"Non! Pardon! Don't hurt me! Please!!" Jeanne pleaded, on her knees in front of the fully-clad guards in metal armor. One of them chuckled in a cruel fashion as tears began streaming down Jeanne's face. She had just been thrown into prison, waiting indefinitely for her ultimate fate. She had been stripped of her body armor and the men's clothing she wore in order to dupe the French troops that she was a man who would lead them to battle, and was dressed in woman's clothing for the first time in quite some while. Leading the French to war was one of Jeanne's major accomplishments, but being a woman, she had rely on the voice of God to help her do what she wanted most; when she led the French, it was a significant victory that most thought only a man could achieve.
"You think you can just deceive people just because God told you to! I seriously doubt God would lead someone to turn to heresy," the guard said, withdrawing his sword and pointing it to her chin. "After all, God made womankind from a rib. A single rib."
"Je suis innocent! I never wanted to go against conformity! Please! Believe me!" Jeanne pleaded, tears falling as she begged on her knees as if she were in church. Her eyes looked so pleading, but they didn't convince the guards.
"You do not charm me," the guard said, lifting her chin higher with the tip of the sword's blade. "I still have yet to tell you your sentence; death. At stake. Burning."
"Non! Ne me tu pas!" Jeanne pleaded. "I'll do anything, Monsieur! Please! Have mercy!"
"Your sentence was already declared by His Majesty," the other guard said. "Unfortunately he is a stubborn man. He hates heretics."
The men turned to leave, locking her in her cell as she cried and sobbed. He prayed inside her head for the well-being of Francis, her one true love she had been unexpectedly torn away from. If she knew she was going to die, her only wish was for Francis to go on without her despite its difficulty.
She had known Francis since she was a child, their first meeting being the time she saw saints' spirits before her eyes in an open meadow. As she called out her claims during the run back to her peasant village, Francis' attention was caught, intrigued by what she saw. From that moment forth they became very good friends who forged a companionship that gradually grew closer to the point of love. Before Jeanne lead the French into battle, Francis confessed his deep love for her, mostly grown out of respect for her and her strength. Jeanne, at first, had no clue what to say, but later realized that she loved him as well.
Now, she was very worried; she wanted to marry Francis, but now that she was imprisoned and condemned to death, that wasn't going to happen. Now, all she could do was pray for Francis' well-being, or at least for her soul to ascend to heaven as she believed it destined to.
After quite some time, the sun set. After the approach of nightfall, Jeanne was wide awake, sitting on the straw cot below the barred prison cell window. Her hands were clasped together as she thought about God; why had he sent her on a mission only to get punished for it? Did he prize her so much that he wanted her to be with him in heaven for all eternity?
Perhaps it is fate, better so, she thought silently.
The sound of her prison cell door unlocking caught her attention quickly, causing her to look up with curiosity. He looked like a guard, and it scared and apprehended her. She got up from the straw cot and took a step back, feeling her heart race with fear.
"Jeanne?" the man asked. "I have come for you." Now, fear had taken up her heart and her mind.
"Non! Please say it isn't so! It is not morning!" Jeanne shouted.
"Il n'es pas," the man said. Jeanne collapsed on the stone floor, sobbing heavily as she spoke frantically and morosely.
"Not the stake! Not the stake! Not the stake!" she repeated.
The man knelt next to her and patted her back gently, trying to console her. Jeanne had a strange feeling about him, as if she had known him before. Then his voice became familiar.
"I have not come to kill you, mon amour," the guard said. Jeanne gasped, looking up at the helmeted guard who took it off to show her his true identity. She gasped at the sight of Francis; he had disguised himself as a guard just to see Jeanne with the possibility of being with her on her final night alive. From his long blond hair to his dreamy blue eyes, she was so happy to see him.
"Francis!" she cried joyfully, throwing her arms around him. "How did you--"
"I just came in here, mon cherie," the sensual Frenchman said, taking his metal gauntlet off to caress her face. "I needed to see you." He sighed sadly, looking away with his eyes closed. "I heard that you were sentenced."
"Oui," Jeanne answered morosely. He caressed her face again with a single, gentle stroke that sent chills throughout her body. Nobody was like Francis, and if it were moral, she would give herself wholly to him right there in her prison cell. He looked at her, studying her stern, delicate face, her blue eyes and her short, unevenly-cut blonde hair. He leaned in and kissed her passionately.
Jeanne threw her arms around him, returning his kiss wholeheartedly as the tip of his tongue brushed her lower lip. He anticipated making love to her, but in order to find out if it was the right thing to do, he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.
"Jeanne, mon amour," he began with a whisper.
"Oui, François?" she asked, caressing his stubbly face gently as she exchanged glances with him.
"Je désire faire l'amour vous," he said. She smiled sadly, but thought about what he wanted. How could they pleasure each other in a prison cell when guards could be hearing them through the door? He leaned and whispered.
