Bedtime Story for Lady Anne

"Stop," Lady Anne commanded. The four footmen carrying her carriage obeyed at once. Lady Anne drew back the velvet curtain from the carriage window and looked out over the scene in the marketplace. A crowd had gathered there, listening to the words of an old crone. Lady Anne listened a while, as the story the old crone told came to conclusion.

"My Lady," the captain of her retinue urged, his concerned face eclipsing her view of the marketplace as he stepped up to the window of the carriage. "It is not wise to stay long among the common herd."

She gave him a look of contempt. "I will stop where I wish and for as long as I wish," she rebuked him coldly. "I have outgrown any need for tutors, captain! Kindly remember that. Your task is to protect me, with your life should it be necessary, not to instruct me in unwanted wisdom." Then - "Have the old crone brought to my chambers at eight," – and with that she let the curtain slip back into place to forestall further discussion.

The captain gave a curt nod to the lead footman to continue, suppressing with great difficulty his anger at the dismissive tone of Lady Anne's voice, not for the first time - then turned his attention to the old crone, still bending to retrieve the few dull coins scattered at her feet by the departing crowd. She was still muttering and cackling and crooning softly to herself as his long shadow fell across her...

At eight o clock exactly the old crone was ushered into Lady Anne's bedchamber. Among the fine paintings and rich tapestry and the gold and the silver and the velvet and the pearl and the jade and the ebony that adorned every square inch of the room she looked distinctly out of place in her rags. And yet, for one so lowly, finding herself thrust into the presence of her betters, the old crone seemed surprisingly at ease.

"I have arranged some entertainment for you, my Lord," Lady Anne said to the man who lounged indolently beside her on a pile of overstuffed cushions. He looked up, in a rather bored manner, took in the sight of the old crone, looked faintly puzzled for a moment, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. "What jest is this? This apparition you bring before me reeks of the farmyard."

The old crone let out a dry cackle, dry as her old bones, dry as her parchment skin and her flying white mane of hair. There was subtle mockery in that laugh, somewhere, but too illusive to be caught.

"I bid you have patience, my Lord." Lady Anne spoke softly, encouragingly. "You will find yourself soon captivated by this woman's tongue."

"Now I know that you jest, my dear," his Lordship said, his voice honeyed and soft-sounding, the voice of one who knows he does not have to speak up to be heard. "But a jest at my expense is no jest at all." Although it was said lightly, still there remained the unmistakable taint of menace to his words, lingering in the sweetened air between them.

"Old woman, tell us a story that will make our passions flow like wine in our veins and stir our lethargic energies to new peaks. For this you shall be richly rewarded." Lady Anne commanded.

And so, as they listened - the one bored, jaded, and indifferent, the other more desperate and sadder than she cared to admit - the old woman told her tale. When it was over, Lady Anne's body felt on fire with desire, every inch of her skin alive to sensation, as though it was now a thing quite separate from her mind, and she a mere observer of it's wants and needs – even the air caressing it made it tingle, made it hunger for a more lasting, livid touch. Beside her, his Lordship had long since fallen asleep...

She paid the old crone handsomely with a bag of gold, and dismissed her from her presence. At the door the old crone looked back with a smile at once kindly and knowing, her wise, disconcerting eyes taking in the sleeping Lord, and, it seemed to Lady Anne, her own penned in, lonely, trapped desire.

Leaving her Lord where he lay – he would not stir again till morning – Lady Anne retired to her own bedchamber, and called for her maidservant. As the girl helped her to disrobe, Lady Anne conceived of a daring idea. She ordered the girl to disrobe too, and dress in her own silken night attire. "Tonight you shall sleep in my bed, not the hard sleeping pallet you are used to. Tonight, you shall be the Lady. Does that not please you?" she asked.

"But my Lady, what if the Lord should..."

"My Lord is most unlikely – most unlikely – to enter this room unbidden, for he rarely enters even upon my invitation...and I shall be back by morning, have no fear. If he does come to you...why then, I doubt in his drunken state he will much concern himself over the difference between your body and mine, even if he should notice....no...he will not notice, have my assurances of that, and his demands....his demands are few, and simple."

Lady and servant exchanged a look, then, and between them for that instance there was no difference in status at all. Both understood themselves to be used things, commodities, and in this one matter at least, they were in common sisterhood.

A short time later, Lady Anne slipped from the palace, hooded and cloaked, into the unfamiliar night. She did not truly know what she sought, for whatever it was it was not a thing of logic or ruled by the need for discretion. It was pure hunger, burning deep in her belly, needing to be assuaged.

