His Lordship

This is simply the first in a series I hope to develop – please enjoy, and I promise to post more soon!
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The messenger’s horn rings out across the feudal plains.

“Hear ye, hear ye, serfs! Lord James will soon be upon thee to seek out his annual gift from his people. Prepare your women for his review.”

Robert spits upon the ground as the messenger passes and hurries to his shoddy excuse for shelter. His lordship has made it a yearly habit to ride amongst his serfs to choose the prettiest of the women for his own personal pleasure. Robert’s daughter, Isabelle, has just reached plucking age. Rumors are already running rampant through the small serf village of his daughter’s vitality, and he knows if the lord has heard the rumors, he will be upon Robert’s dirt doorstep in no time.

His wife, Lily is scrubbing clothes when he arrives. The look on his face tells her all she needs to know.

“Do you really think he will take her?”

“I do not know. I hardly doubt he has not been privy to the petty gossip, and no man would not look for a pleasure companion in a woman that according to callous lore is practically demonically possessed with the traits he wishes to cultivate.”

Lily considers his statement, “What if it is what is best for her future?”

Robert balks at such a suggestion, “Her future? She is a serf. What favor could she possible gain, even as his whore?” he practically spits the last word in disgust.

She shivers at the declaration, “I am merely suggesting that a woman such as her may possess enough of her own skills to earn power where others have earned further submission -“

“Silence, Lily – she is nearing us.”

Isabelle enters the dwelling in a swirl of scent. Her own father steels himself against the innate sensuality that emanates from her person, her mother’s face a mask of pride and revulsion.

“His lordship is about to enter the village,” her voice dances through the silence, pale pink lips not betraying the emotion she feels for his arrival.

“We know,” Robert answers, strained, “Hide in the back.”

Isabelle draws herself up to her full stature. Though she is petite in size, her essence seems larger than life, stretching from her tanned feet and toned legs, further past her trim waist, flat stomach, and breasts to her deep chocolate eyes and auburn hair that sweeps her waist.

“You will be punished,” she states, knowing her father is aware of the consequences of disobeying his lordship.

He casts her a glance and shakes his head. Her defiance was born of a good heart; she did not want her family to suffer for her sake.

Lily breaks the tension, “Go to the back, Isabelle. What will happen, will happen.”

The messenger’s horn announces Lord James’ arrival. He rides upon a grey horse, trimmed in the deep purple of royals. The serfs line the streets in submission, well trained in the ceremony of James’ selection process. He rides down the narrow lane, already informed of the front runners for his consideration. He glances here and there, dismissing the homier girls to a life of farming hardship.

The messenger leads him straight to Robert and Lily, who stand pseudo-guard to the dilapidate entrance of their home.

James’ glances down at them, looking for the now-infamous Isabelle.

“My messenger tells me you have a daughter, serf, yet I do not see her amongst the crowd.”

“She is ill, my lord. Caught sick with a plague.”

The lord’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Could his messenger really have suggested a disease-ridden skank to frequent his bed?

The messenger quickly asserts his honesty, “My lord, the girl was spotted this morning amongst the fields. Your own personal guards will support my claim.”

James’ turns back to Robert. “I can call my guards out to supports this messenger’s claim, or you can reconsider what you have just told me.”

Robert bows his head and opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Lily.

“My lord, I know I am aged, but please take me in my daughter’s stead. She is too defiant to serve a man such as yourself.”

“Woman, while I admire your sacrifice, I have no need for you. Also, it is the defiance you speak of that intrigues me so. Bring her out now or so help me -” James’ lifts his riding crop to strike them both.

Isabelle walks between her parents and the whip.