Her friend rushed inside and looked to every corner of the room. “Is Gawain here?” Her porcelain complexion burned with a fire emanating from her cheeks. Her long, white-blonde curls were uncharacteristically tangled.
“No. He is in battle training until dusk. Whatever’s the matter?”
Fleur flung her arms into the air, then drove her fingers through her knotted locks. “What’s the matter?” She pointed a finger in the direction of the castle. “That hag, who has the audacity to call herself our queen, is claiming our men. That’s what’s the matter. She summons them whenever the mood takes, sometimes more than one at a time—goodness knows what goes on in her chamber—and if they should dare touch us, their wives, their bodies are weakened and they are punished.”
“Oh, that.” Ragnell sighed, sat back down at the table, and picked up her needle to resume her work.
Fleur stormed over to the table and, with one swipe of her arm, sent the tapestry and threads flying to the floor.
“Fleur, for goodness’ sake,” Ragnell cried as she bent down to rescue her work. “You’re always so serene, so calm. What’s got into you all of a sudden?”
“Not a great deal, my friend, and perhaps that is the problem.”
“Ah, I see. After three years of a chaste marriage, the frustration is becoming too much to bear.”
Fleur sighed and flopped down onto the chair beside Ragnell. “Perhaps. Or maybe I’m just sick of letting that woman control how we all live our lives. What is to become of our kingdom if no children are born to the noble classes? Camelot will die along with her.”
“Perhaps that’s what she wants.”
Fleur smacked her hands down on her thighs. “This would never have happened under Arthur’s rule. Never!”
“Arthur’s dead, Fleur.”
“Then we must not let it happen. In honor of our late king, God rest his soul, for the future of Camelot and for the sake of the wives of all the Round Table knights, we have to end this.”
Ragnell retrieved the last of the discarded threads and lay them on the table. “It’s but a fantasy, Fleur. The spell of the pendant and the power of Vivien’s sorcery that Guinevere uses for her own gain is impenetrable. She’s too protected for us to even try and overthrow her, and all that would happen is we would be killed in the process. Then the court will be full of widowers, all at the queen’s disposal. What do the womenfolk of Camelot serve to gain from that?”
Fleur looked down at her hands and exhaled her frustration.
“No.” Ragnell leaned forward to give her friend’s hand a consolatory tap. “Better we wait for God to deliver us. And in the meantime, at least we have discovered ways to relieve our sexual urges. The pendant creates no consequences for that, at least.”
“Oh, stop it, Ragnell.” Fleur slapped her hands down onto her knees. “All this talk of waiting for God to deliver us is getting us nowhere. Are you actually suggesting we take no action? That we remain sexless, finding satisfaction only with each other when our husbands’ backs are turned while she takes every one of our men to her bed whenever the mood takes?”
Ragnell licked the end of a piece of thread and held it up to feed through the tiny eye of the needle. “That’s precisely what I’m suggesting. We do nothing or we’ll surely die trying.”
“Then we die trying.”
Both women looked around at the voice coming from the open door.
“Elaine.” Fleur jumped up, crossed to her friend, whose face was mottled from crying, and clutched her hand. “Guinevere summoned Lancelot again today, didn’t she? I saw him take his leave from the castle.”
Elaine nodded, then lowered her head, her light brown hair hanging like heavy curtains around her thin face. “She summons him more and more frequently these days. It’s at least once a week now. I don’t know how she has the energy, what with all the other knights she entertains in between.”
“It’s that hideous pendant of hers,” Fleur said. “It gives her as much sexual desire and energy as she craves. She never tires. In fact, the more sex she has from our men, the greater her appetite becomes.”
“Fleur’s right.” Elaine lifted her head and addressed Ragnell, “I, for one, have had enough. I don’t care if we fail in our quest, but we must at least try to overthrow Guinevere. We cannot continue to live like this.”
Ragnell gave up trying to thread her needle and rested her hands on her lap. “Very well. You are my friends, and Gawain is my husband. Like your men, he is also summoned regularly and is forbidden to taste my love. Only in her bed is he permitted to lie.”
Ragnell’s support seemed to inject color into Elaine’s dowdy complexion. With a renewed vigor, she turned to shut the door and, together with Fleur, came to join Ragnell at the table.
