Flora's World Ch. 01-03

I could see that she was a tall and beautiful woman, but her cruelty, hauteur, and hypocrisy all prevented her appealing much to me, in the usual sense of the expression. If anything, I wanted to inflict pain on her, as no doubt did her son. He was helpless, I was not. Still, I did not intervene, not wishing to draw attention to myself. I wanted to find a way out of this place alive, so that I could warn the Fair Tribe and my golden lady of the Lord Constable and the Baron's mother plotting against them.

I was not so lucky. The Baroness, for lack of a better name, caught me just before her son could reply to her, and angrily lashed out at me with her whip, before gesturing for me to approach. I had other ideas, of course, so I backed away from her and looked for an exit, which only infuriated her further. She dropped her whip, picked up a knife, and lunged at me, which prompted me to strike her with my fist. I had never punched a woman before, it being against my upbringing, but this bitch had it coming. I would not insult ladies by calling her one.

When my fist connected her stomach, she lost her balance and doubled over in agony, giving me time to escape. That had been my plan, but I had a mad impulse to carry this a step beyond what was necessary. I seized the whip and cropped her a couple of times in the calves, which caused her to see red. She shrieked and attacked me again, this time slashing at my groin, but missing it, as her aim was thrown off by her continued pain.

I then grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor of the crypt, wanting to exercise my own kind of justice. I kicked her in the buttocks and stepped on her neck. This was as dominant as she had probably seen a man behave toward her, so I hoped that this would demonstrate that I was no serf or slave to fear or even respect her.

"Listen, madam, and focus on what I tell you. I do not know what is exactly going on between you and this lad of yours, but leave me out of it! If you wish to keep your stupid forest and your estates, keep your hands off me and mine. If you wish to stay alive, do not harm the Fair Tribe, or the other tribes, for that matter. You have been warned. Pardon the expression, given the context, but I will go medieval on your soft and pampered rump if you lay a hand or weapon on the tribes or myself. Oppress your own people, if you must, but back off of mine. Consider this your one and only chance to behave yourself and not incur my wrath! Believe me, your Duke is nothing compared to me when it comes to being a holy terror. I am a principal!" I imprudently declared.

I didn't learn until later that she or her son would take this statement as an indication of clairvoyance. Between my apparent psychic powers and my strange clothing, they now viewed me as some kind of magician, warlock, sorcerer, wizard, etc. They were in awe and trembled when I walked away from them. My abrupt disappearance didn't help them out, either.

Before I realized it, I was home again and wished that I wasn't. That experience of punishing the evil blue-blooded shrew was cathartic for me. I enjoyed sticking it to her, and part of me was aroused by the idea of a grudge fuck. The word "priceless" from that credit card commercial seemed to fit it best, when it came to the obvious horror that they displayed after I gave that bitch a small taste of her just desserts. I had known women like her all of my life and hated them all. They were my Aunt Hilda all over again. I felt that I had some payback to her and all such femme fatales when I stood up to this cunt.

It had been a very long day, of course, so I was more than ready to hit first the shower and then the sack. My dreams that night were of the mysterious blonde, mixed with some of my older and more developed students, and even some of rather sadistic sex scenes with that Baron's wicked mother. One involved the blonde showing up in my office to seduce me.

I felt every scene intensely, as if it were real rather than a dream, especially the blonde. It was as if we had linked our minds in this dream sequence, dreaming it together. I found myself taking her on the desk, with her legs raised above my shoulders, as I entered her repeatedly. I caressed her buttocks while I rammed her pussy with my hard cock. I heard her moan and pant as I came inside, promptly me to kneel and clean up my mess, so as to ensure that she reached her climax as well.

Just as my tribeswoman came, one of my students, Heather, entered the office. She had just turned eighteen the other day, and she seemed eager to take her turn, but with whom? I found out when she got on her knees in front of me and started sucking my cock. Despite violating several professional guidelines, this being a dream, I did not stop her. Before I knew, the blonde joined her and they shared my dick, licking and deep-throating me until I felt about ready to come again.

