Date: Sat, 22 May 1999 08:50:54 -0700
From: Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Subject: Squire of Carlovain, Chapter 2

			    SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN
				 Chapter 2

			 "A Most Practical Woman"
			   by Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

     Andrew awoke a bit later with a bump on his head.  "Ooh!" he groaned,
seeing his mother's feet standing nearby him.  As her only son, he
naturally expected her to ply him with words of comfort and pity, demeaning
to the adult ego perhaps, but welcomed eagerly by the inner child.
     But he was completely ignored.  His mother was jabbering away.  "Oh,
Your Majesty, you must let me put you in one of our rooms instead of this
small cubby."
     "But I assure you, goodwoman, that I am quite comfortable here.  Your
son is coming around and I am certain I heard his head strike a fearsome
blow on this little table for the candle."
     "Oh, he'll be fine!  Are you warm enough, Your Majesty?  I can bring
you the covers from our bedroom next door.  Then I'll go and fetch you some
of my husband's clothes, his Sunday clothes, they aren't much but they'll
work well enough."
     "No, madam, I am overly warm rather than otherwise."
     Andrew sat up and looked at his mother, who was in the ludicrous act
of tucking his bedcovers around the King as if he were a small child.  The
King was looking at him helplessly.  Andrew essayed a smile, and grimaced
as the pain in his head renewed.  He touched it gingerly, brought away a
dot of blood, but no worse.  He had torn open the skin, but his skull was
quite intact.  The bump was the size of a small egg, assuming the small egg
were only one-third protruding.  And the rest burrowing into his brain...
"Oooh!" he repeated.
     "Goodwoman, your son." the King said.  "You should tend to him."
     "You're right." his mother turned.  "Andrew, go and fetch your
father's Church clothes.  The blue tunic and pants.  And get up and be
quick about it!  This is no time to be lying around idle!"
     And his mother turned back to the King, who had used her short
preoccupation to loosen the covers slightly.  She spotted this and
proceeded to re-tuck them beneath his body.
     The King again looked at Andrew helplessly, and Andrew turned to go
away, remembering only at the last moment to turn and bow before exiting
the room.  He went into his parent's room, barely larger than his, but
possessing a proper wardrobe for the clothes.  His father was asleep and
snoring in there, taking his usual afternoon nap and, as usual, totally
unaffected by the commotion next door.  More than a brief rest, he usually
slept for some hours in the afternoon, making this up by remaining active
until the tavern closed on its last occupant.  Andrew let him sleep.  It
was the work of a moment to fetch his father's Sunday suit.  He took it
inside and saw the King was alone, eating the bread and cheese he had
brought up.
     "Where is my mother, Sire?"
     "I sent her after some ale." the King said around a mouthful of food.
     "You wished a drink, Sire?"
     The King smiled, swallowed.  "Mostly, I wished her away from me.  Her
fetching the ale has accomplished that."
     "I have never seen her act like that before." Andrew wondered aloud.
Then he blushed at the familiarity.  "Forgive me, Sire."
     "And I have never seen you act like this before." the King said.  "I
am so tired of this bowing and scraping.  You treated me as an equal
before, even though you spotted my noble heritage.  Pray, continue to do
so, for no doubt a new King of Carlovain is being selected from the peerage
even as we speak.  From among the French lords, of course."
     "Of course." Andrew frowned.
     "It will mean civil war." the King agreed.  But if I can get safely
away, I can make alliances which will bring troops and support for the
Neresterii lords and such of the French lords that remain loyal to me.  For
now, I must remain hidden.  Your treating me as a man rather than my office
will assist in that greatly.  For the sake of all of Carlovain, Andrew,
look me in the eyes once more!  Be not my subject, but my friend."
     Andrew looked and smiled shyly.  That wonderfully handsome face, he
remembered the kisses that it had given him, and that he had taken.  "Your
friend I am, and that before I knew your lineage."
