Storiesonline.net ------- The Queen's Protector by Lubrican Copyright© 2009 by Lubrican ------- Description: Fairy tales often teach us lessons, or remind us of problems to be avoided. But some fairy tales also tell us where things came from, things we all think we know about already. Here, now, is the story of how a popular "modern" song came into being, in a land far away, a long long time ago. Codes: MF cons ------- Copyright Notice: This story was published in November, 2008, in a book titled "Fairy Tales Can Come True," an anthology for Bare Back Magazine. Emerging Edge Publishing owns the rights to this story and has consented to its posting at Stories Online.org. It may not be reproduced in any form without the express consent of Emerging Edge Press. Copies of the book may be purchased by contacting barebackmag.com A dingy and cracked page of musical notations was recently found tucked between the pages of a book that was part of the estate of a man who shall remain nameless. What was on the page electrified certain musical scholars. Investigation dated the page to the fifteenth century. The results of further investigation, long and arduous, have revealed startling information that has answered many questions. The story of that simple page, with it's musical notes and lyrics, is documented as follows: Once upon a time there was a young princess named Merilee, whose father arranged a marriage for her with a prince, named Rupert, in another land. She was unhappy about this to begin with, but even more so when she saw her betrothed for the first time. She looked with horror upon his buck teeth, his pimples, and the wandering eye that always seemed to draw her attention, even though it was looking off at something else. He was also somewhat dimwitted, as became clear in a very short while. His attempt at wooing his betrothed consisted of telling her off color jokes, at which he tittered like a girl. At merely sixteen years of age, she felt like her life was already over. But politics is politics, and the results of inbreeding in the groom-to-be were the whole point of getting fresh blood into the royal bloodline. It would also secure the peace between the kingdoms for a while longer as well. So, no matter how she wailed and moaned, her father's resolve never wavered and she was told to wed the young man chosen for her. As it turned out, her father was even happier with the arrangement when Rupert's father was thrown from a horse and killed, catapulting the prince, and soon to be son-in-law, into the throne years before anyone thought it would happen. There was a huge wedding, with thousands of people in attendance, and much pomp and ceremony. The groom, fortified with much wine, stood weaving at the altar, as his young bride marched reluctantly down the aisle. The ceremony droned on and on, until it got to the point where the abbot pronounced them married and told the king he could now kiss his queen. This was the point the poor princess had been dreading. It turned out to be the least of her discomforts, for shortly after her new husband bruised her lips with his buck teeth, he took her away to their bedchamber, to make a woman of her. King Rupert, as it turned out, was as inept in bed as he was in the rest of his life. He seemed to know what to do, but too much wine had robbed him of full manhood ... if he had it at all. He managed to divest her of her virginity, as he lay moaning and grunting atop her, but fell into a stupor before he could do much else. Merilee, now queen of the realm, a position thousands of young women coveted, was thoroughly miserable. She pushed her snoring husband off of her and rose. Donning the nightgown her grandmother had lovingly made for her, she decided to explore her new home. ------- Merilee's wanderings brought her, eventually, to a door of age-darkened wood that was carved with mystical symbols. There was a crescent moon and foliage of some kind carved into the wood, along with other things that seemed to squirm and wiggle, such that her eyes could not determine their true shape. She was standing there, trying to focus, when the door opened and an old woman suddenly faced her. "My queen," said the crone, bowing slightly. "Who are you?" asked Merilee. She might be the queen, but she didn't feel like one yet. "Most call me witch," said the old woman with a small smile. "I prefer Mora, though." "Well then," said Merilee, who had been brought up to be polite. "I shall call you Mora. Are you really a witch?" "Some would argue about that," said the woman. "But I sense you are in pain. May I be of service to my queen?" "Pain?" Merilee blinked. "I feel no pain." "Some pain is felt in the body," said Mora, "such as the pain between your legs, which is easily dealt with. Other pain is suffered by the spirit. That kind is more hurtful and harder to assuage." Merilee was