by Rose, Renee
Chapter Seven
He lowered her hips onto his lap again, her legs splayed open, straddling his torso. She collapsed on his cloak and he kneaded her trembling thighs.
“You scared me, highness,” he admitted. “The crow warned me and I saw you fall.” He stroked his hands up and down the backs of her legs. “I have seen some terrible things in my life. I have seen men tortured, waiting for my turn–thumbnails ripped off, scalps removed. And I have known sorrow. I buried more companions than I care to count. I watched both my parents die. But I cannot remember ever being so terrified as when I heard the crow call and saw you drop.”
“I heard the crow as well. I thought it portended your return,” she said, without lifting her cheek from where it rested. “But the Goddess sent you to save me, did she not?”
He smiled, contouring both palms over her swollen buttocks. “Even knowing how I would deal with you.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Do not snicker. I have not forgiven you yet. I never forgave you for the first and second thrashings you gave me.”
Moving his hands down, he brought one thumb to her sex, stroking an unhurried path over her pink lips, drawing out a fresh secretion of nectar. “I know it, Ariana,” he said, sensing the crux of their dilemma. “I forced a familiarity between us and it cannot be undone.” He slid his thumb into the entrance of her sex, taking care not to go too far. She bucked against him and he removed his thumb. “Aye, your maidenhead is to be saved.” He gathered a bit of saliva and spat it on his thumb, tucking it between her cheeks in search of her back hole.
Her head jerked up in surprise, but she stilled rather than fought him. “What are you doing?”
“Pleasuring you a different way.” He waited until the spasm of her little pucker relaxed, and pressed his thumb past the ring.
She gasped, lifting herself to her elbows, but holding her hips quiet. “I did not ask you to pleasure me.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Nay. It is part of your punishment,” he said, pressing his thumb deep inside her as his other thumb circled the sensitive peak at the top of the entrance to her sex.
She gasped, her fingers fisting in the wool of his cloak beneath her. He moved his thumb within her, slowly at first, noting the increase in fluid from her sex, the wanton cries issuing from her raspberry lips. She ground her hips over his lower hand and he increased the tempo of his thrusts into her back hole until she began to cry out, “No! Yes! Wait...go on!” Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth opened wide. She slid her own hand between her legs, thrusting his thumb out of way to cup her own mons.
His cock strained painfully against his hose as watched the most beautiful woman in all the realm find her peak and follow it down the other side. He eased his thumb out and studied her, wanting to remember just the way she looked with her sex and arse spread to him, hips lifted on his lap, cheeks welted from his belt, and face streaked with the flush of passion. He reached forward and plucked the string that tied her braid, unwinding her coppery hair and fanning it out, the silky strands slipping through his fingers as it fell in waves across her back.
“I know it pains you, the intimacy I forced. Necessity spawned my actions, not disrespect.”
“Is this respectful, Crow?” she asked, though he heard no ire in her tone, still languid from her climax.
“No,” he murmured. “But if I am to have my throat slit when we return, I might as make it worth my while.”
“You mock my authority. Just because I spared your life once–nay, twice–does not mean I shall do it again.”
“You are wrong. My life has been forfeit since the day I first captured you. I know I live by your mercy and also by your curse.”
“I have not cursed you,” she said, twisting to look over her shoulder at him.
“Aye, my lady, you have,” he said, lifting a lock of hair from her face. “Because I am bound here by you, and tortured every time I am near you.”
“I have not bound you,” she said, her voice wavering.
“But you have. You see, I cannot seem to escape Avalon, easy though it would be for me to leave and hide from your brother.”
She lowered her head to rest in the cradle of her arms, face down. He began stroking her skin again, his pent up need driving him to please her again, though he would never slake his own pleasure without invitation. He lifted the leg behind him and rolled her hips until she lay on her back, her bottom in his lap, her legs in the air.
“I regret the distress I caused you. And I regret my treason to your brother. Neither of you deserved such treatment. When I consider how I would do things differently, the answer is clear–I should have verified the attackers and gone after the duke. And yet...I would never have known you the way I do. And try as I might, I cannot make myself sorry for that.” He ran his hand slowly over her bare bottom, tracing the welts with his finger. “’Tis wrong is it not?”
“Aye. ’Tis faulty reasoning. If you were meant to know me, it would have happened another way. We do not receive only one chance to meet our fate.”
He gazed at her, the importance of her words clanging bells inside his head. “Do you believe it was fate?” he asked, holding his breath for her answer.
She hesitated. “The day you snatched me up from Avalon, I wondered why the Goddess did not warn me of your coming. There could only be one of three answers: either she had forsaken me, or I had lost my connection to her, or you were meant to carry me away.”
“Which do you think it was?” he asked, his heartbeat erratic.
She lay silent a long time, twirling a strand of her fingers in her hair. “I think we were fated," she said at last. “How else could you cause me such misery?”
“What do you mean?”
“We come into this life to help each other learn things, to help each other grow. Lessons with our fated ones are not always easy.”
“What have I taught you? Other than not to climb crumbling towers?” he asked with a faint smile.
