The Bastard; Loyal to One Ch. 01bySnikkel©
To my readers,
First of all I think I should apologize to the people that started reading my story, and whom I left hanging. Although I have a good reason for not continuing the story back then, I should have given notice, and I'm sorry I did not.
When I resumed to the story I decided to revise the already submitted chapters, because to me some parts felt rushed, and I was of the opinion I could do better. This chapter I'm now submitting is a bundle of four of the five chapters already posted on this site. I tried to change the story as little as possible, and in the case you did read those earlier posted chapter you could skip this one. However there are changes, so to prevent confusion I do advise to read this one nonetheless.
My special thanks goes to Sofie and Jamie, my two editors, without whom this story would have been less enjoyable for you, the reader. I can ensure you that this little text, which I will submit unedited, is not representable for the following story.
Another thing I do ensure you of, is that I imagined all the following characters to be of an age necessary to legally act out their roles.
Now rests me no more than to wish you much pleasure in reading my work. So please enjoy!
Little puffs of red dust were stirred up every time his boots hit the dry road. The sky refused to yield any rain, and the trees as well as the small bushes on either side of the road were bone-dry. The smallest spark could turn it in to a inferno. Dust of two days walking soiled his face, and his pouring sweat made him look as if he was melting away. His normally blond and curly hair was crusted into a reddish brown mass. Even if walking was sometimes essential in his line of work, he didn't have to like it. So he walked further west, cursing his luck and cursing the people that were responsible for him having to be there. Sometimes all of that cursing was interrupted by muttering, an indication that he thought about his black hunter, which he had to leave behind in the stables of Bramen Castle.
After an hour or two of walking, cursing and growling, he looked up to see the dense vegetation suddenly make way for grassland. The retreat of the trees made the blue sky clearly visible. Standing there on the edge of the forest, the young man who would introduce himself to others as Mathew, let out a string of curses that the trees behind him would frown upon, if they were capable of facial expressions. On the horizon, he could see the first sign of what was to come, the only thing he hated more than walking in the heat; walking in the rain. But before he had finished cursing, he spotted smoke rising behind the next hill top, so he abruptly stopped what he was doing and got on with walking.
The moment he reached the top of the hill, there was a little farm, nestled between the slopes, and a little bridge over the stream that crossed to the porch. 'Peaceful' was the first thing that popped into his mind and he chuckled at the thought. He had heard much about the hospitality of the people living in this area and hopefully the inhabitants of this little house would be as welcoming as their home suggested.
After carefully wrapping his bow, short sword and knives up in an oiled rag, he hid them under a hedge. He also deposited his leather vest in the little hiding place. Armed with only a long hand knife he made his way to the farmstead.
A woman, in the fall of her life, was tending to a flock of geese. She looked up when she heard the muffled sound of boots meeting the wooden bridge. Still bent over, her gaze fell upon the young and dusty wanderer. Her dark blond curls were bound together preventing them from falling in front of her face. Her face must have been called pretty, in a peasant kind of way, when she was in the prime of her youth, but the process of aging and years of hard work had left their marks.
"Greetings. My name is Mathew and I'm on my way to the monastery of Karligen," the youthful man said. "When I saw your lovely home from the top of the hill, I hoped that I could get some respite, from the road and shelter from the approaching storm."
"A good day to you to young man. Good folk always finds an open door, and you have the look of a good folk. My man will shortly be coming back from the fields, then you can join us for supper, " the farmer's wife answered in the local degeneration of the common tongue, pitching her voice on the most ridiculous moments and drawing vowels to insane lengths. "The tub is out back and there is a well. If you want warm water, you have to chop the wood logs stacked behind the barn."
The ax met the wood with forceful blows while Mathew was chopping it into easy, manageable pieces. The amount of chopped wood was already far more than he actually needed to warm his bath. He had been working his way through the pile of trunks while the water was being heated; suddenly Mathew stopped, because he heard a gasp.
There behind him stood the origin of the sound, a girl who could hardly be called a young woman. She was the mirror image of her mother, but a quarter of a century younger. Her blond curls were loosely bound together behind her head and her smooth face showed a tint of red as her gaze lingered on the young man's lean and muscular upper body.
