9 comments/ 81549 views/ 22 favorites Confined To Eternity By: LustyLovers Castle Kilborne Island of Aaron - Western Scotland 1307 "Witch…" As I look down into the feverish eyes, pale pain ridden features, and parched dry lips of the bloodied man lying on the crude wooden table before me I know I’ve just been handed my doom. The coppery smell of the blood slowly dripping, down off the table, warm and sticky onto my bare feet is making the bile rise in my throat. His whispered ranting has his fellow marauders surrounding the table growling and mumbling amongst themselves. They stare at me, their eyes full of superstition and hatred, I am the enemy, English born and bred. I was first brought upon Scottish soil nine long years ago. The trophy bride King Edward bestowed upon this now dying lord. After the battle of Falkirk, in which my father William Wallace was defeated, and I captured and given away like common chattel. Brought to this wretched castle sitting atop the cliffs like some great bird perched on its precarious nest, I’ve been nothing more then slave and bed mate to this cold-hearted glacier eyed warrior since the age of ten and seven. My hatred has remained bright and strong within me, causing me to rebel, to always be receiving some punishment of one kind or another for my insolence. Now as I stand watching my tormentor dying right before me, I can feel nothing but supreme joy in his suffering. I watch the light dimming in his eyes and I smile, his last delirious declamation has condemned me. But I can feel nothing in my heart right now but relief. Better death then life in this cold miserable land of degradation and misery. The dim light of the scones, bracketed in the cement walls, throw large shadows over the array of rank smelling, sweat coated, torn and bleeding warriors crowded into the entry room situated just inside the main entrance of the Castle. The rushes on the floor are becoming drenched, dyed red by the flowing blood left by unattended wounds, as all eyes are on their dying lord sprawled on his back. Naked from the waist up his belly lying open a present from an English sword. I watch him gasp for air, and I can’t contain the curving of my lips, the first real smile I’ve felt cross my face in nine endless years. Across the table from me I catch Keenan’s eye, the brother to my husband, and next lord of the castle. If possible his loathing for me is even greater, then mine for him. His eyes narrow, and he comes around the table grabbing me by my arms, shaking me. "My brother has proclaimed you a witch… what say you to this?" His eyes burn into me, daring me, challenging me. I see desire spark hot and heavy in his gray orbs, and I know death is the only option for me now. His hands biting into my tender flesh clench harder, but I refuse to flinch. Lifting my chin I proclaim in a loud voice unmarred by tremor or quake. "Aye… I’m a witch. And I curse the whole stinking lot of you!" Just as the last syllable escapes my lips the body on the table convulses, a loud final breath is expelled, arms and legs stiffen, red gore gushes from the straining wound. Hands claw the air, as if trying to ward off the dark specter awaiting the damned soul, eager to grab it and transport it to the fiery realms of Hades. This once proud Lord heaves one final shudder before all the life is drained away, and nothing is left but the empty husk of what was. As a collective whole all eyes in the room now turn my way. Accusations written across faces beaten and bloody, filter through the dusky smoke ridden shadows of the huge room, they blame me. From my own lips I've proclaimed myself "Witch". The invasion of the English on the North shore of the island at daybreak has killed many a man on both sides, beaten back, the English have departed, their search for Robert the Bruce in vain. Hidden in the caves on the south shore of the Island the King of the Scots is safe. But their Lord lies dead. I will pay… I know it… But I no longer care. I long for death, pray for death. Keenan's meaty palm across my left cheek has me flying from his grasp. Landing on the cool hard cement floor rips the skin from my knees but I hardly feel the pain. The men converge on me, growls and profanities meet my ears, and the stench from their unwashed bodies umbrella me as hands, so many hands, drag me to my feet. Blood seeps from my cracked lip, I can taste its coppery essence feel its warm smoothness as it creeps down my chin to spill on my old worn out overdress. But I care not, for all I can see is Keenan's malevolent eyes burning into mine. The men wait, and all grow silent as they anticipate their new Lords judgment. "Emily Wallace, by thy own mouth you've confessed to witchery, your lord husband has branded you witch and died upon your