Mardre's First

The raiding party burst through the trees in the midst of the night; the sounds waking the villagers immediately. Mardre, who had been dozing in the chieftain's hut, barely had time to register the sounds coming from outside. The screams of terror and pain pierced the air as she reached for her master's short sword - the closest weapon to her. Her chieftain had warned her that if any raiders were to come through, she was not to fall to their hands, or be defiled in any way. As his property, while she served him willingly, he considered her sacred and refused to share her with anybody else. Wearing only her shift, and grasping the sword in her right hand, she reached across and shook her master, in an effort to rouse him.

"My lord," she called to him, in a whispered scream. His skin was cold to the touch, and she recoiled in shock, as the door to his hut was forced open. Giant hands seized her by the shoulders, lifting her off the ground. This was her attacker's error - for Mardre's master had taught her to defend herself by all means necessary. After all, as her lord had drilled into the girl's head - she was sacred and no other may touch her without her lord's consent. While Mardre's attacker had only seized her by the shoulders, pinning her arms, and gripping so the sword fell from her hand, he failed to reckon with the rest of her flailing body, until she planted one sharp, swift kick to the man's groin.

He grunted, and his grip eased, so that Mardre could writhe out from his hands, or so she thought. But as she turned, he had recovered enough to land a stinging blow across her face, cutting her across the eyebrow and nearly flinging her halfway across the hut. Her head rocking backwards, she managed to ease her eyes open, and was rewarded with her first glimpse of the invaders to her home.

The man who had struck her was tall, like the dreaded Saxons of the tales she had heard, with dark waves that framed his cruel face. Well-muscled, she realised that if he had hit her any harder, he might well have killed her. Mardre, for all her restless beauty and strength drawn from the years of her master's instruction, was still a slight girl, barely out of her teens - only nineteen, and fully aware of the harsh and brutal capabilities of a man. As she struggled with her captor to reach for her blade, she gradually became very aware of her shift sliding off her shoulders, giving the stranger a modest view of the swell of her cleavage.

"Get off me, you arrogant, ill-mannered barbaric swineherd!" she yelled as she struggled harder, determined to reach anything that would ensure she enter the next world undefiled. The dark-haired stranger just looked at her in amusement, even as she squirmed, trying desperately to reach the cruel dagger on his belt. But as she touched it, his hand struck her again, stunning her into stillness, and proceeded to rip her shift in half. The sound of the material being torn apart jerked her back into action, kicking her captor, and grasping the dagger at his side.

"Touch me again, and I swear I'll cut your throat, " Mardre snarled. She was no longer frightened - only angry. A daughter to the gods and the chieftain's chosen, the villagers knew that Mardre's wrath was formidable for the slip of a girl that she was often described as. The dark haired man's companion laughed, and for the first time, she actually registered there were others in the small hut with her. Reluctant to take her eyes off the one who had torn her shift, lest he attack her again, Mardre backed further towards the far wall, so that she could see the second man clearly. Fair hair, this one had, and while not as tall as his Saxon companion, he appeared every inch of intimidating muscle. The fair haired man spoke, addressing the dark haired fighter.

"Loteil - it would seem you have a wild one on your hands; need you help to restrain her?" Mardre was no fool, and grasped the hilt of the dagger even tighter. She recognised the tone of undisguised lust, even though she didn't know what language they were speaking to each in. This didn't anger her further, but she did tremble. Without her master to step in, there was only so much she could fight with, before she was overcome by force. Instinctively, she turned the tip of the blade to the hollow at her neck, ready to plunge the length of the blade home. She knew it would be wiser to fall on the blade than let them take her.

Laughing at her, they began to circle in and block any exits, ensuring she could see no way past them. She backed away from them anyway. The fair haired man lunged for her at the last second, knocking the dagger out of her hands, and forcing her down onto the ground, beside the cot where her master lay, gone from this world. Having watched his friend struggle with the girl before, he clamped down on her legs, ensuring she was unable to lash out with her feet. Loteil, the dark-haired man who had restrained her the first time, was in the process of undoing his breaches, revealing the size of his cock, before roughly shoving himself down her throat, as she had opened her mouth to shout further curses and insults.

