Virginblood (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 4) Page 4

  "Harder!" the blacksmith yelled throatily. "Spank the pride out of that prissy wench who walks about with her nose in the air, thinking she's so much better than us."

  "Aye," cried another voice, "Spank the wench harder! Make those cheeks sore, master!"

  And Ramon proceeded to do exactly that, much to the joy of the rowdy mob.

  Chapter Four

  With each sting of Ram's hand, she bounced a little in Salvador's lap. Her bottom throbbed. She knew her cheeks, at both ends, must be scarlet.

  But to Jeanne's shock, the spanking did not take away from what he had done to her earlier. Her pussy still felt the pulse of wanton desire. If anything, it was now doubled.

  The crowd around them was loud, chanting and applauding, but she no longer imagined their faces leering at her. Their noise was like the roar of the sea and she was simply a little boat being tossed about on the waves. Even when she heard the spit boy yelling excitedly that he could see her cunny, calling to his friends to come look, she quickly cast it away into the distance and concentrated instead on the shuddering, jolting desire caused by that hand on her smarting flesh.

  Between spanks, Ram had let his fingertips stray down to her pussy lips, stroking them slyly, holding them open, running the rough pad of his thumb over the sticky inner folds and wriggling it gently against the pearl of her oyster.

  Her hips thumped up and down on Salvador's lap and he grunted, pinching her arse roughly. "Is the little brat coming, Ram? She'd better not. Don't you diddle her clitty. Keep spanking."

  Someone—possibly the spit boy— was howling like a wolf.

  She became breathless, waiting for the next stroke, squirming on Salvador's hard, muscular thighs. He too, it seemed, grew impatient with Ram's teasing.

  "You don't do it hard enough, boy. Are you spanking her or kissing her?" So he squeezed her arse cheeks cruelly and began serving her with his own slaps, which were harder and fell faster, giving no chance for recovery after each one. He laughed at her blushing bottom and with one arm still hooked around her thigh, he called one of the bystanders over to hold her other ankle.

  "Keep her legs wide open. If the sly wench gets her thighs together she'll come. Look at her rose-red cunt! It begs for release, but she won't have it until we say she can, eh? I'll spank the sauce out of her first."

  Unable to close her legs, her private regions displayed for the unobstructed viewing of those who gathered, Jeanne could only curse under her breath and groan. Each slap of his hard hand jerked her body. Splayed over his lap she felt his cock stiffen in his chausses, pressing against her groin, but oddly enough it did not frighten her or disgust her. She wriggled, pushing herself down on it, grinding against the lump in some attempt to get relief from the heavy ache inside her, until she heard him exhale a taut hiss.

  "Take your belt to her, Ram. The wench needs it. I think she enjoys my hand too much."

  Oh no, they would not take a belt to her! Jeanne finally decided she'd had enough, and she sank her teeth into Salvador's thigh.

  * * * *

  His brother howled and pushed her off his lap. Ram didn't even know what had happened, but he saw her take off running, so he gave chase and caught her before she reached the ring of the crowd. He swept her up in his arms and took her into the fortress.

  The poor girl's arse was bright red, and she probably would not be able to sit for a few days.

  "Put me down," she squealed as he carried her onward.

  "Stop wriggling. I'm helping you."

  "Helping me?" She laughed hysterically.

  He frowned. "Does your arse hurt?"

  "What do you think, beast?"

  So he carried her to the women's solar, where they often sat during daylight hours to sew. Only Princesa, the heavily pregnant first wife, was there at that moment, and when she saw Jeanne she quickly set her embroidery aside.

  "Well, for pity's sake, what have you done?"

  "She had to be punished for a disrespectful tongue," he replied and then admitted begrudgingly, "Sal lost his temper."

  "What is wrong with Salvador lately? He's like a bear with a thorn in his paw. Come. Follow me."

