Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. ============ A Good Deal ============= --------------------- by Jean-Michel Maserati --------------------- Warning ====== Just to make it perfectly clear up front. This tale contains explicit sex scenes; if you find such descriptions offensive, I suggest you leave the site now. Also, if for any reason whatsoever you should not be permitted access to this material (for example, due to your age and/or the laws of the area where you either live or are currently staying) then you should quit now. I can and will take no responsibility for any consequences if you don't. My Oldest Enemy -------------- The means by which I became Baron and my reasons for wanting to do so need not concern us in this narrative. It may or may not be the case that I have revealed in the confessional that a hunting accident here was carefully staged. Or that a seemingly random act of violence there on the King's Highway was orchestrated for just a few gold coins paid to the wrong brigands. I shall merely say that my hands are cleaner and my conscience clearer than most of the ambitious players in the Court. Naturally, I've made a few friends along the way. And rather more enemies. As the good Lady Fortune would have it, the majority of the latter group have been persuaded to change their opinions. Those who are stil around, that is. The exception to this is Don Giacometti, with whom I have had an uneasy truce these past six years. He is far too powerful for me to move against him, simply because he is the moneylender who controls the personal purse-strings of many of the local sheriffs and judges. And despite having lived here for so long, he remains a citizen of Lombardy and has connections back in Italy who could make life difficult for others throughout the whole country. On the other hand, I have detailed knowledge of many of his more dubious investments in the past, supporting not only others like myself - at exorbitantly usurious rates - but also most of the local bandits in the days when those brigands would have faced the noose if the then Baron's men had caught them. (Now that I have been elevated to the barony, I naturally class myself higher than the highwaymen with whom I competed in the past.) So, I have my hold over him as well as vice versa, and we tolerate each other. Just. We fell out over a combination of arguments which all boiled up at the same time. First, the two of us were chasing the hand of the same woman; I was winning simply by losing a little cash to ingratiate myself at her father's gambling sessions (a tie to the Duke's family was a useful prize indeed, and since the untimely death of Giacometti's first wife he had been seeking to strengthen his alliances that way). Secondly, we were unable to agree responsibility for a considerable sum of silver coin that had gone missing in transport, money that was due to be lent to me but was still at the time under guard by his men. Thirdly, just a few weeks later, was an unsavory incident in which a younger member of the Giacomettis was among the slain when an armed convoy he was escorting fell prey to a bandit ambush. The Don himself was convinced - incorrectly, of course - that I had something to do with that robbery. That kind of hatred runs deep, even years later. The Laws of Droit de Seigneur ---------------------------- My lands covered several hundred square miles and a population of some fifty thousand souls, a small but significant percentage of the whole kingdom. Thanks in no small measure to Don Giacometti, without whom I would never have got so far up the ladder! Now, that makes close on thirty thousand females - male mortality being rather higher - of whom, in these enlightened times, more than two thirds live to their majority. At that point, they have a life expectancy of shall we say on average ten thousand days to keep it in nice round numbers? During which they normally get married once... by my reckoning making two or three young women per day over whom I could claim my droit de seigneur. That is the ancient right by which the lord of the manor, the ruler of the local demesne, could demand the privilege of the first night with a girl when she married. The way it worked in this case was as follows. In the period between the banns being called - the announcement of the forthcoming wedding, that is - and the actual marriage, the rule was that the bride be presented at the castle along with her betrothed, the guardian who was giving her away (normally the father) and the parish priest, formally in order to vouch for her honour but in practice to serve as translator. Naturally, I had no particular intention or desire to travel round to every backwater village in my lands, just to be able to take one of the local peasant girls. Dirty, unmannered, illiterate, mostly unable to speak any French or Latin (I spoke English pretty well, but the local dialect was almost incomprehensibly thick). Still, that wasn't the point... they weren't there for conversation. I'd pick out the ones I fancied, and the others would go back to their villages where someone lower down the chain of command could