Bridget and Lord Percy

Will deposited the last piece of wood on the pile outside the kitchen of the manor house. He wiped his brow on his coat sleeve. Despite the cold, he was sweating profusely. The young lord was so difficult to please. The wood was the best he could find. Every piece had been cut to the exact length he had specified. Yet Will sensed that Percy would find something wrong. He removed his cap and raised his hand to knock on the door when it opened. The two men eyed each other warily.

Lord Percy owned a thousand acres. Will was one of a hundred tenants on the manor. Although he wouldn't admit it, Percy needed Will and the other tenants much more than they needed him. They tended the fields and livestock which provided his income. No one person could do all the work alone. He was one against all of them. His gruff demeanor kept the tenants in line. Of course, his trusty old musket hanging over the fireplace helped. Only he knew it wasn't loaded.

"The wood is all stacked, milord," Will said meekly.

Percy surveyed the pile. He picked up a piece and smelled it. "Good quality," he said hoarsely. "Where did you get it?"

"Down by the stream, milord. It's from the oak tree that the heavy snow brought down last winter."

"This pile is a bit short."

"This is the amount we agreed upon. The stack is up to the mark on the wall."

"That's the wrong mark. It will take another two carts full to bring the stack to the proper level. It's getting late. You may bring the rest tomorrow. Get along now. Your wife is waiting for you." Percy turned away abruptly and went into the manor house leaving Will standing alone.

Percy was wrong. The pile was already a few inches above the mark. He knew it; Will knew it; Percy knew that Will knew it. "Greedy bastard," Will muttered. "He just wants all the good wood for himself. I shouldn't have told him about it."

Will lifted the handles of his cart and began pushing it down the lane toward his cottage. He hated Percy. He hated the power Percy had over him. He was a tenant on the manor. The small plot of ground allotted to him was scarcely sufficient to grow enough food for survival. Unlike many of the other tenants, Will did not have to share what he grew with Percy. He paid his rent with firewood, and he was very skilled with his hands. He was a good carpenter and a fair blacksmith. As he trudged along pushing the heavy cart, he cursed the wealthy man. He would have loved to give him a good thrashing but Will knew he would be lucky if he wasn't hanged for such a deed.

Bridget, Will's wife, was a comely lass. She had a high bosom and a straight back. Her hips flared just the right amount for her to easily bear children without being so large as to be vulgar. After three years of marriage, Will and Bridget were still without a child. Most women her age had had their first child within a year of their weddings. She feared that she might be barren; yet all the signs said that she was highly fertile. Will had given her enough of his seed for a dozen children. It was extremely important that she bear a son who could care for them in their old age. With a son, Will and Bridget could continue to live in their little cottage. Without one, they would be put out of their home when they could no longer farm their little garden and do the various jobs the lord of the manor required of them.

During their meager supper, Will continued to seethe with anger at Percy. Bridget knew her husband well enough to leave him alone when he was upset. She was naturally curious about what bothered him, but she knew he'd start screaming at her if she said anything. When he slammed his fist so hard on the table that their food went flying, she could restrain herself no longer. Gently she laid her hand on top of his. "Will," she said softly, "tell me what is wrong."

As she expected, he exploded with rage. Between curses and deprecations, he slowly related his day to her finishing with the conversation with Percy about the extra wood he demanded. The injustice of the matter began to anger her. "That's not right," she interjected a couple times. Her comments fueled his rage. His anger fed the flame of hers until she was as enraged as he. She grabbed her shawl from the wall peg and tore open the door.

"Where are you going?" Will asked in alarm. He knew his wife's temper was as fiery as her hair.

"I'm going to give Percy a piece of my mind!" she screamed as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Will hurried to the door and opened it. "Bridget, come back!" he called after her. She had already disappeared into the darkness. He heard her footsteps on the lane receding in the distance. She knew the path well having walked it many times at night coming home after cooking Percy's dinner. Slowly Will closed the door and slumped onto the bench at the table. His heart froze in his chest. How many times had he told her not to cross Percy? Certainly his henchmen would come in the morning to burn down their cottage and force them off the manor.

Who could be pounding on the door so late at night? It had better be a true emergency for anyone to be calling at eight o'clock. Charles carried the lantern to the door and opened it. "Bridget," he said, "what are you doing here? Is there something wrong with Will?"

"Where's Lord Percy?" she demanded as she shoved her way past him.

"He cannot be disturbed," he said. "If you would care to leave a message, I will see that he gets it."