  Princesa led them down to the stillroom where the nun who came to tend Guillaume kept all the herbal medicines she brewed. Lately she'd been teaching the wives her skill and the shelves were stacked with powders, ground horn, oils and various cordials in a myriad of colors. The thick scent of so many herbs and spices reminded Ram of his mother. She had died when he was very small so he had only one clear memory—of a time when he was ill with a fever. He remembered her scent and warmth surrounding him while she held him tight and sang songs to take his mind off the bad taste of the medicine she made him drink. It was more than twenty years ago now, of course, and in time the memory would fade. It had already begun to fray around the edges, and that saddened him.

  Gently he set Jeanne on her feet. She would not look at him. He offered to apply the soothing cream to her backside, but Princesa politely suggested he'd done enough for the time being, so he left them alone.

  * * * *

  Jeanne lay across one of the benches on her belly while Princesa carefully applied the soothing oil on her buttocks.

  "I called them beasts, and I told Salvador he was a foul, disgusting pig," she murmured. "So they spanked me. In front of everyone."

  "Poor dear!" Princesa cooed softly, but Jeanne wondered whether the other woman even listened. She was a daydreamer, and since she was in the last term of her pregnancy she didn't seem to think about very much else but the imminent birth of her baby.

  Resting her chin on her hands, Jeanne glared at the shelves of dried herbs and medicines. "I hate this place."

  There was a pause while Princesa wiped her hands and replaced a jar on the shelf. When she turned to face Jeanne again she had placed both hands on her high, round belly and she was smiling. "How can you hate this place? I think perhaps your life must have been luxurious and very grand before this."

  Jeanne frowned. The woman was clearly being sarcastic. "Of course not. But at least I was not manhandled by ruffians. At least I was left alone to pray."

  Princesa waddled to the bench and sat. "Before I came here I was a bondslave. As a young girl, I was captured by a rich nobleman. He kept me in chains. I was beaten and tortured daily for his entertainment. I had run away many times, but he always found me again." She sighed. "I'll let you into a secret, Jeanne. I say my prayers every day, but up here," she tapped two fingers to her brow, "and here," then she placed them to her heart. "I thank god for sending me to Raul d'Anzeray, for that man saved me from a life of misery. He brought me here where I am loved and treasured by seven fine men, where I have good food and warm clothes. And friendship. This place you hate, Jeanne, has saved my soul."

  She had not known Princesa's history and hearing it stated now so matter-of-factly was shocking. The woman glowed with an abundance of good health and happiness. It was hard to believe she had once been abused so badly. That she had ever been a slave.

  "And Aelfa," she continued softly, "had a husband who raped and beat her with his fists. Then one day she met Sebastien d'Anzeray and he rescued her."

  Jeanne swallowed, but her throat was dry. "I did not know."

  Princesa smiled again. "So you see, those men may not be angels and perhaps they do not pray to god, but they have done good things. Sometimes I wonder if they even know what they have done. Perhaps it is entirely by accident that they saved us. But I know we shall always be glad of it. I have heard it said that god works in mysterious ways." She laughed.

  Slowly Jeanne sat up, but leaned on her hip to save her sore bottom. "He does."

  "Well, if I were you, Jeanne, I would stay out of Salvador's way for a while and say my prayers inside from now on. I have a feeling god will still hear you."

  She nodded.

  Princesa slid an arm around her waist. "I think Ram is quite taken with you."

  Her cheeks hot, she stared at the other woman. "W
hat?"

  "Carrying you in his arms so gallantly. I did not think he had it in him."

  "I cannot think what you mean." She stood, slipping out of the other woman's warm embrace. "He carried me because he felt guilty. As well he should."

  Princesa shrugged. "Perhaps. But men do not think as we do. They seldom consider what they do before they act. With them it is all instinct. And his instinct was to carry you in his arms."

  Not knowing what else to say, thinking the pregnant woman was simply dreaming among the daisies again, Jeanne thanked her and then hurried out of the stillroom. It was a sad state of affairs that the females in this place should find one single kind act by a man so weighty in its significance. Yet Jeanne had to admit it was strange. Even stranger that in his arms she had felt secure for once. Which was ridiculous.

