Rocks And Hard Places (Closed For Alice2015)

Wilfred's dark brown eyes watched from beneath a black mane of hair that almost reached his shoulders as a horse slowly pulled the small but lavish wagon towards him along the road.

Beside it rode two caravan guards, lightly armed and armoured, likely privately hired men rather than vassals serving a notable lord.

From his vantage point behind a small cluster of rocks, the bandit could tell by the markings on the side of the wagon that it was the tax collector on his monthly journey to collect monies for the King.

In principle, Wilfred didn't oppose the concept of paying taxes. In fact, he felt it was right that the reigning monarch was entitled to a portion of wealth from throughout the land. But he was angered by the way tax collectors would frequently charge more than the required amount on threat of serious injury.

The rogue wagered that this was what the hired help were for. He doubted the King himself would encourage such behaviour, especially with the lack of wealth in nearby towns like Blackshire and Woolston. Winter was always a tough time of year and people deserved the right to retain enough income to feed their families, and Wilfred wanted to ensure that could happen.

This was by no means the first time he'd had decided to take such action, which was why he was somewhat surprised at the general lack of protection this tax collector had brought.

Perhaps the man felt two guards and a wagon driver would be enough to stop an attack. Perhaps he just didn't expect to be attacked on this stretch of road.

Whatever the reason, Wilfred decided it was good news for the local peasantry.

As the small caravan slowly approached, Wilfred carefully and quietly notched an arrow to the string of his bow. He raised his arm and lined up the nearest guard, his darkly tanned leather armour concealing him amidst the roadside shadows for the time being.

He took a moment to pause and calm his breathing, knowing that once the attack began, such peaceful moments would be difficult to come by.

Then he pulled back on the string and loosed the arrow, which flew out from behind his rocky hiding place and struck the caravan guard in the chest, knocking him out of his saddle. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Then the yelling began. The other guard wheeled his horse around, seeking the origin of the projectile as the wagon driver let out a panicked cry, whipping his reigns into a frenzy in an attempt to waken the previously docile horse.

Wilfred had already dropped his bow by the time the guard had identified his hiding place, but the horse's approach was faster than he'd anticipated, and the bandit's sword was still unsheathed by the time the horseman was upon him. Resorting to desperation, the bandit grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it at the animal, which reacted by whinnying and rearing up on its hind legs before bolting into the woods, its rider desperately holding on until his head collided with a low hanging branch, knocking him out cold.

Wilfred paused, regaining his composure, then turned back to the road. The wagon was still there, its driver having abandoned his seat. Wilfred assumed he had given up on getting the wagon horse to move and had simply run away.

It was only when he entered the wagon, sword drawn, that he knew something was wrong. The vehicle was completely empty. No tax collector. No passengers. No money.

He swung around as soon as he heard a noise behind him, but he was too slow. The driver hadn't fled - he'd merely been hiding, and Wilfred caught the blade of a dagger in his arm as he turned. The bandit let out a yell of pain, dropping his sword.

Wilfred panicked. He knew he had to get out of the wagon or he'd be killed. Unarmed, he lunged at the driver and forced the man out of the way, before rushing into the bush, relying on nothing but local knowledge and adrenaline to evade his assailant.

By the time the pursuit had ended, Wilfred was at the edge of Blackshire, blood seeping through his fingers which clutched his wounded arm.

As he rushed towards the nearest home, knocking on the door of the impressive two-level building, Wilfred had a sudden realisation: the driver had seen his face.

Elise heard the late evening pounding at the door and rushed to answer it, not because she was concerned about providing a quick response but because she was concerned about the noise awakening her Mistress.

She opened the peep hole and peered out but saw only the dark, empty street. She closed the peep hole, then opened one a foot below it. She flinched at the sight of a man's face close to it, backing up a full step in panic.

"Who are you?" she called out in fear. "What is your purpose for...?"

Suddenly, the face was no longer there. Well, suddenly might have been the wrong word, as it simply slid out of view. Elise cautiously moved back to the door, peeked out of the hole, and found only the man's feet within view. She opened the door and found him collapsed on the ground. And he was bleeding.



It was sunrise by the time he opened his eyes once more. Elise could see that he was disoriented, likely unable to even focus on her. She said softly, "You are alive. You are safe. I have stitched your wound, and you shall live ... assuming the fever doesn't take you."

She touched a cool, wet rag to his forehead, then his cheeks, then lower to his sweating chest, which was now shirtless.

