The Wicked Tower Pt. 05

"How did you find me?" Merope was frozen on her hands and knees, a rag in her hand. All her muscles tensed and the hairs stood on the back of her neck.

"Your husband sent me. Such a sweet man, Nicias. He offered that I punish him instead of you. But I have no punishment planned." Brynhild stood over the woman, admiring the swell of her backside under her dark and ragged stola. It had been years and years since Brynhild had taken a woman. Her work had not required it. But, the sorceress reminded herself, life didn't have to be all work. "Come with me." She gestured to the door.

Merope stayed frozen on her hands and knees looking at the tall woman's shadow as it fell in front of her. "I thought there was to be no punishment, mistress."

"I have in mind the opposite of torture. Come now, off your knees. There will be plenty of that later." Brynhild reached down with her left hand and brushed the woman's dark hair to the side. Her pale fingers closed gently on the exposed, olive skin of Merope's neck. She could see the scullery servant relax at her touch. Gently, she brought the woman to a standing position. "There now, doesn't that feel better? If anyone asks us in the halls, you are coming to fetch my dishes."

"Yes." Merope nodded, but looked up at the platinum haired woman with wide eyes. That heat she'd tried to forget from the night before had returned at Brynhild's touch. And with it came that hunger again. She was inexplicably wet between the legs. It was not unlike how she got when Nicias had the urge to take her. But more so. Confusion clouded her thoughts.

"Well, come then." Brynhild chanced dropping her hand. She couldn't very well lead the woman back to her chambers while holding her. That would certainly arouse the interest of any passing servant. But the small woman complied meekly enough and together they walked through the castle in silence. They ran into no one on their way.

When they were in Brynhild's chamber, Brynhild conjured her ball of light and sat at the edge of her bed. She redirected Merope from the dishes on the table and beckoned her to stand by the bed. "There now. Clothes off, dear. I would like to see what I bought with our accidental touch."

"I ... I ... cannot disrobe for you." Merope stood with her hands by her sides, her mouth hanging open in surprise. She had been promised no punishment. Was she not there to fetch the dishes? "My body is the forbidden vine for my husband to drink as wine. I will forgo the passing bee that tries to pollinate me."

"Oh, how quaint. Was that from your wedding?"

Merope nodded.

"Well, I cannot pollinate you, Merope. I have not the equipment. So, you are quite safe." Brynhild loosened her cloak and let it fall back onto the sheets. She now wore only her ill-fitting, borrowed stola. "Now be a good young woman, and remove your dress." She pushed these last words harder into Merope's mind. The sorceress had wanted to avoid muddling the waters with other magic, so that she might see what the dust was capable of on its own. But, alas, she didn't have all day.

"Okay." Merope lifted the stola with both arms over her head. She wiggled her hips back and forth as she did this to get the thing off. She was not wearing a chest band and she could see the sorceress's steel-blue eyes fall to her breasts. Merope covered her boobs with her arms on instinct. She stood in the middle of the chilly room with only her underwear on. She hoped that she hadn't stained the linen with her strange excitement.

"Oh, you have lovely breasts. Certainly, paler than the rest of you. And your nipples are so dark. Don't be bashful, let me see them again." Brynhild saw that the woman had no intention of complying, so she leaned forward and caressed Merope's thin arm. The scullery servant sucked in her breath with the touch, and her chest heaved. After a minute's touch, Merope's arms fell, exposing herself. "There now, they are lovely. Those hanging globes look quite big on you, but they would be small on me. Maybe about the size of my old breasts." Brynhild saw Merope's eyebrows raise in puzzlement. "Oh, yes. I am not the woman I used to be. That doesn't concern you, though." Brynhild pulled Merope's arms downward until the woman fell to her knees before her. "Tell me what you make of my touch." She let go of the woman and spread her legs, lifting the stola to her hips. She had not worn underwear for the occasion and could see the woman's dark eyes fixed on her triangle of blond hair.

"It is warm, and sweet, and I ... I ..." Merope still did not grasp what was expected of her. The sorceress was right, she had not the equipment for pollination. What did she want with Merope? "I would like you to touch me again, please." The words came out of Merope unbidden.

"Come closer so that I might touch you." Brynhild leaned back on her right hand. Her left hand hung tantalizingly in the air. The ball of light glinted off Merope's pretty eyes.

"Okay." Merope scooted on her knees a little closer. That long, pale arm reached out to her, the hand wrapped around the back of her neck again, and she felt herself pulled between the woman's legs. Her nostrils flared. The scent of another woman hit her for the first time. It was pungent and pleasant, she decided. A little more pulling and her face met the sorceress's vagina. Merope pressed her lips together tightly, still confused.

"Open your mouth, Merope," Brynhild cooed. She did not push any of her words. She did not think she needed to. "Taste me."

Merope shook her head, but couldn't move away with the hand holding her and the warmth spreading into her from her neck.

"Are you worried about sweet Nicias? I am not a bee, remember?" Brynhild watched what she could see of Merope's face as her pupils dilated and the creases in her forehead smoothed. "You may do this and keep your marriage intact. Fear not."

