A Slip In The Plot
Behind the Main Stage, I followed her into a dressing room, where she took my shoulders in her hands, turned me bodily and threw me up against the rough wall. I could do little but gape, as she came after me, buffeting me in her skirts. She reached up to my head and I slid down to match her height, got one knee up for her to straddle. Her lips sought out mine; her perfume, like violets and plums and cunt, surrounded me. Her shuddering body pushed hard against me. She slapped my hands down to hang at my sides
“You are mine, darling, beautiful butch,” she said at last, when she freed my mouth. Her ferocity was electrifying. She put her hands on either side of my head, against the wall. “I shall devour thee, lad, I warn thee.”
“Uh–” My voice wouldn’t work.
“You are a dream come true. I knew you were a woman when I first saw you. To come down out of that tree and follow me — you heard my call, did you not?”
Well, perhaps I had, but I never expected this. “Forsooth, Mad Moll has ever been the hunter, this many a year–”
“And now art thou the prey.” Her eyelids half veiled her gleaming blue eyes. “Oh, yes, I will turn you inside out.” I believed her. All my plans for her had flown out of my head; I whimpered when her teeth found my neck. Her hands roaming my body found the leather straps at my hips, under the clothing I wore, and she gripped my codpiece. “Packing, my stalwart lad?” she purred. “Think not, that thy rapier will guard thy person. Indeed will’t thou find thyself disarmed, with thy sword sheathed in thine deepest regions, at my whim.”
“As thou please, M’Lady,” I whispered. “Oh, fuck…”
The door opened suddenly, and several faces peeked through.
“Oh! Sorry, Lina! We need to change, okay?” The room was suddenly crowded with the smell of actor’s sweat and hairspray.
“Shalt thou remain in thy station, lad,” she ordered me, and left the room. Bedamn me if I did not do exactly as she said, my back to the wall. Indeed, it would have been hard to disobey. Of the actors whose room it properly was, they merely glanced my way, and let me be. When some other came into the room and noticing me tried to order me out, one gentleman said; “Nay, seemeth he’s Helena’s servant, let him be.”
“I thank thee, M’lord,” said I.
“Aye, sore hard would it be to fail thine mistress,” said another. “What hight thee, lad?”
“They call me Mad Moll, M’lord.”
Mad Moll Laughs
“By heaven, ’tis a wench in boy’s clothing!” a ruffianly man spake. “Shall’t un see further?” He came towards me.
“Fie, William!” cried the others. “For shame!”
“Keep thy distance.” I put my hand to my dagger.
“Nay, Will,” said the first gentleman. “Ken ye, the lad are here under the protection of Her Grace of Blackford-”
“Yet, look ye, Roland, ’tis nae a lad!” said the ruffian.
“Aye, sirrah, I am man as thou, bedamned to thee!” I said, and laughed angrily. “And should I a wench be, an thou care to take it to the point-”
“Hush, hush!” spake many in the room.
“We shall have no unseemly brawl,” said Roland. “Thou, Will, have some manners. Thou, Moll, forget not thy place, and the honor of thy Mistress. Keep thy madness in check, lad, for her sake.”
“Aye, my Lord,” Moll spake sullenly. Will caught my eye and winked, dropping character for a moment. It caught me off guard; I grinned back.
“We must leave the room, Mad Moll. Abidest thou here?”
“Aye, my Lord, till my mistress bid me otherwise.” I shrugged; what could I do?
“Thou shall not be suffered to abide alone, I fear. Thou, Geoffrey, go search his Mistress out, and ask what she wills.”
“Aye, Roland.” The second man who had spoken to me darted out the door. The others trailed out behind him.
“Th’art kindly, M’Lord,” I said.
“Oh, aye,” my benefactor said lightly. “I’ll tell you what, I don’t know who I’m more jealous of, you or her, the damned bitch.”
