Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

Her eyes welled with tears. "And what about now, do you hate me?"

"No, I hate what has become of my country, but I do not hate you."

"And do you still think me to be the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"No, that honor fell to my wife, God rest her soul. Now, my daughter Sophie holds that place in my heart. You, my Queen, are a mere second."

She smiled and used a handkerchief to wipe away a tear. "I am sorry to hear of your wife, you said you have four children?"

"Only two, I am afraid. Sickness took the other two and they are buried beside their mother."

"I am so sorry. I had four children also, and two of them are dead."

"I know. Where are your other children?"

"They are with your King."

"Your husband."

She looked out the window and watched the trees roll past. "It has been many years since he was a husband to me. Now, he is only my King, and I am not sure how much longer he will even be that."

The carriage bounced on a pothole and he reached out to assist Marie as she was nearly thrown forward. As she settled back into her seat, he said, "What was that farce back there?"

She sighed. "It's just something we once liked to do. We would dress up as shepherds and shepherdesses and meet at little farmhouses. There was one at Versailles, my own petit hameau."

"And you also would...?"

"Oh no," she blushed, "nothing like what those women did with you. We would simply dress as peasants, milking cows and tending sheep."

"Why, to mock us?"

"No, I mean, not intentionally. You have no idea what it's like at court. It may sound unbelievable to you, but the farm was my refuge. I went there to escape, to live the simple life. And my friends back there were trying to do the same thing...in a way."

He stared at her in disbelief. "The simple life - with servants and champagne?!"

"I know it doesn't seem so to you, but to me that is a simpler life. I honestly do yearn for one like it and, in their hearts, so do the noblewomen you met."

"Apparently that isn't all they yearn for. When I recognized you in that room, I assumed you'd be appalled by what Madame Cartier had planned."

Marie glanced at him and then looked away, staring back out the window. "I was surprised that Charlotte took things so far, but I can't say I was shocked by her actions."

"You've witnessed things like that before?"

"Madame Cartier has never been troubled too much in the way of morals. And I would be lying to you if I said that I hadn't seen...or even been involved in...similar escapades myself."

Seeing his stunned look, she quickly added, "But that was back before I was queen, before I had children. And honestly, in comparison to the madness I've seen in the last few months, what happened in that farmhouse almost seemed normal to me."

"Normal...how could you possibly think that was normal?"

"After the pain I've seen, it was nice to see some pleasure. You did seem to be enjoying yourself," she said, her gaze drifting down between his legs.

Now it was Jean's turn to blush, and he burned with embarrassment as he looked out the window. But his eyes narrowed as he spied something through the trees.

"Do you really want to see what the simple life is like?" he asked.

She leaned forward and looked out the window, trying to see what he'd spotted. "Yes, of course. Where is it?"

"Tell your driver to stop the carriage."

She pulled a cord and a bell rang outside, alerting the driver to pull over.

Her bodyguard jumped down and threw open the door, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Is something wrong, madame?"

"No," she said. "But this man would like to take a walk with his Queen."

His eyes flared with anger. "He knows who you are?!"

"Of course," she said, "and calm down, there are no hidden assassins here. I am sure that if this man intended me harm he would have done so by now."

Her bodyguard fumed, and as they headed into the woods he went to follow.

Jean turned and held out his hand to stop him. "No, you will stay here."

The man clenched and unclenched his fists, seething with indignation that a peasant dared to give him a command.

But before he could argue, Marie said, "You heard the man. Stay with the coach."

"Your Majesty! I must protest!"

"Stay with the coach," she said with an icy glare, "or you will be walking back to Paris."

He slammed the coach door shut and leaned against the side, waiting and watching as Jean led the Queen into the woods.

Within minutes, they emerged into a meadow where sheep were grazing. Marie's eyes flashed with delight as she ran toward them. "Oh, how wonderful!"

She scratched one behind the ears, feeling the warmth of its wool. Then Jean took her by the hand and led her across the meadow.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To find their shepherd."

