Witches, Princesses, and Women at Arms

by Sacchi Green

  “Would you like to model?” Jiin asked, bringing me out of my reverie, her voice low and playful.

  “M-me?” I stammered, shocked but uncharacteristically tempted, lured by the delicious note of seduction in Jiin’s sweetly accented voice. “You want me to…let you paint me?” I could not say the final phrase—“without my clothes”—nor could I imagine she meant this. Though the servant Jiin had taken as her model was of low station, she was surprisingly lovely. Even as the idea that status did not determine beauty or grace flashed through my mind for the very first time, I felt Jiin’s eyes upon me and rankled at the restrictiveness of my heavy, royal garments.

  Jiin came to me and took my hand, laughing lightly. Her face was radiant with mirth; her eyes sparkled and her fingertips were delicate and warm. Her dark skin, a shade deeper than mine, was lustrous. How could I not have noticed the princess’s exquisite fineness? How could I have thought myself higher than this goddess?

  I let her guide me to the tiny dais the servant model had been sitting on. It was draped with rich sable furs. How delicious it would feel on my bare backside, I thought, shocked at myself.

  “Do not blush, sister,” Jiin whispered. “Though it looks well on you.”

  I brought my fingers to my reddening cheeks to hide them from Jiin’s acute gaze. I felt a child again; it seemed I could not stop feeling immature and foolish in front of this infernal woman.

  “Would you truly display yourself for one’s brush?” Jiin teased, bringing the tip of a paintbrush to play across her fingertips. “As you can see, one’s talents are meager, but the art is only as good as the subject, kaa?” She winked, and gently brushed the tip of my nose.

  I smiled, despite myself, and gazed up at her. I was a silly little fly, caught in the elegant web of her silken words and sensuous movements. I began unlacing the front of my gown, my eyes never leaving Jiin’s. My effort was absurdly clumsy, for I was accustomed to being dressed by others, and my mind suddenly flew to the difference between showing bare flesh to a serving girl and to Jiin.

  She watched me closely, and her expression said that she was as shocked at my undressing as I was to be doing it. But she did not stop me. Instead, she gently assisted me, smiling softly where I frowned, loosening laces I had knotted. When at last I slipped my shoulders from the sleeves and stood before her, bare-breasted, I felt the thrill of sexual self-awareness as I never had before. I turned slightly and dared to look at myself in the mirror. The sun poured in through the open casement opposite, and the light was uncompromising. Yet, imagining Jiin’s gaze, I rejected the usual imperfections I hunted for in my adolescent reflection. Instead, I saw an auburn-haired girl with rich, bronzed skin, wide, narrow eyes, softly parted lips, and maturing breasts with large dusky nipples that ached for a touch. Could I reach my hands up and feel them myself? Better still: could I somehow get Jiin to embrace me again?

  But I was not so brave as to make it so. I turned my eyes back to Jiin, who was now sucking on the end of her paintbrush, eyes fastened on my navel. Her eyes flickered, then met mine. There was such heat there it made me blush harder—if that was possible. She returned again to looking at my belly then back up to my eyes. And soon I realized that her gaze was settling lower: she wanted to see all of me. I swallowed hard and bit my lip. Her smile widened. She was obviously seeing my apprehension and enjoying that, too. A trace of childish competitiveness surfaced again and decided my actions. I roughly widened the lacing at my waist, then pushed the fabric down over my slender hips, letting it drop heavily down my legs and to the floor.

  Then I was paralyzed. I had been naked in front of serving girls for as long as I could remember. They not only dressed me but washed and dried me, powdered and adorned me, brushed and styled my hair. But they never stood, hand on hip, devouring me with their eyes. They would not dare—nor perhaps desire to. But Jiin dared, as she had with that servant. And thinking about that servant model did a surprising thing for me at that moment: it freed me. I imagined I was simply Jiin’s model, a young woman with no pretensions to power or prestige. The princess could do anything she wanted with me and I would let her. I would glory in the honor of offering myself to her. I unbound my hair and shook it free, a cascade of unruly curls. I bit my lip as I let my eyelids softly close to await Jiin’s touch.

