The Peasant Bride

July, 1461 AD

It was to be the best day of my life. It quickly became the worst.

Kayla and I had deliberately set our wedding day in the summer. The fragrant aromas from the forest would drift to the clearing by our little church where the outdoor ceremony was to be held. Swallows and Marsh Harriers swooped and dived in the clear blue skies and Nightingales serenaded us with their tuneful chirps. Kayla wore the traditional dress of flowers and looked simply beautiful.

My father, Jacob and my mother, Martha had worked long and hard at the preparations. I aided them as much as I could, but with having to cope with my father's share of the field work as well as my own, there seemed no hours left in the day, and King Trigo - to whom we all served - would still expect the taxes paid on time. But finally the wedding arrived and there was no work for the day; King Trigo had been asked his permission for the wedding to take place and had agreed. Reluctantly he had acceded to the day's holiday for the villagers - a traditional gesture that he obviously felt obliged to honour. Two of the men in the village, fearless hunters that I knew well, had captured and slaughtered a stag and, after the ceremony the whole village gathered in the clearing to the delightful aroma of roast venison.

As the women began preparing the wedding feast and arranging flowers on the long tables, a group of my friends bounded over towards me. I was reluctant to let my new bride leave my side, but she had her duties to perform: she had to greet each of the villagers in turn and thank them for their contribution.

"Aye, you're a lucky man, Samual!" cried my friend Daniel as he pressed a tankard of ale into my hand and slapped my back heartily. "Lucky indeed. Maid Kayla is beautiful and, if I'm not much mistaken, ripe for the plucking!"

Cheers and knowing nods and more back slapping came from my friends as they agreed with Daniel. It was well known in the village that Kayla and myself had retained our virtue intact for each other in the traditional manner.

"So, a good night will be had by you tonight then!" Daniel continued.

"By us both, I hope!" I replied trying to put an end to this line of conversation. But Daniel was not to be deterred that easily. In hushed tones he beckoned our little group of friends to draw closer.

"I have heard say that some maidens will even use their mouth's and tongues to please a man! What do you think about that, Sam!"

"I have been witness to some of the same stories," another friend, Harry, added. "And even that some men will use their mouth's and tongues to please a woman, but surely, that cannot be true!"

I had also heard these tales. Kayla and I had even discussed them at some length while courting in the fields. We had both found the idea of these stories quite stimulating and had had to control our feelings for each other. We both vowed that, when our wedding day finally arrived, we would talk more about this subject and possibly allow ourselves to perform some of these acts. The thoughts were thrilling me now as my friend's discussed them and, like many of the others, I reckoned, my cock felt like a rod of iron beneath my britches.

"Come, my friends," I cried, breaking the thoughtful silence, "talk of this will do us little good now! Let us eat and drink, for I believe the feast is ready!"

We dined well on the venison, home made breads and vegetables grown on our rented land. Ale and nettle wine flowed in plentiful supply. My father spoke a long and sometimes tiresome speech finishing only when my mother tugged on his coat belt and beseeched him to halt, scolding him for supping too much of the ale that slurred his words. But he was happy. We were all happy. It was a time to rejoice. I looked once again at my beautiful, flaxen haired bride and gave thanks.

After the feast my uncle, Peter began to play his fiddle. As tradition dictated, I pulled Kayla into the centre of the clearing and began to dance, swaying my body this way and that in time to the lively music. We were quickly joined by other couples and before many minutes the whole clearing was alive with singing, cheering and dancing.

I think it was my father that first noticed the horses, respectfully calling for silence as the King's entourage arrived in a cloud of dust. We all stopped and bowed our heads in traditional reverence as the King manoeuvred his steed to the front. I looked up. I had seen him on only a few occasions previous and marvelled at his presence now. Atop the fine, black steed he looked seven or eight feet tall, almost God-like. His flowing crimson robes bore the Trigo coat of arms that he honoured so proudly. His crown had been replaced by a crimson skull-cap for ease of riding and his regimental sabre lay sheathed in readiness at the flank of his horse.

