Inspiration

The room was huge, it’s vaulted ceiling lost in shadows. Tapestries decorated the walls and a large fireplace held a roaring fire. A large poster bed dominated one wall. It was made of intricately carved red wood and the canopy was made of a white gossamer. The coverlet was black and appeared to be silk or satin. Across from the bed a woman sat at a vanity, peering into a burnished steel mirror. She wore a gown of gold brocade with a skirt so full Clia wondered how she managed to sit. Two servant girls were busy brushing out her long golden tresses.

The heavy oaken door swung inward and a woman walked into the room. Clia was instantly struck by the woman’s air of command and power. She was tall and very slim with almost no hips or breasts. Angular was the word that came to Clia’s mind. There were no soft curves, just planes and angles. Even her face seemed sharp and predatory without being unattractive. She wore a simple black dress with a scooped neck that showed off the small amount of cleavage she did have. It was cut high on her hips and slit so that one could see flashes of her bare legs when she walked. Her eyes were dark and so was her hair. Something in those eyes sent a thrill through Clia, a thrill that was part fear and part desire.

Both of the servants turned their heads to glance at the newcomer. Each of them froze and Clia felt they were both feeling the same thing she did, but more acutely. Their impassive faces lit with a hungry look Clia recognized from the faces of the many men Sharon and Shelly brought home. It was pure lust and Clia wondered if her own countenance looked the same.

“Leave us,” the woman said in a commanding tone. Both girls released the blonde woman’s hair and hurried out with their heads down. The dark haired woman watched them go and then sauntered over to the vanity. The blonde never said a word, but her shoulders were hunched, almost as if she expected a blow.

When the dark haired woman took up a brush and ran it through the seated woman’s hair the blonde flinched as if burned. The brunette smiled a wolfish grin but continued to gently brush out the blonde’s hair. She did this for a few minutes in absolute silence and then pulled the woman’s long tresses out of the way and scraped her nails along the blondes shoulder. A hiss escaped the woman’s lips, but nothing more.

“Come dear sister, is that anyway to greet me?” the dark haired woman said. She emphasized the word sister in a way that made it seem ironic.

“Half sister. And only in law,” The blonde said. Her voice was tremulous and had a quality to it that invoked pity in Clia. The dark haired woman smiled and lowered her face to the blonde’s exposed shoulder where she gently traced her lips over the alabaster skin.

“Morgan, please, No…” the blonde whimpered. The brunette paid her not the slightest attention and continued to kiss and lick along her shoulder and up her neck. The blonde’s hands fluttered to her breast and back to her lap ineffectually. She seemed powerless to stop the dark haired woman from taking such liberties as she pleased. “Poor little Gwynevere,” the brunette whispered, “your words say no, but your body says yes,”

“Morgan? Gwynevere? This isn’t real, it’s just legend,” Clia said as she turned on Clio to find the muse smiling at her. The scene before her was frozen, like a move on pause, but unlike it as well. Her mind was reeling and things seemed to have more than one meaning and definition.

“This is your first real lesson, Child. Legends abound and so do myths. In every legend, every myth, every parable however there is a grain of truth. These people existed, as did Arthur, Lancelot and Galahad. They were not necessarily anything like the characters you know but they lived, breathed and died nonetheless. For the historian getting to the truth behind the legends is important. Separating historical fact from popular fiction takes diligence, research and above all a willingness to accept that the legend or myth may be totally factually correct. Watch now what happens here and learn a few of the secrets that have been lost to time,”

The scene before Clia began to flow again as the muses voice faded.

“Morgan please. We can’t!” the blonde implored.

“Bah, just because you chose to marry my simple minded half brother is no reason for me to stop taking my pleasure with you,”

“We can’t Morgan, we just can’t”

The dark haired woman growled and Clia saw anger flash in her eyes. She hurled the brush across the room and grabbed the blonde by the shoulders, bodily jerking the smaller woman to her feet. The blonde tried to pull away but the darkhaired woman spun her around and caught a handful of her long blonde hair. Morgan jerked her head back and fiercely pressed her thin lips to the blonde’s full soft ones, effectively stifling her protests. The blonde’s hands were balled into fists and she smashed them against Morgan’s chest weakly. After three or four times her hands slipped around the brunette’s shoulders and her body melted into the embrace.

