From: Lysander@vnet.net (Lysander) Reply-To: Lysander@vnet.net Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: NEW CHAPTER: Droit du Signeur part 8 (mf, historical, violence) Date: Wed, 15 Nov 1995 12:18:13 GMT Organization: Hardly Any Message-ID: <48cpf7$iuk@mindy.vnet.net> For those of you who've been waiting (and those who don't give a fig) here's chapter 8. Yes, after numerous false starts and the occasional computer virus and drive failure, I got off my duff and finished the damned chapter. This thing has been nagging at me for more than two years. That's not entirely true. Friar Dave ("Marie," "Livinia," "Tryout" and a host of other wonderful tales) has also been nagging at me off and on for most of that time. Dave: here it is, I hope you're not too disappointed. Thanks for the encouragement. It didn't come off as I'd planned it in my original outline. I had the beginnings of a garden rendezvous between Tomas and Esmerelda immediately after she leaves Kirsten and Heinrich in part 6. It was supposed to be tender and uplifting, a life-affirming act between two people who needed each other; it was also incredibly cloying. Nevertheless, I stubbornly stuck with that plan from the middle of '93 through two nights ago. Then I took a 90-degree turn and it practically wrote itself. The result is much darker than I intended, and now I wonder how the story will turn out. The events in this episode take place three days after the marriage of Tomas and Kirsten - the day after Esmerelda and Heinrich relate their stories to Kirsten. ************ DROIT DU SIGNEUR by Lysander Part Eight Tomas sat on the floor, his back against the bed and his chin on his chest. He'd tried to see Kirsten today, to find out how she was holding up, but a guard had prevented him from looking for her. When he asked the man to pass a message along to her, asking about her comfort, the guard had leeringly answered, "Don't you worry boy. The count's got her well in hand." That's when it had hit him, like a mule's kick in the gut. Heinrich was strictly entitled only to the first night with his bride, but naturally he would force himself on her for the entire two weeks of Tomas's imprisonment. That rash attack on the count had resulted in punishment for both of them. "Damn me for a fool," Tomas muttered to himself. Then he repeated it, again and again, adding a different, more colorful adjective each time. On top of all his troubles -- imprisonment, his wife in the hands of a violent lecher, worries about losing his head because of Countess Esmerelda's games -- on top of all that was his guilt. Why hadn't he tried to see Kirsten the day after the wedding? He would have known earlier that he wouldn't be allowed to see her. Why did he wait? He knew why, and the reason was called Esmerelda. When he was asleep he dreamed about her half the time. When he was awake, half his thoughts were wishes that she would come to his room, and the other half were fears that his wishes would be fulfilled. It was the guilt that had made him seek out his wife, and now the knowledge of what she must be going through was piling even more guilt on top of that. "You deserve it," he said to himself, getting up off the floor at last. "You deserve it but she doesn't." Not only was Heinrich an uncaring lord who felt he could take a man's wife like a common tavern wench, he was probably a murderer. He had the look about him, Tomas thought. He'd never seen a murderer before, but he was willing to wager that they all had eyes like the count's. He kicked at the wall in his fury at Heinrich and himself, but pulled back before his foot reached the stone. He wouldn't put himself in the hands of Heinrich's physicians. Instead he picked up the emptied clay water pitcher and hurled it with all his fury at the wall. He stared, openmouthed, as it sailed cleanly through the narrow window. He shook his head, amazed at his poor luck. Lately he'd been able to do nothing right. He got drunk at his wedding and attacked his lord, attracted the attentions of that frightening man's wife, found himself in love or at least in lust with her, and now he couldn't even break a damned dish against a huge wall. He was pathetic. "Well," he said to the air, "I should at least go see if anyone was hurt." He went to the window and stuck his head out. It barely fit through. His ears scraped the stone as he leaned outward. He looked down -- he wouldn't have been able to see anything if not for the outward bevel around the opening -- and saw a small knot of people surrounding the shards of the pitcher. All were staring up at him, but the only one he noticed was Esmerelda. She was obviously furious; he imagined he could actually see red in her eyes, even from a height. She pointed a finger up at him in a gesture he took to mean "stay right there" then headed for the entryway. Well, it didn't matter what she wanted him to do; he was leaving. She wouldn't believe it was an accident. She would think that he had thrown the vessel out there on purpose -- probably at her. He pulled his head back and out of the window. At least he tried to. His ears wouldn't bend out the way. A tight fit in one