The Fall of Lady Westwood
The Fall of Lady Westwood
(The Chronicles of Muurland — Book #1)
Trent Evans
About This Book
Decades of prosperity have left the realms of man happy, healthy ... and complacent. Bounty, fertility, and a bright future lay ahead for all, or so it would seem. For during these happy times, the enemies of men have planned, and gathered — and waited. All across the land, complacency, arrogance, and decadence have left the world of man vulnerable, weak, ripe for the taking.
For decades the nocturne have bided their time, bolstered their numbers, and sown the seeds of man's downfall. Now the time has come to crush the armies of men, for wiping human civilization from the earth, and enslaving her peoples.
Caught in a terrifying series of events, one family, torn asunder by the whims of a jaded, cruel noblewoman, seeks to be reunited. Two young spirits long to taste that first sweetness of lust. And a father's love for his daughter drives him to the unthinkable.
Evil has come to the realms of men ― and only the power of love has the chance to save it.
Publisher's Warning:
Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!
This novel features the following themes: explicit BDSM sexuality, including MF, MFM, FF, pony play, vampirism, and graphic violence.
40595 words (144 pages).
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Also by Trent Evans
(Published by Tritium Press)
Dominion Trust Series
Her Troika — The Complete Story(Parts I — V)
Cover Design by Rachel A Olson (
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This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
The book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.
For mature readers only.
Copyright © 2012 by Trent Evans
All rights reserved.
Prologue
Westwood Manor
R
yndra’s world was her Mistress’ pussy. Kneeling under the table, the lace tablecloth against her blonde hair, she lapped at the dripping slit before her. The Mistress’ trim thighs surrounded her on both sides, and in the quiet dark between those thighs all Ryndra could see, feel and smell was her Mistress’ sex. Conversation was taking place above her, in a world wholly separate from her own. Down there the only communication for her were the sharp pinches from Mistress’ fingers, a hand entwined in her hair, urging her tongue to greater efforts, deeper penetration.
“Gods, I can hear her lapping like a dog under there, Miriam.” The voice of her Lord was relaxed, full of mirth.
“Quiet down, girl,” the Mistress said, her voice thick.
Ryndra cringed at the bite in her tone, fearing what it might lead to. A displeased Mistress meant more pain, more humiliation for her. She thrust her tongue deeper, her lips numb against the wiry pubic hair of the plump outer labia.
Her Mistress sighed, patting Ryndra on the back of the head. Pleased.
Thank the Gods.
“What’s she doing down there anyway? Lawrence has already selected her. She should be readying for the journey.”
Ryndra felt delicate fingers comb through her hair, the long nails making her scalp tingle.
“You men had to take my favorite scullery maid. I’m not letting her go one minute before I have to.”
“Not exactly scullery duties you’ve got her performing, Miriam.” A booted foot stroked Ryndra’s hip, and she resisted leaning into it. She really did like her Lord. Even though he could swing a stout cane (and Ryndra had been subject to it more than once), she never found him callous or cruel. And his aftercare following a sound whipping was almost worth the pain. He was a stark contrast to the sadistic Mistress, whose cunt she now found herself sounding with an increasingly tired tongue.
Just let me lick it and get it over with. Please.
But it was never that easy. The Mistress’ swollen clit, protruding from its hood taunted her. It was the key to temporarily ending Ryndra’s ordeal, and it was a mere breath from her lips and tongue.
It might as well have been a thousand miles away.
Her Mistress held out as was her pleasure, prolonging her enjoyment of Ryndra’s oral skills.
“I intend to enjoy her while I still have the chance, Andrus. Three months is too long to be without her skills.”
Ryndra could hear the smile in her Lord’s deep voice. “What about your stout-bottomed girl from the auctions? Tani, was it?”
“She’s been transferred to the fields. Escott says her strong hindquarters are wasted here in the house.”
“Pity, that. I enjoyed seeing that big bottom of hers spread out for the cane.”
“Lucien showed me a few of the things he’s been doing with his fillies. I really wish you’d have come to the stables during our last visit, love.”
Silverware clinked on the dishes above. Ryndra watched slippered feet pace quickly alongside the table. Another of the maids serving breakfast in Ryndra’s stead.
“Farrier had much to discuss, as usual. He was just grateful that Lucien was there to distract you from the terrible boredom of things like politics or even
ruling
. I think you’re obsessed with Lucien’s methods, Miriam. It’s unhealthy.”
