KR: Hannah on the Kingsroad - Ch. 01

Three quick notes before we begin. First, the story takes place in a medieval like setting, however this setting is fictional and not historically accurate i.e. lingerie and bathroom stalls exists within the story. Second, there is a point in the story where a doctor confirms a woman's virginity by means of inspecting the hymen. I realize this is not an accurate way of testing virginity, but this is fiction and takes place in a world without technological advancement to know any better. Finally, this is actually the first story I wrote even though I've already published a couple others, So I'm interested to see feedback.

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Now without further ado, once upon a time...

A girl was born on the kingsroad to a young female rebec player in a musicians' troupe. The young woman did not know who the father was. Certainly he was a young man from one of the many cities or towns her troupe played for; a man that she gave special entertainment to on some closing night when the crowds went home merrily. She couldn't handle raising a daughter on her own, so one night, not long after the baby had been weaned off the breast, when the troupe was passing through some farm lands, she left the baby in a basket with her cheapest rebec and a note outside of a home and was gone before anyone could notice. The note read:

"Please, look after my little Hannah!"

The old farmer and his wife raised Hannah, as they had always desired having a child of their own, but were fruitless in their sexual endeavors. Hannah was never formally trained on how to use the rebec but she flourished in her improvisation. She only had herself to practice with, but as she grew older and her breasts began to swell, she gained some attention from the local boys. She began playing at the local inn regularly. The small farmers town didn't have regular entertainment and she enjoyed the practice and the attention. Young men would occasionally attempt to bed Hannah, but Hannah was raised in a conservative household and she valued her virtue. Her virtue however, did not keep her from spending long nights with only her and her fingers, imagining what it would be like to bed one of the many suitors, but until she was married, her bed would stay for her and her fingers alone. She didn't mind wearing a low cut dress every now and then to appease her audience and gain bigger tips, but her flower was reserved for her future husband.

When Hannah finally reached womanhood, she was ready to find greener pastures. She was a short girl, a couple inches over five feet tall, thin and fit, straight-brown hair that she usually kept up in a long ponytail, and rare blue eyes. Her breasts certainly weren't anywhere near the largest in the village, but they were full, ample, and proud; two satisfying handfuls with quarter size nipples that grew the size of thimbles when hard. She carried a proud bust with a thin waist and wide hips perfect for childbearing. She had a lot of endurance from being raised on the farm, but was not strong enough to tend to the farm by herself. Her father desired her to stay and marry so her husband could tend to it, but knew his daughter was a free spirit and couldn't force herself to marry for the sake of a farm. He blessed her with his finest horse to help her travel and she had used her tips to gather a fine set of clothes and everything else she'd need for the road, then she made sure to leave some for her parents to stay comfortable and make sure they had enough to hire help for the farm. She waited for the next traveling caravan to have company and protection for the road. Most performers could temporarily join a caravan for free and so she did.

After a couple years on her travels, she found a wealthy patron and became renoun enough to play at the finest inns. Her patron was a charming, sweet, old widower named John, with far reaching connections. She preferred playing for nobels in small towns with people that shared her values. In the big cities, women would often walk around comfortable with exposed breasts and transparent blouses in public. Hannah would give disgusted looks to such prudish attire, but on the inside, she was embarrassed. To see men watch the uncovered chest of another female was almost as embarrassing as being exposed herself. She felt as if her own chest was on display and there was nothing she could do about it. As much as the thought of being displayed embarrassed her, it also always made her just a little wet. She hated how wet it made her.

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At twenty-one, Hannah was called to the capital by her patron for some event, but wouldn't tell her what it was. There was no place on Earth women dared to be so lewd as the capital, she hated the capital. She'd been here a week already and still hadn't performed. Walking down the street, there was a woman, large and unsightly, doing laundry completely topless. The woman wore a skirt and an apron, but nothing above the waist. Her breast were huge and waved with every movement the woman took. She had no regard for decency. Other women, far more attractive, in the market place just wore cheap, loose blouses with arm and neck holes so large and stretched that their breasts were easily viewable to anyone who happened to look in their direction from the sides.