“I know not,” she said, looking troubled. “Mayhap when I learn, we will free ourselves of each other.”
He nodded, though the idea of losing his connection with her brought no joy. To distract himself, he lifted her hips and bent his head, applying his tongue to the delicate pink of her sex.
****
“No more,” she moaned. “I cannot take any more, Crow.”
“The choice is not yours,” he said, a wicked glint in his eye as he wound her need into a tight coil, all the while keeping her in the most humiliating of positions. She began to buck against him, pleading for release when he shocked her by lifting his head and giving her vulnerable sex several small slaps.
“What are you doing?”
He slapped harder.
Tingles rippled down the backs of her legs.
He continued to spank her splayed sex, not hard enough to truly pain her, but each time jolting her with the sensation. The climax took her by surprise, bringing with it a gush of fluid, which would have embarrassed her had Crow not appeared so satisfied.
She could not understand why she had allowed him any of it. Though he had said she had no choice, she doubted the truth of his words. If she had protested more vociferously or not enjoyed his ministrations, she felt certain he would have stopped.
“It grows dark–we should get back,” he murmured, easing her out of the convoluted position and helping her to stand. “Are you all right?”
Her hands involuntarily went to her throbbing bottom, so tender the whisper of her chemise chafed it.
“Other than a sore arse, I mean?” he said, his own hand patting the top of hers.
He put an arm around her waist and led her out of the barn. Not wishing to be seen walking so, she snapped, “Do not touch me!”
“I will release you when I know your legs are steady,” he said mildly.
How did he know they still trembled?
She struggled to regain her sense of authority, shaken by the new intimacy between them. How coul
d she possibly sleep in the same hut with him now? “Never handle me again,” she commanded.
He stopped walking and turned her to face him, cupping her chin. “If you put yourself in danger again, you will find yourself over my knee, I promise you.”
She blinked at him, cursing the warmth she felt in her face. She attempted to muster anger, but none came. Considering the depth of feeling he had shown for her, his threat seemed a further expression of affection.
“Barring that, I shall obey.”
“And the other?” She could not bring herself to say it, nor was she sure he understood her until one corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“I daresay you enjoyed it.”
Her face grew hotter.
“My father always made love to my mother after correcting her, if I interpreted the sounds correctly. Seemed a nice way to end it.”
He leaned forward, moving slowly, and took her lips with his mouth, exploring with gentle kisses. She allowed the kiss but did not return it. When he released her, she said in a shaky voice, “Do not kiss me, Crow.”
He turned, taking her hand again. “I shall not,” he said without looking at her.
She ate her supper and returned to her hut, where he had already lit the fire in the grate, but had made himself scarce. Crawling onto her pallet, she sprawled with her hand between her legs, the hunger in her core only augmented by the three climaxes Crow had drawn from her. She brought herself there again and again, thinking of nothing but her audacious slave handling her.
Night after night found her squirming over her own hand, her need never slaked. After several weeks, she sought counsel with Lilian. “What does it mean when you cannot quench your body’s thirst?”
Lilian looked at her, her dark eyes seeing into the depths of her soul. “Only you know the answer, Ariana. But I will tell you this: Your blood will be the sacrifice for the fertility rites this spring.”
She gasped, staring.
The old woman nodded. “I saw it at solstice–you will be the honored maid.”
The revelation did not improve her restless nights. Now she lay, imagining her deflowering. Who would she choose? Crow? Nay, doing so would open a door she could never again close. She should pick a younger man, whose seed was sure to take.
She tossed again in her bed. The idea of bearing a child brought her no joy. She had saved her virginity for her entire life. First, for the marriage her father had arranged. Later for this very guidance from Lilian. And yet, she could not imagine herself at Avalon, giving birth to a child to be fostered out, going about her business day after day. And if she did choose Crow? Would he stand by and allow a child of his to be raised by priestesses if female or fostered at Stonecroft if male? Or would he claim the child for himself and leave?
She shook her head. He needed to leave, regardless. He did not belong. She would choose him for the rites, because they were somehow fated. Afterward, she would send him away. Her decision eased her enough to cease the frenzied self-pleasuring, waiting instead for her initiation.
****
On the spring equinox, she and the other maidens chosen to give their virginity to invoke fertility gathered in the House of Maidens for a ceremonial bathing and adornment with crowns of greenery. Because Lilian had selected her to represent the Goddess, the priestesses and younger maids paid special attention to preparing her, anointing her sacred points, including the outer portion of her sex. She would go adorned only in a short skirt, the rest of her body bared, save for the sacred symbols and designs brushed onto her skin. They braided greenery into her hair and wound it all around the top of her head like a crown. A blue topaz jewel was attached to a cord around her head so the stone dangled over her third eye.
They had fasted since the night before, keeping their bodies clear to channel and hold the power. Already she sensed the mounting energy from the power of the equinox, as well as the collective reverence of Avalon, the druids and the several hundred villagers who gathered to participate. The druids’ music had begun at dawn and continued now, filling the air with sweet harmonies.
