In Defence of the Keep
Copyright© 2025 by James Girvan
Chapter 4: A Family, a Shrew, and a Miracle
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 4: A Family, a Shrew, and a Miracle - Laird Nathanial was once a Hero of Chaos and Crossroads but tonight is under attack in his family’s Keep by his brother and a small army of mercenaries. No longer welcome on Crossroads after breaking the rules of chivalrous combat, he hatches a plan to both defend his lands and travel back to Crossroads. Can he survive in either world?
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Heterosexual
Thatchers, an entire family of Thatchers. Father Timothy, eldest Tim, then Pierre, Benjamin, John, and youngest Andre. I arbitrarily gave the ring to the Firstborn, Tim and the group of us held on in a chain of eight as he led us out the office door and through the Portal.
In the Keep, an hour had passed since I stood on the walls observing my brother’s Army with my uncle.
To me it was two seasons ago. To my Uncle it was years ago.
I remember seeing her, my Caretaker, in the pristine white room, her smile, her arms out running to greet me ... Just the two of us, working together, learning together, being together..., She wouldn’t bear my children, but she was the light of my life, my reason for being.
I wonder if I should just walk away from the Portals, Crossroads and Chaos. I could just smash the damn portal and ride away from the Keep with all of it’s damned intrigue. Caretakers aren’t given another Hero, and there is only the one Greeter.
I will never see her again.
It may just be spite or stubbornness, but I couldn’t just give up. I was going to repel my brother’s army, kill the asshole, and protect my lands and people. I had a duty and responsibility to ensure their safety as their Laird, despite my own problems.
Strangely, if my older brother Charles had simply asked me to give his the land, I probably would have happily given it over. Father had left me to be Laird over him mostly because my elder brother couldn’t access the portal. It was only after father’s death that I lost my own access.
Without Cassandra and my Caretaker, the Lairdship was just a giant millstone around my neck.
Protect it from invasion and theft, defend the people and help the population and arable land to grow. Manage the land rentals, tithes, taxes, Guilds, train (and monitor) sheriffs and peacekeepers. Sit through legal cases involving disputes over a cow ... an endless list of drudgery to complete. A Laird could have just assigned those tasks to be completed for them, but then he’d have to check his underlings’ work and execute those too stupid to properly hide their minor thefts. I had to marry a girl from the right family, cement ties, binds and political allies. Produce an heir with said girl...
Charles could damn well have had it but for one thing ... he tried to take it ... from ME! No one would ever take from me that which was MINE.
The white room was silent but for the rapid breathing of the others around me. I should probably explain and calm them. “Men (and women) of Isen, men of the Thatcher family, (and Chambermaid) this is a training and proving grounds for turning us into noble warriors so that we may protect our families, ourselves, and our lands. There are many days available to learn, and practice. There is Comfort, Learning and Healing to be found here, and I will be one of your teachers and guides” I said, stepping out in front of the group and turning to face them. I could tell when Diane had come in behind me before she spoke. Every man (and the girl) turned their eyes to watch her.
“I will be another...” I heard over my shoulder. “Please follow us, we will clean ourselves before a meal.”
I took the younger three men, not as young as the stable hands were, but not old enough to marry yet... 15-19 years. I instructed them in washing as I had with the others. I could still smell them after one washing, so I had them do it again. With the hot water falling from above, and gentle soaps, I got very little grumbling. More soft white robes were procured from hooks in the shower room, and we exited to find the other men similarly attired and seated around a large table piled with beautiful soft breads, fruits and cheeses.
I couldn’t see the girl.
The older men began to rise as they saw me “Be seated Good men, we have much work to do in the time ahead of us. Please, let us eat so we may grow strong to achieve our goals” and I sat at the opposite end of the table from Diane.
Timothy was surreptitiously making eyes at Diane, suggesting to me that she hadn’t joined them in the showers. Looking them both over, they seemed to look the same age. A man with at least five sons (and an unknown number of daughters) had to have worn out a wife or two.
Conversation was led expertly by Diane, and once again I learned more about the people of my Keep and my lands by listening to a one-hour dinner conversation than I had from the many reports from my Steward, Exchequer, Sheriff, or Landsman. The older man was holding up admirably under her questioning, and came across as knowledgeable and polite.
After an hour or so, I jumped in and drove the conversation for a time.
“Master Thatcher, do you or any of your sons have any weapon experience?” I asked directly.
“My Lord, I have taken up a weapon three separate times for your family, once for your Grandfather, and twice for your father.” He began.
“Carrying a club, as a member of the armed rabble for your grandfather, I was one of the few who survived with all their limbs intact. Personally I put that up to pure luck, but your father actually put us through a few days of training when he called upon us his first time three years later. I was taught how to hold a shield and spear at least. Far fewer of us would have died had your grandfather done the same. I am pleased to see you taking your father’s teaching to heart, my sons and I are once again at the command of the Laird of Isen”
I liked the man, without appearing to curry favour, he let me know that he quickly understood and approved of my (unconventional) plan.
