by Tasha Bell
Christian tightened his jaw and took a deep intake of breath before beginning to speak. “We were never friends.” He said he said coldly and calmly, looking into Viviana’s eyes for the first time. “Your father made me look after you. My family worked for your family and he called me into the big house one day and said that he was worried about you, about you always wandering off, and that if I didn’t want to go and work as a mucker-out on his pig farm I had to look after you. We were never friends I was just doing my job!” He seemed to grow taller and more imposing as he said this, and by the time he finished speaking he was towering above Viviana, looking down on her and quivering with anger.
She felt her stomach turn. “Tell me that’s not true Christian.” The bottom was dropping out of her world as she stood in the prettily scented garden. “We were friends, those were the best days of my life. I’ve waited ten years to see you again. We were best friends.”
Christian spoke with his eyes blazing. “People like us can never be friends Viviana. I might have thought that years ago but I’ve learnt now, I’ve seen how the world really works. You spent the last ten years waiting for me? I spent the last ten years of my life fighting your people’s wars, watching good men on both sides die for something that had nothing to with them.”
“My people’s wars? The war had nothing to do with me Christian.” She said.
“It was a highborn war, the King versus the Dukes. Do you know how many Kings died in the war, how many Earls? It was us, the little people who died in hundreds and thousands, ripped apart by troll and orcs and other men. I spent three years in the Duke of Rawford’s dungeons for you people. They beat me every day, but my highborn commander, who was captured along with me, his family paid a ransom and he was a free man in five days, five days he spent dining with the Duke’s family and cavorting with the castle’s whores. He didn’t give a shit about me down there in the dungeons, just another serf. None of you people care about us and I don’t care about you.”
Christian took another step towards Viviana, his massive chest practically touching hers. “I made a vow to myself when I was in that dungeon. I vowed that if I got out I’d never work for the highborn again, never trust their lies. If I got out alive I would never be subject to tyranny, never be owned by another man.”
Viviana put her hand out to touch Christian’s broad shoulder. “No one owns you Christian, I’m not going to hold you to any feudal bonds. We can live here together as equals. I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, for whoever did scarred your back, but it wasn’t anything to do with me, I’ve been here in the Vale waiting for you.”
“I’ve heard enough lies from your people,” he said sadly. “I don’t believe you Viviana, at the end of the day you people will always stick together to protect each other, it’s why you’ve been able to oppress people like me for 2000 years, it why even without your families dragons you still rule the vale. We are not equals, we never have been and while the highborn rule we never will be. I’m not staying here. If I live in your cottage I’m just another one of your possessions.” He paused and ran his eyes over Viviana’s body. “Look at you, look at your expensive clothes, your silk dress. You’re wearing something that probably cost as much as I made in five years as a soldier, and you wear it for a casual saunter through the gardens. How can you possibly say we are equals?”
Viviana felt a rage building inside her at being so misunderstood by the man she held dearest in all the world. “My dress is not me Christian. I’m the same girl you knew all those years ago, if you’re too upset and damaged to see that then you’re an idiot. Carry on picking up your bloody stone. Leave or don’t leave I do not care.”
Viviana turned around and walked back across the lawns towards the manor house. She was heartbroken, to think that Christian could have dismissed their friendship so easily, but she was also fuming, she had always treated the people who worked on her estate with respect. She had offered them the choice of wages over land and accommodation if they preferred money to managing their own tenant farms. She had given them the choice to leave and find work elsewhere if they preferred, something none of the other local landowners would do. Her best friend was even a commoner, the daughter of a bloody Innkeeper.
Chapter Four
Alexandra, daughter of the innkeeper, was bored. The Inn was deserted apart from a small sad group sitting in the corner, the four men blinded at Othem Moat. She felt so sorry for them, Kit had told her that their commander had found them drunk on watch, and that their eyes had been put out in front of the rest of the troops as warning. Alexandra shuddered, she couldn’t imagine the things some of these men had been through since she last saw them. The blinded soldiers could not work the fields like the other men and women of the village, they could not hold a scythe and work the line, so they spent their days sitting in the Bull Tavern, reminiscing about the days when they could see, and occasionally calling out for more ale from their attentive serving girl. Just as Alexandra was certain she was about to fall asleep from tedium Harper burst through the door carrying a large sailor’s trunk.
“Here I am! Your protective and ever attentive guardian angel!” He shouted to Alexandra.
The blinded men jumped and then brightened at the sound of the new voice.
“Harper, that you I can hear?” Called one “You come to look after our Alexandra have you?” the blind man let at a theatrical whistle “Don’t blame you, I might not be able to see now, but I can still picture her from a decade ago, kept me happy on many lonely nights of marching that image did.” He smacked his lips. “Just my kind of girl, bit of meat on her”
“Oh quiet down you dirty old bugger, I was fifteen.” Chuckled Alexandra. The blind man reached out to aim a slap at where he thought Alexandra’s rump should be, but she had already skipped out of reach.
“Oh I wouldn’t get too excited Stephens, she can’t have aged well at all, looks a little scrawny to me.” Said Harper, throwing Alexandra an exaggerated wink before letting his eyes drift over her curvy body. Alexandra placed her hands on her wide hips and shook her head.
