’s it …’

  In a drugged haze of desire, she turned to do his bidding, and Leofwin sighed aloud as her slender yet rounded buttocks were presented to his hungry gaze. By the light of the glimmering torch, he could see her pouting sex between her bottom cheeks, could see the moist pink flesh, so hungry for him. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, his rampant penis searching hungrily for her entrance.

  His chains made it difficult; but she thrust her hips wantonly towards him, driven wild by the merest touch of that huge throbbing glans against her secret places. Leofwin, his wildly-excited member almost out of con­trol, aimed as carefully as he could, sliding his long, thick shaft between her thighs, rubbing higher and higher against her soft pink folds, hearing her little sighs of eagerness, until at last he found her.

  Slowly, catching his breath, he slid his rampant rod between her silken flesh lips and into her tender, hot love passage. He was wild to thrust deep within her, to the very hilt; but he was careful not to hurt her, knowing the power of his fully erect member.

  Elena trembled in an agony of delight. Crouching on all fo
urs, her swollen breasts dangling free; she laid her cheek on her arm and cried out softly in her pleasure as the big Saxon entered her from behind. Her whole body was on fire as that deliriously long shaft slid into her hungry love channel, stroking her, driving her slowly to the very edge of rapture. Surely - surely, she couldn’t take any more! But still, he filled her with his gentle but powerful thrusts, and waves of delicious heat began to spread upwards into her belly, into her breasts. She moaned, and thrust against him finding his rhythm, feeling herself exquisitely impaled on that hot, hard length of male flesh. ‘Please’ she groaned, ‘please, Leofwin …’

  The torch glimmered smokily on the wall above them. She closed her eyes, shivering with exquisite pleasure, hearing Leofwin’s harsh breathing above her, picturing his magnificent, naked body crouching above her with his arms chained behind his back, servicing her, driving his wonderful penis slowly in and out of her juicy, clutching flesh. She was so near. And yet, and yet …

  Touch yourself, my princess’ murmured Leofwin huskily in her ear. ‘Your sweet little pleasure bud - it longs for release. Touch yourself, gently.’

  In a daze, she did what he said, finding with a shock that the little pinnacle of flesh was hotly aroused and exposed. Carefully, she touched it, while Leofwin paused in his movements, leaving his swollen penis nudging hungrily at her inflamed entrance. The sen­sation sent a violent spasm coursing through her; care­fully she touched again, and began to rub, slowly, along her own exquisitely sensitised little shaft.

  ‘You are ready?’ murmured Leofwin gently.

  ‘Oh, yes! Leofwin -1 beg you please - ‘

  He gave a throaty chuckle that drove her wild. ‘Very well, my princess. Then you shall have it - all …’ He plunged into her, with solid, powerful thrusts that sent wonderful sensations coursing through her blood. Elena cried out in rapture, panting greedily as she worked herself against him; softly she touched her pleasure bud, and the exquisite sensations built up and exploded shatteringly over and over as his huge penis continued to slide juicily inside her quivering, convuls­ing flesh. She cried aloud, throwing back her head as the orgasm engulfed her and her inner muscles spasmed around his iron-hard shaft.