; ; "Pardon me," said Gwenneth, "but could you tell me where I ; might be able to rent a room for the night?"
; ; Sternly, the woman looked down on Gwenneth, who was all of ; five feet two. Then she turned and bellowed, "Elspeth!"
; ; A girl came to the door: "Can I help you?"
; ; "Please, could you tell me where I could find a Bed and ; Breakfast, a place to rent a room for the night?"
; ; "Oh," said Elspeth, tilting her head as if in deep thought, ; "The nearest, it's like on to ten mile." She spoke to the woman, ; in Welsh. "Mum says its twelve miles. You're afoot?"
; ; "Yes."
; ; There was a discussion in Welsh. "Mum says you'd better ; stay here for the night. You can sleep in my room. Would ; that be all right?"
; ; "Oh, yes," sighed Gwenneth. It began to rain.
; ; Elspeth led Gwenneth into a small sitting room, where the ; candle glowed. The only other light was the fire in the grate. ; The woman sat close to the candle and took up her embroidery. ; Gwenneth took off her pack and sat, weary, on a small settee. ; "I'll just go up and change the sheets and get some of my things ; out of the room," said Elspeth, who lighted another candle and ; mounted the steep stairs.
; ; Conversation was impossible. Over the mantle was a large ; oil portrait. Holding her hands before the fire, as if in need ; of warmth, Gwenneth stood and studied the portrait. It was of a ; man, a warrior of some bygone time, dressed in furs and plaid, ; with a great sword, a longbow, and a quiver of arrows.
; ; "He's supposed to be an ancestor of mine," said Elspeth. ; "What did you say your name was?"
; ; "Gwenneth Jones."
; ; "That's a good Welsh name, but you're not from around here."
; ; "No, I'm American, but I have an aunt in Llandudno."
; ; "Oh, really. Well, I expect you'll want to see your bed. ; Just follow me." At the top of the stairs, she pushed open a low ; door and handed the candle to Gwenneth. "Watch your head," she ; said.
; ; The room was just a loft. The twisty, hand-hewn beams of ; the roof were exposed, and the undersides of the great, ; three-foot long roofing slates. On a dresser were a mirror, a ; pitcher, a porcelain bowl, and a small towel. There was a ; chamber pot under the high bed, which stood tall on four great ; wooden legs. "Well," said Elspeth, "I'll say goodnight. See you ; in the morning. Bolt the door when I've left."
; ; Gwenneth glanced at the door, with its black iron bolt, and ; thought that really wouldn't be necessary. You don't find ; burglars or ax murderers in Wales, and she had nothing to fear ; from Elspeth. She took off her damp clothing, hanging her ; anorak, her jeans, and her flannel shirt on pegs in the roof ; beams, then spreading out her socks and underwear, hoping they ; might dry. She washed as well as she could. Gwenneth looked at ; her tuft of pubic hair, reddish, like the hair on her head. She ; cupped each breast in her hand, hoping they might have grown a ; little fuller, more womanly. She took from her pack an ; old-fashioned flannel nightshirt and dropped it over her head. ; It was just the thing for sleeping in, for the nights could be ; chilly, even in July. Then she took out her hairbrush and ; brushed her hair for fifty strokes. She held onto the brush and ; took from her pack two long scarves. Then she blew out the ; candle and groped her way to the bed.
; ; The blackness was total, like swimming in ink. She ; remembered the spooky feeling of being enveloped by the silent, ; translucent clouds. She thought how lucky she was to spot the ; candle in the window. She thought about the portrait of the ; archer, wondering what sort of man he was.
; ; Slowly, she drew the hem of her nightshirt up, up around her ; waist. Her left hand cupped her left breast, while her right ; hand slipped across her stomach, stroking the skin, finding the ; short, curly hairs. She pressed her hand against her labia, ; rocking it back and forth, feeling pleased that they were ; swelling and growing sensitive. She tried to imagine what it ; would be like having a man touching her. No man ever had, not ; there. A little groping at the breasts, at a dance or something, ; but never there, her most private place.
; ; Then Gwenneth did something she had been doing, on and off, ; since she was about thirteen. With one scarf, she tied her left ; ankle to the left bedpost, and, stretching to do so, she used the ; other scarf to tie her right ankle to the right bedpost. When ; she lay back, her straightened legs formed a wide vee. This is ; childish, she thought to herself, but only briefly, for this was ; her way of turning on her favorite fantasies.
; ; She was a Christian slave in ancient Rome, and her master, ; who really loved her, had the eunuchs bind her thus so he... ; well, the details were a little vague, but it gave her a thrill. ; She rubbed two fingers up and down her furry mount, and a ; delicious tingly feeling accompanied her fantasy. "This slave ; must be punished!" said her master, who spoke English, not Latin. ; A little shiver of fear, entirely contrived, added zest to her ; predicament, as she was whipped across her thighs and belly, the ; Roman slave whip feeling too much like a hairbrush.
