Sweet Surrender

You take me in

No questions asked

You strip away the ugliness

That surrounds me...

Chronology: Tristan is 26. Lancelot is 24. Raja is 16.

Raja...

Perhaps some women who have been violated have gotten over their experience faster than I have. Why that is, I do not know. All I do know is that my experience still haunts me. Certainly not as strongly as it did years ago, but I still dream about it and it still plays a part in my relations with the outside world. Being raped also affects the sexual relationship I have with Tristan. He has always been patient with me, always understanding, and for that, I could not be more grateful. It is not him I am wary of, but me. Since Tristan and I became lovers, I have never been more comfortable in my skin; though, there are parts of me that continue to make me cringe. Those parts are what make me hesitant with Tristan.

I suppose all this became truly clear to me when a week ago, while the men were out, they came upon a vagrant woman in the woods. Apparently, Lancelot had been relieving his bladder in the night and ran straight into her. She attacked him, but Tristan’s stealth saved him. He had a dagger at her throat, coming out of nowhere like a ghost. That’s my Tristan. She spoke a bit of the native language, but as she was not from these parts, her speech was stilted. They supposed that I might know her dialect, as it turned out I did, which made communicating with her easier. I could tell instantly that she had been a victim of forceful sex with a man. It reminded me of a woman named Tempest who came to the fort when I was eight years old. My Uncle Ardeth helped her secure a job in the tavern, but there, she had encountered the man who had raped her the first night she had arrived here. It affected her so that she hung herself in the stables. I always felt guilt that I could not save her. I still visit her grave.

The rogue woman’s name was Leila. She was older than me by at least six years, but nevertheless, I felt an inherent need to protect her. Lancelot, my dear cousin, wanted nothing to do with her, as Leila had attacked him, not to mention filthy upon their first encounter. But when she was cleaned up, her hair washed, shining golden brown, clean clothes, hugging her shapely body, his eyes clamped upon her, and I knew his opinion had changed. I made him promise that unless he was going to be nothing more than solicitous he would stay away from her.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she would get down on her knees for you in front of everybody if you told her to,” I replied.

I told him that because when I spoke to her over the days, she seemed so casual about her experience, so accepting as if it happened everyday, and was simply the plight of being female. Men did it, so you laid back and took it.

Lancelot was taken aback at my admission, but reluctantly, he obliged me with his promise that he would not approach her.

I made sure that Leila got work outside of the tavern, remembering Tempest’s experience. She worked as a cleaning lady with some other women who were friendly with her, showing her the ropes. Over the next couple of weeks she took dutifully to her routine, cleaning the knights’ rooms, scrubbing the halls while partaking in banter with the other cleaning ladies.

As Lancelot explained to me, he had entered his room to find Leila finishing her cleaning...

Lancelot...

I had wanted nothing to do with that scraggly woman, Leila, when I first met her. She looked a wild woman, clothed in a long, brown garment that looked like an oversized sack for holding grain. If it had not been for Tristan coming up behind her with a dagger at her throat, she might have scratched my eyes out. It was a few hours past sundown, and our camp had been setup, and Arthur, always the one to assist every vagabond – a Christian thing - we came across, took her back to our fire.

“Who is this?” he inquired.

Tristan still holding the dagger to her throat replied casually, “A woman.” He seemed more than willing to cut her throat given the word, and I was more than ready to support him.

The woman did not speak much of our language, but Arthur thought that Raja might speak hers, as she spoke many, and decided to take Leila (who, by then, I was mentally referring to as Medusa) along with us back to the fort. I was wary of her now, the crazy woman who had attacked me. I was for leaving her to her own devices, but came with us she did, and my cousin did indeed speak her language. Raja is a good woman, and probably the only one who holds my heart, and was instantly attentive to her. Leila had managed to tell us a bit of her circumstances in the woods. Homeless, captured, used. Romans. No further explanation needed. Said it with such casualty that I had to raise an eyebrow.

