Roistering & Revelry  

rm_FreddyNG69 60M
52 posts
2/11/2006 4:10 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Roistering & Revelry

Robert MacLean pulled up his horse in his castle's courtyard and looked around. In the bustle of servants and hunting dogs, he caught sight of Fiona, his current favorite, coming out of the great hall.

"Greetings My Lord," she called enthusiastically. "Had you luck with the hunt?"

"aye!" he called back with raucous good humor, "and the night's not yet full upon us!"

She ran toward him as he vaulted from the saddle. He swung her up into his arms for a hearty kiss. She was of low birth, so not to be considered as a wife, but she was a merry, comely lass, lively in the bed chamber and undaunted by his coarse gests. Holding her in his arms, his hands roamed freely over her body, squeezing her breast, her waist, her hip.

"Run along to my chamber and await me," he said into her ear. "I'll be requiring your assistance with my garments before supper in the Great hall."

He nibbled her earlobe and rubbed her nipple through the cloth of her gown, then kissed her cheek. Despite a volatile temper, he was a man of good humor and he found it easier and more pleasant to be polite to women. Of a certainty, it was not necessary in order to bed them, but it generally meant that women came to his bed willingly, which he greatly preferred.

He bent to scratch the ears of his favorite golden-brown wolfhound Fen. Watching Fiona's pleasing form as she ran to await him, he sighed gustily.

"Ah it will go hard to rid myself of the lass," he said regretfully to his hunting companion Owen Ap Reese. "But with my convent reared French bride arriving in days, it wouldn't do to have one such as Fiona about. Did I not so urgently require the military assistance of my bride's kinsmen against the accursed MacGueness, it mightn't matter so much. Until I can broach the topic with them however, I suppose I must restrain myself, and be content with the Frosty French Margarete, lest her family come to think me indiscrete."

"I fear many ladies, and other women of the castle, will be in need of consolation during your self-imposed marital Lent." Owen laughed good naturedly.

"Perhaps," Robert replied energetically, "But not this night! With only a few days of debauchery left me, I'll not leave any lass in need of consolation!" Robert thumped Owen's back with a comradely grin. " Ready yourself to sup, I've arranged for some ladies and other women from the village tavern to entertain us this evening."

He left his friend and sworn man, and went to his chamber. When he had closed the door behind him, Fiona stepped to the middle of the room and flung off a sheet in which she had wound herself. Brazenly naked, she stood smiling mischievously.

"My Lord did say he needed help ridding me of my garments did he not?"

Robert took in the sight of her pert, enticing form and flowing red hair as he went to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine.

"You're hearing is poor lass," he said, "But you make up for it with imagination."

He drank deeply, then held the cup to her lips. He tipped the cup and she tilted her head, gulping the wine.

"Is My Lord attempting to ply me with drink, then ravish me?" she asked with mock concern.

"Certainly not!" he answered, "I'm going to ravish you first, then ply you with drink and ravish you again."

He set the cup down and grabbed her up to toss her on the feather bed. She laughed excitedly as he leapt on top of her covering her with a flurry of hard kisses and urgent hands. He was quickly hard. He pushed her legs apart with his knees and found her opening. As he thrust powerfully inside her, he crushed her breasts in his hands. He went up on his knees and squeezed her nipples between his fingers as he continued his strong thrusts. She was crying out with each plunge into her, and her cried drove him on. His climax was sudden and fierce. It exploded from him with a grunt that was almost surprise. He collapsed on top of her and kissed her cheek fondly. Rolling onto his side, he said softly, "I'll miss you sorely lass."

He had explained to her why she must go, tolerated her tears, given her a gold trinket, and told her she must be brave and cheerful. She was a practical girl and gave him no difficulty. As he drifted off into a brief doze, he reflected that, in truth, he had begun to tire of her company. For the convenience of a ready and enthusiastic bed mate, he had endured much inane chatter. Lately, this happy balance had begun to tilt in the wrong direction.

He slept, gathering his strength for the demands of the rest of the night.

