1 comments/ 12306 views/ 2 favorites Amletaine By: BrazenFellow Lurching heavily from the crest of a wave, the canvas of the vessel's sails banged angrily in the wind when a stay gave way and a cursing sailor hauled himself up, hand over hand, the rope nets that constituted the futtock shrouds. Gaining the topmast, he watched a team of sailors secure the broken line, splicing it expertly as each motion of the ship's hull in the sea was magnified fivefold on the mast. The mast creaked. This abovedecks drama played out unknown to the passengers belowdecks, though the mast's creak echoed throughout the hull, competing with the sound of the foam-flecked waves thumping solidly against the bow, then cresting the prow. The unfamiliar noise of the mast creaking in the wind of the squall distracted her. Turning, thinking it another opponent, she felt the capstan bar tugged out of her hands as a lean-muscled leg slammed into the back of her knee. Andrea would have shouted save for the female hand that covered her mouth before her lips had a chance to part, and the fingers of her other hand pressing against the center of her neck, stilling the vocal cords quite effectively. Her harsh voice grated in Andrea's ear: "Have some respect!" Andrea thrashed, catching the priestess in the ribs with one elbow as the ship crested another wave, throwing the women off balance. Rolling free of her grasp, Andrea rose to her knees. "Fuck your respect!" She spat, missing the priestess's face. Glancing from side to side, she saw nothing else to yield as a weapon and stepped behind a table to put space between herself and Gabrielle, the priestess. Andrea realized suddenly the meaning of Gabrielle's name: devoted to god, and the thought flashed across her mind that it was simply a moniker the priestess used. Gabrielle threw herself across the table at the recalcitrant young woman, while Andrea had been expecting her to rush around one side and pin her against the bulkhead. Surprised, Andrea reacted with the sort of violent instinct that had made her first lover a skilled warrior, seizing the priestess by the hair and slamming her head into the table. Gabrielle lay stunned and bleeding. She rushed around the table herself, intending to storm the stairs and throw herself off the ship. What did they expect? That she would welcome being abducted in the dark of night and spirited to some foreboding shore, carried blindfolded and trussed onto a ship that stank of fear and seawater, and then to submit to that god-awful ritual? Like fuck I will she thought, before a man in a dark green cloak coolly extended the capstan bar he'd taken from her earlier into her solar plexus. The hardwood club impacted her solidly between and below her breasts, driving the air from Andrea's body. For any but another priestess to lay hands on a Priestess of Amletaine brought the most outstanding bad luck to those who did, and so the Northerner hadn't touched Andrea while she struggled with Gabrielle, out of fear of touching the priestess accidentally. Like most, the Northerner was a superstitious man. Once Andrea had effectively freed herself of the priestess, however, she had brought herself to the battle-wizened man's attentions. Andrea dropped to her knees and the Northerner simply slung his cloak off one shoulder, wrapping her torso tightly in it to immobilize her arms, and eased her roughly to the deck. One heavily booted foot rested on the small of her back and the teak decking was unyielding as the weight of her body pressed her breasts against it. The weatherproofed wool of the cloak Andrea found herself secured in when her wits returned did little to cushion her. Gabrielle's voice was harsh, a rapidly swelling cut on her cheek marring the cruel perfection of her high, pale-skinned cheekbones. "Behave yourself. Veikko, beat her if she tries it again." The Northerner nodded assent. From forwards in the passenger compartments, Andrea heard an abrupt moan, clearly pained, and then a gasp she couldn't decipher the sensation or emotion behind as the mast creaked again. She shrugged, trying to loosen her arms, stopping when Veikko's boot pressed her firmly into the deck. The small of her back ached, the hobnailed heel of the Northerner's boots exquisitely uncomfortable. Gabrielle left. After an hour, a man brought Veikko a plate. From the guttural, oddly accented exchange, the man's name seemed to be Hittavainen. So Veikko wouldn't have to lift his boot from Andrea's back, Hittavainen brought him a chair from the table the obstinate young woman had sheltered behind earlier. "Kiitos, Hitta." Hittavainen left. "Veikko?" The Northerner bent forward over his plate and regarded Andrea with a raised eyebrow. "May I roll over?" Her response was him lifting his foot from her. She rolled over and sighed deeply, happy to be breathing deeply again for the briefest of moments before grunting in pain. Veikko eased his chair closer to her and pinned her between chair legs and the thick leather of his knee-high boots. "Keep breathing. The pain will pass." Andrea smiled weakly in return. "Thanks... kiitos?" Veikko nodded. "Kiitos," he confirmed. "You speak well. Where did you learn my mothertongue?" Before Andrea could respond, the door swung open. Gabrielle stood in the hatchway with fire in her eyes. "Your little display encouraged another of your sister acolytes to rebel. She threw herself off the ship." "Good for her." "Don't be flippant. It isn't the end of your life." Andrea held her tongue. What if she knew what she was losing? Andrea bit her tongue, not trusting herself to stay silent. The young woman - three days into her second decade, as was the custom - was