  When it came, after a slight rustling of her skirts that made my flesh prickle and my breath quicken, I was more completely unprepared than I had thought it possible to be. Her hands cupped both of my breasts, weighing them gently; then she left only her thumbs there and began to move them in tiny circles. My nipples tingled and the tingle rapidly became an ache. Jiin seemed to know the effects she was causing, and began to gently roll my left nipple with finger and thumb. As that gesture became a rhythmic pressing, I suddenly felt her hand on my sex. She had nimbly slipped fingers down and gently opened me in a way I had never imagined. I gasped and jumped back, tripping over my bunched-up gown and falling on my backside.

  Jiin made her own little gasp, and came to help me up. “Oh! Are you all right?”

  I was so embarrassed that, as I scrambled to get back to my feet, all I managed to do was become more entangled in my clothing. Without grace or patience, I finally kicked free of the garment and ran for the door. Heaven only knew where my brains had gone to, but thankfully Jiin still had hers. “Stop!” she shouted as I put my hand on the handle to let myself out.

  I turned and looked at Jiin, her face a mask of anxious concern. Only when reflected in her eyes did I realize that I was about to head out into the hall, completely undressed. The scandal would have been terrible, perhaps ruinous to Jiin’s stay, and mortifying to my parents, not to mention me. I rushed back to my gown and hastily tried to dress, wishing Jiin would stop watching me. She came over quietly and put her hand on my bare shoulder. I felt the rush of arousal again and tried to move out of her reach without being obvious.

  “Princess,” she said, grasping me more firmly by both shoulders and turning me to face her. She kissed me then, sweetly and firmly, and it both stirred and calmed me. Then she spoke again. “One is so sorry if one frightened you—”

  “No—” I began, wanting to stop Jiin from saying something that would embarrass me further.

  But she shook her head and continued, her voice rich as honey. “Let us not push ourselves too quickly. Let us seek pleasures we can give ourselves…together, kaa?”

  I did not know what she meant, but I knew I would not flee again. She took my hand and guided me to her bed, draped with silks of the same midnight blue she always wore. Could any color have set off the bronzed glow of her skin better? I could not imagine it, especially as she stood on the bed before me—so high was the canopy that she could do so—upon the tousled linen. Had her model trespassed here, too? I doubted that, but would not think further on it. Unwrapping the winding cloth from her torso, she revealed her perfect small breasts and slender, muscled arms. Her shoulders were broad, as were her hips. She was magnificent, a dark, golden goddess I longed for but feared to worship with my whole body and soul. As I leaned back on a plump feather pillow, I feigned an ease in watching her disrobe that I desperately wished I could feel. But Jiin did not betray her awareness of my nervousness if she sensed it. Instead, she stood on the bed, and in that gauze-draped space of shadowed warmth, she revealed herself to me in a seductive, undulating dance.

  Her fingers kissed her flesh as her arms waved, like the most graceful of serpents. With wrists that bent and turned elegantly, she beckoned with her paint-spattered hands, first downturned then palms-up, inviting me to watch her every movement. Below, her hips swayed softly and rhythmically, freeing her waist until her ample skirts slid down to her ankles. Each new inch of flesh enflamed me, and I grew from anxious to eager to passionate, until finally she stood before me, a glittering creature of fantasy, lithe and wide-hipped, a mysterious being of unearthly beauty.

  When she at last let her legs fold gracefully beneath her to sit beside me, I could s
carcely breathe. Her breath, too, came fast, I noted, and I could feel its warmth on my cheek as she leaned nearer. Her body arched toward me. She placed a kiss on my cheek as her hand reached between my legs. I stiffened without meaning to. She withdrew and sat back, as if this was exactly what she had planned.

  I reddened anew, ashamed that I was so shy with someone I so wished to please. I felt I had rejected her dreadfully, but she did not show signs of being either upset or disappointed. I opened my mouth to speak, but she put two fingers to my lips and I forbore. I did find the strength to press a kiss to her tender digits, and this made her smile. She then pushed back a bit and made herself comfortable, legs bent at the knee, facing me. She leaned on some pillows behind her, propping herself up on one slender elbow and spreading her smooth thighs. I watched; I could not look away. She nodded her head, bidding me silently to pose as she was. I obeyed.