As she approached the gates of the palace two armed guards suddenly appeared out of the darkness, barring her way. A hand gripped her arm roughly. "And where do you think you are going, so long after curfew?" a harsh voice demanded of her. Keeping her head down low, demurely in shadow, her mind plunged all at once into a confusion of thoughts, excuses, despair, Lady Anne did not know what to say, but knew she could not reveal her true identity – oh why had she not thought of this? "Let me alone, I am about my honest business."

"Honest whoring more like! Well, if the pampered lords have had their fill for tonight, we may still find good use for you," spat the second guard, a leering grin upon his face. "How would you like to feel a real man's prick filling you for a change?"

"Nay, not one but two, the whore's got more than one hole," laughed the first guard contemptuously. "Now, let us see what you've got for us."

She was pushed roughly against the stone wall, the two guards hemming her in on either side, their faces pushed close to her own, their feral teeth gleaming in the moonlight, their breath making her gag – their eager ungentle hands pulling at her skirts to expose her suddenly shaking thighs. She tried to clamp her legs close together, but felt their fingers dig into the soft flesh of her upper thighs and prise them apart. "Don't fight us bitch, or it will be the worse for you!"

"Unhand me immediately! I am Lady Anne, no common whore! Your heads will roll in answer to this indignity unless you release me at once!" – she spoke with as much confidence as she could muster, even though she knew she had just as much likelihood of joining them on the block for this rash action, if the truth became known to her Lord. For a moment of fluttering hope her words stopped them. Then they laughed. In desperation she fought back against them, and managed to pull back her hood. "Do you not recognise your Lady when you see her?" she demanded.

One of the men grabbed her chin in a vice-like grip as he took a harder look at her pale face...at her frightened eyes...then he slammed her head back against the hard stone of the wall. She felt the taste of rusty iron at the back of her throat – blood – fear – panic. Disgust overwhelmed her.

"Have you ever set eyes on her Ladyship?" the man asked of the other. "No...didn't think so. And nor I." And at this they both laughed, mirthlessly. "Giving yourself such airs and graces will do you no good – we wouldn't know her ladyship from the back end of a horse. Do you think she mixes with the likes of us?"

She felt a sudden slap across her right cheek, and her hair, now released from the hood, was yanked cruelly. "Down on your knees you mad bitch whore, and do what you do best with that pretty little mouth of yours. No more wild fantasies out of it or we'll gut you and throw you to the dogs and have done with it!"

"Release the woman! Release her at once!"

Suddenly the two guards stiffened, their faces growing as pale as hers. They let go of her and stood back, one blurting out hurriedly; "She was trying to sneak past the gates sir. We apprehended her. She...she is demented. She claims..."

"I am Lady Anne." As quickly as she could she regained her composure, seeking to take command of the situation. There was hope yet that this night's folly would not end in disgrace or disaster - or worse, if her Lord were to discover the facts.

She stepped away from the wall and into the full light of the moon with a brazen show of arrogance she did not feel but knew she must wear. The captain of the guard, standing a little further back in the compound, frowned and stepped closer. His gaze, intense and clinical, examined every feature of her face. She braved his stare, for as long as she could...and then, despite so much riding upon this strategy, against all her reason, as though her body once again betrayed her, she felt them lower in a gesture of submission.

"A passing likeness, I grant you. Which has sinister implications perhaps..." said the captain. Then, turning to his men, "You did well, though allowed yourselves to carry things too far. Let me catch you abusing your authority again and I shall have you flogged or worse. Now, be vigilant. There may be more here than the ravings of a lunatic to contend with. I shall take this woman to my office for further interrogation."

He stepped in closer to her and took hold of her arm. "You will accompany me. You will do as I say and offer no further resistance. Is that understood?"

She looked up into the hard set of his face. Did he truly believe she was some kind of impostor? He had seen her often times enough. Surely he knew his Lady when he saw her? What was this charade? Perhaps – a sudden thought gave her pause for fresh hope – perhaps it was for the benefit of the guards? Perhaps the captain intended to take her safely back into the palace, with none the wiser?

She let him lead her through the compound. Even when they turned away from the palace and walked up the steps leading to the guardhouse and the captain's office she did not falter. Surely, tonight's foolish and terrifying adventure was now ended, once in the office alone with him she would soon reassert her authority over the captain, he was not a dolt like his men, he would soon see the risk he was now placing himself in, both to his career and very possibly to his life - and gold would buy his silence on the matter in the future.

