Dans le Tonnelle de Mebh

Sighing, he dismounted and made Zephyr comfortable for the night, ground tying her and knowing she'd be there in the morning. Then he removed his own clothing, folding them neatly, and waited for the dawn.

Rowan awoke with a headache, and a fuzzy mouth. She realized it was late because her room had already been tidied, her tea was cooling, and the sun was midway up the sky.

She rose, slightly unsteady, and used the chamber pot. Then she washed with the now-tepid water and poured tea the same temperature. She needed to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth, but the tea seemed bitter too. She put it down to weak tea not being able to overpower the awful lingering taste on her tongue, and poured a second cup. She started to dress, but felt her energy wane.

Listlessly, she sat in her window seat, eating oatmeal laced with honey. Soon, she began to get restless. Walking around helped a little, but the room became unbearably hot, so she called for a bath.

Once the servants had delivered and filled the linen-lined tub and left, Rowan disrobed. She shivered when the air caressed her skin, and moving toward the tub, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She paused, for the first time looking at her own body as something more than just her body. She saw a woman's body, with slender waist, lush hips, full breasts topped with delectably ruched pink nipples. Her legs were shapely, and her woman's mound was plump and covered by soft hair.

Turning, she viewed a straight back leading to the two fleshy globes of her buttocks. Walking closer to the mirror, she cupped her right breast, her thumb lightly caressing her nipple, and watched in fascination when the nipple tightened even further, into a stiff point. She marveled over the sensation that streaked from there straight to her mound.

She repeated the move with her other breast, enjoying that same electrical pulse at her core. She reveled in the dual sensations of her hand on her breast, and her breast in her hand. Her eyes drifted down to her femininity, and she wondered what sensations it would evoke to stroke her hand there.

Suddenly realizing her train of thought, she quickly turned from the mirror and entered the tub, slightly shamed. She'd never before had thoughts like those before, and couldn't imagine why she would, now. She remembered her first sight of a man's naked body, just last eve.

Niall was a beautiful man, with an impressive cock, but he'd left her merely curious, and somewhat cold. That her own body should be more evocative to her than her future husbands' seemed an ill portent to her.

There seemed to be hope, yet, however. At the thought of the column of flesh between Niall's legs, she squirmed in the tub. Her bottom rubbed against the wet linen, and gooseflesh rose across her arms at the thought of rubbing against him, naked.

Rowan squirmed some more, delighting in her thoughts and the sensation of the water swirling over her skin. She lathered her hands with the soft rose-scented soap from a pot next to the tub. She groaned at the pleasure her hands caused as they slicked over her wet skin; she started at her throat and slipped them down over her breasts. She felt those globes tighten and swell as her fingers molded them, gently at first, then increasing in pressure until she looked down and saw that her fingertips were sunk into the flesh up to the first knuckle. It felt wonderful. Rowan kneaded her breasts, lifting them high, pushing them together, all the while pinching and rolling her peaked nipples.

She'd never felt such wicked pleasure; never really paid much attention to her body other than seeing to its functions and cleanliness. She muzzily pondered why she was feeling this way, and came to the absent conclusion that it was seeing her first penis, watching it grow and harden. That had been singularly thrilling.

Standing unnoticed at the door, Bettina watched the girl work her incredible tits, feeling satisfied that her herbs were working. She also felt herself growing wet, and her mouth watered at the thought of clamping around Rowan's tender virgin nipples. Bettina quietly backed away from the room, knowing she'd have to be patient.

Soon, she promised herself. She couldn't resist one last peek, though, and she watched in growing excitement as Rowan abandoned her breasts to explore the soft pillow of her belly, and finally, agonizingly slowly, over her cleft.

'What I wouldn't give to lap that fresh cream from her bowl!' Bettina sighed wistfully. She kept the image of the girl's fingers dipping into that luscious sweetmeat in her mind's eye as she made her way to the smithy.

There, she inflamed her lover to such a high degree that she got a deliciously rough fuck, and even appreciated the resulting discomfort later that night, sitting at table.