     "Which makes it doubly precious." the King agreed and put out his
hand.  "How much have I longed for a friend such as you."
     Andrew knelt down, took it and kissed it.  He would have kissed the
back of it, as a subject should, but the King turned it before he could do
so, and instead it was the palm that Andrew's lips found.  The fingers
stroked his face.  Daring, Andrew took the index finger and drew it into
his mouth, tasting the rich texture of skin that had never done with little
or no food, and had meat every day rather than on Sundays and Holy Days
only.
     The King sat the plate of bread and cheese on the small table by
Andrew's bed.  "Come into the bed with me, my friend, and we shall share
our bodies more.  I have not forgotten your promise that I could be first
to show you the ways of making love."
     "Gladly will I let your body be the first to take me." Andrew agreed.
     And of course, that was the instant when his mother entered the room
with the ale .  Andrew blushed and rose to his feet.
     "Wonderful!" his mother gushed.  "Oh, my son, how very wonderful!"
     "Mother?" Andrew wondered.
     "I heard.  To have him as your first lover, how blessed a gift to
bestow upon a King." his mother enthused.  "Sire, your drink, our finest
mead.  Take it and drink well, for it will give you strength to make love
to my son."  She attempted to present it to him, he motioned her to place
it on the table by the bed.
     Andrew heard these astonishing words and superstitious fear arose
within him.  "Foul spirit, I command you to depart and let my mother
return!" he spoke the formula.
     The King laughed uproariously.
     "Andrew, how can you say such a thing to your own mother!" she
protested.
     "How can my own mother say such a thing?" Andrew riposted.
     "You haven't heard all of it yet, lad." the King said, still
chuckling. "Soon you'll recognize your mother's touch in all of this, if
she's the woman I think she is!"  And he laughed again.
     "I do not see the humor in this." Andrew protested.
     "Madam, you are offering me your son's virginity this day." the King
said.  "May I ask the price?"
     "Price?" Andrew blurted out.
     "The price for your still-untouched body without the sanctity of
marriage." the King assured him.  "What price do you set, goodwoman, for
your son's virtue?"
     "Fifty gold pieces." his mother said quickly, matter-of-factly.
     "Mother!"
     "It's a fair price!" his mother protested.  "I've heard it spoken of
at Church betimes, and that is the price the lords set for despoiling a
young maiden.  I think your virtue should carry at least as high a price as
that."  His mother took on a beseeching tone.  "My son, think of the things
we could buy with the money.  To pay the Church tithe is just the
beginning.  We could properly repair the damage of last winter's storms to
the inn, which would help us bring in a better class of customer.  You know
business has been slack ever since, and no wonder, from the outer look of
our buildings.  And your father could get some much-needed medicines to
help him with his pains.  Haven't you seen him gasp in pain often enough
that you would deny him the medicines for the sake of your pride?"
     Andrew looked at her as if at a stranger, and set his jaw.  "My body
is a gift I can bestow but once.  And I shall not sell it on the
marketplace like a, like a haunch of venison!"
     "But, son...."
     "No, not another word!" Andrew stormed.
     And his mother cowed before him!  He felt that he was in some sort of
mad dream, where the world and the roles of its inhabitants were
topsy-turvy and twisted.
     "You should reconsider that, lad." the King said.  "I have money
enough, or will when my men meet up with me.  Surely a few coins in your
mother's hand is a small enough thing."
     "Never!" Andrew said.  He looked at the King.  "Sire, I am humiliated
by my mother's greed.  I promised you this favor and asked for nothing but
my own pleasure in return, and that is the price you shall pay.  And not
one copper more!"
     "Your mother is a practical woman, lad." the King said, as if this all
was a matter of little import.  "You will come one day to search for such a
woman to be your wife, if you are smart.  Your father chose very wisely,
for look at the comfort he has attained even though he is crippled.  A weak
woman would have dragged him down into utter poverty.  Instead, you have
this inn, and a life of reasonable comfort.  It is your mother which has
done this.  Be grateful to her."
