Crimson's Captivation

by Melange Books, LLC

  Crimson was escorted into the gallery. Her hands were untied and two chambermaids accompanied her to a knee-high platform surrounded by a pool of water. The chambermaids positioned Crimson on her back.

  Crimson heard the slight murmur of a crowd, but was still blindfolded, and couldn’t discern exactly what was happening. Each time she reached to remove the blindfold; her hands were pulled to her side. She had no strength to fight. She lay on the warm table trying to catch her breath when another bell chimed.

  * * * *

  The stud approached her. She was beautiful, petite and young with strawberry blond hair. He pulled away her blouse and massaged her breast over her corset. He watched her chest heave with heavy breaths and was delighted when she didn’t struggle. He was elated when her flesh seemed to crave him.

  The stud deftly removed her corset, cupped each breast, kissed and sucked on her firm, erect nipples, teasingly biting just a little. He spun his tongue back and forth over the firmness of her nipples until they stood proud and fixed against his tongue.

  He licked the outside flesh of her right breast only stopping to gaze at her beauty and watch her chest move with her heavy inhales. Her head tilted away but her body made itself available to him. The chambermaids at her side whispered shush to her over and over, and held her wrists tight to the table. Crimson moaned and pushed her body toward him. He ran his hand down her mid-section, circled her navel, lifted her skirt and pressed his palm over the soft hairs of her pubis. He, then, pulled a knife from his sheath.

  The room filled with hushed voices, the bidders quietly making bids while others leaned in for a better view. The bidding moved rapidly, one gold bar, then another, and then another. The highest bidder was a proxy from Russia’s Peter the Great. The silent deals for such beauty had no bounds—they all wanted her.

  * * * *

  Crimson tried to control her breathing, tried not to want this, tried not to enjoy the attention of this stranger and his attention. She didn’t know how to fight the flood of desire. These feelings were forbidden, yet she wanted them so— a part of her seemed to welcome them. Her inner-soul kissed each desire on the cheek as if they were long missed and forgotten. As if they were finally home.

  She felt something cold and hard across her knee and run up it to her inner thigh, and a tugging of fabric. Cool air hit her skin then and she knew he’d cut away the fabric of her skirt. More tugging and she felt him rip the leather skirt off her body and run his fingers over that imaginary line between navel and her pubis. He slid his fingers lower, trailed them across her skin to trace the garter belt to her white stockings.

  Crimson could feel the strength of him, could feel his coarse hands roam over her body and smell his sweat. The small hairs of her body rose with anticipation. Her legs opened just a little, her knees weakened, her body sensed gravity and grew heavier with each breath. Her mouth opened and she closed her eyes underneath the blindfold. The whispers of the crowd grew louder and this, too, excited her. She fantasized that it was Viktor attending to her but secretly hoped Kieran was watching. She hoped Kieran was jealous.

  With a groan, Crimson felt soft, warm lips plant a kiss just above her knee, and then stay there, as though the man hunted the intoxicating aroma of her excitement. She imagined that the sweet smell of her rose oiled skin filled his nostrils and excited him even more. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the right elbow and right thigh and easily rolled her onto her stomach.

  Crimson instinctively knew the position and arched her back, raising her butt into the air and pushed it toward him. She lowered her head onto the stone platform, pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, and slightly bit down with anticipation. She waited, and waited. It seemed an eternity. She wanted to reach back and feel the tightness of his flesh, to run her hands along his chest and powerful thighs, but the chambermaids held her arms in position, held her firm in position. Her nostrils filled with the smell of sweet spice and leather and it all turned her on even more.

  The stud’s hands found her calf muscles and with the slightest force, eased open her legs. He pulled the garter to her knees in a rolled up knot of fabric. She was fully exposed to him. He returned to her calves and left a trail of soft kisses as he came up behind her.

  * * * *

  She was voluptuous and healthy. Her butt was perfectly shaped. He was delighted to see she had dimples of Venus on her lower back. His eyes followed her spine, trailed the length of her to her cascading hair and noticed the beauty of the nape of her neck.

