Chapter 22: How the Count of Nassau Fights for One Bride and Wins Another

Joerg relaxed in the big stone bath. The tub was one of the nice amenities of the Meiningen castle. It could be, and in fact it was, filled from a heated basin, and the water was scented.

Joerg had spent the day riding in the wintry landscape surrounding the small town, inspecting the roads. After finding Meiningen reinforced by Erlenburg soldiers, the troops of the Count of Nassau had retreated a few miles, wary of being surprised by a sortie from the castle. Indeed, the thought had crossed Joerg's mind a few times. Surprising the enemy in the middle of a cold night would catch them with stiff, frozen limbs. Due to the retreat, however, they would have ample time to prepare themselves. Joerg and his men would have to wait for spring, when Arnulf of Erlenburg would come with another body of men.

Joerg's brother Bjoern had returned to Erlenburg with the first snow, to help defend the Erlenburg should the Count turn his troops to the east and attack their home base. This had left Joerg and Katherine with their men to defend Meiningen.

A soft cough came from behind the heating basin, and Joerg saw the two handmaids of the Lady of Meiningen approaching. They made a show of being shy, but Joerg knew from experience that they were anything but. Since his arrival, three months ago, Hannah and Elgita had often shared his bath. Jorg wondered whether they did this on orders from their Lady, on their own volition, or perhaps from a mixture of both.

Now the two young women dropped their shifts to the oaken floor panels. In the cool air, he could see their nipples, erect on top of their proud young breasts. The maids quickly scrambled over the sill of the tub and submerged themselves in the warm water.

"Hello, my lovelies," he greeted them.

With giggles, the two maids made their way to his either sides. Joerg opened his arms wide to allow them to snuggle close. In an instant, he felt one small hand encircling his swelling manhood while another hand tenderly caressed his balls. He was hard in no time at all.

"Did you see the enemy, Joerg?" Elgitha asked, slowly massaging the rod in her right hand.

"No, they keep to their camp. They have posted lookouts, about a mile from here, on the ridge. But it's only three men, and they are freezing their balls off," he laughed.

"While your balls are in good hands," Hannah agreed, giggling.

"In expert hands," Joerg smiled.

He gave Hannah a tender kiss, then turned, and kissed Elgitha. Their lips smiled under his kiss, and their ministrations continued. Joerg let his hands move down their backs. Pulling the maids close, he cupped their young breasts with his hands, and the girls snuggled even closer.

"It's my turn today," Elgitha informed him. "Hannah is in the middle of her moon cycle."

So far, neither of the girls had become pregnant. Therefore, Jorg trusted their judgement when it came to planning their little bouts. There were days when they would just stroke him or suck him, and he would return their favours with his hands, lips and tongue. There were other days, like this day, when one or both girls would open their soft and yielding sheaths to his sword.

Elgitha straddled him, still holding on to his member, and guiding it to her opening. With a sigh of content, she sank down, spearing herself to the core. Jorg let out a sigh as well, savouring the sensation of the young woman's velvety, soft opening. Since arriving at Meiningen, he had not slept with any other woman. Between the two of them, he was busy enough and fully content.

Elgitha picked up pace, creating small waves in the tub with her upper body. Hannah kept fondling his balls underwater, her other, right hand busy between her own legs. Joerg still fondled Hannah's breast, too, while his right hand was busy on Elgitha's rhythmically moving body.

Barbara held her breath as she took the downward steps carefully, one foot after the other. Approaching the bath chamber, she could hear low talk and laughter, and the splashing of water. On her own orders, the hinges of the door to the bath chamber had been greased, and the door opened without a noise.

Earlier that afternoon, she had seen the Captain Joerg return from his scouting. As always, she could not help but stare at him. He was an enigma to her, and intriguing. He was so tall, so powerfully built, and yet his conduct was invariably courteous. He ate with perfect table manners, he conversed in Latin with her priest, he could even read and write. And still, there were these stories of how terrible he became in battle.

When her two handmaids, Elgitha and Hannah had asked for permission to help him in the bath, Barbara's curiosity had been raised. She knew her handmaids not to be overly enthusiastic around the men in the castle. Yet, from the first day, they had almost fallen over themselves for every chance to be with the red-haired giant. There had to be something to their behaviour!

Now, Barbara stood transfixed and stared at the scene that was unfolding in front of her. She saw Elgitha, straddled over Joerg in the bathtub, moving her body up and down with growing urgency. The expression on the young maid's face could only be described as blissful, as she rode the man with abandon.

The blood shot into Barbara's face as she watched them. Her own married life had never known couplings like this. There had been no laughter, no banter with her husband. Awkward rutting under the duvet, in the darkness; that had been the extent of Barbara's experience.

Now she heard Elgitha's giggle, as Joerg was whispering into her ear. Hannah's laughter soon joined, and she hugged the loving couple exuberantly. They were undoubtedly having a wonderful time. Barbara felt a yearning deep inside her, to be part of this happy scene. Yet, all she could do was watch them. She felt a pang of jealousy, too. Her handmaids were enjoying this enigmatic man, while she, Barbara, the Lady of Meiningen, was reduced to the role of watcher.