Elise said in a slightly softer tone, "You are in the House of Worther ... but ... m'lady does not know you are here. She can't know, of course. You are the highwayman."

Elise had heard tales of a bandit who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. She didn't know whether this man was that bandit, but the description she'd overheard told at the pub while she shopped days ago was consistent. Except, of course, for the blood drained, pale complexion and stab wound.

"My name, sir, is Elise."

Trust.

It wasn't a commodity Wilfred was used to trading with much. When a man has to take the law into his own hands just to ensure people have enough money to put good on the table, he finds it difficult to trust.

So when he awoke in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar company, the bandit did so with a start.

His head was spinning as he heard a warm, soft voice. His arm hurt like nothing he'd ever experienced. And even though he was topless, he was sweating profusely.

Slowly his vision regained focus, and he was able to get his first glimpse of his rescuer: long, light brown hair, captivating hazel eyes, a beautiful face...

She was speaking again, and he tried to clear his mind so he could concentrate enough to listen.

"House of Worther ... m'lady does not know ... highwayman."

So she knew.

Wilfred wasn't sure what he should do. He wanted to trust the woman but he barely knew her.

And then she introduced herself.

He wasn't ready to admit that he was indeed the highwayman. Trust was a long road and they were only taking baby steps at the moment.

"Thanks," he croaked, finally finding his voice. "I'm Wilfred."

Elise dabbed the wet cloth upon the man's forehead ...his cheeks ...his neck ...his...

She hesitated before she lowered the cloth further and touched it to his muscular chest. She'd been cooling his torso against the raging fever for almost two days already, but Wilfred had been unconscious during that time. He hadn't known that with every application, Elise's lust had continued to burn hotter for the stranger. He hadn't known that after touching the rag to him, Elise had often caressed the tips of her fingers around his muscular pecs or through the valleys between his abs.

Elise had only seen four men shirtless in her life: her father, her two brothers, and a priest bathing in the river, a sight she had tried for years to forget. She had never seen a man for whom God had granted such perfection, let alone touched such a body. Wilfred's condition of being unconscious -- unaware -- had made it seem less invasive and less sinful of Elise to touch him as she had. Yes, she had been offering him comfort and care in his hour of need, but the thoughts rushing through her mind and warming her body had been--

Elise flinched out of her reverie when she realized Wilfred was staring at her. She pulled her hand back from where it had been hovering over him and diverted her eyes. She could feel her face explode with a deep blush as she said, "Forgive me, sir."

Her apology was unnecessary. Wilfred didn't know what was going through the young servant's mind ...or, did he?

In any matter, she set the rag aside as she stood over him and asked, "I will get more drinking water, sir. Would you like something to eat? Porridge...? Dried lamb? I think I can ...um..."

She'd made the mistake of letting her gaze fall to his nude upper half again, and the young, naive girl's train of thought got stuck in the mud of her uncontrollable lust...

Wilfred watched Elise closely as she used the wet cloth to cool him down. He studied her movements and the great care she took to help him heal.

Though he hadn't yet properly expressed his gratitude - apart from a weak "thank you" earlier - the highwayman was becoming more and more relieved that she was here.

And the more he watched, the more he noticed certain features: the way her beautiful eyes darted about as she worked; the delicate fingers that so carefully held the cloth; the long slender arm that constantly reached over him to carry the cloth to the side of his body furthest from her; the softness of her lips as she spoke.

Wilfred watched as the servant girl stood and offered him a selection of foods, but he couldn't help but grin when he caught her blushing.

"I will eat whatever you choose to serve me," he replied warmly.

The bandit still had many questions. How had Elise brought him into the building? Who was the mistress she spoke of? Had his pursuer figured out where he might be hiding?

But he didn't want to overwhelm her with a barrage of queries, so he settled on just one.

"I don't want you to get in trouble for helping me, Elise. When I'm well enough, I shall leave, lest your mistress finds out."

He paused, shifting up onto his elbows, grimacing as his body protested.

But he still managed to extend his uninjured arm towards Elise.

"And please," he added, "No more 'sir'. Just call me Wilfred."

"I will eat whatever you choose to serve me," he replied warmly.

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Elise imagined stripping her clothes off, throwing herself upon the stranger, and announcing, "Dinner is served. Eat me."

