A Gift — An Erotic Story

Chris Evans
Sep 1, 2018 · 18 min read

A clan is overrun in the medieval Baltics [FM][Female bondage and submission][Male domination]

An edgy bondage story. Get ready for a ride.

The curtains parted and our clan chief stood at the opening to the hut. His strong face showed exhaustion and misery. His clothes were matted with the dirt of battle, and blood. Smears of blood we hoped came from our enemies and not our brothers. He leaned his staff against the door frame and looked to the floor, spent. My mother next to me shivered and gathered her courage. She spoke in a soft voice as she looked carefully at the expression on her husband’s face.

“Jan, please. Don’t tell me they are all dead.”

He raised his eyes to the scan the six of us women standing there expectantly. “Marta, my love, we gave our full effort. We lost. But there are not so many deaths.” Then his eyes fell to me, and I saw sorrow and something like regret as he looked on his youngest daughter. “I made a deal,” he said, without wavering in his direct gaze at me. I sucked in my breath sharply.

“Rachel, it was the only way to save our people, especially our women. You must be brave now and behave as the daughter of the clan chief. You have a duty.” He paused to look at me, and then back to my mother. He cleared his throat, and said, “I agreed to give you on sanal khuree to their king. He knew of you, and indeed they are on the road behind me. He will be here soon.”

Sanal khuree. This was a phrase we all new from our childhood in circles by the fire. Nighttime stories of the bogeymen from the Northlands, coming to take us away so that we would behave and do our chores and not wander off to be lost. I never knew if it was truth or legend, the stories where women were given as gifts to the chiefs of other clans in war, or as tribute. I didn’t know the Northland language, but I knew that sanal khuree translated literally as “offering frame” or “offering board,” on which the girl was secured. Now it was my turn to shudder, and I did not know what torment was to be mine today, and indeed from now on in my life, if we lost this war for the independence of our clan. I looked at my father’s slumped figure, and resolved to be brave for his sake, and for the sake of our people.

I had little time to prepare. Two servant girls attended me and sponged my face and arms, and we found a clean blouse. I combed my shoulder-length straight hair and looked at my reflection in a small shard of glass to make sure I showed the beauty for which I was known in the region. I ran my hands up and down my chest, feeling the generous curves of my breast line, and the straight line below of my abdomen as it fell to my pubis. Within minutes we heard the foreign horses arrive outside. I peeked out from the hut curtains and saw many rough men already dismounted and talking to one another in their language. And then laughter, the casual humor of the victors, so cruel for the conquered to hear. My father was on the ground in a deep bow. Then he rose and came to the door of the hut.

“Please, now, Rachel. You must come out to us.”

I was brought before their king in the late afternoon light. He stood in the meadow with his men surrounding him on each side in an arc, and I stood opposite with my father and a few of our remaining servants. The king was old and thick, with a full white beard and a grizzled face. I was repulsed by the idea of being given to this man for any purpose. But he did not seem interested in me, and barely glanced in my direction. They were discussing among themselves, perhaps of what to do with the gift of me, or perhaps of the dividing of other spoils from today’s battle.

I had the full attention of one young man. A very strong and vibrant man, slightly taller than the average Northlander but with blazing eyes and a chiseled face. With his arm to the side, he held his heavy battle sword casually as if it were merely a boy’s stick. He was absolutely quiet and confident, and looked slowly from me and back to his king while the others chattered. When his gaze fell on me it was with intensity and I became uncomfortable, and needed to drop my eyes to look at the ground. He didn’t smile, but it wasn’t a look of malice, either. It was simply a look of possession. When he finally spoke, the others became quiet, even his king.

I couldn’t understand, but my father translated their discussion the best he could. He looked to me and said quietly, “My dear Rachel, their king has given you to his son. He was brave in battle today, as I saw myself, and you are his reward.” I looked over to the silent young man who was staring at me, and I shivered. Then back to my father, who continued. “You must be brave, and help our people. The king has promised to be hold their soldiers from pillage, if we are faithful to this arrangement and you satisfy the son.”

