Dans le Tonnelle de Mebh

She looked to where she joined with the statue, and saw that she only had the crown inside her. She felt stretched beyond repair, but still had what seemed miles to go. The sight of the smooth black cock impaling her soft pink body drove her lust even higher, and her sheath became even wetter, causing her to sink further onto the shaft. this caused a greater pressure still, one even sharper than before. Rowan realized that she'd have to take the plunge and force the marble into her womb.

Just then, a warm breeze stirred against her flesh, caressing ultra-sensitive nipples; it caused her hair to brush her buttocks, creating exquisite pleasure to shudder through her.

All sound had bled from the wood earlier with the light of the dying day; now, she could hear the subtle lap of water in the pool, the soughing of that playful breeze through the leaves. The pleasure she was feeling seduced her into forgetting the discomfort, and so she relaxed as much as she could and then rammed her weeping womanhood down, to the base of the pillar of rock below her. The shocking pain as the marble tore through her hymen caused Rowan to arch her back and scream to the sky.

As her shock wore away, she became aware of soothing whispers and soft touches against her back, shoulders, legs and buttocks. She looked down, into eyes and a face that were no longer imperfect but warm marble, nor cold but perfect flesh, but some pleasing combination of both.

Niall, her betrothed, was hugging her, tears in his eyes.

Incredulity replaced some of the pleasure and most of the pain. She could feel his penis, still hard, but not rigid any longer. It was warmer, too, and it twitched inside her! She gradually became aware of his whispered words.

"Thank you, Rowan. I knew you were the one to free me! Thank you, my love, for you courage and generosity. I love you."

Niall couldn't believe he was free of the curse at last. He looked in wonder at the girl impaled on his rod, and knew he'd do anything for her, cherish her until the world ended. He was utterly enchanted.

He began to move inside her, thrusting his hips and reveling in the sensations. Her passage was incredibly tight, and hot cream lubricated his cock making it easier to forge his way into her womb.

Rowan's eyes widened as she felt Niall begin to move inside her. The joy in his face infected her as well; she threw her head back, and rocked her hips against his pelvis. He grasped her hips with strong fingers, timing his plunges so that her clitoris hit his pubic bone with each collision of their bodies.

He loved the noises she was making: the little moans, hitching breaths, and once a small scream, were arousing him as much as the friction on his sex.

Rowan felt the pressure building deep in her womb, but wasn't sure what it meant. She thrilled at the knowledge that her body was being ravished – and that she was enjoying it!

Her sense of urgency suddenly increased. There was a fire burning brightly deep between her legs, and in her heart. Niall's face took on the slightly cruel look of a male reaching for his own completion. She felt his cock get impossibly harder, and just as she felt as if she was breaking into bright shards and flying toward the sun, Niall's climax came over him; she felt the hot spurts of seed shooting into her womb.

Her scream of satisfaction was still echoing in the air when he pulled her down to rest on his shoulder. Their breath mingled with several languorous kisses, whispered praise and thanks, and soft laughter.

After a short time, she felt Niall slip into a light sleep, his muscles completely slack, and his familiar, yet somehow different, face peaceful.

The longer Niall slept, though, the more time Rowan had to think, and her thoughts just kept whirling in a confused jumble. 'What must he think of me when he wakes?' she thought. 'I'm a wanton! He'll repudiate me, now. As well he should..."

She began to dread the reckoning she knew she must face, not knowing how to explain her actions. Her stomach churned, and she realized she might lose him; she felt tears fill her eyes.

'Which is ridiculous,' she mused. 'After all, I'm merely the wanton whore who spent her virgin's blood fornicating with a marble statue in the woods. He is that marble statue!' At that thought, she figured that explanations were due from both sides.

Her thoughts quieted as she felt him stir.

Niall opened his eyes slowly, fearing that the past hour had been a dream, that he was still locked in his own eternal hell. He felt Rowan breath deeply beside him, felt her soft breast and still turgid nipple brush his side; he was overjoyed.

Then she sat up and drew on her shift, and Niall regretfully watched her gorgeous flesh being covered, knowing they'd never converse if she stayed naked, and knowing that converse they must.

For the first time he worried about her reaction. He'd just found her, and he was determined not to lose her – she was his salvation.

Rowan pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. "Who goes first?" she asked.

He smiled at her, and she marveled over the difference between the cold man she'd first met and this man, her lover.

"You don't have to explain anything, my heart," he said. "But you must have questions."

She shrugged, and somewhat sheepishly replied that she was, indeed, curious. So he began the long tale, sparing himself nothing in the retelling.

"But you never asked her to marry you?" she asked when he was done, her mind reeling with the incredible story.

"No. I was already betrothed. I wasn't free to ask, and anyway, I wasn't interested in marrying her." He grimaced at this point, and continued slowly.

