Leofric and Godiva

This is my entry for Literotica's Nude Day 2021 contest - enjoy and please remember to rate it!

Leofric and Godiva

Sir Leofric marched into the throne room and, when he was bidden, knelt before the King of England, Denmark and Norway, Cnut the Great. It was impossible for Leofric to tell whether he was to be rewarded or beheaded, such was the inscrutability of the new king's face. The knight had performed well in the wars, but performance was no guarantee of reward.

Kings were viciously unpredictable things, in his view. King Aethelred had given Leofric's eldest brother Northman a prominent earldom in Mercia. When Aethelred fell and King Cnut took his place, the new king rooted out the perpetrators of various schemes that had threatened the crown. Ealdorman Eadric, one of the more venomous snakes in the earldoms, was killed at the palace when he visited London for Christmas. On King Cnut's orders, Eadric's body was thrown over the city wall and left unburied.

Leofric's brother Northman and another man were with Eadric at the time, and though there was no evidence they were in league with Eadric, they also were killed in the incident. Leofric could easily see his eldest brother coming to the aid of a man under attack, but he refused to believe any of the rumors spread that Northman was taking bribes from Eadric. Northman was loyal to the crown and it had made him a powerful man... but too much power could put as a target on your back as well as treachery could.

Leofric's knee twinged as he waited, kneeling on the hard, cold stone, an injury from the wars that only hindered him when he wasn't on horseback, which was seldom. Harold, his massive Shire and Fresian mix horse, was the envy of many. Smarter than any horse had the right to be, Harold had saved his life more times than Leofric could count. He wondered what would happen to Harold, if King Cnut had decided to make a clean sweep of his family line.

"You are... handsome man to ladies, yes?" the king said brokenly in his lilting Danish accent, startling Leofric out of his thoughts. It was rare for the king to speak English, preferring the more cultured tongues of his advisors' translations of his Danish speech. Leofric looked around to see whom the king was addressing and was surprised to see the king's light blue eyes scrutinizing him. Leofric was somewhat versed in the rules of holding court, but he honestly couldn't think of an appropriate answer to the strange question.

"Sire?" Leofric asked, hoping not to have to answer.

King Cnut waved his hand dismissively to the hall where courtiers gathered and exchanged gossip and planned their intrigues. "Their eyes. They follow you. They speak to each other when you pass. You do not see this?"

Leofric glanced toward the hall. He had seen. Ever since Northman had been killed, he assumed the looks and the whispers were the offspring of the rumors spread to turn Northman's murder into an act of King Cnut's justice, rather than any particular admiration for his countenance or bearing. He was nothing but a wounded knight of the realm, now. Not that he could admit any of these thoughts to the king. "I am simply a knight, Sire. I try to keep my mind on my duties," he answered.

"Words of... handsome man," King Cnut snorted, then leaned over and nodded to his advisor nearby.

"Sir Leofric, His Highness wishes to convey to you his understanding of and admiration for your loyal and admirable performance in his service. It is his expressed intention to grant you the peerage of Earl Hákon upon his death, and until such time, he hereby appoints you as Ealdoman of Twywell." Leofric's eyes went wide and darted to the king who was watching for his reaction. Northman had been Ealdoman of Twywell before his death, and now it was to be his at King Cnut's order? The king's face held no mirth, but simply a wistful gravity. It would effectively put an end to the whispers, the cloud that had darkened his family name Northman's questionable death. But, why?

"Sire... I am honored. I... I don't know what to say," Leofric said, bowing his head in thanks and missing the significant look between the king and his advisor.

"There is, of course, a small matter with which His Highness would ask your assistance ere you assume your peerage. Perhaps you have heard of a small town in the West Midlands called... Coventry?

*** *** ***

On the road to Coventry, Leofric scowled and gave Harold another kick to urge him faster. Harold, unaccustomed to such treatment, turned his head and looked at him disapprovingly. Kicking was for lesser horses, in Harold's mind. Leofric ignored him. He was too annoyed with himself for failing to reject King Cnut's offer outright. Oh, just a small matter in Coventry before you get everything you need to clear your honor and family name... what a load of bollocks.