I swallowed and slowly nodded. I would do what was required for my father, our chief. He wasn’t my biological father. I was found as a baby after a deep raid in the Northlands years ago, abandoned, with parents either dead or unable to care for me. The chief’s wife, who later became who I called mother, fell in love with the pretty baby and raised me as her own. My own heritage likely was of mixed race and or even a greater share of the Northland people than our own. The legend which sprang from this story grew until I was rumoured to be the most beautiful child in all the region, and as I grew to a teenager I came into my own adult maturity to fulfill that legend. Sometimes as I grew, I cursed this beauty and the trouble that it caused me in many ways, but now if it was the reason that we could save our people from additional strife, then I was glad for it.

My father listened to the men, and again translated for me. I thought I heard the dreaded words “sanal khuree” from one of the king’s men in their discourse. A middle-aged woman was brought forward and pushed towards me. She did not look unkind. She had a beauty that was similar to my own, and flashed me a tired smile when her eyes met mine in a cautious glance. It was a small gesture of compassion, and even love. Who knows, she could have even been my mother or a Northland relative of mine. My father continued.

“Rachel, the rest of them will be here in shortly, with…” His voice trailed off and he did not finish the sentence. He pointed to the woman. “This matron will help you prepare.” Then a king’s man turned my father roughly by the shoulder, fastened a collar and rope on his neck, and marched him towards the village. He had his own agony and humiliation to prepare for tonight, having lost the key battle of his life. I stiffened my resolve to do my part.

Back in the hut, the matron began my preparations. She first held my face in her hands, with a long sentence of Northland language that neither my servant girls nor I understood. I took it as a speech of encouragement for my task that lie ahead. She brushed my hair with a comb, then briskly stripped me of my blouse and underclothes, and from her bag took out some lotions and a sharp razor. I flinched back, but she smiled, and carefully applied the lotion and razor to remove all the hair from my body. My servants brought a bucket of water and they followed after the path of the matron, scrubbing and cleaning every inch of my skin. If it weren’t for what was coming, it would have been almost pleasurable to have this much attention spent on me.

When a commotion was heard outside our hut, the matron dashed a large blanket over my entire body and ushered me into a corner. I didn’t sense a danger, but just a propriety that I not be seen yet. I heard squeaking of wheels and wood, and men’s voices. When it quieted and I took a look over my blanket to take a peek, the matron was shooing my servants out of the hut and in the center of the room there was a large wooden assembly. I knew this must be the sanal khuree. I shivered again looking at it. I will describe it in detail so that you may understand the situation and the magnitude of my apprehension for what awaited.

The main assembly was a large smooth board, curved and standing upright, mounted in a heavy wooden frame. There was a small depression for my head at the top, and as the board dropped from there it curved outwards in a bow so that, assuming I was to be fastened facing outwards, my chest would thrust towards the room. There was an opening for my buttocks, and then two small wooden shelves for my feet. It didn’t look torturous, but it did look uncomfortable. Both the foot platforms, and similar ones for my hands, were mounted on long rods attached behind the board, with ropes running up to a pulley at the top. It looked as if my arms and legs could be set into any desired position by the adjustment of the ropes.

The matron was expressionless as she mounted me into the device. I knew I dare not resist. She fixed my hands and feet securely with cords wrapped so tightly that I could not move an inch once they were tied. I leaned back against the headrest and tried to become adjusted to my body being presented with my chest arcing out to the room on display. I was fully clothed, although I wondered in fear how long that would last. She gave me one more touch on the face, with a look of understanding, then left the room.

My fear grew as I watched the door of the hut for the next act of this play. But as the minutes passed, the fear softened and even turned to boredom as there was only silence. Maybe I wasn’t very important to this king’s son, after all, that he could leave me waiting for this long. Or then again, perhaps he was so confident of his possession that he could afford to wait and clear his other obligations before retiring with me for the night. I shivered again and resolved to just do my duty.

