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Subject: {Lysander}JDR"Droit du Signeur 4"( Mf MF 1st hist )[4/7]
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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 Four

      Kirsten gently placed the silver tray, heavy with their
breakfast, on the table beside Heinrich as he lay sleeping.  His deep
breathing was hypnotic, and she stood for a moment listening to it and
looking at his face.  In sleep, his face looked very different than it
did when he was awake.  It was certainly as handsome, but in a
different way.  She peered closely and all at once recognized what the
difference was.  He was relaxed now.  Even at the wedding feast, she
now recalled, he was somewhat tense.  His thick beard hid it, but he
wore a perpetual frown.  It was slight, so slight, she would never
have noticed it had she not seen him like this, drained of all cares.
      She reached down and brushed his hair back from his forehead.
She noticed the scar, just at his hairline.  It was an old scar to
judge by the whiteness of it, but it must have been a very bad wound.
As near as she could tell without waking him, it went around the
entire right side of his head.  What could have caused a wound like
that? she wondered.
      On impulse, she pulled the blanket off his chest, watching his
face for any sign that she was disturbing him.  She looked down at his
bare chest and gasped in horror.  Heinrich woke, reaching for his
sword.  He saw her beside the bed and pulled the blanket back up to
cover his chest.  Only an instant passed, but it was enough for
Kirsten to see something she would carry to her grave.
      His chest had been covered, literally covered, with scars.
There were two or three puckered circles where arrows had penetrated
flesh.  There were white slashes crisscrossing his chest where blades
had cut him, some deeply.  But they were not the worst.
      As the adopted daughter of a blacksmith, Kirsten knew what
red-hot metal could do to human flesh.  Her father's arms had a couple
of scars where he had been careless around the forge.  But those scars
were nothing compared to the ones Heinrich bore.  They were ugly and
still pink.  They were too bad and were too patterned to have been
accidental.  They seemed to cover his entire chest.  Someone had done
this on purpose.  Someone had mercilessly tortured her lord and her
lover.
      She did not like to think of the extortion that had brought her
to Heinrich's bed, but she had at least enjoyed herself once she was
there.  But for someone to torture any man in that way was inhuman.
      Gently, but insistently, Kirsten pulled the covers completely
off of Heinrich.  He did not resist.  There were several swordcuts on
his arms, and another arrow wound on his right thigh that didn't look
too bad.  But his thighs and calves were covered in more burn scars.
There were even places where it looked as though the skin had been
torn away in strips and grown back.
      Tears began to form in her eyes.  The world was harsh, she had
long known, but she had never imagined it could be so cruel as well.
She looked back at that handsome face.  The subtle look of worry was
back, and there was also a look of shame.  She knew that she was the
cause of that shame, because she had seen what he thought of as a
weakness.  He had once had a strong and beautiful body, she could
tell.  It may be strong until the day he dies, she thought, but it can
never again be considered beautiful.  War and another's cruelty had
taken care of that.
      She knew she shouldn't, but she could not help herself.  "My
lord," she asked, "who would do a thing such as this?"
      His jaw firmed even more and his eyes changed, becoming
murderously hot for just a moment before they were veiled in cool
dispassion.  "A dead man," he said simply.
      She knew that was all the answer she would get for now, so she
pulled the blanket back over the old painful wounds.

      They ate a hearty breakfast that Kirsten would have considered
divine were it not for the silence that hung between them.
      When they had finished, she set the tray outside the door, and
Heinrich got out of bed and went behind a curtain to use the chamber
pot.  Kirsten saw that the backs of his legs and his buttocks were
scarred the same way his chest was, but his back only had the ordinary
war wounds (would she have considered them ordinary half an hour ago?)
of an experienced warrior.  A single arrow wound and two blade scores.
      But there were also four parallel scars making a diagonal band
from right shoulder to left hip.  They had healed badly and were still
raised from the skin.  The two outside scars were more than two
handwidths apart, and the symmetry of them was somehow beautiful,
despite the violence of their nature.
      Heinrich returned and placed the chamberpot outside the door
with the leavings from their breakfast.  He then went to the
washbasin, filled it, and began washing himself with a dampened cloth.
      Staring at the relatively unscarred back, she began to imagine
what his body had looked like before he went off to war.  Muscles
rippled smoothly under his skin as he washed himself.  She enjoyed
watching the strength that was in them, held at bay, but eager to be
unleashed.  She remembered feeling those muscles ripple against her
flesh the night before.  She wanted to feel them again.
      It was a realization that had come in the night and had been
strengthened by the scars' testimony of Heinrich's humanity.  Desires
she had kept dormant had blossomed yesterday.  She remembered
awakening during the night, finding Heinrich watching her, just
sitting crosslegged in bed, watching her sleep.  The memory still
produced a warmth in her.  They had made love slowly, because she was
still sore.  But it had lasted hours.  Made love and paused, kissed
and caressed, made love again, changed positions, building slowly,
almost reluctantly, to a final climax.  This man before her had
awakened that need for a masculine touch, and right now only this man
could fill it.