“We have some intricate plotting to do,” Fleur said.
All three of them leaned forward, conspiratorially, to form a huddle around the table.
“The first obstacle,” Fleur began, “is the pendant. Within seconds of it being removed from her body, Guinevere loses her power. Without it, the spell she has over our men is broken and they can resist her.”
“Lancelot has told me,” continued Elaine, “that the problem is removing it. If anyone but Guinevere touches it with their hands, their skin instantly melts. Even Vivien cannot pick it up. That’s why our menfolk cannot remove it from around the queen’s neck. It doesn’t affect them when any other part of their body touches it, only their hands”
Ragnell drummed her fingers against her beautiful, smooth dark skin. “The question is, how do we relieve the queen of the pendant if to do so would burn our hands?”
“There is, of course, one way to find out,” Elaine said.
The other two looked at her, eyes wide.
“Pray tell,” Fleur said, wetting her pretty pink lips.
Elaine hooked a lank strand of hair behind her ear. “Before Vivien murdered Merlin, he told me that every spell has a chink in its armor. The pendant is really just a spell, a powerful one admittedly, but still just a spell, which means it must have a loose link.”
“But how do we find out what that is?” Ragnell leaned in further, her voice little more than a whisper. Despite the women being alone, if anyone overheard them plotting treason and reported it to Guinevere, she’d have them thrown into the dungeons.
“We can’t, Ragnell,” Elaine said, “but you can.”
“Me?” Ragnell sat upright, her voice raised with the shock of what her friend was suggesting. “How so?”
“Oh, goodness, she’s right. Why didn’t I think of this before?” Fleur’s index fingers shot to her temples, as if idea had plunged into her head with such suddenness it brought fleeting pain. “Ragnell, Arthur granted you the gift of transformation. How could I forget? You were a hag when Arthur agreed you could marry Gawain. When Gawain kissed you, it transformed you into the beauty you are today.”
Ragnell spoke slowly, the full implication of her friends’ words beginning to dawn. “That was a long time ago, Fleur. I don’t even know if my powers of transformation are still present. Or if they are, if I’m capable of transforming back again. If I remain a hag, Gawain will never want to lie with me, even if Guinevere’s spell is broken and he is permitted to do so.”
Elaine reached across the table and clutched Ragnell’s hand. “All we ask is that you use your transformation powers to turn into someone other than beautiful Ragnell. That doesn’t have to be a hag, just someone Vivien would not recognize or be suspicious of. She picks herbs from the garden every Sabbath at sundown. I’ve seen her from my chamber window. The faint light will hide your true identity all the more. Converse with her and trick her into sharing with you the Achilles heel of the pendant. Like Merlin said, there must be one. Once we know what it is, we can exploit it and reclaim Camelot—and our husbands—for our own.”
Ragnell looked from Elaine to Fleur. Both friends watched her unblinking, waiting for her decision. Despite Fleur’s words, she knew the only w
ay of fooling Vivien was to take on the appearance of a hag. Who else would be in the herb garden at that time without raising her suspicion? If she did transform, as they suggested, and failed to transform back again, would it really be the end of the world? Her beauty, although satisfying, when she caught sight of her reflection in the looking glass, was wasted. Gawain could not enjoy her body now, even though Arthur had granted her the gift of beauty. What did she have to lose?
“Agreed,” she said.
Fleur and Elaine broke into big smiles and hugged her.
“Let’s conquer that witch, Guinevere,” Ragnell said. “Once and for all.”
Elaine left the group’s embrace and clapped her hands together. “Thank God for both of you,” she said. “The time has come that we must take a stand and win victory over the woman who self-declared herself our queen. And it hasn’t come a moment too soon.”
“You two are such good friends,” Fleur said, still holding Ragnell. Her hand moved just under her friend’s corseted breast. “Which is why I need to ask a personal favor of you both this noon.”
Ragnell and Elaine looked at her.
“As you know, Parceval and I are yet to consummate our marriage, something we’ll never achieve without severe punishment under Guinevere’s rule. Earlier today, I exposed myself to him and watched him pleasure himself while he admired me.”
Elaine gasped, and Ragnell shot a hand to her mouth.
