by Allen Werner
“We customarily reserve this room for unofficial gatherings involving close family.” He held out his right hand as if he could coax more light with this meager gesture. “Suadela is deep in the heart of our world. Only the most trustworthy and beloved are permitted here.” He hoped Nikitas and Anthea would associate some honor to that pronouncement even if none was intended.
Formed much in the fashion of a Norse longhouse, Suadela was thirty yards wide and two hundred yards cavernous, spacious enough to seat a thousand patrons if necessary, the host reserving the ability to set the most annoying guests far from his person.
There were three massive stone hearths built into the northern wall. Brilliant tapestries and colorful banners accented the wood décor as well as a variety of massive weapons bolted to the walls; swords, axes, pikes and shields. Four colossal candelabras forged from silver and pewter swayed precariously above their heads, each housing a thousand-crystalline candle-holding bulbs.
Anthea Manikos couldn’t help but daydream. This was home, this was her banquet hall. She envisioned the very first reception she would host in this hall. She started filling it with glamourous people, familiar friends and family from Greece. There would be endless colors, silks and ribbons everywhere, bows and bouquets of florae.
In the center of the hall were eight long trestle tables lined end to end with benches on either side. Anthea went to the first and touched it lightly. She noted that there was no dust. ‘Clean tables and benches. Well-maintained corridors and doors. Everyone has been so respectful and polite. I’m going to love Parthenope.’
Anthea led the party further into the room, strolling casually on the northern side of the empty tables, near-side to the massive hearths. They hadn’t gone but ten steps when a female spirit disturbed the peace with a quiet giggle. The party came to a halt. It was eerie. They were not alone. Something or someone was in here with them.
‘Suadela?’
Gherardus Fabbro was in no mood for games or spirits. He’d had experienced his fair share of them dealing with his barmy wife. The Lord Commander stepped forward remembering his promise to any and all who displeased him this day. ‘Someone is going to lose their fucking head,’ he thought impulsively.
Dying embers from spent coals in the central hearth glowed. As the old commander squinted more, the dusky hue of the room brightening slightly, his attention was drawn to a pile of bearskin rugs in front of that center hearth. One bear was stirring.
“Who’s there?” Gherardus commanded sternly. “Identify yourself at once!”
The laughter ceased abruptly and briefly and then started up again, this time, joined by another female spirit.
“Show yourselves!”
The bearskin rugs unfolded and gave birth to two young cubs, two assured women without a stitch of clothing. They rose gracefully to their feet, their arms resting on their hips, shy smiles on their faces. One was tall, thin as a shepherd’s hook, her bright red hair barely touching her shoulders. The other was of average height, much curvier than the first, quite buxom and beautiful. Her raven’s locks were extremely long, covering her back and front, falling all the way down to her waist. Neither girl made any attempt to cover themselves. They seemed content to stand in their natural state.
“Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?”
“You know who I am, Uncle,” the black-haired cub purred. “And it’s not my fault we are in here.” She giggled. “The hunter dragged us in here. He’s been stabbing, poking and eating us all night.” Both girls laughed, the echo unnerving.
Gherardus’ nose wrinkled up for he knew his niece’s voice, knew it well. “Viridian, what are you doing in here? Why of all places did you come here?” He pointed his finger at her, the one with the golden ring. “You were instructed to confine your sexual exploits to your private chambers. You know this.”
Intoxicated, Viridian nearly tipped over where she stood. She caught her balance and continued giggling. “Come now Uncle. I know the rules.” She put her hand on her heart as if swearing an oath. “If I be in this state of undress in a forbidden room of the palace, you know by whose orders this has happened.” She winked and tittered some more before kicking the pile of bearskin rugs as if to provoke the beast inside it to life. The red head woman quickly joined her, both laughing riotously and kicking the rugs.
“Enough of this foolishness!” Gherardus shouted. “I want you both out of here immediately. Get out!”
“Hey!” The bear on the floor protested.
