by Saber Vale
The wine, the vivid, detailed descriptions of rough sex… I could feel myself getting a burning heat in my belly and, frankly, wet. As I sat watching Cormac, a beautiful, muscular, interesting man with whom I was alone in a castle, I began to think… why not?
Instantly, I remembered why not. Because he was my adversary, not my friend, and certainly not my lover.
“There are a few pages torn out right in the middle, and then it’s empty after that,” he said, after reading a particularly hot passage.
“Huh,” I said, “I wonder…”
“Maybe they’d started to fight, and he tore it out because they would make him look bad,” Cormac suggested.
“That’s just speculation,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You’re not the least bit curious about this… mystery? What really happened to Caroline?”
“No, I don’t think we could ever really know,” I said with a shrug.
“I never believe that,” Cormac said, “the truth always comes out.”
“You know what,” I said, cutting him short, not wanting the wine and sexy stories to get me any more worked up, “I really need to get to bed, last night was rough…”
“Yeah, sure, me too,” Cormac said, turning the book over, then flipping through it once again.
“I hope tonight is… quiet…” I said, thinking of the drama the night before.
“I’m sure it will be,” Cormac said as he got up and stretched, his big, densely muscular body stressing the thin t-shirt he was wearing, “good night, Astrid.”
I had to turn away from him as he stretched, feeling almost as though if I looked at him for one more moment I’d need to touch him, would beg him to touch me. I wondered if he’d gotten as turned on as I had, if he was hard in his jeans, ready for me should I want him.
I brushed my teeth in the bathroom down the hall, and then undressed and put the ruby necklace on the bedside table, in a little porcelain dish. After stripping down to my t-shirt and panties, I slid into the small twin bed across the hall from where I heard Cormac rustling in the enormous king.
I couldn’t stop thinking of him in the dungeon earlier, wearing those leather gloves, stepping closer and closer to me. I shuddered with something… arousal, I had to admit, and reached down to touch myself, finding I was hot, slippery to the touch, ready.
I bit my lip and rubbed gently, thinking of the journal, those lascivious descriptions, ropes and whips, pleasure and pain.
“Hey Astrid,” Cormac called, and I stopped, breathing hard.
If he called for me, I knew I would come.
“Uh, yeah?” I called back, my cheeks flushed, praying he wouldn’t walk in, hoping he would.
“Did we lock the gate? When we drove up this afternoon? I just want to be sure no one is breaking in making ghost noises later…”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” I breathed.
I shut my eyes.
I felt stupid.
Cormac was technically my stepbrother after all, wasn’t he? We’d hardly talked about our parents, but wouldn’t it be weird to sleep with my mom’s husband’s son? No, it didn’t really seem that weird…
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he called out.
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I called back.
I turned over against the pillow and shut my eyes, knowing it would be a while before sleep fell. I lay there for a very long time, listening to my own breath, waiting for elusive sleep.
I don’t know what time it was when I woke up, but I didn’t feel alone in the room when I did.
It wasn’t a noise that woke me, it was a feeling.
Put on the necklace.
The words appeared in my mind fully formed, like an instruction from another person, but still inside of my own head.
I felt nervous… terrified, really, at the unshakable feeling that I was not alone in the room. It was, in a way, more unsettling than the screaming the night before.
Either way, I reached over, groping in the dark, and picked up the heavy piece of antique jewelry. I slipped it over my head as I sat up in the twin bed and felt, once again, that bizarre sensation come over me- I was myself, but I was someone else, too.
And then, I thought of Cormac in the bed across the hall, his strong, warm body, his playful eyes, his sensual, dark lips, his golden hair.
I wanted him.
Why shouldn’t you have him?
I got out of the bed, walking slowly, quietly, gliding on the balls of my feet, swaying my hips rhythmically. I opened the door to my bedroom without a sound, and crossed the hall as silently as a ghost. I opened the door to Cormac’s room and stood for a moment, in the doorway.
“Astrid?” I heard his sleepy voice call out to me in the dark.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I replied, my voice quiet and deep, unrecognizable.
“I knew you were coming…” he said quietly, “how did I know? I was just… waiting for you…”
I walked over and climbed into the bed, slipping under the heavy silk and down bed cover. He reached over and pulled me towards him in the big, warm bed, kissing me hard on the mouth like we’d been lovers for years.
He was already shirtless, his skin smooth and almost hot to the touch.
“Astrid, you’re not, like, sleepwalking are you?” he said, pausing as he went to lift my t-shirt.
“No, Cormac, I’m wide awake,” I said, but it didn’t feel like it was really me who was speaking, even as I said the words.
“You really want this?” he asked, rolling me onto my back and kissing my neck, my face, my lips… “I thought you hated me…”
“I want so much more than this,” I said, my voice breathy and earnest.
He lifted my t-shirt and pulled my nipples into his mouth one by one. I sighed and arched my back towards him, rocking my hips as his hand slid over my belly, over the crotch of my panties as he kissed me.
“You’re so sexy, Astrid,” he groaned, “from the moment I saw you, I thought…”
“Shhh,” I whispered, kissing his perfect, warm mouth, opening my lips for his tongue.
