Captive (2 page)

‘Did he inspect your maidenhead?’

‘Yes, really closely. Oh the shame! I was nearly crying and I was nearly coming at the same time!’

‘Oh you’re so lucky! I mean, my wedding night was good, eight times he took me before we slept, eight! Not like you though, Pommette, not a real ravishment, stripped and spread and entered, oh you’re so lucky!’

‘Witnessed too!’ Elethrine declared proudly. ‘His cock was still going in when Uroth kicked the door open. Uroth never said a word, just watched me fucked, making sure it was done properly and fingering his mace in case Melkarion didn’t prove himself. Melkarion was wonderful, he didn’t so much as turn around, and he came all over my tuppenny just to show off!’

‘Beautiful!’

‘Then they went off to announce it to father, and I just couldn’t help it. I put his sword hilt in my tuppenny and made myself come!’

‘You slut!’

‘I’d just been ravished, what was I supposed to do?’

‘Cover your ravished body and lie back among the ruins of your bed, feeling a sweet sadness at the loss of your precious maidenhead and a burgeoning love for your conqueror.’

Elethrine laughed as Talithea jumped up and struck a deliberately exaggerated posture, throwing her head back and drawing her hand across her brow as if in deep anguish.

‘What does he like then?’ the Princess went on. ‘My Prince likes me to kneel, he says it shows me to best advantage, which is so rude!’

‘Melkarion prefers to stand,’ Elethrine answered, ‘and pop me on with my legs around his hips so that he can bounce me up and down and watch my face and the way my titties wobble and jump.’

Elethrine blushed as she spoke, using words that told Aisla her mistress was rapidly becoming excited. Her own body was beginning to respond to the air of excitement and the frank, sexual conversation, which would have been unthinkable among others less intimate.

‘That’s beautiful,’ Talithea answered, her voice suddenly thick, ‘sometimes my Prince takes me that way, especially in the woods when we ride together. You’ve made me all wet, Pommette. Shall we do it?’

‘No, we daren’t!’ Elethrine stammered. ‘What if my mother caught us!’

‘She won’t,’ Talithea answered. ‘She greeted me and immediately excused herself.’

‘The High-Demoiselle Seraphinia is supervising the choice of flowers for the wedding,’ Aisla supplied.

‘What if she comes for dark roses?’ Elethrine demanded.

‘She cut them this morning,’ Aisla answered.

They glanced guilty at each other.

‘Can we? Do we dare?’ Elethrine asked.

‘Just a lick!’ Talithea urged. ‘You are so skilled, both of you. You understand my sex. Kavisterion is so clumsy, and his moustache tickles dreadfully!’

‘Behind a hedge then,’ Elethrine stammered. ‘In turns, but quickly!’

Aisla followed as both Talithea and Elethrine scampered into the shade of a tall yew hedge. Her heart was hammering at what they were about to do and the risk it entailed, but the thought of applying her tongue to the Princess’ sex was too delicious to be denied.

‘I’m first!’ Talithea declared. ‘I want my titties kissed.’

‘But your clothes!’ Elethrine protested.

‘It won’t take a moment,’ Talithea answered, ‘not with this gown. There’s no lacing or even a belt, look!’

Talithea bent, took hold of the hem of her gown, and with one smooth motion lifted it to her chin, exposing her petticoats and then her chemise, with her swollen breasts and bulge of her pregnant belly straining the buttons to reveal little ovals of creamy flesh. Elethrine giggled and blushed and Aisla felt a familiar tingle between her thighs.

‘Kiss my tummy,’ Talithea demanded.

Elethrine gave a final worried glance towards the garden door and dropped to one knee. Aisla watched, her lip trembling, hoping to be invited to join in as her mistress began to undo the buttons on the Princess’ chemise. As each button popped more flesh was revealed, Talithea’s lower belly, her navel, the undersides of her breasts and finally everything as the last button popped. The Princess’ breasts had always been big, but had grown, making two fat balls of soft flesh, each crowned with a big, dark brown nipple that Aisla longed to have in her mouth.

Aisla’s heart was in her throat as Elethrine kissed the Princess’ swollen belly, once, twice, and began to lick down the central line as Talithea closed her eyes in bliss. Elethrine made a hand motion, signalling Aisla to come close, which she did immediately, answering her need to suckle by taking one of Talithea’s swollen nipples in her mouth. Elethrine rose, mouthing the other breast and together they sucked. Talithea began stroking their hair and pushing her breasts out into their faces, then cupped one in each hand. Aisla nuzzled the plump breast, sucking hard on the nipple, making Talithea moan.

‘Bare me, lick me,’ the Princess begged.

