by Ann Jacobs
Slowly, gently, he lapped her cunt, sampling the erotic juices. Her honey, his seed, flavored with the spices from their bath and her own womanly essence. His own lust dulled for the moment, he savored the tickling sensation of her pubic curls brushing his cheeks. The silky smoothness of her thighs.
He loved the way she grasped his head, urging him with little moans and whimpers to take her higher. “Yesss. Oh, yes, that feels so good,” she hissed when he nibbled her clit and flailed it with his tongue. “Oh my Goddddd.”
When she writhed with pleasure, he felt ten feet tall. Wanting to hold her, he lay beside her and gathered her in his arms. Surely she could want no more.
She reached down and stroked his cock with one hand. “Why did you not seek your own release again, my lord?” she asked, her expression curious.
“I would not hurt you, sweeting. Your honeypot needs gentle initiation, and I am not a small man. My cock can wait, for the pleasure it promises you is worth a few days’ deprivation.”
With one finger, she rotated the ring through his flesh, making him swell again to full erection. ‘Twas good the damned thing appeared to fascinate rather than repel her. Unfortunately what she was doing had him hot to fuck her again. Closing his eyes, he made a futile effort to relax and go to sleep.
“I would do for you as you did for me.” She smiled, then found one of his nipples and gave its ring a gentle tug. “May I give you pleasure?”
“You need not. I will survive.” His cock twitched, as though to dispute what he’d just said.
Jasmine bent and wet his distended nipple with her tongue, then raised her head to meet his gaze. “You please me greatly. I wish to serve you, to learn how I may please you in every way, my lord.”
“Rolfe.” He had the sudden need to hear his name from her sweet lips.
“Rolfe. I wish to please you as you please me.” Smiling, she bent again and caught one of his nipple rings between her teeth.
He found he could not say her nay, that whatever his beautiful Jasmine wished would be his command. “I am yours. Do as you will.”
He caught a handful of her hair and brought it to his face to savor the sweet smell, the silky softness of her, before letting her slide down the bed and lie between his legs. He nearly came when she flicked her tongue along the underside of his cock while cupping his seed sac in both hands and squeezing gently.
“Like you this?” she asked.
He loved it. Loved feeling her breath, her warm slick tongue… He groaned.
She slid her hands upward, found his nipples, and tugged playfully at the sensitive nubs before rotating the rings slowly through his flesh. “This?” Her breath blew warm and damp against his straining sex.
It took all the self-control he could muster to keep from drawing her into his arms, spreading her legs, and driving himself hard and deep into her. If she were not a virgin just now deflowered…
“Oh God. Know you how your touch inflames me?”
“As yours does me, my lord.”
She took the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked it, her tongue worrying first one, then the other of the pairs of beads an infidel healer had promised would restore the sensations lost when his captors had circumcised him. He’d been right. His balls tightened, and the pressure to let go built with every swipe of her tongue on his cockhead, each tug of her fingers on his nipples and the rings that pierced them.
He could take no more. Choosing the position least likely to cause her pain, he set her on her knees and pressed her breasts and forehead to the bed. Very carefully he positioned himself behind her, raised her buttocks, and guided his cockhead into her sweltering cunt.
When he moved in her, she moaned. Pleasure or pain? “Shall I stop?”
“Don’t…stop. Fuck me, please fuck me.”
He slid in deeper, until the tip of his cock touched her womb. The heat engulfed him, and it took all his self control not to rear back, ram her hard and fast until he found release. Instead, he paused. “Squeeze my cock.”
“Yes, my lord. Oh, yessss.” While he remained still inside her, she clenched him, milked him. The pressure in his balls intensified, then released as her sweet cunt sucked out his seed.
Chapter Three
Sunlight streamed through arrow slits in the solar, illuminating tapestries and jeweled chests that bespoke great wealth. Not altogether unpleasant aches reminded Jasmine how she and Rolfe had passed the night. She reached between her legs and stroked the sensitive flesh he’d awakened with such care and skill.
