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The prosecutor extended her right hand, lightly scratching the underside of
my scrotum and trailing the sensation up to my member. I closed my eyes,
trying to fill my thoughts with non-sexual themes, attempting to distract
myself as she gently stroked and fondled my penis. The futility of this
strategy was immediately evident as she began to stroke my hair and face
with her free hand and cooed a soft, low noise inaudible to everyone except
me. When her perfume once again invaded my olfactory senses, my resistance
was entirely broken down as my penis rapidly stiffened in her fingers.
Having won the battle to get my organ to respond to her touch, she began to
sculpt it, to stimulate it in such ways that it grew readily into the shape
…End of the part3. To be continued..

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“Oh, Goss,” she said. “I might come any second now.”

“Finish the fantasy,” I demanded.

“OK,” she said. “The guy is slapping my breasts, really hurting me.
Then he says, ‘Lay her down, I’m going to spank her fat ass’ and the
guy behind me pulls me onto my back on the couch. He grabs my legs and
pulls them up over my head, which curves my back and raises up my robe,
leaving my bare bum hanging free, up in the air. The leader begins
spanking my bare bottom with his gloved hand, really hard.”

Abruptly, Cathie stopped talking and began pushing her ass back into
my thighs, rising up on her knees on the couch. “Oh, Goss,” she said.
“Oh Goss, fuck my bum really hard. It feels so good tonight. Fuck me
hard, Goss. Fuck my ass really hard! It’s never felt this good!”

I found myself pounding my cock into her asshole, my thighs slapping
onto her pliant buttocks.

“The leader spanks my bare bum for a long time,” she said. “He spanks
me until my ass is red and burning hot. Ah, Goss, he spanks my bum and
he spanks it and he spanks it, really hard. I’ve never had such a bad
spanking in my whole life.”

It occurs to me what she is describing is slightly similar to what I’m
doing at that very moment with my thighs.

“Then what?” I ask desperately.

“He stops spanking me after half an hour and he tells the other guy, ‘I’m
going to fuck this whore in the ass until she can’t sit down for a week.
Then you can fuck her ass too’ and the guy who’s holding my legs up in the
air grunts or something. The next thing I know, the leader has his pants
down and he’s kneeling on the couch and he’s holding my legs with his
arms and shoulders and I can feel his big cock jamming into my asshole.
Without any lubrication or anything he shoves his cock all the way up
my bum and it burns and burns. Then he starts fucking my ass and there’s
nothing I can do about it except lay there and take it.”

“What about the other guy?” I ask out of curiosity. My erection feels
like it’s a piece of wood, no real sensation, and I continue fucking
Cathie’s ass.

“Oh, oh,” she gasps. “The big guy sticks his cock in my mouth.
It’s upside down because my head is pulled back and he’s behind me.
He makes me suck on his cock and move my tongue around all over it,
all the time the leader is fucking me in the ass.”

I felt a very strange sensation in my loins about that time and I pushed
and I wiggled and I squeezed my cock as far up Cathie’s ass as it would
go. Then I held it there, more or less motionless, the circumcised head
feeling like it was floating in air. It was a very erotic feeling.

“I’m about to come like an ocean,” Cathie said calmly, her head scrunched
down into a pillow at the head of the couch and her hind end stuck up
into the air.

“Finish the fucking fantasy,” I pleaded.

“The leader finally comes in my bum,” she said. “I can feel him squirting
and squirting inside me. After awhile he pulls his cock out and they
force me onto my knees on the carpet. The big guy, who has a very big
cock, pushes it into my bum and it hurts! He bumfucks me for a long,
long time. When he finally comes, his cock lifts me right off the floor
up into the air.”

“Is it over?” I pleaded with Cathie. “Is the fantasy over yet?”

“No,” Cathie breathed. “No, Goss. Actually, when I’m masturbating with
this fantasy, I don’t have an orgasm until the next part.”

“Jeeze! What’s the next part?” I ask, my cock quivering in her ass.

“They roll me onto my back,” Cathie continued. “Then the leader pees on
me, all over my body. When he’s finished, the big guy puts his cock in
my mouth and pees. He makes me drink his pee. Then I come.”

At that moment I felt an explosion of twitching, spasming, rock hard
muscles squeezing my cock. Instinctively, I instantly yanked my cock
out of Cathie’s asshole and she farted and screamed long and loud.
I assumed the sudden removal of my cock had intensified her orgasm.
She fell onto her belly and twisted and twitched for a long, long time.

When she was finished, I grabbed my cock with my right hand and pumped
it exactly twice. I had an intense spasm and watched my sperm shoot out
of the tip of my cock and splatter all over Cathie’s bare ass. And again.
And again. And again. Finally, I collapsed beside her on the couch.

My fogged mind heard my voice saying, “Let’s keep it down to one fantasy
a night from now on, OK, Cath? This is gonna kill me.”

