Merthin

Christine jumped when the door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she steadied herself. As her trembling came to a stop, she opened her eyes and directed her gaze to the trunk at the foot of her bed. The only daughter of the Gerard family walked over and placed a delicate hand on the edge of the strong and rich oak chest. Even the furniture in this sinful house was sultry and suggestive.

Am I really going to do this? I’m the daughter of Baron Bartholemew Gerard, advisor to the King of England. If I do this, I’m tarnished. I couldn’t marry, I’ll be branded a harlot and turned away from heaven! I wouldn’t be able to fight back. Unbidden a tear rolled down her cheek, and her left hand started trembling. Her breath quickened and she felt a sob coming on. This whole situation was just too much for her.

“Get a hold of yourself. You’ve got to be strong for Erik.” Even as she murmured the words to herself, Chirstine knew she had limited options. I’m just a woman, I can’t do anything anyhow. The best I can do is protect Erik until he becomes a knight and is able to take ****. Remember Joan of Arc, she gave her body and mind and soul to God in exchange for France. Surely, I can live up to her standard. In fact, I know I can. Let them use my body however they see fit. I shall find other ways to make that Bastard pay.

Christine opened her blue eyes and looked with trepidation into the closet wiping away the moisture in her eye. There were two articles of clothing before her. The first one suspended by clips attaching it to a rod appeared to be a dress, cut very short on the bottom and held up by only the thinnest straps over the shoulders. In court, whoever wore this would’ve been promptly accused of harlotry and sent away in shame. It looked more like a sleeping gown than a dress and Christine found it fitting that she should find something this scandalous here. The second article of clothing made her blush. It could barely be said to cover anything, made instead to highlight certain assets. All red with black stripes, this one had thin straps leading over the shoulder, covering her midsection and continuing under crotch before being laced up the side. leaving the top of her breasts and back exposed. Clearly, the focal point of this outfit would be the shape it would contort her body into.

Pulling it out and laying it on the bed, Christine took a deep breath. “Well girl, time to make the bed. Ave Maria, gratia plena,” She whispered, trying to muster her courage. Christine continued speaking the familiar prayer as she picked up, stepped in, and laced up the bodice of the corset. Once finished, she hopped over to the vanity and looked in the mirror.

Her first thought was of her hair. It was currently a disheveled mess, and unfortunately there wasn’t time to properly clean and brush. So, she quickly straightened it out in her hands, letting the mousy brown locks spill over her bare shoulders, before grabbing a long hair pin and several clips and tying it into a neat ponytail. That done she looked to the makeup on the table and blanched. The only experience she had with makeup was when Father Michael warned against such use in a fiery sermon several years back.

Well, I am whoring myself out. Father Michael was right; it really is only used by whores and sick people. I guess I had better play the part.

She picked up the silver bullet of lipstick and weighed it in her hand, imagining that God was weighing her soul. Christine opened the lid and was shocked to see just how red the colour was. Never in her life had she seen something so brilliantly red. Analytically she knew that it would pair very well with her corset. Christine did her best to put lipstick on but feared she had managed to smear it all over her lips. Sighing and taking another big consoling breath, Christine looked at herself in the mirror.

All things together, she had to admit that she looked dreamy. Dark eyes stared back at her wide and alert, soft brown hair laid softly upon her shoulders, covered only barely by the thinnest straps she had ever seen. The tops of her breasts were exposed, pushed together by the corset, framing her collarbone in a truly erotic look. Her lipstick didn’t look bad, there wasn’t any smeared anywhere else on her face at least. She thought there was too much on her lips but didn’t quite know how to fix it. Looking down, she saw her bare legs reaching down to her feet. Never had she allowed anyone who wasn’t her personal maid to see this much of her skin.

In spite of the deep moral horror, she was in, part of her was very excited by what was to come. Her quim had been moist since well before Lady Scarlett left the room, and now it had become slick with desire. As she admired herself, thoughts of what it would feel like to be made a woman pounded into her waking mind and she blushed furiously.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Three knocks hammered at the door followed by, “My dear Lady Evelyn, may I come in? It’s terribly lonely out here, without you!” A deep masculine voice called out from the door. Christine jumped out of her chair and shambled to the door. She couldn’t stop her body from trembling in fright as she walked over.

