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Hello! This is a revised version as I belatedly figured out how to do the formatting correctly XD This is my first time writing erotica and I would love feedback. The first few chapters will be tame and more story building with a few teasers before getting into some BDSM loveliness. Enjoy 😀
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Arya was out hunting with her brothers the first time she saw a brigand. She had grown up in a small keep in the woods, her life simple and quiet. She was lucky that she was the youngest, as it meant she had few real responsibilities. The keep’s masters were busy schooling her older, prettier sisters and the more important older sons. She was young enough that she was often able to escape her duties and roam unnoticed through the woods with her two youngest brothers, Luc and Weyn.
They were skulking through the forest one morning, following the tracks of a deer. They had no hope of watching one, as Luc was the only one with a weapon, and it was a child’s sling and a few point pebbles. However they fancied themselves great warriors, envisioning themselves creeping silently through the woods chasing a great and beautiful beast.
The reality was three children ages eight, ten, and eleven, crashing through the underbrush as they argued in loud whispers.
“I saw it, I did!” Weyn, the youngest said petulantly. “It was a boar the size of a carriage!”
“Shh!” Luc warned, “do you want to draw robbers to us?”
Arya often followed what Luc said as he was their leader, but she scoffed, “Robbers? In Parnage? Father is too scary for robbers to stay long in our woods,” She said confidently.
Weyn, annoyed that the others were ignoring his story of the boar, said loudly. “Of course there are no robbers. Who would they steal from? It’s not as though the serfs have got anything and we are protected by the keep.”
“Not out here you aren’t.” A deep voice replied.
The children screamed, Weyn bolting into the woods towards home. Luc stood his ground defiantly, his sling in his hand. Arya stood a ways behind him, afraid but unwilling to show it.
The man laughed, stepping out from behind a tree.
He was tall, at least to their eyes, with a broad chest. “Good thing I have no wish to do you harm.”
He leaned down, peering at them. “However, you pampered keep children may wish to be a bit more careful in the woods alone. I am not the only one here, and even I would not pass up the opportunity to pinch any valuables if I thought you had any.”
Luc frowned at his words, clearly offended. Arya kicked him, seeing that he had opened his mouth to retort. The man looked at her and winked. “She may have been wrong about my existence, but she clearly has a bit of sense.” His gaze darkened, and Arya stepped back, afraid without knowing why. “Stay home next time darlin’,” he said bleakly. “Deer are not the only game men seek around here. Lucky for you I don’t like them young.”
Arya nodded her assent and quietly thanked him, although she had no idea what he was talking about. Luc seemed to grow angrier at the man’s words, and she pulled insistently on his arm. “Let’s go,” she said earnestly. ” please , Luc.”
Luc glared at the man for a moment, earning him a chuckle, before leading her back to the keep.
“What was he talking about?” Arya asked as they neared their home.
Luc said nothing, walking straight ahead with tight lips. “Luc,” she whined.
He turned abruptly. “Nothing. He was being a right arse is all.” She gasped, surprised to hear him swear. He ignored her and kept walking.
They reached the keep safe a sound, and were reunited with a shamed Weyn. He was teased mercilessly for years after, as he had run when a girl had not. He took it in good humor, and remained close to Arya for the next few years. Luc remained their leader, but the other two often had to intervene as he was likely to grow angry and react in unpredictable ways to the slightest provocation.
As Arya reached her pubescence, her life changed dramatically. She was now required to do all the boring things her sisters had had to do, yet she felt that she enjoyed it even less than they had. Her sisters all had some gentile skill, be it sewing, singing, drawing, etc. She, however, found it all tedious. The best part of the day was when she was given her riding lesson. It was the only time she ever felt truly free.
It was around her fifteenth birthday that she began to understand the gravity of her situation in life. Because her keep was so small, she often saw people of different classes socializing and helping each other regardless of station. She was too naïve to know that this was unusual, and only due to necessity. As she began her studies in earnest, she realized how big a role social class played in politics.
And she began to understand that although she was the youngest daughter, there were still obligations she was bound to as a daughter of a count. She had thought their isolation meant they were unimportant; The minstrels and artisans who occasionally visited always brought stories of the diyarbakır escort splendor and wealth of the major cities, stories which reinforced her assumption that they were poor and insignificant.
