Damsel, The Betrayal of Lady Roslyn

An eBook By Lizbeth Dusseau.

       Roslyn wondered if it were prudent to confirm the girl’s fears? Was it better to tell the truth than lie? Indeed, she believed. Celia was that fair flower. Though just a peasant girl, her beauty shone and her heart was innocent. There was little way that Roslyn could protect her, especially now when she suspected that her own uncle was giving them up, and cared little about protecting them from the dangers of a horny man’s crude appetites.

Roslyn tenderly stroked the girl’s fair hair and let her fingers linger along the smooth, youthful skin. A quickening in her loins, the dampening of her quim resulted, as the fiery need inside the troubled girl spoke silently but with great force. She would lie with her again, and they would satisfy their own cravings, for it might well be the last time they could be so intimately engaged.

"Go to my bed and be ready for me," she ordered at last.

As the girl scampered away, Roslyn rose and went about the room, dousing all but one candle, until the room glowed with a softer hue. The light was faint from the tiny flame, though as their eyes adjusted to the dark, they would note a sensuous stream of moonlight adding to the ethereal aura.

After shedding her clothes, Roslyn reached for the strange garment Celia had so painstakingly made, realizing as she held the remarkable phallus, what had occupied the girl’s obsessive thoughts during the previous two weeks. Her passion was nothing to be trifled with, for it had taken shape in this strange but defining way, and seemed now to have joined the two women in a lust that neither could cast off. It must be fulfilled! With instinct guiding her hands, Roslyn slipped the leather harness over her bare loins, setting the straps in place. Separate straps circled her thighs and were connected to a belt in front and back. It buckled at her waist. How strange this harness was, and yet, what a potent surge of power rushed through her as she tightened it round her middle. Jutting from a leather pouch that fit snuggly between the straps was the carved phallus, an ugly devil, its shape gross, its meaning terrifying for what it could do. Did she have the courage to do what her maid desired? Could she raise the kind of manly determination needed to complete the act?

Roslyn questioned herself just briefly, for the answers to her questions instantly appeared and the message was quite clear. If not her mind then her body answered with resounding firmness and mounting lust for the very act that would alter the maid forever.

Roslyn moved with some alacrity, climbing atop her bed where Celia lay waiting, naked, her legs widely spread and her fingertips stroking her primed virgin home. Her head was thrust back, her body breathing deeply, a fine lust pouring from the milky flesh of her rising bosom. Sensing that lust pulsing through her own body, it pleased Roslyn to know that the girl would no longer be a virgin after this night, that she would bleed, perhaps in pain, as the dreadful, man-cock plunged deep and ripped away the curtain that separated her from womanhood. That unexpected feeling of power rose up again, as Roslyn straddled the girl’s shapely hips and bent down to kiss her lips. The dangling cock bobbed teasingly along Celia’s skin while Roslyn moved against the warmed flesh. Their breasts joined the tease, their sensitive nipples enlarging as they delicately stroked against the other, while from their lips came the purring sounds of pleasure.

"How lovely you are," Roslyn whispered, then added more boldly, "and how fortunate you are to have me!"

"Yes, milady," Celia answered back, her face now a canvas of lustrous sexual beauty.

Roslyn rose up on one hand and fingered the open portal of the maid’s love nest, positioning the phallus against the small, wet opening. She could see the girl grit her teeth in fear, though she looked up at her mistress as if to say please. Celia’s eyes shimmered in the faint light, defiant and sure. She was such a contradiction of weakness and strength, but then, was not Roslyn herself so possessed by opposing forces? Could she fault the girl? Or judge her?

When Roslyn finally drew back, she clutched the phallus to steady its aim, pressing it into the gateway and holding it there, pushing firmly and causing Celia’s heart to race and her breath to become shallow. Then at last, Roslyn lunged, dropping her body forward, while thrusting with her hips. On breaking the girl’s feminine treasure, she heard a cry from Celia like none other-being both mournful and sweet in the same breathless instant.

"Ah, at last!" Roslyn thought she heard the sensuous shriek. Celia’s pained grunting followed.

Roslyn made her attack brief; perhaps, she would have stopped altogether after she’d ripped away the membrane, but in her own body, the fiercest passion had risen strong. She continued the copulation, thrusting the phallus again and again...

Return to Top