Seeds of a Glowing Ember - 03
#4 of Seeds of a Glowing Ember
Simpering moans were brought forth by skillful hands which played indecently in the slickness of moist folds. A sound of joyful play emitted from young lips, gasping without a shred of shame. The allure of sweet music traveled to hiding places within easy vantage of her image. Whether those places were vacant or filled did not matter, she always imagined them inhabited by hungry eyes ... watching with the type of longing which she felt for the man who would one day be hers.
Without the touch of flesh and blood, she imaged her lover, and moved with the dream of his lust. Lecherous hunger would glare upon her with fearsome need, gaining courage to move toward the heat of her hearth. Heated breath would tease the hairs on her body, and then he would climb over her and steady for his assault. An illusion of roughness penetrated her defenses, plunging deep into her body to shake her inside. The grunt of his excursion would push him forward ... hot and pulsing ... sliding forward then back ... rocking in a motion which caused her to fill until overflowing with his passion.
A pillow then pressed over her mouth, and with a body shaking shutter, her abdomen crushed inward as she screamed with all of her strength. Muscles clenched in violent spasm, gushing fluids onto her hands; slickening the scene as ecstatic waves crashed upon her shore. The feverish rush boiled within until blackness overtook her, and she was still.
Like every time before, the moment passed, and Lana was alone in her bed. The phantom lover faded back to the lair of her dreams. The release allowed an afterglow to settle the reservoir of turbulent ideas ... some so intense that she needed to paint them to make them stop.
A trembling hand found her handkerchief and carefully wiped up her mess. Bored eyes gazed around her royal room, past the magnificent bed and fine linens to the canvases which covered the walls. All of the frames contained scenes of great beauty which were lit only in pale moonlight. This was the only time she was allowed to move around to take in her scenes, for the daylight was always forbidden to her. The light was for her brother and the dark was for her mother.
Though she was forbidden to do so, the daughter's worship of her mother caused her to spy as often as she was able. Mother's strange ways made no sense, when Lana was younger, but when the girl finally felt her moon blood stir, she took matters into her own hands, and realized there were powers far greater than her meager mind had yet to grasp. There had never been a man inside of her, but the night easily concealed young Lana when her mother took lovers. Even before her father died, girl had spied on the countess as she wielded the magic of the goddess.
The dark mother had granted the countess the siren's call, and the men were all so eager to wrap themselves in the folds of her web. Knights and knaves alike entered her bed like animals but left tamed. Tokens of affection were always bestowed to the matron of the manor, some were brilliant and others were merely thoughtful, but it was always the lover which left gifts when he left.
Lana always felt a gripping anticipation for these mysterious objects of affection, and she longed to someday have lovers of her own. Though they never spoke of it, Lana knew in her heart she was destined to inherit this secret from her dark mother. There would likely be a private ceremony ... a touching moment between mother and daughter ... then her first lover would be lured in, a gift would be given, and she would drink in his essence. Then, at the end of their lovemaking, he would belong to her.
Slipping into her nightgown, Lana moved back to her window and leaned out into the garden. The moon was not full enough to see the details of the grounds before her, but the stars were happily showing off in the places where they could poke through the places between cloud patches. The smell of the recent rain tickled her memories and she looked fondly upon the statue of the soldier whose back was to her window. As a child, she remembered the stories of how it faced out in order to protect her. It was a wonderful story of sacrifice and heroism ... he was her first lover and she had pleasured herself upon his dais on the nights when there was no moon.
The sounds of the night sang sweetly, broken only briefly by the sound of a horse or a passing one of their home's two tireless guards. _The guards ... perhaps someday I will practice with them ... I wonder ... will mother be willing to share? _ As she contemplated this possibility, a gentle knock returned her attention to the bedroom door.
"Mistress?" asked a voice she had come to know and love. "Mistress Lana?"
"Come in, Marion," she said as her servant entered the room and dropped to both knees at her feet. "You're late," Lana pouted, but she could tell her servant had just come from the bath.
"I'm sorry, Mistress," the servant said as she flinched a little. "We have guests ... and they needed a bath ... and then I needed a bath ... and ..."
"Did he give you a present?" Lana asked.
"Uhm ... no ... Mistress," Marion managed, the servant's large blue eyes casting to the floor as her cheeks reddened.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Marion," Lana said, moving to her dear friend's side with a gentle touch and a sympathetic look. "Don't worry about it! You're so pretty that I'm sure men will be giving you presents of your own someday!" These words brought an impish smile to Marion's face and she shook with a tiny giggle which she covered with her hand. "There, that's better. So, tell me about our guests?"
The question drained the mirth from the servant's face and her body suddenly stiffened. Lana was considering telling her friend to forget about the question when she began to report. "A priest and a friar, Father Harold and Brother William. Your mother appears to know Father Harold from long ago. She asked him about a book and about your flowers."
"My flowers?" Lana repeated with a raised brow. "The ones I plant at night?"
"She said they were ... lacking," the servant said sadly.
"How?"
"They aren't colorful enough and do not attract bees to pollinate them," Marion told her. "But I don't think they were talking about flowers," the servant continued before Lana could speak. "I think they were talking in code, and I think they were discussing marriage candidates for you."
Lana opened her mouth and then closed it, her mind beginning to race through the possibilities. If she was to be married then her mother would need to teach her the secret of these men soon. Until now, her tutors had advised her to appear weak and delicate before them, but her mother never did that. It only added to her mystery.
"Mistress," Marion nearly whispered, "I think you're in danger."
"The bad kind or the good kind," Lana said with a grin."
"My lady," the servant said in an almost scolding tone.
"Now now," Lana said in the trained voice of a noble woman that she used to tease her friend, "you must not contradict me."
"I am not contradicting you," Marion said, refusing to go along with this joke they often shared. "I am afraid for you, my lady."
"Oh, Marion," Lana said with a warm smile as she hugged her friend in support, "you know there is nothing to worry about. Whatever is really going on, mother has everything under control. She will know what to do."