Date: Sat, 31 Dec 2011 09:16:42 +0100
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: Once a Knight. Part One.

          This story is for persons of eighteen years or over. All
comments, good or bad are welcome and all will be answered.

  Part One

  My life changed dramatically when I reached the age of ten. My name is
Martin, son of Hector the stonemason, though these were two disputed facts
as far as he wasn't really a mason but just a builder and maintainer of the
walls surrounding the castle's estate. The other was that if you looked at
my brothers and sisters, I appeared to be the cuckoo in the nest. Four
brothers and five sisters and all of them having dark hair whereas mine was
almost blond.

     We seldom saw our father for he was out at dawn and not back home till
we were in our beds. On the rare occasions that we did see him, he was
usually drunk and all I ever got from him was a scowl where I always got
that extra cuddle from my mother.

     Now when I called the place where we lived, home, that's because it
was the only place I'd ever known. It was just a single room with four
walls and a thatched roof, two windows and one door, the floor being beaten
earth. It had a hearth on which our meals were cooked, usually in one big
pot that was suspended over a wood fire. One table that didn't have enough
chairs for us all to sit down at the same time and two large beds. The
eight eldest slept in one and the youngest had to sleep with mother and
father.

     Me, being the eldest, was expected to teach the younger ones how to
hunt and catch rabbits for the pot, but more importantly, I was to teach
them how not to get caught poaching. For that was what we were doing and
the penalty was very severe in this year of our Lord 1122. For all the land
that surrounded us belonged to Sir Fitzroy de Fontaine, our Liege Lord and
master of all who lived and worked on his lands.

     That is, it used to be Sir Fitzroy until he was killed in an ambush in
the forest and as his son William was still too young to take over the
responsibility of running the estate, his uncle, Sir Gregory de Marchand
took control until William became of age. But we were all serfs to the de
Fontaine family or whoever controlled and lived in the castle that was
three miles away from where I lived.

     I'd only ever seen the castle from a distance as there was never any
need for me to travel that far when I was out hunting with my younger
brothers. This was usually done in the fields that skirted the forest where
Sir Fitzroy had been killed, for we were not big enough to tackle the wild
boar and deer that lived in said forest.

     But now that I was ten years of age, it was time for me to be taken
into the service of the castle, namely that of Sir Gregory. It was the day
after my believed birthday that I dressed in the only tunic that I had,
ragged as it was, and bid my father farewell, it being about the only time
I could remember him staying at home for I think he was secretly glad to be
rid of me. I kissed my brothers and sisters goodbye and then walked those
three miles to the castle with my mother.

     The road was dusty and both our feet were filthy as we had never worn
or ever possessed a pair of shoes in our lives. Mind you, we didn't look
out of place as we joined other people on their way to the castle for they
were just as poor as we were.

     I had started out on this journey full of high hopes for the future
but began to have misgivings the closer we got to the castle, seeing its
high forbidding walls and turrets that I was to be taken inside and never
having seen such a large building, it alarmed me knowing I would probably
get lost within its walls.

     Just outside of these high walls were many houses or dwellings such as
ours and I learned that they were actually called hovels, and they seemed
to crouch below these walls as if seeking shelter and to feel protected.

     This dusty road got narrower as we got closer and constantly found
ourselves being pushed to one side by the people hurrying back and forth
and then there would be a wild scatter as a troop of horsemen came
thundering up behind us to pound across the wooden drawbridge and disappear
into the dark interior.

      I had to be literally pulled along those last few hundred yards to
cross this bridge and felt claustrophobic as the walls closed round us as
we went through the archway and into the outer courtyard. This place was a
hive of industry or so it seemed to me. All around and under the walls were
many houses or some such buildings with people scurrying around doing
whatever they were supposed to be doing. There were chickens, pigs and even
goats milling about as we passed a pair of stocks, though not knowing at
the time that they were for holding persons who had offended the laws of
the castle.

     We passed through this melee to approach another high wall with an
arched gateway through which I could see yet another massive stone building
which was the actual living and entertaining quarters of the de Fontaine
and de Marchand families. As with the first arch we'd passed under, this
also contained what I later discovered was a portcullis and I looked
fearfully up at the pointed ends suspended above, hoping that it wouldn't
fall down as we passed underneath.

     What I haven't mentioned yet was the smell. It wasn't the same as out
in the country which had a clean healthy tang to it. This was sour and the
most prevalent was the urine and sewage and it almost made me gag it was
that strong.