direction had become a trap in the other. "This is enough to make me cry," he muttered in disgust at himself. As though he'd uttered a magic phrase, he started to do just that. A couple of tears leaked from his eyes, enough to make them burn but not enough to cleanse them or himself. Just then his door opened and he heard Esmerelda's voice behind him. "Why did you feel it necessary to throw a perfectly good pitcher at me? Was one of us not to your liking?" "It was an accident," Tomas answered. "Leave me alone." "Look at me when I'm talking to you, young man." Anger replaced the sarcasm now. "I'm almost as old as you are. Leave me alone." "You are my husband's subject and I will not speak to your behind when you have a perfectly good face. Even if there isn't much behind it." "I'm stuck. Leave. Me. Alone." Tomas heard the door close and let his body relax, thinking she had gone at last. Then he heard her voice again, but with a different tone. "Let me help." He thought he heard her mutter something about "idiot men" under her breath but he wasn't sure. He felt a cloth drop around his head, falling in front of his eyes. "What are you doing?" he sputtered. "I can't see your ears from here, so you'll have to tell me when they're covered. Then I can tighten the cloth and pin your ears to your head and you should be able to back out that way." "Oh. Thank you. The left one's covered. Now both." He felt a tug on the cloth and let it pull him back. The fit was snug, but he managed it and his head popped free. He surreptitiously used the cloth to dry his eyes before handing it back to Esmerelda. As he did, he saw that it was a complex weave of dyed linen, with small tears where the rough stone had abraded it. "I'm sorry about your... scarf?" "Don't mention it. Believe it or not, you're not the first to get your head stuck in one of those windows. All the others have been men, as well. I don't know what that says about your sex. Empty heads, I imagine." "Or maybe just wider heads than women." He saw her scowl at him, and for a moment he remembered who she was. She could get him in a lot of trouble because of her station and because of who her husband was. But he was tired of being called stupid. He was just having a bad couple of days. And that reminded him once again of Kirsten, who was likely with this woman's husband as they stood there chatting as though all was normal with the world. "Why don't you just leave me alone?" "Have you forgotten what happened just now? If I had left you alone, you'd still be standing at that window with your rear end sticking out. Not that it isn't a lovely rear end, but it must have been uncomfortable." "Why do you do that?" he asked impatiently. "Do what?" Her voice implied innocence, but he suspected he knew exactly what he was talking about. "Make comments like that. And come into a stranger's room like you did the other night. You're a married woman!" "And you're a married man. That's what makes it so perfect." "Yes, I'm married. And right now my wife is in the clutches of your husband. Don't you care that he's got his damned hands on her? Touching her the way only *I'm* supposed to be touching her. The way he's supposed to be touching *you*!" She reached up and patted his cheek almost fondly. "Oh, Tomas. In a little over a week, you'll be touching Kirsten like that. And you'll continue touching her like that for the rest of your life. What's two small weeks compared to that?" "And don't you care that he's sleeping with another woman?" "Not really. I shall have plenty of time in his bed after this is over. In fact, I shall have him tonight, with Kirsten." He was shocked by her attitude. She professed to be a Christian, but she was talking like she was still a heathen. "Don't you have any sense of decency?" "Don't you have any sense of fun? Don't you want to have fun with me?" He forced himself to calm down. A few seconds later he said through clenched teeth, "Please leave." "I don't think so. I think I like playing with you, even if you won't play with me." "Fine. Then I'll leave." He spun on his heel and made for the door. Esmerelda's voice stopped him again. "You should try to be more like your wife, you know." He turned back and cocked his head suspiciously at her. "What do you mean by that?" "Merely that Kirsten has a much better attitude about this situation than you do. She's rather getting into the spirit of things." Tomas's stomach began to turn cold. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears. She surely couldn't mean what he thought she meant. Esmerelda saw the look on his face and smiled a truly unpleasant smile at him. "My husband the count is a wonderful lover, as Kirsten has learned. He is a good teacher and she a very eager student; I believe that you'll be pleasantly surprised by some of the things she does to you at the end of the fortnight." His gut was ice now. He brought up his fist but turned it into an accusing finger. "You take that back! My wife would not be enjoying this any more than I am." Esmerelda merely took two steps forward, ducking her shoulder under his hand. "If she's not enjoying herself, she is a remarkable actress. But as my father always said, happy students are good students. She's very good with her mouth, you know. I can't say how she is with a man, but she is very good at pleasing a woman." Tomas backed away from her until he was against the wall. "Shut up! You're lying to me. That's not Kirsten. Kirsten wouldn't-" Esmerelda waved away his objections as she moved closer once more. "Nonsense. She loves it. When you two resume your state of marital bliss, you're going to have to go down on her quite often. I'm afraid I've spoiled her. I can offer you lessons if you like. You can practice on the same sex that Kirsten likes so much." Her palm ran languidly down her thigh. It was the wedding night all over again. Everything was out of his control. He would not believe it of Kirsten, but Esmerelda seemed so positive. She seemed to be telling nothing but the truth. And even though part of him was repulsed by her, more of him still wanted to possess her. He half-believed she was a witch. His fears came crashing down on him. Heinrich had not only taken Kirsten, he had seduced her. And this woman in from of him had helped him do it. Then she had the gall to try and seduce him. They were trying to debauch him and his bride. They may have corrupted Kirsten (Please, God, not irretrievably so!) but they would not do the same to him. He would resist. He would forgive Kirsten and love her, but he would not sink to her level. Except he found himself staring down into those dark eyes. They seemed so full of understanding now where they had been mocking before. He could spend hours just looking down into those eyes. He could never resist this woman before him for so long. It was hopeless. He should have understood it long before this moment. Everything was out of his control. His life was in another man's hands as surely as his wife's body was. But he did not have to let despair leave him curled in a ball waiting for the inevitable to happen to him. Tomas realized he was frozen, his arm still extended in accusation, resting ever so lightly on Esmerelda's shoulder. He brought his arm down fully on her shoulder and took her hair softly in his hand. "You say you're entitled to a little fun, too?" Esmerelda leaned her head back into his caressing hand. "Mm-hm." Her smile was lazy and bewitching. Her eyes were hooded in pleasure, or anticipation? "I suppose you're right, my lady. I should have some fun too, don't you think? Count Heinrich sees fit to have his way with my wife and the least I can do is return the favor." Esmerelda began to mutter some kind of agreement when Tomas mashed his lips against hers in a bruising kiss. He knew it must be hurting Esmerelda because it was slightly painful to him, almost as though his front teeth were bending inward. Yes, she was trying to pull away from him, if not to break away completely, then at least to lessen the contact. He let her move away from his lips; but because of her position, that meant moving downwards. She lost her balance and he eased her to the floor. He fell atop her and resumed the kiss he had allowed to be interrupted. The stone floor felt rough against his knuckles, but Esmerelda's hair was still soft. He pulled until it was stretched tightly. Esmerelda seemed to realize that more was going on than she expected. She tore her lips from his. "What are you doing, Tomas?" "Having fun like you said I should, Esmerelda." He wondered if his voice sounded as cold to her as it did to him. He kissed her again, this time biting her lower lip. Hard. "You're hurting me, Tomas! Let me up, please." "Don't you want to have fun with me anymore, Esmerelda?" He ran his hand up her side to grasp her breast. It was soft and yielding, much like he imagined Kirsten's would feel. Except this woman's husband was feeling them, probably at that very moment. He returned his lips to Esmerelda's once more and this time tasted blood. That made him pause for a moment, but only for a moment. Kirsten was supposedly willing, but if she had fought, wouldn't Heinrich have forced her anyway? He sat up on his knees, straddling Esmerelda's thighs, looking down at her. She lay on the floor, arms outstretched and limp, panting slightly. She didn't beat at him with her fists as he expected. She didn't kick and twist beneath him. Was she resigned, or did she merely think he hadn't the will to continue? He was surprised to find it didn't matter to him. The barest hint of cleavage showed above the bust line of her gown, exposed during the brief struggle. He placed two fingers of each hand inside the indentation and pulled. The cloth held for a moment, then ripped in a jagged diagonal tear down the front. Her breasts were beautiful, near the opposite of Kirsten's except in size. They were rounded instead of pointed; tan with nipples a deep, rich brown, instead of pink on alabaster. She made a move to cover herself, but he held her arms down, grinding them into the stone of the floor. No, that wouldn't do. "Get on the bed," he commanded as he stood, but kept his tight grip on her arms. "Heinrich wouldn't mark Kirsten and I won't mark you. If I don't have to." She stared up at him with hot fury. "My husband