She could feel a major blush coming on, recalling the less appropriate ways of a fellow and very promiscuous servant. She stood and turned away quickly, then headed across to a wooden box in which she had hidden food away from the mice and ants. She waited until the heat in her face had subsided before turning back to the man and offering him a chunk of bread and a bit of cheese.

"I will get better from the kitchen next time there, sir," she promised.

"I don't want you to get in trouble for helping me, Elise. When I'm well enough, I shall leave, lest your mistress finds out."

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"Oh, she won't find out, sir," Elise said quickly, fearful that the man was already preparing to make his exit. "M'lady never comes down here to the panty. Below her station, it is."

She watched him rise, again fearing that he was about to depart. She urged him to continue resting.

"And please," he added, "No more 'sir'. Just call me Wilfred."

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Again Elise blushed. Sure, she'd been dabbing his half naked body with a rag for two days, but to call him by his given name...? That was simply too forward!

"Wilfred," she whispered, screwing up her courage. She took his hand and -- forgetting she'd already done so -- introduced herself again, "My name is Elise."

There was a loud thud on the floor above them, causing Elise to leap from the chair upon which she was sitting next to the bed. She rushed to the door, heard someone call for her, then quickly said, "I must go!"

When she returned quite a while later, she had hidden in her apron a turkey leg, a boiled turnip wrapped in a cabbage leaf, and a bottle of wine. She was also wearing a different dress, this one not her daily work dress but the gown she wore to Sunday services. It was still a simple affair, but without the under blouse that would normally conceal her cleavage and upper arms, it left an inappropriate amount of skin exposed.

Luckily for Wilfred, Elise was a talkative young thing, and as she helped the man with his food and drink, she told him all about his current situation...

(OOC: So sorry, don't have time to tell about it now. Will do another post ASAP. If you wish to post some background in a post from Wilfred, go for it.)

Wilfred wasn't in any mood to be picky when it came to food. He was starving. The highwayman was grateful to receive anything and he tried to express such gratitude to Elise without going so far as to snatching it from her hand or eating it like a famished wolf.

He grinned at Elise when she took his hand and introduced herself again. Her grip was soft and warm, despite the fact that her hands must have seen plenty of hard labour.

Not wanting to embarrass her, he simply nodded, then replied with a friendly voice and a warm smile.

"Well met, Elise."

He held her gaze - and her hand - for a few lingering moments before she got called away. He passed the time when she was out of the room by eating the remainder of the bread and cheese, and by resting with a bit of fitful sleep thrown in for good measure.

Wilfred only felt marginally better when his lower class host returned, but he couldn't hide his pleasure at seeing her again, especially when she showed him her wares.

"You've brought more food," he smiled, before groaning as he sat himself up again.

It was only as Elise began to hand over the food that he noticed the extra skin within the room.

"And you changed your dress," he observed aloud, still smiling.

It was impossible not to notice, and difficult not to look.

Wilfred began to eat, much more slowly this time, eagerly listening to what Elise had to say.

"And you changed your dress."

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Elise smiled broadly, glancing down at her best gown and the cleavage it showed without the under blouse. When she looked up, her face was red again. She lied, "I ... spilled soup ... spilled soup on my scullery dress."

She looked down at herself again, then tugged at the fabric a bit. She hadn't meant to cause even more of her cleavage to reveal itself, but once she'd realized what she'd done, she hoped with desperation that it would please her male charge. She looked up to him and asked with a soft, hopeful voice, "Do you like it?"

She was pleased with his answer and wondered how she should respond, but again her name was called out from the kitchen above them. She reached out to pat Wilfred on the thigh below the blanket near her, promised to return again shortly, and hurried away.



When she returned, she found the man asleep, the bottle of wine beside him with far less content than when she'd delivered it. She sat on the chair for a long while, studying him. She had a desire to simply maul him without asking permission, very much as her Lady's husband often had with Elise when his wife had been unable or unwilling to please him over the last couple of years.

She moved over onto the bed again, then reached a hand out and gently pressed it to his still bare chest. She traced a finger tip through the grooves between his muscles again, then jerked her hand back suddenly when she looked up to Wilfred's face and found his gaze set firmly upon her. She had no idea whether he'd been watching her for a second or a minute, but either way it caused her to blush yet again.

"M'lady..." Elise began, lowering her eyes and feeling the need to prevent any question or comment from Wilfred about what she'd been doing to his body. She continued, "...she has gone to a party for the evening. And m'lord is still away. I am ... I am without duties for the evening..."

