“Go get the box, dear,” I tell Maria. She giggles with giddy excitement. As I lay in the wet puddle of Maria’s cunny fluid, I watch and admire her lovely, naked body as she walks to the small wardrobe closet.

The closet contains only a few gowns and shoes. There was a time when I had so many dresses that I couldn't wear them all. Henry did not take my gowns and shoes, but I had to give some to my granddaughter and to Maria over the years of exile in the abbey, and sell many more.

The closet also contains a cedar box that was a parting gift from Queen Isabella many years ago. A gift she told me to keep secret. I did keep the box secret even from Queen Marie until it was time to show her. I kept it secret all these years and told no one about it until I took the beautiful Maria as my lover.

“The ropes as well, My Lady,” Maria asks me while she is removing the box from its hiding place. There is eagerness in her voice.

“Yes, my sweet, the ropes as well,” I tell her.

“And the…” she starts to ask, but I interrupt her.

“Bring everything, my dear,” I tell her.

“Yes, My lady,” she answers, and I can hear the excitement in her voice.

I admire Maria’s body as she walks towards the bed. Her golden hair flows over her shoulders, her full breasts are firm, and there is no movement in them as she walks. Her belly is thin and flat, and between her legs, her golden soft cunny hairs form a perfect inverted triangle.

Maris lays the soft, thin, velvet ropes at the foot of the bed, as well as a switch as thick as my slender index finger. The switch is made from yew and is flexible, and bends to become more like a whip than a piece of wood. Yew is the wood from which England’s deadly war bows that devastated the French in the Hundred Years’ War are made. I make an involuntary shiver of both fear and excitement when I see the switch lying at the foot of the bed.

Maria then returns to my closet and carries an ornate wooden box. She places the box on the bed and grins as she opens it. The box and its contents were a gift I received as a parting gift many years ago, when I was a girl of seventeen, from Queen Isabella of Castilla.

Isabella and I were naked in her bedchamber, alone. She placed the box on a small round table and motioned for me to stand in front of the table to open it as she moved to stand behind me. She pressed her body against mine.

I could smell the cedar scent of the wood and Isbella told me it was made from cedar from the Holy Land. I blushed when I looked at the box. Carved on the box were figures with erotic looks embraced in various sexual positions. Men fucking women, women fucking other women, men fucking men, and men and women using their mouths to please one another.

Isabella took my hands in hers and moved them, so they ran over the side of the box, and she showed me the hidden locks to open it. I blushed again when I saw the contents of the box. The inside was lined with velvet and there were several compartments which held various items to give sexual pleasure and a flogger with nine leather tails. There was a riding bit similar to ones used on a horse, but smaller. The bit was covered in soft leather padding. The compartments on the lid held various scented oils.

There was a phallus object that resembled a man’s cock. It was carved from ivory. The other end of the phallus extended out and curved upward with a thinner shaft and had a bulbous head. That night, when Isabella used the sexual toy on me, she inserted the thinner shaft with the bulbous head into her cunny. The bulbous head held the fake cock inside her cunny and also gave her pleasure as she fucked me.

Also inside the box was an oval object, also carved from ivory and about the size of a duck egg but tapered to a rounded tip. On the bottom of the egg was a guard similar to that of a dagger hilt and the pommel was tipped with a large, fine ruby.

The next object was also of ivory and a series of five small balls just smaller than a chicken egg attached by a leather cord. At the end of the cord was a large emerald. I discovered that night the balls and the oval shaped object were to be used in the arse.

As I looked at the objects, becoming more aroused, Isbella was teasing my hard nipples of my small breasts.

“One day, Katherine, your queen will order you to take the role of a man and used these on her,” The exotic Spanish Queen told me. “As I have with you, I have showed your queen how she can enjoy submitting to her lover and how pain can bring pleasure.”

“No…I…no, Your Majesty, I could never…not with her. She is My Queen. She is my Mistress. I could never do those things to her that you do,” I told Isabella.

“You are indeed beneath her as you are beneath me, but I have showed her a new desire,” the beautiful young queen told me. “She will fight it, but soon the desire to be taken, to be hurt, to submit will overpower her and she will beg you as she begs me. I give you these gifts not only because you have given me much pleasure and I have enjoyed you, but also so you can please your Queen and give her what she desires.”

I had been witnessed to Queen Marie’s submission to the much younger queen. I had see how my Queen begged the other queen to allow her to taste her cunny and to fuck her. I had seen the lovely but cruel and sadistic Queen of Castilla make the older, beautiful Queen of France kiss and lick her feet and suck her toes as she taunted my Mistress and called her a whore. My queen begged Isabella to allow her to taste her cunny and her arsehole.

Isabella made both me and my Queen her whores. She would sit and play with her cunny and nipples as she gave us instructions on how to please one another. She would give us both pain and pleasure as she used a cane on our buttocks and back of our thighs. She would have us lie on our backs and tie us to her bed and flog our breasts and belly before she fucked our cunnies or our arseholes. Oh, how we screamed out in pain and cried, but begged for more as Isabella laughed at us and taunted us.

