As a reclusive woman there were many rumors that swirled about me in the town below my chateau. Perched high atop a mountain, in a wooded valley near the crest, my home was seldom visited and I never saw reason to leave it. Of course, the occasional young man questing to murder the evil crone that resided within the walls of my home, or an older knight who’d heard tales of a beautiful young maiden cursed to sleep a thousand years, would sometimes wander into my garden but they were easy enough to either placate or avoid as I desired.
My favorite rumor, though, was that I was a ravishing witch with the power to claim the souls of even the purest of men without so much as touching them. Apparently, just gazing upon my form could lead a pious man to forsake his gods and offer himself up to me instead. While that has happened on occasion, it was not my actions, neither by smile nor touch, that caused it. It was simply a convenient lore they used as an excuse to satiate themselves of previously denied physical pleasure. I satisfied every need they presented me with. I took pity upon them. They returned my loving companionship with vile rumors of my treacherous beauty having corrupted their pure hearts. The blame fell on me for simply existing in a female form rather than accepting any responsibility for their own weak-willed and lustful nature.
While I am a rather attractive woman, I, sadly, am not a witch that beheld such power, I am simply a woman that finds herself as lonely as some travelers that happen across me. I’m a woman that benefits from the occasional lust-filled companion. And, yes, I often pay the price for that with unfounded rumors. But the men who spread those rumors will one day have to face the God they forsook to bed me, knowing their God was witness to the mind and heart of the believer in question. I hope they understand that not only will they have to answer for leaving their God behind to bed me, but they will also have to answer for the lies they told to protect their own mortal image. Gods don’t appreciate being played the fool and there isn’t much you can get away with in their all seeing and all knowing gazes.
I always endeavored to end my days down in my garden, enjoying a moonlit soak in the hot springs at the far end of the estate, nearest the mountain waterfall that flowed onto the springs. It was a ritual of which I had grown fond. Given that I lived alone within the walls, and have since I was a young woman, I seldom found the need to wear clothing. It wasn’t uncommon for the adventuring men who made their way to my home to come upon me walking through my garden in little more than a smile and hair clasps to lift my long black curls from the base of my neck.
My lack of modesty and shame over my appearance quite often left men intimidated by me. Most would drape a cape or shirt of their own over my shoulders to appease their discomfort with my naked form. A few embraced the view with awkward glances or badly averted gazes. Then there were those who were daring and took it upon themselves to admire my form with abandon and blatant approval.
Oddly, it was the daring ones who most refrained when I made advances. I suppose they were less deprived and therefor resisted the temptation easier. Though it was very rare for a man to leave my home without at least having a taste of the pleasure I offered. My visitors were few and far between, maybe two a year at their height with an average of one every third year.
Those that clothed me upon meeting would often stay for a short period, a week, maybe two, before they were satisfied sexually and moved on. Happy with the knowledge I was neither witch in need of slaying nor maiden in need of rescue, I was just a woman who quite loved her home and welcomed all into the safety and bounty within her walls.
The awkward ones stayed a little longer, but left much more confident in their mission. They always vowed to return once they had accumulated wealth and notoriety. From their perspective, they were unworthy of me if they didn’t make a name for themselves and they wanted to have earned the affection I offered them freely. I imagine they lived happy lives away from the secluded witch that cleansed them of their fear and doubt.
One did return to me once. A 20-year-old warlock who intended to learn from the witch before dispatching her upon his first visit. When he descended the mountain into my home the second time he was old and ill. He was taken aback as I hadn’t aged a day since he first stepped into my home. It wasn’t true of course, I had aged the same number of years as he had in that time. I was just my mother’s daughter and my mother was a goddess, beloved by all she met and slain for her unyielding youthful beauty. I physically age at twice the rate my mother did, but at something more akin to 1/50th that of humans once I entered puberty. Before that I was indistinguishable from any human child of my same physical age. The dying warlock asked me to share my youth with him, but I couldn’t. I was no more able to give it away than I was to control it within myself. I tended to his needs for a little less than a year and buried him in my courtyard when he passed.
I couldn’t give him eternal youth or extended human life, but I could enchant his grave as I had my father’s. Once per year, on their day of death, they can walk the grounds again from sunrise the morning of to sunrise the morning after. I was not gifted with magics, but it was a spell my father had taught me before he passed as he wanted me to know he would always be there for guidance, I just needed to be patient.