She peeked up at Wilfred for a moment, then looked down again to her twiddling fingers. She added softly, "I ... I am free to do as I please this evening. The other servants will visit the pub. I ... I sometimes accompany them. Would m'lord ... would you, Wilfred ... desire me to leave you alone ... to rest, sir? I can leave if you wish?"

Whether or not Elise had actually spilt soup onto her serving dress, Wilfred wasn't sure. She seemed a competent serving girl, but he knew that the kitchen could be a chaotic place at times and perhaps what she said was true.

Either way, he preferred her new attire and he was careful to let her know.

The next thing he remembered was waking up after another rest, alcohol fogging his mind to a degree, but not so much that he wasn't able to think clearly.

The room he was in was becoming more and more familiar to him with each awakening. Elise's hands on his body seemed like something new, though not an unwelcome experience.

"Elise," he chuckled lightly, forcing himself up onto his elbows. "You may serve your lady but you do not serve me. I would think that with her and your lord away, you are free to do as you please."

He paused, smiling warmly, hoping to disarm her visible nerves.

"And if you insist on knowing my preferences, then I am confident I would enjoy your company if you were to stay."

"And if you insist on knowing my preferences, then I am confident I would enjoy your company if you were to stay."

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With all the blushing she'd endured since Wilfred's awakening, it didn't seem possible that she could flush again, and yet -- as the man's insistence that her presence would be enjoyed -- she could feel her face reddening yet again. She said meekly, "Then ... I will stay ... if it pleases you, sir. Wilfred."

She grasped the nearly empty wine bottle, telling him she would get more, then crossed the room to open the cupboard. She half glanced over her shoulder toward Wilfred and -- thinking he couldn't see her -- tilted to bottle to her mouth.

She winced a bit at the taste. She wasn't a drinker, despite sometimes going to the pub with her friends or fellow servants. It wasn't that she didn't like or approve of alcohol. It was simply too expensive for a servant who was barely a rung above the slavery pay scale.

But she knew the effect of alcohol on the inhibitions. Her Master always seemed to be more amorous with her when he was drinking, so ... maybe a sip or two -- and there was a second -- might help her get past her shyness with the man in the bed behind her.

She retrieved a second pilfered bottle and -- with another chunk of cheese, some dried meat, and a half loaf of bread -- she returned to Wilfred, this time sitting on the bed closer to him than she had been before. As she pulled away chunks of food to hand him and talked about her own situation, she had a difficult time not staring deeply into his mesmerizing, dark eyes.

"M'lord and lady are grain merchants," she explained. "They are inter... intermediates ... inter-me-diaries, yes ... between the local farmers and the Earl."

She went on to explain that the couple had four children, but that only the youngest daughter -- whose soldier husband had recently died in the war against the French -- was still her in the home. There were four other servants in the house as well as two in the barn across the alley. And there were three bodyguards who rotated service to the Lord or Lady, with one assigned to each at all times while the third was on free time.

She talked about a great many things, but other than those topics the ones that were likely of the most interest to Wilfred were that Elise and one other scullery maid were the only servants likely to come down into this portion of the basement; that it was easy to hear those above them moving about because of shuffling feet upon the wood planks and yet noises from the basement were muted by the constant crackling of the Autumn fires in the hearths in each first and second floor room; and that the Merchant couple was adequately wealthy, in both gold -- which was locked securely away, of so the couple hoped -- and in expensive décor, from paintings to statues to tapestries to elegant candelabras and more.

And finally, with her eyes down upon the new bottle of wine -- which she only now raised to her lips for the first time -- Elise said with a soft, shy, and yet somehow suggestive voice, "I live here on the estate because ... because I have no man in my life."

Wilfred couldn't hide his bemused grin as Elise flitted about the room to gather yet more food. The highwayman was hungry, of course, but she was waiting on him as if he were her lord.

"Slow down, Elise," he laughed, the humour of the moment briefly erasing the pain in his arm. "Stop serving me. We are but equals."

Once she joined him on the bed, he was able to - yes - eat, and he studied the woman's words carefully.

Understanding his current predicament, (if he could even call it that with Elise next to him in such a delicious dress), enabled him to ponder what to do once he had healed.

Learning of the hidden gold was less useful than Elise likely realised.