But An Hour
“Roland, bring the boy with thee, that he may attend Her Grace at court.” Geoffrey stuck his head in the door. And so I stood at the back of the stage, all through the high court scene, with that woman’s eyes burning holes into my brain every time she looked my way. I began to understand the medieval belief that eyes throw real particles from one to another, of love, hatred, lust, poison. When the tourney ended and she came to me, I sank to my knees before her, as much to relieve my weak legs as any other thing. I fervently kissed the hand she held out to me.
“Follow,” she ordered, and turned away.
This time we ended up at her tent in the Actor’s camp. I unlaced her stays when she bid me so, helped her out of her great gown, its bustle and ruff, and I would have continued till her body was unveiled entire, yet she stayed my hand. “I have but an hour, till I must attend Her Majesty again, sweetling,” she explained.
“I could make you happy in an hour, baby.”
The lady chuckled. “I doubt it, honey. Nay, thou must stay the night. Th’art not an Actor here, am I right? So, I must find thee a night pass. I will have thee, boy.”
“Um… as thou desirest, M’Lady.” Bobby would take his own car home, I supposed, and I would have to cadge a ride sometime tomorrow. As I had done before, in my teens. I watched Lady Helena move about her tent, her fine chambray shift loose about her. It softly outlimned a trim, womanly body, with the hint of a soft belly carried on strong hips. Mad Moll felt her fingers itch for the taking of her, yet knelt where she had been put, on the floor. Her Grace came back to stand over me. She hesitated, just a little.
“I call myself a Leatherwoman, and I am a Top. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, M’Lady, I know,” I said. So she wasn’t merely crazy, and that was a relief. Come to think of it, that meant I wasn’t crazy either, to let her bat me around like that.
“Wottest thou, ’tis no common thing that I seek, but the Chivalrous Ideal, that thou obey my commands without hesitation. Art thou willing? For if thou faileth me, I will cast thee aside forthwith.”
“Is that true?” Mad Moll spoke in wonder. “Ah, that which thou seekest it is no common thing.”
“Aye,” Lina smiled briefly “I deem ’tis near unheard of, among those that style themselves leather. Look you, Lancelot walked with Guenevere. A tumbril rolled by, that carried men to the prison, and she desired that he climb onto it. He hesitated, fearing for his honor and she grew wroth, that he would demean her honor by putting his own before it. She said that his first thought must be to obey her wishes and his honor would be secure thereby. And so I ask of thee.”
“Aye, I am willing,” said Mad Moll. “I will do my utmost for thee, on pain of utter banishment.”
Lady Helena smiled, sat near me to loll back amid her petticoats.
“Good. Then shall thee attend me till the eve, my lovely lad, and prove thine self to me.”
“Grant me this boon, though,” I remembered Maggie, and my promise to her. Damn! “I must some appointments keep, made before Your Grace hove into view. May I discharge these last duties, I am yours alone.”
“And that shall prove more true than you know.” She crawled onto me, pinning me flat under her and ground against my codpiece. I held her, watching her eyelids fall half across her blue orbs.
“Come on, baby,” I urged her. “Let me take care of you.”
“Later,” she said. Her hand trailed across my face, making me flinch. I turned into that hand, kissing the palm, the fingers that insinuated their way into my mouth one at a time until the four were pressing in. She grabbed my hair and used it to hold my head still, while she explored my tongue, ran her fingers over my gums. Her nails were cut short. I groaned when she released me. “Do you know what I need from a butch like you?” she murmured. “It’s not what you think. I need to tear you loose, sweetheart.” She got up, standing over me. “How many wenches have you pleasured today?”
“Oh, a few,” I answered cautiously
“Open your legs.” She kicked at them. I spread my legs, obediently, laying flat on my back. She unbuckled my codpiece, and my black silicone daddy sprang to attention. “Oh, very nice,” Her Grace said approvingly. “A few is not enough, I trow. I want you to seduce women all the rest of the day. Pleasure them, let them try their best to pleasure you, if they think of it. Come to me tonight, and I will give you such pleasure that you will give me your soul for it.”
My cock stood high, expectantly, waiting, but nothing happened. My legs tensed, released, slid further apart. My hands spread themselves open, flat on the ground. I waited, tingling, for something that never came. Lina watched, and did nothing, but it cost her some composure. She turned and rummaged in a small chest, and brought out a chain, which she held in both hands.
