Secrets and BetrayalsPart 2 His Betrayal Alicia s Story
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From Betrayal To Joy free porn video
Wanda felt that her place in King Dorn’s peace delegation was a mistake but her place was not to question orders. General Willow herself had assigned Wanda the task. Wanda understood the reason, just not her selection. She felt that an officer should represent the Sisterhood of the Moon. At least it should not have been as poor a soldier as herself. Nonetheless, here she was, marching at the head of King Dorn’s envoy.
The Sisterhood of the Moon wanted peace just as desperately as King Dorn. Their alliance with Dorn’s kingdom of Sednar had not been the Sisterhood’s finest hour. For one of the few times in the illustrious history of the female fighting legion, their intelligence had been in error. Assuming that Dorn would win, the Sisterhood threw its lot in with him. But the rival king, Rupert of Tirana had played things brilliantly. Sednar was now hemorrhaging troops, both in fatalities and dissertation. King Dorn may have stumbled into war naively, but he understood that a distasteful peace, even without honor, was better than total defeat and a life in exile.
Behind Wanda, the train of wagons loaded with tribute and gold. All hoped that King Rupert would prefer material wealth to pushing for the inevitable military rout. Wanda reflected that for the Sisterhood of the Moon, defeat would be especially galling. The daughters of Selene, the goddess of the moon, had never known defeat. Although they were, technically, only allies of Sednar, the Sisterhood’s commanders would go to any lengths to save face. To chalk up the entire military misadventure as a draw was the desire of the entire command structure of the Sisterhood.
Wanda believed that was why she had been selected. The idea of General Willow, or any other Sisterhood commander for that matter, having to eat crow in the presence of a military rival was too nauseating for any of them to contemplate. That that rival was male and patriarchal made that nausea especially bitter. Better one of the most disciplined Sergeants in the the entire female army swallow that gorge than an actual authority figure. Wanda considered the promotion she was sure to earn for this onerous duty. That pleased her, a little. Not that it would help her catch up to her sister. Again, Wanda wished she was as talented as Bonnie.
Wanda remembered it all, sneaking with her older sister out of the house in the middle of the night to hike to the nearest Sisterhood stockade. Both she and Bonnie thought it the best decision they could make. Their mother’s sudden death had sent their father into a dark depression which he tried to counter with drink. When he was drunk, he would sometimes beat his daughters. The farm began to fail around him, causing his mood to darken even more. Bonnie explained that soon if things continued, their father would trade his daughters for even the cheapest dowry offered. In fact, she suspected that the conversation their father had had that very day with a corpulent widowed farmer and his equally obese and repulsive son was about that very topic!
By dawn, they were in a stockade and the new world of the matriarchy. Among a mix of girls, some who had escaped similar circumstances, and others who had been left at the stockade gates as infants, Bonnie and Wanda were educated in preparation for a life of military service. Like just about everything, Bonnie out shined Wanda. The older sister got better grades in school, sang more sweetly in chapel, was better at drilling and riding. It was so frustrating for Wanda. Worse was the constant comparison by her instructors and teachers. Wanda could not help it that she was not Bonnie, Why could not others see that?
Things had gotten a bit better when Bonnie was inducted into service upon the arrival of her eighteenth birthday. Despite their differences, Wanda could not help but swell with pride as she watched her beautiful fair-haired sister, looking absolutely smashing in her brand new burnished armor ride off on her first military adventure. That her sister, a short time later, would demonstrate phenomenal bravery and be rewarded with a position at The Sisterhood’s Officer Candidate School, should have made Wanda happy, but it didn’t.
Out of her sister’s shadow, Wanda was no longer subjected to constant comparison, but classes did not get any easier, nor did drilling or horsemanship. Still, she did well enough to pass all of classes and graduate to a military career when her eighteenth year arrived. Wanda was very grateful that she did not end up as one of the unfortunates who did not meet military muster. Those women were given plain dresses, a bit of gold for their pockets, a final blessing, and exiled to the world of men. Under those conditions, girls like Bonnie or Wanda could, most probably, adapt, but for the girls who had only known the comforting, insular world of the Matriarch stockades and schools, it was a different story.