As the honored maid, she donned the mask of the Goddess, taking her place at the end of the line of maidens who followed Lilian along the winding path to the altar. The music stopped and the boisterous crowd fell silent. She saw Crow positioned near the dais, scanning the crowd with alert suspicion. Now and then he turned to crane his neck, scanning the priestesses as if he were looking for her. She had not told him she would participate in the rites so he did not know to look for her on the great stone platform.
Lilian raised her arms, and she felt the high priestess drawing the energy of the Goddess down through her hands. She felt it travel from the elder priestess, into the earth, charging her own feet with power. She drew it up her legs, allowing it to pool in her low belly, pulse in her sex. Normally, the sex rite served as an initiation for the maidens into priestesshood. For her, a different initiation had been used–a blood sacrifice from the pricking of her finger. Now she stood, a full priestess with ten years’ experience in sensing and directing magic, about to complete the sex rite as the honored maid. Her body vibrated with the power gathering within her.
Lilian turned her palms out to bless the crowd, giving a welcome and words of invocation, though the Goddess was already present. The music began again and she led the maidens into the crowd to choose their mates. She sauntered through the crowd, stopping to give blessings to the children who handed her sprigs of herbs or touched her hands. Eventually, she found her way to Crow, stopping before him. He focused on her, but with the mask, he did not seem to recognize her.
****
Where was Ariana? He craned his neck past the masked priestess-initiate who stood before him, scanning the crowd again for his lady. She had been gone all day in preparations for the festival, but now she still had not emerged.
Realizing the maiden faced him, he gave a smile and shake of his head. “Forgive me, but I cannot.”
She lifted her hands to bless him, and he bowed his head, stooping so she could reach it. Energy surged through him, causing him to jerk in surprise. She continued to hold her hands over him, the power filling him, giving him a sense of virility, as if he were about to ride into battle. When it quieted, the girl slipped a hand in his and tugged him forward. The crowd cheered and he realized she was the honored maiden, choosing her ceremonial mate.
“No, no, little maid. I am flattered, but I cannot. Go find a young buck for your initiation.”
The girl turned and leaned into him. “You are bound to me, slave; you must obey my command.”
The sound of her laughing voice caused his mouth to fall open. “Ariana.”
She tugged at his hand again and he lurched forward to follow, the crowd laughing and cheering as she led him up to the stone platform.
“Ariana,” he repeated, full of wonder.
“Shed your clothes, slave,” she said when they reached the top. The priestesses had built fires in a ring around the platform whilst she sought her mate, and they provided warmth in the cool spring evening. Blankets lay in the center, making a nest for their coupling. She stood in the center of the blankets.
He wasted no time in obeying, shucking his tunic and undershirt, removing his hose in one swift movement. His manhood stood out straight from his body, pointing at the subject of its interest. The crowd cheered again to see him naked, but he ignored them, his focus on the maid who chose him. He had seen her unclothed before, the night she fell in the lake, but it had not been the time to ogle. Now, as she stood before him, her top bare save for the paint, he drank in her exquisite beauty. Her youthful breasts belied her age, still taut and high, her nipples pebbled in excitement. He stepped forward, capturing one in his hand, dimly hearing the cheers of encouragement. He teased her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he removed her mask.
A collective gasp went through the crowd when they recognized their maiden was the princess of the realm. Clasping her nape, he tilted her head ba
ck and kissed the hollow behind her jaw, traveling down the slender line of her neck to the curve of her collarbone. Her breath came short and fast, her hands clutching at his arms.
“Sweet princess,” he said, his hand traveling down the slope of her back, finding the cord holding her skirt and untying it. The skirt fell in a pool at her feet and the crowd sent up another roar of approval. He dropped to his knees, holding her hips and bending his neck to seek her pretty sex with his tongue.
“Crow,” she whispered, sounding nervous. “There is no time for this. They are waiting for you–for us to…”
He smiled and rubbed his thumb over her sex, which was oiled with an aromatic spice. “They will wait.”
“Crow,” she pleaded. She shifted on her feet, spreading her legs to give him better access, holding his shoulder to steady herself. “You may have your way after. Now is the time for...you know…”
His brave priestess was nervous. He stood and swung her up into his arms, lowering back to his knees and settling her on her back. “You wish me to get it over with?” he teased.
She spread her legs, leaning her head back. Her eyes lost focus. “I am the altar,” she said, speaking the words of ritual.
He panicked. It had been so many years since his initiation, he could not remember his line.
She lifted her head when he did not speak, poised above her, frozen in concentration.
“I am the sacrifice!” he blurted as they came to him.
She giggled as he lowered his body over hers. The sound of other couplings reached his ears, villagers and priestesses alike taking part in the ritual. The head of his manhood rested against her moist heat and she brought her hand to grip it, sending a shudder of pleasure though his body. She guided him in, then brought her hands to his shoulders where she dug in her nails when he pushed past her resistance. He remained buried deep inside without moving, allowing her to grow accustomed to his size. When her nails retracted, he moved slowly within her. She arched, thrusting her perfect breasts to the sky as he plumbed her tight channel.
