The Inn of the Sorrows

Morgwn hustled about the inn setting out the lanterns against the eventide. The sun was waning even this early past the noon hour. The innkeeper kept a careful watch over the young lass as she easily dodged the hands of the small contingent of soldiers passing through the woodlands. Most of them wanted little more than a fondle and a kiss from her, having long heard tales of woodland nymphs and the dangers of consorting with them.

The Inn of the Sorrows lay dead center of the woodlands along the road between the village and the fortified castle upon the highland. Those foolish enough to enter the woods before nightfall always found their way to the inn. Soon after the soldiers went to the stable to bed their horses down for the evening, a coach pulled up to the inn. Three wealthy travelers entered the Inn requesting a repast. As the soldiers filed back in, the new arrivals asked for quieter accommodation for their meal. The innkeeper kept a small area near the kitchen for such rude guests.

Darius sat quietly through the meal while his parents nit-picked over the quality of the various courses. He was well aware that the soldiers were likely better fed. He could smell the stew that the wench carried out to the men. She was slight of build, agile on her feet, and well-endowed. He could feel the pinch of his codpiece from watching her pass by.

After securing the horses and carriage in the stables, the coachmen came in for the night. Morgwn gathered up the food left unfinished in the serving bowls and brought it to the coachmen. The plates and spoons had already been set out on the long tables. Morgwn sat with the coachmen to help finish off the food, laughing with them as they told their tales of the young Darius and his misadventures. “’E’s a right handful. Does what ‘e wants. Good thing ‘e’s not my boy, I’d give him a good cuff.”

After they had finished their supper, the coachmen asked the innkeeper for rooms for the night. He led them upstairs while Morgwn cleared off the tables. She placed the dirty plates and spoons into an empty half-barrel set about for such purposes and carried the used dinnerware into the kitchen. Having finished the last of the wine, Darius staggered through the kitchen door. “Wench, you forgot my wine glass.”

“I assure you sir; I would have seen to it soon enough.” She glanced at him. “Well, bring it here.”

“Why don’t you come and get it? You’re the servant. I’m the master.”

She threw the dishrag into the wash barrel and shook off her hands. “Well, since you put it that way.” Morgwn rescued the wine glass from the officious lad and returned to her chore.

Darius followed her back to the washstand and wrapped his arms around her pressing his bloated codpiece against her ass. “You smell nice, like...”

“Like a pine forest?”

“Exactly. Like a pine forest after a fresh rainfall.”

Morgwn pushed his chin off her shoulder, only to have him dig his nose into the back of her neck. He brought a hand up to brush her hair away from her neck. His kisses were enough of a distraction, but when he grabbed her breasts and started to squeeze them, she threw the dishrag into the water and turned to face him.

Darius grabbed her cheeks and forced his tongue down her throat. He untied her bodice and pulled her dress off her shoulders exposing her breasts. She pushed him away and he staggered backwards. “How dare you, wench?!” He strode up to her and backhanded her across her cheek. He grabbed her throat and unbuttoned his codpiece.

Morgwn followed her head as he swung it toward the kitchen table, barely maintaining her balance as he forced her backwards against the edge of it. She placed her hands on the tabletop and slid herself onto it with her legs still dangling. She was through giving him chances to change his mind.

Darius forced another kiss on Morgwn, but this time she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back. His hands pawed her breasts until they had formed stiff glistening peaks. He lifted her skirt to expose her loins and place his throbbing cock against her hole. With a swift thrust he entered her.

Morgwn leaned back as he pulled her knees up to his shoulders and thrust again, shoving his cock deeper. She wrapped her long fingers over the edge of the table to brace herself against his crude and graceless jabs. She had made a promise not to take advantage of any of the men who came to the inn. But there was nothing in her promise barring this crude brute taking advantage of her.

Morgwn wrapped her legs around Darius’s waist and pulled his head down to her chest forcing his mouth onto a weeping nipple. His slow clumsy pace quickened soon rivaling the pace of his racing heart. After his final thrust, he collapsed, panting and still rigid inside her. She fed him again from a weeping breast. “There now,” she spoke softly into his ear, “you feel ready to go again, don’t you?” He nodded yes.

“Take me outside,” Morgwn wrapped her arms around his neck as she spoke. Darius pried them off the table and stumbled to the garden door. She opened the shutter’s latch and they fell onto the ground outside. The orchard fruit had just started to ripen and its scent filled the air. The sounds of night serenaded them as Darius took up a slow and steady thrust. Morgwn rolled them over and threw off her frock. She rode him with wild abandon coming down hard against his hips. Every time he thought to object, she shoved a nipple into his mouth and he drank more of her sweet nectar.

Darius did not notice that Morgwn had given him over to others for the night. He did not hear the shutters close as she went back inside to finish her washing up. She was not there to see him slowly covered with vines from the ground. But she promised herself that she would visit with him again. He would be easy enough to find. She needed only to look for the log with a stiff branch rising in the air.