Suddenly she was genuinely interested in the ground at her feet and with a soft voice, hardly more than a whisper she said, "I have some soap and clothes from our farmhand. You can wear them while yours dry, my Ma said."
Their eyes met briefly before the girl quickly turned around and hurried away. Stepping in the tub, Mathew had to admit that he had changed his opinion about his luck.
Freshly bathed and in clean clothes, he went into a neat little kitchen. Pots and kettles hung on one side, while the other was one big cabinet filled with a wide variation of herbs, pots and all the others things women use in the kitchen, next to this cabinet was a second door which presumably led to another room. The room was dominated by pine wood table that had been laid out for four; the farmer sat and waited for his evening meal, while his wife and daughter put some finishing touches on it.
"Ah, you must be Mathew. My wife told me you're on your way to the monastery, but you don't have the look of a boy suited for a life in the brotherhood of Luck," the farmer's accent was even worse than his wife's , but Mathew smiled and nodded, not wanting to offend the good man. "My name is Hilbert. This is my wife Francine and daughter Annika. Sit down, food will be served, lad."
"Thank you master Hilbert."
"I be no master. A simple farmer I am and just Hilbert. Women, give the boy a meal. So tell me, what is a young, strong lad like you doing on his way to the Monks?"
"My father is a merchant in Bramen and to get permission to trade in Karligen, he had to promise his second son to the order. Since I have an older and younger brother that would be me."
"That's a good thing you'd be doing. A child sure should obey his father," the farmer answered. "So you want to stay for the night? We are always willing to house a guest, but sure it wouldn't be too much asked if we let you do some chores. I've some wood that needs to be chopped and some fences that need to be looked at."
"Mathew already chopped most of the wood in the back," the girl said before she blushed into her plate.
The farmer frowned at her. "Okay, then he will have to do less tomorrow and can continue his journey earlier." Looking back to his guest he said, "You can sleep in the barn's loft. There is the bed where me farmhand used to sleep, most of the time."
"No problem, good man. Please tell me if you need help with something else, I'm very grateful for you letting me sleep under your roof."
Mathew was just getting ready to sleep when the storm he had predicted reached it fiercest point. Lying on his back he listened to the loud sweeps of thunder, something you only can enjoy with a roof above your head. Rain clashed down the roof, the splashing making a terrible sound much like the fabled waterfalls of Orneka in one of the childhood stories, his wet-nurse had told him time after time. A big hole in the roof on the left front side of the barn let the rain in freely. Just as the youngster wanted to turn onto his side and close his eyes, the lighting illuminated the night sky, and then he saw a silhouette crouched in the blazing storm. In reflex, he put his hand under his bag and grabbed the hilt of the knife he put there.
"Who is there? Name yourself!" he called out.
"It's just me; Annika." was the answer.
"What are you doing out there? Come on in. It is raining cats and dogs, silly girl."
He put his knife in the bag and waited.
She came up the ladder, her wet nightgown stuck to her plump frame. If the shivering wasn't obvious enough, the hard bubs on her mounds indicated how cold she was. Upon closer inspection, Mathew noticed that the once white cloth was now nearly transparent and her dark aureoles were clear to see.
"You look cute standing there, but take off those wet clothes and I'll give you my shirt to wear."` To put his words into action, he pulled his shirt over his head.
"Okay, but you have to close your eyes."
"You have seen me bare-chested twice already!" he exclaimed.
Giggling, she answered, "Come on, turn around and no peeking."
After some long seconds, she finally said "Okay, you can look now."
"Sit down and we can share my blanket. It is much cozier," he said slyly.
Quickly, she sat next to him, and he draped the blanket over her shoulders.
"What you said just there, did you mean it? " Annika asked with a shy smile.
"I do not know what you're talking about. What did I say?"
"Aw, you know exactly what you said, silly. You said I looked cute. Did you really think I looked cute? " A shy smile showed on her face.
"No, I said you look good and you still do." As he said that, he leaned forward and gently brushed her wet hair behind her ear and kissed her lightly on her lips.
