III

Rise, claim the dawn;

Work, take the day;

Sleep, receive the night.

–Hollis Bentwich of Larne

Seeing people fuck for the first time did not shock the curly golden-maned little girl; she'd often overheard, if not seen, copulations in the great hall of Fariddan's Keep, whence almost everyone but the stable hands and guards slept communally. Even so, upon following her natural curiosity to discern and understand these goings-on, Ehlia had not been very good at heeding her now dead mother's advice to ignore it and go to sleep. Thus, not a lot more time passed ere she no longer forgot about it come daylight, so, her mother had finally disclosed that it was how people made babies, just as animals did.

Of course, she'd also seen barnyard critters mate, and so now, at barely an age – nine summers old – began to take closer note of barnyard creatures and her father's horses mounting or pursuing one another. For she intuited some differences; for example, why did people try to hide it when animals did not? Why was one supposed to look away from people doing it, yet almost no one admonished animals when they copulated seemingly everywhere? And how come people didn't have babies every time they did it – moreover how it took months for bellies to swell ere a squalling infant squirted from between a woman's legs or a foal dropped from a mare? It was all quite maddening so figure out.

Thus, Ehlia continued to investigate surreptitiously, but had been unable to make out anything in the near-full dark of the great hall beyond inane sounds from under piles of blankets and furs; nor had she much success spying on animals, since they would invariably quit at her approach, often to slink away seemingly guiltily. Why? In any case, anon she took little notice of either, her insatiable minding seeking other assuagement.

Curiosity returned this day, however, once she discerned that the confusing jumble of animated clothing in the stable's straw pile was not some two-headed monster but two people, both of whom she knew (as expected in a small hold). The blonde head, wimple askew, belonged to none other than Rhulla, the milkmaid, who, bent forward at the waist and bracing herself by gripping a post, had apparently been mounted from behind – much as a stallion does a mare – by Darlan, one of the young herdsmen. The grunting and moaning alone may have given their game away, despite it being quieter during the night, and otherwise similar noises heard only when her brothers sparred against one another and their squires in the practise yard. Their words, however, struck her odd:

"Yes!" Rhulla exhorted. "Fuck me with that big tool, you whoreson!"

"Yeah... ooooh! Here it comes, wench. I'm gonna stretch you good!"

Ehlia's natural inquisitiveness overcame her momentary confusion; something different again, she instinctively knew. She felt funny inside, as if she had (again) just gotten away with helping herself to a large chunk of the day's first loaves of barley bread fresh out of the keep's oven, and then, topped with a generous dollop of butter from Rhulla – her usual conspirator in such childish thievery – escaped to enjoy it and the view on the keep's roof. The distinction, she felt, was in the enjoyment she sensed; she knew that this act, at least, did not have the singular goal of producing young. Part of the reason she'd lost interest in figuring out the mystery involved how it seemed to her young mind that fucking mayhap be painful – as witnessed by cats' yowling and hissing and fighting, chickens squawking and racing about the yard, mares and cows likewise oft trying to escape their paramours and even kicking them, both prior to and during the act. Withal, it struck her just now that people must do it for some reason aside from begetting babies; mayhap it was not as unpleasant as it appeared or sounded?

Naturally, she wished to ascertain more, thus the girl approached the rutting couple, demanding, "What are you doing?"

Both yelped – almost identical in pitch – a sudden burst of activity dividing the two-headed beast, revealing to the child's wide eyes a blur of drab garments and white flesh, punctuated by pinkish and reddened spots and implements too quickly hidden once more.

"Ehlia—M-Milady!" the milkmaid blurted. "W-We... that is, w-we were..."

Though young, as the daughter of their liege-lord, the Errai of Ælwyn, the young girl was still nobility – even at the lowest Aldebberani rank of nobility behind a duke, eorl, and so on.

Darlan's face, red and sweaty, betrayed embarrassment as he hitched up trousers, cinched rope-belt. Said nothing, appeared as though he wished to bolt. They both should be elsewhere; she churning cream or something, he out in the pastures with the animals in his care.

"You were what?" Ehlia challenged, although she knew – to some degree. "Why are you trying to make a baby? Are you going to get married?"

"Yes," answered Darlan.

"No," Rhulla responded simultaneously.

They looked at one another, the boy surprised and seemingly hurt, the older girl merely flustered.

"Why not?" the boy challenged.

"To whit, you're younger than me, and—"

"That didn't stop you from—"

"No matter. This can't happen again."

Feeling suddenly ignored, Ehlia interjected petulantly, "I asked you a question!" She glared from one to the other, arms akimbo. "I want to know!" Stamped a small foot clad in a delicate felt slipper into the soiled straw of the byre.

"Y-Yes, milady. We were... f—um... m-making love."

"No, you weren't – you were mating." Ehlia had yet to learn the vulgar – or respectable – terms for the act. And she knew the different kinds of 'love'; like how you loved you parents versus your nasty brothers. "If you don't want a baby and you aren't getting married, why are you mating?"

"Ehh..." the milkmaid replied, "b-because... it feels good?"

Ah... As she suspected... "Show me," the child demanded next.