  She could not reconcile her sense of wounded pride with the throbbing excitement that had overtaken her as Ram spanked her bottom in the courtyard, and while Salvador held her down, exposing her private regions to the entire castellany. It was all too confusing. And Princesa's confession about praying stuck in her mind, wedged there in the midst of it all. God certainly did work in mysterious ways if this was his idea of "saving" women, she thought peevishly.

  Jeanne had seen Princesa run out to greet Raul d'Anzeray recently when he returned from fighting Saxon rebels. The couple had embraced heatedly, but also lovingly. Raul, tired and dirty, had allowed Princesa to wash his face with water from the well and then he'd kissed her tenderly, deeply. Of course, Princesa was shared between all the brothers so no one knew which was the father of her child, but Raul had petted her stomach and kissed it, his silver eyes shining so vividly that the color could be seen clear across the yard. It had struck Jeanne as romantic, in that moment.

  But she had quickly chastised herself for such foolishness. How could it be romantic to have seven husbands and not know which was the father of one’s child?

  Now she pondered what Princesa had told her about the past and how she and Aelfa came to be there. She supposed there were some things, some places and some men worse than this after all.

  * * * *

  It was a month since he first laid eyes on Jeanne when she arrived there with her mistress. Ram had thought her the most beautiful creature he ever saw. But, of course, he said nothing to his brothers. He would not know how to say it without sounding like an addle-pated fool. Instead he watched her closely, unable to take his eyes off her, trying to make sense of something he eventually realized was unfathomable.

  She was a proud, angry little thing. All tightly closed off, clutching her religion like a shield to keep them at bay. But it didn't chase him off.

  After the public spanking, Ram called a counsel of his brothers. For once they were all present, and it would be a good opportunity to stake his claim.

  "I want Jeanne, the maid," he stated as soon as they were all assembled around their father's bed.

  Salvador slouched by the door. "Then take her. What are you waiting for?"

  "No. I want her for a wife."

  Silence fell over the chamber. Even the puttering candles seemed muted.

  Their father sat up, pressing his knuckles into the bed for leverage. "She's got no dowry, no family, no land."

  "Neither did Princesa, or Aelfa," he pointed out sharply, glancing over at Raul and Sebastien, who had brought those wives home. "And she works hard."

  "And she has lovely big titties," added Nino, the brother closest to Ram in age. He grinned. "Isn't that why you want her most of all?"

  "I don't know why you don't just fuck her and get it out of your system," said Salvador with a sniff.

  Ram looked at his eldest brother. Sal wouldn't understand, of course. He didn't really believe wives were necessary, although he would never say that before their father. Guillaume wanted his sons to get wives, and what Guillaume wanted he usually got. "I want to marry her, Sal. I want to make her a wife."

  Until that moment he'd never realized that his feelings for Jeanne were deeper than lust. Watching her pray had frustrated him, not because he did not believe in her god, but because he wanted that devotion and loyalty for himself. He was jealous.

  Their father looked around the chamber, pausing briefly on each of his sons. "Well, it is up to the seven of you. Do you want her as a wife? If so, I tell you now, the rest of you had better bring home the richest damn women in the land to make up for these impoverished beauties I keep welcoming as daughters-in-law."

  Ram followed his father's gaze, circling the room looking for approval from his brothers.

  One by one they said, "Aye."

  The last to speak was Sal, who rubbed his chin, seemingly mystified by Ram's decision. "I can see why you want to fuck her. I just don't know why you think she'd make a good wife when her god will always come first," he said dourly.

  Dominigo spoke up before Ram could. "Her god comes first because she's still a virgin. At least, that is how nuns think. They keep themselves chaste for their god, don't they? In which case, the man who takes her maidenhead will become her new master." It was evident Dom had been giving it all a great deal of thought and that was the best he could come up with.

