YPA: Your Privacy Assured/YPA.ISO/text/droit2.sty

Text File | 1995-02-09 | 23.4 KB | 440 lines

                      DROIT DU SIGNEUR
                              by Lysander

Part Two

     Kirsten awoke to Tomas's soft kisses on her lips.  But
how had his scraggly beard grown so thick?  Her eyes popped
open in surprise and remembrance.  Count Heinrich and her
wedding night.  Tomas facing Heinrich's sword.  Tomas in the
dungeons!
     "Good morning, lovely Kirsten," Heinrich grinned.  "Are
you ready for breakfast?"  He held forth a tray overladen
with food while she sat up in bed.  There were eggs and ham,
a bowl of porridge smothered in honey, chilled milk and
watered wine, and half a loaf of bread and soft cheese and
creamy butter.  Some winters, she had less to eat in a whole
day.  Such a large meal before any work had been done -- it
was positively, delightfully sinful.
     She began to pick at the meal, but the previous night
had tired her more than she thought.  Soon she was eating as
though it were the first meal after Lent.  Heinrich nibbled
on some of the bread and cheese, and watched her eat.  She
realized how she must look, stuffing herself as though she
hadn't eaten in days.  She grinned in embarassment, her
cheeks stuffed with bread and ham.  "Please, eat, Kirsten,"
Heinrich told her.  "After all, it's well past noon."
      "Mmph.  Noon?"
      "Well, you did have a long and eventful night."
      She chose not to comment on the previous night.  She
went back to eating.  She had no idea why she should be thic
hungry, but she could not deny her appetite.  Heinrich sat
on his bed (she briefly wondered where he and the Countess
Esmerelda had spent the night) and watched her in silence.
"After you've finished eating, I'll send someone up to help
you bathe and dress.  You look of a size with Esmerelda; you
can wear some of her older clothing."
     "Please my lord, this is all so much, too much."
     "Nonsense, Kirsten.  You are a guest in my home.  I'll
wager besides your wedding gown, you only have one other
garment not covered in patches or stains.  Esmerelda refuses
to wear something once it has gone out of fashion.  In fact,
next year or the year after, we have to go to Florence to
see what everyone is wearing these days."  He let out such a
put-upon sigh that Kirsten couldn't help giggling, at which
Heinrich broke into a wide grin.  "Much better.  I'll see
you in a couple of hours."  He went to kiss her again, but
she turned her head.  He settled for a peck on her cheek and
left.
     A few minutes later, a head with raven hair, black eyes
and full lips poked through the door.  Seeing that she was
awake, the head was followed into the room by a thin,
graceful body in a plain black dress. "Señorita?  I Beatríz.
Bath time, yes?" Her accent was very thick, but pleasant,
almost as musical as her native language.  When Heinrich had
taken over the castle from his father, he had brought almost
the entire staff with him.  No one in the village knew for
certain where they were from, but Heinrich had been on the
Crusade when old Heinrich had died.  Kirsten supposed they
were converted Saracens.
     "I'm coming."  She climbed out from beneath the heavy
covers and glanced down at her gown, to se how wrinkled it
had gotten.  But she wasn't wearing it.  Her wedding gown
had been taken off at some point, but she had not noticed
until this point.  She was not even wearing her own shift of
wool, but one of fine linen.  She ran her hands down her
body, feeling the soft material.  "Beatríz, how did I get
into this?"
     "Wedding dress not for sleep.  I get that for you.  You
like?  Señor say it yours if you want."
     Kirsten started to protest that it was too fine for
her, but then realized the futility of it all.  "Thank you,
Beatríz."
     "De nada.  Welcome."  She made a brisk beckoning motion
with a thin strong hand.  "Follow, please."
     Their destination was a small room downstairs just off
the kitchen.  "Clothes off, please.  In tub."  The tub was
much bigger than the one she and her family used.  Both her
brothers would fit comfortably in it, and they were
unusually large.  It was made of bronze and had inlays of
silver and gold.  The decorations reminded her of the rug in
Heinrich's bedroom.  Complex designs, weaving in and out of
each other in wonderfully strange and beautiful patterns.
It was impossible to follow a thread of the design without
getting lost in the pattern.  It was meant to be appreciated
as a whole.
