The Panty Raid
- 3 years ago
- 9
- 0
The Raid free porn video
Black pillars of smoke curled upwards against a grey sky behind the wall of the garden. The clouds were tainted in yellow and red from fires burning in the town. The raid had started before sunrise while everyone was asleep and would continue long into the night. A weak rain was setting in and the distant sounds of steel clashing against steel and men screaming their warcries grew more silent by the minute. The town was lost. Now the looting would begin.
The Captain stood inside the garden, underneath maple trees with leaves as crimson as the blood his band had shed this day. Two dead guards lay to his feet. One was leaning against a round Bhudda sitting crosslegged in a bed of moss. His granite face was smiling at the carnage. The second guard was floating face down in the small pond in the center of the garden, blood gushing out from a gaping cut on his neck. Three colored Coi carps nibbling at his body.
From the porch of her family manse she could watch him clean his curved blade from the blood of a dozen or more servants that died to protect her. Once it was shining bright, he sheathed the sword and slipped it back into the belt around his waist. Then his glance rose to meet hers. His brown hair hung heavy from rain and sweat and blood, clutching around his scarred face. Black eyes, dark as the night with a glimmer of stars peered at her, his prize.
She sat unmoved on the wooden floor, her hands in her lap and her face expressionless. She had waited for him. She was a hostage here, her real parents long dead. He said he would come for her, he owed it to her father, but he had lost his titles when his lord, her father lost his life.
The bandit climbed the few steps to the porch and came to a halt between the doors that used to frame hundrets of pure white sheets of parchment. One was torn to shreds by the fighting and looked like it would fall from its track any moment and the other was spotted with blood. He looked at his prize, donned in beautiful silks with sleeves as long as her body and ribbons and velvet sashes to hold the long cloth together. She had become the adopted daughter of a wealthy merchant, the one that plotted against her family. In her real family, hair was never cut as a sign of honor. She was proud to not have cut her hair for 18 years. It flowed like a black river over her back and broke it strands on the floor, spreading like a fan of black silk.
She did not flinch as he came closer, not like the maids that served her, they had run the moment he broke into the house and slayed the first of the guards. Two former Samurai did not have a chance against that bandit lord. In his green robes and dark boiled leather harness, he danced around them swift and precise, sparks flying when steel met until the defenders breathed their last. She wouldn't run, she told herself, she had promised him her body, she was happy to pay him. He freed her at last. But know that he had won, she did not know what to expect. She was still a maiden.
He did not say a word as his hand grabbed her by her upper arm. He would take his prize here and now she realized. So be it. His gloved hand dug through multiple layers of cloth into her flesh. She would not say a word either, she swore. I promised my body, not my words. He lifted her up like a c***d and dragged her behind him. All she could do was follow clumsily. She realized that her legs were trembling and numb and she could not set one foot in front of the other without stumbling over her robes. I am not afraid, she told herself as her feet shuffled over the wooden floor. It was more him dragging her, then her own effort. The bandit pulled her into the next room, here the floor was covered by Tatami and more to his liking it seemed since he tossed her into the center and closed the sliding doors behind him. She remembered him as a much gentler person when he was still working for her father. That changed when he was branded a traitor and outlaw. She took pity in that.
A few candles on the family altar were lit and a lampion in a corner still had enough oil for a bright flame. She pushed herself from the floor to straighten her Kimono- why she didn't know. Then her captor kneeled down in front of her. His pants covered in mud, his shoulders a darker green then rest, drenched by the rain, his left arm was cut and blood had darkened the cloth.
From up close she noticed a shadow of a well- trimmed beard and a scar around his neck. He took off his gloves and tossed them aside. His naked hand reaching for her chin and lifted her glance towards his. The silence continued. She will do what he wants me to do, nothing more. He deserved her, but she couldn't promise that he would enjoy her. The skin on his fingers was rough and warm, he smelled like earth and grass and blood. With a thumb he wiped over her lips and smeared the red color they had put on it earlier across her face. Her cheeks flushed red. She was excited- no, afraid she told herself.
