Sister Vixen Ch. 02: Torfrida

"Did you like what you saw, Torfrida?"

I looked into her eyes, which, to my delight, were misted with her lust for what we were going to do.

"I did." She bit her lip. "But, well, I don't know if...".

"I do," I said, "and don't tell me that being there at the birth did not stir something here," I said, pushing my hand up against her matted bush.

"It was just so... " and the words failed her as they did me. But it was as though something in the air made us want to mate too, even though we could not impregnate each other; it was animalistic in its primal instinct. I wanted Torfrida - and she wanted me.

Knowing that her mother and my stepmother would be fully occupied for some time, and that the rest of the household were busy at the wedding feast, I took Torfrida back to my chamber. I liked the way she followed my lead.

I slid the gown down her body, marvelling at her beauty. Her breasts were a good, firm handful, and she was slender as a willow.

"You are so beautiful my darling," I told her, feasting my eyes on her naked body.

"Thank you," she blushed. "Could, could I see you naked too?"

I grinned.

"Of course, help me off with my dress."

As she lifted my dress, I felt the cool air against my cunt, which felt hot and wet and tingly for her.

"Oh, Hild, I can't believe it is wrong to want this, to want you."

"Me, you like?"

She nodded. I sighed as I pressed myself against her, sucking on her left breast as my hands kneaded her sexy backside. I felt her melt against me, her knees too weak with passion to stand, so I helped her onto my couch.

I knew that, like me, she was a virgin, but that unlike me (if I had any say in the matter) she would be getting married, so I needed to respect her virginity; men valued that.

As I laid her back, I got between her open thighs and, parting her bushy lips, I licked carefully, but noted that she was already opened there.

"Do not worry, dearest, it was torn by accident, so you can do your worst - or best!"

Her words told me what I needed to know.

I moved the tip of my tongue along her wetness, just dipping in where her long lips protected her inner sanctum. I breathed with passion as I saw how wet she was for me, and to my delight, my breathing on her bud seemed to arouse her more. This, I thought, was something to repeat, so I did.

"Oh Hild, that feels so good."

I wanted her to feel "good," so did it again, even while I was licking two fingers to help enter her. She felt sticky and warm as I curled my fingers upwards, penetrating her. That made her cry out; I felt her clench my fingers. At that point, the tip of my tongue touched her bud, flicking her, pressing in her, as my fingers took her.

"Oh by the gods, Hild! What are you - oh, oh, I, oh, oh," and her voice trailed off into a series of moans, increasing in length and strength the more I licked and fucked her.

I twisted my fingers, pushing in, curling up, until I felt a patch of some different texture; pressing that seemed to arouse her even more.

She was now pushing herself down fast and hard, so fast that, accidentally, my left index finger brushed against her arsehole. That made her gasp. So, I thought, let's do more of that, as it was wet with the mixture of her juices and my saliva which had pooled there.

"I can't hold it, can't hold back, Hild!"

Nor could she. I felt her grip my fingers as her wetness squirted into my face. As she climaxed, I felt a huge wave of satisfaction course through me, and realised that I was having a kind of mini climax myself.

I looked up at her when we had both recovered.

"Hild, what was that? That was beyond anything I have known or imagined."

"That," I said, "was woman love."

"In which case," she grinned broadly, "can we love each other more?"

That would not, I told her, be hard, but I added a warning that it might be advisable for us to keep this to ourselves. She nodded.

"I have a feeling that the Church might not approve."

"What, pleasure, and women, how could that be?" I giggled as I hugged her.

Whether it was the pleasure, the wine, the elevated sense of consciousness, I know not, but even as I sought peace and sleep in her arms, I felt something come over me.

I knew I was sleeping, but I was in a waking dream, or so it seemed. I saw a red dragon, set upon from behind by a green one, and then a fierce fight in which the red dragon triumphed. Only, at that moment, a wolf gripped him by the neck and with the help of a pack of wolves, killed the red dragon and tore it to pieces; there was the sound of mourning. Then I saw the pack of wolves devour the dragon and his treasure, but they were looking for something which they could not find. I sensed it. I saw trees in the sea, but they were upside down, their roots growing, or so it seemed, in the air and sea. And there, there was what the wolves wanted, but they could not see it. And then I woke.

"Hild, what is it?"

Torfrida was holding me.

"A bad dream," I said, and snuggled in against her big breasts, trying to calm myself.

The following morning was a scene of disorder. The happy couple were still abed, and most of the guests were nursing sore heads. Leaving Torfrida sleeping, I set about organising the servants to clear things up, knowing how my darling stepmother would complain about the mess. By the time she and my father were awake, the hall at least looked as though someone had made an effort - not that Ora thanked me.

But it truth, I was troubled. I was still shaking, and so went to see Fr Cerdic. I told him what I had seen, but he went cold.

"Hild, have you been practising the old ways?"

"No, Father," I told him, honestly, offended at his comments.

