Raya let out a deep, contended sigh as she layback on the grass-patched hillock in the centre of the clearing. All around her the trees heaved and swayed in the autumn breeze, letting their bounty of dying leaves fall to the ground below where they would fester and rot sweetly next to furrowing squirrels, desperately in search of food to store for the coming winter. She let her hand run across her cotton-covered chest, sending ripples of electricity to her nipples, which sprang to loving attention under her teasing fingertips. Autumn was certainly her favourite time of year, she felt freer in the cool warmth of September then in the stifling heat of July. And though everything was starting to fade to winter browns and grey, she knew that this only meant that new life was getting ready to be made from the beauty of the old.
She often came to the forest to relax, away from her stepfather and siblings. When her mother was still alive she had stayed at home more, but when she had died just two summers ago, a day from her 18th birthday, Raya had taken to longer and longer trips to the forest. The constant bickering over chores and money made for an uncomfortable home. More often than not, Raya ended up doing it all; it was far preferable to the constant arguments and shouting. Last New Years eve she had spent the entire village party in the local tavern's kitchens. Her stepfather being a regular of the Tumble Down Inn had given permission for her to be of use for the night, simply because he was trying to sleep with the Inn keepers wife. Raya missed all the festivities and had red raw hands for days after. As much as she sometimes hated home, she knew that it was the preferable place to be. Her time to be married off was fast approaching; years of putting it off had only made her stepfather angry and aggressive. The suitors he picked were more than double her age, and often odious, obnoxious fools. Cleaning the house one afternoon she had overheard one suitor promising to uphold his part of the bargain should he be picked to marry her. She had no doubt that this bargain would be her stepfather insisting on having free reign with her body whenever he demanded. Of course the desperate attempt to find a suitor didn't stop his ministrations in the meantime. His attentions to her had become more intimate of late, and to her great despair more bold. He argued that she would never make a good wife without proper training, and that the sooner she learnt the way of the world the better. Thankfully she had managed to escape so far with little more than a few doorway gropings and one very fumbled attempt to kiss her.
She shuddered at the memory of his touch, shaking back a sudden need to heave. She looked down at her exposed thighs, lily and goose bumped in the cool air, her skirts lifted up to her waist. Why did she have to think about him now? The warm swirl of her last orgasm was now tainted with the hawk like face of her stepfather. He was five foot ten of waning muscle now going to waste, thanks to years working as a carpenter followed by many more propping up a barstool. Ok, so she didn't just come here to relax, but what she did whilst alone was nothing to be ashamed of she argued with herself. And besides, she'd never been caught before; she'd been here hundreds of times and not once met the so-called keeper of the Barons forest. The Baron was always the subject of idle and more often than not lascivious gossip. She gently tussled her deep red hair, cascading it over her shoulders with a grin. The stories of the Baron may have been horrifying at times, women kidnapped and beaten, taken away and often not heard from again, but Raya couldn't help but feel a hot sexual shiver run through her every time someone recounted one of the numerous legends. Her amber eyes brightened at the thought, how devilish and dangerous the baron seemed. Of course she didn't believe a word of the stories, though it aroused and amused her to hear them. Even with all the stories and legends floating around, no one ever sought justice, either through peoples disbelief or for people thinking the girls in question foolish for going there in the first place. Whatever went on up there, she had never seen a glimpse of it, and she was having too much of a good time to worry about it now.
Once more her hand returned to the soft downy haired mound of her sex, and the silky smoothness of her lips, still deliciously damp from before. The village girls had taken to waxing the underside of their privates, and though she had not really wanted to, her friends had held her down the night before and attacked her with it. They laughed as she whimpered and cried at the sharp tugging, hay from the barn tickling her buttocks and straw creeping into intimate places as she tried to wriggle from their grasp. It hurt like burning fire for hours after, but she had to admit that it brought a new wonderful sensation to playing with herself. The softness there seemed endless, and it was hard to think of anything else but her arousal while her sex felt so rudely naked, her rosy inner lips only just peeking through between the outer ones like a rouged red pout. Her fingers danced lightly over the sweetly smelling wetness between her thighs, occasionally dipping into the tightness there and mewling as little jolts of pleasure racked through her temples all the way down to her toes. She brought her other hand down to grip her mound, squeezing possessively and causing a dull ache to fill her pussy. Her mind wandered again, but this time to the young boy that tended the local farriers in town, she pictured his strong and prematurely calloused hands gripping her there, his teeth biting into her helpless nipples as she writhed beneath him. He couldn't be much older than 18 but he was well known among the girls of the village for his unspoken and silent sexual prowess. Though she had never given in to his obvious draw, Raya had often entertained the idea in her private thoughts.