own foul curse made inside these castle walls this day. " At this point I watch as he pauses, and I see the tiniest smile flicker across his cruel thin lips, he's enjoying this, enjoying the power he now wields. Putting his face close to mine, his fetid breath blowing into my mouth makes me want to retch. I swallow hard not wanting to disgrace myself, I refuse to show any weakness. My chin defies gravity and lifts, his eyes narrow; he looks up snarling to his men. "Take the witch to the tower, the north room, bind her to the wall, call the builders, I want her sealed inside." Looking back to me he whispers to where only my ears can hear. "You'll scream Emily, there in the dark, you'll beg for my mercy when the rodents start to feed on your live flesh. But no one will hear you, your filthy English carcass will rot inside these castle walls for eternity." His word's chill me to the bone, but knowing my fate is sealed I am determined to go to my death with some dignity. So I smile, looking right into his astounded gray eyes. Infuriated he grabs my hair and yanks, twisting me around and pushing me along in front of him. He walks me through the castle, often pushing me so hard that I fall forward. Each time only his hands entwined in my shortened wavy brown tresses keeps me from completely falling. My head burns from the swaths of hair torn from my scalp, but I don't cry out. His men follow shouting, demanding my blood, wanting revenge; they are in a full-blown killing rage. I ignore them all. The spiral stairway leading up into the tower seems interminable; the scones in the wall belch a nauseous smoke that burns my eyes, and the muscles in my calves' strain, crying out at me for rest. Finally we come to the top and an open doorway. In all my years in the castle, I've never been allowed in any of the towers. But I've heard of these rooms. Prisoners are kept here, shackled like animals to the walls. Some days you can hear their screams resounding throughout the castle, even into the keep, as they are tortured. I can feel the cold dread coiled like a monster snake in the pit of my belly. I want to cry out, beg, and plead, not to be taken here but know I will not, cannot. At the threshold Keenan finally releases me. Looking back over my shoulder I can see nothing in the gloomy light but his gloating smile. I keep my expression as neutral as I can, letting none of my fear and revulsion show. Then turning back around and squaring my shoulders I take my first step into my damnation. The smell hits me at once, slamming into me attacking my already queasy stomach. Old emanations of bodily excretions, sweat, and some other undeterminably putrescence odors swirl around me like a cloak. The rushes, sparse as they are, carry remnants of past inhabitants that I don't want to study to closely. Embedded into the wall about waist high dangles a pair of shackles, I can make out the rusty colored stained dull metal from where I stand. Calmly, not understanding how I can walk to my doom so easily, feeling the total silent confirmation of my impending death upon me, and an odd type of peace, I cross the cool floor and sit down in the space between where I'll be bound. I look to the doorway; Keenan just stands there, an almost grudging respect shining from his eyes. Holding out my wrists to him, I lift them up, offering them. "Finish this." He snaps to the man closest behind him, and turning on his heel starts back down the narrow staircase, his men part for him in silence. I sit complacent as a tall bearded man, a gash open and oozing above his right eye, comes in and roughly grabs each wrist and secures me tightly. I watch the dried blood from others before me chip off the stained metal and rain down as his fingers find purchase. All the rest of that long evening and into the early morning I watch as the builders come in and slab by stone slab built a wall all around me. When that is complete, I can hear the sliding and scraping as the doorway itself to my chamber is also sealed in, Keenan is taking no chances. It isn't until I hear the last stone slid and mortared into place that I allow my first tear to fall. I sit in complete darkness, with not even the small arched carved out opening to the outside, for comfort. For it is on the other side of the new wall from me, between it and the freshly sealed entrance to the chamber. Now all I can do is sit and wait in the calumnious blackness of my tomb for death to come claim me. Ruins of Kilborne Castle Island of Aaron - Western Scotland Present Day He's like a work of art, this mere mortal whom I've spent what seems like an eternity watching. Time is irrelevant to someone, or as some might think, to something such as I. What are minutes, hours, days, years, even centuries to me. Time