Prince Bonir Vol. 01

At length I became aware of new sensation, like my family jewels were tightening up. Somehow the prisoner sensed this, because she redoubled her efforts. I felt the climax begin deep in my sac, followed by the spasms that sent waves of pleasure through every fiber of my being. "Ugh," I grunted involuntarily, the rest of my body stiffening so as to provide a solid base from which my penis could emit its projectiles as far as possible. As it was, their trip was short, for the prisoner held my penis halfway in her mouth while I unloaded my cargo. When she could tell that no more spasms were coming, she swallowed what I had given her and proceeded to lick any sticky residue off of my member with her tongue. I had meant for the prisoner to be fed; I had not intended that I feed her myself—but my seed was undoubtedly the first thing in her belly in quite some time.

Gradually my sense of where I was returned. I put away my dagger and pulled my pants back on. I snuck a peek at my guard, expecting to see disapproving or shocked expressions, but all I saw was stoic faces. Either they were exceedingly well trained, or this was something they had seen before. I couldn't help but suspect the latter.

Only now the guard that had went to fetch some bread returned—he had had to run all the way to the royal kitchen. I motioned for the guard to unbind the prisoner's left hand, then handed her the bread so she could eat. She tore into it as only a starving person could. It also gave me an opportunity to find out more about standard operating procedures.

"What do we usually do with suspected witches?" I asked.

"We usually send them to the Church," Jauffrey replied.

"And what does the Church do with them" I asked further.

"They torture them endlessly until they die in unspeakable agony!" the prisoner interrupted through a mouth full of bread.

"Is this true?" I asked Jauffrey.

"That would be one way to look at it, I suppose," he answered. "The priests say that can only save the witch's soul by torturing the demons out of her body."

"And how does a woman prove that she is not a witch?" I questioned pointedly. "I am quite sure that everyone that is so accused will say they are not."

"Hmm, well, yes," Jauffrey pondered, "that would seem to be rather difficult."

"So all I need to do is claim someone is a witch, hand her over to the church, and they will torture her to death?" I could not believe what I was hearing.

"Umm, well, yes," he answered uncomfortably. Funny, it sounded different when I said it then when the Archbishop did.

"Bring me this woman's accuser," I replied, "and we shall hear what both have to say. If we find that she is a witch, then we shall handle her punishment. It is my duty in this province to decide guilt and innocence, and I will not abdicate that responsibility to the Church or anyone else." Addressing the prisoner now, I said "you shall have your day in court, and soon. Spend this time thinking of your defense and how you will answer any accusations brought against you."

I turned to leave, but as I left I said to one of the guards "and for God's sake, let the woman stand up for while."

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Jauffrey's men were more efficient than I expected; next morning Eve stood before her accuser. I was asked how I wished her to be presented.

"Well, certainly let her wear something more than she is wearing now," I replied.

"Yes sir," he replied, "we have a robe we usually use."

"What manner of robe?" I asked suspiciously.

"It's black, with a hood..." he began...

"I see...so when a woman stands accused of witchcraft we force her to wear a robe that makes her look as a witch to her trial. Now how does that serve the ends of justice?" I was beginning to see that the rest of the world didn't follow the same code of honor as did the knights of the realm. "What was she wearing when she was arrested?"

"With all due respect, sir, any such garments would by now be lost or perhaps even stolen," he answered with trepidation.

"Yes, or course they would be—being called witch is a one-way ticket to the grave, is it not?" An awkward silence followed. "I am frustrated by how things go here, Jauffrey, but do not misunderstand, I do not blame you for them. I appreciate and indeed depend on your telling me how things really are in such matters," I replied. "Fetch her clothing as a woman of the town would wear."

Once a green gown was found and she was put in it, the trial began. Her accuser was a rotund, middle-aged shopkeeper of the town who had been her employer. He claimed to have become increasingly concerned about actions he observed, although all of them could have happened for any number of reasons—I suspected his main reason for thinking her a witch was her long black hair. But then he delivered his clincher: "and then, one night, I saw her in the moonlight on the hillside. She had dismembered a sheep, and was rooting around in its entrails for materials for her evil spells!"

