Cynara 02: The First Telling

As the birds' song woke me, in that quiet space where the night gives way to the morning, I thought a moment that she was there, indeed I reached out to touch her, before the iron weight of her absence caused my heart to ache.

And yet she had been there. I had felt her. Since that meeting [see Cynara] it was as though the palimpsest of time had been lifted and all that had been obscured was now legible. Though legible was not perhaps quite adequate as the description for what had become my nightly visions. They were the explanation for why, on waking, I was unsure where dream ended, and reality began; were they even separate?

As the birds trilled their morning joy, I did what I had begun to do a few days earlier - while the memory of the dream had not faded, I wrote it in my journal, dipping my pen in the ink when it ran out, not wanting to stop even to fill my pen. I wrote as what I was, a woman possessed. This was the first telling.

The earliest dream, if dream it was, stretched back to a time almost beyond record. I saw her bathing, the other woman, the one who brought me, reminded me to curtsey, which I did, though in truth as I saw her rise from the bath like some goddess from the foam of the waves of the sea, it was all I could do not to fall on my knees to begin to worship her. That, even I realised, was not the way to be introduced to the daughter of the King.

"Your Highness, this is Sara, whom you sent for. What will you have me do with her?"

She was not tall, quite the opposite, rather closer to my height than most. As the water shimmered on her flesh, forming droplets which resembled, in places, the hard nubs of her nipples, my breath became laboured. Princess Makeda was simply the most beautiful creature I had beheld.

"You are from the tribes of Moses?" She asked, referring to my Jewish heritage.

"I am, Highness."

She smiled - and my heart shook within me.

"Here, help dry me."

From the moment my hands touched her through the towelling, I knew I was lost. The rabbis teach that all sexual matters are for the married, and are for man and the wife who serves him. As the runt of the litter, I was not considered marriage-fodder. My older sister, Ruth, was the family hope of a good marriage, and she had made one to the rabbi's son. The question of what to do with me was solved in the oddest way.

My uncle, Moses, was one who lived by buying and selling. He traded far to the south and was known along all the trade routes. One day he came to see my father, and the two of them were closeted a while. Then I was summoned to their presence.

"Sara, you are to go with your Uncle Moses, he has found a position for you."

What on earth? I was stunned.

I asked Mama, who merely said that it would help relieve the burden on papa, who was at his wits' end to know what to do with a daughter who looked like a boy. Well, I had thought to myself, the journey to end of my papa's wits was not, after all, a long one. I think he was glad to lose my sharp tongue - as glad as I was to lose his temper and his fists. My uncle was mysterious about where I was going, but I saw a glint of gold as he delivered me to the men who were to take me south.

The sale also meant that I would be spared the ignominy of no man wanting to marry me. Not that it worried me, as unlike my older sisters, I had no feelings for men. When they had sought to engage me in gossip about handsome young men they would like to marry, I had stayed silent. I had seen the light in their eyes, and even smelt their scent; I liked that better than the idea of a man.

The journey across the Red Sea and down to Sheba had been uneventful - except for my discovering that I much preferred the dry land to the shaking of the sea. But my stomach righted itself, and as our caravan had approached the great city, my heart had beaten faster. It was only when I was delivered to the Palace and handed over to the head of the household of the Princess, Bilquis, that I had any inkling of my fate.

"You are to see the Princess as soon as we have prepared you. Come with me."

To be naked is a cause of shame, the Torah says so. To be naked in front of others is even more shameful.

As they bathed and touched my parts, it felt strange. I had always had a gift for tongues, and their language was similar to my own. I could pick out most of what was being said.

"Why this one?" One of the maids asked Bilquis.

"She had a vision, it seems," Bilquis replied.

"I'd prefer a vision of a handsome, virile man," the maid replied, giggling as she washed my thighs.

"That's cos you're a slut," her friend giggled.

"Quiet you two, finish her and prepare her. Our Mistress does not explain herself to the likes of you two."

After they had bathed me, they dressed me after their fashion. My tunic was diaphanous, and I feared immodest in the extreme; that was the Seban fashion. I was then taken to the Princess, who had looked at me from her bath and, after appraising me, came the invitation to dry her.

Princess Makeda looked at me with interest. As I dried her, she seemed to shiver:

"Am I not doing it correctly, Highness?"

"My girl, you are doing better than you know," she smiled.

Once dry, it was my task to help her into her clothing - a purple and more expensive version of what I was wearing. This, I was told, was for wearing in the palace, for external visits, something more modest was to be worn, but, so Bilquis told me, the Princess liked her women to show their charms, even as she showed hers to them - to us.

Afterwards Bilquis drew me to her side.

"Little Sara, you have done well."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said, genuinely glad that I had not messed things up. Drying Princesses was rather outside my usual run of work, which had consisted of helping Mama with the housework, cooking and mending.