Mardre, who had never been taken so brutally, although being no stranger to pain, and the pleasure it can bring, started to cry softly, as she tried to breathe around the stranger's hard penis. She closed her eyes, praying to her mother, the goddess of vengence, to make it end soon. Never had she felt such shame. Unable to reach anything that would end this nightmare, she still attempted to thrash around, but in vain. Loteil shuddered, and thrust sharply into her mouth four times more, before coming deep into her throat.

"I believe, Erik, it would be your turn," he smirked, reaching to hold the stunned girl in place. The fair-haired man, Erik, grinned menacingly, and ripped the already tattered shift open completely, exposing Mardre's body utterly. Mardre, while watching warily, blushed with shame, and tried to grasp at anything that would cover her. She was no courtesan, nor was she ignorant of the acts of mating. She had often escorted her master to the many festivals, celebrating sex and sensuality, usually being the display piece, to show that it wasn't necessary to fuck your woman to both gain release. That being said, at her master's command, she had never lain with anyone before, and had no idea how much pain she'd be in for.

Loteil began relacing his breaches, but his companion, Erik, shook his head. "We're not done with her just yet. Do us a favour and hold her up for us?" Loteil grasped Mardre around her chest with one arm, and with the other, grabbed a fistful of hair, and dragged her upright. The sudden pain made Mardre gasp, but where they mistook it for fear, she was getting wet, against her own sense of survival. They weren't to know that pain was an aphrodisiac for her, but they were going to learn - very quickly. Erik quickly undid his breaches, knowing that his time would be limited, as his cock was rock hard, and aching for his own release. Having released himself, he pinched Mardre's nipples, as erect as they were, with one hand, and with his free hand, forced her thighs apart.

Oh indeed, much to her shame, Mardre was soaking wet, almost eager - having never been completely used for any man's pleasure, or what may have once been her own. Erik's face inched closer until he was almost able to bite her earlobe, and whispered, "You want this, don't you? You're such a slut, you'll fuck anything right now, won't you?" The more he whispered the cruel things in her ear, the wetter, the more eager her body became. He leaned forward and kissed her roughly, biting on the lower lip. and drawing blood as they parted. Mardre couldn't contain herself - she moaned.

Yes, Mardre thought to herself, yes she wanted this. She didn't want to fight anymore, and had craved the feel of what a man's cock would feel like deep within her, surging full of life - the pleasure everyone during the many festivals had enjoyed, but she had been denied. She decided there and then, whatever these men wanted to do to her body would be fine with her. It was her turn, she told herself.

The two men, realising that she had stopped resisting them, watched her carefully, as she parted her thighs, and gasped and shuddered as Erik's thich, full prick filled her, inch by inch, until he felt the barrier, confirming that she was indeed still virgin. He hesitated - she didn't. Instead of waiting for him to ease beyond that barrier that was her maidenhood, she slammed herself down the rest of the way, crying out as she felt him all the way inside.

That was the only signal Erik needed. He nodded to Loteil, who promptly released her, and gave the two room to move. Erik walked Mardre, still impaled on his hard cock, to the far wall, and leaned her against it, proceeding to fuck her none too gently. Hard and fast, rough and ready. Neither man had ever had a woman so wanton, and yet still virgin. With her voice, her eyes and her body, she begged and pleaded, for more. She didn't care how they used her, only that they did, and pleasure was had by all. Loteil, having lost his breaches while watching his friend take the girl they had found, and was treating her like a common whore, was finding himself aroused again. Cupping himself, he strolled over, and guided the couple away from the wall. Hard as he was, Loteil was still a man, who had been away from the curves and comforts of a woman, and he was determined to have this wench who had the nerve to strike out at him, and then threaten him - he wanted the slut to pay dearly.

He stepped behind Mardre, while her wet and very tight pussy was still encasing Erik's hard cock - both close to coming, when his hand snaked around and gripped her already sensitive nipple, and pinched, as he eased his own cock up her ass. Mardre jerked - she'd never know that she could be violated so. She opened her mouth to scream her outrage, her confusion when Erik bent over her mouth and kissed her, harder than before, swalloing her cries, as Loteil gained rhythm and felt her asshole relaxed. Yes, she wanted this. She wanted to be fucked like the common whores that visited the villages and experience the erotic sensations that they had often told her about - and like the women that came to the village, selling their skills and company, she didn't care who took her body.

No longer did she feel sacred, but at last she knew what it was like to feel not just one man deep within her, but two, one in front of her, and one behind...