     The King looked at his mother.  "Now, goodwoman, you may leave us
until I call for you again." he proclaimed in a solemn voice, and she
curtsied low and left in a hurry.  The King turned that wonderfully gentle
smile on him once again.  "My friend, true and honorable.  If all my
retainers had been of your caliber, I would not now be fleeing for my
life."  The King pulled back the covers and Andrew saw the body once again,
long and white, the hairs striping him as the fabled animals of far-off
Africa must be.  So was the Lord of Carlovain transformed into a sleek
animal stalking him though appearing to lounge at its ease.
     "Now I pray, see me as just a man once again." the King said softly.
     Andrew looked, and a man was all he saw, the long, heavy organ rising
gracefully upwards over the strong, lithe body.  Kings were men, he
realized now in a way he never had before.  Leaders, yes, and wise, fully
worthy of trust and loyalty, but men just the same.  He licked his lips and
brought his hands up to his tunic.
     "Undress slowly, that I may watch." the King said softly.  "Let me
enjoy the pleasure of waiting."  The King picked up the ale from the table
and quaffed it.
     Andrew undid the lace tie at his throat and caught the bottom of the
tunic with both hands and brought it up slowly.  The King's eyes were alive
and hungry as he slowly raised the tunic, showing first his taut abdomen
with the pair of oval pads at either side which were his hips, and then
slowly up, letting his Majesty see his lower ribs and the beginnings of his
chest, paused, and then turned so that now his back was viewed and brought
the tunic up to his neck, letting his muscles move in unnecessary but
enticing ways, the muscles of the mid-back rippling under the triangular
shoulder muscles as he brought the tunic over his head.  Holding it to his
front, he turned back, to see a wide grin on his sovereign's face and he
slowly lowered the tunic, over his broad, ample breasts and now his
shoulders were bare, and now his biceps held taut and round as apples, and
then he let the tunic fall to the floor, and struck a pose.
     "Yes, lad, yes!" the King crooned to him.  "Raise those arms for me as
you did at the well, that I may observe this time from the fore, for that
was what enticed me to walk up to you there."
     Andrew raised his hands up, pulling his breasts into elongated
triangles as he lifted his arms up, hands clenched together so that his
arms, too, displayed.
     "Yes, ah, lad, now the trousers, more, lad, more!"
     Andrew smiled and snaked off his soft shoes with his toes of the
opposite foot, then reached for the tie of his trousers, undid them and
then pulled them out wide, lowered them.  These trousers were baggy in the
crotch for it was the practice to not do anything when relieving oneself
other than to pull the trousers away from front or rear to accomplish your
tasks, never lowering the trousers in the least.  Andrew did this, though
his cock was jutting out and snagging the fabric even here.  He used that
fact to lower the trousers down to show his pubic hair and just the top of
the base of his cock, then pulled the trousers back up.  Then he let the
trousers fall as they would and he was now nude before his King.
     "Oh, lad, you're a natural at this." the King sighed.  "Your
enticements are inflaming me!  I have fled the traps of the French to be
ensnared in your own!"
     "And I shall never release you." Andrew said.  "For you are now my
prisoner, O King of all Carlovain."
     "Such a wonderful lot, to be held by you." the King said, breathing
heavily.  "And now, I beg you to perform your tortures upon me, my body is
exposed for your blandishments."
     Andrew went over to the bed, his own bed and long familiar, yet now
holding a new aura to it.  It had always before been a place of rest and
repose, to be resorted to only upon fatigue, and now, it shone with the
promise of pleasures heretofore unknown.
     The King scooted over slightly, yet there was no way for Andrew to lie
beside him on this narrow bed, he lay next to and partially upon his
sovereign, and again the hairs of the King's body touched him all along its
length, and he kissed the white neck that stretched itself out to him while
his hands cupped the small breasts, and hair-covered arms crawled like
adders to encircle him and squeeze.
