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Subject: {Lysander}JDR"Droit du Signeur 2"( Mf MF 1st hist )[2/7]
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                             ================
Copyright 1993 by Lysander

This file may be distributed freely by electronic means only, provided
the text is unaltered and this notice is included.  Each user may make
one hard copy for personal use.  Any other method or purpose of
duplication requires the permission of the author

                             ================
                             DROIT DU SIGNEUR
                                by Lysander

Part Two

     Kirsten awoke to Tomas's soft kisses on her lips.  But how had
his scraggly beard grown so thick?  Her eyes popped open in surprise
and remembrance.  Count Heinrich and her wedding night.  Tomas facing
Heinrich's sword.  Tomas in the dungeons!
     "Good morning, lovely Kirsten," Heinrich grinned.  "Are you ready
for breakfast?"  He held forth a tray overladen with food while she
sat up in bed.  There were eggs and ham, a bowl of porridge smothered
in honey, chilled milk and watered wine, and half a loaf of bread and
soft cheese and creamy butter.  Some winters, she had less to eat in a
whole day.  Such a large meal before any work had been done -- it was
positively, delightfully sinful.
     She began to pick at the meal, but the previous night had tired
her more than she thought.  Soon she was eating as though it were the
first meal after Lent.  Heinrich nibbled on some of the bread and
cheese, and watched her eat.  She realized how she must look, stuffing
herself as though she hadn't eaten in days.  She grinned in
embarassment, her cheeks stuffed with bread and ham.  "Please, eat,
Kirsten," Heinrich told her.  "After all, it's well past noon."
      "Mmph.  Noon?"
      "Well, you did have a long and eventful night."
      She chose not to comment on the previous night.  She went back
to eating.  She had no idea why she should be so hungry, but she could
not deny her appetite.  Heinrich sat on his bed (she briefly wondered
where he and the Countess Esmerelda had spent the night) and watched
her in silence.  "After you've finished eating, I'll send someone up
to help you bathe and dress.  You look of a size with Esmerelda; you
can wear some of her older clothing."
      "Please my lord, this is all so much, too much."
     "Nonsense, Kirsten.  You are a guest in my home.  I'll wager
besides your wedding gown, you only have one other garment not covered
in patches or stains.  Esmerelda refuses to wear something once it has
gone out of fashion.  In fact, next year or the year after, we have to
go to Florence to see what everyone is wearing these days."  He let
out such a put-upon sigh that Kirsten couldn't help giggling, at which
Heinrich broke into a wide grin.  "Much better.  I'll see you in a
couple of hours."  He went to kiss her again, but she turned her head.
He settled for a peck on her cheek and left.
     A few minutes later, a head with raven hair, black eyes and full
lips poked through the door.  Seeing that she was awake, the head was
followed into the room by a thin, graceful body in a plain black
dress.  "Senorita?  I Beatriz.  Bath time, yes?"  Her accent was very
thick, but pleasant, almost as musical as her native language.  When
Heinrich had taken over the castle from his father, he had brought
almost the entire household with him.  No one in the village knew for
certain where they were from, but Heinrich had been on the Crusade
when old Heinrich had died.  Kirsten supposed they were converted
Saracens.
     "I'm coming."  She climbed out from beneath the heavy covers and
glanced down at her gown, to see how wrinkled it had gotten.  But she
wasn't wearing it.  Her wedding gown had been taken off at some point,
but she had not noticed until now.  She was not even wearing her own
shift of wool, but one of fine linen.  She ran her hands down her
body, feeling the soft material.  "Beatriz, how did I get into this?"
     "Wedding dress not for sleep.  I get that for you.  You like?
Senor say it yours if you want."
     Kirsten started to protest that it was too fine for her, but then
realized the futility of it all.  "Thank you, Beatriz."
     "De nada.  Welcome."  She made a brisk beckoning motion with a
thin strong hand.  "Follow, please."
     Their destination was a small room downstairs just off the
kitchen.  "Clothes off, please.  In tub."  The tub was much bigger
than the one she and her family used.  Both her brothers would fit
comfortably in it, and they were unusually large.  It was made of
bronze and had inlays of silver and gold.  The decorations reminded
her of the rug in Heinrich's bedroom.  Complex designs, weaving in and
out of each other in wonderfully strange and beautiful patterns.  It
was impossible to follow a thread of the design without getting lost
in the pattern.  It was meant to be appreciated as a whole.