She was right in some ways. They were little thought of at court, as they rarely ventured there except to present a son or daughter who had come of age. She was very wrong, however, in assuming they were poor. She began to understand the importance of the mines their fief encompassed. She was astonished to realize they were quite rich, and that she had a substantial dowry.
After 18 Arya began to be groomed. She did not understand at first what was happening, as she was not close enough to any of her sisters to ask. She was taught everything proper and necessary for court, but behind closed doors she was taught a great many other things. It made her blush to know that her sisters had gone through this, and probably been as ashamed as she was.
It began innocently at first. One of her teachers, a woman in her twenties with brown wispy hair and large eyes, suggested she try shaving her legs. Arya had never heard of such a thing and was intimidated by the sharp blade. Her teacher was gentle yet insistent, and Arya was surprised to find how much she enjoyed her hairless legs afterwards. Then her teacher began making other suggestions.
Under her guidance Arya routinely shaved most of her body hair, including her groin which was particularly embarrassing the first time. She had not ventured near there except to clean herself, and had certainly never looked at herself. Her teacher showed her how to hold a small mirror so that she could examine herself and learn how to shave without cutting anything. The first time she held the mirror to her groin and saw the hair covered lips she was mortified.
It was even worse when her teacher spread those lips and she glimpsed for the first time her pink, wet womanhood. Her teacher informed her that there was a hole there, and that something very special went into that hole. Arya was surprised, as she had never heard such a thing. When she said this her teacher smiled sweetly, saying that it was because she was untouched and hadn’t learned the truth about certain things yet.
“Untouched by what, Isla?” Arya asked.
Isla smiled, her large brown eyes looking at the girl hungrily. “Well,” She said slowly, her fingertips grazing Arya’s thigh, “at first a finger touches you. Like this”
Arya gasped, her eyes widening at her teacher’s touch. Isla’s fingers confidently ran up Arya’s thighs, before dipping into her folds. Arya knew that there was a place where she felt wet at times, but she had never explored it. Isla did, however. She ran her index finger in tiny circles around the girl’s entrance, her fingertip becoming coated in the mysterious liquid. Isla paused, seeing Arya’s surprised and uncomfortable face.
“Relax, Arya. I am teaching you about your body so you may understand, someday, how to please your husband.” Isla said, her finger still tracing circles in Arya’s wetness.
“My husband?” Arya asked, even more confused. “What does a man have to do with this?”
Isla smiled wider. She handed Arya the small mirror and indicated that Arya watch. The girl reluctantly lowered the mirror, blushing at the sight of Isla’s juice coated finger.
“You know a man has a different body than a woman, right?” Isla asked softly. Arya nodded. “Well, a man has a key, and you have the lock, so to speak.” Seeing Arya’s puzzlement, she said, “You have a hole here, and he has the means with which to fill that hole. It is something he will want to do often, and he will not always be gentle. Sometimes it helps to create a sort of lubrication with which to ease the pain.”
“Pain?” Arya asked, becoming scared. She tried to back away from Isla’s finger, confused by the heat that was growing between her legs and afraid of her words.
“Yes,” Isla admitted, “Sometimes there is pain. But often there is also pleasure.” With those words Isla mover her finger towards the girls clit, Arya’s juices making a slick trail.
Arya twitched as the fingers began circling a new place, her muscles spasming as she tensed up. She felt the heat grow, and a throbbing began where Isla’s fingers were. She realized with a start that she recognized this feeling. She had been walking home one day when she stumbled across a man and a woman in a field. They were on the ground, moving in a way she had never seen before. She watched transfixed as the woman sat astride him, her breasts spilling out of her dress. Arya had felt this same throbbing as she watched them, listening to the primal moans and cries they made.
She released a cry of her own as Isla’s finger stopped circling her clit, and touched it directly.
“Look.” Isla hissed. “Look how wet you are, how ready you are.”
Arya blushed even harder and she looked in the mirror, seeing a pool of moisture seeping out of her lips and down the crack to her ass. She felt surprisingly dismayed as Isla removed her escort diyarbakır hand, and startled as the woman licked the moisture off her own finger.
