The Assassin and the Sorceress Ch. 06

I didn't know what I was doing, but he seemed fine with that. He showed me what position to take, his hands gently guiding my legs and my hips. I lay back, and he entered me. He filled me. He filled a cold, gaping emptiness that had been with me my whole life before that moment.

One thrust after another, the pleasure grew and grew. We grunted and sighed in unison. Very soon I learned the rhythm and began to move with him. I was getting near climax, and I could see it in his face that he was, too.

Then, he did something that dismayed me greatly. Suddenly, he pulled out of me. I almost felt violated by the sudden emptiness, the nothingness where there had once been something.

"No!" I protested.

He leaned over me, and with a few pumps of his fist, ejaculated onto my stomach. The warm globs hit my skin and stuck there, slowly oozing down. He looked at me, noticed my breathing and thrusting hips, and saw that I was still going.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't leave you like that," he said with a grin. He took his left hand and slid two fingers into my vagina where his penis should have been. It didn't escape me that this was the other hand than the one he had used to finish himself off with. He was being careful not to get any of his semen inside me. I couldn't begrudge him for too long, though. His fingers felt almost as good as his penis had. Within a few moments I was gasping in orgasm, too.

Once my orgasm had concluded, I let out a rush of air and collapsed back onto the rug, going limp. He could tell I was done, and slowly slid his fingers out of me. We made eye contact again and smiled at each other. I broke our deep gaze first. I ran my hand up my belly to collect the goo he had deposited there before it made a mess on his nice bearskin rug. I got up to a kneeling position and looked at the quivering, off-white substance. So that was semen. I had never seen it before, but the mystique was lost very quickly. I looked up at him with a disgusted and unsure look, as if to ask 'What do I do with this?'

He pantomimed flicking it into the fire, so I did just that. We shared a chuckle as it sizzled and turned to ash. I found one of my stockings and wiped the remains on its leg, where my skirt would safely cover it. We hugged each other again, letting our bare bodies rub together intimately.

"I love you, Joseph," I whispered into his ear, awaiting his reply with a smile.

"You're a wonderful girl, Morgana. You deserved that."

Something about his response seemed unsatisfying. It was good to finally have somebody care about my feelings, about what I deserved as a human being, so why didn't that answer please me? I looked at him, quizzically, unsure of what to say next.

"How's your tongue?" he asked with a silly smile, finally breaking the awkward silence. I couldn't contain myself. I looked away from him and laughed.

"My tongue is fine!" I said, slapping his bare chest in mock annoyance, laughing. He got up and started to get dressed.

"Put your clothes back on," he said once he was fully dressed and I was still nude. I didn't feel like putting my clothes on just yet. I wanted him to lay with me a while longer, maybe all night. I sat back down, naked, on the bearskin and looked at him in a deliberate and adamant boycott of putting my clothes back on.

"It's getting late. Your mother might be wondering where you are."

"God, my mother..." I replied, with intentional disgust. "She wouldn't care if I died. At worst, I'd just be giving her false hope if I didn't come home tonight."

Joseph looked at her with a concerned face. "Oh, come on. You know that's not true. She's harsh, and Lord do we all know that. But don't you think she's trying to do what she thinks is best for you?" He sat down beside me again, not seeming to care about my nakedness. He put his arm around my shoulder. I felt his shirt against me, wishing it was his skin instead.

"Not really. She thinks I'm going to hell. And not anything like 'You'll go to hell if you don't be good.' No, she tells me 'You ARE going to hell.' No way around it. Too late! God won't forgive me anymore. I've been too bad for redemption. I'm a lost cause to God himself, so why should my own mother care about me?"

I laughed, nervously, not because anything was funny at all. It wasn't. No, I laughed because of the hopelessness of it all. Whether or not God had given up on me, if he even existed, my mother certainly had.

"Maybe she's just trying to scare you straight. Okay, so maybe her idea of what's best for you is a bit off, but you can't honestly believe she doesn't love you."

Tears were coming from my eyes again, but it was a silent cry, less desperate than before. "You don't know her like I do. You used to see her every Sunday after church. I have to live with her. There's nothing in this whole world she loves. Nothing and nobody. She's miserable. She's been miserable her whole life, and the only thing she wants anymore is to make everyone as miserable as her."