flows in a continuing circle of nothingness, the sun rises, sets, the sea continues its never-ending quest to obey the moons magnetic pull, tide-in, tide-out. And I play sentinel, silent and unseen, a ghost… yes a ghost, for that is what I've been reduced to in my death for this past many centuries… My body now nothing but a heap of bones, and sand. My soul trapped, denied its freedom to move on to whatever realm is deemed its worth. Always, I watch from my place in this crumbling ruin, which has fallen down around me piece by piece over the space of time. Never heard, never seen since my condemnation. Alone… He's here today, this prince of men, lying supine like a medieval sun god paying homage to the burning rays. They fall down over his naked form bathing him in light as he lies on the slab of concrete, which used to be part of the once proud ramparts of this dying relic. I remember the day that piece fell, the cracking, rumbling gray rock finally letting loose its tenuous hold, it's old visage as worn and as tired as my trapped soul. It tumbled down the sheer cliff to land on the sand at the bottom, not far from the foaming water's edge, among boulders and other remnants of past eras. Only a small portion of the room I've dwelt in these past many centuries' remains standing, most of it has lost its war with gravity and fallen. I wonder what happens to me, when this last space I have follows. For as ordained, I have been unable to leave my prison, even when the wall crumbled, and the entry was once again opened, I found I could not venture out. An unseen barrier retained me, and still does, for I try every dawn to leave my prison. That is a disparaging part of each day indeed. I cry buckets of invisible tears. This is a very lonely place, isolated on the north end of the island. Days go by and I see nary a soul. Many are frightened to venture here. They believe this old fortress to be haunted. I've heard many a whisper carried on the winds invisible hands from lovers young and old who sneak to the beach for trysts using the various slabs of rock to frolic and make love upon. They lay talking afterwards, looking up warily, way up the cliff, to the hollowed out tower where I stand looking down upon them. Sometimes I almost imagine they can see me… Only this one… My imagined prince ever comes with any regularity. But only for a few very short weeks, every fourth season. This has been so for many years, every since his youth, I've watched him grow from a gangly adolescent to a strapping young man. Before, he came with his parents and what must have been his female sibling. Then one season he came alone, so sad, crying upon the rocks. I felt his loneliness and sorrow, and a kinship was born that day, and the days that followed. For I knew them well, the emotions with which he suffered. So I watch him come, day after day, to lie upon the rocks, magnificent in his nudity. I watch his skin turn from honeyed to golden before he leaves me to wait another four seasons for his return. It won’t be long now, just a couple more days before he'll once again leave me, to my loneliness and despair. My eager eyes drink him in, lying there upon the granite slab on the same swatch of pale green cloth that he comes with daily. His skin shining from the liquid he always rubs upon himself, and the strange black oddity covering his eyes, which he sometimes removes. He seems so at peace, listening to the sea splashing in upon the huge boulders, turning periodically from back to belly to back again before getting up and leaving. Sometimes he stays a little longer, to pleasure himself as he lies upon the rocks. I watch him touching himself leisurely, running his hands over his magnificent body that any warrior of my time would have been proud of. In a very slow and deliberate rhythm he massages his cock, lying there looking straight up the cliff at me. It's at these times that I feel awe wash over me. He's so beautiful, his hands so sure and confident in which tune to play upon his senses. His mouth will slowly part, and his hips will eventually strain upwards as his hand moves so gracefully, faster and faster upon his manhood. And finally upon completion his cries carry up and over the water, into the air to me, and I'm left shaking with yearning. Today is no different… His shout of ecstasy has left me weak with wanting. Even with no body I feel the taint of desire, and long to have substance with which to relieve myself. I feel my imagined nipples stiffen, and the juices between my thighs flow, and madness almost over takes me with the desire I cannot assuage. I watch in depression and sadness as he rises and gathering his strange cloth leaves as the sun begins to dip over the horizon. I await the stars, my night companions, for