The Verderer of course

Before, when Christine had the nerve to touch herself in this forbidden manner, her lover was an amalgam of storybook princes, brave knights and sweet-voiced minstrels but when her eyes half-closed in the small, locked cell, it was the Verderer's somber dark eyes she found looking back at her. She was unprepared for the surge of heat that pulsed through her loins, the Verderer was already married with children, and a commoner to boot ... still, he was the man she could not forget.

Part of her fantasy seemed to be based in her memories, she was in the King's Forests standing by the old road just after her encounter with the three vagabonds, but there were differences too. There was no Erik, he wasn't missing or killed it was as if he had never been born at all. The other difference she realized is that in her encounter with the trio of lustful vagrants, her clothes had been removed and she stood bare before the handsome man who saved her.

As Christine lay on the bed picturing the scene, she covered herself modestly with her hands, but the Verderer just laughed and lifted her into his strong arms. As he carried her to a nearby cabin, the woodsman murmured soft words of reassurance, and by the time he lay Christine on her back she allowed him to spread her legs without further protests.

"Please Master Werner, I've never been with a man ..." Her fingers rubbed faster as she spoke aloud the words of her girlish fantasy. "Those men, they were going to ravish me ... defile me ... oh! ... you saved me ... I want you to be the one ..." Faster and faster, Christines fingers worked at her sex, it felt sooo good, so right. If only she had accepted the Verderer's invitation to join him, she would never have gone to Bishop Anthryl, been subjected to his coarse exam or taken to the hole.

The scene whirls and now she is in that awful darkness of the bishop's dungeon, but instead of Merthin climbing down the steps to rescue her it is the Verderer. Strong ... kind ... and his dark eyes fill with passion when he finds her there chained helplessly to the wall ... his to take ... to claim ... to - Ooo-uuaagh-aaigghhh!!!

Christine had fingered herself to completion before, furtively under the bed covers her face buried in her pillow to muffle the soft whimpers of sinful satisfaction, but not like this. Her whole body jerks and the cry that escapes her lips is loud enough to be heard all the way down to the river.

Mortified by the primal response of her frail female body, Christine pulled the rough woolen blanket to cover her nakedness as she struggled to catch her breath. Perhaps Merthin was correct, perhaps she is no better than the whore he wants her to be.