At that moment, my new lover bent over the desk again, while Heather lifted her plaid skirt and removed her panties. She soon began licking the tribeswoman's ass, offering me a chance to enter her from behind. I was not one to refuse such an opportunity, and I soon found myself buried in the student body president, who was sexy in a very bookish way. She was no virgin, despite what some of her classmates may have thought. If anything, she seemed wilder than anyone expected (other than her sex partners, of course).

After six or so minutes of taking Heather doggie-style and watching her rim the blonde, I came in her pussy and felt her squirt on my dick, indicating another secret about her that was a pleasant surprise. I loved fucking a gusher. There was something inherently sensual about the feel of a woman's fluids on my dick, as I withdrew from her depths.

"So, Mr. Rogers, may I be more than just your neighbor?" she teased me with one of her usual wisecracks about my last name.

The tribeswoman laughed at that one as well, despite her ignorance of the context. I think that she sensed that there was some hidden and humorous meaning here, aside from the obvious flirtation.

"I think that you already are ... both of you. If I'm dreaming, don't pinch me," I quipped.

"You may change your mind about that when I am done with you, warlock," came a voice from the door.

I turned and saw the Baroness, a whip in her right hand and a dagger in her left. I walked over and closed the distance before she could strike me, wrenching both of her instruments out of her grasp and shoving her to the floor. I kicked her several times, and then picked her up by her girdle, lifting her off the floor and delivering a punch to her ribs. She staggered as I landed yet another blow to her torso, and and almost fell over, but was held up by the girls. They slapped her face repeatedly, but she retaliated by scratching them a couple of times.

I saw red at this point, seizing the Baroness by the throat and pushing her to the desk. I lifted her dress and stroked my cock, which was hardening again from the sexual tension produced by the mix of rage and lust. While I did this, Heather and the blonde held her down and ripped her dress entirely from her body.

They forcefully spread her cheeks, allowing me to shove my dick into her asshole and take her painfully. I ravaged her bowels for a few minutes, until I tired of it and switched to her cunt. I went back and forth for quite a while, finally exploding in her butt to mark my territory. We laughed as we tossed her out of the office, naked and unarmed.

Just then, I awoke, unfortunately quite alone and in my own bed. That dream apparently caused me to cum in my boxers, as indicated by their wetness and my need to piss. As much as I wished that I could have done the things that happened in it, I reflected as I peed that the reality would have been rather hard to explain to the County Superintendent.

As I showered, I wondered if I would ever meet the blonde again and learn her name. I certainly hoped so, but in the meantime I went to the fridge and got myself a couple of eggs to boil. Hard-boiled eggs were my style, something that my ex-wife never understood: she preferred soft-boiled. My vegan ex-girlfriend was another matter. I tired of her comments about "murdering and stealing from our animal brothers and sisters" and other such nonsense. If I wanted hard-boiled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jam, that was my own business.

Quite naturally, I washed down my breakfast with my usual grapefruit juice, lots of pulp in it, which was another of my quirks. A banana for dessert finished the banquet, much to my delight. I ran the espresso machine and got myself a shot of my favorite blend, followed by another, to get the pure bean into my system in a hurry. Now sated, I turned on the tube and checked out the news: more fluff, even less substance than yesterday. I changed over to the cable journalists. They were just talking heads with nothing but opinions. Well, you know the saying about opinions. They ARE like assholes, and so are the people on TV who usually spout them.

Disgusted, I decided to head over to the sports bar, which was just next door. The great thing about living in walking distance to a tavern was that the most one had to worry about was a citation for "drunk and disorderly", which had yet to happen to me since I became an "administrator". Come to think of it, it had only happened during the brief summer before I got my first teaching job. It was a very brief summer, actually, since the next month I started teaching summer school to miserable teens who had failed a class or two the previous semester. That was eight years before, when I first got out of the Navy.