"I have to see him now," she said.

"He is not available," Charles said taking her arms in his hand and turning her toward the door.

"Show her in," Percy called from another room. Bridget marched into the room and slammed the door in Charles's face. "What brings you out in the middle of the night?"

"It's you that brings me out!" she screamed. "How dare you demand that Will bring you more wood when he has already made the pile higher than the mark?"

"How dare you come barging in here in the middle of the night?" he answered. He tried using his usual indignant gruff voice, but a hint of fear tinged it.

"Shut up, you lying ass! You have no right to demand that Will bring more wood than what you agreed upon!"

"It's good wood. As the lord, I have the right to the best. Now get out of here and go home to your husband."

"I'll go when I'm ready to go! Do you think you are the only human being on earth? The tenants are people too!"

Percy dashed to the mantle and grabbed his musket. "Bridget, don't make me do something neither of us wants to happen. Now be a good girl and go home, and I'll forget you were here."

She yanked the weapon from his hands and threw it on the floor. "You damn fool! The whole shire knows you don't keep your muskets loaded."

Percy backed away from her in terror. No one, especially a woman, had ever yelled at him in anger before, not even his mother. She had spunk; he had to admit that. But she was a tenant's wife, and, therefore, owed him respect. She advanced on him with fire in her eyes, and he backed away. Out of the corner of her eye, Bridget saw his riding crop on the table. She saw something else, a small bulge in his trousers. "Bridget," he stammered, "maybe I have been a bit hasty. One more cart full should be enough."

"There won't be any more carts full!"

"But...." She seized the crop and held it over her head. "Maybe you're right." She advanced on him, and he backed away. A foot stool tripped him, and he landed on the chesterfield. The bulge in his crotch seemed to have grown. Slowly she lowered the crop and brought it to his knee. Percy trembled at its touch. The rage in her face was replaced by a grin. She traced his inner thigh with the handle up toward his groin. His wide-open eyes watched the handle's progress. "Bridget," he said in a terrified voice, "please...." The bulge had gotten bigger. Without warning she whacked his leg with the crop. "That hurt," he howled. The bulge grew some more.

"You like this," she said softly.

"No, I don't."

"You prick is calling you a liar. A great big liar." He clasped his hands over his manhood. "Take off your pants."

"But you are a married woman." The crop lashed his leg again.

"Don't force me to change my target." Keeping his terrified eyes on the crop, he rose and lowered his trousers. His cock pointed directly at her. "Now take off the rest of your clothes."

"Bridget, you have made...." A lash to his naked butt silenced him. His jacket and shirt quickly landed on the floor.

"Percy, you have been a very bad boy."

"Yes. Yes, I have."

"You need to be punished."

"Yes, you are right."

"Bend over and grab your ankles." Carefully he did as he had been commanded. The handle of the crop smashed into his buttocks. A smile crossed Bridget's face as she relished her power over the nobleman. "You have more than enough wood." He jumped when the handle raised a welt on his arse. His prick continued to stand up. "Don't you?"

"Yes," he said meekly.

She stepped behind him and placed the end of the crop between his legs. With agonizing slowness, she raised it until it gently touched his ball sac. He shuddered fearing a smack against his groin. His cock seemed to enlarge. She lowered her end of the crop raising the other. Deftly she threaded his prick through the leather arm loop. "Straighten up," she ordered. Reluctantly he obeyed. When his back was straight, she released the crop leaving it dangling from his rigid shaft. "Don't let it drop, or you will discover what real terror is."

She stood in front of him and ran her fingers up and down the length of his cock. Smiling, she opened her shirt. Her amble bosom stared at him. His breath came deep and ragged from within his chest. "Don't drop it," she warned him. "If you do, I will have to punish you some more." She let her shirt slip from her hand to the floor. "Now suckle my breasts like a baby." His mouth opened as though he intended to speak. Even naked and barefoot he was taller than she. He bent his knees to bring his mouth down to the level of her nipples. As he did so, the end of the riding crop tapped the floor. "Remember what I told you," she warned. He turned his head sideways and managed to place his lips on her solid nipple. She sighed as pleasure emanated from her breast. He kissed a circle around the areolae, then another larger circle around the first. He froze in horror when the crop landed on the floor.