     She was more than a little embarrassed because this woman was a
virtual stranger, but she refused to let it show as she let the shift
fall to the floor.  She saw that a block of stone was meant to be
stood upon.  Inside the tub was a molded step, obviously with the same
function.  The water was pleasantly warm, and reached to her waist
when she sat down.  Beatriz tapped on another door opposite the
entrance and immediately two large women walked in with large buckets
of steaming water.  Slowly they filled the tub to her breasts.  The
water was much hotter than what had already been in the tub, but she
quickly grew acclimated.  As she sank further into the water, Beatriz
poured some scented oils into the tub, followed by a powder that made
wonderful bubbles when stirred.  Kirsten felt like a princess.
     She scrubbed herself clean with scented soap and a soft cloth,
then allowed Beatriz to clean her back.  She soaped her hair
thoroughly, and Beatriz told her to stand.  She took a bucket of warm
water and poured it over Kirsten, rinsing off the soap.  Then she
rolled up her sleeve to the shoulder, reached into the water and
pulled a cork plug out of the bottom of the tub.  The water ran out of
the tub into a shallow trench in the floor, to be carried out a small
hole in the wall, which had been closed by another plug.  Beatriz
patted her dry with a towel of some kind of cloth as soft as a cloud.
When Kirsten asked what kind of cloth it was, Beatriz told her it was
"cotton, from Egypt."  Egypt of all places.  What a wonderful place
Egypt must be, even if it was crawling with heathens, that they had
such cloth!
     Beatriz sat her on a stool to dry her hair and disappeared into
the other room, only to return an instant later with another towel
and... a knife!
     Kirsten threw her towel at Beatriz and dashed for the door, but
Beatriz had blocked her, holding out her hands, saying, "No, please.
No, please."  She didn't move toward Kirsten, so she forced herself to
calm down.  Beatriz had draped the towel over the rim of the tub and
was displaying the knife in a decidedly non-threatening manner.  "See?
No knife, is razor.  To shave, yes?  Watch."  She gently took
Kirsten's arm and scraped at the fine hairs, then held the limb up for
inspection.  Kirsten caressed the bare spot and found it to be smooth,
smoother even than her father's chin after he shaved ("Better to get a
burn on the chin than have a beard go up in flames," he would say when
asked why he went to the trouble of keeping his face bare.)  And
Gustav made the finest knives for miles around.
     "No, it's no knife.  So why do you need it?"
     "Senor say.  He say you to shave like Senora Esmerelda."
     Puzzled, but not wanting to upset Count Heinrich while Tomas was
in his power, Kirsten nodded.  Beatriz exhaled in relief and picked up
the towel.  "Arm up, please."  Kirsten raised her arms and Beatriz
placed the hot towel against the fine layer of hair under her left
arm.  "Hold there, please."  Kirsten held the towel, while Beatriz
left.  No sooner had the door shut than she had returned with an
earthenware mug.  She was vigorously stirring something inside it.
She knelt beside Kirsten and applied some kind of lather to the hair
under her arm with a stiff brush, then, with feather strokes of the
razor, she removed every hair.  When one side was bare, they began the
process on the other side.  Beatriz ran the razor over her own arm
again and gave a satisfied grunt.  "Good steel," she said to Kirsten,
as though explaining something.  "From Toledo."  When her underarms
were completely bare, Beatriz began on her legs.  The razor was indeed
good; she was only nicked once, on the rough part of her knee, but the
wound was tiny, and the blood soon stopped.
     When she was smooth all over, Beatriz placed the still warm towel
against her privates.  Shocked, Kirsten pushed Beatriz away.  "What
are you DOING?!?" she screamed.
     "Like Senora Esmerelda!  Como la senora!" Beatriz pleaded from
the floor, where she had fallen in surprise.
     Heinrich burst into the room, a knife -- a real one -- in his
hand.  Kirsten screamed even louder.  "What is happening in here?" he
demanded, sheathing the knife and brushing his beard.  Kirsten noticed
he had cheese crumbs in his beard and remembered that the kitchens
were next door.  The embarrassment she felt for that second scream
served to calm her enough to try to explain.