do the deed if required. Our feudal social structure set a great deal of store by the woman's chastity at her time of marriage, to which dowry payments and legal inheritances were often linked. A man would not want to discover that his bride-to-be was anything less than entirely pure, yet in earlier times this had probably rarely been the case. So a practical and pragmatic solution was thought up: the lord of the demesne was given the legal right to avail himself first of her services, so that the husband need never know if she had been virgo intacta. Odds were that the local lordling would quite likely have had her anyway before then if he'd wanted her. And the husband to be, if he had any sense. But with the growing acceptance of the Christian faith in practice among the populace, rather than them just paying lip-service to the religion of the nobility, most girls are virgins on their wedding night nowadays. Well, except for their master having gotten at them, that is: of course, in the ever politically pragmatic eyes of the church that one night doesn't count. Lucia's Arrival -------------- She was thrilled and delighted by her coming wedding. Her Jack was a strong and handsome lad, with a good job as keeper of the baron's horses. And he was absolutely soft about her. She knew that for a fact - all the young men in the town had been after her hand, and she had been wrapping them round her little finger with ease for the last couple of years. Jack didn't exactly see eye to eye with her father, she knew, but her dad loved her dearly and wanted to see her happy. So he consented, despite their differences. Jack worked hard for the Baron and had been promoted by him, was well-paid, and respected him as the man who'd picked him out of the fields and given him a chance. Her father, on the other hand, was convinced that the new lord was a traitorous weasel of a man who had risen to his position of power by disposing of others. She didn't know all the details of the history between her father and his old protagonist; it wasn't a woman's place. But she knew that whatever it was, it ran very deep. In particular she was aware of the new baron allegedly being responsible for plotting the ambush on the caravan in which her father's youngest brother - her uncle - had died defending the old baron's eldest son. Giacometti had accused their new ruler in the sheriff's court, argued with him face to face, and should probably have ended up in court himself for attempting to raise a mob to kick the man out of office. No love lost there. At first, she had not even realized that droit de seigneur might apply to her. She had always considered it just a perk of the job for the squires and baronets, treating the low-ranked women as objects to be used rather than as people. She and Jack had thought nothing about announcing the wedding in the town church. The priest had no inkling of the old vendetta, or he might have advised them to marry elsewhere. As it transpired, the Baron had insisted that she be presented like anyone else; normally, someone who was known at his court would merely send a letter asking to be excused, or would be informed that the master would not press for what was his due - the presentation would then just be an informal chat between the menfolk. However, the law of the land was in the Baron's favor and to her father's annoyance they had been forced to make the trip. He remained stubbornly certain that even his old enemy wouldn't stoop this low, but Lucia and Jack were both uncomfortably suspecting the opposite. Which made it a very strange scene when the four of them made their way to the castle as dusk fell. The priest was in front, droning on conscientiously about their duties and the blessings of their future life together - all the usual stuff. Her father was hanging back reluctantly, seething inwardly but unable to alter events: as the father of the bride, he had to deliver her to their seigneur and vouch that she was virgo intacta, which fact would be formally affirmed by the lord on handing her back the next morning. Jack phlegmatically accepted it as being just the way of things: it was only the once, and they'd have thousands more nights to themselves later. And he was a religious young man who believed the doctrines absolutely: it was the God-given right of their masters over their bodies on earth, but God himself above would know that her mind would still be innocent the next day. And Lucia herself? She was petrified, but knew there was no choice. Since the moment her father had consented to the wedding she had been feeling really grown up, a strong-willed and confident young woman. But as they crossed the drawbridge to enter the castle, her self-belief shriveled and evaporated. She was suddenly just a helpless and very frightened young girl again. Presentation at court -------------------- All other business at the end of the afternoon had been solved rapidly. A couple of petitions for land, legal arguments and the like. I wasn't very interested, not even in the other two girls who had been marched forward by their fathers. I dismissed them quickly to the obvious relief of all concerned