She was on her way back to her inn from the market when her path was blocked by a crowd shouting and yelling. The next thing she knew she was surrounded, being pressed up against on every side. She tried to move to a wall, but she couldn't even tell which direction was which. She felt violated, every inch of her body pressed against a different stranger. Every once in a while, she'd feel a hand grope a private part of her body, but couldn't distinguish who it was, or if it was on purpose. Her nipples began to harden against her bodice, her undergarments getting wet. She fought the urge to crawl her hands over her body and down to her pussy.

Looking up, she noticed rotten food being thrown over her head, this awakened her from her heat. Finally, she saw an opening in the crowd and pushed toward it. It wasn't until she reached the edge that she realized, she wasn't escaping the crowd, she had just reached the middle of it. There in an open gap, were two guards holding batons at the ready and a lady, no older than Hannah herself. Long, wavy, blonde hair with streaks of brown, Hannah's same rare blue eyes, cherry red lips, a bit taller than Hannah, though significantly shorter than the guards on either side of her, slender, long legs, pale skin, and large, round, perfect breasts, nipples hard and pointed. This lady was naked, totally exposed, hands on her head, and cheeks blushing a deep red. The only imperfections on her body was the rotten food being thrown at her and the red marks on her behine from the batons. It was obvious this girl wanted to cover herself with her hands but would probably get spanked if she tried. Hannah noticed that the lady's whole body was shaved; her flower was on display, releasing sex liquids down her legs.

Hannah felt humiliated. She was frozen, she felt like she was the one between the guards, being watched, eyes on every part of her body, rotten food in her hair and on her shoulder, unable to use her hands for cover for fear that she be spanked hard by the guards with their sticks. Hannah's legs started shaking uncontrollably, pleasure flushed through her body, her vision tunneling and her legs giving out. She was orgasming... She wondered if anyone could tell what was happening to her. The thought of someone knowing sent a second wave of orgasm through her bones. This was the best orgasm she'd ever had in her life. She threw her hands out to catch herself, but instead felt the strong hands of the man behind her. His hands were firm and unrelenting to her struggles. The thought of him watching her sent her into a third round of an orgasm, even greater than the first two. She screamed out in ecstasy, "OOHHH!" This was the last thing she remembered before waking up on the most comfortable bed in the world. She felt like she was on a cloud.

"Finally awake are you," came a man's voice not far from the bedside. Hannah's eyes shot open. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room. This man was not an acquaintance. She looked down, under the covers she was wearing an unfamiliar gown so wide at the neck it barely hooked her shoulders and revealed way to much cleavage. The gown was all she was wearing. Where were her clothes? What did she do with this man? How much knowledge did he have of her most private bodily secrets?

She quickly grabbed the top of her gown and scrunched it up around her neck to hide her cleavage. "You didn't?.. I didn't?.. Did we?.." Hannah stuttered.

"You sound disappointed. Was I that bad?" the man laughed. Hannah's heart reached out of her chest. There's no way she had sex with this man, she had no hangover so she hasn't been suade by drunkenness. She would remember, wouldn't she?

"Don't worry, he's joking," came a feminine voice as a young girl came walking through the door. "He didn't see anything, he didn't touch anything, he was a perfect gentleman. Sorry about the clothing, the only spare clothes we had for you to wear was my old gown. It's a little bustier than your needs, but it should suffice for a while."

"Where are my clothes?" Hannah asked feeling relieved that her purity remained intact.

"They're being washed down stairs. They were rather..." The girl looked around trying to catch a word out of the air as if it were an annoying fly zipping around her head, "SATURATED... below the waist," she emphasized the word. Hannah blushed, appreciating the girl's gentle words. She looked at the man from the corner of her eye embarrassed. He was occupied, whittling. "They smelled of sex. I thought you a whore," the girl said less gently, "perhaps just leaving your most recent... service, but our doctor assures us your flower is still intact."

Hannah's mind started running. Doctor? What doctor? A man doctor? Seeing her flower? She blushed again.

"I am Violet," she said, giddy. "That," she said with joking disgust in her voice, "is Charlie." She pointed at the man in her room. "He'll fuck anything with a cunt. That's why we travel with male horses."

