Maiden

by Aishling Morgan

  Aisla gave them a single miserable look and bent over the rounded boulder Elethrine had indicated. Talithea watched as Elethrine lifted the maid’s dress and petticoat. Aisla gave a little sob as her drawers were pulled open and her bottom exposed, a sweet round orb of girlish delight with a puff of deep red hair showing between her thighs.

  ‘Part your legs,’ Elethrine ordered as she bent to remove her dainty leather slipper.

  The maid sobbed again, a sound combining both misery and passion. As her feet came apart so her thighs opened, exposing the pouted rear lips of her tuppenny, the centre of which was pink and distinctly moist.

  ‘As I thought, she is excited, the little slut,’ Talithea said.

  Elethrine said nothing but brought the slipper down hard across her maid’s naked bottom, making the cheeks bounce and quiver. As always, punishing Aisla was deeply satisfying, yet it also never failed to bring the heat to her own sex. The maid squeaked as another slap landed across her bottom but raised herself on tiptoe and pulled her back in, adding the exposure of her anus to the humiliation of her position.

  Incensed by the lewdness of Aisla’s display, Elethrine grabbed the maid around the waist and began to belabour the squirming buttocks with hard slaps of the slipper. Aisla was soon squealing and kicking, thrashing her bottom beautifully while Talithea watched the beating with an expression of utter delight. Finally Elethrine decided that she was satisfied and stood back, leaving Aisla bent over the rock, sobbing loudly and massaging two cherry red bum cheeks. Between them her tuppenny was an open pink oval, like the centre of a small tart and clearly ready for entry.

  ‘You truly are a slut Aisla,’ Elethrine remarked with satisfaction as she put her slipper back on. ‘You may cover your shame now as we had best press on.’

  Aisla hastily covered her bottom and followed the others, snivelling slightly from her spanking but quickly becoming more cheerfully. The act of beating her had increased their confidence, not only of the punishers, but of the punished as well.

  ‘There is also, of course, a somewhat delicate problem,’ Elethrine said after a moment.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Talithea replied, ‘my key is at the bottom of my matron-in-waiting’s strong box.’

  ‘And mine on a ribbon around Nurse Anaka’s neck,’ Elethrine added.

  ‘Possibly dwarven troops travel with some sort of Matron?’ Talithea suggested.

  ‘She would also need to be a locksmith,’ Elethrine pointed out glumly.

  ‘They must have an armourer Mistress,’ Aisla said.

  ‘And so we must lift our skirts and split our drawers for the attentions of a dwarven smith?’ Elethrine snapped back. ‘The humiliation would be unendurable. Besides, he would be bound to mount us. How could he resist?’

  ‘I would willingly drain him of jism first,’ Aisla offered. ‘For the sake of your chastity.’

  ‘For your own pleasure more like,’ Talithea laughed. ‘Do not forget, girl, we have seen you with your mouth engorged with cock and don’t think we didn’t notice that you were unable to resist playing with yourself.’

  ‘Still,’ Elethrine broke in, ‘your offer is a worthy one.’

  They fell silent, turning their attention to negotiating a cluster of boulders that linked the ledge to a stretch of ground that led to the cliff base. A league to their east rose the characteristic square tents of a dwarven encampment. As Ghutanisip had also predicted, the two armies were breaking apart as dusk fell, yet the Vendjomois showed no disposition to break camp. Mindful of his comments on the Vendjomois habit of slave taking but reluctant to suffer the shame of covering their hair, they stole carefully along the base of the cliff, keeping in the shadows until they came close to the dwarven encampment. A single sentry guarded it, leaning on a pike.

  Unlike Ghutanisip he showed only mild curiosity, a typically dwarven trait. On learning that they wanted to hire mercenaries he simply called up a companion and instructed him to take the three girls to the tent of the Stipulator. This proved to be the second largest tent and was crowded with dwarves. At the rear a heavily scared, grey haired dwarf sat behind a trestle. To his side was a squat, balding dwarf with a sheet of charta in front of him and an exageratedly long stylus in his hand. Elethrine had Aisla perform introductions, a ritual that caused no more than a flicker of surprise to cross the Stipulator’s features. She then stood forward, preferring to conduct the negotiations herself rather than trust to Talithea’s high-handed attitude and uncertain temper.