  She placed two fingers in her mouth and sucked softly on them, holding my eyes. I was puzzled yet aroused at the sight. She nodded again, and I came to understand that I was to do everything she did. I slipped two fingers into my mouth, feeling less foolish than I had anticipated, so mesmerized was I. And when she then took her wet digits from between her lips and reached them down between her legs, I knew I must do this, too. I felt dizzy and unsure, but I obeyed.

  She spoke then, her voice breaking into the silence but in a tone as hypnotizing as her movements: “Before you can enjoy the touch of others, lovely princess, you must enjoy your own. Gardens of pleasure are our bodies. Ripe, fleshy fruit are our mouths. Both fruit and tight bud are our breasts; a full bloom is our sex. Part the petals, sweet one, and explore the dewy warmth of your blossoming flower.” Her eyes drifted shut as she coaxed herself apart with first finger and pinky, then brought her two middle fingers to open her glistening inner lips. I saw between them a tiny bud, which she massaged in little circles, alternating with occasional dips into her core, where her fingers were wetted, producing soft sighs that I echoed. She spread her legs more widely and stretched them, and I tingled where her thighs brushed against mine.

  As her sighs became exquisite moans, I began to stroke myself gently. I did not look down, afraid to miss a moment of Jiin’s beautiful self-pleasuring and still awkward with my own body. I gasped as I watched her bloom and swell, the flesh of her sex reddening to a ripe, burgundy blush.

  I found the parts of my sex that I had never gazed upon, never toyed with. I wondered for a brief moment why I had not, what had kept me from loving myself as Jiin did herself. Why had I not come to know my own body? I felt curling pubic hair, plump outer labia, moist inner folds, and my own hidden nub. I jumped as I rubbed it: a shy bud that needed the lightest of touches. And as I explored, I never took my eyes from Jiin’s fingers.

  Suddenly, she gasped, her muscles locking as her teeth sank into her bottom lip. I did not stop touching myself as she stroked furiously, on a path of pleasure I desperately wanted to follow. “Jiin,” I whispered, as she lay back more fully and brought her other hand to pump fingers in and out of her opening. She cried out in pleasure. Her body began to shake, then arched hard and I sensed a sudden bursting within her. I marveled at her movements and sounds—a new dance, the like of which I had never before seen—and envied what she must be feeling.

  Her trembling lessened and her fingers stopped thrusting, and she sighed and shivered all over. I came to her side and wrapped myself around her. I wanted somehow to comfort her though I knew she was not in distress. I clung to her body, damp with beads of sweat, kissing her ear, neck, and shoulder. I tasted her salt and her sweetness. She accepted my tribute, giggling softly as her body rocked with tiny spasms. Then she threw her arms around me and pressed the whole of our bodies together. “Precious innocent,” she murmured. “Did you enjoy one’s display?”

  I nodded, sheepishly, into her neck, feeling far younger than my years.

  Jiin stretched her lithe frame and bade me sit up. “Will you offer the same for this one?” she purred.

  I rose but shook my head. “I…do not think I…”

  “Of course you can,” she interrupted, putting rich-smelling fingers to my lips. I kissed them. She laughed again, and I knew it for pleasure. How could I ever have thought she had mocked me? “One shall tell you a secret.”

  I nodded, our gazes locked. Oh, tell me a secret, I pleaded with my eyes. Tell me all your secrets, incomparable goddess!

  “You can please yourself better than anyone else. Enjoy the touch of others when you are ready, but now give this gift to yourself.” She took my hand in hers and brought it between my legs. “Just touch yourself, my Princess, and see what pleases you.” She removed her hand but kept her eyes on mine. “Go on, lovely one: soon you will find your way.”