astonished. How could this woman know of the soreness where Rupert had thrust ruthlessly into her? And how could this woman, a stranger until now, possibly know of the new queen's unhappiness? Merilee was intrigued. "I can make the physical pain go away," said Mora, "if you desire it." She smiled a toothless grin. "As for the other ... well it may take more time, but perhaps I can help with that too." Merilee stepped through the door into Mora's room. ------- The old woman chatted disarmingly, as she went to a shelf and got down a jar filled with a dark paste. She opened it and a pungent odor filled Merilee's nostrils. "Raise your nightgown and spread your legs," said Mora casually, as she stepped in front of the queen. Merilee blanched. "I couldn't possibly!" she objected. "This will take away the pain," said the witch, holding out two fingers smeared with the dark stuff. Blushing, Merilee did as the woman asked. She felt the witch's fingers touch her gently and the soothing was immediate. In fact, it felt distinctly good! "Oh my," sighed the girl. "You shan't feel that kind of pain again," said Mora, rubbing gently. "I hope not," sighed Merilee. "Twas distinctly unpleasant." "Our king leaves somewhat to be desired, eh?" The old woman didn't seem to think she'd said anything subversive, though heads had rolled in the kingdom for saying such as that. "It would be rude to agree," said Merilee, enjoying the massage she was getting. "This is just chatter between friends, I dare to hope," said Mora. "Can you be my friend?" asked Merilee, who felt desperately in need of a friend. "You're the queen," said the old woman simply. "What you say is true ... is true." "That's silly," said Merilee. "I'm just a girl who had to marry a man I don't care for." "You are much more than that," said Mora, removing her fingers from the soft pussy lips of the new queen. "Or at least you can be." "Not in this world," sighed Merilee. "We shall see about that," said the witch, smiling gently. "Well, be that as it may, I can at least decree that you ARE my friend." The hag bowed stiffly again. "I am honored," she said. "I will attempt to serve your interests as such." ------- Mora was a fixture in the castle and had been so for as long as even the oldest courtier could remember. No one knew from whence she came, or why she was brought to the kingdom in the first place. No one still living knew that her quiet whispers in the ears of earlier kings had been responsible, in large part, for the success of their rule. She'd been beautiful, back then, and strong in magic. Then there was a new king, with a new queen, who was jealous of Mora's beauty and relegated her to being nothing more than the fixture she'd become. She'd kept a low profile for the past half century, while her counsel was not sought. Now it appeared she might be able to wield influence again. Her magic was still strong, but she didn't think much would be needed in this situation. She remembered being young and what young women wanted ... and needed. A tiny spell, cast across a great distance, created a border dispute. Foreign troops came to the kingdom's border. A response was required and the new king's advisors spoke of glory to be achieved. Rupert prepared to ride off with his army. Grooms stood by with ropes to tie him to the saddle, so he wouldn't fall off his horse like his father had. He was giving final instructions when another tiny spell, cast across only the castle grounds, made Rupert fear for the safety of his young wife. That fear struck him at just the moment when a young nobleman was next in line to receive orders for his men. "You shall protect the queen while I am away!" lisped Rupert, his wandering eye rolling in its socket. "I'll hold you personally responsible for her safety!" ------- Randall Pennington was, at the tender age of seventeen, still trying to learn to behave like a nobleman. He didn't have much experience at that, because he hadn't been much interested in acting like a nobleman when he was growing up. When he'd hit puberty, his only real interest was in serving girls and ladies in waiting. He was a handsome youth with a ready smile. He'd been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, as they say, and that silver had coated his tongue. He had a way of saying the most outrageous things to women and getting a smile rather than a slap in the face. His aging father had conferred upon him the title of Duke, in a last ditch effort to make him grow up. The prospect of marching off to war had been exciting, even though his men were less than thrilled with the idea. Some of them were veterans of prior conflicts and understood what war is all about. That's why they weren't excited to go off to war again. Now Duke Randall was stuck babysitting the new queen, whom he had never seen, not having been interested in the wedding. Part