Clia could see the brunette’s tongue exploring Gwynevere’s mouth and she felt her own body responding. Morgan released Gwynevere shoulders and scooped the startled queen up into her arms. Gwynevere kicked her legs and under the white petticoats Clia caught flashes of her stocking covered legs. Morgan unceremoniously dumped the queen on her bed and stepped back. She kicked off her sandals and grasped the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head. She was naked underneath and Clia found herself staring.

Morgan’s body was tight, muscular and lithe. She had almost no fat on her and Clia could count ribs and clearly see the woman’s pelvic bones. Her pubic bush was thick and black and it covered her labia and most of her pubic mound. She was not at all soft or lush and her breasts were barely B cups, but she was elemental and powerful and all together sexual. Clia felt the muse’s arms slide around her waist and she stepped back against the woman’s body without thinking.

Gwynevere was staring too and Clia could see the flush on her cheeks. Morgan climbed on to the bed and straddled Gwynevere’s hips. She began to kiss the queen’s neck, lips, cheeks and eyelids all the while her hands plucked at ties, undid buttons and efficiently loosened the queen’s gown. The blonde still seemed hesitant and she struggled against Morgan’s hands, but the fight was not very convincing. The gown seemed to take forever to get undone, but Morgan’s mouth was busy and her hands stopped often to caress and knead. Clia was still a novice, but she had the impression Morgan was deliberately taking her time, slowly working the blonde to an ever higher state of arousal and need.

Clio’s hands and lips were not idle either. Clia felt the soft lips on her neck and the magical hands caressing her hips, but where Morgan seemed intent on immediately arousing her partner, Clio seemed to have the opposite intent. Her attentions were exciting and sensuous, but not urgent and did nothing to take Clia’s eyes or attention from the scene being enacted before her. Morgan dug her fingers into the gown and pulled it down. As it slid across her body Gwynevere planted her feet on the bed and raised her hips. Morgan slid all the way down her body until she was kneeling at the foot of the bed with the rumpled gown in her hands. The brunette tossed the garment to the floor and licked her lips as she stared at Gwynevere. The blonde looked simply delicious, she wore only her white stockings, which ended at mid thigh. Her pale skin and those stocking lying on the black comforter formed an arresting contrast. Where Morgan’s body was all planes and angles, Gwynevere was all curves. Her breasts were large, almost as large as Clia’s and capped with delicate pink nipples. These were hard now and stood out from the small aureoles. Her hips were wide and lush and her pubic hair was as blonde as that on her head. Her bush was thick and luxuriant, but the pouting lips of her labia were easily discernable.

Morgan clucked in her throat and then threw herself on top of the supine woman. Their lips met and Morgan began to hump her hips, forcing her mound to rub against the queen’s. Gwynevere began to respond, her hips pushing up to meet her lover’s thrusts, but as soon as she responded Morgan stopped.

Morgan sat up and began to stroke the blonde’s hips. Her hands lightly traced along the blonde’s skin, brushing her mound but not giving firm contact.

“Perhaps you were right, maybe we should stop,”

“Nooo,” Gwynevere wailed.

“No? But you said we shouldn’t” Morgan teased as her fingers moved to the queen’s now soaked slit and began to slide up and down it. Gwynevere moaned and thrust her hips up, but Morgan kept the contact to just a feathery tease.

“Please,” the blonde whimpered when she realized Morgan was not going to give her any release.

“Changed our mind have we? Well, you know what you will have to do now,”

“I can’t,” the blonde whined.

“Too bad, your little kitty seems to be aching for some attention,” Morgan said as she slipped one long finger just inside the slick lips. Morgan pumped her finger slowly in and out of the queen’s pussy. Clia watched in fascination and the long digit became slick and coated with the queens juices. In and out it sawed with a maddening regularity. The blonde humped against it, trying to drive it deeper. Morgan crossed her fingers and pushed them both in. The queen gasped and her hands slid down her body towards the juncture of her thighs.

“No!” Morgan commanded. The queen’s hands seemed to stop of their own accord and then withdrew.

“If you want to spend, you are going to have to earn it little cow,” Morgan said as she grasped one of Gwynevere’s tits in her free hand and roughly manipulated it.

“Please,” Gwynevere gasped.

“Are you ready then?” Morgan asked in a too sweet tone.