"Je te veux," Francis whispered suggestively, removing his plate armor slowly so no strange noises could be heard from outside the door. Jeanne watched him, and when he crashed his lips into hers, she kissed him with all her being.
Her arms rested on his shoulders as he moved lower to gently suck on her neck. She dipped her head back slowly, Francis' fingers undoing the front laces of her ragged garment. Jeanne blushed, breaking the kiss as she let him go to see what he was going to do.
"You are akin to God," she said. "You are the savior to my purity." With that being said, Jeanne removed her garment and let the light fabric fall off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the man she loved. Francis was emotionally touched by her words, also her gesture, and he immediately clutched Jeanne's waist to kiss the soft skin of her bosom.
"Ah," she moaned softly, placing her hands on his shoulders as he continued to make love to her with kisses. His hands travelled up to cup them, his palms and fingers squeezing them gently. He ran his tongue over her nipples between soft sucking, making her feel a wave of foriegn, once-sinful emotions.
"Oh," she moaned. Francis continued at her breasts for another few long moments before his lips met with hers in a tender, passionate kiss. He removed and discarded his shirt, allowing Jeanne to caress his perfect male form.
"Tu est beau," she told him. He smirked, kissing her once more before making her lie down, her back against the cool stone floor of the cell. She didn't care if a few chills ran through her body, for she knew it would help her cool down during the heat of pleasure.
Francis leaned forward and kissed Jeanne again, trailing his nose down her neck, breasts, and stomach until he reached her swollen, moist femininity. Jeanne blushed a shade of bright red, but Francis, noticing this, caressed her cheek to reassure her that she would be alright and protected in his arms.
"Don't worry," he said, his fingers starting to stroke her. She arched her back quickly and moaned. She caught herself expressing delight too loudly, managing to stifle the sound in order to not draw attention to her prison cell. His fingers traced her slick folds gently, reaching a whole new level of pleasure for Jeanne when he stroked a certain area.
"Ah! Nh...Francis," she groaned. "It is...trés bien."
"Hmm," Francis cooed, unbuckling his belt with his free hand to release his hard member. He stroked it a bit as his inserted a finger inside of her to see if she was ready for his entry.
"Je ne peux pas prendre plus. I need you now, Francis," Jeanne whined pleadingly. "Dear Lord in heaven, forgive me."
"You will have me," he said, lining his member to the beginning of her entrance. "Are you ready?"
She nodded, and as he entered her, she arched suddenly against him and dug her nails into his sculpted back. She whimpered, tears running down her face as she felt herself being torn. Francis thrusted a few more times, and she nearly screamed. He took the liberty to shut her up with passionate kissing. She closed her eyes, tears continuing to streak down her face as she felt her virginity being taken.
"Are you alright?" he asked, kissing the corner of her left eye. The pain was no longer there, which influenced her to nod.
"Oui," she told him. "You may move inside of me."
Taking her words, he put them into action as he held both of her hips, pushing in and out of her slowly. With each thrust, Jeanne moaned and arched under him, feeling his wispy chest hairs tickle her breasts gently. She reached up and placed her arms around his neck, holding him closer as she pleaded for more.
"Il se sent bon," she sighed, starting to whine. "Harder."
"Oh Jeanne, j'taime," Francis said, leaning down to kiss her lips passionately as the fire in his loins roared ferociously. The power of his thrusts intensified, sending her to an imaginary land of paradise. It wasn't quite like Heaven, for she had seen it before in visions. This was better than Heaven--it was simply too complex and good to describe.
"Ah! Francis!" she moaned, paying no consideration to her loudness. Nobody was around, and the neighboring prisoners were in deep sleeps in their own cells. She felt her nails scratch his back as he went faster inside of her, but he didn't mind as long as he wasn't hurting her. In fact, he liked that she let out her inner warrioress during their lovemaking. It only prompted him to delve deeper into her liquid heat, hitting a certain spot repeatedly that made her pant for air and moan as she was engulfed with sexual bliss.
"Ah! Francis! It's so good!" Jeanne shouted, feeling as though she were about to climax at any minute.
"Jeanne! Mon amour, I'm going to...cum," he told her.
"I'll cherish it forever. This moment is precious, and for all eternity in Heaven, I'll remember you," she said, crying just before she felt a warm fluid fill her. He kissed her once more, pulling out and laying besides her, caressing her nudity with his fingers. Her skin felt warm and she seemed to glow brighter than the full moon shining through the prison window. Francis looked down at her, and kissed her, holding her tightly.
"Je ne veux pas vous laisser aller," he whispered. "I will never forget you, mon amour."
"Please do not leave me," Jeanne told him. "I am to die tomorrow, but I am happy to have spent my last night with you." He looked down at her, her eyes shining up at him with pride and bravery.
"Until we meet again," Francis began, "I will never stop thinking of you. J'taime."
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