Alicia's Saga Ch. 1

The carriage was burning, the offering for their emmisarial journey already looted. The guards had been run through and her fiancé murdered even as he begged them for mercy. All that remained was Alicia and her captors as they wrestled with her, eager to add to their plunder. Her dress was torn from her shoulders, exposing her milk-white breasts. She instinctively moved to cover herself, but her arms were held fast. The ruffians who held her arms each groped her bobbling breasts with hard, calloused hands, one of them even having the audacity to lean forward and suckle from her as if he were an overgrown and degenerate baby. The leader, an older man with wild gray hair, stepped up to her, his horrible face much too close to hers, his breath reeking of rum and his mouth filled with rotten teeth.

"Well, we do have a pretty morsel here, eh boys?" The other three laughed as she struggled against them.

"Cretins! Scoundrels! Unhand me at once," she demanded. "My father will hear of this and when he does…" The leader slapped her across the face. He was probably as old as her father, but he was nothing like him.

"Your father is nowhere to be found, little miss, and he won't even know you've disappeared. Why ransom you when we can sell you to slavers. He'd probably thank us for taking you off his hands, if he didn't diddle you himself." Alicia's face flushed with indignation.

"My father is an honorable man, and Baron of Kalderry, and when he finds you, your heads will adorn the gates of his manor house." He reached out again, smacking her face hard enough to make her squeal.

"Shut up!" You're as good as dead to him now, just like your fop of a man is to you, and if you don't know what's good for you, you'll share his fate.

It was true. The Earl of Sanshire, her husband to be, had put up a valiant defense to protect her, but the quarrel in his chest paid mute testimony to the futility of his actions. He looked so peaceful. Perhaps death was better than whatever the foursome had in store for her. She spat into the old man's face and he recoiled. At least she didn't have to breathe his booze anymore.

"Do your worst, vermin, I' not afraid of you!" She lashed out with an unheld leg and nearly rammed her delicate foot into the most sensitive of places. Her chamber matron, knowledgeable by marriage in the intricacies of men, told her about that particular maneuver.

Pity it didn't connect, she thought.

The old man's face grew fiery red and contorted with rage. Spittle flew from his wretched lips as he ranted at her.

"You little whore!" he screamed, as he reached out, grasping a handful of her auburn tresses. She screamed in response as he jerked at her hair. "You aren't prepared for the worst I have in store for you and since you are so intent on touching my manhood, I'll oblige you by giving you a viewing, up close and personal. Throw her down boys!" He let go of her hair and the men complied, kicking her legs out from under her and wrestling her to the dirt road. One of them closed both of her wrists in one massive paw while another grabbed for her ankles to stop her kicking feet. The third began to unbuckle his trousers with cackling glee while the older man stood watching at her feet, his hands part undoing his belt and part feeling himself through his pants. The one who unbuckled himself removed his penis from its confinement. It was long, but thin, yet it looked to be hard as stone and jumped as if it had a gruesome life of its own.

She had only seen one other before; her fiancé's. He had been cheeky enough to show it to her on occasion and begged her to touch it and to relieve him. She wanted to, filled both with excitement and fear at the prospect, but she always demurely declined. It wasn't right. Not yet. But now, she was forced with another, and these men would not back down so kindly as the good Earl once had.

"Pa, I'm going to choke that venomous throat of hers and give her mouth a good washing out."

"You do that, boy!" The other laughed, holding her to the ground.

Alicia was terrified. She didn't know what was about to happen, but she didn't like the sound of it. The man knelt over her chest, his meat dangling in her face.

"I hope you have some spit left for me, darling," he sneered, guiding his manhood to her cringing lips.

This was all wrong, she thought. Her chamber matron had described her pending wedding night, how the Earl's rod would fit the soft pinkness between her legs, how his key, the right key, would fit her lock, as God intended. She had to Alicia a great deal, and at 20, Alicia thought she knew a lot, but her matron had never told Alicia anything remotely like what this brute was about to offer. She did know that she didn't want his filthy manhood in her mouth, and so she shrunk back as best she could, but to no avail. The man holding her wrists turned her face up to his partner, and he grabbed her hair, pulling her to him as he sat closer to her face. His slender rod bobbed expectantly and she closed her eyes, resisting feebly. The thing touched her face and as she opened her mouth to scream, he penetrated her lips, sliding back to her uvula. She gagged on him, as he thrust in once, twice, trying to throttle her with his sex. He tasted of dirt and musk and something else unpleasant. She gagged again, struggling mightily to keep her gorge down and to get air into her lungs. Unable to do anything else as he stroked her lips with his penis, she did the only thing she could. She bit down on the intrusive member.

The man in her mouth howled with a mixture of anger and pain, yanking his cock from between her gritted teeth, scathing himself further. The other young men laughed riotously, but still held her tight in their grips.

"You miserable slut!" the wounded man screeched as he cupped his wounded genitals. "You'll pay dearly for biting me!" He dropped his penis long enough to unsheathe the knife from his belt. He knelt down again, his engorged member mere inches from her face. Even closer was the gleaming blade of the knife. "I'm going to feed you again, my little tart, and if you knick me again, I'll slit your throat and fuck you until you're cold and dead!" With that he planted the head of his rod against her lips and she took it in without protest, but hey eyes were streaming with tears that coursed down her temples. He grabbed the back of her head and rammed himself deeply into her. Alicia tried to keep her lips drawn tightly over her teeth so as not to graze him, fearing a harsher cut in return. She closed her eyes to concentrate as he rocked back and forth, plunging his hardness between her lips and ramming the back of her throat. She gagged and choked as he filled her mouth with his foul, throbbing meat.

