Bawdy Tales From the Plague: Part 2 – the Cook & the Whore The Cook’s Tale. A pathetic suitor’s vain attempt at seducing a virtuous Lady, and the whore tells how she acquired her skills; as the travelers continue toward London. By virusman. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The Cook’s Tale: You know, my friends, when our friend the monk was talking about the Devil last night I grew to thinking that he would be quite at home in the heat and smoke of my kitchen. In the gloom, the fire roaring away in the great hearth could be the entry to Hell, and it would be no surprise to see the Devil himself appear at any moment. So while we were walking along the road, I bethought me what hot tale I could cook up to entertain you tonight, and then I remembered something which happened many years ago involving the Devil, a great Lady and a foolish suitor for her favours. This all took place when I was just a scullion in the house of a great Lord. Oh we were rascals, we lads; I remember how we used to have a competition to see who could creep up behind the cook when she wasn’t looking, and put our hands up her skirts and have a good feel of her bum. Woe betide you if she caught you though; she had arms like tree trunks and hands as big as hams, and if she caught you round the ear with a smack you would be seeing stars for a goodly time. Our other entertainment was to see if we could catch the maids in a dark corner for a bit of a kiss and a cuddle, and more if they would let us. It was all good harmless fun, and a welcome diversion, because the days were long and exhausting supplying all the needs of the great folk in the hall. It was with those maids who were willing that I first learned of the delights between a woman’s thighs. No doubt I sired a few little bastards, although no one could have proved they were mine, as those maids who would, gave of their favours to many. Well, back to my story. Our Lord was a great warrior, and took a mighty company with him to fight in the King’s Scottish Wars. He was away for many years, and some wondered whether he would ever return alive. At this point I must recount that his Lady was very beautiful, and many years younger than our Lord, although we lowly servants only saw her at the great feasts when we were called on to serve at the tables. Many were the minstrels who would visit the castle and sing their songs of unrequited love, and our Lady had many suitors, just like Penelope in the story of Odysseus and his return from Troy. One of these suitors was almost desperate with love, and determined to have the Lady for his own. In truth he wasn’t much of a man, being short of stature and somewhat larded to boot, but love can make fools of us all, and no doubt in his own eyes his virtues were such that the Lady would willingly give herself to him. How he thought he could win over the wife of a great and mighty man of the sword I cannot say; why, I am even told he could not keep his seat on a horse for more than a few seconds before tumbling off to lie in the dirt, kicking his legs like a beetle that has been turned over by a cruel youth for his sport. Such was his infatuation, he bethought himself to find some device by which he might visit the Lady in the privacy of her solar. He reasoned to himself that if he could secrete himself in some way in her chamber, once she was asleep he might silently creep into her bed and lie with her. Accordingly, he made himself familiar with the Lady’s personal maid, and on every opportunity he would sidle up to her, and with soft words and cheap baubles he attempted to recruit her in his mission. After many weeks of this flattery, it seemed that this poor girl was entirely won over, seduced by many false protestations of adoration. So it came to pass, one night after supper, while the company were being entertained by the Lord’s jester, she allowed him entry into the Lady’s private chamber, and hid him among the Lady’s furs and gowns in her garderobe. Now, it should be said that this maid was not as gullible a she appeared, and having grown wise to our erstwhile hero’s wiles, had decided to pay him back for his impudence. So the room was not, as he believed, that of the Lady, but a room lately occupied by her mother, who had but lately passed away. Many long minutes later, the maid herself returned, but artfully disguised as her mistress in one of her robes, and wearing a templer and veil to conceal her face. Crossing the room, but careful to keep her back to the garderobe where the eager lover was concealed, she knelt at the prie-dieu in a small alcove to say her nightly Rosary, as well as prayers for her Lord’s safe return. Our hero, poor deluded fool, and only able to see through a crack in the paneling, was completely taken in, and as the minutes passed grew ever more excited in anticipation of her debauching. Finally, her prayers finished, the maid turned and moved towards the great bed as if about to disrobe, increasing his arousal even further. However, as she passed the garderobe, she turned the key in the lock, and then left the chamber, laughing quietly to herself. By the time she returned in the morning to release him from his prison, the intemperate suitor was in quite a state, there being nowhere for him to relieve himself of his full bladder. It caused much merriment among the other servants, who had been made privy to the subterfuge, as he fled down the corridors clutching his privates, in a vain attempt not to piss himself. The maid herself just collapsed on the bed clutching her sides in mirth. I’m afraid to say that it was not long before everyone learned about his plight, and