"Well your crude jokes may ruin my chances with our new fair maiden," he said half joking, but only half. "If you are uncomfortable in Violet's gown, I'd be more than happy to help you remove it." Charlie winked. Hannah's face went bright red. Charlie was handsome, tall, muscular, perfect brown hair, and piercing green eyes.

Hannah looked at Violet. She looked young; she looked barely 15, or 16 maybe, but her confidence and breasts made her seem even older than Hannah. Her breasts were huge, larger than anyone back home. Hannah was confused as to how her blouse held them up so perfectly. It certainly explained the wideness of the gown Hannah was wearing. Her breasts totally overshadowed how adorable she was. She seemed... experienced... Sexually experienced, in her words, in her movements, in her confidence, but mostly in her breasts. If you overlook those, she looked innocently cute, like a kitten, or puppy. She was about as tall as Hannah, but carried more curves on her; she had perfect lovehandles. Her dark red hair was impossibly clean, shiny, and kempt. She had blue eyes, a button nose, and freckles speckled her face. "What does it mean that YOU travel with him?" Hannah emphasized the 'you'.

"He doesn't know yet if the carpet matches the drapes if that's what you're asking," Violet replied.

"Yet?" Hannah asked feeling a bit too comfortable. Violet's face flushed red realizing what she said. She lowered her head and her hair fell over her face. It was obvious she was embarrassed. Charlie's face grew a huge smile.

"I knew I was getting close!" Charlie cheered. Violet, who thus far seemed collected and confident, now appeared like a child at a loss for words. "I'm kidding, Violet, eighteen is just a bit too young for me anyway," Charlie said realizing Violet's silence was getting a little awkward.

'Eighteen' Hannah thought to herself, 'she IS younger than I am!'

"I'm too much woman for you anyway, Charlie," Violet finally spoke up. She appeared to be collecting her thoughts and spoke up to salvage whatever respect she could manage.

A large woman, tall and heavy, with far too much make up on her face, but not unsightly, entered the room carrying the clothes she recognized as the one's she was wearing when she passed out. Hannah was so excited to be getting out of this gown, she hopped out of bed, prepared her clothes, stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the shoulders of her gown ready to throw it over her head, then paused and looked at Charlie.

"She's waiting for you to leave," Violet said to Charlie with sass in her voice.

"Oh, right," Charlie said as if he'd hoped they'd forgotten about him. He left the room with the door open, likely trying to catch a peak. The large woman closed the door.

Hannah was back in her own clothes and feeling significantly more comfortable. "Well, you should be free to go now," Violet stated.

"Oh... Yeah," Hannah said oddly, feeling weirdly more comfortable here with these strangers than back at her own inn, "I guess I'll do that."

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She made it back to her inn just in time to run into her Patron at the bar. "I did it!" John shouted. "You'll be playing at the final night of the wedding! THE FINAL NIGHT!"

"The PRINCE'S wedding!?" There was no way John was referring to the prince's wedding. It had to be a nobleman, because there was more than one night to the wedding, but there was no way John was good enough to get her to play the final night of the prince's wedding. But it was the only wedding she had heard of that was happening this week and what nobleman would be bold enough to plan their wedding on the same week as the prince?

"The prince's wedding," John confirmed.

"That's big news!" Came a familiar man's voice somewhere down the bar.

"Charlie?" Hannah asked, "You're following me?"

"My inn doesn't have a bar. Total coincidence that I ran into you here." Charlie responded defensively.

"Far from me is it to interfere with the affairs of the young," John said smiling.

"Oh believe me, it's nothing like..." she tried to correct him, but he was already leaving.

"How about a wager then?" Charlie brought the attention back to himself.

"A wager?" Hannah asked, curious.

"A wager," Charlie confirmed. "You see, we too are playing at the wedding. Who ever plays better, wins the bet."

"How do you measure who plays better?" Hannah asked humoring Charlie.

"Whoever the king tips more," Charlie smiled.

"Ok, I like it," Hannah smiled back. She always got high tips, and would never admit out loud that her looks played a large part of that. "And the stakes?"