She shook off that feeling, with an effort. Who was she to begrudge her faithful servants a little happiness? But then again, why was it that she, Barbara, was begrudged all happiness?

The moans and happy sounds in the bathtub rose to a crescendo. With an open mouth, Barbara watched as the huge mercenary stood on his legs, with Elgitha clinging to him, frantically moving her pelvis against his loins. Suddenly, Barbara had a clear view at the point of their joining, and she saw the larger than life member of Joerg, halfway out of Elgitha's body and than slamming back in. Barbara could not help but gasp at seeing this, and a bolt of heat hit her own loins, spreading all through her lower body and heating her skin all the way up to her chest.

Elgitha's cries of lust were still in Barbara's ears when she stumbled up the stairs and to her private chamber. With Elgitha and Hannah busy in the bath, Barbara was alone in her bedchamber.

She lay down on her bed and closed the curtains. Tentatively, she let her hand brush over her left breast, and she gasped at the bolt of lust that shot through as her she touched her painfully erect nipple.

That evening, at dinner, Barbara caught herself staring at Joerg Isebrand. She had to restrain herself. Any thoughts of dallying with the tall mercenary were madness, weren't they? Yet, the image of the tall man spearing Elgitha on his rampant erection was burnt into her mind. To be taken like that just once! Barbara was an absentminded hostess that evening.

It happened ten days later, and it was not planned by either of them. Joerg had pulled a calf muscle, sparring with Katherine, and he had gone to the bath chamber, for a hot bath to mend his injury. Likewise, Barbara felt unclean, having just finished her menses, and she wanted to soak away the tension she felt. She had ordered the tub to be heated in the early afternoon, but some duty and another had conspired to postpone the bath. Finally free of obligations and wearing only her shift, she descended the spiral staircase and opened the door to the bath chamber without a thought.

There, just five feet away from her, stood a vary naked, very huge Joerg Isebrand, readying himself for the bath.

"I am most sorry, Lady Barbara," he exclaimed, picking up his shirt. "I had not known you wanted the bath for yourself. I shall let myself out presently."

For her part, Barbara stood frozen to the spot, her mouth open, her mind whirling, and her pulse hammering. Covered in his shirt again, Joerg looked at her.

"Lady, are you feeling well?" he asked with concern. "Should I have your servants come?"

Barbara did not know how the look she cast at Joerg conveyed her desire, but the tall man saw it and reacted. With two steps, he stood before her. Without any conscious thought, Barbara raised her arms and tilted up her face, offering herself to his mouth. The first burning kiss left her breathless and wobbly on her legs, and she clung to his neck for dear life.

To Barbara, the kiss seemed endless, and when Joerg finally released her lips, all she wanted was to start into another one. However, Joerg held her away.

"Lady, if I kiss you again, I shan't be able to stop myself."

"I just finished my bleeding. I am unclean," she moaned.

"That can be helped, Barbara," he answered with a small chuckle.

Suddenly, Barbara felt herself lifted bodily into the air and over the sill of the wooden tub. She came to rest, standing in two feet of water, her shift wet around her legs. A moment later, Joerg joined her, after pulling the shirt over his head again. His hands grabbed the hem of Barbara's shift and yanked it up and over her head. Barbara gasped, feeling the air on her naked body, but she could not move. It all seemed like a dream, the course of which she had no way of influencing.

Joerg knelt down before her and took her hands, pulling her down into a kneeling position, too. She felt the water around her lower body. It was a little over lukewarm, and pleasant to her skin. Her eyes were fixed on Joerg's powerful body and on his rampant member that poked into her belly as he pulled her close for another kiss.

Joerg continued kissing her while he used his hands to scoop the tepid water over her body. A bar of scented soap lay on the sill of the tub, and he used it to lather up her back, her shoulders, and then her chest, causing her swaying breasts to tingle with the slippery touch. She caught herself moaning into his mouth when his soapy hands began to glide all over her buttocks and into the rim between.

All this was nothing to his next move. With the bar of soap in his hand, he gently lathered her sex, causing deliciously naughty feelings in her, feelings she had only found from her own touch until now. He seemed to know her secret spots, and he seemed to know her preferences. His fingers, so much stronger than her own, were gentle nonetheless as they probed her folds, penetrating her channel which had not been tried in three years, ever since her husband had turned feeble. A sobbing gasp broke forth from her throat when his curling finger touched the sensitive spot deep inside. This man knew her, inside out!

Unconsciously, she took hold of his pulsing member. So soft and so strong! Her wet hands glided up and down on his hot flesh, and she heard the growl in Joerg's throat with giddy anticipation. He wanted her, and he would have her!