Her first reaction was to draw back, but then she pushed her mouth forcefully against his. As soon as his lips parted, she started to wiggle her tongue inside with the skills of someone who watched the act a dozen times but didn't know the inner workings. While they were busy making a mental map of each other's mouths, Mathew's hands caressed her back, descending to the hem of the shirt he just gave her. He locked his thumbs under it and slowly pushed it upwards. His hands crept higher. While his left hand lingered on her back, his right one cupped her breast. Annika let out a shivering moan as his thumb brushed over her nipple.
The lovers broke their kiss as he swiftly pulled the shirt over her head. Free of the garment, she pressed her bare breast against his chest. In one motion, Mathew laid her on her back and stared down at her body, which had yet to completely develop. With an almost hungry growl he dove down, sucking her left teat into his mouth while the right one got entertained by his left hand. The girl was panting, sucking and licking the middle and index fingers of his other hand.
With a few licks and nibbles he parted from her now fully erect dug, just to start traveling down to her Eldorado. First, he kissed his way in to the shallow valley of her bosom, proceeded to lick down to her belly button and then bit playfully in the padding that was the result of adequate nutrition. An excited giggle escaped through the girl's slightly parted lips. Almost eye to eye with his target, he was only hindered by the long skirt she was wearing. Firmly, he grabbed the skirt and hoisted it up to her hips. Then he was greeted by the sight of her bare womanhood.
"I'm not wearing any undergarments," the girl let out with a giggle. "Do you like it?"
With a grin on his face, he looked up. "I love it."
Stroking his right hand down her thigh, his left went up to caress her breasts. Simultaneously, they reached their destinations, and he ran one finger up her moist slit resulting in a surprised groan. His index finger traveled up and down that road on its own before it was accompanied by his neighbor and together they ventured into the dark wet chasm of her matriarchy. Faster and faster, his hand worked as she moaned into his mouth. Suddenly her small hand grabbed his wrist.
"Stop." she muttered. "I want your thing inside me."
He sat on his knees between her parted legs, and as Annika moved forward to undo his belt, she brushed her hand against the outline of his shaft and let out another excited giggle. He grabbed the back of her hand and pushed his lips forcefully on hers to silence her. The clumsy fondling paid off and his pants fell down, freeing his cock which slapped lightly against her tummy. Their lips parted and the girl gasped as she looked down.
"I've never seen one this close." She grabbed it and looked astonished, "It feels so hot. I want it now!"
With those words she fell back onto the hay. Gently, he rubbed the tip of his rod along the lips no male ever had parted, lubricating them with the wetness oozing out of her. Once wet enough, he slipped his head into her folds. The girl's eyes went wide.
"You're inside me," Annika whispered.
"Not fully," he answered. "this is going to hurt."
And before the girl could comprehend what he had said, Mathew pushed through her hymen. A cry of pain was sent out into the night and her brown eyes went watery with tears. The young man rested his pelvis against hers and waited impatiently until she had adjusted to his size.
"Are you alright? " he asked with a caring voice.
"Yes, it did hurt really bad, but now it does less. I just feel so, stuffed."
Mathew started to withdraw his penis out of the hot and tight vagina, just to push it back in at the last moment. Leaning on his right hand, his left was free to play with her nipples. Lustful moans and grunts filled the night air only to be interrupted by the thunder in the distance. While Mathew increased the speed, his playing changed to tweaking her tit. Soon, the girl's nipple was flaming red, but she felt only pleasure. He was pounding mercilessly into her defiled cunt and all she could do was scream in ecstasy. Annika's pussy walls spasmed around his dick. It put him on the edge and the tingling in his balls became almost painful. Six powerful strokes later, he shot his sperm into her womb. Released he rolled onto his back and was about to doze away fulfilled, when he felt someone cuddle up to him.
"That was amazing," the girl said, resting her head on his torso.
"Yeah, but I think you should go back inside now."
Her serene expression changed to one of disbelief.
"But, why? " she said, pouting.
"Look, it's already late and we will see each other tomorrow morning," he answered, careful to keep his disgust out of his voice.
