0 comments/ 44342 views/ 1 favorites Talisman Ch. 2: Dr. Forman's Discoverie By: jon.hayworth Editors LadyPhoenix and Wildsweetone The author wishes to make it clear that all errors, grammatical and historical are solely his responsibility. The professionalism, and good grammar used in this story are thanks to the sterling work of the editors. Doctor Simon Forman and many of the other characters existed as did many of the events that I have recounted, it is up to you the reader, to work out where fact ends and the fiction begins. PART I Although the sun had risen, laying a shimmering path along the broad river, the morning air retained its night chill, and over the river Thames gossamer tendrils of dawn mist still clung to the water. In the town of Deptford, just down the Thames from London, the streets were already packed with throngs of people. Christopher Marlowe, who was more often called Kit, sat at his desk, trying to think. There was a vicious pounding in his head from the copious amounts of wine he had imbibed over the previous day and night. He had been drinking to forget the troubles that seemed to plague him. Despite the previous night's alcohol, a presentiment had awoken him unusually early. As his eyes opened the dream had ceased, but he was able to recall every detail with startling clarity. Despite his success as a playwright, other aspects of his life were troublesome. He was certain that his former employer, the Master Intelligencer, who operated Queen Elizabeth's security services, Francis Walsingham was the source of these troubles. Looking back he wished that he had not accepted the purse of gold, and that he had remained an impoverished scholar and playwright. Just as his hero, the eponymous Doctor Faustus had concluded a compact for his soul with the devil, he had sold himself and his conscience to Walsingham. Marlowe shivered. He knew he had been unwise in threatening to unmask his patron. Walsingham and the Cecil family had their hands firmly planted on the levers of power, and the means both lawful and unlawful to ensure they retained their position. He had little doubt that at this very moment, Walsingham would be devising a plan to silence him before he answered the Council's summons. Marlowe took a sheet of paper and wrote a letter. After drying the ink with sand, he folded it, then sealed it with wax. On top of the letter he placed an old box. "Pyke!" He shouted. "Pyke! Come here!" "Thou called upon me, Master Kit?" Despite his young age Pyke addressed the playwright with only a trace of deference. Two years of playing female leads and knowing his worth, had given to the boy a degree of self-assurance beyond his years. "Pyke, I want thee to take this letter and box to my friend Doctor Simon Forman. Thou wilt find him at his lodgings, the Stone House by Saint Botolphs. Dost thou remember being there when thy leg wast sore?" "Yes master Kit. He was a kindly doctor and he never bled me." He handed the boy some silver coins. "Now take these three bords and get a waterman to take thee up the river to the bridge. Make all haste, Pyke. Let caution be thy guide. And let no man detect thy true purpose, nor that 'tis I thou represent." A child actor, Pyke was already wise in the ways of the world. He had been raised near the playhouse, where prostitutes, pimps and cutpurses lived cheek by jowl with the players and their law-abiding patrons. Before leaving the house he tightened his belt and secreted the box and letter inside the folds of his jerkin. He decided to act the part of an urchin on an irksome errand, so scuffling his feet he shuffled into the street. Obeying Marlowe's instructions the boy took a circuitous route heading east then west, and east again, steadily north toward the river. It was about the same time as Pyke made his way along Thames Street, that Kit Marlowe entered the drinking house of Widow Eleanor Bull. Marlowe spent the remainder of the day there, drinking with three companions. Despite being unlicensed Doctor Simon Forman's practice was a busy one. During the plague outbreak of the previous year Simon had been one of the few doctors who had not fled to the safety of the countryside. Indeed as a result of treating plague patients he had contracted the disease, by his own treatments he had survived. As a result many people trusted him more than the licensed doctors and he was prospering. That day he had seen a number of patients in his rooms, before making a call upon a widow woman. She wanted him to draw up an astrological chart for her and a potential suitor. Ever the gallant, he had stayed for some time paying the woman compliments in the hopes that she might favor him. Unsuccessful, from the woman's home he made his way to a somewhat meaner dwelling, where another woman had relieved his lust. Exhausted from his exertions the doctor had repaired to the nearby Blue Boar Tavern. It was in this ordinary that Pyke found the doctor. He had been told by the doctor's servant, Stephen, that this was the place where Simon often spent his time. Entering the dimly lit bar, Pyke's eyes were immediately drawn to the affluent looking man who wore a velvet gown trimmed with fur. "Doctor Forman, I come on an errand of both urgency and secrecy." Pyke whispered so that those nearby would be unable to overhear. "Speak up boy. Do ye have to mumble like some blushing maiden?" "Sire, thou will not recognize me by my appearance. My motley is that of a queen, a lady or a maid. My name is Pyke, a humble player in Master Henslow's company. Thou mayest remember last Michalmas, I had a sorly abscess on my leg, thou cured me. Our good friend, the playwright Kit Marlowe esquire, has given to me instructions that this is a matter that requires some delicacy." "Damned players and writers of plays, ye all think the world is naught but some foolish revel," Simon muttered as he raised his pewter tankard to his lips. "What has the impetuous fool done? Got some pretty maid in trouble? No not Kit. Tis not his inclination. Is it thee boy? Tell me the symptoms. Is it a fever? Pain? Dost thou have some rash or pox marks?" "No, Sire, this has naught to do with me. I am but the messenger." Pyke tugged at Simon's sleeve, "I pray thee, good doctor, accompany me to a place more private where we will not be over-looked." Still grumbling, Simon drained his tankard before rising from his seat. When they were in the street the boy pressed the box and letter into Simon's hand. "Master Marlowe wishes thou only to examine the contents when no one is privy to thy actions." "Has Kit taken to being one of Walsingham's damnable intelligencers yet again?" Just as Pyke spoke, an altercation erupted inside Eleanor Bull's alehouse between Ingram Frizer and Kit Marlowe. The witnesses, Marlowe and Frizer's drinking companions, who were also employed as intelligencers by Walsingham, later testified that the argument had been over the bill. Tempers fired by drink flared and both men drew their knives. Moments later, Marlowe lay on the floor, his life flowing away. Simon Forman put the box and letter into his purse before he returned to the Blue Boar. Later, when he was leaving, one of Henslow's jobbing actors entered the establishment, clearly in shock. His face chalk white and his eyes red, he lurched to the bar, demanding draught of strong ale from the serving wench. When he had the tankard in his hand, he held it up. His loud stage voice commanded respect and caused the chatter to die down. "Gentleman! Wilt thee one and all join with me in drinking to the spirit of our greatest playwright whose mortal coil was cut short this day? Let us drink to the memory of Kit Marlowe, may his atheistic soul rest in peace." On hearing those words, Simon felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Unconsciously he touched his purse, where he carried the box and letter. He drained his tankard, called for the reckoning and when he had paid it, hurried from the tavern. News was confirmed later, when the boy Pyke hammered on his door. "Doctor! Doctor Forman! It is me Pyke the boy player, open the door, I have news of great import!" 