DRACHEN
Drachen
tended to his daily meetings and the various arbitrations that arose between
the people of the land. He was known to be fair and generous Clan leader, but
he took the breaking of customs and laws very seriously. In private, he would
mutter under his breath at the unfairness of many of the laws, but it was his
duty as leader to administer what the Judges Designate had ruled. Various sins
were listed by the Designates as punishable by death ~ One of which he knew he,
himself, had broken ~ not in the reality of daylight, but in the fantasies of
his nightly dreams.
As he sat
in his chair in the great hall, he glanced out through one of the narrow
windows that gave up the view of the farmland and village under his care. Soon
Drachen's gaze wandered into the trees. The familiar tree line drew a smile
from his face as he remembered his childhood adventures within the forest –
embellished by a young man's fantasies – and only slightly enriched as age set
in. As a young man he hunted, but as the years passed, the desire waned. He
left that necessary task to those who still desired the pursuit of wild game.
His eyes
and mind turned back to the room. The fire kept the chill out of the air on
this cold spring day. He stared into the flame and thought of her. This unknown
woman ~ an imaginary lover. He didn't know why he felt guilt and didn't know
why he dreamed of her. Perhaps his guilt was due to having thoughts of a woman
while his own wife administered to the daily duties of his castle. The woman
would appear ~ walking into his dreams to slowly arouse him ~ teasing him with
her tongue and body and hands. She was a fantasy that allowed him to feel the
raw passion and hunger that he buried so deeply. He never remembered these
dreams clearly. They were a shifting fog that never revealed a beginning or an
end.
He wished
that his wife still desired and ached for him. For some reason, this season had
passed in her. People change and forget to tell each other, he reflected. The
thought saddened him ~ not only for the loss of the lovely woman he had
married, but also, for himself. There is a pivotal point when the accumulated
changes you both undergo in a marriage need to be discussed. Drachen and D'Ahn
subconsciously chose not to discuss their desires or the changes their bodies
were undergoing as they aged. They became strangers to each other in all the
ways that bound them sexually. Without the intimacies between a man and woman,
passion and sensuality drift away and an intangible distance grows. It's hard
to find that closeness again when one doesn't even recognize that it's lost ~
until it's too late. His sadness and sexual energy became cloaked from days
filled with his duties and nights participating in the competitive war games
within the walls of the soldier's quarters. The lure of winning channeled his
energies. This, at least for a while, took his mind away from the ache he
carried in his groin. Within the notes of the wailing bagpipes, he allowed his
sadness to momentarily drift away.
JOY
Joy was
from a neighboring Clan from the west facing side of the mountains. Most of the
Clans were in communication and contact with each other;however, this Clan's territory
was out of easy reach and seldom participated in the Gatherings. She was the
daughter of their leader. Some whispered that he was a magician and sorcerer.
This labeled both father and daughter with an air of mysteriousness that did
not represent their true selves; however, there was not much either could do
about it. Her father's vast library of rare books embraced knowledge from the
Far East to Greece and a medicinal archive of natural herbs and remedies that
was especially delicious to Joy. Her quiet nature carried a passion for
healing. The wounded and orphaned creatures of the forest demanded a large part
of her energies. Even with her father's disapproval, she would disappear for
days in the dark depths of the trees, tending to the various needs of the
animals. She spent the evenings sleeping on a bed of spruce bows, staring for
hours at the stars. She felt more at home in this place. The damp, cold walls
of her father's castle held her prisoner to her highly evolved senses. The
smell the forest air and the feel of the breeze tickling her skin made her feel
alive and in tune with life. Some of the deer would arrive at dusk to lie in a
circle around her small fire. Even though they stayed within the shadows of the
night, these guardians stood watch as she slept. Their eyes and ears were
always alert for a snapping twig or the rustle of leaves - in fear of the
hunter's return.
Joy was
known for her contempt towards the intruders who came with bows. She exploded
in fury at the sight of their weapons and their blatant disrespect for the
living things. These people needed to eat ~ she understood~ but instead of
using the animals they raised, they chose to steal from the forest her father
had set aside as a sanctuary and refuge for all who needed it. These men
entered this forest and trampled the precious nests held within the grasses and
leaves of the forest floor. They brought sadness and pain as their arrows
pierced young and old alike ~ leaving many wounded and dying. They left animal
traps and hung hooks on thin rope from branches coated with lard and acorns.
