The Fallen Woman of Világos

by Ursula Grey

  The feast he made of sucking and teasing her rosy buds caused her clit to throb with delight. He sucked and pulled at the tender tips, taking turns with each. Her womb ached with each adroit manipulation of his teeth and tongue.

  “Say you will always be mine,” he whispered.

  “I shall, Jofre. For forever and a day.” She raised his face to hers and brushed her lips across his. She longed to unite with him, to meld their bodies into one. With her tongue in his mouth, Alyce pressed heavily against his lips. Their tongues jousted playfully. How she longed to feel his cock inside her. Ever the inventive lover, Jofre pulled and plied her nipples with his fingertips, taking her to greater heights of passion.

  Alyce knew not the delights of the flesh until Jofre had come upon her that fine winter morn. Glittering snowflakes fell, yet the sun shone bright in a blue lit sky. It was on that day he'd given her lessons in the art of love. At first shy, she quickly learned to love the excitement of the chase, to run from the pursuer, and then, finally, to submit and be taken.

  “Take me, Jofre. I want you.”

  “Not so quickly, for I have a gift for you. Do you not want it?”

  She shook her head yes and smiled. Always eager to please her, he frequently brought her little trinkets, a flower, a seashell...small souvenirs from his travels. Never had anyone thought enough of her to bestow a gift upon her. Alyce knew, however, that Jofre was her greatest gift.

  “Wait here, lass.” He stood and pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it upon the chair. His large cock jutted at an upward angle from his body. She loved the sight of him naked. Large and bare-chested, he tapered to a fine form, one that her nubile body constantly craved. “Close your eyes,” he called.

  Alyce brought her hands to her eyes and waited.

  “While you await my return you shall remove your clothing and stand naked with your back to me.”

  Keeping her eyes closed, she rose and removed every stitch of clothing. The cool air licked at her nipples. Alyce wondered how long she would stand waiting, as she was ever nervous of a knock or a call. It wasn’t long before she sensed Jofre behind her. He pressed his warm chest against her back. The head of his cock he rubbed against the softness of her skin.

  “You may open your eyes and turn round.”

  Jofre held a lovely scarf woven of silk in one hand and a long strip of leather in the other. She raised her hand to touch the soft coolness of the silk. Jofre smiled and wound it round her neck. “It made me think of you, my love. To touch it reminded me of touching you. When I did, my cock grew hard and I could not wait to return to give it to you."

  “But the other?” she asked. “What of the strap you hold?” Had their game escalated to something more sinister? Surely Jofre would not hurt her?

  “Another game we shall play. Come, Alyse. Be not afraid. You shall wear your silky sheath whilst I enter the silky sheath within you.”

  He held the length of leather in one hand while he tossed the bulk of it up and over the ceiling rafter until he held two equal pieces in length. Alyce looked up puzzled, for they ended above her head.

  “Raise your arms and hold them above you.”

  Her eyes must have revealed her uncertainty.

  “Fear not, Alyce. I mean only to bind our love. You cannot escape the truth of our love, sweet one. Now come to me and do as I say.”

  She walked to him and raised her arms. He tied her wrists together and raised them above her. It was not uncomfortable, only awkward to be placed in such a position. In the middle of his room, in broad daylight, she stood naked and waiting. What a sight! Trembling, her smile belied the nervousness she fought against.

  “Spread your legs wide for me,” said Jofre. He stood before Alyce, his cock pressed against her belly, crying the salty tears of eagerness. He encircled the cheeks of her arse and lifted her high into the air. With his fingers he spread the lips of her puss, and with his mouth, suckled her breasts. She had no fear, for she was safe in his arms. Slowly he brought the head of his cock to her slick opening and pressed against the slit he would soon pierce. Jofre masterfully positioned her upon his waiting cock. He controlled her body, lifting slowly then lowering her upon his stiffness.