But the Sisterhood could not afford any dead weight. Did not male armies have their rejects as well? Wanda could still recall the words of her favorite teacher on this issue, ‘We send them away with an education that is markedly better than they would have received among the world of men. They have been taught to adapt to new situations and to survive hardship. If they can not survive on their own, the shame of marriage is preferable to starvation. Yes, men are inferior, but in some ways they are irreplaceable. Without their careless and ceaseless impregnating, we would soon run short of foundlings.’
Initiation, however, was everything that Wanda had hoped and expected. On the night of the first full moon after the equinox, Wanda went from student to soldier. Wanda and her fellow inductees shivered naked in the dark while all the clothing they had owned as students was incinerated in a huge bonfire. One by one, each girl took her turn on the altar, where her body was anointed with sweet oil and their long hair shorn to the scalp. This was followed by a confession of sin and the ritual of female superiority.
The high priestess revealed a gold ring for every initiate. With the others, Wanda slid her’s on and pledged her life to Selene. The goddess of the moon was now their bride, their protector, and their source of inner strength and constant pride. Lastly, Wanda bit her lip and suppressed her sounds of discomfort as the tattoo, depicting the four phases of the moon and the word ‘Selene’ written in mystical script, was incised on her right thigh.
After a slow march about the temple, Wanda and the other girls were led indoors to receive their swords, inner silks, and a handshake from the commanding general. There was spiked punch, cake, and delicacies. In the morning, they would be measured for their armor, but first … A trim, attractive ebony-haired Lieutenant struck up a conversation with Wanda. The newly initiated soldier thought that, with her butchered hair,she must look horrid, but the Lieutenant replied, ‘You are quite beautiful, even with it cut so short, your red hair is quite fetching.’
It was the first time Wanda had heard anyone, aside from her late mother, call her beautiful. Later that night, the Lieutenant led Wanda to her quarters. The young soldier had had perhaps too much punch but avidly responded to the officer’s embrace and kisses. Wanda could not recall the process by which both of them had ended up naked, but she was quite aware of the Lieutenant’s lean, compact body with its flat tummy, perky breasts, and ebony triangle, and above all her heady aroma and the sense of intoxication well beyond what the punch had supplied.
For the rest of the night, the Lieutenant encouraged Wanda to explore her body with her tongue, lips, and hands, just as she was doing to her. Wanda felt the Lieutenant’s tongue upon her sex, even as she plunged her own into the black furred box of the older woman. Softly, the Lieutenant instructed Wanda, who suddenly found ways to apply classroom theory. Just before dawn, Wanda understood the word ‘orgasm’ was more than just a c
oncept.
That had been five long years ago. Wanda’s chief regret was that her military life was never again that magical. She seemed to have just enough ability to be a soldier and no more. She could mount up and ride, but without the panache of most. She could march and duel and patrol, but without the drive and conviction of the best soldiers. And when she was off duty, try as she might, most nights she could not recapture the bliss of her first night with the lieutenant. Fellow soldiers were eager to share her bed but soon moved on to someone else, confusing and depressing Wanda. It had taken her seemingly forever to make Sergeant. Now, like so many other times, she was on the duty that no one else wanted or which she was not smart enough to avoid. This was not the future Bonnie had sold to her all those years ago.
Wanda gazed to her right, next to the emissary rode Prince Wilton, King Dorn’s youngest son. Until this current conflict, Wanda had not spent much time among men. In so many ways, King Dorn’s army was like her own. There was pride, skill, and intensity. There was also the same bouts with boredom, aloof officers, and rotten duties. Although Wanda was more adept at appraising women, it struck her that some men, like Prince Wilton, were rather pleasant to look at. Most of the men, however, sparked little interest. They were too stout or too short, too loud or too shy, too homely or too old. ‘They are as different from one another,’ thought Wanda to herself, then woman are from each other.’ The realization was a profound one for Wanda. Ever since that first day in the stockade it had been drilled into her skull incessantly that ALL men, despite their apparent individuality, were inferior to women in every way. ‘Their dissimilar faces mask a uniformly unpleasant soul.’ She had heard from every woman with authority over her. Only in quiet off times did a few of the women dare to recall lost brothers, or fathers, or uncles fondly. Wanda was well aware of the danger such affections posed to those few brave women for that sentiment.
