Supper in the main dining room ended. While sipping brandy, Lord Bishop of Windsor Castle boasted on the war that awaited him and Lord Kennedy of Monte Cello. Lady Wendy lay in wait for Lord Bishop so she could pounce on him from a dark corridor. How dare her, that unscrupulous Wench! Lady Genevieve eyed Lady Wendy as she wrinkled her nose up at Lord Bishop in a blatant flirt. She could have her pick of the fashionable young men swooning over her flawless looks but she went after her husband. It was no secret. She hid her interest in him from no one.
Lord Bishop won Lady Genevieve's hand in a marriage of convenience. The two feuding families the Bishops, being English, and the Kennedys being Irish, both from Knotting Hill agreed on a truce once discovering that the eldest son of the Bishop clan had a hankering for a young Lady Genevieve Kennedy. The truce held off the war on the two fronts but the war that raged in her heart was one of inconvenience.
Lady Genevieve took and overview of the gents seated at the long table. None of them suited her. None but Garth who was pouring tea, but he was forbidden though he seemed like a gentle giant she knew would kill for her. She liked that most about him. Seen as ignorant about the world and having the intelligence of a mule, his eyes were filled with wisdom, and he showed his wife and child unconditional love. It was what she desired from Lord Bishop. Though theirs was a marriage of convenience, she did love him. Diddling Garth however would mean death for her and him. He would hang if her fantasies became real and were revealed. She'd be banished to the edge of town to live among the London fog, filth, and peasants until her death.
After brandy, Lord Kennedy pulled on his cloak and nestled his sword on his side. "So what do you think of this newly discovered writings revealed by the king's men, Lord Bishop?"
"Can't say that I fancy knowing the world's demise lay in the teachings of a fellow long gone by centuries yet can inform us of the future of this precious rock!"
"My Lord, only the gospels can tell us of such atrocities in that the God of all things determines when he shall be done with all our wretched souls that we are in his eyes!"
"Aye, believe it!" And with battle for the fortress upon us let us be on our way into the jaws of death so that we might keep safe the dirt beneath our feet from the enemies for as long as we are permit before it is swallowed up in damnation!"
"Here, here, young fellow!" Lord Bishop roared a mighty laugh and gave his wife a wayward glance when she excused herself from the lavish table. Upon her approach, she mustered strength and straightened her shoulders. Her powder blue gown swayed in a whisper. Her soft feet covered in satin barely made a sound.
"Oh, but My Lord, surely you cannot go into battle on a night such as this with the bitter England cold certain to steal your life before an enemy's sword!"
"Why don't you say it, Genevieve? Not go is your wish so that you might query your insecurities! Woman, be of sound mind and fortitude rather a sniveling child! Wench! Take Lady Genevieve to her rooms!"
"Yes, My Lord!" Mona dutifully escorted Genevieve to her marriage chambers, put a fire to the wall candles, and poured a fresh goblet of water. Genevieve allowed her chamber girl to remove her dinner frock and put on her a fresh white linen nightgown. Mona brushed Genevieve's hair.
"I'll be fine, Mona. Please go."
"But My Lady."
"Mona… I'm fine, now go!" Oh! Before you leave to your bed, there is a miserable draft seeping in here through a cracked window. Please send Garth up with his hammer to repair it. Mona stopped suddenly. She turned back slowly and looked at Genevieve with questioning eyes. However, Genevieve had her back to her still sitting before the golden vanity brushing her hair.
"May I assist you with your hair My Lady?"
"I can manage, Mona. Off with you, now!"
Mona gently closed the door behind her. Genevieve pranced over to the window, peered up at the stars and attempted to read them. How many fortnights this time, husband?
Mona knocked softly and re-entered Lady Genevieve's bedchamber. "I bid you, Garth My Lady, to repair that drafty window."
"Mona, Garth is not a child. You did not need to escort him to this chamber. He knew his way. Be gone so that he might complete his work as requested!"
"Be gone, Mona!" Or you'll be fetching chickens beside Garth and the rest of his clan!"
"My Lady…surely you cannot be left alone with this…this…"
"Left alone with this what? This specimen that we look upon as substandard compared to the deeds performed by our own men such as the atrocities of war! Let him be so grateful that he can say that he has not sunk so low as to commit murder! Go!" Mona slipped out of the chambers while Garth stood transported on a single spot on the floor.
