The Passions of Gwendolyn by Lizbeth Dusseau
A Fourteenth Century Tale
Danger, Intrigue and Bawdy Sexual Exploits.Abducted from the arms of her lover by a band of thieving rogues, Gwendolyn's extraordinary tale begins. Her New and ever changing life is teeming with barbarian bandits, treacherous gentlemen of the English court, as insidious princess, high-spirited Gypsies, and a host of vibrant characters that try to mold Gwendolyn to their own designs.
Though often required to submit, making accommodations to save her body and soul, Gwendolyn maintains her dignity through it all. And though her fate often looks bleak, she perserveres, hanging on to the exquisite dream of a virtuous lover, who will shower her with gentleness and love, and give her the sexual satisfaction and peace she remembers from that distant time before her grand adventure began.
Brisk and fast paced, this is not a tale for the faint of heart, but one filled with racuous sexual antics, including anal sexuality, female bi-sexuality, as well as bondage and punishment typical of the fourteenth century time period in which this story takes place.
Erik loosened the ropes at my ankles so I was completely free to lay with him, nothing to hamper his access to my feminine home. I shivered nervously as I waited, wondering how I could respond to the advance of a hellish stranger. I was hearing my heart’s beating as if it was pounding inside my head.
I would have thought that he would simply ravage me, as the other men would have done. But after he’d stripped himself of everything but his loose shirt, he attended to me as tenderly as Stuart might. There was eagerness in his eyes, a sure boldness about every touch; but he it was not eagerness without mercy. Staring into my frightened gaze, he loosened my tattered clothes carefully. With the torn bodice falling away and the belt undone, he pulled away my garment so nothing but a simple muslin shift remained. I hoped he’d not insist on more, and I trembled when he did.
“I should like to gaze on these first,” he said, unclothing me completely, his eyes resting on my naked breasts. “You shouldn’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.” Leaning in he kissed them with lips as soft as flower petals, as tender as a spring mist. He laid me back on the bed of straw and animal skins, and removing his shirt so he was as naked as I, he descended to have what I’d already given to Stuart that morning. It seemed like years, not hours since I’d lain with my lover in the meadow above our home. Now lying with this stranger, this brusque, demanding, but gentle stranger, I was in another world, in another life, as if that other one had never existed at all.
His generous erection pushed its way inside me, and I gasped loudly as a surge of raw sensation bounded through my limbs and loins. Despite my fear and my apprehensions, it was lust, purely driven lust greeting him, and he could see it in my eyes.
“Ah! You are a bawdy one, my silent child,” he purred to me.
His hands combed my body, as if he would have me pleased even while he took from me. Though I might have fruitlessly tried to fight him off, I did not, instead allowing his fondling to ignite even more crude desire. His ramming cock only grew larger the more he thrust. I moaned loudly and thrashed my body about. His savageness met the savageness of anger, dread and longing that poured from me like venom and wine in the same instant.
When he exploded in me, my aching sex exploded back. And for an instant I disconnected from the man and the act, experiencing only the driving surge of physical satisfaction that ripped everywhere through me.
We lay back against the animal hides. Erik pulled one over my body to keep me warm. “I should be surprised that you take this so easily,” he said. “But then you were not a virgin, not unaccustomed to giving pleasure to a man.”
Is that what he expected, I wondered to myself? I could have slapped him for such a comment, but I was still refusing to respond to him, and with no conversation to inspire the next minutes, we both fell asleep.
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