by Ursula Grey
Shivering, she keenly felt her loss of desire to use this man. She'd begun to question her deceptive ways, yet she knew no other way to be.
She told herself that although he provided for her, she really knew little of him, only that each night, when darkness fell, she could hear the sound of a key turning the lock of the heavy oak door to her chamber. Magically, she'd find it open upon the morning. She did not want to follow this line of thought and pushed it from her mind.
"Come in," she said. He entered, holding a journal bound in leather. She watched as he walked past the book she'd left open upon the table, but he said nothing.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
He was dressed comfortably in a plain linen shirt and canvas trousers that covered the charming physique she knew lay beneath. Again, she grew fevered. Uncertain of the effect his magnetism might trigger, the one sure way to cool her impulses was to undergo this therapy. For that reason, she said, "Doctor, I am anxious for you to assist me. May we begin?"
He looked at her quizzically but nodded in agreement. They adopted their customary positions. The drawn drapes effectively shielded the room from the intrusion of daylight. Slightly beyond her line of vision, he sat at the desk across from her, but did not face her. In this fashion, she surmised he could better view her body without having to look into her eyes.
He explained the process. He would begin relaxing her physical body and then guide her through a series of "imaginings" designed to separate her body from her mind. There is so much you do not know, my good doctor, she thought. Life is fraught with danger. For all your learning, you know so little. She fought to focus upon his words, but felt herself detach from the trappings of the world once he began to speak.
* * * *
The subject, Karolina, recalled an early memory of abandonment suffered during childhood and remains guarded with respect to her identity. My circuitous efforts to broach the subject have been unsuccessful and caused her to withdraw into a shell of reticence. If she speaks the truth, the loss of her father and nursemaid would have undoubtedly affected her ability to trust in others. Has this pattern continued into adulthood and somehow caused her loss of memory?
During this regression I plan to discover if she has also experienced memories of a less harsh nature; particularly between that of herself and the opposite sex. Perhaps this will also serve to stir her memory, or reveal her as a liar.
Lukas Holt laid aside his pen. He hoped that the woman truly suffered from amnesia. If he were successful in helping her to regain her memory using this method, he might gain the recognition of his peers and his profession. Throughout Vienna, a revolt against tradition was being waged. Could this discovery herald a sacred spring and the renunciation of a tradition mired in the past? If not, he feared his efforts were for naught and his life's work would pass unnoticed.
His thoughts drifted back to the woman--the woman as person and not as subject. He delighted in her femininity, the way she daintily held her tea cup just so, how her lips pursed when she sipped the hot liquid, and the way her eyes grew wide when he entered the room.
Whether it was in fear or admiration he did not know. He vowed to spend more time with this enigma of a woman that he'd sheltered behind these walls. She was a jewel that he enjoyed looking at, one with facets not apparent to the eye at first glance. A jewel that grew more precious to him with the passing of each day.
She reclined on the settee. Having brought her to a suitable level of tranquility, her breathing was steady and she was in a relaxed state.
“Do you trust in me?”
“Yes,” she responded.
"I will now count backwards. Three...two...one. You are now at ease. You are safe. No harm will come to you. Breathe deeply and relax."
She sighed and sunk into a deep state of trance.
"Now, let us continue to explore. I want you to tell me of your last experience with a man whom you loved and who brought you great pleasure. Take your time.”
* * * *
How very odd she felt. The only description that came to mind was the sensation of floating along in a state of "in between." In between what, she wondered? Different worlds? The distance between this world and the next? She did not know. Perhaps she was dreaming. She knew only that this dream seemed so very real...
The feeling was pleasurable. She imagined herself weightlessly gliding in a gentle stream, or floating carefree among the clouds. With each breath, the ties that bound her to the corporeal world loosened.
Without warning, she rapidly hurtled backward and was pulled along with a great intensity. Colors swirled around her, more beautiful than those of the rainbows she had marveled at as a child. She heard a popping sound and found herself floating above a bucolic scene directly below her.
“Where are you?” asked a voice in the distance.
She could not tell whether the voice came from the clouds above or from the giant oak below. She was amazed to discover herself hovering above a meadow of great beauty. "How lovely this place is…" she replied to the mysterious voice. Below she spotted a woman standing in the field. Without warning, her spirit was drawn into that of the woman. At once they became one.
"Where are you?" asked the voice once again.
“In a meadow of wild flowers. The spring breeze plays with the locks of my hair. It falls round my shoulders and dances across my face. I do so love this time of the year.”
“What are you wearing?” he asked. It was a pleasant voice. The voice of a man...
“My dress is of velvet, a lovely shade of emerald green. ’Tis one of the shades that flatters me, says Jofre.”
She surprised herself by uttering this name. She knew no Jofre, yet the name seemed unexpectedly familiar.
The voice faded and was replaced by the sound of horses' hooves in the distance. She had only then finished gathering the cornflowers, forget-me-nots, and buttercups she would use to adorn the rooms of the castle. Inhaling the fragrant bouquet, she sneezed, sending the flowers aflutter. Laughing, she turned round to find a handsome man dismounting from his steed. Guessing his age to be around five and twenty years, he was hale and his cheeks glowed red with the flush of exertion. With ease, he dismounted and jumped to the ground, the muscles of his calves contracting as he landed. He wore brown hose and a blue tunic that fit his chest snugly.