    We approached this last bastion and had a set of stone steps to climb
up to where there were two men dressed in the livery of de Marchand,
standing there with halberds, a sort of cross between a spear and a
battleaxe in one hand and they stopped us and asked our business at the
castle. My mother patiently explained and a page was sent to fetch the
steward, who I learned was the man to fear the most as it was he who ran
the staff of the castle and his word was law as far as ones such as myself
were concerned.

     The steward duly appeared dressed in a livery that was predominantly
black which denoted that he was in the employ of de Marchand. To me he was
an old man but really only about forty years of age, thin and not very tall
but stood with his back straight and had a hard glint in his eyes that
showed he brooked no nonsense from anyone. My mother spoke briefly to him
and then knelt down and kissed me and told me that I was to obey this
steward at all times and that she would see me from time to time, for this
was to be my new home from now on. I stifled my tears as she quickly ran
down the steps crying herself, and I, at the man's beckoning, followed this
steward in black into the inner keep of the castle. He had looked at me
with some distaste at my dirty feet, face and ragged tunic but said nothing
as I almost had to run to keep up with him.

     It was dark and gloomy inside and the flagstones were cold to the
soles of my feet and I was soon lost as we went through various corridors
until I'm sure we were near the back of the castle before he took me into a
room where I was told to wait. I heard him call out as he left me alone in
this darkened room for not much light came through the narrow window that
didn't have glass or anything but a curtain that could be pulled across to
keep out the draught or wind. I didn't have time to study the room for two
massive women came in carrying a large wooden tub between them and set it
down in the middle of the floor. These women looked as though they could be
mistaken for bodyguards they were that big and heavy both in muscles and
stature.

     Others came in with buckets of water that were emptied into the tub
until it was just over half full and I was called and then beckoned over. I
didn't understand a word of what they said as I found out later that they
were speaking French. With a look of exasperation, I was seized and my
smock was pulled over my head and being picked up bodily, was dumped into
this tub.

     I think I screamed out in shock for it was the first time this had
ever happened to me and I thought that it was meant to drown me in as my
head was pushed under the surface and I swallowed at least half of the
contents in my struggle. I realise now at a later date that I must have
looked absolutely filthy, never having had a bath before. I was pulled up
roughly by a hand that had my hair in a firm grasp and wiping the water
from my eyes suddenly saw another hand with a pair of shears coming towards
me. I now thought that my throat was going to be cut but they disappeared
from view and I felt them cut a great big chunk of my hair away, plus half
of the inhabitants that lived there. The rest of them were forced to leave
after more hair cutting and by the strong smelly whatever it was that was
rubbed into whatever hair I had left on my head. I soon had masses of these
little things swimming about and drowning in the same water I was in.

     I must have been in there for what seemed an hour being scrubbed,
rinsed and scrubbed again till the water was stone cold. I didn't know that
my skin was that white under ten years of ingrained dirt. Eventually I was
pulled out and rubbed down with a coarse towel and doused in a cloud of
powder that was then rubbed into my hair and body.

     I had tried to fight the women when I was first dumped in that water
but soon lost that battle, being knocked almost senseless by one big paw. I
was now sat down on a stool and my hair was brushed, combed and cut again
so that it didn't quite reach my shoulders. They were gentle in this as my
hair was still in a tangled mess, but they went over every inch, pulling
out lice, fleas and nits that were still alive. All my body parts were
checked and after what must have been three hours of almost torture for me,
I was finally given a black tunic to wear and a pair of what looked like
slippers. Fur on the inside that was still attached to the hide that was
now on the outside of the animal that it had come from.

     This was my first pair of shoes if they could be called that and I
must say that they were much warmer than the flagstones under ones
feet. The tunic felt as though it was new and it came down to just above my
knees and that was to be my uniform. I then was shoved into a corner to
wait for somebody to come and collect me and watched as these two hefty
women picked up that tub of now, disgusting coloured water, and carried it
out of the room.

     The steward duly came and collected me but only to pass me onto
somebody else who, in my Saxon tongue, told me what my duties would be
within the castle as I hadn't yet been assigned to a particular Lord or
knight. This was to be a messenger boy and attend a daily class to learn
French which was the current language used in the castle. Latin was also
used but this was to be learned after I'd mastered French. Meanwhile I had
to get to know my way around and the names of all those that lived
there. For this, another page was detailed to be my guide and I was to
follow him about during his duties and be told of who we saw and where we
were in every part of the castle.

     Two days later I was spotted by Sir Gregory himself and I was told to
attend him in his chamber. I was taken up there and ushered in and left
alone with him. He was a well built man of about six feet in height and
quite heavy on top and I guessed about in his early thirties, though this
was hard to say. For he had a black beard that covered half of his face but
his eyes were his main features being almost black in colour, black as his
beard and tunic, which had more embroidery on it than any of the others
that were worn.