Isla closed her eyes for a moment, and Arya got the feeling her teacher was overwhelmed by some emotion. She could not imagine what it was, but she remained quiet and slipped her skirts back over her legs.
Isla got herself under control, telling herself that Arya was too inexperienced to respond the way Isla wanted anyway. She had done this enough times to know that the pleasure was greatest for her when her pupils gave themselves knowingly and willingly to her. But she tasted so good, Isla thought. She shook her head, looking down at the girl.
Not yet. She told herself. She smiled at Arya. “We can continue this another time, I know you have to meet Madame Selein for your embroidery lesson.”
Arya frowned. “I had much rather stay with you, your lessons are so far more interesting, even if I don’t understand them all.”
“You will, my dear,” Her teacher replied. “I assure you, will you learn everything as quickly and well as your sisters. Perhaps even better. But only when you are ready.” Arya brightened at this, imagining how proud her father would be that she had excelled at something.
“But, if I may ask Madame, ready for what?” As Arya spoke, Isla’s eyes flashed predatorily.
“To have the hole filled. It is something very special and is something you will have to work very hard for if you wish to learn. I do not teach this for my own pleasure,” She said with an ironic smile, “I am here to teach you how to be the best wife you can be. As your innocence is the first gift you will give to your husband, I must show you how to give it away properly.” Arya nodded, still confused but eager to please. “I will work hard, I promise. I will do what you ask if it will make you and my parents happy.” Isla smiled and waved her out.
Arya’s lessons with Madame Isla were cut short only a few weeks later, as allegations concerning Isla’s morality were raised by an outraged mother. It seemed as though Madame Isla had been engaging in sinful acts with her teenage daughter. The mother claimed it was against her daughter’s will, but Isla simply smiled when accused of that, causing the mother to fly into a rage. Nothing was ever proven as the girl in question refused to speak about it. Nonetheless, Isla was sent away and a male master took her place.
Arya had made progress during those weeks, however, and had now learned that a woman could bring herself great pleasure with her own fingers. At Isla’s guiding hand she had been taught how to bring herself to climax. The first time she orgasmed was at Isla’s hand. She felt as though she was floating above herself, watching Isla’s slender fingers rubbing her clit furiously, and watching herself writhe as she cried out in ecstasy.
Under Isla’s watchful eye, she brought herself to climax many more times, using Isla’s advice, and often her fingers, to bring herself more quickly to orgasm, and to better and better ones. She was advised to practice at night, and Arya was a diligent student. As a daughter of the count she was lucky enough to have her own room, and the stone walls were thick enough to muffle her screams.
She did not learn exactly how a man filled her hole before Isla left. She was too embarrassed to ask her sisters about it, and asking her brothers was definitely out of the question. When the new master arrived, she grew conflicted. She was unable to bear the thought of a man touching her there and teaching her such things, and yet when she pleasured herself at night she imagine his hands touching her, caressing her and bringing her to climax.
It didn’t help that her new master was attractive. The first time she met with him she was so nervous she could barely speak. Which was probably good as he began by asking her about her previous studies. She later shuddered to think of what he would have said or done if she had been able to tell him of Isla’s more intimate training.
She was both disappointed and relieved when she realized that he would not be touching her. His job, she learned, was to teach her how to interact with men in a proper court setting and attract a suitable mate. It was mostly boring stuff, like what address is acceptable/what is too forward. Or if you wave your fan in this manner, you may be offending someone, rather than complimenting them. She dutifully learned her lessons, however, and for the next few years became a proper young woman, if in name only.
Arya’s only refuge from polite society and boring lessons was her brothers. In their presence she could be rude, loud, anything she wanted. Whenever she had free time she sought out their company, preferring it to her sisters. Often they were also busy, as Luc was in training to become a knight, and Weyn to become a priest. Yet on occasion they all had time off and would disappear into the woods for a few hours to hunt and enjoy each other’s company.