Everyone watched in horror as the bear began to move. It got on all fours and eventually stood up. The rug fell away. The man inside was strong as a mountain with scraggly black hair, as naked as the cubs, his genitalia slightly erect and pointing in the party’s general direction. “Stop kicking me, bitches,” he roared.
Anthea averted her eyes. The erotic statuary in the garden was shocking enough but standing in the presence of this man and his starkness were entirely unacceptable. She had never seen a grown man in a complete state of undress. ‘And what sort of man lays with two women in the High Commander’s palace anyway?’
“Father,” the bear grumbled. “Is that you?”
Gherardus’ face turned instantly red but it was not from anger but shame. It should have been anger, but his thoughts were disoriented and selfish.
Anthea gulped, a horrid thought lodged in her throat. ‘Father? Did the bear say father?’ She lowered her shield and boldly faced the iniquitous man. ‘This fornicator is my husband?’ Anthea was turning red but her change of complexion was most definitely wrought in anger. She turned to Nikitas, her eyes saying what her mouth could not speak. ‘Father, what have you done to me?’
Rugerius Fabbro belched loudly as if a world of meals were rising out of him. He scratched roughly at the course hair covering his barrel chest before giving his scrotum a healthy squeeze. Suddenly noticing Anthea and remembering what day this was, he advanced on her without an invitation. “This must be my bride!”
His first step towards Anthea was clumsy and he stumbled awkwardly over a bear skull, nearly falling face forward. “Wooo!” He hooted and bawled, righting himself quickly. “That might have been bad. I might have snapped that sucker clean off.” To impress upon everyone the vulgar connotation, the Castellan did not hesitate to point out his generous erection. He seized the appendage and stroked it sensuously. “It’s okay, Monster,” he spoke to himself, a part of himself anyway. “No harm done.” He petted and pleasured his vit with a big stupid grin. The girls behind him leaned forward to peer around his backside and watch. They started to laugh delightfully.
“I must protest,” Nikitas Manikos stated forcefully, turning roughly to admonish Gherardus. “This man is Rugerius? This is your son? These girls are his important state of affairs?” The old Greek turned back to the naked Castellan who was still amusing himself. “This letch shall not have my daughter, not this day or any other.” Rugerius would not stop what he was doing and Nikitas had had enough. “Have you no decency, Sir? Cover yourself!”
Rugerius didn’t take kindly to being ordered around by anyone. He bounded forward in three quick steps and surprised Anthea, catching her by the shoulders. She didn’t expect him to be so bold. She squirmed but he refused to let her go.
“No,” the Castellan slurred in her face, his voice obviously impaired by alcohol and other medicinal aides. “Don’t run off just yet. I must assess the prize. That’s what you are, right? A prize? Our father’s exchanged money and signed contracts and I get stuck with you.” He squeezed her tighter and she grimaced in pain.
A peaceful man by nature, Nikitas Manikos delayed resorting to violence although he was no stranger to fisticuffs. On occasion, when having disagreements with his foremen and other workers, things would degrade to violence. It was a thing that happened. And yet, at the end of day, there was nearly always a bond reaffirmed, an understanding reached. This, however, this vulgar assault on Anthea was more than Nikitas’ constitution could sto
mach. He could not stand by and watch this creature manhandle his only daughter. He balled up his fist and struck Rugerius in the lower right shoulder with all the force he could muster.
Rugerius did not anticipate the blow and still it hardly fazed him. He glanced down at the humerus which would surely bruise and scowled. The old man had his attention. Using his right hand only, Rugerius reached out and shoved Nikitas square in the chest, knocking the elderly Greek backwards, tumbling to the floor, landing hard on the hip. Everyone heard it crack. Nikitas had broken something.
“Don’t ever touch me, old man,” Rugerius warned. “You stand to profit greatly from this arrangement. I just want to know if your precious little girl can handle my manhood.” Crudely, Rugerius tried to force Anthea to open her hands and hold his penis but she refused. She clenched her fingers tight together, rare fists.
Not to be denied, the Castellan rubbed the backsides of her wrists and knuckles against his slimy scrotum. Anthea closed her eyes and screamed, her purity being dragged through a sewer pipe.
