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Tamsyn - 3
by Realoldbill (address withheld)

***

Our young heroine is troubled by the local bishop's 
demands for money and visits and lies with her liege 
lord to seek his help but is captured and tortured on 
her way home. (MMf, nc, rp, v)

***

PART 3: Clerical Problems

The young lady of the manor was breaking her fast with 
her two favorites; Gregory, the captain of her much 
depleted guard force who had been out among the 
tenants trying to recruit a few young men; and Roth, 
the brave knight she had inherited from the Grant 
estate by dint of helping to rid the old duchess of 
her foul son. She now enjoyed them alternately, much 
to their satisfaction as well as her own. The 
sprightly girl, still not twenty years of age, was so 
demanding in bed that a day of rest between multiple 
couplings was of great benefit to the men concerned.

As the young woman chewed her roasted venison from 
last night's supper, sipped her mead and dipped bread 
into a bowl of oil, she considered a large sheet of 
rolled parchment which had been delivered by a monk on 
a donkey and sealed with wax and ribbons. It was, 
obviously, an ornate and illuminated form with the 
date, her family's name and estate filled into the 
blanks and in it lay the local bishop's demand to know 
why her annual tithe had not been paid and when 
payment could be expected. Threats were added, 
including damnation and excommunication, almost as an 
afterthought. Tamsyn studied the signatures and wiped 
her lips, amused as well as annoyed.

"Fetch me the green ledger from the library," she said 
to Gregory, and then smiled and added, "please," a 
word she had seldom used before her father's murder 
and her insane brother's gory demise. Tamsyn, when she 
thought about, realized she had been a spoiled and 
headstrong child, but she did not think about the past 
very often.

The huge tome was produced, Tamsyn found the right 
page, and pursed her lips. The previous year, her 
father had indeed paid about ten one-hundredth of his 
income to the church and into the hands of Bishop 
Alfred, whose scrawled signature stood at the bottom 
of the fancy parchment she had received. "Bring that 
monk up here," she said to Roth, and then with a 
blood-warming smile, "if you please." The young knight 
had been most diligent between her legs the previous 
evening and, she noted with a small smile, had a bit 
of a limp today. Her own insides, she was becoming 
aware, were still recovering from her foul torture 
which was now some six weeks past.

The knight summoned the poor mendicant who was still 
at his meal of gruel and cider in the back of the hall 
where the dogs usually lay. Tamsyn finished lacing up 
her crimson corset, raked back her dark hair, sat him 
down beside her, offered him some bread and meat, and 
then pointed at the page with her dining blade. "Do 
you see this, reverend father?" she said.

"No, no," he interjected, "I am but a poor brother, 
and a novice at that."

"Then see here, brother, what my father got from his 
tenants last year. There and there. Right?"

"I cannot read, my lady," the scruffy man said.

Tamsyn studied him and tried to ignore his stale 
smell. She wondered when he or his clothes had last 
been washed. "I will tell you then. Can you remember?"

He nodded rapidly. "Oh yes, my lady."

"Well then," she tried to think of equivalents since 
the manor's income was in bushels of grain, haunches 
of cured beef, pork and venison, reeves of dead birds, 
kegs of beer and wine and strings of smoked hams for 
the most part. No money was involved, neither gold nor 
silver, not pounds or ducats, florins or royals, 
farthings or pence. Tamsyn closed her eyes, took a 
deep breath and said, "Perhaps the equal of twenty 
English pounds, gold coin you understand, nothing 
clipped, in shillings perhaps four hundred. Twenty 
then was his income so two was his tithe. Understand?" 
The man nodded, counting on his fingers. Tamsyn was 
well aware that her father's income had been much 
greater and that it had been gathered in at other 
places and in other barns where the bishop's agents 
would not find it. The demesne itself had fed the 
manor but that was not considered income.

The apprentice monk nodded and Tamsyn flipped pages.

"Now here is this year just past, these totals, our 
true account which I have reported. Note please, sir, 
income, nil, just a few token sheaves of corn, tokens, 
naught but symbols, a small flask of weak beer." She 
tapped the page with her blade. "The drought, sir 
monk, and the troubles that spread across the land 
from the uprising in Dover in the spring and in Wales 
later not to mention the Scottish disaster in the 
fall, just at harvest time when the fires raged as you 
will recall."

The monk nodded, showing his bare tonsure and dirty 
scalp. He looked not to have shaved for a week, and 
Tamsyn wondered if his order did not include a 
surgeon-barber. 