Lize had been lucky. The solitary ride from where her mistress rested with the marriage procession had gone smoothly, though she had spent most of it with a hand on the hilt of her dagger. Reaching the village near to Lord Robert's estate, she had found a troop of traveling performers willing to let her join them for a night or two. Though she had lived for four years as a servant in a noble house, the ways and manners of such folk came back to her with ease and she was able to gain their trust.

They had been called to perform for the Lord, and two of the troop's women were glad to let her take their place. Lord Robert's approaching marriage was common knowledge, and Lize heard it said openly that any woman who wished to avoid importunities had best stay away from Robert's Great Hall for the next few days.

Lize had no wish to avoid importunities, in fact, that was why she had come on this risky venture. Her mistress Margarete was soon to wed the Lord Robert and for reasons of her own, required crucial information that only Lize could give her, i.e., how his bride could best please him in bed.

Skillfully deflecting questions, about herself and her travels, Lize accompanied the players to the Great Hall. As she enacted a simple comic scene with members of the company, she scanned the hall. Protected by her player's mask, she observed how Lord Robert and his sworn man, a handsome Welshman, laughed, drank, jested with the serving women, and eyed the female performers. She anticipated no difficulty in maneuvering herself into Lord Robert's bed chamber. The silver she would earn would not be unwelcome, but more important, she would discover what Margarete so desperately needed to know.

She was relieved to see that Lord Robert was no burden to look upon. He had the red hair so common here, but his features were strong and regular, his physique that of an active man. Good: her task might be a pleasant one.

She turned her full attention back to the comic scene. She through herself into the performance with conspicuous sensuality, using her body and pleasing voice to draw the Lord's attention to her.

When the scene was finished, he summoned the players to the High Table.

"Diverting indeed!" Robert exclaimed. "Forgive me if I don't rise." He held a serving wench on his lap and fondled her with one hand while he took a draft of whisky. She was playfully trying to undress him and he slapped her hand away.

"Patience woman!" he expostulated, "That's scandalous conduct before guests! Sit." He commanded the players.

As Lize sat near him, she wondered whether the wench's eagerness was lust, or the thought of the silver to be gained by lying with the Lord. Lize placed herself deliberately so that he could touch her if he wished, but not easily see her face.

When he invited her to take off her mask, she answered in a low, rich voice, "But surely it is this My Lord most wishes to see." Leaning back, she ran her hands lightly down her body to her hips. "Of what importance is a woman's face to a man so near to his wedding day?"

Owen, on her other side, burst into raucous laughter.

"My lady speaks truth," he said, placing a large hand on her thigh.

"Owen and I grow weary," Lord Robert said with an exaggerated parody of a yawn. "We were just discussing an early retirement with, perhaps, a last cup of wine in my chamber. Some of these dedicated lasses have consented to accompany us. We have been drinking steadily you see," (he was staring directly at Lize's full breasts) "And it is likely we'll require aid."

"It would be unpardonable if you were to injure yourself so close to your wedding," Lize replied warmly. "I will do my utmost to assist you Lord."

As the men rose, it was clear that, if they had been imbibing steadily, they were well practiced at it and able to hold their drink. There was much laughter and bawdy jesting as the two men, Lize, Fiona and two women from the tavern made their way to the Lord's private apartments.

Once inside, Lize stepped behind the curtain, muttering something about relieving herself. The truth was that she needed to observe Lord Robert, and if she did not absent herself briefly, she would too soon be a participant. She was not here primarily for money or pleasure, though she expected to acquire both. Her primary goal was to learn.

Squatting over the chamber pot, she heard sounds of undressing, approval, kisses and laughter. Reentering the room, she saw that Lord Robert wasted no time. He had the red-headed Fiona bent over the bed and was sliding rhythmically in and out of her. He was taking his pleasure of her, moving his hands possessively over her hips, then grasping her pelvis firmly in his hands, pulling her back against him with each thrust. His face, in the lamp light, wore an expression of utter self absorption. Lize could see that, though the girl laughed drunkenly as her hands slip on the uneven surface of the feather mattress, Robert was oblivious, speeding up toward his climax. He came with a groaned, covering the woman's body as he pushed her flat on the bed. He pulled out and slapped her bottom playfully.