He looked down at me, our eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he saw the necklace between my tits, it’s dark red color almost glowing.
He grabbed me, then, by the wrists and held me down to the bed, his hands strong and firm.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice more breathy, ragged.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Is this?” he asked, letting go of one of my wrists so he could press a hand against my throat, squeezing slightly, kissing me hard as I shuddered and arched my back in a mock-struggle.
“Mmm,” I murmured.
Cormac slid a hand down and pulled off my panties, then skillfully stroked me, slid two fingers inside of me, and sucked my nipples one at a time.
“You’re so wet,” he said, “I can’t believe it.”
“Fuck me,” I begged, feeling a hunger, a need, like nothing I’d ever felt, “please, please fuck me.”
“I want to,” he said, parting my legs, slipping off his own boxers, and, in a moment, pushing himself inside of me with a thrust.
I groaned, arching my back, pressing myself against him.
His cock was enormous and filled me completely. I rocked my hips, opened my mouth for his mouth, and felt his big, muscular body moving on top of me, taking me, fucking me. I slid my hands over his smooth, warm back, it’s sinews and ligaments moving beneath my hand.
“Yes,” I whispered, my lips against his ear, “yes, yes, yes.”
We hadn’t worried about protection. We hadn’t worried about anything. I wanted him inside of me, all around me, and there was nothing more to it than that.
He rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him, and I rocked my hips, my hair falling over my shoulders, as I looked down at him in the dark, his lips parted beautifully and bright eyes gazing up at me in wonder.
He reached up and grabbed my swaying tits one at a time, playing with my nipples, as I moaned and bi
t my lip. I shuddered with pleasure, looking down at his chest, shadowed in the dark, his muscles flexing and staining as he reached for me. I leaned down to kiss him as I came, shuddering against him. Feeling my pussy tighten up around his cock the way it did made him seize, his body nearly trembling as he came inside of me.
After, I rolled over beside him, my mind blank, and he slipped an arm around me. I could feel him breathing against my back as I fell asleep, drifting off, soaking in the intoxicating heat that his body generated. As my eyes fluttered closed I felt nothing, and my sleep was deep and dreamless.
Chapter 7
I woke up with a start, alone in the twin bed in the children’s room, the necklace in a little porcelain dish beside me. Memories from the night before flashed through my mind like electric shocks, making me hot and terribly confused at the same time.
It was easy to avoid Cormac. He was gone already when I woke up, leaving me a note on the kitchen table that gave no indication that the night before had even happened.
Astrid,
Going in to town to take care of some business. I’ll get groceries. Be back soon.
Cormac
His signature was neat and clear, somehow charming, and made me smirk.
I was glad he was gone.
I didn’t want to talk about the night before, and I wanted to go straight back to the East tower. The first thing I did before I left was look for the diary, which Cormac had apparently taken with him. I couldn’t stop feeling like, even though he partially owned it, the castle was really mine, and I was annoyed by his presumption. I was worried that our sleeping together would complicate everything, and might make him stay longer.
I couldn’t believe I’d done it, and still didn’t understand why I had. I’d felt like I was watching from outside of myself as it happened, even as I enjoyed and felt every single kiss, his satisfying thickness, every touch, his strong hands, every shattering orgasm.
In fact, thinking about Cormac’s beautiful body, his warm, open mouth grazing my lower back and neck, I shuddered and bit my lip. I was getting hot just thinking about this man, this stranger, who also happened to be my step-brother. It was a weird situation, maybe a bad one.
It couldn’t possibly happen again.
I spent part of the morning deep cleaning, work that had needed to be done in the kitchen, the bedrooms.
When I felt better about our kitchen and had thrown all of our sheets in the washing machines, I made my way back into the east wing, wondering what other strange things I’d find, carrying my market basket in case I wanted to bring anything back.
First, I went to Caroline’s bedroom, where I took my time opening her drawers, feeling a twinge of guilt now that I knew who she was. In the huge wooden chest of drawers she’d left behind I found silk stockings and garter belts from Paris, pristine and unworn panties and balconette bras, many still in their boxes, gifts, I assumed, from my great-grandfather. I found a black camisole dress, silk and as slippery as water, and slipped it into my basket.
I found perfume in elegant, delicate blown glass bottles, some rancid, while others still smelled delicately of jasmine and rose. I touched everything with a strange reverence, like the belongings of a famous person or a saint, and put everything back exactly the way I’d found it.
I went through her jewelry box and found diamonds as wide as my finger set into rose-gold and platinum, brooches made from hundreds of precious stones set to look like orchids and birds, and bracelets of heavy filigree gold that must be worth thousands.
None of it gave me the same buzzing feeling that the necklace had given me, like when I put it on I was suddenly someone else, but I kept one of the rings, a wide, elegant emerald-cut diamond solitaire that had to be at least four karats. It was mine after all, I reminded myself, and it fit my right ring finger as though it was made for me.
I didn’t find anything very personal, nothing else like the diary. I’d been hoping for letters, photos, anything, and it seemed strangely impersonal, how few keepsakes she seemed to have.