"So," said Tamsyn patiently, "what is a tenth of 
naught, eh?" She paused but he only stared. "Naught is 
the answer. Tell the lord bishop that the 
Westcombridge keep will, I hope, pay next year after 
the harvest and pay its rightful tithe in full."

The man licked his lips and looked at the lovely girl 
with dull eyes, unblinking.

"Please repeat my message," she said.

"Last year was good and you paid your proper share. 
This year was bad and you have nothing to pay for 
nothing is due."

"Fair enough," the girl said and dug an old silver 
penny from her leather purse, a dinarius, and handed 
it to the man. "This is for your trouble."

He bowed and departed, a crust of bread in his hand, 
leaving his smell behind.

"Do you know this bishop?" she asked Roth.

He shook his head. "I've seen him, in his fancy robes 
and gored sleeves, his decorated alb, slippered and 
barbered, always with his fancy staff in his hand. He 
is, they say, planning to build his own cathedral." He 
stopped, considered, and continued. "I have heard that 
he prefers young boys' asses."

"I thought that time had passed; the cathedral 
building I mean," said the young woman, holding back 
her smile. "Hasn't the land enough churches? Every 
village has at least one."

The knight shrugged, feeling himself beginning to be 
aroused as usual when he was near his mistress.

"How goes the drainage work?" she asked Gregory. "You 
were out there in the new assart for a long time 
yesterday."

And so, they all assumed, the question of the tithe 
was settled.

A month after the letter from the bishop, the portly 
man himself arrived in a sturdy carriage pulled by 
four horses, unexpected and unannounced. He came 
through Tamsyn's open portal along with a train of 
servants, guards and supporters numbering, her gateman 
told her, more than a dozen. Tamsyn was in her library 
and hurriedly put on her good kirtle and bodice, raked 
her dark hair into place with two combs and tied it 
back, slipped into her soft boots with their fancy 
tops and went down to the hall where the lordly 
bishop, his meek secretary and two robed priests 
waited, all four looking peevish and impatient.

"Where is the lord of the manor?" the bishop's thin-
nosed secretary asked when Tamsyn swirled in followed 
by her knight, his huge sword at his side, his high 
boots shining and cod piece tightly cinched. Her guard 
captain was off after some poachers, and Roth had 
served her within the hour, a refreshing tumble at 
mid-morning that had left both of them breathing hard.

"I am Tamsyn, this is my keep," said the proud girl, 
lifting her chin and swallowing a smile. "Duchess of 
Westcombridge is my title, sir. This is my land, my 
home, my inheritance. And who are you?"

"This is his excellency, Bishop Alfred," the 
pantalooned man said with a bow and a wave, "and I am 
John Bosely, his scribner or secretary. This is Father 
Ralph and that is Deacon Ignatius of the diocesan 
treasury, a holy monk as you can see. We are riding a 
circuit, you might say, visiting many manors and 
keeps, plus a few minor castles and kirks. Collecting 
the tithe, the overdue tithe."

"And to what do I owe this honor for I have no tithe 
to pay. I fear our hospitality is limited, but I can 
offer you some of our new wine and bowls of pottage." 
Tamsyn looked from man to man and saw that they were a 
sour looking bunch. She wondered what they had 
expected and stood up a bit straighter, lifting her 
chin and narrowing her eyes, in control of both her 
breathing and her temper.

"We had been told," said John Bosely, "that the 
duchess of Westcombridge was a whore and that her 
estate was in rebellion and allied with the Scots or 
perhaps a rebellious clan. Is this not so?"

Tamsyn took a deep breath and moved around to sit on 
the dais and behind her dining table so that she put 
all the men, including the haughty bishop, a foot or 
so below her. She sat and clasped her hands on the 
tabletop, holding her seething temper in check, 
knowing her cheeks had reddened.

"Did you get my message about tithing," she asked, 
looking directly at the bishop's florid face. "I told 
that smelly monk you sent."

His secretary answered. "We did, but your response, if 
it was yours, is not satisfactory. We are building a 
cathedral and need money, lady, coin, gold. We have 
been told your father hoarded his wealth, concealed 
it."

Tamsyn took a deep breath and licked her lips. Her 
late father's hoarded wealth, as far as money was 
concerned, had consisted of two Spanish gold pieces of 
uncertain worth which his daughter had used for his 
wake, his burial and his so-far undecorated stone. 
"Fetch my strong box," she said to Roth, omitting her 
now common, "please."