No One Ever Called Me Boy
“Sit up. I would have your shirt off, sir,” she ordered, and when I had freed my breasts she had me kneel with my back against the center pole of the tent.
“Th’art no longer a free agent,” she said. “Dost agree?” She let me see the chain; It was sterling silver, and exceptionally heavy. I could only be glad that it wasn’t a choke chain from the pet store, but I protested;
“Honey, you hardly know me. I could walk off with that thing, and you’d never see it again.”
“Would you do that?”
“No.” I admitted. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Nay, I knew so. Th’art a creature of honor. And more to the point, you need me, badly.” Helena bent down and draped the chain, not only around my neck, but around the tent pole as well. “Careful,” she said softly. “You could pull the whole tent down.”
My heart started hammering. I kneeled up straighter, feeling the pole along my spine, between my buttocks. I raised my hands a little, looking at her, hoping she would tie them behind me, but she merely said; “Leave your hands at your sides,” and I obeyed. She settled herself comfortably near me, to roam my body with her hands. “I like your tattoo. Why a bunny?”
“Tis a Jackrabbit. I was raised in Arizona.” My hips thrust forward, my cock bobbing.
“Stop that.” She brought me near to heaven with naught but a light slap to my face. “Nothing will you get from me before thy time. Hear thy orders, lad. Roam free, take thy pleasure among the wenches and strumpets that abound, but thou must come to me during the last Court scene, that I may give thee thy night pass. And after the tourists are gone, then shall I proclaim thee as my slave, and thou shall serve me at table, and perform for me as I direct. And then shall I bring you hither and eat you alive…” She smiled. “How sayest thee?”
Mad Moll would burst asunder, were her heart try to go any faster. I licked dry lips, with a dry tongue. “Aye, M’Lady, I’m willing.” I closed my eyes, and added; “I’m willing right now.”
“Now you shall not have,” she said gleefully. “Want are your lot, boy. Now tell me about thyself. How old art thou, really? And what are thy job in that other world?”
“I’m thirty-five.” I told her, grinning. “And I manage a Post house. I used to work the Faire when I was a teenager- where have you been all my life?”
“Thirty-five, forsooth? You don’t look it,” she said. “A woman thou art– but a boy are a boy no matter the age, they say.”
“Sooth, but I was not a boy, till I met you.” I flinched as her hands covered my breasts “Oh, god…”
“Well, I’m thirty-eight, so I am thy senior… Where do you live, L.A.? I live in Laguna.”
I sighed, envisioning long commutes.
“And I too manage a company, though mine are Insurance. Tell me, Mad Moll, hast thou a practice that are off limits? I shall not like to draw blood from thee, unless we meet more often. How may I not abuse thee? Verbally?”
“Um. Well, you can call me any names you want – except for “stupid” or anything that demeans my intelligence, okay?”
“Oh? Slut? Whore?”
“Yeah, that’s okay-”
“What about animals, dog, pig… What about boy, lad?”
Mad Moll laughed. “I’m not used to being called boy.”
“No?” Helena said mockingly; “And what are you used to?”
“Sir. Or Ma’m, or Daddy,” I said blandly. She gazed at me silently for several seconds. I met her gaze. “I’m a top, honey. Normally.”
“Ah,” She purred. “But the circumstances are not normal, are they?”
“My Lady, they are not,” I agreed with her.
“Now of the physical. I shall not ask your permission for anything to do with pleasure, once you tell me of your feelings about anal, and water sports. How say you?”
“Sounds okay to me.” Sounded like heaven. Helena smiled.
“And pain,” she said, softly. “Have you a favorite? Have you any abuse issues?”
“No abuse in my life… I’ll agree with you about blood sports. I’m not afraid of them, though… but, Lady Helena, I’m not a pig masochist, you know. I can take a flogging or even a cane, but it ain’t my main thing. I don’t know where my tolerance is right now.” Especially with her. And, I told myself, I would pleasure her in some way, or all agreements were off.
