Look behind the blue door

Maybe the virgin daughter in the garden has a twin sister trembling in fear behind those blue doors. That would satisfy your lust. Of course there could also be a wily veteran of past wars with a drawn bow waiting for the first careless man to step into that room as well. Calming your emotions you move to the blue painted door and slowly turn the handle. Behind you the sounds of flesh slapping against naked flesh and moans float up the stairs.

The door opens smoothly on well oiled hinges and through the arched doorway you see a large circular room with a high domed ceiling. Several chairs and couches face each other on a large intricately woven rug. Also on the rug stands a small table on it a cut crystal bottle filled with wine sits next to three silver trimmed glass goblets. To your left is an archway but the room beyond is hidden by a sheer curtain of blue silk. In the right hand side of the room is a neatly made bed piled high with pillows. Straight ahead is an open door leading to a balcony and you can see a glimpse of the river in the distance through the towers and trees of other estates.

The room screams of both wealth and taste. A series of small cabinet doors line the curved wall that you entered and between where you are standing and the curtained arch is a larger wooden door carved with a bas relief of a waterfall, the ripples and splashes in the water accented with slivers of silver that catch the afternoon light streaming through the windows high on the walls.

Moving to the silk draped archway you see a smaller bed nearly filling the room and lying still asleep in the bed is a vision of beauty. Most of her body is concealed by a light sheet and the lace trimmed slip whose straps lie loosely on her slender shoulders. The woman is no sister to the teen, in age she looks closer to the mother and her blonde hair and thin nose have none of the clear family resemblance that the other women and dead boy share. From this room the sounds of the chaos in the rest of the house was nearly inaudible and you can easily understand how this woman could have slept through the sacking of the house. You have no chains to bind her, but hanging from the archway are long silk ties that are used to hold back the diaphanous silk curtains. Unhooking these from the wall you step closer to the sleeping beauty.

One of her hands is already stretched above her head and her other arm rises and falls slowly with each breath from its resting position across her belly just under her hidden bosom. She may sense your presence on some level because she shifts slightly and the tip of her tongue bathes her upper lip before her body relaxes again into sleep. Quietly you tie two slip knots in the middle of one the long ties, watching her carefully for any signs of awareness. You are able to slip one of the loops completely over her outstretched wrist and draw the knot until it rests snugly against her. You would love to be able to bind her completely as she sleeps, so when she awakens she is completely at your mercy, but as you gently try to move her other arm above her head the woman’s eyes open. Before she understands her danger you have pulled her other hand above her head and slipped it into the other loop tightening both with a sharp tug of the tie.

“What! Who are you? Help! …. Help me!” Her frantic attempts to free her hands pull the loops tighter against her wrists as you tie the cord firmly to the end of the bed frame. Her legs tangled in the sheet kick furiously as you move from the head of the bed along its side. Stripping off your hard breastplate and girdle you ignore the woman’s panicked cries. As you pull your sweat stained undershirt from your body and free your throbbing member from your loincloth her cries for help turn to pleas for mercy.

“Please don’t do this. I am a free woman, even in war surely you must be bound by some honor.” Her blue eyes challenge yours but she looks away as you pull the tangled sheet from her long legs. What nonsense! For as long as wars have been fought, beautiful women have been the prizes of their conquerors, this woman surely knew that, just as she must know that many of the slaves serving the estate were once free women like her.

Your eyes sweep over her form delighting in what you see. In her initial struggles the pale colored slip that may have covered much of her white thighs was pushed high on her hips and a golden tangle of hair is clearly visible under the lacy trim. Following your eyes to her loins the woman colors and turns away from you, concealing her bush but giving you a perfect look at the back of her leg where it meets her round ass with just the hint of a crease. With a laugh you answer her appeal to your honor:

“I will give you the same honor that is given by the raiders and mercenaries to the free women captured in caravans or stolen from their houses to be sold in your **** markets.” Her eyes widen in fear as you continue "I will award you with the respect that was given to Amara, who was still an untried maid, when she was bought by the men of Athenapolis from the **** block." The woman sobs in frustration and pulls her legs up into a fetal position trying to preserve her modesty.

By cutting the second silk tie in two you could easily bind her legs to the corners of the bed spreading her open completely, either face up as you first saw her or by rolling her the rest of the way over so her pale cheeks will be at your mercy. Of course you could just pull her legs apart and let them kick wildly as you spear into her golden forest.