Breathless 30

Story Codes/Notes

medieval, slavery, degradation, humiliation, fear, passion,

Please do not reprint this work on any other website, or any medium, without explicit consent from the author (me!).

Info: The Story builds up slowly, those who have read my last submission know I prefer to show the inner workings of the protagonists. This is not a BDSM story, although some parts might touch the genre. (For all the kind feedbacks on my first submission -- it really encourages writing more, thank you!)

Enjoy!

Additional info EDITED VERSION:

The original version of this story was submitted prematurely. I should have waited some time, to find mistakes and edit it properly. Readers have rightfully complained about its formal shortcomings. I took their advice and asked

DawnJ

to be my editor. She was kind enough to help. Thanks for your understanding.

Synopsis

An enslaved former noblewoman dances in front of her new Lord. Though relentlessly abused, and trained for the occasion to perform in front of her new Master, taught to never look higher than his neck, she is surprised by the Nordic Lords command "Mírame" in her native Spanish.

Transferred

The two sturdy women shuffled her along. She almost fell, but was quickly picked up by strong hands steadying her; again women's voices were heard in the yard shouting orders authoritatively. It had become second nature to her to do what was commanded. The luxurious dark purplish-red cape which she had been given only insufficiently shielded her from the ice-cold corridors of the Nordic stronghold. Her feet had been enwrapped in leathery shoes to provide minimum protection from the frozen ground, but otherwise she was bare of any clothing. Her guardians didn't give her time to observe the surroundings, as liberating as that might have been after month of confinement. It was the first time since her arrival that she had been brought outside her lone imprisonment in the underground caverns, although the enormous walls surrounding the keep, and the vastness of the place, only reinforced her feeling of smallness and insignificance.

When they reached the stairs leading to the nobles' chambers, the small group of women was stopped by grim-looking guards. Although the hooded cape veiled her beautiful face from the glaring stares of the Norsemen, she kept her eyes to the ground, in order not to provoke any unnecessary attention. She was terrified by those men, terrified by what they had done to her entourage, her people. There was a brief exchange; the guards started to laugh and gave way to the women. Accustomed to not understanding in detail what was said, she knew that it was she who motivated their laughter, and she was reminded of the purpose of her transfer. Her heart again began to rush, a large lump forming in her throat; she had to fight the urge to vomit.

The small group finally slowed down their pace and started to ascend. Torches illuminated the otherwise dark set of steps, circling the tower. It was slowly getting warmer, which meant less suffering for the Mediterranean beauty, still unaccustomed to this hostile environment. She was stopped by her two guardians after they reached a larger hall, and ordered to remove the leathery protections which until then shielded her feet from the cold surface. While handing them to her captors, she suddenly saw her palanquin parked, looking abandoned in the vastness of the hall. Her eyes became clouded, filled with sorrow and pain for her lost rank, and for the memories of former blissful times. Then she was blindfolded, her tears now hidden.

Flanked by both women, she was pushed forward. The cold stone floor served as a reminder of her inhospitable surroundings. Then, unexpectedly, there it was -- a sudden whiff of familiarity, a scent almost forgotten, reminiscent of home.

"It must be the palanquin," she mused, deliberately taking in a deep breath. "Yes!"

The cold air of the hall was indeed mixed with a slight fragrance of foreign origin. She started to tremble, her awareness abruptly intensified, desperately trying to hold on to what was once her own. With the usual rudeness she had come to expect from her tormenters, she was shoved into the carriage. Nothing had been changed in the palanquin; the comfortable cushions were still arranged the same way she preferred and, more importantly, smelled like her, a scent she had forgotten, one deeply buried in her memory, now instantaneously reactivated. The unexpected reminder of something she had once possessed filled her with pride, gave her much needed strength and induced the will to endure what undoubtedly was to come...because tonight it was her turn to entertain the Lord.