; ; When her Roman master's attentions failed to excite her ; further, she declared a change of venue. She had been captured ; by that notorious London rake, Lord Walsingham, who now declared, ; heh heh, that this virginal beauty was at his mercy. How did he ; know she was a virgin? He would look for himself. With her eyes ; clamped shut, Gwenneth heard the rustle of her petticoats as the ; rakehell lord lifted her skirts and peered at her most private ; parts. In her imagination, she saw him holding high a candle and ; heard him exclaim, "As pretty a quim as I've ever laid eyes on!" ; She felt his hand spreading her lower lips and knew that he was ; peering into the pinky depths of her treasure tunnel. "Ah,ha. ; See her maidenhead. Virga intacta. I shall have it. But first, ; she must agree to marry me, for I am told that Lady Gwenneth ; commands a handsome dowry." Lord Walsingham dropped her skirts ; and put his hands on her breasts, praising their maidenly ; firmness and declaring that he would enjoy them, too.
; ; When the lusty lord had done with her, gloating over what he ; was going to do, but didn't, Gwenneth fell captive to a murdering ; pirate who carried her onto his galleon and had her bound hand ; and foot, spread-eagled on a grating, helpless. "Ho, ho ,ho," he ; roared. "I'll have fun with this one, and, if she doesn't do ; right by me, I'll give her to the crew." His rough pirate hands ; made free with her helpless captive body, but she knew, deep ; down, that he wouldn't hurt her. He would learn to love her and ; would carry her off to his secret island fortress, to keep her ; there, always, to be his love slave. Gwenneth grasped the ; bristles of her hairbrush, as the pirate whispered in her ear, ; "Well, my saucy maid, how would you like to be deflowered with ; the pommel of my longsword?" She pleaded with him to spare her ; maidenhead as she pressed hard with the brush handle, but it did ; not bring her the release she wanted, and the pirate faded from ; her view.
; ; Gwenneth lay there in the dark, in the silence, listening to ; her own breath and feeling an annoying sense of congestion, down ; there. She had tried all her favorite fantasies, and nothing had ; resolved itself. None of her girlhood seducers seemed real ; enough. She might tell herself that Marcus Publius, her Roman ; master, really loved her. He only whipped her out of concern, to ; conceal and deny his own desire for her, for a Roman patrician ; should never permit himself to love a Christian slave. On the ; morrow, her master would break down and ask her forgiveness, free ; her, and marry her, but she could not get past that point, beyond ; which lay blissful relaxation. She grew tired and drifted off to ; sleep, her ankles still tied, her nightdress up around her waist.
; ; She dreamt that she heard the door to her room open, and ; someone came in. A man! She could hear him breathing. Did ; Elspeth have a lover who would slip into Gwenneth's bed, thinking ; she was Elspeth? She heard the creak of leather, and smelled ; him, wild animal furs and the damp wool. It was the Welshman, ; the archer, so very real she could smell the mead on his breath. ; Strong hands, there in the darkness, seized her hand and bound ; her wrist to a bedpost with a strong string -- then the other, ; leaving her spreadeagled, as the pirate had done, her arms and ; legs taut and spread out. She was truly helpless, unable to ; resist, and she knew, in her inner brain, that this fantasy, this ; dream, would not fade out before the business was done. This ; spectral figure, invisible in the dark, was so incredibly real. ; He even spoke Welsh to her.
; ; Her nightdress was roughly dragged over her head and stuffed ; into her mouth, so she could not even cry out in protest, when ; rough hands roamed her body, stroking her legs, taking handfuls ; of her girlish buttocks, making free with her breasts. She knew ; this stranger meant to rape her, right and proper, and she was ; unable to resist in any way, totally helpless. She was quite ; blameless, too, for what can a poor girl do, when a raging outlaw ; has her bound hand and foot and can ravish her at will? In that ; space behind her tight shut eyes, she could see his bearded face ; through the cloth which covered her face.
; ; He stroked her body, murmuring to her in incomprehensible ; Welsh, taking her body to be his toy. He took her breasts, one ; by one, squeezing them and licking them. He sucked one breast ; and then the other into his mouth, his coarse whiskers pricking ; her skin, his teeth and tongue driving her crazy. It seemed so ; real! He moved his hairy face across her belly. She felt a ; churning, there between her navel and her... He was licking her, ; taking handfuls of pubic hair and pulling her labia apart, ; burrowing into her private... Oh! Oh! What was happening to ; her?
; ; The Welshman spread her slippery juices over her mons and ; inner thighs, doing with his fingers, his lips, his tongue what ; neither Roman nor pirate had dared. Waves of excitement raged ; through her insides, causing her to wriggle helplessly, unable to ; escape, for she was stretched tight, bound hand and foot, the ; victim of his relentless passions.
; ; She felt the bed move, as her assailant removed his weight ; from the bed, and she was suddenly frightened. She heard the ; creak of leather, knew he must be removing the last of his ; clothes, the better to... Apprehension made her pulse pound. ; Would her dream end, as her other fantasies always did, before ; the climax? She waited for the worst, the best. This warrior ; would not shrink from doing what her Roman, her lord, and her ; pirate never had. The inevitable assault was coming, any second ; now, and she shivered to think of it.
