Chapter 2 - 'With Hard-favor'd Rage'
With the gray of early morning, Sir Edward de Valence awoke, his muscles as stiff as bark. In the half-shadow of the baggage wagon, he could just make out the pale shape of his captive still sleeping curled up in the bindings he had put her in last evening. Her long, black hair obscured her delicate face and gagged mouth. Her breasts were the size of ripe apples, her nipples as dark as dates, her slight waist long, as well as her bound legs. Hidden was her dark nest of curls and quim from which Edward had raped his pleasure.
Now, in the half-light of the morning, he had regrets about that moment's pleasure. When Edward raped Catherine, he had done so out of an uncontrolled rage against her father and the death of Edward's son. His rage was spent inside Catherine and now there was room for the feelings that might change his destiny. Edward eased over to her sleeping form and brushed her hair away from her face, causing her to stir. Catherine's eyes opened wide, unsure about her surroundings. Then remembering the nightmare of last evening, she struggled violently against her bonds. Edward let her until she began to cry into her sopping gag and her struggles became retches of sorrow.
"I do not wish harm to you," Edward told her in her native French.
Catherine took no solace in his words. In fact, they were upon deaf ears. The horrors of the night were a blur and now it seemed they came back to an all too real life. God was punishing her now for her wantonness. This English devyl was chosen to be her tormentor.
". . .Catherine. . ."
Hearing her name was like a slap to her face, waking her up to the words that this English spoke.
". . .promise not to cause a stir, I will unbind you and find you some decent clothes. Do you understand?"
Catherine nodded her head, not understanding all what the English had said, but knowing that the evil bindings would be taken off and she could try to cover what this foul man had already ravaged from her. Edward reached over and undid the knots of the soaked gag. He unwound the cloth from around her head until she spat the last out of it out of her mouth. Her jaws ached and her tongue seemed numb. As she wiggled a bit to allow this English to unbind her, she found her hands and wrists were also numb. However, instead of unbinding her, de Valence moved back and began to search through a chest.
"I thought, m'lord was going to release me!" Catherine wormed around, still trying to undo her hog-tie.
Edward brought a bottle out of the chest and sat down across from his dark-haired ransom, "And I will, as soon as I can trust you enough to leave you without harness."
"I am NOT your ride, m'lord, and when my father finds out what acts you have done to me. . ."
"He will come and pierce my back with steel," Edward interrupted, "or some such a thing."
"He will tear off those jewels of yours, m'lord, and feed them to sows! Unbind me now!"
Edward took a long draw from his bottle. The warmth of the mead soothed his throat and tongue. After a long swallow, he set the bottle down before Catherine. Her eyes never left it. She squirmed a bit more, her movements and grunts of frustration warming the fires in Edward's loins.
"Dog! Loose me!" she spat, almost exhausted from her efforts.
Her words only fuelled Edward's growing excitement. He found it curious that he would want to tame this shrew of a girl. A coney and a wolf, but the coney would fall prey.
"Do you want this again?" Edward asked as he held up the dank rag that had gagged her all night.
"You would not dare." Catherine said levelly.
Edward moved toward her, holding the gag before him. This caused her to wriggle back, her dark eyes like a doe about to be felled.
"No, m'lord, no!" she pleaded with the dark Edward.
"Then you will blunt your sharp tongue?"
She just looked at him as if he were made of maggot-ridden dung.
He began to move.
"Yes, m'lord!" she spit.
"Yes, m'lord . . .?" Edward prodded.
Catherine looked at him blankly.
"Pray, continue Catherine. Tell me what you will not do."
Catherine held her tongue from saying something that would endanger her plight even more, "I will not, m'lord, call you those things that the devyl knows are true of you."
Edward smiled and sat back again, nabbing the bottle of mead and drinking another long swallow. Catherine licked her sore lips but was determined not to ask for even a drop. To keep her mind from torturing itself, she mentally assessed her captor. The English was taller than most, with wide shoulders and a rippled stomach that bore a large scar across it in testament to the man's station. His face was square with dark hair cut like the king he followed here to France. His eyes were a dark hazel in color and his moustache and beard were trimmed close and neat. His hands were large and as rough as bark from scars. His shanks were long and burled with muscle and his cock was as big as Catherine had ever seen, nested now in his dark fur that seemed to cover his chest and loin thickly.