"There is," she said directly and coldly to the 
bishop, ignoring the others, "no truth in any of what 
you believe, what you may have heard from my enemies, 
perhaps from my murderous brother's foul friends. He 
had many of those, sycophants. I am not a whore. This 
is not a house of pleasure or of sinfulness. This is 
my rightful land. We are, I hope, a godly people. I 
have pledged to my late father's liege lord, the Earl 
of Winchester in Hampshire, as best I can, in writing, 
my perfect fealty. We are and have always been loyal 
to the house of Plantagenet, to King Edward, and 
neither my father nor I have any hoarded wealth." Roth 
appeared with the small, iron-bound box and sat it 
down. Tamsyn opened it was a tiny key on his cincture 
and dumped out its contents. Two pieces of paper and 
some dust fell to the table.

"The papers," she said with a small smile, "are 
promises to pay from two of my oldest tenants, to pay 
last year's rent in one case and two years in the 
other. He broke his leg in the spring."

The bishop stood, banged his ornate crosier down on 
the stones and said, quite loudly and spraying 
spittle, "I do not bargain with corrupt women. Why 
have you no man here, a chamberlain at least?"

"My brother is but of ten years, lord bishop, barely 
that, and in school with the holy nuns," said Tamsyn 
with a wave toward the distant convent on the moors. 
"The last lord, my father, was slain by his son, who 
was, we assume, possessed, and I killed him, my 
father's murderer, and thus by succession made myself 
lord of this land, of this manor."

"Impossible," said the bishop, his voice rising. 
"Arrest her. She killed her liegelord, her own 
brother, the rightful heir; foul fratricide shall not 
go unpunished in this realm. It is just as I have been 
told. The holy inquisition shall have the truth from 
her." He made a smile like a grimace. "It is the 
flames for you, foul bitch."

The two priests in their long cassocks approached 
Tamsyn who stood where she was, behind the long table 
with the overturned box on it, her hand at her ivory-
handled dining knife, her gorge rising. Roth stepped 
down to the stone floor, drew his wide blade with a 
hiss of steel and held it across his body diagonally, 
his teeth bared as he faced the clergymen, smiling.

The priests stopped, looked at the bishop and backed 
up a step or two.

"Arrest her. He won't kill an anointed priest and go 
to hell. Grab her." The bishop pointed and cried 
loudly, his wattles shaking.

"I am her knight, m'lord bishop, properly sworn. I 
will protect my lady with my life," said Roth clearly. 
He did not smile as he pointed his big blade at the 
robed man, but he showed his teeth.

"You will not only burn in hell, woman," cried the 
bishop, pointing at Tamsyn with a shaking finger, "I 
will have you burned at the stake after I impale you. 
You are anathema, unclean. Come, we are leaving." The 
bishop pulled his decorated robes about his portly 
frame and stalked toward the doorway. Tamsyn, followed 
by Roth, hurried and got there before him.

"Lord bishop," she said. "This is unjust. I demand an 
inquiry, a hearing. I have done nothing wrong."

"You are a foul woman, a whore, and I have already 
denounced you," he cried, reaching out his hand to 
push her aside. Roth stepped between them, his sword 
in his long scabbard but his hand on its hilt.

"You will die with her, knight. I'll peel the flesh 
from your bones, both of you," snarled the bishop as 
he turned aside and stomped out into the sunlight, 
called his retinue together and they left quickly in 
their carriage and on horseback.

"Well," said Roth, watching the dust cloud blow away 
at the gate, "it was getting rather dull around here."

"Come," said the furious young woman, "my blood is 
aboil. You must soak the heat from me with your thick 
rod before I explode."

Roth followed her up the winding steps to her bedroom 
where they both disrobed quickly, watching each other 
with some eagerness and then leapt up on her high bed 
and joined their hungry bodies. Roth lunged into her 
and she arched her limber back and wound her legs 
about his muscular middle. He came quickly, excited by 
the arguments in the dining hall, and Tamsyn rolled 
him over, pushed herself up on his loins, smacked his 
flanks loudly and rode him like her stallion until 
they both were sated and lay together, puffing and 
gasping.

"We must be serious about his," she said to his hairy 
chest while his big hands stroked her and his spent 
male member quivered within her.

"Yes, he has threatened to burn you," Roth whispered 
as he kneaded her firm buttocks and felt her hard 
nipples on his ribs.

"I will visit the earl. You must come with me and Greg 
can manage here."

"Danger may lurk on the way. He had three men-of-arms 
with him, pike men, and a cross-bow as well."