     Kirsten tried to cover herself with the towel as she pointed a
stiff arm at Beatriz.  "She tried to...  She said that..."  At the
same time, Beatriz kept saying,  "Like la senora!  You say like la
senora!" and pointing at Kirsten's midriff.
     "I see, I see," Heinrich said, holding up both hands for silence.
When both women were quiet, the count turned to Kirsten.  "Do you
remember our agreement, Kirsten?  In exchange for your husband's life
and freedom, you will do whatever I ask."
     "Yes, but..."
     "It is a custom among some Moors," Heinrich continued over
Kirsten's protests.  "It is I style I grew fond of during my courtship
of Esmerelda.  The hair will grow back, if you desire.  Is it really
so much to ask?"
     "No, my lord, I suppose it is not."
     "Good.  Please continue, Beatriz."
     Kirsten was going to complain about Heinrich remaining in the
room, but thought better of it.  She would only have to give in in the
end.  She would rather say nothing than lose an argument.
     Beatriz went and got another hot towel, which she used to massage
Kirsten's sex.  She had to admit the heat felt good.  She squirmed on
the stool, as her pussy moistened, from the excitement and from the
towel.  She glanced over at Heinrich, relaxing in a chair, watching
her through hooded eyes, and the tingling sensations increased.  He
was handsome, certainly, but she wondered if she would feel so excited
if he were not there.
     Slowly, ever so slowly, Beatriz brushed the lather into Kirsten's
pubic hair, completely covering the area.  Once, the stiff hairs of
the brush gently rubbed her clitoris and Kirsten practically leapt off
the stool.  She had to restrain herself from reaching down and rubbing
it herself.  She refused to openly acknowledge any pleasure while in
the presence of the man who held her husband hostage.
     With soft, short strokes of the razor, Beatriz slowly removed the
fine hairs that made up her thin bush.  She spread Kirsten's legs and
carefully shaved the area surrounding her labia.  Kirsten was
momentarily embarrassed by the moisture her slit had produced, but
rationalized that Beatriz probably had not noticed because of the damp
towel.
     She was wrong.  Beatriz grinned slyly up at her.  Under the
pretense of stretching the flesh to make a tight surface, Beatriz
began to lightly rub Kirsten's clitoris.  Kirsten bit her upper lip,
trying to ignore the feelings the kneeling woman was producing inside
her.  She simply could not contain them.  Between the cooling of the
lather on her thighs, the intent gaze of Count Heinrich, tingling
scrape of steel, and -- above all -- the dancing fingers of Beatriz,
Kirsten had to give in to her body or explode.  The flutter in the pit
of her stomach expanded until her belly visibly trembled.  Her breath
came in gasps until she could inhale no more.  She let out her breath
in a long, shuddering exhalation and slumped against the cool stone at
her back.
     She opened her eyes when she felt hands between her thighs again.
She grasped the hand, it belonged to Beatriz, and said, "Please, no
more.  I'm too sensitive down there."
     Beatriz smiled and said, "Finished anyway."  Then she did the
strangest thing.  She took Kirsten's hand and lightly kissed the
inside of her wrist.  She stood and, with a shallow curtsy to
Heinrich, left.
     "Lovely, simply lovely," Heinrich mused, staring at Kirsten's
now-hairless pussy.  Abashedly, she closed her legs and blushed, and
tried to cover her breasts with her crossed arms.  The count stood and
handed her shift to her. "Come, Kirsten.  It's time for your lessons
to finally begin."
      Kirsten allowed herself to be led back to Heinrich's chambers.
He told the guard at the foot of the stairs that the only person who
would be allowed to interrupt him for the next few hours (Hours!)
would be Beatriz or the Countess, and only for matters of the utmost
importance.  The guard leered at Kirsten, but was careful to do so
only after the count's back was turned.  She cast her eyes downward
and followed Heinrich up the stairs.
      The bed had been made and refreshments had been placed on a
table by the bed.  Heinrich motioned her to the bed and took off his
belt and knife, putting them on the floor near his sword, which was
propped against one side of the bed.  He poured two goblets of watered
wine and offered her one, which she accepted.
      They sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a few moments,
sipping their wine.  It was sweet, but not too much so.  Given what
was going to happen in a few moments, Kirsten wished that it were
stronger wine, or even mead.  She tried to relax.  Her mother had told
her it would only hurt more if she was tense.  But she could not.  Her
first man was going to be this brutal man who slept with a sword by
his bed and went armed even in his own home.  She wished she had let
Tomas pressure her into sleeping with him before the wedding.  She had
just never truly believed that this would be happening.  She kept
thinking that the count would not really deflower her, or that maybe
she could talk him out of it.