"That's my bonny Fiona!" he said with jocular satisfaction.

Lize hovered at the edge of the light. Was such treatment what awaited her virgin mistress? Still, watching them had aroused her.

She looked to Owen. He lounged on a padded bench while the petite, black haired tavern woman crouched before him, taking his manhood into her mouth. Lize well remembered her days at such work and how men had demanded this attention from her. Remembering the feel of his strong, kind hand on her thigh, she entered the circle of light and approached him.

"I have heard that you have had a considerable amount to drink, and are at risk of injuring yourself. Is there anything I might do to insure your continued safety?" Her voice was light, almost mocking.

"In truth," Owen responded cheerfully, "I fear that if you do not soon remove your gown, I will suffer some great ill."

Leaving her mask in place, Lize began slowly to remove her clothing. She stood close to Owen and enjoyed the feel of his hands caressing her as she undressed.

Robert was refilling his wine cup and watched with interest. Lize, ever observant, saw that his gaze, while lingering often on her breasts, was more often drawn to her hips. She recalled the avidity of his hands on Fiona's behind. testing her observation, she leaned forward to kiss Owen, but did it so that her back was to Robert. Confirming her hunch, he was behind her in an instant, squeezing her exposed buttocks in his hard hands, running his palms down her legs.

"The legs of a horse woman I think," he said, "And the bottom also." She straightened up and felt his hardening cock against her back. So soon? Her Margarete would have no peace it seemed.

He squeezed her and she wriggled herself closer to him.

"Owen my brother," he said "I'll wager you a gold coin, delivered between the breasts of this lovely player, that you can't tell her bottom from Maggie's. Come here Maggie, take your clothes off, that's a good girl. Maggie and our masked lady are alike in body are they not?"

Maggie, a curvaceous, pale-haired woman, came from where she was brushing Fiona's hair on the bed. Obediently, she removed her clothing. Robert beckoned to Fiona. When she came to him, he sat beside Owen on the bench and urged her to her knees before him. Wordlessly, he lifted his partly erect member and pushed her head toward it.

Both being sucked, the men closed their eyes while Lize and Maggie spun around to confuse their observers, then knelt, presenting their behinds. Owen and Robert gazed silently for a time, relishing the skillful tongues that played with their cocks.

"Ah there could be no finer vista on heaven and earth," said Robert contentedly.

"To be sure," Owen agreed lazily, "But the light's too dim and they've got their legs to close together. Wider apart, yes like that." Owen reached down to fondle the tiny breast of his petite companion as she took him entirely into her mouth. He moaned and leaned forward.

"There," he said with satisfaction, "I see Maggie's pale hair between her thighs."

"Ah Maggie!" Robert exclaimed, "You've lost me a gold piece, no, don't move lass." He put Fiona aside and got on his knees behind Maggie.

"Ready for me sweet?" He pushed a finger up between her legs, finding moisture.

"Aye you're a good girl." He grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his shaft and she let out a sigh. Lize moved to get up, but he clamped a hard hand on her leg. "Stay," he commanded. She resumed her position and he squeezed her thigh and buttock. He moved his hand between her legs and probed her as he had Maggie.

It had been too long since she had been with a man, and her juices were flowing freely. He began to thrust his fingers in and out of her to the same rhythm as his fucking, a slow, powerful movement. She rocked back onto his fingers, longing for something bigger.

She looked over her shoulder. Owen had one hand on the black haired woman's breast, the other on her head, urging her to take him deeper into her mouth. He was moving his hips in steady pumping motions and Lize could see that he was about to flood the woman's mouth with his pleasure. The fingers were withdrawn from her and Robert stood up. He was still sporting a prodigious erection, so Lize concluded hopefully that he had not spent inside Maggie.

Robert held out a hand each to Maggie and Lize.

"Come," he said, "We must refresh ourselves."