     Unlike the furtive love-making in the stable, Andrew felt no need now
for speed, and his body was partially satiated from the earlier episode.
Now he gave himself to the lesser pleasures of the body, to stroke this
man, his liege-lord, feel the smooth body tempered by exercise and yet soft
from living well, now pliable under his horned hands callused from the
labor in the fields.  King and humble subject, equals in this bed above the
kitchen of a ramshackle inn away from the sophisticated joys and dangers of
Heslov.
     He ran his hands again and again over the shoulders, feeling the King
shudder with pleasure as he did so, and King's own hands came up and found
his head, enmeshed his fingers into his hair, and pressed downwards upon
him.
     In this subtle way, the domination in the bed changed; Andrew
obediently let himself be pushed down, now the neck was out of reach and he
settled for the breasts, nursing the nipple as if nourishment flowed from
it, and it did, in the forms of sighing grunts from his lover.  And again
the hands pressed down on him.
     Lower Andrew went, and now the King's hot shaft was nestled in the
concavity between his breasts, a hot, burning shaft of potency, and Andrew
let his tongue play in the meadow of hair at the King's stomach, a soft
field of silken strands that brushed over his tongue as he lapped and
tasted the divine flavor of royal flesh.  And again the hands pressed down
on him.
     Now the shaft was at his face, pressing against his cheek, the precome
smearing on his temple, as Andrew kissed the copious hairs at the base of
the tower of imperial manhood.  His lips slathered themselves of their own
volition, and Andrew ran his mouth and tongue up the ramrod pillar of
velvet-coated steel, to moisten and lubricate the massive organ.
     The King groaned, and now those hands that had guided him were merely
along for the ride, for the King gave him his head the way a rider permits
a trusted steed to gallop without hindrance, so did Andrew race pell-mell
upon the cylinder of maleness, to slather the long shaft with his saliva,
tasting the powerful musky effluence that emanated from this blessed skin
of regal note.
     "Oh, now, my friend, my mate, my beloved, now, take it all if you
can." the King begged him.  "Bury my manhood within your warmth, to possess
it.  Ah, the only hiding place I crave now is the cavern of your mouth, my
wonderful subject, my friend, my life!"
     And again Andrew's mouth drooled into itself with no bidding from him,
and this extra moisture permitted him to obey his sovereign lord, he slid
the heavy organ into his mouth and the slick coating let him take it into
his throat, there to burrow within him until, blocked by the body below,
the penis totally within him, it could go no further though he struggled to
let it do so.
     "Ah, ah!" the King groaned.  "Hold it there, I beg of you, my friend,
hold it there but a moment."
     Andrew acquiesced, and they lay there in total stillness for a space,
Andrew not breathing even, and feeling in this stillness a peacefulness he
had never known before.  He wished that he had never to move again.
     Yet the King moved, and this was more than a withdrawal of this royal
prong from his mouth, the King rose up and Andrew looked up as the King
slid from beneath him.  "Now, lad, it is time for me to collect on your
promise." he said gently.  "Do rise up on all fours where you are, for it
will be easier upon you in this manner."
     Andrew obeyed, though this left his legs below the knees dangling off
the foot of his bed.  The King was standing now and moved to behind him and
Andrew felt the warm hands clutch his hips and pull him further back.
     "Now, lad, we begin the long journey of our desires." the King said
and Andrew felt then the impress of the King's cockhead at his nether
regions.
     The hairs of his anus swirled about angrily at being disturbed, a
presence he had never marked before.  Now they swarmed like so many bees in
stripes of roughness about his tender anus, and the King pressed inwards.
     Andrew gasped.  The King's penis was no monstrous thing, he had held
it in his mouth easily.  Why, then, did it feel like a massive club was now
pressing in upon him.  "Ah!" he called out.
