Chastity in Olde England

In medieval England, women who married nobility, or wealthy influential land-owners, were widely regarded as 'chattels' - taxable items of property belonging to a man of standing or with links to royalty or a position of high command in the King's army. It was a male dominated and, in general, highly misogynistic society where women were afforded little respect, no rights, and no fun.

The unconventional Lady Katelyn stood head and shoulders above other women, she never being able to accept any man-made convention which could possibly restrict her pursuit of equality of standing in the community, or more importantly, her insatiable appetite for sexual adventure, which was definitely regarded as a satanic no-no by puritan upholders of public morality. In the particular hamlet she resided, proponents of any such depravity could easily risk public humiliation in the stocks, or, in extreme cases, a public flogging administered by the condescending and often suspiciously over-enthusiastic local church minister, the fearsome Reverend Trowl.

Millie was a chambermaid. She was a simple girl, acquired from a peasant family who scratched out a living in one of the hovels in the village. She had come of age and was young and pretty, but constantly in awe of the Lady Katelyn, her mistress. Millie was prone to intense self-conscious blushing whenever her mischievous employer gave her a certain 'look', or made a suggestive, intimate or immoral remark which Millie didn't quite fully understand. Millie's heart was thus torn between allegiance to her mistress, the Lady Katelyn with her unconventional carnal desires, and Ned, a simple working lad in the village, despite his reputation for breaking into properties with intent to steal. (How else could Ned afford to lure female attention with jewellery and trinkets?)

Sir Percy was the local landowner and a friend of royalty. He had one true love - his horse, Blazer. His affection for the animal was clearly more heart-felt than his feelings for his wife, the renowned Lady Katelyn. Regardless of this anomaly, he was immensely proud that his good lady, imbued with charm, intellect and considerable social skills, turned out to be a shrewd acquisition. He was well aware that numerous contemporaries of his also admired her, her looks, her tastes in art, literature, fashion and domestic furniture. Not to mention her eye-catching figure and her propensity for wearing low-cut gowns about the house.

They were troubling times, and another military campaign was brewing. Invading tribes from the Continent were again setting their sights on the English Crown, and Sir Percy, a top major general and one of the king's favourites, was bracing himself for action, more military honours, and fame. He already had reserved wall space in the grand hall, where he supposed his new portrait, astride Blazer, would be hung to celebrate the expected impending victory.

The night before disembarking for the battlefields, Sir Percy dutifully visited his wife, the Lady Katelyn, to settle her anxiety and claim his conjugal rights while he was at it. So one more time he sampled the delight of disinvesting her of her expensive French bloomers, made from silk imported from the Orient, then the remainder of her undergarments, before indulging himself in her perfectly proportioned, warm and receptive naked body. His technique was fairly basic - doggy style from behind, his wife's knees wide apart, so his large rough hands could reach around the lady and tightly squeeze her amply proportioned bosom, his pelvis free to thrust his manhood up into the slippery depths of her womanhood. As usual, it was all over very quickly, much to the Lady Katelyn's quiet dissatisfaction. With lust satiated, Sir Percy rose from the marital four-poster and wiped himself on the bed linen. "Stay faithful, my Lady Katelyn," he said, donning his nightshirt in readiness for a good night's sleep before an early morning start. And those were his final words to her.

The following morning, as planned, the brave Sir Percy rallied his troops and, mounted upon his beloved steed Blazer, led off his marching men for the battlefields of Kent to see off the marauding enemy rabble of conscript soldiers and foreign ne'er-do-wells. Lady Katelyn awoke late and summoned her maid Millie.

"Why did you not wake me?" Lady Katelyn demanded. Millie sheepishly remained silent, having been too enthralled by the sight of strapping young cavalrymen mounted upon their steeds, with marching foot-soldiers in accompaniment - brave and hearty lads all of them, and Millie a mere servant girl with dreams and fantasies of her own.

"They left so early, Mistress. And I thought you needed extra sleep, especially as you were saying such long farewells to Sir Percy last evening."

"Hmm," said Lady Katelyn, not a little disgruntled that her 'long farewell' to her brutish husband resulted in a great deal of gratification for him, but was of pitifully little consequence to her. "Come here, my pretty," she said in a soft deep voice.