of that was because Emily, one of his favorite serving wenches, was being punished for some thing or another and had been told she had to stay at the manor during the wedding. Some might think it ironic that, while Merilee was having her maidenhead removed, Duke Randall was mimicking his king, with Emily. He had done a much better job and Emily was much happier about it than her queen was. So Duke Randall was in a sour mood as he marched stiffly to his new post, where he would miss out on the thrill and glory of battle. His attitude underwent a significant change when he laid eyes upon Merilee. "My queen!" he gasped, bowing low. "And who are you?" asked Merilee. "I am your protector!" brayed Randall, puffing out his chest. "I have been charged by the king himself to ensure your complete safety." "How nice," said Merilee politely. She looked the young soldier over. He was handsome in his uniform. She sighed. She had been secretly happy that Rupert had to go off and fight the war. Now it appeared she might get to spend some time with a nice looking boy her own age. ------- Duke Randall of Earl, as she was to find out his title was, became the queen's constant companion. No one noticed the old witch, who seemed to wander by the couple frequently. Even if they had, they would have seen no twitching of fingers or runes written in the air. Mora was pleased to see that they were not, as she had thought, needed. Merilee's attitude improved and she smiled almost constantly. The young duke was a rascal. She knew that within a day of him taking charge of her well being. He was what would have been called an insufferable flirt, except that she had never been flirted with and loved the attention. He held her hand when they walked in the gardens, saying it was only to ensure she didn't turn an ankle. He found ways to casually compare her beauty (which astonished him, so he said several times) with the flowers in the garden, and the mares and colts frisking in the meadow. When she asked what the people of this kingdom were like he took her to the town market, where she wandered among the stalls like a commoner, chatting with vendor and customer alike. She was different from any girl he'd met before. She was the essence of sweetness, kind to everyone she spoke with, and he felt stirrings in his heart. There had been many stirrings in his groin as well, but he knew to suppress them. This was no serving girl and, as delightful as it was to tease her, he was too fond of his head to risk her anger, or that of the king. She asked his opinion about this or that thing that drew her attention and, for once, he was honest with a woman, telling her which materials set off her eyes and which colors went poorly with her hair. She asked him to fasten a necklace, then shivered as his fingertips drifted across her skin. Twice she saw something that displeased her. Once was when a man began beating his wife with a stick for having dropped an apple on the cobblestones. The woman cowered under the vicious blows. "Punish that man!" she said to Randall. The duke took the stick from the man. But rather than beating him, as the man had done to his wife, he commented on how hungry the man must be, if one bruised apple should upset him so. Then he made the man eat apples until he puked. The second time was when a minor noble, barely older than the duke and queen themselves, took a beggar's cup from a legless man, pocketed the money in it, and then kicked the beggar for blocking his way. "Punish him severely," said the queen, to her escort. The duke chose fisticuffs, but the older noble sneered and drew his rapier. Faster than the eye could see, Duke Randall, his face stiff, whipped out his own weapon, which was suddenly connected to the chest of the bully. The nobleman looked down in disbelief at the sword piercing his chest, as his rapier dropped from already lifeless fingers. There was no more trouble after that. When the queen strolled through the market, people were on their best behavior. This was a change for the people of the kingdom. Generally, the king took no notice of the common people or their troubles. The nobility came and went as they pleased, and did as they pleased as well. It had been that way for decades. For THIS queen to have taken an interest in the lowly, struck deep into the hearts of the people. To be sure, not all of her attention was in their favor. At least that's how those who ran afoul of her felt. If, as she walked, she smelled a foul odor, she discovered its source and ordered it cleaned up. Heaps of trash and garbage caught her attention, and she lectured those responsible for it, telling them such eyesores would not be tolerated. A man selling tainted meat was made to eat some of it and almost died. The people loved her. Well ... most of the people. The father of the of the young nobleman Randall had slain