  I closed my eyes and pressed my hand to cup my sex, felt the prickling of the small tuft of hair. I worried I would not be able to do as she had done, not reach the ecstasy she seemed to find so easily. I worried she would grow displeased or, worse, disinterested. But I took a deep breath and sighed it out, determined to meet this challenge for my goddess. If I was very lucky, I would feel some small bit of the pleasure she had experienced for herself and offer it up to her. I squeezed myself gingerly, and felt the heat there.

  “One will so enjoy watching you,” she whispered, encouraging me as if she had read my thoughts. And though her words should have brought me more embarrassment, they did not now. I felt moisture pool and brought my fingers to my slickened entrance. I pressed my two middle fingers inside, as Jiin had done, and I was rewarded with a shudder of arousal. I was soft and wet inside—a juicy, pulpy fruit—warm and welcoming. I had never entered myself this way, and again I marveled at that fact. Whose body was this but my own? Who else should plumb its depths, riper than I had ever imagined? I withdrew my fingers until only the tips were left inside, then drove them in more forcefully and felt a rush of heat and wetness. It made me giggle. This was good. I smiled to myself, eyes closed tightly, and was urged on by the sound of Jiin’s soft moan. I longed to look upon her face, but I feared I would break the spell of my own wantonness if I raised my eyelids.

  I continued to delve, fingers thrusting in and out; then brought my right hand to join my left, spreading my lips and tracing circles around and across that tiny node of pleasure, which I quickly found again. I grew dizzy from the rush of sensation and from the exertion of making my hands do as my excitement demanded. I labored long, growing frustrated when the building arousal waned and shocked with delight when it again grew and kept growing. Soon, I lost track of anything but the needs of my body, centered in the fiery core of me. I arched into my own hands as though it was not I who brought this pleasure but Jiin, my muscles tightening and my legs spreading wide of their own accord. My flesh ripened and swelled around my eager fingers, fingers far nimbler than I ever knew them to be. And after what felt an eternity of rising and falling and rising again, I felt a sharpening of my senses, a drawing in of all my energies. All of my blood was flowing to my sex. All of the universe was entering into me, until my entire being was a knot of unendurable tightness. My body opened like a flower thirsting for a downpour. My fingers were numb and I ached for release, for something I could not name but which approached with increasing force from just beyond my reach.

  Suddenly it hit. I peaked with the explosion of thunder in the heavens. I was torn as lightning splits a tree. I was… But, oh, I cannot do it justice. Such words pale by comparison to the experience, as all who have experienced the body’s bliss know only too well. When I reopened my eyes, Jiin’s smile was so broad and ripe that I knew we had shared this pleasure as fully as if we had touched each other instead of ourselves. She had given my body and my desire to me even as she partook of every moment through her rapt attention. I would be forever grateful.

  Gratitude, however, was not my primary emotion as she embraced and celebrated my blossoming with me. We kissed and fondled as I trembled all over. We laughed and scrambled under plush blankets to warm our
exposed flesh. And we would have kept this up for hours had Jiin not noted the position of the sun in the sky—it was nearly sunset. I leapt from the bed and Jiin helped me dress with haste so I could return to my chambers and dress for the evening banquet. It would not do to disappoint our parents and give away our secret. We parted with a kiss and my promise to return when the moon was high. It was a promise we kept, as we kept a thousand promises during that visit.

  Now, so many years later that I am loath to count them, I chronicle my life, and the Jiin of my budding adulthood returns to me. She comes to me in visions of royal blue, dark eyes shining and brown arms open to summon me. Though I have forgotten many a day and will no doubt forget more as time continues to pass, I can never forget Jiin. I may be an aging noble who was once a naïve young princess, but I am also all that passed between youth and old age. And I am privileged beyond measure for having met Jiin and felt her love.

  “Life offers more pleasures than one can count, if one only allows,” as Jiin, my consort of more than sixty years now, so often reminds me.

  WOODWITCH

  M. Birds

  By their third day on the move, a number of women had started to follow the army, walking steadily behind the progressing ranks of men on horseback. Some carried squalling babes against their breasts or bound across their backs, some pulled wagons behind them. Some were old and stoop shouldered, some painted with kohl and rouge and dressed in lace.