“Don’t you start,” She said with a smile. “You can put your trunk upstairs, there’s an empty room, second door on the left, and there’s water in the back yard if you need to wash, its cold but its clean.”
Harper left to unpack his trunk and Alexandra carried on the slow wasting of her afternoon, tending to the blinded men who were now slumped in almost complete silence. After twenty minutes she realised she needed to bring in more cider, so wandered out of the back door towards the storage shed. As stepped out of the bar she froze in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Harper who was washing himself by the basin. He had his broad triangular back to her and was lathering his front, raising each thick muscular arm in turn to scrub underneath, she could see that he was big across the chest and stomach, but he was not fat, or if he was it was a taught, drum-like fatness that suited the proportions of his wide shoulders and broad head. After he had finished soaping his armpits he moved his hand down to his crotch and started working in the suds. Alexandra knew that she shouldn’t be watching, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She noticed that he was taking a lot longer rubbing himself down-there than was strictly necessary.
“Ahem!” She coughed, putting on an expression of mock consternation.
Harper spun around, he looked momentarily embarrassed to have been caught pleasuring himself in the back garden just thirty minutes after moving in, but he recovered quickly when he saw Alexandra struggling to hold in her laughter. “I just thought I’d better take care of myself out here,” he said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t know how to control myself when I got back inside.” He laid it out it as if it were the most logical argument in the world.
Alexandra said nothing, she was desperately trying to avoid looking at his manhood. It was the most beautiful she’d ever seen, not overly long but extremely thick and fat, it glistened in the soap suds he’d rubbed onto it. Harper still had one hand gripped around i
ts base and even in his thick fingers it looked impressive.
“I’m just getting some cider.” She stuttered, instantly regretting not using a better line, she knew Harper must be able to see how red she had gone, her eyes were darting everywhere but onto him and she felt like an awkward teenager again.
“Give me a minute and I’ll be inside,” he said, his eyes crinkling in another broad grin. “And don’t worry, I’ll control myself.” Alexandra walked towards the storage sheds, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him too. “Or you could come over here and help me.” He said mischievously.
Alexandra paused for a beat, then said; “I’ve got to look after those poor blind men inside,” before realising what the proper response was and adding, “and anyway Harper I hardly know you! What sort of a girl do you think I am?”
She made her way back inside with the small case of cider, her face was flushed, red patches rising on her smooth white cheeks. She was happy that none of that day’s clientele could see, or they certainly would have asked her what was wrong. She served the blind men their cider, and leant over the bar, resting her ample breasts on the cold wood. She knew what image she would be thinking about when she sent herself off to sleep that night. As she daydreamed about the man outside, she felt a hand slide over her mouth. The horrors of the previous night flashed back to her, and for a moment she thought that Matt and his sons were back to finish what they had started, but then she heard Harpers deep, rich voice in her ear.
"Shhh" He whispered, "Turns out I can’t control myself after all, can you do this without making a sound?”
Alexandra looked at the blind men sitting around a table on the other side of the bar, only around six foot from where she stood, it wasn’t strictly very professional to do so, but she silently nodded her head. Harper took his hand away from her mouth. He was standing extremely close to her, she could smell the soap from his wash and feel his hot breath on the back of her neck bringing her out in Gooseflesh. She wasn’t certain she could stay silent, but she was desperate to give it a try.
She felt Harper’s thick fingers on her shoulder, for such a huge man his touch was surprisingly soft. He gently slid his fingers under one of the straps of her dress and slipped it off, pushing it down her arm to where her elbows rested on the bar. Harper let out a heavy breath and did the same with the other strap. She felt the front of her dress sliding down her large heavy breasts as Harper slipped the material off them. Her dark nipples hardened as they were exposed to the air. Harper reached round to cup her tits, squeezing them gently, feeling their weight in his hands. He obviously liked what he felt - she could feel a bulge pushing into the small of her back, she wriggled slightly, sensing it pressing against the fabric of his trousers, straining to get free.
Harper crouched behind her and reaching under her long skirt grabbed each of her ankles. Alexandra looked towards the door to the tavern and realised that this might not be such a great idea after all, she swatted her hands behind her, trying to get Harper to stop, but as he ran his hands slowly up the outside of her legs raising her skirt as he did so, she realised she might as well have been trying to stop the tide. He took his time, and despite saying otherwise seemed perfectly in control to Alexandra. After what seemed like an age she felt the hem of her dress skimming over her large round buttocks. One of the blind men coughed and shifted in his chair and Alexandra tried to hold her breath. Her dress was now bunched around her narrow waist, the curves on each side fully exposed in the warm afternoon air. She knew that to be here like this in her place of work, and in front of an unknowing audience, was completely wrong, but for some reason that just made her more exited.
