St. Freja's Abbey, Saxony, 1189 A.D.

[Kyle_Narshadaa]

Fat Gerta

(Wish there was some facesitting here !)



Resting her hands on her wide hips, the abbess, Fat Gerta, closely
scrutinized the young man sitting before her. "You are young for a
journeyman carpenter, are you not?" She handed the lad a cup of ale.
"I assure you, Reverend Mother, I have completed my apprenticeship.
I learned my trade from none other than Master Albert Runz of
Dornsberg, the finest carpenter in Saxony. You may see my work here
in Aarnsbruck, in the church pulpit, and also in the gateway to Count
Falke's residence."
"I have seen them, Master Hans, and they are fine works indeed." He
was a handsome young lad, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, small of
stature but well-built, with curly brown hair and earnest,
innocent-looking brown eyes. Fat Gerta, despite her fifty years of
age, was not insensitive to his good looks. He made her feel warm.
She went to draw herself a cup of the cool ale, bending over the keg
beside the cupboard. Straightening up, she glimpsed his face in the
looking-glass on the wall: the young man's eyes were fixed on her big
bum. She smiled to herself, feeling pleasantly flushed. Their eyes
met in the mirror, and the lad quickly looked down. She turned back
toward him, and took a deep draught of ale. Was that an erection
poking up beneath the apron of his shirt? What a rare and sweet
young lad, she thought, to feel desire for me, and I old enough to be
his grandam.
"Indeed, you do fine work," she continued, returning to the business
at hand. "But this is a much bigger task. The panelling in the main
hall was destroyed in the fire last winter, as you saw. The remaining
panelling, in the cells and chapel, is half-rotten. In short, nearly
the whole abbey must be refurbished, and fine carving work is required
in the chapel. Here at this abbey we serve the Blessed Saviour," her
voice now dropping to a murmur, "but we also serve the old gods, as we
have done since before the days of Charles the Great -- I tell you
this privily; many in the Church do not sanction the old practices --
and so we require figures of Freja, and Wotan, and so on, cunningly
carved in the wainscoting, so that the eye does not light upon them
unless looking for them; but if one looks for them one sees them
everywhere. Are you able to take on a task of this size, to our
satisfaction?"
"Aye, Mother. I have done such work before, in Master Runz's
service, for the brothers at Wolund Abbey. It will take me longer
working by myself -- at least till Candlemas next year -- but I shall
be able to do it. And I am pleased to carve something in the service
of Blessed Freja and the old ones. What are the wages, Mother?"
"Six marks in silver, plus cost of the woods, and you shall have bed
and board here at the abbey while you complete your work." Hans' mind
reeled. Nearly two year's bed and board, no tramping about the
countryside searching for work in the midst of winter, and six marks
free and clear at the end of it. With that money, he could open his
own shop. And the abbess, though clearly nobody's fool, was a kind
women, and a devotee of Freja; in sum, a good person to work for. He
must be careful not to stare lustfully at her again. But her huge,
soft bottom was so enticing.
"Agreed," he bowed respectfully, driving away these thoughts, "and
much obliged for your custom, Mother; I shall do my utmost to satisfy
you in every detail." He raised his alecup to hers, and they drained
them, sealing the bargain before Wotan. She had done well, the abbess
thought, to find this young journeyman; the master carpenter in Becken
had wanted twenty marks for the job. And this lad was far easier on
the eyes.
"As I say, it is a big task," she continued. A mischievous smile
played over her lips. "But if you like big things, I daresay there are
other big things, here in the abbey, that could use your attentions."
Her eyes twinkling, she coyly ran her hands over her bosom and hips,
as though smoothing out her habit.
Hans smiled back, shyly, his heart pounding, unsure of her intent.
Well, there was only one way to find out. "Mother, I ... if I take
your meaning aright, I would say that, er, the bigger the size of
your, er, tasks, the firmer is my, er, resolve to satisfy you."
Fat Gerta beamed. "By Freja's womb, you are a gallant and sweet
young man, Master Hans. And I find your boldness charming." She
kissed him on the lips; he stood, trembling, taking her in his arms,
feeling the lush softness of her body. She could now clearly feel his
hardening prick pressing against her belly. "Nay," she giggled,
reluctantly disengaging from him, "we may not grapple in earnest here,
sweetheart; we might be seen. This abbey isn't strict about chastity;
but some show of discretion must be observed, or the bishop will hear
of it and be obliged to reform us. Come now, let us take our supper
with the sisters. I wish you to be well-fed; for I will put you to
some strenuous work tonight."

