Moonspell
"Erin!"
The young woman looked up from her work with a start, almost dropping the dough she was kneading. A shiver of apprehension combined with an unidentifiable thrill, and her heart instantly beat faster. She glanced at the large housemistress and dusted off her hands, aware of the all-too-apparent displeasure in the woman's eyes.
"The master calls."
Not waiting for the grumbled acquiescence, she hurried to obey the man's shout, rolling her eyes when he again yelled, "Slave!" If he knew what he was dealing with, perhaps he'd be a little less impatient, she thought.
It was the third time this week. She wasn't sure whether to be anxious or joyful about his increasing interest. Things were progressing perfectly, yet her life balanced precariously enough already. As it stood, her existence was worth little, her scrawny frame fed only to ensure constant work. At least this way she could become a value-added commodity. She smirked to herself, admitting she enjoyed some aspects of her labour.
She found him in the far wing, reclining naked on the massive bed eating peaches. Adjusting her thin garment, she bowed low, aware of his hungry gaze on her body, then stood silently, already knowing what his command would be.
"Pull the curtain," he ordered, and she did so. He waited with a languid smile, self assured and relaxed, while she secured the space. The wife was not a forgiving person.
She approached the bed and he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge and pulling her between them, watching her pretty face with its eyes traditionally downcast. Gently he nudged her chin, made her look at him, and she again cursed his attractiveness. His jaw was slashed with scars from the wars, yet they only highlighted the swift lines of his cheekbones and the fawn-like quality of his pale blue eyes. If only he didn't resemble Pan so! Then I could despise him as I should.
Still holding her gaze, he reached back and brought around the peach, holding it up for her to taste. At first she refused, despising her position as the kept animal, but the tangy smell of the bitten fruit broke her determination. She received so little true food, it would be a tragedy to deny it when freely offered. Slowly she bent her head, biting the crisp flesh with ill contained fervour. The sweetness thrummed in her mouth, and the sticky juice dribbled down her chin, dripping lazily onto her chest and staining the cloth. He watched her eat, and she could sense his enjoyment, wondering if it came of his victory, or from the simple act of generosity. She could never tell; he was a hybrid of kindness and cruelty.
He was kissing her before she was ready, tasting the fruit around her mouth eagerly. She met his lips with a subtle hesitation, wanting him to think she wasn't such an easy prize, although it was a foregone conclusion. In reality, she had no choice, submitting to his roving hands with a mixture of obedience and desire, letting her robe fall to reveal her taut flesh.
Again she was surprised by his tenderness, the way he took time to massage each nipple as though he were caressing the finest jewels in the empire, rubbing peach juice across her breasts and leaving finger streaks like strong letters across the canvas of her body. She knew he revelled in the slimness of her shape, and the smooth roundness of her bosom, each filling his hand like overripe fruit. He thought they'd been made specifically for him.
Standing and holding her hips, her steered her around and sat her on the bed. Uncertain of his intent, she was astonished when he knelt before her, between her knees, and began to nuzzle her belly. He'd never assumed such a submissive position before, and a smile crept unseen to her reddened lips. When he pushed her onto her back she had to stifle a giggle, at the same time feeling deeply aroused by the way he langouriously spread her legs and peered at the treasure within, gently prodding her clitoris with the tip of his thumb. She smothered a cry of triumph in a moan as he plunged his tongue between her lips, seeking the source of moisture while conversing lightly with her swelling bud. It was a sensation she'd experienced only once before, though the ranks of lovers and rapists were many, and her heart glowed with a rogue gratitude, just as her mind revelled and her nerves strained with pleasure.
Her orgasm brought a scream to her lips, aborted by a strong hand across her mouth. Though she was silent, he kept it there for several moments, and she smelled sweat over the scent of rosewater. His expression was a paradox of tenderness and fury; he too understood the sacrifice made. With sudden force he took hold of her wrists, binding them with strips of soft leather obtained from under a pillow, and rolled her onto her stomach. Now her naked buttocks were raised high, and she knew he took great pleasure in strapping them with his leather whip, kept by the bedside for just such an occasion. She cried out in pain, angered that he should turn such a moment into another beating, yet certain the punishment would not last long; his arousal was too great.
"Slave!" he cried triumphantly, inserting the handle of the whip into her back passage before thrusting into her like an armageddon, slamming himself back and forth with furious abandon. She pressed her face into the bed, ignoring the pain, riding the echoes of her climax to further pleasure, though her instincts protested profoundly. I grow too cocky, she thought. Patience is required... or perhaps something more.
Finally it was done and he lay prone, his breathing loud and relaxed. Still tied, she lay exhausted next to him, studying his face, her eyes remembering every line and every fold.
"I could kill you right now if I chose," she said softly to his sleeping form. But she didn't, knowing the time would come, knowing she could wait.
***
The glare of the full moon gave the standing stones dark, brooding shadows as she began the ceremony, pleased she had escaped the house without incident. Reverently, she drank the infusion, feeling its warmth in her belly as it loosened her mind. She danced like a wraith, her naked skin silver, goosebumps raised across her body. Beginning the chant, she invoked his image, recalling his face in perfect detail as she invoked his spirit. The spell was dangerous, and the ritual must be performed precisely, yet she felt little concern for her own safety, filled instead with desire and elation and the knowledge that all would be well. She called him to her, mastering his spirit when she felt its presence, probing his emotions and grasping the vital one, the unspecified essence which bound him to her. On and on she chanted, the stars wheeling overhead, until, at last, the body followed where the spirit had led, and he emerged, unclothed and dishevelled, into her circle of power. With a cry of joy she uttered the final words of mystery and, invincible under the watch of mother moon, took possession of him
***
"Slave!"
She lay relaxed on the comfortable sleeping pallet, hearing the gentle noises of the night outside. It was a beautiful place this, so protected and serene, blessed by the goddess and untouched by the Romans. She doubted they would ever dare approach, let alone succumb to the protective spells she had carefully laid around them. Never again would she be captured or made submissive by their strange and violent culture, lost to the forces of nature and cast aside by the gods. Here she was safe. Here she could come into the legacy of power that had originally been denied her, and here she could pass that knowledge on to others, so that the work could continue.
He peered through the door, his fawn-face smiling beautifully. "Must you call me that?" And he brought forward the two peaches he was holding, offering her the fruit with adoring eyes.
"Well, Gaius, that's not exactly what I had in mind," she said playfully, pulling him down to her. As he kissed her she thought, He will never remember what he once was, and she frowned inwardly, still a little ashamed of her methods, though proud of her victory.
"I love you," he whispered as he made love to her, and again she felt the twinge of guilt, like a splinter in her hand. Such devotion! She looked into his eyes, trying to overcome the negative emotion, consciously filling her soul with happiness and passion and love for him, and letting him know it was there.
Afterwards she lay in his arms, aware of the prize she had obtained, suddenly wishing there'd been a way to achieve her goal other than the path she had followed. It took hours before she could calm her mind to sleep.
***
She awoke suddenly, the dream persisting in her mind, the remembered words still haunting her. The magic only brings to bear on existing things, the wise one had said, so many years ago.
He loved me before, she realised, and turning, hugged him fiercely, knowing he would make a fine father for the daughter she must bear.
This story also appears at Free Porn for Women
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