The Dragon Lord's Daughters

by Bertrice Small

And at that same moment they heard the thunder of hoofbeats, and a party of armed men galloped across Mryddin Water into the clearing. Junia and Simon jumped to their feet, but before he might get her on her horse they found themselves surrounded.

  Hugo de Bohun smiled down cruelly on the pair. “So, my son, this is your little Welsh whore. Did I not tell you this affair was ended? You have disobeyed me, Simon. You know how angry I become when I am disobeyed, don’t you?”

  “We but met to say farewell, Father,” Simon quickly said. “You were correct that Junia’s father would not have a de Bohun as a son-in-law any more than you would have a Pendragon for a daughter-in-law.” His arms held Junia close to his side in a vain attempt to protect her from the danger he sensed surrounding them.

  Hugo de Bohun laughed aloud. “How noble you are, my son. You make me want to puke, you reek so of goodness.” The men accompanying him laughed with their master, and their horses shifted nervously at the rough sound.

  Junia moved from Simon’s side, and looking up at Hugo de Bohun said in a firm voice, “I will go now, my lord.” She made to push past his stallion, but Hugo de Bohun moved the beast to block her.

  “And just where do you think you will go, mistress?” he growled. He was a stocky man with a black beard and shaggy black hair.

  “Home,” Junia answered bravely. “Get out of my way!” She shoved at the large horse, attempting to get by it.

  “The wench has more backbone than you do, Simon.” His father laughed. “If she were not a Pendragon I might reconsider my decision.” Then he looked down at Junia. “You will come with us, my pretty wench. My men could use some new amusement to entertain them, and I suspect you will put up a good fight.”

  Simon jumped forward. “You will not touch her, Father! I will not let you! I will kill you if you do! As God is my witness, I will kill you!”

  “You want her, then?” Hugo de Bohun said, laughing heartily.

  “Yes, damn you, I want her!” Simon shouted.

  “Then take her,” his father answered, a cruel smile upon his face.

  “What?” What mischief was his sire plotting, Simon wondered.

  “Take her! Here! Now!” Hugo de Bohun replied. “You say you want her.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Simon responded, the look of shock upon his face palpable. “You have finally gone mad, my lord. Junia is a virgin of good family. You cannot mean what you are saying.”

  “If you do not take her here and now, my son, I shall have her first, and then I will give her to my men; and they will use her very well, I assure you. But make her your leman now. Here, before us all, and I will spare her that. The choice is yours, Simon, but make your decision quickly.”

  Simon de Bohun could not move for a moment he was so shocked by his father’s words. He had always known his father was a cruel man, but this went beyond the very bounds of decency.

  “I will count to three, Simon,” his father spoke again, “and then the girl is prey for me first and then my men.”

  Junia had listened to all of this with growing horror, but then she realized that to show fear was exactly what would give this horrible man pleasure. “I am not afraid, Simon,” she said bravely.

  Hugo de Bohun laughed. “One,” he said.

  “Junia! Do you realize what he is suggesting that I do to you?”

  “Yes,” Junia answered calmly. “He wants us to make love before him.”

  “Two,” Hugo de Bohun growled.

  “Nay! He wants me to rape you before them all,” Simon gasped.

  “Do it!” she begged him. “The alternative is worse, Simon! Do it!”

  “Three!” Hugo de Bohun cried, and he looked to his son.

  “Very well,” Simon said, turning to look at his sire, “but I will damn you to hell with my dying breath, Father. May you roast in eternal damnation for this!”

  “Strip her!” Hugo said coldly, nodding to his captain, “and hold my son back until she is a naked as the day she was born. At least we will get a good look at what we are missing.” He turned to his son, grinning. “If you cannot get it up, my lad, I shall do the deed for you. It has been some time since I had a juicy young virgin such as this wench.”

  Simon was quickly restrained, but Junia snapped at the men who had surrounded her, “Do not touch me! I have not clothing to spare. I will remove them myself.”

  “No!” Brynn Pendragon jumped from behind the rocks surrounding the clearing by Mryddin Water, his sword in hand. Surprising them, he engaged the nearest man, blooding him. “Run, sister!” he shouted at Junia.

