Loving the Headsman's Daughter , livre ebook

Title Page
LOVING THE HEADSMAN’S DAUGHTER
A Medieval Romance Fantasy
By
Oscar Manta



Publisher Information
Loving the Headsman’s Daughter
published in 2015 by House of Erotica
an imprint of Andrews UK Limited
www.houseoferoticabooks.com
The right of Oscar Manta to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
Copyright © 2015 Oscar Manta
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.



Chapter One
I have decided to put to paper and share with everyone a truthful narrative of several extraordinary events, which indeed I recently underwent and happily survived, while they are still vivid in my memory. I can say first of all, this ribald adventure of lust and mayhem of mine began a few years ago in the spring of 1558.
I can still remember all too well feeling the rigors of hunger and fatigue, while aching as a man likely should, having spent the better part of a week in the saddle. I remember as well the resolute mettle of my horse, Murielle, who was surely at least as tired as I. Not only was she exhibiting signs of exhaustion, I feared she was coming up lame, as she seemed to limp increasingly, favoring one of her front hooves. She was performing double duty after all; carrying me, her rider, plus the burden of my earthly goods, consisting primarily of clothing and heavy metal tools, as we slowly worked our way toward Rouen, where I enthusiastically expected to take a position in the armory; this an opportunity afforded me by my craft- master upon the recent completion of my apprenticeship at Tours.
Considering the fact that my time of employment and training had been successful, and my acquired skills were viewed to be of obvious value, my master in Tours reluctantly allowed me, after being permitted by the Compte de Touraine, to do what a new journeyman traditionally does: to leave the place where his training was received and to travel to a new employer, hopefully to increase and enhance one’s skill in the trade by exposure to new challenges and techniques. Fortunately for me, my master was pleased with me, and accordingly arranged for me an excellent position as a journeyman armorer at Rouen, in Normandy.
I realized finally fatigue was getting the best of me and I would need to find a place to rest for the night; and even more so for Murielle than myself. I was unable to encounter anyone on the road and was unsure if I was on the correct route, or if there was an inn anywhere ahead, so I decided to simply follow a stream I encountered for a distance in order to find a satisfactory place to spend the night under the stars. To my surprise, I saw in a glade ahead a saddled horse tethered to a tree. There was no rider to be seen, so I cautiously approached, always vigilant to be on the lookout for brigands.
I smelled the smoke from a fire - a cooking fire I hoped, as I was feeling the pangs of hunger, not having eaten since the morning, and then only meagerly. I had expected to find an inn, and to have dined there, but as I said, I was now resigned to a night with neither adequate food nor shelter. I saw movement and I discerned the presence of a single individual, apparently in the act of donning their clothing. I thought it somewhat imprudent, yet at the same time courteous to betray my presence, so I gave out a whistle as a signal to whomever it was at the fire that they now had company.
“Who comes?” sounded a feminine voice.
“Denis Babineau,” I said, “From Tours. I mean no harm. Please, I have some bread. I have some wine. Could I share your fire?”
“Come ahead. Show yourself.”
I approached, and gazed upon a young, rather comely woman standing confidently, her hands on her hips as a sign of saucy indifference. A hooded cloak concealed whatever was underneath, save for the remarkable red hair protruding around her face, and her cat-like green eyes contrasting with the remarkable, but enticingly alluring complexion of her oddly freckled skin.
I attempted to dismount but was stopped by her admonition. “Stay mounted, Boy! I have not decided if you are welcome. As you see, I am a solitary woman with no escort - no protection. It is an unwise thing to welcome a stranger in these times, in places such as these. You say you mean no harm to me. How do I know this to be true? How do I, a vulnerable girl traveling in the wilderness, feel secure in trusting a stranger such as yourself?”
“My lady,” I said, “please, I have no intentions toward you. I simply wish to share your fire, and perhaps an evening of cordiality - no more. I could surrender to you my sword for your safekeeping, if that would make you feel better.”