The wild turkeys rarely resisted this appetizing lure and hopped up to gobble
the hook ~ leaving them dangling in the air suffering for hours.
A rumor
spread ~ and some even believed ~ that this privileged daughter had conjured up
a horrible spell to plague the hunters. A rash would cover their bodies for
weeks on end and the itch was torturous. The more proud the hunter, the more
they scratched and spread the rash. "This was the fault of the fair-haired
witch of the woods!" they complained as they huddled around fire lit
circles ~ their bodies covered with mudpacks and lard to ease the itch. Back in
Joy's quarters, within her father's castle, she grinned privately at these
rumors that sifted up through stone stairwells and halls to eventually reach
her ears. In quiet satisfaction, she remembered the precisely placed branches
of oozing poison ivy vines she meticulously tied among the bushes along the
hunter's trails.
CROSSING
OVER
As she
did every day ~ Joy slipped into the trees to tend to her animals in her
father's sanctuary. Around her waist, she tied her medicine bag of herbs and
salves she used to heal wounds. She would build her fires and brew her teas.
She would heal with whatever she possessed, even if it was just to lie next to
a dying fawn. She would use her body to protect and to warm. One day, she
looked into the eyes of a doe as the doe stumbled into a clearing, struggling
to stay on her feet and weak from an arrow wound. The doe's big head and liquid
brown eyes rolled painfully to a spot under the shade of the sour cherry bushes
where her twin fawns lay motionless. Joy's eyes followed and sought the
camouflage of their spotted backs among the spring blossoms. As the sadness
enveloped her, as she knew the fawns would not flourish without the nurturing
milk of their mother. Both females understood. The doe had brought her babies
here, knowing that this human female would soothe them during their last days.
After the doe wandered off into the darkness of the trees, Joy lay with the
fawns for three moonlit nights until they faded and their eyes didn't open one
morning.
Knowing
that she was alone and out of the watchful protection of her father, a group of
hunters followed her deep into the forest one day. They followed her to a small
clearing. She sat with her back against an old oak tree and was laughing at
some young rabbits playing in front of her. When it was too late for her to
sense them or run from their presence, the hunters let loose the arrow that
pierced her heart. With a sickly thud, she looked down at her breast and saw
the blood flow from her. Immobilized and stunned, she looked up at the bow that
had released the arrow. There was a man attached ~ his face covered in mud and
lard. Other arrows lay ready in their notches but the bows lowered as she
looked up to gaze upon the men. The swirl of fog surrounded her. And darkness
fell.
The
hunters retreated back out of the forest in the most undignified mass of
flailing arms and legs. They fell out of the forest in sheer panic. As the
village came into view, they pulled their stomachs in and raised their bows.
Many were silent for most of the evening but, after a few pints of ale around
the crackling fire, their bragging started oozing out between the gulps of
liquid courage. They began to celebrate. Their hunting would now be unfettered
without the obstruction of the witch's fury.
THE STORM
The storm
hit suddenly. Farmers herded their cattle and mules and horses into the
paddocks as the chickens ran instinctively into their coups. Laundry was yanked
off the lines hurriedly and the children were gathered and rushed inside homes.
Dogs scurried for cover, growling and whining at the dark line approaching in
the sky. The usual signs did not signal this onslaught of wind and rain. The
animals had shown no restlessness that betrayed the advance of this oncoming
storm. The dark clouds approached from the north forest and spread out over the
fields and glens with the ferocity of nature no one had witnessed before in
this little village.
Drachen
felt the change in the air and stepped out onto the stone rampart outside the
great hall. His face was buffeted with the wind and debris it carried and he
had to turn his back to the sheets of water that now rained down upon the
castle. He stepped back inside the large stone room. A servant had begun a fire
in the fireplace and the crackle and popping of the wood held some comfort. He
sat down in the large chair and gazed into the fire. The Dragon shield, the
symbol of his Drachen lineage, glistened on the stone wall above the fireplace.
