by Sahara Kelly
“There’s many a man will thank you both in the morn, lads. All this passion stuff has brought it to the minds of our women too.” He winked.
His wife came to his side, with a stern expression on her face. “You’ll not hurt those two, mind,” she said, looking pointedly at Gilles and Guy.
The blacksmith took her hand firmly in his great paw, ignoring her muttered protests. “No need to worry about that, ducks,” he reassured her. “These two know very well what they’re doing.” He held on tightly to her grasp, even though a blush was starting to color her neck and spread to her cheeks. “And lest you’ve forgotten,” he said leaning his great height over his wife, “I’ve a mind that maybe tonight we should do a bit of that ourselves.”
She gasped and the blush turned into a deep flush. “Well, I never…” she sputtered.
“Oh you will, lovey.”
With a huge grin, the blacksmith tugged his wife away, slipping his arm around her and downwards, giving her ample buttocks a hefty squeeze.
Her squawk of protest brought a grin to both Guy and Gilles, as they watched the couple leave.
“Tell everyone how grateful we are,” called Gilles after them.
The blacksmith never turned from his wife, just waved his hand in the air in acknowledgement.
* * * * *
Twilight was a magic time for the Maltby estate. Neither light nor dark, the tired sun had long since disappeared, but at this time of year, the darkness was not quite ready to accept control of the sky.
It was still light enough to see one’s way, but dark enough that the two ghostly figures moving quietly through the trees would seem nothing but shades of light and dark to unwary eyes.
Linnet and Mechele had wondered at the smothered giggles and glances they’d received earlier that afternoon, and also at the large tubs of steaming water they’d found in their temporary chamber when they’d sought refuge at the end of the day.
Even Sir Dunstan, it seemed, had played least-in-sight, announcing he’d have another game of chess with Bodkin before retiring. His twinkling grin alerted them.
“Something’s going on, Linnet,” said Mechele as she sank into the steaming water.
“You picked that up too, did you?” answered Linnet.
“Couldn’t miss it,” answered Mechele, wryly. “I’ll guarantee that just about everyone on the estate knows where we’re spending this night.”
Linnet looked thoughtfully at a bar of her best soap, which had mysteriously found its way to the small table beside her bath. “And mayhap they’re telling us they’re glad of it,” she said.
“Well, ‘tis nice to have their approval, but I must confess, that approval or not, I’d still go.”
“Me too,” chuckled Linnet. “It’s been too long.”
Both girls pondered that statement as they washed themselves clean. How could a mere day seem like a lifetime?
“What are we going to do, Mechele?”
Linnet’s plaintive question broke the silence.
“Do?” Mechele turned her head. “You need me to give you instructions?”
Linnet colored. “No, silly. Not about tonight. I mean about our lives, our futures. These are two knights, remember. They ride in service to Lord Benstede.”
Mechele’s brow furrowed. “You know what, Linnet? I cannot imagine Guy just taking me, giving me his love, and then riding off with a wave and a flash of his armor. ‘Tis not in his character, I’m thinking.”
“No, nor Gilles, either.” Linnet agreed with a sigh. “But I cannot help but wonder what lies ahead for us. Much as I love Gilles, I should hate to be parted from you.” She held out her hand, and Mechele grasped it firmly.
“We’ll have to trust them, and ourselves, Linnet. We’ve shared too much together to lose our friendship. Let’s not worry about tomorrow until tomorrow comes. Remember, we have tonight.”
And so two clean and excited women made their way through the twilight to the two equally clean and excited men who awaited them.
The Maltby estate lay quiet, as if to spare them any further embarrassment.
Truly, this night and these knights were for them alone.
* * * * *
Guy and Gilles were waiting.
Small lamps glowed in both cottages, sending a soft glow into the ever deepening night, darkness having finally decided it was time to do its job.
The women approached, nervously almost, yet with smiles of warmth and affection lighting their faces.
