Message-ID: <7690eli$9804071331@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {Lysander}JDR"Droit du Signeur 2"( Mf MF 1st hist )[2/7] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service. Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to . Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6gces4$lcj$1@sparky.wolfe.net> The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author make any guarantee. 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If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as well. ================ Copyright 1993 by Lysander This file may be distributed freely by electronic means only, provided the text is unaltered and this notice is included. Each user may make one hard copy for personal use. Any other method or purpose of duplication requires the permission of the author ================ 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 so 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. "Senorita? I Beatriz. 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 household 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 see 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 now. 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. "Beatriz, how did I get into this?" "Wedding dress not for sleep. I get that for you. You like? Senor 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, Beatriz." "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. Beatriz 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, Beatriz 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 Beatriz to clean her back. She soaped her hair thoroughly, and Beatriz 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. Beatriz 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, Beatriz 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! Beatriz 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 Beatriz and dashed for the door, but Beatriz 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. Beatriz 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?" "Senor say. He say you to shave like Senora Esmerelda." Puzzled, but not wanting to upset Count Heinrich while Tomas was in his power, Kirsten nodded. Beatriz exhaled in relief and picked up the towel. "Arm up, please." Kirsten raised her arms and Beatriz placed the hot towel against the fine layer of hair under her left arm. "Hold there, please." Kirsten held the towel, while Beatriz 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. Beatriz 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, Beatriz 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, Beatriz placed the still warm towel against her privates. Shocked, Kirsten pushed Beatriz away. "What are you DOING?!?" she screamed. "Like Senora Esmerelda! Como la senora!" Beatriz 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 Beatriz. "She tried to... She said that..." At the same time, Beatriz kept saying, "Like la senora! You say like la senora!" and pointing at Kirsten's midriff. "I see, I see," Heinrich said, holding 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, Beatriz." 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. Beatriz 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, Beatriz 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 openly acknowledge any pleasure while in the presence of the man who held her husband hostage. With soft, short strokes of the razor, Beatriz 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 Beatriz probably had not noticed because of the damp towel. She was wrong. Beatriz grinned slyly up at her. Under the pretense of stretching the flesh to make a tight surface, Beatriz 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 Beatriz, 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 Beatriz, and said, "Please, no more. I'm too sensitive down there." Beatriz 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 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 Beatriz 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 chest 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 Beatriz 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 it 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. Copyright 1993 by Lysander ================ DROIT DU SIGNEUR by Lysander Part Two -30- -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |