textfiles/sex/EROTICA/M/medieval.txt

A MEDIEVAL TAIL

   by Eric Cash


Beauteous Lady Maura,

Would that I the courage to declare mine longing for thee!  But
alas, I be but a humble bard, a wandering minstrel, and thou surely
art beyond mine reach.

Thou art a kind lady, I wot.  Thou favour me with a smile each
time we pass by one another.  But each time, I must needs avert
mine gaze from thee, lest thou see the naked longing in mine eyes.
Lady, how mine soul burns for thee!  Not merely because thou art
fair - thou art that, certes - but I ken that thou hast within thee
an inner beauty of immeasurable depth.

Many odes have I writ, praising thy beauty and thyself.  But I be
sore afeared to openly proclaim mine feelings toward thee.

I harbour an abiding secret fantasy, deep within mine breast, of a
special loving tryst with thee.  Certes, this couldst ne'er hap,
but lo, even the lowliest servant hath his dream.

I imagine a time when thy lord is away from the keep, when I might
endeavour to assuage thy loneliness.  I gather up mine courage, so that
I might proclaim mine desire for thee, and beg of thee one kiss from
thy sweet lips ere I die.  Thy sweet breath upon mine cheek is like
unto a warm summer's breeze.  Thy womanly scent fills mine senses with
its wondrous fragrance.  I run mine hands through thy silky auburn
tresses and whisper mine love for thee...

But hark!  I feel a presence behind me!  I turn about to discover that
thou, Milady, hast been surreptitiously peering o'er mine shoulder,
and hast read all I have writ.  I be mortified that mine soul hath
been laid bare before thee in this manner.  I be also mortally
afeared that I have mayhap incurred thy displeasure with these mine
ramblings.

I beseech thee, dear Lady, prithee be not too wroth with one who
adores thee so...

***

A flush of ruby appears 'pon mine face.  'Tis _I_ that be with shame,
dear Bard.  Ken ye that mine heart truly dost pound profusely for
thee, mine Bard.  With haste, I run 'round before thee, and fall to
to the floor at thy feet.  Bowing mine head, I lay mine cheek to rest
softly on thy knee.  Bard, 'tis _I_ who hath loved _thee_ from afar.
Whene'er thou walk by me daily in the town, I have averted mine
eyes, lest thou espy the naked look of lust therein.  Certes, must
these feelings be wrong, but thou must ken, mine Bard, that mine
feelings mirror thine.

At this moment, I, although a daughter of the king, feel but as
a lowly peasant girl.  Mine wanton thoughts do creep forth, which
wouldst sully me in the eyes of many, but at this moment I care not.
I do love thee, Bard, and mine heart shall stop its beating and
mine chest shalt stop its rise and fall an I do not kiss thee anon.

Take me to thee, dear Bard and let mine ample bosom press 'gainst
thy manly chest.  I beg thee, remove me from this castle, carry me
to thy abode and have thy way with me!

I say to thee, dearest Bard, ne'er shouldst thou feel shamed of
the words thou hast writ about thy feelings for me.  An they be
true, I be full of joy.

But lo, mine Bard, why art thou silent?  Prithee, look upon me.
Please hink not of me as a common slut for being so bold.  Have I
offended hee with _mine_ own true feelings?

***

Nay, mine sweet Lady, thou offend me not!  I be fairly bursting
with delight when I hear thy sweet voice professing thy love for me!
And thy face flushes quite prettily.  I gaze into thine eyes, and
glory at the depths of passion I espy therein.  With a trembling
hand, I lay mine hand on thy sweet face, and revel in the satiny
smoothness that is thy skin.  I bend down to taste thy sweet lips,
which open invitingly to mine questing tongue.  I lay mine hand on
thy heaving breast, and feel the pounding of thine heart, which
rivals the beating of mine own.  Thine ample breast moulds itself
to mine hand so nicely, and thy nipple seems to brand mine palm with
its fevered imprint.