plotted revenge. It was common knowledge that the queen was responsible for his son's death. Was it not common knowledge she had ordered her bodyguard to slay him? The man set his plot in motion. But there was a lesson in that too. The assassin who climbed the castle wall in the dark of night, and who wore the full black bodysuit of the assassin's guild, though it was banned, was found dead inside the castle. All of his weapons were still in their sheaths. His face was disfigured with the agony of his death, and so blue that it appeared black. Even the tongue protruding from his lifeless mouth was dark. Duke Randall was pale at the news. He'd stood outside the queen's chambers himself that night, taking his guard rotation with his men, and hadn't heard a sound. The queen seemed unconcerned, almost as if she'd known what happened before she was told. "Have the guardsmen take a wagon and go to Count Arbormorl's estate," she said. "Have them bring his body back here." The captain of the guard expected a fight at the estate, but they found the count already dead, and in the same unexplained way as the assassin he had sent to the castle. There wasn't a mark on either man, as everyone who cared to could see, when their bodies were put on display outside the castle walls. Mora watched from her tower window, as people filed by and learned that plotting against the queen was answered with magic. After that, Randall assigned two men to guard her door each night - one to stand there, alert, and the other to make periodic inspections of the halls leading to the queen's bedchamber. Weeks passed and there was no more trouble. The young duke suffered, because he was now hopelessly in love with his queen. Never had he felt this way about a woman. ------- Merilee frowned. "He's so handsome!" she sighed. She and Mora were sitting in her room. They'd gotten into the habit of chatting before bed. There were two entrances into the bedchamber. One led to Mora's tower chamber, and had been covered over by a thick tapestry for years, until Merilee found out about it and had it screened with hanging drapes. Mora could come and go now, and no one was the wiser. "Of course he is," said Mora. "So much the better." "But I have naughty thoughts about him," moaned the queen. "Thoughts may be put into actions," Mora cackled. "For shame!" said Merilee, blushing. "There's no shame in taking pleasure where one may find it," said the witch. "You've told me how you came to be queen and how you would have avoided it, had you been able." "But I AM queen now," sighed Merilee. "Queen to a buffoon with less sense than a rabbit," said Mora. "I know you loathe his touch." "I could have you flogged for saying that," said Merilee, but there was no heat in her voice. "You won't," said Mora, sipping from her cup. "Yon duke is a fine specimen of a man," she said, nodding toward the main door of the bedchamber. "Were I younger, I'd give him a tumble." "Queens do not tumble," snorted Merilee. "You have much to learn, child," said the old woman softly. "You're doing quite well. The people are happier now that you've taken an interest in them. Would it be so wrong for the queen to have some happiness too?" "I'd be cast out if discovered," said Merilee. "So you wouldn't be queen any longer." Mora shrugged. "Would that be such a high price to pay for true happiness?" "He'd be banished from the realm ... his lands taken," pointed out the queen. "And you'd wander together, making your way in the cold cruel world," said the witch. "But you'd have each other." "How can that sound so wonderful?" asked Merilee wistfully. "There is a spell," said Mora softly. "It shields a room. None outside the room could know what was happening inside it." "You tempt me," said the queen. "He tempts you," the old woman corrected. ------- What advanced things was something so simple as a rain shower. They were walking along the river. He held her hand, again on the excuse that the ground was uneven and she might stumble. She stumbled twice - on purpose - to ensure that he kept her hand in his. The shower soaked them both. It was summer and the thin white gown she wore became almost transparent as they dashed for the shelter of a tree. She heard his gulp and turned her head to see his eyes moving erratically in his head. Up ... then down ... then up and sideways ... then back to her chest. She looked down to see her dark nipples clearly visible through the cloth. Further down, where the dress was plastered to her thighs, there was another spot of darkness where the hair above her sex grew. Her eyes, for some reason, looked him over too, while she thought about what she should do. The front of his trousers bulged in a way that made her heart beat faster. "You're staring at me," she said, finally. "You're so beautiful," he moaned. "Slay me now, for I have seen nirvana." He sounded