for many days people would cover their mouths and snigger behind his back as he passed. Having tried everything, songs and gifts, and pledges of eternal love, all to no avail because the lady was as virtuous as she was beautiful, this suitor was willing to try anything in his desperation. So it was that he decided on a very perilous course, and one dark night he called on the devil to aid him in his quest to gain the bed of the object of his desire, and promised to give his soul if he were successful. Well, the Devil was a cunning fellow, and thought to himself that he could have some fun at this fool’s expense. As you well know, the Devil can take any disguise, and he suggested that one night he should enter her chamber in the guise of her Lord. She would surely welcome his advances gladly after so many lonely nights, and by this subterfuge he would make love to her. At the height of her passion, he would suggest that she go down on all fours, so that her could plough her from behind, which would be the opportunity for our suitor to take his place and enter her divine portals with his rampant cock. Foolish man that he was, the suitor thought that this was a most excellent and cunning plan, and he could hardly contain himself at the thought of ravishing the Lady, and filling her with his seed in the extremity of bliss. At last the opportunity presented itself, and while the Devil in his disguise as her Lord, began to woo the Lady with sweet kisses, and many caresses of her most secret parts, our suitor quietly slipped into the chamber and hid behind an arras. The Devil was in no hurry, finding the Lady most agreeable, and therefore desirous of taking his own pleasure before allowing the suitor to take his turn at her sweet cunny. It wasn’t often that the opportunity of enjoying such a comely and virtuous female presented itself, and he had spent many days ruminating on the delicious thought of plunging his hot and throbbing member deep into her velvet sheath. The suitor grew very impatient watching the Devil tenderly making love to the object of his desire, and started wishing he would get on with it, but the sight of the Devil thrusting hard between her open thighs made him so aroused that he could not resist stroking his rampant cock. So excited did he become, hearing the Lady’s moans of ecstasy, he almost shed his seed before he had the opportunity to pound her himself. Finally, after far too long a time for our suitor, who was hopping up and down in anticipation of his triumph, the Devil did as he had promised and the suitor leapt out from his hiding place, his cock proudly ready to do its business. But before he could thrust it home deep into her wet heart, there came a sound of voices from outside the door to the chamber, and the clank of iron shod boots. The door burst open and the great Lord himself entered, returned unexpectedly from the wars, eager to enjoy the favours of his beloved wife. Seeing our suitor about to cuckold him, he let out a roar, and drawing his mighty sword, proceeded to beat the hapless fool about the buttocks with the flat of it, raising great wheals, such was the force of his blows. In a great state of alarm, and fearing for his life, the suitor fled down the corridors of the keep, clutching his clothes around him, and squealing with pain at each repeated blow from the Lord’s mighty weapon. The Devil, who had known in advance of the Lord’s return, just stood in the shadows clutching his sides with unholy glee, before disappearing up the chimney in a cloud of smoke and flame. You may be concerned at this point about the fate of the Lady, but I can set your minds at rest. The evidence of scorch marks on the sheets, and cloven-hoofed footprints burned into the wood of the floor persuaded the wronged Lord that she had been the victim of diabolic magic. As for the hapless suitor, things looked black for him indeed, but after hearing the testimony of the Lady’s maid and her story of his humiliation, as well as her defence of the Lady’s virtue, the Lord decided to be merciful, and merely banished him to the kitchens to tend the fires for the rest of his life. There you would see him, soot stained and forlorn, the smell of roasting flesh no doubt putting him in mind of all those little demons with their red hot irons waiting for him once his miserable life was over. It is also said that his cock shriveled up that night until it was smaller than his little finger, but I never saw evidence of this for myself. The moral of this tale, my friends, is never to aim above your station in life, and under no circumstance enter into a pact with the Devil, because he is not to be trusted, and you will only live to regret it. Bedefunde Hamlet, June 29th — Alice Tells How She Became A Whore. My name is Alice. I am 24 years old, and what most respectable folk would call a common whore. I believe I am quite comely with red lips and a complexion yet unmarked by disease and men seem to like to suckle on my ample bosom as they bury their cocks in the dark wetness between my thighs, before they release their hot seed into my cunt with much sighing and moaning and declarations of love. I have been told by some more noble and educated men while they were enjoying my body, that whoring is an ancient and noble profession, and that in ancient times fucking was a sacred rite and a way of communing with the gods. Be that as it may, and no doubt I am no better than I ought to be, I do believe that I do some good in this world by saving honest women from the peril of rape and men from the grave sins of sodomy and self-abuse, and although Mother Church teaches that sex outside the