After we got back from France, I kept the gift hidden, even from my queen. But Isabella was right. Queen Marie could not suppress her newly discovered desire. About a month after we got back to France, she ordered me to dominate her, and she wanted to submit to me. I then showed her my special gift.

Maria started to get back into bed, but I stopped her. “No, my dear, I want you to be the man tonight,” I told her.

Maria pouted. She much preferred me to dominate her. But I knew she would do as I ask and she would enjoy it. “Yes, My Lady,” Maria tells me.

Maria was my lover for several months before I confided in her my desire for pain and domination. While my first lover, Queen Marie of France, dominated me sexually when we were lovers, it was Queen Isabella who first showed me how pain could give me pleasure. After we left Corna De Castilla, Queen Marie took delight in my newly discovered desire and satisfied my new perverse needs as well as her enjoying when she submitted to me.

My first male lover at the French Court also had a desire to give me pain while we fucked and enjoyed my willingness to allow him. When I married my husband, he did not have desire to give me pain. I put that perversion behind me, until Maria became my lover.

The gift I had kept hidden for all these years until Maria became my lover. The leather on the small balls had become frayed and worn over time. I had Maria go into the local town and had the leather worker attach new leather. Maria told him the balls were a children’s toy.

I taught Maria how to enjoy the pleasure pain can give and how arousing it could be to submit to my perverse desires. It was not long before my long-suppressed desire to enjoy pain and to submit arose.

At first, she refused and begged me not to make her hurt me. She told me it was not her place to dominate me and I was her Mistress and she could never cause me pain in any way. I knew how she felt. I felt the same way when Queen Marie first asked me to do the same to her.

I assured the French girl it would give me pleasure as well, and she consented to try. Like me those many years ago, Maria was timid. But she soon realized it gave me pleasure, and she embraced her role wholeheartedly. She became quite good at it and Maira is an imaginative young woman.

Maria lies on top of me and kisses me with a fierce passion. I start to put my arms around her, but she stops me. She grabs my wrists and places my hands above my head. She holds my thin wrists on one of her delicate hands. Still kissing me, she places her other hand between my legs and shoves three fingers into my wet cunny. Her penetration is hard and I make a grunting moan into her mouth. She bites my lower lip, pulling it with her teeth, and lets go.

"You need to be punished for your earlier blasphemy, Lady Katherine," the girl tells me. Her normally sweet, musical voice is now cruel and seductive. “You are a blasphemous putain, Madame Katherine,” she calls me a whore in French.

I moan out again as Maria roughly pushes her fingers deep into my pussy. She lowers her head and bites my hard nipple, and I gasp in both pain and pleasure. As the girl works her fingers in my cunny, she looks up at me.

“Are you a putain, Madame Katherine?” she taunts me with her question.

“Yes…yes,” I moan out.

“Whose whore are you?” she continues to taunt me as she fucks my cunny with her fingers.

“Yours…yours, Maria,” I tell her.

“Tell me!” Maria commands me harshly and once again bites down hard on my nipple.

“Uhhh…I am your whore, Maria…I am your putain,” I submit to her.

Maria giggles, but unlike her normal girlish, charming giggles; this giggle is cruel sounding. I grunt out as she removes her fingers from my pussy and Maria gets off the bed.

“Turn over on your belly, Lady Katherine,” she orders me in a calm voice.

I do as she commands. I turn my head to watch the girl.

Maria places the box on the floor. She picks up one of the ropes, ties one end to my right ankle, stretches my leg, and ties the other end to the post at the foot of the bed. She does the same to my left ankle, and my legs are spread wide.

The young French girl grabs my left wrist, stretches my arm out and over my head, and ties it to the bedpost at the head of my bed. She does the same to my other arm. My arms are spread open like the wings of a bird.

I whimper and pull on the ropes with both my arms and legs. The binds are tight and there is no slack in the ropes. I hear Maria giggle at my helplessness. I am at her mercy and I know she will show little mercy once the girl starts.

When I desire to submit myself to my servant, Maria takes her role as my mistress seriously and with enthusiasm. She knows I'll beg her. She knows I will plead with her to stop, to let me taste her cunny, to use my tongue in her arse, and to have her fuck me. But she will deny me until she is ready, and she will not show me mercy. I do not want her to be merciful.

Maria opens the box, pulls out one of the objects, I don't know which one. She straddles me, her lovely, young body sits on me just below my shoulders. I gasp out and whimper as Maria grabs a handful of my hair and pulls hard. She pulls my head off the bed.

"Open your mouth," she commands me. I obey.

Maria places the small riding bit in my mouth. It is covered by fine, soft lambskin leather and is not uncomfortable nor does it hurt. Maria tightens the straps behind my head.

“You scream like an Italian whore, Lady Katherine, we can’t have the nuns hearing you,” Maria taunts me again and lets go of my hair. My head falls to the bed. Maria leans down and bites the nape of my neck, and I make a muffled moaning whimper of pleasure.

