The Earl's ManChapter 6 free porn video

The three-day trip to London aboard a ship was interesting. Having made the overland trip from Lancaster to Edinburgh, most of my wives had never been on a ship before. Aside from a few queasy trips to the railing, they all enjoyed the trip.

While the ship was still tying up at the dock, messengers were dispatched to inform the King of our arrival in London. By the time we debarked, carriages and a double column of cavalry awaited us.

Appropriately wearing their fine dresses, the women were assisted into carriages--one carriage for each woman. I was given a beautiful horse to ride near the head of the procession and next to Captain Rutledge who had succeeded Captain Weber.

The King actually came out to the courtyard to meet us. He hugged and slapped me heartily on the back. As each of my wives was helped out of her carriage, he greeted her. I saw his surprise when Grace stepped out of her carriage. “Princess Grace, it is both a surprise and an honor to see you. Are you here as an emissary for your father?”

I saw the mischievousness flash in her eyes for a moment. “In a manner of speaking, Your Majesty. My father offered my hand to your Duke to seal the treaty he brings you and now I am one of his very happy wives, as is my cousin Rachel.”

The King nodded and commented to Rachel “I am glad to see you weren’t involved in the plot, Duchess.”

Rachel curtsied as she replied. “On behalf of all the wives and children who weren’t involved and who were spared by His Majesty’s charitable gesture, I would like to thank you and promise that, in spite of their new station, they are very grateful just to be alive and are still loyal to the Crown. My uncle also asked me to personally thank you on his behalf,” she said solemnly.

“You’re married to the man ultimately responsible for that decision. It was entirely his idea,” the King countered.

“Still, thank you for agreeing to let him do it,” she answered graciously.

While the women invaded the shops in London, the King and I reviewed the treaty with Scotland and then planned for the pending invasion by Castile and Aragon. While the Castilians were the ones prosecuting the war, the Aragonese King was lending a hand, both financially and by sending troops to earn a cut in the hoped-for spoils. I explained that King Baliol and I had worked out a plan where he would continue to lead Castile and Aragon into believing he was going to attack and would let us know the exact date they planned to attack London. Castile and Aragon were under the impression that the planned attacks were still on since the shipments of arrows and warhorses had been purchased for York. My agent had purchased another two thousand horses from other countries.

On the day of the planned attack, Baliol and his troops would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my troops and me while our ships sailed in behind the Castilian fleet and blocked their retreat, pinning them between the King’s army and us. Once the ships were captured and the troops defeated, I would sail to the main ports of Castile and Aragon--namely Barcelona, Valencia, and Cartagena--and sack the ports, using the empty Castilian troop ships and any ships we captured in the ports to fill with booty to send home. As usual, they would stop first in London when they returned and the standard one quarter of what we looted went to the King. From my cut, one tenth would go to King Baliol for his help as per my agreement with him. I would split the remainder with my men.

“Bold plan,” the King commented.

“I figure it will accomplish three things. First, it will punish Castile and Aragon, weaken them, and make them think twice about ever sending away so many troops with just a weak defensive force remaining. Second, the plunder will strengthen us further, and third, I plan to bring back a lot of slaves to help build up the towns and defenses of Lancashire and Yorkshire,” I explained.

I went over my plans for Lancaster, and then other towns and cities. Once they were fully implemented, those plans would improve all of Lancashire and Yorkshire. My primary goal was to increase the population by reducing the number of people who died from lack of food or from poor shelter. Seeing many of the widows re-married was part of the plan, as were the stone homes, and the increased food production. The fact that my family wasn’t eating extravagantly like many nobles, helped stretch the current food supply, and was a minor part of the solution.

The food, valuables, and slaves we brought back from Castile and Aragon would all be used to speed up the process. The confiscated jewels, money, and precious metals would buy materials and food. The food we brought back would help feed the slaves we brought back. They in turn would be doing a lot of the labor, shortening the amount of time it would take to reach my goal.

