Amanda's Revenge

by Johnny Pez and Kessily

Paris, March 1713

Amanda loved Paris.

She had first visited the city with her mentor Rebecca in 852. To the simple village girl she had been, the tightly packed houses and the great stone bridges spanning the Seine had seemed magnificent. When she finally left Rebecca to make her own way in the world, the first thing she did was return to Paris. She never wanted to leave, but of course, in a few years' time she had. Amanda always remembered her stay in Paris as a time of magic and wonder, and she had never managed to recapture that feeling.

The next time she saw Paris was only thirty years later, but by then she had traveled to Constantinople, Baghdad, and Seville, the great cities of the age. Paris hadn't changed, but she had. Now she knew it for what it was, a small, dirty town of a few thousand people huddled around its island fortress. By that time, too, the growing depredations of the Northmen had made the whole of the Kingdom of the Franks a place of peril. She had spent the next few centuries in the relative safety of the Greek lands.

When she finally saw Paris again, it was a pleasant surprise. She had expected to return to the squalid little town she had left in the 9th century. Instead, she found a thriving metropolis, still small by the standards of the East, but a place of beauty and learning nevertheless.

After that, she came to Paris often, and spent at least a third of her time there. And it was during one of her residencies in Paris, in the final years of the reign of the Sun King Louis XIV, that an opportunity for revenge presented itself to Amanda.

The first hint of the coming revenge appeared to Amanda at a gathering of the French nobility. Gathering together was one of the chief occupations of the aristocracy. Life for them consisted largely of attending, and occasionally hosting, an endless series of dinners, dances, soirees, entertainments, and grande balls. Amanda herself, while not a noble, was able to attend by virtue of her romantic liaison with the Duc de Poictesme.

Occasionally she would be struck for a moment with a sense of unreality. It was impossible to believe that these elaborately costumed and meticulously mannered lords and ladies were descended, by however many generations, from the brutal, lawless robber-barons who had terrorized the common folk when she was a girl.

So lost in these thoughts was she that Amanda almost missed it when the name Duncan MacLeod was mentioned in passing within earshot. But if there was one thing that could bring Amanda back to the here-and-now, it was that name. With a skill sharpened by almost nine centuries of practice, Amanda focused her attention on one conversation among dozens.

A court functionary named de la Roques was talking to some middle-aged dowager countess about the ongoing peace negotiations with the English.

"Though I suppose" he was saying, "one really oughtn't to refer to them as English. They are, after all, one happily United Kingdom now." The irony in his voice was obvious, for reasons both the dowager countess and Amanda understood: a good many Scots were less than pleased to find themselves united will-he-nill-he with the English. "I understand Her Majesty's envoi has even condescended to permit the presence in his party of an actual Scotsman, a soldier by the name of Duncan MacLeod." The functionary assumed a posture of regret. "Old Queen Elizabeth played a cruel trick on our land when she left her throne to a Scotsman. At one stroke, a steadfast ally of centuries was transformed into the helpless pawn of--"

"Excuse my interruption, I beg you, my lord," Amanda said to de la Roques, "but did you say that Duncan MacLeod was a member of the British delegation?"

De la Roques seemed annoyed by the interruption for a fraction of a second until he saw who had interrupted him. Whatever the French nobility had been breeding for over the centuries, it hadn't been beauty. Amanda knew the dowager countess didn't stand a chance against her. De la Roques smiled his most charming smile and said, "You are acquainted with the gentleman in question, Madamoiselle...?"

"LeFauve. Amanda LeFauve."

"Madamoiselle LeFauve. How could a woman of such tender years as yourself have made the acquaintance of a British soldier? Surely you were a mere stripling when the present war commenced!" The leer he presented to her made it obvious how he thought she had become acquainted with a British soldier.

"I met him in Bavaria some years back," said Amanda...