so intense. She giggled. He looked shocked. "Please forgive me," he begged. "Why should I forgive something which has given me no offense?" she asked. Even SHE thought it was a bold thing to say. "You are my protector," she went on. "No harm could possibly befall me while I am in your care." "You know not what I think," he said. His face twisted. "And I know not what I say!" Her laughter tinkled. "Of all men, you are important enough to me to think what you will and say what comes to your lips. You have given up your way of life to protect mine. How could I possibly resent you for being a man?" "You don't mind?" He sounded confused. "I rather like it," she said, her voice husky. ------- It was that very night that, as Duke Randall stood outside the queen's bedchamber, the door opened. Randall and the other guard turned, to see the queen in her nightgown. "Duke Randall, I need a word with you," said the queen. "Your man may keep watch." Inside the room, Randall looked around. Everything appeared normal. "You have sworn to protect me," said Merilee. "I have," he agreed. He looked around again, trying to see whatever had disturbed her. "I have some thoughts on that," she said. Her fingers toyed with the ties that kept her nightgown closed. "I'm interested in hearing them," he said, carefully. "First, I must tell you that a spell has been cast on this room," she said. "No one outside these walls can hear anything that happens here." "Oh?" Randall frowned. This was the first proof he had that the queen had access to magic. "And your man ... out there," she gestured. "A harmless spell is being cast on him as we speak. He will remain vigilant, and will swear you were with him all night." "But why?" asked Randall. "I wish you to protect me in here," she said. Then she looked around. "Is it hot in here?" she asked. Her fingers pulled at the ties on the front of her gown. Randall could suddenly see the inner swells of white flesh and his groin tightened. Only one tie, at her hips, kept the gown from gaping open. "It is almost unbearably hot," he said, feeling the flush of his face. He was suddenly sweating. "Shall I open a window?" he asked. "I've been thinking about that assassin," she said. "He would have stabbed me in my sleep." "I would have stopped him." His claim was made with all his heart. She went to the bed and lay down. Somehow, the tie at her hips had come loose, and the gown drifted sideways. Randal stared at her breasts and the dark nipples he'd seen earlier that afternoon. Her legs were relaxed, her feet a hand span apart. The fluffy hair on her mons concealed what lay under it. "If you were shielding me ... lying on top of me," she said breathlessly, "an assassin's dagger would have to penetrate you, to hurt me." Duke Randall knew an invitation when he heard it ... and saw it. His lust was inflamed instantly. All thoughts of propriety fled his brain. It had been weeks since he'd dallied with a girl. All his time had been taken up by falling in love with this one. "True," he said, reaching for the buttons of his tunic. "But I think my uniform would scrape your skin, my queen." "I hadn't thought of that," she sighed. "Please take it off." Moments later, he let himself down on her gently, his face above hers. Their bare skin was sweating, where it touched. "Something like this?" he breathed. Her arms snaked around him and her hands slid up and down his back. "I'm worried about what might happen if a rapist got in here," she panted. "I would fight him," said the duke. "It occurs to me that if the part of my body the rapist might be interested in ... if it were already filled ... he could do nothing." Her loins bumped up at his. "Have you anything to fill it with?" "As you command, my queen," he groaned, sliding into her. "And poison!" she panted. "Can you seal my mouth, so that no poison may enter it?" He kissed her hotly and thrust. Her murmur into his mouth was proof that she approved. They had to break the kiss to breathe. Both were panting hard now. He lunged into her again and again, and her fingernails bit into his back. Her legs came up to clasp him in a grip that even a strong man would have difficulty breaking. Her wail of completion was music in his ears. He'd never felt as much a man as he did at that moment. His body helped him prove his manhood, as his seed burst into her, soaking her depths. He started to roll, as was his habit. Her fingernails stopped him. "Protect me like this all night," she whispered. ------- Duke Randall, dressed in his uniform again, stepped carefully and with some trepidation from the queen's bedchamber. Nelson was still there. He was obviously awake, looking around. Randall pulled the door closed and heard the latch fall with a gentle thump. Merilee was still in bed, lying limply, a smile on her face. He had stood, looking at her naked body splayed on the