Four nights later, Rowan couldn't stand her room any longer. She hadn't been allowed to go anywhere, and hadn't really felt up to it, at any rate. She'd been feeling so tired and definitely out of sorts - she felt as if she had a fever, and wanted to crawl out of her skin. Or have someone crawl into it.

Either way, she knew she'd go mad if she couldn't get out of her room. She opened the secret cubby in her armoire, where she hid her more dangerous herbs. She took a pinch of valerian, a pinch of mallow, and a bit of chamomile, and added it to a cup of mead warming by the fire. Then she called for Maude and complained of boredom, begging prettily for company and conversation.

Maude, no stranger to Rowan's innocent pranks, cagily locked the door after entering. She couldn't deny her mistress some harmless conversation, but she wouldn't help her escape a marriage that would be good for her.

They settled near the fire, Rowan handing the doctored mead to her body servant, and taking a second untouched cup for herself.

"So," she said breezily, not wanting to arouse the older woman's suspicion. "Tell me, Maude, of the news. What has been happening? Is my betrothed back yet?"

She watched as Maude enjoyed the quality spirits, talking of what had been happening, the preparations under way, and other uninteresting topics.

"Yer betrothed is not returned, milady. But don't be disheartened, he is a fine man, honourable and true. He shall be back."

Her words, Rowan noticed, had started to slur. 'Twas only a matter of minutes then, until she could be free.

"I am only worried that he does return, Maude. I do not want this marriage."

"But you signed the contract, milady. 'Tis done, right and tight. Don't do anything stupid, girl."

Maude looked distantly shocked at having said that to her lady, before slumping to the side in a dead sleep.

"Don't worry, Maude, I know I can do nothing this time. I just want one more bit of freedom, but I promise to be back before you waken."

With that said, she covered the servant with a light blanket, snagged the keys to her prison, and fled the manor. She realized, after about an hour in the woods, that her thinking had been skewed as well.

She'd gotten away from the manor, but she'd forgotten to dress. She was only wearing her thin chemise, and had lost a slipper in her haste. She discarded her other slipper, shrugging.

'Twas a beautiful night and she was free to do as she pleased! She followed her favourite paths through the trees, heading for a little pool of water she'd found when she was a child. She gathered night blooms along the way, dancing and humming and enjoying her freedom. She felt more energized than she had in days, though she was aware of that buzzing heat in her veins.

Ever since that wicked bath she'd enjoyed, her skin had felt too tight, her nipples were constantly poking out of her breasts, and her woman's cleft was slick with heat and wetness, aching and empty.

Virgin she may be, but living on what was essentially a farm, a girl's innocence only lasted until mating season. She'd seen the horses being bred, and the dogs and cats mating and such, so she knew that the empty feeling inside her meant her body wanted a penis forging its way between her thighs.

And her damnable brain kept picturing Niall's formidable length, playing over and over the way he'd hardened in front of her.

Seeing the familiar signs that her pool was near, she quickened her step, her loose hair swaying to her hips. When she reached the little clearing, however, she wasn't sure what to think. While this place had always been special - and therefore beautiful - to her, tonight it seemed magical. The pool glistened with extra clarity, the scent of the water perfuming the air with sweetness. The grass was especially soft and cool under her tender feet, and the flowers looked bigger and lusher than ever before.

There was a sparkle to the very air tonight, as if thousands of crystalline faeries danced through an enchanted arbour, paying homage to a sensual and demanding goddess. She slowly walked toward the pool, mesmerized by the lights she would swear played there.

With the moon as bright as it was, and the water's clarity, she could see not only her reflection - which seemed different, somehow - but she thought there were... things, in there too. Beautiful things, enchanting things, swimming together in the water, their perfect naked bodies writhing against each other.

Rowan blinked once, and again. She knew now that there was madness in her, because everyone knew sirens did not inhabit wooded pools. She bent closer to take a look, and as she watched these creatures in their orgiastic revel, she became aware of her own excitement. Her breath was shallow and fast, and her blood was high. She wanted to fall into the water and cavort with these decadent slips of flesh, to feel their hands and mouths slide over her skin. She wanted to have them suckle at her nipples, and to learn how it felt to suckle in return.

