Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, BiSexual, Historical, DomSub,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Prologue - This is a story set in the 13th century. The first section represents a collaboration with a young woman from Texas and was done over 10 years ago. It is basically a romance with more than a few anachronistic elements. But, as I note in the author's preface, it beats having to research 13th-century life.
The day I first encountered you, Katherine, had been a miserable one for me. Rather stupidly I had gone down to the weekly slave auction incognito. Having forgotten that it was very close to tax time, I found the auction very busy. Had I been smart, I would have immediately left and returned to the castle, but as you well know brains are not my strong suit. I stayed.
A substantial number of girls were sold into slavery that day. I saw these lovely young women, seventeen and eighteen years old, with their parents. Typically the mothers would help their daughters undress, then kiss them goodbye. Naked and trembling, typically with tears streaming down their cheeks, the girls would stumble blindly up the steps.
One girl in particular impressed me. I guess she was about seventeen, blonde, blue eyed with a lusciously nubile figure. Although tears were streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks and she had a nearly-irresistible urge to cover her loins, she climbed the stairs, presented herself to the auctioneer, signed the papers consenting to her permanent slavery, then moved to where one of his assistants was waiting. Then the girl voluntarily took her position in one of the open spreadeagle racks and waited while her wrists and ankles were secured. When the prospective bidders came by I could hear this lovely girl asking them to fondle her cunt, squeeze her tits, and feel the muscles in her arms and legs. This young woman was trying her best to ensure that her parents received the best price possible for her as she entered into a lifetime of slavery.
When a small patrol of my troops approached, I was genuinely shocked. There was an animal-like growl from the crowd. Fortunately the officer commanding the patrol had the good sense to withdraw his men before the crowd was provoked further. Asking a bystander why there was such a reaction, I was shocked at his response. My fiscal advisors — all trained at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, I must add — had assured me that the only possible way to run a government was with high taxes. "After all," they pointed out, "if you do not take their money, Sire, they will only waste it on food, clothing, and other such fripperies... You, Sire, can use it for important matters of state — another addition to your castle, for example."
Given the obvious good sense in their position, I could not understand why the citizenry did not share my enthusiasm. However, I had also just given orders to expand the size of the armed forces yet again to absorb even more young men. Most were doomed to remain single due to the lack of marriageable young women. That day, Katherine, I learned also that the percentage of young women being sold into slavery had reached an estimated 70 percent.
Thus, I was feeling despondent and essentially alone as I presided over the evening meal in the Great Hall. Having just finished eating, I was about to retire to my apartment; the evening's planned entertainment held no attraction for me. After a while jugglers and acrobats all seem pretty much alike. However, I noticed my chamberlain watching me carefully. When I moved in my seat in a fashion suggesting I was preparing to leave, he motioned to someone who was waiting out of my sight.
A moment later, Katherine, you appear. I was dazzled! I see an apparition with magnificent auburn hair dressed in what appeared to be an ivory gown. Moments later, of course, I found that it was a very long cloak only secured at your throat. Your hands were behind you — secured together I soon learned — forcing your luscious tits up and out. After being brought around the table, you were positioned beside me.
My chamberlain said softly, "Sire, we have acquired a new slave for your use. Would it be convenient for you to inspect her now?"
When I agreed, he nodded and your guard first released your wrists and then untied the cord around your neck. With a flourish the cloak was removed revealing the perfection of your body. I remember vividly how proudly your tits stood with their nipples already pebble-hard.
"On your knees, Slave!" you were ordered. "You have been instructed in the proper submissive posture. Take it!" So saying the guard took your wrists and first secured them together and then to the back of a leather collar that previously had been hidden by the high neck of the cloak. Responding to downward pressure on your shoulder and rapidly whispered instructions you went down on your knees, then spread your knees wide apart opening your luscious cunt to my view. Only then did I see that you had only a small dense patch of auburn pubic hair immediately above your slit. The rest of your pubes were bare. Katherine, you were utterly exquisite.
For my part, Master, I was in a state of shock. So much had happened in such a short time. Just a few hours earlier I was an animal living in a cage. Now, as I was led into the Great Hall, I didn't know what to do or to think. As I moved sightlessly I thought of the marvelous little girl, a blue-eyed blonde, now wearing a bandage on her forehead. I was being prepared for my presentation to you, Master, and being given dozens of instructions, none of which I heard, let alone had any intention of following.
While this was happening, though, this lovely naked girl sat on her haunches trying to do something — anything — for me. Her bandage was courtesy of me, but notwithstanding, at every opportunity she melted her marvelously soft lips to mine, giving me the most innocent, most loving kisses I have ever experienced in my life. At the same time I just luxuriated in the treatment as seemingly countless lovely women focused their every attention on me. Oddly enough, Master, it evoked memories from somewhere in my past. Strangely, I found I knew automatically how to hold myself to permit them most easily to work on me.
