Chapter 3 The ring of finding finds

As the carriage pulled up to the family home, a sense of relief washed over the group. The journey had been long and arduous, and the events that had transpired weighed heavily on their minds. James walked around to the back of the carriage where Raphtalia lay, her small form curled up in exhaustion. His heart felt heavy with concern,

With a gentle touch, James stroked Raphtalia’s hair, eliciting a pitiful whimper from the young demi-human. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, before turning to his mother, who stood nearby with a pensive expression.

“The ladies and you can sleep in the barn tonight,” his mother said, her voice tinged with weariness. “Tomorrow, we’ll need to sort out proper bedding arrangements for everyone.”

James nodded in agreement, carefully scooping Raphtalia into his arms. He was surprised that he was already somewhat inured of the stench. Her tail hung limply, a testament to the ordeal she had endured. As he held her close, his heart ached for the suffering she had experienced.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps drew their attention. Rachel, James’s eldest sister, stormed towards them, her face contorted with fury. But before she could reach them, James’ mother stepped forward, halting Rachel’s advance with a stern look.

“Mother?” Rachel questioned, her voice laced with confusion and anger.

“I’ll explain everything inside,” his mother replied, her tone brooking no argument.

Rachel glared at James with her arms folded under her ample bosom. With a final scowl, she turned on her heel and headed back into the house, followed closely by the other two women.

James turned to Olenna and Catylen. “I need you both to go with my mother,” he instructed. “Gather everything we need, including warm blankets and wet cloths.”

Olenna, the older of the two, nodded sharply, casting a glance at James’s mother, who sighed and nodded her head in agreement. Brienne stepped forward, ready to assist James.

The group made their way to the barn, where they found suitable areas to rest. James gently laid Raphtalia down, ensuring her comfort. He moved closer to her, cradling her limp form against his chest. As he stroked the ring on his finger, a fervent prayer filled his heart—a plea to the gods of this reality, whoever they might be, to spare Raphtalia’s life.

James hoped that the ring and its magic held a connection to the divine powers that governed this world. He poured all his faith and desperation into his silent entreaty, begging for their intervention on Raphtalia’s behalf. The ring on his finger began to warm. He hoped it was responding to his heartfelt supplication.

As the minutes ticked by, James remained by Raphtalia’s side. He assumed his presence was a comfort to the young girl. The others in the barn watched in silence, their own minds reflecting on the day’s events. The only sound was the soft rustling of hay and the occasional whimper from Raphtalia as she slept fitfully.

Sleep eluded him as he lay in the hay with his arms wrapped protectively around Raphtalia’s emaciated frame. The young demi-human’s body trembled against his, her fragile form wracked by the traumas she had endured. Throughout the night, she succumbed to the involuntary release of her bodily functions, pissing herself and, James suspected, even defecating. The acrid smell permeated the air, a pungent reminder of her physical and emotional anguish. James noted that perhaps he wasn’t quite as inured to the smell as he would like.

Despite the discomfort and the heart-wrenching circumstances, James held her close. His embrace was a steadfast anchor amidst the tempest of her suffering. Each time Raphtalia whimpered, trembled, or even screeched in her sleep, James re-tightened his hold, whispering softly in her ear. His gentle words seemed to soothe her fractured psyche and eased her night terrors.

As the night wore on, James found himself marveling at Raphtalia’s resilience. Despite the unimaginable horrors she had faced, she clung to life with a tenacity that belied her diminutive size. It was a testament to her indomitable spirit. She held onto a spark of hope that refused to be extinguished by the cruelty of the world.

In those quiet moments during the night, James made a silent vow. He pledged to be her protector and her guide in this strange, unforgiving world. He would do everything in his power to help her heal and to nurture the seeds of strength within her.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the cracks in the barn walls, James felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead would be long and arduous, but with patience, love, and unwavering support, he would give Raphtalia an opportunity to blossom into the extraordinary individual she was capable of being.

The morning began and James groaned, waking up bleary-eyed. For the briefest of moments, his heart stopped as he looked down at Raphtalia’s still form, fearing the worst. But then he noticed the subtle rise and fall of her chest; her breath was ragged but present. A sad smile crossed his lips as he leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. Her ear twitched in response, a small opeful sign.

James shifted his attention to the mess that had accumulated during the night. The brown stain on Raphtalia’s bottoms confirmed his suspicions—she had crapped herself in her sleep. He carefully scooped her up and draped her over his shoulder. As he stood, he glanced around the barn, noticing that the other women were already awake. He acknowledged them with a nod.

