The Baron And The Shepherdess

The Baron and the Shepherdess

The Baron and the Shepherdess – Part I

by The Qmoq, dedicated to maddie

In the happy years before the plague came, there lived a Baron in the North of England, a credit to his family and a man respected across the county. He was a fair man in most every sense, loved by the people, admired by the gentry, and his firm jaw line and dark, devilish eyes made him the fancy of most young ladies who had the pleasure of knowing him. Many long days would be spent taking his fair share of fruit from the orchard, and maidens both fair and buxom were willingly led to his castle. Fate intervened with this happy lifestyle, when he found himself promised to a rather loathsome aged crone to solidify a treaty with a warring country. Weighing up his happiness against the war that would claim countless lives, he saw that he had no choice. Like many a gentleman in his situation, he chose to fully enjoy his final days of bachelorhood, and the numbers of those led willingly to his chambers increased.

There was one who was not willingly led, and this irked the Baron, for she was the fairest and most buxom of all. Jaina was her name, a shepherdess already tragically promised to another man. Each day she would tend to her sheep in the shadow of the castle, the pasture being greenest under the high shelter from the early October frost. The Baron would hear the plaintive bleating, and rush away from the tempestuous lady he happened to be reclining with that day, just to see the object of his affection. There he would see the flaxen hair cascading to her shoulders, the small mouth with the pronounced red lips, the frosted-pink cheeks, and he would smile. His eyes would then be drawn to her gentle frame, admiring the effortless grace as she twisted to see where each and every sheep was positioned, feeling a stirring in his loins as her smock stretched to hug her womanly curves. He would call to her from the window, with words of love and promises of riches beyond her wildest dreams, if she would only come to his chamber.

On the day this tale begins, Jaina was particularly defiant. She tossed her hair impishly, flashing her sapphire-blue eyes at him. "Sire, I dare not come to your chamber for fear of what awaits me there, surely you understand?” she asked. “If you could make an honest woman out of me, I wouldst willingly perform any service you require. And I mean anything. Alas, I am pledged to another and not even y-you could use y-your charm on me. I obey thee, sire, indeed I admit that I love thee from afar, but I cannot let you take my honour, for that is my greatest asset of all. Except for my sheep, that is."

Such words spun the Baron into a rage of jealousy. He dismissed the satisfied occupant of his bed, snapping at her to send in his most skilled magician. With the aid of this magician, an angelic lady known only as the Curious One, he would gain his beloved Jaina.

"Sire," she whispered conspiratorially after he informed her of his intentions, "there are no potions or spells known to me that will kindle any passion within the breast of the shepherdess. However," she paused, hesitant to continue, "there is a concoction from the west, which would take a week to prepare, but once drunk, prevents any maiden from attaining the pleasure that is her greatest, no matter how much she is pleasured, no matter how strongly and forcefully she is fulfilled, no matter how much sensual lapping of the clitoris takes place."

"The what?" asked the Baron. "Cli-tor-is?"

"Typical," sighed the magician, and she took a piece of parchment to help explain the new term. Although this did not contain any sorcery, the wenches who next visited the Baron in the following days thought it Curious One's finest achievement of all, as he practiced his new-found skills upon them that brought them to heaven and back. As each woman returned from her state of bliss, the Baron would ask how they would feel if they were unable to attain such pleasure. Each indicated that it would be a torment most foul, and that they would give anything, promise anything, just to be granted the release.

The Baron scratched his chin at these comments, and within a day of these comments, the young magician informed him that the potion was ready. She gave word of instruction: “Sire,” she smiled, “the potion is powerful, but it requires reinforcement to work fully. You must repeatedly tell her not to fully complete her self-indulgence, or I fear the potion would be worthless.”

The Baron, an intelligent man, bared his teeth as he took the glass bottle from Curious One, asking if she would prepare enough potions to last a month. The magician, for she was a woman who was fully aware of the purpose her skills were being used, dropped her eyes to the floor, before agreeing to his request.