It was Jofre. He swaggered over in his way and smiled at her.
“Alyse, my sweet one. Will you not come and give your lover a kiss?”
She ran to him with delight. She knew instinctively that she could never keep him waiting. He had cast a spell upon her. From the moment she first saw him, she knew he would be hers. His large and capable hands rounded her waist and he pulled her to him. Alyce laughed and allowed him to press her breasts firmly against his chest. The dark locks of his hair caressed her chest and tickled the place between her breasts as he kissed the rise of her swelling bosom.
“Alyse,” he moaned. “How I have missed thee.”
“My silly one, you’ve been away for a fortnight only.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. How she loved his blue eyes, always full of mischievous delight.
“Did you not miss me?” he asked with a brief look of hurt.
“My love, when you are away, my heart grows weary with waiting, and I yearn for your touch to awaken me.”
He brought his lips to hers and smiled. Her brief insecurity vanished as she parted her lips and eagerly took his tongue. Jofre thrust deeply into her mouth, creating a quivering sensation below. Alyce tilted back her head and pressed as fervently against his lips as he did hers. The bristled stubble of his beard against her face sent a prickled surge throughout her body.
He loosened the ties of her girdle and plucked one breast from the confines of her dress. Bringing his lips to the erect nipple, he gently bit and suckled the hard tip. She tried to squirm away, but he held her close.
“Jofre,” she cried, “someone shall see us.”
Her pearl of pleasure th
robbed with delight, with the excitement the danger of discovery brings. It was his way. Jofre had a penchant for skirting the edge of danger and loved to take her in unexpected places, but they’d never before made love outside the confines of the castle.
“What will they see?” he whispered between the teasing licks and bites he delivered to each of her points of passion. “Only a man and a woman who’ve been parted from each other for far too long…”
He reached between her legs and slid his hand up her moist thigh. Honey flowed from between her hot center. She was ready to take his thick and eager cock right then. She moaned as he slid first one, then two fingers into her cunny, all whilst rubbing her bud of love with his thumb. She stood on tiptoe to take more of him inside her.
Was he not her betrothed, if only in her imagination? The other maidens, she knew, tittered behind her back. She was good only for a roll in the hay with the master. She would never be anything more to him than a quick fuck and the sooner she realized it the better off she'd be, they’d say.
It was too late. Alyce could never deny him her body, for he owned it—just as she owned his...
“Tis true, Jofre.” Alyce panted with desire. “But, but, I must safeguard my reputation, for I’ve no future if my name is sullied. Your family will never accept me if someone should spy our activities. Please, let us go to a place where we’ll not be seen by prying eyes. I shall promise you something special if you do...”
“What might that be, lass?”
He continued the circular motion against her nubbin and she pressed hard against him raising her hips to meet his thrusting fingers.
“It is a secret, Jofre." She smiled coyly. "Will you follow me and learn what it is?”
He cocked his head to one side and licked his lips. "Come then, my love," he said, and swatted her backside. Quickly smoothing their clothing, they made haste to the location of the tryst. They would meet just as soon as they returned to the manor. He would await her in his chambers. He rode left to the stables and she skipped off to the right. Racing forward, the long grass tickled her ankles as she ran.
Once inside, she slipped unnoticed through the great hall. Turning sharply to the right, she hurried up the stairwell that led to her room, that of a lowly serving girl. "Kitchen wench," said the crusty lot of hags she was forced to work with. Nay, their time had passed and they had nothing in this life to care for except idle gossip, of which she was often the subject. They whispered behind her back, but she did not care. Jofre promised she would one day be his.
“Broken and used, then tossed aside when the next pretty maid comes round,” said Agathe.
"Stuffs you like a Christmas goose, does he?" asked Louise.
"Slut," Rose chimed in.
It did not matter what they said. She could see in his eyes that he loved her. Jofre said she was his mischievous sprite, part fairy, part nymph. He loved their games, as did she. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for him.
Quickly, as she did not want to keep him waiting, Alyce ran to retrieve her mirror, a gift from Jofre. She had just time enough to pin her hair into place, although she knew he would undo the stays and unleash the wild copper curls he loved. Frantically she searched for her cloak and although the weather now grew warm, she tossed it about her shoulders and lifted the hood to cover her face.
She knew the secret passage to his quarters. It would serve neither one if they were discovered. Jofre had no love for the woman he’d soon be forced to wed. “But how will you wed me if you will already have married her?” she'd once asked. She need not worry, he said. He would find a way, and she would be his. She must be patient.
Enough, thought Alyce. She'd already spent too long primping herself. She ran with haste through the narrow halls and swiftly slipped into his chambers. He’d already removed his riding gear and wore a simple tunic. Jofre stood with his back to her. Powerful legs led upward to slim hips and upward still to a broad and powerful chest. Alyce loved looking upon him. She heard the splashing of water as he washed the dust of the road from his face and neck. He dried himself and turned round.