"Well, this is an evil vision, Hild, you should confess and do penance."

I turned and left, too angry to talk.

What had I done? Nothing. What had I to confess? Well, I guess plenty, but if he thought I was going to tell him what Torfrida and I had done and ask for forgiveness, he could fuck off.

By the time I got back to the hall, Torfrida was up and about. She gave me a conspiratorial smile.

Excusing myself with the excuse I needed to clear my head with some exercise, I went deep into the woods. Perhaps the Wise Woman would know what I had seen? Whatever it was, it was haunting me.

I knew the woods better than I did the back of my hand, never having spent a moment looking at the latter, and spending half my life in the forest. As I had expected, the Wise Woman was making potions. She looked at me.

"I cannot explain it to you, if that is why you are here, Hild."

I felt pole axed. I started to ask a silly question, but stopped after I had uttered the word "how."

"Can you help?"

"I can give you something to relax your body and mind, that might open the gates again."

"If you could, I would be thankful."

She smiled her crooked, broken-toothed slightly scary smile.

"Don't be too sure my girl!"

"Are all your potions passed down to you in memory?"

"Now, they are, but there was a time..."

"A time?" I asked, puzzled, but scenting something I needed to know.

"Come in."

That was all she said.

Her cottage was dark, it was dirty, and it was full of herbs and potions. Rummaging through a pile of stuff, she pulled out a book. A book? I thought, here? Could she read? So few could.

"This came from my foremothers, but I cannot make it out. I have few letters, and besides, it is in a strange language."

I asked her to show me.

She seemed reluctant, but handed it to me.

It was heavy, it was not written on the vellum the monks used, but on a type of thick paper with which I was unfamiliar. The language was Latin. "De Materia Medica".

"Can you make it out?" She asked me.

"Yes, it is a book which sets out the medical uses of herbs and plants. How do you use it if you can't read?"

"I don't," she admitted, "but you can see from the marks the recipes which my foremothers marked out, and I know them by heart, passed down from generation to generation; but that will end with me."

"If you will brew that potion for me which you mentioned, perhaps I can help?

"Do you mean that?"

"I do."

"But why would you? You have a reputation as a wild thing. Do you read then?"

"Wild is a man's way of saying that I stand up for myself. I learned to read for the same reason. I want to learn your skills; they should not die out with you."

And that was where it began.

The potion she gave me certainly relaxed me, but I gained no more insights into my dream. But across the next months, I soaked up herbal lore like a cloth absorbing water, and it was not long before I was able to brew my own potions.

Torfrida was intrigued.

"There are rumours she is a witch - is she?"

She was lying in my arms at the time, so I kissed her and told her that was nonsense.

"But try this my love?" I said, handing her a phial of dark pink liquid.

"What is it?"

"If I told you it was Trigonella foenum-graecum," I giggled, "would that help?"

"You are funny sometimes, tell me," she asked in her best pleading voice. She knew how aroused I got when she submitted to me.

"It's a Greek seed which when roasted and ground and mixed with berries can intensify your climaxes, and," I added, "it's good when your time of the month is heavy."

"Sounds just what I need." Torfrida giggled, as she took the phial and drank it. "How long does it take to work?"

"How long do we have do you suppose?"

Elfrida and the servant had gone to market, and they were bound to spend time gossiping, and the men were doing whatever they did. Ora was with her boys, so I reckoned we had a good few hours. In truth, I had no idea whether the Greek seeds would have the effect the book said, but saw no reason not to try it out. It was the only way to know.

I mixed her a drink and then watched as she drank it.

"I can't feel any effect," she said, as I moved in, kissing her and lowering her gown down her shoulders to reveal her breasts, her nipples already stiff and ready for my lips.

"Now I can, it's you!" She said, as I began to suck.

Her breasts excited me. They were firm where I wanted them to be, but soft and yielding, rather like Torfrida herself.

I helped her out of her gown, stripping my own off as I laid her down on the couch, parting her matchless thighs. The sight of her like that sent waves of passion to my core. Whatever effect the drink might, or might not have, the prospect of drinking her nectar was driving me wild, and I threw myself into her sex. Who cared if my cheeks got red with the rubbing of her hair? I wanted her, urgently, and hard.

Pulling her legs over my shoulders, I devoured her. My fingers coaxed her wetness open, and my tongue flicked her bud, pushing it upwards before my lips sucked, at the very moment my three fingers penetrated her. She pushed onto my face shamelessly.

I loved it when my lady forgot to be a lady. Usually so sweet and formal, Torfrida unbound was a ravenous vixen, who needed me to take her hard and deep. That I did.

On instinct, as her wetness flowed and her cunt grew easier to fuck, I formed a little fist and pressed in up to my wrist. It was the right move. She bucked and clenched and gasped as though she could not get enough.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Hild, yes, don't stop, fuck me hard, take me!"

As my fist stretched her and made her gasp, my tongue lapped at her clit, while my free hand reached up to grab her breasts, only to feel her own hands were already there.