Elethrine began to work up Talithea’s petticoats as Aisla knelt, taking her pleasure in the taut bulge of Talithea’s belly, kissing the top of the mound and burrowing her tongue into the shallow button. The lifted petticoats pushed against her face as Elethrine burrowed her head in. Talithea groaned more deeply still as wet, smacking sounds started from under her petticoats. Aisla ducked down as Talithea pulled up her petticoats to expose herself. Elethrine had the Princess’ drawers and pantalettes split wide, her face buried in the elaborate folds of lace as she licked. Forgetting etiquette entirely, Aisla pushed her face in beside her mistress, smelling the rich scent of hot female sex. Talithea pushed out her hips and Aisla’s lips met flesh, kissing the plump, hairy mound of Talithea’s sex, kissing Elethrine and together starting to lick. Their tongues were touching as they shard Talithea’s sex, lapping at her clitoris with ever more urgency. The Princess began to whimper and Aisla slid a finger into the wet, receptive hole of her vagina, then another. Talithea came, grinding her sex in their faces and making odd, choking sounds. They kept licking, clutching at Talithea’s bottom and thighs, stroking, smacking and scratching until the Princess could stand no more and screamed aloud.

Aisla rose, urgent for her own pleasure, pulling up her dress to show herself off. Elethrine responded, burying her face in her Aisla’s crotch regardless of the impropriety of going down on her knees to her maid. Talithea shock herself, then laughed at the sight. A moment later and Elethrine’s skirts and petticoats had been hauled high by the Princess, exposing the plump ball of her bottom, tight within heavily frilled drawers. Two swift motions and Elethrine’s drawers and pantalettes were apart, display her naked rear.

At the sight of her mistress’ bare behind so rudely exposed Aisla began to come, sighing deeply as Elethrine’s tongue worked on her clitoris. Talithea knelt, gave Elethrine’s bottom a hard smack on each cheek and buried her face between them. For one moment Aisla could actually see the Princess’ tongue pressed to Elethrine’s anus, licking bottom in the most intimate and abased of acts. At that Aisla’s orgasm hit its peak, with her mind burning with delight in seeing Elethrine’s bottom smacked by hand and Talithea tongue a bottom hole.

Elethrine went on licking, bringing Aisla to another, lesser peak, then a third as she started to come herself. Aisla held her, stroking her mistress’ head as the orgasm went through her with Talithea’s nimble tongue working on her clitoris, until at last it began to die. For a moment they stayed in position, each delighting in the intimacy of their act, only to break apart and quickly rearrange their dishevelled clothing until there was no evidence of misbehaviour.

‘So,’ Elethrine said coolly, reverting to the poised demoiselle with no more than a hint of playful pastiche, ‘you are well, I trust, Princess, and have been blessed with a fine son, so I understand.’

‘The apple of his father’s eye,’ Talithea replied, ‘or at least of Prince Kavisterion’s, the true father being Simooth the troll. It is a convenient coincidence that my darling Prince and Simooth share so many characteristics.’

‘Simooth, like all trolls, was stark bald, as I recall,’ Elethrine stated cautiously.

‘Little Kavi is not, by good fortune,’ Talithea replied. ‘It is in build and behaviour that he resembles his true father, but both find favour in my Prince’s eyes. There is less happy news as well, indeed, something of a scandal.’

‘Indeed?’

‘My cousin, Sulitea, has been confined in the celibentuary at Kavas-Arion.’

‘No!’

‘I fear so.’

‘Why?’

‘She lost her head over a duel, offering herself to the winner.’

‘A fine way to surrender, surely?’

‘Not so, the contest was fought between the town dung-gatherer and a butcher.’

‘Ah, but surely her purity girdle…’

‘Sadly not, it was of pure silver, most beautifully wrought, as mine used to be. The dung-gatherer, who was the victor, broke it with some implement of his trade. He had her in the town square, across the prone body of the defeated butcher.’

‘An honourable man, this dung-gatherer, if a pariah.’

‘Not all low born are necessarily churls, this was Sulitea’s argument anyway. My uncle was not impressed.’

‘I can imagine! I am sorry, Talithea, truly sorry. Are you close?’

‘As close as sisters. Indeed, as the youngest in my own family and she being two years my junior, she was my preferred playmate. I would always protect her, and I will do so now. I intend to bring her free.’

‘Bring her free! How? Come Talithea, you forget your position. Besides, if she is unable to get out of Kavas-Arion, how will you get in and bring her out? It is on an island! The walls are said to be a dozen man-heights! A hundred matrons guard the place, woman chosen for their muscle and ill-temper, trained in controlling wilful girls! Can you imagine what they would do when you are caught!? You will be stripped, spanked naked, shorn of your hair, tattooed on your breasts and bottom, put through erotic exercises with the matrons…’

‘The island is linked by a tidal causeway, the walls are no more than five man-heights, there are no more than thirty matrons.’