"You are right. So, you think you're going to stay? I could convince my Pa to hire you. You wouldn't have to go the monks. The journey could be dangerous, with the rebels around." She kept on annoying him.
"That sounds good. I'll think about it and we'll talk tomorrow."
Satisfied that she had convinced him, she gave him a peck, took her clothes and left the barn.
The next day the girl had to hide her tears when she found out that the young man who had taken her virginity had left before first light. The one who had introduced himself as Mathew couldn't care less.
A throbbing pain in her head and the sun burning on her neck were the first two things Klarissa felt when she came back to the conscious world. Her eyes opened to gaze on the muddy road that moved along under her.
"So the storm of last night didn't bring the release we all hoped for," was her first and last thought before she glided back into the dark void.
The next time she woke up her head still hurt but she was much clearer of thought. She noticed she lay on the back of a horse, her hands as well as her feet bound. According to the shadows cast by the trees, it had to be around noon. The road moved under her as Klarissa thought back on the ill-fated event which had landed her in this despicable position.
They had a plan, a simple plan, a plan that had worked before. The word had come in that the Earl had ordered a load of weapons and armor to equip his new recruits. Since these were things the rebels could put to good use, she and twelve others had planned an ambush on the road from Karligen to Bramen. The shipment came, and six of the fifteen guards died by arrow, nice and clean. The band of rebels had emerged from the bushes and were finishing off the survivors when disaster struck. By the time she heard the trampling of the hooves, it had been too late. A squadron of royal horsemen came galloping down the road. Her men died all around her and a club hit her on the back of her head.
Hanging like a sack over the horse wasn't the most comfortable manner of riding, and as the miles went by, the pressure on her bladder increased. She hadn't moved yet, therefore her guards -- she counted five, all the Earl's men -- hadn't noticed she was awake. She listened in on their conversation but she didn't learn anything she didn't already known or suspected. They were on the road to Bramen; all of her companions were dead, and she, or the 'rebel bitch' as they had named her, was to be judged and hanged in Bramen. Around the time the fullness of her bladder became slightly painful, a rider came down the road. It was one of the king's horsemen, who apparently functioned as an out-rider.
"There is a little pond with some trees about half an hour walking from here and it suits well to rest up at noon," he said as soon he had reached the party.
After the skirmish and the long walk, the men were tired, but the thought of getting out of the burning sun seemed to give them extra energy and they reached the resting place much faster than predicted. Klarissa's horse had just stopped when a couple of hands grabbed her feet and yanked her from the saddle. With her hands bound, there was no way she could break her fall and she landed with her face in the cool mud. That seemed to amuse the men. A boot met her side and she let out a sob, which was met with more laughter.
"Time to wake up, bitch," said a harsh voice above her, and the boot that just kicked her was used to turn Klarissa on her back.
Now she could see her tormenter. A fat man was grinning down at her. His belly put the leather straps of his harness to the test. Behind him stood a rat-faced youth; the fresh cut over his right cheek would leave a nasty scar that wouldn't do much good to his already ugly face.
"Yeah, take a good look at what you've done. It fucking hurts." he said with a shrill voice.
"You're lucky you got rescued or else that little scratch wouldn't worry you anymore," Klarissa answered.
"Shut your whore mouth!" the fat one spat out. "All your friends are food for the worms and you will be hanging on the gallows in a few days." As if to put force to his words, he kicked her a second time.
"Yeah, all your friends are dead and you'll go to the gallows, bitch," the younger one snickered.
They waited for an answer that didn't come. For good measure, she got another kick before the two turned around and went to get some water from the stream. Left on her own, she had the opportunity to gaze around. They had stopped in a shallow vale. Due to a blockage of drift wood and leaves, the creek had formed a little pond around which had grown into dense vegetation.She was as familiar with this place as she was with the rest of the earldom of Bramen. She roamed the land since her father, who had been a huntsman for the earl, had taken her for the first time on a trip shortly after her mother died. Back then, she had been twelve years old. Her knowledge of the countryside had come to good use in the sixteen months of leading the rebels against her husband's father, the Earl.