Yes, I sent you the contract and a diskette.  I think this is the version you bought.  Go ahead and cut as you suggested.

                               Noblesse Oblige

                                       

                                by Abe

       Old Shedeur, my father's trusted advisor, reminded me:        "My Lord Harald, tonight you must exercise your droit de seigneur; you must deflower a bride."

       I was aware that lords do that, but I had been serving my uncle, Sir Einar, as squire, so I had never seen it done.  When we learned of my father's untimely death, it was necessary that I cut short my training in courtly ways and return home, to take my father's place as Lord.  It was all rather overwhelming, being responsible for the castle, and the villages and estates, which are worked by hundreds of villeins, bordars, cottars, burs, and serfs.  I replied to Shedeur: "I'm bone weary.  I've been in the saddle most the day, and I am ready for rest.  I suppose she must be sent to my bed chamber.  Make it soon.  I need a good night's sleep."

       "My Lord Harald," Shedeur said, "it is not quite that simple.  To do it correctly, it will take you most of the night.  It will take some effort.  You will work up a sweat, if you do your duty well."

       "It's that involved?  My father, may he rest in peace, used to take care of deflowering brides.  Is there something I don't know?  Can't I just stick it in her, break her maidenhead, and be done with it?"  I would not, of course, admit that I had never stuck it in any woman, virgin or not.  My experience was limited to younger boys, whom I could bully.

       "By tradition, My Lord," explained my mentor, "it's rather more involved than that.  The custom of the lord deflowering the bride is ancient, and it serves several functions, to maintain the fabric of our society.  As with any formal social ritual, it behooves the enlightened ruler to perform it solemnly and well."  Of course, I was anxious to be an enlightened ruler.

       "Well, Shedeur," I replied, "we'd better get on with it.  You can talk me through it, can't you?  I must admit, I have never deflowered a woman before."  Truth be known, under Sir Einar's tutelage, I had never even lain with a woman.  I was entirely ignorant of the pleasures to be found in them.

       Shedeur led me to a tower, beside the main gate, and to the flat roof, from which, in war, archers could shower arrows down upon approaches to the gate.  Standing at a crenel, I watched as the town's people escorted the newly wedded couple from the steps of the church, across the square, to the main gate of the castle.  They saw my face at the battlements and assembled in a half circle around the base of the tower.  The groom, a strapping lad, bigger than I, stepped forward, knelt, and then rose to speak: "My Lord, I Dragor, your loyal subject, request permission to ask a favor."

       "Speak, Dragor."

       "My Lord, if it pleases you, I would send my bride, Else, to receive your favor.  This I request, in accord with the ancient tradition."

       "Your request is granted, loyal Dragor," I called down.

       "Very good, my lord," said Shedeur.  The crowd cheered.

       Soon, my chamberlain brought the bride to me, her long hair tied with colored yarn and adorned with flowers, her coarse dress newly washed.  Even her bare feet were clean.  She was a comely lass, slim, yet well muscled.  I rather suspect her father had used her to pull his plow.  She stood, with downcast eyes.

       "You are Else?" I said, not quite sure what I should say.

       "Yes, My Lord."

       "And you wish me to... prepare you for your husband, Dragor?"

       "Yes, please, My Lord."

       "Look at me, Else."

       She raised her eyes and stared at me with what might have been devotion, or awe.  Her features were not as fine as those of some of the ladies I had seen at court, but she was attractive to me.  My member stirred under my tunic.  I took her by the hand, and showed her to the crowd, below.  There were more cheers.  Then we retreated to the center of the space, where none could see us but my chamberlain and old Shedeur.

       The sun was low, and it glinted off her hair, gave a rosy glow to her face.  She smiled at me.  My chamberlain said, "Else, take off your clothes."  Else unlaced the bodice of her woolen dress and began to pull the dress off, over her shoulders.  Though her face and arms were tanned by work in the fields, her breast was pale.  She stepped out of her dress and stood before me, naked, her hands at her sides.  There was none of that covering up, trying to hide her breasts and crotch, that I might have expected.  The low sun accentuated her curves, and the shadows emphasized how her young breasts jutted forth, how round was her belly, how full her thighs.

       As a squire, I had not been permitted the company of women.  My eyes roamed over her ripe body, drinking it in.  My member stirred under my tunic.

       "Where will I bed her?" I whispered to Shedeur, "I don't see a bed."  The chamberlain went below, to fetch the bed, I assumed.  "Must I do it here?  In the open?"

       "Yes, my lord, so that the people may hear the confirmation of the deed."