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As I said, the Palace is a good place for orgies. I’ll skip the require-
ments for getting in, except to say that you need a clean test report from your
doctor, dated within a week.
This Saturday, my wife and I had gone to the Palace, after getting young
Lisa to babysit our 18 month old. We had arrived earlier in the evening, and
now I was heading towards the bar in the second lounge. I needed a break as
much as a glass of OJ. I’d just come in from the pool, after helping a man
fuck his wife. She’d wanted a fuck-sandwich, so I pumped her pussy while he
filled her butt. She was a very sweet gal named Diane, and we’d all enjoyed
it. My wife was off somewhere, getting her thrills, which we’d share later
tonight after we returned home. The OJ was good, and I watched the show on
stage. A pair of girls were 69′ing each other while two guys pumped them.
These were not pros, but average guests, showing off for the crowd. People were
clapping and making approving noises as the foursome switched around into a
variety of positions. The men announced their orgasms and came inside their
ladies, and the girls continued to lick and suck each other’s pussies for a
while. The men sat back and watched. When they were done, the foursome stood
and held hands, bowing to the audience. They were glistening with sweat from
the hot lights, and their exertions. The girls’ faces were shiny with love
juices, making their smiles even sexier.
I was going to wander into the back, near the group rooms, to see if I
could find someone I knew, or someone new. As I passed a naked young lady who
was sitting on a sofa in the lounge, she put her hand on my thigh and stopped
me. Without a word she took my semi-hard cock in her mouth and began to suck
it. Sitting next to her was her husband, fucking a big-titted woman of about
forty. The gal sucking my cock was rubbing the older woman’s clit as she and
her husband fucked. On stage, several people were setting up for another show.
All around us, people were entering, leaving, or talking. Some were slowly
masturbating themselves or their partners. At one table, a woman was stroking
her partner’s cock under the table, while fingering the pussy to her right,
and carrying on a conversation with a woman across from her.
The gal sucking me was doing a great job, obviously having her fun with
my shaft. She would suck it down her throat, then lick the underside and even
lick my balls. She slid up the shaft and held the head in her mouth, swirling
her tounge around it and flicking the sensitive head and area just below. Then
down her throat again. She did this with unabashed enthusiasm, as if to show
me that she really loved to suck cock.
On stage, a lovely young redhead came out and sat down on a thick carpet,
spreading her legs to the audience. She began to masturbate, and after a few
moments, five men walked on stage and stood around her. The men began to
masturbate, offering her their cocks one at a time. The redhead liked to suck
too, and she took a huge cock down to the base, making the audience applaud
quietly.
The gal sucking me had me aroused and near orgasm, and watching the stage
show, I felt a surging deep inside. I looked down and the gal was sloppily
licking my shaft with her tounge, and rubbing it all over her face. She sucked
the head and then looked up at me, mouthing the words “come in my face”. I
couldn’t hold back. She had the head in her mouth, just as my sperm gushed out
…End of the part1. To be continued..

3

My prick exploded into Sue Ann’s tight little hole, and she
grabbed both Daddy and me in a death-grip, as I was almost
squashed between them.
For a moment or two, it was almost as though Daddy was
fucking my little sister right through me. Daddy’s prick would
expand in my behind, and as I felt his sperm squirt in me, I
would send a responding squirt into my little sister. Squirt
after squirt. It felt like Daddy’s sperm would go right through
my body, into the base of my prick, and then ripple through the
tube on the bottom until it ended up being deposited in the
little girl’s womb where it belonged.
Daddy was just emptying the last sticky drops into me, and I
was doing the same thing to my little sister, when Momma came in
from the kitchen to tell us all that breakfast was ready.
“My God,” she exclaimed in mock disgust, “Don’t you kids do
anything but fuck?” “What kind of sex-maniacs have I been
raising around here anyway?” she asked, taking in her two oldest
daughters, obviously both freshly screwed, with their father’s
seed still drooling obscenely out of the eldest, and the sticky
mess on the other matching the wilting rubber-covered cock on her
eldest son. To top it, Daddy, Sue Ann and I were still coupled
like three dogs, while Mary Beth was licking the juncture of our
thighs, and a white gob dripping out of her tight little slit
showed she hadn’t been sexually neglected that morning either.
Two little naked kids watched the whole thing, while still
playing with each other’s sex-parts.
First Daddy, then Mary Beth, then the whole room started
giggling, then laughing outright. If anyone was an example of
someone who liked to fuck, then it had to be Momma. After all,
with nine kids by her own son, one by her father, and two
grandchildren, it was pretty obvious how our mother liked to
spend her spare time.
At first, Momma huffed at our response, but finally the
humor of the situation got to her too. “OK,” she giggled, “now
it’s my turn. Joe, get another one of those rubber things, and
get over here and help your mother out. Mike, you go down and
tell your grandpa and little sisters that breakfast will be
ready, as soon as your mother gets HER share of the fun.”
I giggled, but followed Momma’s instructions by pulling out
of my little sister and padding down the hall to the other
bedroom, that Grandpa shared with the two younger girls and the
baby. Daddy patted me on the ass, as he pulled out of me with a
slight pop. “Ooh,” my ass stung a little, but Daddy’s sperm
soothed it a little too. Sometimes I almost wish I was a girl,
so Daddy could squirt up my tummy and get me pregnant like my
sisters could. Oh well.
I heard a yelp of pleasure as I left the room, and knew my
big brother’s cock was sliding into the womb that we all came out
of; filling it in a way that none of the rest of us could match.
Twice now, Joe has split a condom while fucking Momma, and we all
know that someday he’s going to knob her good. If not by
splitting a condom, then when Momma decides she’s gone long
enough without another baby.