will have you killed for this." "I attacked him, remember? And I've a pretty wife he lusts after. With me imprisoned he has her for a few days. With me dead, he has her for as long as he wants. I've been a dead man for the past three days. I just happen to be walking and breathing." Her eyes widened in disbelief. She was a good actress, he'd grant her that. "My Heinrich would never do that!" He threw her on the bed, grabbing the torn edge of her gown and giving her a twist so it tore even more. "He's a knight. Knights kill people." "Not Heinrich, not anymore. Please let me go and I'll never speak of this again." She twisted her hands in his unyielding grasp. Her fear felt good. He'd been running for the past two days. It felt good to be the one in control. He should let her go. But he'd gone too far. And he could still hear her taunts with every pulse of blood in his ears. He moved toward her. "Wait, Tomas! If... If Heinrich killed you, then Kirsten would no longer be willing to... willing." "I'm sorry, Kirsten," Tomas said in what he thought was a cultured tone. "He attacked some of my guards. I gave orders not to hurt him, but they had to defend themselves. He went crazy, like the night he attacked me." He continued in his own voice, except his own voice had never sounded so cold. "I'll not die a virgin, Esmerelda." He could see that she believed him at last. "I'll scream." "If you were going to scream, you would've screamed long before this. Maybe you thought you could control me. Maybe you think you still can. You're wrong." She opened her mouth and took a deep breath. He placed his palm over her mouth. "Don't. If you do, I will kill you." Would he? Could he? "I know Heinrich will kill me. But he's going to do that anyway, and it wouldn't bring his ladywife back." Her eyes took on a look that alarmed him. It wasn't fear, and it wasn't quite anger or hatred. He'd never seen its like before. One-handed, he tore away the rest of her dress so that she was more or less naked. If she wanted to keep the garment, she would have to convert it into a summer cloak. He unlaced his breeches. Why wasn't he hard? Wasn't she beautiful? Didn't she and Heinrich deserve this and much worse? Didn't he want her? He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look down into hers. He called forth the image of Kirsten wading naked into the lake. That brought on the memory of Esmerelda waking him in the middle of the night with her mouth on his member, sucking it and licking it. At last he began to harden. He grabbed his cock and placed the head at her entrance. He opened his eyes again and thrust inside her. Her eyes half-closed and her nostrils flared. He could feel her trying to suck in air through the hand covering her mouth. Christ, it felt so warm and moist inside her. All those nights he thought he'd been enjoying himself with his hand, but it could never have been this good. If only he could have experienced it with Kirsten instead of Esmerelda. At the thought of Kirsten he felt himself growing soft again. No! It was Heinrich who was keeping Kirsten from him. And this woman he was on top of had helped. It was their fault this was happening. They were doing this to him. He could feel Esmerelda biting into his hand, at the base of his thumb. The anger flared again inside him and his erection raged once more. He thrust into her faster and faster, and ever harder. He heard her grunting beneath him with every stroke. He dared to take his hand away from her mouth so he could get better leverage, and she did not scream out in fear or pain. He picked her up and moved her more firmly onto the bed. She lay in the position he'd thrown her, arms outspread. Only her head moving from side to side and the sounds emanating from her throat said she was alive and awake. And the things her sex was doing around his cock! He felt himself being gripped along his entire length. The heat of her surrounding him! His hips moved faster and faster against her. Her little moans and grunts made him feel powerful. He let himself drop on top of her body, crushing her breasts with his chest and her lips with his as his pelvis moved on its own for a half dozen strokes before he froze on top of her and emptied himself deep inside of her. He lay on top of her for several long moments, listening to her panting, feeling her breath in his ear. It tickled and was slightly annoying, but at the moment he didn't have the energy to move his head out of the way. As his heart began to slow, the pounding blood in his ears began to ebb for the first time in what seemed like hours. His organ became flaccid enough to flop out of her. He heard Esmerelda inhale a final large breath. She was going to scream now, he knew. The soldiers would come and see them like this. They'd drag him away to be hanged or beheaded. Or maybe they'd just lift his body up and run him through right here. At least it would be over. For a few moments, he had been the one with the power. Instead of the scream, though, he heard Esmerelda's voice say, quite conversationally, "Well, now that that's over, maybe you'll last a little longer next time." Copyright 1995 by Lysander