and waited for Giacometti's party to approach the table. I listened to the usual boring pre-prepared monologue from the priest, droning on in a ringing voice about how he had known this child since she was a baby and could vouch for her good upbringing and Christian morality and sweet nature and so forth and how it was going to be his great pleasure to marry her to such a fine young fellow... I thanked the cleric and gestured that he should move away from the table, beckoning Jack forward to take his place. "You've not had her yet, then, lad?" Much embarassment at this lack of decorum, at any rate from those who didn't know me. The tall servant stood with his blond head bowed, face flushing furiously. I grinned. "I can see from your blushes that you haven't, boy. Are you satisfied no other man has?" Despite her darker-skinned complexion, she was nearly as red as he was by now. He mumbled shamefacedly that he considered it impossible in such an honourable maid. Then Don Giacometti came forward, uninvited. He was clearly getting most annoyed at my mental games. He began a tirade of such venom that I soon saw my guardsmen closing in on the table ready to intervene if necessary. I remained unmoved, sipping from a goblet of wine, until his rage subsided. "Name your price," he whispered wearily. I replied in the same sotto voce tone. "Giacometti, this is not about money. This is about you having to think of her lying in my bed tonight. About you never being able to look at your daughter again without recalling that I violated her. Never being able look at me without thinking of your precious girl whimpering underneath me. About you having to wonder for the rest of your days whether the eldest grandchild you dote on might not have been sired by me." I bent so close to the swarthy Lombard that our eyes were just inches apart. "This will hurt you far more than any ransom of gold. Tonight, I am going to rape your daughter." I sat back on my chair and waited for him to explode, motioning to the guards so that they would be ready to grab him when he cracked. After a brief scuffle, he was subdued and pushed to the back of the hall. I turned to the others in the room, who were looking confused. An explanation was needed, so I gave them one which reduced Giacometti to an even more apoplectic rage. "I have heard said that the Lombards, despite their civilized manners on the surface, are a depraved and salacious race. Their standards are not the same as ours, and they think nothing of using their own womenfolk in ways which God abhors." I drained my goblet and banged it down on the bench. "We can therefore not be certain that this girl is untouched, and so her maidenhead shall be proved this night. Droit de seigneur." Lucia's Presence is Required --------------------------- Deep down, she had been sure the Baron would avail himself of her. To spite her father, if nothing else. Jack had said that he was sure to want her because she was so pretty - according to him, any red-blooded male in the country would relish the chance. Lucia didn't try to pretend to herself that she was any great beauty: she was very petite, not like the strong buxom farm lasses out here. But she was also well aware that her youthfulness and her sultry mediterranean features and complexion, exotic and unusual in these parts, were highly attractive to many men. The Baron had the right to have her if he so chose, and for whatever reason he had so chosen, and that was all there was to it. She just had to hope that her anxious suspicions were unfounded that she was going to pay with physical pain for the Baron being able to take out his hatred of her father on her defenceless body: Papa was adamant that the man was a pig, a barbarous beast. The early evening had gone well. To her surprise, she had been expected to take dinner with the Baron and his retinue. She was sat on his left, uncertain of her status and how she was supposed to address the woman on his right: his now heavily pregnant wife, the daughter of the Duke. Fortunately the woman ignored her superciliously most of the time; during the whole meal the baroness only spoke to her once, when her man had left the dining room for a call of nature. "Lucia, isn't it? You're a pretty little thing. How old?" "Fifteen, my lady," "she said politely, "this spring past." "You'll be fine, girl. Johan's not a bad man." She sighed wistfully and then smiled. "In fact, he's rather good... But he will always be mine." "Thank you, my lady," she repied, uncertain as to exactly what the older woman meant. "Don't resist, or it might spoil my sleep. If I need to, I'll call my guards in to hold you down. I've heard say that they sometimes get to have the girl as well, if he's really annoyed." Her big blue eyes gave the message more eloquently than the words. Lucia understood the threat well enough. The woman accepted that her husband took other women to his bed, but would not accept any competition from mistresses. Lucia need not think of usurping her place. She was just a temporary visitor, meaning nothing to the baron or his baroness. Lucia nodded. "My lady, I am not your enemy. Tonight I am your