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In spite of her seemingly bleak situation, Gwen wasn’t scared. She had been imprisoned in this pitch dungeon for what felt like hours, with only her overactive imagination to distract her. Her shoes were worn down from pacing and her hair had fallen out of its formerly neat up-do. She had tugged it out in frustration. She supposed that at least she was only aggravated, not terrified as she is sure any other maiden of Camelot would be. But Guinevere knew that she had nothing to fear from her captors. Morgana would not see her harmed.
When a guard finally came to her cell, she was tempted to snap and ask what had taken them so long. But she decided that her dignity was worth more than her impatience. The blame for her stint in prison lay with Morgana, not her guards. The man led her through the jail, past cells with thick bars and iron doors. Guinevere could make out figures in the gloom and she wondered who languished within the more secure cells – who could possibly prove a threat to her former mistress? She tried to ask her escort, but he didn’t even acknowledge her question.
Guinevere soon found herself in a grand hall. Or rather, a hall which was certainly once grand, but now seemed… wild. Fires raged in their hearths, barely in the confines of their grates. The blaze staved off the cool night air, which flowed freely through the gaping holes in the crumbling stone walls. Flowering vines crept up the sides of the walls that remained and bloomed with all the colours of the forest. The stone floor was overgrown with moss, making it soft and slippery. The end effect had Gwen half convinced that she was in a cave deep in the wilderness rather than a castle.
Almost as surprising as the hall itself were those populating it. Many were clearly Druids, some looked to be knight errants from unknown kingdoms, whilst others seemed to be only masquerading as human. Instead of neatly lining the walls as Uther’s guards did, they milled around comfortably, no discipline in any of them. It wasn’t just men either – women and children all peered at Gwen as she entered. Morgana stood in the middle of them. She had been talking to another woman, but as Gwen and her guard entered Morgana’s attention snapped to the newcomers.
She had changed.
Gone were the light, beautiful dresses of a king’s ward. No jewels adored her fingers and her dark hair tumbled down her back. She had lost weight, having not been attending weekly feasts in her own court but she moved with more confidence, somehow taking up more room. However, Gwen was pleased to see that some things remained constant - the graceful way Morgana moved, for example, and the expressive face which betrayed her every emotion. After a moment of the two women assessing one another, Morgana strode forward.
The crowd parted for her, allowing her to reach Gwen in seconds and pull her into a hug. Gwen hung on helplessly. The embrace lasted for a long moment, Gwen allowing herself to be held and basking in the comfort of her friend before pulling back.
“This is new,” she said, making a sweeping gesture.
Morgana laughed. “We made camp here a few months ago. It took a while for us to get set up.”
“I had wondered why the weekly kidnappings had stopped.”
“Did you miss me, dear Gwen?” Morgana teased.
Gwen was serious in her reply. “I did.” She brushed a loose strand of Morgana’s hair aside.
Morgana smiled, a faint flush colouring her normally pale cheeks.
Gwen was about to question her long stay under the castle and why Morgana had seen fit to keep her there. But it seemed too early, and far too public, to start a scene. She was outnumbered here after all. And Morgana’s next words convinced her complaints could wait, at least for a short while.
“Come, you must be hungry. Eat with us, drink with us.”
She pulled Gwen to one of the many tables at the end of the hall and the two women sat. This was not a feast at the high court of Camelot by any means, but it had been a long day for Gwen and the spread of forest foods looked delicious. She eagerly loaded her plate. There were no servants here.
Morgana turned to her. “I want to hear all about Camelot.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. She knew that Morgana truly wanted her here and was not just trying to fish for information about her old home. However, she also knew that as settled as Morgana may seem out in the forest, amongst these strange creatures and their even stranger customs, some part of the princess still longed for the power which she believed to be her birthright. Every part of Gwen loved Morgana, but she could not justify plunging the land into war on the other woman’s behalf. If she ever let slip a weakness in the defence – a wall being repaired, a fall Arthur had taken, an illness which afflicted Uther – Gwen feared that Morgana would seize the opportunity and put an end to the tenuous peace.
She was playing with fire in this hall.