  His bare chest caressed her buttocks as he moved to kiss each dimple on her lower back. He mounted behind her, holding her hips in his hands and motioned for his chambermaid to lower his pants. The chambermaid untied the leather string around his waist, guided his pants to his knees and, with a flick of the leather whip from the caretaker, the stud began.

  Her beauty, her body, her innocence demanded his attention and his cock stood erect and hard. It pulsed with each heartbeat. He parted her legs further with his knees, until the height was just right. The chambermaid clutched his shaft and guided him toward the captive. The head of his organ found her slick and wet, as the chambermaid massage her clitoris with the stud’s head. Then he was set free. At first he felt her natural resistance as she tightened around his shaft, but then was able to push past her tender lips and fully immerse himself in her. She was as smooth as silk and embodied the heat of a thousand suns. Soon she was completely open to him and he began to thrust in a sensual rhythm.

  The woman moaned and pushed hard against his pelvis as he extended his left arm and grabbed her shoulder pulling her entire body toward him. He used his body with a growing need—a force—which brought her to her palms. His right hand found her tender breast as he slowly moved in and out of her. He heard her whimper and knew she wanted more and he willingly obliged.

  In the reflection of the pool of water, he could see her mouth open with each deep thrust. He could hear her deep exhales followed by whimpers of pleasure. Her lips and cheeks were full and flushed. She pushed harder against him, savoring every inch of him. She matched his rhythm, and pushed her buttocks against him with such force that the sounds of their colliding bodies echoed off the walls.

  The sounds of colliding bodies, moans, and heavy breathing were an aural pleasure for him and he used her signals for their pleasure.

  * * * *

  The repetition, the silky friction of him inside her led to a fiery ecstasy for Crimson.

  Crimson had never reached orgasm before, and the sensation erupted through her body, it out flowed through her fingertips and held hostage her escaping breaths. For the moment, she was a lucid emotion under closed eyelids, and the feeling tried to escape with her breaths.

  She felt an immense sense of gratification. It incited her clitoris and flowed in waves of pleasure—transporting the thunderbolts of delight through her, over her. She was a puff of silvery smoke from a thousand muskets fired in unison. She felt as though she floated above a distant ceremonial battleground of passion, a field of pleasure.

  A crack of leather whipped across the stud’s calves, from a nearby caretaker, reminding the stud that he was not entitled to such pleasure; he immediately obeyed, and stopped thrusting behind her. Unsatisfied, he ached for release but could only rest his buttocks on his heels. Straps tied to his wrists pulled his hands away from Crimson’s hips. Pleasure of conclusion, of fulfillment was not his. He could only watch as she pulled away, then he fell onto his knees.

  The voyeurs and the bidders saw Crimson orgasm. They watched as her body tightened then relaxed, slight convulsions and her hips slowed to a series of small shudder motions as her bottom fell deep onto the thighs of the stud. The bidding halted and Crimson, now, belonged to Tor of Russia.

  The chambermaids wiped the sweat from Crimson’s brow and upper lip. They removed her from the platform and lifted her heavy arms. She wanted to see the stranger. She wanted to lay eyes upon the man who had brought her such pleasure, but the chambermaids quick
ly bound her wrists behind her back and two guards grabbed her elbows. The guards lifted her off the ground. The double doors to the gallery opened.

  Crimson expected to be carried back to the bedchamber, to take a left after exiting the gallery, but the guards turned right, and escorted her down another hallway.

  Chapter II

  ~ The Pursuit Begins ~

  Viktor, nephew of Christian Albrecht of Holstein-Gottorp, fled Germany at the age of fourteen and befriended Princess Sophia, the daughter of King Charles. He loved his homeland, but quickly grew tired of the infighting of the German Nobility. He knew at an early age he wanted to travel the nations of Europe and find himself. He spent most of his time at Karlberg or in the provinces nearby, hunting, fishing, and mastering close combat techniques. In most ways, he was privileged even though he never asked to be treated as a noble. He had access to Karlberg palace, the King and Princess Sophia.