It was no wonder that my cousin was conscientious of Leila’s wellbeing. She did not need to be told of her violation, she just knew. Probably something in the eyes. The strange woman was taken care of, so when I saw her completely refreshed, I saw her in a whole different light. Her hair that had been so caked with dirt and grime was now a lustrous brown, her skin that had likewise been coated in dirt now revealed fair skin and rosy cheeks. Her eyes were a sky blue, and the fresh clothes that covered her fit her nicely...very nicely.

My dear cousin, always so observant, noticed my change of heart...and put a clamp on it instantly by making me promise that I would not make any untoward advances on Leila. She was just getting her bearings and did not need any men pawing all over her. Disappointed, I promised Raja that I would not woo Leila. There were other women. But if it had been anyone else who had asked this of me, I would not have acquiesced.

All the same, Leila got work as a maid. And it was not until a couple of weeks later that I came upon her tending to my room that my temptation was contested. I had noticed the woman giving me glances, which I ignored, merely being as polite as I could so as not to encourage her. A difficult thing to do, because it was so obvious that she wanted me, but what Raja had said about her being willing to lay with anyone because of expectation ran through my head, and so it stamped out my meeting Leila halfway. Until that day. Far be it from me to resist such a seductive woman. I tried my best to resist.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told her.

She looked at me, a bit perplexed. “Want to,” she said in her halted speech. “You do not want?”

I did want. So, breaking my promise to Raja, I took.

Tristan...

I groaned. What an idiot. What a complete fucking idiot. Of all the things Lancelot could have said to Raja to explain breaking his promise by sleeping with that woman. I wasn’t so sure about Raja helping Leila at first; I hate her being disconcerted over anyone who has been taking advantage of. She tries to bear their burden. It reminded me of that woman - what’s her name? - who came to the fort years ago. She hung herself in the stables after seeing the man who raped her in the tavern. Raja blamed herself for not being able to take care of her.

At least Lancelot had not slept with that one. Leila he apparently couldn’t resist. I was turning the corner of the halls to my room and encountered Lancelot. His shoulders instantly slumped, appearing defeated.

“Just hit me,” he said. “Get it over with. I know I deserve it.”

I was expressionless as I stared at him, not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

“Well?” he said.

“Might help if you tell me why I should hit you,” I said.

His eyes went from side to side, a mask of confusion. “Oh...she didn’t tell you, did she?”

I raised an eyebrow in reply. “Inform me.”

And so he told me everything. How he broke his promise to Raja by sleeping with Leila. Raja found out and confronted him. He hated seeing the disappointment in her eyes and spoke rather candidly in his defense. I knew what he had blurted out must have been harsh otherwise he would not have told me to just hit him without putting up a fight. Not like him.

I narrowed my eyes. “Every word.”

Lancelot sighed. “I said had it occurred to her that not every woman who has been violated is as haunted by it as her because they’ve gotten over it. That maybe some women are still capable of enjoying sex without letting the past interfere, and don’t need to be protected,” – he cleared his throat – “like she does.”

I should have punched his face in for that. He definitely looked guilty, not that I cared.

“Gotten over it?”

“She agreed with me,” he added.

I scoffed. “Doesn’t matter.” I shook my head in disgust and went to walk around him, ignoring the stupefied look on his face.

“That’s it?” he called out.

I stopped and turned. “Let three grown men violate you and see if you can get over it, Lancelot.” I didn’t wait for any reply.

I could only imagine what was really going on through Raja’s head when he said those words to her. I could understand her agreeing with him, she would. I know she worries about whether I’ll get impatient with her if she is hesitant about anything. I never have. I like teaching her about her body, showing her how beautiful it is, how much pleasure it gives me. I consider it a gift that she bares herself to me. Gradually, since we became lovers, she had been more and more open with me. After a couple of months she stopped covering herself with a sheet every time she got out of bed, feeling comfortable enough to walk around in only her skin.