bed, her brown hair a wild halo around her head. The evidence of his efforts was thickly pooled in the opening of her sex. That she didn't mind him looking almost kept him there. But dawn was near. Nelson suddenly turned his head and yawned. "Dull night," he mumbled. He looked alarmed. "Not that I mind," he said, grinning sheepishly. "A dull night indeed," said the duke. "Go home and get some sleep." Nelson saluted and trotted off down the hall. Movement caught Randall's eye and he tensed. It was only the old woman, shuffling down the hallway with a cup in her hand. He knew her to be a confidant of the queen. "A restorative herb tea," croaked Mora, holding the cup out to him. He sniffed it suspiciously. "Go on, drink it," snapped the woman. "You've a full day ahead of you and little sleep last night. We wouldn't want people to wonder why you're so tired." She winked at him. Somehow she knew! He turned, on some impulse, to look at the queen's door. When he turned back, the crone had vanished. Frowning, he tipped the cup up and swallowed. He felt refreshed almost immediately. ------- Mora forgot only that the chambermaids would be able to detect evidence of what happened in the bedchamber. It was of no consequence, though. The chambermaids loved their queen, and they loved doing what it was clear she had been doing. They simply helped her clean up, drawing her a bath. They tittered and blushed as she submitted to their attentions. Finally one spoke. "Tis good to see the queen glowing so." Merilee looked at the girl. "Loose lips would ruin me," she said. Both girls looked shocked. "Never!" they chimed, together. It was quiet as the two chambermaids finished their task and dried her body. ------- Neither young lover was satisfied by a single night of bliss, but both knew that engaging in delight too often would be too dangerous. They lasted two days, trying to behave as they always had. He escorted her to the market and on walks. Now, though, when their hands brushed or their eyes met, there was an electricity in the air that neither could ignore. On the third night, she asked him in again. Again, they made love all night long. She was both curious and inventive. It had never occurred to him that the woman could be on top. He liked it that way, because it put her hanging breasts in reach of his hands and lips. She loved having her nipples sucked and he was only too happy to oblige her. He quit counting her orgasms after the tenth, which set a new record for him. As for himself, he spurted in her only three times. Another first for him was discovering that the act of sliding his prick in and out of her was, all by itself, a delight he could endure for hours. They played roles. In one, she was the mare and he the stallion, and he took her as a stallion would, from behind. She whinnied and ground her soft, round bottom against him, milking him with her inner muscles until he couldn't help but give her his seed. Again, the man outside knew nothing of it. And again, the chambermaids whisked in, drawing her bath and replacing the sheets. As girls will do, even when one is a queen and the other two are lowly maids, they chattered. It wasn't about anything important, just girl talk. Then both of the maids went silent and Merilee turned to see them peering at something in one of the maid's hands. "Methinks it would be best if no one else found this," said the girl, handing it to Merilee. It was a button ... from his uniform ... apparently torn off in his haste to disrobe. Merilee paled as she saw that the button was embossed with his initials. "You know we won't say anything," said the girl earnestly. Merilee looked at the two girls. They were in a position to demand practically anything they wanted. "Why not?" she asked. The girl blinked and looked confused. "You love him," she said. "I do?" Merilee was the one who looked confused now. "You have to!" squealed the girl. "You're the queen! You wouldn't DO that with a man you didn't love!" Merilee sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's awfully inconvenient, though, this being in love." "Men are always inconvenient," said the girl sagely. ------- It was the third night that they romped, though, that this tale is actually all about. He didn't spend every waking hour with her. He had other duties ... rosters to make up ... inspections to conduct. She told him that afternoon that everything would be ready, the spells in place, and that all he had to do was enter her room. The other guard would take no notice of it. He went about his business, and she hers, but both were filled with anticipation. She finished her duties early and went to her chambers early too, saying she was going to do her tatting. She fiddled with the thread and tatting shuttle, but couldn't concentrate. It would be hours before he arrived. She had already told one of her maids to