The girl gets off of me and I turn my head to look at her. She bends over to get another object out of the box. When Maria bends over, she has her back turned from me and her legs are spread apart. She does so on purpose so she can show me her buttocks, and I can see her cunny between her legs. I whimper involuntarily from the site.

I desire to taste her cunny again, I want to smell it, I want to make her cunny fluids gush from her, and drink it again. Maria knows this and she exposed herself to me purposely. She is teasing me, and she will not let me enjoy her sweet cunny until she is ready. She will deny me that pleasure and other pleasures as she fulfills my desire for the pleasure that the pain will give me. Maria stands straight, turns, smiles at me, and shows me what is in her hands.

Maria is holding a bottle of oil in one hand and in the other she is holding the jeweled, ivory egg-shaped object. “I need to stretch your arsehole, Lady Katerine,” she tells me and giggles.

Maria gets back on the bed and kneels between my spread legs. I try to look over my shoulder, but cannot turn my head far enough to see her. But I know what she is going to do. Even though I cannot see her, I know she pours some of the oil on the egg and then her fingers. I feel her press her slick fingers against my arsehole. I grunt when she places her two fingers inside me and then moan in pleasure as she turns them to oil the inside of my arse. I make another grunt when she pulls her fingers out of me. Maria giggles again.

“Oh, Lady Katherine, you enjoy that, don’t you?” she taunts me. She knows I do. “You enjoy your trou de bonde penetrated, don’t you?” She uses the French word for bunghole.

I don’t answer. I make a muffled yelp from pain when Maria slaps my buttocks with her hand. “Answer me, putain!” she screams and slaps my buttocks a second time. I nod my head rapidly and tell her I do enjoy it; my words are incoherent due to the bit in my mouth. “Good. Now you will enjoy this even more.”

I give a louder grunt as Maria inserts the ivory egg into my arse. She pushed the oiled object into my arse slowly. I could feel the tapered, rounded point enter me, my arsehole stretching as the wider part of the egg goes into me, and then my arsehole closing around the thinner shaft. I enjoy the pleasure it gives me. I enjoy the perverse pleasure of being sodomized.

The lovely French girl gets off the bed and picks up the yew wood switch. She steps into my view so I can see her bend the switch to show me its flexibility. Maria’s smile is beautiful and sadistic. I bury my face into the pillow, close my eyes, and brace myself for what is to come. The pain I desire will also give me pleasure.

I give a muffled screech from pain when the first strike of the switch falls across my buttocks. Then another and another. Maria knew just how hard to strike me. She would leave welts but not break the skin to cause me to bleed. Well, most of the time, sometimes accidents occur. Tears form in my eyes, and I try to wiggle my body to avoid the switch, but my binds are too tight, and I can’t move even a little. Maria then focuses on the back of my upper thighs.

Maria taunts me in French. She calls me a whore or a slut as she abuses me. Part of me wants her to stop, but another part of me wants her to keep striking me because it arouses me. It’s an odd feeling, one I never understood, but embraced long ago in a queen’s bedchamber in a royal palace in Corna De Castilla at the hands of its beautiful, young, sadistic queen.

Maria gives my buttocks a few more strikes and tosses the yew wood switch to the floor. I am crying now, tears run down my cheeks, and my buttocks and the back of my upper thighs throb with a burning pain where the switch stuck my body. But I am also sexually aroused by the switching. Dear God, am I aroused! My cunny is wetter than before and it aches to be filled, my clit is swollen and throbbing with the need to be touched, and my nipples are so taut they ache.

I come close to begging Maria through the riding bit in my mouth. Even though I am submitting to this young French beauty, even though I have been declared a traitor by my king, my lands and titles stripped from me; I am still the daughter of a Duke, and she is my Lady-in Waiting. Maria is beneath my rank, and I still have pride. As bad as I need Maria to fuck me with the ivory phallus, I will not beg!

The bit in my mouth prevents me from swallowing and my saliva runs out of my mouth, down my chin, and drools on the pillow. I feel Maria untie my legs. I don’t look over my shoulder. I keep my face buried in the pillow, whimpering, and tears running out of my eyes.

“Lift your arse,” Maria tells me.

With my arms stretched and tied to the bed, it is a struggle to bring my knees up under my stomach and raise my arse. As I was doing so, Maria sat in front of my face and removed the bit from my mouth. I give several gasps of air and open and close my mouth several times to work out the soreness of the riding bit that had been in my mouth.

As I am putting my knees under my belly, Maria goes to the box once more. She bends over as she did the last time, to tease me by showing me her buttocks and cunny. I see her remove another object from the box; the phallus fake cock.

She moves back to the bed, sits in front of my face, her legs spread, and draped over my shoulders. He cunny is inches from my face. Holding the fake cock in one hand, Maira spreads it with her fingers, and I can see the pink inside of her cunny, which is glistening from her arousal.

I make a whimper of pain as Maria grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head up. “Look at my cunny, Lady Katherine,” she tells me.

“You like that, don’t you, Lady Katherine?” she taunts me.