And then, in a surprise to me, as events can seem after a long wait, he burst through the curtains and was suddenly inside the hut. He was a strong man, larger than I realized from watching him in the clearing outside. A strong odor hit me. It wasn’t disgusting, but it was the smell of battle. Of men and sweat, of leather and horses, and of blood. He still wore his battle kit, and as he moved to set down his armaments and other possessions, I watched with detachment the details of his clothing. He hadn’t yet looked at me directly, although I knew that would change.

Soon he was almost naked, and I couldn’t help admire the figure of this man. A large blood-soaked battle dressing wrapped his thigh, and he stooped to attend to it. As he pulled on it, he winced, and stopped, snapping his fingers impatiently. An attendant who must have been lurking just outside the hut for such a call rushed in and there was some harsh Northland language exchanged. It must have a been for a doctor, because moments later an older man entered without a glance at me and began working on the dressing and leg wound. As the dressing came off, I remarked on a large gash up the inside of his leg. The bleeding had stopped, but this had been very close to a mortal wound.

I found myself in an incomprehensible mixture of emotions. Here was this man, a strong warrier who just this day had fought against and likely injured or even killed my own people in battle, and yet here he was in my own hut, naked, vulnerable, and in pain. As the doctor stripped him of all his remaining clothes, my emotions increased in intensity as I felt a twitch between my legs. I couldn’t believe that I was becoming sexually aroused by this man, my enemy, and attracted to him. But he was beautiful and strong. And one other thing that I could not help notice as the doctor worked on him was that he had a large manhood, larger than any of our own young men that I had glimpsed in our bathing. I closed my eyes to avoid being drawn into the spell of this enemy of our people.

The doctor finished his work of a new dressing, and after a Northland servant gave the warrior a sponge bath, he turned them all out of the hut and walked to me. I held my breath and my heart skipped a beat. He was naked except for the new dressing on his thigh. He looked directly into my eyes and I didn’t flinch. I was his and I had no choice to let him do as he wanted with my body tonight, but he would not have my mind. I was not going to avoid looking at him. At my defiant glare, he smiled gently and took a look up and down the entire length of me, as I was mounted on that board. I knew that my chest, which was already well figured, must be a tantalizing site thrust towards him in the arc, and that my legs fastened tightly together by the binding and covered only partially by the blouse must also be having an effect.

He touched my lip with one finger, and brought his face to mine. He kissed me gently, but then in a surprise, ran his hand down to my blouse and tore it open on one side. A breast popped out. He stared eagerly. I didn’t know how to react so I just held my ground and looked at the bridge of his nose. I didn’t care to look down to see what effect I was having on his manhood. Then he spun around and snapped his fingers again. I watched the smooth muscles of his buttocks flex as he walked away from me to the door, to give more instructions to his servants in their language. I wondered if it was in my future that I would learn this tongue. Perhaps I had the patterns deep in my brain from my very early life.

A moment later, a peasant girl from our own village was roughly thrust into the room. I watched intensely, without knowing what turn this was going to take. I didn’t recognize her, but she could have been any one of many young women of our people that were unfortunate to be found that night. He positioned the girl near my right side, facing away from us, and in my surprise rudely pushed her over at the waist and pulled her skirt up and her underclothes down. Her naked buttocks and pubis were visible to us both. Again I found myself in an inconsistent state of emotions. I can not deny that I felt a raw stirring deep in my loins seeing the power by which he possessed this woman. He reached down with his strong hands and pulled her buttocks to the sides, exposing her sexuality.

Then he raised his hand, striking down hard on her skin. She made a soft sound but was wise to hold from making any greater noise. Again he struck her. Then he moved towards her, moving his erect manhood directly onto her buttocks, and then to her sex, and I watched in fascination and horror as he penetrated her and in a few quick thrusts relieved himself of his manly urgings, perhaps brought on by his look at my breast.