She let herself relax in his grip. He pushed her forward into his office and closed and locked the door behind him. When he turned it was to find her facing him coldly. "Well, captain, you do understand whose presence you are in at last? And what danger you are placed in by these crude actions against my Person?"

"Strip." Was his only response.

"How dare you. You will show me all due respect! I am your Lady, as indeed you know full well. And I wish to return to the palace, at once. You will see to it, and do so discretely, if you wish to keep your head."

"Strip, I say. Or I shall strip you myself."

Once again, to her abysmal shame, she could not match his stare, and felt her eyes slowly lower in self-betrayal. And feeling that strange out of body sensation again, as though observing herself, she began to take off her clothes. Not hers of course, but the simple rough-sewn clothing of her maidservant. When she was down to her undergarments the captain stopped her with a barked command. He stepped up close to her and she felt his large hand slap suddenly against her belly and crutch. His fingers curved and dug into her flesh, and beneath them she felt her groin burn with fire.

"These are fine, expensive undergarments indeed, all silk and lace, for a common whore to be wearing. Are you a thief then, creeping into the palace at night and impersonating her Ladyship to steal her silks? Merely to steal her silks? Or is there a darker purpose involved? Well? Answer me!" – she felt his hand lift from her crutch and then return, resoundingly, in a slap that sent shock waves of pain and loathing through her body. No. No, not loathing. Some other emotion. An unspeakable emotion. "I will have the truth from you or you will languish in a dungeon for the rest of your days." And again, his hand, slapping into the vulnerable flesh between her legs, harder this time, and she felt her flesh sting with pain like a thousand pinpricks, and the lips of her cunt swell involuntarily open. She cried out, but found she could no longer articulate words. "I shall have this off I think, as it does not belong to the likes of you," – so saying, the captain tore the lacy undergarment from her body and positioned her into a wide-legged straddle. "Her Ladyship is a spoilt and spiteful young woman, but I do not think she is hated. You have to stir up passion to be hated, and she is quite incapable of that..." Time and again his hand now met with her flesh as he spoke his next words. "Perhaps" – slap – slap - "you are" – slap - "just a thief after all" – slap – slap - "with a lucky" – slap – face" – slap – "And if so, I shall punish you as befits a thief, and then let you go."

So many emotions were intermingling in her mind at this very moment that Lady Anne could not distinguish one from the other – there was relief, at his suggestion that he would eventually let her go, and fear, of what was still to come, and anger and shame, clashing like storm tossed waves against each other, and emotions flowing so fast and furiously through her that she could not catch hold of them, but in their wake she felt giddy. She felt his fingers pinch her cunt lips together and tug them harshly. He inserted his thumb between them, rubbing it up and down the sore, soft, shamefully wet flesh, then pushing it deeper, deeper and faster his thumb probed, as his fingers twisted and pulled her flesh harder, as he steered her in this fashion forward and further upon it, as his eyes fixed upon her own, as a thousand different unspoken exchanges took place between them, as she exhaled a breath sharply, as she felt herself come in an unstoppable flood over his hand, as, in that moment all pretence fell away, as his eyes broke contact with hers, as they cast themselves downward in deference to her rank and position as his Lady, whom he was pledged to serve. As she realised he had known this all along...

"Now," said the captain, "you may think yourself let off lightly, and be about your business - without another word from your lips, do you understand - unless you want to incur further humiliation at my hands....And, should we ever by some circumstance meet again...we shall not speak of this incident."...

..."Oh how very droll, but I would have much preferred one about beastiality," his Lordship gave his opinion with an affected yawn, a show of indifference, his ennui in no shade lifted, his disposition in no way cured, his cock as flaccid and un-enlivened under his silks as ever, like a snake hibernating under a stone. "What did you think of the story my dear?" he spoke without turning to Lady Anne. "Do you think the old hag deserves a whole bag of gold for her tale?" he asked in a mocking tone. "I must say, my dear, that on the contrary, I find myself left disappointed by the inadequacy of the tale, it has left me feeling quite dulled of spirit, has it not you?

Beside him, Lady Anne kept her silence. He glanced at her impatiently, "Well, did you not also find the story dull?" he coached. Then, still receiving no answer, he turned his petulant attention back to the old woman.

"See how you have offended her Ladyship? Take yourself from our sight at once you old hag, before I have every brittle bone broken in your body!"

by Blue