He sent for the shepherdess that day. After her sheep were safely in her pen, she was escorted by his most trusted lady servant, a black-haired young woman called Mina DeVere. Whilst changing into her cleanest plain-white smock, Jaina was hesitant: she agreed to see the Baron after Mina assured her that the Baron had made a solemn oath not to take her honour. Mina, an enigmatically pretty girl, even offered to show Jaina proof of her own honour, to quench Jaina’s fears. Jaina assured Mina that such a demonstration was not required, and allowed herself to be taken to the castle.

Mina left her charge at the base of a set of stairs, quietly leaving her with directions to the Baron’s intimate chambers. Jaina was again nervous, an intriguing thought coming to the forefront of her mind: if the Baron was not going to take her honour, why had he invited her to his bedchambers?

“Jaina,” said the Baron with a smile, rising to his feet as she appeared at the doorway. She peered at him nervously, already breathing deeply. She suspected that he was a good man, a man who would not take from her that which she would not offer to him, but there was a little doubt in her mind. Even so, when he said in a velvet voice, “Come in, please,” there was no part of her that would refuse him. She considered her honour as her most valuable asset, but aside from that, she adored this man. If only he would make an honest woman of her!

“I would like you to please me,” he said, pouring her a drink from the bottle that Curious One had prepared.

Although she believed Mina, she had to confirm her position. “Sire, I love thee, and I will please thee, but my honour is -“

He cut her off, assuring her that he would not lay a finger on her. Coquettishly, she replied that it was not his finger that she was worried about, and politely drained the glass.

“What are you smiling about, sire?”

“My dear Jaina, I shall not steal your honour, but I have stolen a part of your womanhood. I have deprived you of your finest pleasure. It is my wish that you do not achieve a climax, and it is my desire to see the frustration as you get within a hair’s breadth of that exquisite moment. That potion will prevent such a moment.”

Jaina lowered her eyes to the floor. The Baron had never lied to her, so she knew that both elements were true - he would not take her by force, nor would he even use potions to acquire her. However, there was a fear at the effect the potion may have on her. She trembled as he stood a foot from her, and she could feel him looking down upon her.

“Remove your clothes, and relax upon the bed.”

Jaina took a deep breath and chose to obey. She was not ashamed of her body, and he had vowed not to touch her. There was no fear, as she raised her smock over her head, and carefully folded it to delay the moment.

He told her to sit at the head of the bed, with her slender legs spread and slightly bent. The muscles in her thighs twitched, betraying her emotion. She realised what he was about to have her do.

“Pleasure yourself.”

“Sire, but-“

“Jaina, I order you to pleasure yourself in the way that every woman knows, informed as you are that you may not achieve a release.”

“Y-yes sire.”

Looking down at her most sensitive area, she flushed as she felt his eyes taking in each inch of her beauty. She felt as though she would die with shame. She wanted to know where he was looking, but did not want to look up and spot the glint in his black eyes, for she knew that would double her humiliation.

Jaina ran her fingernail in a circle around her pearl, her discomfort growing quickly as she obeyed his instructions for her other hand, telling her to squeeze her breast, brush fingertips against her bare neck, and caress the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. She knew that he would not touch her, but to hear his deep voice command her to perform such acts on herself was just as invasive and obscene. Yet, he had not broken his oath, so nor could she cease her obedience.

Every so often, he would stop his talking, just so he could hear the heaving and panting of her breath, along with the quiet squishing sounds as her pink crease betrayed her wishes and became more and more damp.

“S-sire, this is a torment beyond words.”

“That is correct, young shepherdess. You have my magician to thank for this, but do not blame her. It is my wish that you do not climax, not hers. Keep polishing your tender sweetness, my dear. It pleases me to see you like this.”

“Y-yes, sire,” she sighed, and the first tear escaped from the corner of one of her blue eyes.

The Baron watched on impassively. He had the vulgar thought that watching Jaina in such distress was more satisfying than the pleasurable coupling he had enjoyed with so many other young women. He did not voice this thought, for he did not want Jaina to compare herself to other women: even in such a situation where she had his full concentration, a woman could quickly become jealous, and the emotion of the moment would be lost.

He managed to control his own tumescence by concentrated breathing of his own, which only seemed to add to the passion in his voice, affecting the unfortunate Jaina all the more. Her whimper became a sob, which soon became a scream. Her words remained polite, respecting his title, which made the jolting spasms in her body seem all the more obscene. She begged him for release, pleading for the antidote. Each request was met with a three-word response.

