Courtship ~ Medieval Erotica

by Derendrea

  “You are nothing like the baliff’s daughter.”

  “You mean I’m not beautiful.”

  Griffith touches my cheek and I close my eyes, savoring the painful sensation. He waits until I look back to him. “She is as jaded as I am. She knows what it’s like to be used, to wake up to a cold bed after a night of passionate love.”

  As his hand traces my face I realize he’s shaking. He caresses locks of my hair. “You are more beautiful than her, or any other woman of this village.”

  I huff at him.

  “You are, because you are pure. You are real. With all their styles and paint, they are more dolls than women. Someone like you... in bed... every moment is a drop of Heaven.”

  I hesitate, not sure I want to know the answer to my next question. “Then why... why did you stop?”

  My most private area clenches at the thought of him finishing what he started. A delicate drop slides between my hyper-sensitive folds. Although I have explored the area, as all women by my age have done, I have never, ever felt anything close to this.

  The look on his face, however, tells me I won’t be getting any more of that kind of attention from him. I see the shadows of his past again within his eyes. “I’m not right for you, Dayna.”

  My pelvis aches as he turns away from me. My head swims with self-doubt.

  “Lord Griffith...” I can only manage a whisper. He looks back, and I stare deep into his gaze. If I can read some of his soul in his metallic eyes, perhaps he can see some of mine as well. “Please... don’t leave me like this.”

  His face is stern. “You deserve a better man, one who can devote himself to you. I can never give you what you need.”

  “I don’t want another man.” I push myself off the wall, but it is difficult to walk to him. “Is this what the memory of my first time will be?” I reach for his arm, but he blocks my hand.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I glare at him and clench my fists, and I feel the kindling still in my hand. “You already have!”

  He’s a soldier, I know how he’ll react. I throw the wood hard against his chest. He grabs hold of my arm. Standing tall above me, there’s no way I can injure his robust form, but that’s not why I start to hit him. Like I knew he would, he grabs my other arm. My pulse quickens as he holds me, his piercing stare locked on mine.

  “No, Dayna.”

  He doesn’t let go. I try to pull free, testing his hold, and he tightens his grip.

  “You don’t want me?”

  His broad form pushes me back. “So bad I would fight a man to lay with you.”

  Though I am not a thin woman, he lifts me easily. He carries me to the western wall and slides me over the top of the dresser, knocking off a brass vase and candlestick.

  Griffith grabs my chin. “You will do exactly as I say.”

  I tremble, having to submit to his authority. He forces me back against the wall, but I grab onto him, afraid I will fall.

  “Relax your arms and legs, I have you.”

  Cautiously I do as he commands. As I safely settle back, I glance at his plush, king sized bed. “Why not the bed my lord?”

  Burying his face in my chest, he lifts my dress up my legs. “It’s not safe for you there.”

  I understand... he’s planning something... but he doesn’t plan on taking me.

  “Am I not good enough for you?”

  “You’re too good for me.” He tilts my chin up. “Now be quiet and I will show you how beautiful you are.”

  Expertly he removes my underwear. I’m amazed at how gentle his hands are, while the rest of him is so forceful.

  “Close your eyes.”

  I want to, but I’m so on edge I can’t do it. He squeezes my thigh and nudges my neck with his chin.

  He moves close to my face and releases a long, strained breath against my ear.

  “Close them.”

  I do as he says, but it takes effort to keep them closed as his hand drifts up my leg.

  He takes his time before entering me. His fingers graze over my petals.

  “I want you to pay attention to every fold, every curve.” His voice is so intimate I shiver. With a steady push from his thick arms, he parts my legs. I feel the cool air of on my wet opening. Not used to that sensation, I pull my hips back.

  Griffith wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me forward. “If we are going to do this, you have to give yourself to me completely. No hiding. No pretending.” His fingers press between my folds.