She didn't have enough time to come to terms with herself as he pressed his lips on hers. Metallic and sweet tastes mixed in her mouth. Pressing her hands against his chest she tried to push him away, be gentler, she thought. Cold pearls of water dripped from his hair onto her skin and made the hair on her neck stand up.
The heart in her tiny chest thumbed hard and fast. Her first kiss, stolen by a captain of outlaws. Their lips parted after a few seconds. Now he grasped her head with both his hands. His warm palms on her cheeks, she almost forgot to breath before he pulled her close for another kiss, this time more demanding and rougher. Her hands dug into his clothes, clinging onto him to not fall back onto the floor. His lips parted and his wet slippery tongue forced its way through hers. He is breaking in like he did with the town- just her lips proved to be less defiant than the city gates. Her tongue whirled around his, tasting the sweet saliva. She had never done this before but her handmaids had talked about it giggling and teasing until the mistress caught them and put an end to it.
Their lips parted once more. Without a word he rose. For a moment she blinked confused up at him. He towered more than 6 and half a foot. It was when he grasped that sword of his that she remembered that she was alone with a savage from the mountains- the years might have changed him, why would he be content with me? Risking his life, attacking a town, why did I think I would be enough for him? She dared not to ask. Instead of drawing his sword he detached it from his belt and leaned it against the altar, beside it his dagger and a short sword. Then he turned back to her. She didn't know if she should be relieved or scared. She would trust the knight she knew years ago when they took her from her burning home, screaming at him to save her, that she would be his wife. That day they told her he would be hanged so she should shut up. But somehow he survived, hid in the mountains, rallied other survivors together and schemed this raid to save her.
The bandit just extended his hand to her. What now? Will he guide me outside and take me to their hideout and make me his wife, queen of the bandits? No, she was foolish to think that it would end like a fairy tale, but she took his hand anyway. He did not help her to her feet but guided it to his breeches and placed it on his crotch. She could feel him stiff through the fabric. He pressed her fingers against it and moved them up and down. As he let her hand go she noticed that she continued with the movement on her own. Just an instant later she pulled his erect member from his clothes. It was long and hot and throbbed underneath her touch. Even both her hands clasped around the shaft did not cover the entire length. She was nervous as to what to do next. It seemed the tighter she held it, the stiffer it became. Slowly she moved her hands up and down, twisting her wrists now and then. The tip became swollen, red and shiny. When she was kneeling it was right in front of her eyes. She kissed it softly and instinctively and when she heard the bandit give a low grunt she knew she was doing it right.
Her hands kept stroking up and down, up and down. She could feel the blood rushing through the veins on his shaft and pulsating against her touch. She kissed his manhood more often now. It tasted weird and fleashy and had its own sweet smell. She loosened the grip and stuck out her small tongue to lick along the bulgy skin down to where corse dark hair was growing. After a while his cock was wet with her spit and she had an easier time stroking. She would continue until she felt his hand on the back of her head.
Just when she was about to kiss him once more he pushed her down into his crotch. It parted her lips, slid over her tongue and made her almost choke. He thrusted his hips a few times, forcing her head to stay in place. His cock gliding down her throat until tears run down her cheeks. Her small hands dug deep into his thighs and left red marks. After a few thrusts he released her and she coughed and drooled and was happy to breath. He is using me, she realized, using my lips like my lips down there. The break didn't last long. With his hands that were twice as big as hers he brought her own slender fingers up to his cock so she resumed to pleasure him. The cock was hard as stone and hot as she licked and kissed it. Now and then she would slip it into her mouth, let it grind against her cheeks, tickle it with her tongue. Whenever she heard him grunt or moan she knew she was doing it right. It seemed like game.
One time she would try to take as much as possible of him, then she closed her lips tight around the shaft and sucked in air, causing a loud slurping sound to fill the silence as she pulled up. After a while a transparent sticky fluid started to ooze out of the tip. She licked it curiously and tasted something salty, a bit sour and sweet. She also started to look up at him while she was working his manhood, to see how he reacted. Now and then she thought she saw him smiling back at her but that must have been her imagination.