Tamsyn kissed his nipples and then his belly before 
she kissed his limp cock and nuzzled his swollen 
balls.

"You know I'm spent after what we did last night and 
this morning," said Roth as the girl nibbled on his 
foreskin and licked his cockhead. He trembled and 
moaned.

"Of course you are, poor man," she said and then she 
tongued his swelling member into her warm mouth and 
sucked him hard in a minute or two.

Roth then took his lady from behind while she grasped 
the top of her high bed, and he held her smooth hips 
and hammered into her, long strokes, over and over. 
His fatigue vanished in lust as he made the bed rock 
with his hip action and half-foot thrusts.

"I'm dying," he cried as her young body grasped at his 
striving ram each time he tried to withdraw. In-out, 
in-out, in-out, she was tireless and he was spent.

"Then die, but first drive deeper, deeper, deeper." 
Tamsyn wriggled like a snake on his thick spit.

The knight fluttered his fingers across her mound as 
he humped, his muscles afire, and she arched and 
climaxed on his thrusting phallus just before he 
ejaculated into her ruined depths with a cry of 
relief.

And so within the week Tamsyn and her knight traveled 
south on decent roads, some left from the time of the 
Romans, to see the Earl of Westminster. They arrived 
at his flint stone castle with its wide bailey and 
single turret at high noon on the second day after 
spending the night in a good inn and exhausting each 
other under a swaying canopy. The Earl chose to see 
them almost at once in his high ceilinged great hall 
with a mosaic floor of colored stone. He was a tall 
man with a sardonic look on his pitted face and there 
were many papers on the table before him. His clothes, 
for the most part, were dun colored and his shoes 
soft.

"Tamsyn of Westcombridge," he said as one of his aides 
handed it a thin book with a silk marker in it. "You 
wrote that both your father and your brother had gone 
on to their rewards."

"Yes, m'lord," said the girl, still down on one knee. 
Her knight stayed at the back of the hall hung with 
banners and watched. He had never been in such a place 
and was awed by the richness he observed.

"Just so," said the earl. "And why are you here?"

"To swear fealty in person and to beg a boon, a favor 
shall it please you," said Tamsyn, rising at his 
gesture. Except for her long skirt, she looked quite 
boyish with a bright sash across her bodice.

"Why have you not married? You are surely of age," 
said the earl, stroking his hairy cheeks while he 
turned a few pages. "Send for the young viscount."

"After my mother's death, sire, my father kept me at 
home as his hostess and to manage the estate since my 
older brother was, well, he was profligate, a wastrel. 
When my father came to serve you, as he did twice, 
once for nearly two years, I was in charge most of the 
time although I was barely weaned; my brother at 
games, at play, often in France I believe."

The earl nodded. "My son, my youngest son, has been 
seeking a bride for some time. I have offered him 
several girls, but he has rejected them for various 
reasons, mainly vanity I suspect. Ah, here he is."

In strode a slight young man in a fancy doublet and 
hose with a large codpiece embroidered with 
multicolored flowers that was the size of a man's 
fist. He bowed to his father and glanced at Tamsyn.

"Tamsyn of Westcombridge, this is the Viscount William 
of Westminster. How old are you, boy? My memory fails 
me these days."

"Fourteen, sir," he said politely, making a leg.

"Old enough. I wed your mother when I was but twelve. 
Would you like to marry this young woman?"

The boy blinked at her. "She is very fair, father."

The earl smiled. "Indeed. Were I younger, I might have 
her for mine own. How would you like her for a step-
mother, eh?" He slapped his thigh and laughed.

"My liege," said Tamsyn quietly, "I have sworn an oath 
not to marry before my brother is of age." She 
invented this on the spot, but had considered the lie 
previously when pressed to marry.

"What kind of oath?" asked the earl, looking puzzled 
if not angry. "Chastity, celibacy? Explain."

Tamsyn licked her lips. "No sire, simply to keep my 
single state until I am no longer needed by my late 
father's land, his manor. That is until my brother can 
do the job."

The Earl nodded. "And your reasons?"

"A married woman is surely her husband's chattel, my 
liege, his serf as it were. I do not wish that state. 
I am your vassal but serve no one else except God. And 
then there is the church, of course, which does not 
grant woman any status, surely not on the same level 
as men."

"This is true, very true," said the earl. 'Well, 
William, will you have her if she wishes, would you 
like to have Mistress Westcombridge here as your wife 
and take charge of her land?"

Tamsyn was disturbed but held her tongue, turning to 
stare at the youngster who was obviously in some pain 
and embarrassment.