The adventurers that freely admired my form often stayed the longest, occasionally remaining in my home for many months before they began to feel more than lust for me and fled. A few would return every now and then, much more humbled than they had been when they arrived in my home the first time. They thanked me for indulging their childish fantasies so long ago and gifted me with armor, weaponry, and jewels from battles they feel they only survived because of their time with me. They were adamant that I was a goddess that protected them and humbled them as needed through their journeys. I had no hand in their journeys once they left my home, but I felt no need to diminish their faith that something kept them alive.
So you can see why I’ve always been happy with my home and never fathomed leaving it to join the men who wandered in. I quite liked being a mystery. I adored being discovered. I lived a beautiful life with much love shared with me, in spite of the rumors that settled upon my ears.
So why was this day different?
Destiny perhaps? I had been caught bathing in my hot springs for near a millennia, and I had never felt so drawn to one of my voyeurs before. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, perched atop a crevice in the mountain, slightly hidden behind a rock that shadowed him. Had I not known my mountain view well, he would have been perfectly camouflaged like a bunny amongst wet leaves in a garden. But I know my surroundings and I saw him as soon as I raised my eyes to scan the mountain’s surface.
My arms were raised above my head as I removed the clasps from my hair and shook the curls loose so that they fell over my shoulders and into a puddle on the rock which I sat upon. I was at the edge of the spring, lightly dragging my feet in the water, fully aware of the eyes that watched me from his partially hidden post.
Even from this distance I could feel him smile as I gathered my hair in my hand and pulled it all over one shoulder, fully exposing my back to him, and began to comb it. As always I started at the very end of my hair and worked my way up towards my scalp. It was a task to care for, but the one thing my father requested just before his death is that I allow my hair to grow as my mother’s had. He was convinced that one day I would cross paths with my mother’s murderer and my father wanted the man who slayed her to fear the vengeance of a reborn goddess.
As I worked through my hair I watched this voyeur, never directly, but well enough that I could follow his movements down the mountain until the blossoms of the old weeping cherry tree that loomed over my springs shed into the water as though a stronger breeze than was blowing had loosened them from their branches rather than the internal vibrations of a full grown man within its canopy. I sat on my rocky seat for a short while longer, leaning back on my hands and allowing the last rays of the evening sun to fall upon my body, much like my voyeur’s gaze. Pale and pink as my skin was, I did sit in the sun from time to time, I just preferred the lesser rays at dusk and dawn to the blinding noon light. Once I was certain he must have seen the entirety of my body, arched and stretched back upon the rocks, toes curved and creating the slightest ripples upon the water’s surface, I slid from my perch into the warmth beneath me.
As I did with many of the men that visited me, I stayed beneath the surface of the water for an abnormally long time, a trick I had gotten better at as I practiced over the years. From his perspective I was hidden beneath a sea of black hair swirling above me, from mine I watched through the clear water and strands of my hair to see him descend the tree, undoubtedly assessing my safety beneath the water.
He didn’t just drop into the spring like most others, grabbing me and pulling me to the surface without a thought of their own safety. No, he lay atop the rock I had been sitting on and looked into the water, his eyes upon my face, watching me watch him. I smiled slightly and he did as well.
I swam deeper beneath the water, encouraging him to join me in the depths, but he didn’t. My lungs began to ache and I surfaced, staying mostly submerged, but lifting my head free to the base of my nose so I could take a much-needed breath. His smile grew as my eyes lingered on him.
I tilted my head to the side, my hair both clung to my head and freely drifted all around me, and surveyed his face, it was familiar, but not strikingly so. He seemed to be the same age as I appeared physically, but more than that, he seemed much wiser than he should be at that age given his lack of reckless reaction to my test. I put my hands on the rocks near him and lifted myself to be eye level with him as he lay flat on the rocks and watched me, “Have you come to slay the witch or bed the maiden?” I asked.
“What if I’ve come to bed the witch and slay the maiden?” he asked, a slight smirk emerging on his lips.
“You would truly be the first, if that were the case,” I said as I tried to not smile.
He reached his hand out and pushed a rogue lock of hair going down the center of my face back behind my ear. His touch was soft and I leaned towards his hand, instinctively trusting of him but uncertain as to why.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he asked as he rubbed his thumb over my cheek and curled his fingers beneath my jaw.
I shook my head, “Have you visited me before? I don’t think you have, I wouldn’t have forgotten such beautiful eyes,” I said as I reached out and mimicked his touch on his own face.
