The Innocent

from you. You will make me a fine profit before your looks go, you nasty-tempered bitch. Now you will do as I tell you, or I shall have you tied down and offered to whoever wants you. Do you know what that means, bitch? Plowboys and wanderers passing through will labor over your fair white body without ceasing until your sheath is so wide an army could march through it. Now, get on your back, bitch. The lord Merin ap Owen and his men are here for an evening’s entertainment.'

'Never!' Isleen shouted at Clud.

He raised his hand to her once again, but a voice stopped him.

'Nay, Clud, do not beat her senseless. You will spoil our enjoyment. We like a woman with spirit. Leave us now, and we will have our pleasure of the wench.' The speaker was a tall, dark- haired man with a scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down to his chin. It spoiled his otherwise flawless features.

He smiled, and Isleen shivered. This, she sensed, was a very wicked man. 'I am a nobleman’s daughter,' she said defiantly.

'How long do you want her?' the whoremonger asked.

Merin ap Owen handed Clud a heavy silver coin. 'We will keep her for the whole night,' he said, 'and do not argue with me, for I will wager I have just given you double what you paid for her. You already have your profit, Clud.'

'Do you mean to kill her then?' the whoremonger wondered aloud.

Merin ap Owen laughed heartily. 'Only with our kindness, Clud. Only with our kindness. Now, get out, but send some wine in here.'

'Yes, my lord! At once!' Clud said, and he limped out.

Merin ap Owen looked Isleen up and down in a leisurely fashion. 'So you say you are a nobleman’s daughter, wench. On the wrong side of the blanket, of course. Some serf’s get, eh?'

'I am rightfully born,' Isleen responded. 'What serf’s bastard would have my fine features, or my beautiful golden hair?'

'Remove your chemise,' Merin ap Owen said.

'No!'

His hand shot out swiftly, hooking into the neckline of the garment and rending it quickly to the hem.

'It is my only chemise,' she shouted.

'If you did not wish it destroyed, you should have obeyed me,' he said quietly. 'You can repair it, provided you remove it now before my men and I rip it to pieces entirely.'

Isleen’s blue eyes were wide with shock. Looking into his face, she knew he would do exactly as he had said, and so without further argument, she eased carefully from the chemise, setting it aside in a corner of the room. She was totally naked now, for all of her clothing except the chemise had been previously taken from her.

'She has fine big tits, my lord,' one of his companions said admiringly.

'That she does,' Merin ap Owen agreed, and his hand closed about Isleen’s right breast, squeezing it hard. Then he looked directly at her. 'But I am being discourteous, lady. I have not introduced myself. I am Merin ap Owen, the lord of this small region. These are three of my best men. Badan, whose name means boar. Gwyr, whose name means pure, and he is purely wicked, aren't you, Gwyr? And, last, but certainly not least, as you will soon discover, Siarl, whose name means manly. These three have pleased me greatly, and so we have come for a night’s entertainment, which you will provide, my pretty bitch.'

'My name is Isleen de Warenne,' she told him in an even voice. Her blue eyes locked onto Merin ap Owen’s darker blue eyes. Her first reaction was to be terrified, but these men, she sensed, would enjoy that. She would show no fear before them. What they wanted of her was nothing unusual, and she wasn't a virgin. Four men in a single evening. She had never imagined she would do such a thing, but why not? 'If you squeeze my breast much harder, Merin ap Owen, my nipple will pop off. Release it. I can already feel the bruise starting,' she said coldly.

'Ah,' he said, now more interested in the woman than he had been before, 'you are not afraid, my pretty bitch. That is good. We will have far more fun if you are willing, than unwilling. There is too much difficulty in restraining a woman while you're having at her.'

At that point a frightened-looking girl lifted the curtain of the alcove and scurried in with a full skin of wine, which she hung on a nail protruding from the wall. Then she scampered out.

'I've never had more than one man,' Isleen said bluntly.

'At a time, you mean,' Merin ap Owen corrected her. She might indeed be a nobleman’s daughter, for all he knew, but she was also a born whore. Of that he was quite certain. She had the look. Lush and lewd. Releasing her breast he took the wineskin, and squirted the sour brew down his parched throat. 'Who wants her first?' he asked, handing off the skin. 'Can you agree, or shall you dice for her? I will have her last.' He pulled Isleen into their midst. 'Come on, my pretty bitch, and show my men what a good time they're going to have. Go on, laddies, she’s yours for the taking.'

Caught between the three men Isleen swallowed back a moment of panic. Hands began to roam over her body. Her blond head was drawn back, and a mouth came down on hers; a tongue pushed between her lips. She felt fingers exploring her mont, pushing between her nether lips, and into her sheath. Isleen sighed with undisguised pleasure, and wiggled hard against the invading hand. If she could keep them all in check, and from being too rough with her, this could prove as diverting for her as it was going to be for them. Two hands slid about to fondle her breasts. Isleen pushed her rounded bottom back onto the groin belonging to the hands. 'Ooooooo,' she murmured pulling away from the kisser, 'that’s a nice big one. Do you want to put it in me?'

'Aye,' a voice growled in her ear. 'Let’s dice, boys, before I explode. The bitch is hot, and so am I!'

A pair of dice and a cup dropped on the dirt floor, and the three men fell to their knees to play. Isleen smiled, and looked directly into the eyes of Merin ap Owen. He nodded slightly, a faint smile playing about his mouth. Isleen smiled back, her little pink tongue licking her lips slowly in a deliberate provocation. He laughed.

'I win!' came the shout, and Siarl scrambled to his feet only to be pulled back again.

'Not until we see who goes second, and then third,' Badan said. 'The bitch got me so hard, I'm all an ache with my lust.'

The dice rattled in their cup again. The decision was finally made. Siarl would go first. Badan second, and Gwyr third. The men stood up, their hands loosening their clothing as they did. Isleen lay down upon the pallet on the floor, spreading herself wide.

'All right,' she said bluntly, 'let’s get to it, manly one, although I shall certainly be the judge of that.'

'You'll not find me wanting,' Siarl said, falling to his knees be-, tween her outstretched thighs, and he pulled out his manhood to show her.

'It’s a respectable cock,' Isleen said in a slightly bored tone, 'but 'tis how you use it, Siarl. Now, stuff me full, and make me sing!' she told him with unladylike indelicacy.

Siarl fell upon Isleen, ramming himself into her with a groan, and pumping her over, and over, and over again.

The other three men watched, Merin ap Owen impassively, Gwyr and Badan with increasing excitement, their manhoods exposed, hard, and throbbing. The lord caught the eye of his two men.