With four and a half months to go before the planned invasion, we returned to Lancaster. I updated my nobles, explaining my plan, and covering what I expected from each of them. Poor James got the brunt of the work dealing with the military preparations but seemed happy to do it.

---.---

In those four and a half months, we accomplished a lot. More than half of the original population of Lancaster now had stone homes with slate roofs. The underground cold room was nearly complete and would be filled with blocks of ice this next winter. Grain silos made of stone were sprouting up just outside the manor walls, and there was a steady stream of wagon traffic entering and exiting the city.

Kent surprised me yet again. Evidently, my mother and Grace Neale had become good friends and Kent asked if he could take Grace as a third wife. I quizzed Grace, surprised that she would consider it. She explained that my mother promised her that Kent was a gentle lover, and reminded her that I had allowed my own mother to marry him.

By the time we left for London, each of my archers had Welsh bows and silk bowstrings. We eschewed horses for the shipboard archers but I rode with the ten thousand mounted troops who had accompanied me to the Scottish border. We finally made camp in the woods two miles from the site of the intended landing. King Edward had messengers stationed every five miles from Dover to London. There were also messengers from Kingsgate to London, as well as from the easternmost point at the north of the Thames to London to warn when the fleet approached. They would warn us where the fleet was coming from and how many ships were in the fleet.

In addition, a string of reasonably fast fishing boats (faster than the big warships anyway) stretched across the channel from Dover to Calais watching for the Castilian fleet. A second fleet farther north stretched from Yarmouth to the Flanders coast on the off chance the invasion fleet tried sailing clear around England and Scotland to approach from the north. Our troop ships waited out of sight in the wide bay-like mouth of the River Medway, ready to raise sails and weigh anchor at a moment’s notice.

Each highly maneuverable ship (again, compared to the warships) carried between fifty and a hundred archers armed with Welsh bows and silk bowstrings. Half of their arrows were wrapped with cloth coated with pitch. Using small braziers, the arrows would be lit and fired into the ships’ rigging, then into the wood of the ship just as we did to capture the ship escaping from York. The enemy ships would have to decide whether to surrender or burn. We hoped to catch them while most of their troops were still aboard.

---.---

The Castilians attempted to attack as expected. Their twenty thousand soldiers were not even half ashore when our smaller fleet of ships sailed in behind them, capturing the empty and partially empty ships and forcing the still-loaded ships to anchor and stop unloading as we proved we could out-sail them and pick them off from a range well beyond their ability to reply. In all, aside from damage to the sails, the one hundred twenty captured ships were in excellent condition and could be quickly repaired. We had stockpiled plenty of rope and sailcloth beforehand. The eight thousand troops that managed to land quickly found themselves pinned between the Thames and two armies. King Edward led his troops from the west as King Baliol and I occupied the low hills to the northeast.

When they tried to form up to attack the King’s troops, preferring to attack on flat ground rather than uphill, my archers began thinning their ranks, starting with their mounted troops. Well before they could form up for a charge, their cavalry was devastated. The remaining troops from Castile and Aragon wisely decided that any further attempt at an attack was futile and surrendered.

-----Castile and Aragon

The thin sliver of the moon was nearly overhead when the landing boats full of archers reached shore through the light surf. It provided just enough light to let us see what we were doing. Quickly, the men--all clad in dark green--disappeared into the night with their two guides. I had to hope the second group--the group to the south of the city--had achieved their landing with an equal and silent success.

When the muted creaking of our oarlocks finally ceased, the quiet squeaking of winches started again as we recovered our landing boats. Sometime later, the dark shapes of the ships from our second group loomed into view in the near darkness and our small flotilla turned like a well-choreographed troupe of dancers and headed for port. Another sixty ships waited offshore for our signal that it was safe to come into port. Ten ships at a time would enter until we didn’t need more. All twenty soldiers topside on each of the ships entering port first were dressed in Aragonese uniforms with crossbows visible so as not to raise undue suspicion if they were seen. Once they secured the docks, they would change into our uniforms and guard our ships while those of us already wearing green uniforms crept ashore.

