You will do what it takes

"Very well," you say, trying to hide your unhappiness. Even out of the corner of your eye you can see the watchman's smile. He wraps his hand around the fat hose of his cock and begins to slowly stroke it.

"Off with your clothes then," he says. "Let's see how you look with nothing on you but those little freckles on your cheeks."

You get up from the bench and cross to the other side of the fire. With your back mostly turned to him, you begin to undress by lifting the rain soaked gown over your head. It is a weight lifted form your body as you bare your underclothes to him. You arrange it carefully on the chair beside the fire so it will dry before continuing to disrobe. Keeping your back turned, you remove your sling, hiding your pale, pert breasts and the aching hardness of your little pink nipples from him. You shiver and softly murmur a prayer that he will release his seed before you are **** to do it for him.

Bending at your waist, you hook your thumbs into your underwear and peel it down from your firm bottom. The wet fabric has left red marks on your pale cheeks from where the garment pinched your buttocks while you were riding. You hear a groan of pleasure from the watchman as he catches sight of your red thatched quim and perhaps even glimpses between your cheeks as you pluck the underwear from between them. You arrange these pieces beside the fire as well. Being nude, the flames begin to try your body and warm you.

"Come and sit beside me," says the watchman. "Oh, what a lovely flower you are. What a price I would pay to pluck you."

Keeping your eyes averted, you approach the watchman and sit beside him on the bench. Immediately, his hands lever open your thighs and he whistles at the sight of your virgin mound. Before you can object, his hand is on it, rough fingers sliding the length of your grove and grinding into your clit. You cry out in surprise.

"That good?" he laughs. "You're probably used to fiddling each other's little cunts there at the abbey. Come on then, love, have a feel of what a man's meat is like."

He takes your hand and drops it into his lap. You feel something wet brush your fingers and the hard flesh of his cock beneath your fingers. You close your grasp around him and try to imitate the motion of his hand on his cock.

"Squeeze tighter," he says, closing his fist around your hand. "Go all the way up. Yes, oh, that's good. Though your hand is not buttery soft. They must work you at the abbey."

"Yes," you agree. "They did."

"Well, come on then, love. Give me a kiss. A little kiss. Just to help things along."

Reluctantly, you lean over to him, your lips ready for a kiss. The old watchman seizes your hair and roughly forces your face down to his lap. His cock smears against your lips. You stop stroking and try to push away and that just makes him take over with one hand and wank his cock, smacking it onto your sputtering lips.

"Come on now, love. Open up that pretty mouth and have a taste of this."

A sick realization tightens your guts. You could fight the watchman, maybe even beat him, but what would that accomplish? A bloodied watchman who would sound the alarm and maybe have you arrested or arrested and ****. You've already agreed to wank him off, you're willingly naked, he will easily sway any who would listen that you volunteered yourself for this.

His cock rubs back and forth over your lips, smearing precum and forcing you to breathe the musk of his loins. Tears well in your eyes at the humiliation. You are not sure you can **** yourself not to fight him.