Lesbian Romance: Aileen Lesbian by Robin Cavanaugh

Author:Robin Cavanaugh [Cavanaugh, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-08-14T07:00:00+00:00

*****

Delia sprang toward her carving board. The chief whirled and grabbed her by the arm but she had reached a butcher knife and sliced through the leather of his gauntlet. The man cried out and clutched his bleeding arm. Delia stood in a corner holding her assailants at bay.

“She’s a feisty one,” the bald man said with a grin.

“My quarrel is not with you pretty lady,” the chief sneered. “I only want the murdering witch.”

“She is no witch,” Delia said.

“Oh but she is, and a crafty one at that. She seduced and lay with King Claymond and then slew him in the night. There is a mighty bounty for her handsome head and I intend to claim that.”

As they spoke Row stood in the clutches of the third man as he groped and mauled her. She bit down on the gag and clenched her eyes, not in fear but to concentrate. She drew every ounce of her spirit to send out a plea. Then she gathered her strength.

“Then let her speak to your charges,” Delia said. “Remove her gag and let her—“

“I cannot do that,” the chief said. “She would only chant her evil spells.”

“Why do we argue with this wench?” the bald man said. “Let’s just grab her and let her put her tongue to better use.”

“The first one to touch me,” Delia cried, “will find his manhood at his feet.”

The three men roared with laughter.

“She’s got spirit.”

“I like ‘em like that. I like a good fight for it.”

“Not me,” the man behind Row said softly in her ear. “I like ‘em helpless and screaming.”

He tore open Row’s tunic, but that was what she was waiting for. He grabbed her breasts and, as his arousal took over his brain, she smashed his kneecap with the heel of her boot. She dragged the heel down his shin grinding it into his foot. The man howled and clutched his knee. Row whirled and kicked him between his legs. The assailant crumbled.

The others turned. The bald one rushed her. Row pivoted on one leg and let fly a round-house kick. But the warrior was no fool and caught her ankle in an iron grip. Row slammed onto her back, the wind knocked out of her. Her shoulders and bound arms stabbed with pain.

Delia lunged at the chief, but she was no match for a man nearly twice her size. He quickly batted away the knife grabbed her and carried her kicking and screaming to the bed. The bald man lay atop Row. She was gasping for air and helpless beneath his molesting. Delia shrieked as the chief ripped open her dress. In the corner the third man moaned nursing a shattered and bloody kneecap.

“Serves you right,” the bald man laughed. “Letting a helpless woman get the better of you.”

“I am going to slice off your tit witch,” he growled, “and make a cod-piece of it.”

The chief was laughing as he knelt above the thrashing Delia. He undid his britches and pulled himself out.

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