Age of Penance - The Tear of Sarwen

Occupied City of Cragvale, Cliffrock Province, 81 AR

Draven didn’t hear the clanks of the armored boots making their way through the corridor of the Tavern’s upper floor. He only raised his head after the loud bangs shook his room’s door. 

- “Come-in!” he answered in a loud voice.

The two Stormguard soldiers pushed the heavy door open, flooding the dark room with sunlight, revealing an all but ordinary tavern lodging. In the back, chains with irons were hanging from the ceiling, an X shaped cross was decorated the stone wall, and a rusty cage lay snug in the corner. Opposite to it, the more expected sturdy and comfortable bed, except for one more chain lying on the floor tied to one of the posts, next to a water bowl.

In the middle of the room and facing the door, Draven was comfortably sunk into a chair, his black shirt in disarray barely covering his wiry but muscular torso, his hips thrust forward and his bare legs wide open. His right hand was firmly gripping a tangled bundle of light hair, forcefully holding it down against his crotch. The blonde kneeling in front of him had her mouth deeply impaled onto his cock. Her pasty slender back was covered from shoulders to ass with welts ranging from bright red to a dark blue. Her body was shaken by the occasional twitch, it was obvious to the two soldiers she could not breathe in her predicament. And yet she did not seem to protest. Her hands were joined behind her back, but not bound. She was obediently enduring the stiff log wedged deep in her throat.

- “What can I do for you soldiers?” Draven asked, redoubling the pressure on the back of the girl’s head, eliciting larger spasms from her body.

- “Your presence is required at once at the Command Room. Lord-Commander Steren’s orders.”

- “Assure the Lord-Commander I will meet him shortly.”

The soldier hesitated for a short moment.

- “Right away, I must insist,” the soldier added, uncomfortable.

Draven didn’t budge. Neither did he lower his eyes, nor did he ease the pressure on the maid’s head. The girl's interlocked fingers were shaking more and more behind her back, she was quickly running out of air.

- “Very well.” the soldier concluded. He gave a long look at the distressed girl’s pale back before closing the door.

The Master Room at the Pained Maiden Inn had come for Draven with a choice of one maiden to torment, and all the equipment needed to do it. The line up had been a wash between the scared girls avoiding his gaze, and those hoping to charm him into clemency. But there had been one standing out to him, a pale girl with light hair, clear blue eyes and the pointy nose of the northern folks. She had glanced, and appeared to blush for a fleeting moment before turning her eyes down. Her posture was straight, her generous but firm chest propped up by her arched back, her legs apart enough to reveal a hint of light pink beneath a neatly trimmed light bush. She looked bold and vulnerable, and Draven had known at that moment he simply needed to punish her.

The guards now gone, Draven could return his attention to his chosen maid, who was now clearly choking on his cock. He pulled her face away from his crotch, relieving the pressure on her too tight throat-hole for a brief moment, just enough for a sliver of air reaching her lungs, before forcefully wedging himself deep inside her neck. The poor girl was reaching her breaking point, and yet she was desperately trying to keep her mouth open to please her Master. 

Draven knew he would not last much longer, and decided it was time to stop playing around and instead fuck her face into oblivion. He grabbed her head with both hands, and began to rock it back and forth onto his throbbing cock. Slowly at first, and then faster he pumped his shaft into her throat. He pounded her mouth and the entrance of her pipe like a wet cunt that’s too tight at the end. More often than not she got no air between shoves, and each time his massive cock face got wedged harder and harder inside her throat, the tip of his cock painfully forcing its way deeper and deeper.

There was one last long smothering with all the force of his hands crushing her skull, where the tip of her nose almost brushed  his dark hairy crotch, and he finally unloaded thick spurts of his semen directly into her throat hole. He convulsed in a deep grunt while he came, and then forcefully pushed her away. She rolled back and crumbled on the rough wooden floor, gasping and coughing like she hadn’t known the taste of air in ages, spewing slobber all over from her convulsing face-hole. 