The boy shook his head. "She is too pretty, sir. I 
could not keep her, I fear."

"By damn me, the lad is smarter than I thought. You 
are dismissed, back to your lessons. Lady Tamsyn, you 
were asking a favor, or about to do so." The earl was 
now much more relaxed for some reason. He pushed his 
book and some papers aside.

'Yes m'lord. Bishop Alfred has banned me, named me 
anathema and threatened to burn me at the stake."

"I know him, a slight popinjay, well buffeted I 
supposed. What brought this about?"

"We did not pay a tithe last year because of the 
drought and the troubles across our land. He is 
anxious to have a cathedral."

"Nothing?" asked the earl, flipping pages in the slim 
book where he had found her name.

Tamsyn shook her head. "My father's accounts showed no 
income so he paid no tithe."

"It was a bad year. I will take it up with the church 
authorities and give you a paper, a bull of sorts, 
stating that you are not to be tried or punished for 
not paying your tithe if you pay this year. The church 
is really beyond my reach, but I have some influence."

Tamysn smiled and curtsied. "So I have heard. Thank 
you, my lord."

"Will you dine with us?" the smiling man asked. "And 
rest here this evening?'

"Thank you again. My knight, Roth is his name, is with 
me. I assume he is also welcome." Tamsyn turned and 
smiled at the man who stood about twenty yards away. 
He bowed to the earl.

And so they stayed and they dined with Tamsyn at the 
Earl's left hand, sharing his trencher now and again, 
and Roth out with the other young knights in the hall. 
Viscount William sat at his father's right, looking 
sullen. The banter was light and Tamsyn was at ease, 
her cup never left empty by the servants. When the 
meal was done; the earl rose, took Tamsyn by the elbow 
and led her up a winding stair to his large bedroom. 
Roth did not even see them leave since he was dallying 
with one of the serving girls who seemed unable to 
keeps her bulbous charms within her loosely laced 
corset and open blouse.

As he shed his doublet and pulled his long-sleeved 
shirt over his head to revel some colorful scars, the 
earl said with a laugh, "I was very happy to hear you 
had not sworn chastity for you are a very comely woman 
and have roused my long dormant lust. My son was 
right. He could not have kept you, and I might well 
have betrayed him with you if I could."

"Oh I doubt that, milord," the girl said lightly as 
she tossed her outer dress on a chair and loosed her 
mob of dark hair with a toss of her head. "I have very 
sharp teeth and long nails. Were I your son's wife, no 
other man would occupy my bed without a fight."

Shed of his shoes and breeches, the earl came and 
gathered up Tamsyn, still in her shift, and took her 
to his bed, his thick cock flopping about before him. 
He was a lover of long experience and a patient man so 
that by the time their bodies were joined they were 
both more than ready for their pleasure, indeed eager 
for it.

"Yah," cried the earl as he entered the girl's tight 
confines and bludgeoned his way deeply into her 
squishy and cruelly violated depths with his stiff 
manhood.

"Oh, my lord," Tamsyn cried as she rolled her pelvis 
higher so he could plunge deeper still and wrapped her 
legs about the earl's strong body, rocking to and fro 
as they ground together.

"Um," gasped the earl as on his first withdrawal as 
she grasped him tightly with muscles no woman had 
shown him before, rippling along his stiff shaft, and 
when he rammed, he found Tamsyn undulating on his 
proud phallus, her whole body writhing with joy as her 
legs spread open and lifted high.

"Ah, ah, ah," sobbed Tamsyn as she felt her flesh 
being cleaved by his old but mighty rod. He was twice 
her size and nearly three times her age, but a very 
diligent and satisfying lover.

After that their grunts were matched and many, their 
movements of a kind and arching fiercely. They rolled 
over thrice in the big bed, and Tamsyn nearly fell off 
the side before the earl pulled her up, turned her 
over and reentered her from the back, both hands 
filled with her wonderful young breasts as they leapt 
like broaching dolphins.

"I feel it coming, my dear vassal. Are you ready?" the 
earl announced as he slapped their flesh together and 
his scrotum clasped itself to his thrusting shaft. "Do 
you want my potent juices in you or shall I withdraw?"

"Deeper, deeper, sire," cried the girl. "Give it to 
me, please, please."