Near the middle of the meadow, he suddenly stopped and pulled her back beside him as he ducked down. "What is it?" she said.

He pointed and she saw the shepherd on the far side of the meadow. His pants were around his ankles and he had a farmgirl pinned against a tree, her dress bunched around her waist as he fucked her from behind.

Marie gasped and ducked down so they wouldn't see her, but then slowly raised herself back up and kept watching.

"Is that his wife?" she whispered.

"No, she is just one of the girls from the village who brings him lunch every day."

"And what are they doing?"

"Enjoying their lunch."

She blushed. "I can see that. I mean are they dating, are they engaged?"

Jean laughed. "They are definitely engaged, but not in the way you mean."

As she playfully pretended to smack him, he said, "You wanted to see the simple life and this is it. We work, we sleep, we eat, we fuck, and we live. We are not so different from you."

He was right behind her and she tensed as he gently placed his hands on her shoulders, but she didn't shrug them away or order him to remove them.

"Won't they be upset if they realize we are spying on them," she whispered.

"I don't think being watched bothers them," he said, and pointed to the shadow of a large elm tree.

Beneath it, two of the girl's friends were sitting, avidly watching her and the shepherd as they fucked.

"You see," he said with a smile, "we are more like you and your friends than you realized."

Her eyes went wide with shock. "They just do it right out in the open where anyone can see them?!"

"Right beneath God's eyes, just as he intended. That shepherd was born in this meadow, as were his fathers before him. And soon a new shepherd will be born."

Marie watched as the girl slumped against the tree, her legs weak as the shepherd held her hips and hammered her from behind. Jean moved closer and Marie stiffened as she felt his erection pressing against her, his hands still on her shoulders as they watched the young couple fuck.

She took a deep breath and slipped her hand behind her, squeezing his swollen shaft as she slowly rubbed him through his breeches. Jean moaned in her ear, and slid his hand inside her muslin chemise, gently massaging her full breast. She sighed and slumped against him, enjoying his caress as she continued to massage his thick cock. He went to pull her dress from her shoulders, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"I can't," she whispered. "I am the Queen!"

"Not out here," he said. "Out here you are just a woman."

She looked back at him, a hope in her eyes, and he pulled her close and kissed her hard. She melted in his arms, feeling his strength as he crushed his lips against hers, forcing her to surrender to him.

He lowered her to the thick carpet of grass blanketing the meadow and pulled her chemise down, revealing her full, milky soft breasts, and then trailed kisses down her cheek, neck and collarbone until he reached her pale pink nipples.

She sighed in pleasure and slid her hand down the front of his pants, seeking the magnificent tool she'd seen in action barely half an hour earlier. When she found it she curled her fingers around it, stroking it, savoring its size and hardness.

As Jean pushed her dress up, Marie quickly looked back in the direction of the coach to make sure they hadn't been followed. And then she turned to make sure the shepherd and his playmate were still busy. They were.

Jean pushed his pants down, and Marie gasped when she saw how stiff he already was.

"Is it safe here?" she whispered.

"Completely," he said, as he moved on top of her.

"No wolves?"

"Just one," he said with a smile, and she moaned as he entered her.

His thick cock slid easily inside of her. She pulled his head down and planted light kisses against his lips. "Be gentle," she whispered. "It has been a long time since I have been with a man."

"I am always gentle with a lady."

"I don't know about that, I saw what you did to Yolande."

"She was no lady."

She started to laugh, but broke it off with a gasp as his cock went deeper than she'd expected. She was sprawled on the grass beneath him, her blonde hair splayed behind her, naked except for the muslin dress bunched around her waist. And as Jean trailed gentle kisses along her neck, he couldn't help noticing how pale she seemed.

Marie had her hands on his hips, trying to keep him from going too deep. But the sheer thickness of his cock was making her head spin, and as he thumped it in and out of her tight hole she could barely contain herself. She struggled to contain moan after moan, hoping not to give them away, but it was too late. She looked to her left and saw the shepherd and the three girls, sitting in the grass less than a stone's throw away as they watched them.