Millie approached her mistress a little apprehensively, fearing that a punishment perhaps was forthcoming. Lady Katelyn fixed a stare into young innocent eyes full of contrition and worry. "Is there something you wish me to do Milady?" Millie asked. "Make up your bed? Cook you some porridge for breakfast?"

"Yes, Millie. But first, come closer. Our master has gone off to war. God save the King. Without his dominant influence and loving protection, we must cling together and form our own circle of comfort. We must allow our bodies to join as one. An intimate embrace will quell our anxiety. Let us seize the moment. Bring your pretty face to mine, my lovely."

Millie was not a little startled at her mistress's unusual request. Her own feelings had already been highly aroused that morning by the sight of fit young soldiers, and now a similar onrush of wild impulse was creating havoc with her hormones. Being an obedient servant of course, Millie nevertheless committed herself to the hug, and stumbled tentatively into the arms of the scheming Lady Katelyn, Millie's libidinous employer.

The full-on mouth to mouth kiss took Millie's breath away. Never had she been been kissed in such fashion before. Young lads at the tavern had frequently stolen pecks on her cheek or neck, especially when she had had her hands full with jugs of ale and unable to repel them. Ned the carpenter's apprentice had even cheekily fondled Millie's boobs when she had been in no position to defend herself - an advance which Millie was secretly proud of and rather welcomed. But never had she experienced the breath-taking thrill of a tongues-included full-on passionate kiss. And certainly not ever from a lady! To say Millie, on this occasion, was a little flustered would be an understatement. And when Lady Katelyn instructed her to turn around, she obeyed unquestioningly, awkwardly shuffling herself into position. The dominant Lady Katelyn smiled, sensing a protracted affair with her nubile maid would be ample compensation for the lack of carnal attention from a brutish husband.

"That's right, my sweet darling," she said, loosening the ties on Millie's uniform. "You are such an angel, and a comfort for me now my loving husband is away fighting for king and country."

Lady Katelyn slid each hand inside the girl's bodice and around her upper body, finally lighting upon the afore-mentioned firm young breasts, gently squeezing each one. Having kneaded each nipple to erection, she slid a hand down beneath Millie's petticoat and inside her bloomers, cupping and gently massaging the firm young mons pubis. Millie gasped. Lady Katelyn kissed the side of Millie's neck just below the ear and squeezed a teeny little harder on the now-moistened entrance to the maid's yet-to-be-explored love crack. The innocent serving girl felt somehow it was wrong, but was unable to resist her assailant's rather pleasant advances, and when she finally turned to face her new-found lover, she was startled to discover Lady Katelyn with bodice undone and mature breasts waiting to be suckled upon.

The conventions of morality dictated by medieval society were strict. But at that moment in time, it seemed like there should be nothing forbidden when war-threatened individuals needed comforting. Hence, naked bodies writhing with each other in a large four-poster bed with satin sheets hand-made in the far east, seemed not wrong, but very right.

But... suddenly!!!

The illicit love tryst was rudely interrupted by urgent knocking at the mansion's grand front door. Old Jim, the stableman, was busy with a rake in the barn. He was deaf, anyway, so could pay no heed. Mrs Blanding, the housekeeper, was out at the shops. Millie was the sole servant available, so the Lady Katelyn bid her promptly re-arrange her costume and go investigate who should be calling at this hour and on this day. Quickly adjusting her uniform and tying her apron, Millie sped to the hall, still somewhat flustered, and slid the large iron bolts which secured the heavy front door, only to find outside a contingent of officialdom standing impatiently with bags, boxes and tools.

"We have business with your mistress, the Lady Katelyn," announced the Deputy County Sheriff.

"Who shall I say is calling? I'll see if she is avail..." Millie started to say. But, heedlessly, the Deputy Sheriff, followed by the Reverend Trowl and the local ironsmith, marched uninvited into the hall. In a panic, Millie ran to her mistress's bedroom, but the uninvited guests simply followed at pace.

"What is the meaning of this rude intrusion?" Lady Katelyn demanded.

