The Knight's Prisoner (Medieval Discipline 1)

“Fare thee well,” the prince said, clasping both her hands in his own. He did the same to Edwin. She turned to Ferrum, who cupped her head in his hands with an intensity bordering on violence. “Be. Careful.”

“I will,” she assured him. “I promise.”

He nodded grimly. “We'll be right here, waiting for you. If it seems like there's going to be trouble, just leave. Better you get away alive than complete your mission.”

She nodded and kissed his hands. “I'll be back soon.”

She was wondering what exactly she would say when they got to the gates, but Edwin surprised her by taking charge. “I've brought my sister here, to entertain the king,” he said, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

The guards chuckled. “That so? She doesn't look much like your sister.”

Edwin smirked. “We're not blooded. All the better for me, if you know what I mean.”

She had to hide her shock—she'd had no idea the polite young page could talk like a tavern boy.

The guards opened the gate. “Go on in and ask for Sir Andrew. He'll tell you if the king wants entertaining or not.”

“Thank you,” Edwin said and gestured cockily for her to precede him.

They found Sir Andrew easily enough, and he did seem interested. He fingered her braid like she was a horse for sale, twirling it around his fingers and bringing the tail of it up to tickle his cheek. “I'll have to test the wares first,” he said to Edwin.

To Edwin's credit he did not show any discomfort with the suggestion at all. “Of course, my lord. But if you don't mind the request, I'd prefer if it were only you. She gets tired easily, and I don't want her to lose her stamina for the king.” He gave a bawdy wink and once again, she found herself surprised at this hidden layer to the young page.

“Right, right, I understand. And what do you charge?”

They haggled over price a bit, with Edwin emphasizing her beauty and skills. She was shocked at the amount he was able to charge for her—if she'd had a handler like him in London, she'd have been rich.

Sir Andrew was easy to service—she sucked his cock and was done with it. Then he left her in an empty chamber and told her to wait. She waited for a long time and then began to grow nervous. She opened the door and was relieved to see Edwin was stationed right outside it. “All right, my lady?”

She smiled—she was not accustomed to being called a lady. “Everything's fine. Do you wish to come in here and wait with me?”

He shrugged. “Do you wish it?”

She nodded and held open the door. Edwin came in and sat on the floor in a subservient position. She sat on the edge of the bed.

“I'm sorry I didn't help you that night in the prince's tent,” Edwin offered.

She smiled at his sweetness. “Nay, Edwin, you did right. You trusted your master, and he had a good reason for his actions—at least he thought so,” she said wryly. Edwin grinned at her.

“Ferrum loves you… fiercely,” he said.

She smiled. It relieved her somewhat to discuss Ferrum here. “Ferrum does most everything fiercely.”

Edwin's grin stretched into the bawdy smile she'd seen with the guards. “So I hear,” he said, and she almost giggled.

They spent the evening in the room together, waiting, growing hungry, and trying not to grow anxious. At last the door opened, and a guard shouted, “Comes the king!” as a short, portly man entered. There was no doubt, with the way he carried himself, that he was the king. She and Edwin leaped to their feet, and she curtsied deeply while Edwin bowed.

“Wait outside,” he dismissed Edwin with a wave of his hand.

Her heart was pounding, but she pasted on a lascivious smile.

“Unwind your hair,” he commanded, and she stopped breathing, even as her fingers went to the thread holding the braid to unwind it. Shite. What was she going to do? She unbraided it slowly, attempting to look seductive as her mind whirled. She would stick the needles into her dress—nay, her clothes would surely come off. Into the bedding, then. She went to the bed and crawled on it with what she hoped looked like an invitation, praying he wouldn't be angry she had moved without being bidden. She finished unwinding the braid and held the two needles carefully in one hand, which she let stroke down the length of her hair and then drop to the bed, where she plunged them into the bedding. Then she began to untie her bodice, giving the King her best bedroom eyes.

He watched her, arrogance twisting his lips into a sneering smile. “Nay, you'll start on your knees, whore,” he said. She obeyed, getting off the bed and kneeling before him, freeing his cock from his leggings and taking it into her mouth. She prayed he would want more than this, because the needles were in the bed, nowhere near her grasp now. She brought him right to the point of climax and then released his cock from her mouth, crawling up on the bed and looking over her shoulder playfully and waiting with held breath. Please let him follow.