  Hugo de Bohun leapt forward, knocking the sword from the boy’s hand, and hitting him a blow that sent him unconscious to the ground. “By God! By God! It gets better! This is the Dragon Lord’s son! Bind him up and throw him over my saddle,” he directed his men. Then turning back to Junia, he said, “Now, wench, disrobe, and do it prettily for I would be amused by your performance.”

  “Go to hell!” Junia snapped angrily. “If you hurt my brother my father will kill you for certain. If I do not stick a knife in you first, de Bohun!” She pulled her gown off and lay it over a rock.

  “Give me your boots, wench,” he snarled at her. “You’ll not go running off easily without them.”

  Junia sat down on the rock with her gown, and yanking her boots from her feet threw them at Hugo de Bohun. Standing up again she undid her hair, hoping it would offer her some shield for modesty. Then, taking a deep breath, she pulled her chemise over her head, and lay it atop her gown. She was quite naked. She had to struggle to keep her fear down, and to maintain her composure.

  Hugo de Bohun and his men stared lustfully at the young girl. Finally Hugo said, “I am a man of my word, but by God and his Blessed Mother, Simon, we have given up much, I think.” He reached out and pulled Junia back against him, his hands reaching around to grab at her breasts. Unable to restrain herself Junia struggled against him even as Simon struggled in his captor’s grasp. “Come, my son,” Hugo taunted the younger man, “does not the sight of this naked beauty arouse your passions?” He grinned, and then said, “Take my son’s tunic off, and let’s see whether his manly cock can be brought to salute his virgin love.”

  “You are vile!” Junia cried out at her captor.

  “If he doesn’t take you, wench, I surely will, but having seen you I may relent a bit and not give you to my men. At least not for a few months,” Hugo told her, and he kissed Junia’s bare shoulder as his big hands crushed the tender flesh of her breasts.

  His men had in the meantime stripped off Simon’s tunic, and fumbling with his chausses bared his manhood, which had begun to react to the sight of Junia’s nude, struggling form. They dragged him over to where their master held the girl, and pushed the young man against the naked girl, rubbing the two bodies together while laughing wildly. Hugo de Bohun forced Junia to the ground on her back as two of his men knelt and yanked her legs wide. Two others knelt by the girl’s head, grinning as they pinioned her slender arms down. Then they shoved Simon between the girl’s spread limbs.

  “We’ve done all we can, boy,” Hugo said crudely. “Now fuck her! And fuck her hard! Unless, of course, you want me to do it for you, and I could. I want to hear her scream when you pluck her cherry, boy. You can teach her the niceties later, but for now you will deflower the little Welsh bitch, and make her howl for more!”

  Junia bit her lip, but then she whispered to Simon, “We have no choice, my love. I want no other but you. I care not the circumstances.”

  “This is barbaric,” he whispered back, touching her face tenderly. “Junia, I am so sorry, for I do love you.” He was ashamed, for his manhood was now as hard as the rocks that stood about this clearing, and he lusted for Junia as he had never lusted for another. Encircled by his father and his men, he was being forced to rape the girl he loved. And what was worse, he wanted to take her. He couldn’t help himself.

  “Think of another time and place,” Junia murmured in his ear. “We are
there. Not here. We are alone, Simon. Alone to indulge our passions for each other. Make love to me, my darling. Make love to me here and now!” Her words were braver than she was feeling, and what of her little brother, now trussed like a slaughtered deer on Hugo de Bohun’s saddle.

  “Do you know the first time hurts?” he whispered, and when she nodded he said, “You must scream loudly else my father will not be satisfied, sweeting. I don’t want him hurting you again.” He found the soft entry into her body, relieved that she was moist.

  “Get on with it!” his father shouted. “Will you just lay atop her like a wet coverlet, boy? Ride her hard, Simon! Ride her hard!”

  “I am not afraid,” Junia told him. “I love you, Simon de Bohun!” She felt him pushing carefully into her inexperienced body, and she was grateful for his care of her in this terrible circumstance.

  “Have you got it in her yet?” Hugo shouted.

  Junia moaned convincingly, and her tormentor grinned, pleased.

  “Am I hurting you?” Simon gasped.