His cock was also rampant.
Catherine was not an innocent, far from it. It was a cousin that taught her to enjoy the delights of her body early. Since that early age, Catherine enjoyed the many lovers that were wooed by her coy looks and father's fortunes. It was those fortunes that allowed Catherine to indulge in her games of the heart she enjoyed so much. This was another game, she thought. All men want few things. She had one of those things and she was not afraid to use it to her advantage. Catherine squirmed around again until she was almost sitting. She eased open her thighs a bit to let Edward view her quim and watched his eyes as they traveled to between her legs.
"What will m'lord do with me?" she asked.
"Hold you for ransom."
"My father will pay you well, m'lord."
Edward smiled, "I know he will."
"Am I to be kept as this?"
"It pleases me."
"It does not please me. . ." Catherine said, closing her thighs so her sex could not be seen by her captor.
"I think it does, Catherine," Edward crawled over to her and knelt before her.
He looked directly into those doe-dark eyes.
He then parted her legs, though Catherine struggled to keep them shut. Edward held them open and gazed at Catherine's sex openly. Catherine still struggled to shield it from his view. Still bound as she was, she could not hope to do so against a man as strong as this English. Edward then looked into those dark eyes of hers.
"Is m'lord pleased with the view?" Catherine asked with tone dripping venom.
"Very much, m'lady D'Astier," the English knight replied as he held her legs open for a moment or two before easing back again, releasing his grip on her.
Catherine started to close her thighs to his view but Edward sat back up and pried them apart again. This happened two or three more times, without a word spoken between the two, until Catherine left her thighs open for Edward's eyes.
"It is as pretty a sight, m'lady, as all your father's wooded lands."
Catherine did not say a word, but bowed her head. Her tears began to trickle down her cheek and onto her chest. Though Edward hated to admit it, the sight of this pitiful, bound creature made his loins hot and his thirst great. He took another draw from the bottle of mead.
"Would you like some mead, m'lady Catherine?" Edward asked.
She nodded her head, not looking up. Her eyes were red with the sorrow of her plight, partially an act and partially not. A woman's tears, her cousin once said, were deadlier than any dagger, stabbing at a man's heart cleanly and on target every time. Edward took the bottle to her and lifted it to her lips. She gulped down the sweet wine eagerly, having had neither food nor drink for nearly a day. With every swallow, she could feel her strength being renewed as if the mead were a magik potion or elixir. She drank nearly half the bottle before Edward took it from her lips. An awkward moment passed between the two before Catherine broke the silence.
Edward knelt between Catherine's open legs, his rampant cock pointing at her face as a sword would. His intent was plain. He meant to take pleasure from her lips.
"M'lord wants me to drink from another bottle?" She asked, knowing the answer before she even asked the question.
Edward nodded his head slowly.
"T'will be hard, m'lord English, bound the way I am."
Edward smiled and moved to Catherine's side, lifting her until she was kneeling, still hog-tied. Her hands were red from the tightness of her bonds, but her ankles and feet looked well. Edward grabbed another length of thong and tied her wrist a bit more loosely before cutting the other wrist bonds off, allowing the blood to flow to her fingers again. The slim young woman was still bound, but her plight was less uncomfortable.
The English stepped around to Catherine's front, his cock pointed at her lips. She leaned forward a bit, and kissed Edward's swollen tip, running her tongue over it and around it as her cousin taught her. The man tasted slightly sweet, perhaps because of the mead she had had earlier. The woman's tongue was warm and deft and made Edward groan in pleasure. His fingers combed through her long, dark tresses and helped with Catherine's rhythm. Her lips swallowed his shaft and with them, she began to suckle his pricker to pleasure.
Her rhythm was deliberately slow, even with the knight's large hands grasping her head. Her tongue was neither still nor her lips. She would often suck all the way off his purplish head, lick around it as if a boiled sweet apple before taking in his shaft again. From his groans and urgings, she knew he was about to spend.
Edward could feel his seed boiling up his shaft in bliss. He held it as long as possible, reveling in each second before filling Catherine's mouth with his white cum. It's saltiness she swallowed as she licked clean Edward's cock. Edward knew then that Catherine would be his servant lover, to do with as he pleased. . .
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story continues in On French Soil 3 - Of Hot and Forcing Violation