The wait was agonizing while those men secured the docks. Fortunately, there were only a few dozen drunken revelers still out and about, trying to find their way back to their own ship. Still, it took longer than I was comfortable with for my men to secure the docks and any ships already tied up at the docks. Just over half of the cargo ships were foreign vessels. We captured them, planning to have them deliver goods to London and then York or Lancaster. If they cooperated, we would pay them for the use of the ship. The Aragonese ships were now ours. Once the sun came up, several of my men with experience as fishermen would assess the fishing boats in the harbor to determine which, if any, would be able to make the short, open-sea trip to England. We would take those boats, too.

The two Aragonese soldiers who came with us aboard my ship to act as our guides led my men to the nearby barracks. One of the two half-dozing guards woke up just before my man got close enough to knock him unconscious. No alarm was raised, though, as one arrow pierced his chest and a second his throat as soon as he stirred. The second guard was luckier. He never knew what hit him until he regained consciousness sometime later and found himself firmly gagged and bound.

With their feet clad only in deerskin moccasins, the rest of my men swarmed silently into the barracks and quietly captured the majority of the Aragonese soldiers while they slept. A few light sleepers awoke and had to be silenced like the first guard or quickly knocked unconscious. Quite a while later, all were securely gagged, manacled (right wrist to left ankle or vice-versa), and lying on their stomachs. Ten men stayed behind to watch over them while our Aragonese guides led the way to the King’s home. Evidently, the King had a home in every major city and stayed in every home for a time each year before moving on to the next city in an effort to retain and further cultivate the allegiance of each of those cities.

In the stillness of the night, the metallic ring of my knife blade hitting the paving stones near the King’s home immediately drew the attention of the four guards. They had little time to ponder what it was, though, before each was struck by three arrows. The noise was a signal to my archers to coordinate the timing of their shots. These guards had all been awake and we couldn’t have approached them without raising suspicion--and an alarm.

With the guards neutralized, we secured the Manor House and its inhabitants, sending word to our other ships. As the remaining troops debarked, they spread out across the city, securing high places to watch over the city, and overpowering the guards on the first wall surrounding the city. We still had four hundred troops outside the city between the first and second walls to keep an eye on the roads leading to the city. Nobody would enter or leave Barcelona until we allowed it.

The rest of the men scattered throughout the city or guarded the docks. We knew that, well before dawn, we would need to dissuade the fishermen from sailing when they arrived at the docks. Any new ships arriving in the morning would need to be captured, as well.

Using a horse I appropriated from the barracks, I rode through the dark city streets checking on the progress of my men. I had warned everyone not to harm a private citizen unless they became violent enough to warrant it. Soldiers were to be taken alive if possible, but the safety of my men took precedence. The citizens were to be treated civilly, and there was to be no looting or raping. The looting would be done systematically once the city was secure, and only those things I approved would be taken. Any violation of these rules would result in them being imprisoned immediately and punished when we got home. The punishment could be death if the offense was severe enough.

Anyone who wandered out into the street was to be sent home, warned that the city, the King, and the troops had been captured. They were also informed that they would not be harmed in any way unless they tried to resist. Later in the morning, three horn blasts would be their summons to the center of the city and every person in Barcelona was expected to be there. Failure to appear would mean death.

The city gates were opened at dawn--as was customary. Captured soldiers informed the citizens--while their cargo was inspected for weapons--that everyone was to proceed directly and in an orderly manner to the marketplace and await further instructions. Satisfied that everything was going as planned, I returned to deal with the King.

King Eduardo Reyes and his Queen, Camilla, sat somberly and quietly, awaiting word of their fate. Once I walked into the room, though, their daughter lit into me--at least I think she did. I had no clue exactly what she was saying since I didn’t speak anything but the King’s English and Latin. However, if one of my wives was talking to me that way, I know it would have meant I was in a world of shit.

