FILLED By The Lusty Lords (Historical Smut With A Side Of Story) by Diana Quippley

A dance to remember…
     
     
     
    Rose held up her skirts as
she ran through the open grass in the darkness. During the day, she walked this
distance in the light with ease, but in the night with sin in her heart, it
felt very far. She reached the next cluster of trees and held onto the hard
trunks as she heaved for breath. Her breasts pressed against the material in
the front of her finest dress. Sweat beaded and ran down between her flesh
there making the place where her compressed bosoms met slick. As her breasts
rubbed slippery together and the front of her dress rubbed rough across her
chest, her nipples grew hard and visible in the moonlight. This was not a dress
for running, but she did not want to be caught by her father or the lord that
begrudgingly granted her father the square of land upon which he smithed.
     
    She left the hard
wood that supported her and stuck close to the foliage as she pressed onward.
She could see light through the windows of the palace. She was close enough to
hear laughter – women’s laughter, and music. She heard strings and a plucked
instrument – maybe a harpsichord. She wouldn’t know a harpsichord by sight and
knew little of it by sound, but that was her uneducated guess.
     
    Behind the great
house, the mountains loomed as dark, judging shadows. They were covered by snow
much of the year and left this land trapped to its own resources much of the
winter. Tonight, the air had an unusually sticky, warm wetness. In the era when
kings and knights bought land in blood off the end of the sword, those
mountains were great protection.
     
    Now, kings and
lords traded lands and lives with clasped hands and the scratching of quills
through ink. Her father had told her this land had changed to the hands of
another king in just such a deal and that’s what this grand ball was about.
Nobles of a new king positioned above her father’s lord were come to be wooed
and wined and danced and more.
     
    As Rose reached the
wall and peered through the bars of the closed gate, the music and laughter
sounded the same as other parties she had snuck this far to hear through the
walls. Under the charge of a new king, crops had grown the same, animals fed
the same, and her father’s hammer rang off hot iron with the same, crisp tone.
Somehow she thought the party must be different. She had worn her finest dress
because she planned on this night to go further and find out more than her
previous spying quests.
     
    Rose seized the
edges of the stones on the gate column and began to climb. She climbed often as
a child in clothes better suited for such play, but she was eighteen seasons
old now. She was more shapely and now wore a dress designed for things other
than play. Despite her disadvantages, her hands found the top edge of the wall
and she let out a high-pitched squeal contained in her. It wasn’t a joyous
sound nor exactly one of contained pain. It was a sound she had heard from the
woods as she followed older girls sneaking off with boys. Once, she had
followed another peasant girl with the lord’s son Thomas. Rose had snuck close
enough to see that time and at Thomas’s command the girl had removed the fleshy
shaft that stood stiff like the trunk of a tree and she had used her mouth upon
it. Rose had touched herself where the weak tingles had started.
     
    She wondered if
Lord Ramsey’s son Thomas would be at this ball as well. Perhaps he would take
another girl aside for ungodly commands of the flesh. Rose felt weak and she
slipped. She let out another high groan and the sound made her feel naughty and
dirty. She heaved herself back up and over the stone wall. Her skirts caught on
the rough blocks and pulled up as she let herself down on the master’s side of
the wall. They drew up high enough that the night air teased the sweat that
coated and glistened over her bare buttocks and exposed sex. Her breathing came
heavy and lusty as she dropped to the ground and recovered herself with