       I could not keep my eyes off her, nor my hands, either.  I stroked her breasts with my finger tips, squeezed them gently, as if they were ripe fruit.  Her nipples, I noted, swelled and stood forth.  I know now that it might have been the cool air which erected them so, but at the time it seemed a minor miracle.  My hands ran down over her ribs, her hips.  Very gently, I touched and examined her womanly cleft, between her legs, noting the curly hairs, which gleamed as if bedewed, for I had turned her to the sun, the better to see.  "She is a fine wench," I said. "Where is that bed?"  Else smiled at me.

       "My lord," replied Shedeur, "there are some preliminary tasks to perform, first, for the benefit of her husband and her relatives."  It was hard for me to pay attention, as I was fondling her girlish breasts and running my fingers through the intriguing mass of hair where her thighs joined her body.

       The chamberlain came back, not with a bed but with a wooden  post, to which was attached a cross bar, across the top, like the letter T.  He returned again with bags of paraphernalia.  From one bag, he took a rope.

       To my surprise, Else thrust her arms forward, wrists crossed.  She knew better than I what was to happen.  The chamberlain bound her wrists together, leaving a long tail of rope.  "I don't understand," I said to Shedeur.

       "First, my lord," Shedeur went on, "you cause her great pain, so that she screams, for all to hear."

       "Why, Shedeur, should I wish to cause her pain?"

       "My Lord, let me try again to make you understand," he replied.  "Custom requires that you make it a unique, exquisite experience, one of absolute domination of the woman."

       "Well, then, afterward you can give her a potion of forgetfulness, right?  I can't go around inflicting lasting pain on perfectly innocent subjects.  Were she a criminal..."

       "No, NO.  She must remember every detail.  She must cringe in terror at the very thought of what you did to her, wake screaming in the night, when she dreams of it."

       "Why, Shedeur?  Why should I ruin this poor wench?"

       "Let me explain, My Lord," he said patiently.  I could remember him lecturing me when I was a boy.  I recognized the tone of voice.  "First, of course, you do this thing to prove to the community that you can.  It is your right, as Lord, to have the first fruits, and you must exercise your right to retain it, to be seen to be acting as Lord.  Should you return her to her husband with no outward signs of your dominion over her, no wounds, no bruises, there would be no evidence that you even cared to exercise your right."

       "Well, surely, Shedeur, a torn maidenhead is evidence enough."

       "My Lord, she can hardly display that to her friends and family!"

       "Ah, I see your point, but need it be painful?  Could you not give her one of your wonderful potions, that she should not feel the pain?  Or make her forget?"

       "Forget?  My Lord, this will be the most memorable night of her life, to spend the night as the object of her lord's attention.  Why should she want to forget?"

       "But, then, I should be gentle and kind, so she will remember me as a benevolent ruler," I argued.

       "My Lord, peasants are like animals," he explained.  "You have seen how, among the animals, the males fight, and the winner, the most powerful male, gets the females?  The victorious ram gets all the ewes.  It is the way of Our Divine Creator to assure the betterment of the breed.  The ewes want to be serviced by the strongest ram.

       "It is the same with women.  They have an instinct to be the sexual object of the strongest male.  As Lord, you are, by consensus, the most powerful male in the region -- socially powerful.  Any wench in your domain will willingly warm your bed, for you are the dominant male, with the power of life and death over them.  Is that not so?"

       "Yes," I admitted.  "often, women of low station have approached me, unbidden."  Of course, Sir Einar would never let me touch them.  "Yet, I suppose, if I were a goatherd and not a lord, women would not be attracted to me."

       "Exactly so, My Lord," said old Shedeur, rubbing his hands and obviously pleased that I understood.  "This peasant girl, Else, will want to remember that she was deflowered by a strong, powerful man, one so powerful that he could inflict any punishment, any degradation, at his whim.  You must show her you are physically powerful, strong, dominant, heartless.  You must show her that you care enough, care even about the humblest of your subjects, that you will exert yourself, all night, if necessary, to make her wedding night memorable, and leave scars to remind her.  She may never lay eyes upon you again, but she will remember her one night with her lord.  Secretly, she hopes you will impregnate her, so she may bear the strong son of a powerful lord, even though she is of the most humble station."

       "But Shedeur," I said, "this husband of hers, Dragor, will he not resent being delivered his bride in damaged condition?"

       "No, My Lord.  He will expect it.  These peasant girls, even as the ladies of the King's court, have been raised to think of their virginity as their most treasured possession.  There is always some resentment toward the man who takes it.  There is always some feeling, deep inside them, when they couple with their husbands, that they are being used, abused, raped, if you like.  You must use and abuse Else in so horrific a manner that anything Dragor may do with her in the future will seem gentle and kind in comparison.  He will thank you for that."

       Shedeur continued: "When Else suffers the pains of childbirth, will Dragor want her cursing him for inflicting that pain upon her?  No, he will want to be assured that she will think back to this night and realize that the pains of childbirth are as nothing, compared to the pain you inflicted upon her.  She will remember how her husband was kind to her, how he helped to heal her after her ordeal in the castle, and she will love him the more.  You owe it to Dragor to be thorough, tonight."

