tagNovels and NovellasLady Cecelia Ch. 02 Pt. 04

Lady Cecelia Ch. 02 Pt. 04


The house of the Dauphin of Agincourt was rife with corruption and debauchery. Know all at the outset that never in French history was one more decadent than this.

In France, King Henry's men languished in Agincourt castle prison.

Their humiliation at the hands of the French was ceaseless. English Knights of higher order found themselves visited for the sole purpose of the French Court's entertainment. French men, some of them, lost interest in these Anglican nobles who soon found themselves on display more frequently for the French Court's curious women.

Englishmen with no French words available to their tongues had begun giving the parade of frequent Lady visitors names. Knights and English nobles chiding each other on the repeated visitations of Laurette, Regine, Angeline, Felicite accompanied by their giggling handmaidens: there for the sole purpose of seeing the English 'barbarians'. Safely isolated from them like exotic animals in cages the Englishmen's solidity, stature, strength and manliness contrasted widely from the effeminate men to which French Aristocratic women were accustomed. Unrestricted by mores or modesty, French court women became brazenly flirtatious with the prisoners from the distance of incarceration behind stone and iron.

With much protestation and calamity, shaking of bars and threats to the guards in the pitch darkness lit only by a French soldiers torch: one English knight of high order was dragged from his cell of eight and placed in irons to be taken away. Rumor raced through the dungeon that they were to be chained and flailed one after the other for indiscretion.

The 'unfortunate' English noble returned to the population next morning with fantastic tales of intrigue at the hands of a Lady of the Court; one of their frequent visitors. This churned a tempest within the hearts of many Knights.

To these ends, William felt dismay. To hold his love of Cecelia on a certain pedestal and see English manhood subjected to willful desire of the flesh and submit gleefully grated at his sense of honor. William perished the hopeful temptation others had embraced by banishing these thoughts from his mind until he himself was singled out for these attentions.

A red-haired fair skinned, tall and angular Lady of the Dauphin's Court had come accompanied by her handmaiden to linger at his cell. No one had seen her before and she , being new to the debauchery and never observed by captive knights of the chamber , ignored the leering jests with haughty dismissal. The Lady followed by a vacant handmaiden came directly to the cell of Sir William of Edenbridge and made a gesture to the guard.

"Le non, ceci est celui que je veux" while her handmaiden's eyes cast down the red-haired Lady of the Dauphin's Court stared at William without expression and instructed, "Ayez-le amené à mes chambres ce soir"

.......................Have him brought to my chambers tonight......................

The women departed quickly as they had come. Within the resultant brotherhood of boasting chide that men employ when discussing women in their own male company William sensed guilty compromise. The distant altar of his love for Cecelia was becoming a difficult thing to worship. The warmth of companionship he had lacked for months had been kindled with this one eye-opening moment leaving William of Edenbridge both heartsick and enthralled . Yet through it all he determined the occasion of this midnight meeting whatever it entailed, would carry the possibility of release from bondage, the proposition for release, a petition initialized or a message forwarded to his own English court. These would necessitate the willing cooperation of those he was soon to meet. So he sat in the darkness of his cell listening to the restless sleeping of his comrades waiting and plotting the path to his freedom.

At an appointed hour a jailer summoned him in the pitch of night where, filthy and unkempt, he was taken under guard of arms through the unfamiliar maze of stone and mortar that made up the French palace. Through small hallways and steps meant for servants he was turned over to houseguards and escorted above to the entrance of a chamber. The French soldiers knocked and turned away as to not look within. That same door was opened by a handmaiden he'd seen earlier. William entered. The door was closed and locked behind him.

William had been once familiar with the machinations of a Lady's bedchamber. His own true love's was expansive, elaborate and for all the effrontery and dignity of the court William had found Cecelia's invitations, frequent and sensual within her bedchamber, to be irresistible having spent many nights in her arms until the birds of the morning chased him away. In comparison to his 'soldiers' quarters, for he had lived a Spartan existence free from accoutrements, a Ladys bedchamber was elaborate, inclusive, filled with the whims and fancy of its owner, splendidly crowned in luxury. But true to the French, this Lady's was an opulent candle lit paradise of femininity.

An iron wrought tub it deep basin standing on carpet filled to its brim with steaming water, beside a table with sponges, soaps and colored bottles waited before him. He was led to it where the Lady who had confronted him in the cellars below sat in a lounge garbed in Chinese silken robes; her red hair undone and spilling across white shoulders. He understood no French.

" nettoyez cet Anglais, Marie.." she instructed her girl. He was to be cleaned. The handmaiden undid the buttons of his filthy tunic. There were no words for him to say. These were women. He was powerless. Standing in the first warm water he'd felt since summer in England, he submitted to the girls sponging until every last blot of war was wiped away, almost dizzy from her gentle patient touch. Toweled from head to toe, he stood as the girl held it before him, the strawberry haired Royal appraising him from her seat nearby. She stood and came to him.