      She also felt another need, now, a need to comfort him, to ease
the pain she knew she had caused by bringing up the memories of
whatever it was he had gone through.  "My lord?" She saw his shoulders
tense.  He's been waiting for me to ask about the scars again.  "My
lord, could we make love again?"
      He turned to see her pulling the shift from her body.  She
noticed that his groin was completely unblemished, and that his member
was hardening, even though some pain could still be seen around his
eyes.
      He walked up to her and lifted her chin.  "Whatever you wish,
lovely Kirsten."
      She guided him to the bed and began to kiss him and caress his
body, so that he could see she wanted all of him, even his wounds.
She kissed the scar on his forehead.  She kissed his nose, which she
had just noticed had been broken.  She kissed his throat and his
quivering Adam's apple.  She kissed his chest, on each scar -- the war
wounds, not the burns, for she wanted him to know that she thought of
him as a proud if bloodied hero, not as a powerless victim.
      When she reached his unblemished groin she could go no farther,
so she lingered.  Last night, he had pleased her with his mouth, so
this morning she would return the favor.  She nuzzled his penis,
inhaling the clean scent of him.  Her tongue darted from between her
lips to tease it.  It jerked at her touch, becoming more rigid.  Clear
fluid leaked from the head, and she licked up a drop.  It tasted salty
and strange, but not unpleasant.  She kissed the head and down the
underside.  She licked the hollow of his sack where it joined his
cock.  She took each testicle in her mouth and lightly sucked it.  She
wasn't sure what she was doing.  She was only exploring, testing his
reactions to see what pleased him most.  She took the crown in her
mouth and sucked on, drawing more fluid from it.  She brought up a
hand and stroked the shaft.  The heat of it amazed her.
      She played her tongue around the head as she sucked on it, and
Heinrich seemed to react to that.  He grasped her head and tried to
push her down farther on his shaft.  She complied, and took more of
his cock into her mouth.  She began to bob her head in counter-time to
the stroking of her hand.  With her other hand, she caressed his
balls.  Deeper and deeper she took him.  In no time at all, without
ever noticing, her lips were touching his pubic hair.  She surprised
herself, so much so that she began to gag.  Quickly, she pulled back,
letting him out of her mouth.
      Still stroking him, she kissed his lips again, forcing them
apart with her tongue.  Without breaking contact with him, she swung a
leg over him, straddling his crotch.  She placed his cock at her
entrance, and he thrust himself upward, burying his cock to the hilt
inside her wet pussy.  She used her own hips to force him back down,
then began to raise and lower her hips.  Slowly, she rose and fell on
him, moving so that each stroke of her constricting walls caressed the
most sensitive parts of both their sexes.
      Only her buttocks moved on him, as they held each other tightly.
Heinrich stroked her sides and her breasts, but let her control the
tempo of their lovemaking.  She held him fiercely around his neck as
she kissed him passionately, fervently.  She made to pull him up, and
he followed her, until he was half sitting and she was rocking back
and forth on his lap.  He took one of her pointed nipples between his
lips and the other between his fingertips.  She kissed the top of his
head as he began to nurse on his breasts.
      Soon, Kirsten could feel the climax building within her.  Her
movements grew more rapid, more ragged.  Her vision blurred as her
eyes lost focus.  She began to moan in earnest as she neared her peak.
Heinrich began to thrust against her, as deeply as his position would
allow him.  "Ah yes.  Yes, my darling, my love," she gasped as the
pressure inside her mounted.  "Yes, ah, yes.  Yes, yes.  Ahhh."  Her
eyes rolled back in her head as she fell backward, off of Heinrich's
cock.  He got on top of her and began to thrust himself inside her,
desperate to come as well, now.  His mouth and tongue were all over
her breasts now, and his hands explored every inch of her.  He came
inside her, so powerfully she could feel it.
      He was not through with her, though.  His touches and kisses
continued, not as demanding, but just as persistent.  He nibbled on
her breasts at the same time that he tickled her ribs.  She giggled,
and said, "Do what you will with me, my lord."
      "Open your eyes Kirsten."
      She did, and was greeted by the sight of Heinrich sitting on the
edge of the bed, and his wife, the Countess Esmerelda, nibbling on her
nipple and fingering her slit.  The woman was as naked as Kirsten
herself.
      Heinrich placed a hand over her mouth before she could protest.
"Remember," he murmured.  "Anything I want.  I want this."  He removed
his hand, and it was replaced by his wife's mouth.  Her lips were
soft, and her tongue, strong.  It forced itself between her lips and
explored her mouth.  Heinrich was back, tonguing her clitoris and
fondling her breast.  A hard, calloused hand on one breast and a soft,
delicate hand on the other.  Eager lips and tongue on her pussy,
patient ones on her mouth.  And naked flesh everywhere on her.  The
sensations overwhelmed Kirsten, and she responded to them.