'Damned players. Do they always have to bawl so loudly?' Simon thought as he drew back the bolts and turned the key of the door. No sooner had Pyke entered the room than he related the news of Marlow's death. Simon gave the boy a groat to pay the waterman before ushering him out. He locked and bolted the door. The rude tallow dip that lit the room did not give enough illumination for him to read. Finding one of his precious wax candles, Simon lit it, placing it on his table. From his purse he took the box and letter, he set the box to one side. Carefully breaking the seal, he unfolded the paper, smoothing it on the table. Greetings my dear friend Simon, Prey bear with my presumptuousness, in sending thee this without prior warning. My messenger will have passed to thee this letter and a small box. I send this because I have awoken from a sorely disturbing dream that appears to be an omen that some violent harm may be visited upon my person. Please keep the contents of the box in a place of security. So long as I am alive I ask that thou keepest my confidence and tell no person, however high their estate, that thou hast possession of this box nor do thou gaze upon its contents. If some misfortune comes to pass and I meet an untimely end, the contents of the box I bequeath to thou… 'Poor Kit! He has certainly met an untimely end,' mused Simon. … If naught of ill consequence befalls me, I shall be asking thou to return to me the box once my business with the council has reached a satisfactory conclusion. If however my fate be governed by an ill star and adversity should befall me the contents of the box I bequeath to thou, with no instructions as to the purpose or use thereof. A man with thy fabled knowledge of the secret arts should be able to discern the means to employ this Talisman to thy most profitable advantage. As thou wilt see, this Occidental medallion, so richly carved of ivory is not without monetary value. However dear friend, that apparent value is of no account when it is compared with the value of the power that appears is secretly embodied within its very fabric. I will cease now, thy good friend, KIT Simon reread the letter. Marlowe was dead; of that he had no doubt. The box and its mysterious contents had been bequeathed to him. He lifted the lid, even in the flickering candle light the carved ivory disc seemed to glow. To examine it more thoroughly he took the medallion from its nest laying it in the palm of his hand. He could see that Marlowe had not been mistaken, the design was undoubtedly not a symbol from Christendom. 'Occidental', Marlowe had said. For no clear reason Simon suddenly knew it originated from the Spice Islands. 'And this gold chain must be worth a pretty penny – I have never seen the likes of it.' Then he became aware of the heat. Like a crystal the ivory disc was alive, gently vibrating with energy and generating warmth. Simon sensed the ivory Talisman was trying to communicate with him. The figure carved on it intrigued him; at first glance it appeared to be of a woman, an occidental Venus or some unknown fertility goddess he had surmised. Then when he viewed the figure from a slightly different angle its gender appeared to change, and the figure had distinct masculine characteristics. He was confused. What was the meaning of these phenomena? What did this object mean to him? Would it bring him good fortune or ill? Deciding to take the prudent course of action he returned the Talisman to its box and closed the lid. From the shelf that housed his precious books, he took down his Ephemeris and Almanac. Taking a sheet of paper he swiftly jotted down the information he already knew: the angles and altitudes of the planets and major constellations at the time of his nativity. Then he opened the Ephemeris and Almanac and computed a nativity chart for Kit Marlowe. From these two charts he was able to draw up a third symbolizing the relationship between himself, the dead playwright and the Talisman. Dawn was breaking when Simon wearily rubbed his tired eyes, rising to put his books away. Covering the table were the three charts Simon had drawn up. At last he was satisfied that the Talisman Marlowe had given him was not inherently malevolent. Confident that the Talisman would cause him no harm, Simon went to his bed, closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep almost immediately. It was not unusual for Simon to rise at noon as his study and practice of the occult often filled the hours of darkness. Having risen he followed his usual routine, visiting a number of his patients. As he made his way along the teeming streets and crooked alleys, he encountered many friends and acquaintances going about their business, and at every opportunity he sought more information about Marlowe. Of course, it was not necessary to ask many questions, as news of Marlowe's death was on everyone's lips. All Simon had to do was listen. Some said Marlowe had been involved in a drunken brawl. Others, those who lowered their voices and looked around furtively before speaking, said Walsingham and the Cecil family had some hand in Marlowe's death. Simon listened to both opinions without comment. Speculating about the Queen's Master Intelligencer and advisors could lead to the Tower or a worse fate. That night as darkness fell, Simon checked and rechecked that the lock and bolts on the door were secure, and that the shutters on the windows were shut fast. Dragging a trunk from under the bed, he took several items from it. Holding a sword in his left hand, Simon incised a circle on the floor. On the northern point of the circle he placed a small pot containing earth, at the west a pot of water, to the east an empty pot and at the southern extremity a lamp. Next he picked up a small mirror, holding it over the lamp just above the flame then lifting it away to examine it, and returning it to the spot over the lamp. He repeated this process a number of times until the lamp-black evenly coated the glass. When he was satisfied, he placed the mirror near the empty pot, so it faced towards the middle of the circle. Finally in the center of the circle, he erected a small wooden tripod. Placing a stool in the western sector of the circle, he sat down facing the black mirror. In his open left hand he held the ivory Talisman. Taking several slow, deep breaths, he cleared his mind. He rose to his feet, and walked around the perimeter of the circle in a counter-clockwise direction whilst chanting an invocation. The words could at best be described as Dog Latin mutated with Hebrew, anyone who was not an initiate would understand very little of what he said, and nothing of the meaning. Having completed three circuits of the circle, Simon again seated himself on the stool. Ignoring the object of his enquiry, the Talisman, he gazed with a fixed stare at the mirror. At first he saw the mirror in the context of the room, with the tripod between himself and the mirror, with the empty pot behind it, in the shadows he could see the wall. Sitting motionless, his gaze did not waver. Soon time became suspended and he no longer heard the call of the passing watchman. The mirror loomed larger in his vision as it seemed to grow in size. Eventually there was nothing but the mirror, a matte black mass of nothing. His mind was a blank except for the blackness and the warmth of the Talisman in his hand. He was no longer in the room. Both time and space had lost their meaning. Before his eyes he saw a figure, the same figure that was carved on the Talisman dancing a jig before his eyes. From somewhere far away he could hear the pipes playing a discordant form of music that was foreign to his ears. When the first thin gray streaks of dawn intruded through gaps in the shutters, Simon rose. Walking three times clockwise round the circle, in the doggerel language he mumbled a closing prayer. Taking up his sword, he cut symbolically through the circle at the east point. Then he went to the table and wrote a wealth of notes about what he had experienced before packing his things away and retiring to his bed. Night after night Simon cast his circle, but until the tenth night he learnt no more about the Talisman than he knew from Marlowe's letter and the first night. The alien music and the dance confirmed his view that the object's origins lay in the fabled Spice Islands of the Indies, but beyond that fact he had learned nothing. On the tenth night he saw the figure from the Talisman come to life before his eyes. It had transformed into a dancing girl who became a butterfly that grew and grew until it filled the room, consuming Simon. The dancing girl was Simon, and Simon was the dancing girl. Simon was the girl who danced for the priests, whoring herself chastely for the temple, in innocence enjoying sex that was free of guilt, for the innocent cannot be guilty. Giving enjoyment in return for enjoyment. Simon was aware of a feeling of warmth in his abdomen when she enjoyed an orgasm. When the delicate