     "Relax, lad, and know that I shall not harm you more than needful."
the King said.  "Call out if the pain becomes great, but I must have your
permission to inflict some small injuries upon your person."
     "Whatever you wish, Sire!" Andrew gasped out.
     "Am I now your King again?" the King asked as he pushed in further.
Now Andrew's anus was stretched to its limit.  And yet still, he felt more
beyond waiting entrance.
     "Oh, yes, Sire, always!" Andrew groaned.
     "If that makes it easier for you, then let it be." the King said.
"Yet it is your passion as a man that I desire more."  And the King's hand
reached under to grasp Andrew's pud and he gave it a few strokes.  "Let
your desire take you in its embrace, to guide your body through this.
Conscious thought is your enemy, underlying needs your ally.  Surrender to
them."
     "Ah, yes!" Andrew groaned.
     And again the King pressed into him and now there was an odd "popping"
feeling, as if a cork had pulled out of a bottle, that moment of release
though his ass was fuller than ever.
     "Now you have the head of it inside you." the King said.  "We shall
pause a space and let your body welcome it before I proceed."
     The King's hand again pumped Andrew's cock and Andrew moaned.  He had
the King's cock in his ass!  The Lord of all Carlovain was taking his body.
He had lived his life under this protection and now it was here, in the
very flesh, and joining with him!
     "Ah, Sire, my Lord, more, I beg of you, more!" Andrew groaned.
     "So I am King." the King sighed.  "Let it be so this one time.  You
need all the help you can muster from within."  Then, with a sterner tone
in his voice.  "So, my subject, I am your King, and you are mine to do with
as I will!  I hold the power of life and death over you, and my slightest
whim is your law!"
     "Yes, my liege, yes!" Andrew groaned.
     The King shoved his cock into Andrew roughly, and over half the long
shaft made it into Andrew's bowels before it caught once again.  Again the
King paused, and lay his body on top of Andrew's, clutching Andrew about
his broad chest-barrel, and resting his chin on Andrew's left shoulder, the
short hairs of his beard grinding into Andrew's flesh.
     "You belong to me, serf." he growled fiercely into Andrew's ear.  "If
I choose to, I shall mount you in the middle of the marketplace.  Then,
when I am done with you, I can bring my guards up and have them mount you
one after the other, while I watch."
     "Ah, ahh!" Andrew grunted.
     The King shoved it still more and now the length was inside of Andrew.
     "Ah, that did it, lad." the King said, his tones dulcet once more.
"There is no more pain to bear, until I begin to move.  We rest once more
like this, and then I'll try to move within you."
     "Oh, Sire!" Andrew sighed.  "My Lord, my King, my...my beloved." he
stuttered on the last.
     "Do you see me as a man once more?" the King asked.
     "If it please you, Majesty, I prefer you as a man alone with me, than
to be mounted in the marketplace." Andrew admitted.  "Though the thought
was, I confess, briefly exciting."
     "Your emotions speak well of you." the King said.  "The realm of
fantasy is one thing, the realm of reality quite another.  So long as one
does not intrude into the other, a man may serve the dual fealty."
     "Ah!" Andrew sighed, for his bowels suddenly shifted from within, and
it was as though his body had accommodated the huge organ.  Now instead of
an intruder, it was a welcome guest, and he moved his body to let the thick
pud slide in and out of him.
     "Ah, lad, you are ready and I didn't feel it!" the King cooed benignly
into his ear.  "Now shall I ride you like the finest Arabian steed of my
stables, and with a great deal more pleasure, I assure you."
     Andrew chuckled at the small joke and the King began to move with slow
thrusts in and out of his ass.  Andrew hissed with the surprising pleasure
of it.  "Oh, oh!" He groaned.  "Oh, I never thought...oh!" he breathed.
     "Discovering the joy of this, lad?"
     "Oh, yes, Sire!" Andrew gasped out.  "Such joy, oh!"