known in her village as a firebrand. Practical people from the North East, farmers and woodsmen. Her aunt had caught her masturbating one winter day when the girl was but nineteen and rebuked her sharply, to put it politely, with the birchwood cane she carried. Never loved by Andrea, her aunt had succeeded only in combining the thoughts of sexual pleasure and antagonizing her aunt, practically ensuring that when the black-haired partisan strolled into her village and took an interest in Andrea, it would go far further than was allowed in Amletaine's society. Fearsome with his dagger and even more skilled with the axe hanging from his belt, he had been questioned by no man when Andrea simply abandoned her home one dark night. Four days later he settled in the forest nearby, and a farmer trading grain for meat with the partisan was shocked to see his friend's missing daughter laying nude in the partisan's bedroll, a content, sated smile fixed on her sleeping face. The partisan, her first and only lover, had simply laid his hand on the wooden haft of his dagger and shook his head slowly. The farmer nodded, shaking hands with the partisan as the deal was done, two deer for a winter's grain. His life for his silence, though that deal remained unspoken. The mast creaked again. Gabrielle left once more as soon as she recognized that Andrea would say no more. Veikko knelt beside her. "Where did you learn my mothertongue?" "A partisan came to my village. I went with him, for a way." She paused, not having used this language for months, welcoming the feel of once-familiar words on her tongue and the accompanying memories of her time in the forest with the man who'd made her his woman. "I..." she stopped, suddenly realizing she had no more to say. She shrugged again and found Veikko's strong hands pinning her firmly to the deck, though gently. "If I take my cloak back, will you fight me? Your partisan taught you that, I saw, when Gabrielle came across the table at you. Tell me you'll be calm and I'll let you up." She nodded, and Veikko was true to his word, lifting the girl by the shoulders and unwrapping her from the cloak that bound her tightly. She sat on the deck, Veikko crouching beside her. "The partisan. Your first?" Andrea simply nodded, the colour draining from her face as she realized her secret was that obvious. No acolyte had become a Priestess of Amletaine's Temple without losing her virginity in the Ritual, those who had been discovered to have lain with a man before were exiled. Exile was death, simply, in the bleak landscape of the North, as the women were taught none of the survival skills in their home that were the cornerstone of the men's knowledge. Veikko rolled her onto her side without warning. "Lift your arm." Andrea, knowing what was coming, could do nothing more than mutely comply. Then the linen of her shirt was up, exposing her right breast to the cool, salty and stale air belowdecks. Her nipple hardened involuntarily. She knew Veikko wouldn't find what he was looking for, the tattoos on her right side denoting her marriage date. Veikko kept her shirt up, holding her in place. His hand cupped her breast. She jerked, recoiling from his touch and ending up trapped between his hand and his boots. She whispered: "No. Please?" He touched her anyways, a surprisingly gentle caress, waiting until the goosebumps on her skin faded under the warmth of his touch and the nipple stood erect from arousal, however unwilling Andrea may be. She closed her eyes. He switched to her other breast, performing the same actions until her left nipple stood in the same condition as its partner on the right, then pulled her shirt back down. She opened her eyes, watching him uncertainly. Andrea's cheeks flushed slightly with the heat of arousal, conflicting with the nervous roiling sensation buried in her stomach. She was surprised to see Veikko smiling in what she took to be reassurance, his eyes kind. For the first time she noticed his black hair. "It's okay. I will help you, for your partisan lover. Does he still live?" Andrea nodded again. "Why are you so set against this?" Veikko asked. "Have you been with a woman?" Andrea's retort came instantaneously. Veikko smiled, baring even teeth. "Several. Do you know of your other spot, inside?" Andrea shook her head. "It differs from the talikheuta," Veikko said, giving it the name she had last heard from her own lips as the partisan had kissed her ready labia that first night, and then her clitoris directly, at her begging insistence, "and is not hard to find. Priestesses use it. You're not long for the Temple, are you?" "You mean I won't stay long?" Veikko nodded. Andrea spoke again; "You're right. I won't. So why do this to me? What's so wrong about it?" The Northerner wrapped his cloak about her shoulders to keep her warm, then settled on his chair and tore a piece of sweetened bread into crude halves. He handed the larger of the two pieces to her. "Eat." She complied, suddenly aware of how hungry she was, feeling she could trust this strange Northerner with her secret. He continued. "I don't know why. I'm no priestess, and I've never deigned to ask one. You agree that you've a problem now?" "I don't see how I could say otherwise," she answered. "Go through with the Ritual," Veikko advised. "I'll take you. Show you this other spot. Make you safe. Then you're free to go. Back to your partisan." Andrea didn't ask why, simply shuddered at the thought of losing her - oh, how much will that hurt? Please let it be painless. Please. Even as she wished this, she knew it was not likely. There had to be some sort of balance to the indescribable pleasure it