His eldest son (Hero Tim) along with Timothy, and Diane kept up a continuous conversation for the remainder of the meal. The two eldest men of their clan basically ignored the younger four sons.
Putting down my apple, I directed my attention to the younger men. They were all shorter and more heavily muscled than either their eldest brother or their father. Looking at the youngest, Andre I asked “Young Thatcher, what can you tell me about your family?”
The lad went beet red, and looked towards his father.
“My Lord, Andre is afflicted with the stutter-stop ... his words don’ soom’ t’come out right, and he’ll repeat them a number of times ... makes him hard to understand it does ... but he’s as hard a worker as the others, he’ll not fail you Sir” said his Father from the other end of the table.
I had heard of this affliction but never met anyone with it. “Please introduce yourself to me young Thatcher, we are to work together as teacher and student. I need to know just how difficult communication will be” I directed to the now distraught man. He took a moment.
“M ... m ... my n ... name is ... A ... A ... An ... An ... An ... Andr ... Andre m ... m ... my L ... L ... L ... Lord.” He finally managed to choke out ... and I released a breath that I wasn’t aware I was holding. This was going to be difficult.
“That is not so bad, still it will give us something to work on” I said with forced enthusiasm.
At this point, Greeter Diane snapped her fingers and held her hand in the air. By some form of magic (Diane assured me it is not magic) three folded stacks of the heavy “paper” appeared in her hand. Knowing what was up and watching them be passed to the Hero Tim, I whispered to Andre beside me “Watch their faces as they reach the last page of each bundle”.
He glanced at me shocked that I would speak with such familiarity, but watched earnestly. It took some time, as it seemed that both Timothy and Tim could read a little and by the time they flipped over the last page, all four boys at my end of the table were watching carefully. They had heard the description (read aloud) of the first candidate’s history, but the voices of the two readers at the end of the table turned into a squawk of surprise. Both men went bright red in the face and I exploded into laughter, the others following me even though they had no knowledge of the contents of the page.
“My dear Thatchers, those images are there to ensure our Hero understands just how desperately each of those young maidens (laugh to myself) would like you to ‘pick’ them. May I suggest that you read the whole paper, and also listen to the counsel of Greeter Diane” I added, once I stopped giggling like a drunk. I needn’t have bothered with the last part. The three of them were already poring over the papers; discussing training and experience and hair colour.
The other lads migrated to the top of the table to crowd around them. I still have this image in my mind of Diane, surrounded by the six big men, stopping to look around her, and giving a small shudder.
I surprised myself (and the others) by drinking far too much of the far too excellent wine. I woke stiff and sore, lying on the floor with the table and chairs gone. I had a pounding headache and managed to get myself to the toilet before I pissed myself. Feeling a little better after a shower, I walked out to find the group (plus one and minus two) eating what looked like lunch. The newcomer (I assumed she was the new Companion) was a plump, voluptuous (though not as ridiculously large as Caretaker Sharon) dark haired beauty (weren’t they all) who had long “come hither” eyelashes and a plush look about her. That she was here (and dressed) led me to believe I had slept through the whole introduction, seduction, and copulation of the new Hero. The four men around them had wide smiles and a happy demeanour also, possible the work of Diane.
Camille was as frank a woman as you are likely to meet. She had the boys off to exercise, and dragged me to the Healing chamber. Pointing to a Healing Chamber with a flashing light she intoned “That girl has had SEVENTEEN pregnancies!” she paused, expecting my reply in an imperious manner.
Through the remains of my pounding hangover I managed a polite quip. “And I can guarantee that I haven’t had a hand in any of them Caretaker Camille...” I can’t even really say that I recognized the woman in the box, and from what I could see, I wouldn’t have wanted her in my bed. Even my wife was far better looking.
“Even you wouldn’t have been involved in impregnating your sister!” She steamed. I had another look at the face I could see through the darkened glass faceplate, she looked a bit like my mother and I, (from what I had seen in portraits) but nothing like my brother.
“There are many bastard children in the Keep, my father was known to spread his seed far and wide. Given how this trait was passed down from my grandfather, she could well be my aunt as well...” I said seriously.
I wasn’t making light of it, having found out that the Steward was a relative just recently.
“She is a FULL sister of yours, we compared genetics, she was your father’s and your mother’s child! You bastards let her live a life of slavery, under your own roof! Your own family!” She raged on.
I had honestly never planned to strike one of these women, but I was a Laird of my Keep and would never broker this kind of disrespect from anyone, from any world.
Caretaker Camille spun fully around before hitting one of the pristine white walls and leaving it smeared with red blood from a bleeding nose and mouth.
I stood back from her, many of these women had surprising combat skills and getting close would just be inviting trouble. “Let me make this abundantly clear...” I said quietly. “I can think of a dozen reasons why this should have happened, and none of them were under my control, and therefore no fault of mine.” I continued: “Furthermore, if you or your like ever take that tone with me again you will need the immediate assistance of these machines here. Have I made myself clear?”