He ejaculated and gasped in relief, something he had 
not done for years, at his shattering and prolonged 
climax. Immediately two of his retainers entered his 
bedroom, swords drawn, but when they saw their lord 
and master still at his game, his back bent, still 
lancing the bare girl who lay kicking before him, they 
withdrew, smiling at each other. When the earl was 
spent and collapsed on Tamsyn, she wiggled free of his 
embrace and cuddled next to his tired body, kissing 
his ear and shoulder.

He rolled to his back and took a deep breath, "I am 
emptied, spent, my dear," he said, his arm about the 
girl's warm body, "but next door lies my son William, 
who has probably been playing with himself as he 
listened to us. I suspect you would likely frighten 
him to death or send him to the priesthood tomorrow 
should you attempt to lie with him." He sighed. "Your 
brave knight, I was told, took two of the serving 
girls to bed with him, so I suspect he is busy if not 
exhausted for my girls are strong and hearty." He 
patted the girl's back and kissed her forehead.

She kissed his chest and threw a leg over his groin, 
kneeing his fat cock that lay inert and nerveless.

"But," he said, slapping her buttocks loudly, "If you 
sleep a while and let me rest, we may yet enjoy each 
other in the dawn. What say you?"

"William is a fine lad," said Tamsyn, swallowing her 
chuckle. "I think I may go pay him a visit. I am much 
in need of a man."

The earl held up the little finger of his left hand. 
"His manhood is, I fear like that."

Tamsyn sniffed and kissed one of his nipples, her knee 
now firmly kneading his cods. "But he looked very 
brave."

"Oh he is," said the earl, petting her head as she 
kissed his navel and swirled her tongue in it. 
"S'bones. But his codpiece is stuffed with knit 
stockings and old rags. Go easy there."

"Let us sleep then," said Tamsyn, mouthing his spent 
cock and biting it gently, just gnawing, her hope 
still alive. She was about to suck his limp penis into 
her mouth when she heard an odd sound. She ran her 
hand along the big man's bony chest to his neck and 
mouth and found it open. He was snoring. Never, ever, 
had Tamsyn had a man go to sleep while she was trying 
to make love to him. She took a deep breath, smiled, 
rolled over and stepped down off the high bed and used 
the nightjar. Then she crawled back into the earl's 
big bed and curled up on one corner, covered her naked 
body and slept, reasonably pleased with herself.

Roosters woke her at first light, and Tamsyn stretched 
and knew at once where she was and who lay beside her. 
She turned toward the earl and studied his long, 
barely covered frame. He showed no sign of an erection 
and she was disappointed, but then, she told herself, 
his hair was graying and his beard showed white at his 
firm chin. She nuzzled his shoulder and let her 
seeking hand slip over his belly and into his tangle 
of bristly hair.

"Um," sighed the earl, still half asleep as the girl's 
fingers reached his well-satisfied member.

After several minutes of diligent stroking and ball 
kneading, Tamsyn concluded that the earl was not going 
to rise as he had promised so she slipped from the 
bed, found her clothes, dressed and went down to the 
castle's kitchen where several woman and lads were 
hard at work. An hour later, her treasured letter from 
the earl safely in the bag at her side, Tamsyn and 
Roth were well on the road toward home, both of them 
enjoying the day and bantering with each other about 
the night's carousing.

They spent another night in the same inn and enjoyed 
each other to exhaustion and then were on the road 
early, hoping to reach the manor while the sun was 
high.

In a densely forested area where the road was poorly 
maintained, they had to ride single file. Tamsyn 
turned at a loud clacking sound just in time to see 
the crossbow bolt emerge from her knight's chest. She 
screamed as he tumbled from his horse and a heavy 
fowlers' net engulfed her and pulled her from her 
mount.

Roth struck the back of his head and lay motionless as 
a half-dozen men appeared from the woods. The man with 
the crossbow on his back climbed down from his perch. 
His long bolt had entered high on the knight's left 
shoulder and had broken the man's clavicle before 
emerging in his front. The bowman decided to leave it 
in him and climbed on the back of the wagon where 
Tamsyn lay, her forearms bound behind her, admiring 
her bare legs and fair face.

The bishop should we well pleased with this days work, 
thought he, hoping he might have his turn on their 
captive as the first of the bishop's men-at-arm 
mounted the young woman, ignored her cries and curses, 
and horsed her vigorously, grunting like a hog as he 
held her long legs up on his shoulders.