"They see us!" she cried.

"It is nothing they have not seen before," Jean said, and she gasped as he increased his pace.

Realizing there was no longer any hope of discretion, she abandoned it, tilting her head back as she let him have his way with her. His magnificent cock spread her wide, as he fucked her like she'd never been fucked before. She was no longer his queen, she was just a woman, and he made her feel like one.

She hooked her heels behind his knees and wrapped her hands around his neck, hanging on as he ravished her. But it was nothing like what he'd done to Yolande; he was gentle and considerate, while still giving her the fucking she needed and deserved.

Her breath was coming in sharp gasps, and her eyes rolled back as an orgasm flooded through her. "Oh...Jean," she moaned, her pussy coating his thick cock with her cream.

She tilted her head to her left again and saw their four admirers were still enjoying the show, but the shepherd had his pants halfway down again, his hand on the back of a girl's head as she bobbed up and down in his lap.

"He must have not satisfied her the first time," Marie said, "she is trying to get him ready for an encore."

Without breaking his rhythm, Jean looked over and smiled. "That is not the same girl. That is one of her friends."

They both laughed and Marie felt freer than she'd ever felt before, as Jean fucked her with wild abandon in the green grass of the meadow beneath the bright blue sky.

The sun was hot and they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She could tell by his face he was getting close, and she looked down between her legs and gently bit her lower lip as she watched his thick pole pistoning in and out of her tiny hole.

"Come inside me," she whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh," she said, digging her fingernails into him as she begged him to fuck her even harder.

Jean obeyed her command. He filled her with long, full strokes, his hips smacking against her pale thighs as he fed her every inch of his thick cock. She clawed at his back, tilting her head back and crying out loudly as a second orgasm stormed through her. Jean echoed her cry, groaning loudly as he filled her with his cum.

Marie pulled him close to her, tears of joy streaming down her face as she crushed her lips against his. When they finally broke the kiss, he kissed her tears away and smoothed back her ash blonde hair, matted with sweat to her forehead.

Marie turned to her left, trying to catch her breath, and noticed there were only two farmgirls now. But then she spotted the third, pinned beneath the shepherd as he fucked her, only the bottoms of her bare feet visible as they twitched in the air.

"We should give them some privacy and get back to the coach," Jean said. "I need to get home to my children."

Marie nodded, but there was sadness in her eyes as she looked to the west, toward Paris, where the sun was just beginning to set.

They emerged from the wood, and her bodyguard's eyes flared with anger as he noticed her disheveled dress, her messed up hair and the I-just-fucked-her smirk on Jean's face.

"Your Majesty, I must protest!"

Marie waved her hand dismissively. "I am sick of your protests, get back on top of the carriage or start walking."

He fumed, seething with anger as he climbed back on top while they climbed inside.

The two of them rode in silence, but their eyes were locked on one another the whole time.

Finally, Jean said, "What will you do now?"

"I am not sure, but you have given me much to think about."

He smiled, and as he glanced out the window he said, "This is my home."

Marie eagerly looked out and saw a small field with an old cottage in the middle, and a small barnyard with a forge beside it.

"It is magnificent," she said. "Where are your children?"

"They will be playing nearby."

She quickly reached beside her and wrapped something up. "I want you to take this, Jean."

"I told you, I don't want your money."

"It isn't money. It's for your children."

He looked inside and smiled. "Merci, Marie."

"Merci, Jean. I hope that you will not forget me."

"How could France ever forget her Queen?"

"I don't want you to remember your Queen. I want you to remember me. I will never forget you."

The carriage door opened and, as Jean stepped out past the bodyguard, Marie said, "Turn the carriage around."

"Around?" he said in disbelief. "Pourquoi?!"

"I am heading back to Paris."

"But Your Majesty! Count von Fersen - "

"I am sorry, but you will have to tell Count von Fersen that I have changed my mind; I cannot and will not leave without my children."

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders in resignation. "Of course, Your Majesty. We will return to Paris."