Elethrine began to speak, evidently intending to bring up more objections, but Talithea raised a hand.

‘There are many difficulties,’ she went on, ‘but I have found a way around each.’

‘What will you do?’ Elethrine demanded.

‘Myself? Nothing,’ Talithea answered. ‘My rank makes it impossible for me, being with child the more so. Circumstances also make it impossible for you, although I at least can offer shelter in Ateron. No, it will be Aisla who goes, and Aisla who brings Sulitea free.’

‘Me?’ Aisla said weakly.

‘You,’ Talithea answered with confidence. ‘Look at you. You stand a head taller than any other girl around. From your father you know far more of arms and such than is proper for a maid. Your natural low-born submission has been worked out of you by your time in Apraya, yet you have no rank and would not be recognised. You are ideal.’

‘Thirty matrons?’ Elethrine put in.

‘You would not have to face all thirty,’ Talithea insisted. ‘Besides, if you are caught, as a mere artisan you will suffer none of the shame involved in the various punishments and erotic exercises.’

‘What about the pain?’ Aisla asked.

‘Not that I expect you to do it for nothing,’ Talithea went on, ignoring Aisla’s question. ‘Succeed or fail, Elethrine can urge her father to make Uroth a Reeve for a lifetime’s service. You yourself will be elevated as his daughter and thus your reward is the highest you could hope for. Think! The honour, the prestige! You will be able to add a letter to your name! Your children will be high-born! Who knows who might want you? The Aeg are not too particular about virginity, either.’

‘But…’ Aisla began.

With an exhausted sigh Aisla pulled herself up among the jumble of rocks that crowned the ridge. Far beneath her spread the sea, placid and grey under a ragged overcast, its surface broken by darker bulks where the Grey Dean stacks pushed through it. The view was the same to the horizon, grey sea and grey rocks, fading into the haze of distance. Only near the shore was there any sign of human existence, a single ship waiting out the tide in the lee of a high stack, and a jumble of walls and towers that seemed to grow from the rock of the nearest stack - Kavas-Arion.

Even as she looked at the celibentuary her heart sank. The stack was connected to the mainland by a narrow causeway, now a line of boiling water as the tide tore across it. High grey walls rose in an uneven shape, the lowest perhaps four times Aisla’s height and these built above areas of natural cliff. Twin towers flanked the gate, each some eight man heights tall. Within the walls a jumble of buildings was visible, square towers, squat sheds, two long blocks three and four stories high, each with it high gables. Between the buildings the black depths of alleys could be seen, and an area of yard seemingly so much beneath her vantage that she might have dropped a pebble into it.

Making herself as comfortable as possible, she drew a strip of dried meat from her pouch and tore off a length. As she chewed she watched the celibentuary, trying to see how it might be entered and how she might hope to escape. Simply climbing the front face was obviously impractical, and on both sides of the gate the wall reared a good six man heights straight from the sea. The west wall was perhaps the least forbidding, and would bring her in near the taller of the two blocks, which she judged to be accommodation for the girls. Nodding to herself she swallowed her mouthful and took another bite.

For two weeks she had travelled south down the Spine mountains, keeping to the high passes where no humans came and the wild beasts were rare. Twice she had had to make long detours to evade bears, and had escaped a wolverine only by taking shelter in a goblin burrow. The goblins had used her thoroughly and left her with sperm dripping from every orifice, yet even when her scent induced ecstasy had faded she had felt only gratitude.

To cheer herself she had tried to decide what letter she would add to her name when made a Reeveling, but it was a joy invariably spoilt by thoughts of the consequences of failure. If the matrons at the celibentuary took her, the punishment was likely to be long and painful, also designed as much to make an example of her as to chastise. Her head would undoubtedly be shaved, and the thought of losing the long, thick hank of bright red hair that fell half-way over her bottom always brought a lump to her throat. There would be spankings and harder beatings, for which she would be stripped nude and probably made to adopt lewd postures in front of an audience, but these she felt she could endure, being low-born and so less subject to shame. Otherwise there were only rumours, but it was these that made her shiver and set her teeth chattering. It was said that tattoos were made on girl’s breasts and bottoms to mark their shame, sometimes also their bellies and even their faces. Chain bosses were said to be put in girl’s flesh as well, through the tummy buttons, allowing them to be led more easily. Finally there was the thought of being made a servant to the matrons.