blessed sacrament of marriage is a venal sin I have serviced many a priest and friar. One priest even told me secretly that the blessed Saint Augustine said that if all the whores were whipped and driven from the land, the capricious lusts of men would bring about such disorder that good government would be overthrown. I did not choose this way of life and when I was a young girl I daydreamed of marrying an honest yeoman and bringing many children into the world. I was the second daughter of a common candle maker in the city of York, quite happy to carry out my domestic duties and help with the younger children. I never learned to read or write but I did pick up some simple arithmetic from helping my father with his accounts. When I was 18 however, tragedy struck our happy family when our house burned down, killing my beloved mother and two of my younger brothers. My father declared that he would be unable to provide dowries for me or my sisters and that we would have to earn our way in the world. My older sister Elisabeth was sent to work in the kitchens of our liege lord and Mary, who was the plain one, was given to the Church. As the prettiest, he said that I could best serve the family by using my looks, and he gave me to the local whorehouse in Gropecunt Lane. I was very frightened when I first went there. My mother had often warned me of the terrible things that men expected their wives to do in the bedroom, but it was our duty, she said, to let them satisfy their lusts in our bodies without complaint, and if we were lucky we would find a good and kindly man to love and keep us and who would not make too many gross demands. I had seen my father naked, but it came as a shock when my first customer removed his breeches to reveal what looked like a huge snake almost the length of my forearm sticking up from his loins. I was still a virgin and this first experience of a man was very painful and afterwards I thought that I might bleed to death. I was fortunate however, and the next man I was called on to entertain was very gentle and to my utter surprise and then joy, I discovered that what my mother had told me was not true. He did not thrust his male member into my cunt as soon as I parted my legs, but stroked and caressed me, sliding his fingers along the length of my wet slit and then into my hole. I soon felt a delicious tingling between my thighs and a strange warmth running down my legs and up into my tummy. And then, wonder of wonders, when he finally entered me, there was no pain, only an feeling of such sweetness that I almost fainted with pleasure. On a later occasion when this man took me, he did something even more extraordinary, something I would have thought of as disgusting had it not given me such pleasure. After kissing my breasts, he kissed me all the way down my tummy and then between my legs, sucking the lips of my cunt and the hard little button that guarded the entrance to my secret places, so that it became hard and throbbing with exquisite sensations. I cannot claim that all the men I fucked were as kind or thoughtful but more often than not, I had as much pleasure as the man thrusting into me and there were some I would have allowed to take me for nothing. I discovered that not all cocks were the same and that some were very beautiful. The other girls taught me many tricks to please a man and I discovered that I enjoyed sucking their cocks and licking their balls, especially the sense of power it gave me. In fact I was proud that my skills often earned me more than the agreed price for my services, so that as well as being able to send money back to my father, I was able to buy a few pretty things in the market such as coloured ribbons for my hair. Strangely I never got with child, unlike most of the other girls, and I started to believe that in time I might become a bawd like my mistress with my own house and able to enjoy some of the privileges of the rich people, such as meat for every meal and good wine. Though not respectable, it was not a bad life and as I said, I believed that I was doing some good in the small world of our fair city. Then the pestilence came and apart from my mistress and me, all the other girls, some of whom I loved as dearly as if they were sisters, died in the most horrible fashion. So it was that I found myself a few weeks ago in a strange company of folk journeying on the road to the great city of London in order to seek a new life there. Along the way to entertain each other, one or other of us was chosen by lot to tell a tale, starting on the first night with a very naughty tale of an innocent novice monk and a prioress. Among our company was an older man of very sad mien, one Oswin, a simple carpenter. He had lost his beloved wife of many years to the pestilence and his grief weighed heavy on his soul. From the beginning he was very courteous to me, unlike most of the men of the town, who were prepared to beg me for sexual favours that would never dream of asking from their wives but then pass me in the street as if I were a piece of dirt. I recall one priest who would get me to tie him up and whip him before fucking me in the arse — it was only sodomy if it was with a man he told me, women didn’t count. Yet this same supposed man of God would the next day, if I chanced upon him in public, make the sign of the cross and call out “Beware the wrath of God you harlot, repent of your sins before it is too late or suffer the flames of Hell.” I ask you, who was the hypocrite — me or him. I didn’t much enjoy being fucked in the arse so I made sure he paid double for his pleasures. On our second night on the road at an