"Is this true?" I turned to Eve.

She looked downward. "I came upon a sheep that had been slain and half-eaten by a wolf. My coming must have scared him off."

"What were you doing on the hillside at night?" I asked.

"I was going to the big tree to...meet someone."

"To meet whom?" I asked suspiciously.

"I had a lover who was in the guard," she said quietly.

"And this guardsman can confirm this?" I challenged.

"Alas, no," she said sadly, "he died in the plague, or he would be here defending my honor."

Hmm. Seemed like this girl was just having one bad thing after another happen to her. If anyone was cursed by a witch, it was her! "Why did you stop by the sheep?" I continued.

"I wished to see if any of its intestines remained. I had heard they could be used to...make something," she said haltingly.

"Aha!" the accuser interjected, "she admits it!"

"I am quite certain that the making of haggis does not involve witchcraft," I snarled, "and yet does require the use of the internal organs of sheep. I am holding this hearing, and if you interrupt me again, it is you that will be sent to the dungeon!" Total silence filled the chamber.

Turning back to Eve, I asked "and what is it that you wished to make from the sheep's intestines?"

"It...it is something called a sheath, sir," she said falteringly. I noted a slight flush of embarrassment cross her cheeks.

"A sheath? For a sword?" I asked.

"Not quite, my lord. It...it is a very sensitive matter, my lord. I beg of you, allow me explain in private quarters." She was staring at me with those pleading eyes, the same look she had when she was sucking me in hope for mercy.

"Very well," I replied testily. I sense she would not ask such favor idly, but did not wish to seem weak in front of the court. "You have five minutes to explain yourself." I motioned for Jauffrey to come, and the guardsman assigned to Eve escorted her to the private chamber. When she was brought in. "What is this sheath that you cannot explain in public?"

"It is a barrier, m'lord," she explained nervously, "for use in intercourse. As I hear it, it allows a woman to be with her lover without the risk of conceiving."

Well, that would explain the privacy—if the townspeople learned that she even knew of such a thing, she would be branded a harlot for life. And yet I had a hard time imagining how a sheep's intestine could protect a woman from a man's seed. "I find that hard to fathom, but that does not mean it is not so. If you can produce such a device, I shall believe you. What do you need?"

"A sheep's intestine that has been soaked to remove the insides, and a bit of fine thread," she replied. I sent one of the guards to the kitchen, although I doubted we had sheep's intestines just sitting around. I went out and announced to the court "The prisoner has described to me a device constructed in part out of sheep's intestine. I shall give her the opportunity to prove that she speaks truth by whether or not she is able to create the device she described. If she can, she shall be exonerated from all charges. If she cannot, we shall treat her as a witch. Court is now closed." I went back to the private apartments as the chamber cleared out.

Eve was fortunate that day; the kitchen had already been soaking some intestines for use as casings for some sausage they wanted to make. Eve was led to a table and told to prove her word was true. She took the intestines, floating in a bowl of water, and fished around until she found an end. She gently poked with nimble fingers until she was able to separate the collapsed membrane and return it to its original, round shape. Then she very deftly began to roll the membrane up into itself, producing a gradually thickening ring. After rolling up some length, she then measured an inch or two further down the end and cut the intestine. Carefully sitting it down on its round base, she folded the top over, then tied the folded end closed with a knotted thread. When it was done, it looked like a miniature hat, like a jester might wear.

"And how is this device supposed to work?" I wondered aloud.

"I will demonstrate, if my lord so wishes," she said demurely.

I nodded. The guards were all watching intently as she stood up and walked over to me—they wanted to see this, too.

Eve came up to me and meekly knelt before me. I was quickly growing fond of seeing her in that position. Although my Duke's tunic and hose were not as easily removed as my underarmor had been, Eve had both hands to work with this time. She gently pulled the hose down to my knees, the looked up at me while she stuck out her tongue, licked my balls and started working her way up, eventually reaching the tip—a trip that was twice as long as it had been when it commenced. Then she focused on my crotch and took my length gently into her mouth, caressing it with her tongue, sucking.