pink flower between the dancing girl's legs opened, it revealed to him a glowing bud. In a flash Simon achieved a level of understanding that surpassed the goals his imagination had set him. When with the arrival of dawn he had ritually broken the circle, Simon then wrote his cryptic notes in his usual semi-educated mishmash of Dog Latin and French. Noxt est dies et dies est noxt. Lume est niger et niger est lume. Et vice verca ad infinitum. Homme est femme. Femme est homme. Femme cum as homme but with difference. Noxt I was a femme and homme. Did pleasure my femme. Femme pedagoge a homme. Translated he had written, "Night is day and day is night. Light is black and black is light. And the opposite into infinity. Man is woman. Woman is man. Woman orgasms as a man does but there is a difference. This night I was both a woman and a man. I did pleasure the female. Female instructed the male." Simon reread his notes. To anyone else they read like a bad riddle, but for him they would serve as an aide-memoir, without betraying the great secret of duality to anyone else. He doubted if there was another man in London who possessed the knowledge he had of female sexuality. For in becoming female he had discovered the secret source of female sexual enjoyment. Now all he needed and wanted, was an opportunity to put that knowledge to use. Never before had the forty year old doctor even considered it to be possible that a woman might take some enjoyment from sex. This was not because he was inexperienced in sexual matters, even though he had been a virgin until his thirtieth year. Since then, after having made love to Anne Young, he had taken his own enjoyment with many women, however he had never considered whether they got any enjoyment from the act. Now he knew they had such dazzling potential, he was anxious to put the theory into practice. Circumstances favored Simon that very day. Just before noon a servant girl knocked at his door. Simon was in his bed when he called out, "Who is it?" His voice sharp, he was irritable from lack of sleep. "Doctor Forman sir I bring a note from my mistress. Mistress Alice Blague," the girl answered through the still locked door. She stood shivering on the doorstep while the mysterious doctor, (who some said dabbled in witchcraft), pulled back the bolts. At last the door swung open, an unforgettable man greeted her once handsome, his looks had faded with age. His face heavily freckled and from beneath his heavy brows twinkled bright eyes. His hair, despite his forty years, was still red. "Well my pretty one, is thy mistress as sweet a portrait as thy art." As he spoke, Simon was eyeing the girl speculatively, sure that he would succeed in tumbling the doxy if he wished. She had the fresh innocent looks of the country about her and a generous mouth, and in Simon's experience these qualities in a woman equated with a willingness to indulge in dalliances. Talisman Ch. 2: Dr. Forman's Discoverie "Oh sire, thou dost make a jest with me. My mistress, the wife of the Dean of Rochester, the reverend doctor Blague is a far grander and prettier woman than I could ever be." Handing Simon the note, the girl scurried off. Simon, thinking a visit to Mistress Blague would give him an opportunity to further his acquaintance with the maid, answered her summons. He believed he had been rewarded when the same maid answered the Blague's door to him. Without giving him chance to dally or make light conversation, the girl ushered him into the chamber where Alice Blague was waiting. "Doctor Forman please, take a seat here, alongside me." Simon struggled to make a reply. Looking about the chamber of a senior cleric's wife, he was stunned. The first thing to catch his eye was not the lady's red hair, nor her long face, nor even her large mouth. It was the lady's bosom that commanded his attention. He saw a woman – a lady - attired in the manner of a tavern serving wench who had not even pinned a kerchief across the low cut of her gown, consequently leaving her more than ample breasts on display to all who entered the room. At length he mumbled, "Your servant Mistress Blague." Fidgeting nervously he took the seat Alice had indicated. "Oh, I pray thee good doctor, do not stand on ceremony with me. The good Dean is at present away upon some business and I have a small problem, for which thy knowledge can surely find a cure." The woman made Simon nervous. If he had not judged the maid to be an honest girl, he would have thought this woman to be a prostitute, and not the wife of a cleric. He feared that this summons might be yet another clever trick designed and laid by either the College of Physicians or the Barber-Surgeons. "Mistress Blague I would recommend to thee that thee seekest the advice of thy husband's physician." "The doctor my husband consults is naught but a fool and a knave. The only physic he will prescribe is the leech." The mention to Simon of letting of blood as a means of treatment was like showing a red rag to a bull. When he replied Simon was clearly agitated, his hands whirling like windmill sails, as he gestured to emphasize the points he was making. "Mistress Blague it is my experience that leeching, or cutting, or any other of the divers means of letting blood are not conducive to the patient. If I am able to use my skills to keep thy precious blood safely inside thy comely body I shalt do so." Having delivered his diatribe he was clearly more composed. "Now Mistress Blague, tell me what ails thee?" "Doctor Forman 'tis my leg that sorely tries me." "Mistress, I need thee to be more precise as to the nature of thy symptoms. Hast thy troublesome leg a cut or an abscess that is the source of thy ill?" As she spoke, Alice Blague got up from her seat, lifting her dress and underskirts. "'Tis here that the trouble occurs," she said, indicating the inner part of her thigh. Simon saw that Alice was a traditionalist, who did not wear the new drawers that some thought in fashion. Simon slid to his knees from the chair to better look at the lady's leg. Alice Blague slowly ran her fingers up and down the inside of her thigh, on each ascending movement her fingers venturing a little higher, until they brushed against her fleshy labia, delicately hanging down like curtains. Kneeling with his nose inches from her sex, Simon was aware that his breathing had become heavier. "Pray, be seated mistress Blague, so I may examine your thigh more closely." She sat with her legs wide open. Looking not at the thigh that was the ostensible object of his examination, Simon's focus was instead on the view between her thighs. Whether by accident or design, her labia were parted, lying open like a pink butterfly resting. He recognized the shape, for it was the one he had seen in his vision the previous night and there in the middle lay the carmine jewel. Without a second thought he touched her clitoris with his forefinger. Alice gasped when at the same time as gently applying pressure he began to move his finger in a circular motion. She was not surprised that the doctor had touched her in such a manner. Indeed she had hoped the doctor would accept her invitation. She was bored and her elderly husband was out of town. Although she was the wife of a clergyman, Alice was not an innocent in matters to do with sex. Married at fifteen years of age to a man of twice her years, she had subsequently taken a series of lovers, two of whom were also clerics. What surprised Alice, was that the doctor had stimulated her clitoris. Early in her marriage she had discovered that the fleshy nubbin was a source of pleasure, but to her knowledge, no man had ever before intentionally set out to bring her to a climax. Simon positively glowed with pride when Alice, her voice husky, cried out. "Pray, sire, do not desist! Please, I plead with thee to go on with this delightful motion of your hand." Her hand covered his hand, and he felt a stab of pain when her nails dug into the back of his hand. "Dear Doctor, please … please, dear doctor I prey do not cease stirring my nubbin." "Mistress Alice, why dost thou call this thy nubbin?" "Why, sire, 'tis what every woman I know does call this part of herself." "And what do the men you know call this?" "'Tis not a subject of conversation in the ordinary way of things, Sir!" Simon was so intent upon the discoveries that he was making that he did not notice the sharp edge to her voice. Not heeding the warning he asked, "Dost thy other lovers not speak of these things?" "Sire, thou dost presume too much! Dost thou take me for some doxy