  Regardless of how many times he had taken her, it was like the first each time. Jofre’s width and length a woman could never become accustomed to taking at the first attempt.

  “Open for me, Alyce,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you to take all of my cock inside your sweet cunny.”

  Alyce relaxed and closed her eyes as he drove the head of his throbbing cock into her center. Weightless in his arms, she need do nothing but wait until he burrowed further into her.

  “That’s a sweet lass. Oh, Alyce, it’s so damn good. How, how do you…It is as if you caress and massage me with your cunny. Your hot sweet, living, breathing, cunny.”

  Jofre's eyes held hers. Alyce breathed rapidly as he probed, invaded, and conquered the slick channel. He did not stop until she was stretched wide with the length of his thick cock. Next, he brought her hips toward him and ground her pelvis against his. Her bud of passion rubbed against him as he pressed against her more tightly. With a circular motion, he moved her hips, first to the left and then to the right. She was strangely aroused by the fact that she could not leave, even had she wanted. Jofre was the master of her body and she freely gave herself up to him. She rubbed madly against him, then stopped suddenly. With his cock buried deep within her, Jofre sought the entrance to her nether region. He slid his finger upward until he found the tight passage.

  “Oh, Jofre...Jofre, please...” She let forth a soft moan and whispered his name.

  He teased and probed then at once slipped the tip of his middle finger inside her. She stiffened then bucked and writhed.

  “Trust me, Alyce.”

  When he spoke those words she stopped fighting against the intrusion. She welcomed the insistent parry and thrust and submitted.

  The roar of waves washed over her body as she took his cock, each thrust more delightful than the last. Up and down upon the rod of wicked delight she rode, oblivious to her surroundings. With one last full pierce, a flush of release flooded through her. Alyce shouted his name, Jofre, Jofre, Jofre...His name echoed in her ears, over and over, but it was no longer her voice that uttered his name...

  As Alyce opened her eyes, Jofre's betrothed stood in the doorway. She screamed his name, but her cries were not of passion. Hate tainted them. Her eyes were ablaze, and their fury was focused entirely upon her. That was when Alyce knew she would see Jofre no more.

  Chapter Six

  Deep in thought, Lukas paced the floor of the library stopping at the decanter of brandy. He poured himself another drink. Downing the contents of the glass, he stared into the distance, unseeing. The temperature in the room had grown chill but he hadn't noticed. Opening the great oak doors, he stepped out onto the balcony. The moon was a full silver orb and illuminated the outline of the snow-capped mountains. The cry of an owl cut through the night. By now she would be sleeping soundly, alone in the huge bed. His mind recounted again everything she had told him.

  When he'd asked her to return to a time of pleasure in the company of a man, she seemingly returned to an earlier existence, earlier than even that of her birth. Or could it simply be attributed to the imaginings of a woman suffering from the hysteria thought common to her sex?

  He fought this idea. His own mother was a strong and capable woman who, by example, dispelled such notions in her son. He did not believe in the supposed hysterical nature of the female sex. Women simply required release from the confines of the daily drudgery of their existence. They needed passions and interests of their own, just as did men.

  If her memories under hypnosis were not hysteria, they might prove the greatest discovery of the era. He, Lukas Holt, would announce the existence of a new phenomenon to his colleagues. If true, if the mind’s power to recall previous existences were recognized, what good it might herald for mankind
! But he was no fool. He groaned inwardly at the religious implications of this revelation. Perhaps the world was not prepared for the repercussions of such a finding.

  As a man of science he hoped to eradicate the superstitious notions of the past. Only science could be entrusted with the revelation of higher truth. Science was the only vehicle with the ability to transport man to an advanced level of enlightenment. Or was it? Were such experiences what the mystics of the east meant by seeing beyond the veil of this existence?