  Junia almost laughed, but she swallowed back her giggle. “Nay, it is for effect, my love.” Then her green eyes widened as he pushed farther within her innocent body, and she felt herself opening to take him him. “Oh! Ohh! Ohhh!” she cried out, and her eyes closed, for she could not bear to look at the cruel and lustful faces of the men staring down on them another moment. The two men holding her legs apart now stood, pulling her legs up and wider as Simon’s manhood slid deeper.

  Hugo de Bohun was not yet satisfied with his son’s performance. The lad was coddling the girl. Walking over to his stallion he pulled a leather strap from the saddle. The boy thrown across his mount glared with angry eyes at him, but could say naught for they had gagged him. Hugo walked back into the circle where his son was carefully moving on the girl now. Raising the leather in his hand he brought it down across Simon’s bare buttocks, laughing as his son jerked in surprise.

  “Enough of this shilly-shallying, lad!” he cried. “Impale her fully. I’ll not stop whipping you until you do!” He brought the leather strap down again and again on Simon’s bared bottom until his son began to move swiftly upon the girl beneath him.

  “I am sorry, my love,” Simon groaned, and then he thrust hard, shattering Junia’s maidenhead, almost weeping at her genuine scream of pain.

  “Keep it going, lad!” his father shouted, beating Simon all the harder with the leather strap. “I want her furrow well plowed, and watered with your juices.”

  Junia thought for a moment that she was going to die, but she quickly realized better. She kept her eyes tightly shut, but she could not drown out the sound of Hugo de Bohun’s vile words, nor the sounds the men surrounding them were making as they watched the spectacle before them. Her head thrashed back and forth with the pain. The worst of it was quickly gone, but the continued friction of Simon’s manhood was irritating her. Then she felt him stiffen atop her. He shuddered, and there was the sensation of something filling her body. He slumped for a moment atop her, but then regaining his composure arose, pulling Junia up with him.

  “You’ve had your entertainment, you devil!” he snarled at his father. “Now let Junia go. And her little brother.”

  “Nay, lad,” his father told him. “They are coming with us. The boy will spend the rest of his days in my dungeons. And your Welsh whore will spend her time in your bed awaiting your pleasure. You love her. I can see it in your eyes, Simon. You won’t be able to resist using her despite your vaunted nobility. I have done you a great kindness, my son. You will have your cake, and eat it too. Your Welsh leman, and Aceline de Bellaud as your wife with her lands matching ours, and all her other wealth.” Hugo de Bohun smiled at his son, but it was more a sneer than a smile.

  “No! I won’t have it!” Simon shouted at the older man.

  Hugo laughed. “You won’t have it? Oh, have you tired already of your Welsh whore, my son? Will you give her to me, or perhaps to my men? For if you do not protect her that is what will happen to her. The wench’s only chance at survival is if she belongs to you, Simon. Do you understand me? If she does not belong to you, then she is fair game for my soldiers. Now pull up your chausses and get dressed. There is rain coming, and I do not wish to be caught out in a late summer’s downpour.” He turned away from his son, his lustful look going to Junia. “Did you enjoy your first cock, girl? You’ll take mine, and many others, before you finally die. But for now my son will keep you safe. His wife, however, may not be as open-minded.”

  Junia glared at him, and pulled on her chemise. “Give me my boots, old man,” she snarled. She was bleeding, and she hurt, but she would say nothing.

  “You’ll ride barefoot, bitch,” he growled back. “Slave whores don’t wear shoes. And if you ever throw anything at me again I’ll take this strap I used on your lover and beat you myself. Do you understand me, girl?”

  Junia nodded, pulling her green gown over her head. As she quickly rebraided her hair her eyes went to her brother. His face was wet with his tears. Dear God, had he seen it all? I will kill Hugo de Bohun one day, Junia thought to herself. I swear by the blessed St. David that I will kill him! She walked over to Brynn and brushed the tears off his cheeks. “It’s all right, Brynn,” she told him. “Simon loves me. We will get through this.”

  “Get away from the prisoner, girl!” Hugo de Bohun ordered her, his thick fingers grasping hard at her arm and dragging her away from the boy.

  Junia drew away from him saying, “He’s just a child, my lord. Let him go.”