“Yes,” I admit.

“You want to taste it, don’t you, Lady Katherine?” she asks.

“Yes,” I admit again and Maria giggles.

Maria moves her cunny closer to my face, and I move my head to taste her. I whimper out again as Maria pulls my hair once more.

“No, no, no, Lady Katherine. My beautiful, young, French cunny is not for the likes of an old English slut,” she tells me. “You may smell it, and if you are obedient and beg me, I may let you lick my arse. But you don’t get my cunny.” She give my hair another hard pull. “Smell it, slut!” she screams at me and pushes my nose to her cunny.

I cannot help myself. I want her badly. I inhale her wonderful scent. I inhale repeatedly as Maria laughs at me.

Maria pushes my head away. “That’s enough, Lady Katherine,” she tells me.

Maria lets go of my hair, stands up on the bed, and sits her arse on the edge of the headboard. She leans her back against the wall. “Do you want me to fuck you, Lady Katherine?” she asks as she looks down on me.

“Yes,” I tell her, desperation in my voice.

“No, not good enough. Beg me, Lady Katherine. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to let you taste my young, French cunny,” she teases me.

I shake my head. I still refuse to beg someone beneath my rank. Maria laughs at me. She enjoys it when I am stubborn.

She places a foot on my face, rubs the bottom of her small foot over my cheeks, and then places it against my lips. “Lick it,” she commands me.

I shake my head. Maria slaps my face with her foot. “I said lick it!” she shouts. Again, I shake my head and again she slaps my face with her foot. It doesn’t hurt, but it is humiliating, which arouses me.

Maria laughs at me again. “If you want me to fuck you, Lady Katerine, then you will lick my foot.”

I hesitate for a moment, but then my desire to have the girl fuck me wins. I part my lips, stick out my tongue, and start licking the bottom of Maria’s foot. She giggles, partly because I tickle her feet and partly because I am submitting to her.

I run my tongue over her foot. “Make sure you get between the toes,” she orders me. I lick between each of the girl’s small, delicate toes. “Open your mouth,” she tells me.

I open my mouth and Maria pushes her foot into my mouth, forcing me to open wider. She giggles at my humiliation. “Suck my toes like you suck a cock, Lady Katherine. You spent time in the French Court when you were younger; I know you learned how to use your mouth on a cock when there.” She is right; I did learn many French tricks when I was a member of the French Court.

I run my tongue over the girl’s toes while they are in my mouth. I suck them and lick in between them. My saliva runs out of my mouth and coats her feet. Satisfied with my humiliation, Maria pulls her foot out of my mouth and I do the same to her other foot.

“Look how pathetic you are, Lady Katherine,” Maria tells me as I suck her toes. “An English Duchess sucking the toes of a French whore.” Maria giggles.

Maria pulls her foot out of my mouth and rubs both of them on my face. The girl spreads her legs again, and I watch as she inserts the bottom portion of the phallus into her wet cunny. She moans in pleasure as she moves it inside her. I whimper in anticipation; she is going to fuck me, I think.

The younger girl moves to get behind me, and I wait with anticipation to feel her penetrate me, but she doesn’t, and I am foolish to think she was going to. We have played this game many times since we became lovers, both of us playing the role of man and woman. Both of us played the role of whore and Mistress, but due to my desperation to be fucked, I had a small amount of hope that Maria would forgo her merciless torture of me.

I grunt once and then again as the girl pulls the ivory egg out of my arse. Maria reaches up and pulls my head off the bed by my hair again. She presses the ivory object against me lips.

“Open your mouth,” she orders me, and I do as she says. Maria pushes the egg into my mouth, and she laughs. “You enjoy tasting your arse, don’t you, Lady Katherine, like a filthy English whore? Now keep it in your mouth and suck it like a honey nut.”

I do as she told me and suck the egg as if it was a hard, honey-coated nut. As I suck the egg-shaped object that has been in my arsehole, Maria places her hand between my legs and rubs my wet cunny. The girl leans down and starts licking my bunghole, and I moan in pleasure.

Maria drives her tongue deep into my arse as she keeps teasing my cunny. I moan and squirm in both pleasure and the need to be fucked.

“Fuck me now, Maria!” I command her. I order her as her mistress. She is my servant, and I am in charge.

Maria giggles. “Beg me,” she answers, ignoring my command. She knows tonight she is in control, and I am her whore, not her mistress. I don’t beg; I still refuse to.

Maria removes her tongue from my arse. I can hear her doing something behind me, but I can’t turn my head far enough to see her. I soon feel oil being poured into my bunghole. Then I feel the first of the ivory balls being pushed into my arsehole, then the next, and the next until they are all inside me. They give me a great deal of pleasure.

“Beg me, slut,” Maria says as she slowly pulls the first ball out of me. I whimper and shake my head. “Beg me, slut,” she repeats as she pulls the next one out, slowly. I moan and whimper, but again shake my head.

Maria repeats the process and tells me to beg her until all the balls are out of me. She then pushes the inside of me again, pulls them out slowly, ordering me to beg her as she pulls each one out.