“Good morning, sweeting.” He stood in the doorway to the solar, clad in a black velvet bed robe. His smile made him look young, almost boyish.
“My lord Rolfe.”
“I would that you dispense with titles when we are alone. Besides, I am no lord, but merely the king’s knight and vassal to my lord brother, the Earl of Harrow.”
“But you possess great wealth.” She glanced at rich tapestries on the wall, noticing that each depicted exotic looking couples engaged in various carnal acts, some of which she would have considered impossible before last night.
He sat beside her and swept back the covers, his hot gaze as arousing as his touch. “Most are treasures captured from the infidel. They are not nearly as precious as the prize you have given me.” Gently, he lifted her hips and swept away the bloody linen.
“Rolfe?”
“Nay, sweeting. Were we wed, I would fly this prize from the castle tower. Since we are not, I shall keep it as a reminder of your most priceless gift.”
We are not wed. Her throat tightened.
From somewhere within her faulty memory, she recalled feasting, raucous jests, a bride and groom stripped naked and put into the marriage bed by drunken guests. A great castle perched on the sea, and a laughing groom hoisting bloodied sheets like a pennon atop a square stone tower.
She pictured herself comforting a weeping bride.
Sensing his confusion at her sudden silence, she tried to explain. “‘Tis naught but fractured images I see.”
“Images? Tell me what you have seen.”
“The wedding of a lord and lady. I know not whom or when or where. But I saw them plainly, in a castle by the sea.”
“Mayhap your memory will return. From your speech and manner, sweeting, I’d wager you’re no peasant wench.” With his free hand, Rolfe stroked her cheek. His smile heated her blood when he glanced at the stained linen in his hand. “From this, I’d wager you were not the bride.”
He strode to the chest nearest the window and laid the folded linen within, then lifted a smaller cask and brought it to the table beside the bed. His dark eyes nearly black as he looked upon her, he sat and drew out what looked like a string of large pink pearls.
Bending, he kissed her breasts, then drew a tingling nipple into his mouth and flailed it with his tongue. Need stirred in her belly, and she moaned pitifully when he gave a gentle nip and raised his head.
But when he moved lower and nudged her legs apart, she forgot the cold sensation of loss in her nipple. Yes! His mouth felt like heaven when he brushed it along her slit. When he sucked the aching kernel of her passion, she writhed beneath him, wanting more. Wanting him. She looked at him as she plunged her fingers into his silky sable hair.
The sight of him loving her that way in the light of day, his dark head bent to her cunt as if in supplication, the feel of his hot breath and velvet tongue bathing her most secret places, took her breath away.
Sensations banished the melancholia that had o’ertaken her when she realized she’d never be more than leman to her noble knight. When he parted her inner lips with gentle fingers and slid the pearls deep into her sheath, her love juices flooded his hand. Unlike his searing hot flesh, the pearls felt cool and smooth inside her.
“Keep these snug within your warm, tight sheath, my Jasmine. I will remove them ere we make love again.”
Jasmine tightened her inner muscles, felt a pang of pure sexual longing when the pearls shifted
within her vagina. “Then remove them now, my lord, for my womb cries for you.”
“Nay. You need time to heal from your deflowering. I could tear you asunder should I fuck you the way I yearn to, ere you are healed. I should not have given in to my lust and taken you a second time last eve.”
He loosened his robe, lifted his half-hard cock by the ring at its tip. “The waiting is a price I must pay for being as large as I am, especially since I wear this. I would not hurt you.”
She wanted him inside her now. Welcomed any pain his huge jeweled cock might cause. ‘Twas all Jasmine could do not to straddle him and impale herself upon it. Perhaps if he—”Can you not remove the ring?”
“Nay. ‘Tis welded on. Only when the opening stretches enough that it needs be replaced with a thicker ring do I have my armorer remove it.” He reached inside the cask and withdrew a handful of smooth gold open links in varying diameters and graduated thicknesses. The smallest looked slightly thicker than the one now sealed through the head of his cock. “You may choose my next ring to suit your pleasure, sweeting.”
