Chapter 7

Four days later, I was standing at the edge of a field whilst the ‘seconds’, Perbright and Braxene agreed the terms. The rules came down to ‘when Bishop Macabre blows his whistle come out and kill the other guy’. Perbright had already promised to take revenge if I was killed, which was no consolation at all. I had the feeling Braxene would similarly respect the result of this fight.

The whistle blew and a man mountain started towards me. You know the story of David and Goliath? This guy made Goliath look like a shrimp. He blotted out the sun, the earth shook as he ran. He was built like an effing castle, let alone a brick shithouse! And he had a sword that could probably kill an elephant. And he was heading my way. My one chance was the David and Goliath story. The One-Godders said it was an example of God’s love. The Three suggested to me that all the times that Goliath won didn’t make a good story. In the one in a thousand times that David had a lucky chance, God did it, not chance. I was hoping it was time to buck the trend again.

At fifty yards, I took up my fighting stance. At twenty yards, I threw my dragon knife; razor sharp, perfectly balance, it hit his eye and he hesitated, but the momentum carried him forward. On and on towards my doom. Then he hit the ground and slid to a halt at my feet. The knife had gone through the eye into the brain. Seems I was David to his Goliath. Sometimes you can throw four double sixes in a row, sometimes you can fuck your best friends wife and she doesn’t get pregnant, sometimes you raffle ticket comes up (okay, then you win some crap prize like ‘fragrant Rose scented shampoo’, but at least you won).

It was a lucky chance that looked like a brilliant kill. Bishop Macabre would have said said ‘praise the Lord for his mercy’. I felt more like praising the dragon. Then Duke Braxene and his five henchmen – his body guards – launched themselves towards me; of course they did. This one-on-one malarchy is only honoured by the winners. In fairnessm Perbright had also promised that if I have been sliced and diced then he would find another reason to escort Braxene off this mortal coil; so it wasn’t like we were too stable on the moral high ground. But at the same time, chaps, play the game! It’s just not cricket. So I felt annoyed that we hadn’t had the opportunity to cheat better.

We had come as agreed, just the two of us, Perbright and me. Braxene had arrived with a man mountain as a champion, himself as the second, and five murderous looking thugs as bodyguards. He had no intention of honouring the bargain or the law. They were getting closer. To his credit, Perbright was standng at my side. I’d told him to run as one of us should survive – logic from The Three rubbing of on me. Instead he did what I would have done and stood up to impossible odds and prepared to die (Anemone would have explained how men were stupid heaps of overblown brainless muscle, good for humping and dying needlessly). There was a thump behind me, a belch, and Braxene, who was known to always have a lighted cheroot in his mouth, erupted into flame that enveloped four of the armed men. The fifth was singed, and then headless (courtesy of Perbright)

Five piles of ash remained. The dragon was already running to take off. How did it know? It just turned up and then left, a law to itself. I had persuaded Ida to make dragons a protected species. The dragon dipped and roasted the ex-duke’s horse. It skillfully turned, landed, sliced off legs and head and left again with the torso of a horse that had been a thoroughbred, and no less tasty for that.

“Well, that was a surprise.” said General Lord Perbright.

“Yes, “I replied. “Probably more so for them.” I added, and we smiled and made our way back. There would be no more trouble. We made our way to camp, and jointly agreed that, rather than taking the army into Braxis, we should journey there together with perhaps twenty men. It showed that we considered the battle over. Their army was melting away ‘like dew in the morning’ Perbright said. He thought he was being poetic, but really it is such an overused simile.

Still, we rode to the city of Braxis and the gates were opened for us. In the hall, we were somewhat taken by surprise by two things. First, Queen Ida was already there. She informed us that as soon as she heard of the one-to-one fight, she was so sure I would win that she headed straight for the capital of this small province. It was a bold move, but to the victor the spoils. She later told me that she also calculated that even if I lost, having the queen in Castle Braxis would mute the opposition somewhat. I didn’t follow that so much. The other surprise was when Lady Braxene suddenly appeared screaming like a banshee and waving a massive knife. Murder was in her voice and her eyes, but she was divided in her attention by the three targets. That undermined her; Perbright was too much of a gentleman to kill a lady, Ida was unarmed. I dispatched her by cutting her throat, and then held her and whispered soft phrases as she gurgled her way to the afterlife. “I do not understand you. You kill but with no rancour, in fact with pity for the poor souls who die. I could not do that.” Lord Perbright said.

