Caitlin's Tale - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Sit, child. Such a lovely girl. I'll wager the boys fall all over themselves just to get a smile from you. They did when your mother was your age, you know.

Such a beauty, but hot-blooded, as your mother tells it. Nay, it's nae use protesting, for your mother was the same way; as was I when I was just a village girl.

Eh? You mean your mother never told you? That we were not always nobility? That we were not always English, nor even Norman?"

Nay, child. I am full-blood Celt, daughter of kings, as all of our blood are children of kings. So you are only one quarter Celt, but the blood runs thick and the song is loud and strong in your heart."

I will tell you the story, the whole story, for I have nought to be shamed about. But you must ne'er tell your mother, save she brings it up first, for she has lived among Normans and Saxons all her life, and is forever worrying over what is proper. She tries to deny her blood, though it rages through her body, and the song, though it rings in her ears."

---

The shade-cooled grass tickled her toes as Caitlin walked out into the meadow. Her mother had sent her after mushrooms and told her to hurry back, and Caitlin would indeed hurry back - after she found enough mushrooms. But who could tell how long that would take? She could not stand to be too long out of the light and warmth of the sun. Of course, the moist cool shade of the deep forest was also nice. Her mother called her fickle, but Caitlin had decided long ago that she liked many things that seemed opposite to each other. Like the tartness of pickled cabbage and the sweetness of wild honey; the soft petals of a rose, and the scrape of the thorns against her smooth white skin.

It was the same with the boys who lived around her village. She liked when they followed her around the fields, and she liked when they ran away every time she showed that she knew they followed her. She wanted someday for one not to run away, but she wanted to always be able to make them flee if she wanted. She smiled to herself at the thought of what she would do if any boy had the bravery to stay.

A shadow fell across her and she stepped back in surprise. So deep in her thoughts had she been that she had not noticed the man who had ridden up before her. He sat straight in a high cantled saddle, astride a gigantic bay gelding. A warhorse, Caitlin thought immediately, and then silently cursed herself. Of course, a warhorse. What else would a man with sword and armor ride?

He looked down at her in consternation. "Are you deaf, girl?" he demanded in heavily-accented English. "I asked you a question!"

He must be one of the Norman invaders, Caitlin thought. She had heard that King Edward had fallen somewhere in the East and that the invaders were swarming over the country. But he was talking to her. She must not make him angry.

"Sir?"

"I asked you who is the local lord and where his keep is!"

"S-sorry, milord. Thane Alfred's castle is on the rise just east of this meadow."

"And where is this Alfred, girl?"

"Off fighting the Norman bas... Away at war, sir."

"Well if he is still alive, he is Thane no longer. These are my lands now."

"Your lands, milord?" Mother would be so upset. She had known the Thane when she was just a girl, though he had been old and seldom seen by the time Caitlin was born.

"Granted by Duke William - King William - himself, not a month ago."

His grin was very self-satisfied. And there was something else in his face. She had seen it in the adult men of the village more and more often over the past year. She blushed bright red under the mounted man's gaze.

"Is there a stream or pond nearby? I need to water my horse and clean the dust off. I must look presentable when I take over my new keep, after all."

"Aye, milord. There is a small pool a few yards that way."

"Lead on, girl."

"Aye, milord."

As she walked, she heard the horse's steady steps behind her. How could she have been deaf to that noise? Every step, she could feel the eyes of the knight on her. She knew she was pretty. Dark auburn hair spilled down her back. Her mother said she was not old enough yet to wear it up, but that was all right with Caitlin, for she loved to feel it brush against her. She was pleasingly plump, mostly from baby fat that seemed to linger forever around her hips and face. And her bosom had lately grown so much that her bodice was sometimes uncomfortably tight. She would have to let it out soon... again. She smiled to herself at the thought of the warrior behind her, unable to keep his eyes off her. She brushed a hand through her long hair and swayed her hips a little more than usual as she walked toward the tree line.

The knight had to dismount as they entered the woods. Despite the heavy chain that draped his body, he landed almost lightly, without stumbling.  Taking reins in hand, he followed Caitlin to the little spring-fed pool that she loved to dip her feet in after a long hot day. He removed the horse's bridle but left him saddled. As the horse dipped his muzzle in the clear water, he took off his helmet and Caitlin was able to see his face clearly for the first time.

His nose had been broken at least once, but his face was otherwise unscarred. Thick black hair covered the top of his scalp, but his head was completely shaved all around to about two fingerwidths above his ears. His face had thick stubble on chin and cheeks, beneath dark brown eyes and thick eyebrows. Caitlin thought he must be very handsome and felt a slight pang of envy toward his ladywife.

He pulled a cloth from his saddle bag, wetted it thoroughly in the cool water, and mopped his face with it. She noticed that the index finger of his right hand had been cut off below the first knuckle.