She imagined his amber eyes boring into her body, his hands holding her tightly with rough but gentle dominance, as he took her in the stables any way he wished, not uttering a single word as he worked furiously to bring himself off. She felt a flush of shame flicker through her, she had no idea why the idea of his detached pleasure made her so aroused. In her head being used for someone else's pleasure was both repulsive and highly intoxicating, so she let the fantasy take her away and tried to forget the bad elements of her little dream. With her eyes shut, she could almost feel hands on her breasts, pinching and moulding the perky flesh with hunger and deep salacious want. Her breath quickened, as a weight seemed to push down on her body, wriggling against her with an all too real hardness. Her own imagination was startling good today she sighed to herself, but something wasn't quite right. A distinct smell of sour mead and grease filled her nostrils as she chastised her head for getting the fantasy wrong. With a disappointed moan she opened her eyes, ready to resign to the fact that this just wasn't going to happen. As her eyes swam back into light and focus she had to shake her head to understand what she was seeing before her. A ruddy, weasel-faced man had his face inches from her own, breathing heavily on top of her and grinning inanely. This was no trick of her mind, and the realisation of the situation hit her like a slap to the face.
Raya went to scream but was quickly silenced by his damp palm slapping across her lips. He pushed his skinny hips and pelvis down heavier onto her, pinning her in place and making sure she stayed perfectly still. For someone as slight as he appeared to be, he could certainly use his body to very good effect, and Raya could do nothing but lay there helpless
"What have we here? A girlie, a trespassing girlie, a...dirty naughty trespassing girlie..." He grinned and ground himself rudely onto her belly.
"Do you know what I do to trespassing girlies? Do you know what I do to pretty things like you? Eh? Oh yes silly me, you cant answer me with my hand there can you." His laugh oozed like thick tar and from his lips, mimicking the drool hanging from his scarred chin. He lifted his palm from her mouth in mocking then swiftly replaced it as soon as she drew breath to speak.
"Oh ho! Now did I say you could speak? I merely said you couldn't with my hand there. Haha...You little bitch!" The man screamed shrilly as Raya bit down hard onto his clammy palm.
Taking the momentary lapse in his grasp of her, Raya managed to kick her knee up between his legs hard enough to stun him. In one swift motion she pushed him up and off of her and darted deeper into the forest. She had taken no more than ten steps when she felt his fingers wrap tightly around her wrist, jerking her back sharply into his tight embrace. He held her hands behind her back and pulled her in so her chest crushed against his own, making it hard for her to breathe.
"You would do well to mind me girlie...I am the guardian of this forest and therefore my word is law." He leaned in and roughly stole a kiss, his thin, rough lips bruising and wet.
"You will have to pay a fine for trespassing here, and some...recompense... for me being so kind as to not turning you in to the castle guards, who I can guarantee are less amenable then I am." His breath made her skin crawl, and every nerve ending in her body twitch in revulsion. He kept grip on her wrists with one hand and brought the other up to dip inside the top of her cotton dress. His fingers slid down slowly, inches from her nipples, when suddenly a raucous cheer rose in the distance and made him freeze and all the birds in the nearby trees flutter and flee towards the sky.
"Cursed Lords!" The guardian scowled. "Not only am I not invited to their precious party, I am being shunned for a minor indiscretion!" he spat angrily. "She was asking for it after all, how was I to know she was married to that fat idiot of a deputy..." The guardian stopped in his tracks, and an obvious flicker of an idea crept across his devious and cruelly cunning features.
Raya trembled slightly as she watched the change in his eyes, she knew that whatever he had planned it would mean trouble for her, and she didn't really want to find that out. Struggling against his hold, she resorted to some of the cruder language she had learnt from her friends, as it seemed for now, her mouth was her only weapon.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth??" The Guardian chuckled before landing a resounding slap on her skirted backside.
