Behind Stone Walls

The King, always one to combine business with pleasure, had also invited one of the Admirals of the Fleet and some of the more obscure members of his court with whom he enjoyed strategic arrangements. Essentially, however, this was a group of powerful men enjoying time stag hunting together with the added bonus of strengthening the kingdom's interests. For us it was a welcome break in the rolling Fifeshire hills with unlimited opportunities for horse riding and banquets.

An impressive amount of logistic preparation had been achieved in only a few days and we departed with a large retinue of servants, entertainers, soldiers and horses aboard a naval ship to cross the Firth of Forth.

Ellen and I had mixed feelings about the trip across the water, still recalling vividly our transport as children in the stables aboard the merchant ship that brought us here, unwillingly, from our home. This time, however, we had the privilege of enjoying the deck and only spending an hour or two on the water for the short trip to Kirkaldy, where we disembarked. We spent the time leaning over the rail and waving to people on the shore who stopped their daily task to watch us sail by. We were happy, like two children again, feeling excitement instead of apprehension.

Well...Ellen was feeling excitement. I had plenty of apprehension, but for a different reason. With two dalliances with Lady Margaret now to my name I was digging a deeper hole of dishonesty and I had also lost the option of claiming a single submission to weakness. Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern. There is something about Lady Margaret that makes her very persuasive and very hard to resist. That, plus the fact that I actually enjoy playing the role of her conjugal actor, no matter how much I try to deny it.

Falkland Palace is a short two hour horse ride from Kirkaldy. Short, but uncomfortable as we had to ride side saddle to satisfy the convention for ladies. We were saddle sore by the time we reached our destination, but at least the road was reasonably flat and unchallenging.

The palace itself is understandably much smaller than Edinburgh Castle. The King only recently had it constructed as his country retreat for hunting and entertaining. The main tower contains the grand rooms for the royal family and guests and there are a number of out buildings serving the estate. Ellen and I have to stay in the servants' wing in a small, cramped and cold room, but at least we can stay together.

The first day is spent settling in. We are able to walk in the grounds and enjoy the space and fresh air of the country. The trees are bursting into life after their winter dormancy and the countryside seems to be shimmering with a bright green glow. It is a huge change from the stone confines of the castle and all the worries I have been carrying seem to evapourate in the warm afternoon breeze as I walk arm and arm with Ellen behind our lady in silence, simply enjoying their presence.

A low-key banquet is held in the evening, which allows Lady Margaret and Lord Gordon to sit together and take in the entertainment provided by the King's troupe of clowns and musicians. The King has organised a hunt for the guests for the next day, their hope being to kill a stag, the antlers of which will be provided as a gift to the guest of honour. Ellen and I are free to spend the day riding around the hills surrounding the estate with Lady Margaret and our favourite palace guards. It is a day filled with excitement and laughter, but also a poignant one as it is likely to be one of the last opportunities we have to be so free before Lady Margaret takes up her new role as Lady Margaret Gordon.

Everyone returns tired but happy in the late afternoon light. True to form, the hunting party has returned with a fine stag which will form the main course of the evening's banquet. We are left to prepare for the event, choosing our finest gowns and helping our lady to be as radiant as possible. It isn't a difficult task - her natural earthy beauty seems to be amplified by the rural atmosphere. The addition of velvet and silk, and the finest jewels in her collection transform her intro a vision of feminine strength and allure. We practice dancing together for the remaining time and she embraces us both warmly before we make our way downstairs to make our entrance to the hall. A gasp of approval greets us as we walk in, the King beaming from his seat at the head of the table as the guests stand in welcome. We have done well.

Lady Margaret takes her seat beside her fiancé, who looks like he has received the gift of a lifetime. We take our own seat at the side of the hall, ready in case we are needed, but excluded from the formal dining. We will have the opportunity to eat when the room is cleared for the entertainment later in the night.