"M-Milady? We... We couldn't p-possibly... You're too young to—"

"Not me, stupid wench – I don't want a baby! You two! Do it again."

"M-Milady?" they echoed one another.

"You heard me. I command it."

Torches on nearby posts guttered as they attempted to comply, Darlan tentatively dropping breeches once more, Rhulla assisting, both appearing equal parts nervous and eager as the milkmaid pulled away the boy's hands from shielding privates. Fascinated, Ehlia watched as the she chafed the boy's half-limp member, tentatively putting it into her mouth as if it were a teat from which she sought milk – although Ehlia knew that milk would not be found therefrom.

She'd seen penises often enow, of course; had five brothers after all, and she and her siblings had shared a bed since each outgrew the cradle. Not all at once, of course; that would've been crowded. Presently only four, including three of her brothers and herself – Ehlia being youngest save one, Jordy, who was about a half an age, or almost five summers. Moreover, at one time or another they'd all bathed together too; or at least one after the other, since the small wooden tub before the open fire in the great hall – the only room in the small keep save guardhouse and kitchen – could simultaneously accommodate only a single body of virtually any size. At present, however, her two older brothers, Shrader and Berne, took their (infrequent) baths, along with meals, in the guards' quarters, whence they spent most of their time when not practising arms in the bailey or otherwise hunting or on patrol with their father. Else, they all swam in Boles Pond, as most others their age did – during the short Aldebberani summers, anyway.

Of course, Ehlia's deceased mother had informed her of the physical differences between boys and girls long before she had told her any reason why they must be so. Thus, Ehlia had acquaintance, if not familiarity, with male anatomy, even stiff members – which she'd always viewed with badly suppressed mirth – and never thought much about the subject beyond slight envy at males' ability to piss up against wall or tree with breeches barely dropped, while she had to squat with smallclothes all but removed. Not to mention generally needing a wipe, as opposed to a shake or two. The preteen simply lacked complete information.

Which she would seek now.

She felt hot, a bit dizzy, heard a rush in her ears, as the older girl successfully brought the youth's appendage to full attention. It no longer bore much resemblance to any little boy's prick Ehlia had heretofore seen; neither did it compare to, say, a horse's, albeit Ehlia instinctively knew this to be an unfair contrast, horses being much bigger than humans, withal, despite having nothing else by which to judge.

Either way, for the nonce she'd been struck dumb as the elder girl continued her ministrations, and forgot exactly what she'd bade them do whilst vaguely sensing this was not fucking, exactly. Moaning, Darlan appeared to have trouble remaining on his feet as his prick disappeared half its length down the girl's throat. Ehlia's bafflement only increased as Rhulla appeared to enjoy what she was doing, yet the younger girl could not imagine why – it was disgusting! Where he pissed from? For his part, the youthful groom obviously revelled; he began to thrust, causing the milkmaid to gag. She backed off, a series of groans venting from the boy as she pumped him with both fists instead, pointing the deadly looking prick right at her face. Suddenly gushes of milky fluid erupted from it, splashing the teen girl's cheek, hair, neck as she turned away, eyes closed, grimacing. He collapsed back into the hay pile as she wiped herself off with her wimple, expression a curious blend of distaste and delight.

Still speechless, Ehlia could only gape. The demonstration lent an entirely different meaning to the job of 'milkmaid' the youngster had never considered.

Vague sounds from outside in the bailey did not alarm them yet.

"I..." Rhulla began. "I'm sorry, milady. You... should not see th-that."

"Why...? What...?" The little errain still felt at a loss; stared at the other girl – readjusting her wimple about her head – to the boy, who wobbled barefoot in the filthy straw whilst attempting to stow half-hard appendage and pull up patched hempen breeches. "Stop!" she commanded.

He did so, prick partly stuffed down crotch as she approached, peering at it in the poorly lit stable.

"W-What do you... want?" the youth queried.

"What was that?" their young mistress demanded, looking from one to the other, chin up arrogantly.

Glancing at one another, the older girl replied, "Eh... That were f‑fucking, milady."

"No it was not."

"Eh, well... no," she admitted.

"I meant what did he—did...? Did he piss in your face?"

"Eh, no, milady."

"What, then?"

The maid replied, tone evincing some smugness, "He... eh... spurted. Came."

Ehlia's gaze affixed the boy's crotch, member still only partway inside breeches as he squirmed under the attention, trying to cover himself with both hands. Repeated, "What then?"

"It's... eh... a man's cream – wh-what... makes babies," the other girl replied.

Cream? What did that have to do with babies, other than how they drank it – milk, withal – from mothers' paps? It made no sense to the youngster, so she altered the direction of her questioning. "Why did she do that? Rhulla – why did you do that?"

"I... eh... H-He was h-having trouble..."

"Trouble with what?"

"Getting hard... Er... a boy has to get hard before..."

"Before what?"

"Fucking."

The surrounding noises became louder; had any of the three been less distracted, they would have heard shouting.

"Fucking?"

"Well, I mean, that was not fucking just then..." Rhulla confessed.

"What was it then?"

"Pricksucking."