husband's and I shall do as he commands. Tomorrow I wed the man I love." "Good girl. Do as he wants. Spread your legs wide and enjoy yourself. And be gone in the morning." The baroness had been silent thereafter and shortly after the baron came back to the table, she took him by the hand and rose awkwardly from the table. "It's a nice sunny summer's evening, my Lord," she said. "A walk round the grounds would do me good, if you would be so kind." The Baron picked up a wineskin and goblet and walked off with her. A chambermaid came along and hustled Lucia off upstairs to one of the upper bedrooms. "I usually has to give 'em a bath," the servant explained. "But seein' as you're a lady, like, I s'pose you don't need no scrubbin', miss." Lucia was left alone in the room with a linen nightshirt to put on. She shut the attic room door to protect her privacy. Absurd given what was about to take place, she thought. Reluctantly, she undressed and put on the plain white nightdress. A minute or two looking out at the setting sun, trying to compose herself and hold back the tears. But there was no choice. She steeled herself to face the inevitable and climbed back down the stairs before walking down the corridor to where the Baron's master bedroom had been pointed out to her, on the sunlit southwest corner. Coincidentally directly two floors above the stables where Jack would be grooming the horses... a mere twenty feet away. Might as well have been twenty miles. There was no need to ask which room it was. Two guards stood outside, two more in the duke's livery were outside another bedroom and two more on patrol. A gauntlet to be run of six pairs of eyes eagerly sizing up their master's latest tit-bit. Feeling small and insignificant, Lucia was acutely conscious of wearing nothing but the linen nightshirt. Cold flagstones under her feet, unaccustomed cool air swirling around her legs and between her thighs, breasts unrestrained and with the nipples on the verge of crinkling up and protruding for all to see under the single garment. She swallowed hard and then stepped with her head held high up to the large oaken door. Hesitantly, she knocked on it and entered. Exercising my Privilege ---------------------- The setting sun filled the bedchamber with a fiery orange light, matched by the blazing logs in the hearth. It was not yet at all late, no more than eight of the clock perhaps, but it was my habit to retire to my rooms relatively early when I had a pretty girl to entertain me and warm my bed. I had changed into a nightshirt, ordered another flagon of wine and was busy stoking up the fire when, after a barely audible knock, the heavy arch-shaped door opened and the girl came in. I was pleasantly surprised to see her turn up spontaneously: most of the girls don't come of their own accord, and I have to send a valet - or sometimes even the guards - to fetch them. Well, there are execeptions: those who are to be given away in arranged marriages to men they dislike are willing enough; I think they prefer their first experience to be with a stranger rather than a man they hate. And the young women who are manifestly not being bedded for the first time will sometimes be grateful for the chance to disguise the fact. But those who are still maiden and have been permitted by their guardians to choose their husband to be are often most reluctant. But I had learned by listening to her conversation during dinner that this youngster was intelligent and well-spoken, and she had cearly accepted the inevitable. But I digress. "Come on in, girl, let's have a look at you." She walked primly on her bare feet to the sheepskin floor-covering in the middle of the room. I remained squatting on my haunches, poking at the fire to get it going well, so despite the girl's diminutive stature I was looking up at her. She was trying to stay composed, but her fidgeting fingers gave her nervousness away. She stood there unmoving as I got up, poured the wine, walked round her and eyed her up and down. I hadn't actually really looked at her much up to now. I mean, it had been obvious that she was a cute little thing, a delicate frame and a petite figure and a presentable face, but the decision to fuck her had been based on who she was rather than how she looked. She flinched as I brushed her dark curly hair away from her face and tilted her pointy little chin up with my fingers. A fine-boned face, with full red lips, cearly delineated black eyebrows, long black lashes and the most enormous child-like dark brown eyes I had ever seen. "You're pretty enough, girl. I can see why Jack had such competition to gain your affection." "Thank you, my lord," she stammered uncertainly. "It pleases me that you like what you see." "Not as much as I shall like seeing the rest, I assure you," I grinned. I gave her a goblet of wine and led her outside to where the stone balcony was still warm from the afternoon sunlight, where we stood for a minute silently sipping the heady drink and watching the setting sun. I was in no hurry, experience having taught me that even a short while acting polite and considerate soon makes the young bride more companionable. When