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

FILLED by the Lusty Lords

(Smut with
a Side of Story)

Diana
Quippley

This tale of lewdness has been locked and sealed in a fancy,
copyrighted
©
treasure trove belonging to the lusty
Diana
Quippley
in
the year 2015. It is highly advisable that you do not attempt to pilfer or
purloin any parts of this naughty story...
as the contents are most
certainly hot and burning to the touch!

However, on
the bright side, we not believe in any of that horrid DRM software. And as
such, this book is presented to you without any hint or trace of the vile
substance – meaning you are free to view this book on whatever device you see
fit to read it on! There are zero restrictions... You have paid for the tale,
now please delight in the many passages of a steamy nature wherever you like!

And alas...
you are to be told that this is indeed a work of fiction. Any resemblance or
similarity to real-life individuals, places, or things is purely coincidental.
Though many of you might wish that these
fanciful tales, filled with endless
carnal cravings and passionate adventures,
were true to life...

Before going any farther... please let me forewarn you that the tome
you hold in your lascivious little hands is
most certainly one containing
steamy scenes of an adult nature!
Yes, the very kind of hot, sexy,
mouth-watering pages your mother warned you about!

Knowing this,
you must also be told that the characters in question are all above the age of
18.

A Quick Word

Saucy stories
are not a plague or blight upon society – no! They are a wonderland of fantasy
and adventure, a place to live out those lusty dreams we try so desperately to
keep to ourselves. Set them free and read on!

If you'd
like to read even more of my lusty tales, simply click:
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Quippley Mailing List
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Or click here to visit my author
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What You Will Find

FILLED by the Lords
---

Mailing List

FILLED by the Lords

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 her
skirts. A proper dress required under skirts and fine undergarments, but she could
afford none, so Rose wore none.

As she smoothed
down her skirts, her hands traced the curves of her backside and the growing
heat between her legs. She felt the urge to lift her skirts again and feel the
master’s close cropped grass on her bare skin. She could touch herself and
bring out the higher thrills as she listened to the music of the royalty.

Rose had now gone
farther than she had dared before. It was by just a few steps and over one
wall, but it was a world beyond where she should rightfully be. Her father had
explained the difference between a palace and the lord’s house. She couldn’t
imagine anything grander than the house towering over her. He had explained
that both were royalty, but not the same. She still did not understand. Both
the distant king and Lord Ramsey held her life and her father’s life in their
hands. They traded them like trinkets and played with them as they wished.
Should she get caught, Lord Ramsey had the right to let fall his full wrath
upon her and her father by proxy.

She knew she should
go back in the same way she knew she should never be there in the first place,
but this was not a night for going back. Before she realized, her feet were
carrying her forward and she was standing in the light of a partially opened
exterior door. It was unguarded and she leaned inside.

***

***

Rose heard the
laughter that was high and shrill like the girls in the woods made. She
swallowed and felt the familiar tingles. She smelled the wax of candles and the
aroma of fine meats cooked in rich sauces. Her mouth watered.

She expected to
hear the music more clearly, but this close it was lost in the footfalls of the
dancers. In the flickering light of the hall, she imagined that the undulating
shadows were the dancers being twirled by the touch of grand lords being
commanded to move and perform under the fingers of the men.

She had to see for
herself.

Rose slipped inside
with her back to the doorframe to avoid disturbing the open door further. Her
breasts had grown over the years to a size that betrayed her stealth this
night. Her dress hung on the wood and pulled down and open in the front. Her
nipples found the air and the night cooled her sweat slicked flesh as her
bosoms spread out in their unexpected freedom. She gasped.

She looked into the
hallway and saw a shadow cross the wall from the grand ballroom at the far end.
From the shape of the legs and frame cast on the wall, she believed it was a
man passing just inside the archway. She imagined him stepping out and looking
toward the night to find Rose herself with her breasts exposed and her back
straight against the door. The thought was exciting and terrifying and her
chest heaved as she drew in air. She waited a moment longer to be sure no one
was coming and secretly wondering what would happen if someone did – maybe
Thomas with his shaft stiffening at the sight of her. Rose felt warm wetness
bead over the folds between her legs inviting her own touch – the only touch
she had ever felt up to that point, at the thought of Thomas’s touch and
command.

She reached out and
fought with the snagged material on the door. It wouldn’t come. She stroked the
edge of the material thinking she might have to rip her ruffled bodice just to
get free. If she did, she would have to flee never seeing the secrets of the
nobles’ ball and possibly never showing her finest dress again. Disappointment
swirled with her dark excitement.