     She was more than a little embarrassed because this
woman was a virtual stranger, but she refused to let it show
as she let the shift fall to the floor.  She saw that a
block of stone was meant to be stood upon.  Inside the tub
was a molded step, obviously with the same function.  The
water was pleasantly warm, and reached to her waist when she
sat down.  Beatríz tapped on another door opposite the
entrance and immediately two large women walked in with
large buckets of steaming water.  Slowly they filled the tub
to her breasts.  The water was much hotter than what had
already been in the tub, but she quickly grew acclimated.
As she sank further into the water, Beatríz poured some
scented oils into the tub, followed by a powder that made
wonderful bubbles when stirred.  Kirsten felt like a
princess.
     She scrubbed herself clean with scented soap and a soft
cloth, then allowed Beatríz to clean her back.  She soaped
her hair thoroughly, and Beatríz told her to stand.  She
took a bucket of warm water and poured it over Kirsten,
rinsing off the soap.  Then she rolled up her sleeve to the
shoulder, reached into the water and pulled a cork plug out
of the bottom of the tub.  The water ran out of the tub into
a shallow trench in the floor, to be carried out a small
hole in the wall, which had been closed by another plug.
Beatríz patted her dry with a towel of some kind of cloth as
soft as a cloud.  When Kirsten asked what kind of cloth it
was, Beatríz told her it was "cotton, from Egypt."  Egypt of
all places.  What a wonderful place Egypt must be, even if
it was crawling with heathens, that they had such cloth!
     Beatríz sat her on a stool to dry her hair and
disappeared into the other room, only to return an instant
later with another towel and... a knife!
     Kirsten threw her towel at Beatríz and dashed for the
door, but Beatríz had blocked her, holding out her hands,
saying, "No, please.  No, please."  She didn't move toward
Kirsten, so she forced herself to calm down.  Beatríz had
draped the towel over the rim of the tub and was displaying
the knife in a decidedly non-threatening manner.  "See?  No
knife, is razor.  To shave, yes?  Watch."  She gently took
Kirsten's arm and scraped at the fine hairs, then held the
limb up for inspection.  Kirsten caressed the bare spot and
found it to be smooth, smoother even than her father's chin
after he shaved ("Better to get a burn on the chin than have
a beard go up in flames," he would say when asked why he
went to the trouble of keeping his face bare.)  And Gustav
made the finest knives for miles around.
     "No, it's no knife.  So why do you need it?"
     "Señor say.  He say you to shave like Señora
Esmerelda."
     Puzzled, but not wanting to upset Count Heinrich while
Tomas was in his power, Kirsten nodded.  Beatríz exhaled in
relief and picked up the towel.  "Arm up, please."  Kirsten
raised her arms and Beatríz placed the hot towel against the
fine layer of hair under her left arm.  "Hold there,
please."  Kirsten held the towel, while Beatríz left.  No
sooner had the door shut than she had returned with an
earthenware mug.  She was vigorously stirring something
inside it.  She knelt beside Kirsten and applied some kind
of lather to the hair under her arm with a stiff brush,
then, with feather strokes of the razor, she removed every
hair.  When one side was bare, they began the process on the
other side.  Beatríz ran the razor over her own arm again
and gave a satisfied grunt.  "Good steel," she said to
Kirsten, as though explaining something.  "From Toledo."
When her underarms were completely bare, Beatríz began on
her legs.  The razor was indeed good; she was only nicked
once, on the rough part of her knee, but the wound was tiny,
and the blood soon stopped.
     When she was smooth all over, Beatríz placed the still
warm towel against her privates.  Shocked, Kirsten pushed
Beatríz away.  "What are you DOING?!?" she screamed.
     "Like Señora Esmerelda!  Como la señora!"  Beatríz
pleaded, from the floor where she had fallen in surprise.
     Heinrich burst into the room, a knife -- a real one --
in his hand.  Kirsten screamed even louder.  "What is
happening in here?"  he demanded, sheathing the knife and
brushing his beard.  Kirsten noticed he had cheese crumbs in
his beard and remembered that the kitchens were next door.
The embarrassment she felt for that second scream served to
calm her enough to try to explain.
     Kirsten tried to cover herself with the towel as she
pointed a stiff arm at Beatríz.  "She tried to...  She said
that..."  At the same time, Beatríz kept saying,  "Like la
señora!  You say like la señora!" and pointing at Kirsten's
midriff.