"Give her a chance. If you won't do it for her or for yourself, do it for me. I want to see your family happy together. I know you're miserable. You've been waiting your whole life for somebody to finally love you unconditionally, but guess what? I think she has too! And she's lived a lot longer than you have. Morgana, that's going to be you in the future if you don't learn to forgive the people that have wronged you. Instead of waiting for her to finally love you, maybe you could offer to love her. Somebody has to be the one to do it first, and you are still young and full of hope, full of potential. Go home to her. You had a bad thing happen to you today. Maybe she's heard about it. Maybe she's worried about you. Go home and let her know that you're okay."

I knew he was wrong, but he was being sincere. I couldn't fault him for that, so I decided not to argue with him. "Okay, maybe," I agreed. I still didn't want to move, didn't want to get dressed.

"Besides," he continued, "it's getting late and my parents will be home soon. I definitely WILL be in trouble if my parents find me with you here, all sky-clad like that. Please, Morgana. We can talk more about this later. We can talk about anything you want. I promise."

"Okay," I agreed. I reluctantly got up and put my clothes back on. He saw me to the door. I looked at him one more time. "Thank you, Joseph. I... I love you."

He nodded. "Good night, Morgana. Stay warm."

***

I got home to find my mother sitting in the rocking chair in front of the fire. Father didn't seem to be home, but that wasn't unusual. I shut the door behind me, intending to retreat to my room.

Instead, I remembered what Joseph had told me. I stood there for a full minute, silently staring at my mother's turned back. What if Joseph had been right? Well, at least I would be able to prove him wrong if I gave it a try. An honest try, though.

"Hello, Mother," I said quietly.

"Hmm," was her only response.

I stood there for a moment, trying to think of anything to say to her. It suddenly seemed colder in here than outside, as I tried to connect to a mother who hated me.

"Ah, Mother?" I asked at long last.

"What, girl?" she asked, annoyed. She didn't turn her head to look at me. She must have thought I was only talking to her because I wanted something from her.

"Um... I'm home now," was all I could think of to say.

"I'm not deaf, I heard you enter. Is there a reason you're pestering me?"

"No, not really."

She gave no response. For a second, I thought I heard her gnashing her teeth under the soft roar of the fire.

"Good night, Mother," I said as I turned to go up the stairs to my bedroom. She scoffed, but said nothing else. Well, that hadn't helped at all. She was just as cold to me as ever, but I hadn't done it for her or even for myself. I had done it for Joseph.

***

For weeks after that, Joseph was all I could think about. All of my fantasies were about him now. Unfortunately, we did not repeat that wonderful experience we shared in front of his hearth again. I approached him several times in the following months, asking him when we could make love again, but he seemed to be avoiding the question. He was nice to me; he treated me as a good friend, but that was all he seemed to be treating me as. It distressed me, I admit, but I tried to keep my faith in him.

Eventually, when I asked about us not far from his other friends, he asked me to please try to keep secret what we had done. It hurt me. I wondered why he wanted to deny our love to everyone else. He seemed very attentive at church, so maybe he just saw himself as a 'good Christian,' and he was ashamed of having made love to me outside of wedlock. It certainly hadn't seemed like his first time performing the act of love, but I didn't begrudge him that. Once we were married, we could make love all we wanted and we wouldn't have to keep anything secret. I supposed I could wait for that.

It was later that summer when my true life-changing event happened. I was twenty years old by then. Joseph still hadn't openly professed his love for me. I was getting frustrated waiting, but I refused to give up hope.

On this early August morning, we had just finished breakfast, when my mother told me she would be away for several hours at the markets.

"Morgana! Where are you?" she shouted from the bottom floor.

"In my room!" I shouted back.

"Morgana! Where are you, you useless girl?" she screamed again.

"IN MY ROOM!" I screamed again, almost at the top of my lungs this time.

I heard purposeful footsteps up the staircase, which was the only warning I had before my bedroom door flew open. She was never in the habit of knocking, but neither was she in the habit of graceful footfall, so I always had a few seconds notice to throw my skirt back down if need be. She had never caught me. This particular time, however, I had just been laying back thinking deep thoughts.