The Dragon represented the strongest symbol of the Clans and the source of the
family name of Drachen. He glanced up at the fierce eyes and red fire that
coiled out of the open jaws of the Dragon, intricately painted with bright red
paint upon the shield. One of his Wolfhounds walked over and got comfortable at
his feet. The dog's large head rested on his boot and the coarse silver gray
hair on the dog's back reflected the flickering light of the fire. As Drachen's
gaze focused back to the fire, the storm continued howling into the evening.
The mug of ale that was handed to him felt warm as it slid down his throat. He
remembered that he'd turned away his dinner in lieu of entertaining a visiting
diplomat. He still wasn't hungry. He might skip the war games tonight and
retreat to his bed early. He was becoming weary.
He saw
her step out of the wispy fog. His imaginary lover arrived, this time, with
both intensity and purpose. It was as if she knew she had reached the end of a
journey. He recognized the outline of her body and the feeling that she stirred
in him. Her boots were tethered high above the knee and her clothing was
embellished with the gold threads of the Pen shell. Even at this distance, he
recognized the fine thread that was meticulously derived and woven from this rare
seashell. Very few women ~ and only those who belonged to a Clan's royalty ~
wore their garments decorated with these threads. The woman also wore a small
bag around her waist. As she stepped out of the fog, Joy walked towards him.
He felt
paralyzed but instinctively knew that this was a very important moment as her
presence drew out feelings he'd never known before. Deep spiritual waters,
oceans of passion and seas of consciousness swirled in his mind. The woman
approached him. Blarney rose to his feet and stretched the long, legendary legs
out in front of him to get the blood flowing through his old body. The killer
of wolves wagged his tail at the stranger who appeared in the room. The woman
knelt and wrapped her arms around the large dog's silver shoulders as he
nuzzled her face. The communication was silent between the dog and woman as the
Wolfhound turned and trotted out through the doors of the great hall. Her gaze
followed the dog. She had chosen well to trust the silver back. He had serviced
his master well.
As the
woman came to her feet and turned to the man in the large chair, Drachen was
still struggling to regain the use of his arms and legs. His eyes turned to the
tall fair-haired woman walking towards him and he was drawn to seek her face. The
visions of her floated in and out of his dream. Just as his mind was able to
grasp what was happening ~ to remember ~ conscious thoughts flowed away again ~
out of reach of his reasoning mind. The purpose for her presence kept eluding
him. He strained to see the intent in her eyes but the fire's aura radiating
from behind her left the details of her face in the shadows.
BETWEEN
WORLDS
She knelt
before him. "I'm sorry for the unconscious intrusion," she said. Her
face drew close and for the first time he saw her steel blue eyes. With her
face close to his, her nostrils flared and she slowly pulled in his scent and
held it deep within her. When she exhaled, she whispered, "The strength in
your body will return when I take my leave. I will be unable to come to you
again…I feel my body pulling me back. I am no longer free to be here." His
mind could not grasp what she meant.
She began
to rise to her feet.
Drachen
struggled against the invisible weight pressing down on his body. He had heard
rumors of this half sleep place where you are unable to move ~ as if frozen
between the dimensions of dreams and awareness. Every night, even though he
couldn't move, the veil between the physical and the non-physical seemed as if
it were getting thinner. The transparency in the "other dimension" ~
where this woman came from ~ was cutting through to Drachen's realm. As her
fingers lightly touched his skin, he desired that this veil be gone and that he
could finally touch her softness in return. She touched the wildness he was
taught to control all his life. What stirred between his legs was very
powerful, primal and real in this dream place. A deep groan came from his belly
as he pushed with all his might to lift his arm. He realized she would be
leaving ~ never to return.
Just as
she was almost out of hand's reach, he compelled his arm to grasp her fingers.
His hand touched her fingertips and finally reached her wrist and he pulled her
down in front of him.
She
allowed her knees to give in to the pressure of his pull. As her knees returned
to the sheepskin in front of him, his hand slowly rose and he stroked her hair.
He ran his fingers down her head and into the crevice of her neck and across
her shoulder. Her body quivered at this light and gentle gesture.
"I
need you", he whispered.
She felt
his fingers slip down her arm and wrap around the hand she held against her
thigh. The heat built between her legs and without conscious thought, her body
arched slightly. The muscles deep within her began to pulse as they contracted
and released. This man was starting to be reborn and her body sensed it. She
knew her body would heal him. She knew he would be the source of her own
healing.