“Enough!” Gherardus shouted. “Look what you are doing to her, Rugerius! Stop this shameless behavior at once!”
Rugerius relented on the indecent touching but he did not liberate Anthea from his grasp. Using his left arm only, he kept Anthea at bay.
The intoxicated strumpets, witnessing Anthea’s unwillingness to please the mighty Hunter, and not comprehending the gravity of the situation, came up behind Rugerius and began fondling him, front and back, top and bottom.
“So girls,” Rugerius grinned through his chiseled jaw, “what do you think of my new wife?”
The cubs looked Anthea up and down as if she were a piece of raw meat. Viridian purred the loudest. “I’d eat her up.”
Rugerius laughed. “That settles it. The Hunter is satisfied. I shall drag my prey home and do what animals in the wild do.”
Laughing, expecting her to like it, the nymphs reached out with sinewy fingers and started pawing Anthea.
Anthea couldn’t escape Rugerius’ clutches but she could darn well wage a war against the little whores. Her loose left hand, still forming a determined fist, nearly struck the red strumpet straightway in the head. She kicked frantically at the black-haired bitch. It was all an exercise in futility but she didn’t care. This had quickly become the worse day of her life and she wasn’t going to submit without a fight.
Rugerius suddenly grew tired of Anthea’s theatrics. His drunken chortling ended as he used his free hand to grab Anthea roughly by her long brown hair, bending her backwards until she lost her ability to struggle. ‘Oh god, he’s going to kill me.’
“I’ll admit it, girl. I don’t remember your name. But it doesn’t matter because you won’t forget mine. You’re going to scream it over and over again.” Rugerius licked her under the chin. “I’m a man with appetites, voracious appetites. I love women and pretty girls. They do what I want, when I want. It is the way of things here in Parthenope.”
Although she was yet fully closed, Anthea felt naked. The whores were having at her, touching her in places she had never been touched by another person before. They reached up under her dress. Fingers penetrated her vagina, hands squeezed her ass. Lips and tongues were kissing her everywhere skin was exposed, and even where it was not. Anthea tried one last time to struggle, to kick and claw, but Rugerius only pulled her back further. The fight inside was gone. She couldn’t utter a sound. She couldn’t even tell him how much it hurt. There was no one to help her. The girls continued to have their way.
“My father should have warned you,” Rugerius growled in her face. “He should have warned you both.” He stole a second to stare at Nikitas who still lay motionless on the floor, his face grimacing in pain. “Gherardus knows me. Knows what I am. I have no wish to wed.” He licked Anthea’s chin again. “I don’t want to wed you, girl. But I will. I’ll obey the contract and so will you.” He pushed through the long brown hair and nibbled on one of her ears. “Stop fantasizing about love and romance. You’ll not find it here. This is Parthenope and in this world, in the real world, it is all about sex and power. We are violent and passionate. You will know desire like you’ve never imagined it, steamy, hot, wet and biting.” Almost feverish now, Rugerius stroked Anthea’s brown hair. “Yes, I love women with long hair. Thick hair. Long hair. I shall run my fingers maddeningly through this healthy mane as you gulp and swallow.” Rugerius searched her blue-grey eyes and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What the fuck?” He exclaimed suddenly, relenting slightly on the back bending. “I don’t believe it! She’s a fucking virgin!”
Rugerius violently tilted Anthea’s head down towards Nikitas. “What kind of father are you? Have you kept this girl in seclusion, afraid she’d learn about life? She has no idea how to pleasure a man, does she?”
Gherardus Fabbro had remained steadfastly silent the whole time, during the whole incident, restraining the urge to get involved only because he saw all those silver futures fading away. Rugerius was an animal and he knew it. He knew the Manikos’ would not be pleased once they learned the truth of it but he didn’t expect anything like this to occur until after the ceremony. It had taken him months, long months to negotiate and broker this deal with Sounion. Rugerius was fucking it all up.