For several moments there was silence. The villagers dared not speak in the King's presence without his express permission. Finally, the King's first guard, Sir Thomas of Leston, dismounted and broke the silence.

"King Trigo, Lord of the Lands, has come to invoke his rights."

When the silence continued, Sir Thomas continued. "To invoke his right as King and Lord to be First Man'."

I stood rooted to the spot. I could hardly believe this was happening. The King's right as

First Man' had not been invoked for over a hundred years since Harold the Fearless. I knew that King Trigo was a ruthless man - I had seen and heard the evidence of his wrath on several occasions - but to resurrect such a barbaric tradition was almost beyond belief.

"Bring forward the maiden!" Cried the King. His mouth curled into a sneering smile.

There was to be no argument, that much was certain and as Kayla made her way, head bowed demurely, towards the King's steed, his sneering smile broadened visibly.

"Ah, a fair maiden indeed," the King continued licking his lips salaciously. "And intact I presume, Leston?"

"She is, My Lord. It is well known in the village that she has saved herself."

I couldn't take any more. I am not known much as a brave man, but I had to speak, to beseech the King.

"Please, My Lord. Have mercy. Can you not spare us this degradation?"

"Who speaks?" Boomed the King

"It is I, Sir. Samual, husband of the bride."

The King's voice became a virtual bellow in the still evening air. "You dare to address the King without permission?"

"I...I...I'm sorry, My Lord, but I -"

"Bring him here!" screamed the King.

I felt the strong arms of two guard horsemen as they grabbed me and thrust me into the dirt in front of the King as he dismounted.

"The punishment for insubordination is usually death by hanging," he cried, "but in your case I think that I will commute that sentence. I have a much better idea! Guards, hold him." He turned to the rest of the villagers, "Back to your homes all of you, this is not a public auction!"

As the rest of my friends and family scampered away like frightened rabbits and back to their huts, Kayla and I were left alone with the King and his men.

"Your punishment for insubordination, Samual, will be to watch as I exercise my rights. As I deflower your new bride you may look at it as a part of your education; you will learn how to fuck a woman so that she knows she has been fucked!"

Tears clouded my eyes as I watched two guards take my beautiful wife and push her down into the dust while the King removed his robe and tunic. He quickly unbuttoned the crotch of his undergarment and I looked on with awe as he withdrew a large, erect cock. I closed my eyes in disgust opening them only to look back at Kayla. Strangely, or perhaps sensibly, my bride refused to struggle with her captors, but simply lay back in the parched dirt and waited for the inevitable to happen.

"I can't fuck her like that, you idiots!" raged the King at his guards. "Quick! Remove her dress!"

I watched as the two guards quickly fumbled with the fastenings of the flower laden garment. They were not fast enough and began to panic. Fearing the Kings displeasure they began to tear and rip at the material, destroying the hours of work that Kayla had put into it in a few frenzied seconds. And then she lay there, bare chested, her lower undergarment the only item of clothing protecting her modesty. I couldn't help but look at her breasts. Even on her back, the young, tight flesh proudly projected the twin buds of her erect nipples. Barely even seen by myself before, they looked red and swollen as her chest heaved with the labour of her breathing. I was still inexperienced in the ways of women, but I wondered if this was a usual way for them to be under the circumstances. I had always thought that a woman's nipples would become hard and swollen as she became aroused. Was she, my beautiful Kayla, so aroused?

"And a lovely set of titties, as well!" laughed the King. "And now, her drawers also, if you please guards!"

The tearing of cloth commenced once again as, without struggle, or indeed any kind of token resistance, Kayla allowed the last vestiges of her clothing to be ripped away. I gawked at my brides most private area, a region that had been denied to me time and time again, there was not a trace of the usual hair that I would have expected to see. She had shaved herself completely!