      But Tomas was in the dungeon, and his life was dependent upon
this man's mood.  And his mood was dependent upon her.
      "My lord?  Are we going to... make love, now?"
      "Eager now, aren't we?"  She tried to appear so, but he saw
through the pretense.  "I am not a boy any longer, Kirsten, eager to
get inside a woman as soon as I have her in my arms.  I know you feel
no passion for me.  You want to get this over with, but you want to
put it off, yes?"
      "No, my lord.  I mean, yes.  That is..." she tapered off.
      "It is the moment before something momentous happens," he
continued, "that our emotions are strongest, don't you believe?"  He
drained the goblet and put it down.  "I enjoy letting myself
anticipate."
      He took her goblet from her and set it aside, then pulled her
shift down, baring her shoulders.  "But now the anticipation is
finished.  Desires brought to their peak must be satisfied."
      He held her face in his hands and kissed her lips, gently at
first, then insistently, breaching her lips with his tongue.  She
responded because she knew the better the experience was for Heinrich,
the better for Tomas.  Think of Tomas alone in that dark cell, she
told herself as the count's hands wandered down to her breasts.  He
massaged them through the fabric of her shift, rubbing the nipples
with his thumbs.
      Think of Tomas, she told herself again.  Ignore the hardening
nipples.  Stop breathing so heavily.  Stop that; get your tongue out
of his mouth.
      Her pussy began to tingle and itch, and she squirmed on the bed,
trying to relieve it, but her motions only served to increase her own
passion, and Heinrich's.  Perhaps that was what she wanted.  She would
never know for sure.  All she knew was that her body was no longer in
her control.  It had needs that would be fulfilled despite her own
will.
      Now his hands were pulling her shift down further.  And to her
amazement, she was helping him.  She told herself that she was helping
only for Tomas' sake, but she knew, deep in her soul, that she wanted
to feel his sword-calloused hands on her naked breasts.  She wanted
his mouth on them, devouring them, devouring her.
      When the garment was down to her waist, Heinrich cupped her
breasts in his hands.  "You are beautiful, Kirsten, do you know that?
Beautiful.  The most beautiful woman in the whole Empire."  He kissed
her breasts.  "If you had been with me in Cordoba, the poets would
have composed an epic around your beauty.  More beautiful than Helen,
they would say."  She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she
liked it.  And she liked what he was doing -- very much.
      He gently pushed her back onto the bed.  He kissed and sucked on
her breasts.  He nibbled on her nipples, alternating between them.  He
went back to her face and kissed all over it.  He sucked on the hollow
of her throat and where her neck and chest met.  He was everywhere at
once, it seemed to her.  Teasing awake the areas of pleasure of her
body, then moving on to another before it was satisfied.  He went back
to her breasts, wet with his saliva.  He nipped the skin all over with
his teeth, raising goosebumps and making her nipples impossibly hard.
He kissewd and licked his way down her stomach.  He gently licked her
belly button and moved down further.  He took her shift and began
pulling it down her hips.  "Had you been held in Granada, the knights
of all Christendom would have taken Spain to rescue you."  Slowly he
pulled the shift off her hips and down her thighs.  Now she was
completely naked before his gaze, even more than when Beatriz had
shaved her, for he could see her naked emotions play across her face.
      He kissed his way down her thighs, her calves.  He tickled the
backs of her knees and massaged her feet.  He nibbled on her toes, and
kissed his way back up her legs.  He was almost worshipping her body,
she thought.  He kissed his way back up her thighs, on the outside and
inside.  She knew what he was doing, and she wanted it.  God herlp
her, she wanted it; she wanted him.  She opened her legs to him,
inviting him to kiss her bare virgin sex.  She played with her breasts
with one hand and tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him up
with the other.  There was nothing between him and his goal -- no
clothing, no hair, no resistance.
      His lips finally touched her and she pulled his face tighter
against her in her convulsion.  His pleasantly bristly beard against
her shaved flesh increased the pleasure radiating from her pussy, as
his mobile lips and tongue sought out her most sensitive points.