Wanda’s revelry ended with the sudden arrival of the delegation at the gates of King Rupert’s castle. This particular castle was some distance from the front. King Rupert and his generals had been conducting the battle from this structure. The elite guard at the gate noted the flag of truce and warily waved the wagon train forward. Wanda’s presence drew open-mouthed gapes from King Rupert’s most disciplined soldiers.
The wagons were parked and left under guard of most of the soldiers accompanying the peace delegation. Wanda dismounted and joined Prince Wilton and about a dozen others who marched into the forbidding castle. Once inside, they surrendered their swords and removed their helmets. Wanda shook loose her golden red hair, now quite long. King Rupert’s guards noted the astounding beauty of the woman in burnished armor. The porcelain-skinned face and luminous green eyes were so alluring every soldier immediately wondered if the body encased in metal was as desirable. Heralds blew horns and the soldiers inside were all ordered to stand at ease. Wanda was overwhelmed. The Matriarchy believed in simpler structures and, aside from their temples, used far less stone when building. Wanda was also more than a little awed by the man on the throne. Unlike King Dorn, who was older and uninteresting, King Rupert was young and virile. He had dark brown, almost black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and mustache, and sparkling dark eyes. He was, it seemed to Wanda, even more, handsome than Prince Wilton.
King Dorn’s emissary met King Rupert’s at the foot of the latter’s throne. The two engaged in animated conversation for quite awhile, before Rupert’s man spoke in his ear. Betraying no emotion, King Rupert gazed intently at his enemy’s emissary and stated simply, ‘I would hear you, good sir.’
Everyone in the room realized that those words were a positive portent for the future.
‘Good King Rupert,’ began the emissary, ‘King Dorn’s heart is hopeful that we can strike a rapprochement. While accepting no blame for the current troubles between our two nations and desirous that no blame be ascribed to his noble personage, we offer the following tribute …’
Wanda found herself struggling to pay attention as the emissary droned on and on, listing items such as golden goblets, silver ingots, gems both cut and uncut, pearls, and a seemingly endless list of ephemera. Still, Wanda remained the dedicated soldier, maintaining a position of attention as the diplomat continued his catalog. Her ears perked up when it seemed the man was nearing the end of his inventory.
‘Finally, good King Rupert, his excellency would offer you the loyalty of his son, Prince Wilton, to serve in your army, no doubt with the same distinction he shows now, to demonstrate friendship between our two nations’
Prince Wilton fell to his knees before the throne and waited to be recognized. King Rupert lightly touched each of Wilton’s shoulders with his sword, knighting him. Told to rise, the king smiled at the prince before Rupert stated to one of his generals, ‘Get this man a uniform.’ There was a round of applause.
The emissary continued.
‘Lastly, presented as tribute by King Dorn’s allies, the Sisterhood of the Moon, goddess Selene, is one of her own. It is hoped that this gift is acceptable to you. As you no doubt know sire, the Sisterhood prefers death to surrender. Presenting one of their own to you to use as you wish is unprecedented and can demonstrate as nothing else, the sincerity of their apology and desire for a clean slate between your nation and their sisterhood.’
Wanda’s mouth fell open in shock. Surely her ears were deceiving her! The stunned murmur circling the room confirmed that Wanda had not misheard. Her purpose on this mission suddenly became crystal clear. A bad soldier for the sisterhood would make a good concubine for a king! Still too stunned to react, Wanda observed as the emissary removed a bit of folded parchment from his satchel. It clearly bore the steal of the Sisterhood. King Rupert accepted what were clearly military orders and broke the seal. His left eyebrow arched as he silently read the missive. Next, he gazed intently at Wanda and then at King Dorn’s emissary,
‘Inform General Willow that her tribute meets with my approval. It is now as though there were never any hostilities between our peoples.’
Every person in the chamber, save Wanda, erupted in cheers. The peace had been accepted! Wanda did not know what to do. She seemed fixed in place as idle people sprang into action about her. Aware that she should try to make an escape, she tried to slink away while the folks around her were occupied.