There were long intakes of air broken by violent coughing fits, but even in her distress the maid never forgot her place. It took a long while, but as soon as she could she worked hard to catch herself, to regain her composure and assume her submissive pose. She struggled to control the spasms rocking her core but she got there in the end, kneeling down, legs spread, lower back arched, open hands on her thighs, face and eyes down. The rapid heaving of her chest still betrayed her recent air deprivation. Her firm tits, purple and black from a long night of abuse were bouncing on her chest from her anguished breathing. Her eyes and nose were reddened by snot and tears. Yet she tried very hard to stay still, resigned but dignified, ready to keep serving her cruel master.

Unfortunately, it was time to end the delightful abuse of the obedient maid, and for her cruel Master to return to the reality of the outside world. The tall wiry Draven slowly made his way towards the bed. His long limbs may have looked frail from afar, but they were tough as steel, there was not an ounce of fat on his body. His massive half-stiff cock was dangling low and bouncing between his thighs, dripping with slime from the maid’s throat. 

- “Slave, your name.” he asked without looking at her.

There was silence. It was the first time since the maid was put at his disposal that he asked her to speak. She had until now, simply endured the punishments and abuse in silence.

- “You will answer when directly spoken to,” Draven asserted.

- “My name is Jennee, Sir” she answered, her voice hoarse from the recent abuse.

- “Jennee, I must admit for a free woman you are well trained. If all the women of Cliffrock took after you, Stormguard might not have had to invade at all,” he commented, still not looking at her.

There was silence, and then a few words uttered in a timid tone. 

- “May I please have the permission to speak, sir?”

His head turned toward the kneeling blonde. His dark eyes, above his prominent cheekbones and his hawkish nose looking with curiosity at the obedient blonde. 

- “Yes” he answered, intrigued as to what she had to say.

- “If I may sir... you would find not all the women of Cliffrock are the heretics that Stormguard claim we are. I… I know my place is to be at the service of Men, I accept my punishments as just and deserved, no matter how severe, especially…” 

She paused for a moment, her face turning red. She hadn’t planned on her train of thought taking her that far. But she found the strength to continue.

- “... especially with a Master who truly understands how I… how this slave should be treated.”

Those last few words were barely audible. She promptly returned her gaze to the ground between her spread knees, clearly feeling she had pushed her impudence far too much already. Draven sized her up, he had the same impression with her at that moment, as at the time he picked her up out of the line-up, bold and vulnerable. He took a few steps towards her.

- “Tell me, maid Jennee, are you sometimes allowed to sleep in a bed?”

- “Yes, sometimes I am, Sir.”

- “And tell me also, when you are not serving as a fuck-toy or pain meat to the tavern patrons, are you allowed to cover that whipping bag of a body of yours?”

- “Yes sir, I sometimes am allowed to wear a dress.” 

Her voice was getting lower and lower with each question.

- “That’s what I thought… Tell me one last thing. Is it true that the patrons here are asked to avoid damaging the tavern maids permanently?”

- “... yes sir, it is true,” she answered, barely audible.

- “Then maybe, little Jennee of Cliffrock, you don’t know what it means to truly be owned by a man, like a slave of a Stormguard,” he asserted.

Draven had finished the conversation. And yet, the blonde spoke again.

- “Sir, I know in my flesh I was born for…”

She caught herself too late, the words were already out of her mouth. She realized, but too late, just how much she had overstepped. Draven reflected for a moment, took two steps towards her and snapped his gloved back hand across her face. It was hard but controlled, aimed to put her in her place and humiliate her more than anything else. Even with the sting in her cheek she found herself to be grateful. 

- “Thank you Mas… I’m sorry Mast…” 

And again, she had talked out of turn. The redness on her face doubled, she looked truly distressed that her eagerness would now disappoint her temporary Master. A tear appeared in the corner of her eyes. Draven drew a smirk from the corner of his mouth, at the same time amused by how flustered the maid had gotten, and not insensible to her naive, eager charm. There was a long silence while Draven finished getting dressed and prepared, only interrupted by the quiet sobs of the submissive. Finally ready, he turned to her again.

- “I will be away for some time. Meanwhile, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself and show me you truly are a good slave. Follow-me.”

With those words he exited the room, she got up and followed suit, careful to stay several feet behind, with her hands crossed behind her back and her eyes down. 

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To be continued in Chapter 3: Trial of the Day