When Roth awoke, he rolled over and vomited until his 
heaves were dry, and then he sat up and tried to pull 
the arrow from his chest. He almost fainted as his 
broken collarbone was scraped by his efforts. So he 
stood, leaning on a tree and became aware that his 
sword was missing. He shook his head and wondered 
where it and his mistress had gone. He used his right 
hand to tuck his left into his jerkin and began 
walking, pausing very half-hour or so, drinking from 
the streams he crossed and bathing his wound which did 
not seem to be bleeding any more. He arrived at the 
manor when the moon was high and roused the sleepy 
sentry with a kick.

While Roth's wounds were tended after the crossbow 
bolt was cut and withdrawn from his back, the way it 
had entered him, his mistress lay huddled on the floor 
of an almost airless stone cell under the croft of the 
bishop's manse. She had been viciously raped by four 
men on the floor of the jouncing wagon that brought 
her from the forest and had received neither food nor 
water. She slept fitfully, worried about the future 
and very sore, her thighs bruised deeply.

In the morning, with her bodice torn open and her 
skirts stained with several men's spend, she stood 
before the smiling bishop in his library, her hands 
still bound behind her.

"What is this?" he demanded, waving the earl's letter 
at her.

"A message from my liege, the Earl of Westminster," 
she said, purposely omitting the honorifics he 
expected.

The bishop rolled the letter back up, handed it to his 
secretary and said, "Burn it."

Tamsyn sighed, licked her parched lips and controlled 
her emotions, both her anger and her fear.

"We are awaiting a friend of mine, a Spanish priest 
skilled in the ways of the holy inquisition. He should 
be here in a day or two. I'm sure you will not mind 
waiting and entertaining some of my men. Let's take 
her outside to the post." The bishop rose, smiling.

Tamsyn was led out the side door and across the yard 
to a thick post from which chains and manacles 
dangled. Her hands were untied and then lifted over 
her head and her wrists clamped to the chains.

"Bosely,' said the bishop, "since her capture was your 
good idea, would you like to start?"

Smiling, the man stepped before Tamsyn, pursed his 
lips, and said, "Strip her." Tamsyn could see that he 
was sexually aroused.

Her new jacket, fancy shirt and linen chemise were 
quickly cut and torn from her and her good shift lay 
in shreds on her hips. The girl leaned back against 
the rough post, her mind on her thirst as the bishop's 
lean secretary produced a long quirt of the type used 
by wagon drivers which he slapped loudly against his 
boot. He bowed to the bishop for whom a chair had been 
produced and then, standing five or six feet away, 
slashed the girl across the face with his first blow. 
Tamsyn cried out in surprise as her cheek split open.

He whipped her young breasts, both left and right, 
aiming for her prominent nipples and then, when she 
twisted away, flailed at her back and shoulders, 
forehand and back hand until he stopped, panting for 
breath and the bishop, said, "Well done, enough. 
Deacon, have you a whip for this apostate?"

"Indeed, sir, I brought it from my room, a cat of 
ancient lineage, its knots tied by my grandsire." He 
showed the bishop the many-tailed whip.

Tamsyn thought her knees were going to fail her, and 
she would then hang from her hands. Her body pulsed 
with injuries and seemed afire in places. She felt 
hands at her hips and then her skirts were pulled down 
and fell to her feet. She took a deep breath and stood 
tall, eyes closed, her back pressed to the wooden 
post.

"This whip," said the deacon, after turning the girl 
about, "was made for an ass like that." He patted 
Tamsyn's smooth butt, his penis rigid. He then slashed 
at the Tamsyn's buttocks until his arm grew weary and 
bright blood was running down her legs. Tamsyn bit her 
lip until it also bled and refused to cry out as her 
rounded buttocks were lined with cuts and welts.

"Let her hang so the flies can feast on her," said the 
bishop. "Enough for today. You men can have her if you 
wish." The bishop and his staff went back into his 
house, and the largest of the three guards pushed 
Tamsyn back against the post, dropped his codpiece and 
drove his huge cock up into her, lifting her feet from 
the bloodstained dirt, and rubbing her injured butt 
cheeks against the upright log again and again.

From a hillside above the village, Gregory and Roth 
watched as their mistress was beaten and assaulted. 
Roth's arm was in a sling and Gregory had his longbow, 
but the two of them decided not to attack a group of 
eight or ten men despite their lady's suffering. After 
all three men in the bishop's livery had used the 
girl, they watched her being taken down some stairs to 
an underground room, a cellar of some sort.

"Tonight," said Greg, looking determined, "tonight we 
will get her out."

"I need my sword," said the wounded knight. "I feel 
naked without it. And I did not see it on any of those 
foul men."