She continued, smiling would be good, he will take me with him, make him smile. The next time she wrapped her lips around him he took hold of her head again and thrust himself down her throat. Saliva ran down from the corner of her lips, his dick in her mouth stirred around for a while but she figured out how to work against the reflexes that would rather spit him out. This time he used her so long that her head got dizzy and all her body, all her sensation seemed to be reduced to her mouth, her lips, her tongue, her throat. With closed eyes she listened to his moans growing louder each thrust. The hair that was so beautifully combed this morning was a mess and he brushed it almost tenderly from her face as he continued to fuck her mouth more wildly. Yes, she thought, that is how the adults would call it, the guards that were dead now but were loudly boasting about the whores they had during their nights in the brothels. He fucks my mouth. He enjoys the slick and soft inside of my mouth, the caress of my tongue and the embrace of my lips.
He was jerking her more violently when she came back from her thoughts. Somehow her hands had crawled up his thighs to his balls. They were twitching inside her fingers, swollen, not wrinkled like normally, almost bursting. She fondled them, he moaned again, this time even louder. If she could smile, she would have, but all of his cock was shoved inside her, then out again, and inside once more. Finally he released her and pulled his member outside her mouth with a sloppy wet sound. Immediately she grabbed his shaft again. His cock was alive in her grasp. Twitching and throbbing. Because of me, she thought and squeezed it hard like the doll she used to go to bed with. Suddenly he yanked her head back by her hair. Her cute round face, all teary eyed, with messed up make up, looked up at him. "Open your mouth" he said and she opened it, sticking her tongue out. She never saw it coming but felt the powerful pulse underneath her hands. The cock twitched and pumped. Hot, sticky and thick white cum splurted out of the tip. It covered her face, stuck to her cheek and forehead and filled her mouth. It came in waves and sent gooey threads over her skin. So warm, she thought. He clenched his jaw and surpressed a grunt. While all that happened she looked deep into his black eyes and saw a reflection of herself. His seed dripping from her chin, a smile on her face. She closed her mouth and tasted the cum. Almost tasty, she thought and swallowed. The captain of the bandits caressed her cheek, his thumb gathering more of his juice to be licked off by her and so she did. Until her face was somewhat clean she realized that she hadn't let go of his cock. It had gone limp for a while but now it stood half erect again. Meanwhile it was dark outside, the light in the room had become dim as well. We will need more candles, she thought, no, this time she spoke out loud and the bandit was smiling clearly down on her.
The Captain stood inside the garden, underneath maple trees with leaves as crimson as the blood his band had shed this day. Two dead guards lay to his feet. One was leaning against a round Bhudda sitting crosslegged in a bed of moss. His granite face was smiling at the carnage. The second guard was floating face down in the small pond in the center of the garden, blood gushing out from a gaping cut on his neck. Three colored Coi carps nibbling at his body.
From the porch of her family manse she could watch him clean his curved blade from the blood of a dozen or more servants that died to protect her. Once it was shining bright, he sheathed the sword and slipped it back into the belt around his waist. Then his glance rose to meet hers. His brown hair hung heavy from rain and sweat and blood, clutching around his scarred face. Black eyes, dark as the night with a glimmer of stars peered at her, his prize.
She sat unmoved on the wooden floor, her hands in her lap and her face expressionless. She had waited for him. She was a hostage here, her real parents long dead. He said he would come for her, he owed it to her father, but he had lost his titles when his lord, her father lost his life.
The bandit climbed the few steps to the porch and came to a halt between the doors that used to frame hundrets of pure white sheets of parchment. One was torn to shreds by the fighting and looked like it would fall from its track any moment and the other was spotted with blood. He looked at his prize, donned in beautiful silks with sleeves as long as her body and ribbons and velvet sashes to hold the long cloth together. She had become the adopted daughter of a wealthy merchant, the one that plotted against her family. In her real family, hair was never cut as a sign of honor. She was proud to not have cut her hair for 18 years. It flowed like a black river over her back and broke it strands on the floor, spreading like a fan of black silk.
She did not flinch as he came closer, not like the maids that served her, they had run the moment he broke into the house and slayed the first of the guards. Two former Samurai did not have a chance against that bandit lord. In his green robes and dark boiled leather harness, he danced around them swift and precise, sparks flying when steel met until the defenders breathed their last. She wouldn't run, she told herself, she had promised him her body, she was happy to pay him. He freed her at last. But know that he had won, she did not know what to expect. She was still a maiden.
He did not say a word as his hand grabbed her by her upper arm. He would take his prize here and now she realized. So be it. His gloved hand dug through multiple layers of cloth into her flesh. She would not say a word either, she swore. I promised my body, not my words. He lifted her up like a c***d and dragged her behind him. All she could do was follow clumsily. She realized that her legs were trembling and numb and she could not set one foot in front of the other without stumbling over her robes. I am not afraid, she told herself as her feet shuffled over the wooden floor. It was more him dragging her, then her own effort. The bandit pulled her into the next room, here the floor was covered by Tatami and more to his liking it seemed since he tossed her into the center and closed the sliding doors behind him. She remembered him as a much gentler person when he was still working for her father. That changed when he was branded a traitor and outlaw. She took pity in that.
A few candles on the family altar were lit and a lampion in a corner still had enough oil for a bright flame. She pushed herself from the floor to straighten her Kimono- why she didn't know. Then her captor kneeled down in front of her. His pants covered in mud, his shoulders a darker green then rest, drenched by the rain, his left arm was cut and blood had darkened the cloth.
From up close she noticed a shadow of a well- trimmed beard and a scar around his neck. He took off his gloves and tossed them aside. His naked hand reaching for her chin and lifted her glance towards his. The silence continued. She will do what he wants me to do, nothing more. He deserved her, but she couldn't promise that he would enjoy her. The skin on his fingers was rough and warm, he smelled like earth and grass and blood. With a thumb he wiped over her lips and smeared the red color they had put on it earlier across her face. Her cheeks flushed red. She was excited- no, afraid she told herself.
She didn't have enough time to come to terms with herself as he pressed his lips on hers. Metallic and sweet tastes mixed in her mouth. Pressing her hands against his chest she tried to push him away, be gentler, she thought. Cold pearls of water dripped from his hair onto her skin and made the hair on her neck stand up.
The heart in her tiny chest thumbed hard and fast. Her first kiss, stolen by a captain of outlaws. Their lips parted after a few seconds. Now he grasped her head with both his hands. His warm palms on her cheeks, she almost forgot to breath before he pulled her close for another kiss, this time more demanding and rougher. Her hands dug into his clothes, clinging onto him to not fall back onto the floor. His lips parted and his wet slippery tongue forced its way through hers. He is breaking in like he did with the town- just her lips proved to be less defiant than the city gates. Her tongue whirled around his, tasting the sweet saliva. She had never done this before but her handmaids had talked about it giggling and teasing until the mistress caught them and put an end to it.
Their lips parted once more. Without a word he rose. For a moment she blinked confused up at him. He towered more than 6 and half a foot. It was when he grasped that sword of his that she remembered that she was alone with a savage from the mountains- the years might have changed him, why would he be content with me? Risking his life, attacking a town, why did I think I would be enough for him? She dared not to ask. Instead of drawing his sword he detached it from his belt and leaned it against the altar, beside it his dagger and a short sword. Then he turned back to her. She didn't know if she should be relieved or scared. She would trust the knight she knew years ago when they took her from her burning home, screaming at him to save her, that she would be his wife. That day they told her he would be hanged so she should shut up. But somehow he survived, hid in the mountains, rallied other survivors together and schemed this raid to save her.
The bandit just extended his hand to her. What now? Will he guide me outside and take me to their hideout and make me his wife, queen of the bandits? No, she was foolish to think that it would end like a fairy tale, but she took his hand anyway. He did not help her to her feet but guided it to his breeches and placed it on his crotch. She could feel him stiff through the fabric. He pressed her fingers against it and moved them up and down. As he let her hand go she noticed that she continued with the movement on her own. Just an instant later she pulled his erect member from his clothes. It was long and hot and throbbed underneath her touch. Even both her hands clasped around the shaft did not cover the entire length. She was nervous as to what to do next. It seemed the tighter she held it, the stiffer it became. Slowly she moved her hands up and down, twisting her wrists now and then. The tip became swollen, red and shiny. When she was kneeling it was right in front of her eyes. She kissed it softly and instinctively and when she heard the bandit give a low grunt she knew she was doing it right.