“Good evening, Guy, Gilles,” nodded Mechele, forgetting for a moment that her hair was unbound and she was wearing her night rail.
“Gentlemen,” greeted Linnet. “We have come.”
“Not yet,” growled Gilles, striding to Linnet.
Guy suppressed a snicker, and moved to Mechele’s side. “I’m glad you’re here, love,” he whispered.
She raised her face and allowed him to drop a quick kiss on her lips, then stood back and peeked around his large body.
“You have done wonders, Guy. I hardly recognize these cottages,” she murmured.
Gilles raised his head from Linnet’s as he greeted her in the best way he knew how.
“It is all thanks to your people, Mechele. We can’t take credit for this little miracle.”
“Really?” Linnet stared at the tidy little cottages and the soft lights glowing from inside. “How lovely. That does explain a few things…” She cocked an eyebrow at a grinning Mechele.
“It does indeed,” she answered.
Both men stepped back a bit and simultaneously reached into their pockets.
“We have small gifts for our ladies,” said Gilles in his most polished courtly manner.
They withdrew their hands and produced twin mounds of glittering stuff, which drew the girls close.
“What is it?” breathed Mechele, just touching Guy’s hand with one finger.
“How pretty,” added Linnet.
“They are called hand-flowers, love. Here, let me show you…” and Guy held up his hand to reveal two short sections of delicate chain mail.
He pulled Mechele’s hand towards him and wrapped a plain band of mail around one wrist. Then he grasped the other and slipped a ring of mail over her middle finger. The links on this one spread out into a second bracelet which he fastened around her wrist. In the center, a small green flower had been cunningly mounted, and Mechele’s eyes sparkled as she raised her hands aloft and stared.
“How very lovely,” she breathed.
“Gorgeous, just gorgeous,” murmured Linnet, watching the red stones on her hand catch the remaining light.
“They come from the east, I believe. Modeled after some slave restraint or other. We’ve had them for some time now,” said Guy, moving close to Mechele.
“Never found the right woman to share them, though,” said Gilles, eyes fixed on Linnet.
The men closed the distance and took their women in their arms.
Gilles pulled Linnet’s hands around either side of his waist into a warm hug.
There was a little snick and Linnet found herself locked to his chest, her wrists tethered by the small catch which dangled from one of the flowers.
She glanced uncertainly at Mechele.
Mechele’s hands were behind her, and Guy was in front of her, holding her tight and snapping a similar lock.
He moved back, eyes alight. “You are now our slaves,” he grinned. “Captured by two brave knights, solely for our pleasure.”
Mechele’s arms strained as she realized her predicament.
Gilles rubbed his body against Linnet’s, knowing she was trapped to him and loving every minute of it.
“We’ll bid you goodnight, my friends,” he said, carefully turning Linnet and walking her gently backwards into their cottage.
“‘Til the morrow, then,” answered Guy, pulling Mechele’s shoulders as they hurried to their own sanctuary.
Two solid doors swung smoothly shut, and two bolts were thrown home with a sat
isfying clack.
And within minutes, Mistress Linnet Aylmer found herself naked, aroused and being plundered up against the huge beam that supported the roof of Sir Gilles deSoleil’s private quarters.
His cock could wait no more, it seemed, for its heat was even now buried to the hilt inside her as he took her weight in his hands, thrust himself into her standing up, and brought her to the most dizzying release she could ever remember.
It took even less time for Mistress Mechele Trenowyth to find herself stretched out naked across a raised pallet, smelling of pine and herbs, her hands secured to the wall and her buttocks presented to Sir Guy Northbridge.
Who was administering a wonderfully arousing spanking to that naked bottom, bringing warmth and tears of pleasure to her cunny, and a red glow to her white flesh. While she could have enjoyed this treatment to its fullest, Guy, apparently, could not.
After mere minutes of his gentle punishment, he too found himself plunging into that enticing cunny, which glistened and begged him to make himself at home.