  ‘So Demoiselle, what do you require?’ the Stipulator asked.

  ‘A hand of mercenaries for a period of three months or more and the services of a smith, preferably female,’ Elethrine answered.

  ‘I doubt that there is a female dwarf within a thousand leagues,’ he answered. ‘We do however have a smith in tent L5, whose services you may command at the usual scale of fees. As to mercenaries, we are currently receiving one gold Imperial of Vendjome per week. Should you be able to better this offer, there will be no difficulty.’

  ‘Indeed we can,’ Elethrine replied pulling her red gold ring free, ‘we estimate that this finely engraved band of red gold should be more than adequate payment.’

  The Stipulator’s eyebrows rose before he turned Elethrine a most undwarven look of incredulity.

  ‘For five men? For three months? Why, there is less gold than in a single Imperial.’

  ‘It is a work of art,’ Elethrine explained, ‘and cost twenty gold Thalars, which, from what you say, are perhaps twice the size of an Imperial and we feel worth perhaps twelve times as much.’

  ‘You gave perhaps forty weights of gold for one weight in a different shape?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘I have always thought humans lacked sense, but this is ludicrous. Let us weigh your gold and we will come to a sensible price.’

  Reluctantly Elethrine and Talithea removed their rings and placed them on a small scale that stood by the clerk. In total they weighed as much as five Imperials.

  ‘There we are, a simple, honest and indisputable measure,’ the Stipulator declared. ‘The gold entitles you to one hand for a week at Vendjomois wages. The stones are also valuable and being girls you will of course wish to give service and thus can outbid our current employers.’

  ‘One week!’ Talithea exclaimed. ‘The red-haired maid can give service - but one week!’

  The Stipulator shrugged.

  ‘Surely we can reach a settlement,’ Elethrine went on. ‘In Mund our fathers will provide as much gold as you care to ask.’

  ‘Payment is accepted only in advance,’ the clerk spoke for the first time. ‘What if a guard were to fall in combat? What use then all the gold in Mund?’

  ‘I advise giving details,’ the Stipulator said, ‘so that a notice may be posted in the mess hall. If you are for Mund then it may be that some of our number will accept a lesser price to guard you as far as Ar-Kian or perhaps even Utan, from which you may take ship for Aegmund. To reach either would take a month or more, but who knows, you are young, beautiful and appear healthy. So you might tempt. Give the clerk your details.’

  ‘Very well,’ Elethrine sighed, turning to the clerk who was already picking their names out on the pale surface of the charta.

  ‘Five gold imperials,’ he mumbled, ‘five jewels, and the service of three exquisite human maids.’

  ‘One maid,’ Talithea interrupted. ‘I am a Princess and do not so debase myself.’

  ‘Nor I,’ Elethrine answered.

  ‘One?’ the clerk responded. ‘Your expectations are extravagant. Your offer might tempt two guards, just possibly three if she could serve with mouth, cunt and anus each night. But a hand? Never!’

  ‘Then we shall have three guards,’ Elethrine replied, shivering at the clerk’s crudeness.

  ‘Impossible,’ the clerk answered, ‘during the course of hostilities between Vendjome and Oretea no group of less than one hand may travel abroad - by order. Five Imperials and the services of your fine maid might pay your way as far
as Gora-Jome on the Ephraxis, but there you would certainly be taken as slaves immediately our contract ended. The Vendjomois are greedy, lustful and not altogether an honourable race.’

  Elethrine paused, trying to come to terms with the idea of accepting one or more dwarven cocks in her mouth every night for perhaps two months. The idea at once disgusted her and filled her with longing, yet that of slavery with terror and defiance. She glanced at Talithea, finding the Princess biting her lip in uncertainty.

  ‘Very well,’ she said quietly. ‘I offer what you call mouth service.’

  ‘And I,’ Talithea added in an almost inaudible whisper.

  ‘Not cunt?’ the clerk asked in a voice loud enough to be clearly audible throughout the tent.

  ‘We are maiden,’ Elethrine answered.

  ‘I am not sure that I understand the concept,’ the clerk went on. ‘You take life partners don’t you? Does being maiden mean that you can only accept your life partner in your cunts?’