     "I see, I see,"  Heinrich held up both hands for
silence.  When both women were quiet, the count turned to
Kirsten.  "Do you remember our agreement, Kirsten?  In
exchange for your husband's life and freedom, you will do
whatever I ask."
     "Yes, but..."
     "It is a custom among some Moors," Heinrich continued
over Kirsten's protests.  "It is I style I grew fond of
during my courtship of Esmerelda.  The hair will grow back,
if you desire.  Is it really so much to ask?"
     "No, my lord, I suppose it is not."
     "Good.  Please continue, Beatríz."
     Kirsten was going to complain about Heinrich remaining
in the room, but thought better of it.  She would only have
to give in in the end.  She would rather say nothing than
lose an argument.
     Beatríz went and got another hot towel, which she used
to massage Kirsten's sex.  She had to admit the heat felt
good.  She squirmed on the stool, as her pussy moistened,
from the excitement and from the towel.  She glanced over at
Heinrich, relaxing in a chair, watching her through hooded
eyes, and the tingling sensations increased.  He was
handsome, certainly, but she wondered if she would feel so
excited if he were not there.
     Slowly, ever so slowly, Beatríz brushed the lather into
Kirsten's pubic hair, completely covering the area.  Once,
the stiff hairs of the brush gently rubbed her clitoris and
Kirsten practically leapt off the stool.  She had to
restrain herself from reaching down and rubbing it herself.
She refused to acknowledge any pleasure while in the
presence of the man who held her husband hostage.
     With soft, short strokes of the razor, Beatríz slowly
removed the fine hairs that made up her thin bush.  She
spread Kirsten's legs and carefully shaved the area
surrounding her labia.  Kirsten was momentarily embarrassed
by the moisture her slit had produced, but rationalized that
Beatríz probably had not noticed because of the damp towel.
     She was wrong.  Beatríz grinned slyly up at her.  Under
the pretense of stretching the flesh to make a tight
surface, Beatríz began to lightly rub Kirsten's clitoris.
Kirsten bit her upper lip, trying to ignore the feelings the
kneeling woman was producing inside her.  She simply could
not contain them.  Between the cooling of the lather on her
thighs, the intent gaze of Count Heinrich, tingling scrape
of steel, and -- above all -- the dancing fingers of
Beatríz, Kirsten had to give in to her body or explode.  The
flutter in the pit of her stomach expanded until her belly
visibly trembled.  Her breath came in gasps until she could
inhale no more.  She let out her breath in a long,
shuddering exhalation and slumped against the cool stone at
her back.
     She opened her eyes when she felt hands between her
thighs again.  She grasped the hand, it belonged to Beatríz,
and said, "Please, no more.  I'm too sensitive down there."
     Beatríz smiled and said, "Finished anyway."  Then she
did the strangest thing.  She took Kirsten's hand and
lightly kissed the inside of her wrist.  She stood and, with
a shallow curtsy to Heinrich, left.
     "Lovely, simply lovely," Heinrich mused, staring at
Kirsten's now-hairless pussy.  Abashedly, she closed her
legs and blushed, and tried to cover her breasts with her
crossed arms.  The count stood and handed her shift to her.
"Come, Kirsten.  It's time for your lessons to finally
begin."

      Kirsten allowed herself to be led back to the
Heinrich's chambers.  He told the guard at the foot of the
stairs that the only person who would be allowed to
interrupt him for the next few hours (Hours!) would be
Beatríz or the Countess, and only for matters of the utmost
importance.  The guard leered at Kirsten, but was careful to
do so only after the count's back was turned.  She cast her
eyes downward and followed Heinrich up the stairs.
      The bed had been made and refreshments had been placed
on a table by the bed.  Heinrich motioned her to the bed and
took off his belt and knife, putting them on the floor near
his sword, which was propped against one side of the bed.
He poured two goblets of watered wine and offered her one,
which she accepted.
      They sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a few
moments, sipping their wine.  It was sweet, but not too much
so.  Given what was going to happen in a few moments,
Kirsten wished that it were stronger wine, or even mead.
