Chapter 3

(The continuing adventures of Alphonse D'Paris formerly known as Mabel Mahoney.)

I spread my cloak over the exhausted Nicolette and left her to slumber peacefully in the stable. My return to Earthly existence in the form of my coupling partner, a French guy called Alphonse, was further complicated by shifting into a time period over a thousand years prior in a country I had never visited in my true form of Mabel Mahoney.

The change from being the "fuckee" into being the "fucker" was hard enough to adapt to, but I was also faced with the strange tongue and a culture entirely unfamiliar. Thus far, I was fortunate enough to receive the privilege of mounting three friendly females with much success, but the likelihood of any of them falling in "love" with me was extremely remote. Strangely, I felt a connection to all three of the females who had opened their knees for Alphonse D'Paris. It was far stronger than any emotional connection in my life as a woman who loved to suck big cocks and allowing special male friends to even stretch my pucker hole for their depraved enjoyment.

My instructions from the adamant gatekeeper on Heaven's Gates were quite clear. In order to gain entrance, I must find a female who would regard me with true love or I would remain Alfonse D'Paris living in AD 833 for the remainder of my Earthly days.

Thus far, I had blended into the background in Medieval France, but I was headed to the seat of power in the City of Lyon to stir up some opportunities to rise above my commoner status. I tried to make my appearance as agreeable as possible and walked briskly up the unpaved street to the Castle wall.

Right at the entrance to the inner market courtyard, there was a crowd of shouting residents pelting a mud-splattered young woman with refuse and other distasteful missiles. She tried to keep her pretty head up but the humiliation of her current situation made her hang her head in shame and repugnance.

"Hang the witch and let her twitch!"

Coarse laughter and ribald comments made the few women present chuckle obscenely and even to make nasty gestures that were fairly common over a thousand years later.

One aggressive matron even reached out and tore the girl's dress from her shoulder causing one of her magnificent breasts to spill out for public observation. She tried to cover up her naked form but was faced with little success being fully occupied with dodging the thrown missiles.

A very bored looking ancient fellow with a large medallion around his neck to signify some authority of sorts read a scroll in a halting and falsetto voice that cause me to smile even though the circumstances seemed quite serious.

"Be it known that on the 13th day of February in the year of our Lord 833, the witch Marie Medici is sentenced to public flogging of two score stokes. She is to be given the anal testing immediately following the punishment to determine if the horned beast is still present within her body. If she is able to take the testing silently then she will be released as being free from contamination of the dark spirits. However, if she utters verbal protests, she will be taken to the place of hanging and then placed on the pyre to reduce her every trace of existence into ashes."

When they started the flogging process, I decided to leave for I took no pleasure in seeing such a travesty of a shameful nature. I hoped the poor girl would be able to remain silent when her nether regions were rudely treated.

Inside the walls, I was greeted with a stench of such magnitude that I marveled at how the residents of the walled fortress were able to contend with its oppressive assault on the nostrils.

Several females of disreputable appearance accosted me as I made my way up the steep street to the central common.

"How about a little cuddle, dearie?"

"Leave him be, Annette, I saw him first."

The second dark-haired vixen was decidedly more attractive than the first and I did not object when she placed my hand on her heaving bosom. However, I was determined to move forward in my quest for some guidance in achieving some recognition above the ranks of lowly commoner and pressed onward to the main castle hall.

I was tempted to stop at a small shop for some liquid refreshment but was unsure if my small coins would be enough to cover the fee. A redheaded wench with a large knife was carving a succulent roast hanging from a turning spit over heated embers. She looked into my eyes and gave me a hint of willingness to receive my seed in her shapely love cradle. Her freshly washed skin and sweet scent was a notable difference from the hoydens on the street outside.

"Care for a taste, handsome?"

I looked in her deep blue eyes and let my gaze fall down to the strip of cooked meat in her hand.

"Thank you, young Miss, I am Alfonse D'Paris recently arrived in this place from duties elsewhere. Is there a quiet corner for me to rest my frame for a moment?"

"Follow me, Sir Alfonse; I will attend to you personally."

The redhead with the softly curved and exposed bosom led me to a bench secluded from the fray and sat down next to me with her hot thigh pressed hard into my leg. She was not in the least bit shy or reluctant to afford me easy access to her womanly secrets. My fingers came up from beneath her skirts with pungent proof of her natural heat.

My cock was suddenly rampant and ready for adventure. It wanted to explore the redheaded doxie without delay.

"My name is Drusilla. I am not from this town but my parents lived here until they died. I was raised by nuns in the convent at Avignon."