I clasp thee to mine breast, savouring thy closeness and the fresh
scent of thy lovely auburn tresses.  Mayhap should we seek a more
private place.  But alas, I have not a castle to which to spirit thee
away.  When I be not scribing ballads for mine Liege, I abide in mine
humble cottage in the woods.  I feel that mine modest hovel shan't be
to the liking of such a highborn Lady as thyself.  But thou amaze
me yet again as thou suggest we ride to mine cottage this instant.

***

Oh, Bard, thou mount thy steed with alacrity, and then reach
down with a mighty hand and therewith take hold of mine own.
With a strong heave, thou lift me up, giving me place to set
behind thee.  I wrap mine arms 'round thee, tightly clinging to
thy body.

With a quick jab of thy thy heels, thy mighty steed jolts to a
fierceful gallop.  Onward travel travel to a night of merrymaking.
As I hold tightly, mine only love, I feel the pounding of thy
pure heart.  Dost it beat for mine love alone?

On yestereve, I could hardly believe mine heart couldst be filled
with such a passion!  But with this new and wondrous day, our
kindred spirits are finally knowing of each other.  And once
night falls, dearest Bard, our bodies will know of each other
also.

As we ride, the night dost come, a chill envelopes me.  I cling more
closely to mine love.  Anon, thy steed halts abruptly and we dismount.
Thou pull me down into thy arms.  The soles of mine feet touch the
earth not as thou carry me in thine arms across the threshold and
into thine abode.  I be literally carried away!  Then, with a swift
kick, thou dost open the door.

What are thy thoughts of the moment, m'love?

***

The feel of thy full breasts upon mine back and the pressure of thine
arms entwined about me as we gallop toward mine cottage enflames me
anew with desire for thee.  As we alight from mine steed, I look into
thine eyes, and find mirrored the passion that mine own eyes must be
radiating forth.  I hold thee tight against me, savouring the feel of
thy wondrous body.

After entering mine cottage, I set thee on thy feet.  I light a few
candles to dispel the gloom, and take thine hand and lead thee to
mine bed.  As this is a night to savour, we take our time disrobing
one another.  At last, thou stand before me in thy glorious naked
splendour.  Mine heart fairly races, as I realize that mine dream of
making merry with thee has finally come.  Mine eyes feast upon thy
ripe bosoms, thy narrow waist, and thy perfectly rounded buttocks.
I could die this minute with no regrets, having finally known
perfection.

We share another sweet kiss, our tongues battling as if in swordplay.
I trace mine way to thy breasts with my tongue, and envelop the sweet,
hard nubbin that is thy nipple.  I be content, for now, to suckle as
if I wert just a babe.  I give mine attentions to thy other breast,
afore I make mine way to the junction of thy thighs.  I breathe in the
heady scent of thy womanhood, and ask thee with mine eyes if I might
have a taste of thy honey.  Thou respond by gently pushing mine
head toward thy flaming nest of desire, and I gratefully lap at the
sweet juices that fairly pour therefrom.  Thou say then to me
"Bard, thy tongue certes has other talents than singing alone."  I
take into mine mouth the seat of thy pleasure, gently suckling as
mine tongue makes loving strokes across the little nub.  I then part
thy silken folds, using mine tongue as I would mine staff, making
slow and deep motions.  Mine staff hath long ago risen, and dearly
crave thy attentions.  I lie again beside thee, as thou...

***

I fairly quiver with delight as thou perform thy ministrations
upon me.  Mine blood is aboil and mine desire for thee kens no bound.

I shove thee back 'til thou fall back to thy bed.  I quickly kneel
afore thee.  Twisting mine auburn locks and  pinning them back, I
lay mine cheek to rest upon thy thigh.  Letting mine tongue lick thee
as do the kittens near maid's milking time, I savour thy manhood.
I be normally a chaste woman, and have been kept apart from men by
mine father the king.  But the burning of mine blood imparts knowledge
to mine hands and mouth, that no virgin shouldst ken.

I recall mine night dreams, in which I have succumbed to thee.  Many
nights have I slumbered fitfully, wet, and wanting thee.  This night
is mine dream come true, as thou hast taken me to be thine own.
With a glance towards thine eyes, I apprehend a nod of approval
afore thou weave thine fingers through mine hair and lead mine full
lips to thine swollen staff.