He blushed and I scanned his eyes, “I do feel like I should know you. You look so sad, like you’ve lost everything to time, but you are as young as I am and couldn’t have lived long enough for that kind of loss.”
“May I join you in the water?” he asked.
I nodded and released him, swimming back to the center of the springs after pulling my cheek from his, reluctant to let go, grasp.
He began to untie his tunic.
I watched him undress, his complexion was as pale as my own, but his eyes were a crystalline blue with tiny flecks of emerald around the edges where mine were a rich violet. He folded his clothes and placed them further back on the rock, with his boots, then came over and slid down into the water beside me. His feet easily reached the bottom of the spring at the edge, submerging him to his chin unless he stood on his tiptoes, while my own feet remained a fair distance above the deepest points.
“How old would you say I am?” He asked as he advanced in the water towards me.
“Young. Twenty-five, twenty-six? Just starting life,” I said, still surveying his face and trying to place it.
“I’m decidedly older than that, just as you are not the young maiden you appear to be. You’re searching for where you know me but I’m afraid my face has been lost to you for a very long time,” he said sadly.
“You never answered me, have you visited me before?” I asked.
He nodded, “I was your first visitor, actually. The first to see you in your cradle outside of the nursing staff and your own parents,” he said, continuing to advance on me, though doing so slowly enough that he hoped I wouldn’t notice the closing distance.
I smiled, “You’re mistaken then as that’s not possible.”
I felt his fingertips on my hip beneath the water and he looked to me, “Tell me, who has visited you here over the centuries?” he asked.
I pulled my hip from him and backed up slightly, a little more cautious, and curious, “I seldom learn the names of my visitors…they forget to tell me and I forget to ask.”
He moved forward again, touching my hand and making me pull away as I looked in the water towards his body, “Well, let me break that streak. My name is Beck, and you are Lore.”
I swam further back, retreating into the darkening shade of the cherry tree as the sun settled further into the horizon, “How do you know my name?”
He moved closer to me, a smile lingered at the corners of his lips as I became much more wary of his advances, “Lore, would you like me to leave?”
I shook my head and treaded water as he continued his advance towards me. I was always the pursuer, never the one pursued, I reminded myself. I waited until his fingertips were on my cheek again. Comfort and love radiated from him.
I tilted my head towards him, searching my memories for the trust I felt but didn’t understand, “Who are you?” I asked softly as he wrapped his other arm around my waist and pulled me tightly against himself.
His eyes glistened slightly and he lowered his lips down close to my ear, “I am your master, and you will accept me as such until I choose to leave, Lore.”
He said it with such authority that my breath caught.
I was the master. I was the seductress. It had always been my role to lead and direct and teach. But for some reason, when the words left his lips and settled in my ear, I felt at home. Safety and love just encircled him and I wanted him to lead me.
My own lips lingered near his ear as he held me to him, “Yes, master,” I said softly as he pushed me back in the water slightly and stood me on an old root that led into the spring from the cherry tree. I was still submerged in the water up to my clavicle, but I didn’t have to tread water and he didn’t have to hold me here. I didn’t understand how he knew the foothold was there beneath the water.
He smiled and rubbed his thumb across my lower lip before he leaned over and brought his lips gently against mine. His hands slid down my lower back and I shivered. My spine was a sensitive area that was seldom found by visitors and he went straight to it. I moaned and he rubbed very gently up and down, pressing between my vertebra as he rocked his fingers from the mid-point of my back down to my tail bone. A deep pink flush came across my flesh and I looked him in the eye, he was determined and I was in an agony of pleasure and confusion.
I finally grabbed his arm and pleaded, “Stop?”
He pulled his hands away and looked me in the eye, “That’s not a very servile request, Lore.”
I was full of sorrow at asking for it to end, “No one’s ever…how do you know of that?”
“I told you already,” he said. His hand gripped my jaw and lifted my face to look at him, “I knew you just after you were born. I was older than you.”
I pulled free of his grip and pushed him into the deep center of the water, “Did you murder my mother? Are you here to murder me?” I asked, near tears.
“No, but I know the man who did and your murder is not what he wants,” he said as he pushed his, now wet, hair out of his face.
“Are you going to take me to him? Claim a prize for your conquest?” I yelled.
He shook his head, “No, I may loathe him even more than you do. I am here at his demand, but my only intention is just a taste of what my life was supposed to be. Will you allow me that, Lore?” he asked.