who would lie with men other than my husband?" she asked indignantly, apparently oblivious to the contradiction of the act she was indulging in with him. Replying as manners dictated, Simon murmured, "Mistress Alice, please accept my abject apologies, I assure you my words were not intended as a slur upon thy good character." As he spoke Simon, without thinking withdrew his fingers from her clitoris. "Pray, sire, do not desist thy sweet labors." She said pulling his hand back towards her quim. "In truth doctor to the best of my knowledge, limited as it should be, other men appear to remain ignorant of the nubbin and its secrets." Simon was aware of his stiff pizzle pushing against the fabric of his breeches. In the past he had done no more than cursorily caress a woman's sex before entering her, and then only for the purpose of ensuring his ride would be smooth and wet. Now he could see Alice ecstatically wriggling her hips; could feel the heat her damp sex emitted, and smell her faintly animal odors. He could also sense the joy he brought to her. Within his head some new process was occurring, it was almost as if she was stimulating him as well. "Mistress Alice thou mayest call me by my given name, Simon." Unsure of his path in this new discovery he kept stimulating her with his fingers. Moving nearer to her he began to kiss her exposed breasts. Arching her back she pushed herself toward him. He trailed his tongue over the ivory globes plunging his tongue into her cleavage. He blew a soft cool draft over the dampness before enveloping one of her nipples in his mouth. Alice shivered with excitement. A tingle journeyed down from her breast, shimmered through her stomach, and on down toward her excited quim. "My lady what perfect dugs thou hast." He mumbled with his mouth still full of her breast. She was gasping, mewing like a kitten, her fluids dripping like nectar from her onto his probing fingers. His fingers slicked over her labia, whilst with the ball of his thumb he manipulated her now swollen clitoris. Then her fingers were scrabbling at his waist, nearly tearing his breeches in her frantic haste to loosen the draw-cord. "I must have thee … I must have thee! I need thee now. Gentle Simon, pray unencumber thy self." With his free hand Simon undid the draw-cord and expertly pulled his britches to his knees. Taking his finger from her clitoris he grasped her hips, easing her forward on the seat so she was supported at the edge. He lifted her legs, resting them on his shoulders, then guided the head of his pizzle so it was at the entrance of her vagina. She gasped when he thrust his hips, his pizzle slid easily up her lubricated tunnel of love. With long strokes he rhythmically thrust into her, on each in stroke his balls slapping her ample ass. Usually he would have established a rhythm that would bring the act to a speedy conclusion satisfactory to him, yet now he was aware of her and gauged a pace that would bring the greater pleasure to her. He did not understand why he was doing this, he was merely aware that he felt compelled to do so. Then he had the most unusual of experiences. With his balls were tightening and pizzle throbbing in a prelude to ejaculation, suddenly he had a vision. The dancing figure from the Talisman he was wearing around his neck, appeared to be dancing before his eyes. As the figure twirled it alternately manifested itself as male and female, until to Simon its sex became an irrelevance. As the figure danced it waved a reproving finger at him and shook its head. In an instant Simon understood. He was to prevent himself from cumming. And so he conjured up an astrological riddle, which he set about solving without breaking the rhythm of his thrusting. Simon's lovemaking was a new experience for him. During the eighteen years of her marriage, Alice had never been treated in this way, by either her husband or her numerous lovers. She knew when he had finished she would not have to bring herself to completion with her own hand. No sooner was she reaching a peak than she was on the way to another one. Indeed a small voice of fear nagged at her. Would she be taken so high that she would fall? Would all the energy she had expended be injurious to her health? Then the doubts faded, washed away by the successive waves of pleasure. She felt herself to be no more than a yawning chasm begging to be filled, and the man between her legs was filling her need. He heard the tearing of cloth as her hands scrabbled at his back, then like a cat she scratched at his bared flesh, spurring him to drive harder into her. As she came she cried out passionately almost the animal howl of a vixen in season. Simon dimly heard the door open then close without anyone entering the room. His balls ached and tightened drawing up close to his body. He felt his fluids pulsing along his pizzle. Eventually both of them had cum. Simon lay still between her thighs, they held one another neither wanting to part, both striving to hold onto the exquisite passion they had shared. When Simon's pizzle softened and fell from her with a soft plop, Alice felt their co-mingled body fluids flowing stickily over her thighs. She was still breathing in short gasps said. "Dear Simon, I have never before been tumbled by a man such as thou. Tell me how didst thou become so learned in the arts of love?" She choked off any reply he might have made by kissing him on the lips. It was a long lingering kiss that took his breath away, delivered by a woman who had found a sexual nirvana she had never believed she would reach. "Promise me Simon that thou wilt visit me again." He answered her in the flowery and courtly language that was customary in those days. "Sweet lady how could I not visit thee again. Fair lady dost thou not realize 'tis thou who holds my heart captive." Much later, when Simon returned to his rooms he grimaced as he removed his doublet. He had only purchased it new this Easter; and now the back panel of the garment had been rent into shreds, at the hands of Alice. Fortunately she had not wrenched apart the gold chain that suspended the ivory Talisman from his neck. Before he retired he wrote up his journal for the day. "Did halek AB harumscarum plene et volenter" The next morning he was barely out of his bed before Alice Blague's maid was at the door. "I cannot see thy mistress today," Simon said, adding he had other patients to see and important business to conduct. The girl looked slyly at him. "Doctor I am not here on my mistresses business, it is I who wishes to see thee." "Call upon me later then. Canst thou not see that I am not as yet dressed?" The girl pushed past him. "I do not wish to see thee dressed." Once in the room she turned to Simon and embraced him. "Sir thee may take me for a shameless doxy, but that is not my usual nature. I saw thee and my mistress. I saw a sight of great wonderment to one of my sex and station. I saw proof that a man can know the secrets of a woman's nature and bring to her fulfillment. Gentle doctor wilt thee do to me what thee didst to my mistress, bring to me such transports of joy?" The maid's words tumbled out in a rush, when she had finished speaking her face was flushed. "Sire thee must think me a bawdy mort." Gently Simon took hold of her shoulders. "If thou wishes to halek with me, then when in this chamber thou shouldst address me as thou or Simon, and not thee." "Oh, sire! How can I be so familiar with one of your station?" "No! Not sire, but Simon. On the bed we are but one. Between thy legs is as the jewel of the highest lady in the land." The maid gasped, fearfully looking about. "Sire! Simon thou shouldst not say such things about our Sovereign lady." "I trust thee. Thou wouldst not betray me for a silver purse. Now wench come lie upon my bed with me, and let us seek the source of our bodies more carnal delights." "Thou art right I am a trusty wench who would never betray my friends. Not for gold nor carnal delights." "And how art thou called trusty wench?" "Rose sir." "Then come Rose let us make some sport and bring delight to one another." He said kissing her hand. When he led her to the bed it had been Simon's intention to merely unpin Rose's kerchief to expose her breasts and lift her skirts to access her quim. Then it was as if the little figure whispered in his ear. Shock showed on Rose's face when he said to her. "Let me remove every garment from thy body." "Sire, 'tis cold." "I shall warm thee. Come Rose, be a bawdy wench. Every stitch. My lewd imaginations shall warm us both." As he spoke Simon