4

…End of the part3. To be continued..

BTW, the story is NOT about LYNN’s suffering, but JOE’s. HIS hurt, is the
one that’s supposed to break your heart.
Think about it, having to do that to someone you love, in the HOPE that
it MIGHT save her for someone else. To be willing to make someone you
love, and had hoped to have love you, hate you, so that they’ll survive.
“Greater love hath no man. . .” I think that being willing to give up
the love of someone for their well-being, is at least as great, and THAT’s
the point I was trying to make.

I’ll admit, I WAS trying for shock-value, when Joe “did-in” her mother.
I wanted to raise at least a LITTLE doubt in the reader’s mind, whether
or not they had figured Joe out right.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN>Frank,

IN>Re whether Lynn was hoodwinked, yes, I think
IN>Joe and her mother did a good job of convincing the trusting
IN>starry-eyed girl that she was actually given up to a degenerate,
IN>and that he would enjoy her, and then kill her.
IN>Joe’s suffering is evident. Maybe you could put the “greater
IN>love hath no man…” quote in the story. It is both dramatic
IN>and succinct of the feelings Joe must have gone through before
IN>Lynn came over and all was patched up.

I would like to. I just can’t think of a neat way (or place) to put it in.
I’ll re-read it, maybe I can. Hmmmm. maybe afterwards, in a comment by
Lynn, or June. I’ll have to think about it. It’s a nice Idea, but I want
the story to flow smoothly. I’ll try. No guarantees though.

IN>For my own version of “what is right” you might
IN>also add in the epilogue that Lynn finished HS on the honor roll,
IN>despite her bulging belly.

Good point. I’ll fit that in somewhere at the end. “After finishing
High-school, Lynn has worked her way through college, and is now working
on her doctorate by taking evening classes, while June and I watch the
kids, sometimes alternating, and sometimes together. Now that the oldest
is 12, and can watch the younger ones, we find interesting things to do
together while still maintaining a presence in the house.”

Something like that. I’ll have to work on it. Any suggestions about this,
or the other will be appreciated. I think, that if I put in that Lynn’s
working on her doctorate, then her finishing high-school (honor-roll or not)
would be superfluous. What do you think?

IN>Everybody seems to live and make love happily ever after.
IN>Does Joe continue as a professional top?

Yes, but in later years it becomes more of a side-line. His main line
becomes designing and supplying bondage clothing and accessories, with
Lynn as his main model. Do you think this needs to be in the story?

IN>do Lynn and June become his beautiful and kinky assistants?

Lynn does, as explained above. June is closer to being a “top”, than
a “bottom”. Sometime she helps him with a fantasy with Lynn. June remains
as kinky as ever, but with her own twist on things. How and why and where
she gets those kids of hers, are each stories in their own right. Joe
THINKS almost all the kids are his, but he’s not sure about at least 2 of
them. June likes to keep him guessing. (BTW, outside of the story,
for your information only, they ALL are. June loves him just as much
as Lynn does, and wouldn’t dream of cheating him. Make him THINK they might
not be his, yes. Actually HAVE anyone else’s kids, no. Joe suspects this.)

IN>Does the huge family move out of the soundproof apartment?

That’s a bachelor apartment. What do you think? One-bedroom, bath,
kitchen and tiny living-room, plus the one extra “dungeon” room. Of course,
the owners have bigger, fancier apartments, at sky-high rentals. No, they
moved to a small fixer-upper ex-farm-house, at the outskirts of the city.
By the time the story ends, with the three of them working on it, they’ve
…End of the part4. To be continued..

Maybe that part, I didn’t make clear in the story. June had made VERY
extensive checks on “Jones” before bringing her daughter over. she had
not only checked him out, but had talked to several of his “bottoms”, and
even observed a couple of his “training” sessions, as a helper, and once
she had let him demonstrate on her, though it wasn’t her “bag” so to speak.
By the time the story starts, the two were good friends, and he had been
teaching her things to use on her daughter, as Lynn had fallen for the
whole bondage-thing through reading about it. After a while though, second-
hand, amateur knowledge wasn’t enough, and Lynn had asked to be introduced
to an expert.

LYNN was a trusting soul, and had never been really hurt in her life.
She had NEVER been abused, not even by a school-bully. She thought
EVERYONE was like the people in the stories she read, caring and thinking
about the other person, even when designing tortures for them, so that
in the end, the recipient always loves the “master” for what he/she does.
Lynn, to put it bluntly, was a romantic.

Her mother June, was anything but. She would go to great lengths to
protect her daughter, and had the personality, and ability to do it.
She’s as tough as a marine drill-sergeant, and could lick double her
weight in professional bar-bouncers. She would do anything to give
Lynn what she felt the girl needed, and if it was a professional B&D
experience, or a baby in the belly, she would see to it.