      Her tongue sought Esmerelda's, met it, danced and dueled with
it.  It breached the countess' lips and explored her mouth.  Her hands
went to the lady's breasts of their own accord.  She grasped them and
enjoyed the warm sigh that washed over her face.
      Heinrich left her pussy; Esmerelda left her mouth.  Heinrich
knelt over her, his cock looming above her face.  She took him into
her mouth as Esmerelda buried her face between her thighs.  It felt
odd to have a smooth face nestled against her smooth skin, instead of
Heinrich's luxuriant beard.  Her lips and tongue felt different too.
It was a softer touch than her husband's, more sure about the most
sensitive places.  She fluttered from place to place on her flesh, her
touch as light as a butterfly or as strong as an eagle from moment to
moment.
      Heinrich thrust shallowly in her mouth, to remind her that he
was there.  She sucked on him, savoring the flavor of his flesh and
her own juices.  She had completely swallowed him before, without
realizing it.  She now was determined to do it on purpose.  She placed
her hands on his buttocks and pulled him closer to her.  The head of
his cock bumped against the back of her mouth.  She felt like she
wanted to throw up, but she knew she could do it.  She experimented
with the muscles at the top of her throat, and her throat suddenly
opened, allowing him in.
      Esmerelda was sucking and slurping on her.  Her tongue thrust
inside her just like Heinrich's cock.  She nibbled on Kirsten's
clitoris, and Kirsten nibbled on Heinrich's shaft.  Kirsten hunched
against Esmerelda's face, and Heinrich pushed deeper into her throat.
She came, her legs spasming around Esmerelda.  Heinrich came, and she
pulled back, not to escape the flood, but so it would land on her
tongue and she could taste it.  It was hot, and thick as honey, but
pleasantly salty.  She swallowed eagerly.  Even as Heinrich shrank
within her mouth, she sucked on him, trying to get the dregs of his
ejaculate.
      Heinrich sat heavily on the bed.  Kirsten sat up and leaned
against his chest.  Esmerelda sat across from them, her back against
the headboard.  The lower half of her face glistened with Kirsten's
juices.  Her face reminded Kirsten of a cat, but not as soft.  A
hungry cat.  Her body was lean, her breasts, small with dark hard
nipples.  Her waist was trim and her hips were narrow, gradually
forming strong but thin thighs.  She was opposite in almost every way
from Kirsten.  Kirsten was much rounder in breasts and hips.  Her
blonde hair was fine and straight instead of thick and wavy.
      They were physically alike in only one respect, Kirsten noticed
as her gaze travelled down the countess' body.  She was shaved just as
bare as Kirsten was.  As she stared at the area where a dark triangle
should be, she felt a new hunger.  "I want to do you, now," she said,
lust in her eyes.
      Esmerelda opened her arms and thighs to her.  Kirsten wanted to
waste no time; she wanted to taste this dark lady.  She crawled
between her thighs, never taking her eyes off the moist opening before
her.  She smelled the musky scent of arousal.  She stuck out her
tongue and daintily tasted it.  Nectar, ambrosia.  When the minstrel
had used those words on her wedding night, she had not known what they
meant. Now she did.  She burrowed into the soft flesh, doing all the
things with her mouth that Esmerelda had done to her.  She traced the
lips with her tongue, she rubbed the exposed pleasure bud with her
thumb.  She pushed her fingers inside and sucked up the fluid that
poured out.
      She felt Heinrich's hands on her upraised buttocks.  He spread
her thighs apart and walked up behind her on his knees.  She felt him
spread her pussy open and place the head of his cock against it.  She
forced her hips back against him, engulfing him.  She concentrated on
the weeping pussy against her face, letting Heinrich do what he
wanted. Every thrust drove her more firmly against Esmerelda.  She
savored Esmerelda.  She rubbed her face against her pussy, trying to
get as much of the smell of her as possible.
      Heinrich drove harder and faster into her.  He pulled her hips
against him, and she had to wrap her arms around the countess' waist
to keep in contact with her pussy.  Heinrich's thrusts came faster and
faster.  The lips of Esmerelda's pussy quivered against her face.
Heinrich erupted inside her pussy and the same time that Esmerelda
flooded her mouth.
      They all collapsed in a pile on the bed, exhausted.  Slowly they
rolled apart and simply lay there.  Kirsten sat up between the nobles,
and looked down at their relaxing forms.  She found herself drawn to
those horrific scars again.
      "My lord?"
      He opened one eye to look at her.  "Hmmm?"
      "Have I pleased you?"
      "Yes, of course you have.  Both of us."
      She traced a finger along one of the long burn scars.  She
inhaled deeply.  "Then would you tell me how this happened?"
      He looked over at his wife.  Kirsten followed his gaze.
Esmerelda did nothing for several long moments.  Then she nodded her
head, without opening her eyes.  "Go ahead."


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


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