Since she had nothing but her womanly charms, and those were obviously not valued highly in this strange land, the female wardens had rigorously taught her how to please a Nordic Master she had never seen once.

She perceived soft noises of what could only be other servants approaching the palanquin. Several muted commands were given, and she felt the carriage being lifted. The usual wobbly feeling she got when carried inside this symbol of nobility made her relax a little, the first time since she had been rudely awakened this morning and had grasped that the dreadful day had finally arrived.

*

She had suspected it the previous evening, when she was denied her usual ration of food, though it had only been a hunch, a brief curiosity prompted by her unbroken ability to observe and reflect her environment.

Since any decorum she had become accustomed to for her whole life was long lost in the basements of this -- as she now realized - huge fortress, her two wardens watched her defecate in the morning, expected her to clean herself under their watchful eyes, their usual distaste visible in their broad faces. She was then told to remove all clothing and present herself.

She hated it. It was like telling a dog to sit next to its master, and to stay, with no power to question the logic of the command. They treated her as if she were an animal in training. She understood the reason -- the language barrier made communications with her difficult, so the enforcement of a new social order had to be made clear through the use of rudimental commands that even a dumb animal could understand. In her case, it meant either the minimum in personal freedom, or pain enforced through cruel punishment.

The command to present herself wasn't to adopt a specific position, which she had to assume in order to be inspected -- that would be enough for an animal to grasp. No, she had to make herself available to her captors, to give them unhindered access to her very body and its functions. The degrading part was her implicit compliance by her surrendering of her body to someone else. For example, to move her bowel, she had to widen her stance, lower the upper part of her body, grasp the cheeks of her bottom and spread them for as long as necessary. But that wasn't all. Her head had to be up high, her body graceful in appearance, worthy of her former nobility, and yet she was being observed like a child not ready to control its bodily discharges.

When the stronger of the two wardens tied her hands behind her back, she understood something new was to come. The meaner one, who never gave her any response other than utter contempt, suddenly produced a flexible tube with a phallic nozzle attached to it. With the usual sadistic pleasure that this dreadful woman had always shown to her, she slowly greased her left hand with lard, and then formed a fist which she slowly inserted into the phallic nozzle to lubricate it. She made it look as if it was hard for her fist to open up to the pumping motion of the nozzle, smiling deceitfully. Her smile turned to a broader grin, when she realized the captive understood what was about to happen.

But the warden had inadvertently given the observant Spaniard a helpful hint to reduce the discomfort she was about to induce. She tried to relax her bottom, but couldn't, because of the sudden stress prompted by the realization that she was prepared for the special occasion she had been frightened of for such a long time. Every orifice in her beautiful body was going to be prepared to be used when so desired by the Lord, which included parts not necessarily designed for that purpose, and had therefore to be cleaned of the less arousing byproducts it usually contained.

While the stronger one spread her cheeks, exposing her untarnished sphincter, the sadist forced the phallic object past the tight barrier, which was unable to reject the forced intrusion into her rectum. She grunted, and tried to rear up to repel the assault, but was unable to do so by the brute force of her jailers. The pain made her pant. She was slapped hard on her buttocks and ordered to be silent. She knew if she resisted even the slightest, they would only become crueler and would inflict even more pain. So she bit her lips and tried to accommodate the violation, shedding tears in anger and pain.

The sadist then proceeded to pour liquid through a funnel until her stomach visibly distended and she had the feeling her intestines would burst. They made her hold the liquid for several unbearably grueling minutes, before finally allowing her to noisily evacuate into a bucket, mocking her, laughing at her, ridiculing her degrading situation. She was just glad her ordeal was over, for the moment.

The strong one untied her wrists and again commanded her to assume the presenting posture. She complied immediately. The sadist held her nose in a mocking fashion and told her she better clean up, subtle hinting another round of punishment, then they brought several buckets containing cold water and left.

