Waiting for the Yisun's Bloom

"Then I shall spend the night in meditation and facing the wall opposite yours."

Her bow was demure, but her smile had widened. "Of course. You watching our lewd shadows would disgrace us both. If I knew your hungry eyes were on me, I would be unable to master myself." She paused, smirking. "Anyway, your discretion is appreciated. And we will call on a harp maiden tomorrow."

"I require no reward for merely doing my duty. But your gesture is appreciated, Blossom, my sister." I bowed deep and hoped deeply that she would insist.

"It is decided already," she said with a smile. "Now leave me -- I have preparations to make."

Bowing, I withdrew. Fevered, I searched for the book. Hunched over, I scanned. The leather-bound pages drew me in, and they hungered for the touch of ink and brush.

Sap of Paradise

Yisun flesh green taste of vice

Fresh ass tight and nice

I had only been able to express my sorrow over the following breakup in prose, unable to find my own sad, lacklustre style. Skin covered the bind. And the pages after were filled with my thoughts on warcraft and with preprinted stories of human debauchery. A confession of my earthen mind followed:

Shadow cock, shadow

my own loins astorm tonight

Shadow cunt, cock now

The pages after were empty. I almost spilled the ink in my hurry and I wrote:

'Familiar. Even human strokes can capture the ubiquitous. How much does she know? And will she fuck the bodyguard, or someone else?

Shadow dancer, friend

dance in night, as thunder roars

Shadow love, mine now

I am too poor a poet to reliably cultivate soiled need into art. I want to see, and even filthy scraps will nourish me for tomorrow. She had all but given me permission. Does she mean to please me? Does she mean to tease me -- or is she resigned to accept my weakness?

The harp maidens here are beautiful. But she is right not to trust them. Why the sudden change of mind?

Painted, pained smiles!

promised tempest and delight

blood red smiles'

A human's knock interrupted my laughable efforts. I struck out the last failed line and then hid the book back under the pillow. She served tea and dinner, with me seated in feigned composure. The servant left, and I, munching on my food, reread the leather-bound filth -- for inspiration; or in the vain hope of cleansing soil with mud.

In all my daydreams, I did not draw the obvious conclusion. Waiting for the good, I was blind to the great. My mind often struggles to remember, and it struggles to forget, the differences between lies and courtesies. Or I -- and compiling makes me willing to consider this -- sensed the hidden dangers by instinct.

Few would have heard the knock, but Blossom's shadow dance could not be mistaken. She had to be wearing something, but the clear outline of her curves made me doubt even that. Her guest bowed to her, and she pulled him inside.

Some shadowed fabric flew, and he dropped to his knees. She did not moan, but the arch of her body and the shape of her head, thrown backwards, were all too clear. I freed my cock.

A knock. I, panicked, hid the farmer's tool again. "Enter," I said, reining in the tremble of my voice. Unloading on human folly would not help, and the groundling would leave soon enough. Leave me to my licensed transgression.

"Thorn, my brother." Nightshade did not bow. Her dress rivalled the Lady Moonsend's in depravity. Sheer silk and even leather underneath. Her mask had been replaced by the merest hint of a veil. She carried a wicked smile and padpad wine. There was something about the step of her naked feet that gave me pause. She lowered herself and set down bottle and thimbles.

"Do you not think it unmanly, Thorn, my brother, to serve a woman's cunt on your knees?" she asked. Handing me drink, she gestured, cup overflowing, at the shadows. Blossom moaned then, and the Spider woman's grin grew wider. "Then again," said Nightshade, "you are of the Nightingale's house and I suppose the Slut Progenitor's children have their own demands. Do not worry, I shall not pressure you for unseemly delights -- quite the opposite."

I grabbed for the bottle, but she was faster. As she refilled, realisation hit me. The thin fabric could not hide her snakelike muscles, nor the power of her movements. (Nor could the dark leather hide her generous mounds.) She moved with graceful agility, but where Blossom was a dancer, Nightshade was something else. Not quite a warrior, and I had never known one for sure, but she was an infiltrator. I drank, self-satisfied. And then the smiling Spider handed me the whole bottle.

Footsteps and a straining groan, then Blossom's heavy mat hit the floor. Her shadow flowed downwards, and the clear cut of her head almost touched the wall. Her naked breasts swung underneath. Standing, her lover released his umbral cock. She crooked her head and moved her hands. To spread her lower lips, maybe. He knelt down, and his cock melted into her.

