She looked over his shoulder and smiled at the verses he penned.
"How very sweet it is for a morning," she murmured, putting her arms around his shoulders and leant down to kiss his cheek..
"M'dear for you "it" could always be a pleasure,"he answered, laying down his quill And looking up at her. She turned to kneel by his side and gazed up into his eyes, seeing within them the twinkling lights of the town below the chateau.
"Is it night there yet, MiLord?"she whispered. "And are the stars abroad?"
It was eleven at night and she could hear the town crier calling that all was well in Ilmarel, his voice rising up in a powerful vocalisation to the chateau turrets. She was pleased to be at his side rather than in the crowded town, knowing that as ever the inns would be as full as the town slattern houses.
"Tell me more about the town, would you please, MiLord?"
The lights from this doubtful palace shone down upon the toings and froings of the little town, yet he wondered precisely what she would wish to know. The chateau stood on its doubtful hill and frowned down on the town, even as he frowned down on her at his feet, feeling puzzled and slightly out of sorts.
He was the master of this land, venturing out to court Milady and to chastise such submissives who ventured on his territory on occasion, as needs demand and as demands need.
"Where do I fit in, MiLord?"
"That is for us to find out," he responded, running his hand against her cheek, a gesture to test - a prelude to ownership perhaps. " Your pleasure is where I would have you fit."
"Are you the true Master of Miramur?"
He remembered his days as a wandering minstrel flirt and remembered how he had stolen clothing to reside here in style and charm the inhabitants as best he might. He had left the duke to the wild wolves and had purloined his palace for the present, knowing that only his spinning of tales and Milady's agreable company kept the duke away beyond the pass, battling to return.
"Define the true Master, my dear?"
She laughed, knowing that such a sinuous and evasive response was coming, but still she persisted in her teasing questioning. She saw through him and knew the garb he wore was stolen, but then she thought all possessions must be acquire some way or other.
"Should not your own clothing suffice, MiLord? I pray you are not a sheep in lion's clothing?"
"I may bite but only to give pleasure to receptive and intelligent women through words and with a limited domineering streak to suit their furtive and less furtive pleasures to mine."
"Mmmmm, Master, that is what I seek, along with an intellectual journey of sorts."
He took her face in his hands and realised that mutual pleasure was her goal as well and mental stimulation too, would suit her well to his propensities.
"Tell me of this place's antecedents, MiLord?"
He sat back and thought of the multifareous fictions that lay beneath its foundations and with a wide sweep of his hand indicated that it was still in the building.
"I will perhaps take you on a tour one day," he offered.
"Oh please do," she smiled.
He remembered how it had grown as the curious inhabitants sounght out new places of delight in the vast pleasure grounds.
"Is there a guidebook, MiLord?"
He was silent, musing and looking down at her. She sensed his slight irritation.
"I am terribly curious, MiLord," she apologised."... probably to a fault."
"We have ways of curing those faults" he smiled grimly.
"Ohhhh?" she smiled back almost, but not quite, innocently.
"I could bring back a little pink to your rounded curves -- rarely red - for pain is but a prelude to pleasure here - not to Bunteresque grotesque."
She wondered at his words and pondered whether pain is a momentary excitement, more to be described in the build up than savoured in the creation. She thought of the burlesque spankings that she had received in the past and laughed out loud.
"Bunteresque, MiLord?"
"As in SPANK oyaa CRACK yikes WHACK caroooo"
"Personally," she grinned. " I prefer a more exotic kaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii."
Her own imagination flowed now towards the place of his dreams, seeming so beautiful that she could imagine it perfectly now. Her imagination had painted a picture of a castle set atop a softly sloping mountainside, covered in a thick carpet of wild flowers. There was a brillant blue sky and puffy thick white clouds leisurely floating past its highest peaks.
Waking, the following morning in her chambers, she sat on the edge of the windowsill looking out, wondering when he would return. He came up behind her and to her surprise laid an arm on her shoulder, reciprocating her gesture of the day before. He pointed out to her the view over the harbour.
She stared and could even make out a fine lady and her retainers begging a resting place in the inn over there. Further into the town she could see the stallholders setting up in the market place. There were whipping posts there for the town slatterns ....She shuddered involuntarily and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
"Domination is not brutality, my honoured guest," he flattered her. Yet, he knew that the brigand type approach adopted by so many bandits in the murky forests was most repugnant to them both. She knew in herself that she did not want to be hurt. She wanted control to be wrested from her for a while. She needed control seized from her sometimes fiery and spirited soul. She wanted an interlude that would give back what she received tenfold times. She would enjoy a subtle control, covered in resistance and logic.
"I might bring out the love in you," he murmured, reading her thoughts." and then would cherish it."
He gazed into her fine eyes and was pleased to see her respond in kind, almost a challenge to him to unravel her mysteries and turpitudes. She remembered back to that one moment - a long long time ago - when she had come close and sighed.
He looked down on her white neck and stroked her thinking without surprise that she was such a complicated maze. He would seek to expose what he saw in her long before she did and she would perhaps never see the like of it again. He know it was there, buried beneath her complixities and so did she. She bowed her head and lowered her eyes, learning the first lesson and acknowledging that he was right with the slow nod of her head.