“How do you feel?” Ragnell asked. “Have you noticed any consequences? Have you sprouted any warts?”
Fleur pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not yet, and I don’t think I will. We only made contact with each other for a fleeting moment. After that, all I did was look on as he summoned his seed.”
The women felt silent as they took in Fleur’s words.
Finally, Elaine spoke up. “That was very brave of you. Testing the limits of Guinevere’s pendant can be risky. But if there are no repercussions for your actions, that’s something I’d like to try with Lancelot.” She looked up, her eyes shining, and broke into a smile. “Was it good?”
Fleur and Ragnell both laughed at the mischief on their friend’s face.
“Incredible.” Fleur sighted. She looked up at the ceiling, recalling Parceval’s expression when he’d hoisted up her skirt to reveal her pussy in all its glory. “However,” she met their eyes again, “we thought me fondling myself in front of him would be one step too far, so the whole affair has left me somewhat…” She chewed her bottom lip, struggling to find an appropriate phrase. “…unfulfilled, let’s say.”
“Ah, I see.” Elaine’s cheeks flushed. “Are you suggesting that we, erm…”
“I thought it fun last time,” Ragnell said, her breast starting to tingle from the pressure of Fleur’s hand beneath it. “What we did might not be orthodox, but in these difficult times, I’m sure God wouldn’t deny us a few moments of merriment.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Fleur cupped her hand over Ragnell’s breast and lightly traced her index finger over the soft dark flesh, which spilled over the top of her bustier. “It’s not like we’re breaking any laws,” she murmured, moving her face so close to Ragnell’s that she caught a whiff of the lavender potion her friend applied to her skin. “Guinevere doesn’t let the men of Camelot fuck their wives.” She ran her finger up to Ragnell’s chin, tipped her face up and placed a flutter of a kiss on her lips. “But she’s never said we can’t fuck each other.” Her next kiss was harder and longer. She wound her tongue around Ragnell’s and tickled her palate with the wetness from her mouth.
Ragnell’s cunt respond with a surge of moisture that pooled into her clothing. A sudden drive of desire compelled her to grab Fleur’s hand and push it to her pussy, wet and fizzing but still concealed by her dress skirt.
“Wait!”
Elaine’s outburst caused Fleur to halt the kiss. “What?” Fleur said, turning to Elaine.
“I—I just don’t know if we should be doing this.” Her cheeks burned a deeper rouge, and she wrung her hands together.
The now cold pool of cunt milk on Ragnell’s dress seeped between her buttocks. “Elaine, listen. I know it’s not ideal, but what other choice do we have? If our urges cannot be satisfied by our menfolk, then we must seek relief from one another. Otherwise, we might all become mad, and madness isn’t going to help us overthrow Guinevere.”
Elaine lowered her eyes. “I suppose you’re right.”
Fleur pulled away from Ragnell to reach out for Elaine’s hand. “And you enjoyed it last time, didn’t you?”
Elaine looked up at her, smiled meekly, and nodded. “I enjoyed it a lot.”
“Well then,” Fleur gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m sure it will make you merry this time, too. Only more so on this occasion, since we know what each other likes.”
“It’s just not what God intended, that’s all,” Elaine said, shaking her head. “It’s not what the noblewomen of Camelot are meant to do.”
“No one need know,” Fleur said, her voice low. “Only us. We’ll be better wives to our menfolk if we’re sated. And that’s what God wants of us more than anything—for us to remain strong and supportive for our husbands.”
Elaine’s shoulders relaxed. “What about you, though, Fleur? You’re the only one of us who married after Arthur’s demise and still has her flower. Don’t you feel that fornicating with us womenfolk is somehow being unfaithful to Parceval?”
Fleur knelt on the floor in front of Elaine and placed her hands on the other woman’s lap. “Seeking fulfilment in my friends when my husband’s cock is out of bounds to me is not being unfaithful. It is an act of a dutiful wife and loyal subject of the court. And it will help us ward off madness to ensure we’re strong enough to overthrow Guinevere.” She paused, allowing Elaine time to reach a decision.
“Very well,” Elaine said, finally. “Then I wish to participate. My pussy hasn’t been fondled since the last time we drew merriment from each other’s bodies. God knows my husband only pleasures himself and fucks her, leaving me dry and unused. My cunt needs to be wetted.”