"It is an urgent duty we have been ordered to fulfil, My good Lady," answered the Deputy Sheriff. "By the express demand of your esteemed husband, Sir Percy!"

"It is a matter of utmost importance, Lady Katelyn," added the Reverend Trowl.

"Concerning your safety and protection, My Lady," chimed in the ironsmith.

"Exactly," said the Deputy Sheriff. "Your safety and protection was uppermost in your gallant husband's thoughts."

"Safety, protection and wellbeing! Immediate action must be taken, My good Lady," explained the Reverend Trowl.

"Urgent and immediate," agreed the ironsmith. "In your best interests, My Lady."

"What on earth are you talking about?" complained Lady Katelyn. "I am in no obvious danger. The house is well apportioned against unlawful access, and there are workmen on the estate, and a local constabulary I can alert if any peril is imminent."

The Deputy Sheriff and the Reverend Trowl nodded at the ironsmith, who proceeded to take out a contraption from his sack. "For your personal safety and protection, My Lady," he explained. "By special request of the good and thoughtful Sir Percy."

"What on earth is it?" demanded Lady Katelyn, becoming ever more agitated.

The ironsmith proudly held aloft the device and started to explain its functionality, features and benefits. "A sturdy leather waistband," he began.

"Armour?" Lady Katelyn interrupted. "Why would I need..."

Unfazed, the ironsmith continued his explanation. "A polished iron framework, fitting around the waist, though incorporating a thick leather waistband for the wearer's comfort, and an iron stirrup connected between the mid-front and the mid-rear of the waistband, with serrations at the front where the stirrup parts either side of the, ahem..., crotch, to severely impede unwanted attention and foreign objects."

The ironsmith proudly displayed the device from all angles. Lady Katelyn was aghast. "It is a chastity belt," she pronounced.

The ironsmith continued. "It impedes neither of the normal bodily activities regarding one's toiletry necessities, and can be cleansed with warm water, though ensure it is good and dry afterwards - iron can be prone to rust, I am afraid. But it is all in the wearer's best interests, for protection and safety."

Lady Katelyn was open-mouthed in disbelief. "And how should I remove this contraption, when I feel the necessity?" she asked, fearing the answer.

Oh, it is quite simple," the ironsmith assured her. He was quite proud of his creation. "A key simply fits into the rear waistband, separating the two parts."

"And who shall have this key?" Lady Katelyn asked, rather fearing the answer.

"But your husband, of course, the gallant Sir Percy," answered the ironsmith. "He carries it about his person at all times, I expect."

"It is the only artifact he holds which joins him spiritually with his one true love," added the Reverend Trowl. "Besides his bible, that is."

"But what if Sir Percy is slain in battle? Who shall retrieve the wretched key in that circumstance?" Lady Katelyn demanded.

"If Sir Percy falls, My Lady, all Olde England is fallen with him," sighed the Reverend Trowl. "We pray that is not a possible circumstance. But fear not, the ironsmith of course holds a master key."

"Well, the answer is no, please leave my house," she demanded.

But to no avail. The wretched reverend and his accomplices nodded a tacit agreement to each other, and then swung into action, quickly encircling the lady. Reverend Trowl grasped her in a bear hug, disabling her arms. The Deputy Sheriff upended the lady by her ankles, delivering her horizontal onto the floor, and in good position for the ironsmith to ease off her bloomers and fit the evil contraption to his most uncooperative latest client.

Millie was torn between duty to her employers and abiding by the cruel excesses of officialdom. In any case there was little she could do against three powerful grown men.

"There," said the ironsmith, finally locking the parts together. "A perfect fit, if I may say so, My Lady. A superb choice by the ever-caring Sir Percy, you will agree."

"Perfect fit," concurred the Deputy Sheriff.

"Perfect indeed," added the Reverend Trowl. "Sir Percy has excelled himself yet again. What a loving, caring husband you have My Lady."

The three upstanding guardians of morality nodded again to each other, and left without further conversation. Incandescent with a mixture of rage, humiliation and discomfort, the Lady Katelyn lay writhing on the carpeted floor. Millie helped her up and onto a comfortable chaise longue, but in tears herself, she was unable to offer any words of encouragement or consolation.