Then he pulled back to himself, slapped the girl one more time on the buttocks, hard, and sent her out of the hut. I hoped she would be protected by my father’s brokered agreement from any further mistreatment by the king’s men tonight. He went to the water bucket and continued to clean himself, with soap and water all over his body. I was in a daze, not understanding what had just happened. He was a virile young man, fresh from the thrill and release of a day’s battle, and I concluded that this was his way of blowing off steam before his evening with me. I wasn’t sure if I was offended or in fact pleased by his actions. My brain knew it was uncharitable to think of this peasant girl as the appetizer to my main course, but the sexual being deep inside me couldn’t help note my position at the top of his priority order.

While he cleaned, I had a chance to look at him more closely. He wrapped a wet towel around his entire head, covering his eyes and face and neck, and leaned back, relaxing for a moment. I examined his naked body from head to toe. It was exquisitely toned, from years of hard riding and battle training. This was a man who could fight, it was clear. I wondered who were the women he fought for. I watched him move the towel around his head, the muscles on his shoulders and arms flexing as he did so. His stomach was smooth and powerful and showed many faded lines of slashing wounds, long since healed from previous battles. I wondered if I would be a woman that he would fight for, or if I was just a glorified version of the peasant girl.

Then he gave a big sigh, pulled the towel off, and walked directly to me. I noticed as he looked again at my face and down at my exposed breast, that his manhood began to grow again. Even in my predicament, I had to shake my head in wonderment at the eagerness of young men and the intensity of their sexual drive. He caught my very slight smirk, and raised his eyebrows. I didn’t feel that he was angry, but he didn’t seem to appreciate my attitude and was ready to get down to business now and show me who was the boss.

He came near to my face again and kissed me on the lips. At first softly, then harder. I could feel the intensity of his passion. He moved his hands down to my chest, and ripped the blouse. He pulled it wide open so that my breasts were exposed for him. He grunted as he ran his hands over me from my neck to my breasts, roughly. Then he slapped my breasts, and pinched the nipples. My firm breasts thrust out to him, arched as I was on the board, and I could feel my nipples hardening in response to his stimulation.

Then I was treated to a firsthand experience of the sanal khuree operation as he reached to pull on a rope behind my head. My hands could not help but move upwards as the rods were lifted by his actions, bound as tightly as they were. My arms were raised until they stuck straight out from my body, and then as he pulled further they stretched up and over my head. It wasn’t painful, but with the arch of the board pressing into my back and my hands raised over my head, he was given perfect access to my torso, which he took advantage of for many minutes. I looked down and saw his manhood firmly erect. I knew what was coming and I tried to breathe slowly and calmly. I had not been with a man at that point and could not imagine how his manhood was going to fit into me.

Satisfied for the moment by his long attention to my breasts, he next knelt down so that he was facing my pubis, and began calmly undressing me. I could smell him now in front of me. The soap had cured the worst of the battle smells, but his own smell remained, perhaps from his hair which was close to my face as he worked to make me completely naked. A strong smell. A strong man.

He pulled the last fabric of my blouse and underclothes from me. Now I was naked for him. My legs were held together tightly by the foot straps, so as he ran his finger down my breasts and stomach to my pubis, he was blocked by my legs from exploring inside me. He played with the pubis above my womanhood and then stood up and kissed me. I suspected it wasn’t going to be long now, which was confirmed when he reached up to the other rope above my head and wrapped it around his hands. His upper arms and chest angled in next to my face and I could smell him vividly as his muscles strained to pull on the ropes.

My legs began to spread now, and I could do nothing to stop it. I could feel my womanhood being exposed more with each pull, which took more effort than expended for the ropes on my arms, because he was lifting me up into the air. He was strong, though, and each pull on the ropes caused my body to shift, and my legs to open wider. He kept pulling. My legs spread wide open and now I knew I was fully exposed for him.