He climbed inside with her, and as the carriage wheeled around she looked back at Jean as he watched her from the side of the road. She gave him one last smile and then leaned back and disappeared. As the carriage vanished in the distance, he turned and walked down toward his house. Moments later two children burst from the nearby wood and came running toward him.

"Papa!" they shouted in unison.

His son was in the lead, three years older and more than a head taller than his seven-year-old sister, he had a piece of wood whittled to look like a rifle in his hands. His sister came behind him, a tiny straw doll clutched in hers.

"Where were you, Papa?" the boy asked.

Jean smiled, and said, "I have been to see the Queen."

Their jaws dropped as they turned to look at each other, but then the boy's eyes narrowed and he said, "You are making fun of us!"

"You don't believe me?" Jean said, feigning hurt feelings.

The boy quickly shook his head no.

"Then where would I get these?" He held out the bundle Marie had given him, and as he opened the monogrammed royal handkerchief two of the small cakes she'd taken from Charlotte's house were revealed.

The boy quickly grabbed one of the cakes and tore at it in hunger, but the girl traced her tiny finger along the monogram, her eyes wide with wonder as she realized her father was telling the truth.

She gazed up, her eyes filled with awe as she whispered, "Was she beautiful?"

"Yes," he said, "nearly as beautiful as you."

"And nearly as beautiful as Mama?"

"Yes," he said, and scooped her into his arms.

She took the cake delicately from him and wrapped the handkerchief around it to keep it safe, whispering to her doll as her father carried her toward their home, their brother running behind them to catch up as he made sure he devoured every crumb of his cake.

A woman came hurrying from the house toward them. She was in a plain cotton farm dress with her hair pulled back and her face streaked with sweat and dirt.

"Jean, where have you been?!"

"He has been to see the Queen, Aunt Amelie!" the boy mumbled through a mouthful of cake.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation as she took the girl from him. "What tales have you been telling them now? Go on children, wash up!"

Both of them ran off toward the small cottage to do as they were told.

"Where were you?" she said.

"I was getting you this." He reached into his shirt and pulled out the bundle.

When she opened it and saw the bread her shoulders slumped in relief and her eyes welled with tears. "Thank God," she said. "Thank God."

As she wrapped it back up, she asked, "Where were you really?"

"I told you, I have been to see the Queen."

She smiled and shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know how my sister ever put up with you."

"The same way you do," he said, and goosed her bottom.

She shrieked and then blushed with embarrassment. Looking back toward the cottage, she whispered, "Do you want me to make sure the children are asleep early tonight?"

He nodded and gave her a loving smile, and her eyes flashed with excitement. And then he noticed a black carriage in the shadows beside the barn.

"Who is here?"

"Oh, I nearly forgot. It is the German."

Jean thanked her and headed down toward the barn. Inside was his blacksmith shop. He opened the door and saw a man walking around, looking at all of the tools.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Schmidt," Jean said.

"Guten tag, Herr Mouton," he replied.

"Are you here for your commission?"

"I am. Is it finished?"

Jean nodded and walked across the room toward a table, covered in sheepskin. "I have built it exactly as specified. But what is it for, a new kind of plow?"

Schmidt's eyes gleamed with delight as Jean pulled back the sheepskin, revealing his handicraft. "It is beautiful. The people who sent me to you were right; you are the best blacksmith in the province."

"Yes, but what is it for?"

Schmidt leaned over the table, staring down at the heavy chunk of metal that had been polished to perfection by the sheepskin. He went to run his finger along the edge.

"Careful," Jean said, "it is sharp."

"That is good. Its bite is meant to be sharp." He looked down at the heavy blade and smiled. "You have no idea what you've created, Herr Mouton, but I can assure you that this new invention shall soon be known far and wide."

"This invention is yours?"

"No, I am just building it. The design is by Dr. Louis, of the Academy of Surgery. But in all honesty, most of the credit must go to the man who first proposed this marvelous device," he said, as he carefully ran his thumb along the razor-sharp edge, "Monsieur Guillotin."

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Thanks for reading ~ Seanathon