With much seeming hunger, I open wide to to partake of thy manhood.
At first, I allow only the tip of thy hardness to enter, in order
that I might entice thee.  Tracing mine tongue around thy head,
thou push 'gainst mine head in seeming impatience.  I relent,
then take more of thee in mine mouth.  I must have thee, Bard,
and I move down hard, to take all of the man to whom I wish to
spend the rest of mine life with.

Thy massiveness goes deep within mine throat, and thou buck wildly
as a spirited steed.

"Milady!" thou moan.  "Oh, Milady..."  Thy cries of passion art
as music to mine ears.  I pull thee from mine mouth, then lap up the
little bead of honey that seeps from thy mighty staff.

***

Oh, Milady!  Mine passion mounts to where it is nigh unbearable.  I
must needs have thee now!  Mine mind whispers to me to be gentle, but
mine body is in torture.  I lay thy buttocks on a pillow, and give thy
nether lips another loving kiss.  I then lay me atop thee, and thou
guide mine rod into thy moist cavern of pleasure.  E'er so gently do
I press into thy warmness, feeling the initial resistance that is
thy maidenhead.  Oh, Milady, how honoured I be that thou hast chosen
me for thy deflowering!

I see in thine eyes an admixture of pain and pleasure, and lay quietly
within thee until thy pain subsides.  Then thou make motions with
thine hips which serve to incite mine lust even further.  The feel of
thy skin 'gainst mine own is a pleasure beyond compare.  Thy bounteous
breasts press insistently 'gainst mine chest, and as I slide mine
sword within and without thy velvety sheath, I partake again of thy
sweet lips.

Anon, the pleasure that thou give me reaches epic proportions, and I
canst not hold back any longer.  I grasp thy tight buttocks and move
within thee with more urgency.  Mine loins begin to quiver, then
tremour, and at that ultimate moment, mine fluid seems to rush from
me in torrents.  The moan that escapes thy ruby lips bespeaks the
sensations that also course through thee.

After we be both spent, we then lie side by side, basking in the glow
that follows such a lovely bout of merry-making.  I kiss thy neck,
tasting the salty sweetness of thy sweat, as thou run thy fingers
through mine hair.  We then share another passionate kiss, and content
ourselves merely holding one another for the nonce.

As I lie beside thee, I then wonder what will come to pass between us.
As much love as I have for thee, surely canst thou not a life with me
make.  I have nothing to offer thee save m'love, and I fear thy
father will mayhap wax wroth, should he learn of our tryst.  But at
for the nonce, shalt I have thee as mine own, and wilt worry o'er it
when the morrow doth come.

***

As we lie entwined about one another mine fingers make their way up
and down thy arm.  I then notice an unusual mark on thine arm, and
am sorely curious.  "What be the meaning of this mark, dear Bard?"
I question thee.  "Milady, I ken not.  It has always been there,
and not knowing its meaning, I have always kept it hid.  I..."

But hark!  There be a pounding on thy door.  Thou arise with a
start, and fear radiates from mine features.  RAP, RAP, RAP!
Whosoe'er is without, seems quite disposed to knock down the door.

Quickly thou make thy way to the door, as I hide in a corner of
the room.  I put on mine gown, doing mine best to appear demure.
As the door is opened, I espy three knights that accost thee, to
take thee away.

"Dost thou have the Lady with thee?" questions one of the knights.

"Yea, she dost be here, and of her own will," thou say.

A second knight takes hold of thee harder, grappling with thee as he
takes thee without.  "Bard, thou art charged with treason to the King
and with trespass upon his daughter".  They take thee to the cart and
cage thee.

I run towards thee, weeping for mine love.  "Worry not, dear Bard,
I shall speak with mine father!  We will be together again!" I
cry out to thee.

As the knights travel off with thee, two chambermaids alight from a
carriage, slip a cloak o'er me, and urge me with them thereto.

Upon arrival to the castle, the King be furious with me and dost
order me to mine chamber.  As I begin to climb the stairs, I look
back to see the doors swing open wide and thou art thrown without
ceremony before mine father.

Thine raiments art tattered, and thy face is sorely marked.  "Oh, my
dear Bard," I cry, and run and kneel by thee as I had earlier this
day when professing mine love for thee.