Bilquis, who was several shades darker than the Princess, grinned at me, then she gave a laugh.

"Answer me a question, little one?"

"Anything," I stated.

"Oh be careful with that answer, little Sara, here in Sheba that might mean everything. Now to my question. Have you known a man?"

I felt myself blush.

"No, Mistress, I am a virgin."

"In which case, you will not mind submitting to my investigation, will you?"

I felt my face redden again, and knew there could be but one answer.

"No, Mistress."

She summoned one of the maids:

"You will make notes for the Princess on my findings."

To my utter embarrassment, I was told to strip - and found myself once more naked in front of two women.

"If you sit on the couch little one, I can examine you."

As I lay back, she put my legs in a stirrup-like contraption which opened my thighs and my private parts for her inspection.

Even as she did so, I heard another enter the room. Bilquis looked at whoever it was, and then back at me. I shivered as her finger inspected between my thighs, feeling all tingly as they parted my thin lips.

"You may record, slave, that she is a virgin."

Then I heard a voice from behind me.

"Good. Slave, Bilquis, leave us."

It was Makeda herself.

As the Princess looked at me, I felt again as I had moments before. Whatever that feeling was, it made my sex wetter, and it made me tingle there; I was seized with the desire to touch myself, but, of course, did not.

The Princess looked at me.

"I will be your first, Sara and you will be mine forever. Do you consent?"

My mind whirled at this saying. I was a slave, to all intents and purposes, she could do what she would with me, and I would have no say in the matter; yet that was what she was giving me.

The emotions surging through my body to my core made only one answer possible.

"Of course, your Highness, anything you desire."

"I was sure you would, my Sara, but know this, and know it well, that this bonding is entered into because you, too, wish it. I have seen you in visions, in the temple the goddess revealed it to me, and I had thought it a dream - then you were brought in."

With that, she removed my legs from the stirrups. She sat by me. Her eyes which were of the brightest green, looked deeply into mine: I knew; I felt it; I felt her.

"Sara, your name this lifetime, understand this, and if it is not what you want, I shall still richly reward you and send you back to Israel, so feel under no compulsion to please me. If a commitment is now made, I am told it will persist through countless ages. Because I have seen the vision, I will make that commitment, but only you can make it complete."

It felt more than passing strange to have the Princess herself say that I had power over her. How could that be? I was her slave, and I was hers. Then I saw the smile play on her lips.

"Stop, close your eyes, Sara and let us hold hands.'

I crossed my legs on the couch, she did the same and held my hands. She breathed on me, and the air darkened. In the darkness I sensed light before I could see it. I saw two women - beside still waters; in hot deserts; in sylvan glades where few ventured except them: I knew "them" - they were Makeda and myself. Then the kaleidoscope shifted, and there were others there, a smell of fire, unbearable pain; and then as it shifted, other visions I could not understand. I saw the Rowan tree and a wild thistle, and the one wound round the other; and they were one.

My mind reeled. Understanding it all would take an age, but I understood enough to know that the commitment was as serious an undertaking as Princess Makeda had said.

The air cleared and as we held hands I smiled back.

"I understand enough to consent, Mistress."

"That is all we need, my pet."

"Is that how it shall be?"

The words left my lips unbidden. Had I said too much? Was I saying the wrong thing? I made ready to excuse myself, but she put a finger to my lips.

"It shall be as the goddess wishes. It shall be revealed to us as we go on. But yes, I feel that this is how it shall be - but as we shape and craft it."

My heart, already yearning for her, finally went out to her, and understanding something, I knelt.

"There is no need," she said in a voice so soft and tender that had my heart not already melted, it would have.

"Need, no," I smiled, "desire to do so, yes."

She gently lifted me and kissed my lips. I lay back as bidden, still naked. Makeda pulled me to the edge of the couch and parted my legs. She kissed my wet sex, which made me sigh, my breath growing ragged as her broad tongue went up and down. When the tip of her tongue pressed my pearl upwards into the soft spongy place, involuntarily, by instincts, I lifted my legs as I moaned; she positioned them across her shoulders and using her hands, adjusted my position.

"You are beautiful, my pet. Your bottom is like a young peach, but fit to eat, to caress and devour."

Makeda's words sent thrills to parts of me I did not know existed. No one had called me beautiful. No one had praised my body. I had thought those lower parts of me were causes for shame. Women were unclean every month; we smelt; we needed to be purified. As for that tighter hole at the back, it had one use only.

But as the tip of Makeda's tongue teased me there, I realised it had another use, pleasure. I felt her thumb press where she had licked, and shameless wanton that I was, I pushed so she could part my star and push in. The moans I heard seemed to be mine, but they were of a woman breathing hard; it was me.