Indeed, Joerg sat down on his backside, submerged to his ribs, and pulled her with him. Straddling his legs, she used her leverage to kiss him with force, delighting in her position of domination. Not for long, though, did she feel dominant. Joerg directed her pelvis with his strong hands until she felt the hot tip of his engorged member at her nether lips, parting them and gaining purchase. Then he pulled her down.

The water had washed away some of the lubrication she had produced, and it took them repeated attempts to force the massive rod of flesh into her little tried opening. In the end, they succeeded, albeit with some discomfort. That waned quickly, though, for the penetrating member sealed her against the water, keeping her lubrication in place where they needed it.

He felt incredibly thick inside her, once she had sunk down all the way on his shaft, and the gasp that escaped her lips was close to a whimper. Yet, despite her partial discomfort, she began to move her hips, to intensify the feeling of fullness and the friction. It was so delicious! Never before had she felt so much as a woman.

Soon, she discovered that by tilting her hips she could change the angle of penetration. She also found that his wiry, red bush of pubic hair tickled her own, sensitive opening when she ground against him. She was so lost in the sensations she felt that she took a while to regard the man attached to the source of her pleasure.

When she did, the thought of herself, a woman of most noble descent, frolicking with a peasant's son, was so naughty that it added to her lust. The mere thought made her gasp at her own audacity. Her excitement quickly rose to a fever pitch. She slammed her hips down on him, trying to stuff as much of him as possible into her opening, and she felt his member swell inside her.

Suddenly, another thought penetrated her fogged mind: she was being bred by a commoner. Alarms sounded in her head, but it was too late. Her body took over, asking for and welcoming the seed that spewed forth from the thick rod on which she had impaled herself. A huge wave of blinding lust washed over her, when his member began to pulse and his hips bucked underneath her. One more time, she bore down on him, experiencing the fullness of his penetration, while she held on to his neck with all her might.

For a few heartbeats, blackness was all she saw, before she caught her breath and became aware of her surroundings again. She was still sitting on his now softening member, holding on to his body, and he nibbled at her throat and neck, causing ripples of lust in her still overcharged brain. A warm glow permeated her.

The warm glow intensified when she thought of the possible ramifications. Isebrand seemed to care for her. If she handled him right, she might induce him to stay in her service. With him as her Field Captain, nobody would dare to challenge her rule. With him in her bedchamber, at least from time to time, there would be no need for her to ever marry again. After all, who could match this man under the duvet? She could stay the Lady of Meiningen, with Joerg as her faithful follower and secret paramour.

For him, the situation would be satisfactory, too. After all, what commoner could even dream of bedding a noble Lady? He would be grateful, no doubt. With a languid smile, Barbara turned to Joerg.

"You are quite a man, Joerg," she husked. "There can be a future for you in Meiningen, if you want. With you at my side, there would be hardly a limit to what can be achieved."

"You feel that way, Barbara?" his voice sounded, close to her ear, and she shivered.

"I do. Think of it. There is time enough before you have to decide. I am sure, my cousin would be understanding if you stayed."

She heard him sigh.

"You are right, Barbara. This is most certainly not something to be decided while lying in the bath."

Barbara felt a little annoyed that he addressed her by her given name, without the deference due to her position, but she was confident that she could teach him proper behaviour. Then she considered. Lying naked in his arms, it would be awkward indeed to insist on deference. As long as he behaved subserviently outside her private rooms, it would be enough.

Joerg was more than a little confused that evening, and for the next days. Barbara had offered herself to him for the taking. Wasn't a noble wife a dream come true for an upstart mercenary? Yet, he felt no love for her. He felt tenderness when she melted into his arms, he felt respect for her when he saw her executing her office. But love? Would it be fair to accept her offer if he could not give his heart to her?

For the next days, the Lady gave him coy smiles and treated him with elaborate friendliness. She was so obviously trying to please him that his hesitation waned with every day. He began to see her with a groom's eye. While not overly tall, Barbara stood erect, and she had a fine womanly figure. Her brown hair, always carefully combed and tied, framed a well-formed face that had no blemish.

If there was something Joerg found wanting it was the lack of warmth, the lack of laughter. Barbara always seemed to pose as 'The Lady', and she rarely ever allowed a glimpse at her personality. Just once had she let down her guard, in the bath chamber, but even then, there had been no easy banter, no warm smile. Unconsciously, Joerg compared Barbara with his sisters, with Ursula of Sternfels, and with the other women in his life. He could not help but find her wanting. Yet, could he refuse such a chance of finding a noble wife for himself?

He was still undecided when, one morning, he chanced into the audience hall where Barbara sat to adjudicate the small quarrels. He watched her pass justice, and again, something bothered him. She was not cruel or unjust, but to Joerg it seemed that she treated the people under her rule with disdain, as if their grievances were nought but petty whinings of children.

One of the last petitioners of the morning was a peasant, a tenant working lands that belonged to Barbara. His grievance was something Joerg could understand.

"Noble Lady, I beg redress from you for an injustice done to me."

Rolling her eyes upwards in a gesture of impatience, Barbara asked curtly.