"Ehh?" Their young mistress interrogated them further, but her bafflement only increased. "That's not how you make babies," she asserted. Although she did not know the whole truth, she felt right in that, at least. "I want you to make a baby. Show me!"

The couple protested their reluctance, Rhulla even attempting to tell the girl that boys needed time to recover after cumming – despite the boy's prick appearing to increase in proportion even as they discussed it, emerging from behind hands.

"Cumming?" Ehlia echoed. What do you mean?"

"What came out of his prick," the milkmaid explained, blushing further. "His cream – cum."

Their small mistress's frustration at their seeming evasiveness piqued. "Just do it!" she demanded, once more stamping her soft-shod foot in the dirty straw.

Despite her seeming hesitation, Rhulla licked her lips at the sight of the boy's cock once more jutting eagerly from behind hands. Pushing him supine in the hay pile and hiking up her gown, made to straddle him.

"I can't see!" protested Ehlia. "Let me see!"

The milkmaid's remaining disinclination fell away with underclothing; sinking to hands and knees, she grabbed his raging member, gave it a pump and lick or two, lifted and wriggled her rear, crevice winking lewdly in the half-light at her little social superior as she pulled him by the rod behind her. Darlan needed no prompting to leap up and resume his former position behind his partner, half-grunting, half-moaning as he unceremoniously thrust into her. Ehlia circled round the couple for a moment, trying for a better vantage. Still unable to see exactly what occurred, she got on all fours herself to peer beneath whence the older girls' bouncing generous breasts under hiked cotte threatened to knock her out. As the lad grunted and thrust, Rhulla's moans keeping time, Ehlia suddenly saw – though still not understanding fully – what was happening: His prick thrust in and out of her cunny!

They ignored yells from outside, punctuated with sounds of battle, all but obliterated by Rhulla's exhortations and Darlan's groans.

"Yes, yes, yes!" the milkmaid shouted, Darlan's stiff cock plunging repeatedly in and out of the milkmaid's encasing twat.

Ehlia's mother had told her the name of the female 'down there'. Although she of course had one too, never thought of putting anything into her cunny, despite her discovery some time ago that rubbing and probing gently at it felt good. Now, however—

She would not finish that thought, as the boy suddenly voiced a shout, a final lunge causing him to collapse atop his partner, who naturally enough crumpled onto the shocked younger girl beneath. Both flattened her into the dirty straw, almost completely covering her and knocking the wind from her such that she could not even shout her surprise. Mayhap just as well since the world suddenly exploded.

The barn door crashed in; sounds of heavy footfalls approached; muffled thuds of weapons connecting with flesh and bone; bodies atop her convulsed violently amid shrieks and curses. Ehlia heard Rhulla try to shout something after "NO—!" before the vocalisation abruptly severed and her body jerked; an ugly gurgle, another twitch or two ere both stilled on top of her. Instinctively, Ehlia held her breath as her senses returned; dared not move as the yelling and sounds of battle outside intensified, then lessened. When she no longer heard harsh voices or felt threatening presence, she dared breathe once more and try to squirm from under her immobile servants.

Immediately, Ehlia suffered assault from the foul taste of horse-cack and -piss permeating the filthy straw in her mouth; the iron smell of blood; the faint pungency of smoke. She sensed more than saw the fiery red-orange flicker; else all mostly dark and strangely silent as she remained mostly beneath the now dead – she felt certain – bodies. Her servants' life fluids trickled over her, soaking her shift, pulling bile into her throat as the unmistakable reek of humans' emptied bladders and bowels all at once overpowered that of animal excretions. She began to tremble, wishing desperately – as she had not for quite some time – for her mother. Then thought of her father... and brothers.

Yet, the keep had stilled, even as the smell of smoke, mixed with a promise of rain, intensified. Suppressing her fear and confusion, Ehlia worked out that Fariddan's Keep – her home – had been attacked; even now it burned. She could not imagine why or by whom; she only knew she must not remain, as the detached barn undoubtedly burned as well, and—

She realised that the straw pile on which they lay blazed! Suddenly energised, Ehlia had little trouble squirming from under the two corpses, slick as they were with gore – then immediately gagged. Darlan, breeches tangled about his ankles, had cacked himself; he now lay prone, head squashed in like a gourd, contents splashed across the stall and oozing over Rhulla. The milkmaid lay half beneath him, one arm nearly severed – doubtless having failed to intercept the sword thrust that pierced her throat. Vacant blue eyes stared with permanent shock at the smoky ceiling as blood seeped from her slack mouth – the mouth that had just—

Someone had tossed torches into piles of straw! Thankfully, too soiled and damp to burn readily – yet Ehlia knew she must get out regardless as flames began to consume at least three of the four walls, the open entrance not yet threatened. Rising, eyes burning, throat constricted from acrid smoke, tasting threatened vomit and lingering filth from straw and corpses, she slipped and staggered toward the open doorway. Fell before reaching it, crawled out; collapsed, lay for a moment, gasping, filling her lungs with relatively fresh air. Heat continued to rise, sparks whirling, so she knew she must get out – out of the bailey, through the gates into the countryside, hopefully not also afire.