  In the court of King Charles, the young Viktor had first-hand observation of the partying that dominated the young king's days and nights before the great northern war. It was because of their shared existence and their closeness in age, that he and Crimson found a kinship and became lovers in their late teens.

  Princess Sophia was a heroine of sorts among her countrywomen. With her refusal to accept an arranged marriage, she brought the concept of romantic-love to the surface, and this idea quickly spread to women in the nearby countryside. It raided their thoughts and desires. It left internal conflict and something new, something called idealism and enlightenment. It was also well known that the arranged marriage to the Crown Prince of Hanover was refused so that the princess could focus on her relationship with a young noble named Olof.

  Secrets like these can’t be kept secret, especially if they involved royalty. Royalty and nobility were favorite subjects of gossip, and the rumor leaked. But as always, actions either proved or disproved any rumor. Her actions proved the rumor, and her fellow countrywomen were aghast and pleased at the same time. The combination of motive and bravery, the obvious rebellion by their princess, exploded on the tips of tongues of those in her court, and the secret tiptoed its way to the far reaches of the kingdom.

  Idealism enraptured the hearts of young girls. They knew what to do with love even if their men did not. Liberation is often contagious and this one was no exception, women became masters of their own province in the bedroom and demanded more from their mates.

  Sophia introduced Viktor to Crimson during the deep freeze of February. Viktor recalled Sophia’s request playfully bouncing off the large marble veneer that made up the hallway of the palace, ‘Viktor, darling, there is someone you must meet.’ He had just returned from tracking wolves near the outskirts of Solna. He was tired and hungry, but could never refuse Sophia. Sophia envisioned herself a matchmaker but not of pre-arrangement or force. She was a matchmaker of love and illumination, of destiny. She believed in romance, she was enthralled by the concept of hope, not hope as a promise, but something beyond a promise. Sophia respected sacrifice and saw sacrifice as the purest form of nobility.

  Sweden was essentially icebound during the depths of winter and, with little to do outside, Viktor halfheartedly followed Sophia into a large room off the main hallway to find several women sitting in the glow of a shoulder-high fireplace. The kindling snapped and popped as the women discussed fashion, the prospects of war, and their favorite topic’s, love and sex, between their sips of tea.

  Although introductions were a necessary formality as a matter of etiquette, he immediately found Crimson ravishing. Her presence captivated him and held him prisoner as he sat for hours among the dreadful conversation of the ladies.

  Viktor had no interest in fashion or the inner workings of the rumor mill but stayed just to steal inadequate glances of Crimson. A young man’s romance reveled in his mind. ‘What do her lips taste like? How would she feel in his arms? Only her laugh is more intoxicating than her smile.’ He found Crimson’s every movement, her every action provocative and sensual. The conversation rolling off her tongue, over her ruby lips, her opinions, everything she did inspired his longing stares. He couldn’t look away and found her quick glances in his direction flirtatious and inviting. Enamored, she was the smoky mist that drifted as cloudscapes in his emotions. She was the softness of clouds in his vibrant blue world.

  During the following spring, they snuck their first kiss in the unfinished Baroque garden in the courtyard behind the palace. There was heat in their kiss, and Viktor supposed that if the snow weren’t already melting, they would have certainly melted it. When their lips parted Viktor was immediately captivated, and he couldn’t remember a day that he didn’t think of Crimson, or a night that he didn’t fall asleep dreaming of her. Even when he trekked out to the countryside alone, everything seemed to remind him of her. Crimson had stolen his heart; he had no hope of ever getting it back.

  One evening, during a loud and raucous party thrown by the young king, he and Crimson followed an imbibed chambermaid and soldier into the garden behind the palace. They hid behind a hedgerow and watched the new lovers under the moonlit sky. The two lovers giggled and teased each other until their flesh glowed with each playful touch.