I was struck immediately by the appearance of the Princess. Aside from a fiery temper and fearlessness probably due in part to her youth, she was a stunning, olive-skinned beauty. The sparks in her dark eyes danced as she cursed me out. She had to keep brushing her lustrous black hair back out of her face, and then her animated antics would cause it to fall forward again, only adding to her consternation. The exposed tops of her abundant breasts jiggled like water in a shaking glass as she continually pointed at or shook her fist at me.

“Would you please tell the beautiful princess that I apologize for not understanding a word she is saying? Tell her I can tell that she is upset, and if yelling at me and calling me names makes her feel better, she is free to continue. When she is done, we will finally discuss what is going to happen today,” I calmly told our captured guide-turned-translator.

My eyes also never left the gorgeous face of the Princess except to glance occasionally at her quivering titflesh. “That won’t be necessary. The Princess speaks the Castilian and Aragonese dialects, as well as French, English, and Arabic,” the translator explained to me.

“I’m impressed,” I commented to the Princess as I nodded my head in approval. She had actually stopped shouting when I started talking to the translator.

Just as Grace had, the Princess turned on me, ready for anything when I approached. She responded reflexively when I reached out to her in the age-old custom to take her hand. “Duke Michael Miller at your service, Milady,” I said as I brushed my lips lightly across her knuckles.

“You seem rather young to be an English Duke,” she commented in the flirtatious voice so many of the girls in London had used when I was first made Earl and they were trying to get my attention. Her accent was sexy as hell.

“I told the King the same thing nearly a year ago. However, in the last year, I put down the rebellion by the nobles of York, worked out a peace treaty with the King of Scotland, and stood by his side as we defeated the army that just invaded England. Now, I have just captured Barcelona to exact revenge for the attack on England. It was done without the loss of a single one of my men,” I told her.

“So now you will pillage our city and rape our women,” she said sarcastically, finally pulling her hand from mine. “Fine, if I am to be raped, do it now, and be done with it,” she demanded, hands on her hips in a defiant pose.

I had dealt with enough women in the last year to recognize the look of fear and anxiety in their eyes. There was no fear or anxiety in her eyes. If anything, there was an animal lust and excitement--almost as if she wanted me to force myself on her.

Edith always laughed at my strong-willed wives and me. She had told me months ago--and my wives had confirmed it--a defiant woman was sometimes trying to push the man into overpowering her and having his way with her. Abby tended to do that occasionally for no apparent reason. As much as she enjoyed tenderness in our sex, occasionally she wanted to be overpowered and taken--even apparently against her will--although it never turned out to be against her will. She came so hard the first time I did it, that she passed out.

“Captain Leigh, I’m leaving you in charge of everything for a while. See that the King and Queen are safe and comfortable and keep an eye on the port. The Princess and I will be in her chambers,” I told the startled Captain.

“But, I thought you said...” he began before I cut him off.

“I did, and it still applies ... to everyone,” I replied as I emphasized “everyone.”

I could see that he had no clue what I meant, but he wasn’t about to ask in front of the King and Queen. “Princess?” I offered, holding my hand out to her.

She backed away, slowly, almost teasingly, until she backed into a table that halted her progress. There was still no fear in her eyes, but she looked a lot like one of my women when they were excited--pupils dilated, nostrils flared, eyes sparkling.

“Fine,” I said threateningly as I ducked and stepped forward, catching her on my shoulder and lifting her, kicking, and screaming. The Queen looked away, not wishing to witness the despoiling of her daughter. The King stood, threateningly, until one of the guards took a step towards him. As he sat back down, he glared angrily at me.

Once we were out of the room, I set her back down. “Which way to your room?” I asked. Her answer was total silence, arms folded defiantly, glaring at me. I saw fear in her eyes for the first time when I pulled out my knife and directed it towards her throat. While she braced herself, I changed the angle and began cutting her nightdress.

“What are you doing?” she asked angrily.