I was uncertain of what to do and he could see it written on my face, he caressed my temples and pressed his thumbs to the center of my forehead. His emotions from the moment he began to climb my mountain flooded me. The intent began to fulfill a demand, to just do his job and bring me to the man who held his life in his hands. Then he saw me and the intent changed. He needed to protect me, he loved me, he longed for me. I felt the resignation of the original intent shift to one of ensuring I remained hidden for good, even from himself and he mourned that loss before he so much as touched me. I cried and he caught me as he pulled his hands away from my head. I was shivering even in the warmth of the water and he caressed my cheek.
“May I continue, Lore?” he asked mournfully.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and nodded, “Please?” I said softly.
He brought his lips down to mine gently and lifted me, guiding my legs around his waist and my hands behind his neck as he continued to kiss me. His fingertips returned to my lower spine and I moaned, pressing myself tightly to him as he easily brought me to a crest of pleasure. He ignited a need in me I had only vaguely been warned of previously.
When he pulled free of the kiss he was carrying me back towards the edge of the hot springs, his touch was delicate, keeping me at that crest without overwhelming my senses. Every step rubbed my pussy against his cock, causing him to pause to pull me just a little more tightly to him as I searched his face for some hint of how I recognized him. Was he there the night my mother was killed? Did he love me even then?
He looked down at me as he pressed my back against the smooth stones that lined the water and without a word he pushed himself into me as his fingertips pressed into the divots in my spine. I gasped and he smiled but said nothing as he thrust into me, water splashing lightly against the rock he pinned me to. My fingertips grasped his shoulder and I attempted to pull myself away from him slightly but only managed to lift myself enough so he could close his lips over my right nipple and suckle on me.
I closed my eyes and my hands slid up either side of his neck, holding his head to my breast as he pushed me against the rock in the water, deep fluttery thrusts into my body, pushing my body tighter against his fingers, forcing them deeper between my vertebra until he felt my body trembling in his grip, whimpering and crying as I reached my first orgasm true to my hidden nature. I squeezed his cock in me and my body flushed as if a fire were rippling through me, the visible pink waves cascaded across my flesh.
He held me there for half an hour as it just began to subside. I’d never been exhausted like that before. I felt empty, though I know he’d cum within me and I was actually quite full, much fuller than any man had ever left behind. I squirmed as he continued to hold me still and soothe my body.
“What are you?” I begged.
“I didn’t say you could speak, Lore,” I looked down and he made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound, “You’ll have to be punished for that.” His voice was soft, somewhat taunting as he spoke. “Now what should you say?”
I looked him in the eyes, barely able to focus on his request, “I’m sorry, Master,” I said softly.
He smiled and brought his lips down to mine as he thrust into me again, eliciting an arched back and gentle moan from me.
He was gifted, both in endowment and technique, but especially in technique. My muscles caressed his cock, squeezing him rhythmically as his tongue danced with mine. I moaned and I felt him smile against my lips as he thrust into me a little harder. The hand he had on my lower spine gently slid up my back until he curved his fingers into the back of my neck in a similar way. I whimpered longingly as he toyed with the normally neglected nerve endings that rested just along my spine, some heightened emotion, others heightened the physical and he was manipulating them in a way that brought me to intense, crying from pleasure and connection with him, orgasms.
He had learned my weaknesses and knew just how to touch me.
Light kisses along my lower lip, down my chin, and along my neck brought me through the toe curling and uncontrollable internal trembling. Then he began sucking gently on my right breast and squeezing my left breast in his hand, his thumb rubbed over my left nipple just as his tongue did my right. I leaned my head back, pushing his other hand tighter against the back of my neck and moaned again. It took all I had to not turn his back to the rock behind me and ride his cock until I decided I was satisfied. He was in control, and I wanted him to be.
His hand and tongue switched sides and he began to thrust in and out of me faster, making larger waves and splashes of the water against the rock. I clenched my fist and arched my back and then he just stopped. His hand left my neck and breasts, he pulled himself free of me and left me standing on the edge of the rock, as he climbed out of the water, then reached down, grabbed me by the wrist and lifted me up onto the rocks beside him, out of the water.
I could see that he was still hard and I hadn’t missed any further enjoyment of me. I watched him and he looked me over before he pulled me across his lap and smacked my bottom with his bare hand. I yelped and tried to block his hand from a second blow, but he quickly grasped my wrist and pulled it aside as his other hand made contact with my bare, wet flesh.