       "Noblesse oblige, I suppose."

       "Yes, My Lord, you must be seen to do your duty."

       While all this was being explained to me, the sun was setting, so that now Else stood, patiently, bathed in the red glow of the sunset.  Torches were brought to brighten the scene, and a brazier of glowing coals.   The chamberlain fitted the wooden post into a socket in the floor and led the girl, Else, to it.  He bound her ankles to the rings in the floor, so that her legs were spread wide.  Then he drew on the rope which bound her hands, so that she was pulled over, against the cross bar, which bore against her upper thighs.  She bent at the hips, and her arms were pulled taut before her, as the rope was fastened to a cleat on the wall.  With all of this, she cooperated, making no protest, struggling not at all, though it must have been uncomfortable, with her legs spread so wide, and her body horizontal.  Her hair hung down between her outstretched arms, and her breasts hung free, like ripe fruit.  I went to her and held her breasts cupped in my hands.  She turned her head and smiled at me.  I stepped behind her and squatted, so the globes of her buttocks, stretched taut by her strained posture, were right before my face.  So spread was she that I could easily see her little puckered shit-hole and below that the vertical groove of her maidenly cleft, the haired lips swelling, utterly exposed.

       With my fingers, I parted her flesh, revealing her inner lips and pinkness.  Gently, for I had never touched a woman thus, I moved my finger tip across her pinkness, exploring what I found.  Farthest forward, I found a little lump of soft flesh, and when I pressed upon it, Else gave out a mewling sound, like a hungry kitten.  It seemed, as if before my eyes, her cleft grew damp, even wet.  I spread the inner lips and peered within, as the chamberlain held a torch near.  "Tell her husband, Dragor, that his bride was truly a virgin."  Not that I would have known the difference.  I pushed my finger against her elastic membranes, marveling at the wetness, and marveling that I was touching Else's most private place.  I was, no doubt, the first man to do so.  I could smell her womanliness.  Looking between her spread thighs, between her hanging breasts, I saw her upside down face smile at me.

       "My lord," said Shedeur, handing me a whip, "unless you would prefer the branding irons."

       My heart raced, and I stepped to a wall, to clear my head, to take a deep breath of the evening air.  I saw half the village, it seemed, standing, waiting beneath the tower, casting long grotesque shadows as the sun set.  A murmur arose when they saw me standing in the aperture.

       Almost automatically, I waved to them and turned away.  Clearly, my subjects expected me to perform.  I resolved to do my duty, to apply myself to the job at hand.

       The chamberlain spoke, loudly and formally: "My Lord, your serf, Dragor, presents his bride, Else, and prays you will exercise your droit de seigneur."

       The whip was in my hand, like a sword.  It extended from me, the length of my forearm, stiff braided leather.  Then it divided into long leather thongs, with knots.  As I pulled the lashes across my palm, I could feel that each knot embraced a metal weight.  It was a whip to wring a confession from the most courageous man.  What would it do to a mere girl?

       I could hear the crowd, below, beginning to get restless.  Someone shouted, "I knew it.  The slut likes it.  Not peep of complaint."  Else heard it, too, and the expression on her face changed to one of great pain and anger.   That made me angry.  I swung the whip.

       The next instant is burned into my memory, the sickening slap as the knotted lashes fell upon her clear, pale skin, the ends wrapping around her body to snap against her tender breast,  the screech, the howl, of anguish, which emerged from Else and reverberated between the castle walls, the sigh, the murmur, which arose from the crowd below.  Else's taut body undulated with her agony, as her breath rasped in her throat.  I could see, across her back, the livid stripes where the lashes had abused her pale skin.  There was a spot of blood, where one of the knots had whipped around her ribs and pierced the skin of her tender right breast.

       Scarce had she drawn fresh breath, I swung backhanded, and again the instrument of torture slashed her girlish body, eliciting yet an other cry of agony, leaving a network of stripes, setting her left breast to quivering.  The effort of beating her seemed to me natural, like the countless hours of sword practice I had endured as a squire, hacking forehand, backhand, at a post.

       I realized, then, that in my limited experience, for a squire is supposed to remain chaste, I had never had the opportunity, never had leisure, to do anything I might want to do with a woman, to have her body entirely at my disposal.  I felt a sense of power, a sense of -- maturity -- that I had not realized as merely the son of a lord, or squire to a knight.  I realized, that night, there on the tower, that just as Else was embarking on a new life, with a new status, wife, just so this ceremony would launch me on a new life.  For the first time, I knew real power over another.  I felt like a lord!  I knew, with each swing of the lash, that I was the LORD, with the power of life and death!  This woman was mine!