The guest room in which Hans was lodged was adjacent to the abbess's
cell, with a connecting doorway. And so it was a simple matter for
him to slip into her room when, after vespers, Fat Gerta tapped on his
door. She had removed her habit and wimple, and stood before him
wearing only a fine linen shift, her grey-blond hair hanging down her
back in two thick braids.
"Come, lad," she cooed, "I've had a bath drawn for us. Shall I wash
you?" She gestured to a large wooden tub, with steam rising from the
water, beside the large curtained bed.
Hans hastily pulled off his belt, shirt and hosen, stepping into the
tub and sinking down in the hot water. The abbess took a flannel,
steeped in soapwort, and began lathering his shoulders and chest,
kissing him, and murmuring, "Such a gorgeous young lad!", such that he
began to feel bashful. But the bashfulness soon gave way to lust,
particularly when she bade him stand up and began washing his
buttocks, and then his male organ, sliding her soapy fingers over it,
till it was rock-hard and throbbing in her hand.
Rinsing off the soap, she said, "Close your eyes, sweetheart: I have
a nice treat for you." Suddenly, he felt his prick engulfed in the
warm wetness of her mouth. He came almost at once, spurting his hot
semen onto her tongue, as his knees buckled and he braced himself
against the sides of the tub, panting. She released his now limp
organ, wiping a strand of come from her lips, grinning from ear to
ear. "Did you like that, sweet?" He nodded weakly, smiling, and sank
back into the water.
"Come, then, it's your turn to wash me, ere we go to bed." She drew
the shift up over her head in one smooth movement, and climbed, naked,
into the bath with him.
Limp as Hans had been a moment ago, he quickly revived upon seeing
this abundance of soft, rosy-pink female flesh before him. Ah, gods!
how lovely she was! Her heavy, pendulous breasts were covered with a
delicate tracery of feint blue veins, and capped with large nipples
the color of coral; her belly was full and round; her female parts
were prominent, covered with a thick, shaggy forest of hair; her
buttocks were so voluminous, so broad that he could barely span her
with his arms; her thighs were thick and beefy. The abbess immersed
herself in the water, and then stood before him. Finding the soapy
flannel, he began washing down her back. She took his hands in hers,
and guided them round her thick waist, up to her soft, heavy breasts.
Snuggling tight against her, he kissed her neck and ear as he kneaded
her breasts.
"By the gods," he whispered, "I've never felt anything this
wonderful."
"Ah," she cooed, "I am glad that you are pleased with my big floppy
teats. You are a tender and ardent lover, Hans. Have you had many
paramours?"
"Nay, Mother, you are the first."
"Why, gentle lamb, how sweet of you to offer your first-fruits of
love to cheer a lonely old woman such as I."
He took up the flannel again, and began washing her immense buttocks
and thighs. Her pubic hair grew all the way back here, poking out
from between her buttocks like grass in the chink of a stone wall.
Leaning forward slightly, she spread her cheeks for him, allowing him
to run the flannel deep within the fur-lined crevice of her arse, down
into her lovely cunt.
"You are pleased with my large bum, are you not?" she cooed. "I saw
you gazing at it this afternoon."
"Aye, loveliest Mother," he whispered hoarsely. "I meant no
disrespect, but I cannot keep my eyes from it."
"Enough washing, sweetheart; let us to bed now," she whispered
urgently. Rinsing off and stepping out of the tub, she dried herself
with a linen towel, and Hans did the same.
Fat Gerta climbed into the four-poster bed, rolling onto her belly
and spreading her thick thighs. Reaching back, she stroked her
backside. "Love, kiss me here," she cooed. Hans needed no further
invitation. Scrambling between her thighs, he began showering her
huge, jiggling buttocks with kisses, as she giggled, squirmed and
cooed with pleasure beneath him. At first Hans alternated his kisses,
going from one buttock to another. Then he began kissing and licking
each lovely little dimple that graced the abbess's nether-cushion; and
soon he was rubbing his whole face against the soft warm flesh, as he
kneaded the cheeks with his hands. Like a swimmer caught in a
whirlpool, he was inexorably drawn inward, towards the sweet, furry
abyss. Spreading her cheeks, he asked, "Mother, may I kiss you in
here, too?"
"Oh, aye! Please!"
Joyfully, the lad buried his face in the crack, nuzzling, kissing,
licking, till his tongue found her anus. Fat Gerta squealed, "Aye!",
and Hans easily slid his tongue inside. The abbess's clitoris was
urgently begging for release, and she reached under her belly,
frantically rubbing it, while her lover's hot wet tongue burrowed in
her bunghole, licking, sucking, caressing. The orgasm caught her like
a summer thunderstorm: sudden, violent, breathtaking. When she opened
her eyes again, he was lying beside her.
"Did I give you pleasure, Mother?"
"Did you ever!" she laughed, kissing his mouth and taking him into
her arms. "You are the most skillful lover I've ever had; yet you say
I'm your first. Freja herself must be your instructress."
"Your body instructs me, beloved Mother."
She rolled over onto her back. "Come, love," she cooed. Eagerly, he
climbed between her legs, and she wrapped her thick thighs round his
waist, pulling him down upon the softness of her belly, his hard prick
nestling in the hairy thicket of her loins.
"Aye, love, put it in me now. Ohhhhhh!! Prick me deep, love. Ohh!
Blessed Freja, this is sweeter than ..." And then there was only the
rhythmic sound of her cries, and the creaking of the bed, as she
rocked her huge hips beneath him, meeting his urgent thrusts. As her
cries blended into one long scream of pleasure, he felt the love of
her overtake his body, and he emptied himself deep within her.
For a long time, they clung to each other in silence, his slender
body riding upon her heaving belly like a ship upon the ocean. At
last the abbess laughed, "I see that you are indeed a fine carpenter,
for you nailed my arse perfectly."
She sat up, and poured out two cups of ale from a jug upon the night
stand. "Let this refresh you." They both drained their cups in one
draught. He began kissing her mouth, savouring the sweet-sour taste
of the ale on her tongue, the softness of her lips against his,
sharing the very air that she breathed. At last he began planting
light kisses on her forehead and eyelids.
"Sweet love, Freja bless you," she cooed gratefully. "Now, let us
say our prayers together ere we sleep; for I would thank the gods for
sending you to me."