He stopped pulling and knelt back down in front of me, carefully inspecting the parts of me now opened for him. Then he left me unexpectedly to return to one of his bags near the door, and returned holding an object I didn’t know. It was rounded and smooth, the size of a small stick but maybe of polished ivory or a bone of some kind. When he knelt down in front of me and his hands began spreading my buttocks open, I felt the touch of this bone in my anus. I understood now its purpose. He pushed it part way in, where it held, then he moved behind me. This aspect of the sanal khuree’s design now became apparent to me when he began kneading my buttocks with the full access from behind.

I felt his strong hands working on my buttocks, squeezing and mauling them. When he opened me up, he would push the smooth bone further into me. I could feel it going deeper and deeper. Then I felt a different object, also hard but of flesh, and I knew this was his manhood pressing on different parts of my exposed region. My arms and feet were bound tightly, but my hips were not, so I deflected my hips and buttocks in response to this new penetration. He reached around and above the board with his head to my neck and kissed me tenderly there. I tilted my head back as far as I could against the board to escape his reach, but it was futile.

To this point, he had not penetrated my womanhood. Making sure the bone was firmly lodged inside my anus, he swung back around in front of me. He knelt down and then with fingers and tongue began caressing every part of me that was exposed to him below my waist. I shifted my hips hard in response to this and closed my eyes. Because my feet were firmly tied, and my legs spread wide open, I couldn’t move my hips far enough to get away. If I tilted them up or to the sides, he just followed me there. When I moved too much, he held my buttocks with both of his hands and forced me to stay still. Yet he continued to touch every surface of my legs and pubis.

Then he straightened and met my eyes. I could feel his hands on my pubis, guiding his manhood into me. Then I felt the pressure. Once he was positioned against me, he reached both his hands to my face and held me. He looked me deeply in my eyes and started pushing against me down below. He pushed again, and I could feel that I was blocking him. There was no way that he could fit inside of me, and I moaned in frustration.

This did not deter him. He grabbed my face harder and kissed me on the lips. His tongue explored my mouth. Then he pushed harder with his manhood against me. I felt a small pain as he pushed harder, and then a sharp pain as he pushed and entered. He hadn’t put himself all the way inside me, but he had broken through my resistance and started pushing in, further in on every stroke. I rolled my head away from his grip as he pushed deeper into me. I didn’t think I could take any more and I moaned loudly. I tried to move my hips back, out of the way, but I was fixed on that board and couldn’t move any further. He moved one hand off my head and down to my buttocks, forcing me against him on each stroke, so that my own body was helping push him deeper into me.

It was then that I felt a feeling I had never felt before, it was a release, a spasm of pleasure that vibrated up from my pubis up my spine to my neck and head. I felt it go all through my arms and back down to my legs. I let out a breath and sagged down on the board, onto him. This encouraged him push harder into me, and in a few moments I felt a similar spasm, this time from him, and it rippled through his body. He let out a sound then, and kissed me again, this time more gently, on the lips, and he brought his hands up to cradle me around the head.

We stayed like that for a few moments, before he left me and turned to his wash basin. Then he went behind my machine and with some adjustments he lowered my arms and hands. He held a knife now, and cut through my binds around my arms and feet, and having been mounted on this board for some time now I was weak and fell into his strong arms. He carried me over to the bed where he caressed me gently and stared into my eyes.

My emotions at this point were completely mixed up. I knew this man was my enemy, and I knew he had fought people that were close to me today. Yet he was also a beautiful man and he was my man in my bed. I felt a stirring deep in my pubis and I knew at that moment that there was a child started there. A boy, who would be powerful like his father, but sensitive and sensible like his mother. I vowed then that he would be a leader, not just of the Northland people, but our people as well, and I would train him with lessons from my own parents.

I looked to this man curled up next to me in my bed. He had fallen fast asleep in my arms and his face was now like that of a peaceful, sleeping baby. I rubbed my fingers up and down his body slowly, very gently. I shook my head and didn’t know what to think of my own emotions, but I knew I would survive, and live for many more days. And so would my son.

Chris Evans

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Some longer erotic stories, mostly with ENF themes.