The dress came free
without damage, but the door creaked open a few more spans. The hinges creaked
and popped. Rose’s eyes widened and she looked at the light on the walls for
approaching, angry shadows. The dancer’s steps sounded through the floor and
vibrated up her legs which were already tingling with fear.

As no one came, she
thought about the grease her father used to lubricate metal connections. The
lord could use lubricant himself.

She took the moment
avoiding discovery as a sign that she was meant to flee. This was the spirit
world giving her one last chance to leave whole. She knew that is what she
should do, but Rose was not doing what she should this night. She was violating
rules and the order of things. She was a peasant girl standing uninvited in the
doorway of the lord of the land. She was teasing the world of royalty in their
celebration. As they traded her life and body around like a thing that belonged
to their fancy, she was forcing herself onto their world.

She pictured
herself slipping into the ballroom. The lords and ladies would think she was
one of them. They would dance her and spin her not knowing who she was. They
would feed her their fine meats, pushing them past her lips letting their
juices slid down her throat. They would touch and guide her with their hands
like she was their fine lady instead of their dirty, servant girl.

***

***

Rose rejected her
opportunity for escape and salvation. She entered and followed along the wall
in the low light. The air inside was stale and smelled of sweaty bodies. She
imagined the hot skin and musk of the lords and ladies. She pictured them
stolen away to the woods with shafts out and dresses folded above their heads. Rose
licked her lips. She expected the air inside the lord’s palace to be fresher
like outside in the fields when the flowers were blooming wild for spring. The
house had higher ceilings and broader passages than she had seen before and she
expected it to be like the outside trapped within.

Rose peered around
the corner and inhaled. The chandeliers were so high and large that she could
not imagine how the candles were lit around their rim nor how the chains held
them aloft. Tables that seemed larger than the trees if they were turned on end
were lined with meats and casks of wine, but also displays of fruit that she
had never seen in their land. She couldn’t picture how they had come to be here
except on the wings of angels. They were built into artful sculptures on the
tables that were barely touched. They were as beautiful as she imagined they
were delicious.

She wanted to enter
and just feed herself until she was sick. The lords and ladies danced or
reclined around the room drinking and ignored the impossibly grand food.

The dresses were
not of this world. The skirts were as large as palaces themselves as they spun
on what must have been hundreds of skirts. Rose imagined they would have to
wear them forever for all the time it would take them to shed them off. She
began to wonder if that is why Thomas took the peasant girls to the woods
instead.

Their hair was
stacked upon their heads in golden curls that put the fruit sculptures to
shame. Their bodies were pieces of art from head to hem.

Rose sighed and
looked down at her own dress which indignantly showed the womanly curves of her
body instead of the grand curves of the dresses of the noble ladies dancing.
She would not blend in. They would never mistake her for one of them. Her eyes
stung and she felt wildly foolish for ever thinking that she might. She would
never walk among them or taste their fruit. She resolved herself to merely
watch their dancing and spinning from the edge of the archway. That would be
her reward for daring to venture this far.

She ran her fingers
through her long, straight hair and imagined what the sculpted stack on her
head would feel like.

Someone grabbed her
by her hair from behind and pulled her backward away from the arch. She was
bent backward to stare up at the angry face of a man in a powdered wig. She
felt her breasts bunch up near the top of her dress as she moaned from the
awkward angle of her body.

He growled. “What
are you doing here?”

“I’m lost. I will
leave.”

“You lost yourself
over a wall and closed gate?”

He pulled her along
past the arch and into a dark room. He threw her into the side of a desk and
she fell to her backside with her back to the carved wood and her single
skirted dress bunched up around her knees. He leered at her and she pulled her
skirt back down to her ankles.

He took a step
toward her and Rose folded her arms in front of her. A light entered the room
and another man in a white wig lifted the lantern aloft to cast light across
the room. “What goes here, steward?”

The man stood
straight and stepped aside. “We have an intruder, master attendant, sir. She
was attempting to disrupt the banquet.”

“I was not,” Rose
protested.

The man with the
lantern looked down at her. “You were invited then, my lady? Are you from the
courts of the Castille or the grand niece of our Lord Ramsey, perhaps? I should
sweep you into the ballroom with your royal escort in you finery and announce
your arrival, should I?”

Rose looked away.
“No, I will leave.”

She began to
realize that these were the servants and not the nobles that had discovered
her. Even they were dressed far finer than her finest.

“I think we are
past that opportunity,” the master attendant said.

***