  ‘Yes,’ Elethrine answered, blushing furiously.

  ‘The first to do so becomes the life partner,’ Aisla explained. ‘It is a great honour for both man and maiden, but for a noble or royal maiden to submit to someone not of her rank is unthinkable.’

  ‘Ah ha,’ the clerk replied, evidently not understanding at all. ‘So you can only take pleasure up your bottoms before finding a life partner - I’ll put that down.’

  ‘No!’ all three girls exclaimed in unison.

  ‘That is the most dirty and debased of acts!’ Elethrine added.

  ‘It is?’ the Stipulator put in. ‘Several human women of my acquaintance take great pleasure in it.’

  ‘Yet it is still unthinkable,’ Aisla explained.

  ‘So you enjoy it but it’s unthinkable?’ the Stipulator asked, sounding greatly puzzled.

  ‘Yes, I mean no,’ Elethrine stammered and then shut up hastily before admitting to the unpardonable sin of enjoying the thought of the penetration of her anus.

  ‘So will you do it or not?’ the clerk asked testily.

  ‘No,’ Elethrine replied.

  ‘Very well,’ the clerk answered, ‘but I hold little hope for your expedition if you persist in taking such a prissy attitude. May I at the least put down that you will strip for their pleasure?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Talithea answered.

  ‘No,’ Elethrine said, ‘yet I will have Aisla serve bare breasted at meals.’

  ‘Good but still not sufficient,’ the clerk went on. ‘Anything more?’

  ‘Perhaps it would amuse them to watch Aisla beaten?’ Elethrine asked uncertainly.

  ‘Indeed it would,’ the clerk answered with an appreciative glance to Aisla. ‘I still doubt that your offer is sufficient, yet you are beautiful and so we shall see.’

  ‘And what of the armourer?’ Elethrine asked.

  ‘Tent L5, as I said,’ the Stipulator said. ‘What is the job and how will you pay?’

  ‘Is that not a matter between us and the armourer?’ Elethrine asked, blushing at the thought of explaining her intimate needs in front of thirty or so dwarves.

  ‘Not at all,’ the Stipulator explained. ‘We agree the price and you take a docket to the armourer.’

  ‘We… er… we… we… need our purity girdles removed,’ Elethrine managed.

  ‘And this is a job for an armourer?’ the stipulator queried.

  ‘They are locked,’ Elethrine said, blushing crimson, ‘and made of brazen mesh with a heavy lock of iron at the front.’

  ‘Mine is silver,’ Talithea put in, with a curious mixture of pride and embarrassment.

  ‘Silver?’ the Stipulator queried, drawing a nod from Talithea. ‘Then let us set the rate of work at two weights of silver and the balance can be added to the offer for your guard hand. The brass will perhaps cover some of the cost of your food.’

  ‘Very well,’ Elethrine said, glancing quickly to Talithea for approval. ‘Might we also eat?’

  ‘There is gruel in the mess hall, free for all,’ he answered. ‘Wine and meat may be had at a surcharge.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Elethrine said, withdrawing with a curtsy judged appropriate to her estimation of the Stipulator’s rank.

  ‘Let us eat first.’ Talithea said as they left the tent.

  ‘No - please,’ Elethrine replied, ‘if we must undergo this undignified ordeal let us get it done quickly.’

  ‘In other words you are at risk of soiling your undergarments,’ Talithea replied shrewishly. ‘Come then, it is bad enough to have to present our bare tuppennies to a dwarven smith, let alone with soiled pantalettes to add to our disgrace.’

  They set off, Elethrine hurrying despite the prospect of the humiliating experience she was about to undergo. Not only was there the problem of having her purity girdle removed and of the intimate exposure such an operation would entail, but of whether to order Aisla to slake the smith’s lust first and thus risk making a mess of herself. Finally she decided that she had no choice, as she was certain that any male presented with the sight of her bare pink tuppenny would be quite unable to resist mounting her on the instant unless he was physically incapable. Even if Aisla drained him it was a risk. A virile male might manage to have her anyway, yet she had no choice.

  They quickly found tent L5, each row and column of the encampment being clearly signposted. Inside was a forge and a massively built dwarf whose head came close to the level of Elethrine’s bodice. He accepted the docket without question, read the task description, grunted and asked Talithea to lay on the table.