"Get up, girl. No sleeping. I'm going off to the market to buy some things. I might be back by noon. The floor is filthy! If it isn't clean when I get back, so help me, I'll cut off your lazy hands. If you see your drunkard father, tell him I said to help."

"He's at the stables, Mother, like he is this time every morning."

"I didn't ask you where he was, child! I told you to get up off your backside and make this house less disgraceful than it already is!"

At this point, she grabbed me by my hair, forced me up from my straw bed, and practically threw me at the broom. I didn't resist too much, because I was actually glad to have her depart for the market. This meant one thing to me: alone time!

As commanded, I began sweeping the upstairs floor. I waited a few minutes in case she returned suddenly for something she had forgotten. Now I finally had the house to myself for several good hours. The day was already warm, and doing chores would have made me even hotter before I had finished. With a sly grin on my face, I closed all the shutters. With nobody left to see me, I threw all my clothes off and continued sweeping entirely in the nude. If I had to do chores all by myself, I figured, I might as well have a little fun while I was doing them.

I had always been a secret nudist. Walking around naked had always been arousing for me, but even more so after my sexual awakening with Joseph. Sometimes I'd do it in the house when I was alone, but more often I'd do it in the woods during my regular excursions away from human society. When I was more than a few miles out of town, there was nobody else at all. On some of my longer excursions, and when I was feeling brave, I would leave my clothes someplace and continue on, sometimes for miles.

I was only caught one time in all those years. It was a lone huntsman I thankfully didn't recognize, probably not from Ash anyway. He caught me off guard, but I thought quickly. I pretended to be a wood nymph and spoke to him in a made-up language, using exaggerated and flowing gestures with my speech. I think I convinced him. At first he only seemed concerned for me. He asked if I was lost, if I had been robbed, if I was all right in the head. He actually did buy the wood nymph act eventually, because there were myths of such creatures living in these woods. He tried to communicate with me. I learned a few words of English and he learned a few of 'wood nymph.' Perhaps he still suspected I was playing a game, because he threw me a blanket to cover myself with before he finally rode off.

One time, I gave myself a scare when I almost couldn't find the spot where I had stashed my clothes. I searched for over two hours before I came upon my clothes. The thought of having to return to town with no clothes scared me enough that I made sure to use the same hiding spot each time after that.

By the time I was finished sweeping the house, my vulva was already starting to get damp. Just the sensation of no clothes against my skin did that for me. I decided it was time to take a short break. Besides, once I started on the scrubbing, my hands would get dirty enough to make me squeamish about touching my vagina with them. Now was a convenient time to pleasure myself.

I could have gone up to my bedroom for that, but I decided to do the deed where I was, on the bottom floor. It felt naughtier that way, being in sight of the kitchen and pantry and such. Standing in the middle of our single downstairs room, I started by simply rubbing my hands all over my bare skin. I loved the feel of my skin, and my skin loved to be touched. Up and down my sides and my front, I caressed my skin, feeling its silky smoothness, fingertips tickling my belly and my breasts with such exciting sensations. I was breathing slowly but deeply.

Before long, my breasts were getting most of the attention. I circled my hands around, kneading the soft, sensitive flesh with my fingers. Finally, my fingers closed around my nipples. Have I mentioned that I absolutely loved my nipples? I could play with mine for hours! I'd pinch them, twist them, pull on them, rub them against objects; sometimes I'd tie strings to them and give them a yank, or let the heavy lid of my trunk rest on them and pretend they were stuck in there. Oh god, but I loved to pull on them, and I could pull them HARD! My breasts were small but tough, so I could pull as hard as I wanted without much pain. My grip on them was usually the first thing to give.

This time, in the kitchen, I gave them a good pull like I usually did. I pulled and held it, savoring the tension I felt on my breasts and the pinch of my fingers. My vulva was dripping now, and aching with hot desire. Not wanting to let go of my nipples, I clenched my thighs together to give myself at least some stimulation down there.

Finally, I couldn't wait any longer. I let go of my nipples and slid my right hand down. I ran the fingers of my right hand down my pubic hair, down the slit, and under and between my thighs. I was still standing, so after rubbing for a minute I rested my other hand on a chair back to steady myself.