“You weren’t moving so I thought you wanted to do it here,” I answered as the knife slit all the way to the bottom of the dress. I pulled the nightdress off, leaving her standing there in only her underclothes just as a group of my men walked by with one of the servants, searching the house for valuables. My men were well conditioned and paid little attention to the Princess, all having seen me at one time or another with one of my slaves as we would sneak in a quickie during the day somewhere we thought we wouldn’t been seen.

“Fine,” she hissed. Grabbing the dress from me and wrapping it around herself as best she could, she huffed off down the hall with me hurrying to catch up.

Flinging open her door, she stormed into her room and went to the far side of the room. “Would you care to tell me why you are so intent on me raping you? Are you looking for an excuse for not being a virgin?” I asked.

“I ... am... still ... a ... virgin,” she growled, punctuating each word to make her point. “Something I’m sure you intend to find out for yourself shortly,” she added almost haughtily. She watched as I reached out and took her nightdress. Her eyes flashed with the nervous excitement I’d seen many times from those of my wives who had been virgins and from the virgin daughters who were my slaves, right before we began the process of de-virginizing them.

Stepping behind her, I put my arms around her waist and pulled her back against the rock-hard lump in the front of my pants. She gasped when my lips found the side of her neck and I felt her shiver with excitement. A quiet moan escaped her lips when I nipped gently at her slender, graceful neck. A whimper rewarded me when my tongue burrowed into her ear.

I had barely begun the same process on the other side of her neck when she spun in my arms and sought out my lips with hers. She responded tentatively when my tongue forced itself between her lips and started exploring her sexy mouth.

This time she helped when I picked her up and carried her to her bed. Still clothed, I climbed on top of her and moved between her legs, pressing my aching crotch against hers and slowly humping her. Moments later she stiffened, eyes wide in surprise when she climaxed.

“I have a question for you, my Princess,” I whispered in her ear.

“Hmmmmm?” she answered dreamily, still lost in the haze of her post-orgasmic haze.

“Will you marry me?” I asked quietly. I grinned to myself when there was no response for several moments.

“What?” she finally squeaked, her eyes opening fully to look at me disbelievingly.

“I asked if you would marry me. You would merely be a Duchess, but I promise that you will be a very happy Duchess and wife.”

“But my father expects me to marry Sebastian, King Alphonse’s son,” she protested.

“I don’t think your father is very happy with King Alphonse right now; he’s the one who instigated this war. Besides, technically, this entire city and everyone in it belong to me now so what he wants doesn’t matter. What do you want?” I replied.

After a few moments of thought, she answered. “If I agree, will you spare my parents?”

I ignored her question long enough to undo the laces of her underclothes enough to just see the tops of her chocolate nipples. I began kissing her neck again, slowly working my way down to her collarbone, and then even further down. I kissed every inch of the exposed tops of her breasts, nipping the soft titflesh gently several times before sliding my tongue as far inside her clothing as I could, caressing each nipple with my tongue before stopping. She mewled in protest and tried to pull my head back to her heaving bosom.

“My Princess, regardless of your answer, your parents will not be harmed unless they try to harm one of my men. In addition, my men have strict orders that there will be no unnecessary killing and no raping. They know me well enough to know they don’t want to find out their punishment should they disobey me. The only things you should consider are whether or not I am a man you can stand beside proudly during the day and enjoy being ravished by at night.”

I knew the answer to the second question already. Her hips were again moving underneath me as she humped herself against my throbbing cock. When I touched my lips to hers, she immediately plunged her tongue into my mouth seeking mine.

“Does this mean my Princess agrees to marry me?” I asked when she finally let me come up for air.

“Yes,” she gasped, eyes smoldering.

“How quickly can we get a priest here?” I asked.

“Very quickly,” she gasped just before crying out quietly with her second orgasm.

When she had recovered, I went out, found one of the servants who was guiding my men through the house, and sent her for the nearest priest to perform the marriage. “When you return, please bring the King and Queen to the room too,” I requested.