King Cnut upon assuming the throne, besides routing out insidious plots against the Crown, had also discovered that the charming village of Coventry was "slightly delinquent in paying its taxes..." Yeah, right. Coventry was years delinquent in paying their taxes. They practically considered themselves another country.

Apparently, the last few tax collectors the King had sent to remind Coventry of their duties to the Crown were sent back bearing letters congratulating the King on his latest lavish expenditures on wars, naval fleets, and the latest London fashions, and requesting that an itemized list of expenditures that benefitted the landlocked West Midlands be sent, and at that time, Coventry would most happily pay taxes that were proportionate to the Crown's expenditures. The King's tax collectors had also been sent back relieved of the burden of their pants.

"I understand, Sire. Give me a regiment and I'll have them in order. Who is the disloyal overlord?" Leofric said, standing as the King bid him.

"The letters were signed 'The Lady Godgifu, Countess of Mercia,'" the King's advisor said, looking uncomfortable, "She is possessed of many lands in the area and the people are unfailingly loyal to her. What is more, she has the devoted support of the church, to whom she has been consistently and excessively generous. An armed conflict would likely end very badly for all. We believe it would be better to handle the matter with more... delicacy... than a regiment of soldiers might endeavor," the advisor concluded.

"A regiment of pants! So expensive!" chortled the King.

"So, you want me to go there alone... with nothing?" Leofric said, incredulous.

"She is widow. You go with handsome face. This is enough," the King said waving dismissively.

"Sire, forgive me, but I am not a man of a temper to woo--"

"And as a wedding gift for your nuptials to the Countess Godgifu, you shall be granted the Earldom of Mercia and all of its privileges. His Highness has written to the Countess and advised her of your coming at his behest. We will see you fitted out properly for attire ere you go. The Countess is most careful about propriety," the advisor finished.

"And bathed much, yes. The ladies, they like this," the King added, nodding sagely.

Leofric angrily threw the core of the apple he was eating into the woods nearby. Un-fucking-believable. He was a knight! Perhaps not as able as he once was, but he had worked tirelessly in service to the Crown and now he was being sent off to flatter a rich old shrew that he was to take to wife like he was no better than a common whore! The insult was not to be bourne! Of course, they knew he would jump at the chance, too. His honor handed back to him on a silver platter by the King, himself. What was worse, was that he had no other option. His loyalty would be in question if he refused a request made by the King himself. Leofric knew he had been played masterfully.

So incensed was he, that it was a while before Leofric realized that Harold had left the road and gone into the wood in search of the apple core he had discarded. "Harold, not now. I'll give you another apple later," he grumbled, pulling the reins around to turn back to the road and giving him another kick. Harold's ears flattened and he turned around and nipped Leofric's leg, refusing to turn from the wood. The stupid horse wasn't even sniffing the ground, though, seeming to follow an entrancing scent in the air.

"Fine, you find our way to Coventry without the road. Everyone says you're smarter, anyway," Leofric said, dismounting and walking alongside the beast, needing to stretch his legs. The wood was secluded, but not dense, allowing patches of sunlight to lighten the floor of the lush forest. Cursing himself for leaving the caravan carrying the rest of his belongings, he took a piece of dried meat from his pack and wondered how far they were from the town.

That was when he heard the voice. High and yet rich, clear as a bell, and joyfully free. He wondered how long it had been since he had heard a woman singing like that. As a soldier at war, he heard women crying out for help, wailing in despair, begging for money. At court, he heard the careful polished tones of practiced beauty, but nothing even coming close to this. It was pure and simple, without a care in the world.

He followed the voice deeper into the wood, Harold at his side, still sniffing the air. As he drew closer, the sound of the voice was mixed with the sound of water splashing. Slowing, Leofric approached a clearing where the sunlight penetrated the forest to shine down upon a clear pond, in the middle of which swam a woman wearing nothing more than what God had given her.

He watched her turn onto her back and float in the water, arms and legs spread wide. Her skin fairly shone in the sunlight, pale and beautiful. Her breasts bobbed happily above the surface, nipples hard and erect, her long hair spread out in the water like a golden aura around her. She closed her eyes and continued singing with that voice that made the war hardened things inside him go soft.