Both moaned loudly, and my own shame again tented my lap. My visitor, however, had not yet noticed my embarrassment. She had spread her legs and probed her bared sex. A stark strip of dark hair pointed to her opening. "Nightshade, my Lady," I said, caught and captivated by her easy lewdity, and by the shameless display of her shameful heritage. I barely even noticed the unleashed moans of my charge in the other room.

The spider woman met my gaze. "Shh," she said and undid the hidden clasps on her dress. Her naked form embraced me. She raised wine to her lips, and she sucked sweetness from mine. I caressed the betrayer bush and the wetness below. She moaned and allowed me to linger on her vulnerability. Then her hands reached my erection.

"This is the proper way, Thorn, my brother," she said. Sinking to her knees, she wrapped her lips around my cock. She bobbed her head and had soon swallowed the whole length.

I groaned and bucked. "I," I said.

"What. Is. It. Thorn. My. Brother," she said, between licks.

"I want to fuck you."

"So. Presumptuous. I. Like. It." She stood, then lowered herself on my lap. She impaled herself on my spit-slick spear. Her moans were louder than even the lovers in the other room. Slender hands trailed along my muscles, and she swiped away my thin robe.

"You are beautiful," I whispered. My own voice sounded rough, and I did not dare scream out my weakness. My charge should never hear.

"I know," she whispered and kissed my lips.

I broke free from her wrestling tongue. My thrusts rocked her lithe form. Upwards, then down. I lost her divine tightness and slammed back into her. She moaned as I mauled her mounds. Harp-like noises drove me to bend her over and to slam into her. Faster and harder. I pulled her hair, and I fucked until she came, writhing wet, impaled on my tool.

In the corner of my eyes, I saw his member pulled from the shadow. His hands moved in tune with Nightshade's feather-light body. His dark seed arced high and spattered her back. Maybe even her hair. A groan escaped my lips. "I am close."

She slipped away. "Stand up."

I did so. "Let. Me. Show. You. The. Pleasures. Reserved. For. Men." She licked my twitching cock.

"I'm -- I'm gonna..."

"Paint my face," she said and removed her veil. I gasped, then groaned. "We are made to serve men. And you are made to adore. Adore me. Adore my everything. Spent yourself!"

For a heartbeat, I paused to admire beauty revealed. But hands, hers first, and soon mine worked my shaft. I tensed and stained her perfection. She greedily sucked up a second spurt and aimed the third at her cleavage.

She then readjusted her veil and dress with the coyest of gestures. The thin fabric and loose leather did little to hide the bony white of my emission. "Thank you, Thorn, my brother."

"Thank you. For everything," I said. "Will you be all right, Nightshade, my Lady?"

A soft giggle. "The halls are dark at night. And some things are expected from courtiers such as myself."

Even I noticed her pronunciation of the word. I made to escort her to the door, but she waved me off. The wood of Blossom's door scraped on its rail. I had not heard her lover's footfall until then, but Nightshade and he left together.

The Spider woman had not yet closed my door, and I had already pulled out my book. I smudged the strokes as I committed loamy memories to innocent pages. Sleep overtook me and put an end to my sad attempts at turning prose into poetry.

I woke to the rustling of paper. Blossom sat cross-legged by my side and leafed through the pillow book. She only wore a loose summer robe and I smelled flowery soap. And a hint of last night's joys. "Good morning, Thorn, my brother." Her smile was bright, and her left hand rested on her lap in a gesture of obscene innocence.

"Mornin'," I said. Wiping away caked tiredness, I mastered myself. "Good morning, Blossom, my Lady." I bowed, I bowed low, and I noticed my nakedness. The sun had not yet risen, but my cock was already hard.

A giggle answered me. "You are aware that the leather-bound part is not a requirement, Thorn, my brother? Most have the sense to rebind theirs. A linen cover and titles that promise battle tactics or housekeeping advice would be common." She paused. "Or so I heard."

"I am sorry, Blossom, my Lady."

She laughed. "You're sorry? No, you'll have to forgive me, Thorn, my brother. I have been rude -- ruder than usual. I could have warned you last night -- and even as I was with the Spider's bodyguard -- I intruded on your tender moments in ways most soiled. And what I am doing now," she raised my book, "can never be excused."

"I live to serve." I bowed. "I live to serve." And I meant every word.

"You are too kind, Thorn, my brother. But I believe I did promise a reward for you. And I have been served well last night." She placed her left on my lap. The fall of her dress offered tantalizing hints at what it covered.