And she was with him again, sharing a night of passion in a nondescript room in a nondescript inn in a nondescript village. Feeling his hands caressing her body, letting his tongue slide past her parting lips, pressing her hands into his back as his hard flesh filled her and brought her wave after wave of inexpressable ecstasy.

Pouring drugged wine into his cup. Waiting for sleep to claim him. Getting dressed, writing him a brief note, slinging his dispatch bag over her shoulder and stealing away into the night...

"The British delegation are staying at Versailles, are they not?" she asked.

**************

The next morning, Amanda's carriage was jolting over the dirt road that ran from Paris to the Sun King's glorious palace at Versailles. She was accompanied by de la Roques. He had been puzzled at first when she turned down his offer to introduce her to MacLeod. Then she had told him, "I don't want him to know I'm here. It's a surprise." De la Roques had chuckled as he imagined what sort of surprise Amanda was planning for MacLeod. If he only knew...

Amanda's carriage had jolted over the dirt road. She hadn't stopped to rest the horses until noon. She didn't know what MacLeod would do when he woke to find her gone with his dispatch bag, and she didn't want to find out.

As the day wore on her anxiety lessened, and she began to think she had gotten away with it. Then, that afternoon, while watering the horses at a clearing on the riverbank, he had come charging in, shooting two of her guards and running another through with his sword. She and her servant had watched in horror from within the carriage until the shots and the smell of blood had panicked the horses in her team, and the two of them found themselves battered around inside while the horses careened down the road.

MacLeod had managed to reach the carriage and bring it to a halt. Then he had pulled Amanda out and spanked her like a child before retrieving his dispatch bag and riding away. Amanda had never been spanked in her life (and her life had lasted 884 years at that point), and as MacLeod rode away she swore that she would repay him for the indignity he had inflicted on her.

The cessation of movement brought Amanda out of her reverie. De la Roques escorted her past the guards at the main gates and down the gravel path to the vast brass-trimmed oak doors of the palace's main entrance.

While he did so, he filled her in on the state of the negotiations with the British, and of MacLeod's role in them. Amanda quickly gathered from his description that MacLeod was acting as an aide to Lord Faversham, one of the British negotiators. A lot of sensitive papers passed through MacLeod's hands, and Amanda decided that her revenge would involve those sensitive papers. It made a nice contrast to the events of their previous encounter.

At last, de la Roques brought her to the rooms he had secured for her.

"If you wish," he said, "I can inform your Scotsman that you are here."

"Oh, no," Amanda assured him. "I intend to surprise MacLeod."

De la Roques grinned an oily grin. "Of course, Madamoiselle LaFauve. In that case, I will bid you good day. If you have need of me, one of the palace servants can direct you to me."

After de la Roques departed, Amanda spent a few minutes planning her strategy. Step One would be to obtain some of the papers in MacLeod's possession. That wouldn't be difficult. While he was busy with the negotiations, she would slip into his room and retrieve them from whatever place he thought would be secure enough to hold them. And then, Step Two...

*****************

When Duncan MacLeod returned to his rooms that evening, he planned to finish copying Lord Faversham's report, read the dispatches that had come from London that afternoon, and go to bed. When he found both the report and the dispatches missing, he immediately went next door to Lord Faversham's rooms to inform him of the theft.

Faversham was waiting for him with an unpleasant expression on his face.

"See here, MacLeod, just what sort of rum game are you trying to play here?"

"My Lord?" said Duncan, puzzled.

Faversham indicated one of the French palace functionaries in the room with him. "De la Roques here informs me that you attempted to sell him my report and the latest dispatches from London. He actually had them on his person!"

"My Lord, I just now came from dinner to find that the papers were gone from my room! I came here to tell you that they were missing." He gave de la Roques a searching look, and was astonished to see the man wink at him.

He seemed to think it was all part of some elaborate joke.

A sudden suspicion filled Duncan. "Amanda," he muttered.

