Chapter 4: Laid In Bed Majestical

"A tough boil to lance, I am 'fraid," Talbot said disturbing Sir Edward de Valence's thoughts of the bound Catherine cached away in his luggage wagon.

Edward's eyes once again looked at the two towers he was commanded to take. Though Harfleur herself had surrendered, the villains in the those accursed towers had not. On the morrow, Edward planned to array three canon against both and pound them night and day until their senses were shaken back into their heads. If not, damp hay would be mounded around them and set aflame. The smoke would drive them out.

"Indeed, Talbot. But they will fall. This soil is hallowed by our blood and this town is English today and forever. They will leave or they will die. Come, fair Talbot, let us see the rest of our prize lodging and give thanks for it." -oOo-

Catherine D'Astier was not giving thanks to her lodging as she lay, bound hand and foot, beneath the scratchy blanket Edward had tossed over her. The empty bottle had not sated the desire in her womb and her bindings were raw upon her ankles and wrists from the effort. The yearning in her quim continued despite her fatigue.

She could not move much and every effort now caused ache in her joints and blissful agony where her pleasure-swollen nipples scraped against the blanket. The bottle she sought her wanton solace in was now poking between her thigh and swollen lips and her need to relieve herself was growing.

Catherine wondered about what was to happen now. The baggage wagon she was in had moved twice, the last just a very short distance. She was the English's prize and she knew he would have his fill of her before discarding her like a broken flagon. It is how long of draught he would have of her before that was to happen. It was up to her to make it last as long as she could.

The English, Edward, liked Catherine's lithe looks. She could see it in his hazel eyes as they feasted upon her ivory form. He relished what she could do with her lips around his pricker. She was now glad that her cousin and her other lovers taught her the lessons no friar could. They would be her salvation. To please the English ogre would mean life for her.

Catherine could also see in Edward de Valance's eyes a hatred that had been boiled to a hardness that no one could soften. What caused the anger, she did not know, but it was against her father Phillip, she was sure.

Catherine's father was an enigma to her. To him, she believed, she was just another pawn in his game of groats and florins. Catherine knew her mother was such a pawn. Adele D'Hainault was of a well landed family whose connections with the court were as tightly woven as any spider's web. She was rather a plain woman but a spirited one whose meddle was passed from mother to daughter. Adele had bore six children to Phillip before she died of the Death. The Death also claimed one of Catherine's brothers and her only sister. Their deaths left Catherine as the sole woman of the household and her mother's duties fell upon her. Phillip seemed not to care as long as things were kept in due order. His lust for appointment and filled coffer kept his attention.

Deep down, Catherine knew her father would not pay her ransom.

This realization overwhelmed her and she began to sob quietly to herself.

The second story of Edward's billet was like the first, divided into three rooms, all having beds and benches. The corner room had a large, canopied bed as well as a window over looking the river. This room also had a sturdy oak door with iron fitting and an arrow loop as well as having thick walls. The merchant that built this home was more than just a mere leather craftsman. The building would suit Edward well.

"Talbot, I want all the men to comb our camp for anything we may have left as well as anything left by any others. I need the quiet to plan the breaking of the towers."

"Indeed, m'lord."

Talbot left without another word.

Edward's eyes followed him until he made sure the soldier was gone. After exploring the building a bit looking for that odd soul that might have stayed behind, he found the building to be deserted save him and the woman bound in his luggage. Quickly he open the wagon's door and tore off the blanket covering his prize.

Catherine was huddled on her side and the smell of her urine and lust filled Edward's nose. Her slender face was puffed red with tears and her long, dark tresses were in a tangle about her. Her gag was still in place, damp with her drool, and her bindings were still taught. Her dark, doe-like eyes looked up at him in anguish as he reached down for her.

This time, Catherine did not struggle as Edward lifted her over his shoulder to carry her. She was as easy for Edward to lift as a yearling would be. Her slender, marble white skin was smooth and warm as he hugged her arse to keep her from falling. The smell of her perfume was still strong and Edward's lust for this D'Astier she-bitch was growing again.

Catherine was glad to be out of the wagon. The smell of her own urine was still strong in her mind and she never felt so helpless. The English's hands were warm and firm upon her bottom and they felt good. She did not recognize the house they were in, but she knew she was still in Harfleur. Her wrists were still bound together and tied to her bound ankles, however, despite the English's shoulder poking into her belly sorely, she did not dare move lest she fall and hurt herself even more.

At last, after passing through two or three rooms, the English dropped her onto a huge, canopied bed. Catherine could only see the lead-colored sky outside and the swirls of smoke that still rose wraith-like into the air. Nothing else was recognizable.

"Are you going to behave, Catherine, and not act like a wild mare?" Edward asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Catherine nodded, a quiet mewl coming from her gagged mouth.

Edward smiled and stood back a little to survey his prize. Catherine was slender in build and her skin was the color of milk, though now she needed to be washed of the soot and grime that clung to her. Even as disheveled as she was as she lay in the bed bound, Edward could feel a wanton ache growing in his groin for this woman.

"I am going to untie you briefly so that you are more comfortable, " Edward told her in her native French.

Rolling her onto her stone smooth stomach, Edward began to untie those knots he had tied last night. The knots were difficult, pulled tighter by her struggles, but soon he had her ankles unbound as well as her wrists.

Catherine felt the bindings come off of her hands and feet, but there was numbness in them that made it hard for her to move them. It was if her body was betraying her when Edward rolled her back over and bound her wrist again, one to each bedpost above her head. The English then did the same to her ankles until she was spread and exposed before him. She turned her head away, closing her eyes and knowing what was to come. She was all out of tears.

The cold water came as a shock and instantly she was looking to see what was happening. Her eyes met Edward's dark, hazel ones and saw the slight smile in them. He had a dripping cloth in his hand and was washing her body with it. Slowly, but firmly, he washed each foot and leg, working his way up until the cold, sodden cloth was washing her belly. Then the cloth began to caress over her breasts, now flattened because of her position. It was a slow lover's caress, not harsh at all, and Catherine let out a mewl of pleasure despite herself.

Edward caressed her nipples, feeling their stiffness beneath the cloth. He rubbed the cloth over them and around them, causing his captive to moan gently through her gag. Slowly, he worked his way up her chest and gently began to wash away the grim from the curves of her face. There was no longer the look of fear in her dark eyes, only a look of coy curiosity.

Then Edward bent down and kissed her on her forehead.

Edwards kisses did not linger there. Catherine closed her eyes and felt his warm lips and rough beard caress her cheek and neck and felt his breath when he nibbled at her ear. There were slight purrs of pleasure rumbling in her throat as his kisses moved down her neck and over her upper chest.