She did not get far, two of the king’s generals, one on either side, withdrew their swords and held her in place. People continued to mill about while the generals stared at her intently. Wanda knew that arguing with these men would be useless. Between wondering how much her life would change, Wanda’s mind roiled with anger over her betrayal by the Sisterhood. ‘No matter how undistinguished a soldier I was, I did NOT deserve this!’ she thought. Worse, it went against all of her training. The Sisterhood had taught her that if capture by male soldiers was imminent, she was to slit her throat. The Sisterhood even practiced the motions necessary with wooden blades so that no soldier could claim ignorance as to how to off themselves. Now, in the face of defeat, the Sisterhood had proved itself a collection of liars. That realization, even more than the fact that she was now a prisoner with an unknown future, caused her to weep softly. She knew that soldiers were not supposed to cry, but at the moment, Wanda did not care.
The tumult dwindled to gentle din. Wanda noted that there were now far few people in the room. The two generals stood rigidly, forcing Wanda to stand at attention as well. From wherever he was, King Rupert returned the throne room. He approached Wanda and the gen
erals with a sly smile on his face.
This close, Wanda realized, he was even more handsome. It seemed she owned a knot in her mouth and not a tongue. ‘Enchanting.’ stated the king firmly. He then turned to the generals and stated,
‘Generals, Hothchis and Duaqua, would you be so good as to shell this pecan?’
‘My pleasure, Sire!’ replied the generals avidly and in unison.
The general pointed to Wanda’s helmet, which she still held clasped to her breast. Acutely aware of the intent of the generals and King Rupert and its final destination, Wanda swallowed hard and handed over the helmet with its visor and plume. The general set it down at the feet of King Rupert. Wanda made no move to resist as the general grasped each of her gauntlets in turn, revealing her lavender inner silks.
Wanda felt the hands of the general behind her on the stays to her breast and dorsal plates. The generals removed these together, revealing all of the top part of Wanda’s inner silks. It was clear that the thin silk garment held in support a pair of rather shapely breasts. Wanda tried to ignore the penetrating gaze of the men, something she had never encountered this directly before. The chill of the room, caused Wanda’s nipples to become erect. The generals and the king subtly shifted their positions. Wanda did not notice.
One general took Wanda’s scabbard. The other bent to remove Wanda’s greaves and boots. At last the steel pants fell to the floor. Wanda was clad now in just her lavender inner silks. No man but these had ever seen them on a living soldier of the Sisterhood. If either of these men had seen such garments before, it was on corpses. To be caught ‘in silks’ was a supreme embarrassment for a member of the Sisterhood. But Wanda suddenly realized that whatever she was, she was no longer a soldier of the matriarchy. She had been just another bargaining chip, like the golden goblets and the uncut gems. Wanda was all too sure of what would happen next. The thought of one the general’s hands on her skin to remove these last bits of modesty was an exceedingly disturbing thought. Wanda found her voice.
‘Please, Sirs, allow me.’ she uttered softly.
The generals looked at King Rupert who nodded. Wanda swallowed hard and reached for the hem of the silk blouse which fit her like a second skin. The men and the room vanished from view for a moment before the garment was over her head, and Wanda was tugging it down and off her long arms.
The men present unanimously believed that the woman’s breasts were, quite possibly, the finest that they had ever seen in person. King Rupert was reminded of an alabaster statue he had viewed in a museum. This woman was, if anything, more beautiful than that marble goddess. He could feel himself becoming fully aroused and was glad for the presence of his codpiece.
Wanda crossed her hands over her chest and tried to catch her breath. She knew that nothing short of total nudity would placate these men but she hoped to delay it as long as possible. For a long moment, Wanda stood there, like one transfixed by a serpent, before King Rupert emitted a small cough.
Wanda’s breasts returned to view as her hands went to the string holding up her lower silks. King Rupert observed, enthralled as his new gift’s alluring hips and long and shapely legs were exposed to male eyes for the first time. Rupert, despite himself, licked his lips when he saw the expanse of thick red curls that adorned her pelvis. Almost as enthralling was the view of the Sisterhood tattoo on her right thigh. No man had ever seen one, fresh and vibrant on a living woman. King Rupert noted how wonderful the contrast between the woman’s pale skin and the inky black tattoo. The silks at last reached the floor and Wanda stepped out of them then stood there shivering, one hand across her chest, the other trying to shield her sex.
Ofelia
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