“This is a peaceful place, Boy, and I expect a peaceful night. If I trust you and you betray me, you will rue it. Very well, come to my fire.”
We shared my bread as well as some dried apples and sausages she produced from her satchel. Curiously, she seemed rather ill- equipped for a traveler. Her supplies appeared quite meager if she was actually on a journey of any duration. We began drinking the wine I had with me. Soon enough, it was gone, and she then miraculously produced some of her own. After some time spent in consuming the majority of the wine we had, curiosity got the best of me.
“I wish to know your name, my lady. You know mine, as Denis. Yours, my lady?”
“You may call me Jacquette, Boy. I will tell you no more than that. Only Jacquette.”
“Very well, Jacquette. Perhaps I would not be too forward if I asked you how it is you are here, this place at this time, in the wilderness without an escort, susceptible to heaven- knows- what?”
“I can care for myself, Boy. I am quite used to being alone on frequent occasions. Never mind me. What of you?”
“I am on my way to Rouen to work at the armory as a craftsman, my lady - Jacquette.”
“Oh, you make weapons and the like?” she asked.
“I do. I have also learned the art of forming sheet- metal into armor - you know, the cuirass, the greaves, the helmet?”
“Oh, I know what they are, Boy. I know them well, and their uses. Do you know how to use the weapons you make, or are you just content to produce them for others?”
“I have some skill with the sword, but I confess I have more skill in their fabrication. I hope this is no impediment to your respect, Jacquette. After all, we cannot all be masters of the arts of war.”
“It is no impediment, Boy. As a matter of truth, I admire you as a man of forthcoming honesty. I am tired of braggarts and bullies. You are a refreshing change to the people I usually am forced to deal with.”
“How so?” I asked, as we shared the last of our wine. “How do you find me so pleasing?”
“Because, Boy, you presented yourself to me with a respect I am unaccustomed to. You approached me as a gentleman, in spite of my apparent condition of vulnerability.”
“Vulnerability?”
“Oh, please! You must have seen me bathing in the stream. You must know I barely was able to conceal myself, even though inadequately, before you let me know you were here.”
“You think I was watching you bathe? You think I saw you naked?”
“I do.”
I began to feel the wine a little too much. My discretion was easily discarded. “Ah, Jacquette, I only wish I had. A beauty such as yourself should perhaps be admired as the wonder of nature she surely is. I fear my timing was off. Alas, I was too late.”
‘And perhaps, your timing was exact,” she said, rising and approaching me on my side of the fire.
She opened her cloak and lifted her shift, displaying two treasures that only could been given to her by such a goddess as Venus herself. She pulled me toward her, burying my face within those gorgeous, inviting globes of beauty.
I felt as if I knew precisely what was expected of me. I kissed them both without any further encouragement, then began to suck her nipples, first one, and then the other. I sensed her hand pushing upon the top of my head. I soon found my lips below her navel, kissing, and then licking the soft, smooth skin waiting there.
“Taste me, Boy, she said with a whisper. Taste me now, and I will do for you. She placed my willing mouth where she desired it to be, holding my head in place, as if there was any desire on my part to not co-operate. I placed my thumb in a place I knew she would approve, then my forefinger in another, slowly manipulating her, feeling her wetness. Warm and pulsating, she soon elicited ecstatic sounds of pleasure as my anxious tongue worshipped at her altar of Aphrodite.
“Now,” she purred, “Now you, Boy.”
I lay back and closed my eyes. The intensity of the pleasure she brought me was beyond anything I had known, and I considered myself quite experienced in these matters. I could not have held myself back even if I had wanted to. Soon I felt the intense urgency of imminent release and then profound relief as she drained me of my essence. Even after she finished, my eyes stayed closed. I was unsure what she did with what I had spent, but I fantasized that I knew.
Soon we lay gazing at the sky, she with her shift still uplifted, I with my breeches down around my ankles.
“My, my,” she giggled. “What a strong and brave soldier you have there! He does no