  The feeling of his touch between my petals is sweeter than any dessert I’ve ever tasted. It takes great effort to keep from moaning. His steel blue eyes watch my reactions as he glides delicately back and forth.

  He stops at my opening and starts making small, quick circles around it. I fall back, overwhelmed by the sensation. He dips inside slightly and a quick breath gasps into my lungs.

  “God, you’re so tight.” He resumes making circles, applying more pressure. “Just relax.”

  His hand on my back massages my tight muscles, moving up and down my spine. He lowers his face back to my chest, pulling my bodice down with his teeth. He sucks on my breast as his finger presses inside again, still making circles. This time I moan, but then look fearfully toward the door.

  He pulls up. “Don’t worry, no one can hear you.” His finger circles deeper as he speaks. “Don’t hold back.”

  “Have you ever done this before?” I ask with labored breaths.

  “Many times.” He chuckles, and rubs me in a spot that makes my back arch to prove it.

  He kisses under my ear, then whispers, “Close your eyes.”

  As I do, all my awareness centers on my flower. He caresses my wall just inside the opening, moving in a circle to touch every surface. My hips tremor.

  “Give yourself to the feeling.” He moves back to my breasts. His other hand pulls my dress over my shoulders, exposing my chest.

  At the same moment he takes my nipple in his mouth, he pushes his finger harder and deeper. I cry out, embarrassed, but he rewards me by rubbing my walls in such a way that I forget about anything past the door.

  His mouth sucking on my nipple feels so good it’s almost painful. He releases it and moves to my other, and my right nipple buzzes from the stimulation. He passionately sucks on my left, making me moan. It takes me a moment to realize he’s changed what he’s doing inside my flower, until his strokes harden. He no longer circles, he pushes deep inside, rubbing hard against my upper wall. His thumb slides between my outer folds, gliding over my clit with each stroke of his finger up and down my walls.

  My pelvis jerks up. My throat closes but I still moan, making it come out as a gurgle. Instinctively I know I’m nearing climax. My walls clench his finger, but... he stops.

  Dear God, I want him to continue! But he has stopped completely. I open my eyes and try to sit up. His face is right above me, and his hand pushes my shoulder to lay me back against the wall.

  “Griffith...”

  “I know. Just relax.”

  My face flushes. Waves of frustration rock my body. I try to pull away from him but he holds me.

  “It was too soon. I will get you there, just trust me. It will be worth it.”

  He starts to move his finger again, so soft I barely feel it. I wriggle in frustration, but calm when I have an idea.

  It wasn’t his intention to consummate our union. He thinks he’s protecting me, but his manhood would satisfy my need. I reach down...

  He is bulging in his pants even more than before. I follow its bulk down his leg. It’s actually throbbing. I rub my hand up and down the pulsing serpent, hoping to awaken enough desire in him to change his mind.

  Griffith gives a throaty groan that turns to a low chuckle. He grabs my wrist.

  “No, Dayna.”

  He starts to pull my wrist back, but I resist. I try to keep my hand against his pants, using all my strength. He doesn’t pull it back as easily as he did before, but he still overpowers m
e.

  I grunt as he pushes my hand against the wall. His other hand starts to move harder inside my flower, using two fingers now. He can’t stop me with that hand. This side is a little more difficult, but I manage to reach his pants by going under his muscular arm. He laughs and looks into my eyes when my hand reaches his pants.

  “You little vixen.”

  Without removing his finger, or interrupting his rhythm, he pushes back my arm with his shoulder.

  “I want you Griffith.” I try to sound as seductive as I can. Though I haven’t had much practice, the woman inside me knows how to phrase it.

  He kisses my neck. His other arm reaches around my back.

  “No!” I know what he’s about to do, and I’ll be completely restrained if he manages it.

  “Not this time.”

  “I’m not a child, I can make my own decisions. And I decide...”

  He kisses me and cuts me off, just as his shoulder pushes my arm back in the grasp of his other hand. I cry out, but it is captured by his mouth over mine. He pulls my arm behind my back, keeping my other arm pinned to the wall.

