When she finished, he motioned for her to sit at the table with him, and poured some wine into the chalice, that had been left with the wine skins. Brant handed the chalice to the girl, watching as she took a drink, and set it down on the table.
"Most serfs who assist me with my bath, tend to flirt openly," Brant said. "You do not seem very desirous of sharing my bed."
"I would rather not," Alisa replied softly, before raising the chalice, and taking a larger drink.
"You do not like being with a man?" Brant asked, in amusement.
The young girl blushed, as she took several more drinks of wine. She kept her eyes focused on her drink, making no effort to answer his question.
"Alisa?" Brant questioned, demanding an answer, as he leaned forward to refill her chalice.
Her cheeks turned a darker pink, as she replied, "I have never been with a man."
She did not add, that what she had been told she would be expected to do, sounded unpleasant.
Brant laughed, as he said, "I find that hard to believe."
Her eyes shot up to meet his gaze squarely, as she testily retorted, "I find, men see a pretty face, or nice figure, and they go after it. You wear loose clothing to hide your figure, and cover your face, they do not know if you are ten, or one hundred, and do not investigate. Although, I have heard of a few occasions, where a maid has had to lie about her age, to avoid being mauled, by some marauding knight."
"So what you are saying is, you have been lucky," Brant laughed.
Alisa shrugged as she sipped her wine. She hoped he would quickly give up on this line of questioning. She did not see any way to answer truthfully, nor was a plausible lie coming to her mind.
Brant leaned over, and refilled her chalice, again. He wondered if someone had a warped sense of humor. Had the girl been caught lying about her age? It was accepted, that the Lords, and knights, had their pick of the unmarried maids, and serfs. It was their due for providing protection, for the people within the land boundaries. Was it her punishment, to be locked in here with a man, who was very accustomed to women on command? They certainly knew he had not touched one for a week, at least. They had to know, she was not likely to escape intact.
Brant changed the subject to more mundane topics, asking if she lived at the Castle or in the village. She shrugged that question off. So he told her how dull it was, to be locked up with nothing to do all day. He noticed she appeared to be more comfortable, with that line of conversation. Then, the bell sounded outside, indicating the hour of nine o’clock.
“If I tell the serf who brought you to me, you refused to see to my comfort, would you be punished?” Brant asked.
“Aye, likely,” she replied, setting the chalice on the table. He noted that a frightened look crossed her face, momentarily. She continued, “I did not refuse, I said I would rather not, My Lord.”
"Stand up, Alisa," Brant ordered.
She watched him closely, as she rose to her feet swaying slightly, probably from the wine. Then, he instructed her to remove her gunna. She started to open her mouth, as if she intended to argue with him, but closed it again, without speaking. She lowered her eyes from his, as she slowly raised the garment, and pulled it off over her head, laying it on the chair she had just exited. The undergarment she wore, fit her figure much better than the kirtle, she had just discarded.
As Brant rose from his chair, she could see the clear proof of his arousal, through the bath sheet, still wrapped around his waist. He reached for her wrist, before turning to pull her back toward the bed, while she dragged her feet, pulling against him, slightly. At the edge of the bed, he pulled her against him for a long kiss, before pressing her down on her back. When she did not resist, Brant removed her shoes, and stockings. Then positioning himself between her feet, began running his hands over her legs, as he pushed the chemise up her body.
"Please stop," she pleaded, as she felt his hand brushing lightly over the inside of her thighs, pressing her legs apart. Once again, he asked if she was refusing, though he knew it would not matter if she did.
"Nay," she whispered, knowing it would not matter if she did refuse. He had every right to force her.
Brant continued to use his hands, to work the chemise up her body, while his lips followed behind them, and his body pressed her legs apart. Alisa felt him grasp her wrists with one hand, after removing her last garment over her head, as he began to enter her body. His other hand, firmly grasped the back of her head, holding it immobile, while he covered her mouth with his, kissing her as he quickly plunged into her body. She cried out into his kiss, and struggled to pull her hands free, as a burning ache spread between her thighs. Brant held his body still, keeping her helplessly pinned under his greater size, until the pain seemed to ease, and she gave up her futile struggle. As he began to move inside of her, he released his grasp that had held her head immobile. She turned her head to the side, closing her eyes, while she waited for him to finish.
Alisa lay still, with her hands raised over her head, right where they were, when he released them. She was trying not to think about the act that had just been committed on her body. His kisses, and caresses, had been nice, creating a warm, relaxing feeling in her body, so she had passively let him continue, until he entered her body. That had hurt at first. Then it was just uncomfortable, and a little appalling, to have him panting, and sweating on her. She wanted it to stop, but he had her pinned helplessly under him. So she had closed her eyes, and tried to think of something else, as he had his way with her. She did not want to think about it. Unfortunately, he was still on top of her, pinning her body to the bed. Worse yet, she could still feel him inside of her a little bit, though he was soft now. Why didn't he just get off her? How long had he lay there on top of her? It seemed like a really long time.
Alisa felt Brant place several light kisses along the side of her neck. He raised himself up on an elbow, and she inwardly sighed, relieved that he was finally going to let her go. He gently turned her face toward him, placing a light kiss on her lips, before running the tip of his tongue across them. She passively tolerated more light kisses and caresses, thinking those were nice, as she waited for him to move off her. He slowly ran a finger down her cheek, tracing the path of her tears. Then, she felt that soft part of his flesh that was still inside of her, getting firmer.
Looking at him in alarm, she whispered, "No, not again."
"Yes, again," Brant said in a soft soothing tone. "I will not hurt you this time."
He withdrew slightly, then pushed back inside of her a couple of times.
"See? That does not hurt does it?" he asked.
He repeated the slow movements in, and out, of her body, while repeating the question, until she shook her head in the negative.
"No, I am not hurting you," Brant whispered, continuing his slow pace. Then, he began saying, "Just relax. It feels good to have me inside of you, doesn't it, Alisa? Think about it."
Brant continued to repeat that, until she decided he did feel good. Then, he felt really good as her muscles tensed, as if to grab him, and hold him inside her, while spasms of pleasure engulfed her body. Alisa clung to him moaning in reaction, as she heard him moan, his passion spent, before collapsing on her body, again.