Perhaps there’s another thing I didn’t make clear, though there are
hints all through the story. “Joe” was a “professional” By that,
I mean he did it for a living. He was good, because he had to be.
He had a business, and he advertised, and he relied on repeat business.
June wouldn’t have set this up with anyone else. He did enjoy his
work, but nobody who gets into THAT line of work does so, if they
don’t like it. Joe prided himself on giving the customer EXACTLY
what he/she ordered. If they wanted to be marked for 3 days, Joe
provide welts and abrasions that would be not noticeable by that
dreaded 4-day-from-now meeting. His customers relied on him, and
he supplied. Joe wasn’t the “best” top in the city, but he was the
best “professional” one. All the others who were any good, did it
for personal pleasure, and quite often paid for the privilege, or
had a “stable” of “bottoms” to work with. Word-of-mouth sort of thing.

IN> about the building of trust, the reliance on trust, and the fantastic
IN> feelings of letting go __after you really trust a person (in many
IN> cases literally with your life.) But the trust always comes first, at
IN> least in the success stories. But that’s real life, or as close as
IN> the world of BD gets to real life, so maybe my comments do not apply
IN> here.

As I said, Lynn trusted EVERYBODY. Really TRUSTED them.
NOT a good idea, as the second story points out.

IN> As always, please take my comments as coming from a completely
IN> friendly direction, and not meant as criticisms of your views or
IN> positions, just as my suggestions for possible improvements in the
IN> story.

I do, I DO!

IN> Finally, I have a question to ponder. You and I like this story. Who
IN> else will? Is it silly to consider the “market” for a story which
IN> will eventually be immortalized on the net, and never see any other
IN> form of publication? What I fear is that the pedo interest may be
IN> squicked by the BD content, the BD types may be squicked by the pedo
IN> content, and the consent concerns I blathered on about above, and
IN> surely somebody will be bothered to learn that people’s mothers have
IN> an interest in sex, or have ever participated. Just something to
IN> think about. I suppose we could put it on the net, when you have
IN> edited as much as you want to, and see what kind of reaction it
IN> brings. I would be interested to see.

THAT doesn’t bother me. SOME people out there will like it.
There are LOTS of stories out there that I don’t like, and
I ignore them. I expect others to do likewise, with these two.

IN> I am looking forward to the next story you are trying to recover. I
IN> will reread this one this week, and probably send you a short list of
IN> spelling and other typographical errors that I noticed, which probably
…End of the part2. To be continued..

Aline, the maid, who I found was a distant cousin of Tilde, tried her best to make me feel comfortable.

“Bathing here isn’t the same as it is in the village. Warm water, in very warm room, with scents in your bath to make you smell fresh as the dawn. I will be with you until he comes to you, so do not be afraid, Child. It will not be long.” And a mutter under her breath as she led me into the bathing room, “it never is.”

Ignoring that cryptic comment, I started to loosen the ties on my dress. She helped me to pull it over my head, stopping a moment to look at the work. “You and your mother do very fine work. You should be proud. It is a lovely dress.”

I nodded and smiled, but felt odd to be standing in my shift before a stranger. My face must have heated up, for she took a sonsy tone, “Don’t worry about it, child. T’is common, and nothing I have not seen before.”

Slowly, shyly, I pulled my shift over my head then stepped cautiously into the tub. The water felt like nothing I’d been in before. Sweet herbs and steam teased my nose as I slowly slid into the full tub. I felt myself relax in the warmth until I nearly forgot what was about to occur. It was much too soon when I stood to be rinsed, and was rubbed dry.

“Put this on, dear.” This was a beautiful night shift of fine linen, finer in fact than anything I had ever seen.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t! T’is far too fine for me.”

“Tosh! Take it Child, it’s the only thing of any value you’ll take home from tonight. As though he could replace what he will be taking, but he gives one of these to each bride that comes.” With a nod and a shrug, I pulled it over my head. She pulled the torch of rushes off the wall, before climbing stairs.

The room itself was fairly dark. The logs in the fireplace and the rush torch were the only light in the room. A large bed was silhouetted by the light, making it seem larger and more imposing. I fell back, and brushed against Aline. “T’is only the light that makes it fearful. Go in, and I will get you settled.”

I crossed the chilled room, and clambered up into the high bed. So soft! I couldn’t imagine how many winter fowl had died to make such a comfortable bed. The bedclothes were heavy and warm.

It was then I determined not to be swayed by such richness. T’would be easy to do. This is not here for me, but for M’lord, to whom I’m about to become a chore. My Ian loves me, and I would rather be in our little home, on a heather mattress than here surrounded by all these riches about to be sacrificed in the name of some Lord. I’ll do my duty, but I don’t have to enjoy it.

Aline tucked me in, then withdrew with the promise that she would be back after Lord Farrington left.