I suppose it was because I was in some form of LaLa Land that I didn't even notice when my thighs were spread wide and my pubic patch was — shall we say? — drastically reduced in size. When they finished, I was stood in front of a full-length mirror. I blinked in astonishment. Master, it had been so long since I had seen my body. In spite of the abuse I had suffered, it was apparently unmarked, although there were still fading scars visible if one knew where to look.
Holding myself up straight, I was astonished when one of the women — the senior handmaiden, I suppose — amazed me. She lifted my tit, put a pencil under it, then released it. When the pencil hit the floor, for some reason she was pleased. Then she carefully fastened a marvelously soft leather collar around my neck and put leather bracelets on my wrists. In light of what I had so-recently lived through, the soft leather reminded me of fine jewelry.
Then to my shock she stood in front of me on tiptoe and kissed me full on the lips. "Our master will adore you! Please make him happy." At the time I had no clue what she could be talking about.
A beautiful ivory-colored cloak was put over my shoulders and I was led to a small table. There I found a lovely meal set out for me, and the same lovely little girl sitting there waiting to feed me. I was about to object, but my hands and arms were covered by the cloak.
More importantly because the little girl seemed so delighted at the opportunity to serve me, I did not have the heart to object. Carefully, she cut the meat into small pieces and fed them to me. Never have I had such an experience, Master. When I finished eating, believe it or not, she brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth with mouthwash. After clearing off my little table, she sat on it and just rested her head against my shoulder. When she wasn't nuzzling my neck, she was giving me soft, loving kisses.
We seemed to be awaiting something. I noticed a guard appear and just stand poised, waiting. He seemed to be watching someone or something out of my sight. Then he nodded to someone, came over, took me by the arm and raised me to my feet.
I was being hustled. And being the person I am, I resented it but stumbled along and found myself in the Great Hall. The guard was moving so quickly, rather than walking I was almost being carried along. Clearly he did not want to keep you waiting.
Suddenly he stopped and went down on one knee. Looking up, Master, I saw you and my heart rolled over. Wearing that royal-blue tunic that set off the blue of your eyes, I was overcome. Being the woman I am, I could not possibly admit it. But now, my darling, I do. I think I loved you from that first instant I saw you.
As a result I was happy when my cloak was removed. I stood up proudly and waited. Immediately I derived benefit from having seen myself in the mirror. I was very proud of my naked body and proudly presented myself to you. Then the guard ordered me to take "the position", whatever in hell that was. Somehow he got me into what passed as a submissive posture and then withdrew.
Never will I forget the first time I looked into your gorgeous eyes, Katherine. Of course a good submissive should have her eyes downcast at all times, but, my darling, you have never been a very good submissive. Admittedly you can play the rôle well when it suits you. But at any rate, I remember ordering you to do something and being summarily refused. I was taken completely aback and had no idea what to do. Your wrists were still secured to the collar at the back of your neck so I was well protected — or so I thought.
Your appearance at that moment both cheered me up and took my mind off my previously depressing thoughts. Now I had something else on which to focus my attention: you. "On your feet, Slave!" I commanded.
Never will I forget your reaction: You looked at me speculatively for a long moment, then slowly rose to your feet with a graceful, almost fluid motion. Standing there naked before me, darling, was the end of the line. I was finished! But, of course, good order and discipline must be preserved and you had to be punished. I ordered you to lay down over my knee and again was refused.
This was too much! I grabbed you, threw you over my right leg and administered one hard spank. As soon as my hand made contact with your bun — even though it was a spank — there was an incredibly sensual feeling. Not knowing if I was feeling or imagining, I very lightly stroked your buns. The sensation of your satin-smooth skin on my fingertips was unreal. Moreover, with you lying across my lap the fragrance of your body floated up to my nostrils and almost caused me to pass out. Woman, you are unbelievable!
At any rate I lightened my touch to that of a feather and enjoyed observing your reaction. In no time I could see you trying to raise your ass to better feel my hand in contact with your flesh.
As I moved my hand like a feather over your bottom I could hear moans coming from your body despite your obvious efforts to suppress them. As your body relaxed and you enjoyed the erotic sensation I was creating, I smacked you again. We kept on in this fashion for what seemed like hours.
Finally, I heard you say in a pitiable tone, "Please stop, Master. Oh please! If you must spank me, just do it! But no more caresses! Please!" Although it sounded like an odd request, I was convinced you were serious. And being the kind of person I am — or was — I continued, with even longer intervals of stroking between spanks.
Do I receive thanks for the tremendous pleasure I am creating for you? Hell, no! Instead, I feel a sharp pain in my thigh. Looking down, I see that you bit me, bitch! Since by now your asscheeks were brilliant red anyway, it was time to really get even. Unceremoniously, I dumped you off my lap onto the stone floor. Before you could move, I had snapped the end of a leash onto your collar and ordered you to your hands and knees.