     "Yes, lad, and there's more." the King said and began to buck his hips
fiercely.  Andrew was now relaxed totally to his presence, and there was no
further need of caution, between the joys of the body and the joy of
serving his sovereign, he had thoroughly accepted the King's lengthy staff
of manhood into his body.
     Again the King grasped his prong and again Andrew felt the joy of
another man's hand upon his manhood, but now it was combined with the
pleasure his anus had now declared to him, the joy of servicing a virile
organ, the sheer rapture of being impaled upon another man's stave of love.
     Andrew felt his face flush hot, felt his body contort with the
intensity of passion, and groaned, "Oh, Sire, I burst!  I burst!"
     "Shoot it, lad!" the King crooned and sped up his hand on Andrew's
pud.  "Spray your seed upon your bed of youth, and become a man fully on
this day."
     "Oh, oh, oh, OH, OH, OH!!!" Andrew gasped.
     "Ah, lad, your body is squeezing me like a thousand serpents!" the
King grunted.  "Oh, lad, hold off for the space of a few breaths and I
shall join you in the moment of pleasure!"
     His King's word was law, and Andrew grimaced, though orgasm clamored
at his body, he withheld the passion, while he was speed-fucked by the
regal prong, and then the King groaned, "Oh, now, lad, now!  Huh-UHHH!!!"
     Andrew's bowels burned with the seed of the King's orgasm, and he gave
himself over gratefully to his own climax, he jerk-spurted, the air was
filled with the smell of sperm, hot, salty, pungent, and the King's hand on
his prong never faltered, even as he squirted into Andrew the full measure
of passion, so that Andrew found his climax increased three-fold from the
delaying of release.
     The King withdrew from Andrew hastily, and Andrew felt the seed of the
King's ejaculation spurt from his innards along with the withdrawal of the
long royal prong, and the King shifted over and fell onto the bed, knocking
perchance Andrew's hand from beneath him, so that Andrew, weakened by his
own climax, fell atop him hard, eliciting an "Oof!" of expelled breath from
his panting royal lover.
     Andrew, still his own breath still heaving, seized the chance to kiss
that noble face, to taste the heavy sweat that clung to that white face,
and then he lapped from that kingly brow the band of sweat at the forehead,
while the King clung to him, helpless as a babe for the time, exhausted
from his exertions.
     "I shall sleep for a time now, I think." the King said after a short
time.
     "I shall leave you in peace."  Andrew started to rise but the white
arms rose up and captured him and drew him back.
     "I shall sleep sounder with you." the King declared.  "And I shall
indeed give your mother the sum she requested soon as I am able."
     "If I am indeed your equal on this day." Andrew said boldly.  "Then
you shall not."
     "Your family needs the money and you won't accept that which is freely
given." the King sighed.  "I have so much money that the small amount she
asked for will never be missed by me."
     "I care not." Andrew said.  "If it makes me impractical to have my
principles, then I am an impractical man, like my father."
     "Then you'll need a practical woman like your mother when you marry."
the King smiled.  "And I will seek and marry the same, for I find I agree
with you.  Let us rest now."
     Andrew paused only to draw the covers over both of them before
releasing his body to the ministrations of sleep.

			     END OF CHAPTER 2

[Author's Note: This IS a "Three Musketeers-ish" swashbuckler story.  The
swordplay starts next chapter and there'll be plenty of it, I assure you
(oh, the blood and gore will NOT be emphasized, it'll be about the level of
the old Errol Flynn movies).

As for the schedule on the chapters, I will try to post a new chapter every
weekend, as I did with my "Planet of Desire" series (you can find this
under the Gay/Sci-Fi category here on Nifty).  At the moment, I am keeping
a chapter ahead, but if I lose that lead, I will skip a week rather than
put up an inferior or rushed chapter.  Please bear with me with the Muse is
tired and silent. 

And if there's any particular scene you'd like to see in this series, now
(May 22, 1999) is the time to tell me!  E-mail me at "Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM"
and let me know.]