The first time is for the man's pleasure

Merthin could be gentle when he chose to be, and there would certainly be enough time to make Christine writhe with unfamiliar desire, but the first time for a maiden he had always believed should be all about the man's pleasure, not the girl's.

He liked the little squeaks and whimpers she made each time her thrust into her and he liked the way she squirmed and wiggled like a worm on a fishhook. Like the scarlet blood smeared on her pale thigh, it was evidence that somehow Lady Girard had escaped not only Prince Henry's lust but the lecherous Bishop Anthryl's as well only to fall into his clutches. A particularly hard thrust made her cry out and arch her back almost like he was deflowering her again and he paused as deep as he could get in her tight channel relishing the wet heat that squeezed his manhood. This time when he pulled out, he took a moment to savor the look of shock and disbelief on the no-longer virgin's face.

"This is the best fuck I've had in years!" He grunted as he sank back into her tight pussy. "More than once, when I visited your father's Duchy and saw you standing by his side, or walking in the gardens with your ladies-in-waiting I wondered who the lucky man was going to be that got to spread you open like this." He pushed into her again noting with regret that she was no longer bucking against him like the first dozen times, "not even when I was wanking my cock in my chambers, did I ever even imagine that I would be that lucky man."

"You did what?" It seems that Baron Girard's innocent daughter had no idea how many men visiting her father's castle fantasized about his demure only daughter.

"Oh yeah," Merthin changed his pace to a more steady rhythm, releasing her legs so he could lower his body onto Christine's tiny frame and press her into the rough wool blanket beneath as he fucked her. "I'm sure I'm not the only one either. Just one look at you kneeling in the chapel praying for the soul of your brother was enough to make me forget all about the liturgy and risk eternal Hell itself for a chance to do this."

"That's blasphemy!" Merthin smiled wickedly, even after her experience with the bishop of Oldchester, this young woman was still a faithful child of God. How long she might maintain her values was still a question, but the longer the better as far as he was concerned. He could bang any number of slattern harlots at Madam Scarlet's house, he could even entice bored ladies of the court whose husbands were too busy chasing skirts in the courtyards to treat their wives right, but where in the world would he ever find a devout little angel like Lady Girard to defile?

"Well, we're both sinners now, aren't we?" He grunted lifting himself up long enough to look down a Christine's tear-streaked face, "and I'm afraid that it might be a while before either of us can be absolved. I dare not confess what I've done to any priest under Anthryl's dominion, and you're going to have to stay here under my care for a while still." The knowledge that he was going to have this unfortunate soul as his private sex-toy for the foreseeable future enflamed him in a way that not even her soft protests or tear could do.

"I'm going to fuck you like this every chance I get, sweet Christine." His intentions to make the moment last were quickly forgotten as he felt the slight figure pinned beneath him once again start to squirm in a vain attempt to get free.

"No!" Her soft voice rose in protest, "I thought it would be just this once!" It was this final proof of how naïve his captive was that sent him over the edge, and he exploded into her filling her young womb with his seed.