Together we stimulated her nipples, and, as I felt her tense, I moved my hand to grip her tight as she came for me. And when Torfrida came, it was like a rainstorm. I felt her grip my wrist as she gushed onto my face.

Sensing she was not done, I left my fist where it was as she calmed down, and then with a feather-light lick, teased her sensitive bud. Instead of calming, she once again began to moan.

"Fuck, no, no, I am not a slut, no!"

"You're my slut!" I told her.

That seemed to send her wild, and after a few twists of my fist, she came hard again. I stayed with her until I sensed she could cum no more; I counted six orgasms before we stopped.

Wet-faced and happy, I looked up as I slid my fist out.

"Oh, my, god, what was that!"

"Well," I giggled, "either I am even better than usual - or the drink intensified your reactions."

"Can I have a flagon of it every day?"

"We'd have to lock the men away," I joked, knowing that Torfrida's sexual tastes were more inclusive than my own.

"You are amazing," she said, "but now I need to give you something."

I looked at her.

"This," she said, pushing her knee between my thighs and pressing.

I must have cum at least twice, and in the end, it was only the anxiety about Ora's return that stopped us.

Further experimentation established that it was, indeed, the drink which intensified Torfrida's sexual pleasure, although, as she wisely commented, without the care and attention and love, the physical actions alone counted for little.

As anyone who has lived in a community will know, it is astonishing how swiftly word gets about, and within weeks, demand for what was called my "love potion" was high. Even my stepmother, Ora, wanted some. She claimed it helped her with my father's demands.

Torfrida and I had a marvellous, loving summer, but most good things come to an end, and with the autumn came her future - in the form of Hereward of Bourne.

The two had been betrothed two years previously, and we had both known that the time would come when he would come to claim her as his own. My one consolation was that she clearly adored him. I could see why.

His entourage entered the village, and in normal circumstances, it, and the standards carried, and the colour and martial prowess would have caught the attention; but it was Hereward who was the cynosure of every eye.

Tall, even for a Saxon, he was over six foot - well over. He wore his blonde hair long in the old fashion, and as Torfrida put it, he looked as though he had been modelled on the Norse god, Thor - not least because of his double-headed battle axe. He was broad-shouldered and muscled, but not muscle-bound. I would later see Greek statues, and they reminded me of him. But what struck one the most was his personality.

I have known many warriors across the years, and many of them were bold, bloody, and resolute, but about as much fun to be with as a sharp sword. Hereward was fun, that is not to say he set out to entertain or amuse, it was just the way he was. A natural leader of men, he inspired loyalty, and much as I loved Torfrida, I could no more begrudge him her love than I could stop loving her.

If Hereward made a huge impression, the other thing that struck me was the banner he carried - a red dragon! A shiver ran through me. Was my vision a portent of doom for him? Was there, somewhere, a lordling with a banner with a wolf on it who would kill Hereward? But there were too many uncertainties, and no further vision was granted me.

Torfrida's happiness was infectious, and somewhat to my own amazement, I even agreed to be a handmaid at their wedding, which was the cause of some amusement given the difference in height between myself and the groom.

The wedding was the great event of the year. The neighbouring Thegns all came, and as there always is when men gather, there were two sorts of comments - about the women, though most of them were wise enough not to comment on Torfrida in Hereward's presence, but earl Eric was not a man to keep his thoughts to himself. There were also comments about prowess, and Eric, well in his cups, asked Hereward if the size of his axe was commensurate with that of his private parts, or if the bride would be left disappointed?

Most men would have seen red and caused a fight, but Hereward was not most men.

"Well my lord Eric, will you not try my axe and show us your prowess?"

"Ha! Let me show you how it is done, and your bride will make her own decision."

I was looking at Torfrida, who was actually trying to suppress a laugh.

Eric swaggered over to Hereward, who, picking up the great axe with one hand, threw it to the earl. To be fair, Eric caught it, but that was part of the problem, he fell to the ground with it and struggled to rise. Once on his feet, strain as he would, he could not raise the axe, even with two hands.

"What?" Hereward laughed, "unable to get it up, earl Eric!"

The room erupted in laughter, and the earl, red-faced, shouted:

"It's a trick, no one can raise this bloody axe!"

Three of the other earls tried to raise it and failed before, laughing loudly, and looking back at Torfrida, Hereward stepped forward and raised the great axe. Then, in a display of axmanship unheard of, with one hand he sliced the air with it, whirling it around his head, before depositing it firmly in a great log.

"When you can do that, lord Eric, talk to me about prowess. And now, my bride and I will take our leave!"

The earl was looking daggers at Hereward, but he had brought this upon himself. That night would come to haunt us all.

Naturally, the great man took his new wife back to Bourne, and that left me somewhat bereft. Gyrtha's children took up some of my time, but, fearful still of my vision, I spent time perfecting my swordcraft. Some inner voice told me that the Wolf banner was coming. I would be prepared for it.