Harper was still taking his time, she couldn't see his face, but she could imagine the amazing view he was getting, she shivered at the thought. Harper ran one of his hands down from where he had been caressing her soft white breast, over the pinch point of her waist and the curve of her behind, before bringing it up the inside of her thigh. Alexandra clenched her jaw to stop from crying out as his thick caressed her. It felt almost unbearable not to be able to make a sound as his fingers danced and circled. The wanted to shout and sing and let the world know how good it felt. Just as she was about to cry out she felt Harpers rough hand clamp back over her mouth, turning her ecstatic chorus into a muffled grunt.
"You alright there Alexandra love" said one of the blind men "got something caught in your throat?"
Harper took one hand away from her mouth while simultaneously pressing her harder with the other, she'd get him for this she thought, the bastard. "I'm..." Harpers fingers had done their work, she felt herself falling into a powerful orgasm "... fine" she said raggedly. Let’s see how you like it, she thought, reaching behind her for Harpers manhood. She made to turn around but as she did so she felt a pressure on her shoulders, Harper wasn’t going to let her. He pushed her back down, he wanted her as she was now, bent over the tavern’s bar.
Almost mad with desire she lent her head on the bar and raised her ass, her soft breasts spreading out over the cold wood. As she let the big man take her she wondered how long it had been since he had been with another woman. All the long miles he had marched before he had found her here in the bar. The pent up desire seemed to flow through Harper into her, lending each of his movements a sensual urgency. She felt he rub the broad head of his cock up and down the length of her valley coating himself in her juices. She wanted nothing more than for him to plunge into her, to fill her up with his mighty girth, but he was determined, it seemed, to make her wait.
Finally harper began to push himself inside her. Even in her advanced state of desire the she felt a tiny hint of pain at the edge of the fields of pleasure and his pushed into her, stretching her more with each inch he thrust forward. His first thrust seemed to go on forever, just as she thought she couldn’t take any more he’d part her further, until finally she felt his heavy, full balls against her engorged clit.
Alexandra's nipples grazed the dark wood of the bar as Harper took her. She’d never felt so full but she didn’t find it painful, just maddeningly pleasurable. Just as she was beginning to think she couldn’t take anymore Harper slipped one of his hands back down over her stomach to the valley of her legs. She was going to scream, the sensations were too much. With her elbows on the bar she clawed at the wood, before laying her cheek down on the bar and reaching behind her with both hands, she dug her fingernails into the outside of Harpers buttocks and started pulling him into her harder and faster. She couldn’t hold it anymore.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" She shouted as the bar echoed to the noise of their lovemaking. The blind men all looked round in shock as Alexandra felt the first wave of Harper’s crescendo shoot into her. "Yes!" She screamed again she melt herself melting into a warm wave of pleasure. It flowed through her, drawing all the strength from her limbs. Her knees felt weak and her hands like they couldn't grip. She stayed exactly where she was, face to the bar, breathing heavily with the weight of Harper’s thick torso pressing down on her. The blind men sat frozen like statues, beer half-way to their lips.
"Bloody hell" said one “You sure you’re alright Alexandra love?”
Chapter Five
Viviana sat in her armchair in front of the great fire in the banqueting room of Loxley Hall. Although two days had passed she was still musing on her conversation with Cristian. She wished that she had the fun-loving free spirit that she had known in her childhood back, but she could tell that the horrors Christian had gone through on the orders of King John had affected him deeply. The handsome but damaged man who had come back wasn’t the carefree young man who had left Amvale, she thought back to the look he had given her that first day in the square, like he was ready to eat her up, and shivered. She still hoped she could connect with him. She wished she were able drum it into him that she wasn’t like the other highborn, she didn’t see people as property to be bought, sold, traded and killed as if they were livestock.
Viviana hadn’t asked to inherit her
ancestral home, her father had died when she was just seventeen and having no brothers all the property and the huge responsibilities that came with it had fallen to her. She had always done her best to run it in the most egalitarian manner she reasonably could, she knew most of the people who worked and lived on her estates loved her for her generosity and even handedness, she longed to make Christian see that there was a way the highborn and the simple-folk could live together in harmony. It had been hard for the Dragon Lords of Loxely to transform themselves into ordinary land owners, but she thought she was managing the transition as well as could be expected.
Her page boy poked his head round the door. “Hello Lady Viviana, sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor.” He said. Viviana sat up, hoping momentarily that it was Christian come to apologise, before realising that no one, not even the most over-attentive of page boys, would call the old gardener’s son a visitor.
“Who is it Hugh?” She asked.
“Sir Robert Herriot,” said the page, Viviana groaned. “I’m sorry my lady” he continued, “I can’t stand the man either, but he said it was a matter of the utmost urgency.”
“Right show him in,” said Viviana. “and bring us some brandy and two glasses, I’m sure Sir Robert will be thirsty after his ride.” The page let out a short chuckle, he knew Sir Roberts reputation as a drunk as well as most people in the vale.
A few minutes later the page was back, this time announcing in a theatrical tone: “my lady, may I present Sir Robert Herriot, 16th Duke of Amvale.”
As he finished speaking a tall, flabby, red-faced man swept into the room in an ornate cloak. Viviana noticed that his nose was even more purple than last time she had seen him, and his eyes noticeably more bloodshot. As ever he was dressed in the opulent robes of the courtesan dandy he had been in his long departed youth.
