The Passions of Gwendolyn

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

To tell my tale, I must harken back many years ago, to a meadow, a place where the first blossoms of springtime and a warm sun caress the shoulders of a young maid and her robust lover. Their flaxen hair and fair skin reflect the sun’s light, making it look, perhaps, as if they’re glowing in their nakedness, their arms and legs entwined in a lover’s celebration to the new season.

Her sensuous giggle rises into the air as if it had wings to carry it; but it’s just a breeze that catches the sound, and soon that tiny gust of song-filled air will die away. These lovers kiss with their whole mouths, with tongues joining as surely as their limbs. They laugh uproariously at some private jest. But when the young man’s thick rod penetrates the silky maidenhead between his lover’s thighs, there’s the deep guttural sound of commingling, offering the sky and trees and singing birds an ancient melody—the great creative ode to spring and the resurrection of the earth.

Her honey breasts taste sweet to him as his hands explore their full ripe virtues. While there is still a youth’s fuzz about his cheek, and his young eyes are all too eager, his firm chest is a sign of his strength, as manhood makes him more than a gangly adolescent. Such strength makes her succumb to him gratefully; such purpose and fervent hunger, and she gives up everything to know him in the carnal sense. To lay with him, to strip away all barriers to their union and copulate with him on this spring carpet of green, secures her in his love. In reply, a bounty of affection he bestows on her, a bounty that will last forever.

I was that young maid, Gwendolyn. My lover, Stuart, from a long line of passionate Stuarts in our fishing village in a remote region of England. I remember that spring morning with him. I will remember it always, as if happened just seconds ago. I can still smell the air with the fragrance of lilac, still feel the warmth on my skin, especially on my belly when I lay back for him, and he leaned in and teased my navel with his tongue. I remember the sounds of birds, and the buzz of insects in our secluded hideaway, and the sight of nature’s palette of wildflowers sprinkled amongst the grasses.

I remember that spring morning most of all my times with Stuart, even more than the day in the barn when he took my virginity, and I so willingly tossed it aside as a useless impairment to my happiness. I remember that day more because it was our last day together, when into the gentleness of the early hour came the sound of hoof beats thundering recklessly into our tranquil village. The appearance of this band of rogues, this tribe of thieves and scoundrels, this host of barbarian brutes, would forever change the course of my once pre-ordained future as a humble fisherman’s wife.

The dozen men that rode through our streets on horseback dropped their gifts: their scowls, their fiery torches that burned our homes, and their scornful epithets that I can still hear ringing in my ear as plainly as I hear the sound of my lover’s lust.

Stuart and I, hearing the raucous clamor reverberating across the valley, attended to our hearts suddenly driven by fear.

Oh! How I wish we’d remained in our meadow, happily stealing our pleasures from each other. Oh! How I wish we hadn’t answered the call of our loved ones. What good did it do that we responded to the awful din, rushing to dress ourselves and scurry back to our homes? Ripped apart, Stuart attended to his father’s business, trying desperately to protect it from the storming fiends; while I returned to our thatched roofed home, and hid in the corner of our kitchen with my mother and sisters, hoping that the wild hoard of men would not find us.

My noble desires to protect my family were met with disaster, as I was torn from the hands of my tiniest sister and dragged away to ride behind a savage angry villain. Thundering away on a massive stead, from the only home I’d ever known, my last glimpse of the once well-ordered village was marked by the flames and ash and smoke that clouded the spring sky with death and sadness. I was fated never to know who lived and who died that day, though I assumed by all accounts from the men who abducted me, that it had been a victorious raid—our village stores plundered, our maidens deflowered, and the bravest of our clan who dared fight back, left to be buried by the few that survived. I could only conclude that Stuart was among the dead.

***

“What’s your name, wench?” the hairy brute demanded of me. His teeth were foul, his swarthy smile much like the others around the bed where I lay shivering. “She was the prettiest one.” He had my hair in his thick sooty hands, his fingers running through the mass of tangles so it hurt. Though I’d never cry out.

Another man lifted my skirt.

“Ah, such white thighs!”

“No! No! You’re not going to . . . “ I cried out.

“You’re our prize, little fair one. You give us pleasure, we treat you well, you live.”

I shrunk back seeing the knife blade at my neck.

My skirt was at my waist, my whole s*x naked. A hand reached in and tore away the bodice of my dress, so my breasts with their puckered n*****s taunted their lusts more. A hairy head bent down and captured one breast with lips and teeth. If his ardent sucking was painful, I didn’t know. I was too afraid to feel a thing. The man that spoke, the one with the foul mouthed smile and the knife in hand, opened his pants as a prelude to the inevitable act. I closed my eyes, wishing myself away from this horrible fate, clamoring with all my soul to be somewhere, anywhere but in the midst of thieves that would take away my peace and any shred of decency.

As I waited for the first thrust of rape, a voice suddenly thundered above the cackles and jeers of the men around me.

“Hold on!” the voice boomed.

“You’ll have her in turn,” the man between my legs barked back. I could feel his thighs against mine as he opened me further. My eyes jerked open to see the men’s faces again, their blazing eyes and hot-fired confrontation.