One of the siren-like creatures noticed Rowena hovering over the water, and swam closer, seducing her with eyes like liquid silk. Rowena slipped her chemise over her head, standing naked in the moonlight. She sat at the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the cool water.

She was going to go in, but the siren swam up to her feet, touching her with cool sensuality. With a mysterious smile, she stroked Rowan's feet, her calves, and the hollow behind her knee.

Rowan watched in heated amazement as the siren licked along her instep, nibbling on her toes, biting her Achilles tendon. Goosebumps rose on her arms as the siren rose partly out of the water to stroke her breasts and nuzzle her belly.

Another siren swam up, and in a lyrical voice, forbade Rowena to kiss any one of them.

"We can show you pleasure beyond your ken, child, but you must not kiss us. You are bound for another, but will be lost to us if you do not heed my warning."

Rowena thought she would do anything at this point, to feel the promised pleasure, so she agreed.

"I am Aine, child, and this," she motioned to the siren still nuzzling Rowena's belly, "This is Saone. Come into the water, and we will play."

Rowena didn't need to be asked twice, so accepting aid from Saone, she slid into the pool, where the water seemed to warm and thicken around her. Then she felt other sirens swim closer, then closer still, all around her. She found herself in the middle of a fleshy swarm, all soft breasts and questing fingers and curious tongues. Silky hair flicked against her body; she felt her breasts cupped, her right nipple was rolled between someone's fingers, and her left was sucked into a hot mouth.

Fingers played with her womanhood, sifting through the downy hair, spearing into the cleft and pulling at a nubbin of achingly sensitive flesh there. More fingers were pulling the globes of her buttocks apart, pulling her labia apart, and spreading her legs wide. She felt other mouths sucking on the skin of her shoulder, her nape, the underside of her breast. At the nip of her waist, the dip of her knee, into the ticklish recess of her navel she felt the thrust of tongues.

Then she felt the suction of mouths between her legs, the probe of tongues into her body. She was faint with the superlative pleasure rocketing through her, held up only by those same hands and mouths, by the sinuous hair and slick bodies.

She screamed her release into the night when she felt teeth bite down on her clitoris, slamming her headlong into her first orgasm. Then, soothing touches, slowing her descent back to herself. Her legs, labia and buttocks were still spread wide, and the sirens slowly swam through her legs, trailing their hair, faces and bodies against her most sensitive parts.

She felt herself becoming even more aroused than before her climax, and desperately needed to have her body penetrated over and over. Her fingers trailed along the flesh of these sublime creatures, feeling a light oily slick on their skin. She touched her tongue to a passing limb, tasting sweet honey-like nectar.

"Please," she whispered.

Saone seemed to know what she was asking; she came higher up out of the water, and pressed Rowena's mouth to her breast. Rowena nuzzled the plump flesh, spreading the sweet oil over her face, and then she tentatively touched her tongue to the full underslope before taking the plunge and engulfing Saone's nipple with her mouth.

The slightly rubbery peak of flesh felt wonderful, as she sucked it, and bit it, and flattened it between her tongue and palate. Rowena couldn't get enough of it. She brought her hands up; with one hand she cupped her own breast, and with the other, Saone's.

Then she watched in fascination as she pressed both nipples together, rubbing them around each other, before she leaned down and licked the point at which they met.

Before she had her fill of that, Saone smiled and swam back down into the water, lazily pressing her entire body against the vee of Rowena's legs. Rowena was shaking with unfulfilled lust, to the point where she felt acute pain in her womb, and the points of her nipples.

Aine came to the surface, and smiled. "Child, you are ready."

With that, all the sirens swam deeper into the pool, until they were out of sight. Except for the way her body felt, she thought she could have imagined it all. The water was no longer warm and thick, caressing her flesh. Instead, it was cooling, and Rowena quickly exited the pool.

The night air was still beautiful, however, so she didn't dress. She used her chemise to soak up most of the water from her hair, but let her body dry in the light breeze. Naked and still desperately in heat, Rowena wandered the arbour, seeing it as never before.

She couldn't stop stroking her breasts, swiveling her hips as she walked for the delicious friction the motion caused. Then, just through two young trees, she spotted something she would have never expected.