began to unpin her kerchief. Below her breasts the simple dress was gathered by a draw-cord which Simon swiftly loosened. "Sire, is this not unnatural? Should we, sire?" Rose protested as he pulled the garment over her head. Then Simon removed his own clothes and was soon naked save the ivory Talisman. When he pushed her back on the bed, Rose was in a state of shock. Like her mistress Rose was not inexperienced in sexual matters. However, never had she contemplated the idea of lying completely naked with a man. She could not recollect a time in her life when she had been completely nude. She had no time to think further before the doctor was parting her thighs. A tingling thrill swept through her body, masking all other thoughts. His digit was gently brushing against her clitoris. Deep in her belly she could feel a churning sensation and a wetness. She felt so liquid; so fluid, that she could easily have believed that he had discovered some untapped fount within her. When his strong fingers began to enter her, she could feel herself being opened. The cool air in the room fanned by the movement of his hands wafted over her hot sex. Nerve endings all over her body began to jangle when he fastened his lips upon her breast. Her mind became a labyrinth of turmoil within which she had one brief, rational thought. She could now understand why her mistress had been howling like a hound bitch in season. Then his actions swept her away into a world of ecstasy over which she had no control. She had just reached a heavy breathing pinnacle of delight when he lifted his hand from her quim, rolling her onto her stomach. Spreading her legs she squirmed, anticipating his obvious intention to enter her from the rear. Lifting the hair away from her neck, he began to lavish kisses on her nape. Trailing his tongue down her spine, he left a trail of slick saliva sending shivers through her body as his lips and tongue continued down, past her waist. When he did not touch her quim, Rose responded by moving her hips in a grinding motion. She brought a hand between her legs and began to masturbate. Simon watched. Never before had he seen a woman stimulate herself. In point of fact, he had not realized women masturbated. As he watched, the little ivory character seemed to grin at him as it danced a jig between her legs. The figure was so real to Simon that he fingered the Talisman to be certain it still hung from his neck. Watching the girl, he realized it was as if she was trying to climb over a high wall; climbing up until her fingers tantalizingly touched edge of the top, only to fall back. "Please sire I prey thou … canst thou do something? Oh, please, release me from this torment." It seemed to her that an eternity had passed without him touching her. Simon had been extracting so much pleasure from observing the heights of Rose's lust that he had been unaware of his own physical need. Now her pleas drew his attention to his own desires. The lasciviousness of the situation had given him a rampant erection, his balls weighing heavily with unreleased fluids and his auto-stimulated pizzle pulsating. Simon turned Rose over onto her back, kneeling between her legs to enter her. A series of images flashed through his brain so vividly they could have been pictures in front of his eyes. The little ivory figure had not failed him so far. "I want to try a novel way of doing it." He said to the girl as he dismounted and lay back on the bed. "I will do as thou wills," said the bemused girl. "Get up. Mount me as a man would a steed, to ride astride." Rose did as he had asked, first she was astride of his waist, but realizing his intentions she shuffled down so she was astride of his hips. "Thou mean like thus?" She asked lowering herself. Simon grasped his rampant pizzle, guiding it toward her dripping quim. His pizzle slid into her when she lowered herself. "Now Rose my sweet. Move up and down." Grasping her hips, Simon guided the limits of her movement. "Thou art a goodly wench." Simon reached between her legs, fingering her clitoris. It took all Rose's concentration to maintain the motion. She felt her insides melt into liquidity that flowed out over his thighs and abdomen, certain the bed covers would be soaking wet. "Sire thou makest a willing whore out of me. For thy touch I wouldst do all, and more to do whatever thou commandest." "Fear not my sweet Rose I do not make a whore of thou, all I do is satisfy thy wanton lusts. As a man who knows, I can assure thee that no whore enjoys her trade, as thou dost enjoy thy sport." Simon's eyes were fixed upon her breasts. As she moved up and down, her breasts bounced as if keeping time. His balls were aching, straining to cum, an impulse he was resisting by every trick of mind control he knew. If it had not been for the ivory figure he knew that he would have shot his load long before. Now it was a contest and he was fighting to avoid the figure's reproachful looks or wagging finger. Every time he seemed to be near cumming he clenched his buttocks, breathing in and held his breath, set himself to solving a mental puzzle. When the moment passed he would relax. Relief came when she said, "Dear doctor, have mercy on me. I must stop, my legs are unused to this and my quim feels sorely abused." At these words Simon jerked his hips up from the bed driving into her and splattering his hot seed deep within her. Feeling his cum she collapsed forward, lavishing kisses not only on his lips but all over his face. Talisman Ch. 2: Dr. Forman's Discoverie "Oh my lover! Oh sire thou art truly the most wonderful man in London town - nay in the kingdom." Simon held Rose in his arms soothing her until it was she who said. "Oh, Sire, I have to go. My mistress will wonder where I am, and I have not completed the business she sent me about." PART II By nature, both Alice Blague and her maid Rose were both gossips and braggarts, neither woman being able to resist describing her experience with Doctor Simon Forman. Both women told her female friends and acquaintances that Simon had taken her to peaks of delight she had never imagined was achievable with a man. In a baker's shop on Silver Street, the maid Rose, was overheard telling the baker's wife. "I tellest thou true good-wife, he has a knowing art with a woman's body, I never thought to find such artifice in a man. He knew just the best fashion in which to stir my nubbin, bringing to me transports of delight. So long did I tarry that my mistress didst make to box my ears." "And did she?" asked the baker's wife eager for any tasty morsel of gossip. "Nay. I said that I wouldst tell the Dean of her adventures." The baker's wife clicked her tongue, and shook her head in disapproval. The next day an unusual event occurred in the bakers shop. The baker's wife donned her cloak and left the apprentice, whom she usually called shiftless and lazy, to mind the shop. She made her way through the twisting alleys and narrow streets to Saint Botolphs. Although London had a large population, most Londoner's knew where everyone of note lived. As she got near the Stone House she slowed her pace, she did not want to be seen hurrying to see Doctor Forman, whom she had not previously consulted. Simon's servant, Stephen ushered the baker's wife into the room that served not only as Simon's consulting room, but also his study. Simon rose from his desk greeting the woman with a sketched bow. Once she had taken the seat he offered, the baker's wife looked around the room. The books and writing materials reassured her. Truly the doctor was a very well educated man; from the look of his library and his person she hazarded a guess that he would be renowned among his peers. An open door showed Simon's bedchamber. It was exactly as Mistress Blague's maid had described. "I asked my good lady how may I be of service to her." A tone of exasperation had crept into Simon's voice. "Yes, sir. A customer of mine, the maid of mistress Blague, told me of a wondrous treatment thee didst prescribe for her." 