His strokes were long and deep, and brushed against Mechele’s womb, making her groan and writhe and cry out as he plundered her very soul.
Their release came together and once more harsh cries of release filled the night air and disturbed the squirrels nesting in the thatch that covered the two small roofs.
Unbeknownst to each other, two knights shared the same thought at almost the same moment as the squirrels rustled and fussed.
“The hell with ‘em. Let them find their own pleasure.”
Chapter 14
It would have been natural to suppose that, after a night of loving the likes of which neither Linnet nor Mechele could have dreamed of in their wildest fantasies, that the lovers would sleep late.
But as was their wont, both Guy and Gilles rose with the sun. Of course, they did seize the opportunity for a quick reinforcement of their sensual techniques, but before the cock had finished his morning ritual of announcing a new day, both men had left their beds, slipped their women back into the redundant night rails which had indeed spent the night in useless piles on the floor, and ushered them out into the sunrise.
Both Mechele and Linnet staggered from their cottages, blinking, stunned, sated, and wondering exactly where the hell they were.
Guy and Gilles shared identical smiles that blended passion, love, affection and humor. And also a great deal of male pride.
It was their cocks that had rendered these two strong women weak at the knees, their rough cheeks that had brought a flush to their bodies, and their tongues that had sent them screaming over the edge of bliss uncounted times.
Yes, it had been a night well spent.
But the morning had arrived, and today it was time to seal the fate of one cunning bastard.
Guy and Gilles were ready. Their need to finish this business and get on with their lives was growing within them. The knights were gearing up for battle.
They sent their women back to the house with loving kisses and longing touches, but both knowing it was time for action, now, and that future pleasures would seem all the sweeter once this business had been settled.
Then they retired to refresh and dress, each busy with his thoughts, plans and ideas for what lay ahead.
Mechele and Linnet, however, had a very difficult time trying to think at all.
“My God,” muttered Linnet, as she made her shaky way through the silent rooms of Maltby.
“Dear Lord,” agreed Mechele, grabbing on to a table for a moment as her legs threatened to give way beneath her.
They shared a glance and giggled.
“Look at the two of us,” groaned Mechele. “Anyone would think we’d been riding for days…”
“I feel like I have,” quipped Linnet, laughingly.
“Yes, now you come to mention it, my bum is decidedly sore.” Mechele rubbed a hand over her buttocks, and a secretive grin crossed her face. “We must not tarry, though. Time is wasting and I want this whole Lymington thing finished.”
Nodding her agreement, Linnet followed her cousin and braced her shoulders against what the day was to bring.
Clouds studded the bright sky, and dappled shadows over the courtyard as two large horses clattered across it to stop before the front doors of Maltby Abbey.
The servants within eyeshot stopped dead, taking in the sight of the two men riding atop the great beasts.
The huge shires had been brushed until they shone, even the tufts of hair that nearly covered their hooves was soft and white.
But the men astride them were even more eye catching. At least to the maids, anyway.
Guy’s black hair tumbled onto his shoulders, and his gray eyes were alight with some fierce emotion, as he watched for his lady to join him.
Gilles’ hair caught the sun and turned to a glittering gold, matched only by the glitter of his bright blue eyes as they, too, looked for the woman who would ride before him.
Both had retrieved their remaining clothes from their packs, and wore clean but simple shirts, laced to the neck, but the homespun breeches had given way to soft leathers, and they both sat tall as they awaited their women.
No one could now mistake them for anything other than what they were.
The Knights Elemental.
The doors swung open, and the women emerged, a little self consciously, yet clearly eager to join their men.
“Saints,” laughed Mechele, stunned at the sight of Guy atop a cart horse. “We are to ride him?”
“For the moment, yes,” murmured Guy, a sensually wicked grin crossing his stern face.
Mechele blushed. She realized she’d been doing that a lot lately.