Standing straighter I said “I have the feeling that your people need the seed of tough, strong men of action for some reason or other. If that is the case, then you probably aren’t used to dealing with us in your daily existence. We will never accept being spoken down to...”
“ ... You have been warned.”
I stalked out of the room, looking for Diane. She was running towards me (or more accurately past me) towards the healing chambers and her bleeding Caretaker.
“Did you have to hit her?” She growled as she flew by.
Possibly not ... but in reality, sometimes you need to get a person’s attention.
The hangover hadn’t helped things.
Walking to the training room (which was pleasantly found to be open) I went through some stretching routines, and simple exercises. There were no practice weapons or armour here to use yet.
I was shadow boxing, a series of movements taught to me years ago called Katas when Diane swept in. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” she hissed “Camille is the head of Candidate Selection for us!”
“I understand enough, she was disrespectful to me and that won’t be allowed. She can calmly approach me with concerns,” I said as I calmly approached Diane “We can then speak politely to one another,” I reached for her “ ... resolve the issue...” I pressed the broach at her shoulder, allowing her dress to drop, pooling at her feet “and then fuck like wild animals until we are too fatigued to care!” I gave a quick leg-sweep and carefully dropped her onto the mats. I knew Diane let this happen, I had enough skills at this to tell she could easily have avoided it, just by the way she moved. Damnation, this woman even fell gracefully.
Deciding to make this as distracting an event as possible, I attacked her Fanny with my tongue. Many years ago I was shown by my Uncle’s Caretaker the intricacies of tonguing a woman to the Little Death, although the vast number of the women I met here went over easily enough with just my shaft.
“You are just trying to distract me, is this how you plan to apologize to Camille?” She huffed and grunted and clenched once.
“Mo,” I mumbled, my face full of her privates. “ ‘M plamming somesing mucs, mucs worse” I managed to get out, while keeping my tongue out of my mouth and on her slit.
Her legs held my head like a vice while she took a few long breaths and shook. When she was once again coherent, she coughed out “Camille has had hundreds of women to eat her out, what makes you think your skills are going to be enough to prevent her from...” she arched her back as I stuck my finger in her neither regions ... silencing her as effectively as if I had shoved it into her throat.
I popped my finger out, and grabbed her waist, sliding her towards me as I rose to my knees. Sinking in deep, I flicked her little bean with my thumb as I slid in and back out again. “I’m going to distract her, all the men here are going to help me.”
“You ... ungh ... think ... ungh ... distracting ... Ooohh!” She squealed
“Either the seven of us fuck her so senseless that she can’t recall her name, let alone being struck my me...”
I kept up my movements.
“Or I choke her during sex until she passes out, then dump her in a Healing Chamber until we leave,” I dropped down and grabbed her neck like my Father’s Caretaker had once coached me to, in order to cut-off some blood flow to the head “Alternatively I could just plain throttle her to death.” I said, adding my second hand to her throat, but not actually putting in much of the force I could have.
Diane’s face went redder than usual and she shook mightily as I kept power-stroking her while holding her neck firmly. She actually did pass out, and I checked her heart’s pulsing rhythm at the neck as I had been shown all those years ago.
Living for the moment, I kept at her limp body, just trying to get myself over before she came around.
You would think that choking a woman; while calmly describing murdering her companion; as you Polled her as hard as you could; without a care in the world for her pleasure; wouldn’t be a winner ... but these women were just built differently.
Diane came back to consciousness and immediately tensed her entire body so hard, I swear that I heard things snap. My piston was stopped, mid-outstroke by how hard she clamped on to me.
I waited, not wishing to tear my favourite tool off as she calmed down ... it took some time.
Her eyes were still glassy as she started breathing again. I took this as sign and just stroked until I spewed in her.
I waited until I got every exquisite moment from it, then hauled up and out of her, grabbing her discarded dress to wipe down with, saying “Well, which plan should I go with?” Her head rolled to the side, regarding me with wide eyes, speechless.
That might just be a first for her.
I couldn’t get a meal without either Diane or Camille, and I didn’t suppose I would be wise to eat anything provided from her anyways. Picking up our Greeter, I carried her limp to the showers, cleaning us both quickly and efficiently, without added playtime. I carried her naked over my shoulder into the dining room, where 6 men waited apprehensively at an empty table. Camille was nowhere to be seen. “Supper! Come-on woman, you have hungry guests!” I called over my back as I slapped the nude Greeter on the ass for emphasis.
Diane asked for a meal to be served (we men could ask all we wanted, I wouldn’t get anything without our Caretaker -or Greeter’s- ordering it for us.) It was damn annoying and one of the few things about this place that sat poorly with me.
Tossing a still-limp Diane onto the newly made bed (There must be extremely sneaky chambermaids here, I have yet to see one, but then again one of the Chambermaids of my Keep was apparently a full sister of mine and I can’t really recall ever having seen her either.) I left her there to recover.
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