; ; Yes, the bed sank as the archer knelt between her outspread ; knees. She felt the warmth of him as he moved to cover her with ; his body, his hairy chest pressed to her breasts, his ; incomprehensible Welsh words telling her, she understood without ; knowing, that he found her beautiful, irresistible, and he was ; going to possess her.
; ; "No, please, don't!" she cried, aloud, she thought, through ; the flannel over her face. "You mustn't. I'm a virgin. You ; can't." She was frightened, frightened she would wake.
; ; It seemed so real. His weight on her, the pressure, the ; stretching, the little twinge of stinging pain as her hymen burst ; and her slick labia slid apart, and the sense of penetration, of ; being filled to bursting made Gwenneth cry out: "Oh! No. Oh. Yes. ; Ahh!" A wave of emotion swept her, not dread, relief, as a great ; burden, her virginity, was so suddenly, so thankfully, removed. ; Helpless, blameless, tied hand and foot so she could in no way ; resist, her irresistible beauty and femininity had made this man ; do the terrible deed. She was had. She had known a man. She ; had crossed the bridge, yet she was helpless to stop it. She ; need feel no guilt. She had been ravished by a stranger.
; ; The great intrusive thing withdrew, leaving her empty. Was ; that all there is to it? No, the thing pounded into her, harder ; than before, sending warning alarms through her nervous system, ; as her delicate inner membranes were stretched and rubbed. Again ; and again it plunged, stirring her insides, moving things around, ; pounding on her very womb, and rubbing her there, just below her ; mons where, so often, so unsuccessfully, she had used her ; hairbrush or her finger.
; ; But this was no finger. This was big. This thing knew what ; it was doing, and her helpless body, filled, overcome, could do ; nothing to resist. With each thrust, Gwenneth felt the effect ; spread, like a warm fluid infiltrating her pelvis, like ; electricity sparking in her tenderest spot.
; ; Wild associations ricocheted in her brain: the tingle when ; she climbed a tree, straddling a branch, her bicycle seat, the ; pounding of the saddle when she went horseback riding, the ; feeling when her fingers... but this was so much more! Plunge, ; withdraw, plunge, withdraw. Rhythmically, relentlessly, the ; tension grew; the sensitivity grew; the intensity of friction ; grew; she could not withstand it. Like little explosions of ; indescribable sensation, great shuddering contractions racked her ; insides. Her ravisher grunted and heaved, and her body, her very ; womb, heaved with him, as she cried out, "Oh, oh, oh, AHH!" She ; was overcome with ecstacy and well being.
; ; "Uuugh, uugh, hmmm," the Welshman said.
; ; She felt his dead weight, pressing her into the bed, so hard ; it stretched her limbs, even more taut than before. She felt his ; warm body, the moisture on their skins, his breath in her hair ; and ear. She felt him withdraw, her breasts tingling, as he ; released them from his crushing against her. She felt a ; coolness, the air, drying her damp breasts, wafting across the ; wetness of her inner thighs. She felt profound relaxation, but ; then her dream faded and was over.
; ; Gwenneth awoke, feeling chilly, wondering why she was not ; under the blanket. When she tried to move, she realized her ; ankles were still tied to the bedposts with her scarves. She ; must have fallen asleep without removing them. No matter, her ; mother wouldn't find her so. She released herself and scurried ; under the covers to get warm, hugging herself. It felt good, the ; soft bed, the warm blankets. She drifted off, half asleep, half ; awake, and she remembered now the strange dream. Such a vivid ; dream. Such a pleasant dream. Such an impossible dream. How ; could she dream in Welsh? Well, in dreams, anything can happen. ; In dreams, the mind isn't rational. The superego doesn't spoil ; the fun. Nice dream...
; ; She awoke again. A dim light came through a tiny window. ; Elspeth was at the door. "Gwenneth, will you be coming down for ; breakfast?"
; ; "Yes, Elspeth, just give me a minute." Gwenneth swung her ; legs out from under the covers and sat on the bed, her feet still ; inches from the cold floor. She felt different, somehow, and, ; when she looked, she seemed to have a little spotting, when her ; period wasn't due for days. She went to her pack for a ; pantishield, just in case, dabbed up some of the blood with a ; very cold, damp washcloth, and dressed in a hurry.
; ; She made her way downstairs, unconsciously rubbing her ; wrists. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she saw the ; small sitting room bright with sunshine. Elspeth was there, a ; steaming teapot in her hand. She gave Gwenneth the strangest ; look. Do I look different? thought Gwenneth. Does it show?
; ; "One egg or two?" asked Elspeth.
; ; "Oh, two, please. I'm suddenly very hungry." Elspeth ; departed for the kitchen, and Gwenneth sat, spreading her ; serviette across her lap. As she looked down, she noticed her ; wrists. There were strange red marks, like rope burns, but ; smaller. Thoughtfully, she looked up at the portrait of the ; Welsh archer. She hadn't noticed last night, when the light was ; bad, but his bow was unstrung, and he was smiling.
; ; [END] ; ;