From: Lysander@vnet.net (Lysander)

   Reply-To: Lysander@vnet.net

   Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

   Subject: REPOST: Droit du Signeur part 2 (mf, historical, coerce)

   Date: Wed, 15 Nov 1995 12:13:15 GMT

   Organization: Hardly Any

   Message-ID: <48cp5t$iuk@mindy.vnet.net>

   **********

   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 kissed 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 help 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.