Like Raphtalia, the women wore nothing but rags. James’s own time on the wheel of pain had humbled him, and provided him a profound understanding of their plight. It reinforced his determination to look after them and to provide the care and support they clearly needed.

“Come on,” James said, his voice gentle but firm. “We’re going to the pond. Everyone needs to be washed, starting with Raphtalia.”

Olenna stepped forward, her eyes filled with concern. “Don’t just dump her in,” she warned. “The shock could do more harm than good.”

James nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in her words. “You’ll need to make sure I do it right.”

Olenna raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice. “You’re the master,” she reminded him.

“And I’m putting you in control of helping me look after everyone,” James replied without hesitation, entrusting her with the responsibility of overseeing their care.

Olenna smiled, a chuckle escaping her lips as she nodded her head, accepting the role she was all too familiar with. The group rose as one and made their way to the pond.

As they approached the water’s edge, James carefully laid Raphtalia down on the soft grass. With gentle hands, he began to remove her soiled clothing, grimacing at the sight of her frail form. While she bore no visible wounds, her body was emaciated, her skin stretched taut over her protruding bones. Her breasts, once full and youthful, were now small and shrunken. As he removed her undergarments, he couldn’t help but notice the thick, matted hair that covered her pussy, a sign of her neglect and lack of basic hygiene.

Olenna knelt beside him, her eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and determination. She guided James through the process of cleaning Raphtalia with clear and precise instructions. Together, they used soft cloths and warm water to wipe away the grime and filth that clung to her skin, taking great care not to cause her further discomfort or strain her delicate frame.

Throughout the process, Olenna’s presence was a comforting constant, her experience and wisdom invaluable. She taught James how to handle Raphtalia with the utmost care and respect, ensuring that every touch was gentle and reassuring.

As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, they finished their task, wrapping Raphtalia in clean, soft blankets. James cradled her in his arms, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. He knew that the road to recovery would be long and challenging, but with the support of Olenna and the other women, he was determined to help Raphtalia regain her strength and heal from the trauma she had endured.

James carried Raphtalia back to the barn, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. He knew that together, they would begin to raise awareness among the populace, fighting for the rights and dignity of all those who had been oppressed and mistreated.

He wrapped Raphtalia up and stood up, looking at her in repose. She sighed in her fitful sleep. James looked up at Olenna, his eyes filled with a firm resolve.

“Strip,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Olenna blanched, her eyes widening in surprise. “W-what?” she stammered, taken aback by his unexpected command.

James nodded his head brusquely, his gaze unwavering. “We’re bathing,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Now?” Olenna questioned, her voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

James nodded again, his attention shifting to the rest of the group. The women obeyed silently. Gilly, struggling with her garments, needed assistance from Brienne, who walked over to her, already naked as the day she was born. As the women disrobed, James couldn’t help but notice the unkempt hair that covered their intimate regions. They were veritable forests.

With a deep breath, James began to remove his own clothing. As he stripped, his muscular physique came into view, a testament to the years of grueling labor and physical exertion he had endured. His broad shoulders and chiseled abs rippled with each movement. His healthy musculature was a stark contrast to the scars that crisscrossed his skin. The women paused, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of his impressive form. Brienne, her nipples erect, couldn’t help but utter a breathy “Oh my,” her gaze fixated on James’s sculpted body.

The other women nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of awe and appreciation. James, suddenly aware of their scrutiny, felt a momentary pang of self-consciousness. It passed in seconds, as his focus on the task at hand asserted itself.

Olenna, her eyes tracing the scars that marred James’s body, spoke up. Her voice was filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. “How long were you on that wheel for?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“From 12 to 17,” James replied, his voice steady despite the painful memories that threatened to surface.

Olenna’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding crossing her features.

“Five years, spent being whipped and beaten,” she murmured, her words heavy with the weight of his suffering. However, as her eyes traced the contours of his muscular form, she couldn’t help but notice that those years of torment had shaped James into a warrior. He was someone strong and resilient and his body had been honed by the cruel hand of fate.

Despite James’s own inexperience, still being a virgin, Olenna suddenly found herself less worried about their future. The way James carried himself, the confidence that emanated from his very being, suggested that he knew how to fight and how to protect those under his care. His physical prowess was a testament to his ability to survive and overcome. The wise grandmother felt a glimmer of hope that had been absent for a decade or more.

James shrugged as if his history were just another Tuesday for him. Olenna mused as she began to remove her own clothing, revealing her aging body and sagging breasts. She couldn’t help but notice the way his manhood stirred, as he remembered the sensation of her hand wrapped around it.