At dawn the next morning, a black-robed friar rapped sharply at the
gate of the abbey. Fat Gerta, still sleeping naked in Hans' arms (for
in truth, they had slept little, and made love much, during the
night), was hastily roused by her trusted confidante, Sister Amelia.
The abbess sent Hans back into his guest room, while she threw on her
habit. A minute later, she strode down to the scriptorium where the
friar was awaiting her. A black-robed Dominican. Fat Gerta felt
uneasy.
"Ah, Reverend Mother Gertrude von Roheim," he smiled icily. He was
tall and lanky, with a face like a vulture. "It is a privilege to
meet you."
"You are welcome, Brother ... ?"
"Brother Otto von Thalen." The smile fled from Fat Gerta's face.
"Ah, I see you have heard of me." This was the man who had organized
the "reform" of St. Stefan's Abbey in Becken. Twenty monks, including
the abbott, had been starved to death as "penance" for pagan
practices.
"What can we do for a famous Dominican preacher, in our humble
abbey?"
"Come, Mother, flattery softens the ungodly, but not men of God.
You know very well what the mission of the Dominicans is: to protect
the purity of the holy Church." All pretense of politeness left him.
"It is rumored that this abbey has lapsed into the foulest paganism
and witchcraft," he snarled. "Do you deny it?"
Fat Gerta drew herself up in a cold rage. "Whoever says we have
lapsed is a liar. We faithfully observe the order imposed by the
founder of this abbey, and we serve St. Freja." (This was true: for
the founder of the abbey, Irmengarde von Bisalia, back in the eighth
century, had worshipped the old gods, as had every nun of St. Freja
since. And what was the difference between St. Freja and the goddess
Freja?)
"Ah, but of course, you being the abbess are the leader of these foul
rites, and so you deny it. But I will interrogate every nun here,
under torture if necessary, till I get the truth. I advise you to
confess now, and seek mercy, before --" The Dominican's nose twitched
oddly. "By Christ's blood, you smell of fornication, woman!"
Fat Gerta went to a chest in the corner and fetched a certain
document. She handed it to the Dominican. His face turned beet-red
as he read: it was from the Archbishop of Mainz, exempting the abbey
in perpetuity from any external examinations and inquisitions.
He threw the document back at her. "What did you pay the archbishop
for this exemption, witch?"
"That is a grave slander against the archbishop, which he shall hear
of. In the meantime, I command you to leave my abbey. NOW, you
vulture-faced black-robe!" A group of nuns, who had gathered in the
doorway, burst out laughing. "And if I see you again on the grounds
of this abbey, I'll set the hounds on you!"
The Dominican sullenly turned and, pushing through the crowd of
jeering nuns, walked out to the courtyard.
"Three cheers for Fat Gerta!" Sister Maria shouted. "Hurrah!" the
other nuns joined in, lifting the big woman up on their shoulders and
noisily carrying her down to the chapel for matins.