“Yes,”

“Then beg for it, little trollop”

“Please, can I lick you? I am dying to taste your spendings,” Gwynevere groaned. Morgan laughed and withdrew her fingers. She moved up the queen’s body and placed a knee on either side of the blonde head while her ass rested on the slope of the queen’s tits.

“Very well your majesty” Morgan said sarcastically, “get to work and lick my quim like the harlot you know you are,”

As she said this Morgan rose up and then pressed her pussy directly to the queen’s quivering lips. Clia could only see the blonde’s eyes and nose but from Morgan’s contented sigh she had to assume that they queen was indeed eating the sorceress’s pussy. Morgan leaned back and rested her hands on the queen’s full tits. She began to pinch and pull the little blonde’s nipples as she started to rock back and forth.

“That’s it harlot, use your tongue. Mmmmm, you are such a talented licker, even better than your serving girls. Maybe I shall have you service both of them, in appreciation for all they do for you. Would you like that? I think you would.”

Morgan moaned and began to thrust her hips back and forth on the queen’s face. She moaned again and then sighed as her hips went into a paroxysm of wiggling and she came. When she finished she slid down the queens body. Clia couldn’t take her eyes off Gwynevere’s face. The blonde’s chin, lips and nose were covered in Morgan’s juices. In the strange light they glistened and Clia was caught between being slightly repelled and wondering what it tasted like.

Morgan settled between the queen’s legs and forced two fingers into the blonde’s snatch. She started to pump them in and out furiously while her free hand massaged the upper part of Gwynevere’s mound. The queen began to jog her hips and make small noises that Clia found very erotic. The Queen’s hands went to her breasts and kneaded them as her orgasm approached. With little warning a cry burst from her lips and she tensed. Her body thrashed violently on the bed and then slowly she relaxed.

Morgan slid up next to her and held the queen in her arms, gently stroking her hair. Gwynevere’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled contentedly and then frowned.

“What are we going to do my love? This cannot last forever,”

“Do not worry my little dove. I have taken steps to insure that Arthur looses interest in you. It will be hard on you at first, but trust me. In time you will be held up as the model of virtue and tragic love, while I will be reviled as a temptress, perhaps even a sorceress.”

“You’re no sorceress, unless one counts the magical way you make this cold body respond to you,” Gwynevere said. Morgan laughed softly and while she smiled and tweaked Gwynevere’s nose, Clia could detect the sadness in that laugh.

“Men must find a reason, and a scapegoat. I do not mind the iniquity I shall have heaped up on me, as long as you are mine,”

“I shall always be yours. No man can stir me to such heights. But tell me, why do you think you will be reviled?”

“I am not without some skill at scrying my love. That old fool of a court magician has shown me a few tricks. But that is neither here nor there. Those idiots are still at the tournament at Trielle so I have hours in which to pleasure you,”

With that Morgan gently kissed Queen Gwynevere and Clia found herself floating back into the altered state of consciousness where she, Clia did not exist. Time flowed once more and Clia watched England enslaved by the Romans. Her eye roamed far and wide, always drawn to the scenes Clio wanted her to witness first hand, but also aware of all that transpired. She saw a redheaded queen lead the Celts in an uprising against Rome, witnessed the orgies and degradations of that fabled city and saw it fall. She saw what really went on in the convents of the dark ages and the nightly escapades in the boudoirs of the nobility. She saw the Spanish enslave the new world, watched fleets of treasure ships sunk and saw England rise to prominence. She was there when an anonymous Corsican woman gave birth to a boy child. She watched this child grow to rule all of Europe.

Suddenly she was herself again, standing on a rainy street in London. She was less disconcerted this time, more comfortable with the drastic shifts in her state of consciousness. A solitary figure, wrapped in a voluminous cloak moved purposefully down the dimly lit and empty street. From the seductive sway of her hips Clia knew it was a woman. The figure stopped outside the doorway to a large home and entered after a moment’s hesitation.

Clia was instantly inside the home watching as a liveried butler closed the door behind the woman. He then gestured for her to follow him and led the way into a richly appointed parlor. A woman was sitting on the settee and glanced up from the book she was studying.

“Your guest has arrived Mi’Lady,” the butler said stiffly.

“Very well Codsworth, you may take the rest of the evening off,” the woman on the settee replied.