'Damn these wenches who cannot hold their tongues,' Simon thought. He was beginning to regret his dalliance with Alice Blague and her maid. The baker's wife was the fourth woman that day, who directly or indirectly had asked for the same treatment as he had administered to Alice Blague and her maid Rose. "I cannot treat thee if I knowest not thy symptoms." "Good doctor, if I may make free in my speech?" The woman waited for a nod to continue. "What ails me is not my sickness but my husband's. He is a good man who provides well for me, but he is afflicted by a spirit of lethargy, that on many occasions prevents him from discharging the duty that is surely every good wife's right. And when he does discharge this duty," she paused and looked about her as if to check no-one could overhear, "He leaves me with an itch that is quite unsatisfied." "Good lady I have no physic for the symptoms you describe." "Doctor Forman, I implore you to do something. Alice Blague's maid told me that you relieved her itch most wonderfully." Even as the woman spoke, Simon could feel the figure on the Talisman tickle his chest, as it began to dance. "My dearest lady to relieve the itch you describe I must ask you to disrobe." Seeing the look of surprise and horror on the woman's face he added, "I can assure you that total nakedness is a part of the treatment, if thou wish thou may go and check with the maid." As she was not the first to call upon his services that day, Simon was exhausted and hoped against hope that the woman would decide to leave. "Nay, Sir. I am here and I will do thy bidding." Simon pointed towards the open doorway. "Let us retire to my chamber, where we may make sport and sate thy lustful itch." At Simon's invitation the baker's wife was into the bedchamber and divesting herself of her clothing, faster than a long-dog after a hare. By the time Simon bolted the door, the woman stood shivering, her arms wrapped around her body to shield her unaccustomed nakedness. "Pray, good lady, lower thine arms and disport to my eyes thy god given charms," Simon said as he began removing his shirt. When he was finished undressing, and stood naked but for the Talisman, he scrutinized the woman's ample body. He could see that she had certainly not stinted herself in sampling her husband's wares. Pendulous breasts drooped over a well-rounded belly, a belly that hung so as to shield her slit from sight. It was only when he laid her on the bed that he was afforded a view of her quim. Opening her legs he was surprised the labia were thin and mean, when compared with other women he had known. Her nubbin was not at all prominent, but instead was so small that at first Simon thought she did not have one. It was with his sense of touch rather than sight that he confirmed its existence. Relieved, he gently tapped the minuscule organ, her reaction proving that despite its size it responded to the same stimuli as larger, more prominent nubbin. As he tapped, she sighed, her orifice glistening as her fluids flowed. Her vagina was dilating, then contracting, then dilating again before going into a cycle of powerful contractions. Simon followed the dictates of his guide, the dancing figure. Every touch, every movement of his hand was as prescribed. As he pleasured the woman Simon made mental notes of what he did and the woman's reaction. The Baker's wife knew now that Alice Blague's maid had not exaggerated her description of Simon's skills. His hands played her body with the expertise of a court musician playing a lute. Gently his hands glided, barely touching her, caressing some parts. The insistent light tapping of his finger against her nubbin, like the secret tap of a lover at the bedroom window. The firm palm massage milking her to an orgasm solely by stimulating her mons. When he touched her breasts he kneaded them in the manner that her husband worked the dough. Spikes of pleasant pain jabbed through her body when he took her nipples, rolling them between his forefinger and thumb. Her womb tingled with prickly heat. It seemed that the fluids he drew from her should be boiling, such was the fire within her. She did not want what she was feeling to ever stop. She did not have the voice nor the words to convey what it was she felt, save the moments when fear swept in and her heart pounded as if it were an anvil being struck by the smith's hammer. When she closed her eyes, great arcs of lightning flashed in the darkness. "Sire, I beg thou delay no more! Please enter me now sir!" He had lifted one of her heavy breasts, licking the sensitive underside. The tingling sensation was more than she could bear. "Sire! Desist from what thou dost to me or I shall surely die!" she screamed at Simon. Drumming her fists on his shoulder blades, the nearest part of him to her, only resulted in him pulling his hands away from her body. "Sire! Please do something! Do not desist when I am in such great heat!" Without warning Simon plunged three fingers into her dilated quim, observing the strength of her vaginal muscles convulsively clamping around them so tightly he felt a mild degree of pain. 'Such a wondrous and powerful organ,' Simon mused, withdrawing his fingers and kneeling between her legs. For a big woman the baker's wife was amazingly agile. As Simon parted her labia and positioned his pizzle at the entrance of her vagina, she drew up her legs, clasping them around his waist. Holding him tightly she pulled him into her and using her legs she assumed control, dictating the speed and depths of his thrusts. Each time he felt the pleasant discomfort that is a precursor to ejaculation, Simon would draw in his perineum muscle, effectively stoppering the ejaculation. Despite the state of her arousal prior to his entering her, she was not able to cum. As his pizzle slid into and out of her vagina, Simon knew if he lay down with her astride him, he could diddle her nubbin but he wanted to find a different solution. Clearing his mind he conjured-up his little dancer, and quickly enough an image appeared. Hooking his arms behind her knees he pulled her legs up. She gasped when he forced her legs over until her feet touched the mattress each side of her head. He knew her quim would be spread, the labia parted like the wings of a butterfly. Instead of moving his hips in an up down motion he slid forward and back, his bristly pubic hair brushing across those sensitive areas he had exposed. The pleasure he induced made her oblivious to the pain of having her body compressed into an unaccustomed position. Even when cramp made her thigh feel as if it was in the grip of a steel claw, she was enjoying the sensation too much to ask him to stop. Then it happened. It was like an explosion. Her whole body heaved as a warm wet wave washed over her. When the doctor had made her cum with his hands she had thought it the peak of ecstasy, but this now far surpassed it. It took away her breath, she was sure that she felt her hammering heart pause and momentarily stop. Simon was equally shocked when at the crucial moment she had let out a piercing scream, breaking his concentration and boiling the seed from his swollen testes. He had barely an instant to gasp for breath when the baker's wife was greedy to once again taste the sweet fruit of passion. No sooner had Simon lowered her legs and withdrawn his limp pizzle, than she moved about in the bed began to lick it. Pulling back the foreskin she lightly played her tongue over the velvety glans. Then with his testes cupped in her hand, she took the entire length of his pizzle into her mouth. She was undaunted when he had not become instantly hard. Simon collapsed on his back and she lay curled up on the bed beside him, her head resting on his belly with his pizzle in her mouth. Gently she sucked until at last the faint stirrings became stronger. She gagged when Simon bucked his hips, driving his erect pizzle into her throat. She looked puzzled when Simon pulled her head away from his rampant pizzle and said. "Kneel astride of me." Once straddling him she was no longer mystified. Taking hold of his pizzle, she lowered herself onto it. "No stay upright," he said when she leaned towards him, assuming a position on all fours. As she moved herself so that her body was once more upright, she began moving up and down. Simon inserted a finger into her slick slit, massaging her nubbin, urging her to move faster and again she obeyed. Her whole body appeared to be in motion. Her big breasts bounced off her stomach, rising so it seemed as if they would fly over her shoulders. This time he did not have to hold back for her. With a victorious shout she announced that she had achieved her goal before him. Simon had to grasp her bucking hips to prevent her leaping from his pizzle at the same time, arching his back to drive deeper into her. She had cum for a second time before he came. Simon was not unhappy when soon after he had cum she pointed at the unshuttered window and said. "Oh doctor! The light it is fading I must return home." "Yes, good lady. Make haste, as nightfall is nigh." After dressing, the baker's wife