Some aspects about sex were eased into. She was guarded whenever I would pleasure her between her thighs with my mouth until she accepted that I truly did enjoy her taste and the intimacy of the act. Taking her from behind, I took slow. I knew she thought I was going to penetrate her anally, but I explained that I could enter her vagina from that position. Her body had relaxed then, admitting me. Raja had initiated the act of taking my sex into her mouth. That was one thing I was waiting a bit longer to tackle, but she beat me to it, and I knew it took a lot on her part to do so. She had trouble swallowing at first, and I told her she did not have to, but she refused.

I would never deny that I am not a rough man and have never been rough and hard when coupling with a woman. It’s inherent in me. I wanted Raja that way, my need for her was agony, but I didn’t want to scare her. Little by little I would increase my speed and pressure until it was she who was crying out for me to be harder and faster. I hate it when I leave bruises on her from holding her hips or wrists too tight. Making love to her in open spaces, other places besides the bed. Stables, closets, against a tree, on the ground. All that was taken step by step.

I rolled my eyes again. “Gotten over it,” I muttered scornfully, as I walked into our bedroom. Raja wasn’t in there, and I didn’t go off looking for her. I knew she was off contemplating Lancelot’s words, needing some time to herself.

Yeah, there were still things that Raja was unsure of. We hadn’t made love in two days because she was on her menses. The first time her courses began during our time as lovers, I told her that I didn’t care about the blood. But she did. I could tell it made her uncomfortable so I did not push it that time. The next month I spoke to her about it. Sometimes my assurances don’t always placate her.

“Your blood doesn’t bother me in the least, Raja,” I told her.

“Well, it bothers me,” she replied tersely. “It’s...just disgusting.”

My brow shot up. “Since when does blood disgust you?”

Raja looked at me like I was insane, pursing her lips. “I don’t expect you to understand, Tristan. You don’t bleed through your penis once a month for a week. Would you like that?”

I lifted my shoulders slowly. She drummed her fingers on the table in our room as we sat across from each other, waiting for an answer.

“I didn’t think so,” she said. “Who would want blood running out their body like they were bleeding from the inside? Sticky between the thighs, it’s a mess, like someone...” Her words trailed off.

Then I knew what she meant. Later though, we tried making love while she was still on her courses. I put a blanket in front of the fire, and cloth under her thighs. With kisses and caresses she loosened up, but as I entered her she became rigid, and even more so as I moved. Her head was turned to the side, eyes closed.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Go ahead and finish.”

I loathed those words. I wanted her to feel good, too. More than anything I hurt for her. I slid out and off of her. She sat up and wrapped the blanket around her. Then she handed me the cloth. “You should wipe that off.” When I didn’t take the proffered cloth right away, she waved it in her hand. “Please.”

So I did.

Raja...

My cousin was right, it had not occurred to me that Leila or any other woman would be over their experiences. I figured, I wasn’t, not completely, so they must not be either. Presumptuous on my part. I admitted my wrong in assuming so. I should not have lashed out at Lancelot for sleeping with Leila. More or less, I was angry that he had broken a promise. But, I should not have made him make such a promise in the first place. Leila is six years older than I, and perfectly capable of making her own decisions.

The wind brushed passed me as I sat against the oak tree in the middle of the woods. The wad of cloth between my legs is extremely uncomfortable, as it is, no matter what I do. As I shifted slightly, I wondered one thing: Did I truly did need protecting as Lancelot had said. I’m able to hold my own with man or woman if I have a weapon in my hand. But if it came to hand to hand combat with a male, I would be at a loss. I wondered if my cousin thinks I am weak because, as he said, I am not over it.

I know Tristan worries over me. Perhaps more so now since I received noticed of my Uncle Ardeth’s death a month ago. My heart was torn that day, and still, it hits me so forcefully that I can scarcely breathe. I had – what I could only call – a lapse of sanity that day, running off to nowhere, coming back covered in blood. One would think that the longer you are with someone, the less one should have to worry. But Tristan remains anxious. I have been calm since then, not wanting any more grey hair to sprout on his head or chest. Or, at least for the sake of his own comfort.