He was
still positioned in the large chair in front of the fire. She was kneeling in
front of him. He spread his legs to bring her closer. She leaned into him as he
bowed his head to bury his face in her hair. The woodsy smell of Vetiver and
musk scented her neck and hair. It brought back memories of the deep earth and
the forest he played within as a child. He felt the swelling begin.
She ran
her hands up his thighs and felt the large rounded leg muscles under the
leather. His groin tightened in anticipation of her exploring touch as her
hands and fingers slid slowly from the outside of his legs and over to the
inside. Her warm hands found the mound between his legs. She gasped at the
discovery. The swelling tightened the leather of his pants. The moisture began
to leave her. The cloth that covered the space between her legs became wetter.
His eyes bore down on her with the intensity of a deep need that was yet to be
fulfilled. He stood up and pulled the linen shirt up and over his head. She
watched as if in slow motion. The white shirt landed on the floor next to her.
She saw the shirt crumple as the soft material surrendered into folds on the
stone floor. He loosened the straps that held the leather pants to his hips.
The brown animal skin spread to reveal the crown of his dark pubic hair. He
pulled the finely sewn leggings down across his buttocks and then slid them
down across his thighs. They fell to his feet.
He knelt
on the sheepskin and faced her. He put his hands on her chest and spread apart
the leather straps that held her shirt against her mounds. The leather pulled
against the bindings and gave way to reveal the small breasts. As she kissed
the lips of the man in front of her, she could feel the tips of her breasts
tighten up and harden as her nipples pulled in on themselves. He cupped his
hands around them and felt the liquid motion of her skin sliding over the
hardness of the glands below it. These are mine, he murmured. These belong to
me. She moaned as she surrendered to this moment.
He surrounded
her with his arms and rolled to the floor. She rolled on top of him and folded
her body up ~ bringing her knees along the sides of his chest. She lowered her
head down onto his chest and listened for his heart. As she wrapped her body
around him, the warmth and wetness between her legs pressed against his belly.
Joy sat up and allowed the sensation to arouse her body as she slid across him
lightly. Her wetness tickled his stomach as she made wide circles with her
hips. He could feel the moisture on his skin. He arched to feel it more. She
lay back down and wrapped her arms around his head. They both lay trembling and
holding each other. Joy and Drachen breathed in synchronicity ~ sharing this
one precious, healing moment.
D'AHN
With one
loud crack, he sat up. Sweat drenched his forehead and the long dark curls
clung to his neck. The storm outside the stone walls had intensified and
another bolt of lightening brightened the night. He thought his eyes were
fooling him. With another lightening flash, the room lit up to reveal no one
else in the room. He was still lying on the sheepskin ~ but alone. As his mind
tried to grasp what was happening, a fist banged on the door to his chambers.
"I'm sorry to disturb you at this late hour, my Lord but there is
something you need to tend to!" Drachen got up and pulled on his leggings.
"I'll be right there, Henry." "I'm just getting dressed".
He recollected the memories in the past when he wouldn't have dared sleep
without his clothing on. The war. Those were the years when everyone slept in
their clothes ready to mount the ramparts with bows drawn. These last years had
allowed him to sleep the way he wished. He seldom wore clothes. He opened the
door to Henry's disheveled hair and a lantern, which was hastily lit. The flame
blackened the side of the globe. The flame was too high. He reached for Henry's
lantern and rolled the wick down to tighten the flame and looked into his
friend's eyes. "What is it, Henry?" What's going on?
"Follow
me!" is all Henry could get passed his throat as he rushed down the
hallway towards the stairs. As Drachen approached Henry and followed the man's
astonished look down to the main entrance, he saw a figure wrapped in blankets.
The blankets were being fussed over by his wife's medical staff and for a
moment, a slipping blanket revealed a female body with a bleeding wound on her
chest. A guard gently picked up the long limp body from the floor. The women urged
the guard to make haste as they scurried down the corridor towards the
infirmary. Henry and Lord Drachen followed the flurry of women's skirts and
chaos. Lanterns danced across the stone walls as the midnight troop traversed
the hall. Drachen's eye caught sight of the silver back hanging in the shadows.