A week later, Hans was in Aarnsbruck for the day. He had just
finished haggling with the lumber merchant over a large order of
panelling wood. Feeling thirsty, he stopped in at the tavern for a
pint of stout. A tall black-robed friar sat down across from him.
"Master Hans Carpenter, is it?" the friar smiled. "I am Brother
Otto."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Brother Otto. Will you take a
pint of beer with me, for the love of God?" The abbess, of course,
had told Hans all about the snooping Dominican, but Hans thought it
safe to play dumb.
"Why, thank you. You are now working at the Abbey of St. Freja, are
you not?"
"That is so. I'm refurbishing the panelling that was burnt last
winter."
The Dominican leaned closer. "You appear to be an honest Christian
lad. And you are not from this heathen place. I would be obliged if
you would keep your eyes and ears open at the abbey. Anything hinting
of heathen practices, if you know what I mean. I also have reason to
believe that the holy-seeming abbess of St. Freja is in truth a
fornicating whore." Hans stifled a smile. "There's a substantial
amount of money in it for you, if you can tell me what I need to know.
More than the nuns are paying you, I'll warrant."
"The nuns are paying me six marks of silver."
The Dominican blanched. "Very well then. I'll pay seven. In return
for useful information."
"I'll keep my ears open, Brother Otto. But I can't believe that the
abbess is as you say. Why, she seems a very model of virtue to me."
"Nay, Master Hans, appearances can be deceiving. But keep your eyes
open, and tell me what you learn. I'm staying at the inn. You,
Master Hans, may be the key, the key I say, to saving St. Freja's
abbey, and this whole town, from great sin."

That evening, Hans and Fat Gerta both convulsed with laughter as he
related the whole story to her. As he kissed his way down her soft
belly, she laughed again, "I'll cook a sauce to roast that vulture in.
Now, give my cunt a good licking, love, and I'll show you what a
fornicating whore I truly am."

A few days later, Hans knocked at the door of Brother Otto's room at
the inn.
"Who in God's name ... oh, Master Hans, do come in. Sit down. Have
you any information for me?"
"Aye, Brother Otto. I would not have thought it possible. The most
fiendish practices imaginable, in a Christian abbey!"
"Now, calm down lad. Explain carefully. What practices?"
"Why, worship of Satan himself, at vespers every evening. Instead of
saying 'Our Father which art in Heaven,' I heard the nuns chanting
'Our Devil which art in Hell'!
"No! This is better than I suspected."
"But wait; there are worse things! Every Friday night, as a mockery
of Our Lord's passion, the nuns crucify a dog!"
"No! I've never heard of such a fiendish practice." The Dominican
seemed positively gleeful.
"Seeing is believing, Brother Otto. I myself saw them do it last
Friday. They preserve the remains of the dogs in a barrel of spirits,
in the southeast corner of the refectory. For what hellish purpose
they use the dead dogs, I dared not inquire."
"No doubt, for some wicked spells of necromancy and demonolatry," the
friar intoned.
"And that abbess, as you said, is no chaste bride of Christ, but is
reputed to be the mistress of one Adelbert Schwenk, and has born a
bastard child to him."
"Excellent, excellent! No one else in this town has dared to speak a
word to me against these foul witches. Either the townsfolk are
heathens themselves, or they are so terrified of this whoring abbess
that they fear to denounce her. And that fool of a bishop told me I'd
find no heathenism in Aarnsbruck! But you, Master Hans, are a good
Christian lad. I believe you've earned this." The friar opened a
strong box, counted out seven silver marks, and gave them to Hans.