brought. Slowly, mulling through her options as the partisan had taught her, she nodded her assent. Then a question sprang to mind. "Why?" "I'm going to let you up in a moment, and take you to your room. Promise me not to fight and that you'll bow to the priestess." "I will not bow to that bitch." "Fine. I'll make you." Andrea, suddenly realizing how helpless she was against Veikko's easy strength, left this point of contention alone. "Why?" She asked again. Veikko got to his feet, reached down, and lifted her easily. He slung his cloak over his shoulder, leaving the plate of half-eaten food where it was and taking her wrists in one powerful hand. Andrea thought it best to go with him meekly, allowing the Northerner to steer her by her wrists as the helmsman did the great ship with constant, insistent pressure on the great wheel mounted on the quarterdeck. Gabrielle came down the far gangway towards them. Veikko waited, and when Andrea remained obstinately upright pressed a hand into her upper back, pressing her down into a bow. Gabrielle nodded regally at Veikko. "Kiitos, Veikko." "Priestess," the Northerner acknowledged. "She does well with you now. Did you beat her?" "No, Priestess. We simply talked. I will take her, for the Ritual." Gabrielle paused her step, about to sweep on past the pair when the oddity of Veikko's words struck her. "If she chooses you, of course, Veikko." "Of course, Priestess. I think she will." Gabrielle watched Andrea for a moment, who squeezed her eyes shut to keep burning tears of shame hidden from this bitch-priestess Gabrielle. The priestess nodded curtly. "You are a persuasive conversationalist, Veikko. An uncommon thing for a Northerner." Veikko smiled, as if the insult did not sting at his pride. The Western Priestess of Amletaine carried on past them. Andrea found herself in her room shortly thereafter, Veikko's parting words centered in her mind before she fell into a fitful sleep. Remember to pick me. I'm your best chance, acolyte. -- Jarred awake by the sudden clattering of the chain rode through the hawsepipe, the acolytes unrolled themselves from their blankets. The night chill was still present in the shared accommodations, so many rewrapped themselves once they'd sat up on their rough plank cots. All retained that sense of unease that had permeated the cabin since the Priestess had announced they would soon be at their destination, though like the vast majority of the population none knew where that destination was. A bell clanged, and Andrea assumed that in the predawn gloom that meant it was time for breakfast. She made her way to the galley with a gaggle of other acolytes only to find the five cooks still in the midst of preparing breakfast. While some of the acolytes returned to their quarters, a few others wandered the ship. Andrea wandered the corridors and gangways, smiling awkwardly or blushing slightly when the crew stood to one side and bowed their heads until she'd passed. A voice boomed from behind her: "Make a hole!" and instinctively she stepped to one side. A pair of sailors, a stretcher between them, carried a third with a badly broken leg below to the ship's surgeon. The wounded sailor winked at her as he was carried past, grimacing as the stretcher bumped against the bulkhead further down the corridor. She glanced into cabins and compartments as she passed through, seeing the minutiae of shipboard life. A sailor swung in his hammock, darning his socks. One of the ship's officers ate at his desk, reading intently from a novel and when Andrea meekly inquired if breakfast was served he nodded irritably, suddenly standing and bowing slightly once he realized an acolyte had asked the question. As always, Andrea blushed. She came to a ladder and rose to the deck. A score of Northerners stood watching the sun rise, most honing the edges of their weapons, all talking quietly in their native tongue. A breeze shifted the ship's boats in their davits and reminded Andrea she'd left the ship's cloak she'd been given at the foot of her cot. She breathed the fresh air and felt goosebumps rise on her skin in its cool caress. Her nipples hardened of their own accord, and she walked to the bow. Past the bowsprit was the dark shadow of land, ghostly smoke rising from a handful of chimneys and soft light bleeding through thin curtains that hung in the windows of a few houses facing the quays of a small harbour filled with boats dwarfed by the vessel she stood aboard. Only a few minutes later, Andrea was aboard one of the ship's boats as it neared the quays. From this angle, she could see that the quays were designed to accommodate craft with considerably more freeboard. Her hurried breakfast felt like a brick in her stomach and didn't get any more comfortable when the boat bumped hard against the quay's rope-matted sides. A rope ladder hung nearby and one of the sailors reached for it, pulling the ship's boat in along the quay and holding it in place while the oarsmen rested and the acolytes disembarked. Andrea clambered awkwardly onto the quay's deck and looked up to find Gabrielle staring down at her. "Go wait at the end with the others." Andrea didn't see any point in disobeying and meekly followed those ahead of her to the end of the quay. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a half-dozen other boats bobbing in the water as they approached, carrying a mixture of Northerners, the last of the acolytes, two other priestesses, and a handful of affluent men from the West. Hittavainen fingered the sheathed axe hanging from his belt, striding along beside Veikko. The villagers had shuttered their windows and shut their doors firmly, having seen this procession of confused girls, wealthy mainlanders with wolfish grins, dark looking Northerners and imperious priestesses many times before, so many times as to arouse no curiosity. Andrea clumped together with another few of the other apprehensive girls who had some small inkling of what might happen based on rumour and the cynicism their lives had happened to instil in them. The other girls were naïve in the extreme, sexually unaware and blissfully ignorant as was sadly all too common in Amletaine's society. The mechanism behind the selections was simple; it was a geographical quota, the same for all regions in Amletaine so the simple-minded villagers and townspeople who made up the majority of the population did not feel that one region was being favoured over another in terms of the number of opportunities it had to curry favours with the gods. These opportunities were of course the acolytes. The Temple itself selected them and spirited them away for similar reasons, partially so that no one family could be blessed with having a daughter publicly selected as an acolyte, but primarily to maintain some of the mythos the Temple relied upon to maintain its authority. Hittavainen scratched at the side of his jaw before speaking. "Not many gentry here Veikko. We'll get to stand in the line today." Veikko, who had done his own count of the gentry as they had first boarded the ship, had come to the same conclusion and was glowering as he reflected on the inequities of Amletaine's society. Sexual repression was the norm; with sexual liberation came a diversion of energies the Temple could put to work for its own benefit, though the way this was justified to the peasants was that those who indulged in sex for any reason other than procreation were doomed to the afterlife of two rivers - put simply, hell - and would lack the energy for such essential tasks as tending to the harvest. That their energies could be spent more productively than labouring on intricately decorated, massive temples was never mentioned. Those who partook of casual sex were unlikely to see a harvest anyways. As with most other things that their religious masters disapproved of for reasons of manipulation and power-mongering, to partake of casual sex was to bring a host of curses down upon one's own head. Veikko suspected that some of these apparent curses were simply the work of priestesses instilling fear in the peasantry. This was a thought shared by most of the other partisans, who had fought to carve out a niche in the barely-hospitable northern reaches of Amletaine, because the gentry and the closely affiliated Temple would not allow them the pleasure of settling anywhere with more productive soils or less inclement weather. The truce terms had required that the partisans be allowed to reintegrate with society to any degree they wished, and as the gentry and most particularly the Priestesses of Amletaine's Temple were terrified of being subjected to further savagely conducted raids, this was permitted. In time the partisan's lack of superstition and blatant disregard for the Temple had pushed away the superstitious fears that had shrouded the practical nature of the Northerners in general, and soon it became evident to the gentry that the Northerners were an effective paramilitary force, as they would unhesitatingly do things that were sure to shock the remainder of Amletaine's population. This was particularly useful when branches of Amletaine's Temple tried to break away from the central authority and establish their own little fiefdoms, as at that point even the sons of the gentry and their associated men-at-arms couldn't be relied upon to restore order, out of fear of exposing themselves to the wrath of the gods. "That we will, Hitta." Veikko forced himself to sound cheerful. "Looking forward to this?" Amletaine "I am," Hittavainen responded sincerely. He, like the wealthy nobles who accompanied the procession, was anticipating the physical and psychological pleasures that came from rutting with a virgin. Unlike the nobles, whose contributions to the Temple had earned their presence, Hittavainen was here because like Veikko he had chosen to be for his own reasons. These reasons were private and the two men did not discuss them. Veikko suspected Hittavainen simply enjoyed the carnal pleasure of it. Amletaine's population tolerated this mistreatment of their women because in their minds, it was not mistreatment. Amletaine was both the name of the nation and of its church because centuries ago a clever Master of the Temple had convinced the ruling family that their rule was by the gods' will and the best way to appease the gods and guarantee themselves an endless dynasty would be to allow the Temple to adopt the name of the nation. As this had happened so long ago, the Temple and the nation had simply become one, and were inseparable. For the majority of Amletaine's illiterate, unphilosophical and drunken society life without the Temple was inconceivable. They were constantly drunk because it was safer to drink the thin, bitter wine grown in this nation or the dark beers than it was to drink the water. The partisans had found refuge amongst the Northerners because the water there was cleaner than elsewhere, and even had it not been the ground did not support enough in the way of crops to permit the planting of hops or the wasting of grain on brewing beers. This resulted in a population more open to reason, and as mentioned over time the partisans had simply through their presence dispelled some of the mythos that surrounded the Temple, casting away some of the fundamentalism that coloured faith in Amletaine. Simply put, it