*

The palanquin had come to a stop. She heard the authoritarian voice of a woman unknown to her uttering commands to several servants at once, felt the curtains move, and then was ungently lifted out of her carriage. She sensed the presence of the mysterious woman close to her and, by the vocal reaction of her two tormenters, judged her to be in a much higher position than they were. The sadist unhooked her cape and took it, leaving her standing naked.

She felt the strange woman struggling to suppress her rage, obviously not pleased by her appearance, but finally directing her anger towards her tormenters. The speed and eloquence of her speaking indicated she was a Nordic noblewoman. She didn't understand a single word that was said, but understood that the state of her appearance was obviously not appreciated.

She was getting cold, shivering. Afraid to move she stood silently, still blindfolded. The activity around her had increased. Several candles must have been brought into the room because she saw the influx in light through the blindfold. Finally, she was wrapped in a warming blanket.

Prepared

She didn't comprehend fully what was going on around her, but by the pace of the activity and the quickness with which each command was executed, it became clear to her that the woman now in charge wielded considerable power. She would be cleaned and groomed according to the instructions of that woman who deemed her not presentable in her current state; that much she had understood. Unable to observe her surroundings, but still wrapped in the blanket, which for the first time actually warmed her enough so she forgot she was in the land of snow, ice and even colder winds, she managed to focus her senses on what was going on.

She felt the room becoming warmer and more humid by the minute. Small pearls of sweat started to form on her forehead, and her toes began to ache, so that she finally grasped in what poor state she was, since she obviously hadn't realized that they had slowly been freezing during the grueling daylong tribulation by her tormenters. She had been solely focused on enduring their painful torture, and her body must have shut down some of its functions, in order to survive on what energy was left. She tried to forget the day's horrible events and concentrate on the moment, to save her strength, because she was convinced this was only an intermezzo in her ongoing struggle to survive.

The sweet scent of spices unknown to her began to engulf the room. There were still servants circling with what she assumed were buckets of warm water, emptying them into a large container, which she suspected was a bathtub.

"I'm going to have my first bath in months," she concluded gladly, as only one of noble birth who had been denied a perceived birthright for such a long time might think. Before she could contemplate that thought any further, the blanket was removed and two soft hands guided her a few steps forward and then stopped her. Her feet welcomed the soft touch of a carpet. Although again completely naked, she wasn't cold anymore.

The familiar order to present herself was given by the woman in charge. She widened her stand, leaving sufficient distance between her legs, to give unhindered access to her sex and bottom. She raised her arms and folded her hands behind her head. The woman approached her. She could smell her. She smelled nice, exclusive; a fragrance of roses combined with some unknown Nordic herb was mixed with the woman's own body odors. There was sudden silence in the room; all activity had stopped. She imagined all eyes in the room now focused on her and feelings of shame, embarrassment, and vulnerability made her swallow uncomfortably.

A soft touch on her belly interrupted the unbearable silence and made her jump. "Ssssh!" murmured the woman, not unpleasantly, but still like one would do to prevent a horse from panicking. She was told to resume the assigned stance and deduced from her tone that she would not be hurt by this woman, but was expected to follow every command immediately.

She positioned herself once more. Again, silence. The woman touched her again. This time, she cupped her breasts, caressed them softly, circling her areola in a slow but steady motion, pinching her nipples, forcing them to swell. She was ashamed not being able to prevent that from happening. Obviously satisfied by her breasts' reaction, the woman stopped the manipulations and slowly lowered her fingers towards her sex, but stopped just short of her pubic hair. The woman seemed to hesitate.

Another moment of silence passed. She heard the woman sniffing her; she seemed genuinely concerned about her current state. Finally, the noblewoman gave meticulous instructions on how she was to be washed and groomed, how to treat her wounds from the beatings she had received during the day, and how everything had to be done thoroughly, but in a gentle fashion, not like the pigs in the dungeons. She raised her voice again, which made it clear that any deviation would be punished mercilessly. It was clear to the Iberian beauty that she would never want to antagonize this woman, and she was glad the threat was not directed against her. The noblewoman left.