“Please…Oh, dear God, please, Maria. Please fuck me!” I beg the girl after the last ball is pulled out of me again. “Please, I need you to fuck me,” I plead. My desire to be fucked was so great that Maria broke me as she always does.

Maria giggles again, pushes the balls into me once more, gets on her knees, and thrusts the fake cock into my pussy in two hard thrusts. I cry out from pleasure with each thrust. She then fucks me.

Maria places her hands on my narrow hips and fucks me hard. I can hear her lovely moans of pleasure over mine as she fucks me. The bulbous end of the ivory cock is rubbing the inside of her pussy. I have used it many times, and I know the ecstasy it can give the user.

I climax quickly due to my arousal. After my orgasm ends, Maria pulls the balls out of my arse in one hard pull, and it causes me to orgasm again. Mara continues to fuck me until I hear her moans becoming more rapid and louder. She then orgasms.

After the orgasm ends, the girl pulls my legs, so I lie flat on my stomach, and she collapses, her body on mine. We are both panting for air. Maria soon starts kissing my shoulder, and I feel her hips wiggle. She is not done with me.

Maria is young, and her sexual desires are difficult to satisfy. The young French girl can fuck all night. When I find her a husband, I must find her one who is young and can satisfy her needs in bed.

I feel the phallus press against my arsehole, which is still greasy from the oil. I make a series of grunting moans as Maria penetrates my other hole. She then reaches up and pulls my hair again.

“You like being my slut don’t you, Lady Katherine?” she taunts me. “You like your arse fucked like a whore, don’t you?”

“Yes, Oh God, yes,” I cry out.

“Maybe I will sneak you out of the abbey and take you to town and whore you out,” she threatens. “Men would give a month's wages to fuck a duchess. They will line up for you to use your mouth on their cocks, fuck your cunny, and fuck your arsehole,” she tells me and giggles again.

“No, please, please, Maria, please don’t,” I beg her.

I know it’s an idle threat and she is just taunting me to humiliate me, but I beg her anyway. I know that would never happen for many reasons. One being I would never allow that, and another is that Maria is a jealous lover and could not bear to see me fucked by another woman or by a man.

Maria hates it when my gaze lingers on the pretty novice Aine. She seems to know that I sometimes wander what it would be like to bed the young, pretty, Irish girl. True, she is not even close to being as beautiful as Maria; her body is slender as a reed, she only stands about five feet two inches tall, and she has breasts so small they are almost non-existent. But she is a pretty girl and there is something about her I find appealing, from her skinny body, her short height, her tight, skinny buttocks that protrude for her backside, her slightly crooked teeth, and I am fascinated by her long red hair.

Maria gets jealous when she sees me looking at Aine and later tells me the girl’s cunny is covered with the pox. I laugh at her jealousy and find it amusing when she pouts and at her pretense of refusing me in bed.

Maria laughs and fucks my arse as she keeps pulling my head up by my hair. She stops when she orgasms and again lies on top of me with the fake cock still in my arse. I grunt when she pulls it out of me. Maria gets out of bed and looks down at me.

“We are far from done, Lady Katherine,” she tells me.

Maria orders me to turn to lie on my back. She places the riding bit back in my mouth. She ties my feet to the bed once more and picks up the ivory-handled flogger. I shiver in fear and anticipation. The girl then flogs my breasts and stomach.

Maria flogs me more gently than she did when she used the switch on my buttocks and thighs. She doesn’t leave welts with the flogger, just makes my chest and stomach red. Oh. It hurts, but I relish the pain as much as I cry out from it.

After she is done flogging me, the girl does not fuck my cunny as I beg her to. Instead, Maria sits on my face, her body facing my feet. She reaches behind her and grabs my hair and pulls hard. I whimper loudly. “You don’t get my cunny, Lady Katherine, but you may lick my arsehole,” she tells me as she lowers her buttocks, so her arsehole is pressed against my mouth.

I stick out my tongue and begin licking her small hole. Maria leans forward and starts to pinch, twist, and pull on my hard nipples. As she torments my nipples, she inserts three fingers into her cunny. As she pleases herself, I continue to use my tongue in her arse. Soon, Maria starts fucking herself harder and faster, her moans become louder and more frequent. She moves her bottom, so her cunny is now right about my mouth.

As she orgasms, her cunny fluids start to gush out of her and then they spray out of her like the garden fountain at my former country estate. I open my mouth and swallow as much of the sweet nectar as I can but some spill out of my mouth, or sprays into my hair.

After Maria’s cunny is no longer spraying her fluid, the girl collapses her body and lays her head on my stomach. I lick her cunny to taste more of her. I suck on the small beads of her fluid that cling to her golden, blonde cunny hairs.

I am exhausted, my body aches, the welts on my buttocks and back of my thighs still hurt, my breasts and stomach still hurt from the flogging, but Maria is young and full of sexual excitement and not as easily sated as I am. She is not done with me yet. The French girl uses me over again and over again like a whore as she keeps my hands bound above my head. She is unsatiable.