A rough hand reached out and squeezed her breast painfully, while others pulled up her dress and petticoats beneath. Another knife was produced and she felt them slashing away her frilly undercoats and bloomers. She was stripped to her flesh and the breeze blew across the tufts of her muff now exposed to their ravenous eyes and prodding hands. Hard worn fingers probed her labia, separating and penetrating her soft pink wetness. She mmmphed her displeasure through the gag of flesh in her mouth but the fingers pressed on, slipping deeper and deeper until the could press no further, stopped short of complete intrusion. Although she was sickened by the idea of being manhandled as she was, there was a pleasant tingle to the whole affair down below, despite the roughness of their ministrations. The old man spoke up again.

"Well, boys, it seems this cunny is a virgin." The others all hooted their approval. "I say we pull the petals from this little rosebud." Alicia's eyes grew wide and she mrrphed her own disapproval, trying to shake her head around the engorged member between her lips. Her pathetic request went unheeded as the older man began to loose his belt and pull down his trousers.

The man above her grabbed her head with both hands and was grinding feverishly into her mouth. The tangled hair in his groin reeked of horrible hygiene and his musk was increasing in strength as he used her. His pace quickened, plunging again and again to the back of her throat. He stopped suddenly, tensing up. Alicia took the opportunity to take a deep breath and immediately regretted it as her assailant reached the end of his rope and fired a sticky wad of fluid down her throat. Alicia gasped and sputtered, coughing against him as he fired shot after shot. He pulled out, still spasming, jetting three more squirts of seed onto her face where it ran together with her tears. Alicia spit up his ejaculation as she struggled to breathe, strings of his effort hanging from her cheeks and the bangs of her hair. He massaged his softening meat, goading the few last drops from it and dripping them on Alicia's lips as she fought to keep from passing out. When she could get air again she settled down, thankful just that his horrible slimy goo had finally gone down. The fingers, as rough as they were, had left her vagina and she felt empty, but they were soon replaced by something hard and fat. She struggled against the men holding her down to see the old man between her legs holding the club of his penis against her labia.

"Did you enjoy your baptism, dearie?" he mocked. "You'll love this. Hold her fast, boys, I'm going to show her what an old man can do for a young woman." The young men cheered as he slipped the head of his massive cock between her lips below and she bellowed, the brief tingle of filthy pleasure replaced by a burning, stretching agony. She screamed out in pain and fear as he began to pump his hips against her, his balls slapping the tender whiteness of her buttocks. The man holding her ankles pulled her legs to him, sinking the old man deeper and making Alicia scream as if she had been stabbed in the belly. The old man grunted as he hit the bottom, unable to go any further. "Her nut is a tough one, but I'll crack it."

"Save some for us, Pa," the one holding her hands said as he pinched and rolled a raw nipple in his fingers. The old man pulled most of the way out and the plunged in again, pealing another scream from Alicia's cum-stained lips. He stroked her deeply, in and out; out slowly and in quick and deep, each stroke causing Alicia to shriek while the other men held her down and laughed. Every time the old man moved in, the man holding her ankles pulled back and she was impaled once again. The codger picked up his pace, thrusting faster and faster until Alicia's screams became one continuous Banshee's wail. Eventually he pushed with one mighty blow and his partner pulled back with all his might; the tear was almost audible as her hymen gave way with a deepening plunge of the old man's tool and an even louder, crying shout from Alicia. Unencumbered by her virginity, the old man plowed away at her bleeding vagina while the men fondled her and drove their leader deeper. Alicia knew one thing for certain: This man's awful, villainous key absolutely did not fit.

The men laughed and groped her as she cried, helplessly ridden by the lecherous old rapist. Even the first one who had spent himself was back to fondle her breasts and watch as his father took their victim.

So engrossed were they in violating Alicia that they did not notice the horse galloping up the road, its rider leaned forward, the blade in his hand whickering as he approached. The man who had forced her to fellate him was the first to die, both of his heads meeting as the sword swept down, lopping one from his neck and kissing his flaccid crown on the way to the dusty earth. The other men jumped up as horse and rider past by. The old man struggled to get up from his twining with Alicia, and as the rider wheeled around, his sword glinting with fire from the burning wreck of the carriage, the filthy codger was also cut down, falling heavily on Alicia and bumping their skulls together. The world washed away from Alicia's vision and, blessedly, she fell into slumber.

The other two men were no more fortunate. One drew his sword, but the rider skillfully reared his horse, kicking its foe in the face and sending him sprawling. The fourth man ignored his weapon and ran for the protection of the forest. In a few long strides of the graceful animal, the rider was able to cut down the last of the assailants with a skillful flick of his wrist.

The battle was brief and victory belonged to the stranger. He walked his horse slowly back to the unconscious couple and dismounted. He kicked the old man's body off of the woman and looked down at her, shaking his head. He noticed the tattered mess of her attire and the sex-worn state of her face, chest and groin. Her cosmetics were smeared and made gaudy by their aggression and the explosion of seed, her breasts were raw and red from being handled so monstrously, and a thin trail of fluid was dripping from her tortured lips, accentuating the minute crevices leading to her ample bottom.

"This simply will not do," he said quietly and bent down to pick her up. Her breathing was shallow, exhausted from the ordeal. His hands were ebon shields against her pale skin and as he lifted her, they looked as image and counter image, as dark as he was. Carefully, he set her against his horse, mounted up and then gently lifted her over his lap. He tried to cover her body with her ruined dress as best he could, all but the entrance to her tortured womb. This he left open enough for him to slide his chocolate fingers between her thighs and feel the wetness upon and between her abused labia. He fingered her absently as he rode off to the south, leaving the carnage far behind them.

This certainly will not do, he thought to himself as she murmured in her sleep, his digits stirring her further. On the long ride home he planned for her awakening, and what would become of her.