I swallowed. "Blossom, my Lady." I bowed, but I was staring openly.

With a giggle, she smoothed out her robe. "If you'd be willing to forgo your training just this once, Thorn, my brother, we could visit the baths."

"Yes," I said, "yes -- of course." No sooner than I said it, the problems hit me. We had spent close to two years at Silk-Bite Keep and had never once visited its fabled baths. Nudity was expected, and I could neither wear weapons into the pools, nor even escort my charge without partaking.

Sensing my hesitation, she pointed out the cotton summer robe from my stack of clothes. "Do not worry, Thorn, my brother, we will be quite safe."

The dim hallways seemed empty indeed. I walked two steps behind her, straining my eyes and ears for hidden dangers. But not even a human crossed our path, and the patter of our sandals and distant snoring were the only sounds to be heard. Soiled thoughts soon sapped my attention. The short fabric of her robe swayed and rode high, and the outline of her pert ass caught my gaze. I, tensing, caught myself.

The sound of warm water spouting from a fastwood pipe. I hurried inside and cleaned myself. The hairs on my back bristled. I hurried. The antechambers to the hot baths were a luxury with their flowing water, soft sea sponges, and fogwood branches, but they were separated by gender. My charge had again insisted, but I could not trust these silent walls.

I reached the empty pool, naked but clean. My heart beat faster and faster as I paced the bubbling waters. Hearing multiple footsteps, I turned. Grabbing for a missing blade, I faced them. The two harp maidens bowed.

Their robes, ungirdled, split open. Lines of ink marked their skin. The colourful dragons, snakes and songbirds set them apart from the common human stock. Foggy white surrounded the bright red or violet of their irises where the mists had touched them.

"Lord Tsum'Ein." They said with one voice.

"Yes, yes. You may rise," I said. Both were beautiful, but my own eyes were drawn back to the silk curtains closed behind them. Cloth rustled as they cast off their robes. I fought down the urge to ask them.

"Will you join us?" Both offered their hands. Tender fingers touched my calloused hands, and my cock twitched at the dancing dragons draped around their clean-shaven cunts. And as I stood, awaiting their touch, naked and displaying my growing cock, Blossom appeared.

"Blossom, my Lady, " I said, "forgive me." Letting myself be pulled by the alluring half-people I hid my shame in the merciful moisture.

Her fan snapped open. I glimpsed a hint of mirth before she could hide her face. "Ally, my sweet, would you help me?" Blossom asked.

"I would be honoured, Lady Hanteach," said one of the harp maidens. Water flowed down the small of her back and pearled from the singing birds that nested on her spine. Bowing, scraping, she approached my charge.

I averted my eyes. The other half-woman sat by my side, and she had made sure to lift her full, spider-wreathed tits over the bubbling waters. "May I?" I asked. She nodded, and I touched the silky bounty. The crimson web trembled under my fingertips, and all eight dark and inky legs withdrew. She moaned as I cupped them.

"May I?" asked the other, but Blossom demurred. Despite myself, I looked. My charge stood naked with her sex hidden behind the maiden's palm. "You are right, of course, Lady Hanteach. Lady Hanteach, please forgive me," said the harp maiden and hurried to move away. A thin line of silver hair grew razor-straight above my charge's opening. Dewy weakness glistened between her lower lips. And I, shame-faced, suddenly understanding, made to watch her attendant instead.

She scurried to the fastwood shelvings and stowed away Blossom's robe. The maiden then faced the pool, and I admired her firmer tits, and the careful, promising calligraphy framing them. She saw and smiled. "Shall I serve you instead, Lord Tsum'Ein?"

"Leave that to Sue. I have need of you, Ally, my sweet," said my charge. Pool water ebbed to her knees, and I again glutted myself of her skin. Even washed a perfect, nacreous white.

"Whatever you wish of me, Lady Hanteach," Ally said and bowed. "But if I may?"

"You may."

"You were right before, Lady Hanteach, and forgive me my weakness. I should not have offered."

Blossom, blushing, hid her face behind the fan. When she re-emerged, her face -- though unpainted -- had turned into an artful mask. "You misunderstand, my sweet, I need help with my hair," said my charge. And louder: "And nothing, else."

"Please forgive this one her weakness, Lady Hanteach, Lord Tsum'Ein. I am but a vessel of mud, and filthy thoughts frequently cloud my feeble mind."

"You are forgiven, Ally, my sweet. And Sue get to it." Blossom had entered the healthful churn and had taken a chaste seat opposite me.