"Help me get this armor off, girl."

He lifted an arm and she could see the leather straps with buckles. With trembling fingers, she unbuckled the fasteners and helped her new lord take of his mail shirt. He removed his thick wool gambeson and then his tunic.

His bare chest was pale, almost white, but thickly covered with hair, almost like fur. He ran the cloth over his chest and under his arms, then handed it to Caitlin. "Wash my back."

Silently, intimidated by this large man, Caitlin took the cloth and soaked it in the pool once more. She scrubbed down his sweaty back, feeling the hard muscles beneath her hands. Like oak, she thought. She forced herself to step back when she was through; she had probably spent too long already.

He took off the steel guards covering his shins and thighs, then the thick leather breeches. Caitlin knew she should look away, but could not. His legs and bare buttocks were also covered in coarse hair, and also tightly muscled. He was slightly bow-legged from years spent in the saddle.

Without turning or even looking at her over his shoulder, he said, "Now the rest of me."

She knew she must be blushing all the way down to the bottom of her feet, but she approached anyway. Kneeling on the grass, she ran her cloth-covered hand up the back of the knight's right leg, from grimy ankle to pale buttock. She massaged calf and thigh and cheek. She gently spread the cheeks open to reveal a dark and hairy crevice, but couldn't bring herself to move the cloth into it. Then she worked her way down the other leg. When she finished, she rinsed the cloth out in the pool.

"Would you..." her voice caught, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "Would you turn around, milord?" How could she be so bold?

When the knight turned around, he was grinning lewdly down at her. Her boldness drained from her in an instant. Her face grew hot and her heart beat painfully in her breast.

Before her, inches from her face, the knight's manhood thrust proudly from his middle. It drooped slightly, and the skin was still wrinkled in spots along the shaft, and only the pinkish tip could be seen peeking from his foreskin. But still, it was huge! Caitlin had never seen one even semi-hard before, but this one must be the largest in the world. The scrotum alone would probably cover the whole palm of her hand.

She washed his legs quickly. Then she moved to his pelvis. His cock moved back and forth as she rubbed on the surrounding skin, hypnotizing her. Once, she touched it. With bare fingertips. It may have been an accident, or it may not, she was not sure herself. But she was amazed at the softness of the skin, at the way it jumped a little when her fingers touched it, getting a little harder. She was entranced.

"Stand up, girl," the knight said, bringing her out of her reverie.

She stood before him, head bowed as was proper before a man of his station.  No, that was no good, for her eyes immediately focused on his cock. So she looked him in the eye. No, that was not proper, either. So she stared directly at his chest.

"Take off your clothes."

"Milord? Milord, that would not be-"

Without warning, she was prostrate on the ground, pinned by the naked man knelt above her. His hands clenching her wrists so hard they might break, and his knees at her sides pushed in on her ribs.

"I gave you an order, girl," he said in a normal, soft voice. But his eyes were angry and his jaw was clenched. "This time only will I repeat myself. Never again. After this time, I will beat you until you obey. I will whip you until you bleed. And I can make a whipping last hours without drawing blood."

His hands and knees tightened around her. "Do you understand me?"

"Aye," she tried to say, but couldn't. She nodded her head, afraid to move it more than a fraction of an inch. His hands tightened further; she could feel the bones in her wrists bending.

She shouted as pain overcame fear, "AYE!"

He released her suddenly. Blood rushed back into her wrists, making the pain even worse for a moment.

Rising to his feet, he stepped back and crossed his arms against chest. "Now. Stand and take off your clothes."

Her hands quivered so violently she could not untie the laces of her skirt. In fear and frustration she pushed it down her thighs. Too late, she realized that the way she was forced to move her hips would do nothing to dissuade the knight from doing what she knew he would. Even as the garment pooled around her feet, she was pulling the blouse over her head. The wool caught her shift and pulled it up as well. Though she knew she would be completely bare in moments, Caitlin cursed herself for not wearing anything under the shift as she felt it rise above her buttocks. With the briefest of hesitations, Caitlin lifted the shift over her head and tossed it to the ground.

She lifted her left arm and dropped her right arm, to cover her breasts and privates.

"Arms at your sides," said the knight, conversationally.

When Caitlin did not immediately obey, he stepped toward her.

She let her arms fall.

Her entire body was exposed to him now. Her breasts were large and white, but with small, pink nipples. She sometimes thought they were too large, often getting in the way when she was running or trying to sleep. But at least they didn't sag as her mother's did. Her skin was flawless, with a scattering of freckles above her sternum and below her elbows and knees, milky white everywhere else. Her hips were wide and sloped gradually down to strong thighs. And between those thighs was a thatch of light brown hair, glinting red in the midmorning sun, not yet with the fullness of maturity.