  With one arm he has subdued me. I try to twist free, but it’s no use. I can’t even argue with his mouth over mine. He’s just holding his lips there, I think more to keep me quiet than to kiss me.

  Though I can barely move, I keep resisting him. He responds by kissing me harder, and rubbing my canal in a way that makes my thighs clench together. He pushes my legs apart with his hips, but continues to rub on that spot with his fingers. Dear God, that spot!

  I don’t know why, but I think of Eve in the Garden of Eden. If this was the fruit she tasted, I would have sampled it too! It doesn’t feel like a sin. It feels like a gift.

  With acute awareness I sense his body pressing against mine. I smell his salty, musky scent. His touch is firm, but not painful.

  If he moves a little faster, I will climax. Even if he continues like this for a bit longer, I will get there anyway. But what if he stops again? My body trembles, desperate for him to continue.

  “Please don’t stop.” I didn’t realize he had removed his mouth from my lips. He kisses my cheek.

  “I’m not going to.”

  I relax, trusting him.

  It becomes more than a feeling against my wall. He rubs against my core, my soul. Strange images play in my mind. I see Helenis, naked, and the other ladies, lit red from a distant fire, dancing to the erotic song of my heart. I feel all the people of the village, like we are connected by this feeling. Every one of them was borne from this feeling. They all can succumb to it. They all can feel the surrender of submission, the rush of control. Rich or poor, slender or full, man or woman, we are all bound to the feeling of ecstasy.

  I climax, and at the moment I feel connect with this man who brought me here. Pleasure, release, pain, and pressure roll over me in wave after wave. I hardly know him, yet I understand his life. We are equals, despite his size, despite his past. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I see. I see who he really is, who we all really are.

  I don’t realize I’m crying out until it turns into a wail. My leg muscles are locked in rock-hard cramps. I try to breathe through it, but my body shudders in aftershocks of the climax and makes the cramping worsen.

  “Easy,” Griffith’s deep voice soothes me. He holds me against him and rubs the backs of my thighs. I cry out and my legs jerk. Griffith gently rubs my legs until I start to calm.

  He shifts me in his arms, cradling me like a child. He walks to the bed and lays me at the foot of it. After adjusting me to lay on my side, he leaves, but doesn’t go far. I watch him dip a cloth in a basin of water. When he returns, his eyes lock on my face.

  “You can stay here as long as you need.” He rubs the damp cloth on my pelvis and outer folds, cleansing and soothing them. “I won’t return until the morning.” Carefully he replaces my underwear, then corrects my dress over my legs. He leans in close to my face. “Someday, you will make a deserving man very, very happy. You really are the perfect woman.” Then he kisses me. And this kiss is gentle, passionate, soft, like a first kiss is meant to be.

  He leaves me, and I feel like the world is spinning, with me at its center. Griffith shuts the door and I curl up on the lush quilt. I feel empowered, like I really could be his lady. Or the lady of any man or noble of the kingdom. Even the king. I smile at the thought.

  I will find a good man. One that is devoted to me, and I will devote myself to him. Years will pass, and I will bare his children. And perhaps someday, far down the road, I will visit this bed again, just to get a taste of the darker side of love.

  THE END

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  Dear reader,

  I hope you enjoyed the short story COURTSHIP. As all my stories, this was based on a dream. I woke up right as the lord cornered me in the bedroom, so I had to use my imagination as to what happened from there.

  If you enjoyed this story you may also enjoy my other Medieval Erotica stories, FOR THE KING and THE SULTAN'S HAREM. Both are available for 99 cents each, or you can purchase my complete set for $2.99 and $9.99 in print.

  Visit my blog for more information about me and my stories.

  www.derendrea.com

  Please support independent authors and leave a review!

  FREE TASTE OF

  THE SULTAN'S HAREM

  A large form steps in the arched doorway, blocking my path. I withdraw, startled, but recognize the tall, decorated man as my prison keeper.