Always understanding, always patient. I don’t know how he can be, for even I want to scream at myself to let it go, my demons, THEM, interfering with my life. With Tristan, I managed to overcome my uncertainty in the bedroom. To my chagrin, there were still a lot of things I did not know about intercourse. I had wondered a long time what Tristan looked like naked, and when we became lovers, I was instantly fascinated with what I saw. I trailed my hands over every inch of his body. And the further we went, the more I discovered. I did not know that a man could become so quickly aroused again after having just finished. Tristan and I would rest, and ten minutes later he wants me again. I never heard any woman speak of feeling as if they were lit on fire while making love. Tiny shocks coursing through the body, near blinded by a powerful orgasm, floating above the bed.

I always knew that Tristan had both a tender side and an aggressive side. Sometimes he makes love to me so gently, like lapping waves of the ocean. Other times he is like a lion, mighty, strong. Growling passionately, then purring deep inside after he climaxes. I was interested to know what his sex looked like as it becomes aroused. While Tristan was sleeping, I touched his member with the tip of finger, it did not take much for it to rise like a wilted flower come to life. The veins pulsed, he was thick and long. And I was momentarily startled when I touched him again and his penis jerked. I stroked him until he came, looking at his viscous seed in my hand.

I heard him chuckle, and turned to him to see his eyes wide open, big smile on his face. I wiped his seed on the sheet, feeling my blush.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, noticing the blood creeping up my neck.

“How long have you been awake?” I asked him.

He grinned. “Since I felt you touch me.” I only blushed harder and he pulled me up towards him for a kiss. “I like that you feel comfortable enough with me to do that.”

I became contented with a lot of things. But feeling my continued discomfort that my menses brought me reminded me of one thing I had not been ready to do. Since the first time my courses began when I was twelve, I understood why it was often referred to as a curse. It reminded me of being torn on the inside, as THEY did. I needed to get past this.

Lancelot...

I couldn’t have felt more like shit if I stepped in it. And even though she had told me I was right, I still felt like shit. I just didn’t like seeing disappointment in Raja’s eyes directed at me. I broke a promise, I succumbed to the woman who I promised I would stay away from. Leila came to me, and she certainly sounded as if she enjoyed the sex. She did not seem afraid or hesitant. Doubt crept into my mind at the idea of Leila faking her pleasure. I didn’t want a woman sleeping with me because she felt she had to. That wasn’t any fun.

I had fully expected a less than sound beating from Tristan. I was struck dumb when he did not so much as raise a finger to me. He told me to get fucked and see if I got over it. I should have known that Raja would not have told him what I said. I wasn’t in the mood for noise and drinking that night, so I left the tavern early, running into Leila halfway to my room.

“Lancelot,” she greeted with a smile, then it waned. “You look sad.”

I smirked. “No.”

“Trouble then?”

I shook my head. “Can I ask you a question?” I hoped she would not break down on me for what I was about to say.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded.

I cleared my throat. “Did you sleep with me because you thought you had to?”

Her shapely eyebrows rose, and then her twinkling laughter sounded. “Ah, you ask, because you think of Raja, no?” At my questioning face she explained, “Boy in stable hear you yell at her. Nice boy, very chatty, told me ‘cause he hear my name. I may no speak this language good, but I am not stupid. You made promise to cousin to stay away from me.”

“Yeah.”

“Because I am violated?”

“Yeah.”

Leila smiled fondly. “Raja so good. She try to protect me.”

“She was,” I answered.

“What you say to her. Raja still haunted. You think her weak?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it. “No.”

Leila’s face turned serious. “Good. She strong woman. I her age when man forced me. I cry. I try to fight. He was bigger. Raja...much younger when happened to her?”

I nodded again. She mirrored my nod. “See, just a child when man forced her. She still hurt. I still hurt. Just different ways. She get out bed every morning. I do same. She strong because she find good relationship with husband. She lives. I live. That important. See?”

“I get it.”