“Come on, Linnet. The day is wasting.” Gilles held out his hand to Linnet who was staring at the horse and the man and back to the horse.
“Umm…”
Gilles huffed out a laugh. “Use that block and give me your hand,” he ordered, pointing at the mounting block nearby.
After several mis-tries, and giggles, the women found themselves seated before their lovers, held fast by strong arms, and at a height that felt like miles from the ground.
Mechele smiled. “I’ll wager these cart horses are not what you’re used to,” she said as Guy clicked his heels and turned the lumbering beast towards Lymington.
“Their size is not far off that of our destriers, Mechele. Warhorses need to carry a man in full armor. It’s no light weight, I can assure you. Although these lads…” he clicked his heels again and flicked the reins, “Well, they will perhaps need more encouragement than my usual mount.”
Linnet rested back against Gilles, glad that they’d decided to use sheepskins for saddles this day. A pommel thrusting up where she was sitting right now would have been untenable.
In spite of herself, lurid thoughts crept into her mind and she flushed, forcing them away. “Well, it should not take long to reach Lymington,” she said, trying to control her errant thoughts. “Will we meet Lord Benstede, do you think?”
“You will most certainly meet Lord Benstede,” answered Guy, energetically urging his placid mount alongside the other couple.
For a while they rode two abreast, silently enjoying the day, and each with their own thoughts of what awaited them at Lymington.
In spite of the lethargic, stolid progress of their mounts, it took no more than thirty minutes before the first signs of habitation met their eyes, and a few minutes more brought them to Lymington’s front door.
“The place has changed,” murmured Mechele, looking around her.
“And not for the better,” added Linnet.
Two very surprised stable boys found themselves holding the reins of two giant plow horses as the men dismounted and caught their companions as they slid into their arms.
As one, they turned to the steps of Lymington’s home and walked slowly up the broad stone staircase.
The doors were open, and they entered, finding a servant and asking for Lord Benstede and the Baron himself.
They were directed to a sunny room to await the arrival of the two gentlemen.
Mechele grasped Guy’s hand, and he squeezed it. “Not to worry, love. We have things well in hand.” He smiled down gently at her, giving her hand an additional squeeze to reinforce his small joke.
The door opened and Lymington stalked into the room, followed moments later by Lord Benstede himself.
“What’s the meaning of this?” huffed Lymington, glaring at the two women as if horrified that they were in his presence.
“You dared bring those two…two…sluts into this house?”
Guy’s mouth tightened. By the Saints, he was ready to skewer this brute.
Gilles stepped forward. “They come as our guests, my Lord. And of course, seeing as we ride for Lord Benstede, that makes them his guests as well.”
Lymington subsided with a grunt, glowering at Mechele and Linnet.
Guy smiled coldly. Already, Lymington was unsettled. Good.
Lord Benstede moved to the group and lightly touched Gilles’ shoulder. “I am glad to see you both well, lads. Will you make these ladies known to me?”
Gilles performed the introductions quietly, introducing first Mechele as Sir Dunstan’s niece, and then Linnet, her cousin.
“Faugh, my Lord,” interrupted Lymington. “I apologize for this. These wenches are the ones who have caused so much trouble. They certainly should not be here, and especially not in this room. They should be back at their cooking fires, where I judge…” he held his nose in disgust, “They’ve been spending most of their time. They stink of it.”
He turned away and opened a window.
Guy’s bile threatened to rise and choke him, but a little tremor in Mechele’s hand which was still buried in his overrode his fury and brought out his need to protect her.
“If you would, my Lord,” he said calmly, beckoning Lord Benstede nearer.
Curious, Benstede drew closer.
“They do indeed smell of smoke,” finished Guy, raising an eyebrow at his liege.
Benstede drew in a breath, paused, then leaned even closer to the two girls and sniffed again.
His eyes narrowed. “‘Tis not the stink of cooking fires, I smell. Ladies, you have suffered through a fire of another nature, I would guess.”