ran her fingers through her hair. As she pulled her cloak about her she said to him. "May I consult with thee again?" "If thee wishes it so. Dost thou desire my man Stephen to escort thee to thy shop?" Simon replied as he saw her through the door. PART III The baker's wife was not the last woman in search of sex who crossed the threshold of Doctor Simon Forman's home. When women gossiped, one of their favorite subjects was sex, those who knew him spoke of Simon's sexual prowess. Regardless of rank and station his fame became known from the meanest hovels outside the city walls in Southwark to the court of Queen Elizabeth. Sir John Hawkins's wife consulted Simon just before her husband and Drake set out on what was to become their final, fatal voyages. During the same period Rose Davis, the poor wife of an ordinary sailor in one of Drake's ships also consulted him. When women consulted him, they came not only to see a famous doctor, but also to see one of the foremost astrologers of the age. For from the time that he possessed the Talisman, his skills as a practitioner of both medicine and astrology underwent a miraculous improvement. His practice grew as his fame spread across the sexes. Wealthy ship-owners consulted him about the fate of their ships, merchants about business ventures, clergy and courtiers about promotions. Old and young, rich and poor flocked to his door. Soon he was able to afford the trappings of a gentleman, a horse and a sword for himself and a mount for his servant. He took to signing his letters Simon Forman gent, a major step, which was not taken lightly in those class-conscious times. It would appear that the Talisman protected Simon from coming to any harm at the hands of jealous husbands. From his extensive records it is apparent that there was little secretive about his relationship with Avis Allen, who's husband Edward owned "The Ship" in Thames Street. Yet it is also a matter of record that not only did Edward consult Simon in a professional capacity but he also socialized with him. Alice Blague's husband, the Dean of Rochester, also consulted with Simon almost constantly posing questions about his prospects for advancement. The cleric also socialized with Simon. By 1599, six years after he had received the Talisman, Simon was affluent enough to marry a woman who came from a landed family, the niece of a knight. However marriage did not stop Simon from carrying out his mission of teaching women how to appreciate the joys of sex. Even a member of the all-powerful Cecil family, Lady Norris, a noted hypochondriac, consulted Simon. As also did Lady Frances Howard the wealthy nineteen-year-old widow of a City of London Alderman, who was to marry the Earl of Hertford and then upon his demise, King James VI/I's cousin the Duke of Lennox. For a long time the only protection the Talisman appeared unable to give to Simon, was shielding him from the wrath of the Doctors and Barber Surgeons. Time after time despite his growing wealth and fame, or perhaps because of it, he was committed to prison. Eventually in 1603 he gained some immunity when he was awarded a license to practice medicine from Cambridge University. This was awarded on the basis of 'long exercise and experience'. One of his sponsors was Thomas Grimston, physician to Queen Elizabeth and after her death to King James. During the Plague years Shakespeare had penned his sonnet to the Dark Lady, who has been identified as Emilia Lannier, former mistress of the Lord Chancellor. Four years later in 1597 Simon, who was an inveterate theatergoer, brushed past the shadow of William Shakespeare. Emilia Lannier came to consult him about her husband's fate, much the same question as Lady Hawking and Rose Davis had posed. Simon never a man to miss an opportunity, took every chance to relieve Emilia's loneliness. Despite both having married, Simon remained her friend and confidant. In 1609 she felt slighted when Shakespeare's Sonnets were published. As Simon was a remarkable character whose success can be ascribed to the Talisman, so Emilia was also notable. This one time courtesan and mistress who lived by using her sex, in 1611 underwent a fundamental change and published a volume of poetry "Salve Deus Rex Judaecorum". Some see this as a reply to the implied slanders of the Sonnets and others see this as the first feminist publication. On Sunday the fourth of September 1611, Simon was seated at the table eating supper with his wife and son. Familiarity breeding contempt, whilst other women were overawed by Simon's powers his wife Anne was not. "Simon, tell me if thou has so much revealed when thou casts and scryes, dost thou also not know whether it will be the man or his good wife who wilt die first?" "And if I knew Tronco wouldst thou really want to know?" Simon laughed for they had shared this conversation many times. "Simon! Tell me no lies. Shall I bury you, or no?" Even as she asked the question Simon felt the Talisman stir. The words tumbled out. "Oh, Tronco, thou wilt bury me, but thou wilt much repent it." Anne did not seem to grasp the import of his words. "Yea how long first?" The figure was dancing in front of his eyes, the words that passed his lips were not of his choosing. "I shall die ere Thursday night." Simon took note of the warning, and put his affairs in order. In his will he left his papers and books to his friend Doctor Napier another practitioner of the occult arts. To his wife and son he left the not inconsiderable fortune of £12000. Late on Tuesday afternoon Simon took a boat from the steps on the upriver side of London Bridge. "Take me to Putney." He instructed the waterman before huddling down into the stern seat of the boat. Usually Simon would have carried on a lively conversation with the boatman, but today he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. The cloak he kept wrapped around himself not only excluded the cold east wind, but also shut out the world. He knew that he was fallible, he had made predictions before that for various reasons had not come to fruition, he hoped he was wrong this time. But within himself he was sure that on Thursday he would meet his death. Landing in Putney he made his way to the house where Emilia had her lodgings. "I am sorry sir but my mistress is not receiving any visitors." Her maid had said when he enquired if he might see her. "Wench return to thy mistress and tell her 'tis Doctor Simon Forman who wishes to converse with her." When the maid returned to the door she swung it open. "Sire, my mistress will see thee in her chamber." "Simon pray be seated, the wench will bring us some wine." Emilia said to him with the easy familiarity of an old friend. It was only when the maid had brought the wine and had withdrawn from the chamber that Emelia asked the question she had wanted answered since Simon's unannounced arrival. "Well good sire what is it that brings thee to see me. In all the years of our acquaintance thou hast never once ventured to my door unbidden." "I brought this for thee." "Your Talisman, the familiar, the power through which thou dost thy work. Why thou hast always said twould be only in death that thou wouldst relinquish it." "Fear not I am not yet a ghost, but 'ere the week is out I fear I shall be." "Art thou ill?" "Nay my fair lady naught of great import ails me, only the aches and pains one of my years must expect. But this Sunday last, as I jested with Tronco I received a premonition of my death, I assure thee that on Friday thou wilt hear news of my demise." "Why dost thou bring to me this bequest? What of your other friends, should it not be in their safe keeping?" "Emilia, I must hand this to someone who understands the power of this Talisman, and thou art the only one, apart from myself who has touched the medallion and has unprompted, discerned its inherent power." "Simon, how do I use it? To what purpose am I meant to employ it?" "Fair Emilia the answer to your questions I do not possess. For an answer you will have to consult with the Talisman." He said taking the medallion from his neck and holding out it to her. Talisman Ch. 2: Dr. Forman's Discoverie "Nay Simon do not remove it yet." When he had replaced it around his neck she rose from her seat. "Come with me to my bedchamber and let us for a last time, if fate wills it to be a last time, couple in thy delightful manner." She held out her hand, and when he was on his feet led him to her bedchamber. In the bedchamber Emelia allowed Simon to unpin her kerchief, revealing her breasts. Her olive skin, making a striking