  Kagiso’s dark eyes glare into mine. His hand rests on his sword hilt, not as a threat, but as a message. His features are well defined and proud. He wears some of the traditional African dress blended with the bronze armor of the palace guard. If I weren’t so agitated by him, I would probably enjoy his company.

  He always seems to know when I intend to escape the grounds, which is any time a guard’s eyes aren’t on me. After my third attempt, the sultan assigned Kagiso to me. He could be a great general and leader of soldiers, but the sultan, in his blind obsession, wastes his talents in the harem.

  And what I hate the most is that he guards me so keenly. Kagiso frightens me, though I doubt he would ever hurt me.

  “I know that look, desert princess.” Despite being in the service of the sultan for over three decades, his thick tribal accent still colors his words. He steps forward, demanding my attention. “You are lucky the sultan favors you, otherwise he would not tolerate these antics.”

  I try not to let anger cross my face, but I can feel heat on my cheeks. I don’t want to engage with him. Even though I would argue my case, it feels like I am acquiescing to imprisonment.

  With a hot wave of frustration, I decide to return to the zenana. Perhaps as the guards are preoccupied with the sultan’s visit, I can try to slip away again. But as I turn away, Kasigo lays his large hand on my arm.

  Curse him, how does he always know?

  “You should have the odalisques braid your hair and change your clothes.”

  I meet his gaze. His dark, liquid eyes show me little of his intentions, just a reflection of a petite woman under his guard.

  “A painted chain still binds.”

  Kasigo smiles, showing a mouth of perfectly white teeth. He wraps his arm around my waist and, whether I want to or not, we start walking to the apartments.

  “A woman like you should covet her beauty.”

  “Why? Will it help me find a man deserving of it?”

  Kasigo gives me a sharp look. “Do not speak that way, mistress. Women here have been punished for less.”

  I know all too well what women here have been punished for. No matter how defiant I am, or how many times I try to escape, I only seem to win more favor with the sultan. Every gift he gives I refuse unless I am forced to wear it. Every slave he assigns to me I turn away. Harem women have disappeared for less... much less. I shiver at the thought.

  Kasigo feels my body trembling and squeezes my arms. “You should be grateful for this life of luxury, princess
. Many girls ask to be sold to the harem, just for a chance to move up the ranks.”

  “They sell their freedom to be a slave.”

  He looks down to me. “Life is not so bad here as a slave.”

  Kasigo is a solid man. Yet, he is a eunuch, like the others. I’ve heard rumors of how he lost his manhood. Some say he was kicked there by a stallion during battle. Others think he was cut by a vengeful lover. He is not like the other male slaves. They had their organs removed before puberty, so they never knew the taste of a woman. Kasigo has known women, it is quite obvious to me. And he grew up with the confidence of a man, which he retains despite his... injury.

  It must be strange for him to work in the harem. He would have been the type of man to have many women at his side.

  “I would rather be in rags and be my own master.”

  Kasigo laughs from his gut. “If you had not come here your father would have chosen a husband for you, and still you would not be free.”

  I stare down the white-painted hallway toward the living quarters, trying not to think of what life would have been like with my father... and a real husband. Kasigo must sense my mood because his tone becomes serious.

  “I am concerned for you, Tatli. The more you resist the sultan, the more he...”

  “Wants to hurt me?” I interrupt.

  He squeezes my arm, tight. “The more he desires you.”

  I stop cold, and Kasigo turns to me. What if he’s right?

  “You have grown like a daughter to me.” He speaks his low, for his words are treasonable. “I don’t want to see you come to harm.” His coarse hand grabs my chin and directs my gaze to his face. “You are in the sultan’s hunting ground... and that is a dangerous place to be.”

  I straighten with defiance. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Kasigo pinches my chin, making me wince. “You should be. One day he will grow tired of these games, and...”