was easier for the partisans to live amongst those who were not fundamentalists than it was to live alongside those who were. -- The process behind preparing an acolyte for service as a Priestess of Amletaine's Temple was based on misinformation and ignorance, as well as simple psychology. Firstly, virgins were selected. It was not hard to find virgins in Amletaine's society, one simply found unmarried young women. Some of them, of course, were not virgins. These were made into outcasts and exiled from Amletaine's more hospitable regions, thus making them into examples. By their example others were encouraged to comply with the Temple's edicts. Andrea shifted uneasily but kept pace with the group as they came to the end of the path and into a clearing dominated by a tall marble statue. Gabrielle, flanked by her two subordinates, stood in front of the statue and addressed the group. For the most part, eyes were on the statue, not her, as the morning sun hadn't left its polished surface yet and the inlaid metals and stones glistened and shone as if alive with a new energy. "Gentlemen," she began. "You will follow Priestess Claire. Do as she instructs. Acolytes, you will follow myself and Priestess Lorraine." Priestess Claire, dark-haired with a red sash tied around her waist underneath her ship's cloak, walked around the right side of the monument followed by a series of eager nobles. Veikko and Hittavainen trailed behind. Andrea followed the other two, glancing at Veikko nervously and hoping she'd be able to pick him out of the group when the time came. She climbed the stairs fronting the wooden building the Priestess led the group to, beginning to unfasten her cloak. Gabrielle's imperious voice greeted them as they gathered in a room where the floorboards were perfectly smooth and the furnishings luxuriant. Many of the girls stared in wonderment at the fine tapestries hanging on one wall. As Gabrielle began to speak Andrea noticed Lorraine bolting the door behind them and her panic returned full force, drowning out Gabrielle's speech so that she only heard the last part of it. "... and be shown sin, made proof against it, so that you may serve the gods well." Many of the girls were nodding thoughtfully. Stupid cows, thought Andrea, then she suddenly wished she had the same ability to believe this was for the better. Ignorance really was bliss. She bit her lower lip to look apprehensive and forced herself to nod with the others, Gabrielle's imperious gaze sweeping the acolytes, watching them for any sign of recalcitrance. She wished suddenly for her partisan to force the door, bringing cold steel against the Priestesses and whisk her away from here, and in the same heartbeat knew it could not happen. She paid attention closely now, because many of the other girls were. She tried but could not get lost in the rhetoric, tried to but couldn't believe what Gabrielle told them. The Priestess was expounding on the concept of discovering sin so that the acolytes knew what they would be working against, and as Andrea was an intelligent girl from the North, she put two and two together. The nobles and men like Hittavainen were in too good a mood to be here for a sombre religious ceremony. Andrea felt goosebumps form as she realized what the Priestesses meant by being shown sin. Suddenly she understood that Veikko was right. He was her best chance. Gabrielle continued, Andrea's attention returning to what she was saying. "If after this you feel you're not strong enough to fight sin with your fellow novices and Priestesses such as us," she gestured at her subordinate Lorraine, "then you may return home." Some of the girls now looked nervous. Gabrielle led them to a long hallway. A score of doors led to rooms that branched off from this corridor. The Priestess explained that each of the acolytes were to stand in the doorway to a room and take whichever of the men best suited their fancy inside and permit them to do as they wished. It was sanctioned by the gods, Gabrielle and Lorraine both explained, and all would be forgiven very soon. Now very few of the girls looked confused. Nearly all looked apprehensive, Andrea included. At least I can pick. I can pick Veikko. It'll be all right. The men soon entered, led by the Priestess Claire. The acolytes looked past her to scan the faces of the men following. Andrea set her eyes on Veikko the moment she saw him and didn't let her gaze waver, her lithe body tensed as the nobles left to approach girls who sometimes rebuffed them and as they circulated, looking for a willing acolyte, Veikko put himself between Andrea and the trio of Priestesses at the head of the hallway. He inclined his head respectfully towards Gabrielle, sensed Andrea stepping back into the room, and the Priestess nodded regally in acknowledgement of his slight bow. Claire smiled slightly, watching Veikko as he unfastened his cloak. The room Andrea stood in was one she would attend to, and Claire liked the Northerner's powerful grace that came with his easy strength. She was looking forward to seeing him again. Put simply, he was her favourite. -- Veikko's knife rasped out of its scabbard. He tossed his cloak onto the floor at Andrea's feet and stood facing her, the blade gleaming in the light of eight tall beeswax tapers glowing brightly from their sconces. Andrea swore and threw her cloak at the Northerner, trying to reach the closed door behind him. Veikko flicked the cloak out of the air, flinging it down beside his, and caught the fleeing acolyte in one arm. She struggled free, stopped for a second as Veikko caught the fabric of her tunic, then he tapped the back of her knee with his booted