"Turn," the knight said, and she did.

Her feet tangled in the skirt and she stumbled, causing her breasts to bobble in a delightful manner. She stepped gingerly out of the circle of cloth, making dimples in her full buttocks.

"Your hair is in the way," the knight said.

Caitlin gathered her locks and draped them over her left breast. Her back was soft and smooth, with only the slightest bulge over her shoulder-blades.

Suddenly she felt fingertips between her shoulders and she gave a little jump of surprise.

"Very beautiful," murmured the knight.

His fingertips left goosebumps in their trail. How many times had she wanted one of the village boys, wanted Conal, to be this forward? They ran from her as often as they followed her. And the men might stare at her, but when she met their gazes, longing looks became sidelong glances. But this foreigner was open enough to say what he wanted and expected to get it.

"Very beautiful," he repeated as he withdrew his hand. "It would be a shame to scar it."

At that, Caitlin felt a sharp tremor of fear course through her. But her nipples hardened like granite.

"Face me," said the knight.

Again Caitlin turned.

The knight brushed her hair back and peered closely into her face. "You have not the look of a Saxon."

"Nay, milord. My mother is Irish. She came here with her father who was a debt-slave to an English shipmaster. Thane Alfred won his bond at dice. My father was a Welshman. He's dead, now."

He stared into her eyes for an eternity. Then, as quickly as he had knocked her to the ground before, he spit on the first two fingers of his left hand and cupped his palm over her womanhood. He curled his two wet fingers and thrust them between the lips of her sex. Caitlin winced in pain when they entered, and she gasped when they bumped against her maidenhead.

"A virgin," the Norman said with a smile as he removed his fingers. "Very good. It has been a long time since I trained a virgin."

He turned and walked to his horse. As he rummaged through a saddle bag, he told her to put her clothes back on, never looking back at her.

"Thank you, milord."

The knight faced her again, and began sharpening a small knife with a whetstone. "Do not call me that. Other knights are 'milord' to you. Not I. I am 'Master.'" Stroke, stroke. "I own you now. You are mine like this horse is mine, like this knife is mine. I will do what I will, and you will obey me. Or suffer punishment."

He walked toward her, never taking his eyes off her, stroking the knife along the stone. He knelt at the pool and dipped out a handful of water. He damped his face and held the knife out to Caitlin.

"Shave me."

Caitlin took the knife and stood behind him.

He was still talking in an unconcerned voice. "Your training begins as soon as I have taken possession of the keep. You will please me in every way I say or I will punish you. Severely. I have been given these lands, and I have been given you. I will use you."

Her stomach roiled with nausea at his bluntness. An afternoon's dalliance was one thing. He was ungentle and crude, but she found that somehow exciting. But to think he could own her and use her? She would be damned before she let a man think he could own her.

She stared at the knife in her hand. It gleamed in the light that shone through the leaves. She could see her eyes clearly in the steel. She looked into them as though they were a stranger's. She realized that she no longer recognized them. She felt like she might spew. So why did those eyes look so calm?  If she was so angry and afraid, why did those eyes seem so soft and peaceful?

She dragged her gaze away from her reflection and advanced upon the knight's back. She would not stand idly while this stranger seized her fate and strangled it. She would do... something.

In the three paces that brought her to the invader, she considered her predicament. She remembered feeling his knees against her ribs, his hands grasped around her wrists, his voice cruel and cold... and strong. And his fingertips on her back. But owned? Like a cow or pig? Trained like a dog or a hawk? Used like an ox or mule? Not her! Boys ran from her and men refused to look her in the eye. She had once stared down Father John, by God!

Caitlin brought the knife to his throat. Use me? Own me? The knife was very sharp. It would part the skin easily and spill his blood into the pool. Everyone would assume robbers had happened upon a traveling knight who had stopped to rest. All she would have to do is apply a little pressure against his neck. Then take his purse, to make it look like a robbery, and run. Perhaps it would be best to hide the money for a while to protect herself and her mother. Yes. That was it. Own me? Train me? Use me?

She rested the edge of the blade against the knight's throat. Directly upon the large artery. She pushed against the skin. She scraped away a patch of stubble. Then another. Not a nick did she make.

When the knight's face was bare, he stood and began dressing. He left the armor off, tying it in a bundle across the horse's back.

"You could have killed me and no one would have known. You could have tried, at least."

Caitlin said nothing.

"What is your name, slave? Only your Christian name, for you have no family any longer."

"Caitlin," she answered in a trembling voice.

"I am Sir Robert. But you will never call me that, even when speaking to other people. I am always 'Master' or 'My Master.' Do you understand that?"

"Aye, Master."