His long legs kept pace with the blanket until it was carried into the room of
smells. He lay down alert and attentive ~ his eyes pinned on the archway to the
brightly lit room.
The
blanket was laid down on a fresh straw mattress. The sweet smell of the grasses
mixed with the pungent odors of tinctures and antiseptics. Frankincense and
Myrrh oils aromatically mixed with the more common Lavender and Rosemary
blends. Bundles of Wormwood hung from the rafters. This infirmary was able to
afford these highly potent antibacterial herbs, oils and tinctures due to Lord
Drachen's gold; however, his wife's knowledge of the ancient healing arts
provided the backbone to this healing center.
Lady
D'ahn shipped in the rare Middle Eastern oils from Persia. Her gardens provided
the local medicinal herbs, which were distilled down into tinctures of great
potency. This polished and scrubbed infirmary was highly regarded as a renowned
hospital. D'Ahn's diligence to detail and her knowledge of occult medicine
provided the finest teaching clinic in the land.
Just as
the nurses opened the blanket which began to reveal the body held within it,
D'Ahn rushed into the room ~ still tightening the straps on her aprons and
pinning her hair up out of the way. She immediately gathered the closely
huddled men and swept them from the room back out into the corridor, insisting
on privacy. She walked over to her husband and stood before him. Her dark eyes
danced in the lamplight belaying her concern but also the amusement at seeing
her husband so unkempt. Her hand came to his cheek and she promised to let him
know the condition of their new patient as soon as she could. He held her hand
against his cheek for a moment longer than he should have, considering the
circumstance, but the soft skin brought back the memories of her body ~ his
earlier passionate dream still had him engorged and aroused. She used to lay
with him at night ~ her body snuggled against his. These days have passed.
D'ahn now retreated to her own quarters at night. He was left with military
games, his brewed ale and many lonely nights. She pulled her hand away to rush
back in to the nurses but not without a pause to look back at him. A moment's
glance between them was all they had shared in months. The wooden door closed
behind her.
THE
HEALING
During
the days that followed, reports from the nursing quarters sounded positive. A
young lady had almost drowned as she was swept away in the flash flood.
Normally the little stream rolled lazily down between the two rock cliffs. It
powered the mills and watered the gardens and livestock of the village. The
downpour from the storm turned it into a raging wall of angry water carrying
away people and animals, barns and thatched roof homes, alike. The woman had
clung to the drawbridge ropes as the water rushed up and over the mote. The
guards were alerted by a Wolfhound's bark. The silver back paced back and forth
on the wooden slat bridge barking loudly. The sheets of rain assaulted the dog
but he stood his ground. The guards unclenched her hands from the ropes and
pulled her from the water. They carried her into the castle entrance where she
was wrapped in blankets and taken inside. Her leather top and pants had been
torn to shreds but the belt secured a small leather pouch.
With the
healing salves and medicinal teas that D'ahn provided, Joy regained her
strength over the months that followed. Her wound healed almost miraculously.
She was still unable to remember how it happened or who had removed the arrow
from her. Her memory would return, D'Ahn assured her. Joy's sense of humor and
willingness to help with other patients endeared her to the castle's
inhabitants and to D'ahn. She was tall and lean with tousled blonde hair and
gray-blue eyes. She and D'ahn shared hours talking about the healing arts; of
mysterious potions and occult medicine and D'ahn enjoyed having this
knowledgeable woman in her company. D'ahn had learned her craft in the ancient
Babylonian libraries and halls. She was sent there by her father to be taught
by the best scholars of the day. Joy had learned hers from her father's vast
number of books. Many writings taught her how to make medicines from the bounty
of the forest leaves, bark and flowers. With the weeks and months that
followed, Joy settled into the rhythm of the castle. One of the Wolfhounds had
taken to her with the full intensity of a guardian. Blarney rarely left her
side except for when she was in the room of smells. He was not allowed in this
place. He was just as happy to keep his nose a safe distance from the pungent
odors emanating from the room. She could be found hugging the large neck of the
dog on occasion and their walks in the forest were some of the most precious
moments for Joy. She designed a backpack for the dog, which became integral
during the rescue of injured animals. If the animal was too large for Blarney
to carry in the pouches on his back, a ready made leather travois was pulled
from the pack and stretched between two branches and attached to the front and
side straps of the dog pack. Blarney would diligently haul a crippled deer or
wounded fox across the fields back to the castle barns. His only hesitancy came
on the day of the wolf. Blarney's body quivered beneath the weight of the
creature as the unconscious animal was rolled onto the travois. The wolf's leg
still held the trap that snared him. Joy had used her hatchet to chop through
the leather strapping that anchored the ugly trap to the ground. Blarney was a
Wolf Killer and all his instincts rebelled at the closeness of this creature
behind him. The firm commands from Joy were all that stood between the jaws of
the Wolfhound and the throat of the wolf. He would do as she asked.