"It is the tax collectors I rob from, Elise, for they forcibly line their pockets with money that isn't theirs. I do not wish to take money that may have been earned honestly, no matter how wealthy the owner. I am no burglar."

But learning of the people who inhabited the house - and the likely continued secrecy of the basement - was welcome news.

"No need for me to rush off, then," he smiled, taking a bite of bread.

But it was as Elisa took a drink of wine and admitted to her loneliness that Wilfred looked at her with a straight face.

"You say you are alone while resting on a bed with a man who lies captive in your basement by way of injury. If anyone here is to serve, it must be me, for I am indebted to you. Tell me what you wish from me as an expression of gratitude."

"Tell me what you wish from me as an expression of gratitude."

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Elise had to look away as yet another reddening blush filled her face and neck. She knew exactly what she wished from Wilfred, but to simply ask for it was simply impossible. Women didn't tell men what physical pleasures they wanted from them: men simply took them. Didn't they? Her Lord Master had, two or three or sometimes four nights a Moon.

Of course, he'd never shared the pleasure with Elise, only taking from her before sending her away with a threat to be silent and an almost worthless copper coin. The girl had only felt true euphoria at the feel of her own fingers, and while momentarily satisfying, masturbation had never truly made Elise happy.

"What I wish...?" the servant murmured, more for herself than for the man before her.

She glanced into his dark eyes again, then down to his chest ... then to his groin, hidden by the cheap and less than comfortable wool blanket that, like so many of its possessions, the Servants Quarters had inherited from the Nobles some time in the distant past.

Elise considered the situation for a long moment: she was a lonely young woman with an available man who certainly wouldn't say no to her if she offered him her body. She was already a whore, in a sense, parting her thighs to her Lord's pleasure for coin and an occasional treat or day off. What would it matter if she opened her legs to this ... highwayman?

Yes, yes indeed. Wilfred had admitted to her that he was a highwayman. She'd almost missed it, her brain a fog of lust. A Highwayman ... a criminal ... a rogue ... a man like this...

Elise's lips widened in a knowing smirk. Such a man likely had had many women, many of ill repute. Surely, Wilfred would know how to treat a young woman as herself, wouldn't he? Elise suddenly realized that her fingers were trembling lightly with excitement. She was seriously considering this, having sex with this stranger for whom she had cared for three days and yet had only really met today upon his awakening.

She would be a slut. Doing this was entirely different than fucking the Master. That was almost a requirement of continued employment in a Noble's home. No, having sex with Wilfred was an entirely different thing. Could she do it...?

Elise hadn't even realized that she was doing it, but as her mind was consciously and rapidly considering her next actions, her hand had been unconsciously reaching up to Wilfred's thigh and massaging it, the angle of her arm causing her fingers to be just slightly -- and very inappropriately -- to the inside of his leg. When she realized what she was doing, Elise pulled her hand back a bit. But...

She laid it back upon his leg again, as she leaned slowly forward. As her lips moved toward Wilfred's, she whispered, "Will you be with me, highwayman?"

Wilfred held his breath as Elise pondered her answer. He could tell that probably a dozen different thoughts were rushing through the servant girl's head, though he wasn't sure what those thoughts might be.

As she worked on a response, he studied her again, admiring her natural beauty regardless of her station.

Tussled brown hair that rested on her shoulders. Hazel eyes that had frequently darted away amidst their conversations. Soft lips that expressed her emotions so freely. And that dress, showing off her cleavage, teasing his vision with what he could make of her delicious looking breasts. Bare arms, slender and toned, and no doubt her legs were fit from constantly running errands for her masters, though they were hidden beneath her dress.

Wilfred was lost in his observations when he felt a hand on his thigh. His body immediately responded, but he made no effort to let on, as she still hadn't actually responded.

And when she did, her lips curling into an alluring grin, he groaned quietly in anticipation.

"Gladly, Elise," he whispered, "But I must remind you that my arm prevents me from being too active."

He reached a hand forward, pushing it down into her cleavage to caress one of her breasts.

After briefly looking up to the ceiling, he added with a smirk: "How fortunate that we can't be heard down here, methinks."

Wilfred knew things were moving fast. He had only met Elise that morning and now, in the evening, they were becoming intimate.

Despite any reputation he might have had, or presumptions to the contrary, it wasn't like Wilfred to so eagerly pursue a sexual interaction with a near stranger.

Perhaps it was gratitude at the way she had taken care of him. Perhaps it was his body yearning for a release after so much time in bed. Perhaps it was the realisation that life is short and he was merely making the most of his opportunities.