Her hands free, she held on to the back of my legs as she released me, then enveloped me again, each time trying to force my manhood deeper and deeper into her own throat. It felt so good my knees threatened to buckle—but I couldn't just let her suck her way out of this. But it felt so good, I couldn't bring myself to tear myself away. I closed my eyes and reveled in the pleasurable sensations of the moment. She sucked me, focusing her attention not on me but on my crotch, doing everything she knew to make it feel good. But when I felt my stones wanting to tighten up, I knew I had to stop. I pushed her away, saying "That's all well and good, but what does this have to do with your device?" I demanded.

"Of course, my lord," she replied, standing, looking at me with a hint of twinkle in her dark eyes. "If you would be so good as to come over to the table." I pulled my hose hastily and walked over. She was gently handling the sheath as she called it that she had made. I stopped next to her and she again pulled my hose down. Although I was still fully erect, she caressed me with her mouth a few more times anyway. Then she took the sheath and placed it over the tip of my little man. Once snugly in place, she unrolled the edges, so that my manhood was encased in the membrane as snug as any stocking. I looked down at myself with interest—the sheath stayed put. She had described it as a barrier, and I could see why. But it was so thin, I could barely sense it was present at all.

As soon as I was "sheathed," Eve stood up. She reached for her skirts and pulled them up to her hips. Then she felt under and untied her undergarments, allowing them to fall to the floor. She sat on the edge of the table, then lay back fully onto it, with her hips right at the edge. She pulled her legs up and to the sides, leaving her nether regions completely exposed. She reached down with her hands, stroking herself pleasurably with one while working to part the labia with the other. In no time an inviting pink opening was plain to see. Any thoughts my Johnson had of softening quickly faded.

"I am ready for you to test the sheath, my lord," she announced. Watching her expose her most private parts to me, it crossed my mind briefly that this woman may have been a harlot. But I decided I should reserve judgment. She was in a position of having to choose between her virtue and her life—I had no reason to believe that she was always this...open.

Still somewhat apprehensive, but much more so aroused, I brought my sheathed member over to the proffered opening and gently pushed. There was some initial resistance, as she had not yet fully moistened herself. But with a little additional effort on each of our parts the walls parted and I was inside her.

I watched as my white-sheathed little general disappeared into her and then reappeared. "It's...amazing!" I exclaimed, so surprised at how well this worked that I was very nearly distracted from what I was doing with it. "I can barely feel that it's there, yet I definitely can feel the warmth and pressure of the orifice." I slipped it in and out with more force, but no matter how hard I thrust, it went with me. "And it stays on me, even as I move in and out," I added incredulously. The guards were curious—they knew not to move closer, but they craned to see for themselves that the sheath really worked.

It did not feel exactly the same as I remembered it, however, and I realized it was in large part because I could not feel the wetness—that was what made the "French style" so pleasing. But Eve was sharp; she knew she had proven her story, but even more she knew that it would help her case if she brought me to climax again. I felt her hips rising and her internal muscles squeezing, trying to replace some of what the sheath took away. There were also plenty of distractions here, even more so than in the dungeon; Eve knew she needed to help me focus my attention, so she began frantically untying the stays of her bodice until it was loose enough that she could pull it back and display her bare breasts.

They were wonderful.

I'd held them before, of course, but with the much better light and their "sunny side up" position, they were astoundingly beautiful. Soft mounds of white flesh, with tender pink tips that strained straight up. I bend over to kiss them, continuing my thrusting as best I could; Eve merely laid flat on her back again and grasped her knees to help keep herself open for me.

My heart was really racing now. It's one thing to taste the soft flesh of the breast; it's another to do so while already submerged in her birth canal. I put my arms down on the table at her sides and began to thrust with purpose. Again she flashed her dark eyes at me, but they spoke differently this time; they wanted me to obtain that which I was already so close to achieving, but they also told me that she, too, felt pleasure from this. And I would like to think that she also felt some sense of attraction, not just because I would now almost certainly keep her out of the clutches of the Church, but because I was man that could be counted on.