As the
D'ahn and Joy became closer, they fell into a nightly ritual of sitting on
D'ahn's large pole bed discussing the day's events and wrapping their hands
around mugs of warm Chamomile and mint tea. One night Joy asked why D'ahn did
not talk about her husband nor spend time with him in the evenings. Drachen's
wife lowered her head, remaining silent to the inquiry. Joy had not met Lord
Drachen. Because her life and duties kept her busy in the southeast apartments of
the women's quarters and the fact that she did not dare enter into the large
hall of administration, she had not even chanced to look upon his face. Joy
laid down her mug of tea and reached for D'ahn's ~ setting the mugs down onto
the table beside the bed. She then reached out to hold her, sensing the sadness
emanating from her. She regretted the pain she'd just caused in her friend and
wished she could take it back. D'ahn returned the embrace and reached her arms
around Joy and began to silently sob. No sounds came but her body shook with
every intake of breath.
When
D'ahn's sobs stopped, she looked up into the face of the healer with gratitude.
Joy's immediate response to D'ahn's uplifted face was to kiss her. Both women
reacted with a start and withdrew from each other in an embarrassing moment.
Not knowing what had made her do such a thing, Joy began to unravel her long
legs to leave the bed. She had made her friend cry and then, for some absurd
reason, kissed her all in the same night! How could she ever show her face
again? D'ahn reached out and touched Joy's arm lightly. Joy turned to see the
look of curiosity in the other woman's eyes. A new feeling flooded her body as
the scent of mint and chamomile filled her nostrils. Joy climbed back on the
bed and knelt, looking in D'ahn's dark eyes and wondering what was to come
next. D'ahn reached over to Joy's camisole and unlaced the linen ties. Joy's
camisole was loosed from her shoulders and fell down and over her small
breasts, revealing her hardened nipples. D'ahn ran her hands across Joy's
breasts and lightly circled her fingers around the brown nipples, circling on
the white skin just outside of the circles. Amazed and in wonder from touching
another woman's body, D'ahn could barely breathe. Joy pulled D'ahn's shirt over
her head revealing the large breasts carefully bound by a reel of cloth. She
reached around and unraveled the binding until the full breasts were released
from their prison. The two very different women kneeled on the bed before each
other. The long woman with fair hair faced the shorter and plumper woman whose
face was ringed with dark hair. The fire crackled in the hearth behind them and
the flames flickered on the skin of their bare breasts. This silent exploration
of each other's bodies enraptured them as their hands slipped between the legs of
the other. As one would touch ~ the other would touch in similar fashion. Soft
fingers rolled between folds of warm skin and up into the opening, not going in
too far but allowing the muscles to pull the fingers up inside. They giggled as
each took their turns tightening around the fingers of the other. Their passion
began increasing and breaths came quicker. Fingers became slippery probes timed
to the rhythm of each other's body motions. Their tongues explored around the
lips of the other, darting in and out of the mouth and then lunging deep into
the throat. Each lunge was accompanied with more hardened fingers pushing deep
inside their beings.
Drachen
stood in the doorway. His eyes watched the two women who were so enthralled in
the moment; they didn't notice his presence in the shadow of the door archway.
He was about to retire to his quarters when he thought he should check on his
wife and the condition of the half drowned woman. It had been weeks since he'd
been updated on her condition.