Whatever the reason, he didn't regret it in the slightest, and he enjoyed the woman's hungry kisses, returning them in kind as her nipple stabbed his palm.

Wilfred groaned as his gorgeous rescuer straddled him, then stripped, her exquisite body over him. He was almost salivating at the sight of her naked full breasts and firm nipples, her taut stomach, her sex which hid behind soft curled hair, and her long legs resting either side of him.

"Elise," he gasped, his erection pressing hard against his leggings beneath the blanket. "I'm still hungry and now you're serving me the most delicious meal I've ever seen..."

Lying back down flat, Wilfred took hold of the woman's waist with his uninjured limb, pulling her torso down onto him and eagerly kissing her again as her hair draped over them.

His hand then slid down her back to find a firm cheek, squeezing it and kneading it in his hand as they kissed, his hips instinctively pushing against her, despite the material that kept their crotches apart.

Elise was used to doing the work in bed. Her master was usually too drunk or two tired or two noble to either undo his own clothes or initiate intercourse with his servant, so Elise had gotten pretty good at loosing the man's pants and bringing their individual parts together.

And she did the same now, though with greater eagerness and speed. She pulled the bedding down from Wilfred's groin and quickly unbuckled, unbuttoned and unfastened the variety of features keeping her from his manhood. Suddenly, it was there, hard as a rock and in her grip as she stroked it a few times before scooting forward over him and placing it at her already wet hole.

Elise kissed Wilfred passionately again, using one hand to support her weight above him as the other directed him into her. She was no virgin, of course, but she was still young and tight. And Wilfred was noticeably better endowed than her master, too. It took a moment of adjusting his aim and shifting her hips above him to get highwayman's weapon inside her.

But once it was there, she sat down on him slowly, sinking him deep into her with a long series of deep groans that spoke volumes about how good it felt to have him inside her.

Wilfred wanted this. Desperately. The attraction had been immediate and he yearned to be inside Elise.

And judging by how quickly she had his leggings undone, the serving girl wanted it too.

Her grip on his length felt amazing. The same fingers that had patched up his wound, applied a rag to his forehead, and served bread and cheese were now wrapped around his manhood, stroking it.

Wilfred let out a moan as Elise's hand caused friction, his own hand grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her in for more hungry kisses.

His breathing became short and shallow as she lowered herself onto him, her tight furnace surrounding and gripping him. Wilfred moaned as he felt her lips slowly slide down his full length, his veins rubbing them gently along the way.

The highwayman clenched his eyes shut to savour the feeling, then forced himself to open them so he could watch the pleasure displayed on her face.

They kissed passionately - hungrily - devouring each other as they shared breaths and moans. And Wilfred decided he would ignore any pain in his arm.

"Don't be gentle."

"Don't be gentle."

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Elise was already so overwhelmed by her lust for the man that she'd almost forgotten the reason he was here in this bed. She'd been increasing the speed of her to and fro motion atop his groin as her pussy relaxed and fully accepted Wilfred's larger-than-before-known size, but now -- reminded of his injury -- she slowed and looked to him with a concerned expression.

But he only urged her to go on, something for which Elise was more than happy to oblige. In her handful of years of sexual activity, she'd never once chosen to fuck. So she was truly excited to be taking Wilfred in and out of her as she was now, and very soon she was riding him with wild abandon.

She reached up to the head board, grasping it with both hands, and rapidly forced the highwayman's full length in an out of her. He escaped a couple of times, forcing Elise to grasp him and put him back inside before she returned to her rough ride.

She was crying out in pleasure with no concern for who might hear her. She was so hot that she didn't care at this point if one of the servants could wind of what was going on down her in the basement of the house. She looked down into Wilfred's eyes, desperate to see if he was enjoying himself as well, then returned to simply concentrating on the pleasure his cock was giving her hole and the sensitive little nub at its entry.

When she knew her orgasm was imminent, she pushed back away from the headboard, grasped the tops of Wilfred's thighs behind her ass, and arched her back until she was looking up to the Gods as if to thank them. As the climax struck, she drew and held a deep breath. Her entire body exploded, trembling and twitching as the euphoria rushed through her entire being.