So instead, she entertained Morgana with stories of Merlin’s antics and of Gawaine’s shameless flirting. At one point she mentioned a new, handsome young knight named Lancelot under Uther’s employ and was rewarded by a brief flash of jealousy in Morgana’s eyes.
In exchange, Morgana told Gwen stories of her magical band of outlaws rebuilding the castle and the surrounding settlements.
“It may not look like much, but when we first arrived it was a burnt out husk,” she explained. “We were lucky that the foundations were strong enough and the Druids could weave the walls out of magic.”
“It’s amazing,” Gwen said truthfully. Morgana smiled shyly and turned back to her food.
After several hours of drinking the sweet mead brewed by the knights and strong beer brewed by the Druids, Gwen was feeling pleasantly relaxed. The night air stroked over her skin and cooled her face. The hall was filled with sweet, woody smoke and the sounds of celebration. With a full belly, a drink in hand and Morgana curled into her side, Gwen felt all was right with the world.
A man opposite was performing petty magic tricks, conjuring animals from fire and dust and making the children around him laugh. Gwen had to admit she was entertained herself. Although this performance was clearly a trivial act, she had not grown up around magic and so even small displays impressed her.
“This is what we’re fighting for,” Morgana whispered in her ear, “For children to grow up and be happy and not have to live in fear.”
“What you’re fighting for,” Gwen reminded her. “I want no part in a war.”
“You’ll have to choose eventually,”
“You would think I already had, given my welcome here.” Her voice gained a steely edge and she felt Morgana tense against her. “Tell me, was having me thrown in the dungeon when I arrived supposed to be a show of power?”
As she spoke, Guinevere’s hand drifted down Morgana’s bodice to her thigh. She squeezed the soft flesh through Morgana’s dress, making sure to dig her nails in. Morgana’s hand clamped on top of her’s.
“Not here!” She hissed.
“Where then? Do you want to come back to the dungeons with me? Perhaps you will be the one in chains this time.”
Alcohol was fuelling the fury which coursed through Guinevere.
“Do you enjoy treating me as a plaything? As something that can be locked away and ignored until you want company, or information about Camelot?”
“No!” Morgana’s voice was barely a whimper. She did not pull Guinevere’s hand back however.
“Then perhaps it was meant as a show of power? Well, we both know who has the power here, Your Highness.”
Gwen stood abruptly, nearly knocking Morgana to the ground. Several heads swivelled to stare at them.
“Please excuse me ladies, gentlemen.” Gwen curtseyed demurely, inclining her head to those she believed to be the more powerful members of the group. “But it has been a rather tiring day for me and I shall take my leave now. Morgana, could you show me to my sleeping quarters?”
The other woman had regained her composure. “Of course. I believe I shall also retire for the evening.”
There were “goodnights” all around and Morgana swept out, Gwen on her heels. She allowed the other woman to save face and make a regal exit from the hall before she seized a handful of the long black curls which cloaked her lady’s back.
Morgana gasped, stumbling to a halt with her head pulled back and her neck exposed. Guinevere ran a single finger along her throat.
“I hope you achieved whatever it was you wanted by imprisoning me.” She hissed. “Because you will be paying dearly for it.”
Morgana’s breath was already speeding and when Gwen released her, she stumbled forward. “I look forward to it,” Gwen knew her well enough to recognise the self-satisfied grin Morgana was fighting back. They continued forward, with more haste than previously - Gwen almost had to run to keep up.
Morgana’s chambers were at the heart of the castle, walls intact and hung with heavy drapes. Huge wooden doors swung shut behind Guinevere and she smiled to see Morgana already perched on the four-poster bed, looking up through dark lashes. A smirk graced that beautiful, elfin face and Guinevere could scarcely believe her luck that she had claimed this woman as her own.
She pushed Morgana back on to the bed and pressed their mouths together. This was no time for care, for tenderness. The fire which had been burning in Guinevere since her capture finally overwhelmed her and she let all of its passion and fury pour out in her kisses.
Morgana’s hands came up to Guinevere’s back, pressing their bodies closer together. Gwen grabbed her wrists almost immediately and pushed her hands up above her head, effectively pinning the other woman down.