foot and she collapsed forward. "You bastard!" she spat, turning to rake her fingers over his eyes. He slammed the knife down into the wooden floor, burying it an inch into the birch, catching her hand and shoving her down beside the knife before she could do him harm. "Vitun mäkärä!" he replied. She stared up at him. By now his weight was on her, calloused hands holding her by the wrists, one knee between her legs, his hip pressed into her pelvis to hold her body still. "Calm down. We'll need that knife soon. What, did you think I was going to kill you?" She shook her head. "Calm down. I know you're scared. I'm not going to hurt you. Can I let you go without you fighting me?" "I'm not sure yet." Veikko grinned and Andrea smiled back, finding it easier to trust him now that she remembered how he'd treated her aboard the ship. "All right. I won't fight you." Veikko let go of her and knelt beside her, unfastening his belt while Andrea sat up. "What now?" she asked. "First I'll show you what I told you I would earlier. Then we have to make it look as if you were virginal. That will hurt a little. Then to wait for one of the Priestesses." He unbuttoned his tunic and lay it on the floor beside him. He began to shrug out of his linen shirt, then looked at Andrea. "You may want to start taking off your clothes now. It'd make things easier." She hesitated for a second, then lifted the edge of her shirt and undid her thin leather belt. Veikko clucked his tongue appreciatively as was common in the North and East of Amletaine when she pushed her pants down over her muscled legs. She blushed, stealing a glance at Veikko as he pulled his shirt off over his head, the muscle of his chest and arms stretching as he lay the shirt on his tunic. Andrea pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "You said there was another spot... like the talikheuta? Where?" Her voice wasn't demanding. It was almost girlishly inquisitive. Veikko arranged their clothes, the cloaks forming a bed of sorts and the rolled tunics and shirts a pillow. He could have taken her to the long ottoman at the back of the room, but was perfectly content here on the floor with her. A man's voice groaned, obviously pleasured, though no other sound could be heard afterwards. The walls weren't thin. Veikko patted the cloaks. "Come lay down. I'll show you." She knelt, shrugging out of her few remaining clothes, and lay down on their cloaks, surprisingly boldly. Her hands rested calmly on her midsection, folded over her navel, her sex and breasts exposed to Veikko who simply smiled softly and touched her shoulder. "Show me how you pleasure yourself." Andrea parted her legs, rested her head on the makeshift pillow, and began to slide her hands down over her pubis to the join of her leg and hip. As her hands moved, Veikko bent forward and kissed her chest softly, between the supple flesh of her breasts. She gasped. He looked at her, wordlessly saying don't stop, and her hands kept tracing over her loins, moving closer to the labia, fingers beginning to tingle with excitement as a warm flush stole from her centre to where Veikko had kissed her. She watched him intently. Her fingertips touched her sex directly, caressing the lips. His lips brushed over her areolas. They returned with a little more pressure, the slightly rough, wet warmth of his tongue pressing against her nipples, one after the other. Goosebumps rose across her skin in wide swaths, over her belly and upper legs, both her arms, as the warmth from her core intensified and began to surge gently like the sea on a smooth sand shore. It didn't take long. She parted her labia and gently dragged a finger from the bottom of her sex to the top, pulling her wetness, her excitement, over her clitoris. Veikko timed it beautifully and kissed her softly just as the delicate sensation of her finger rolled up from her sex to permeate her body. Instinctively she pressed into his kiss, almost purring as his hand found the nape of her neck. Andrea closed her eyes as the Northerner's hand saddled hers. He made no move to interfere as she pleasured herself, occassionally kissing her anywheres from just above her navel to her parted lips as the tempo of her breathing picked up. Then his hand slid off hers and he was whispering in her ear. "Like this." His powerful hand took her wrist and led her hand to her breast, and the same instinct that had caused her to press up into the unexpected kiss had her tracing her excitement over the skin of her areolas, circling the nipple in a languid caress. As she did this, his hand returned to her loins and rewarded her by replicating her own touch, his fingers a little rougher, but this felt just that much better. He circled her most sensitive regions, feeling her hips beginning to rock into his hand, moving with that surging tide in her core. His fingers slid to her threshold. Andrea moaned softly as Veikko entered her, and her hands tugged insistently at his shoulders until he brought his lips to hers. She bit his lower lip and found that this was something he liked. She ascertained this simply when his free arm wrapped around her shoulders and brought her into his chest, pressing her sensitive, arousal-flushed skin against his hardened muscle. Those fingers pressed deeper, his ring and middle finger eventually burying themselves in her willing body as she clung to him. His palm turned to face the ceiling, the light from a taper flickered as the flame edged close to its pool of wax. Two things happened simultaneously. His fingertips delicately caressed the 'other spot', curling back on themselves to stroke the rear of her pubis. And her body jerked upwards as