Eventually, the caged lady calmed herself and spoke, though fighting back the tears as she did so. "What is to become of me, my angel? I am undone. Ruined. Trapped in an evil cage and powerless to resist. I may as well die."

"Oh no, Mistress! Things will be better. You will find a way. Every cloud has a silver lining."

"What does that mean, my sweet?"

"I don't know, Mistress. But my grandfather used to say it. And he lived until he was seventy."

"Fat lot of good that is," countered the Lady Katelyn, somewhat ungratefully. "I can't wait until I am seventy. I want freedom now. I have a life to lead. I want to be loved. And I want to enjoy life. And be desirable. And have fun. And behave disgracefully." And the miserable Lady Katelyn broke down sobbing again, before forcefully adding ".. and to wear gowns again, that don't show up the hideous outline of a metallic undergarment!"

Millie was at a loss as to how to console her mistress. It seemed there was no simple solution to the problem without incurring the wrath of Sir Percy and the combined male guardians of morality. The thought of transgressing their authority and possibly earning fifty lashes from the blackhearted Reverend Trowl was a serious worry. Then a thought came to mind.

Later that evening, with Lady Katelyn settled in her boudoir with a bowl of rum punch and a copy of Chretien de Troyes latest erotic romantic novel, Millie sauntered to the tavern to help out with serving and earn a few pence. It was a Saturday, so she knew Ned would be there. Ned was a rogue, but Millie had a soft spot for him.

"Millie, the prettiest of wenches in all of Olde England," Ned cried from his corner seat in the snug. "Come and sit beside me you tantalising witch!"

Millie and the rest of the crowd in the bar were familiar with Ned's bravado. Usually, Millie would smile and ignore him, but on this occasion, she took up his offer and cosied herself rather flirtingly next to him on the narrow seat.

"Ned, my naughty naughty boy, what awful deeds have you been up to today?" Millie enquired, sounding as seductive as possible.

"Naughty? Me?" Ned protested, with a grin. And taking his chance, he slid his free hand across and onto Millie's knee. Normally, Millie would shun his rather crude advances, but on this occasion, possibly as a result of her recent sexual awakening, she welcomed it, and indeed encouraged him by opening her legs that little bit wider. Ned was slightly inebriated due to the ale, but not enough to make him miss such a golden opportunity, and accordingly, he slid his hand further up the pretty young woman's smooth shapely thigh until it landed upon that warm damp mound so sought after by lusty males at evening time.

"There is a jewel box," Millie said.

"A jewel box, you say?" Ned's grope was temporarily suspended while he contemplated the possibility of attaining a share of some valuable trinketry as well as the love of the desirable Millie. "Locked away somewhere in her ladyship's chamber?"

"Yes, sort of," replied the scheming servant girl. "But no one would miss just one of dozens of valuable gems, but one must have the key to unlock it, and to seal it up again so nothing would be missed."

"It is a tempting story, my sweetheart Millie, but I cannot sanction any partnership which points a finger of guilt upon the sweetest of maids I am captivated by."

Millie was stopped in her tracks. Her ruse was unravelling fast. Furthermore, her own eyes were welling up with the realisation that Ned was genuinely smitten by her and concerned for her welfare. But she needed to think fast. "It is not for the purpose of stealing," she said. "But my lady requires to wear some special ear-rings from the case, but has unfortunately misplaced the key to the box. Someone told me once it is possible to unpick a lock with a hat-pin, but I wouldn't know how."

"Indeed it is my sweet Millie," said Ned, rubbing his chin. "Except that rather than a hat-pin, which is straight and inflexible, a filed down shark's tooth is preferred."

"But we have no sharks in the village, Ned. Only you, my sweet." Millie suddenly realised she was becoming more like her mistress, the Lady Katelyn, every minute, terms of endearment and confrontation becoming second nature to her. And it was clear that Ned, he of dubious reputation but in possession of everyday skills, was in turn becoming equally besotted with Millie, the long-time nubile object of his desire. Millie used her palm to gently and lovingly caress Ned's chest, and cuddled closer, such that he felt her breath on his face, and sensed her lips tantalisingly close to his own.