He ran his hand through her hair murmuring in her ear how she needed to be entice and charmed and delighted by intelligence and wit. Again, slightly lost for words, she smiled.
"I used to style myself le maitre apprenti - the apprentice, but I think I have learned a little more in this area to move beyond such novice status."
"I see," she teased.
"And what pray do you see ?" He came back at her quickly.
She ignored his sally and peeked into the big closet behind them in the room. Ever curious, he thought and realising that she would have to be taught. She walked back over to MiLord and raising herself on tiptoe, reading his thoughts, whispered how much she would like that.
He laughed and threw open the closet, showing her rows and rows of dresses for her to try on and enjoy, but no hidden lovers. She sighed and thought of past lovers for a moment and he could see by her distraction that he was losing her.
"I will not be looking to catch you around with such lovers or you will be truly punished...perhaps made an example of in yonder market." And he gazed meaningfully out the window.
"But MiLord.."she looked perplexed."However, would I be caught with someone who won't be around me?"
"The plaguey knaves gets everywhere -- or perhaps your ideal an waits somewhere else in the town?"
She ignored his question and picked up her cotton bag, laying it on the bed and opening the contents. He stepped back and watched, mildly intrigued.
"Can I go into town?" she asked suddenly. She picked up a long white silk robe and tucked the ties neatly into the pockets, before laying it on the bed.
"You really wish to sleep in the slattern houses by the shore?"
She pulled out soft slippers and slipped them, one after the other, onto her feet, her long tresses slipping over her shoulders. The bare exposure upon my back was teasingly enticing.
"No, MiLord."
He knew she would regret such a choice and did not offer it to her, recalling how many a powerful seafarer had lain his head and more besides next to the women of the shore. He paused to gaze admiringly at her and then relented, giving a little to her unspoken request.
"There are some excursions to Ilmarel," he explained, "on the gatekeeper's charabanc."
"What is a charabanc MiLord?"
"An ancient wagon - filled with straw for rutting in the back."
"Rutting, MiLord? Sounds animalistic?"
"It is. " he replied blankly.
"I don't doubt, MiLord," and she continued with her preparations, sliding a hand under several other silken garments, a variety of pale colours, slipping out of her grasp slightly as she looked for a place to rest her limbs. She tugged a large drawer from under the mirrored vanity.. and placing the garments carefully within. She moved back towards the large bag and felt around inside.
She was still rummaging around with her fingers, finding the desired object and tugging it free from the bag. She sat up atop the high bed and pulled a thick section of her hair towards her front, brushing it slowly, listening intently. He gazed at her open eyed, making a little face and she giggled appreciatively. She continued to gather the lengths of her hair together and braided them absently as she had done a thousands times before.
"Each time a miracle in itself," he muttered and she leant her head to the side, beaming again. He reached out to touch the lovely satin locks that crowned her head. She sighed at his warm caress before laying the brush down and smoothing the long braid with her hand.
"You are a lovely wench," he observed. She pressed both her hands to the bed and slid them under her thighs, listening to his praises and shaking her head in self deprecating appreciation. He felt a stirring in his loins at her submissive gesture and she sliooed off the bed ato standing a bit closer to him. She placed a gentle hand on his broad shoulder and he observed that she was having a difficult time undoing the ties along the back of the garment that she had chosen.
"Would you be so kind as to loosen them, MiLord?"
"By all means my lovely, but I would not opportune you so soon in this relationship."
She reached a hand up to touch his neck. She bent her head forward, the braid draping as he felt her touch upon his shoulder. He brushed your hair upwards, perhaps to generate a little frisson of excitement in her and she reached down to play with the knot. She let the ties come apart, resting her hands by her sides and smoothing the soft palms over her hips before relaxing patiently.
He pulled her back against him to hold her there for a while, scenting the perfume of her hair. She settled in against him, her head leaning back, her body curving into his. She hummed her pleasure under her breath as he kissed the back of her sensuous neck. He was now clasping her so tightly that his turgid manhood rested in the cusp of her rounded behind and he rightened further as his lips touched hers in a fullsome kiss. She let out a quiet murmur of appreciation as the kiss moved through her and into the very centre of her being. He stroked her slowly, letting her robe part as he ran his hands down her back. She felt her body pressing into his, but resisted the urge to wiggle just a little to feel his length harden further.
"So...... tell me more about that moment and what you seek in me MiLord.. would that be alright?"she murmured " I would live on in your thoughts and designs for longer."
She sensed the silken garment slipping further down exposing her shoulders and heard his gasp of pleasure at the unblemished skin revealed to him in all its loveliness. He brought his lips down to kiss each shoulder passionately. A tingling started deep within her as she looked down at her chest, the curves deepening into a swell as the full breast barely hold onto the creeping edge of the garment's descent. He did not intervene not did she resist, but together they allowed the arms of the dress slide down to her elbows. Seeing the roundness of her uncovered breasts there beneath his gaze, he observed they were held in place by modest stays.
"Most becoming," he murmured approvingly to himself. She relaxed into his arms as the fine material slipped easily to a pool around her feet and together they were held motionless as if a sudden spell had been cast over them. They were entranced - no - delighted by the ravishing completeness of the moment that might live on in them both even for a morning...
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