After a moment, she released the air with a loud, echoing cry of pleasure, which was followed by another, then another, then another. She returned to moving to and fro atop Wilfred's groin, trying to extend the orgasm, and for a long moment she succeeded. Then, suddenly, her groin was swallowed by what a slutty friend of hers called the tickle monster. She leaned forward quickly, planting her hands on Wilfred's chest and -- between continuing gasps of ecstasy -- laughed with amazement at the super sensitivity that her pussy was feeling.

Eventually, Elise -- now covered in a sheen of glistening sweat -- collapsed upon the highwayman's chest and gasped, "Oh God! Oh, God, that was incredible..."

Wilfred was not accustomed to having a woman so eagerly take control in the bedchamber. Nor had he been in a position where he became intimate with someone he had barely met.

Elise was like a wild animal. It was clear to the highwayman that she had been craving such an interaction, and he was more than happy to literally go along for the ride.

Elise didn't want sex. She wanted to fuck.

Wolfric marvelled at the sight of Elise's tight body bouncing on him so vigorously, her full breasts swinging before him. His free hand groped them firmly, pinching and tugging on her nipples as she bucked against him. He dug his heels into the mattress so he could push his hips upwards, thrusting hard into the peasant beauty every time she descended.

But for the most part, he watched, enthralled as Elise rode herself to a long and hard orgasm. Her lower lips clenched around his shaft when it arrived, and the highwayman never stood a chance, erupting wave upon wave of hot and sticky fluid into her, grunting and groaning with each new pulse.

As Elise collapsed atop him, Wilfred wrapped his good arm around her and gasped for breath, their heartbeats connecting through their chests.

Elise's laughter caught up with him, and he quipped: "I should get injured more often!"

"I should get injured more often!"

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Elise laughed, realizing that Wilfred was complimenting her on what had just happened between them ... on what she'd just done to him and herself as well. She buried her face in his chest, yet again embarrassed. Only now, as her heart beat and breathing rate headed slowly back toward normal, did she understand what she'd just done. This wasn't like her, romping atop a man's groin. She was a good girl, relative to some of the other servants and single peasant girls she knew in the village.

She lifted to look into Wilfred's eyes, laughing, then kissing him softly and then passionately. Elise had so much she wanted to say to him right now. As he had in his own way, she wanted to compliment him, too. No man had ever made her feel so incredible. Elise had never known that such euphoria was even possible.

But she couldn't do it, couldn't talk so openly about such a carnal act with a man she barely knew. She kissed him one more time, then lifted her groin to cause Wilfred's cock to slip from her. She slid away from him and hurried to don her dress again. When she turned back to Wilfred, she wore an embarrassed expression.

"I must go," she said softly. She turned hurriedly, then hesitated and turned back to eye him with a wide smile. Just before she turned and hurried away, she said the only thing she could get out, "I have fun."

Almost before Wilfred knew what was happening, Elise had lifted her gorgeous body off the bed, covered it in her dress, and led it out the door.

The whole process was somewhat humorous to the highwayman. The serving girl was clearly embarrassed by what had happened, but it was equally obvious that she didn't regret it in the slightest.

Wilfred's body ached from the intense activity and his muscles were sore. He collected the nearby rag, dipped it in the bowl of water, and cleaned himself up before having a brief restful sleep.

When he awoke, he forced himself up to sitting on the side of the bed, being careful to only place weight upon his uninjured arm. He slowly pushed himself off the bed and began to look around the room.

Wilfred was well aware that he was naked, but his leggings would be too difficult to put on with only one good arm, and he didn't even know where his tunic might be. So he wandered around the basement in nothing at all.

The cooler temperature of the downstairs room combined with his lack of clothing was quite rejuvenating, and it felt good to stretch his legs.

Eventually, he took half a loaf of bread and a block of cheese, then sat down in the chair beside the bed and began to quietly eat, while contemplating what - if anything - could be done to take advantage of this unexpected time away from robbing tax collectors.

After all, the peasantry still needed to be able to feed their young over the approaching winter.

Elise had never worked so quickly in all her life. She finished her assigned chores in half the time it normally took, and with her extra time knocked off a weekly task that she knew she'd have to do before bed time.

"May I be excused," she asked Viola, the most senior of the house's servants. "I should check on my mother."

It was an excuse Elise used often to get away from the house. The older woman waved the younger servant off, not even noticing that the girl snatched a loaf of fresh bread and a small block of cheese on her way out the door.

Of course, Elise only circled the house and reentered it from the other end, quickly descending the stairs to the basement where she found her new lover ... naked.