I never sleep. I have named them all, to me each have their own identity, just as I once did. Looking behind me at the pile of bones, dust and cloth that once represented me I still feel the loss even after all this time. Hearing a rumble I realize that yet another piece of my domain is about to start its journey down the cliff. I'm only a little surprised to see the stone floor under my non-existent feet give way. Looking up I see the wall tilting, and know this is it, will I now finally be able to go to my rest? I seem to float in the air as tons of rock, and stone began to fall around me, the world pitches forward then down in a dizzying swirl as we tumble. I feel nothing touch me as everything passes right through where my body should be. All I can ascertain is a sense of movement as the side of the cliff skates over my vision and the sand and boulders that used to seem so far away reach up and out to welcome me. Dust envelopes me, and the earth rumbles as more and more of the tower collapses, huge slab's rain down all around me, yet I feel nothing, not even the sand and rocks beneath where my feet should be. For I haven't seen my form since my death, I'm an invisible entity. What takes mere seconds seems like forever as finally the last of the stone and debris settles down around me. The dust clouds begin to drift back to the ground, landing quietly, and all that is left is the sound of the surf crashing into the rocks. I'm afraid to move; finally after centuries of nothing but stonewalls and gaping wounds were the sides of the tower were once intact, I'm in the open. Excitement courses through me, but fear reins in my heart as well. Am I trapped in this one spot forever? Has my curse been broken? Will I finally be given peace? I wait, frozen, so frightened, and not knowing what I really want more. If I move, will God finally notice me and take me from this forsaken reality? Getting up my nerve I step forward, so used now to my invisibility that it doesn't hinder me what-so-ever that I can't see my feet. I feel no barriers, and hope begins to beat within my disbelieving soul, I take a second step, feeling nothing but openness and cool breezes coming in off the water. The wind wraps around me, and a tremendous feeling of freedom comes over my senses so languidly that I'm quite confused as to what it is at first. I begin to slowly walk around in circles, trying to find a perimeter, feeling almost bereft, at the vast quantity of amplitude I'm allowed. The further away I get from the cliff and down the beach, the more I realize that in a way I'm free, I'm finally free. Then little things start to come in and camp out in my consciousness. I can feel the wind… my mouth, or what I've always perceived to be where my mouth should be, falls open. Oh my god, so long, so very long, I've waited to feel something external, to experience some recognition of touch. Being nothing but a mass of emotion for all this time has left me unprepared for the myriad sensations my shocked brain is now assimilating. My mere twenty-six years of humanity has been all I've had to go on for the remembrances of the many things I've longed to feel again. I'm not ready for this total rush of completely alien perception. Compared to the centuries of nothingness I've endured, my short span as flesh and blood has left me ill prepared. I stop in total confusion, I can feel a slight tingling beginning in where my feet should be, and like a flash, before I know it, I'm encompassed from head to toe. I don't understand this, I drop to my knees and realize that I can actually feel the sand beneath me, it's cold and damp, and each grain seems to be impeding itself into my skin. The thousands of tiny pinpricks of electrical currents I'm now registering in my shell-shocked brain and body intensifies. I fall to my back writhing, rolling from side to side. Is this death; is this the true death, first the body dies, then the soul? So many questions wrack my brain as pain does the same to my essence. Minutes pass, then hours, and still I lay twisting this way and that, I scream out, then grow still, my torment forgotten as I hear my voice for the first time in centuries. It ricochets off the cliffs to bounce back and flow over the endless swells of water and out to sea. Eventually the prickling stops and I lay gasping like a beached whale there upon the salty sand. A wispy strand of hair blows against my sweat-laden brow, I push it back behind my ear, exhausted. It takes me a full five seconds to realize what I've done. I feel a heartbeat! It quickens, and I can't contain a sob of pure joy as I look at real skin, arms and legs, fingers and toes. I jump up, unable to contain myself. My body is back! How can this be! I don't care! I don’t care!!! Is this a