Legends of Belariath
Lorelei
Lorelei's Story
Lorelei never imagined that she would be here, kicking and screaming on the ground, her flimsy clothing torn away from her shapely body by cruel, grasping hands. The brigands leered at her, their breath hot and foul against her face. Tears flowed down her cheeks, her beautiful emerald eyes wide with fear as they roughly pawed and fondled her soft white flesh. Screaming and thrashing, the golden haired young human desperately tried to escape as the foul orc pried her thighs apart while a filthy, black furred wolven held her arms down. Her lovely face contorted with agony as strong fingers dug deep into her bare breasts, twisting her pert pink nipples harshly. She shrieked with terror as she felt the swollen tip of her assailant’s cock press against her delicate lower lips, as the orc loomed above her between her outward thrust legs. With a sudden violence, he plunged deep inside her, spreading her wide and leaving her writhing. The orc grinned stupidly as he violated the slender blonde, enjoying every delight her squirming young body had to offer. Watching with lurid interest, the orc’s cohorts cheered him on, each eagerly awaiting his own opportunity to make the poor human scream. As she lay on the ground, her mind awash in pain, Lorelei wept and despaired. How could this happen to me again, she thought to herself….
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. This was not the kind of story that bards told, dashing tales whispered over cold ale and shared by the warm hearths of country inns. When Lorelei had finally escaped the sleepy confines of her quiet village, she dreamt of exploring a wondrous world filled with romance and adventure. Instead, the naïve young woman found the Empire to be a dangerous place, teeming with all manner of devious and wicked predators. There was no romance in these cruel lands and certainly no heroes here to save her.
She had been born in an idyllic farming village, a good three days journey from the nearest market town, buried in the rural heartlands of the Empire. The slow rhythm of country life moved at a different pace, set apart from the greater world. While kings fought wars and struggled for thrones, the villagers planted crops, tended sheep and talked knowingly about the weather. It was in this world that Lorelei had been raised. She fed the chickens, milked the cows and churned butter while her father labored in the fields. She helped her mother prepare meals and mend clothes. She always enjoyed those quiet moments with her mother, working the cloth with needle and thread, humming soft tuneless melodies as the spinning wheel gently clacked. But when the sun would hang low in the azure sky, it was finally her time.
She treasured the lazy hours of the late afternoon, those magical moments between chores and supper when the children were set loose to run free. It was then that she would explore country meadows and weave wild flowers into her hair, the lady blossoms and snapdragon’s forming a crowning garland in her golden locks. She would dance and sing in the tall grasses, a princess amidst the dragonflies and willow trees, always dreaming of ladies and knights in far away lands. And Lorelei was not alone in her flights of fancy and games of whimsy. The children would gather at the old swimming hole to play ‘Slay the Dragon’, the ‘Troll at the Bridge’ and the ‘Maiden and the Knight’. While the boys might fight over who would play knight and who the troll, the girls would vie over the right to be princess and who the serving maid. And glowing like a sun amidst stars, she was always the princess. Summers turned to winters and peaceful years passed by. But then, everything changed, for as children are wont to do, she grew up.What had once been pastoral peacefulness turned to restless boredom and growing wanderlust in Lorelei’s hormone addled, adolescent mind. She would flee from her chores, seeking the quiet isolation of the meadows and the serenity of the small lake. Stripped bare, she would glide through the cool waters like a nymph and bask in the afternoon sun, enjoying the warmth against her naked body. Here she was free, not a farmer’s daughter, but a princess or a famous bard. It was in those carefree afternoons, with her body blossoming into womanhood that she discovered the pleasures of the flesh. And with a lucky farmer’s son or two or three, she played the ‘Maiden and the Knight’ except the ending was quite different from their old childhood game. Away from men, in court with her sisters and friends, she would talk of the greater world, of romance and adventure, of courtly balls and the knights they would marry. However, as they grew, dreams faded away as they settled into comfortable lives of domesticity. Still, Lorelei clung to her hopes of escape, absolutely determined to avoid the dreaded fate of being a farmer’s wife….
A sudden jolt of pain brought her back to the present as the hulking, black wolven entered her suddenly, his massive furred cock impaling and hammering deep into her whimpering, soft body. His claws raked her white flesh, his teeth sinking into her breasts, setting her nipples afire with pain. The barbarians laughed as she screamed while the orc leered down at her as he played with himself. He was getting hard again and wanted another ride. Would this ever end, she despaired….