I jumped. These were not playful spanks, they were fully disciplinary. I felt his cock twitching beneath my stomach as he landed three more swats on my already red bottom. I had never experienced that before. I had never been disciplined or scolded in any way. My lip trembled and I could feel the wetness of tears rolling down my cheeks as his hand began rubbing the area he’d spanked.
He pulled me up so that I was sitting on his lap with my legs to one side and he lifted my chin to kiss me. His cock was nestled between my thighs and when his lips left mine I looked up at him, full of a lusty need.
He smiled, “Kneel over my lap with your hands on the edge of the rock.”
I did as I was told, placing my legs on either side of him, I faced away from him and leaned forward to put my palms on the rough edge of the rock we were sitting on. I felt him guiding himself into me again and I tried not to move.
Once he had my hips pulled tightly down to his, he began pushing and pulling them in a rocking motion against him. I looked down into the water, my hair fell over my shoulder and down into the springs.
His voice was gentle, “Keep this motion and rhythm. Just rock your hips on me, don’t lift your body, don’t fuck me, just tilt and roll your hips, regardless of what I do, Lore.”
I followed his direction, and he brought his hand around my waist. He began to lubricate his fingers in the fluids gathering at the base of his cock, then moved them up, between the lips of my pussy and very slowly and softly spread the lubrication over my clit. He let his finger slide easily over the sensitive bit of flesh, slightly disrupting the rocking motion of my hips as I inadvertently moved my hips towards his fingers.
He spanked me with his other hand and I clenched around his cock, evoking a deeply pleasured moan from him. His fingers teased and manipulated my clit and every time I broke the rocking rhythm on his cock he’d spank me until I resumed the proper movements. After a few minutes of the gentle teasing, he carefully moved under me until he was kneeling. He kept one hand firmly on my hip and one continued to rub my clit. My hips kept the rhythm until he began to thrust in hard, deep, and slow movements.
He let go of my hip and began to run his fingertip from the base of my skull down to the top of my butt. I arched along the movement line and he thrust a little harder. The forceful thrust nearly slid me into the water, so I curled my fingertips under the edge of the rock and gripped it, ensuring I stayed firmly impaled on his cock as he teased me.
I moaned and tried to keep my hips rocking against him, but each thrust sent a shiver up my spine, which his fingers amplified. A tingling sensation began to spread from my clit throughout my reproductive system. I had never been opened to breeding before, but he was making every move necessary to encourage my body to accept him as a genuine lover. I leaned my head down on the rock and lifted my butt a little higher as he felt my cunt tense up around him and begin rhythmically pulling at him each time he tried to pull back out. My body was begging him to breed me.
Then I felt him pull free of me again and I whined, but he grabbed my hip and turned me over onto my back. His hand went behind my neck and pulled me up to him until his cock was at my lips. He throbbed as he pushed himself into my mouth and I moaned as he let a few thick ropes of ejaculate loose. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat with a stiff force as he curled his fingertips into my neck and encouraged me to accept his dick fully in my throat for this load.
He watched me savor his cock as I cleaned our fluids from him. His hand stroked my hair and pushed it away from my face as I looked up at him, practically begging for his praise. Which, I got as he pulled himself free of my lips. His lips brushed against my ear as he lay beside me and gently massaged my jaw, “Such a beautiful, goddess of a woman,” he whispered before he kissed my cheek.
I was in tears as the moon shone down on us. He noticed and wiped them away from my cheeks, “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You didn’t finish properly,” I said softly, “I ache now,” a burning need was evident in my voice.
He smiled and nodded, “I know. I couldn’t do it,” he said as he stroked my cheek.
“Why not?” I begged, “Why manipulate me like that if not to finish?”
He kissed my forehead, “Sleep, my love.”
I quickly fell asleep in his arms on top of the rock at the edge of the springs, whether I wanted to or not.
When I woke it was morning and he was stroking my hair away from my face and behind my ear. He smiled when he noticed my eyes open.
“Would you like me to leave, Lore?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Then would you like to know who I am?” he asked, white salty streaks lined his cheeks, evidence he’d spent at least part of the night crying while I slept.
I nodded.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ion3vq/the_maidens_tale_part_one_fantasy_setting_mf_sex
Holy shit…
Riveting and gorgeous wow