As his
mind began wrapping around the scene before him, Drachen's mind raced to
identify the woman with his wife. The sight of two naked and writhing bodies
hardened him instantly. Blonde hair fell across the stranger's face but he
recognized her body ~ the small breasts and the long thighs. The women moaned
and arched in sexual wonderment. Drachen moved closer to the bed. He barely
breathed. The primitive dance of these bodies glistening in the firelight
re-lit a long smoldering fire between his legs. Joy saw him first as she raised
her head. A moment of recognition passed between Drachen and Joy. Drachen knew
who she was. Although Joy's memory hadn't returned, her primal instincts were kicking
in and the face of this man aroused a passion in her she didn't question nor
want to.
She
reached her hand out to him, beckoning him to come closer. D'ahn felt another
presence and turned with a gasp. Joy would not let go of the moment and thrust
her fingers deeper into D'ahn as she pulled the man closer. As D'ahn tried to
resist, Drachen's mouth came down on his wife's and drove his tongue deep. Her
moans came from deep within her throat. Drachen's robe dropped. Joy continued
plying her fingers inside D'ahn as she laid her back onto the bed. Taking hold
of Drachen's hardened manhood, she rhythmically stroked him while equally
probing the other woman. As Joy saw their passions increase, she turned and
knelt with her back away from him. His manhood penetrated her in long
passionate thrusts. She bent over and placed her tongue inside D'ahn and with a
long lick ended up on the hardened clitoris. Her tongue and lips danced and
probed and licked her into a frenzy. D'ahn arched on the bed and groaned a deep
guttural sound. Joy slid away from Drachen's shaft and motioned him to lie back
on the bed. D'ahn sat up and saw her husband before her. Joy motioned D'ahn to
join her as her tongue ran up Drachen's hardened cock. Two tongues slipped
along each side and then danced around the head and back down. The women became
one sensual force. United, their determination to fulfill themselves and the
man before them was uncontrollable. D'ahn straddled him and allowed his face to
cover her moistened spot and his tongue to enter her. Joy straddled his legs
and came down slowly on the shaft, pushing down a little and then coming back
up to allow her moisture to spread on him. Then she sank deeper as her
womanhood stretched around his circumference and spread her slippery potion all
over him. Sinking down to the very base of him she rolled her hips slowly in
wide circles as D'ahn moved up and down on her knees - riding his tongue as it
rolled around her opening and then up between her swollen lips and into her as
far as it could go. D'Ahn's pleasure was evident on her face. There was no
jealousy or animosity between the two women…just the primal moment of pleasure.
Joy
motioned for D'ahn to come back and straddle her husband. Joy remained behind
her and ran her hand up Drachen's cock and then pressed it between D'ahn's
legs. Spreading D'ahn's folds, Joy guided the hard head of Drachen between them
and circled round and round until her moisture coated the cap and then guided
D'ahn down on him inch by inch. Joys hands tenderly massaged his balls and
D'Ahn's clitoris simultaneously. Husband and wife were entwined in a magical
moment where boundaries and restrictions dissolved as the hand of Joy connected
them together. The fully engorged woman leaned forward to kiss her husband's
lips. With him deep inside her now, she rocked her hips in pleasure. He filled
her completely as the rhythm of their lovemaking became bliss. They became one
body in ecstasy. One mind in pleasure. One united passion exploding in the
night. Caught up in the moment, neither D'Ahn nor Drachen felt Joy leave the
bed.
She left
them in their ecstasy and slipped out through the archway. She glanced back to
find the lovers embraced. Joy smiled. She whisked her loosely held clothing
together and returned to her rooms. Blarney was waiting for her there. Taking
only what she came with, Joy packed the travois with some clothing, food and
water. Blarney patiently stood under the full moon like a stone gargoyle as she
wrapped the strapping around his shoulders and checked that the weight wasn't
too much for his back. He looked up at her and she reached down and stroked the
massive head. They walked the narrow paths out of the village and into the
fields. She stopped and turned to look at the castle dimly outlined against the
dawn of early morning. The horizon was starting to glow in the east and the
stars sprinkled across the deep black sky above her. The breeze tousled her
hair and the smell of the pines drew her and the dog towards them. Memories
were flowing back into her mind in small fragments. She was healing. Joy and
the wolfhound strode across the rolling hills and up into the forest.
There
would be another healing this day, she sensed. They must pick up the pace if
they were to get there before nightfall…