"To my shame, I treated her cruelly, and she took her own life. With her last breath, she cursed me. I have lived a long time, but until you, I could not achieve atonement."

Rowan blushed, and whispered through her shame. "I understand that there couldn't be many maidens who would wantonly fornicate with a statue in the woods."

Niall sucked in a breath, amazed that she was feeling diminished while he was so overwhelmed with gratitude and love for her.

"Rowan, my love," he said as he knelt in front of her. "Don't you understand? If not for you, I'd still be locked in eternal damnation. I waited innumerable lifetimes for you: only you. The curse would not have been broken if I could not love you back, don't you see?"

Then he chuckled ruefully. "Besides, statue-fornicating ladies are not as thin on the ground as one might suppose!"

Rowan was put to the blush as he recalled three separate occasions when his marble self was used most vigorously. By the end of the telling, she was laughing along with him, more secure with herself and this new love.

Then, still kneeling in front of her, and reassured by her sparkling eyes, Niall asked a most important question, holding his breath while she answered.

"Rowan, knowing my story, my past, will you still make me the happiest of men?"

She reached out, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and cradled his head against her breast. "I would be honoured, my lord," she whispered.

As his arms snaked around her hips to draw her closer, he felt a change in the air. They both froze in that position as the wind brought a tinkling laughter playing through the sighing leaves. The sound was otherworldly, hauntingly innocent and sensual at the same time.

A light, faint and sparkling, shone between the trees by the pool. From this light strolled a slender blonde-haired woman, frighteningly beautiful.

"Congratulations, my mortal friend," she said. "You have, at long last, broken your curse!"

She looked at Rowan with a wicked twinkle in her eyes. "And you, child. What think you of my ladies, in yonder pond? Delicious, aren't they?" Without waiting for an answer from the blushing girl, she turned to Niall again.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You were not cruel to that maid; you were merely thoughtless, as a lad is wont to be. You have a second chance with this sweet morsel, and I have faith in you. I predict a long, pleasurable life together for you both."

She turned and walked gracefully back into the woods, taking the sparkling light with her, leaving the two mortals to greet the dawn together. At the very last moment, the wind seemed to sigh an order: "Do not forget your promise, my mortal son."

And so they did. They were blessed with three beautiful and healthy children; Hendry and Geoffrey were precocious, but fiercely protective of their younger sister, Maeve, who was dutifully and joyously named for a certain naughty Lady. There was much happiness in Niall and Rowans' life, but also a little sorrow – enough to make the joy sweeter.

One such sorrow was the loss of Rowan's father not even a sennight after her wedding. Sir Geoffrey caught Bettina plotting against his daughter, describing in some detail the sexual humiliations she would suffer at Bettina's hands. Of course, almost as grievous, she was plotting this as the smithy's apprentice was heaving his heavy cock into Bettina's ass, pulling her hair for leverage.

She saw Geoffrey just as she climaxed; even though she knew this could only end badly for her, his voyeurism added a little fillip to her pleasure.

He stepped forward and plunged his sword through Connor's chest, no emotion on his face. Connor died with his intense orgasm still befuddling his brain. Bettina screamed, fearful now. She tried to use her wiles, but they had no effect – nor tears, nor pleadings for mercy.

Geoffrey, his heart breaking, picked Bettina up and shoved her into the smithy's fire. He watched her burn in silence, her screams terrible enough. The smell of burning flesh made him vomit, and as he leaned over, Bettina reached out – her dying action - and placed her hand almost lovingly on Geoffrey's head: a hellish benediction.

His hair burst into flame, but instead of trying to snuff it, Geoffrey let it burn. His daughter was wed, his lover was dead; he died, not quite at peace, but satisfied nonetheless.

Rowan mourned the loss of her father, and chose only to recall the good memories of him. Bettina she didn't mourn at all.

Once each year, she and Niall would travel to a certain clearing in a certain wood, and there they would celebrate their union by making love in the sparkling air. And it was there, many happy years later, that they lay for the last time, together in the night.

A glowing figure drifted toward them, beckoning.

Rowan looked at Niall with deep love, and with great empathy, granted him leave to follow the Lady at long last.

"We will not be apart for long, my love," she said. "But you are weary, and have earned this long-awaited rest."

Niall smiled at her, his eyes memorizing her beloved features. She carried her cares on her face now, but was still beautiful as ever to him.

"I am weary," he whispered, his voice cracking, "but I don't wish to part from you. You are my soul."

Rowan had not wanted to weep in front of him, on this their last anniversary, but her eyes filled anyway. "I don't want to part, either, my love."

A third voice chimed in, remembered with both love and trepidation. "You shall neither part from the other. I am come for you both."

Rowan and Niall saw Mebh, as young and beautiful as she'd been those many years before.

Overjoyed that they would never be apart, they clasped each other close on the stone alter, as close in death as in life.