She tried to relax.  Her mother had told her it would only
hurt more if she was tense.  But she could not.  Her first
man was going to be this brutal man who slept with a sword
by his bed and went armed even in his own home.  She wished
she had let Tomas pressure her into sleeping with him before
the wedding.  She had just never truly believed that this
would be happening.  She kept thinking that the count would
not really deflower her, or that maybe she could talk him
out of it.
      But Tomas was in the dungeon, and his life was
dependent upon this man's mood.  And his mood was dependent
upon her.
      "My lord?  Are we going to... make love, now?"
      "Eager now, aren't we?"  She tried to appear so, but
he saw through the pretense.  "I am not a boy any longer,
Kirsten, eager to get inside a woman as soon as I have her
in my arms.  I know you feel no passion for me.  You want to
get this over with, but you want to put it off, yes?"
      "No, my lord.  I mean, yes.  That is..." she tapered
off.
      "It is the moment before something momentous happens"
he continued, "that our emotions are strongest, don't you
believe?"  He drained the goblet and put it down.  "I enjoy
letting myself anticipate."
      He took her goblet from her and set it aside, then
pulled her shift down, baring her shoulders.  "But now the
anticipation is finished.  Desires brought to their peak
must be satisfied."
      He held her face in his hands and kissed her lips,
gently at first, then insistently, breaching her lips with
his tongue.  She responded because she knew the better the
experience was for Heinrich, the better for Tomas.  Think of
Tomas alone in that dark cell, she told herself as the
count's hands wandered down to her breasts.  He massaged
them through the fabric of her shift, rubbing the nipples
with his thumbs.
      Think of Tomas, she told herself again.  Ignore the
hardening nipples.  Stop breathing so heavily.  Stop that;
get your tongue out of his mouth.
      Her pussy began to tingle and itch, and she squirmed
on the bed, trying to relieve it, but her motions only
served to increase her own passion, and Heinrich's.  Perhaps
that was what she wanted.  She would never know for sure.
All she knew was that her body was no longer in her control.
It had needs that would be fulfilled despite her own will.
      Now his hands were pulling her shift down further.
And to her amazement, she was helping him.  She told herself
that she was helping only for Tomas' sake, but she knew,
deep in her soul, that she wanted to feel his sword-
calloused hands on her naked breasts.  She wanted his mouth
on them, devouring them, devouring her.
      When the garment was down to her waist, Heinrich
cupped her breasts in his hands.  "You are beautiful,
Kirsten, do you know that?  Beautiful.  The most beautiful
woman in the whole Empire."  He kissed her breasts.  "If you
had been with me in Cordoba, the poets would have composed
an epic around your beauty.  More beautiful than Helen, they
would say."  She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but
she liked it.  And she liked what he was doing -- very much.
      He gently pushed her back onto the bed.  He kissed and
sucked on her breasts.  He nibbled on her nipples,
alternating between them.  He went back to her face and
kissed all over it.  he sucked on the hollow of her throat
and where her neck and chin met.  He was everywhere at once,
it seemed to her.  Teasing awake the areas of pleasure of
her body, then moving on to another before it was satisfied.
He went back to her breasts, wet with his saliva.  He nipped
the skin all over with his teeth, raising goosebumps and
making her nipples impossibly hard.  He kissewd and licked
his way down her stomach.  He gently licked her belly button
and moved down further.  He took her shift and began pulling
it down her hips.  "Had you been held in Granada, the
knights of all Christendom would have taken Spain to rescue
you."  Slowly he pulled the shift off her hips and down her
thighs.  Now she was completely naked before his gaze, even
more than when Beatríz had shaved her, for he could see her
naked emotions play across her face.
      He kissed his way down her thighs, her calves.  He
tickled the backs of her knees and massaged her feet.  He
nibbled on her toes, and kissed his way back up her legs.
He was almost worshipping her body, she thought.  He kissed
his way back up her thighs, on the outside and inside.  She
knew what he was doing, and she wanted it.  God herlp her,
she wanted it; she wanted him.  She opened her legs to him,
inviting him to kiss her bare virgin sex.  She played with
her breasts with one hand and tangled her fingers in his
hair and pulled him up with the other.  There was nothing
between him and his goal -- no clothing, no hair, no
resistance.
      His lips finally touched her and she pulled his face
tighter against her in her convulsion.  His pleasantly
bristly beard against her shaved flesh increased the
pleasure radiating from her pussy, as his mobile lips and
tongue sought out her most sensitive points.