"If you lose, you join our caravan," Charlie replied. "You work for me, do as I say, within reason of course... For a year."

"A YEAR!?" there was no way, "Well a wager is no fun if I'm the only one with a stake in it. What's in it for me if I win?"

"You won't," he retorted.

"So sure of yourself, seriously, what do I get?" She pushed.

"Whatever you want," he said confidently. This took her by surprise. Why was he so confident? She couldn't think of anything he could do for her, so she would have to think of something that would cost him big. It'd be fun to watch him squirm a little. And if she lost, working for him for a while wouldn't be all that bad.

"You have to withhold sex until you're married!" Ha, that was a good one! "Or until I say otherwise." She couldn't actually make him wait that long, that would be torture for him.

He hesitated, "Deal!" He said confidently, then cleared his throat showing a small bit of fear. He was still too confident, he was risking sex.

'Well,' Hannah thought, 'if he did win, working for him wouldn't be so bad,' she blushed, then pushed the thought away. She couldn't start liking him, he was a sex-happy, attention-seeking, very attractive man whose charm was overwhelming.

"Well," he spoke up, breaking her silent daydream, "I look forward to your year of servitude," Charlie said getting out of his seat and exiting the building. Hannah spent the rest of her night preoccupied with thoughts of Charlie and her fingers between her legs.

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The big night came faster than she could've possibly anticipated. She wondered which night Charlie and his crew had played on. It didn't matter, she was playing on the big night, which meant she was gonna blow this bet out of the water. She opened the suitcase John gave her, and discovered a cherry red, sparkling dress and lingerie. Picking up the dress with one hand, it looked like little more than a thin strip of fabric. Upon further inspection, the skirt of the dress reached from the small of her back, tight on her waist, down to her ankles with a split down the side over her right leg. The dress would leave her back completely bare. The neck line stayed open practically to the bottom of her breasts and the front loosely covered her stomach. Her breasts were barely covered by two long, thin strips of fabric that met the skirt at her waist. She felt like she couldn't turn too fast without her breasts popping out of the sides. If she bent forward without keeping her back straight, the bowing fabric left her chest and stomach altogether and left her breasts bare for all to see from the sides.

Also in the suitcase were some black transparent stockings, black lace panties, a garter belt and 4 inch high heels matching the dress. To top it all off, there was a container with bright red lipstick, black eye liner, mascara, and some hair product to keep her hair up. On this night, she would not be keeping it in her usual ponytail. She applied her makeup, fixed up her hair, and then there was the dress. She couldn't get herself to put it on. It revealed far too much skin. She felt like the savage women who allowed their breasts to be exposed on the street.

A beautiful carriage was waiting just outside the inn and she waited, naked in front of her bed for far too long. Bang bang bang. She thought her door was gonna fall of its hinges, "Ok, ok, I'll be right out," she rushed to get the dress on, and rushed barefoot out the door with her shoes in hand. She hopped into the dark carriage and slipped her shoes on. None of the candles were lit but the moonlight fell on her perfectly. The carriage started to move and bumped over the rocky road. Her left breast came loose from the dress and it reminded her to experiment with positioning her body so her breasts didn't come out.

"Nice dress you have there," came a man's voice from the bench across from her.

"Oh my gosh!" Hannah screamed then jumped in her seat. She almost lost control of her dress again, but rushed her hand up to her chest to save her decency.

"Sorry, I thought you knew I was here. The candles won't stay lit, the breeze keeps putting them ou-"

"Who are you?" She interrupted him.

"Your patron, John, he told me you would escort me to the wedding. Told me to pick you up. Didn't he tell you?" The stranger asked. Hannah stayed silent. Had he seen her breast fall out of her dress? This was supposed to be the best week of her life, but this was the second time she'd embarrassed herself in front of a stranger.

"I'm sorry, you still haven't told me who you are," she said more sternly than she meant to.

"My apologies, where are my manners. I am George Harner, Duke of Bridgestone, at your service. But, everyone just calls me Duke, a nickname without need of explanation." She could make out a bow in the dark, but not much more than that. It gave her relief that she couldn't see him well as it might mean that he couldn't see her well either.