De la Roques said, "Oh, what a shame, Monseiur. The lady was hoping to keep her presence here a secret." He shrugged. "Ah, well, the game is up."

He grinned. "Still, the look on your face was priceless."

"Monseiur," said Duncan, "is Amanda still here at the palace?"

"But of course, sir. I'll show you the way to her rooms if you wish."

"Here," Faversham said, "are you saying MacLeod didn't sell you those papers?"

"No, My Lord," said de la Roques cheerfully. "It was all a ruse perpetrated by Monseiur MacLeod's lady love."

De la Roques was puzzled when the lady in question was missing from her rooms, and all her belongings with her. Duncan, however, understood all too well. This had all been Amanda's revenge for the spanking he gave her back in Bavaria. And he knew that this time, she wouldn't make the mistake of trying to escape in a fully loaded carriage. This time, she would be mounted on the fastest horse she could find.

"But why would she flee?" wondered de la Roques.

"Because she knew what was in store for her if I caught up with her."

De la Roques chuckled. "Ah well. It is a pity, for I assure you, monseiur, your expression was most comical. It is a shame she missed it."

Then another sudden thought illuminated Duncan's mind, and without any further hesitation he took off down the corridor as fast as he could. De la Roques, momentarily stunned, soon took off after him. "Monseiur MacLeod, what are you doing?"

Duncan didn't slow his pace, but he did answer. "She didn't miss it! She wouldn't! It would render the whole exercise pointless if she couldn't watch me squirm! She was hiding in Faversham's rooms, watching the whole time! If I make it to the stables quickly enough, I can still catch her!"

When he reached the stables, Duncan found Amanda dressed for riding in a shirt and breeches, still saddling her horse. She tried to mount , but the horse shied away from her and she was left hopping with one foot in the stirrup. Then Duncan had her in his grasp. He pulled her foot from the stirrup, then dragged her, struggling, to a bale of hay just inside the stable doors. Then, looking back to de la Roques gasping for breath in the doorway, he said, "Monseiur de la Roques, if you will excuse us?"

De la Roques grinned and said, "I--understand--completely--monseiur. Please--carry on!" So saying, he turned and went back to the palace, chuckling.

As Duncan seated himself on the hay bale, Amanda protested, "Oh no, MacLeod, not again! You're becoming monotonous in your old age!"

SMACK!

"Ow! That does it! You're in--"

SMACK!

"Ow! Big trouble, mister! When--"

SMACK!

"Ow! I get up from here I'm--"

SMACK!

"Ow! Going to make you sorry--"

SMACK!

"Ow! You were ever born!"

SMACK!

"Ow! You'll think you've--"

SMACK!

"Ow! Been hit by a ton of--"

SMACK!

"Ow! Bricks!"

SMACK!

"Ow! Didn't hurt!"

SMACK!

"Ow! Is that the best you can do?"

SMACK!

"Ow! Typical weak Scotchman!"

"That's SCOTSman!"

"What idiot decided to name your country after a drink?"

With sudden force, Duncan pulled down Amanda's breeches and began spanking her bare bottom. Her screams grew even louder, and she began writhing atop his lap. After a minute his hand slipped between her legs and for a moment he was confused; Amanda had become aroused by the spanking.

Then he realized that he had, too.

Pulling her breeches off her legs, Duncan lifted her off his lap and kissed her. She kissed him back and fumbled with the buttons of his breeches, finally getting them open. Then she bore him to the ground, pulled his breeches partway down his legs, and impaled herself on his throbbing manhood. It only required mere seconds of Amanda riding his member before she began to cry and moan, and he felt a gush of her juices pour over his hips. Duncan had never met any woman who squirted like Amanda when she came.

Amanda came thrice more before Duncan finally reached his climax, and within minutes he was ready for more. When daylight began to seep into the stable, the two of them, sated for the moment, dressed and returned to Duncan's rooms in the palace. The only thing worrying Duncan was what Amanda would do to him to earn her next spanking.

The End