dream? I pat and pinch and caress, my nakedness. NO… It's real… it's real! I dance… like a crazy loon right there, up and down the sand, the sea my only audience… I grow tired but I can't make my legs obey me, my joy is too great. The night chants with me, to the accompaniment of the water playing drums upon the rocks, and the waves crashing like cymbals to shore. I twist, twirl, humming an unnamed tune upon the night breeze. Finally, lungs burning, drawing in cool drafts of much needed air, and legs shaky unable to support my weight, I sink to the sand. Looking around me I realize I've made my way back to the piles of granite, and stone slabs, which once enclosed me. Leaning back on my palms I look up the sheer cliff to the scarred remains of the castle, its tower now almost completely gone, crumbled down around me and I can't help the smile, I feel cross my face. Tears course down to fall off my chin, and I feel a dam break inside me. I raise my hand and shake my fist at the dark shadowed remains of the castle, pulling in a lung-full of air I scream at the top of my lungs. Confined To Eternity "Keenan!!!!!!! I beat you!! I beat you!!" This last rebellion saps my already expended energy, I feel my eyelids growing heavier and heavier… I collapse sideways, laying cheek down on the sand, watching the waves roll to shore. Ready, so ready to sleep, after countless days and nights of wishing for nothing more, I drift off into a dreamless pit of oblivion. Cool water seeping between my parched lips brings me to wakefulness. Ohhhhh… To drink again, it's pure pleasure and, greedily I swallow. Opening my eyes I squint up into the greenest stare I can remember ever seeing. Slowly my eyes adjust and a face comes into focus. I gasp. Oh god… it's my prince. He kneels over me, gripping a clear container of some kind, which holds the water he is so carefully dribbling onto my lips. Some of the liquid has ran down to trail between my breasts. I feel it dripping as it rolls off my side to land silently on the sand. My mouth opens then closes; I don't know what to say. I know I should feel embarrassed at my nudity, but as he is as naked as I, I'm at a loss for words. He takes the decision from me. Speaking first. "Shhhhhhh… Hey it's all right. I'm not going to hurt you." He shifts, and it's at this time that I realize his arm is under my head lifting me up. I look at the odd container wanting more to drink, he understands and places the opening to my lips and tilts it. I groan in pleasure, I can't help it; the water cascading down my dry throat feels incredible. He lets me have several large swallows before he gently takes it from me. I reach up to grab it from his hand and he holds it away. Almost desperately I lunge for it again, understanding crosses his features, as does regret. "If you drink more it might make you sick. Please just give it a few minutes, and then you can have a couple more sips. I need to get you out of the sun, you are going to burn if I don’t." His voice sends prickles of delight down my spine. I can't do anything but look into his eyes. He smiles, and I'm lost, this man, this mortal whom I've watched from afar all these years has captured my heart. He's held it in his hands for so long. I can't help but think this is a sign from god. Why else would the tower free me at this specific space and time? I turn my head and I'm looking right at his manhood, nestled there between his strong thighs as he squats tending to me, it jumps, and I smile. He clears his throat and I turn my head to watch as he places his arm beneath my knees and moves his other arm supporting my neck a little lower then just scoops me up as he stands and walks toward the cliffs and shade. I throw my arms around his neck and hold on, again our eyes meet, there is puzzlement and a hint of something more in his look as he sits me down on a big block of stone. Still I can't speak, I feel as if my tongue has deserted me. Straightening up he looks over his shoulder, and I see the black satchel that has always accompanied him sitting in the sand not far from where I was lying. Its belly is wide open and I can see colorful things inside. He turns striding toward it and my breath catches. Up close he is even more beautiful then I realized, sleek yet muscled, his backside as attractive as his front. Within seconds he is back, with the strange sack and the water. "Ummmmmm, I'm not complaining mind you, but do you have some clothes hidden around here that I could get you?" Pausing he looks at me with an enchanting smile before continuing. "When I got here this morning and found you just lying there I thought you'd drowned. Then I realized you were asleep, but I checked you over anyway for injuries. I had this terrible image of you being in the way