Lionheart Junior
by Pierre d’Amour
BookRix Edition 2016
Copyrigh by Amé
Pierre d’Amour:
LIONHEART JUNIOR
A gripping tale of love and
bravery from the dark times!
PHILIP, THE BASTARD
Nobody ever told me, who my mother actually was, but my father was definitely called Lionheart, Richard the First, the King of mighty England! I grew up at Beaumont Castle, and because my father was always far away on some holy crusade or a bloody avenge I enjoyed all the spoils of a real prince! The castle was a spooky and scary cold old building full of the haunting voices of the past, so I spent most of my time with the stable boy. In the stable I felt warm and cozy, I loved the horses and knew them all by name, and I liked the sweet smell of fresh hay and manure tickling my nose. His name was Jack, he was maybe a few years older than me, but he already knew everything! My old teacher Graham taught me a lot about literature and finances, but to learn from Jack was much more fun - he was a unbelievable source of gossip and never boring - and he did it with the chamber maid, so he said at least!
Jack never called me a bastard, and he never called me Philip either: for him I was just Junior! He loved to play the dice, and after he had won all my pocket money he wanted to play first for my jacket, and then for my breeches - and of course I lost them to him. They were too small for him anyway, Jack just wanted to see me naked - and I was never so embarrassed ever before! I had never thought about my genitals as an object of interest, at least not by a male - but then I remembered the fondling of the senile doctor Bob on his yearly visit to the castle, which left me with quite some embarrassment too: my dickel was swelling and growing under his tender touch, feeling rather strange and somehow sweetly painful when he pulled the foreskin back to inspect the smelly pink plum hidden inside! But then my dickel was looking suddenly red and inflamed, oozing a tear of excitement from the tiny mouth on the top of the inflated red head - I could have died from shame! But that was all what was wrong with me, the doctor used to say!
But Jack always behaved in a rather deranged way after he had won my breeches, he stared at my dickel and unpacked his own from his trousers: he rubbed it hard and told me to do the same! He made me do the most unspeakable things when I was naked: I had to kiss his long dick and lick the salty plum, then it had to rub the hard shaft too, and swallow the whole sticky mess without complaint! And Jack wasn't never to lazy to repay the favour, and he was a real pervert: he loved to suck my balls into his mouth, he loved to spank my buttocks and to bite my dickel hard, until he spat his load all over my belly - it was just so much fun to spend time with him! We went out riding our ponies naked through the hills, skinny dipping in the creeks and rolling nude under the hot summer sun to dry off and to get a tan on our white English bums - this were the years of my innocence, but as my doctor had stated, my only malady was my silly shame and my inhibitions, and I promised to myself to take my destiny in my own hands!
I caught the rosy chambermaid Madeleine in my room when she was collecting the bed sheets for a wash, and I asked her from sheer curiosity, if she was really doing it with Jack? Oh: the maid blushed like a rose, she denied any wrongdoing with whatshisname, but then she thought again and said, that if I was to tell anybody about it, she would surely loose her job! She tried to cry a bit, but that didn't work, then she thought again and said, that if I was to keep this our secret she would show me her bloomers! Madeleine was such a peach - the design and the purpose of the multitudes of underwear women wore was still a mystery to me! So I was bold in my approach and after taking a good view at her slender legs in the long stockings and the blooming white panties I wanted nothing more than to have them! »Oh, no - the Mistress would find out too quick!«, she wined first, but then she thought again, and with a sparkling mischief in her green eyes she pulled the fluffy frilly garment off her legs, threw it in my face and run!
Of course, my official mother Marguerite had recognised the theft straight away with her ever-inquisitive fingers, and she demanded to see me in the red room instantly - I was in for one of her usual punishments to correct the animal behaviour of a bastard into the manners of a gentleman without any success! In the castle's punishment room it was the rule to strip completely naked and to be tied up by the wrists to an iron hook under the wooden rafter - a rather exposed position which allowed the bitch to whip you from all angles. The red padded walls and the double doors left no cry of pain escape, kept the hot red welts of discipline a secret, hidden under long skirts or in tight trousers! Marguerite swung the whip well, and she gave me a dozen of her best: right over both nether cheeks in a presumably creative pattern, and she just laughed at my growing erection with disgust! She called me the bastard again, just to remind me, that I wasn't family - and she whipped me until I was bleeding down my legs!