  “Do you see them, Viktor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t it amazing?”

  “We shouldn’t be watching, Crimson.”

  Crimson was enthralled as she watched the soldier lay flat on the ground. The chambermaid straddled, and then kissed him. The collar of her dress was pulled to her elbows exposing her breasts and they gleamed under the moon’s light. Her nipples stood erect and carried the moisture of the soldier’s wet mouth and they kissed, deep kisses, his tongue slipped through her tender lips to find hers. She moved to his side and lowered his pants, and pleased the soldier with her hands and mouth. Crimson, as she watched them, wondered what a man tasted like, what he felt like on the chambermaids tongue. Was it like a wet French kiss, exhilarating and seductive? Crimson smiled, knowing the woman had complete control over the soldier.

  Viktor was silent and motionless as he watched the couple, but he noticed Crimson drew on heavy breaths. Crimson reached out and squeezed Viktor’s hand. She guided it to her chest and pressed it against her cleavage.

  “Do you feel the rapid thud of my heart?” Crimson asked.

  Viktor was too timid and pulled away. He snuck down the hedgerow back toward the palace.

  Crimson stayed behind and watched the two lovers. Something about the encounter appealed to her deepest liking. Something awakened inside her as she watched the entangled bodies and studied the strength of the soldier’s thrusts. She listened to the lover’s passion-indebted moans. Crimson lost her breath when the chambermaid fell onto the soldier in what appeared to be a peaceful death. Then she smiled as the chambermaid giggled and kissed the soldier’s collarbone. They were whispering to one another and Crimson wanted to hear what they were saying. “What could they be saying to one another after what she just witnessed?” It had to be something about heaven, something about how close they were to it.

  Since their introduction, Viktor and Crimson were inseparable. They spent most of their time together, often sneaking away to steal kisses, and their relationship deepened. Crimson loved the clandestine meetings. The kisses were exciting because she didn’t know where they might lead, how far they would go.

  Several months later, it started with a kiss, and then his hands roamed. Soon Viktor found the natural courage of a man, and he and Crimson made love under a willow as the sun lowered in the sky and sparkled in ginger flame across the waves of Lake Karlberg. The world seemed to drift away. It seemed to dissolve into a sentient mist that dewed their naked bodies. It was a dance of persuasion. His palm, having barely enough force to move a feather, caressed the small of her back, the nape of her neck. His mouth found the lobes of her ears, the tenderness of her lips, and the firmness of her nipples. His slightest touch became a powerful suggestion, which pulled her deep onto him. Interlo
cked fingers guided them to the same starting place, encircling one another, face to face, foot over foot. They were dancers in the innate waltz. And then Viktor’s explosion, it forever changed the verdant meadows of the boy within. It opened him to the world a man perceives.

  Afterward, they enjoyed the afterglow as they leaned against the willow trying to assign words to the feelings, trying to decipher their new world. Unable to put it to words, he gifted Crimson a necklace, a gold chain with a single diamond, saying it only had one diamond because he only had one heart to give. She turned her naked back and asked that he clasp the necklace around her neck, saying she wished the clasp would magically fuse so that it could never be removed.

  The next day, Viktor was late getting to the willow for their planned meeting. The sun had disappeared hours earlier, he had hoped Crimson would still be there but she wasn’t. He understood: it was foolish to be caught outside the palace walls after dark. When he arrived at the palace the following morning, Crimson was nowhere to be found and he knew something was wrong. No one had seen her and with the homeland’s preparation for war, all efforts were dedicated to assisting Sweden’s allies. No one seemed to care that she was missing. He cared, and he set out on his own to find her.

  He feared she had been taken prisoner by Denmark forces or worse, had fallen victim to dark princes that sheltered in the shadows of the forest. He also considered the possibility that the reported bands of roving marauders, consisting of deserters, exiled farmers, and criminals, were no longer on the fringe of the kingdom's border but were now in the interior. Maybe they had taken her. Maybe they were holding her for ransom.