Robert mounted his gelding and motioned Caitlin westward. "Now lead me to my new home."

---

When they arrived at the old stone keep, Ethan Jones, the old caretaker, was waiting for them with his daughter - and one of Caitlin's best friends - Heather.

Sir Robert ordered Caitlin to stand a ways off while he spoke to Ethan. Caitlin saw a parchment pass hands.

Ethan peered at it closely. He could no more read than Caitlin could, but she supposed he was examining the seal. As he handed the parchment back to the knight, his shoulders drooped in defeat.

Caitlin remembered that he and Thane Alfred had marched together under King Edward's banner once, long ago. It's not every day one finds oneself ruled by a strange new master. The thought ran like ice water down Caitlin's back.

Robert then leaned down and spoke to Heather. He gave her a purse and Heather ran off toward Caitlin's village after a quick glance in her direction.

Ethan led the knight through the gates of the keep, and Robert beckoned Caitlin to follow. All three went into the stable.

While Robert unsaddled and rubbed down his charger, Ethan put saddle and bridle on the old nag he used to run errands for the Thane.

"He goes to bring my men," Robert informed her.

"Your men?"

He ignored her, and she remembered. "Your men, Master?"

"Yes, girl. These lands are no mere reward. I am to keep the Welsh tribes out, and keep the rebels in. Or keep them from crossing through this section of the March, at least. To do that, I need soldiers and knights. So I brought my own. They should arrive sometime tomorrow, with enough servants to run this place."

"But why did you no' bring them with you? Master."

"Because I am no longer a conqueror. I am rightful lord of this place and need no army to take what his mine."

Like me, Caitlin thought. "And where did Heather go, Master?"

"To pay your mother. I told the girl that you are now working for me. No more questions, now. I have been lenient with you because this is new to you. From now on, you will ask permission to speak to me. Unless I ask a direct question, which you will answer immediately. Do you understand?"

"Aye, Master."

"Good girl. Now see if you can find something for me to eat. Bread and cheese, cold meat. Then we will begin your training in earnest."

---

Caitlin sat at the small table in the kitchen and watched while Robert ate enough for both of them. He had given her permission to eat as well, but she was much too nervous, frightened and - she admitted it to herself at last - excited.

She was naked again, as he had ordered. She was amazed at how easily she sat there, uncovered. She did not even feel the desire to cover herself with her arms. She enjoyed being naked around him, even here in the kitchen, or outside in the courtyard.

She found herself thinking of the feel of his skin when she washed him, of the hardness of him. She knew that soon he would take her, and now she looked forward to it. He wasn't Conal, but there was something similar about him. The life of a peasant and the life of a warrior had made the two men strong, but where Conal was bulky, her master was lithe and wiry. She could never have gotten her arms around Conal's broad back, but she imagined her master would fit very nicely into her embrace. Her flesh tingled in anticipation of that even.

Her nipples were hard again, and she felt a delicious warmth between her thighs. The muscles spasmed occasionally and sent tremors through her belly.

Robert put a slice of cheese on the last piece of dark bread and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he looked thoughtfully at Caitlin.

Unconsciously, she sat a little straighter under his gaze, thrust her chest out a little further.

He emptied his cup in a single mouthful and placed his forearms on the table, surrounding the plate and cup.

"Where shall we begin your training?"

"The bedroom, Master?" Despite her nudity, Caitlin blushed at her brashness.

Robert seemed to turn the thought over in his head before giving it a small but firm shake. "No, not the bedroom. You will serve me in other ways as well. It should be someplace that is normally full of people, so that when you are serving me, you can look at the place where a man took you for the first time. The main hall, I think. Yes, that will be perfect."

They left the kitchen and walked down the short passageway toward the central building. As they passed the kennel, Thane Albert's dogs began barking furiously. Robert's face lit up in the first truly pleasant smile Caitlin had ever seen on him. He walked to the gate and looked over. Two wolfhounds snarled at him, drool dripping off their muzzles. Each was as big as a man, and as ferocious as the beasts it was bred to fight. Robert made to open the gate.

Caitlin grabbed his arm before he could lift the latch. "Master! Do not! Only Thane Albert and his huntmaster are able to handle these animals. When they bait wolves, the only bets made are on which of these will kill the wolf! They will kill you!"

Robert pried her fingers from his arm and held her at arm's length. "You show concern for your master, and that is proper, but you also show a lack of trust. You will have to be punished for that. After I make these fine dogs' acquaintance."

He opened the gate and stepped into the kennel. Immediately the dogs rushed him. Caitlin knew they would crush him with their weight and rip him apart with their teeth and claws. She could not look, but she could not turn away.