Tentatively, Merope parted her lips. Her tongue darted out and she touched the sorceress's nether lips with the tip. She wasn't sure that Brynhild was right. This seemed like something Nicias would find upsetting. But the hunger welled in her and she couldn't make sense of her thoughts. She lapped at the vagina before her. It tasted better than she would have guessed. Tangy and salty and just a little sweet. Soon, her tongue delved between the vertical lips with each lick, seeking to drink as much of the sorceress as she could.

"Oh. Careful. I am not a feeding trough. Be a little more gentle." With her grip on the woman's neck, she guided her movements. "That's better. Ahhhhhhh. Yes ... that's good. Now ... try sucking on the lips. No, no, no. Gentle ... no teeth ... yes ... there ... and now ... my button. Yes ... ooooohhhhhhhh ... you're learning. Yeeeeeesssssssssss." Brynhild pressed the woman's mouth onto her clitoris and relinquished to her orgasm.

Stunned, Merope kept at her work. She could feel the woman's strong thighs shake on either side of her head. She looked up to see the great swell of Brynhild's bust tremble under her stola. Merope had never felt more in control of another person. And, at the same time, she had never been more under another's power. She rubbed her own thighs together and a funny, fuzzy feeling built in her belly.

"Good ... good ..." Brynhild's apogee passed and she pulled the woman into her lap. "Your enthusiasm is quite something." She moved the soaked underwear off Merope. The naked woman was now trembling with excitement in her lap. Brynhild kissed her, enjoying her own taste on the servant's lips. She could feel Merope melt into her, their breasts pressed together with the stola between them. Their tongues danced for some time, hands roaming all over their bodies.

Nicias had never shown Merope what the joys of physical pleasure could be. As she kissed another woman for the first time, Merope felt a kind of anger toward her husband. Why had he not treated her the way this woman did? Soon, she found herself turning around on top of Brynhild, and her face was now confronted with that waiting vagina again. She knew what to do, and nibbled at those lips. But then she screamed out as the sorceress's tongue found her own secret places. She felt hands squeeze her butt, the warmth flowing through her left cheek. "Eeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii." Seized by her first orgasm, Merope knew that a door to a whole new world had opened to her. She spent hours on top of the sorceress, as they feasted on each other. The orgasms were like waves in a tempest, one crashing down on the next and on the next.

Eventually, Brynhild pushed Merope off her and ordered the woman to dress. She lay on her side, watching that ripe, womanly body disappear under her stola. "Would you like to visit again, Merope?"

Merope shook her head quickly, put on her sandals, and headed for the door.

"Well, think on it, dear." Brynhild smiled at the servant even though the dark woman wouldn't meet her eye. "Oh, and don't forget the dishes." She watched as the flustered Merope hurried to the table, gathered the dishes, and sped away as fast as she could. With a flick of her left index finger, Brynhild extinguished the light. Dusk had settled outside. The sorceress moved her head to her pillow and shut her eyes.

~~

The screech of a monkey caused Naevia to spin in the seamstress's shop. The small furry creature jumped into Naevia's arms just as her measurements were completed. It tugged at her chest band, and then seemed to calm and nuzzled its face into her bare upper chest.

"Is this your monkey?" Naevia said to the seamstress. The animal seemed to purr into her skin.

"What? No!" The seamstress, alarmed, moved toward Naevia. "Shoo, shoo." She waved a cloth at the monkey.

"Wait. It isn't harming anyone." Naevia folded her arms around it. "Leave it be."

"Well, then it shall be welcome in my shop."

A few minutes later, Vel spotted his sister reentering the busy street. He popped a date into his mouth and ambled over to her. "You know you have a monkey on your shoulder?"

"Yes. Isn't he sweet?" Naevia reached up and patted its head. "I think I'll call him Mercury."

"You're naming him?" Vel handed her a date, but the monkey took it before she could and shoved it in its toothy mouth. "It's your baby now?"

"Our baby, Your Grace." Naevia laughed. "He has your looks."

"And your brains." Vel handed her another date and it made it to his sister's hand this time.

"I noticed. He's a smart little thing." Naevia's laugh was drowned out by the grunting of camels, the shouting of vendors, and the squeak of old, wooden wheels. She put the date in her mouth and savored its sweetness. "I'm to come back tomorrow for new clothes." The monkey jumped from her arms and scurried away, quickly lost in traffic. "Mercury? Come back."

"He'll be alright." Vel took her hand. He was about to lead her up a side street when a cloaked figure in a hood stepped out in front of them. Vel dropped his sister's hand and reached for his sword. They should have brought Dellia.

"Easy now." The man's face was hidden by a silver mask, cast half in shadow by his hood. There was a tear etched into the left cheek of the mask. When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse croak. "Come with me. I have what you seek." The man turned and disappeared down a narrow alley.

Vel and Naevia looked at one another.

"What we seek. Did he mean Father? Was that Father himself?" Naevia's eyebrow raised.

"He did seem familiar." Vel drew his sword, careful not to accidently slice any passerby. "A sword seems reasonable. Just in case we're wrong and it's not him."

"Good idea." Naevia wished for her bow. Without it, she reached under her stola and drew a long dagger. "Shall we follow him, Vel?"

"On Mercury's wings." Vel led the way and they disappeared into the shadowed alley.