I didn't make it to the bar and grill, of course, because that was when I landed back in the Dark Ages. I was in a rather grubby town, with a massive crowd surrounding a miserable victim impaled on a sharp stake while burning alive. If Hell was on Earth, this guy suffered its pangs. I couldn't help myself. I had a Colt .45 with a ten-round magazine and there were plenty of strangers who had never heard of gunpowder. Fear and panic would have to make up for a shortage of firepower. One round would have to be saved for the burning fellow, as I doubt that I could do anything more for him than end his agony.

I drew my pistol and fired it directly at the condemned man's chest, that way making sure that I didn't miss him. It blew a massive hole in his torso and presumably caused severe internal bleeding, thus hastening his death. Naturally, the gunfire caught everyone's attention, along with deafening these cruel villagers. They turned their heads to face me and I aimed directly at one of the well-dressed, gold-wearing pricks directing this atrocity.

This time, I wasn't so nice, shooting at his belly. It would take this jerk longer to die. As he fell over, I targeted one of the guards, who no doubt thought himself protected by his mail-shirt. One more round from the Colt, and he was knocked off his feet. In seconds, the mob scattered in terror, while I coolly approached the priest officiating the rites for this hideous ceremony. He stank of piss from emptying his bladder in horror. I didn't bother with words, knowing that my deeds sent the necessary message. I snatched his amulet from his neck, tossed it to the ground, and stomped on it. I spat on him and pointed my gun at his forehead, making it clear to him that I wouldn't suffer fools like him, gladly or otherwise.

Now I spoke, "Since I have your attention, let me put you on official notice. I don't care what kind of authority you claim to roast men alive on skewers like giant shish-kabobs. Where I'm from, that's not just murder, that's torture, mayhem, and arson. You would be locked up for life, which is nicer treatment than you deserve. So, this is how it's going down. You're going to stop cooking people and I won't treat you to your own personal barbecue, with yourself as the main course. Be warned, I will not take no for an answer. You've seen what I can do. Don't piss me off."

With that, I threw his amulet back at him and stormed off, not acting the least bit scared, despite my obvious worries about what might happen if they decided to chase me. The key was to bluff, and hope that they didn't call me on my BS. I didn't know how much he understood of my rather informal language, with all of its contractions, but I thought that the basic concept sunk in to him.

I ran out of the town gate, not knowing where I was headed. I just wanted out of that damned place alive. After about an hour, I felt the full effects of the summer heat, which told me what season it was here. Seeing a body of water, I thought only of taking another dip, but I soon realized that this was no creek or stream. This was a river with incredibly powerful currents, so it was not safe to skinny dip at all.

That was when I saw her. My blonde was right there, unmistakable with her mischievous blue eyes and her simple tunic. She had the same sweet smile, and when she saw me, she rushed toward me at a sprint. One kiss told me that she was still interested in keeping this affair together. She used her tongue to invade my mouth, showing the very passion she had displayed before. The message was clear: she was mine.

"So, about what you said before ... what exactly did you mean, in more detail?" I asked for clarification.

"Well, my lord, by entering the sacred creek when I was fertile and mating with you, I consented to bind myself to you, as your bondwoman. We are married by the laws and customs of my tribe. I am your wife, your mate. This will last until or unless I break the pact by joining another man in the creek while fertile. That is the only kind of divorce permitted in my tribe. I am your bond-wife, which gives you the right to command me.

"There are few limits to your authority over me, but I have the right to divorce you as a form of protection that is afforded me and I could not be forced into this bond-pact. I had to freely consent to it. So the man is the master, but has only the power that the woman gives to him of her own free will, do you see?" she explained.

"So, if I entered the stream with another woman while she is fertile, would that mean that I am divorcing you?" I queried, unsure of how monogamous, if at all, they were.

"No. My tribe doesn't let men divorce women. It just lets women divorce men, because men have the power, so they are presumed to desire the marriage. Why wouldn't they?" she responded with a smile.