“I’ll have her now! She’s mine!” the newcomer declared.

“She’s our spoils, man. You’ll have her when I’m done.”

“I’ll have her now, Jorn. Step aside.”

“By who’s rule is that?”

“By mine. She’s mine, I found her. I claim her. There’s another w***e in the other hut. Go to her. She’s a lusty b***h with a good tongue.”

The men faced off with even scowls of contempt. I saw their anger flare like smoke was rising, but that was only illusion. There was no smoke, just simple fury, and a clenching of teeth and fists ready to come to blows. But my attacker backed down, and moved away. Whatever power this bearded interloper had over his ugly counterpart, it was enough to make the man, Jorn, and the others waiting, turn about and leave me alone. I breathed a sigh of relief, and yet, I was certain that this simply postponed the assault I feared.

“You’ll stay in my hut with me,” my would-be rescuer told me, as he dragged me off the pallet and to another crude shelter that he called his. Once there, he bound my hands behind me with ropes, my feet the same, and left me to myself. A youth was posted at the doorway to keep anyone from entering and taking me away.

“I shall have you later,” I was told, as the stunning face of the rogue disappeared into the light of day.

I heard the commotion of a meeting outside the tent, angry exchanges that I couldn’t make out; and then there was nothing, no voices or arguments, just the scurrying of men, and in the distance the cry of a child. I became more calm as it quieted outside, and it appeared that I was to be left alone. It was the first calm I’d had in hours, though it was an uneasy one. I could only guess that most of the day was already gone the way the light was fading around me, and I could hardly see the green of my dress. Perhaps evening would mean sleep and I could hope to wake from this terror and realize that it was only a nightmare.

With all my might, I tried to see Stuart’s face as it had been that morning. His bright blue eyes, and winsome smile, the sculptured features that as years passed, only became more appealing to lusting eyes: high cheekbones, a distinctive jaw and nose, and a smile that could be broad and charming as well as contemplative and mysterious. He was always surprising me, with flowers, with sweets his mother made for her younger children, and with s*x. In my few short months as his lover, I became acquainted with bodily passion, and a host of physical sensations I never knew were part of me. I craved his arms around me, his groin pressed to mine, his tongue kissing me in all the most private places where I’d find myself responding with thrilling chills, so I’d be tingling all over.

Oh! How I sought his face, his chest and loins, as I searched my memory for him. Somehow I believed in those anxious hours of waiting that if I brought him into my mind again, he might rescue me from these villains. His countenance, so pure and without scorn would lift me away from the trial I was sure to face.

How I sought his face!

And yet, when his visage did appear to me, I saw nothing but my last memory of him, as we ran hand in hand toward our village. His heart went out to me, leaping forward as if he knew the terrible choice he was making when we parted. I would have had him do nothing else but his duty to his family, though that day, such virtue surely killed him. It was the face of his terror that came to me, and I couldn’t wipe it from my mind, as the memory of his smiles and gentle nature slipped from my thoughts. I thought of Stuart with all my might, until at last, I was drifting into an exhausted slumber, only to be jerked awake moments later.

The rogue who had claimed me returned with food, his burly form hovering over me, waiting for my eyes to open. I stared up from the bed, seeing that the daylight hours had indeed been spent, the hut taking on a mellow glow with the light of the man’s lamp. I saw his face clearly, and spied some kindness there I didn’t expect.

Helping me to sit up, he freed my hands, and I ate his food eagerly, realizing the heavy burning in my empty stomach. I’d not eaten since the night before. My early morning rendezvous with Stuart had been before breakfast.

“You’re safe we me,” the barbarian said, as he watched me eat.

I stared at him warily.

“My name is Erik. You can tell me yours.”

I said nothing.

“You should get used to this life,” he said observing me carefully. “It’s the one you now lead. My father, the elder, will marry us in the morning. That will keep the others away from you.”

I was silent still, but wide-eyed in horror. How quickly my fate had changed! Married to this man? It could not be!

“I’ll treat you fairly. You’re a handsome girl.” His hand caressing my hair, did it fondly. He didn’t pull at the tangles like the other man. “You’ll have to speak to me. I won’t allow you to remain silent. And I won’t hesitate to whip you soundly, girl, if you defy me.”

If he only realized that I was too astounded to speak. Even if I’d tried, I couldn’t utter any words. Married! This couldn’t be happening to me.

“Suit yourself, if you like,” he said, when I refused to reply.

My silence certainly didn’t deter his purpose. I could be grateful to him for rescuing me from his angry cohorts, but I would not be rescued from his intended s****l assault.

In his favor, Erik was younger and more appealing to me as man than the others. Gruff and brutish still, he did have a handsome face. His features were bold, but not unpleasant, and his thick brown hair looked as if it had been washed within the last week. I certainly couldn’t argue with his brawny appearance. So much more manly than even my Stuart, his shoulders were powerfully broad, and his thighs, so I noticed as he removed his pants were mighty as well. His flaccid p***s was naturally long, so I knew its potent size would be ample indeed.