  Could it truly be possible, or would the world think him mad? Did the woman actually recall a life centuries earlier? If not, the figments of her imagination might still mask truths that could free her. Perhaps they were the only way she could reach those truths. Perhaps her past was so devastating to recall that she'd erased it from memory. Her tale, which had seemed so dubious before, now took on a degree of believability.

  His determination grew. His would not be just another treatise. His contribution to the field of psychiatry would bring the recognition he longed for. All his professional life his youth had been held against him--though he was no babe, only young compared to those staid, portly windbags, his colleagues. Victory would be his.

  What of the woman? He recalled her lying supine, her voice soft, the light of the hearth wrapping her in a hazy glow so that she looked an angel, virginal and untainted. Why couldn't he separate the patient from the woman? It became increasingly difficult to think clearly in her presence. At times she was an Aphrodite, bewitching him with her physical beauty, charming him with her smile, seducing him with the fluidity of her movements. At others she seemed such an innocent it was all he could do to stop himself from taking her into his arms to soothe and protect her. At yet other times she seemed a Circe, her siren call invading his psyche to wreak havoc on his mind. He must remain level-headed in her presence if he was to learn the truth.

  Damn her! Was she a marvel of science or a marvelous actress? Was it a curse or a blessing that this hauntingly beautiful yet strangely familiar creature had come to him in the night? Deep in thought, he peered into the darkness. As he did, a shooting star blazed across the sky.

  Chapter Seven

  Little by little, the darkness lifted. She no longer wished to continue in the roles she had played until now. The doctor was unlike any man she had ever known. He'd brought to the fore her repressed longing to live a settled life that did not involve selling what was becoming increasingly precious to her—her soul.

  It was his suggestion to bring blank canvas to life. When he retired to his study to work, she spent afternoons in the atelier trying her hand at painting, creating a world that originated in her mind’s eye. She found the practice freeing.

  The good doctor’s introduction of paint and canvas provided an outlet for her joys, her sorrows, and her pain. With each brushstroke she thought less and less of her previous life. She did not know if this release was due to channeling her efforts into work, or if the sessions with the doctor were helping her.

  Although she remained skeptical about these odd sessions, she emerged from them less agitated. Yet her uncertainties always seeped back, and with them dark thoughts of the existence to which she must return. She tried to force the thought from her mind but honesty compelled her to admit that she did not want to leave him or the life she had created here.

  Strange how remarkably one's vista could change in a few months’ time, she thought. She'd grown used to his presence, to their conversations over dinner, but it was their evening walks that she looked forward to most. Their discussions ranged from the most mundane topics to the profoundly philosophical underpinnings of life. During these magical times she caught herself imagining being his mate. However, each time she thought he might kiss her, he turned away or quickly changed the subject.

  They would meet again this afternoon for another session. She feared disappointing him, but he seemed undisturbed that she slept during each interlude. Having rarely possessed the leisure to enjoy an afternoon nap, she awoke refreshed and happy.

  The time spent lazing had done wonders for her constitution and imagination. Fleeting glimpses of other places and times often populated her mind. Who was the man who appeared in her dreams? She could barely catch his features before he disappeared into locked recesses of her mind.

  She sipped the strong black tea and replaced the cup on the saucer when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?” She knew it was the good doctor. There was no need to knock. He could easily have entered. She had never known a real gentleman before. Surely he epitomized all that was good in a man. A pity she'd never crossed paths with such a man before—or perhaps it was luck. If she had, she’d have never met this man. Alas, their time together would soon come to an end. The charade could go on no longer.

  When he opened the door, she saw first his dark waved locks. “Shall we embark on another session?” He smiled. “I believe we’re making great progress, do you not agree?”

  “Yes, I do.” She returned his smile. “I shall be there shortly. Let me just freshen myself.”

  “Yes, my l—" he began but halted in midsentence. “Certainly," he resumed. "I shall wait for you. Do not rush.”

  He closed the door and she listened to his footsteps as he walked away. Please let me not fall asleep again, she prayed. I do so want to please him, for he has been good to me.