“Forgive me, husband. I was told that Lady Braxene had fled. I shall have words with my informant.” That did not bode well for that person. “But I have another surprise. Bring them!” Three girls – about thirteen, fifteen and nineteen were pulled into the light. “These are Braxene’s daughters. His son died marching with the army. Sad, if he’d stayed at home, Braxene would have had a clear heir and made my life harder. Still ... these are his daughters and I have decided that if any have children then they will be the natural heirs to the lands.” This made sense. It would not do for the province to become a pearl to be argued over by already rich nobles. “But what to do with the girls? If they are wed to any others, then that will automatically create a claim. No they must come with us, back to the palace as our guests.

I have spoken to them privately. They will not marry; I have been clear with them on that. But they should bear children. We came to an understanding, did we not girls?” The three of them nodded. “Yes, you, husband, will be their sire. They shall be your mistresses since you cannot bed your own wife. As mistresses, they are a little less free to pick and choose than a wife might be.” I didn’t understand. “I mean they will do whatever you ask. The alternative is to expunge the House Braxene entirely, and we do not want to do that, do we?” The three girls didn’t realise that was not requiring an answer, the elder two said “No, ma’am” and the younger shook her head. She was too young to realise that expunge meant kill.

“Well, that is all good. Shall we eat?” Ida was becoming a true queen; ruthless, and with the administrator’s mind that says ‘that’s done, moving on’. “By the way, Uma was very concerned that here youngest sister – Ota – was too young. I pointed out that Ota was thirteen; that the legal limit for girls in brothels is ten; the marriage limit is twelve; the honourable story of Lady Parcifal had her producing the twins at thirteen. But Uma was still very concerned that your great big cock would split Ota in half my husband.” Ida could be very crude when she wanted to be, crude and sarcastic. She had seen my cock erect only that once, but she knew it was not huge. Still, it was true that Ota was only thirteen. I can’t deny that she wasn’t pretty and eminently bed-able. Like any dog in a chicken coup, I was happy to grab as much as possible; but a bit of delayed pleasure was probably good for me. I couldn’t believe my luck – upper class girls have been well fed, well-brought-up. They are honed and designed to be good adverts for the family; Uma was nineteen, slim and large of chest, she had long flowing light brown hair, red lips and a small nose, blue-grey eyes and clear pale skin. She wasn’t smiling, I couldn’t see her teeth; but upper classes tend to have all their own teeth and evenly spaced as well (young nobles sometimes have a hard time with people filing teeth and pulling out ones they think are extra to requirements – still, Braxis is quite modern in this respect. Toalis still follow the old practice of pulling out the back teeth to make the mouth smaller). Ola, at fifteen, was still filling out. Her face was similar to Uma but more delicate; her hair was lighter. Call me a shallow man (I am, I don’t care), a blonde was always going to draw my eye; and call me a basic, crude man (yes, yes, I am that too), I wanted to compare the hair between her legs with the hair on her head. Ota could wait.

I had an idea and sent a message to Hendrik.

I made it my task to get to know the three girls as we moved back to the palace. It took a few days, we had no need to hurry. Uma assured me that she would be entirely compliant to my wishes if I would only leave her sisters in peace. I told her that Ota was safe, “When is she fourteen?”

“She reaches that age in five months.”

“Well, let us say that I shall not touch her until we reach the anniversary of this day? A year?” She nodded gratefully. “But Ola is different. My queen, my wife, has said Ola should be prepared to join me ... us (you and I) in my bed. So I have less choice in delaying gratification. But I can promise that I shall be more gentle if I can when I take her.” She was mulling that over, what was I going to do to her? “In fact, perhaps I will let you get her ready – slippery inside. That might help.” She looked horrified now, she hadn’t realised the attraction that men find in watching a girl pleasuring another girl; and even more so if they are sisters. She saw me starting to bulge at the front of my trousers. I wore the fashionable loose clothes, so the pointy bulge indicated that I was priapic to a significant degree.

Ida came up. “Are you scaring Uma? My dear, he will be rough and ready, but it only hurts the first couple of times. Put that thing away, husband. You won’t be using it until we are back at the palace.”