With a smile quickly spreading across her lips, Elise hurried forth, tossed the food onto the straw mattress, pulled her dress up to her waist, and moved onto Wilfred's lap with a hand reaching unapologetically to his cock to stroke it to hardness.

She said nothing to him. She only kissed him passionately as she urged him to get inside her...

Elise had exited the basement a few hours earlier in a rush, and it had seemed out of shyness.

Her return was equally hasty, but that was the only similarity.

Wilfred, who had been lying awake atop the mattress to rest, watched as the serving girl approached and - without a word - hoisted up her skirt and straddled him.

The Elise that had returned was confident, and she knew what she wanted.

Wilfred knew, too. It didn't take much to figure it out and his body responded to the mere sight of her long, toned legs as she climbed over him. His shaft hardened further within her hand as she stroked it and kissed him hungrily.

The highwayman wasted no time in wrapping his good arm around her waist, thereby keeping her dress up and pulling her hard against him. He lifted his hips and, with her guidance, found her entrance.

It felt like a liquid furnace was wrapped around his swollen cockhead when it parted her lips and pushed inside her, both lovers moaning loudly in pleasure into each other's mouth.

Wilfred had barely got used to the feeling of being inside Elise when the serving girl began to rock her hips back and forth, and he thrust up to meet her as their kiss continued unbroken.

The rogue's strong arm held Elise's torso close, pinning her atop him as they bucked against each other, not bothering to waste time with easing into the moment.

Their breathing hastened, nostrils flaring with hurried inhalations and exhalations as tongues duelled one another.

Then, with a surge of adrenaline, Wilfred rolled them both over on his good arm so that he was on top of her, his muscled body pinning her beneath him. He broke the kiss so he could watch her reactions as he resumed his thrusts, gravity pulling him down again and again, filling her with his full length each time.

Wilfred's free arm would have grabbed her legs and pulled them around him if it wasn't still stiff and sore, but Elise seemed to realise what he wanted anyway, and her long, slender limbs encircled him in a tight embrace to ensure he didn't leave.

Both lovers were moaning loudly as they found pleasure in their hard and rough endeavour. Within minutes, they were both climaxing, their juices flowing freely against one another as they gasped for air.

Wilfred groaned as the last wave of his cum entered Elise, and he pulled out of her, rolling onto his back.

The pair rested for a few minutes, shared a slow kiss, then fell asleep together - all without having said a word.

Elise awoke with a start, sitting up on one elbow and looking about her in a panic. She wasn't in her own bed; she wasn't alone; and, by the narrow shaft of light coming in through a skinny air vent in the plaster, it was morning. She looked to Wilfred, who was still sound asleep, then slid out of the bed to hurry to and up the stairs to the pantry door. She listened for a moment, then cracked open the heavy oak barrier.

She sighed with relief, realizing that it was still very early. Despite the movement upstairs -- that would be Viola and her granddaughter, preparing breakfast -- Elise knew that she would not be expected for another hour or so. She looked back to Wilfred, and a sly smirk spread quickly across her lips.

Returning to the bed and shedding her gown, she slid in atop him and began fondling his cock until it was hard and its owner was awake. She crawled atop him again, placed him at her already wet hole, and said firmly, "Make love to me."

They fucked again -- hard, fast, animalistic -- until each had cum again. Elise slipped off Wilfred's torso and backed into him, spoon like, pulling his arms -- even the bad one -- tightly around her body like a security blanket. Once her breathing had returned and she could speak without pausing, she asked in a rather possessive tone, "You won't ever leave me, will you, Wilfred?"

Wilfred had slept heavily. After three days without consciousness and sporadic rests the day before, combined with two energy draining experiences of Elise, the highwayman was roundly exhausted.

As such, it wasn't until his host was half on top of him and stroking his length that he actually awoke.

Elise was starting the day the same way they ended the previous one, and it was all Wilfred could do to keep up. He knew he had to regain his strength and stamina soon.

But it was Elise's comment - and the way she said it - that worried him more than anything else. Quite how she had leapt to such a conclusion so quickly was beyond him, but he liked her, so he tried to explain gently.

"Elise, I have a duty to uphold," he began. "I'm a highwayman. I need to be on the highway to collect taxes from the tax collectors. The peasants are depending on me."

He paused, his arm aching from its enforced embrace.

"When I'm well enough, I'll need to be on my way."