My hands reached to my puffy nipples, and I began to play with them, caressing my small breasts; that, too, sent signals to my core.

Then there was the softest of pains, a moment's hurt, before I felt something warm, wet, and slippery on my sex, pushing between my tight inner lips. My hands gripped my beasts more firmly, pulling at my nipples as the tingles grew in intensity. Then I felt her tongue on my pearl and my world exploded.

I was lost in time and space. I saw Makeda, but she was not called Makeda. I saw myself; I cried out in ecstasy: "Rowan!" And the Makeda who was Rowan called back" "Cynara." The ecstasy caused my body to spasm, and it was only as my head cleared that I realised I had done something awful. I had wet myself; the couch was soaked.

Makeda looked from between my thighs, her face wet.

"Oh, oh Makeda, I, I am sorry."

"For what my love?"

"I, I wet myself," I stuttered.

That made her laugh.

"My darling girl, that was not urine, though I should have had no objection had it been so, that was your womanly essence, which you gave me."

She climbed onto the couch and took me in her arms.

"When your body is aroused by love, it can reach a stage where in its ecstasy it squirts nectar to delight your lover. I have not known it so quick though, but I suppose, poor darling, with Bilquis examining and feeing your sex, and with its exposure to her and the slave, you must already have been triggered tight.

Makeda held me to her breasts, which, like mine, were small, but her nipples were hard, pointed, and dark red. I slipped my mouth over one of them. Then, as by instinct, I sucked. I felt her shudder; I felt her push against me; I heard her moan. She liked it. I intensified my sucking, pulsing, and then using my tongue to tease her. I heard her moan my name.

I slipped downwards as she lay next to me, one hand still kneading her breasts, the other helping to turn her onto her back. I kissed her taut tummy, licking around her navel before reaching her smooth, shaved mound. Then I copied what she had done.

Kneeling where she had knelt, I saw, and smelled, my juices on the couch, and I adjusted her position as she had mine.

Not once, not for the most micro of seconds did I think anything other than that this was what I wanted. It was as natural as breathing.

Adjusting her so that I could have access to her anus, her legs across my shoulders, I proceeded to worship her.

My tongue slid, slowly, down her crack until it reached her anus; lighter than her skin colour, I licked and kissed then tongued her star. I felt her tense and grip the couch.

"Sara! Sara! Oh, Yesssss."

Her voice trailed away into a stream of sibilants as she hissed her delight.

I wanted more.

My hands parted her cheeks and, making a tube of my tongue, I pushed at her backdoor - parting it. As I did that, my nose pushed into her wet sex, which made her quiver and shake and cry out. I felt her hands on my head as she ground herself against me.

We were like that for a time, and I felt her pressing against my forehead. It came to me.

Inserting my thumb where my tongue had been, she pressed easily into Makeda's muscle, and as my hand clenched, two fingers found their way inside; she felt warm, sticky, and utterly desirable, so my tongue lapped at the juices spilling from her. My fingers curled up. She moaned my name.

I found her pearl, swollen, bigger than mine, and so by desire and instinct, I sucked on it.

Makeda gripped me and made noises I had never heard before (but would come to know and love).

"Sara! Sara! Fuck me with your fingers, do it!"

I pressed in, my thumb in her anus giving my fingers some leverage. I could feel my thumb through the soft, fleshly wall that divided them from my fingers. She pressed against my face. One hand began to beat the couch. I sucked harder, clenching my hand, which stretched both her anus and pussy.

I felt her grip my fingers, her hands now in my hair, pushing me as I fingered her harder, faster, and deeper. I could hear her, smell her - and feel her. It was as though I could feel her reactions to what I was doing.

"I can't, can't, can't... noooooo!"

Her voice rose to a crescendo, and as she screamed my name, she squirted her essence into my face, shaking, screaming, and pressing me tightly to her. I lapped up all I could. Her spasms continued, and it was as though my licking send further signals to her core, and there was another squirt, a groan, and another spasm.

Her sex gripped and ungripped and then again gripped my fingers, but such was the force of the spasms that my thumb was expelled; my face felt slick with her juices. I felt sated, as though it was me who had experienced the ecstasy. Inside her, not just with my fingers, but with all of me, it was as though I could feel; no, not "as though," I could feel what she was feeling.

"What, what was that?" She pulled me up to her, my fingers slipping from her gooey wetness. "My pet, tell me, did you ever do that before?"

"Not ever, Mistress," said, honestly, not wanting her to think I was some courtesan.

"I can see it from your eyes. Oh, little one, it is YOU!"

She cuddled her to me, and as we lay together, she told me the strangest story.

That was the first telling. I laid down my pen, not knowing where I was any more. The sunlight streamed through the windows and the day was moving on. It was with a wrench that I pulled myself into it. Tonight I would see Rowan - with whom I had spent the night as Sara to her Makeda.