  “He is your father’s only son,” Hugo de Bohun said, grinning evilly, “isn’t he?”

  Junia stared stony-faced at her tormentor.

  “And so ends the proud line of Arthur,” Hugo de Bohun sneered. “Get on your horse, wench. One of my men will lead it, and your hands are to be bound.”

  “Do what pleases you, my lord,” Junia replied.

  He laughed again. “You’re a hard wench. You’ll give my son a goodly number of strong little bastards. I shall look forward to dandling them on my knee.”

  “I will strangle them at birth,” Junia answered him, smiling wickedly.

  “By God, wench, I have, I think, made a mistake giving you to my son instead of keeping you for myself. I thought you to be a weak as water little bitch, for my son is a weak as water man. But you are all fire and fight. Still, I could tame you.”

  “Not even at the height of your powers, my lord,” Junia told him, “but you are long past those days, are you not?”

  Hugo de Bohun laughed again. He had always enjoyed a challenge. He would leave the Pendragon girl to his son as he had promised, but come Simon’s wedding night to Aceline de Bellaud, his fiery Welsh leman would be fair game, Hugo decided. He would have the wench beneath him then. And when he had finished with her she would never again be satisfied with his son Simon. But there was plenty of time for that, and the wait for Junia Pendragon would make having her all the better. Licking his lips in anticipation he led the girl to her horse and lifted her up, sliding his hand beneath her bottom and squeezing her buttocks as he did so. He laughed when she swore at him.

  Chapter 15

  The de Bohun home of Agramant was fashioned of dark stone. It was a small castle with four square towers, and black slate roofs. They rode across a drawbridge which lay over a water moat, and beneath an iron portcullis into the courtyard. This would not, Junia, realized, be an easy place from which to escape. She watched helplessly as her brother was pulled from Hugo de Bohun’s horse. Brynn fell heavily to his knees, unable at first to stand, for he had been left across de Bohun’s horse head down for several hours now. The men-at-arms who had been accompanying them laughed, and prodded him up cruelly, but Brynn was yet dizzy and could not remain upright. When he could not, the master of Agramant kicked the boy, shouting at him to arise.

  Simon stepped between Brynn and his father. “Let the boy alone, Father. He will stand in a moment or two when he is able. His head is surely spinning from b
eing across your horse all that time.”

  “Pah! What a weakling you are,” Hugo said irritably. “A real man would not show compassion for an enemy.”

  “Brynn is eleven, Father, and hardly dangerous,” Simon replied.

  “The brat injured one of my men and tried to skewer me,” Hugo growled. “He showed considerable skill with that little weapon of his. He had no right to attack us.”

  “You were threatening his sister, Father,” Simon reminded Hugo. Turning away from the older man Simon bent and put an arm about Brynn. “Can you rise now, lad?” he asked the boy gently.

  Brynn nodded, eyes wary.

  “I didn’t know they followed me, Brynn, I swear it,” Simon murmured low as he undid the binding about the boy’s mouth and helped him up.

  Brynn licked his dry lips several times, and swallowed once or twice before saying, “Thank you, Simon. I’m all right now.”

  “Take the brat to my dungeons,” Hugo de Bohun said. “Look about you, boy. ’Tis the last glimpse of the world you are likely to see except for the scrap of sky from your cell.” And he laughed.

  “If I had been but a moment quicker, de Bohun, I could have killed you,” Brynn said boldly. “Next time, and there will be a next time, I will succeed.”

  “Brave words, boy, but after a few weeks in my dungeons you will see the futility of those words. Take him away!” Hugo de Bohun now turned to Junia who was still sitting, hands bound, upon her horse. Licking his lips he leered at her, jumping back quickly as she spat at him. “Take your bitch to your chamber, Simon, and keep her there until I say she may come into the hall,” Hugo said irritably. “You did well today, my son. Her screams were most gratifying.” Then turning away he entered his castle followed by the men who had accompanied him.

  Simon walked over to Junia and gently undid the rough strip of leather that had bound her slender wrists to the saddle’s pommel. Junia slid immediately from her mount, but her legs buckled as her feet touched the ground. Simon caught her, preventing her fall, but was disturbed by the great shudder that racked her body when he touched her.