a girl is expecting to be savagely assaulted the moment she enters the bedroom, a little civilized social intercourse makes many of them accept - albeit reluctantly - rather than resist the ensuing sexual advances. I let her collect her toughts for a moment, then took her hand and raised it chivalrously to my lips. "We have not been formally introduced, my dear," I said. "I don't even know your name for certain. Jack referred to you as Lucy, but your father did not. Johan, baron of the shire, at your service." "Lucrezia, my lord," she said, genuinely smiling. A flash of even white teeth between the full lips. "But he's the only one who calls me that. More usually Lucia." She took her hand away. "Or just Lucy to the English speakers," she added in that language. "Very well, Lucia." I drained my goblet and threw it back inside the room, gesturing that she should drink up too. "Now I am going to kiss you properly." I put my arms round her and pulled her close. Her body was stiff and taut; she didn't resist at all but there was no warmth to it. "I could just strip you and fuck you," I told her, "but it will hurt you less and be more pleasant for me if you participate and let yourself be stimulated." She nodded meekly, eyes downcast. "Now, unlace the nightdress." She had done the cross-laced garment up primly and properly, all the way up from the breastbone to the neck. Unwillingly but with no option but to obey, she did as instructed. I looked down at her, able to see little more than the top of her head, a mass of black-haired waves and curls, while her delicate fingers fiddled and fumbled with the intricate lacing. When it was done, she turned to face outward from the balcony, chin up and staring at the sun. I took my own garment off over my head and stood close behind her, naked. First I eased her nightdress off a narrow shoulder, bending to kiss the smooth flesh at her neck. No response. I let one hand snake round to the front, easing expertly inside the cool linen to cup a small rounded girl's breast with a pert little nipple coming erect in the evening breeze. She sniffed back a sob, but stayed statuesquely still. Then I saw what she was looking at: down below on the path was Jack, walking disconsolately off - presumably to the tavern, where his mates would undoubtedly have organized some revelry to celebrate tomorrow's events. "Call him if you want, girl," I said as I removed my hand from her tit. "But I don't think he wants to see you like this..." I pulled the loose nightie off her other shoulder and bent her forward over the edge wall. Her breasts would be plainly visible if her turned. Then I lifted the garment up from behind, exposing slender legs, narrow hips and waist, and a delicately rounded backside. I stood close behind her, my burgeoning erection eager to explore the cleft of her buttocks, my hands reaching round to grope those firm young breasts again. With my feet, I pushed her ankles further apart. "I can call him for you, girl, and he can watch your face while I deflower you. Take you from behind." I squeezed and grappled those delectable breasts until she was biting her lip to avoid crying out. "You are right, my lord," she said finally. "This night has nothing to do with him." She turned to face me, and this time when we kissed she let her body rather than her mind control her actions. The response was eager and natural, the huge liquid brown eyes sparkling with surprise afterward at the fact that she had been able to enjoy the act. I went inside to pour another drink, watching as the young girl stood still for a moment and blew her departing fiancé an exaggerated kiss. Then she let her hands fall to her sides and turned to face me with another of her flashing smiles. A sensuous shrug of the delicate shoulders was the only movement needed: the white nightie slid down her lithe little body and crumpled to the balcony floor. Naked, she stepped back inside the warm room and closed the heavy curtain behind her. Her pristine body was outlined against the deep blue velvet of the drape, shadows behind her jumping around as she was lit up by the flickering flames of the fire in the hearth. She looked uncomfortably at me, standing near the bed and making no effort to hide the erecting jutting proudly free. She swallowed. "So, my lord, do you still like what you can see?" Clear smooth skin, pale coloured but nonetheless not the near white tone of the local girls and unblemished save for the visibly reddening fingermarks where I had explored her pert little breasts and the fan-shaped growth of black curls at her crotch. Despite her not being so tall, this was clearly no child - a fully ripe young woman. "Yes indeed, Lucy. A very tasty cherry waiting to be plucked." Some of the girls who came to be presented were barely more than little girls, children who hardly yet understood what was to happen to them - which as far as I was concerned rather spoiled the rush of adrenalin I could get from the dominant situation. I rarely claimed my rights on them. But this youngster was lovely. Grinning broadly, I placed the sheepskins in front of the hearth and took the wine over as well. I