**The Retainer**
"I would like to request an audience with King John."
"For what?" the Retainer asked in a rough manner that suggested the young woman wasn't going to get an audience no matter what.
"I have some skills with a pen, numbers, and language" Antoinette said, doing her upmost to keep her voice clear and profession and not let it descend into a whining plead as it wanted to. "I was hoping to find some employment with the King."
The irony wasn't lost on Antoinette. Throughout her childhood, King John had been an antagonist. His incursions on French soil were frequent and known for their brutality. Her father had fortified the French defenses and always managed to turn the English scum back. Yet, he had never predicted that his demise would come from his own blood kin. He had been killed by his brother and the whole blood line had been methodically wiped out. There was no one left but Antoinette. She took flight to the safest place she knew...the heart of her enemy.
"Where are you from that they would teach a girl such things? Or are you some sort of witch? I warn you girl, the English know well how to deal with witches."
"No sir, I'm no witch. I'm God fearing." Antoinette said, hurriedly making the sign of the cross over her chest. These English were a backwards lot. She had forgotten just how much. Obtaining suitable employment might be harder than she thought. Worse, she could even be accused of witchcraft for even having knowledge of letters. "My father was a scribe. I learned from helping him when I was young."
"I reckon' he should have kept you in the kitchen with your mother," the Retainer said taking a document and putting it on the table in front of Antoinette. "Well, let's see just how scribed you are. What do you make of these here letters?"
Antoinette bit her tongue. How scribed? It wasn't even proper English and the man was English. Ignorant is what he was. Be that as it may, she summoned all the meekness she possessed, and tried to read the filthy manuscript in the dimly lit room. She moved it closer to the candle. "It says that the King had decreed the road tax be raised...-Sir what are you doing?"
The young woman was at a disadvantage. The Retainer had come up behind her while she was bending over the table to read and lifted her skirts up. Worse he was at that moment making short work of her bodice and her undergarments.
"You are a little old for the King's taste," the Retainer said. "From the look of you, you have a fine body under all this material...and a tight arse. But, I'll wager that it won't be so tight after I'm done with it."
"Sir," Antoinette pleaded. "Unhand me at once. Do you have any idea who I am?" At one time she was a Princess and this rotten curr would have faced execution for even having thoughts of doing such as this. However, Antoinette was no longer a Princess, she was nothing at all right now. She was wanted and there was a price on her well-bred head. Her fine clothes had become dirty and ragged in her long journey from France. Worse, she was weak from a lack of food and proper nutrition.
"My-my I was right after all. You are a comely enough wench ... in need of a good lesson," the retainer said. "I suggest you kneel down and apply some lubrication to my staff, because I intend on lodging it firmly in your innards. My learned little scribe, I have you know I've turned some of the worst whores that work the wharf into honest women after giving them a good buggering, so I imagine I'll be able to teach you your place."
"Please sir, I know my place." Antoinette begged doing her best to wriggle out from the hard calloused hands that held her captive. She was no match for this man and his dirty fingers - groping her and making short work of her vestments. "Let me be. I'm not the sort."
"I dare say you won't be the sort of girl that goes around saying she knows her numbers and letters when I'm done with you either, but the sort who knows the difference between a dirty dish and a mop bucket," the Retainer said. "Now put some spit on it or I'll take you dry."
Antoinette knelt down in front of the miserable cur. His breeches were swollen at the crotch. She was already in fear as she unbuttoned his flap, he hadn't been lying, he was hung like a stallion. She began to shake in fear as she took it in her hand and it still continued to grow. It's girth was such that she could not wrap her dainty fingers about it. It was several hands long, knobby with a curved shape, and capped with a bulbous head.
To make matters worse, he smelled bad, like a wet dog. Yet, she held her breath and stuck out her tongue for a man for the first time...and used her tongue to wet the hateful appendage, knowing where it would ultimately come to rest. How far she had fallen, once a princess, and now on her knees for this .... this rotten cur. She might be able to get out of this with her virginity intact, but it was going to come at a huge price.
"Now let's see if a learned lady squeals any different from a common whore," the retainer grinned, as he pulled the petite young woman up by her hair and promptly bent her over the desk, holding her down by her neck. Then he spit in the crack of her tight little arse and rubbed it in with a well calloused finger.
Antoinetted tried to fight the digit's progress up her tight arsehole, but her muscles were no match for his cruel finger. Worse, if just his small finger was difficult to accommodate, how was she going to manage his monster of a cock? She did the only thing she could think to do; she began to thrash and shriek.