The woman bowed and hurried off, leaving my men to finish their looting. I told the men, “Leave the Queen’s crown, and allow her to choose one piece of her jewelry that she wishes to keep. Also, bring me the Princess’s tiara and tell the men to take only half of the cattle and horses, but make sure to take all the warhorses.”

The men saluted and scurried off to carry out and spread the changed orders. I returned to my horny Princess. While we waited, I finished taking off her clothing, releasing her glorious breasts from their confinement so I could properly worship them. A knock on the door interrupted my worship sometime later. After covering the Princess, I got up to answer it while the Princess hurriedly pulled on her underclothing.

Fortunately, Princess Isabella’s room was a large one because the Priest, the servant, the King and Queen, and their retinue of my men all came into the room. At first, the priest refused to perform the marriage because I wasn’t Catholic.

“I believe your Princess is trying to follow what you have been preaching to her for so many years. She wishes to be married now so that it is her husband taking her for the first time. I don’t care if she is married or not and if you don’t perform the ceremony, I will still take her today, and will have a priest of my faith perform the marriage when I get home.”

“Fine,” he huffed, “for her sake I’ll do it.”

The brevity of the marriage ceremony showed me how upset the priest was. Well before one of our priests would have been halfway through the short ceremony for a second marriage, the Princess and I were officially married. I helped usher a still pissed off priest and the confused King out of the room, allowing mother and daughter a few moments alone.

“Thank you,” the Queen said to me emotionally when she finally came out.

“You’ve impressed my mother,” Isabella giggled from the middle of her bed where she was sitting, still wrapped modestly in her covers.

“Then I guess it’s time to impress my wife,” I answered, pulling the covers away.

She came to me coyly when I held out my hand and I finished the job of removing her clothing again. Her hands were trembling as she tried to remove my clothes. When she finally accomplished her task, we tumbled into her bed. We had both had enough foreplay already and were ready for the main event, but I still wanted to taste the sweetness of her virgin pussy before deflowering her. I’m sure everyone in the house heard her scream when she came from the tongue-lashing that I gave her.

Before she became coherent again, I had taken her virginity, pressing through the thin membrane that separates a girl from being a woman, and then pulled most of the way back out. She didn’t react and I was glad she wouldn’t need to deal with the pain. I waited impatiently for my turn to cum--to fill her full of my seed for the first time. Finally, she stirred when I began chewing gently on her right nipple. “Oh, my God that was fantastic,” she panted. “Isn’t it about time that you made me a woman, though?” she taunted.

I leaned down and kissed her, sliding my tongue through her lips at the same time I pressed forward once more and filled her nearly virgin pussy with cock. She tensed, awaiting the expected pain. “It only hurts the first time,” I told her.

“But this is my first time,” she protested vehemently.

“You were a virgin when you passed out during your orgasm, but I remedied the problem before you woke up. That way you wouldn’t feel the pain,” I explained as I continued to play slip and slide in her tight, wet pussy. It was well after breakfast before she felt properly conquered and would let me out of bed so I could finish my conquest of the rest of Barcelona. I suggested that she wear something fitting for a public appearance so she could meet my men and help me make sure they were obeying my orders. I also explained what I intended to do.

Initially, she was upset, but finally acceded and agreed. Considering what had instigated our invasion, what I intended was more than fair. I also gave her the list of troops from Aragon who had died in the battle. I was sure their families would want to know at least if their sons, fathers, or husbands were still alive. The lists were broken down by city to make it easier to inform their families.

She blushed constantly as I watched her dress. It was almost as sexy watching her cover everything back up as it had been to uncover it and the process probably took longer than usual with me fondling so many fun parts of her body before letting her cover them again. She snuggled against me as we rejoined the world. “I think I’m going to be glad I said yes,” she sighed.

Her mother smiled when she saw how deliriously happy her daughter was. Her father was still scowling at me. Isabella went to him and sat on his lap with her arms around his neck like a little girl would and talked quietly with him--not that I would have understood what she said if she’d spoken louder. He kept glancing over at me and gradually, the scowl disappeared--almost.