knelt down and then beckoned her to come to me. She stood in front of me while I nuzzled my face into her warm skin, let my fingers and palms roam all over the delicate body, gasping and moaning now as my lips and tongue and fingertips explored happily. Eager for more, she knlet down as well, so that i could kiss her and let my mouth make intimate acquaintance with her breasts and nipples. She spent the next minute or two kissing with an evidently ever-increasing desire and now I was more than ready too. I suddenly yanked the sheepskin she was sitting on out from underneath her, rolling her off onto her back where she came to rest, propped up on one elbow and with her legs a little apart. She blushed, and put her knees together sharply. I shook my head and laughed. "No, girl, that is what it's all about. Time to prove to me you're a virgin." She bit her upper lip and swallowed visibly. "Show me your cunt." "Very good, my lord." She turned to as if to get up to go to the bed, but when her feet came in range I grabbed her by the ankles. I pulled her lightweight frame bodily towards me on her front, the animal skin sliding across the flagstones. She squealed in alarm. I stood up, lifting her slim legs up and twisting her onto her back as I did so. I then turned her round so that her head was at my feet, her hair a pool of black silk on the dirty white of the rugs, so that when I then knelt down and forced her ankles to the floor, she was folded up with her weight on her shoulders. The pale slender legs were prised helplessly wide apart and she was defenceless to prevent me examining her intimately at my leisure. Having teased her lips apart to look in and satisfy myself that she did indeed still have her maidenhead. It only took a few heartbeats of licking and probing at that splendid young cunt to get her wriggling and squirming in climactic delight beneath me, as my tongue found the sensitive clitoris and my fingertips had the pleasure of parting the previously untouched labia and entering her body. When I let her go, she needed no second invitation. She lay back, spreadeagling her slim thighs lewdly wide in a genital display that did more justice to the whores in the tavern than a young lady of breeding. "I'm ready for you, sir. Make a woman of me." I knelt between the little Latin beauty's splayed legs and placed my rampant prick at the entrance to her vagina. I'm quite a strong man, and she was pretty small: rather than pushing in to penetrate her, I lifted her up with my hands under her hips and hauled her on to me. She cried out as her virginity was taken uncompromisingly, but it was as much in pleasure as in pain. Mere seconds later, the rhythm of that lithe body's motions beneath me was matching my own as we pushed and heaved towards the climax together. Some minutes later, the fire was going down. I reached over to the wood basket and threw on a couple more sticks. Then I bent and picked the youngster up bodily from the floor. She draped her arms out contentedly over my shoulders, and having recently given me her last kiss as a girl, she now bestowed upon me her first as a full woman. "Come on Lucy, time for bed. There's plenty more to teach you before sunrise." The Wedding Day -------------- Such was my power. Jack woke up at dawn the next morning and began his work in the stables, knowing full well as he saddled my horse for my morning ride that the moans and whimpers from the window above were from his bride to be. The master was taking an early morning ride of a different sort. "An honourable maid," I told the priest after breakfast when he came to receive my blessing to go ahead with the ceremony. "No complaints, she's a virgin in the eyes of the law and can be wed." I phrased it differently to Giacometti. "A nice girl. No complaints, she was a virgin." His dark eyes blazed with fury, tempered by wanting to know what had happened to his little girl. "I took her four times," I said bluntly, then adding a small lie. "Then I turned her over to the guards for a bit of extra fun. You can fetch her from the barracks shortly." His mouth dropped open; the look on his face was one I shall never forget. I adjusted my codpiece unnecessarily and scratched myself contentedly. "Don't forget to tell me if either of your other girls get engaged." He was about to storm off when Lucia came own the stairs into the hall. She walked directly up to me and curtseyed politely, before breaking all the rules: with a flashing smile she stood on tiptoe and reached her pretty face up and kissed me full on the mouth. She turned to Giacometti. "Don't worry, Papa. The Baron is very accomplished and experienced. He's been teaching me a great deal. Rather fun, actually." Her eyes sparkled. "I can't wait to be married to Jack..." She wouldn't have to wait long. In the distance, I could already hear the town crier and the church bell. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- All original work, copyright (c) J.M.Maserati, 2002. May be freely disseminated for non-commercial purposes as long as the author is clearly identified and copyright stated. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----