Nestled in the nearby village was a dilapidated structure, a small yet cozy place, with well worn benches, a warm fire and an air rich with the scent of smoked meats and pipeweed. Ever since she was a little girl, she delighted in trips to the village, when her father had to go to market or stop at the blacksmith. She would stop at the nameless little Inn and watch the patrons, farmers, merchants, and traveling peddlers. The grizzled old innkeeper, One Eyed Oran, was a veteran of many wars, having given his youth in service to the Emperor. Gathered at his feet, the children of the village would gather, enthralled by his every word as he retold stories of war and violence, of the great Empire and sparkling cities in far away lands. And now, as she grew into womanhood, this little window on the world drew her as a moth to a flame.
Her parents would often shake their heads at the silliness that their middle daughter refused to outgrow. Full of spirit and fire, Lorelei was a handful, chafing at the narrow confines of farming life. They would wonder, why couldn’t she settle down, like her sister Mirena? That Anden was a good lad, surely lovely Lorelei could fine someone like him. Mayhaps, if we let her work at the Inn, she would be happier. Perhaps marry the blacksmith’s lad or the young miller’s nephew. So Lorelei’s parents hoped, as they gave her their blessing to work at the Inn…..The barbarian entered her from behind, ramming deep inside her, her body shaking, breasts swaying with the violence of his thrusts. Reaching beneath her, he roughly grasped her dangling breasts, squeezing cruelly, howling with delight as she screamed again in pain. Her cry was cut off abruptly as she nearly gagged. The orc’s throbbing cock, wet with his seed and her juices slid into her mouth as she was taken from both ends….
The graceful and lithe Lorelei weaved through the crowd with ease. Eager to escape the nagging of wives and the crying of children, the men would come to the inn for cold ale, male camaraderie and the friendly company of pliant wenches. They always had wandering hands, calloused and rough from hard work in the fields or the forge. She would squeal playfully and wink coyly as they reached for her, pinching her shapely behind or fondling her high breasts as she leaned over to serve drinks. She would talk to all the travelers, hanging on their every word, delighting in every ribald jest, as she quizzed them of the world, eager for every morsel of information they would have to offer. And when Lert would pick up his flute and Jarol, his drum, raucous music would fill the small building. Leading the wenches, she would dance and sing, entrancing the men with her seductive movements and sultry voice. The coins and spirits would flow freely and a good time was had by all. Here, she was a peasant princess holding court, her adoring subjects farmers and merchants, the wenches forming her court as she shone like a jewel in the rough.
It was then that the traveling bards came to town. Orcs were lurking on the Alden Road, forcing the company to detour southwards, as they made their way slowly to the capitol. They were singers and dancers, tumblers and acrobats, jugglers and actors. The women were lovely, the men handsome and charming. It was a spectacle like none the small village had ever seen before, an event that would be talked about for years to come. And Lorelei was spellbound. The travelers told tales of exotic lands, grand castles and bustling cities. Equally enchanted by Lorelei’s beauty and obvious promise, they offered to take her with them. Eagerly, she accepted, after a tearful farewell to her family, which ended with sincere promises to return one day….
The cock withdrew from her mouth just as she shrieked. Dirty fingers curled into her long blonde hair, maliciously twisting the golden strands, wrenching her head backwards. Hot seed trickled down her throat, causing her to gag and sputter as more cum landed on her face in sticky strands as wet tears ran down her cheeks…
Months passed as the company of bards made its way across the country, visiting nobles’ castles, farming villages, market towns and provincial cities. Here on the road, Lorelei grew and flourished.The elf Kera taught her how to dance, honing the young woman’s natural grace and talent. Yelena taught her how to truly please a man and more impressively, how to please a woman. The boss, Durstan the grizzled old dwarf taught her how to dice and how to swear like a sailor. He also taught her not to judge the size of a man by his height alone. Charming Gerald taught her to play the harp and to sing, along with surprising new ways to satisfy a man. Amidst friends and lovers, traveling the countryside and seeing the world, Lorelei was finally happy.Lorelei had known the world could be a cruel place. She had heard the weeping women, seen their bruises, had listened to their tearful stories. She had never thought much of it for such was the way of the world. Still wrapped in a youthful aura of self confidence and invulnerability, she had never thought it would happen to her. She fended off overfriendly drunks daily. And on many occasions, she had ended up acquiescing to the forceful overtures of men who wouldn’t take no for an answer. But that brisk fall night in that foreign, dimly lit inn was different. The man was a brute, a drunken lout who smelled of sweat and urine and more than likely had orc blood in his veins. His friends were even worse. They accosted her as she had wandered down from her room to get a drink. She made her excuses, tried to slip out of the way. Maybe he would be happy if she offered to suck him off, Lorelei thought to herself. She offered a witty retort to his dim reply and it was then that he hit her. She went sprawling on the floor as the world spun about. Nobody had ever hit her before. Then they pounced, tearing at her clothes, groping her body, roughly taking her over and over again, taking turns as she screamed and fought back ferociously. The adoring crowd that had applauded her earlier performance laughed and jeered, cheering on her attackers, pulling down their own leggings and getting in line….