“No. Continue, Jaina.”

Each response was met with a deep growl of self-pity and a cry. Her sodden, shaking fingers drifted back to her sensitive regions, between her legs, on her chest, her rump. Even the backs of her legs, ankles, insteps, elbows and wrists were teased with feather light touches. When her face was red with crying, and she was on the verge of fainting, he told her to stop.

“Thank you, Jaina. I enjoyed our evening. I shall invite you back tomorrow,” said the Baron calmly, getting to his feet, the smile returning to his face. Jaina turned her head to the pillow, and sobbed into it, unable to speak. He gave her time to compose and clothe herself. As she reached the doorway, he asked her one short question. “When you return tomorrow, will you give me that which I desire?”

Jaina’s mouth felt dry when she thought of a response. “Sire, I cannot.”

“Very well then,” he sniffed. “I shall see you on the morrow.”

Each day, she was brought to his bedroom, and ordered to drink the potion whose design would bar her from orgasm. Each day, the position was different. On Tuesday, she sat on a chair, with her legs splayed over the arms. On Wednesday, she was bent double over the back of the same chair. On Thursday, she was told to crawl like a sheep, bleating whilst rubbing herself. Each time, she was so close to the release that her eyes scrunched shut and her chest heaved and the secretions poured from her virgin cleft, but she was not able to release. The Baron had taken this from her, and she knew that she had no choice.

Yet she still loved him. For the rest of each day, she would count the ways that she adored the Baron, primarily for respecting her honour. She always felt safe when she was with him, despite the agony she suffered as a result of his wishes. She picked up many a dandelion and blew, smiling to herself as she recited, "he loves me, he loves me not" in her deep, sultry voice. She strode the fields, letting the breeze refresh her, telling the sheep how much she loved him, how she wanted to be his and his alone, and cursed the erratic choices of fortune that made her a shepherdess and him a Baron.

Fortune was playing a devious game with Jaina. She was a woman, and hence more susceptible to letting emotions get the better of her, and so it was that on the Friday evening, she gave into her passion. For this bout of self-denial, he had her slip between the sheets of his bed, her modesty covered for once. He stated plainly that she was swathed so that, in his words, “I can examine the glint of fragile arousal in your eyes, whilst not being distracted by the beauty of your naked body.” She melted at this thought, and tucked her hand between her legs, following his instructions carefully. This was the worst torment of all, for she could have held back and not been as sensual with herself as he had instructed, but she had to obey, and she suspected that he knew he had this control over her.

At the point where her legs were shaking and her breath was short, and when the perspiration dripped down the soft white skin between her breasts, she pleaded with him to stop forcing her to continue. He replied that she should rub softer, and that he wanted her to make sure that the hood over her pearl was fully uncovered. At these words, she whimpered and shivered like an unsheltered lamb in the cold pasture. When he repeated the statement that he loved to see her in such distress at his whim, she swore at him. "Oh dash it all, sire!" She clamped one hand over her mouth as the words came out, the other hand's fingers stroking herself as ordered. Salty tears of shame dripped down her cheeks, their descent zig-zagged due to the violent twitches of her body.

"You insulted me, m'lady," he said in a severe voice. "I have flogged men for less."

"Oh sire, mercy, I beg you!" Jaina cried. She continued to tease and tickle herself, for he had not ordered her to cease.

"My dear Jaina, I think you need a reminder of how to conduct your speech in my presence. Stop touching yourself. Get dressed. Follow me."

Jaina scrambled quickly from the bed, stumbling through fear and arousal, and slipped her smock over her shoulders as she came into line alongside the Baron. He strode confidently forwards, looking at Jaina a few times to ensure that she was at his side, safe and not too afraid. When she cast her eyes to the floor for the third consecutive time to avoid his gaze, he stopped in the middle of a long corridor.

"Jaina, look at me," he said. She looked up, eyes filled with tears of shame. His voice was so tender, yet there was a hint of disappointment in his tone. "I won't hurt you. I won't allow anyone to hurt you. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, sire," she gulped, and forced a brave smile.