Finally, Maria is sated, she lies next to me and places her head on my chest and rest briefly. Once she catches her breath and after a brief respite, Maria gets out of bed and walks to a table. I watch her naked body. She returns holding a bowl of clean water, a cloth, and a small jar. She places them on the bed and unties my hands.

“Turn over, My Lady,” she tells me. I do so.

Maria washes my buttocks and the back of my thighs. She then applies the salve from the jar that contains herbs that will dull the pain as well as prevent infection. After she is done, Maria sets them on the floor, kneels behind me, spreads me apart, lowers her head, inhales the scent of my cunny several times, and then starts to lick it.

“I love how your cunny smells and tastes after it is thoroughly fucked,” she tells me and starts to smell and lick it again. I moan from the gentle attention she is giving me with her tongue

Maria gets off the bed, and I look over my shoulder when I hear the girl give a faint moan of pleasure. She grins at me as she grips the shaft of the ivory phallus jutting out between her legs. “Get on your knees again, Lady Katherine, and stick your arse up for me.”

“No, Maria, not again. I am too sore, my sweet. I can’t do it again,” I tell her.

“You are my whore tonight, Lady Katerine, and I am not done with my whore,” she tells me as she puts oil on the phallus. She grins mischievously. “It’s not your cunny I want anyway,” she tells.

I whimper but do as she tell me. Maria sodomizes me one more time. She starts slow and soon she is fucking me hard. She does not stop until she has another orgasm. Maria unties me and lies next to me on the bed, her head resting on my back.

“Are you finally done?” I tease the girl.

Maria giggles. “Yes, My Lady.”

Now that she is finally sated, I turn to lie on my back, wince from the pain of the switch and flogger as well as my aching body, and Maria lies down next to me, places her head on my shoulder, and runs her fingers over my stomach. I fall asleep as she is tickling my belly.

Three weeks later, the four of us are in the abbey garden on a beautiful day. It had been storming something awful the past three days so we were taking advantage of the nice weather. Maria and I are playing cards. Mary and Aine are doing needlework, well, pretending to. The two young girls’ heads are close together, and they are whispering and giggling. Agnes is reading her prayer book, and occasionally she gives Mary and Aine a disapproving look. Maria giggles when she sees Aine stick her tongue out at Agnes.

Maria fills my cup with fresh water, and I smile as she sits down in her chair with care and winces. With the bad weather over the last few days, there was not much to enjoy in the dreary abbey, and Maria and I spent a great deal of time in my bed.

I know her buttocks, the back of her thighs, and her breasts are crisscrossed with welts. I know that her cunny and arsehole were sore because I had used both without mercy with my toys many times over the last few days when it was raining, not that she complained.

I had not only instructed Maria on how to give me pain and pleasure, but I had also shown the pretty French girl that she, too, could enjoy the pleasure that pain can give her.

I admit, I used her too roughly and used the flogger and a switch on her from one of the apple trees that the abbey grew. I was striking Maria so hard that I had broken the yew wood switch over the French girl's buttocks the previous night. I was in poor temperament due to the weather, being banished to a dreary abbey, and having to marry my granddaughter to a commoner who was a Moor.

I would have stopped if Maria had asked me to, but she didn’t. She never did. She enjoyed the pain pleasure gave her more than I did. I know I am a strict, harsh, and stern mistress, but I don’t think I am cruel or sadistic. But I did use the poor girl harshly over the past two days due to my bad mood. I apologized to the poor girl this morning, but she just smiled and told me she loved pleasing me.

A young nun runs through the gate; she is breathless. She gives me an awkward curtsy. “Forgive me. Lady Katherine, but two men are requesting to…”

Before she can finish, two men walk past the gate. I stand to greet them, and when I stand, so do the other girls. I curtsy to the men. My heart seems to skip a beat when I recognize one of the men, the older one.

The older man is handsome and dressed well. The other man is much younger, also handsome, taller, and he is dressed well also. He cannot be much older than my granddaughter. Both are nobles. I did not recognize the younger man, but I knew the badge he wore on his doublet, the badge of the Earl of Derby.

“My…,” I clear my throat. “My Lord Duke Jasper, what do I owe the pleasure?” I say clearly to the older man.

Jasper Tudor, the Duke of Bedford, uncle and confidant to King Henry, looks at me with no expression on his face. Jasper is one of the two people Henry trusts; the other is his mother. Jasper is the younger brother of Henry’s father, Edmond, who died when Henry was a boy.

After Edmond Tudor died, Jasper took the young Henry under his charge and fled with him to France when Edward IV claimed the throne after he defeated the Lancaster Army and took the crown from the sickly Henry VI. Edward imprisoned the sickly Henry in the Tower and, later, with his two brothers, Richard and George, murdered him in his Tower cell.

Having supported the Lancasters and with young Henry having a Lancaster claim to the throne, Jasper fled with him to France. He raised the boy while staying in constant contact with Henry’s young mother. Jasper had Henry educated, trained in martial combat, and military tactics. When they found the time was right, the two led Henry’s army across the Channel to claim the throne.