her back arched. Her mouth opened, she groaned, spasmed, and Veikko intently stroked the same spot again. She quivered, perfectly on edge. The Northerner kissed her and of its own accord her tongue found his, needing to feel closer to the man who brought her this sort of pleasure. She bit his lower lip again and was rewarded with a firm rub, the constancy of which drove her to the brink of orgasm. Andrea shuddered, gasping, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she came. The feel of her clenching around his fingers was perfection itself. Her lithe body writhed in his arms as she enjoyed herself to the utmost, and this was what Veikko liked most. A few moments later her eyes focused on him and he smiled at her. "Hello again. Enjoy yourself?" Breathless, Andrea nodded and sank against their cloaks, onto his arm. She needed a minute to recover. Veikko slid his fingers from her, tracing intricate patterns around her nipples with the residue of her thick arousal and excitement. "How... how do I find it, Veikko? Where?" His answer was wordless. He simply tapped her mound, kissed her, and pulled Andrea to her knees. She knelt with him, setting one hand on his shoulder to steady herself. "It can be a challenge. Yours is not far up, you're lucky. Reach inside." She did so unhesitatingly. "Now bend your fingers towards your wrist." Her back straightened suddenly, eyes lighting up in pleasure, both physical and mental, because Andrea was an intelligent girl who simply enjoyed learning. "You're close now, I think. Keep searching. You'll know when you find it." Veikko kissed her neck and bent his back to bring his mouth to her chest once more as she explored, caught her when her back arched again mid-shudder. "There you go." He smiled. "Well done." There was a pained shout from nearby. It sounded feminine but neither Andrea or Veikko were quite sure. They both glanced at the knife, still standing where it had been stuck into the hardwood floor. "We're running out of time, aren't we?" Andrea asked sadly. Veikko nodded. She sighed. "You can find that spot with a man. It'll be better than all right for you afterwards." She smiled weakly and lay back on the cloaks, spreading her legs. "Make me safe, Veikko," she said quietly. He bent forward and kissed her, working the knife out of the floor with gentle rocking motions. She kissed back hungrily, exploring his body with her hands and marvelling at his self control. If she'd done this with her partisan he would have held her down and ravished her, which she enjoyed, but this slow play excited her terribly despite their circumstances. Their kiss ended. "May I have you?" Veikko asked, in the formal tense of his Northern dialect. Andrea grinned, then outright giggled, and Veikko laughed. "I don't know why I said it like that." "Yes, Veikko. I want you to." She smiled and hooked her calves around his hips. "Please." "Are you sure?" He asked, teasingly. Andrea tossed her head impatiently. "Oh yes. I want it. So badly. Take me." He kissed her, pressing her down against the cloaks, moving in closer, and her hands raced his to the crotch of his pants. She eagerly pulled his length free as he took her into his arms, letting her back rest against his forearms, his weight on his elbows. She adjusted her legs, wrapping them securely about his waist, laying the tip of his shaft at her threshold. "Let me feel it one last time Veikko." Without hesitation he indulged her, thrusting with one smooth motion to the hilt. She tipped her head back and moaned, the anticipation and play of the preceding minutes combing to make this one of the most pleasurable experiences of her young life. Veikko felt her quiver around him and knew she was close. Good - he wasn't going to last very long either. Something about her felt better than any other woman he'd had. She gripped him tightly with everything she had. Come on, Veikko. You feel so good. "Mmm. Kiitos. So good." Her voice dripped with excitement, lust, desire. He didn't answer her directly, but as her body responded to his and she tightened around him his pleasured sigh in her ear was all she needed to hear. She pressed up tightly against him and began grinding her clitoris, the talikheuta, against the base of his shaft. Veikko, of course, indulged her. Her breasts pressed into the firm muscle of his chest, hardened nipples tracing ovals as they moved together in the perfect rhythm lovers shared. "Let me show you something different. You know you can get that feeling were I to take you from behind. Can do that face to face as well." She raised an eyebrow playfully, quizzically, wordlessly asking; show me. "Hold tight." She nodded, he kissed her quickly, and used that same easy strength to get his legs under him without displacing her, settle back on the cloaks, so that she now straddled his lap most delightfully. "Now lean back." Andrea tried, but unwilling to let go of Veikko's shoulders she couldn't quite get the angle right. He took her wrists in his hands and straightened his arms, letting her lean back a little further until she set one hand on the floor, touching his hand with the other, unwilling to let go. She smiled, the picture of radiant Amletaine beauty, then groaned and clenched around him. "That is worth it," her voice was almost gasping, close to breathlessness. She increased the tempo a little bit at a time. -- There was a knock at the door. Andrea let go, let herself fall back onto the furs. Veikko plucked his knife up off the floor and whispered an apology to Andrea as he withdrew his length from her. She propped herself up on her elbows. It's okay, she mouthed. He nodded and lay the blade against her