“No touching until I say,” Guinevere hissed, pulling back from the kiss to gaze down at her lover. Morgana whined and made a half-hearted attempt to struggle.
“No, no, no,” Guinevere smiled, and sat back so she was straddling Morgana. Maintaining eye contact, she began to unlace the front of her dress, slowly and sensuously pulling at the threads over her chest, allowing her dark breasts to spill out. Morgana gasped at the sight and her hands twitched up, as though making to reach for Gwen before remembering her place. Gwen rewarded her by leaning down for a kiss.
She did not linger on Morgana’s lips for long. Instead, her mouth made a hot path downwards, licking and sucking on the flushed skin of Morgana’s neck. She smelt of sweat, of the forest, of secret nights and stolen mornings. Guinevere wanted to drown in it.
Her hands worked as her mouth did, pushing down Morgana’s robes and her shift. Although her deft fingers were not as familiar with these clothes, they were certainly simpler than the royal robes she used to strip Morgana of and they were off in moments. Morgana lay naked under her, pressing her warm, flushed skin up against Guinevere’s and seemingly desperate for contact. Gwen obliged, leaving kisses against Morgana’s neck, her collarbones, her chest and over the mounds of her breasts. Her hands slid down Morgana’s body, stroking over her waist and her soft belly, pressing down on her hip bones, pinning her to the bed.
Morgana groaned and pushed back, testing Guinevere’s hold on her. Gwen did not release her, but instead licked over Morgana’s nipple, effectively stealing any will to resist the other woman may have possessed. She ran her tongue in circles around the sensitive skin, not quite giving Morgana what she craved, but teasing the other woman and making promises which she had no obligation to fulfil.
It always marvelled Guinevere the ease with which she could reduce Morgana to a mindless, eager mess. This bright, intelligent, powerful woman could be brought to desperation with just a few simple touches. Guinevere was barely doing anything – her mouth hadn’t strayed south of Morgana’s chest and her hands remained firmly on the other woman’s hips, admiring the way just a little pressure had Morgana helpless under her. The sorceress could easily flip this situation and take what she wanted and they both knew that. But somehow, Guinevere held all the power here. It was a thought which made heat soak her body and tension shiver down her spine to settle between her legs.
Still refusing to move her hands, Guinevere continued to kiss her way down Morgana’s body. She paused over her belly, taking her time to lick and suck at the soft flesh, feel the warmth radiating from the other woman. She left small bruises in her wake, hoping to leave Morgana with something other than memories to mark this occasion. Morgana’s thighs received a similar treatment, Guinevere teasing the woman with the proximity to her clit. When Morgana tried to buck her hips, demanding more attention, she was rewarded with a bite to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She almost squealed in shock, a sound most undignified. Guinevere did not relent though. She kept her teeth sunk into the muscle, biting hard enough to be on the verge of drawing blood. It was only when Morgana had calmed down and had adjusted to the pain that Guinevere released her. It was a momentary reprieve, however. Where Guinevere had been relatively gentle before, leaving love bites as opposed to real ones, she now sucked and scratched at the marked skin. The area was already beginning to bruise angrily and Guinevere decided her goal was to ensure Morgana could not comfortably cross her legs for a week after this.
At the same time, she slid her left hand down between Morgana’s thighs. The woman was already soaking wet.
“You did miss me,” Guinevere took a moment to remark teasingly. Morgana’s only response was to moan and nod weakly. Guinevere laughed and gave Morgana’s thighs a reprieve to kiss her. Her tongue pushed into Morgana and licked up between her folds, circling around her clitoris. Morgana’s moans only got louder as she finally got the pleasure she was craving. Guinevere pushed one of her fingers into her, allowing Morgana some satisfaction. This brief indulgence made Morgana’s whine of desperation all the more sweet when Guinevere withdrew again.
“Now, now,” Guinevere smirked. “You know you are about to get your comeuppance for imprisoning me. Is that not the reason you did so in the first place?”
Morgana did not reply, which Guinevere took as an affirmative.