Then, he looked down at himself and, with two fingers, grasped one of the studs. “I can remove these, but I seldom do, since ‘tis the devil’s own task to put them back. I have more of them, should you like the feel of them within your body.”
The little ball Rolfe held was fastened to the ridge where his shaft flared out into a plumlike head. A thin gold post apparently passed through a narrow wedge of his flesh and was attached on the other side to a matching one. The studs were held securely to the post in a manner much like the way her earrings fastened to her ears.
Earrings? Jasmine felt her earlobes. There were no jewels there, yet she distinctly remembered a needle’s sting, the weight of glittering jewels she’d always hated to hide beneath a lady’s wimple.
“I wore earrings once,” she murmured, feeling with her fingertips the ridge on the backside of one ear.
Rolfe took her earlobe between his teeth and searched it with his tongue. Then he cupped her breasts with his callused hands and met her gaze. “I feel the holes where you were pierced. Mayhap your attackers stole your jewels. The remnants of your garments were those of a peasant and your naked beauty dazzled me so much, I thought not to search the bodies. Would you that I send some men at arms to do so now?”
“Nay.” Instinct told her much time had passed since she’d lived with the kind of luxury that surrounded her now. With costly trinkets like the pearls he had just placed within her body to facilitate her pleasure and his.
“How will you remove the pearls?” she asked, not willing to test her faulty memory further than last night, when he’d brought her pleasure beyond any she had ever imagined.
“Like this.” He spread her legs wide with both hands, and rested the heel of his hand on her tingling love button while he dipped one long finger deep inside her cunt and retrieved the pearls. The smooth, hard spheres brushed the walls of her cunt, releasing more juices to flood his fingers.
“Or like this.” When he slid the jewels back inside, it was as though she consciously sucked them in. She felt full, almost as full as when she’d taken his huge cock into her body. Deliciously full. Then he replaced his hand with his lips and sucked upon her until the pearls slipped out of her cunt into his mouth. When he’d pushed them as far inside her as he could reach with his tongue, he kissed his way up her body. Her juices glistened hot and slick over his cheeks and lips where he’d pressed his face against her swollen labia.
“Taste your honey, my sweet,” he said when he lifted his head and met her gaze.
The sweet-salty love juice on his lips and tongue was not unpleasant. Mingled as it was with a hint of mulled wine and Rolfe’s own unique taste, the taste made her want more.
His cock throbbed hard against her belly, and his crisp body hair tickled her sensitized flesh. Certain when she returned his kiss that he would ease the wanting he had created, she cried out when he stood and donned his bed robe. “My lord, I need you now to ease this longing. Please.”
“Cease, Jasmine. While I’d gladly pleasure you all day, I needs must put to order this cursed keep. My steward is a lazy fool, and without a lady to order the servants, they do naught when I am away. You are welcome to stay here in the solar where ‘tis passably clean, or go below, as you will.”
Jasmine climbed down from the big bed. The pearls slid down when she stood, forcing her to tighten her inner muscles to hold them inside.
Rolfe paused while tying plain brown woolen braies about his narrow waist. “You will soon become accustomed to the feel of the pearls, sweeting. ‘Twill strengthen your inner muscles to clasp them tightly within you as you go about the keep, and I am told that they give a lady great pleasure when she rides her palfrey. When you milk my cock with your cunt the way you will milk the pearls, ‘twill give me joy beyond any you can imagine.”
“I would go below, my lord, but I have no clothing.”
His gaze scorched her, while his smile warmed her heart. “I will send a woman with whatever ladies’ raiment may be found. For now you may ward off the chill with this.”
She watched the heavy door close behind him, then wrapped her aching body in the velvet bed robe he’d handed her. When she spied an open book that lay on a bench below the shuttered window, she picked it up and glanced at the erotic drawings, all the while clasping and relaxing her inner muscles around the pearls as Rolfe had bade her to do.