"Good girl," he said, his voice returning to normal with its bold, commanding timbre. "Come now. We're nearly there. Just a quick trip down to the dungeon."

The Baron and the Shepherdess – Part II

The words chilled poor Jaina, but she followed the Baron down the imposing stone steps. He stopped halfway down to turn and assure her that she would not be hurt, and that she was being led to an antechamber, away from the more interesting devices. This reassured Jaina slightly, but she still felt shame at the thought of having lost her temper with him.

The antechamber measured barely ten feet on each wall, was brightly lit by three torches, and was private - a wooden screen behind the bars prevented any prying eyes.

Despite such accommodations, Jaina shook when she saw the single device that stood in centre of the room. It was a pillory, three feet off the ground and facing the door, with smoothed-down wood at the holes for neck and wrists. Attached to one side of the pillory was a piece of slate. The Baron ordered Jaina to write down her offence on the slate with a stick of chalk.

She sighed, feeling wretched as she wrote in small, clear letters: "I insulted the Baron."

The Baron added the word "mildly" before "insulted", as if to warn Jaina that a more offensive insult would have resulted in a more severe punishment. He then opened up the pillory, and Jaina paused only to ask him if he wanted her clothed or not: he did, and she smiled, until he told her that she would be on display and did not want criminals to enjoy her distress.

"But you will be locked in here, and no man can reach you, except for me. I will ask Mina, my nocturnal servant, to look in upon you from time to time. You will be released tomorrow morning, in time for your shepherdess duties."

With that, he shut the pillory carefully upon her neck and wrists, and locked it firmly in place. He was delicate in his movement, and ensured that his hand did not touch Jaina, not even accidentally. She twisted her head to catch his eye, but he strode purposefully out of the chamber without looking back. He had left the screen open but the metal grille was shut, and various jailers and other servants crowded in front of the grille to tease the poor woman. None mentioned the Baron, for fear of ending up in the same position - but there was no law against insulting a shepherdess. After an hour of her unprotected ears being filled with vile insults, each bringing a deeper shade of red to her cheeks, the evil men were herded from the door by a familiar feminine voice.

"Hello there," smiled Mina as she unlocked the cell door, entered, then closed and re-locked it, all with graceful, flowing twists of the wrist and elegant, balletic movement of her body. She pirouetted impishly, and squatted in front of Jaina's wide-eyed face. "Insulting the Baron, my my, I would never insult the Baron. You have been a naughty girl, haven't you?" giggled Mina, to whom Jaina forced a half-smile.

Mina stood up straight, and began to pace slowly around the prisoner. Jaina heard her footsteps on the stone floor, the steady rhythm marking the slow passage of time. However, it was Mina's words that caused the most distress for her. "You know, Jaina, I love to chat with you, you're such a nice person, but I do not appreciate being asked to take care of you in the middle of the night when I could be... well," she paused for a moment, careful to choose the right words, "entertaining myself in some other way. Fortunately, the Baron said that I could have fun with you. Oh do not be alarmed, my dear! I'm not evil, I won't harm a hair on your delectable body. I explained everything that I wanted to do with you to him, and he consented with just one proviso."

With those words, Mina appeared in Jaina's vision, and showed her a bottle of familiar-looking liquid. Jaina groaned twice. The first groan was an instant reaction to the news that she was going to be tormented by Mina's fine-boned hand. The second groan surprised Jaina, for it was a groan of arousal. She realised that she was associating the liquid with the forthcoming action of pleasure and rapture, and responding to it in a similar way that her sheep reacted to the sight of a bag of grain.

Mina saw the glint in her captive audience's eye, and wrongly assumed that it was for her. After gently raising the bottle to Jaina's lips and encouraging her to drink, she raised up Jaina's smock until her modesty was revealed.