warn her when he was coming, so she could be ready for him. Merilee felt the excitement building in her loins. She couldn't just sit there waiting for him. She sent a page to have the visiting harper come to her chambers. "Play me some songs," she said, when the man arrived. "Happily," smiled the musician. He played and sang. He was pleased that she knew some of the tunes and hummed along with him. A chambermaid appeared in the door, blushing for some reason. "He's here," she said softly. "Who's here?" wondered the harper. He knew the king was away at the war. "You may leave now," said the queen to the harper. "Please go out that way." She pointed to a curtained alcove. When he entered it, the harper saw a door leading out. His hand was on the latch when he heard a male voice beyond the curtain say "Aha! I've caught you alone!" The harper couldn't resist. He had to know what was going on. He waited, silently. "Oh my!" squealed Merilee, in what was clearly mock terror. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my bedchamber?" "I am the duke!" trumpeted Randall. "And I am here to protect you!" "From what, pray tell?" asked Merilee, loosening the ties of her nightgown. "From everything that might harm you," said Randall, removing his tunic. His eyes glittered as he saw the smooth inner swell of his queen's breasts. "As I walk through this world, nothing can stop the Duke of Earl. And you, you are my girl ... er I mean queen. And no one can hurt you, oh no." "Surely I'm in no danger," said Merilee throatily, removing her nightgown and flinging it to one side. "Not while I hold you," said Randall. His voice was deep with feeling. "And when I hold you, you'll be my duchess, Duchess of Earl. We'll walk through my dukedom, and paradise we will share." "But I'm already the queen," said Merilee. "Wanting to demote me does not suggest that you love your queen." "Oh, I love you," sighed Randall. "I'm going to show you. I'm going to love you. Come on let me hold you darling. It is my right, because I'm the Duke of Earl." The harper held his breath. If he were found here now, his life would be forfeit. But the lilting voice of the duke caught the harper's musician's ear and he couldn't leave. "Then protect me at all costs!" cried Merilee, flinging herself on the bed and spreading her legs. Again, the harper's curiosity overcame common sense. He moved to the curtain and, ever so carefully, peeked into the room beyond. Even if he hadn't seen them, the noises they made would have told him what was happening. There was the sucking of tender nipples and her moans of delight. Then, as the Duke mounted her, there was rhythmic slapping of his flesh against hers, as he began sawing his noble prick in and out of her even nobler pussy. She set up a chant that would last long in the harper's ears. With his almost photographic memory for lyrics and music, he would remember it and record the song that their lovemaking had created in his head. But for now, he just listened to the queen chanting her pleasure. "Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl Duke, Duke, Duke of EAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRLLL!" Her wail signaled what was obviously her orgasm, which was followed by the duke's groan of satisfaction, as he seeded the queenly receptacle his prod was lodged in. It would provide the ending to the song. "I ... oh ... hey yea yea yeah YEAAAHHHHH!!!" ------- The harper climbed the stairwell, knowing he was in some secret place. He wondered why the queen had let him know of this back entrance to her very bedchamber. He wondered why the man who had bedded her hadn't come this way. The words of the song played again in his head. It was so catchy. There was a small window in the stairwell, and he stopped to write down both the lyrics and the tune running through his head. He didn't think he'd forget it, but it was just too good. He wouldn't be able to use the lyrics in this kingdom, but when farther away ... maybe so. He finished writing and put the vellum in his bag. Picking up his harp from the steps, he climbed again. Finally he reached a door and went through, to be confronted by an old crone. "Hello," he said, smiling. "The queen told me to leave her chamber by this route." "I know that," said the old woman. Her fingers wiggled in a way that drew his gaze. The harper blinked. He looked around. "Who are you?" he asked the old woman in front of him. "Where am I? How did I get here?" "You had a fall and bumped your head. I tended you," said the old woman. "You're all better now. You can run along." She didn't think to look in the harper's bag, where she might have seen that vellum, and removed it. We should be thankful about that. It really was a catchy tune. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2009-07-19 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------