threshold, tipping the curve into her flesh. She gasped and he reached forward, setting his hand close to her mouth. She bit him, suppressing her pain by moaning into his hand. He cut further, not deeply, just scoring her flesh until blood welled up around the edge of the blade. He lay it under their cloaks, as the knock at the door sounded again. He kissed Andrea deeply as he thrust into her to coat himself with her blood and her lingering excitement, looking up at the door as it swung open. Claire couldn't suppress the smile the sight before her generated. "Hello Veikko," she said softly. He nodded deferentially. "Priestess." He withdrew from Andrea, who had been biting her lower lip to keep silent. A groan escaped her lips as she felt the Northerner's length leave her body. It glistened in the light of the tapers where her excitement coated him, a dark glimmer where her blood slicked his skin again. Andrea felt a heady mix of pain and residual pleasure. She wasn't listening to the Priestess and the Northerner talk, though she was watching Claire. The Priestess was clearly admiring Veikko and Andrea felt secretly pleased to have had him and shared in their conspiracy. Claire glanced at Andrea and she caught a hint of... it almost seemed to be envy, that Andrea was having something Claire wanted. The Priestess's expression softened, as if to tell her that she was a lucky girl. Then Veikko was touching her again and her attention swivelled from Claire to the Northerner. "Let me show you another way," he was saying. She simply nodded acceptance and waited to be shown or told what to do. Claire knelt nearby. "Up you get." Veikko patted his hip and Andrea straddled him. Amletaine "Other way." She turned, obediently, saw Claire admiring her partner's physique again. She smiled to herself as Veikko's hand took her shoulder and lay her back against his torso. She relaxed as he adjusted the angle of his hips. "Reach back. Wrap your arms around mine." She obeyed, following her instinct and spreading her legs over his. "Priestess?" Her head jerked up. "Yes?" "If it pleases you..." Veikko said, leaving the last words unsaid. This wasn't quite protocol. Claire didn't care. She whispered "Call me Claire, please, Veikko" as she inched closer to the two and took his shaft in her hand. She couldn't help but smile, and Andrea watched with undisguised interest as Claire slipped his engorged member into her. She groaned in a mixture of pain and returning pleasure, tipping her head back once more. The Priestess brought her gaze along Andrea's body, determined to remember the sight of Veikko so capably rutting, already imagining herself in Andrea's place. She had been excited before she opened the door, knowing Veikko was inside. Now she was suppressing the urge to squirm. Her eyes met Veikko's. He winked at her, and she blushed, her body gave a little shudder, the scent of Andrea's excitement was incredibly arousing to everybody in the room. Despite her pain Andrea was enjoying herself, the head of her partner's member thrust against her other spot, rubbing deliciously with each slow rocking motion. Andrea whimpered; "Faster." Claire added, watching fascinated from beside them: "Please." Veikko indulged them both. Thirty seconds later Andrea was gasping, spasming around Veikko in orgasm, and Claire reached out to touch her clitoris. Andrea moaned and collapsed onto Veikko, who gave a last powerful thrust and finished. Claire kept circling the talikheuta, reaching into a pocket to withdraw the cutter. Fighting to catch her breath, Andrea gasped out: "Please stop. It's too much. It was so good." Veikko bent his arms up, pinning Andrea's back with a gently insistent pressure, knowing what was coming. He admired Claire for letting Andrea finish. He felt her hand on his shaft, pulling him free of her, and fought it slightly by thrusting up into Andrea again. Claire insisted wordlessly and stroked his well lubricated skin as she pulled him free. He bit his lower lip, recognizing the risk of Claire spotting the cut in Andrea's threshold, providing the requisite maiden's blood but distinct from a torn hymen. If she noticed, Claire said nothing. Veikko kissed Andrea's jaw, the girl turning her head to try and face him. He kissed her cheek as the cold metal of the tool touched her, encircling the talikheuta. She jerked away from its cold touch, the Priestess pressed forward and deftly, expertly squeezed the handle. In a sudden burst of blinding white exploding in Andrea's vision her clitoris parted ways with her body. She bled, of course, and sagged against Veikko moaning from the pain of her wound. Veikko encircled her torso with his powerful arms and carefully slid her off him to lay on their cloaks. She curled up slightly. He stroked her jaw, took her by the chin and gently turned her face to his. He whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry. You'll be all right." He kissed her and let her lay where she wished, turning to face Claire. Andrea rolled herself in their cloaks and revealed Veikko's knife, the blade still coated with a mixture of Andrea's excitement and blood. Claire's eyes widened. Veikko's face became cold as the winter forest. Claire stopped in place and intuitively understood what had happened. Veikko raised a finger to his lips, bidding her to be silent. Claire shook with a combination of lust, fear, and a little amazement with her audiacity. "I won't. But... please, let me enjoy what she did." He nodded, wiped himself clean on the corner of a cloak, watched Claire eagerly bare herself to him. He approached her slowly with the same grace he used to stalk deer. She shuddered with anticipation.