Taken by Lesbian Warlord: The Helga Chronicles - Sex Stories

Taken by Lesbian Warlord: The Helga Chronicles

... There were plenty of discussions in a language Iona did not understand, but the statuesque woman would only say one or two words, letting the men argue amongst themselves. Every so often she would glance at Iona, catching her staring. At those times Iona jumped, looked down and swore to herself that she would not look any more. And each time Iona's eye would be dragged back to the darker-haired woman a few minutes later.

“You, girl!”

The barked words, in Iona's own language, startled her. It was the chieftain, looking straight at her and indicating towards her. Timidly, Iona raised her head and met her eyes as best she could.

“Do you know Cordava? Lie, and we will take your tongue, eyes and ears, and wash the wounds with salt, wine and vinegar.”

Iona felt a wash of fear at how casually she was threatened. The steady look she got from the chieftain made her certain that she meant it. A cold pit in her stomach formed, and she did not dare to lie.

“Yes, my lady. I visited there often, as part of my duties at the temple.”

Some of the men hooted and jeered at Iona's words, but the chieftain just gave a slight nod, and cast about significant glances. Eventually she glanced back at Iona with that stern look on her face.

“You will address me as Chief Helga, not Lady. That disrespect will earn you five strikes of the lash tomorrow morning. Next time it will be ten.” With that, she returned to consulting with her men.

Iona felt stung, chastised and afraid. She had never received a lashing before. She knew her life in the temple had been pampered and cared for. She had always been grateful, and had prayed her thanks everyday, but had it not been enough? Was this her punishment now? A life where she was to be lashed simply for saying the wrong word? I am a student of the divine, how could this be happening to me? she wailed inwardly.

She was shaken from her thoughts as the men stood, and the chieftain brought herself up leisurely. She barked a last set of instructions to the men, and then motioned to Iona.

“With me, girl,” Helga said, not unkindly.

Apprehension made Iona move slowly as she stood.

“I said move!” barked the chieftain. Striding forwards, she grabbed Iona by the hair on the back of her head, more forcefully than painfully, and directed her out of the dim tent. Iona could only move to keep up, standing and shuffling bent over as the chieftain threw her out into the glaring sunshine. Iona stumbled forwards, but caught herself from falling over, and kept walking swiftly to avoid any further attacks. She tried to calm her beating heart by straightening her white dress, edged with the gold leaves of her order. Some of the men chuckled as she left. Iona tried to regain some dignity as she walked. She took as steadying a breath as she could.

Helga directed her to a tent, smaller than the meeting tent, but still larger than all the rest Iona had seen in the encampment. As with the last, this one was lined with ...