She stood up and unthreaded the ribbon of her corset to loosen her dress, then tugged it down over her slim body. It fell to the floor, and she kicked it out of the way before she sat back down on the chair and leaned back so her pelvis jutted forward. Other than a sheath of cotton over her bud-like breasts, she was naked.
Fleur, still crouched before her, eased Elaine’s knees apart to reveal swollen pussy lips surrounding a pea-shaped clit. “Such a sweet cunt,” she said. “Let me wet it for you.” She lowered her head and leaned toward Elaine’s open legs.
“Wait.” Elaine reached out a hand and held it to Fleur’s forehead, pausing her. “I like to lick when I’m being licked. “Ragnell, take off your skirt and come stand beside me.”
Ragnell, whose clit was on fire from seeing Elaine’s swollen pussy on display, wasted no time in doing as she was told. Leaving on her corset, she shed her dampened skirt and stood beside her friend.
“May I commence?” Fleur asked, her ruby lips plump with desire and a hunger to taste Elaine’s sex-ready cunt.
“If you don’t start now,” Ragnell rasped, “my clit is so big and hard I fear I’ll come without either of you touching me, and that would be no fun at all.”
Fleur nestled her head between Elaine’s legs. The gorgeous scent of her friend’s pussy sent her dizzy with desire, and she opened her mouth wide enough to encase Elaine’s clit and surrounding lips in her mouth at once. Elaine’s moan made her giddy with want. She pushed her tongue inside her friend’s cunt and tasted her milk, then ran her tongue upward, coating Elaine’s clit with her own juices.
“Ragnell,” Elaine said through heavy, quickened breaths. “I want to lick you and rub you until you pant like a dog and can barely stand for the fire at your cunt.
Ragnell looked around for something in the dwelling she could stand on to lift her to just the right height for Elaine to lick her. She spotted a cushion
on a chair by the fire, scuttled over to retrieve it, and returned to her friends. Elaine’s breathing had quickened. Her hands were placed on Fleur’s head, guiding her to the area where she wanted to feel her friend’s tongue the most.
“Quick, Ragnell,” Elaine said in between rasps of breath. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep control, and I want us to do this together. Hearing your merriment will heighten mine all the more.”
Ragnell stepped on top of the cushion and hurriedly pulled up her skirt. Fleur, still on her hands and knees with her head buried at Elaine’s sex, released a muffled moan of pleasure.
“Your pussy tastes so wet and delicious, Elaine,” Fleur said.
“I’m glad,” Elaine responded, tipping her pelvis farther forward to allow Fleur to probe deeper with her tongue. She grasped Ragnell’s buttocks and pulled her close so that her mound was in line with her mouth. She breathed in deeply. “The scent of your juices makes my own flow from my body.”
Ragnell had no time to respond, for Elaine clamped her hot mouth around her already burning clit. She gasped and held on to Elaine’s shoulders to steady herself. As Elaine murmured her appreciation for the taste of her pussy, Ragnell felt a surge of excitement run down her spine, all the way to her feet. She reached up to her tiptoes and tensed her calves. Elaine circled the tip of her tongue around Ragnell’s hard clitoris over and over until the pressure built to boiling point. Ragnell screamed out as the explosion at her center rippled within her, causing wave after wave of pleasure to flow through her entire being.
Elaine clamped her mouth around Ragnell’s shuddering pussy and came herself. The taste of Ragnell’s cream as it seeped into her mouth tumbled with the sensation of Fleur’s tongue probing at her own inside walls. With all control now gone, she allowed her body to take over. Thankful she was seated, her legs trembled and her limbs weakened. Fleur’s licks slowed and became lighter, allowing Elaine to get her breath back and recover from the orgasm.
Fleur raised her head. Her eyes were half-closed as if she were in a drunken state. “Take off your corset, Ragnell,” she whispered. “I want you as naked as Elaine.” She cocked her head to Elaine, who lounged on the chair. Her orgasm-ripened nipples pushed against the fine, ivory material of her slip. On noticing the band, Fleur knitted her brow together, then reached out and pulled it down to reveal Elaine’s small, upturned breasts.
The Curse of Camelot Page 3