When you refused — as I expected you to — I used a dog whip until you decided — following the theory of Benthamite Utilitarianism — the greatest good for the greatest number — that you would be better served, in the short run, at least, by crawling at my direction.
Well, beloved master, this was the first of what have become many instances in which my body betrayed my mind. I wanted to fight you but my body just wanted you. Really, it was quite funny as I padded along on my hands and knees crawling around the stone-paved corridors. But was it really necessary to direct me with strokes from the dog whip? Would not a tug in the appropriate direction on the leash have served the same purpose? Or — heaven forfend! — spoken instructions? But no matter. Soon I found myself on my hands and knees at your apartment door.
Opening it, Master, only a single stroke of the dog whip on what was by then, I am certain, a crimson ass, was enough to get me moving. Once inside the door, I realized I had entered a different world. From a stone surface now I was crawling on the finest, most lush wool plush carpet I had ever encountered. It felt so wonderful that my first thought was just to drop flat and wriggle my bare body on it. You had different plans, however.
Continuing to crawl, I went through several rooms finally arriving at your bedroom. There you lifted the leash and again cracked me across the ass. Master, honestly you were overdoing it, bigtime!
Taking the hint, however, I jumped up on your magnificent king-size (what else?) bed. As in a fine hotel, all preparations had been made for your retiring. In fact, I noticed, there was even a mint on each of the two pillows! The feel of the crisp percale on my bare skin was utterly heavenly. There was something else, though. Although I could never remember ever being in a bed, there was some sensual memory rekindled deep inside me by the feeling of the material.
While still on my hands and knees, I feel you move in behind me. Automatically I spread my legs wide to give you the room you need. Why am I doing this? I wonder. I can't stand this man! Even as the thought ran through my brain, my heart said, Katherine, you're full of shit! Just then I feel your cock begin to probe at my now-bare slit. Only now do I realize my pussy is flooded with its juices. But how can this be? I wonder, demonstrating how incredibly foolish one's brain can be sometime.
Feeling you in position, for some strange reason I moved backward suddenly impaling myself on your iron-hard cock. Since simultaneously you had moved forward, I could feel your body bounce off my still-crimson buns. You had fully penetrated my body in a single thrust. But why did I not scream in pain? Suddenly I realized the pain in my buns in some strange way was adding to my sexual enjoyment. Good heavens! I wondered. Am I now a masochist?
The fucking you administered, Master, was the very best of my entire life. There was an oddity, though. You tried to act like you were hurting me, but you were not. Suddenly I realized that you are incapable of hurting me. Truly you are! Coming to that realization I let out a wonderfully warm moan from deep inside my body. The sound must have inspired you, Sire, because you redoubled your efforts. As you moved slowly in and out of my sopping wet pussy, I rotated my hips to multiply the sensation for both of us. Where did that idea come from? I wondered. Dropping my arm to the bed, I rested my head on it, getting my ass up higher and opening my cunt to the deepest possible penetration. At the same time I moved my other hand and began to play with my clitoris.
Master, I cannot tell you how marvelous it felt. You took me up mountains to reach my orgasmic release. The first took awhile. The second was much faster. The third, faster yet. In what seemed like no time at all I was in a virtually continuous motion. Vaguely, I could hear a voice that sounded quite similar to my own screaming, "Fuck-me-fuck-me-fuck-me..." I wonder who that could have been? When you could hold back no longer, Master, you released what seemed like gallons of cum in successive spurting discharges that flooded my cunt. That was all I could take. Everything went black.
Recovering consciousness, I found my head resting on your shoulder while your hand cupped my tit. "Before, going to sleep, Slave, I will even share an after-fuck cigarette with you." (A cigarette? A very interesting invention when it comes along in 500 years or so... )
The few minutes that followed were the happiest I could remember to that point. All I could think to say — my thoughts were, to say the very least, confused — was, "Thank you, Master."
When the cigarette was finished you lifted me out of that wonderfully warm snugly bed and secured me to the headboard. First you fastened my wrists together with the leather cuffs, then fastened them to the bed. Although you did have the courtesy to cover me with a blanket — a luscious cashmere one, at that, I think — it was not what I had in mind. With my back propped up against the side of the headboard I began to screech as loudly and as off-key as I possibly could. Some might call it an effort at singing, but, beloved master, we both know better.
Actually, my victory was easy. Much too easy. When you unfastened me, I missed it, but reflecting on the scene now, I realize you were laughing! Deposited back on the bed I realized that you had tucked everything in again and restored the bed to its pre-fuck condition, or as close as you could get without remaking the bed. Again I luxuriated against the percale. When you joined me in bed, it took no effort on your part for me to move as close to your body as I could get just as you turned out the lights. In an instant I was sound asleep with my arm over your body.