Forgetting all else, Leofric pulled off his boots, leather tunic and leggings and left them in a heap next to a tree. Then silently, careful not to disturb the water, he swam out to the middle of the pond and began floating next to her. He smiled, feeling the waters swirl about the hairs covering his body, ticklish and gentle. Closer now, he could not only hear her voice, but also her gentle breaths, even the soft crackle of her mouth as her lips formed the words of the song.

Her voice relaxed him and he closed his eyes, waiting for her to discover his presence, wondering how she would react. She wasn't a girl, virginal and inexperienced. Such tedious creatures scream at any possible overture for play, even when they desire it. This was a woman, with rounded hips and full breasts. Such a woman bathing nude, alone, in the forest... she had other options, Leofric thought.

A woman was more free of the expectations of purity that were forced upon young unmarried women, free of fear of a man's body and how it might make her feel, free of the pressure to rigidly make every choice correctly lest her future hopes be dashed by the consequences of impropriety. Such a woman could choose more easily to indulge in a lusty interlude, if it presented itself appealingly to her. That was his hope... to be chosen, enjoyed. War presented men many opportunities for lust, but few for true choice, pure enjoyment. Too many haggard women, suffering through a giving a man relief for a few coppers, rather than someone choosing to spoil themselves with a naughty treat. Nothing depressed him more than being seen as a distasteful chore to suffer through, only to briefly relieve starvation.

Now, the distasteful chore was his to do. What a joke his life had become. Until he'd heard the voice in the wood, he'd forgotten what--wait, where was the voice? Frowning, he opened his eyes to see large green eyes encircled with wet lashes staring at him in... bemusement? "Can I help you?" he asked her, watching her eyes look him over, more curious than afraid.

"You're a soldier..." she said, eyes taking in the healed scars on his face, lingering on his shoulder that had taken a lance a few months back.

"A knight," he clarified, wishing he could be standing. Lying in the water was so passive, not displaying his offerings to their best advantage, and he found himself wanting to do well in in this beguiling creature's inspection.

"Perhaps once, but not now," she murmured, running her hand down his thigh to rest near his wounded knee, a look of pained concern on her face. Leofric resisted the impulse to pull his vulnerable joint away from her touch. She wasn't hurting him, but it would be easy for her to do so. "Someone has taken great pains to pretty you up, recently, though," she said, taking his hand in hers and running her thumb over his fingernails that had been smoothed and scrubbed carefully by the king's attendants.

Leofric righted himself in the water, still letting her hold his hand, and cleared his throat. "I'm on an... errand... for the King. His Highness believes the Lady Godgifu, Countess of Mercia, would benefit from... counsel," he said, hesitating to be explicit about his humiliating task to woo a pious, rich, widow with nothing but some new foppish clothes and his man-pretty face. God in Heaven, he could barely admit it to himself, much less to this bewitching nymph that was treading water before him.

The woman's face subtly danced with a suppressed smile, and Leofric struggled to keep himself from pulling her into his arms. She wasn't fleeing, she wasn't screaming, and she was obviously reluctant to stop touching or looking at him. He found himself wondering how her body would feel against his in the weightless water, her wet, pouting lips against his. She actually drew nearer to him, reaching up to touch his face, "Does the King suppose the Lady Godgifu cannot tolerate a bearded man in her presence..." she asked, stroking his newly shaven face, "or one with the long and untamed hair of a man at war?" Her small hand reached back and her fingers stroked into his carefully trimmed wet locks.

She must have been a good deal shorter than him, he realized, though treading in the water had brought them face to face. Her arms were slight, but strong, and having wrapped them loosely around his shoulders, he now felt her soft naked body brushing against his. Caution still bid him to leave the woman her freedom, though, and he refrained from sliding his hands up her slender waist, though the temptation to do so was maddening.

"The King means for you to entreat her Ladyship into marriage, doesn't he?" the woman said quietly with a note in her voice not of derision, but compassion. Leofric looked aside, having difficulty meeting her eyes. At this response, she continued, "After all you have suffered in his service, instead of honoring you, he reduces the rest of your lifetime into nothing but a convenient remedy for a political whim... I'm sorry you were treated that way," she murmured.