A pleasant glow began to radiate throughout her body as she studied the exquisite drawings of couples pleasuring each other in ways she’d never even imagined. Soon her cunt wept more hot, slick juices as she clenched her inner muscles around the smooth warm jewels. ‘Twas as if they reminded her that passage was meant to be filled—fucked by her lord Rolfe’s big, jeweled cock in the many ways she saw from the arousing drawings that other men fucked their partners.
* * * * *
Jasmine had just begun to study a highly arousing drawing of three men pleasuring one lucky lady when Rolfe returned to the solar.
Hot juices bathed her slit at the sight of her handsome lover, and she let his bedrobe slip off her shoulders. “Welcome, my lord,” she said, going to her knees and fumbling with the ties to his braies.
“Would that I could stay, sweeting. I’ve been summoned to do battle for my lord brother. I come only to arm myself ere I ride out.”
“I would help you.” Rising, she fought down the lust that made her want to shove him to the bed and take her pleasure, and instead watched him lay out his armor.
From what he told her, she surmised that a messenger had just arrived, bringing word that a cousin of Harrow’s former lord was attacking Harrow, seeking to oust Lord Giles and take what he considered his birthright.
“I would that you think of me whilst I am gone, sweeting,” Rolfe said as she helped him don his padded gambeson and chain mail hose. “I know not how long this will take, so if you will lie on the bed for a moment, I will remove the pearls.”
He withdrew them, then bent and tongued her cunt for just a moment before kneeling and handing her his hauberk. As she helped lift his heavy chain mail shirt over his head, the warm trickle of love juices down her inner thighs cried out for the man she’d soon be watching ride away.
“God grant you safety and a quick victory, my lord,” she murmured once his armor was in place. Truly she wanted him to stay so she could strip him naked and entice him into her arms again.
Rolfe looked surprised at the formal benediction, but he bent and brushed his lips across hers before giving the traditional reply. “‘Twill be so. My lord brother’s cause is just.”
When he picked up his helm and tucked it under one arm, Jasmine glanced down at herself. “I would bid you farewell in the bailey, but I’ve naught to wear.”
“I ordered one of the maids to find some ladies’ garb. She will soon bring you whatever may be found in this wretched keep.”
“Thank you, my lord. I would be pleased to make myse
lf useful during your absence if you wish it.”
Rolfe smiled. “I’d have you take the place in hand whilst I am gone. I’ve ordered old Martin, my steward, to obey you. ‘Tis obvious from the disorder I saw on my return that he has neither the wit nor the will to rule the servants in my absence. I wager you’ll do better.”
“I will do my best, my lord. Your men await you. God go with you.” Stretching on tiptoes, Jasmine brushed a gentle kiss across Rolfe’s lips.
Soon afterward, she watched from the solar window as Rolfe departed with most of his men at arms. In full armor upon the young destrier named Lucifer, he made an impressive sight.
The picture of a perfect lover. A perfect love?
Nay. Not while she knew not who she was or from whence she had come. Not when she had neither estates nor riches to bring her fine knight.
Murmuring a prayer the words for which poured from somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, Jasmine watched him ride away before setting about to do his bidding.
* * * * *
Ordering servants too long left to their own devices occupied her days, but each night Jasmine retired to feast her eyes on the sensual treasures in Rolfe’s luxurious solar. The tapestries upon the wall held her attention and made her yearn to experience the sorts of pleasure so evident upon the faces of the lovers while they explored unfamiliar ways of loving. The drawings in the richly bound book Rolfe kept open upon a table by the bed, which she studied by the light of flickering candles, fed carnal desires that grew stronger every day.
When the candles guttered, she lay in the dark, aching…yearning…desperate to experience more of the pleasure Rolfe had shown her. She dreamed of partaking of those erotic, forbidden joys depicted in the pictures within his precious book and upon the exotic tapestries.