Ned happily rose to the bait. "Come, my lovely angel, to my humble abode, where such a pick is to be found, and I will teach you how."

Millie removed her apron and passed it over the bar for the landlord to take care of. "Ned is to walk me home early," she said.

"Aye," acknowledged the landlord. "And ye take extra care Millie, lest that rogue Ned takes advantage of ye.*

Ned taking advantage of her was secretly all part of the plan, and when they stopped for a few brief moments under the village's famous young sycamore tree, the unavoidable onrush of feverish hugging, kissing and petting resulted in Millie's inevitable deflowering, quick, passionate, and breath-taking. Would that sycamore tree hold the young lovers' secret for a millennium or more?

"Here we have sharks teeth," said Ned, showing Millie round his untidy rooms. "That's just what we call them - different sizes to suit the type of lock. The tumblers have to be moved, one at a time, so the bar of the gate lines up with the release latch. It is better if I come and do the deed, Millie. I am so much more practised in the art than your sweet self."

This was a problem for Millie. No doubt Ned was correct, but Millie's caged mistress was hardly likely to allow a rough unknown village youth to come and ogle the lady's private parts while clumsily fiddling with the lock mechanism. Millie began to despair. Poking around inside a delicate mechanism with a sharp implement and managing to manipulate several tumblers so they coordinated sufficiently to allow the release of the locking bar was a task too onerous for an unskilled maiden. Millie's thoughts clouded over depressingly.

"Of course," chirped Ned, "You could always just take along my little bag of keys and try each one in turn until the jewel box lid be open. There are only a dozen styles locksmiths use for jewel boxes and the like. In my bag are copies of all of them. Every cloud has a silver lining. You will see."

"Oh Ned!" Millie cried. "You are a rogue. But you are my angel." And she threw her arms round his neck and hugged him with a tearful passion.

The excited chambermaid got back to the mansion only to find her mistress abed, overcome with a melancholy so intense, it seemed nothing could restore the woman to her normally energetic and forceful character.

"Is there anything I can get you, My Lady? A cup of tea from the Orient perhaps? Or coffee from the Indies? Remake your bed, perhaps - it is strewn with crumpled sheets."

"Millie. My darling Millie. Just leave me to die. This infernal contraption has rid me of fun, laughter, lust and energy. You were a long time at the tavern."

"I have a key My Lady. We could secretly remove the device and replace it just before the master, Sir Percy arrives home in triumph."

"A what?" Lady Katelyn exclaimed. "A key? How is it possible? Millie, what have you been up to?"

Millie remained silent, purposefully selecting, one by one, a key from Ned's bag and inserting it into the belt's lock. There seemed to be none that worked. Had Ned a played a cruel joke on her? Then, she inserted the very last key of all. And hey presto!

The belt sprang open, much to Millie's relief and the surprised delight of her mistress.

"Millie. My saviour! My sweet Millie. You are my angel. Can I be dreaming? I can move. I can sit up! This cunning ruse has saved my very existence. Come to me. I could hug the very life out of you."

And the two women, seated on the edge of the bed, embraced. One with sweet relief, the other with the excitement of freedom. Lady Katelyn held aloft the cruel unlocked device. Each woman focussed on the menacing ugly sharp frontal serrations intended to deter unauthorised frontal entry. Millie, especially, frightened herself with the thought of poor Ned's hardened manhood trying to gain access. Ouchies!

"I am human again," announced Lady Katelyn. "It is late. Millie, make us both some cocoa. Then come to bed and we shall sleep together. Our naked bodies can intertwine and we shall kiss, and more. Tomorrow is a new day and the Viscount is due. I shall be in a fit state to welcome him and he shall admire my shapeliness devoid of ugly contraptions. My darling Millie."

A fortnight later, word arrived that Sir Percy had fallen in battle, mortally wounded. A key had been found dangling from a chain around his neck. Lady Katelyn subsequently married Viscount Sir Roger, who took over the running of the estate as well as seducing the new maid. Millie married Ned. Eat your heart out Chretien de Troyes.