Robert shouted something in French at the dogs. She could not make out the word, but the dogs halted as though they had run into a wall. Robert rose on his toes and walked toward the dogs. And they backed up! Heads lowered and tails tucked between legs, they retreated from her master step for step. Robert held out his hands, palms down, and the dogs walked forward and placed their heads against his hands. He stroked their heads and backs for a few moments before turning on his heel and walking out of the kennel.

"May I speak, Master?"

"You want to know how I did that."

She nodded.

"I learned it from an old woman who practically raised me."

"What kind of woman can teach a man that?"

"She was a... I do not know the word. She... spoke with the trees." He looked embarrassed, expecting disbelief, despite the feat he had accomplished with the dogs.

"My mother said her grandmother also spoke with the trees, Master."

He said nothing, merely placed an arm across her bare shoulders and led her into the keep proper. Strangely, Caitlin felt not only nervousness and excitement. She felt comfort as she pressed her bare flesh into her master's side. When had she started 'thinking' of him as her master?

The main hall was the central room of the keep. It served as chapel and dining hall most of the time, but was used when the Thane heard grievances once a month, and as hospital and dormitory when the Welsh attacked. At the moment it was empty of furnishings because the keep's master - former master - was gone and likely to never return.

"Go stand where the Thane kept his chair." A slight nudge got her moving.

Caitlin walked to the spot and stood. "Thane Albert sat here on audience days and feast days, Master. This is where the altar stands for Mass."

Robert's long strides carried him quickly to her side. "Excellent. The center of attention always. Power and sacrifice, eh?"

...A quick search of the small rooms off the main hall found blankets, pillows and a chair. Pillows and blanket were arranged on the selected spot and Robert ordered Caitlin to lie down.

She laid down, propped on her elbows, and pressed her knees together, legs straight. Her large white breasts spread to the sides and her furry mound was reddish in the light against her pale skin.

He sat in the chair a short distance from her feet and gazed at her. His voice was soft, echoing slightly in the great chamber as he spoke to her. "You like the boys, don't you Caitlin? You like to think about them... at night. The thoughts are pleasant, aren't they? Is there one boy you think about more than the others?"

Caitlin nodded. "Yes, Master." Conal, with his dark blonde hair curling around his head. His shoulders wide and powerful as he tosses hay onto the wagon, skin glowing under a sheen of sweat. "His name is-"

"I do not need to know his name. Do you think of his arms around you? ...His kisses on your lips? ...His hands on your body?"

A small smile turned the corners of her mouth. Caitlin imagined Conal kneeling before her, about to kiss her face.

"I thought so. And at night, when you want him but cannot have him, do you pretend that your hands are his?"

Caitlin's eyes closed as she listened to her master's soft, powerful voice and thought of Conal.

"Do you touch yourself as you long for him to touch you?"

She nodded.

"Lie back... and show me."

Her eyes opened abruptly. His gaze bored into her, but he did not repeat himself.

Caitlin did not want to make him repeat himself. She laid her head back on a pillow and closed her eyes, moving her hands to rest atop her belly. She tried to pretend she was alone, under her blankets with her mother asleep on the other side of the room.

Tentatively, her hands moved to her breasts. They were too full to stand up on her chest, and hung slightly to the sides. She lifted them, caressed their undersides with her palms. She traced patterns over them with her fingertips. She scraped her nails across the flesh, making goose bumps rise. With the pads of her fingers, she rubbed the very tips of her nipples, making them even harder. She pressed firmly against them, imagining Conal's strong hands on her. She pulled on her nipples with thumbs and forefingers, but in her mind, it was Conal's lips tugging on them.

A moan escaped from her lips. She bent her head and pulled her large breasts closer to her chin. It wasn't her tongue caressing her nipples, it was Conal's. She laid her head back and released her breasts. Her hands moved lower, down her belly, fingers tickling the rim of her bellybutton. As she neared the juncture of her thighs, she spread her knees apart, as Conal would do. She stretched her fingers toward her moistening slit.

Conal spoke to her. "You are mine. You belong to me."

"Yes, I am yours." Her fingers found their target. While one index finger lightly tapped on her clitoris, the others traced the lips of her opening. Take me, Conal, take me! She suddenly buried two fingers in her cunt up to the first knuckle. She felt Conal's body crush hers as he laid himself along her torso.

Her breasts were crushed by his hairy chest.

Only... Conal's chest was smooth and hairless. Confused, she opened her eyes slowly, fingers still working in and on her cunt.

Robert sat in his chair, now naked. His prick pointed skyward. "You're thinking of me now, yes?"

"Master," she licked her lips. "Take me, Master. Fuck me, please." She thrust three fingers into herself as deeply as she could. In and out at a furious pace. But she wanted more. She wanted that magnificent cock completely in her. More than anything else, she wanted her master to possess her totally.