I left her bedroom and walked down the dark hallway to a set of stairs that lead up to one of the tower spires. I made my way up the winding staircase, were at the top I found a library and sitting room and library with a window that overlooked the lake.
The furniture was all covered in canvas, and many of the books were moth eaten, but it seemed otherwise like it could have been used the day before. I uncovered a desk in front of a window with a view of the lake, and a deep burgundy leather sofa that was cracked and weathered, but still very cushy and plush.
Most of the books were religious texts, law books, almanacs and family records, exactly the kind of things you’d find in a historic castle that dated back hundreds of years. When, in the course of my casual snooping, I found a collection of black, unlabeled, leather bound notebooks, I felt a tremor of strange fear run down my spine as I slowly pulled down and opened one.
Inside was handwritten diagrams, knots and ties, rope and bodies, hand-drawn images of bound women tied up in every imaginable position, each more erotic than the last.
The women, illustrated with light hair, dark hair, curvy and slender, possibly-too-young and quite mature, every type of woman you could imagine, were tied up with their legs were parted, mouths opened, their asses presented wantonly, in one picture after the next.
I was a little bit shocked, the pictures were all so… contemporary looking, like they could come to life and be right at home on a porn shoot. Underneath, in neat, cursive German, where descriptions of how to tie a person up, how to make certain knots, the advantages of each position, which body part it displayed.
In other books there were sprawling stories, in both English and German, about a character (real or imagined, I wasn’t sure) who consorted with ladies of the night and seduced innocent farm girls, tying them up, spanking them, and ultimately filling them, in every orifice, with his seed.
I couldn’t believe what I was reading, but I couldn’t stop, devouring it the way I might read a novel.
I was also finding myself getting wetter and wetter, a burning between my legs that urged me to act. I was, I knew, alone in the castle, miles from the next closest human being, so I unbuttoned by jeans, unzipped, and reached my probing fingers down into the hem of my panties.
“Mmm,” a sigh escaped my lips as I stroked and read…
“…another lovely farm girl, fleshy with white golden hair and lips like a ripe strawberry that fit tightly around my member. I trained her to suck me, choke on me until her little face turns pink, and swallow when I release my seed. I taught her to bend over and present herself to me on command, her strawberry lips parting as she sighs when I enter her and thrust. Her little white belly trembles and she seizes as I stroke her, suck the little rosebud between her nether-lips, and make her come… she’s quite a little specimen…”
I stroked and read, gasped and moaned, so caught up I didn’t hear the door open.
“Astrid,” I heard, Cormac’s quiet voice in a deep whisper, “…let me help you.”
“Oh my god,” I gasped, startled and struggling to get up, to button my pants.
“No, don’t,” he said, crossing the room in a flash and pinning me quickly to the couch.
He was wearing a tight, white t-shirt and jeans, and his muscular arms looked tan, like he’d been in the sun most of the morning. I opened my mouth to resist him, but no words came out.
“Please,” I begged, for what, I wasn’t sure.
“Let me make you come,” he said in his deep voice.
I relented easily.
I was so hot, already so turned on, and when he tore off my jeans, and slipped off my panties I sighed and let him press his mouth to me where I was swollen and hot and wet.
“This isn’t…” I managed to object, but he knew I was helpless, knew I wanted release more than I wanted him to stop.
He slipped two fingers inside of me and stroked as I arched my back and whimpered.
“Oh…” I sighed, running my fingers through his hair, “…please…”
I shut my eyes and felt pleasure, deep and intense, wash over me like warm water. My whole body relaxed against him, and I felt like I went limp. I couldn’t believe how hard I’d come.
“God, I want to fuck you Astrid,” Cormac groaned, unzipping his tight jeans and slipping them down off of his hips hastily.
His enormous cock, which I hadn’t seen in the light of day, throbbed with need, and I felt a shudder of desire, like having him inside of me was the most important thing in the world.
“Yes,” I murmured, and he entered me, kneeling on the couch on top of me, my legs around his waist as he began to thrust.
He fucked me hard, in quick, powerful thrusts, and I reached up to peel off his shirt so I could run my hands over his beautiful, flexing chest.
I pulled him close, and he kissed me, his tongue in my mouth, mine in his, until I felt like I could taste his animal need. He groaned and came, filling me, a deeply satisfying feeling that I knew I shouldn’t enjoy, and then collapsed on top of me, his warm, sweat-misted body against my own.
“This is crazy,” I said, standing up and pulling up my panties, yanking on my jeans.
“It’s not crazy,” he said, “you’re good looking, I’m good looking, we’re alone in a castle…”
“I know but you’re…”
“Your stepbrother? I hardly think that matters…”
“No, I don’t care about that,” I said, exasperated, “you’re trying to take the castle away from me…”
“Right, and may the best man win, there’s no reason not to have some fun in the meantime…”
“This place… I think it’s this place, this… stuff…” I said, gesturing at the book. Cormac picked it up and started reading out loud…
“…The little farm girl is getting more docile, more subservient by the day… today I had her licking a puddle of my seed off of Caroline’s quivering belly…”
“Oh my god,” I said, slapping a hand over my mouth, “stop reading that!”