The room had been darkened as several candles were moved elsewhere. She felt hands untying the blindfold, and she slowly opened her eyes, allowing them to become accustomed to the new surroundings. Her earlier thoughts about the bathtub had been correct; in front of her stood a fairly large container, warm vapor slowly rising from its hot contents. Next to it stood a voluminous woman who reminded her of the midwife her father had employed when she was little. The woman who had taken off her blindfold was about her own age, but much more muscular, indicating that she had lived a servant's life of long and hard workings for her masters; the woman was looking at her inquiringly, not sure how to proceed.

Since the Spaniard had still not changed her stand, the two Nordic servants were confused, probably because of the instructions to treat her gently; they didn't quite know how to continue. Finally, the fat woman patted the water, indicating that she was to enter the bathtub. She didn't need any further encouragement and gladly stepped forward, but her legs gave out, the repressed anxiety finally finding an outlet; the prospect of a warm bath was too much for the abused beauty to handle. The room started to spin, she gasped for air -- everything went dark as she blacked out.

*

She is running, desperately trying to find the exit, noises becoming louder. Suddenly, there he is blocking the entrance, wearing parts of the body armor of a Nordic knight, his face hidden behind a helmet, wielding a huge sword. He commands her to serve him. She immediately falls on her knees, submissively folds her arms behind her back and meekly opens her lips, signaling readiness to receive him. He approaches her, rams his sword into the ground and opens his fly, taking out his large member. Fearful of its size, she begs him to spare her. But he ignores her and tells her to worship his cock. She looks at the huge crown; its protective skin slowly retracting, exposing the angry red head already leaking its salty lubrication.

She fearfully starts to lick the red glans, tasting the saltiness, smelling the musky scent it surrounds. His eyes are filled with raw lust, empty of any mercy, his arousal increasing because of her apparent reluctance to accept his manhood, its multiple veins swelling fully. "Suck it!" he intones threateningly, one hand still resting on the large sword. She tries to looks at him, but can't see his face because of his helmet; only the unforgiving eyes, filled with desire to see her relieve him of his lecherous drive, to orally claim her, are visible to her.

She tries to widen her lips to accommodate its size; the engorged glans slowly enters her stretched jaw. Panic engulfs her as she has to breathe through her nose. Both of his hands hold her head, stopping her from retreating. Snake-like, his cock slowly forces its way deeper into her throat, making her gag. She lifts her hands pleadingly, but he ignores her silent, desperate plea for mercy and shoves his organ down her throat.

Unable to breathe, desperately trying to accommodate the obscene invasion, she senses him looking for friction, without which he wouldn't be able to climax. His handling becomes more aggressive, he lusts for release now. Unable to repel his attack, her vision starts to grey out due to the lack of air, her eyes start to bulge. She can't breathe...

Finally she was able to scream and woke up, holding her neck in a desperate attempt to escape the nightmare.

Inspected

She found herself resting in a comfortable bed. The horrible images of her latest dream still vivid on her mind, she gradually started to take in her new surroundings and examined the room she found herself in. The large bed covering had kept her warm in an otherwise cold environment. Little snowflakes slowly descended through a small window, already forming a snow patch on the floor, prompted her to snuggle under the warming blanket. She smelled nice; gone was the foul stench of the dungeon. Her hair had been washed extensively, because it felt soft and had regained its intense blackness; curls had started to form, making its general appearance even more inviting to look at.

The swellings, resulting from the repeated beatings had been bandaged, and she could smell different aromas of healing herbs underneath it. Her feet were wrapped in warm socks; gone was the temporary numbness in her toes. Although there were no candles in this room, it was sufficiently lit by the light streaming in through the window, leading her to assume that it must be around noon. Slowly she recollected last night's events until her fainting. After the horrifying treatment in the dungeons of the vast castle, she was mystified by the sudden change in behavior towards her. She hadn't been delivered to the Lord.