That Friday night, as expected, the Dominican burst into the abbey,
accompanied by Bishop Oswald and several of Count Falke's men-at-arms.
"To the chapel!" the friar screamed, as though leading a cavalry
charge. The nuns were gathered there, chanting vespers. The chanting
stopped as the Dominican and his company poured in.
"What is the meaning of this?" Fat Gerta boldly demanded.
"Now, my good bishop, you shall see the hellish depravity of this
abbey, for which your lax oversight is responsible. Behold, they mock
Christ's passion by crucifying a dog!"
"I see no dog, Brother Otto, do you?" the bishop responded dryly.
"But, there must be a dog here."
"I see no dog. I see only the holy sisters assembled for vespers,
according to the rule of their order. What madness is this of yours,
Brother Otto, to drag us here and interrupt their prayers."
"Nay, but you will see! In the refectory, in the southeast corner.
Come! Before they destroy the evidence."
The whole company, and the nuns, trooped down to the refectory. The
Dominican stood triumphantly beside a large barrel.
"In here, illustrious bishop, you will find the remains of crucified
dogs, for use in hellish spells of necromancy. Behold the proof!"
The bishop lifted the lid. "The barrel is full of soapy water."
Fat Gerta again spoke up, "For the washing of plates and cups, good
friar." By now everyone but the Dominican was laughing.
"Nay, you whore! Do not jeer at a man of God! It is known that you
are the mistress of Adelbert Schwenk, and have born a brood of
bastards to him. Do you dare deny it?" At the mention of Adelbert
Schwenk, the whole room erupted into raucous laughter.
"Friar, enough of this nonsense!" the bishop roared. "The late
Adelbert Schwenk was well-known in this town as a lover of men. You
have made ridiculous and malicious accusations against the good
sisters of this abbey, and Abbess Gertrude in particular, contrary to
the express orders of the archbishop. I will bring charges of slander
and disobedience against you before the ecclesiastical court, and I
will see to it that you are defrocked. In the meantime, I order you
to apologize to the abbess, and then let us leave the good nuns in
peace."
"Apologize, to this witch? Never! What have you done with the
carpenter?!"
"Enough madness! Sergeant, place this rogue under arrest and hold
him in Count Falke's dungeon until we return to my residence." The
Dominican was led off, still shouting, "She has bewitched the
carpenter; I know it!"
"And now, good sisters, let us return to the chapel," ordered Fat
Gerta, "to conclude our interrupted service."
"My dear Gerta," the bishop said quietly, "by Freja's blessed womb, I
apologize for this intrusion."
"Well, at least that mad Dominican can do us no more harm. Alas for
the brothers of St. Stefan's."
"My dear, it is late, and my residence is far. Can you provide me
lodging for the night?"
"Of course, dear Oswald; you are always welcome here."
"Might there still be room in your bed for me, after all these years?
I miss your cuddling, my dear."
"Alas, dear old friend, my heart belongs to another these days.
Sister Amelia's affections are free, though. Give her a good lusty
romp in bed, and I will forgive you this unmannerly intrusion."
"Certainly, my dear. With pleasure."

In bed that night with Hans, Fat Gerta was melancholy, despite her
triumph over the Dominican.
"What is it, dear Mother?" asked Hans, kissing and nuzzling her bare
breasts.
"You have your seven marks now. You wanted to open your own shop. I
cannot keep you here if you wish to leave."
"Beloved, I have a year and a half of work here at the abbey yet.
Why speak of me leaving now?"
"When you are my age, dear Hans, you will understand that a year and
a half is no time at all. Sooner or later you will leave your fat old
abbess, go out and seek your fortune, and marry and start a family.
But I have come to love you, my sweet, and I cannot bear to give you
up." Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Mother, do you not understand that I love you too? When I finish my
work here, I will set up shop here in Aarnsbruck, a stone's throw from
the abbey; and, if you permit, I'll come back to your bed every night.
I could not happily sleep anywhere but in your arms, my love."
Fat Gerta took his hand in hers and kissed it. Smiling through her
tears she said, "I knew blessed Freja sent me a rare lover; but I did
not know how rare and precious you are until this moment." They
kissed. She began to feel his hard, hot prick poking her big soft
belly. "Are you ready again so soon?" He nodded, grinning.

- Le Fin