With her lashes lowered, Genevieve sauntered slowly towards him. The heaviness of his natural smells filled her head. His smell was compelling. He looked past her and focused on the pattern in the granite wall behind her. She placed a small hand on his chest and used her tiny thumb to loosen the leather strands that tied his vest closed. The white lace blouse he wore beneath the vest was clean yet pungent with his perspiration.
Her hands traveled further up his chest and rested on his thick neck. He stood stiff and seemingly not effected by her touch. His eyes never abandoned the spot on the wall behind her head. She attempted to run her fingers through his hair but when they tangled on the tight, course, ringlets, she removed them, grabbed two handfuls of the mat, and held tight to it. She pulled his face closer to hers. His mouth was loose. His lips separated. She plunged her tongue into his mouth.
She pressed her body against his until the thickness of his manhood greeted her aching thighs. She rested her hands on the front of his trousers. In her mind, she saw herself ravished by this masculine beast and let out a moan.
"Oooh….mmmh! You are a beast are you not?" Genevieve asked and giggled behind his ear.
Still Garth stood there not responding to her advances yet not rejecting them. She held onto the leather strands of his vest and led him over to her marital bed. He followed obediently. She fell backward and pulled him down on top of her. He lay with his face buried in her long thick red tresses, which smelled of Gardenias.
His body came alive with pleasure. She kissed him mercilessly. Finally, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and gripped her shoulders with his massive hands. She began to peel away his clothes. He removed the linen cloth from her body in one swoop revealing her creamy skin. He tasted her neck, shoulders and honeypot imagining milk and honey. She reached for his cock and held it in her hands. Her tiny fingers barely covered its roundness.
Out of the blue, a hint of fear and apprehension pulled at her stomach walls. She was afraid of it. Into what trouble had she gotten herself? She saw and heard gossip about town regarding the comparison between the stallions in her stables both man and beast and was afraid of fucking something that resembled a horse. The idea seemed both revolting and riveting to her.
She opened her eyes just a little to peek at what was truly about to ride her. It was still Garth and she still wanted him. She pushed him off of her and straddled him. She found it quite difficult to maneuver his cock into her tiny crevice.
Lord Bishop had been her first but not her only. There were many. A wee stud was Lord Bishop, not more than her thumb. Still, she thought of him as charismatic, well spoken, and strolled along as if he was a man who had seen the world in its entirety. Her husband intrigued her. He was a man of wealth and pride from his noble purse to his noble heart. She loved him but war kept him from her over many harvest moons. Nevertheless, there was Garth among others who served her insatiable needs. With Garth, she had no need to risk her life escaping under the dark of night to the taverns of Town Square to be with men.
Garth lay nude and massively beneath her. She was in fact bedding a stallion. She pushed him deeper inside of her. She rocked her creamy ass and pink pussy up, down, and around. However, Garth felt bested of the full cherry treat. She was his employer; she and Lord Bishop and so he meant to do as he was paid. Be a good servant. He aimed to do his work to her satisfaction and so he did.
With gentle precision and caring, he flipped Lady Genevieve over on her back, this time staring directly into her eyes. She could not bear to see the truth and looked away. Yet, she did not release her grip on his broad shoulders. He carefully but forcefully spread her legs apart and with one swift delicate move, plunged into her with the determination of a Journeyman. He gave her as much of his brand as she could take. He pounded into her for as far as it would go. Their bellies smacked loudly. Her breasts bounced around wildly like excited eyeballs.
She placed both of her hands in his thick course hair and pulled at it for dear life. She imagined it was Lord Bishop filling her up and ravishing her for she loved her husband with all her heart. She squeezed her pelvis and went spellbound exploding with ecstasy all over Garth's thighs. Because of her explosion, he exploded as well, spewing his seed into her belly. She lay spent and pleased with Garth sprawled over her and breathing heavily against her breast.
Somehow, her loins ached for more. She began to massage his back and neck, but he was unresponsive. He removed himself from her bed and dressed quickly. Since the night, she wed Lord Bishop; she had been the insatiable wife. Exhausting every measure, he simply fell asleep, leaving her needing, and wanting more. With Garth, she had what she needed. Her stallion was readily available in her stables and she had many fortnights to call on him.
Before Garth left her chambers, she had one final request.
"Garth, fetch me your brother…"
By Brenda L. Foster