"Okay, what happens then? Is it just considered null and void, or is the man expected to warn the woman upfront that he is already wed to another woman? Is it deemed an affair, and if so, is it frowned upon or accepted as much as the other mating practice?" I probed further.

"Actually, it is quite encouraged for a man to enter the stream in such a manner with other women, as it allows more women a chance to marry as well. A man can have as many wives as choose to give themselves voluntarily to him. In fact, a man with only one wife is treated with less respect, because it is thought that only one woman found him worth the commitment of the marriage pact. Also, there are more women than men in our tribe, so it isn't fair for one woman to hoard her man, thus preventing others from getting married," she informed me.

"So, your tribe is polygamous? How many wives do most men have, then?" I wondered aloud.

"The average is four. Five or six indicate great wealth and power, and are rare outside of the Headship. A Head of a tribe must have a minimum of five wives to qualify for the post. If one of his wives divorces him, he must find another wife or else step down as Head. The poorer and younger men tend to have only two.

"It is a strange fellow that has one or none, but you are still new to our ways, so they won't think less of you for a short time. However, be assured that by marrying me, you have become one of our men, and the women will look closely at you to see what makes you worthy of my love. You are likely to get advances from several women in the near future. They may try you out during their infertile times first, but, in your case, that will mean a number of them want to give themselves to you," she noted.

"So, what happens if they are married already? Won't the husband get jealous and worried?"

"A little, in that he knows that she is considering you as an alternative. However, if she doesn't resume the tryst when she is fertile, he will know that it is mostly curiosity, and you failed to steal her affections. His jealousy will recede a bit. A man only gets truly upset here if the woman actually leaves him. Mating for recreation in our society is perfectly fine, whereas when done for procreation, it means a serious bond and is not taken lightly. Nothing done outside of the stream is even considered procreative or even slightly worries a man about his wife. That is very casual for us," the blonde told me.

"What about two men or women together? Does that ever happen here, and if so, what does your tribe think of them?" I inquired, curious about this issue and not sure how far their tolerance went.

"That happens often, just not in the sacred stream. It is not considered official and two members of the same sex cannot wed, since marriage is for procreation and done only in the creek," she elaborated.

"Okay, which is more common?"

"Two or more women together, especially if they are wives to the same man. Also, there is a special bond between sisters and mothers with daughters which is often physically consummated. There is even a ceremony in which two or more of the same sex can proclaim their affection. It is just not marriage and the companions are still expected to marry the opposite sex and stay married. Two warriors in the field often copulate with each other when the need arises and no women are available. No one thinks less of them for it. Any other questions, my curious husband?" she teased me, while caressing my cock.

"Yes, what is your name, wife?" I winked at her.

"Flora. What is yours, my lord?" she answered, while undressing for me.

"Marcus Rogers, but you can call me Mark. Where is your tribe, anyway?" I asked her, as I stroked her hair.

"Very close, my lord. Follow me, please," Flora announced, taking my hand to bring me along and totally unconcerned about her own nudity (her tunic lay casually over her shoulder).

She led me to a boat, in which we crossed to the other bank. There it was: her village, a collection of mud and brick houses that were a slight improvement over the huts or tents I expected. This was the home of the Fair Tribe, which the rulers of East Realm seemed to fear and loathe so much. I laughed to myself as I realized that they were too paranoid, if they worried about a people obviously more concerned with survival and prosperity than with any dreams or notions of bloody conquest. I had yet to see any suggestion of aggression or belligerence, though that might change if I decided that I was fed up with East Realm's ruling caste, provided that I had enough influence to act upon that frustration.

I didn't know what was next, for certain, but I knew that her country was better than the rest of this God-forsaken medieval place.

Author's Note: This is a necessary bridge chapter to the rest of the story, so forgive any suspense and the page or so of explanations. The character had waited long enough for answers to his questions, so realistically (well, as realistically as can be in such a fantasy world), he is human enough to ask them at last, given the opportunity. He is an inquisitive and intelligent man, after all. He doesn't always think solely with his cock.