  "I do not even try to get into the mind of a nun," grumbled their father, "but I daresay young Ram here looks forward to claiming her virginity." He leaned back, frowning and half-laughing. "I'm surprised virgins still exist outside a convent. I know I haven't seen one in a great many years. Are you sure she is what she claims to be?"

  Ram nodded. "She's a virgin. I would stake my life upon it."

  "I say we make certain," Sal muttered peevishly. "Prove she's a virgin and then I'll believe she's worth taking to wife. I suppose it'll make a change from whores, slaves and other men's wives."

  Dom laughed. "What has got into you lately, Sal? Anyone would think you're tired of our women. Or angry at the female sex in general."

  Sal merely glared and folded his arms.

  "I'll prove to you she's intact," said Ram firmly.

  Their father laughed. "You'll have to catch her first." He glanced at Sal, grinning, "I hear she's got quite a bite, eh?"

  "Don't worry," said Ram. "I know how to catch her too. By curiosity."

  Chapter Five

  She had gone down to her usual place by the stream with some of Lady Isobel's laundry. As usual she was accompanied by a guard for her own safety, but Jeanne did not speak to him or smile at him. After her public spanking and humiliation she had decided she would never be pleasant to anyone ever again. Let them call her haughty and proud. She did not care.

  The stream was icy cold that day and did not flow with its usual bubbling depth so she was obliged to walk out into it a fair way just to get enough water to wash the garments. Her feet and ankles were soon numb. Frustrated she climbed out again.

  "There must be a dam stopping the flow," she exclaimed irritably to the guard.

  He merely looked at her with a bored expression.

  Leaving him with the pile of clothes she stormed off to find out for herself. Passing through the bowing branches of a willow, stomping over a fallen flurry of gold and copper leaves, she suddenly came upon a scene that stopped her mid-step.

  Aelfa's red hair was instantly recognizable, like a flame in the forest. With her in the stream there were four men. Dominigo, Salvador, Nino. And Ram. When she saw Ram, Jeanne's heartbeat quickened. He had stayed away from her since the spanking, and she'd actually begun to miss finding him under her feet wherever she went.

  There he was, sitting on a log with Salvador, both with their breeches around their ankles while Aelfa, on all fours in the water, sucked their cocks. She made an able effort to consume both at once and then gave up, resorting to servicing them by turns. Beneath Aelfa lay Nino, on his back in the shallow stream, enjoying her breasts as they hung in his face, and Dominigo was about to force his massive prick into her arse. The crest of his hard cock was thick and dark, prying between her pale buttocks as he parted them with his
large, sun-browned hands. His balls looked heavy and full like ripe figs on a tree.

  Afraid the rustling leaves would betray her presence, Jeanne remained very still and stared. A small voice in her head told her to go back, to close her eyes, to save herself. But she could only stand and watch.

  She saw that enormous manhood thrust between Aelfa's trembling cheeks, steadily filling that tiny hole. And she heard the woman moan with a mouthful of cock. Domingo grunted as he worked his way deeper, his own arse cheeks squeezed taut, his strong thighs flexing, his broad shoulders heaving. Once he was balls deep in her backside, he began lowering the woman onto Nino's waiting erection. He reached under, grabbed the stiff cock and helped angle it as he forced Aelfa down. Nino groaned and laughed wickedly as he nibbled and licked frantically at her breasts. Aelfa arched her back, her beautiful naked body dripping with water as she struggled to accommodate all of them. The cold must have made her nipples extra tight and sensitive, thought Jeanne, placing a hand to her own left nipple, imagining the icy kiss of that bubbling water as it rushed over the stones and around the man who lay under her.

  Salvador pulled his cock from her mouth, making way for Ram, and while Jeanne stared, holding her breath, she watched the eldest brother shoot his cream at Aelfa's tits. A thick stream of ivory crisscrossed those full, swinging orbs, and some dripped slowly down into his brother's face. He reached over, stroking the woman's damp hair back from her forehead and then her bulging cheek as she diligently continued sucking Ram's cock, her body forced back and forth like a saw by the power of Dom's thrusts in her bottom.