He snatched a flagon of wine and urged Lize and Maggie onto the big bed. After they had all drunk, he pushed Lize onto her back. Drop by careful drop, he trickled wine onto her breasts, then licked the drops eagerly with his strong tongue. Then, wine abandoned, he was sucking firmly on her nipple.

"You wenches would wear a man out," he said at last. Rolling onto his back, he grasped Lize around her waist and pulled her on top of him.

""Now my masked lady of the luscious behind, show me whether you truly are an accomplished rider."

Eagerly, she positioned his hard cock and slid slowly onto it with a gasp of pleasure. When she was half way down, he grasped her hips and thrust fully inside her. She moved quickly up and down while he help her from underneath and squeezed her bottom. When his hands moved to her breasts, she began to grind her pelvis against him with the rhythm that she knew would send her over the edge into bliss. Well versed in the ways of women, he urged her on, pushing hard against her, brushing his hands across her hard nipples. She moved faster and faster until paroxysms overcame her and she cried out and her whole body quivered.

To her surprise, he did not cum inside her either. Instead, he rolled her off of him and looked around. When he saw the petite woman who had been pleasing his friend, he beckoned to her. When she came to him, he pulled her onto the bed and pushed her onto her hands and knees.

He goes back to that position again and again, Lize reflected as she lay quiet, basking in the afterglow of pleasure. Robert was moving in and out of the small woman's whole with fast, urgent thrusts which brought him quickly to release.

Owen had sat down on the bed and was positioned between Maggie's legs, using his hands to spread and explore the woman's vulva. Lize knew from his involuntary cry earlier that he had left the same fluid in the petite woman's mouth that his friend was now leaving between her legs.

Owen's hands were unhurried and gentle. Watching Maggie rotate her hips in response, Lize felt her own excitement rising again. Moving to lie closer to Owen, she rested her head on his thigh and took his flaccid organ into her mouth. As she teased him into ardor with her tongue, she listened to Lord Robert as he spoke of his coming marriage to the black-haired woman now curled against his chest.

"Unlike you, lively lass, my bride was raised by the Catholic sisters. She's French and high-born what's more. I fear the nights of passion in this chamber will soon be at an end. No doubt, she will be timid and meek, shy and constrained. Most likely, we'll couple only in darkness, and only after a recitation of the rosary."

"Perhaps she'll learn to know fulfillment by your own crucifix Lord," the woman replied playfully grabbing his penis.

"Ah you irreverent wench!" he laughed heartily. "Unlikely, and I'll wager she'll not have your love of a bawdy jest either. On the subject of wagers,"

He rose and retrieved a gold coin, laying a hand on Lize's shoulder. "Attend me," he commanded.

She rose and stood before him. He placed the coin between her breasts and lifted her hands to press them together.

"Pray deliver this to Master Owen as I promised."

Holding her breasts in her hands, she knelt on the bed before the Welshman.

"A delivery for you sire."

He reached out, grasping her breasts in his hands, squeezing them, letting the coin fall to the coverlet. He urged her to lie on her back and followed her, fondling and kissing her full breasts. His touch was very much to her taste and she parted her legs, encouraging him to enter her.

As he did so, she raised her legs and rapped them around his body, urging him on. She felt freer than at any other time that evening to abandon herself to the moment. She had carried off the deception, had learned valuable information for her mistress, she would be paid.

She clasped herself more tightly to him, moving with him, feeling her second release rising in her. Her eagerness seemed to please him and he gave her what she yearned for, a rough, wild, frenzied coupling. She cried out as climax overtook her, sending him over the edge also.

Reveling in her own post coital glow, she reflected on what she had to tell her mistress. She had matched her companions drink for drink and, like them, she began to doze. She should not remain here long she thought drowsily. Pleasant though it had been so far, she could not risk being seen without her mask. As Margarete's favored attendant, she would be returning here in a few days time as part of the bride's household. It was essential that she not be recognized or her arrant discovered.

Safety, silver, pleasure and knowledge she thought with satisfaction, a successful endeavor indeed.

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