Jasper Tudor was a cruel man and a man without mercy or honor. He runs Henry’s spy network and does the king’s dirty work, work that has no honor. Jasper being at the abbey was not something I welcomed. It could only mean bad news for me and my granddaughter.

“Lady Katherine,” he greets me with a nod of his head and sneers when he calls me Lady. His eyes look at Maria with lust.

Jasper introduces the younger man as Francis Stanley. I now know who he is. The younger man looked like his father, William Stanley, the Earl of Derby, and a turncoat. The young man gives me a small bow.

William Stanley is a distinguished warrior who fought bravely for King Edward and Richard, but when Henry crossed the channel with his army, he turned his coat. Stanley switched sides during the Battle of Bosworth. When Stanley was ordered to attack the left flank of Henry’s army, he attacked Rischard’s instead. His treachery was well rewarded by the new king.

Maria is clutching my hand tightly. She is well aware of Jasper, and his presence is not a good thing. Jasper turns and bows to my granddaughter, a courtesy he did not give me.

“Lady Mary, tales of your beauty have reached Court, but I must say, they do not do you justice,” he tells my granddaughter in a charming tone. Mary blushes and giggles.

Jasper walks to Mary and takes her small hand in his, bends his head, and kisses her hand, causing Mary to giggle and blush once more. “It is such a pleasure to be introduced to such a beauty,” he tells her.

Jasper Tudor is old enough to be the girl’s father, but he is a handsome man. Mary has lived in the abbey since she was twelve, and the only man she has been exposed to is our confessor, a man in his sixties, bald, and fat as a cow. I suspect the priest is one of Jasper's spies. Mary is a young woman now, and Jasper’s flirtations are having their effect on her.

I loudly clear my throat to draw Jasper’s attention back to me. “What do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Your Grace?” I ask again.

I glance at my granddaughter and see that she and Aine’s eyes are focused on the younger Francis, and they are giggling and whispering to one another. I then focus my attention on Jasper.

The man chuckles at Mary and Aine’s attention towards Talbot. He then turns to me and smiles, a wicked smile. “I have been ordered by the King to bring you and your granddaughter to London and back to Court at Whitehall,” he tells me and waits for my reaction.

Maria gasps in alarm, which makes Jasper smile. Mary squeaks in excitement, and I hear her start whispering to Aine excitedly. But Jasper’s eyes are on me.

My heart feels as if it has stopped, but my face is blank. I will not give this man the satisfaction of seeing my fear. “When do we leave, Your Grace?” I ask.

Jasper hesitates for a moment. He is disappointed I did not show fear, and that threw him off. He clears his throat. “We leave in the morning. You are allowed to bring your household,” he chuckles after he says household. He knows I have no real household. He looks at Maria. “Except the French Whore. The Queen will not allow her back at Court or even in London. Per Her Majesty, she can stay here and take vows to become a nun, go back to France, or go to hell for all she cares.”

Maria’s grip tightens harder. “As you wish, Your Grace. Now, if you will excuse us, we have arrangements to make before we depart,” I tell him graciously.

He nods to me. “My men and I are staying in the town. We will return in the morning,” his eyes narrow, “I will be placing men around the abbey….for your protection, of course,” he tells me.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” I tell him. My protection! Guards to make sure I don’t try to escape is what he means.

Jasper gives me a nod of his head, turns to my granddaughter, and bows, and she giggles again. He and his men leave the garden.

“Lady Katherine, I…” Maria begins, but I silence her with a look.

“Not here,” I tell her sharply. Some of the nuns have taken a sudden interest in the conversation I had with Jasper, and I suspected some of them were his spies.

“Lady Grandmother, we are going to Court!” Mary shouts excitedly. “Surely this means the King is going to forgive us, and I won’t have to marry the Moor.”

I smile at Mary, a sad smile. “Yes, dear, maybe you won’t have to marry the Moor,” I tell her. “No, take Aine and Agnes and go pack.”

Maria follows me into my privy chamber. My knees suddenly become weak, I feel faint, and I stumble before I sit on the small couch. Maira rushes to my side and sits next to me. She takes my hand in hers.

“Lady Katherine, are you unwell? You are as pale as a ghost,” she tells me, concern in her voice.

“I’m fine, my sweet,” I assure her. “Fetch me some small ale.”

Maria stands and walks quickly to the small table and pours some small ale in a cup. She hands it to me and sits back down next to me. I take a sip and then I gulp the rest of it down. I toy with the cup in my hand.

“He promised you, My Lady, he promised!” Maria exclaims and is close to tears. I give her a half smile. Another lesson that we are all subject to the will and whims of kings and queens.

“Apparently, he changed his mind,” I tell the girl. The whims of kings can be a dangerous thing for other people.