     `Come here boy,' I heard his bass voice call out to me and from it
thought that I guessed his age about right. `What's your name?' He spoke to
me in the English that I knew though with a definite accent.

     `Martin sir. Martin, son of Hector the stone man,' I replied and
looked at him as he studied me as he got up from his chair and walked round
me before sitting down again.

     `It can't be,' I heard him mutter as he beckoned me closer to stand
before him. When I stood there close up to him, he lifted up the front of
my tunic and looked at my genitals and then told me to turn round and he
then lifted it again to look at my backside.

     That night I became his lapdog.

     This is where that expression comes from as I will explain. The second
part was being treated as such by having to get into his bed to warm it
before he got in and then to wrap myself round his feet to warm them, much
as a dog does when it climbs up onto the bed.  The first part was where I
had to sit on his lap to be fondled in whichever way it pleased him. There
was more to this expression than I realised as I found out the night he sat
down on his stool naked and had me comb his beard and had his hand up the
front of my tunic, gently massaging my small penis and balls.

     Then he dipped his fingers into a pot of goose grease and smeared it
over the head of his now rampant cock. I looked in awe for though I'd seen
him naked in bed now several times, this was the first time I'd seen his
cock standing up hard and rigid as it was now. I was still green as to why
he was doing that, but not for long. He pulled me towards him and turned me
round so that my back was towards him. I felt him lift my tunic and with
his hands holding this up he lifted me up and dropped me straight down onto
his erect penis.

     I know I gave out a scream at the sudden sharp pain I had in my
backside as the head of his cock widened me more than any crap I had ever
done. The pain was excruciating as it entered and I had the whole length of
it slide up to the hilt inside me. What was just as hurtful was that he
laughed.

     I cried as he bounced me up and down on his cock and I could feel it
slide in and out but not letting my hole contract to its normal size. I
don't know how long he fucked me in this way but he then gave a big shudder
and I felt it swell that bit more inside me as he came.

     I was still crying when he lifted me off and dropped me to the
floor. I was now crying from the relief of not now having him up inside
me. He kicked my bum and told me to get some water and a cloth and so I
crawled to where I knew the basin and water jug were. It was hard to stand
up straight to half fill the basin with water, having learned already not
to spill it as I would get a cuff round the ear if I did so. I at least
managed to walk over to him and to wash and dry his still erect penis. It
wasn't until he was clean was I allowed to wash away the remains of the
goose grease and sticky semen that was oozing out of my backside.

     When he went to bed a few minutes later, I had to get in with him to
keep him warm as he cuddled me and I sobbed myself to sleep that night, as
I did for many nights until I got used to his having me that way. He would
fuck me three or four nights a week, those other nights with him not being
able to do so as he was drunk. By being his page now, I had to stand behind
his chair at the dining table in the great hall at mealtimes and see that
his cup was always filled with wine. It was this attention to my duties
that I endeavoured to get him drunk so that I wouldn't have a sore
back-side the following day.

     There was the odd night that he didn't stick himself up inside me and
I was able to sleep alone in his bed because he would spend that night in
the bed of his wife Annette. He didn't often sleep in her bed but must have
done in the past for he had two daughters and a sickly looking son called
Jules who was about five years old.

     These nights were a relief to me though I think he rather preferred to
fuck me than his wife now. There were some nights where he was most affable
and would have me sit up on his chest, close up to his mouth so that he
could take my penis and balls into his mouth for him to suck on. This way I
now began to get hard myself and he would really suck and chew on me till I
eventually had my first ejaculation and he was quite pleased at having
brought this about. Though there was a penalty for this for I then had to
go down and suck on him. The head of his cock was more than big enough for
my small mouth and when he first came in it and I spat it out, I got a
savage belt round the head for doing so.

     I never did get round to sucking him off properly, or so he said, but
that was because it was just that bit too big for me to do it right. I
learned to swallow his come when he filled my mouth with his semen, but at
least he wasn't stretching my backside when I relieved him this way. But in
the two years I was his page, the ring of my backside was now wide enough
to take him without the pain I'd had to endure in those first six months.
In fact I even came to enjoy being fucked in this way and also to finally
be able to take more of his cock into my mouth and have the thrill of
feeling the power that I held between my teeth and having him come for me
to taste before swallowing it. I never did get to fuck him but was
satisfied when he sucked on my cock which was now getting larger as I grew
older.

				     *