“My sweet kitten, do not just stand there. Come to me.” He held out his arms and smiled. “I have missed you greatly.”
She ran to him and nestled her face into his shoulder, careful not to press too tightly against the bright red line of the wound he'd incurred during a recent skirmish. She inhaled his scent of salt and sea and felt that familiar stirring in her loins. Everything about Jofre was perfect. He took her hand and led her to the large feather stuffed bed. He pulled her upon his lap and wrapped his arms round her tightly. His cock grew large beneath her skirts and she squirmed across his strong thighs.
“Tell me, sweet one, what special gift have you for me?”
He rubbed his face into the crook of her neck and nibbled her ear lobe. “I have forgotten, Jofre.” Alyce hung her head in mock shame and spoke shyly. “I have been a naughty lass,” she said.
“Indeed you have. And what shall we do so that Alyse learns her lesson, and does not tease her lord with false promises of secret delights?” He laughed roguishly and pressed her more closely to him.
She twisted a lock of hair round her finger and met his eyes. “I do not know, my lord. Whatever you wish, for I have been a bad girl.”
“You leave me little choice. I'm given to spank a lass when she’s been naughty.” He grabbed her hips and lifted her upward. “Raise your skirts, Alyce.” He patted his lap and wore a false frown of dissatisfaction. “Over my knee you go. Hurry now, lest your punishment be harsher than I planned.”
Alyce stood. Lifting her skirts, she bent forward and slid across his thighs, her bare bottom his to take. Her knees quivered and her thighs trembled, but she tried to remain as still as possible while she waited. She knew her love would never truly hurt her. Although the blows would smart, Alyce would cherish the sharp slaps long after the sting had subsided.
When he first punished her in this manner she pouted for a full day and night. She did not understand until Jofre revealed to her how pleasure can mix with pain to create a heady tingling that would race through the length of her body. It was their little game that if she misbehaved—as she often did—Jofre instructed her in the proper behavior for a lady.
“Such a sweet and lovely arse, so pink and soft.” Jofre ran his hand over her bare bottom, his fingers leaving a trail of delightful sensation. “Tis a shame that I shall have to punish my sweet adorable one.” He groaned with need and Alyce trembled in anticipation of the first slap. His stiff cock pressed against her abdomen.
“Why do you wait so long, my love? Have you perhaps changed your mind?”
She grew nervous at the thought of her lover’s eyes taking in the sight of her bare bottom.
“Ah, no, Alyce. I have not changed my mind.” He traced light lines across what she imagined to be her crimson cheeks, then dipped his finger between the valley and parted her swollen lips. She was wet and he slid into her hot opening while tickling her nether entrance with his thumb. She squirmed with shame at this probing.
“Do not forget that you are mine, Alyce. Each and every part of you is mine to explore fully. I pray you shall never deny me, my love. Even this forbidden place you shall open to me.”
He pushed against the tightness of the tiny aperture. She tried to relax enough to allow him entrance. Jofre had always promised that one day he would have her this way, but the thought of being taken in such a manner made her nervous. Alyce prayed the time had not yet come.
“But when shall I receive my punishment, Jofre?” she asked.
He laughed softly. “You so desire a buffeting rather than to have me fill you with my love in your secret place?” He forged deeply into her hot cunny and arse, and when he slowly withdrew she sighed in relief. Alyce wondered, if he took her that way, would she soon grow to like it, as she did with the spanking game? She knew she blushed at the thought. Fortunately, she thought, in her position Jofre could not see the scarlet shad
e of her cheeks.
“As you wish, my love.”
The first whack was gentle but firm. The second stung.
“Do you promise to be a good lass and not to make promises to your lord that you do not intend to keep?”
He laid another whack upon her rump. She wiggled away, but he held her tight.
“I...promise, Jofre.” It took a moment to catch her breath for the last slap was sharp.
“Why do you hesitate? Why did you not answer immediately? For that, my pretty, you shall receive four more.”
She imagined him above her and knew he wore an expression of amusement.
“I needed only to catch my breath," said Alyce. "But now as I’ve recovered, I am remorseful, my lord. I will gladly accept my punishment, for I deserved it. I thank you for correcting my impertinence. Please continue.” The growing hardness of his cock against her told her he was pleased by her words.
“I love you, Alyce,” he whispered. His breath now came heavy. Each slap grew harder and her bottom stung as though whipped with nettles. Her arse burned, but the need between her legs was on fire. The sweet nectar that Jofre loved began to flow down her thighs. She ached for his hot tongue to lick the sweetness away.
With strong arms he drew her upward and placed her square upon his lap to face him. The air in the room was cool and though she shivered, her body burned with the fire of lust. She wondered what her lord had planned for this interlude. They must make haste, though, for it was the middle of the day and no good could come of arousing the suspicions of the denizens of the castle.
Jofre set to work unlacing her camisole and popped her breasts from their restraints.
“Let me gaze upon my little beauties,” he said. “Let me taste the succulent fruit of my little queen.” He held her small breasts within his hands and licked at the pointed tips of her nipples.
“I will never tire of you, my sweet Alyce.”