“Yes, my lord, allow me to open the door.” Christine managed to get out, opening the door and revealing herself to this stranger’s lecherous gaze. The stranger was clothed in a rich blue nobleman's outfit with a hood over his head. All she could make out was his thick white and grey beard, and he was taller than her and pudgy. He smelled of thick pine and some strange scent she couldn’t place.

The stranger put his right hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back farther into the room while stepping in, keeping close proximity with Christine. She looked up at him, eyes wide and heart pounding, “How might I ser-serve you, my lord?” She asked, barely managing to get through the greeting.

“Go sit on the bed, Evelyn, I have paid for a night with you, and I would like some conversation first! By the by, you do look absolutely stunning dear. Greg was certainly right; you do make a fine-looking whore.” The stranger smugly said, while Christine walked backward into the bed and sat down.

Even through the fear fog in her mind, Christine’s wonderful mind started putting some theories together. She blurted out, “Merthin is that you? Oh My God, I can’t let you see me like this!” With a girlish yelp she looked around the room for anything within arm's reach that might conceal her near nakedness, quickly picking up a pillow and placing it protectively in front of her belly.

Chuckling softly to himself, the stranger reached up and pulled his hood down, revealing to Christine that he was indeed Merthin, the notary. “Christine, you astonish me! Here I was, thinking I’d be savvy and surprise you! The good Baron was right, you are intelligent. How’d you know it was me?” He exclaimed.

“You were wearing the same outfit as last I saw you in, the beard is the same, and your voice was familiar too.” Christine said, head bowed.

“Child, don’t be afraid. Look me in the eye and don’t slouch, it’s bad posture.” Merthin told her sternly. “I want you to understand some things.” Christine did as she was asked, flushing when she saw how he leered at her bosom.

“Yes, My Lord.” Christine said, this time while she held his gaze.

“Better. I’d first like to congratulate on your choice of employment. Not many know this, but I’ve been helping fund this establishment for a number of years now. Secondly, I am a man of my word, even to those who’ve been proven foolish.” Merthin’s voice dropped low, his eyes scanned the room, and he pulled out a large coin purse and places it on the vanity. “If anyone asks you, be a smart girl and tell them this was your tip.” So saying, Merthin moved Christine’s chair near the side of the bed and sat down.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give the gold to you earlier, my guard, Greg, is a spy of the Bastard Pr- I mean King Henry.” Merthin hastily corrected. Seeing Christine’s shocked face he added, “Yes, he is moving at a rapid pace to solidify his power. Two days ago, he captured your Father’s keep and was anointed rightful King of England. Yesterday he had almost half of the court swear allegiance. The other half is heading to London now.”

Christine paled. Her hands clenched together tight enough to whiten the knuckles and she whispered dangerously, “I despise that man with all my heart. I will do ten times worse than what he has done to my family.”

“Whoa there, sweet pea! He’s untouchable by the likes of you. You’ve been downgraded to a whore while he’s the bloody King of England. Believe me, I have no love for him either, but he…. Whoa wait, why’re you crying?”

Merthin said, trying to console her after noticing the tears running down her face. He moved over to the bed and pulled her into a hug.

“Shh. Shh. Shh. It’s alright girl, give yourself this minute before the world takes it away.” Merthin whispered into her ear, gently patting her back while she wept. The two of them stayed that way for a while, with Merthin whispering sweet nothings and Christine sobbing.

The morning passed by midday, falling into afternoon before Christine broke out of her Reverie. Sunlight shone over her body, turning her fair skin radiant as she was draped over Merthin’s respectable girth. “I’m terribly sorry, Master Merthin. You must have paid a great deal for a good time, and I fear I’ve done nothing but cry on you.” Christine softly said, staring into Mertin’s light brown eyes.