  She sat at the dressing table and brought the brush to her hair but stopped. What does it matter, she thought. His heart could never beat for her. A single teardrop slid down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and rose. What would happen when he grew tired of her? How many more times could she disappoint him?

  * * * *

  He carefully inscribed in the now thickly inked journal. In order to test the veracity of the last experiment, in which she seemingly traveled to another lifetime, the subject will be guided to return to the past once more. Although concerned about the possible repercussions of such an experiment, I must know whether the previous instance was merely a fortuity. I must also make sure I am not being duped by the patient. It is with trepidation that I proceed, as I do not wish to retard her progress.

  It is imperative to continue to explore the theme of abandonment, as I believe this is the source of her neurosis. To test this theory, the subject will be induced to return to a different time in which she felt abandoned by a significant person in her life.

  “Do you trust in me?” he began with the ritual words.

  “Yes,” she said, softly.

  "You are safe and no harm shall come to you. You will return to a time long, long ago. Journey to a time that aroused feelings of great intensity in you, to a time of great pleasure or great pain. When I snap my fingers you will be there.”

  She fought not to sleep, but when the doctor spoke, she found herself drawn irresistibly toward the border of a dream world she could almost touch. With a rapid whoosh, the breath of Zephyrus transported her to a strange place, yet just as before, strangely familiar.

  "Where are you?"

  She heard the whisper of a voice but could not tell from where it came. The ringing in her ears faded as she found herself floating above a room, looking down on people dressed like the Romans of yore. Six men sat on gilded chairs. The cloth of their togas fell between muscular thighs. Six women sat beside them. All eyes shone bright, as if with an eager flame. She glanced in the direction of their rapt attention. They looked to the entrance of the chamber in anticipation. A moment later, a woman and man were dragged into the room.

  Again, the faint voice asked, "What do you see?"

  "A man, tall and dark. Beside him stands a woman with waist length black hair that glitters in the torchlight." Without warning she was sucked toward the woman, and then she was the woman. This strange union seemed right somehow. She realized she had known on sight that she and the woman were one.

  She trembled nervously and glanced away, not wanting to meet the eyes of the men in the room. Her heart beat r
apidly. The gathering shouted and laughed. The tiles, strewn with stray grapes and stained by droplets of red wine, were slippery, but she doubted they had spilled that much, as their faces were lit with drink—and desire. The sweet scent of frankincense filled her nostrils. The bucolic wall frescoes framed by floral tendrils that were populated by flittering birds belied the malevolent atmosphere. She felt the hand of the stranger rest upon the small of her back, unseen by the others. He touched her briefly as if to reassure her that she would survive this ordeal.

  “What have we here?” asked the corpulent, feral-eyed man in the middle.

  Could this be the emperor? she wondered. She had never been face to face with his person, but had heard other slaves’ sordid tales of his depravity. For his amusement, slaves and free men alike were brought to fetes that lasted from late evening to early morn.

  Surely she did not find herself in his presence? Slowly the memory returned of being awakened in the night by her master, of his promise that if she passed this test and performed well, she would be a free woman. Groggy from sleep, she had not fully comprehended his meaning. She knew only that she now stood beside a stranger while the eyes of the small crowd undressed her.

  He stood a shoulder taller than she and wore only a waistcloth. His black wavy hair fell to his shoulders and his scent, clean and masculine, comforted her in a way she could not explain. His skin, sleek and oiled, glimmered in the firelight. A jagged scar ran from his collarbone down across the top of his left breast. She desired only that his well muscled legs would carry her from this trial—whatever it was.

  “If we are to survive this, you must do as you are told,” he whispered. “I promise not to hurt you.”

  The voices of the men stilled and a hush settled over the room. She shook with fear. The strange whispering in her head had become a low hum. It was too far away to hear and she blocked the insistent buzzing. She knew only that she must focus on surviving this ordeal.