Robert slid from the chair and knelt between her thighs. He removed her hands from her pussy and lifted them to his face. He sucked the juices from her fingers before placing her hands on her breasts. His hands moved down her belly and then he slowly slid the fingers of his right hand into her wetness.

His fingers were large, dry and callused, causing a little discomfort as they pressed deeper. She felt the nub of his amputated index finger bump her clitoris. It had not healed smooth. Scar tissue covered the end, and every move of the rough tip seemed to drag her clit with it. She gasped at the sensation.

She felt the other fingers of his hand move inside her, all three of them she thought. They curled and spread inside her, stretching her inner muscles. Preparing her.

He crawled above her and supported himself with one hand planted next to her pale waist. He removed his fingers from within her and used his hand to rub the head of his cock up and down her slit, wetting it with her own juices. He positioned himself at her entrance. Then he pushed slowly until the head was inside. He paused for a moment.

It was a moment too long for Caitlin. "Do it, Master," she whispered. "Do it!" she hissed.

He held his shaft and thrust his hips forward, and ripped through her maidenhead. Her eyes closed tightly and her back arched in an instinctive attempt to escape the source of pain, causing more of her belly and breasts to press against Robert's hirsute body. His hips moved back a little and he planted his free on the other side of her waist. Then he thrust forward again, deeper. A wordless cry erupted from Caitlin's lips as her womanhood clenched his shaft, in pain and joy.

Robert held himself motionless above her. He was buried completely inside her now, his pelvis pressed against her groin.

She rolled her hips against him. "Fuck me, Master. Fuck your slave."

So he did. His strokes were slow and steady. Almost all the way out, then all the way back in. Caitlin thrust her hips against him, desperate to have him inside her. Quickly Robert's thrusts matched hers. Frantically, they fucked each other.

Robert let his arms collapse and he fell on top of Caitlin. It knocked the breath out of her for a moment, but she wrapped her arms around his back and legs around his thighs, trying to draw all of him into her. Only his hips moved now. They pounded at her violently, painfully. But the pleasure, the rapturous pleasure, washed the pain away.

She was his, truly. His possession of her was complete, total. His panting in her ear was as sweet music. His coarse hair on her soft skin was as velvet. His pounding at her groin was as a firm caress. Everything about him was perfect, broken nose and missing finger and all, for without those flaws he would be someone else, and it would not be her master making her a woman, but someone else in another body.

This was a hundred, a thousand times better than when she pleasured herself at night. She could not predict what Robert's next move would be. Would he lick her breast or pinch her nipple? Was he going to speed up or slow down his thrusts? Was he going to kiss her lips or her throat?  Would he ever stop? Please God, don't let him stop. She felt the wave building up, the pressure inside her increasing, demanding release. Sweet release. Her body was no longer hers, not even Robert's. It was its own being, and it had power of its own, which it was going to release. Soon... soon... soon... Now!

"Oh God! Master!" she screamed as her climax took her. "Aye! Aye! Aiieeee!!!"

At the same moment, Robert lay stock still on top of her as his shaft pulsed and he emptied inside of her. Give me all of you, Caitlin silently cried.

For minutes they lay like that, master on top of slave, bodies quivering against each other.

Robert stirred first. Slowly, his manhood withdrew from her warmth. He knelt above her and walked on his knees until he was astride her shoulders. His cock dangled above her face, streaked with her blood and soaked in their mingled juices.

"Lick it," he told her. "Take your blood back into you."

Caitlin's tongue stretched up toward the half-hard cock above her.  Hesitantly, it touched a wet spot of pink on the underside. Robert's cock jerked in response. Emboldened, Caitlin sent her tongue all along the underside, gathering up her blood and their spendings. Greedily, she lapped at the shaft. She peeled back the foreskin and sucked the head into her mouth. She circled the rim with her tongue a dozen times, and felt him harden in her mouth.

She wriggled out from between his thighs and knelt on hands and knees, so she could get at more of his cock. She licked and sucked on the shaft until it was spotlessly clean. And she kept licking and sucking. Her head pushed his cock in all directions, and her mouth chased it. She took the head between her lips once more, and moved further down the shaft until it nudged the back of her throat. She tried to take even more, but gagged. She wanted him to climax in her mouth. She was determined to taste his seed.

But he pulled out and stood.

Caitlin let out a small whimper and tried to suck him back in.

"No," he said, pushing her head away. "It's time for your punishment. Lean over the chair and wait until I return."

When he was satisfied with Caitlin's posture, he walked out of the hall, dangling cock swinging in front of him.

---

He was gone for an awfully long time, Caitlin thought. She reached underneath her, between her thighs, with one hand.  She diddled her clit, and snaked a finger between her wet labia. Lazily, she played with her pussy, feeling the combined juices, and awaited her master's return.