"Get thee hence, daughter," mine father orders.

"No, father, I shalt not!  This be the man I do truly love.  'Tis he
who owns mine heart forever!"

"Nay girl, this man be but a peasant.  Ne'er will the likes of he
be enjoined with thee."

The King stands, and in his wrath, makes as if to strike a blow to
me.  Thou quickly stand to avert the strike.  It is then that as
thou raise thy arm to mine father that thy sleeve falls and he doth
notice the mark upon thine arm.  Immediately does mine father fall
to his knees, suddenly weeping profusely.

"Oh dearest Alizar, I thought ne'er to see thee again," he gasps as
he brings thee to his chest in a hug.

"I beg his Majesty's pardon," thou say confusedly.  Surely must
thou ken I be but thy Bard, commissioned to write ballads and such
for thee.

"Nay, thy name be Alizar.  Thou art the very son of mine dearest
friend King Ellisar.  Thou wert taken from his castle by persons
unknown when thou wert but a babe.  The mark which is tattooed on
thy arm is thy family crest, King Alizar!"

***

Aye, Milady, first had I thought minelife was forfeit when the knights
came to mine door.  But what had I to lose but mine life, and what
had I to gain but thee, mine Princess.  As I wast carried away in
captivity, I swore that one way or another I would escape and take
thee with me.

As I am cast rudely before mine Liege, I am sore afraid for mine life.
But I gird mine loins, gather mine courage, and face mine Liege
boldly.  I be but a peasant, but I also be ready to proclaim mine
undying love for mine princess.  I wilt not allow thy father to strike
thee, and intercede to accept the blow mineself.  I be mystified when
he doth pause before striking me, but something concerning the mark
upon mine arm halts his blow.

Then does mine fear and rage change into wonder, as I discover mine
birthright.  I had always thought myself an orphan.  "If I be a
prince, why dost thou call me King, mine Liege?" I question.
"Thy father hath passed on shortly after thy birth," he replied,
"Upon thy father's death, I did annex his kingdom to mine own.  I
vowed to have thee found, an it were possible, and if that e'er
happed, I would return thy kingdom to thee."

I am then told that there will be much joy in the land now that the
blood of King Ellisar once again wilt rule his former kingdom.
Festivities wilt abound, and much feasting.

But if I be a King, I must needs a Queen.  What say ye, Milady?
Wilt thou consent to be mine Queen?

***

Aye, mine Bard and King.  I does willingly take thee for mine
husband, and be honoured that thou want me for thine bride and
Queen.

Thou pull me close and put thy lips to mine in a resounding kiss.
Cheers arise from the servants and mine chambermaids rush me off to
prepare me the evening's festivities.

Mine father says to thee, "Alizar, it be today that I shalt give
thee the hand of mine daughter.  A son indeed shalt thou be to me.
This day shall be proclaimed a day of glory and merriment, and all
that thou desire shalt be given thee."

"Mine Liege, thy daughter alone wilt be the grandest thing thy kingdom
couldst offer me," thou state most gallantly.

Thou art escorted by the manservants to also prepare for the day's
festivities.  Father hath the whole town busily preparing for our
glorious day.

Dearest Bard, on the morrow, after our wedding, I wish us to once
again ride off on thy bold white steed, to our new home at the
castle in the kingdom adjoining.  For thou wilt always be mine Bard,
and mine King as well.
***

I be o'erjoyed beyond belief that thou wilt be mine Queen!  Oh, what
a future we shalt have together.

Of the wedding, let me say it wast an event that wilt be sung about
for centuries hence.  And for a wedding gift, thy father give me
a royal carriage, the inside of which is lined with the finest silks,
in which to convey thee to our new abode, the kingdom we shalt rule
together.  But I have other plans, so I entreat thy father to have
servants take the carriage to our castle.  I have mine white steed
brought before us, and we alight.  We ride away, as we had done
yestereve, with thou holding on to me for dear life, as we gallop
to our castle where we might consummate our marriage.

Our wedding night was one of splendid bliss, as will be all our days
together, as we travel our road through time together, and live
happily e'er after.