A few months later Arya had a needed diyarbakır escort bayan break from her studies. She ran to the training grounds to find Luc, but discovered that he was away for a few days on an expedition. She then looked for Weyn, but he was busy in a lesson for the next two hours. Frustrated, she decided to just go herself. She briefly considered inviting one of her sisters, but only two remained, as they had not yet married, and they were both so involved in a current embroidery project that she doubted they would have any interest.
She saddled up her horse, a robust gelding, ignoring the stable boy telling her it was unladylike to allow her to tack up her horse herself, and even less ladylike to go alone. He begged her to allow him to accompany her, as he secretly feared for his own job if he allowed her out on her own. She ignored him and mounted, setting off at a brisk walk.
Arya knew the woods well for several miles in every direction. She had traversed them with her brothers for the last ten years. She was frustrated by her stifled lifestyle, and yearning for something new, and adventure.
She remembered finding a small lake many years ago. It was high in the mountains, a few hours ride away. She knew if she looked for it she would miss dinner, and be given a scolding. For some reason the idea made her smile, and she began to laugh at the absurdity of her situation. Why should I not be allowed to do as I will? What’s the use in being a rich man’s daughter if I spend my life toiling away? And what’s the worst they can really do to me, anyway? She meandered down a trail, singing softly to herself.
Oh would I have been born a crofter’s daughter. I would enjoy a simple life of milking cows, cooking for my family, and bedding the handsome stable hand. She giggled at the thought, her mind racing towards a naughty daydream.
She had found that bringing herself to orgasm had been more and more difficult over the years. She had been able to fill in some gaps as to what a man’s “key” was, and what it meant for him to penetrate her with it, though. She had used her newfound knowledge to bring herself to climax. She discovered that if she imagined herself being taken by a man, his strong arms pinning her down as he shoved himself into her with a primal groan, she would become wetter and hotter than she had ever imagined. She felt herself becoming aroused by the thought of it, and ground her clit into the horn of the saddle with every sway.
Unbeknownst to Arya, she was being watched. A young serf was eyeing her hungrily. He had been furtively searching for game when he had heard singing. Surprised, he started walking towards the sound. He eventually happened upon a dirt trail leading up into the mountains. A short ways in front of him was a beautiful young woman, roughly his age.
She had light brown hair which was twisted into an elegant braid. Her eyes were almond shaped and expressive, and her lips were full and pink. Her nose was a bit large, and he could see that her bosom wasn’t very large, but he admitted to himself that he had never seen a woman more beautiful. He stood entranced, as her horse slowly walked along the path towards him. He stood in the shadows, watching her pass.
He hardly noticed when she stopped singing, as she began to do something much more interesting. Her natural flow with the horse became exaggerated, and he could have sworn she was practically humping the saddle. He felt his cock twitch and begin to grow as he prowled after her, watching her hips sway rhythmically. The horse was going slow enough that he was able to overtake her, and the view from the front almost made him cum on the spot.
Her eyes were closed and she was smiling in rapture, sticking her breasts out as she moved her hips. She was now moving more quickly, jerking every time she thrust forward. She spurred her horse to a quicker walk, increasing the speed of her thrusts. He could see her nipples faintly as they grew hard against the fabric of her dress.
He stroked himself through his pants, as hard as he had ever been. This is even better than that time I caught that farmer’s daughter fucking my brother. She was a hot slut but nothing compared to her. His breathing increased as he felt the blood throbbing to his cock. He wished he could stand still and draw his shaft out to masturbate properly to the sight, but her quickening pace made it difficult to stroke himself as he trotted after her.
He almost lost sight of her as trees obstructed his view. He rounded a bend and saw a sight that made his heart stop. Her horse had slowed to a stop and she sat above him, humping the saddle as she pinched her nipples. He drew out his cock triumphantly, instantly overwhelmed with pleasure as his hand moved quickly up and down the length of his hard cock.
She felt her climax begin to grow as she thrust her clit over and over against the hard leather. She felt herself on the verge of coming and began to moan, taking a hand off the bridle to strum her fingers against her clit in a blur. She heard a grunt and looked, startled, towards the woods. She saw a boy stroking what she knew to be his member in obvious pleasure as he threw his head back, growling. She kicked her horse into a canter as she saw white liquid seeping out from between his fingers, a spurt or two flying a few feet towards her.
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