      "My lord, this is, this is wonderful."  He only
grunted his response, not wanting to miss a single drop of
her by speaking.  "Kiss me, lick me."  She ground her crotch
against his face.  He nibbled on her lips.  He sucked and
fingered her clitoris.  He thrust his tongue inside her to
get all her sweet juice.  Always he went back to his
clitoris with mouth and fingers, keeping her on the edge of
climax, but always holding her back.  She pulled on his head
with both hands, trying to get him to bring her over.  He
fought her, taking his time.  She reached down to masturbate
herself, but he caught her hands. Holding her wrists with
his one strong hand, he wrapped his lips around her engorged
clitoris.  He sucked until the bud protruded as far as it
could, then took it softly between his teeth.  When he had a
firm hold on it, he flicked it with the tip of his tongue,
rapidly.
      "Yes, mmh, ahh, yesss.  OH, AH, AH, OOO,
AAAAAHHhhhhhhh."  A single long shudder and her body went
limp, her climax seemingly draining all the energy from her.
      Heinrich licked up the remaining juice, where it had
poured from her as her climax had approached, where his
soaked beard had spread along her thighs.  He crawled up her
body, supporting himself on his hands and knees.  Her eyes
were closed and a satisfied smile curled her lips.  He
kissed them and she responded by opening her mouth to him.
Her eyes opened wide in surprise when she tasted herself on
his lips and in his beard.
      Heinrich's hands roamed over her body again, keeping
her aroused.  In response, her hands darted along his body
to his groin.  Her hands fumbled at his crotch, trying to
unbelt and untie his trousers.  She wanted him, inside her.
She felt like she had never felt before, empty inside,
needing a man to fill her.  The twitchings she felt when
kissing Tomas were nothing compared to the raging fire
inside her now.  Heinrich was helping her now, and soon his
manhood was free.  She grasped his cock in her hand,
marvelling at the heat it generated.  She explored it with
her hands, feeling the hardness of the flesh and the
softness of the skin, the pulsing ridges and the warm furry
balls hanging from its base.  It felt huge; she was not sure
she could take it all, but she needed something inside her
now.
      "Do it, my lord.  I need it.  Please.  Please."
      She guided him to her entrance.  Heinrich moved
forward, easing the head between her sobbing pussy lips.  He
moved forward slowly, exploring her, searching for her
hymen.  The head of his cock nudged against it, and he
stopped.  "Brace yourself, Kirsten.  This will likely hurt,
but the pain will quickly pass."
      He took a deep breath and counted three, then plunged
forward.
      "AAIIIEEEE!!"  Kirsten screamed as her maidenhead was
ripped apart, not entirely because of the pain.  She was
finally full.  She wrapped her arms and legs around the
count, pulling as much of him against and inside her as she
could.  She panted in his ear, from the pain and emotion.
"Wait, wait.  Let me get used to it."
      "Lovely Kirsten, I hope you never get used to it."
But he held himself as still as he could for a few moments.
      When Kirsten released her grip on him somewhat, he
began to move back and forth, easing his cock out, then
sliding it back in, smoothly and slowly.  Each motion drove
some of the pain away, until she felt nothing but pleasure.
Soon, Kirsten was again using her arms and legs to pull him
back inside her.  He kissed her full young breasts as he
thrust into her, and lifted her buttocks with his hands so
he could penetrate her even more deeply.
      Kirsten clawed at his tunic with her strong hands, and
bit at his bearded cheeks.  She kicked his buttocks with her
feet, urging him to fuck her faster, and he complied, riding
her to one orgasm on top of another, pushing her to a new
peak before she could come down from the previous one.
      Soon, sooner than either of them wanted, he erupted
within her.  He pounded her on the last few strokes as he
emptied himself deep within her, grunting and moaning her
name over and over, punctuated by her cries of ecstasy and
whimpers of "my lord," whether to him or to God he didn't
know or care.
      He remained hard inside her pussy, and as he began to
breathe normally, he began thrusting again, languorously,
enjoying the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock.
Kirsten herself was exhausted.  She fell asleep with him
inside her, and wasn't aware when he came again, though her
body shuddered involuntarily in tiny ecstasy.

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