I was thinking about Joseph again, remembering the pleasures his penis had given me that time. Suddenly, my fingers seemed so inadequate for the job. Halfway to orgasm and in no mood for inhibition, I looked around the room for something to insert into my womanhood. I looked at the broom handle, but that would have been awkward to handle, not to mention the unappealing thought of getting splinters in my vagina. Ouch! Then I remembered. There was a bundle of carrots in the pantry, already cut and washed. I walked over there and grabbed one without hesitation. I gave it one quick look around for anything I wouldn't want inside me, but it was clean. I lifted one leg up onto the dinner table and pushed it into my vagina. It felt good!

"Oh, Joseph," I muttered under my breath as I remembered how his penis had felt in me, how whole I had felt. I recalled how, as his penis penetrated deep into my body, his eyes penetrated deep into my soul. He was in me; he was part of me! I missed him, but right then in the depth of my fantasy he didn't feel so far away.

All of a sudden, the front door flew open. It was my mother! I shrieked, trying to cover myself. The carrot fell to the floor. I retreated behind the dinner table as best I could. It was still early in the morning, how had she returned so soon?

My mother stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. It seemed like an eternity that we stood there staring at each other. I had no idea what to do or what to say. It was her that broke the stalemate. Her look of shock vanished, replaced by a look of wrath so bad I had rarely seen it even in her.

"You... what in God's name are you doing? Where are your clothes? What is that... that... carrot doing on the floor? Oh, no, NO! You little SLUT! I leave you here for an hour, and you degenerate into... THIS!"

She marched forcefully around the table and grabbed me by the hair, forcing me up. She slapped me with her free hand.

"What you were just doing is a worse sin than I thought even a wretch like you could commit! It's sick, just sick! You're diseased, touched by the devil!"

She continued slapping me. Suddenly, the task of covering my breasts seemed less important. I brought my hands in front of my face in an attempt to defend myself from her attacks.

"God will have to make the fires of hell even hotter just for you, because of this perversion! You're damned! An abomination like you shouldn't even be alive!"

My forearms were absorbing the force of most of her slaps. Not to be defeated, she closed her fist and hit me square in the face. I screamed and fell to the floor. She kicked me in the stomach, then in the face. I rolled away from a third kick. I scrambled across the floor on my hands away from her towards the stairs. Had I been thinking I would have gone for the front door, but for some reason all I could think about was getting to the clothes I had left by my bed, as if they would protect me from her.

She grabbed the broom I had left lying on the floor and swung it at me. Luckily, only the straw end hit me, though it still made me stagger. I still made it onto my feet at long last and bolted up the stairs. I got to my room and threw on the gown I had been wearing that morning, then my stockings and boots, not bothering to tie anything.

She was in the doorway. She had grabbed the iron fire poker from next to the hearth! I almost fainted when I saw it! Thankfully, my body seemed to know this was not a good time to faint.

"You... WHORE!"

She raised it behind her head and swung it at me like a sword. It hit me on the left side, and pain immediately shot up where she had hit me.

"MOTHER, PLEASE! STOP!" I wasn't even crying. I was too terrified to cry. Every instinct in my body was now dedicated to the single goal of getting away from her.

She ignored my plea. She swung from the other direction, aiming for my face. Was she trying to kill me? I put my hands up, feeling the heavy iron smash against my right forearm. She raised the poker up above her head, this time in both hands.

Suddenly, the world seemed to stand still. There was no fear anymore, only purpose. There was no more thought, only action. The poker lowered slowly towards me with steady but unstoppable momentum, cutting the air it passed through. I was sitting on my bed. I found myself rolling backwards across my bed, away from the attack. I was looking at the far wall now, but I could feel wind against me for a moment, probably as the poker moved past me.

Next, I felt my knees hit the floor on the opposite side of the bed. The mattress shook under my chest as the poker collided with it. I was on my feet. My hands reached for something, anything. They found my pillow. Though I don't recall telling it to, my hand threw the pillow at her face. It didn't seem to hurt her, though its bulk blocked her vision for a moment.