The banquet itself is a change from the extremely formal affairs in the castle. The room is smaller and more intimate and the King is in a relaxed state of mind, clearly intent on enjoyment rather than ceremony. There is a lot of laughter and music and our lady and her future husband seem to be very happy together, leading the dance before all parties are invited to join them. Peter, our African drummer, provides a propulsive rhythm. Scottish dance is a very physical form of expression, even in such a royal setting, but his pounding drums take the dance to a limber new height. We are invited to join in and there is a feeling that custom can be damned for the evening. Ellen and I are permitted to dance with not only Lord Gordon, but also the King and by the end of the night we are dizzy with happiness.

Casual conversations are enjoyed as the night winds down and I am taken by surprise by one of the King's staff, who finds me at a quiet moment and speaks quietly to me so as not to be overheard. As a peer he is able to be quite candid.

"I beg your pardon my lady, if I can have a moment of your time."

"Aye Callumn, what is it you have to tell me?"

He gives me a very straight look and states simply, "The King has asked that you join him in his suite after the banquet is concluded."

I pause before replying and we hold each other's gaze in silent acknowledgement of what that implies. "Very well Callumn. As his Majesty requests."

He nods, acknowledging that his duty is complete and I do the same, thanking him as he leaves. I glance in the King's direction, but he is absorbed in a conversation and is unaware that his message has been passed on.

From that point forward I am thrown back into the bounds of duty. I cannot even tell Ellen or Lady Margaret, as that would be a breach of the King's trust and an affront to him, something that would not be well tolerated. The remainder of the evening passes in a rush and I am a knot of consternation as the crowd disperses. Lady Margaret retires to her chamber before Lord Gordon, who will have to wait until his wedding night to enjoy the promise of his bride.

As for me, a promise of a different kind awaits at the top of the stone staircase that winds up the tower to the King's suite at the top. The servants at the door step aside and bow slightly to me as they allow me to knock at the door. My look of concern is obvious and they seem to be offering sympathy in their silent expressions while we wait for a response from within.

"Enter," is the only word that eventually emerges from behind the heavy oak door. I turn the lock and push it open, turning to quickly close it behind me, shutting out the curiosity of the servants. The King saves me the trouble. Taking the door from me, he dismisses them before closing it firmly and welcoming me into his chamber. It is large and opulent as you would expect, but also very masculine with paintings of hunting on the walls and the scent of outdoor activity in the air.

"Maggie my dear. Thank you for agreeing to see me."

That amuses me - it wasn't something I had a lot of say in - but I maintain my business like demeanour and thank him cordially for inviting me.

He walks ahead of me into the room. "Come and have a seat. Will you have a dram with me?"

"Thank you, but no your Majesty. I do not drink alcohol."

"As you wish. It has been such an enjoyable evening that I am reluctant to stop. I hope you don't mind if I pour myself a glass."

"Of course not your Majesty."

"I rarely get the chance to spend time with those close to me, which is the harsh edge of my role. Opportunities for more convivial conversations are reserved for occasions such as this. Did you enjoy the banquet?"

"I did your Majesty. I am so happy for our lady."

"Yes, as am I. Lord Gordon is a decent man. He will do well for her."

The King fills his glass and takes a long sip. He has clearly enjoyed a lot of the same during the evening, but his slight drunkenness makes him seem more human. My consternation is still present, but my confidence is returning upon seeing him this way.

"Was there something specific to Lady Margaret you wanted to see me about your Majesty?"

He smiles broadly. "Straight to the point. I wouldn't expect anything less. You and Ellen are a wonderful benefit to the household. You have made my daughter very happy over the years and it is something I will always be grateful for. But my desire to see you does not relate specifically to Lady Margaret - it is more a consequence of her future."

"I'm not sure I follow your Majesty."

"Well, as you know when Margaret marries she will move north to live with Lord Gordon. He will appoint his own staff to attend to her, which will mean that she will be given new ladies in waiting."

My heart sinks - my worst fears are confirmed. I look down and resist the tears I can feel building. The King carries on oblivious to my reaction.

"That will mean a change of role for you and Ellen. You are both among my favourite courtiers so I will not see you lost. I want you both to stay in the castle as part of my household. I will confirm your roles after Lady Margaret's wedding, but for now, I wanted to let you know that you are safe in your positions."

That is the best I can expect and the warmth returns to my body. I have to wipe away a single tear as I say, "Thank you your Majesty. That is considerable comfort to me."