“I thought as much. Well, I hope you are prepared for what you have coming. I am not impressed at all, Morgana.”
She withdrew from the bed, leaving Morgana naked and spread open on the covers. Candlelight gently illuminated her body, making it shimmer with sweat. Her eyes were closed and her red lips were open. Even with her crown of dark hair, she could not look further from the regal princess Guinevere had first known her as. And to Gwen’s memory, she had never looked so beautiful.
“Roll on your front and hold the headboard.” She instructed softly.
Morgana took only a moment to respond, before she crawled eagerly up the bed. She arched her back and swayed her hips tantalisingly as she did so. Guinevere refused to admit how much she appreciated the display and instead pushed Morgana back down, seizing a handful of hair to hold her in place and provide some persuasion should Morgana choose to disobey.
“Good girl. Now, I want you to summon ropes and bind yourself to the headboard.”
Morgana decided to one-up her and instead created heavy iron chains which wrapped around her arms, ending in heavy manacles around her biceps. A key also appeared in Guinevere’s hand and it took a moment before she remembered iron’s binding effect on fairies and on magic. She put the key to one side and tested the restraints’ binding to the bed. They held fast. Even if she had wanted, Morgana could not escape.
Guinevere placed a gentle kiss on Morgana’s cheek.
“You’re such a good girl, for me.” She whispered, unable to quash the surge of affection she felt. “I am so lucky that you trust me so much and I love you so much for it.”
“Anything for you, my queen.” Morgana whispered back, leaning up for a kiss as far as her bindings would allow. Guinevere granted her the kiss, loving how soft Morgana’s lips were under hers. She stroked her smooth hair, running her fingers through its finery and allowing the tender moment to play out.
It didn’t last though.
Guinevere grabbed that hair and pulled Morgana roughly out of the kiss, relishing in the startled whine that escaped her.
“I don’t know why you trust me though,” she said. “Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you, just because you can’t escape. If anything, I’m going to go even harder now that you are so completely at my mercy. I’m going to have you crying and begging by the end of this.” She spat in Morgana’s face at the end, just for good measure. The last glance she had of Morgana’s eyes she had before she shoved her head back down into the pillow was one of terror and pain.
Guinevere raked her nails back down Morgana’s back and pried her legs apart. Morgana half-heartedly tried to resist, which only earned her a sharp slap to her behind. That stilled her effectively enough for Guinevere to position herself between Morgana’s legs and survey her work. One thigh possessed an angry bite mark, whilst the other was red and not nearly bruised enough for Guinevere’s liking.
She looked around the room for inspiration and spied a thick, heavy cord holding one of the drapes around the four poster bed. She made quick work of untying it and tested its weight in her hand. Then, without warning, she brought it down hard on Morgana’s leg.
The other woman’s scream was barely muffled by the pillows her face was buried in.
Guinevere smiled in satisfaction and pressed a kiss to where the cord had made impact. The skin was hot under her lips, no doubt stinging from the impact. She allowed Morgana a few moment’s recovery, stroking the mark comfortingly and making soothing noises. When she withdrew her hand, Morgana’s body immediately tensed, bracing itself for the next impact. Guinevere let her wait, taking the time to remove her own clothes which had become oppressively hot and cumbersome. She slid her hand between her own legs and swirled her fingers through the wetness there, just to take the edge off. Then she returned to Morgana.
Instead of immediately hitting the woman, Guinevere trailed the rope over her skin, allowing the tension to build all over again. Each time she withdrew, Morgana would tense, only to relax again when the rope stroked softly over her other thigh. But tension can only be held for so long and soon enough, Guinevere stuck the rope over Morgan’s butt. This was followed by a quick, stinging slap to the same area. Morgana twisted and kicked out, causing Guinevere to seize a hold of her leg to prevent herself from being struck.
“Now, now.” She warned. “You are only getting what you deserve.”
The next hit came down hard on Morgana’s other leg – the bruised one – and earned Guinevere a real scream. She smiled in satisfaction and continued her torment.