Her lips curved upwards again. “I lucky I meet her. Nicer to me than anyone in long time. You nicer man to me than many.” She giggled at my wide eyes. “Yes. You nice man, Lancelot. You also good brother to Raja. It is...” she struggled for the word, “...little...”

“Rare?” I offered.

“Yes! Good brother rare. Tristan, good husband, very rare. Raja deserve best. You say no more mean things to her.” She pointed at me admonishingly.

It was my turn to laugh, to which she joined in.

“Well, sense we have that cleared up,” I said, “I was just heading to my room. Care to join me?”

She shook her head resolutely. “I no go to your room.”

I went slack. My jaw almost dropping at her refusal.

“You come to my room, Lancelot.” She took my hand.

Tristan and Raja...

Raja walked into the room, freshly bathed, damp hair hanging over her shoulders like a curtain. She smiled at Tristan, clad only in pants, who was sitting in front of the fire, whittling. Raja went over to the bed and folded down the blanket before putting another cloth on top of the sheet. Tristan turned to see what she was doing. She flatted out the cloth, turning her silver eyes on him.

“Tristan?”

He looked back and forth to her and the bed. He set his dagger and wood on the table and went to her. “I know what Lancelot-”

Raja ended his words with a kiss, untying the laces to his pants so they slipped down to his ankles. She knew he would support her, but she needed this. Tristan didn’t break the kiss. He laid Raja down on the bed, slipping her shift down her body. There were no words, he kissed his way down her body, his facial hair tickling her skin, his braids falling over her body. Raja’s breathing grew deeper when he reached her sex. She could feel the flowing mixture of her arousal and menses. She inhaled sharply when she felt his tongue. His thumb tending to her sensitive nub.

Raja fully expected him to turn away any moment and wretch...

“Raja.” He said her name huskily, looking up at her.

“Hmm?” was her quivering reply.

“I hear you thinking.” He kissed her thigh and licked his lips, savoring her taste. “Don’t think.”

Their eyes locked on each other, and she surrendered herself coming in an explosive rush of ecstasy. She barely had time to recover, for she felt Tristan’s sex entering her swiftly, heating her body and his. Both of their climaxes were intense and overpowering. It took a moment for Tristan to catch his breath before he was able to pull himself from Raja. He stopped her when she went to wipe the blood from her thighs. He went back down and licked the crimson in long, steady strokes with his tongue while looking at her ardently.

They made love again. Slept, made love. Caressed each other with eyes closed. Made love. Slept. They were dozing, Raja’s head on Tristan’s stomach, her hair fanned out over his chest as he idly stroked the nape of her neck. Raja’s hand lay below his navel, a thought coming to her, making her smile. She took Tristan’s flaccid penis from the base, holding it up.

“Woman,” he mumbled, “you are insatiable.” He could clearly see her hand holding his sex in observance.

Raja smiled, and slapped his thigh playfully. “I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before, Trissy, but you know what your penis reminds me of?” She looked up at him, Tristan’s full attention focused on her. “An elephant’s trunk. The trunk of an elephant can swing,” – she moved his penis in a wavy manner – “but it can also point rigidly,” – she held it up so it appeared erect – “like when they suck water through their trunk, then spray it out. The same as when you come.”

Tristan’s abrupt, loud bark of laughter hit every side of the room. Raja lifted her head off his stomach to stop her head from jostling on his rumbling abdomen. She was chuckling, too, but her smile grew wider as Tristan continued to laugh heartily. He was still laughing when he pulled her back into his arms, burying his head in her neck. He laughed because her comment was amusing. He laughed because he could never imagine anyone else but her making that comparison. When she had looked at him, he was met with that sweet innocence of hers that he had always cherished. It sparkled in her eyes and her smile, he loved that despite the maturation of their relationship, the hardships, she could still possess the innocence to say what she had said.

He nuzzled her neck and said, “How big, exactly, are these elephant trunks?”

I only hope

That I won't disappoint you

When I'm down here

On my knees...

-Sarah McLachlan

5/23/07