I heard him enter before I saw him, He was without his wig, and I could see his hair was thin for the firelight reflected off his scalp. He shucked of his clothing and moved across the bed. The bedclothes were removed from my body, and he pulled up my nightdress. I felt his substantial weight over me, and felt him press against me. I forced myself to relax, somehow knowing it would be worse if I were tense. This seems so wrong! I wanted to cry out, but knew t’would be no matter. He pressed into me, feeling my maidenhead. I could feel the pressure, the dull ache. He began to hum and mumble some bawdy tune from court, and I gasped. He thrust through it and though I wanted to scream, I would not give him the pleasure. He continued to hum, thrusting in and out of my limp body in rhythm to the song. Such an odd habit.

The blood made it easier to endure. Not that it was really much to endure; shortly after, he trembled mightily, then fell to the side of me, removing himself from my body. A few moments more and he gathered his clothing and left.

Praise the Saints!

It didn’t take Aline long to show up.

“If ever there was a time when I would be grateful for one of those baths, Mistress Aline, I believe it t’would be now.” I murmured.

“Of course, Child, come with me. Do you feel you can stand?”

“I am stronger than I look.” Stronger than that man, that much is for certain.

We made our way back down the stairs to the bathing room. The tub was already filled.

“You knew?” I was astonished.

“T’is common to feel the need to rid your body of an unwanted touch. I would have been more surprised if you had NOT asked.”

I nodded mutely, anxious to be in the bath. My body slipped in and I let the warmth remove the feeling of his clammy skin and foul breath.

“Mistress Aline, may I ask a bold question?”

“Of course.”

“Is it always like that?” It couldn’t be. Ian loved me. But I had to know if that is what I had to look toward to.

“Goodness no Child. The lord has no love of you, nor quite frankly, love of the deed. Your true wedding night will be much different, and I daresay much better.”

I nodded in response, thankful at least that my feelings were right.

I don’t know how long I was in it, but Aline helped me out. Once again I dried off, and pulled on the nightshift. This time she led me to a different room.

“You can sleep in peace here, child.” The room was small, with a common bed. I gained comfort from those things that were known to me. It took me very little time to fall asleep surrounded by the scent of heather.

The next morning, Aline once again helped me to dress. I hugged her, appreciating all she had done for me. One of the lord’s men held me gently in front of them. He went slowly, and I can only guess he was considering my comfort. I whispered a thank you for his kindness.

The trip seemed shorter this time, perhaps because it was something I was looking forward to.

The wedding party was still there, since the first Prima Nocte, the village would continue the party to keep the groom occupied and in reasonable cheer. I rushed down, turning only a moment to thank the lord’s man for his attention. Then I rushed to my Ian.

He only looked better to me. I reached for him, hoping he would not hold what was done against me. I looked in his eyes, and saw the relief as he rushed toward me and swept me up into his arms.

“Annsachd, I will love you always,” he said as his lips, warm and full met mine.

The village party quickly began singing, leading us to our new home. We would be left there to celebrate our wedding properly. Gifts of food would be left at the doorstep for the first few days, a tradition I’m told is particular to our village. Ian lifted me up and carried me into our new home, his strength making me feel delicate. Then, the door was shut and we were alone.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispered.

“No more than should be expected.”

His voice grew quieter as he sat on the edge of our bed, “Will you miss him?”

“Oh, Annsachd!” I kissed him gently as I settled into his lap, “He may be Lord, and he may have fine things, but he has no fine manners. And all I could consider was this, even surrounded by that finery, I would rather be here, with you, even in our poor home. He had no love for me, and I’m not even entirely certain he knew my name.” My hands ranged his muscled shoulders and arms. “I missed you. And I did not make love with him. It was no different than setting a prize boar on a sow. He did his rutting with no spare thought for me, good or ill, and left. He did what he was required to do, as did I.”

I pulled away enough to look him in the eye. “Would you help me forget that?”

His lips fell quickly onto my own, his hands tugging at my ties. My own hands fell to his clothing, and I could not wait to see what sort of prize I had won when I married him.

We were quick and clumsy and we fell into bed beside each other. Hands moved over fevered skin, and I felt my own heart race. I looked into his face, and his eyes sparkled in the half light. The look seemed to change him, and he dawdled. His fingers drew fanciful designs upon my skin, causing me to moan in frustration; of what I knew not.

“Ian, Annsachd, please….”

He smiled, “Oh, I will please you, I will please you and myself as well.” His tongue flicked over my breasts and I gasped at such a touch. His fingers slowly crept toward my center, until they were there, exploring my tenderness.

I moved against him, desperate. My body knew, yet I did not. His lips trailed kisses down my stomach and then…

I went fuzzy. Hot breath and warm gentleness. I could feel my innards curl in waves, like the wind across the fields of barley. Finally, I could stand the tension no longer, and I cried out to God.

Ian quickly came back up to me, kissing my face, my eyes, my nose, my cheeks before settling back on my mouth. A different taste was on his lips, but t’was not foul. I felt his hardness press me, and almost against my will, I tensed. Then I forced myself to relax. This t’will be different, Mistress Aline said so.

A fullness I could not imagine filled my core. Slowly, so slowly, Ian pressed into me. I opened my eyes to see him watching my face closely, looking for signs of my discomfort. I smiled warmly at him, at this man I truly loved, and pressed back into him. I had been selfish, and wanted this to be as beautiful for him as for me.