contrast with the pale golden yellow of her gown. Swiftly she loosened the tie at her waist and removed the simple dress. Naked she unlaced the fastening of his doublet and cast it to the floor, her nimble fingers expertly loosened his breeches. Like a pair of children they dived onto the bed as soon as he was naked. To exclude the draughts Emilia pulled closed the bed's heavy drapes. They lay in one another's arms as they allowed their eyes to become accustomed to the semi darkness. Then Simon took one of her nipples into his mouth and began to gently suckle on it whilst moving his tongue in a circular motion over its hardening surface. She felt the familiar tingles flowing through her body down towards the seat of her moistening sex. "Oh Simon what a loss to womanhood thou death will be. At this moment I would wish to die in bliss with thee." She groaned and parted her legs as his fingers began to explore her wet slit. Then his fingers found their goal and he began to toy with her aroused nubbin. She spread her legs wider when he began to slip two fingers inside her. Relinquishing her nipple he began to kiss and lick his way down her body over her stomach, briefly pausing his journey to toy with her belly button before resuming until he was met by the dense, dark forest of her fleece. She was taken by surprise, when instead of halting at this point, as he always had in the past, he moved along the edge of the hair then down along the crease that delineated the join of her thigh and rounded belly. It was like a Royal fireworks display, when he parted her legs and dived between them. She thrashed and writhed ecstatically on the mattress, in her head she could see shooting stars and hear the heavy crump of cannon as he sucked her nubbin between his lips. For the first time and the last time in his life Simon obeyed a dictate of the Talisman he had previously ignored, never before had he put his lips to a woman's sex. Smelling the faint muskiness, tasting the sweetness of the juices that flowed from her he regretted his previous temerity. He rubbed his tongue over her nubbin, in response her hips heaved convulsively. At very moment at the peak of her ecstasy Emilia Lannier wished she could die. She would have died gladly, if she could take into eternity with her the feelings she had at that very moment. Without any stimulation her nipples were tingling. From her waist down her body felt hot and wet. Muscles deep within her went into spasms, clutching at nothing more tangible than a pleasurable sensation. Simon guided by the two figures from the Talisman, who danced before his eyes, was on a final voyage into the unknown. He had always abhorred the practice of Sodomy yet now he was pressing his forefinger, which was coated in her juices against the red-ochre rosebud that guarded the forbidden portal. With a little pressure the bud flowered admitting his finger. She gasped with pleasure, pain and most of all with surprise, when he inserted a second finger into that place he had previously refused to so much as touch. "Oh dear Simon," she murmured as her fingers entangled themselves in his thick curly hair. "Thou art truly the best lover any woman will ever know." Simon did not stop sucking on her nubbin as he moved his fingers in and out of her. Before his eyes he could see the oily juices welling from her vagina. He savored the smell of her aroused body, and in a brief thought regretted that he had not done this before. "Dearest Simon enter me now, I want to feel you deep inside me, to feel the warmth of your essence." Reluctantly Simon relinquished her nubbin and withdrew his fingers from her anus. Then he began to kiss her belly, slowly he worked his way up her body, lavishing kisses upon her nut-brown skin until once again his lips had reached the underside of her rounded breast. Looking at her Simon thought she was as beautiful in her forty-first year as she had been when he had first known her as a young woman of twenty-seven, but it was her intelligence and independence that he admired the most. It was when Simon was kneeling about to get between her legs that Emilia made her request. "Simon would thou experiment further?" One of his eyebrows raised quizzically. "What dost thou have in mind." "Enter me by the portal where thy fingers played so sweetly." "Thou wantest me to sodomize thee?" "Sweet Simon art thou shocked? Dost the master in the arts amore act like some narrow minded bigot and decry that, that he has never tried?" "Tis true I have never indulged in sodomy." "Then dear Simon try it now with me, if not for thy sake for mine." She rolled onto her stomach and raised herself onto all fours. "See when thou enters me thou canst grasp my dugs." "Sweeter, better molded dugs I have never known." "Use a little spittle to ease thy way." She instructed as she felt his pizzle butting blindly against her sphincter. Simon spat on his hand, smeared the spittle over the head of his pizzle and anointed the rosebud of her anus. Positioning the head against her anus he thrust with his hips, suddenly the resistance gave way. He was surprised at how easily the engorged head slid into her. "Still thy movements a moment Simon. Wait whilst my body adjusts to thy presence." She said, knowing from experience that the feeling of discomfort would soon pass. Thrilling sensations tingled through her caused by Simon toying with her nipples and kneading her breasts. She could feel her sphincter relaxing as it accommodated his tool. "Now dear Simon drive it home with a will!" As Simon thrust his hips forwards he experienced a sensation he had never known before. It felt as if he was pushing his pizzle into a warm, moist, tight fitting velvet glove that clung to the entire length of his tool. As he pulled back he felt the same delightful sensation. Thrusting in once again, he regretted that he had always rejected this delightful way of having sex. As Simon's thrusting settled into a rhythm, his tool pushing deep into her, Emelia could feel tingling run along her spine where the Talisman trailed along her back. "Harder dearest, harder!" Emilia whimpered as orgasm after orgasm wrenched themselves from her body in quicker and quicker succession until they merged into one, and she felt as if her body was a formless mass of wet flowing ecstasy. Her only link that she was made of flesh was the pressure of Simon's hands and strong fingers on her breasts. His testes throbbed and tightened drawing up into his body. Using his practiced techniques of mind control he did not allow himself to ejaculate, whilst enjoying the mental joys of multiple orgasms. Her breasts ached with the punishing manipulation to which they had been subjected. But it was only when she began to feel sore that she said. "Enough Simon please let thy self cum." She felt his hot sticky fluids spurting into her bowel. Without him withdrawing she slowly lowered herself and he shadowed her movements, until she lay face down on the bed, pressed onto the mattress by his body. Carefully they moved as one, turning so they lay like spoons. "Well didst thou enjoy it?" Emelia asked him. "So much so, I rue not having indulged in sodomy before. I could kick myself for a fool, I should have known that an act the church decrees a sin would be a sweet sport." "Couldst thou go again this instant?" "Nay I fear not! Not now fair lady, for with thy sweet ass thou hast squeezed my pizzle as dry as an old bone." "That is all to the well my dear, for thou hast left my arse as raw as meat on the butcher's shambles." "Then both our lusts are sated?" "My lusts are truly satisfied, but then thou hast never left me with any carnal desire of mine not satisfied." "Emilia satisfying thy desires has always been a pleasure." Once again he took the Talisman from around his neck. "And now thou must accept this gift." "Oh Simon if thou insists I shalt keep it safe for thee, but if on Friday thou art still alive I insist that thou takest it back." She did not bow her head for him to put it around her neck until he said, "on my oath if I live and am well I wilt take it back." Soon after Emilia rose from her bed and drew back the drapes. In the late afternoon sunlight, that streamed through the window, the white ivory Talisman glowed against her dark skin. Simon dressed and bade her farewell. On Thursday after eating his dinner he thought the danger had passed. He left the house to conduct some business in Southwark. He was crossing the Thames in a rowing boat when, according to the boatmen he clutched his side. Moments later he was dead.