"Yes, Lady Hanteach," said the other maiden. Her magnificent tits slipped from my grasp. She stood and massaged my shoulders. Rubbing her body against mine, she whispered raucous verse into my ears. Honeyed words soiled my mind, and my cock grew hard.

"Your muscles, Thorn, my brother!" Blossom stopped whispering with her maiden and gasped. I had risen, stretching, my cock throbbing, and held my trembling half-woman pressed against my rippling bulk.

"You told her to serve me, did you not, Blossom, my sister?"

"Yes!"

"And I shall obey, Lady Hanteach, Lord Tsum'Ein."

I let her go. Slinking down, as pushed, she grasped for my length. Wild waters swirled around my legs, and then the comforter swallowed my cock. "Make sure your lips seal him tight," said Blossom, "we wouldn't want to sully the Spider's pristine waters."

"Yes, Lady..."

I seized her head and silenced the maiden brought low. But even as my length invaded her throat, my eyes had wandered. To Ally's naked body and her slender hands. To inked promises, to hair styled with all art and to hushed whispers. To Blossom. Her own starlight hair and soul-deep eyes. Wild water obscured her body, and paper her face. But I imagined her hand by the tension of her shoulder. And by the glint of her eyes, I believed my own soiled mind reflected back at me.

I admitted weakness with a groan, and I closed my eyes. Some things cannot happen, not even in muddled daydreams. But there are stories, about the tight bonds expressed by Tiger warriors. And in the leather-bound pillow books, one of them is always a woman in disguise.

For a heartbeat, we were on campaign, and I accepted a desperate offer. I thrust into her tightest hole, and the harp maiden gagged. I came, aroused beyond belief. Ashamed, awakened, I spilled my seed. She cleaned me with all the skill of her profession.

After, my charge and I soaked in tranquil silence. The half-women had left, having finished both their tasks. I cherished the quiet. The warmth of the water, and her body next to mine. Suddenly, Blossom leaned in close. "We will share of the Yisun's bounty with our friends. Ally has agreed to lead the ceremony, and it is high time we gave something back."

I nodded. Whenever a harp maiden had offered before, my mud-filled mind made me eschew the complex ritual. My spear had always ploughed mud instead. The nest I had reached without thinking vanished in an instant, and memories, recent and long since smudged to paper, returned.

"Two things you need to know," she said. "One. You will not be able to control yourself, but the pleasures Ally may give will make Sue's skill seem pale parody." She made a point of ignoring my returned weakness. "Oh -- and Stinger won't either."

I submerged my loamsome body, and I mastered myself. In composition, childish pride and the tool's simplicity are never the same. But then I did not know the difference. And she no longer looked at my face.

"Two," she said. "Nightshade will offer you succour from her cup. Let her hand it to you, but do not drink. Give it to me instead -- I will be sitting next to you." She paused for a few moments, content to soak in the bubbling heat. "And now we need to go. Court will not wait for us, and I shall need to make preparations."

Parting for the anterooms again set me ill at ease, and later the courtly games gnawed at my nerves. Lunch was excellent, however, and boring conversation proved the only danger to my charge.

After lunch, Blossom made her offer. Nightshade was delighted. Stinger seemed intrigued. Both talked fast, drawn into fevered conversation with my charge. I kept my distance, and I kept my watch for illusive dangers. Both women wore modest dresses, and amid free-flowing words, Nightshade even forgot to tease me.

Dinner passed us by, and we met again by pale moonlight. Nightshade had organized a room close to the central shrine, and the harp maiden sat there, waiting for us. Braziers billowing incense flanked her demure form, and a silver bowl marked the middle of the room. She wore a robe in the traditional white, innocent and seductive at once. "Honoured children of the Exalted Ones, be welcome." She bowed and then fell silent, waiting for us to take our seats.

Blossom sat down to her right, facing the bowl. I took my seat by her side. The Spiders faced each other, Nightshade seated on our side, with her lithe body paper-close to mine. Distant lanterns blessed our silent grouping with their light.

"You may begin," Blossom said.

The half-woman rose. She stepped aside and produced an earthen jar and a knife from behind a man-high screen. I recognized the dulled blue glint of the blade. Cold iron, not even steel. Stinger gasped, he too not blind to the weapon's make.

The maiden placed the weapon inside the bowl and opened the jar. The smell of honeyed vinegar and something else filled the air. A dusty musk, and ancient. Sticky red nectar dripped from her hands, and the fruit glowed golden in the half-light.