Seeing the wetness on the back of my hand his approach softens. "My dear, I can see you are concerned. That was why I wanted to tell you in person."

I manage a weak smile as I thank him for his concern and I take the seat he offers me by his bureau as he sits facing me on the edge of his large four poster bed. He has changed from his evening robes into a plain linen shirt and red velvet breaches. His long hair is loose and his feet are bereft of shoes. It is as informal as I have ever seen him.

He begins a conversation about Falkland Palace and how pleased he is with the way it turned out. I agree that it is magnificent, flattering him for his genius in its design and construction. Then he moves onto the day's hunting and a description of the new warship he is designing with the admiral over the course of the weekend. It is an odd feeling having such a casual conversation with the King, but we have known each other for so long it seems easy and natural.

After a while he reminisces about the tournament three years before where I played the role of the 'Dark Lady' and he won my hand. I reply that it was the honour of a lifetime, which in a way is true - a girl born in slavery to be so desired by the highest man in the land is indeed something from a fairytale.

"You were still but a girl at the time, which made the event more fun and pleasing for the crowd. It would have been improper for me to have put a Lady in that position, but my affection was genuine. I was glad in a way to have had that 'honour' with you."

The suspicion I have had in the back of my mind since Callumn told me of the King's desire to see me moves more to the forefront of my thoughts. My visit here is not entirely about the business of my future - it may be more about completion of my past.

"I am gratified to have pleased your Majesty."

His expression becomes slightly more serious. "You have pleased me, but gratification is something that may still be outstanding."

I understand instinctively what his cryptic comment means, but I keep my expression blank and aim for deflection, "I'm not sure what you mean your Majesty."

He pauses and smiles to himself before patting the bed beside him. "Come and sit with me Maggie."

The knot in my stomach returns, but I comply demurely. He places his arm around my shoulder and speaks softly but directly, removing any doubt as to his intention. "I meant as a girl I could not fulfil the promise of my 'prize', but now that you are a lady I'm sure it is more appropriate to request it."

My eyes widen and I stare deep into his eyes, hoping he will not force the issue as I gently argue to the contrary. "But won't that be sinful your Majesty?"

His smile deepens and he adopts a hint of irony as he says, "Your innocence is further confirmation of the correctness of my desire. You are quite lovely. As King it is said I am appointed by God. I personally have doubts of that, but it does allow a certain amount of liberty in my behaviour. I hope you don't think less of me, but I do have a desire to 'know' you as promised. Here, please stand."

I slowly oblige him. He slides up the bed to lean against the pile of plush pillows there and looks at me with more intensity.

"It would please me to watch you undress Maggie."

I can barely stand to meet his eyes, so I look down at my evening gown. This is the pay back for the favours he has granted. I have little choice but to comply. My fingers reach for the fastenings, and I undo them one by one until the gown hangs loose on my shoulders. I shyly meet his eyes as I slip it from my left shoulder and then my right, allowing it to slide down my body to my waist.

The King maintains a casual but intense gaze, clearly enjoying the fulfillment of his long wait.

My gown slides all the way to the floor as I wiggle my hips. I'm left in my white lace underclothes. My fingers untie the cord at my chest and I open the shirt to reveal the top of my breasts, the cleavage deep in the glow of the candles in the room.

He lets out a low exhalation of satisfaction.

Resigned now to my fate, I next untie my waist and slide my bloomers to the floor, exposing my legs to the air, then I pull the shirt over my head to reveal my breasts and pubic mound.

"My dear - you are truly one of God's most beautiful creations," he states in a low voice, filled of desire. "Leave your stockings on. The whiteness of the cloth against the darkness of your skin is appealing. Come and join me."

I climb onto the bed and crawl towards him on my hands and knees, my breasts swaying gracefully beneath me. I lie beside him as he puts his arm around my shoulders.

"I understand your concern and I want you to know I will not spoil you for your future husband. Instead, I would like you to please me in another way."