She heard a *whistle* and then a sharp sting on her left buttock. She shrieked, from surprise more than pain. Robert stood beside her, a thin birch branch held tightly in one hand, a stern look on his face.

"I did not give you permission to play with yourself. Ten lashes. Outside the kennels, you displayed a lack of trust. Ten lashes. You spoke without permission. Five lashes. But you spoke out of concern, so I will withhold five lashes. Twenty lashes in all. You will count them, and if you miss one, we will begin again."

"Yes, Master," she answered meekly.

*Whistle*, Sting. "One, Master."

"The number will be sufficient."

*Whistle*, Sting. "Two."

The individual strikes were only annoying, but their cumulative effect was painful. "Five."

She began to squirm under the assault. Her thighs rubbed together between lashes. Partly this was to relieve the pain, partly it was to stimulate her clitoris.

Oh God. Was that ten or eleven? She could only guess. "Ten."

*Whistle*, Sting. "Eleven."

Would he never reach twenty?

"Nineteen."

*Whistle*, Sting. "Twenty."

She heard the branch fall to the floor. Then she felt her master's hands caressing her reddened buttocks. The flesh was so tender that at first his touch was more painful than the branch. But soon his warm hands were soothing away the pain.

Robert fell to his knees and planted his face between her buttocks. His tongue and lips roamed over her weeping pussy. He sucked on her fleshy lips. His tongue darted into her over and over. He nibbled on the folds of flesh surrounding her cunt. He sucked her blood-engorged clit between his lips.

The fluttering in her stomach began again as his mouth worked its magic on her sex. "Oh, Master! I'm going to... I'm going to..."

He sucked hard on her clit, drawing in air at the same time so that her button vibrated against his lips.

She cried out her pleasure and passion, and collapsed across the arm of the chair. "Mmm, Master..."

Darkness.

---

When Caitlin awoke, it was to the sun shining in her eyes. Had she slept the entire night? No, it was just dusk. Shielding her eyes, she looked out the window. She saw a line of packhorses and wagons following a pennant. She thought she could make out several women. Robert's men and their servants.

She found her clothes lying across a chest but left them there, and went to search for her master.

She heard his whisper from behind the first door she came to. Does a slave open the door or knock? She knocked and heard Robert call her in.

He sat on the edge of his bed, naked. Kneeling between his legs was a woman, also naked. Caitlin only took notice of the long blonde hair, slim waist, and rounded buttocks covered with pinkish red stripes. Robert's hands held the woman's head and Caitlin could tell by the slurping sounds that the woman was sucking his cock.

But that was HER job!

Rushing across the small room, Caitlin grabbed a handful of blonde hair and pulled, hard. She smiled in satisfaction at the resultant scream.

"What do you think you're doing, bitch?!" Caitlin growled, "He's mine! Do you understand me?"

She looked down into tearful, fear-filled eyes. The woman was Heather. The closest thing to a best friend she had. Her friend was sucking her master's cock! Still holding Heather's head back by the hair, she slapped her ex-friend across the face, as hard as she could. She raised her hand for another slap, but was stopped by a crushing grip on her wrist.

Caitlin looked up to see Robert's angry eyes focused on her. His jaw was clenched, and she could see a vein throbbing in his forehead. She felt her stomach sink in fear. He had been stern with her, cold with her, but this was the first time she had ever seen anger in his face.

"I am yours?" His voice was like steel, cold and hard, cutting. "I am yours? No. You are mine, as Heather is mine. You are both my slaves."

"But-"

"SILENCE!"

Robert took her other wrist, forcing her to let go of her hold on Heather.

He explained flatly, "Heather saw us. Saw me taking you. Saw me punishing you. Saw your reactions. She asked to serve me as well. And I accepted," he concluded simply.

His stern voice continued, "But that is irrelevant. You do not control my body, I control yours. Who I..." He squinted, trying to remember the word. "Who I fuck is no concern of yours. Who you fuck is entirely up to me."

His voice lowered now, almost as though he were talking to himself. "I thought you had learned, but I see you have not. I have never had to punish a slave for something so serious, for believing 'she' owned 'me'. Perhaps when my men arrive..."

"Master?"

"What!"

"I saw... I wanted to tell you... That was why I came looking for you."

His brow wrinkled, "What are you babbling about?"

Caitlin pointed out the window, "Your men, Master."

He stood and looked out the window to see the arriving retinue. "About half an hour away."

Robert fetched his tunic from the bed and pulled it over his head. He looked down at Heather, who knelt on the floor, silently crying. "Your father will be with them." He cursed, "Merde!"