The strikes were interspersed with gentle caresses, stinging slaps and soft kisses, walking that line between suspense and relief. For every hard impact, Guinevere would press her mouth to the tender area, soothing the redness with her lips. Sometimes, she would keep this up until Morgana was completely relaxed and then strike again. Other times, Morgana would still be whining in pain when the next blow came. Occasionally, Guinevere would reward her captive by stroking between her legs, running her fingers around her clit and in her pussy. Whenever she did so, Morgana seemed to spasm on the bed, the teasing pleasure driving her even more insane than the on-going pain did. It was a game Guinevere could and had played for hours.
Eventually, however, she could see her toy was beginning to tire. The moans were no longer as loud, the writhing not as violent.
That was no good.
Morgana’s thighs were now thoroughly marked with rope burn and scratches so Guinevere decided that her goal had been achieved. Morgana was not going to be sitting comfortably for a while.
“I’m going to hit you three more times and then I am going to unlock you.” Guinevere promised. “Then, I think you have earned the privilege to get me off and, if you do well, I may return the favour.”
It was not a question, but Morgana was nodding enthusiastically where she lay nonetheless.
“Good girl, now these are going to be hard ones, so brace yourself.”
Guinevere laughed as the nodding stopped and Morgana’s entire body visibly clenched up.
Instead of hitting Morgana right away and bringing this scene to a close, she began to play with Morgana’s pussy again. Guinevere rubbed it gently, feeling the tension leave her lover as pleasure took over. After only a few minutes, Morgana was pushing into Gwen’s hands and her moaning was fast and breathy – a sure sign that she was close to completion. It was then that Guinevere stilled her hand and brought down the rope hard, once, twice, thrice on each of Morgana’s thighs. The resultant screams were the most beautiful noises Guinevere had ever heard. Morgana pushed against her hand again, chasing her orgasm even through the pain and Guinevere withdrew quickly, leaving Morgana on the cusp.
She writhed on the bed, moaning and swearing in a most unladylike manner, desperate for release. Guinevere sat back on her heels and took her own pleasure at the sight.
After a few moments, Morgana relaxed back into the bed. She was panting audibly, breathing punctuated by whining little moans.
“Aw, you poor thing. You came so close, didn’t you?” Guinevere stroked her back comfortingly. “Well, rest assured that I shall keep my promise. I am a generous queen, after all.”
She unlocked the manacles around Morgana’s upper arms and unwound the chains from her long limbs, admiring the indents the rough metal had left on her skin. Morgana rubbed her forearms, but made no attempt to move until Guinevere instructed her to roll over.
When she did, Morgana’s eyes were wide and wild. There were marks on her lower lip where she must have been biting at it between screams. Guinevere could not stop herself from ducking her head to press their mouths together. Morgana kissed back eagerly.
“Please, may I touch you?” She pleaded.
Guinevere considered refusing. She thought about denying Morgana, continuing to drive her mad with kisses and gentle caresses whilst allowing no real satisfaction. But, in truth, she wanted to feel Morgana’s hands on her as much as Morgana wanted to touch her.
“You may,” She breathed back and instantly, Morgana’s hands came to her back, pulling her down so their bodies were flush. She held them close together as their tongues met and Guinevere moaned at the feel of her lover’s body against her own. She could stay like this for the rest of the evening, the rest of her life and be completely content.
“Touch me wherever you please, my love.”
Morgana didn’t hesitate fulfil Guinevere’s request. Her hands came to seize Guinevere’s behind and pull her up to sit on her face. With Gwen astride her, she kissed her thighs, returning the earlier teasing. Soon enough she was eagerly licking Guinevere’s pussy and basking in the pleased moans of the woman above her. Morgana didn’t hold back, swirling her tongue around to taste as much of Guinevere as possible whilst gripping her thighs to hold her down. As much as Morgana’s own body was wracked with the denial of pleasure, the thought of Guinevere stopping her now, for any reason, was too much. Fortunately, Guinevere had no intent of doing so.