"I would like you to spread your legs," Mina said politely, though Jaina did notice that it was not a question or a request, more of a flat statement. Jaina shuffled as best she could, and was forced to straighten her legs at the knee to avoid any excessive strain upon her neck. She shivered as she felt Mina's hand rest on her bottom, reminding her of how the Baron still obeyed his oath of not touching. Jaina was about to realise that Mina's hands were just as expert as her own. Gentle coaxing of her intimate area provoked an instant response, which Mina coarsely described in detail, correctly guessing that the humiliation would embarrass and arouse Jaina even more. It was a small, innocent comment that made Jaina's legs buckle, however. Mina said, "You're only here because of him," and this realisation sent butterflies to Jaina's stomach. She could picture him as though he was in the room, standing before her, looking sternly upon her, forbidding her to achieve pleasure. Her big blue eyes looked up, but there was no-one there. Behind her, Mina had crouched beneath Jaina's rump, who could feel her soft, rhythmic breath against her private area.

For the second time, Mina gave a plain statement. "I am going to lick you now, so I would like you to keep your legs apart." And then the black-haired girl paused, reflecting how tortuous it must be for Jaina to be pleasured in such a way, yet not stopping. She wanted to test the strength of the potion, and pit it against her own devious knowledge of a woman's intimate anatomy. Her tongue lapped thirstily at Jaina's most sensitive part, which was already painfully inflamed after a week's exertions. As she came up for breath, her mouth moist with the Jaina's fluid, Mina guessed aloud that her friend must be throbbing and aching all over. She went on to surmise that it was a shame that the potion meant that she could not be allowed to just continue for that final fraction.

Between sobs and lungfuls of air, Jaina hesitantly asked Mina if there was any penalty for insulting her. Mina beamed from between Jaina's legs, stated truthfully that there was no such punishment, and then received a torrent of abuse that both shocked and stimulated her.

"My dear, I think you've had enough fun for tonight. I shall leave you for an hour or two."

Mina straightened the smock over Jaina's unprotected body, and daintily made her way from the room, leaving the screen door open. Jaina moaned softly as the rabid audience of ne'er-do-wells congregated by the bars once more.

The Baron and the Shepherdess – Part III

The Baron gave Jaina a day to rest – this was essential for her, for after spending all night in the pillory, she could barely stand to tend her sheep. She used the time to lie in bed, dreaming of him and how she could convince him to stop using the potion. She knew he was powerful - perhaps he would like to demonstrate that power in some other way? A plan began to formulate in her devious, feminine mind.

He sent for her after the day's rest, and told her to resume her position naked underneath the sheets. As he brought the bottle to her, she sighed at him, and smiled politely. "Sire, I will drink from the bottle if I must, but would it not be more of a challenge for you to prevent me from my desire for a release in some other way?"

"Such as, my dear?" The Baron was intrigued. Jaina's heart leapt.

"Sire, if you instruct me to simply stop my frustrated rubbing when I am as close as I can get, then I will fulfill your regrettable desires without recourse to any potion."

The Baron mused this for a moment, before nodding. "Very well," he said, then in a firmer voice: "Begin."

Jaina stifled a grin as she began to pleasure herself, knowing that this time, finally, she would achieve her innermost wish. Within only a moment, due to the soft, satin sheets and the Baron's deep, passionate voice, she was purring with delight. At the back of her mind, she worked through the steps of her plan. She was to continue beyond the point at which he instructed her to stop, for she knew that he would still maintain his oath of not laying a finger upon her person. By the time that he could call for guards or Mina, she would have triumphed over her the infuriating barrier that the potion had provided. Any subsequent punishment would surely be worth that moment of liberation, she had argued with herself.

She was getting closer, and she told him so, but he recognised the signs of this from staring into her bright blue eyes and noticing the twitching of the sheets that covered her body. He was ready with his instruction, and wanted it to be timed at the right moment to have the greatest impact. His mind imagined the workings of her brain and her fingers, and he got a surge of excitement from working without the potion. He cleared his throat and said: "Jaina, I do not want you to release your joy."

Jaina smiled at the Baron, and bit her lip. "Sire, I cannot, I must continue." She proceeded to rub herself faster.

The Baron stood from his chair. "You disobey me?" he asked, his voice tinted with surprise, not anger. "I ordered you not to climax," he confirmed.

She felt as though he was King Knut trying to command the tide from coming in. Nothing would stop her from rubbing herself. But then, just as she was on the edge, she stopped. She waited a moment, and tried to rub again, but stopped again. It was as though some invisible force was preventing her from continuing. The Baron looked on, silently, watching the disbelief grow in her eyes. He did not smile or frown, his face was impassive.