       Shedeur stayed my hand.  I shook to clear my head, when I saw what I had done.  Else hung, limp, from her hips and hands.  Her back, her ribs, her breasts, her buttocks, her thighs, all the pale parts from her knees to her shoulders, were shades of pink or red, and in places, blood oozed, where the knots had gouged her flesh.  Her head hung.  "I have not killed her, have I?" I said, not believing what I had done.

       "She will recover her senses, my lord," said Shedeur, who must have seen a hundred of these ceremonies.  "You have done well.  The rabble are pleased."

       I walked to the wall and looked down.  The shadowy figures below, some carrying torches, moved excitedly, talking among themselves, almost in a festive mood.  They seemed to be waiting, expecting more.

       I returned to Else, lifted her head by her hair, and gazed, by torch light, upon her tear stained, weary, face.  Her eyes were closed; she was not aware of me.

       My chamberlain handed me a flagon of wine, from which I drank, as the three of us stood watching Else slowly recover.  At last, her body undulated, and she raised her head, gasping.  Her beaten breasts swayed, as her bruised ribs expanded.  I pulled her hair, lifting her face, and put my wine flagon to her lips.

       She drank, and writhed her bruised body, her hips fixed by the wooden crossbar, her arms kept taut by the rope to the wall.  I walked to her other end, where her bottom, raised high, and her widespread limbs, bore the overlapping welts from my exercise with the whip.  Her cleft gaped, gleaming in the torchlight.  No longer a shy, innocent squire, I thrust my fingers against her, squeezing her tender lips, pressing that little nubbin between them.  I showed no hesitation; it was my right, as Lord.

       "Now?" I said to Shadeur.

       "As you wish, my lord."

       I tore at my tunic, and my chamberlain helped me undress.

Soon, I was as naked as Else, and my manhood stood tall.  Her sheath was fully exposed, ready for my sword, and I quickly found the point to apply pressure.  With a heave of my hips, I rammed my meat into her wet tunnel.  "AAAHH!" she screamed.  I pulled back, the pushed hard again, mashing her bruised buttocks as I drove for maximum penetration.  "OH!, AH! UHNGH!" she cried, exclaiming with each thrust.  The crowd, below, heard and murmured acclamation.

       In those days, I was young and inexperienced.  With a euphoric thrill, I shot my seed into her belly and withdrew from her hot wetness.  She sighed and mewled, as if deprived.  Instinctively, I thrust my fingers into her bloody hole and fucked her vigorously, until she heaved her hips and cried out piteously, "Ah, oh, AHHH, OHHH!"  I could feel her sheath gripping my hand, and then she sagged once more, spent.

       "Well done, my lord, well done," said Shadeur.  "She'll not soon forget this night."

       Despite the cool of the night, sweat gleamed on Else's breasts, and her nipples jutted out.  She breathed heavily, as if I had beaten her again, with the whip.  But she lifted her head and smiled at me.

       Shedeur led me to her, until I stood with my limp, wet manhood practically touching her cheek.  "Else," he said, "you must take it in your mouth."

       Else did not protest, but did as he said, licking, kissing, sucking on my member until, to my surprise, it again stood tall.

"My lord," Shedeur said, softly, "there remains one virginal place.  You must use her as you would a page."

       I was never one to shirk my duty.  I again took my place behind her, but I aimed my thrust a little higher, pressing against her puckered rosebud until, suddenly, I sank into her body.  My belly mashed her beaten buttocks, and she gave one, loud, cry of pain and anguish.  Then she was quiet, except for excited gasps, as I fucked her forbidden hole.  She was tight, and the friction was delicious, but I had to pound her tortured buttocks with countless thrusts until, at last, I spent my semen in her bowels.  She did not show the signs of ecstasy that she had when I fucked her cleft with my hand, but she sagged, exhausted, hanging from her bound wrists.

       "Is more required of me?"

       "No, my lord," said Shadeur.

       "You did very well, my lord," said my chamberlain, handing me my clothes.  It occurred to me that, by morning, the whole castle might know how I had performed.

       I looked down at Else, and I think, that moment, I loved her.

       She raised her head to look at me as I dressed.  "Thank you, My Lord," she sighed.

       "I regret that I had to hurt you," I said sincerely.

       "I am content, My Lord," she said.  "I shall not forget your effort to make my wedding night memorable.” They delivered her to the gate, to her husband, Dragor, who waited there.  She kissed him, shamelessly, and they went off, arm in arm.  I never saw Else again.

       I often think of Else, for she was my first.  Since then, I have deflowered a hundred brides, fucked countless maids who have come to serve in the castle, and 'most every lone farm girl I might come across in my travels.  Nothing quite excites the passions like a good whipping, and never has one been less than grateful.

                                       [END]