Talking to Ola was interesting, she was much more willing than Uma seemed to think she should be. She was, she told me, willing to do whatever I liked if it protected Ota. I thought of what I could do with this girl and promptly got another erection. Ola saw and thought that meant I wanted her now. “You want me now sir? I don’t know where we could go.”

“No ... I mean yes, I would love to take you now and often; but Ida – Queen Ida I mean – says we have to wait until we are at the palace; and anyway, I think it only fair that your sister comes first.” You might think that telling a girl that it was only fair I should fuck her sister hard and long and frequently first was hardly the same as saying ‘no please, you go through the door first, madam’ but I was trying to do what was right in an unusual situation.

Ota liked kittens. She was still a girl. Her body was moving into the shape that created lust in a man’s loins but the brain wasn’t there yet. She was innocent of the erotic potential that a young girl can advertise; when she did realise, there would be a short time where she would be innocent and sexy at the same time. Her eldest sister, and even Ola, were aware of sex being just around the corner. They understood the requirements, the possibilities, the things a girl might have to do; the innocence was only there in that they only knew it in theory, not yet in practice. I decided that Ota definitely could wait; I wasn’t some hairy arsed male wanting to rape young girls – I wanted them to at least open their legs voluntarily.

I found myself keen to get back to the palace.

Ida had sent ahead. She was, as I say, good at administration. She had re-arranged the accommodation. Her rooms now had a side room that was for Ota – she told me that later this would be for her niece or nephew once Ota had moved to my rooms.

I had only notionally shared Ida’s bedroom. In practice, we both regarded it as too risky. If I saw her naked I might just find I had to fuck her; and no-one would blame me since she was my wife. I knew the rules, though. We could not afford her to get pregnant. So I had slept in another room nearby. Now I had my own rooms – a bedroom, a sitting room with a desk, and a couple of other rooms with beds in them. My bedroom had a large bed in it; it could accommodate four easily. There was something to look forward to. The other bedrooms allowed for the Uma and Ola to have their own rooms for their own things. It also meant I could invade their personal space as well as their person. My darling wife understood male psyche well.

I liked my new rooms. I told Ida that we should be seen to eat breakfast and dinner together. “If you can drag your debauched carcass out of Uma long enough.” She replied. She could be so rude. “I pointed out that she had arranged this, and that ‘the church’ would support me in insisting on my conjugal rights from my spouse. “Ohhhh, poor little husband. I was only joking. You are quite right that we should eat together. We will arrange a calendar.

Oh, Hendrik, hello, you have come to see me? Oh, him? Very well.”

I discussed my idea with Hendrik. He looked surprised, then interested. “And I could make wood blocks made? I think this would be of interest to many.”

She gave me some responsibilities; well, she asked me. Could I look at the waste systems for the city. I was quite keen actually. The water supply was near the open sewer that ran down to the river, people washed cloths in the river water both above and below where these sewers flowed out. I began to think around the issues here.

You might have expected me to start fucking like a rabbit, given what was on offer; amazingly I let them settle in for a week or two. In that time, Hendrik came back with two copies of what I had suggested. “Excellent, I will need another personalised copy please.”

“But I can get the printer to produce some more as well?”

“Oh, yes, thank you. Please do. I think you may have a winner here.”

The books were labelled “Manual of Desirable Sex”. Inside were carefully painted pictures, one per page, with a description attached. Hendrik had thought carefully about this and had added another idea. Two small line drawings pulled the painting into two people; showing the positions the protagonists would be expected to be in. They were clearly male (third leg clearly drawn) or female (protuberance on upper body). The books were divided into sections: Normal Sex; Other Positions; Woman; Woman on Woman; Man and Two. I pointed out he had missed out Man on Man. He looked at me “Not for me, but if you are printing this for general use then...”

“Oh, yes, I see. But that is illegal.”

“So is sheep-shagging; but drawing pictures of it is not. It is up to the readers what they do with the information.”

I presented Uma and Ola with a copy each, signed by the author (Hendrik – I was not so arrogant as to insist that I was the author for having an idea). “Ota will want a copy too; when she is old enough – that would give her nightmares!”

“It is in hand – I suspect she might be the only one flexible enough to do that one.”

“Oh! This is disgusting, shameful. A man cannot do that to a woman can he?” Ola was looking at a picture of a man with his whole hand inside her anus.