Back to court can only mean one thing. The Tower and then the headsman's block. I am not so concerned about myself. It’s not that I am not afraid to die. I don’t want to die, but I am old and have lived a good life. It’s Mary I worry about. She is young and naïve. I did not beg Henry to spare my son and daughter-in-law; it would not have mattered if I did. Their fates were sealed when Henry proclaimed them traitors. But I would beg for mercy for my granddaughter.

I will get on my knees in front of the king and queen, in front of the entire court if need be, I will prostrate myself in front of them, and I will beg for her life to be spared. I will beg the king to allow her to marry the Moor as he promised. It will not be a happy marriage for her, I know, but she will be safe at least and alive. She will have children, wealth, and maybe, just maybe, she will grow to love the man.

I feel Maria put her arm around me. I suddenly realized something. What about her? She is so concerned about me that she is not concerned about herself. I push her arm off of me and stand up.

“Come, Maria,” I tell her, and she follows me into my bedchamber.

“Go to my wardrobe and bring me the bag of coins,” I tell the girl.

I sit at the small desk, take a sheet of parchment and lay it in front of me, pick up my quill, and dip it into the ink well. I write on the parchment, sprinkle it with sand so the ink won’t smudge. Using the candle, I melt some wax and seal the letter with my seal. I scribble another letter and seal it as well.

Maria places the bag of coins on the desk. It’s all the money I have. I open the bag and pull out three silver pennies and one gold noble, more than enough money to bribe the Tower Guards for extra food and comfort items while I am imprisoned there. I hand the bag to Maria. I then hand her the letters.

“Take these,” I tell her. “Is there anyone in the town you can trust?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Maria answers me, and she is both confused and frightened. “The miller and his wife.”

“Go to them after we leave tomorrow, give them three of the silver coins, not the gold, the silver. Have them take you to Hull, there book a passage on a ship, and there is more than enough coin to book a private cabin. Insist on a private cabin,” I tell Maria. “Book passage to Amsterdam, you will have no trouble finding a ship going there. Once in Amsterdam, seek an audience with my sister Anne. She is married to the Duke of Burgundy. The first letter is to the Duke’s steward, and after he reads it, he will grant you an audience with Anne. Present her the second letter. She will take you into her service. She is a kind woman, and the Duke is a good man.”

Anne is my half sister. My mother died from fever five days after I was born, and two years later, my father remarried. Anne is four years younger than I am, and we have been close ever since we were children.

When my family was declared traitors and Mary and I were banished to the abbey, Anne had her husband petition King Henry to let us be exiled to Amsterdam. Henry told the ambassadors I was free to go, but not Mary. He was afraid Mary would marry a French Noble and have a son who would be a threat to his throne. I refused to leave my granddaughter.

Anne and I corresponded frequently; of course, any letters I wrote or received, the seal was meticulously broken, the letter read, resealed, and then given to me. Anne and I made sure we never wrote anything that gave even the slightest hint of treason.

Tears form in the girl’s eyes. “My Lady, I…I…”

“Hush, girl, do as I say. Anne will keep you safe and treat you well. You will be serving a real Duchess and not a traitor, and she can provide for you better than I did. She can even find you a husband due to your rank. An Earl at least,” I tell the girl. “And for God’s sakes, girl, before you leave, steal a nun’s habit, stuff it with padding to make yourself look fat, wear gloves always, and wear a veil. If anyone asks, tell them you are a leper on your way to a leper hospital. That should make men on the ship leave you alone.”

“Yes, My lady,” Maria nods.

“Now, tell me what you are to do?”

Maria recites back to me the instructions I gave her almost word for word. I nod in approval. We start to pack my meager belongings. Maria picks up the special box.

“And this, My Lady?” she asks.

“You take, Maria,” I tell her. “You can sell it, though I would recommend using a discreet go-between. The jewels and ivory are worth enough to buy a small estate.”

“Oh no, My Lady. I can’t take it, I just can’t,” she protests. “It was a gift from a queen. You keep it.”

I laugh. “Oh, my dear, what use will I have for it where I am going?” I remind her of my fate once I get to court.

“You can at least pry out the gems, and the box alone is worth a great deal. Sell them to bribe the guards with,” Maria tells me. At the mention of guards, tears form in her eyes once more.

She refuses to take the box and its contents, so I have her wrap in a blanket and pack it for me.

Later that evening, when we are in bed, Maria cuddles against me and starts to cry. I hold her tight until she falls asleep. I don’t get much sleep that night.

Historical Notes:

I have villainized Jasper Tudor when, based on historical facts and records, Jasper was an honorable man. He was extremely loyal to his nephew, King Henry VII, and his sister-in-law, Margaret Beaufort, the Queen Mother. Jasper Tudor often reigned in Henry’s temper and paranoia. Why did I make him a villain? Because every story needs a villain.

Sir William Stanley, the Earl of Derby, did indeed change sides during the middle of the Battle at Bosworth Field, even though Richard III was holding his son, Francis, as a hostage. Years later, Sir William was executed by Henry VII for his support of the impostor pretender Perkin Warbeck. Though the evidence was circumstantial, he admitted the offence in the hope that, through a full confession, he would escape execution.