She knew then that there was an enchantment on this place, because what she saw was a life-sized sculpture in black satiny marble. Of a man. A naked man.

"Oh! A naked, aroused man!"

Rowena bit her lip, slightly shocked at the moaned petition that fell from her mouth. She crept closer, and stared in awe at the sight before her. A man of marble lay before her on a small altar-like slab of stone. Only there was a velvet mantle underneath him. 'Twas passing strange to her, but then other details speared through her brain, calling all of her attention.

He was in a supine position, but raised up on his elbows; his knees were slightly bent too, and he seemed to be looking right at her, standing there between his feet. He had heavy muscles and broad shoulders, and there was an astounding amount of detail to this statue.

She knew she should wonder about such things as how it'd gotten here, who'd done it, why it was here of all places; she didn't though. All she saw was the enormous shaft standing proudly between his legs. It was easily as thick as her wrist; it reminded her of the large candles gracing the altar in the chapel. It was huge!

She was startled when she felt her mouth water, and her vulva weep tears of gratitude to whichever deity set him here. There was something, though, that bothered her.

She dragged her eyes from the pillar of temptation, and found herself looking at the statue's face. It was distracting, the perspective she had; standing as she was, the altar was hip-height, his eyes were at the same level as hers, but at mouth level was his delicious cock. When she stared at its crown, it looked as though he could stick out his tongue and lick his own shaft, but when she stared at his eyes, she'd swear she could do the same.

Every time she glanced at his face, she felt a niggle of familiarity, as if she should know him. Then it came to her. He looked like he could be Niall's ugly twin. Though 'ugly' mayn't be the correct word. The face was craggy, with scars bisecting several portions of it. His eyes seemed as if they had the cares of the world in them, which was remarkable since he was made from cold stone. Again her eyes fell to his manhood. It was just waiting, she knew, to be useful.

She had the wicked thought that she could certainly put it to use.

Staring at the marvelously shaped marble phallus is what prompted recognition. She'd seen this penis, only the owner had a different face. She recalled little of the viewing forced on Niall and herself, but she did clearly remember his swollen manhood, and this was it. She knew it.

Rowena looked at the stationary figure, noting details. It seemed to have scars everywhere, but the shape was the same as Niall's body. And the face, while marred and rougher, was vaguely his also.

It was as if this statue was Niall's mirror image, only instead of reflecting him in his perfect beauty, it showed his imperfections and defects. The eyes supported this theory; whereas Niall's were as cold and still as an undisturbed moat, the statue's eyes reflected torment and passion and rage. And there was something else there too, very deep and not-quite faint.

Hope.

It burned in those depths, and touched something inside her. It broke her heart to look into those eyes.

Yet as wrenching as his expression was, she found she was still focused on that manroot; her entire being tingled and throbbed with a desperate need. She slowly walked from his feet to his middle, trailing fingers over the surprisingly warm marble.

She inhaled in surprise; the stone leg smelled like her favourite food, sun-warmed strawberries. She realized all of a sudden, that her mouth was watering, her flesh still tingled and her feminine muscles were clenching spasmodically.

Rowan impulsively leaned forward and licked that marvelous cock of marble. Her eyes closed and she gave a moan of pleasure at the naughty images in her mind. She licked at the crown again, savouring the smooth, rigid sweetness. Throwing all inhibitions aside, she climbed up on the altar and rubbed her sensitive skin against the statue, all the while devouring the black column of stone with her mouth. Rowan felt wild and wicked, but she didn't want to stop. In fact, she wanted more. She wanted her body filled with this cock, so following some primal mating instinct, she slung one leg over the supine body.

She leaned forward once she was mounted, rubbing her stiff nipples against the scarred chest, and then - while looking at those emotional eyes - she whispered to him.

"I wish you were the mane I am to marry. I could love you." With that, she centered her sheath over the tip of his cock, and pressed herself onto it. She felt the incredible friction against her nether lips, the pressure of this enormous marble penis forging into her virgin body. She also felt a burning sensation, and a great fullness. The one was urging her to stop, but the latter forced her onward and downward.