With that he pushes down his breaches and lifts his shirt to reveal his manhood, fully hard and of a substantial size to my naïve eyes. I look along its length and up to his eyes, staring now expectantly at me. I know what he wants me to do, but the last thing I should do is to come across as too worldly - my innocence is what he desires.

"What would you like me to do your Majesty?" I ask, doing my best to appear confused.

He smiles to himself, pleased with my reaction. "I would like you to kiss me here," he says patiently, stroking his shaft and nodding in the direction of the swollen tip.

I move my eyes from his and follow his gaze down to his erection. Again I think of the alternative use of this organ and feel a little ill, but swallowing hard I edge closer, and, returning eye contact with him, tentatively extend my tongue to make contact with the purplish head of his shaft. I give it a gentle lick, taking satisfaction from the low groan of pleasure he gives in return.

"Hmmm... yes. That's nice. Do that again Maggie, but firmer."

I repeat the action, breaking eye contact to focus directly on my task, wetting my lips to better slide over his tip. His repeated groans spur me into deeper action and I take the bulb into my mouth, using my lips now to wrap around the shaft below. He fills my mouth completely, but I have room to swirl my tongue around him. It's instinctive, but I also remember the reaction Lady Margaret gave when I used my tongue firmly on her, so I repeat the attention on the King, alternately sucking and licking the head of his shaft. He tastes salty and bitter at the same time, not totally repulsive, but not as nice as Lady Margaret's sweet muskiness. The fact that I'm not gagging is encouraging enough for me to keep going as hard as I can, hoping it will be over before too long. The King has other ideas though.

"Hush Maggie, slow down my dear. Make it last so that I may remember this."

I pop my mouth off and apologise, wiping my chin before resuming more slowly, taking my time with my tongue on the parts that seem most responsive.

"Yes...that's better. Now lick the length of my shaft in between. Hmmm...yes, that's nice."

I can feel the tension in his body slowly building, and he begins to writhe slightly as he becomes less coherent in his commands, reduced now to sharp inhalations and deep groans of pleasure. I hear him telling me to go faster, so I pick up the pace and begin bobbing up and down on his tip, using my lips and tongue to full effect, trying to take him in deeper into my mouth without colliding with my teeth. It is a difficult task, but I focus as much as I can and am rewarded by a cry of ecstasy as his back arches.

"Oh yessss, Maggie!"

My mouth is suddenly filled with a gush of fluid that spills out the corners of my mouth and runs down his shaft. I try to pull away in shock but he holds my head in place and cries "Keep going! Keep your tongue on me!"

Gagging now, I do as he commands and wait until he settles back onto the bed, his chest heaving and the back of his hand resting on his forehead. He eventually lets me go. The mess of our combined fluids coats my chin and a string of white stickiness drips down onto my breast where it combines with the dark brown of my skin to stunning effect.

"Oh yes, I have waited for that for so long," he says as his body relaxes, his voice filled with satisfaction. "The sight of me on your skin is something I have often dreamed of."

Unsure what to do next, I await his next instruction, aware now of the moisture between my legs.

Looking at me now as a lover more than a servant he says lustfully, "There is something else I have yearned to do for a long time."

I don't even want to guess so I resume my innocence. "What would that be your Majesty?" I reply playfully.

"I want to taste you."

Thinking back to Lady Margaret I know exactly what is required, so I smile and straddle his chest.

"Not that way just yet," he corrects me. "Wipe your chin and come and kiss me."

I do as he asks, and we embrace in a long, deep kiss, his hands exploring my body from buttock to breast. His tongue is strong and searching - a completely masculine feeling in comparison to Lady Margaret's sensual probing. He slides kisses down my neck and on to my beasts, where he takes my hard nipples between his lips, licking and sucking on them, as his fingers reach between my legs and explore the deep recesses of my core. He rubs my pleasure bud and I respond by coating his hand with my juices, which he takes up and rubs on my breast.

"Hmmm - you are so soft and smooth, but your nipples are solidly aroused! I want so much to enter you, but I will keep my promise. Come up here as you intended before. I want to give you pleasure that way."

He lies back again and I resume my position, placing my wet and swollen lips close to his chin. He reaches up and spreads them apart with his thumbs, examining my centre with a combination of lust and fascination.