I raised my hand up and around his neck, pulling him to me. I sought purchase to press myself farther against his shaft. I felt the waves begin again, and I sighed into the kiss we were sharing. I felt him shaking, and thought that it t’was nearly over.

“Shhh, Annsachd, I want to make this good for you. Do not rush me or we will be over before we’ve begun,” he said in a tortured whisper. And then I understood the shaking was his lapsing control. I tried to still my body, I did. But he felt so wonderful inside me, his warm skin against mine, and I could not help myself. I bucked against him and heard him moan. Such a sweet sound. I bucked again, and he growled. His hands moved to my hips to still me, but I was in a lust. I could not be stopped, and the waves crested. I screamed this time, my body releasing its tension wave after wave.

He looked down in amazement, his own breath coming in gasps. “You are beautiful, Annsachd, So beautiful.” And then he began to thrust wildly, pulling my hips against him. I continued to moan in that half sense caused by bliss. My body relaxed, so relaxed.

Ian, my Annsachd, my beloved, let out a mighty roar, and I could see the same tension course through his body. I pulled him down to me, tight against me.

It was then I heard it, “Huzzah! Huzzah!” and music began to play. I was certain if I went to the door now, there would be food upon the step, and the villagers would be celebrating our true union.

I chose to stay where I was, curled up against Ian and listen to his heartbeat. It would not be long before my humours came upon me. And then we could start working on our family in earnest.

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

Author’s Notes:
I don’t usually do quite this much research for a story, but I thought I would share what I learned.

Prima Nocte, First Night, or Droit de Signeur is a right that lords had where they could sleep with the subject brides on their wedding night. Most of my research states that this was not usual, more pockets than a universally followed right. It was used more as a literary tool. It first appears in the mid eighteenth century.

Powdered wigs also came into popularity during the mid eighteenth century. It made its way north from France, where Louis XIV brought it into style when he began losing his own hair. It was common for men to shave their heads to make the wig easier to wear. They were out of style as a fashion statement around the 1820’s in Europe.

Annsachd is Scot’s Gaelic for “beloved”.

Even in the eighteenth century, peasant houses were usually mud and wattle (woven branches). Wood, especially in the highlands of Scotland, would be a rare commodity. Stones were often used, but took much more work and knowledge so they were usually reserved for community buildings.

“And he was to marry
A girl who shown with beauty and light
And they loved each other
And with me watched the sun set into nights.”

Sarah. I remember the first time I saw her. She stood on the prow of a wooden
fishing ship leaving the bustling docks then traveled through the bay that lay
behind me. Sarah’s long skirt floated out behind her, as did her shining,
unbound hair. I could feel the wind myself. There was a brightness and pure
joy to her smile. The ship slowed as it dropped a dory. A few of the seaman
helped her down into it, where she rowed herself to us.

She scrambled to shore, and rushed into Joe’s arms. I think if I had had arms, I
would have wrapped them around them. It was obvious how much they loved
each other. He led her up to me, and I felt her soft fingers caress my doorway.
“Our home.” Joseph whispered. Sarah’s fingers brushed over the tables,
cushions, furnishings; my walls. I was smooth, clean and bright. She twirled
towards him and smiled. “I love it,” she said. “It’s beautiful, Joseph.”

They sat and talked, ate and planned. I watched them walk out along the now
choppy shoreline, hand in hand. As dusk fell, he pulled her up to my balcony,
carrying a blanket. He lit my lamp and curled up with her against my wall.

Their warmth spread against my cool exterior, as they watched the sun set over
the bay and how Aurora painted the sky in luscious, romantic colors and how it
played over the sails of the ships returning for the night. When the final ray of
sun caught the tip of my light, the ship that dropped her off set anchor and
awaited her dory. Sarah would snuggle into Joseph with a sigh, and he would
lead her down to the shore, where she made her short row back to the ship.

This was their habit for the weekends; her father, who was a fisherman, would
drop her in a dory to visit with Joseph, and pick her back up at the sun’s last
rays. And every evening, before they left, they would watch the sunset on my
balcony.

“She’d had to leave us
My keeper he prayed for her safe return
But when the night came
The weather to a raging storm had turned.”

One Saturday evening, the weather grew rough. They watched from my
balcony as the waves beat against the jagged rocks, the wind twisting Sarah’s
unbound hair and slapping it against my sides. They watched as ships bounced
on the choppy waves and as the sky turned grey and chill, Joseph turned on my
light. They saw her father’s ship fight to get closer to the island, so the dory
wouldn’t get swamped. Joe begged Sarah, “Wave your father off, I’ll row you
to shore myself in the morning.” She kissed him softly. “I want my first night
here to be our wedding night. I can wait. It will be soon.”

He hugged her tightly, and then led her down the stairs. I watched as he placed
her in the dory, kissing her once more. I wished for a voice then, to scream, to
let them know this was no ordinary storm. But I have no voice, and I watched
in distress as her father’s boat was getting pushed by the wind closer and closer
to my shore.