She was relishing in taking her pleasure like this. Morgana’s body stretched out under her was a delight to behold, lithe and long and seemingly glowing. She ran her hands over her breasts, squeezing them gently. Morgana groaned under her and the sound had heat pooling in Guinevere’s belly. She pulled and teased Morgana’s nipples between her fingers, the resulting sounds giving her almost as much pleasure as Morgana’s mouth. Soon, she had worked her hand between her thighs and was rubbing her clit, rocking back and forth on Morgana's face, getting off on the power she held. Morgana responded with appropriate enthusiasm and all too soon, Guinevere felt that familiar tension grip her body. She gave Morgana’s nipples a particularly sharp squeeze, just to hear her gasp in pain. That was all the extra stimulus she needed to come.
Morgana continued to pleasure her throughout, catching Guinevere’s sweet wetness in her mouth and extending the orgasm for as long as she could. When it became too much, Gwen rolled off with a breathy moan. She collapsed on the bed beside Morgana and lay there panting. As desperate as she may have been for attention, Morgana knew better than to disturb Guinevere during this post-orgasmic haze. She admired her lover instead; the flush over her chest and the relaxed droop of her lids. Guinevere exuded content as she caught her breath and Morgana felt more than a little pride for her hard work. At last, her patience was rewarded when Guinevere sat up on her elbows and smiled at her.
“You make a wonderful servant.”
Morgana preened at the praise. “Does that mean I get my reward?” she asked.
Guinevere laughed. “I’m feeling generous. Come here, my love.”
Morgana crawled over eagerly and captured Guinevere’s mouth with her own. Gwen’s kisses were lazy and relaxed now, devoid of the passion which still held Morgana. She began to grind against Gwen’s thigh in search of release.
“Are you that desperate?” Chuckled Guinevere. “Hot enough that you could bring yourself to completion against my leg?”
The moan escaping Morgana’s throat seemed like confirmation enough.
“Very well then,” Guinevere smiled. “Carry on.”
Morgana’s eyes flew open, terror written across her face. Whilst she felt that she could get herself off just rutting against Guinevere like this, it was hardly her preference. She had earnt her pleasure by now, surely?
But Gwen made no move to help her, instead bringing her hands to cup Morgana’s breasts and play with her nipples. She delighted in the noises that Morgana made in her torment. Morgana continued to rock back against her as Guinevere murmured words of encouragement. She told Morgana how much she wanted to see the woman come on her thigh and how beautiful she was, rutting in sweet torture. Morgana drank the praise in. Her hands stayed obediently on Guinevere’s hips. She didn’t dare touch herself, certain that if she tried, Guinevere would deny her orgasm completely.
After a while it became clear that, despite Morgana’s best efforts, she was not going to finish like this and Guinevere took pity. Her hands crept down Morgana’s body, pausing to pinch and caress the marks she had already left. Morgana’s face was tight with concentration, her teeth buried into her bottom lip and her eyes screwed shut. She barely seemed to notice Guinevere’s hands leave her breasts, but she definitely noticed when a finger ran between her legs. She groaned in relief when Guinevere rubbed over her clit, finally awarding her the pressure she needed. Morgana couldn’t stop her hips from bucking, nearly pushing Guinevere’s hands off her.
“Oh so, you don’t want me to get you off?” Guinevere teased. She didn’t move away however.
After that, it didn’t take long before Morgana was crying out, finally coming for Guinevere. Gwen continued to stroke her, almost to the point of pain. Before she could reach that point however, Morgana pushed her hand back and collapsed next to her, completely spent.
Guinevere immediately took her in her arms. Morgana cuddled close, allowing the last waves of orgasm to wash over her.
The two women pressed close together, sweat cooling on their bodies. The entire castle seemed to be silent and all Guinevere could hear was Morgana’s breathing begin to slow. They lay there for a small eternity, both too wrung out to move.
When the heat of sex cooled, Morgana used magic to pull the sheets over them. She extinguished the candles without moving a muscle.
Guinevere lay in the dark, drawing with her fingers on Morgana’s skin. Morgana hummed her approval at the gentle affection.
“I should imprison you more often,” she said, eventually.
“Don’t you dare.”
Morgana chuckled, then pressed a kiss to Guinevere’s cheek. They fell asleep, limbs tangled.