“As you wish madam,” he replied and withdrew, drawing the doors shut behind him.

“Do you have them?” the seated woman asked.

The cloaked figure produced a roll of parchment and said, “All is there. Ships complements, sailing times, ordinance and commanders” Her voice was sharp and had an air of command as well as a musical quality, but the accent was soft and undoubtedly French.

“Give them to me, I must get them to Horatio as quickly as possible,” the seated woman said extending her hand.

“Not so fast ma Cherie, there is the little matter of payment,”

“Very well, name your price,”

“You know my price, do not play coy with me. This information is vital and you have no time to waste in coquettish games,”

The seated woman nodded and stood up. Her hands went to work removing the dress she wore while the cloaked figure sprawled in a wingback chair and watched. As the dress fell away in parts more and more of her lovely body was exposed. Finally she stood before the cloaked woman in only her stays. Her body was lush and soft with wide hips, pendulous breasts and long trim legs. Her pubic hair was as thick and curly as the long dark tresses on her head. The seated woman held a finger up and made a circular motion with it. The aristocratic brunette pirouetted slowly on her toes. Her ass was full and shaped like a teardrop. Clia found the woman attractive, but she did not cause a quickening of her heartbeat like the sorceress had.

The seated woman hooked both of her legs over the arms of the chair and pulled her cloak up. She was naked underneath and with her legs spread wide over the arms of the chair her fat labia were exposed. The sparse hair covering her mound was dark, but seemed to have reddish highlights that made it look auburn when the light hit it right.

The finger beckoned and the other woman dropped to her knees and crawled between the widely splayed thighs. There was no hesitation on her part, she used her fingers to pull the prominent outer lips apart and exposed the bright pink inner folds. The brunette pressed her face tightly against the seated woman’s sex and began to lap delicately at the soft flesh. Clia was reminded of a cat tasting something for the first time.

The seated woman sighed and cooed, allowing her body to relax while pressing forward with her hips until her ass rested on the very edge of the chair. Clia watched as the seated woman’s pussy became wet and swollen. The aristocratic woman continued to lick at it, concentrating her efforts on the now erect clit. The cloaked woman’s hands tangled in her lover’s hair and pulled her face tightly against her dripping sex. Her voice became throaty and her breathing ragged as she murmured exhortations in French. Soon her hips began to jog and the aristocratic woman pushed a finger, then two in and began to pump them in and out as she licked.

This seemed to be all the added stimulus the cloaked woman needed. She mumbled something unintelligible and then moaned loudly as her body began to shake. The brunette redoubled her efforts driving her fingers in wildly and sucking the erect clit in to lash it with her tongue.

Slowly the aristocratic woman slowed her attentions as her lover came down from her orgasm. She continued to tongue the seated woman’s slick lips, but it was gentle now and seemed more of a soothing caress. After a while of this gentle attention the seated woman sighed and sat up straighter.

“That was delightful as always Ma Cheri,” she said in the husky but musical voice that Clia was growing to love.

“And you taste as divine as you did when last we met my love, but I really need to send that information on,” The brunette replied seriously.

“Very well Ma Cherie, I shall let you take leave for a few moments to get the information on its way, but only if you will allow me to take you when you return,”

“As if you could escape without doing so,” she said as she rose and took the papers. She stuffed them into a leather pouch and hurried out of the parlor. The cloaked woman did not stir from the chair but waited patiently, her hand idly stroking her pussy. After a long time a horse was heard galloping away from somewhere behind the house. Moments later the brunette came in pulling a dressing gown off her shoulders and tossing it over the back of a chair.

“Now my dear, how do we wish to proceed? Do we have time to adjourn to the bedroom?”

“No ma Cheri, it will have to be quickly. My ship must depart while it is still dark for obvious reasons,”

“Damnable war,” the Brunette said and she got on the settee on all fours. She then let her weight fall onto her elbows, which forced her posterior high into the air. Clia could see her pussy clearly; it was open and exposed and also had a slight sheen to it.

“Yes, Damnable,” the cloaked woman said as she approached and sat on the settee. She ran her hands up the brunette’s thighs and then caressed the fleshy cheeks. With a gentleness Clia had rarely seen she pried the aristocrats cheeks apart and then began to tongue her wide open pussy. This continued for some time, until the Lady began to moan and squirm.