“He watched her ship fight
But in vain against the wild and terrible wind
And me so helpless
As dashed against the rocks she met her end.”

Joseph stood on the shore, watching her dory pitch and swale in the rough
water. Sarah became drenched as the cold rain started to pour down, nearly
flooding the small dory. Joseph yelled into the wind, calling her back, but the
wind tore his voice away.

Her father’s ship started to list, and its bow scraped the rocks on my shore. He
shifted his sails and managed to get back off, but further away from the
struggling dory. The wind began to twist, and even my solid walls began to
quake. Sarah and the dory were flung about like a feather in the breeze. Her
small boat, nearly submerged finally pulled along side her father’s ship. The
ship moved to block the wind, so she might climb on board, the dory lost, when
a particularly nasty gust pushed the boat sideways into my shore. It listed
under the weight of the wet sails. The port side- the side that Sarah had been
climbing- smashed against the rocks. Quickly, the ship sunk beneath the
violent waves as it was torn apart and dragged out to sea.

Joseph ran to the shore, screaming.The storm howled around him as he
searched frantically along the shore. He sought all night as the storm raged.
then on the next day.

“my keeper found her
washed up on the shore
he kissed her cold face
that they’d be together soon he swore. ”

I saw her before he did, her pale, limp body, tossed up on the shore in the first
light of dawn. Joseph was still circling the shore. It was a bright morning and
the sun glistened in her golden hair. He came upon her and fell to his knees at
her side. He brushed the sand from her face. I saw him whisper to her as he
leaned over her slight body and kissed her cheek.

He stumbled away, then turned and walked toward me with grim determined
steps, his face pale and his eyes red from crying and the wind. He reached the
shed and pulled out his shovel before returning to her side.

His tears consecrated the ground to his love as he dug her burial place in the
sand. He lifted her gently, kissed her one last time before placing the sand on
her final resting place.

He left the shovel on top of her sandy grave and trudged back toward me. He
looked up at me, squinting in the now bright sun. He slowly climbed the stairs
to my tower. He sat for a moment, in their usual sunset spot. I felt the wet
warmth of his back.

He stood then took a few steps forward and opened the safety grate to my
railing. I wish I could have closed it. I wish I could have stopped him. He
pressed his body against my side one last time, his fingers gently touching my
face, as if to say goodbye then he ran off the edge of the balcony to land on the
rocks below.

“I saw him crying
Watched as he buried her in the sand
Then climbed my tower
And off the edge of me he ran.

I am a lighthouse
Born by the weather and the waves
And though I am empty
I still warn the sailors on their way.”

I am alone now. Some people even say I am haunted. A new-fangled
automated system replaced my oil lamps, so no one need stay with me
anymore. Majestic sailing ships don’t pass by my shore much these days, just
motor boats speeding past.

I will not forget the happiness I saw, that I shared. As long as I stand, their
love will be remembered.

*thanks to Poison Ivan for the Edits! *
Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002 http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad

“Put this under there too. Its small, but I think he’ll like it.”

“What is it?” She asked, curious.

He chuckled. “It’s sort of a gag. It’s a snow globe. A Middle
Eastern snow globe. Filled with sand, a few lumps of coal and
some sticks for the arms.”

She smiled. “That is a gag. Which of course means, he’ll love
it.”

“And this is for you. I hope you like it.” he handed her a box.
Looking at him for permission to open it, he nodded.

She ripped off the paper, letting it fall to the floor. In her
hand was a jewelry box, intricately and carefully carved.

“I bought this when I was in Saudi. Out in one of the small
towns, and older man was selling these. They were made of olive
wood. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said as she turned it in her hand, “A
work of art. Thank you sweetheart!” She placed it under the
tree then turned to him.

They curled up on the couch together, looking at the tree. He
told her about some of the things he’d seen, what he missed. She
curled up against him, just happy he was home, feeling the
warmth of his body against hers, until she too, dropped off.
****

Surrounded by tissue and Christmas paper at dawn, after
watching Michael open all his gifts, Sean stood up. “Sweetheart,
I need to go. I have another promise I need to keep.” She looked
up at him, seeing the determination in his face.

“You and your promises. It’s Christmas morning. Can’t it wait?”
she smiled at him, already aware of the answer.

“You know I wouldn’t leave if it could.” She stood up and
wrapped her arms around him once more.

“I love you.” She whispered into his ear before giving him a
kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” And he stepped out the door. It
was bright morning, the snow glittered in the sunshine when she
heard a knock on the door.

“Maybe it’s one of Daddy’s friends.” She said, then called
out, “Just a minute.”

She opened the door and saw some sort of ranking officer
standing there, looking abashed.

“Sorry, ma’am to bother you on Christmas like this. May I come
in?”

“Certainly.” She stepped aside allowing him in.

“Is Sean in some sort of trouble? He shouldn’t've been here
last night, should’ve he?”

The man looked startled.

“Ma’am, is your husband Sean McConnell? Social Security number
554-67-9891?”

“Yeeeessss. What is this about…?”