Percy could easily have picked up the horse whip and used it in his own defense. Instead he stood perfectly still while she retrieved it. "Kneel," she commanded in a low, but powerful growl. He obeyed without question. Blow after blow rained upon his back. He winced with each stroke, but he did not cry out. After a dozen lashes, she stepped back. His head remained bowed while she pulled down her skirt and her knickers and kicked them aside. "Let's see if you can do any better with my cunt." He looked up at her with questioning eyes. "Use your tongue as you would your prick." When he didn't move, she pressed his face against her bush. Carefully he extended his tongue into the tangled nest of hair between her thighs. She gasped at the first touch on her sensitive lips. His tongue traced the length of her slit sending waves of pleasure through her loins. "Keep doing that," she whispered. Again his tongue traversed her lips, now swollen and puffy with desire. On the third pass, his tongue caressed her clit. Instantly her entire body shook, and she placed her hands on his shoulders for support. "Do that again," she said breathlessly. He brushed her nubbin with his tongue again, and again she screamed with orgasmic delight. This time her knees buckled.

Bridget stretched out on the rug in front of the fireplace. Still holding the crop in one hand, she held out her arms to him. Percy knelt between her legs instantly. With her empty hand, she led his prick to her dripping cunt. Her tunnel felt like a hot, wet, undersized glove to his invading prick. He was larger than Will; she felt that immediately as he stretched her open. Never had she known such pleasure from a man's organ. The sheer volume of his cock was enough to send her over the edge again. He moved slowly inside her savoring her tightness. Gradually the fear on his face turned to lust. With her eyes closed, Bridget did not notice the change in his expression.

The tempo of his thrusts increased. "Faster," she whispered. When he didn't speed up, the crop lashed his butt. His pace increased a bit. "Faster," she whispered again. This time she whipped his bum immediately. Her cunt muscles began to tighten. His prick developed a mind of its own. It became the center of his universe. He scarcely noticed the blows to his bottom. His ball sac slapped her arse with each plunge into her cunt. She had forgotten she had the crop in her hand and whipped him blindly. His balls rose up and his back arched as he shot his potent seed into her womb. Neither heard their screams of passion through the intensity of their orgasms.

Bridget recovered first. "Get off me," she said with a touch of anger in her voice. Percy lifted himself gently from her and sat on the floor beside her. "What are you smiling about?" she asked.

"You are a wonderful woman, Bridget," he said. "I hope you will visit me again, soon."

She cracked the crop across his knee. "You seem to be forgetting something," she said repressing her own smile. "I am a married woman. If you even think of trying to force me to return, I will go to the sheriff and tell him you forced yourself on me. That's assuming I don't turn Will loose on you first."

"But, Bridget, I...."

"You will address me as Mistress Bridget from now on. Or you will wish your father had spilled his seed on the ground. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress Bridget," he said bowing his head in defeat.

"Bridget!" Will called excitedly to his wife as he pushed his heavily laden cart. "Bridget, come look!" She came to the door and looked up the lane to see her husband pushing a cartload of fresh wood toward their cottage. "Percy said this wood is ours. He was just joking yesterday about needing more."

Bridget smiled and returned to her boiling pot.

A fortnight passed, and her monthly curse failed to arrive. At first, she shrugged off any concern. It would come in a day or two. Instead, the next morning she awoke sick in her stomach. A few days later, while Will was toiling in the fields, she visited the midwife. Enroute home, she stopped at the manor.

Charles opened the door after her third knock. She barged in without waiting for any greeting and went straight to the sitting room, where she found Percy drinking his afternoon tea. "Bridget," he said, "what are you doing here?"

"Have you forgotten my proper title already?" she snarled. "Charles, you may leave us alone." Percy nodded his head. Charles's hands trembled as he closed the door behind himself.

"We both know that was just a game," Percy said a bit annoyed.

Looking around quickly, Bridget spotted the riding crop and snatched it up. Holding it up menacingly, she shouted, "I suppose my being pregnant is also a game!"

"Pregnant? Will must be very happy."

"I haven't told him yet. I thought the father should be the first to know."

"But, obviously, Will is the father."

"Legally, yes. He hasn't been able to give me a child for three years. Why should he suddenly be able to now?"

Percy was dumbstruck. "You mean...." he began slowly.

"Yes, you are the father. My cottage needs a new roof. You will make sure Will gets the necessary straw to rethatch it before winter. You don't want your child living under a leaking roof, do you?"

"Bridget...." The crop landed smartly on his leg.

"What is my name?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress Bridget."

"That's better." She smiled as she noticed a bulge forming in his trousers.