I continued to thrust in and out; the sheath continued to thrust with me. I stopped for a second to pull her hips back towards the edge of the table; bit by bit, I had pushed her several inches across the table surface. I resumed my cadence. As I continued to partake of her, I noticed that her breathe became shallower, and her cheeks began to take on a slight flush. Even without the direct sensation because of the sheath, I sensed that she was very well lubricated at this point.

Then once again, I was taken in by her eyes. She was looking at me, breathing heavily. I was suddenly struck by the contrast; at the brothel, the girls would always close their eyes or look at the ceiling while you did your business, and as often as not they just flopped their arms up over their heads on the pillow. Eve was not a passive recipient; her hips were moving, her eyes were making contact, her arms were actively parting her thighs for me. It was so much more intense of an experience it was almost an entirely different thing.

We locked gazes, and her face seemed to say "please, I want you to climax." And that very thought seemed to trigger exactly that result. I pushed myself in as deeply as I could, holding it while pleasurable spasms washed over me. I quickly pulled back and then in again, holding it, while more followed. Eve had closed her eyes; it seemed she was concentrating on the unique sensations of my ejaculations as they felt from the receiving end.

After the last wave passed, I stood there for a second to catch my breath, trying to commit to memory as much of this intensely pleasurable episode as possible. Eve, however, reacted immediately.

"Be careful when you take it out!" she warned.

"Hmm?" I grunted. I was still lost on planet bliss.

"Hold the end tight when you pull it out," she instructed. I wasn't quite sure what she meant, so she sat up and did it for me; she gripped the end of the sheath against my rapidly shrinking John Thomas as she removed it from herself. It was immediately obvious why—I hadn't realized how quickly I shrank after climax, but the sheath which had held tight so admirably during the action now slipped easily off of my penis. "If you don't take it off right, you defeat the whole purpose."

She sat up, holding the intact sheath which now resembled a dead eel. Reaching for a wine glass that earlier had been hastily shoved aside, and held the sheath upside down over it. White fluid rushed out of the sheath. "So you see, m'lord," she said with a sense of victory. "The sheath can be employed as a successful barrier between a man and woman to prevent contraception."

"Indeed, you have proven your point most admirably," I replied, trying to regain my Dukely demeanor. "Jauffrey, please call the court back to order in ten minutes so that I might give my final verdict."

Jauffrey went off to assemble the court. Eve was lacing her bodice back up. "I will declare you innocent of all charge of course," I said, "but in court you said that your lover died in the plague."

She nodded distantly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I continued. "What will you do when you are free to leave?"

She shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "I certainly won't be going back to my old job, my lover is gone, and most of my family is gone as well. I have an uncle in a farm near the border, I suppose I'll head there until I figure something out."

"These...sheathes of yours...they seem like they could be very useful to have around." I said vaguely.

Now dressed again, she stood up straight and looked me in the eye. "Indeed, my lord, especially for a man in your position."

"But I would need someone to make them..." I hinted.

"I could show your staff. You saw for yourself, it's rather simple."

"Sometimes a true artisan can make difficult things appear easy. I was thinking perhaps that you could continue to make them for me...as a member of my household."

She was clearly startled. She had never dreamed of receiving an invitation like that. "Of course, you may do whatever you wish," I continued. "If you wish to go out to the countryside with your uncle..."

"No," she interrupted quickly lest the offer be withdrawn. "I...I would be honored to be one of your servants, my lord."

"Excellent," I continued, "we shall see to getting you a room at once. It shall be your responsibility to ensure there is a supply of sheathes on hand at all times. There will likely be other duties as well, but the production of sheathes is your responsibility alone."

"Yes m'lord," she said, face brightening into almost a smile for the first time that I had ever seen. "Thank you, m'lord."

"Oh, and for the time being, I will need you to do one other task as well," I said as an afterthought.

"Yes, m'lord?"

"I shall need you to warm my bedchambers for me before I lie down for the night," I said. The way our eyes met, I knew she understood my meaning. Her dark eyes darted away, knowing and mischievous, understanding that she would be expected to demonstrate the efficacy of the sheath yet again on request. It did not seem that the lady objected to the assignment. She gave a little smile, but headed to the powder room to freshen her appearance for the final verdict.