“I’m sorry, I’m lieutenant Prentice. I’m sorry to do this, but
Sean was hit during a cleanup mission.”

She twittered in relief. “Oh, is that all?!” she laughed. “I
know. I saw the scar on his shoulder last night.”

The lieutenant grew pale.

“Mrs. McConnell, This was yesterday– in Iraq. He was shot by
a sniper in the left shoulder, in the back. They did everything
they could for him. I’m sorry.”

She looked at him in shock. This couldn’t be happening. Sean
was here!

Then she realized, he hadn’t said he’d be back this morning. In
her ecstasy in seeing him, she hadn’t noticed.

He wouldn’t be back.

“But, but…Lieutenant. Sean brought us gifts back. They’re
here. He was here.” She looked over her shoulder at the gifts
still sitting beneath the Christmas tree. “He promised to come
back!” she cried out, then stopped short. She fell to the
lieutenant’s shoulder, crying.

“He always kept his promises.”

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

It was the annual “Hen Roost” as her husband liked to call it. Her and her two good friends would go out for the night, drinking, carousing, and male bashing. Of course, it was easy to do when he used terms like that.

She ordered a coke to start with, wanting to be sharp for the beginning festivities. Betsy was the first one in. It figured, since she was closer, and not having any kids, she’d find it easier to escape.

“Betsy! Over here!” she called out.

“Deni!” Betsy rushed over and threw her arms around her friend, then proceeded to drop a large shopping bag and her coat to her seat.

“Holy shit, Den! How much weight did you lose?” Deni did a little pirouette.

“You like? Twenty five pounds; yoga, and power walking,” she replied as they both slid into the booth.

“So, where’s Ella?” Betsy flagged down a waitress.

“I imagine she’ll be here shortly. Her kids go to bed later than mine…and she has a lot further to travel. You spending the night here like last year?”

“Hell, yeah. Too fricken far to travel back tonight. Too bad you can’t stay. Ella said she probably will.”

“Actually, I am. Ethan arranged it!” Deni grinned.

“Woohoo! Oh! There’s Ella.” Betsy cried out. “Hey Ella!” Deni laughed at how half the bar looked over at them. Ella laughed too through her blush.

“I can’t believe you did that!” She dumped her belongings down and looked at her two friends. “So…What’d I miss?” She plopped down into the booth next to Betsy as the waitress came by.

“Hi ladies. Will you be starting a tab tonight?”

The women chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Lots of talking tonight!”

“Great then. What will we start with?”

“Husband bashing for the first course?” Deni grinned.

“Oooh. I’m up for some of that!” the waitress replied, “but I have to take your drink orders.”

“I’ll have a mudslide please,” Betsy chimed in.

“Sombero please…and the more Kahlua the better.” Was Ella’s addition.

“I swear, I’m gonna call you girls the Kahlua sisters. I’d like a Tequila Sunrise please?” Deni finished as the waitress smiled and left with their order.

“Let’s go through the pictures first, before we’re too sloshed to recognize who’s who.” Deni said while she pulled her bag up to the table, digging for her collection.

“Good idea. I didn’t bring many this year. You always bring enough for the two of us.” Betsy nudged Deni.

Ella sighed as she pulled hers out. “The girls got into the pictures just before I left…so they aren’t all here…” she shuffled through, “Here is Molly’s school pictures.” She smiled.

“Pig tails, Ella? God, that’s old-fashioned! Oh wait.” Deni chuckled, “Look at Lizzie’s school picture.”

They all laughed when they saw Lizzie had braided pigtails as well. “Probably the only time I did that all year too.”

“Oh, aren’t they darling!” Betsy commented.

Ella snorted. Deni shuffled through the pictures. “Really? Take a look at this one.”

Betsy gasped when she saw the same “darling” covered with… “What IS that?”

Deni laughed. “Oh, they decided to get into the cubby where I store all the holiday stuff? That was Easter egg dye. They thought they’d use it like makeup. You should have seen the floor when I found them.” She shook her head, “it took me ages, and there are still green stains on the floor.”

“THAT is why I don’t have children. Well, that and I can’t. But it’s why we never adopted. I have enough trouble cleaning up after the dogs.” She handed the picture to Ella.

She laughed, “I recognize that. Only mine was Christy getting into my makeup.”

Pulling another picture from the pile, Betsy asked, “Was this your vacation?”

Deni nodded. ” If you can call a weekend a vacation, yes. But it was nice. The weather was gorgeous. Couldn’t've asked for better.”

The waitress showed up with the drinks, taking a moment to laugh at Lizzie covered with egg dye. “Just holler when you need more, it looks like a long night!” She grinned as she moved away.

“Now for the proof of point pictures, ladies.” Ella flipped one on top of the pile. “Remember how I said the house looked? And neither of you would believe how bad it was?”

Betsy gulped and Deni laughed. “Looks like the girls’ rooms after a long, rainy weekend.”

“So, Bets, where’re your pictures?”

“Don’t have many…just one of the dogs, one of the new garden, and one of Daren when he got sunburned.” She shuffled through the pile and pulled out the pictures she mentioned.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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