"Your squirming brings the milk to my bollucks," he said. "And soon your cries will be quieted when I plant my cock in your belly."
The girl fought well. She couldn't scratch or bite in her bent position, but she squirmed and dodged the monster at her door with great vigor.
The retainer kept lining up his rigid phallus with it's intended target and pushing home. He had connected several times, but hadn't quite managed to force his way into her innards. But he had played this game many times before. They always sought to delay the inevitable, but even the hardest fighting and most flexible wench would make a mistake, and would arch her back and attempt to dodge his hard stave. It was then that he would push it home, and she would have no where left to run except impaling herself further on his cock.
However, Antoinette had already guessed at his game. He had come close to taking her several times already. The ring of her ass still throbbed from the missed attempts. She was no common English slut, but a well bred French Princess. If this English curr succeeded, he was going to ruin her, of that she was certain. So, she arched her back and moved her ass up knowing full well he was going to try to take her. But this time she had locked her hands on the edge of the desk.
The Retainer grinned seeing his intended target presented for him. Such a tight little bud, already red from his earlier attempts. Oh, he was looking forward to this. Without further thought, he plunged his hips forward.
Upon hearing the Retainer's triumphet cry, Antoinette pulled with all her might, pulling herself out of his reach, but she wasn't finished yet. She kicked back like a mule and prayed for the best.
It had been a fun game watching the little slip of a girl climbing over the desk. Her wriggling and squirming had made his bollocks fill to the brim. Oh the retainer was going to enjoy this little slip of a wench with her slim hips and tight ass. He was going to take her more than once. The first fuck would be something else. A virgin hole milking his bollocks. She would cry at first, but then would come to terms with it. Would go limp, grunting with each pistoning thrust. Then he would fill her to the brim with come.
After, she would think it was over. She would get up and smooth down her skirts. She would find it difficult to stand and walking would be painful. He wouldn't let her leave until she cleaned off his cock. She would make such a face, but she would do it, if only to get out and have it done with. To get away from him. Then his stave would begin to harden again. Knowing what was coming, she would begin to cry.
The second time he took that tight arse, he would make her do some of the work. Oh, this squirming little vixen wouldn't think so now, but she would if he threatened to bugger her thrice. Which he was going to to anyway. He would do it again and again until she finally learned her place. Letters and numbers...for fun he was going to make this little minx count the number of times he buggered her tight arse. So intent was he on his fantasy, that he didn't even see her foot as she reared back like a donkey and it struck home. All he knew was that his already full bollucks exploded in pain driving him down to his knees.
"You will pay dearly for that girl," he groaned. After he was done with her and he wouldn't be done for some time, he wouldn't be content with knocking her down a peg or two. Now, he was going to take her to the docks himself sell her for a few silver.
But Antoinette had no intention of waiting for that to happen. She ran from the room as fast as she was able, not even bothering to lace back up again. To hell with being a lady. Self-preservation drove her actions. And drove her directly into a woman walking down a corridor.
"Pardon me ma'am," Antoinette said. She was already getting to her feet and was ready to run again, not even thinking to help the woman up. Then she felt an iron grip around her neck. Thinking it was the retainer she shouted,"Unhand me you rotten man." Then to the guard that was helping the woman she had knocked down. "Help me. Don't let him get me."
"Your majesty," said the voice behind her. "What would you like done with her? A flogging? The stockade?"
The stockade? The thought made Antoinette shake with fear. She had heard tales of the stockade...morever what went on at night while the person was unable to defend themselves. A trusted few friends could keep the predators as bay. But she had no friends. And she wasn't making any now, not after having bowled over the Queen.
The Queen eyes flashed angrily at the young woman in front of her. "Whore," she spat. "Look at you running around in a state of undress. I think some time on the stocks should teach her a good lesson."
Antoinette blushed a bright crimson. She wanted desperately to lace her bodice, but her arms were being held behind her back. Worse, she had been taken for a woman of loose morals, and she was anything but.
"Your Highness," Antoinette pleaded. "I was accosted by the Retainer. I merely wanted audience with the King to seek employment."
"What sort of employment?" the Queen sneered. "Court whore?"
"No Highness," Antoinette said. "I thought interpreter or scribe."
"There you are whore!" a voice boomed.
Antoinette flinched as she heard the voice of the Retainer.
"Your pardon highness," the Retainer said, growing much more polite upon seeing the Queen. "I see that you have this well in hand....I was - I was chasing this wench that managed to slip into the castle."