"I will bring you one to question," said Gregory, 
watching a pair of guards leave the bishop's home and 
stroll toward the nearby ale house. He set aside his 
bow, made sure his dirk was free in its scabbard and 
hurried down the hill and into the town. Knowing he 
would be spotted as a stranger at the tavern, he 
waited for the guards to reappear and then shadowed 
them back toward the manse. At a place where the shade 
was deeper and the jesting pair stopped to piss, he 
stepped behind them, grabbed one man from behind and 
cut his throat with a fierce slice and then twisted 
the other guard's arm up his back and hurried him up 
the steep hill to Roth's hiding place, threatening to 
kill him if he raised the hue and cry.

In short order they discovered how many guards the 
bishop had, where Tamsyn was being held and, much to 
Roth's delight, the fact that his big sword was now 
being displayed in the bishop's library as a trophy. 
They gave the begging man a few minutes to pray, and 
then Greg cut his throat and his dark blood poured 
down the hillside.

When darkness fell and the manse's candles and lamps 
were extinguished, two shadows moved silently down the 
hill. They entered the manse after Gregory dispatched 
the guard at the front door, and Roth soon was 
buckling on his sword on with Greg's help. Then they 
found the cell in the cellar and freed their mistress, 
who wept and hugged them both. Roth winced but did not 
cry out, and they left by the outside steps and walked 
up the hill, past the sprawled body and into the 
woods.

"Now what?" asked Gregory as Tamsyn drank from his 
canteen and chewed on the dried meat he had brought 
with them and pulled her torn clothes about her 
ravaged body.

"I think this bishop must die or the trouble will 
never end, he will call down the prelates on our 
heads, legions of them." Tamsyn looked at the men. 
Both nodded but neither looked happy.

"I will do it. I do not fear the anointed, especially 
a cur like Alfred." Tamsyn smiled and held out her 
hand. Greg gave her his dirk and belt.

Young Gregory, his face like stone, the one-armed 
knight and the determined girl made their way back 
down the hill after the moon set. They entered the 
house with ease and mounted the stairs. After looking 
into two empty rooms, in the front bedroom, under a 
sagging canopy, they found the stout bishop and his 
skinny secretary, soundly sleeping, the thinner man 
quite bare.

Tamsyn and the men smiled at each other. Greg put his 
hand on Bosely's mouth and pulled him from the bed. 
Tamsyn held the thin man and Greg kept his mouth 
covered as Roth drew his big sword and chopped off his 
head with only three awkward, one-handed blows. Greg's 
boots were drenched with blood as he eased the 
headless body to the floor.

Tamsyn turned up the bishop's bedside oil lamp which 
had guttered low and set the ghastly head on the 
pillow. "Wake, sir bishop," she said loudly.

The man blinked open his eyes, saw what looked like 
his secretary's face beside him and screamed. The head 
rolled off on the floor with a solid thunk.

"Damn," cried Tamsyn, "guard the door." 

"I am going to kill you," said Tamsyn, "and you are 
going to hell, you evil sodomite."

"No, no," said the bishop loudly, sitting up in bed 
and trying not to look at the gore on his bedclothes. 
"I can make you rich. Help!" he cried and the bedroom 
door slammed open to admit the deacon, a short sword 
in his hand. Roth cut him down with a chop at the 
small of his back and then turned him over with his 
foot and dispatched him while Gregory met the second 
priest with a smile and drove his blade all the way 
through the man, lifting him from his feet.

They heard footsteps mounting the stairs and a gruff 
voice saying, "What's amiss?" and then the biggest of 
the guards came into the bloody room and died on 
Roth's broadsword, his belly opened from side to side 
and guts rolling out in coils.

The room was filled with the smell of death as 
Tamsyn's men cleaned their weapons on the corpses' 
clothes. The girl tossed back the covers and found the 
bishop naked. She grasped his genitals, smiled, and 
then emasculated him and handed his bloody privates to 
him. The man fainted and the girl left the gory mess 
on his bloated belly, wiped her hands and said, "Let 
us leave. Someone else can sort out this mess."

Once they were back out in the dark, Roth said, "Why 
not a fire, a cleansing fire?"

Gregory produced flint and steel and together they 
started a fire in the dry grass at one corner of the 
manse. By the time they had mounted the hill above the 
town, the whole front of the wooden building was 
ablaze, and they could hear the roar and feel the 
warmth.

Continued in part 4...

Archivist's Note: This author did not provide an email 
address so it will do the reader no good contacting 
the archive staff for further parts. Check back at a 
later time to see if there have been any updates to 
this story by the author.

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 74