“I think I knew that, my darling,” she stroked my face tenderly. “To submit is your need. I mean to own thee, and thou shalt know it. Any hurt I give thee shall be for that reason, that thou shall know my might. And thou shall have a word of safety which shall be – grasshopper. And, by the way, you may call me Lina, when we’re alone, as long as you speak respectfully. And you may always call me M’Lady.”
“Now hush, that I may rest these few moments, then shall thee dress me again.” Helena reclined on her bed, leaving me kneeling at the post. I looked around. The big square tent was white canvas, with the single wooden pole in the center. The boxes and chests stacked neatly and the many rugs layering the floor bespoke of full time residence. There was a lot to think on. I had never thought to find myself negotiating in S.C.A.-speak. Certainly I had not thought to find myself bewitched and ensorceled in this way. I hoped that this woman could keep these promises. The noises of the faire resounded from outside the dell, shadows passed to and fro outside. The actor Roland poked his head into the door. I raised my finger to my lips, warningly. He held up five fingers, mouthed “I’ll be back,”– and popped back in again, to stare at me, half nude, harnessed, and chained by the neck. I gave him a warning glare, putting my hand to my dagger, and he mouthed “Sorry,” and disappeared, grinning hugely. My Lady was asleep, seemingly. I wanted so, to put hand to myself. It would have been cheating the rules so I desisted.
A Creature Of Honor
“Your Grace,” Roland’s voice called from outside the tent. “Lad, bid my fair cousin rise, an’ you love me!” Helena was stirring. She saw me, and smiled, an angelic wench.
“Enter, my dear cousin,” she called out. “Do you mind?” she asked me as an afterthought.
“As thou will, M’Lady.” Personally, I thought I looked pretty good. I felt like showing off. Roland stepped into the tent, and looked me up and down.
“Forsooth, he strips well, Lina,” he said fulsomely, “A right pretty playmate hast thou found, ‘pon my word.”
“Thou, lad, take thy chain thyself from the pole, that thou may dress me,” Helena said. This woman was diabolical. To unchain myself was disorienting. I couldn’t help looking to her in appeal. She looked smug as she got up and came over to me.
“Aye, sweetheart…” She took the chain in her hands and soon it went around my neck only. She took my head in her hands, pressed her lips to mine, bit. That need of hers engulfed me once again. Helpless was I against her need for me, even knowing what that need was. “My gown,” she commanded. “And if I must tell you every little thing, it will go hard for you.”
“Beg pardon, M’Lady,” I scrambled up and shook her huge gown over her head, strutting under Roland’s eyes as I pulled her laces, fastened her ruff, helped put her hair in place. He sat at his ease on a little canvas stool, watching all, pleased as punch.
“Dress thy pet, dearest cousin, ere I do something I may regret,” he said at last. “You bitch, I hate thee for thy stripling and his talents”
Helena tinkled out a laugh. “Hate me not, dear Roland! Best put back thy cod, boy, let us not tease the gentleman further.” I looked down at myself as though surprised that I was uncovered.
“I beg pardon sir,” I buckled my codpiece in place. It took some adjusting to snug my dildo into its nest; Roland chuckled, watching me begin to blush. I donned my tunic and surcoat. Helena lifted the great chain to lay over my collar.
“Tis well indeed the boy are under your protection,” Roland laughed outright. “Methinks I would do myself an injury with him!”
“Nay, sir, you show me too much kindness,” I actually did blush. What the hell was this woman turning me into?
“Nay, and ’tis certain that you are twice the Male of that rogue, William… A fine jest, withal!” He roared merrily. “Ah, lad, thou did’st unloose the wrong weapon, that other would have ended all argument…”
“Thy Will are a foolish popinjay, forsooth,” Her Grace said. “As art thou. Now, Moll must attend me back to Court, that all may know he are under my protection, and thou, cousin, find your own damn toys.”
“Well, let him carry these, as well as your bags, by your leave, fair cousin,” Roland sighed. “I am fain worn out.” So Mad Moll trotted behind his Mistress carrying a light burden in hand, yet a heavy one between her thighs- and a whirling head, withal.1