Her hands kept stroking up and down, up and down. She could feel the blood rushing through the veins on his shaft and pulsating against her touch. She kissed his manhood more often now. It tasted weird and fleashy and had its own sweet smell. She loosened the grip and stuck out her small tongue to lick along the bulgy skin down to where corse dark hair was growing. After a while his cock was wet with her spit and she had an easier time stroking. She would continue until she felt his hand on the back of her head.
Just when she was about to kiss him once more he pushed her down into his crotch. It parted her lips, slid over her tongue and made her almost choke. He thrusted his hips a few times, forcing her head to stay in place. His cock gliding down her throat until tears run down her cheeks. Her small hands dug deep into his thighs and left red marks. After a few thrusts he released her and she coughed and drooled and was happy to breath. He is using me, she realized, using my lips like my lips down there. The break didn't last long. With his hands that were twice as big as hers he brought her own slender fingers up to his cock so she resumed to pleasure him. The cock was hard as stone and hot as she licked and kissed it. Now and then she would slip it into her mouth, let it grind against her cheeks, tickle it with her tongue. Whenever she heard him grunt or moan she knew she was doing it right. It seemed like game.
One time she would try to take as much as possible of him, then she closed her lips tight around the shaft and sucked in air, causing a loud slurping sound to fill the silence as she pulled up. After a while a transparent sticky fluid started to ooze out of the tip. She licked it curiously and tasted something salty, a bit sour and sweet. She also started to look up at him while she was working his manhood, to see how he reacted. Now and then she thought she saw him smiling back at her but that must have been her imagination.
She continued, smiling would be good, he will take me with him, make him smile. The next time she wrapped her lips around him he took hold of her head again and thrust himself down her throat. Saliva ran down from the corner of her lips, his dick in her mouth stirred around for a while but she figured out how to work against the reflexes that would rather spit him out. This time he used her so long that her head got dizzy and all her body, all her sensation seemed to be reduced to her mouth, her lips, her tongue, her throat. With closed eyes she listened to his moans growing louder each thrust. The hair that was so beautifully combed this morning was a mess and he brushed it almost tenderly from her face as he continued to fuck her mouth more wildly. Yes, she thought, that is how the adults would call it, the guards that were dead now but were loudly boasting about the whores they had during their nights in the brothels. He fucks my mouth. He enjoys the slick and soft inside of my mouth, the caress of my tongue and the embrace of my lips.
He was jerking her more violently when she came back from her thoughts. Somehow her hands had crawled up his thighs to his balls. They were twitching inside her fingers, swollen, not wrinkled like normally, almost bursting. She fondled them, he moaned again, this time even louder. If she could smile, she would have, but all of his cock was shoved inside her, then out again, and inside once more. Finally he released her and pulled his member outside her mouth with a sloppy wet sound. Immediately she grabbed his shaft again. His cock was alive in her grasp. Twitching and throbbing. Because of me, she thought and squeezed it hard like the doll she used to go to bed with. Suddenly he yanked her head back by her hair. Her cute round face, all teary eyed, with messed up make up, looked up at him. "Open your mouth" he said and she opened it, sticking her tongue out. She never saw it coming but felt the powerful pulse underneath her hands. The cock twitched and pumped. Hot, sticky and thick white cum splurted out of the tip. It covered her face, stuck to her cheek and forehead and filled her mouth. It came in waves and sent gooey threads over her skin. So warm, she thought. He clenched his jaw and surpressed a grunt. While all that happened she looked deep into his black eyes and saw a reflection of herself. His seed dripping from her chin, a smile on her face. She closed her mouth and tasted the cum. Almost tasty, she thought and swallowed. The captain of the bandits caressed her cheek, his thumb gathering more of his juice to be licked off by her and so she did. Until her face was somewhat clean she realized that she hadn't let go of his cock. It had gone limp for a while but now it stood half erect again. Meanwhile it was dark outside, the light in the room had become dim as well. We will need more candles, she thought, no, this time she spoke out loud and the bandit was smiling clearly down on her.
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