From: Lysander@vnet.net (Lysander)

   Reply-To: Lysander@vnet.net

   Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

   Subject: REPOST: Droit du Signeur part 4 (mff, historical)

   Date: Wed, 15 Nov 1995 12:15:04 GMT

   Organization: Hardly Any

   Message-ID: <48cp99$iuk@mindy.vnet.net>

   *********

   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

   