At the first, when Nikitas hit the floor, Gherardus did offer a helping hand but the old Greek refused him bluntly. He was proud and outraged and unwilling to receive any aid from the lying Commander who invited them into this debauchery. Nikitas struggled several times to rise on his own accord, unsuccessful each time.
Rugerius pulled Anthea’s face near to his. She could smell his fetid breath in her mouth. Her stomach churned.
“If we are to wed,” Rugerius snarled, “you will learn the sacred art of fellatio.” Anthea was educated and proficient in Latin but this word was alien to her.
The uneducated nymphs stopped pawing long enough to laugh, both understanding the expression, doyens in this field of study.
Rugerius cocked Anthea’s head sideways and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps you will understand this Latin. Lambere meus penis.”
Anthea’s eyes lit up as she translated his words. ‘Lick my penis.’
Strong, demanding, determined, Rugerius shoved Anthea down on her knees. He gripped her head with both hands, clutching her long brown hair, weaving the strands between his filthy fingers.
Anthea was staring straight into Rugerius’ uncircumcised Monster. It was moist and pulsating, hard and grotesque. The smell of it arrived in her nose, the viscid sex that had darkened and reddened it.
Anthea vomited. She exploded her guts across his genitalia, his legs and his feet.
“Aw fuck!” Rugerius shouted, still not letting go of her. “The bitch is puking all over me!”
Gherardus took advantage of the sudden distraction. He shot over and gave his son a good swift shove in the chest.
Rugerius lost his balance and like Nikitas, fell backwards on his backside, taking with him a handful of Anthea’s hair.
Anthea continued puking as she curled up in a ball, screams of pain coming out between breaths. She clutched at the wound to her head.
Hearing his daughter scream as she did, seeing her shamed in this disgraceful manner, Nikitas Manikos found the resolve to rise. He hobbled over to his only daughter, forced her back up to her feet and they stormed out of the room together.
“It’s over, Gherardus! We are returning to Greece immediately! No marriage! No silver!”
Chapter 9 – Burning Sensation
Rugerius Fabbro couldn’t help himself. The bare-assed buffoon sat on Saudela’s clean floors, laughing uncontrollably. His young consorts dropped down on either side of him and joined his folly.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” Gherardus Fabbro snapped, the finger with the golden ring firing out towards his insolent son. “Dignitaries from all over Europe have come to Parthenope to watch you wed that girl! I had an arrangement with that man!”
“Ah, to
hell with them.” Rugerius scoffed before noticing strands of long brown hair still twisted and tangled up in his fingers. He jerked and flicked both hands violently, ridding himself of them. “Let the bastard keep his precious silver and frigid daughter. We don’t need them. We are wealthy enough and have plenty of womenfolk I can wed right here.” Rugerius pulled the black-haired vixen close to him and nuzzled her neck. “Take my buxom cousin here. I could take her, father, walk her down the aisle with a big fucking grin on my face. We could make her wear something bright and tawdry. That will put a smile on everyone else’s face as well.” Rugerius gazed deep inside Viridian’s big, brown eyes. “Just look at her. She’s gorgeous.” He paused with admiration. “Promiscuous, sucking and fucking like a demon. A demon I tell you. She’ll wear out your cock and have you in tears. I swear by the gods it is true.”
Rugerius impulsively shoved Viridian on her back so she was lying down. He pulled apart her legs. All Gherardus Fabbro could see of his niece now was her feet, legs, inner thighs and the trim black arrow pointing to glory.
“Come father,” Rugerius whispered temptingly. “Come down here and inspect this thin patch of heaven. Put your wrinkly old face right down in the grass and smell the freshness, lick it, bite it.”
Viridian snickered.
Gherardus didn’t move. He seemed spellbound and could not divert his eyes.
“Those are some damn fine lips, father,” Rugerius continued. “I’m betting bat shit mum never tasted and smelt so good.” Rugerius could sense his father’s struggles, the war. “That’s it, old man. Admit it to yourself. You’re human. You want it. You want to fuck her. We all do. That’s what Viridian was created for. To pleasure us. It’s been years since your vits been wetted by a woman, has it not?”