"A shaved cunny too! This just gets better and better!" the King continued as he lowered himself between her legs and touched her down there. "And already nice and juicy it seems!"

Now this I definitely knew to be a sign of arousal. It all added up now. The hard nipples, the heavy breathing the moistness of her cunny - Kayla was obviously very excited! My confusion had little chance to manifest further as I heard my bride moan loudly as the King thrust his finger in and out of her wet cunny. He head fell back, her wonderful, flaxen hair falling in a cascade of golden curls behind her as she raised her hips in an obvious effort to receive deeper penetration.

"Bring him closer so that he may see the manner in which his slut-bride accedes to my fingers!" The King cried.

Dragged through the dirt, I was placed only inches from Kayla's quivering thigh. I could clearly see the King's wet finger as it plunged time and time again into her secret tunnel. As he thrust faster her cries of lust became louder and louder until, in a flourish of sweat matted hair and a deep groan of satisfaction, she released a virtual fountain of sex fluid that flooded the King's hand.

"She must indeed be a slut of the highest order to have cum in that manner," the King laughed again, "now, let us see how she handles a man's cock!"

To sustain his rigidity, the King had been rubbing his large, thick shaft against Kayla's thigh. Now he was hard and ready for action. In one swift movement, he dropped between my wife's thighs and pushed his erection between the lips of her soaked cunny. Inch by inch the long shaft began to disappear, all the while with Kayla moaning for her Lord and Master to take her harder.

"Hear how she begs to be fucked!" he howled as he fed more of his cock into her writhing body. "This girl is most certainly no virgin!"

Even though by now I think I knew the truth, the King's words still came as a shock to me. But it was true. My new wife was no virgin, she had been fucked before and, I would have thought from the way her moans of joy rang through the air, probably more than once.

"Oh...yes...please, My Lord...fuck me...fuck me...fuck me..."

Had I not already been certain, then this choice of language assured me beyond any doubt. Kayla was a slut and had lied to me. But what irked me more than anything, more than the deceit, more than the betrayal, was that I had been denied the joys of her body on countless occasions.

And then, suddenly it was all over. With a deep, guttural cry of obvious triumph the King pulled his thick cock free of Kayla's gaping hole. He was cumming in great quantities as he withdrew and his royal seed flew in all directions splashing Kayla's face and titties and dripping from her chin. In a second she was on her knees in front of her master, caressing his twitching member gently between her fingers and coaxing him towards her mouth. And then she did it. The act that we had talked about and I had dreamed about; she took his entire cock into her mouth and sucked him dry.

The King's face betrayed his obvious feelings of lust for my wife and for what she was prepared to do without fear of punishment or chastisement. He spoke to me in a mellow, kind voice.

"The slut is no good to you now, Samual. I doubt if she has been for some time. I have been told you are a good worker, a trusted serf. You deserve better. I hereby annul your marriage so that you may choose another bride."

"And what about the slut, Sire?" Asked Lord Leston, the first person apart from the King to speak for a long time.

The King began to dress and rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. He looked down at Kayla, streaked in his issue and still naked. A hungry look still pervaded her pretty face. The King still seemed undecided but then his face suddenly broke into the same, sneering smile I had seen earlier.

"The slut comes with us to the castle. She can be put to work during the daylight hours and then used in the evening to entertain visiting dignitaries. With a mouth and cunny like hers, she's sure to have a nice, tight back passage as well! In fact, I think I'll try that out for myself later tonight!"

The last I saw of my beautiful slut-bride was of her being led away, naked and stained, towards her knew life of sexual servitude. A life I am sure that she still enjoys.

And so my marriage to Kayla finished before it had even started. For weeks the villagers were full of sympathy for me and, as they still were unaware of the truth, for Kayla imprisoned as they thought she was, in the castle.

I nod graciously now whenever I am reminded of that day and accept the offered pity. I keep to myself whenever possible and guard the close secret that I know I must carry with me to my grave.