“By the gods, that’s big,” one of the women uttered, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of James’s impressive cock.

James laughed. “It’ll shrink when I swim,” he quipped, his words eliciting a chorus of giggles from the women.

With a determined stride, James made his way to the pond’s edge. He took a deep breath, savoring the cool breeze that caressed his skin, before diving into the water with a great crash. The water splashed everywhere as he swam, the cool liquid was a welcome respite from the heat of the day.

As he turned to face the women, James’s eyes sparkled with humour.

“Get into the water, ladies,” he called out, his voice ringing with authority. “That’s an order.”

The women’s initial hesitation had been replaced by a growing sense of excitement. They continued walking towards the pond. They moved with surprising grace considering given how they had been treated. James noticed their naked forms glistened in the sunlight.

As they entered the water, James revelled in the sight before him. These women, once broken and oppressed, now moved with a sense of freedom and joy that had been absent just one day previous. Their laughter echoed across the pond. It was a sound that filled James’s heart with warmth.

James emerged from the water, his skin coated with droplets that caught the sun. He inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp air and the earthy scent of the sodden ground beneath his feet. A satisfied grin played across his lips as he surveyed the scene before him. His companions joined him on the shore, their bodies similarly bare.

With deliberate care, James bent down to retrieve his discarded clothing, which lay in a haphazard pile near the water’s edge. However, he made no move to dress himself. The group’s easy acceptance of his unclothed form filled him with a profound sense of validation.

James carried Raphtalia as the group made their way back to the barn, their bare feet leaving temporary impressions in the damp earth. As they approached, James caught sight of his sister near the entrance. Her eyes widened in shock at the unexpected view of the nude procession, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. Embarrassment overcame her, and she hastily retreated to the safety of the main house, leaving the group to their own devices.

Inside the barn, James carefully lowered Raphtalia onto a soft bed of hay. The golden strands cushioned her body, creating a natural cradle for her slumbering form. As he pulled away, he noticed a slight twitch of her ear—a small, unconscious movement that brought a smile to his face.

Realizing that Raphtalia would likely be in need of water upon waking, James retrieved a container of fresh water. With utmost care, he raised her head slightly and brought the liquid to her lips. Even in her sleep, she seemed to sense the offering, taking small sips until James took the vessel away.

“Sit on the chair,” Olenna directed.

“Now?”

“Yes,” she nodded pointing. James eyed the rickety chair tucked in the corner of the barn. He sighed, giving a nod of resignation, and walked over.

His cock was already a hard pole, jutting defiantly upward, ready and eager for action. It was a thick, throbbing beast, veins bulging along the shaft, and the tip glistening with a bead of pre-cum. She sauntered over, hocked up a glob of spit onto her palm, and wrapped it around his meat.

“I need you to get my cunt wet,” she demanded. He nodded, holding up his fingers to her. She opened her mouth wide. He slid them in, and she started sucking them like a pro, cheeks hollowing out, mimicking the way she’d later gobble down his cock. Her tongue swirled around his fingers, getting them good and sloppy, while her free hand reached down to massage her own pussy, rubbing the wetness through her worn, thin panties. Her sagging breasts heaved with each breath and her nipples firmly poked into the air. She moaned around his fingers, eager for what was to come.

When his fingers were sufficiently drenched in her saliva, she slid her mouth off them with a pop, her hand still working his cock. “Put them between my legs,” she commanded, in a voice hoarse with lust.

He nodded, as she positioned her legs apart, giving him full access to her naked body. His eyes flicked over her, taking in her weathered skin, sagging breasts, and rounded stomach, but his focus was drawn to her pussy. He slid his hand between her thighs, feeling that she was pretty dry despite her hand moving over her pubis. He began to rub her gently, taking his time to explore her folds and circling her clit with his wet fingers.

She let out a soft sigh, her hips beginning to move in rhythm with his hand. He could feel her growing warmer, but it was taking time for her channel to get engorge and lubricate. He was patient, continuing to rub her gently, occasionally dipping his fingers into her opening to spread what wetness there was. He leaned in, his breath warm on her neck, and whispered, “Is this good?”

She nodded just as her breath hitched. He must have hit a particularly sensitive spot. He continued to work her; his fingers were tireless and it ensured that his cock continued to throb in anticipation. It took several minutes, but eventually, he could feel her growing wetter and her folds became slick. Her clit swelled under his touch. Her moans grew louder and her hips bucked against his hand with more urgency. Finally, she was ready, with her pussy soaking wet and eager for his cock. She looked him in the eye with a fierce gaze and let go of his erection.