"I c-can't go on," she sobbed. "M-my body won't let me. But I must. I feel I might die if I don’t!"

Still he said nothing. She cast the sheets from the bed, revealing her naked frame, for she wondered if their weight was preventing her somehow. For a third time, she disobeyed him and rubbed herself, tears of shame and embarrassment streaming down her cheeks. The Baron could see the redness and hear the dampness of Jaina, now scratching herself and pinching at her own flesh in desperation. But she could not get to the final point. She looked up at him once more; her face beautifully dazed and confused, sighed "Oh," at him, and fainted.

When she awoke, she was sitting up in bed, surrounded by Mina, the Baron, and a mysterious woman who she correctly guessed was Curious One, the magician. She looked at them all, but when her gaze fell upon the eyes of the Baron, she looked down at her lap, ashamed. "I'm sorry, sire."

The Baron spoke. "Jaina, I will forgive you your disobedience this time, given that you did not disobey my deepest wish, which was that you could not completely satisfy your womanly craving. After you fainted," continued the Baron, "I called for Mina to revive you, and I also asked for Curious One to come, to see if she could explain what happened. I feared that it was as a result of taking the potion. I love you, my dear, so if the potion hurt you in any way, I would throw myself from the tower and dash myself on the rocks below."

Curious One looked to the Baron, then to Jaina, and bared her teeth in a wide grin. "I have a confession to make, sire," she said. "There is no potion that can prevent a woman from performing this passionate act. What I provided to you was merely coloured, flavoured water. Before you interrupt, Jaina, let me continue, I implore you. I knew of your passion for the Baron, and I suspected that you would be willing to submit your entire being to him. I was correct. Only through the will of one to whom she is devoted, only then will a woman be able to deny herself that which she craves most. Only through his direct instruction that you must not take it, only that will stop you from taking it." She turned to the Baron. "The potion was merely a reminder of that, and I fear that Jaina believed the potion more than she believed you, sire. When the potion was gone, she was not disobedient, for you did not order her to stop rubbing, did you, sire? Your order was for her not to finish her pleasure. Deep inside her heart, she still knew that she had to obey. That is her glory, but it is also her curse."

While the Baron and Jaina were casting glances at each other, trying to confirm Curious One's words, Mina sighed and began to speak. She too directed her words at the Baron. "Sire, I too have a confession. I am here as your servant, that is true, but I also serve another. You see, you are betrothed to my aunt, my father's sister. Fortunately, I take my appearance from my mother's side of the family, so there was no chance of you uncovering my deception. I was here to see what type of man you were, and I discovered that you were the most honourable man that I know. I know that you only wish to marry my aunt to prevent a war, sire, but I am compelled to intervene after hearing this tale. I believe that if I talk to my aunt, who has a romantic soul despite her stern countenance, I would be able to convince her that you have found your soul mate in a shepherdess, and she would be willing to remove the threat of war from your shoulders. All she would want in return is a seat at your wedding. However,” she paused, “there is one more stumbling block. Sire, I know we have not talked of him, but Jaina is already betrothed to another," Mina ended her speech quietly, not sure how to resolve this final problem.

"Oh sire," chirped Jaina, "I believe that I can solve this conundrum, for as I tended my sheep this morn, I am sure that I observed my fiancé taking his masculine pleasure on young Belinda."

"Very well, then he shall marry Belinda!" cried the Baron. "Dash his infidelity!"

"But sire, Belinda is my most favoured sheep."

There was a moment's silence, after which the gales of laughter began to peal from all four occupants of the bed. Catching his love's eye once more, and seeing the light in her eyes, the Baron waited no longer.

“Mina,” he said, though his dark brown eyes did not waver from Jaina’s. “My oath was to not touch Jaina for I was betrothed to another. In your wise opinion, am I free from this oath?”

“Oh yes, sire!” clapped Mina.

“Very well then,” he replied, and unprecedented warmth was in his voice. Sliding between Mina and Curious One, he held Jaina's head to his chest, sinking his face to kiss the flaxen hair that he had longed to touch for so long. They embraced fully, finally. His shirt and her hair both became damp from the tears of joy that were wept, and they held each other forever.

The End.