  ‘One moment,’ Elethrine interrupted, ‘for reasons of our own we feel it necessary for my maid Aisla to offer you mouth service before you commence work.’

  ‘That is uncommonly generous,’ the armourer answered, looking up in mild surprise. ‘She is a great beauty, and I gladly accept.’

  ‘Go on Aisla,’ Elethrine ordered, trying to ignore her unworthy feelings of delight at the prospect of seeing her second ever penis and of watching her maid suck it.

  Aisla got down on her knees and went through a similar procedure to that which she had used to thank Ghutanisip for his advice. The smith’s cock came out of his trousers and into Aisla’s mouth, stiffening rapidly to a stubby thickness that she was barely able to get her lips around. As before, she used her tongue and lips with an agility and skill that looked to Elethrine suspiciously like the result of long experience. It was certainly effective, because almost before Aisla had got into the rhythm of her task he filled her mouth with an extraordinary quantity of thick sperm, most of which spurted out to run down his shaft and onto his great, hairy balls. As Elethrine stared open mouthed at the sight she became aware of a scent - rich, musky and reminiscent of something that she could not bring to memory. Aisla dutifully licked the come up and swallowed, then stood up with her eyes twinkling and a mischievous little smile on her lips.

  ‘Strumpet,’ Talithea remarked, which Elethrine thought unfair as the Princess had watched the entire process in fascination.

  ‘Don’t forget you’ll be doing it yourself soon enough,’ Elethrine answered, causing the blood to go straight to Talithea’s face.

  ‘I shall not simper and smirk afterwards!’ the Princess retorted hotly.

  ‘Right now, these girdles,’ the smith said, defusing what might otherwise have flared into an argument.

  ‘Quite,’ Elethrine said, ‘now I must ask that you wear a hood or something while you work…’

  ‘Work blindfold?’ the smith demanded. ‘In such a sensitive area?’

  ‘I…,’ Elethrine began and then stopped, abandoning her reserve in her desperation to get the girdle free. ‘Very well, it seems I must show myself to you, but be quick.’

  The smith merely shrugged and indicated a broad, low bench. Elethrine sat down with her legs to either side and then laid back. As the bench was designed for dwarves the position left her feet on the floor and her knees up. With a flush of pure shame she spread her thighs and began to pull up her skir
ts and petticoats, her only consolation being that they were her best and of a quality too fine for Talithea to make any barbed remarks.

  Elethrine saw that Talithea was watching with interest. Unable to bear watching them inspect her tuppenny, she closed her eyes and pulled open her drawers and pantalettes, exposing the lock of her purity girdle.

  ‘Hum, ha,’ the smith said, ‘this is a dwarven lock, not easy to pick. Hum, no, it will be easier to cut the brass chain links.’

  ‘Very well, but quickly, please,’ Elethrine answered.

  A moment later she felt a pressure against her belly and heard the snick of a link being cut. The sound produced a sharp pang of shame and also lust. Her purity girdle was being cut off, and not by some lust-crazed thane unable to resist her beauty but by a squat dwarven smith who smelt of oil and charcoal. As another link snapped and then a third, her shame intensified. She could feel the moisture of her tuppenny and knew that the others would see how excited she was, possibly they would even smell the aroma of hot, aroused girl when the heavily padded girdle was pulled free from between her legs. Worse still - as the cutters continued their work - was the knowledge that had the dwarf mounted her she would have done nothing to resist but merely spread her thighs wider to accommodate him in her virgin tuppenny.

  Elethrine kept her eyes closed but was unable to stop her lust rising as the girdle was cut away. It was something she had always dreamed of, having her girdle removed prior to ravishment by the man bold enough to take her. Now she knew just how willing she would have been, probably helping instead of putting up the resistance that protocol required. She moaned aloud as the final link snapped, her brain a welter of lust and need. The smith pulled the girdle down, exposing her swollen, wet tuppenny for all to see. Elethrine moaned again, wondering if the dwarf would manage to have her. He had, after all, removed her girdle and so it was his right, and anyway, she wanted his lovely fat cock rammed home inside her, stretching her, tearing her maidenhead…