The Lady's hands were soon tracing his bruises and the marks of battle that creased his shoulder, his muscled chest, the hard line of his chin and his scarred face. It melted him. The days, weeks, months of hardship taken away by this creature in mere moments by her touch controlled William and soon her eyes on his brought every attention to the feminine beauty of these two women. It was becoming clear this handmaiden was no servant but a willing participant and partner.

"Je m'appelle Yvette, Anglais" the Lady whispered. This he understood,"'Williame,"she repeated his name.

"Je dois le faire stimuler, Marie..." and the girl's hands were on him in a way that was familiar and repeated. The care in the touch and arrangement of handfuls of hair presented over her shoulders the maidens press, the barely audible whispering left William helpless.

"....enlevez mon chemisier , fille..I think this...he should see for himself" and the maid's fingers were to her mistresses silken blouse taking each button in turn, then slipping it from Yvette's shoulders lovingly. The maids eyes adoring, caring, her touch tender and knowing on her Lady's flesh. Yvette's breasts were spare, small, lovely things. Nipples were pink and standing erect. As if having been deprived hands returned and those nipples became buds pressed and twisted gently in Marie's fingertips while her Lady's eyes never left Williams own.

" Marie......Je dois le faire...stimuler...." Yvette's handmaiden shyly and slowly slipped to her knees docile and obedient. William felt her small hand slide against his belly, the other take his hardness, directing it to her lips and the softness of her face.

"Est elle bonne pour vous? " The Lady Yvette questioned him. The faintest of smiles held Maries lips.

It was at this moment a flood, like a stiffened candle tensioning a hovered bowl of warm beeswax spilled in a lurching from his cock. Having been without , its throbbing erection released a load pent up from months of isolation from womanhood. Nothing more could be done nor did William care. Seminal release had come without pleasure.

There was a drawing away and laughter. Marie stood staring with disappointment.

"Does not a beggar stuff the crust he's been handed into a hungry mouth?" William said disgustedly, "Am I some player noted for a speech for which he has never prepared? What manner of house is this that plays at sex as if a trifle for naught but humours?"

Both women giggled. "garçon juste que vous avez un amant est un mystère" Ignoring his words Yvette blurted out her mockery,"(She has this boy as a lover?)"

"Release me," William started uncaring, "If you understand my tongue at all," he paused. Something Yvette had said,"......She?? Who is it of which you speak?"

"Respect is not in your suit? I have no need for English. But if it serves my purpose then I am schooled certainly. You, lowly Knight, are the subject of petition. Upon my life I know not why for there is one in your land of Norman's who cries for you daily. Why only God knows for your clearest response to womanhood," Yvette pointed to his manhood, " is the hurried inexperience of youth! "

"What petition? Of whom do you speak, tell me!""

"It is unnecessary we discuss these matters, for I do large favors to this poor petitioner by turning you over to our jailers and being done with you!" Yvette was arrogantly posturing but her handmaiden's careful eye hadn't left the subject of her stimulation and made verbal note of it.

"Yvette, ma Dame, il reste debout. " her handmaiden whispered excitedly. William's size had not diminished despite its release and like a lustfully experienced maiden denied, who's interests are rekindled, and without being told to do so, Marie reached for the sticky coat of his reddened cock slippery in its entirety and seized its hardness as if it should somehow escape attentions she had long considered for days. She rearranged herself on her knees, moved open mannish thighs and soothed tightened legs relax, pulled back hair with one hand and felt her lips quiver with anticipation. William became speechless.

Yvette had fallen silent to observation. Her handmaiden bent to her duties pressing lips to the unaltered cockhead; plumlike in size fronting a shaft of demanding dimensions. She kissed, licked and sucked its bulb drawing what was left of semen from its stem. Just as they'd planned and plotted Marie honored her Lady's wishes and put her passions to the sweet labor of manipulation demanded by her special desires.

For Marie, her Lady's enabler, all in life that meant anything was here at her disposal. She lusted. She knelt to her duties with relish for all her hopes were pinned to the scant hours of satiation she prayed lay in store. Yvette quietly watched, admired, compelled, prepared to instruct from above but Marie needed no tutoring. She had served as Yvette's vessel and voracious tormentor of whatever male and whatever bed she to which she was commanded. Her Lady Yvette would have no man. Her heart was hardened against them. For this Marie would be willing joyful servant to both man and woman. Her charged feminine soul, the workings of which were one in tens ofmillions, lusted in the needed of it. William collapsed to the chair behind.

"She is nymphomane, Williame," Yvette standing, " I am sure you understand that."

"What kind of people are you?" Marie's arm had come over his leg hand finding the small of his back. She had worked herself between his opened legs and risen on her knees. Below her head falling then rising gave view to breasts squeezed between his thighs. Her other hand worked the length of his cock following lips as they withdrew then opened again to take its thickness and length deep inside her mouth. The handmaiden was single purposed hearing no voice unless it be that of her Lady urging Marie to greater efforts. Marie responded to the smallest encouragement with obedience born of a desire impossible for other women to fathom. Her small mouth opened wide for cock, sweet warm throbbing pulsing spear of cock, grasped held and building in its response to her caress causing wave upon wave of pleasure to build inside her realized only by its taking. Expectant and insatiable, her very soul yearned for more.

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