Afterwards, she sobbed as she soaked in a tub of hot water. The door creaked open and in came old Durstan the dwarf. He sat by the tub, gently stroking her golden hair. When her tears finally subsided, he spoke:
“You’ve had a rough night, lass. Twas certainly cruel, especially what that half-orc lout did. He did not need to hit you so hard.... Aye, I saw the whole thing. You look surprised…. Why didn’t I help you, you ask? Well, it is the nature of this world for the strong to take what they want. And what they often want is sweet pussy like you. If you are weak, they will take whatever pleasure they desire from your lovely young body. If you are weak, there is no one to protect you. Why should the strong waste effort to protect the weak when it is the natural order of the world for the mighty to rule the feeble? Aye, I see that you understand now. Now, that whole show has got me mighty horny! Be a good lass and suck my cock. Aye, that’s a good lass, that’s exactly how I like it…”
That was six months ago and now the old dwarf was dead. The brigands had come out of nowhere, ambushing the bardic troupe as they finally drew near to the capitol. They had fought but it was all for naught. She had trained with the rapier. Gerald had taught her. She was good but obviously not good enough. They had disarmed her as if she was a mere child at play. And then she fled, as the men were put to the sword and the women were ravished. As she tore through the dark woods, she thought she would escape until she heard the piercing howl. There were far too many brigands and not enough women to share. The orc had seen here run into the forest and he did not wish to let such a prize slip through his grimy fingers. Crazed with lust, the wolven tracked her scent, the two barbarians and the orc following closely behind…. Her mind returned to the present. They had been far too fast. And now, lying on the cold rough earth, the orc was raping Lorelei again, relishing her tears and screams, squeezing every single ounce of pleasure he could from her lithe young body. So many hours had passed. Lying nearby, the wolven and barbarians lay in a drunken stupor from spirits they had looted from the troupe. When they roused themselves, surely they would want another turn. The orc lay atop her, thrusting roughly, his mind focused intently on his own pleasure. And then she saw the dagger. It must have fallen from his sheath. Reaching desperately, her slim fingers closed about the cool hilt. Raising the blade, she slit the orc’s throat, freezing the stupid grin on his face forever. Pushing the dead weight off of her, she rose on unsteady legs, dark orc blood splattered all over her breasts. She closed on her tormentors. They woke too late. They had drunk too much. And then, in a flurry of hate and vengeance, it was all over. Sitting alone in the moonlit woods, she sobbed.
She had walked for hours towards the rising sun. It was hopeless to head back to the camp. The men were all dead and the brigands were surely carrying the women off to slavery. They had been close to the capitol. Surely she could make her way their and alert the Imperial guardsmen. She rejoiced when she found the river, which must have been the famous Thalis. Washing herself, in the clear cool waters, she surveyed the bruises and small scratches. She had always healed well. There would be nary a mark on her soft flesh to prove this night had ever happened. Walking on bare feet in soft river grasses, she saw the city rising in the distance. Ecstatic, she approached town at the fastest pace her unsteady legs and sore body could manage.
At the outskirts, she saw a group of Imperial Guardsmen, milling about. Approaching, she spoke, her voice hoarse from a night of screams. “Kind sir, where might I find an Inn?”
The guardsmen turned their appraising gaze on the young blonde human, their eyes roaming her lovely naked body. Their leader spoke. “My, aren’t you a pretty young thing. What brings you to the city?”
Suddenly acutely aware of her nudity, she blushed, her cheeks pinking prettily. “My lord, I am but a humble traveling bard. Brigands attacked us but I was able to escape. I am new to the capitol and am seeking refuge.”
“Brigands, eh? If they interfere with the Emperor’s business, we will deal with them then. As for you, blondie, being new in town, you have to pay….a visitor’s fee. Yes, that’s right. A visitor’s tax. But since you obviously have no coin on you, we’ll have to come up with other arrangements.” The guardsman lecherously smiled at her as he replied, his soldiers grinning evilly as they nodded along with their officer’s words.She kicked and screamed at first but the fight drained out of her as the guardsmen took their turns roughly and vigorously using her for their own pleasure. When they were finished, they donned their armor and went about their duties. Before walking off, the officer looked down at her and leered.
“Blondie, walk five minutes and make a right at the statue of the Emperor. Go another ten minutes and the Inn is right there. Oh, and welcome to Nanthalion.”