As he finished dressing, he spoke to Caitlin. "If you cannot learn with one master, perhaps you can learn with two. You are both my slaves, but from this moment, you are also Heather's slave. You will follow all her orders that do not conflict with mine. You will... Merde! We'll work this out later. Heather, do what you will with her, but do not mark or injure her. If you strike her, you may only use your hand. On her head or face, only your open hand. I have to go head off your father."

He strode quickly out of the room.

Caitlin was left alone with Heather, who had stopped crying and was now looking up at her eagerly and maliciously. And grinning evilly.

"I'm really sorry, Heather. Had I known it was you, I'd not..."

Heather only peered stonily at her.

Caitlin dropped to her knees and bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

Heather rose to her feet. "Better. But you still have to be punished. But first, let's see if you are as good as our master at sucking cunt."

She reached down and jerked Caitlin's bowed head back by the hair. Caitlin's mouth opened wide to gasp, but was silenced by Heather's wet slit.

Caitlin had tasted her own juices, mixed with Robert's and her own blood. She could taste Robert in the drippings from Heather's pussy, so she knew he had already fucked her. Had she been a virgin, as well?

Heather's fist tightened in Caitlin's hair and she growled, "I said suck my cunt!"

Dutifully, Caitlin's tongue ventured out against the slit that was smearing its juices over her mouth. She dragged her tongue against the labia, gathering up the fluids that clung to them. She discovered that she liked the taste. Her tongue grew more insistent, poking at the entrance, forcing its way past the yielding inner lips. She tasted the musky essence of Heather and smelled her sweat. Pubic hair tickled her nostrils as Heather ground herself on Caitlin's mouth. Ever deeper, she explored the girl she had grown up with, her tongue pressing and licking against her inner muscles.

Caitlin looked up past Heather's pubic hair, over her belly and between her apple-sized breasts to see her friend's face screwed up in passion. She plastered her mouth to Heather's pussy. She sucked hard on her labia, on her clitoris. She nibbled on her flesh. Heather hunched against Caitlin's face, moaning in pleasure. Caitlin tried to push her chin inside Heather, so great was her hunger for her friend's pussy and the desire to please her mistress.

Heather's body jerked and convulsed. Her body bent forward, as though she were trying to curl into a ball.  Suddenly, Caitlin's mouth, her cheeks and chin, were flooded with hot musky fluid as she brought her first woman to orgasm. Heather released Catlin's head and fell back on the bed, overcome. Her legs were splayed wide, and Caitlin could see her open pussy lips flexing slightly.

Caitlin remained kneeling and pursed her lips together, licking at the wetness around her mouth. She reached between her own thighs and slipped a couple of fingers into her own cunt. She frigged herself frantically, in a desperate attempt to climax.

She continued to fuck herself with her fingers as Heather rose to her elbows on the bed. Heather watched as Caitlin's hands clawed at her pussy, and her large white breasts jiggled. Heather stood over Caitlin again and planted her wet slit against her friend's mouth.

"Whatever you do, don't stop sucking."

Happily, Caitlin complied. She would gladly suck all day on the pussy above her, whether ordered to or not. She pressed her mouth around the pussy and pushed her tongue back inside. She felt Heather's hands in her hair, clutching at her head, holding her face tightly against her pussy. Caitlin felt Heather move her hips and then heard her grunt. The flavor of Heather's secretions changed slightly. Then, they were obviously more bitter, and the scent seemed sour rather than musky.

"Swallow," Heather ordered.

Just as Caitlin realized what was happening, her mouth filled with urine. Caitlin tried to pull away. But Heather was holding her head tightly, and her thighs kept Caitlin's head immobile. Her mouth was too tightly clamped to the other girl's pussy for her to even spit it out. She had to swallow or choke, so she swallowed. As soon as her mouth was empty, it was filled again.

She swallowed yet again, but this time the flavor did not have time to register in her brain. All she could think about was her utter humiliation. Sir Robert would likely never know anyone in her village by name, but Heather's friends were her friends, and Heather could keep this moment secret or not. Caitlin's pride was completely in Heather's hands. She had power over Caitlin now, even more than Robert had granted.

Of their own accord, her hands went up to Heather's buttocks. She squeezed and pulled Heather's ass while she swallowed as much of the piss as she could. Some of the urine ran down the sides of her face, along her neck, and down her body, and it felt pleasantly warm on her skin. Heather didn't have much urine in her, apparently, for the flood soon turned into a trickle, and then stopped.

"Clean me. With your tongue." 

Caitlin sucked hard on Heather's cunt, to get the dregs. She licked up the stray drops on her labia and upper thighs. She lowered her head to lick up the drying rivulets that had escaped her mouth.When she was done, she sat back on her heels.

Heather inspected herself closely and, satisfied, dressed herself. "You're a mess, Caitlin. Clean yourself up before our master gets back."

Then she left.

Continued in Chapter 2

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