inn in a town I was told was called Bawtry, before supper I espied Oswin sitting by the fire, a jug of ale on the table in front of him. Taking pity on him, I decided that I might be able to give him some relief from his melancholy. I slipped onto the bench beside him and laying my head on his shoulder, whispered in his ear, “Why so pensive and sad, kind sir? What has taken place so recent cannot be undone; ‘twas surely God’s will and naught is to be gained by brooding on it. We should rejoice that we are alive, and look to the future.” He didn’t say anything, just sighed. He didn’t push me away however, so I continued. “If you like, I could come to you tonight and give you some relief from your melancholy. I know many ways to pleasure a man and I am clean I assure you; I have always been very careful with my favours.” After a good supper of lamb stew and turnip we all gathered round to hear a story by the cook, which entertained us for a merry hour or so. Later that night after everyone had retired to bed, I made my way to the little room under the eaves of the inn where Oswin was billeted. I tapped softly on the door and after a few moments he opened it and invited me to enter his humble room, bolting the door behind me to prevent any from disturbing us. “Kind sir,” I said, removing the simple shift, which was my only garment to stand naked before him, my flesh lit only by the warm light of a candle, “you have treated me with great consideration and I wanted to thank you for your gentleness. It is my desire to lift the weight of sadness that hangs over you like a dark shadow and help you back into the light and joy of living. As I said, I know many ways to please a man and in your rapture I am sure that you will be reborn, able to move on with hope in your heart.” As I spoke, I could see both hope and desire in his eyes and so I stepped towards him, and leaning forwards, kissed him softly on the lips and then knelt and lifted his shirt to reveal his growing manhood. As I have said, I had experienced many cocks, and while by no means the biggest I had seen, his was beautiful and strong and I knew that I would receive much pleasure when later it moved within me. I took its head between my lips and sucked him slowly into my mouth, moaning softly the while, the sweet vibrations adding to the exquisite sensations he was feeling. As I licked and sucked him, he soon grew to full stature, and this cock would soon have crowed had I not withdrawn. “Not yet my dear man,” I murmured, “that was just a foretaste of the pleasures in store for you. But I have a much better place for that magnificent weapon that now rears up ready for battle. Lie back on your cot, and I will take you on a journey such as you have never dreamed of.” As I spoke, I pushed him back onto his bed, and straddled his thighs, then lifting myself up, I took hold of his cock and rubbed it between the soft folds of flesh guarding my treasures and with a sigh, sank down, engulfing him in my wet heat. The feeling of his shaft inside my cunt was as delightful as I thought it would be, and delicious sensations started to run through me, making me tingle all over. Leaning forward to rub my aching nipples on his chest, I kissed him on the throat, and chin and then his lips, probing deep into his mouth with my tongue. I rode him as one would a fine stallion — he matching me thrust for thrust, sometimes quickly and then at a slower pace — and together we made our way to paradise, our mutual pleasure mounting ever higher to the summit of ecstasy. Finally, his cock started to throb and his seed erupted deep into my womb in a torrent of liquid fire. In that endless moment of ineffable joy we both cried out as we entered together into the mystery of human love. For a while we drifted on the borders of awareness still united in the flesh, but at length our bodies parted, and with a deep sigh of contentment, I fell into a deep sleep curled up in his strong arms where I lay until the early light of dawn peeped through the slats of the shuttered windows. When I woke, I felt a sense of belonging and being needed such that I had not known since I was a child. Every night of our journey from thence, wherever we were lodged and however many men to whom I gave my services — for that was the only employment that I knew and I had to earn my daily bread — I would make my way to his bed to fall asleep within the safety and comfort of his arms. We are now but a days journey from the centre of the great City of London. As we have traveled these last few days there has been much coming and going on the road of carts laden with goods, all making their way to the greats markets there and for the great Fair that we are told takes place tomorrow eve on the meadows by the Thames river. It will be a good opportunity for me to find business, and earn a few pennies to repay Oswin for his generosity. Of late Oswin, or William of York as he has chosen to call himself, has started to talk of marriage should he be successful in setting himself up as a carpenter in the capital of the kingdom. Whilst I do not feel great passion for him, I do hold him in great affection and he is gentle and considerate and would do everything he could to make me happy. I will have to think about his proposal, and perhaps, if nothing else shows up, I will accept him; I could certainly do much worse. But I do enjoy my work, and the pleasure of riding a man’s cock until it crows, so as long as I can avoid catching the new pox that has come from France, and which makes one’s cunny weep — or so I’m told — I will continue what I know best. To be continued.. By virusman for Literotica