"It is not easy to rule a kingdom... I'm sure His Highness wishes he had other options," Leofric admitted, grudgingly.

"Did you have other options?" the woman asked, running her fingertips along his strong shoulders, seemingly fascinated with his body. "Why would you agree to such a task, if you find it so unwholesome?" she asked.

"It was the King's request, and I am a man of duty," he responded, allowing himself to put his hands on her waist at last, drawing her to him. "Though, admittedly, in return the King would... remedy a great wrong for my family," he said.

"Oh..." she whispered, her eyes lowered from his, seemingly troubled. "Then, I truly wish you every success... there is little the heart could not endure for the sake of family," she said, pressing against him now as he wrapped his arms around her. He felt the soft wet curls of her womanhood brushing his torso, his hot turgid member pressed against her thigh. "All these things taken into account, though... why are you here, Sir Knight, in a pond with me?" she asked, her warm breath falling on him in short pants.

"Perhaps, my heart could not endure missing the chance to meet you, Lady..." he murmured, leaning forward and tasting her lips with his. He felt her body tense with a quick intake of air, and then slacken as she surrendered to the pleasure. The kiss deepened and her legs wound around him tightly, their bodies sliding together as she fitted herself to him more intimately. "I'm going to lay you in yon patch of clover and do things to you that will make you confess your faith and scream my name," he rumbled.

"But I... I don't know your name," she panted.

"Sir Leofric, Ealdoman of Twywell at your service, milady," he said, lifting her higher and taking her breast in his mouth, sucking on it, tasting the clear water mixed with the slight musk of her flesh. He felt her moan and shiver, arching her back to present herself to him more easily. With a grunt of approval, Leofric sucked greedily, rolling her nipple with his tongue, and feeling her squirm against him in pleasure. "Have I your consent?" he asked, releasing her from his mouth with a soft pop.

"I do... wait, no... I mean, you do... I mean...wait, what do I mean?" she asked, writhing against him in her need, now. "Yes, let's swim to shore and fuck," she said, squeaking as he took her other breast in his mouth and tugged on it gently with his teeth.

"No need, milady," he said, putting his feet to the bottom of the pond and standing up in the water, "I will be your trusty steed, if you are of the humor to ride me," he laughed quietly.

"Good Lord you're tall," she gasped looking down and clinging to him, "Don't drop me... I still have many things to do before I die."

"I like a busy woman," he laughed, and their lips met again as he started for the edge of the pond with long urgent strides, the extra weight paining his knee, but on this occasion, he couldn't care less.

Leofric carried her to where the dappled sunlight lit a thick carpet of clover near an old oak tree and without releasing her, lowered himself to the ground. Immediately, she lifted up and positioned herself over his manhood, but he stopped her. "Nay, do not rush so, milady. You've just been in water, and you're not prepared to take me yet. Turn around and let me ready you," he told her.

Her mouth opened and she appeared ready to argue with him, no doubt to protest that she was no untried virgin, but then he led her eyes with his down to the girth and length of the manhood straining under her. He chuckled as her eyes widened, her mouth closed, and she turned around and straddled his face without another word.

He sighed with pleasure, examining the delicate folds of the rich pink flower she presented him. He loved this position, the way it placed her so perfectly for him, the way the globes of her round white bottom danced so freely for him, and the way it would force her legs to remain apart for him, even when her body was clenching and spasming in ecstasy.

He leaned up and stroked his tongue up and down her slit, tasting nothing but the water. The lady obviously kept herself clean, but also the water had washed away her natural lubrication. She would have been hurt badly if she had tried to fit him inside her like this, he thought. Women... too many of them all too ready to forego their own pleasure in the face of a man's urgent desire. Did they not know that their pleasure feeds a man's, as well? With a growl, he dove into her petals and made love to her with his mouth.

Leofric was no novice when it came to bringing a woman around with his mouth and before long, her gasps had turned to wails and he tasted her wet response to him, salty and tart and with a growl, he greedily lapped it away. He was in no hurry and he knew he could bring her around to give him more. He would last forever to coax this woman to give him more of her heady nectar, and the pleasure of it took his mind off his own need.