Her Mistress laughed, and used a tight grip on Ryndra’s hair to press her face harder against her sex.
Ryndra shivered, even as she tried to keep her tongue working between the folds. Being sent to the fields made service in the household seem like a pleasant vacation. She pitied poor Tani.
“Yes, well —” Miriam drew in a breath as Ryndra sucked the inner labia into her mouth.”—I‘ll have to see about replacing either her or our little Ryndra here since you’re so cruelly depriving me of her.”
Her Lord grunted. “There is another auction in Wyndhaven in three weeks time. Plus there are the weekly judicial sentences in Steerton. Surely, some disobedient lass or rebellious wife has found herself in Magistrate Riordan’s dock?”
The Mistress’ firm grip in Ryndra’s hair twisted slightly. Pain seared her scalp, and she planted her lips against the Mistress’ soft wetness to muffle her yelp.
“That won’t do, Andrus. The judicial sentences are at most six weeks. I’m not interested in seeing a girl taken from me just as I get her training up to satisfactory levels.”
“What then, my dear?”
Ryndra watched the Mistress’ finger point at the swollen clit. Ryndra attacked the hard nodule with her tongue, hope stealing into her heart that this ordeal at least, was close to the end.
Her Mistress hissed, bucking her sex repeatedly against Ryndra’s tongue. She took a tight grip of Ryndra’s long hair once more and rubbed her face all over the drenched flesh of her cunt. Ryndra’s hands fluttered in their bounds at the small of her back. She hated being bound that way when servicing her demanding Mistress. It was as if the sadistic woman was using Ryndra’s face to masturbate her cunt.
Finally, with a long, breathy moan, the Mistress came, soaking Ryndra’s lips and tongue with her juices. The Mistress kept Ryndra’s face pressed against her sex for several long moments, her nose painfully mashed against the hard pubic bone. She inhaled heavily, the spicy scent of her Mistress’ pussy permeating everything. She knew she’d go to sleep in her miserable bunk that night with the smell of her Mistress’ juices on her lips and cheeks; she was typically forbidden from washing her Mistress’ exudations from her face following a servicing.
The Mistress pushed her away, covering her sex with her dress. The fingers snapped, and Ryndra crawled out from under the table to kneel next to the woman’s chair. A finger lifted her chin, and she looked up into the glittering eyes of her tormentor.
“I’ll miss you, little girl. Serve your Captain and your Lord well.”
Ryndra was dismissed with a push against her cheek. She tried to ignore her nakedness as she rose from her knees, her gaze on the floor. She had to get out of the room. Safety lay in being away from the cruel woman as soon as possible. But it was not be. The Lord’s voice stopped her just as she made it to the doorway leading to the kitchens.
“Wait there, girl.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.
She froze, not sure if she was to turn around. She stayed where she was, the feel of their assessing regard of her naked buttocks less mortifying than having to turn her bare sex to them.
“So, what will you do my dear Miriam?”
Ryndra felt goose-flesh rise on her arms. An edge had crept into her Lord’s voice, something she’d rarely ever heard.
“I’ve a few ideas. It’s not important — I’ll manage.”
“Tell me.”
Ryndra felt like a toy that had been left in the middle of a floor, waiting for someone to trip over it. She wanted to flee the room more than anything, but training — and fear — kept her planted to her spot.
Don’t move and perhaps you’ll be dismissed. Please.
“Come here, girl.” Her heart sank, but she dutifully responded, moving to stand next to her Lord’s chair. He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering a moment on the dark blonde curls between her thighs. She felt the humiliating blush spread across her chest and neck.
“Leave him alone, Miriam. I’m warning you.”
Her Mistress, color showing in her cheeks, glared at Lord Andrus. “What are you talking about? Leave whom alone?
Her Lord’s hand clasped Ryndra’s hip, startling her. “You know who I speak of. Don’t defy me in this, Miriam.”
The Mistress looked away, peevishly picking at a cloth napkin. “Don’t be ridiculous, Andrus. I’ve no such plans.”
“What are you hiding? What happened that makes you shy away from this? From me?”
The Mistress slid her chair back, and stood up.
“Sit down.” Her Lord’s voice was deceptively quiet. His hand gripped her hip tighter, his thumb rubbing small circles on her buttock.