      "My lord, this is, this is wonderful."  He only grunted his
response, not wanting to miss a single drop of her by speaking.  "Kiss
me, lick me."  She ground her crotch against his face.  He nibbled on
her lips.  He sucked and fingered her clitoris.  He thrust his tongue
inside her to get all her sweet juice.  Always he went back to his
clitoris with mouth and fingers, keeping her on the edge of climax,
but always holding her back.  She pulled on his head with both hands,
trying to get him to bring her over.  He fought her, taking his time.
She reached down to masturbate herself, but he caught her hands.
Holding her wrists with his one strong hand, he wrapped his lips
around her engorged clitoris.  He sucked until the bud protruded as
far as it could, then took it softly between his teeth.  When he had a
firm hold on it, he flicked it with the tip of his tongue, rapidly.
      "Yes, mmh, ahh, yesss.  OH, AH, AH, OOO, AAAAAHHhhhhhhh."  A
single long shudder and her body went limp, her climax seemingly
draining all the energy from her.
      Heinrich licked up the remaining juice, where it had poured from
her as her climax had approached, where his soaked beard had spread it
along her thighs.  He crawled up her body, supporting himself on his
hands and knees.  Her eyes were closed and a satisfied smile curled
her lips.  He kissed them and she responded by opening her mouth to
him.  Her eyes opened wide in surprise when she tasted herself on his
lips and in his beard.
      Heinrich's hands roamed over her body again, keeping her
aroused.  In response, her hands darted along his body to his groin.
Her hands fumbled at his crotch, trying to unbelt and untie his
trousers.  She wanted him inside her.  She felt like she had never
felt before: empty inside, needing a man to fill her.  The twitchings
she felt when kissing Tomas were nothing compared to the raging fire
inside her now.  Heinrich was helping her now, and soon his manhood
was free.  She grasped his cock in her hand, marvelling at the heat it
generated.  She explored it with her hands, feeling the hardness of
the flesh and the softness of the skin, the pulsing ridges and the
warm furry balls hanging from its base.  It felt huge; she was not
sure she could take it all, but she needed something inside her now.
      "Do it, my lord.  I need it.  Please.  Please."
      She guided him to her entrance.  Heinrich moved forward, easing
the head between her sobbing pussy lips.  He moved forward slowly,
exploring her, searching for her hymen.  The head of his cock nudged
against it, and he stopped.  "Brace yourself, Kirsten.  This will
likely hurt, but the pain will quickly pass."
      He took a deep breath and counted three, then plunged forward.
      "AAIIIEEEE!!"  Kirsten screamed as her maidenhead was ripped
apart, not entirely because of the pain.  She was finally full.  She
wrapped her arms and legs around the count, pulling as much of him
against and inside her as she could.  She panted in his ear, from the
pain and emotion, "Wait, wait.  Let me get used to it."
      "Lovely Kirsten, I hope you never get used to it."  But he held
himself as still as he could for a few moments.
      When Kirsten released her grip on him somewhat, he began to move
back and forth, easing his cock out, then sliding it back in, smoothly
and slowly.  Each motion drove some of the pain away, until she felt
nothing but pleasure.  Soon, Kirsten was again using her arms and legs
to pull him back inside her.  He kissed her full young breasts as he
thrust into her, and lifted her buttocks with his hands so he could
penetrate her even more deeply.
      Kirsten clawed at his tunic with her strong hands, and bit at
his bearded cheeks.  She kicked his buttocks with her feet, urging him
to fuck her faster, and he complied, riding her to one orgasm on top
of another, pushing her to a new peak before she could come down from
the previous one.
      Soon, sooner than either of them wanted, he erupted within her.
He pounded her on the last few strokes as he emptied himself deep
within her, grunting and moaning her name over and over, punctuated by
her cries of ecstasy and whimpers of "my lord," whether to him or to
God he didn't know or care.
      He remained hard inside her pussy, and as he began to breathe
normally, he began thrusting again, languorously, enjoying the
sensation of her walls squeezing his cock.  Kirsten herself was
exhausted.  She fell asleep with him inside her, and wasn't aware when
he came again, though her body shuddered involuntarily in tiny
ecstasy.


Copyright 1993 by Lysander
                             ================
                             DROIT DU SIGNEUR
                                by Lysander
                                 Part Two
                                   -30-


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