The Smell of Horse and Leather

He nodded, his thumb plucking at my nipple, sending ripples of lust through my mind. "I take my pleasure where I can get it, beekeeper," he grated.

I laughed at that, and I'm not sure what came over me: for the last time I took over, pushing him to his back while I pivoted up on top of him, letting my breasts graze his chest as I poised myself over him with his head still wedged just inside. "I've told you," I chided, "call me Merewyn."

"I'll call you what I wish." His hands found my hips, both of us teasing ourselves, feeling our bodies crave each other.

"You'll call me Merewyn before this night is done," I promised him, my eyes wide and wild as I pushed myself up off his chest, driving myself back and down; I sank smoothly onto the thick pole of his cock like it was made for me, its girth filling me, profoundly tight. Endlessly satisfying. When I looked down in wonder I saw his hairs and my hairs merge, tangling as I took him fully inside. I let out a long, ragged sigh. "I swear it."

"Fuck," he grunted, his head sinking into Godric's pillow. I saw his eyes flutter back into his head a moment, and once again my heart felt that triumphal pang as I knew I could give him what he wanted. I settled onto him, my fingers resting on his belly, feeling him flex inside me. His eyes devoured me, so I reached high, my hands tossing my hair aside, arching back. "Merewyn," he gasped.

"That's right, Bernard." I hardly recognized my voice, my hips hunching; there was still a bit of soreness there, but the day's rest had done me a world of good. "That's my name." He said something in French then, his face transformed: he was no longer a squire to a Norman knight, invading my home. He was just a man, carried by his lusts deep inside a willing young woman, and I could see he was besotted. "Oh God!" I almost sobbed it as he bucked suddenly, the bed-ropes protesting, jabbing deep inside me.

In an instant I was collapsing onto the hard mattress, shoved roughly off onto my back as my squire scrambled between my open thighs and held himself above me, staring down with a feral lust that shocked and thrilled me in equal parts; I'd barely had time to become aware of my empty cunt before he filled it once more, drilling hard and far, his muscles straining as he pierced me.

I surrendered at once, spreading wide, willing him to plunge deep. I was his, completely, his to plunder and possess, and I hoped my eyes were telling him so. He gasped into my face, bestial, his body sawing into mine with long, eager strokes, both of us flying far away on our lusts.

Never had I felt such a splendid cock, perfect for my greedy hole: he filled me perfectly, stoking the fires inside me like never before. I felt myself losing control of my mind and body, and I embraced that, seeking that release. I didn't want control: I wanted him to have me, and in the moment I understood that? I felt his sweat and smelled his skin and took his cock and let myself go, my nails tearing into his back as my hips thrust mindlessly upward to meet his.

It was going to happen. I was going to cum.

He pulled my climax out of me like a man pulling a well-bucket, only mine was a bucket that never seemed to empty no matter how much he pulled. I heard a sick, wild moan from my throat, more of a sob really, my body catching fire from within and burning me out with a white-hot fire that left me deliciously, gloriously empty, cunt in spasm, mouth panting sharply. I felt my whole body tense around his smoothly thrusting cock, then relax in a bliss that left me dreamy and loose beneath him.

His eyes sharpened when he saw what he'd done to me, and he sped up, pinning me to Godric's bed, driving hard toward his own release. I was nodding wildly, still moaning, and there was one clear thought remaining in my brain:

I wanted Bernard, the squire from Brittany, to give me his seed.

I locked my heels around his ass, dimly feeling the muscles there, my back curling to angle my hips up, to take him deeply. He was gasping into my face now, his mouth grimacing, so I laid my long fingers on his cheek and held him there, staring into his eyes, wanting to see what he looked like in the moment he made me his own.

For the first time, I let a man empty himself inside me. I craved it in the moment and I did not regret it afterward, the quick surge and lift as his cock went rigid and then twitched, wondrously, the warmth of him flooding my cunt. I watched his face go slack, a man captive to what my body was giving him, and as I craned my neck up to kiss him once more he was still thrusting, slick now, our bodies' motions greased with his cum. We breathed hard and deep, faces overjoyed as we slowly, so slowly, relaxed.

My hair stuck to his sweat as he rolled wearily off me, our faces and bodies coated with each other. I looked shyly down at my bush, seeing the drooling line of white he'd left there as he pulled out. I found myself laughing, and after an instant, he joined in. "So." I lay back, panting, my pale slim body blotched and mottled with the flushes of the pleasure he'd given me. "Glassmaking..."

"I'm sure this place could use a beekeeper, too," he mused, kissing me again. Still odd with no mustache, but I knew I could get used to it.

* * *

And so it was that I rode south with Squire Bernard of Brittany, back to the land I knew. For a little while longer, at least. Above me, as the horse sloshed along the spring-spated river lane, I spotted a bird. It flapped over to a tree while I watched, hopped along a branch, and stood there as if waiting; and, indeed, just as the horse carried me past the tree, a second bird landed.

They'd found each other.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed reading this; I certainly did enjoy writing it. Anna Powell-Smith's Open Domesday website was of inestimable value to me, and I spent many happy hours using the site to tour 11^th-century England.

And yes. Godeve of Coventry is Lady Godiva. She was real, and she was indeed alive at the time this story takes place. I've also updated many (but not all) of the place names from how they're written in Domesday, so that you can street-view these places if you've a mind.

Make sure you read all the Valentine's Day contest entries, and vote up your favorites!