of this rockslide… so well… I hope you'll forgive me, but I had to make sure you were okay." His smile is so innocent yet devilish I can't help but giggle. But still… what can I say? I can't just blurt out the truth. So I look down still marveling at this miracle I've been handed. Unexpectedly I feel a tear start a path down my cheek, and before I know it I am sobbing, where this has come from I have no ideal. I just need release. Strong arms come around me and I'm pulled to a powerful chest. Oh it feels so good, this feeling of comfort. My barren soul drinks it in. Sliding my arms around his waist, I cry out centuries of pain and loneliness. He's doesn't make a sound. Just holds me rocking, letting me purge myself of this poison inside me. Finally I get the strength to stop, he lets me go and hands me the container of water. It feels strange in my hands, but still cool, thankfully I drink, and drink, he doesn't try and stop me. I'm so preoccupied in my drinking that the first touch of his hands on my back startles me, causing me to jump. I whirl around almost falling off the stone; he smiles gently, showing me the oddly colored bottle in his hand. I realize it’s the same liquid he always rubs on his body before he lies in the sun. "Your skins a little red. This will make it feel better." I smile tentatively at him and turn back around. The feel of his hands upon me is sheer pleasure. The oil being stroked into my skin stills the burning I hadn't even realized was there. I close my eyes and lean forward, soon I feel his fingers kneading my shoulders, then down my arms, one at a time, his movements are slow and careful, so tender and gentle. He goes again to my back moving lower, I feel his fingers kneading above my buttocks and I shiver, leaning even more to the front. He takes his time, going to the sides of my hips, then down my thighs as I turn to give him better access. He shifts and I see he's straddled the slab, pressure on my hips has me being carefully scooted back. I find my back flush against his lightly furred chest. He pauses, waiting, giving me time to protest this bold move. I can't, for my body yearns, has wanted this for what seems like forever. I take his slippery hands from my hips and bring his arms around me, leaning back against him fully. I turn my head and look into his eyes, they blaze for me. His palms glide slowly upward, God… please hurry! My nipples have hardened, waiting, wanting the feel of him. Finally, finally he cups me. Oh exquisite pleasure. I groan, he kneads me, spreading the oil from his hands over me. I look down at myself and see my shiny breasts, so wonderfully heavy in his hands. He extends my nipples, pulling the hardened nubs away from my body. I mew deep in my throat. Never have I feel such heat coming from within myself. The wetness beginning to pool between my legs causes me to squirm. Behind me I can feel his erection against my back. Suddenly he lets me go and gets to his feet. I groan in protest swerving around to see what I've done to cause him to leave me. His warm smile in my direction squelches my fears. Bending over he rummages in his strange sack and comes out with his green cloth, and the black covering I've seen him wear over his eyes many times. He slips them on; I love the way it makes him look, so exciting almost mysterious. Turning from me he heads to a bigger slab of rock not far away, the sunlight glints off his short black hair, I watch mesmerized. Spreading out the cloth he turns to me extending his hand. I have no choice but to go to him. I feel like this has been ordained, perhaps even from my birth. I can feel his cloaked gaze centered upon my lips, I lick them coating them in my saliva before hurrying to him not hesitating in the least. His hands slither around my waist and he pulls me into his body before slamming his lips down on mine. I open my mouth wide, wanting his taste, needing to feel his silky tongue invade me. I am the conquered, his willing captive in this beautiful act of give and take. Colors swirl behind my closed eyes, this kiss becomes my whole world, and nothing exists outside of his lips upon mine. Slightly roughened palms sliding to my buttocks incite me; I grind my hips up and in, he moans as my stomach makes contact with his aching member. Still our tongues mate, his taste is clean and minty, reminding me of the sprigs I used to pick and chew as a child. I can't get enough. The sun beats down on us, but we care not. Unfortunately after a time, feeling faint and light headed I have to pull back. My breaths come in fast pants, each chasing the other for the warm sultry air. Taking my hand he sits upon the cloth pulling me between his legs, bringing my fingers to his mouth he sucks them gently one after the other into his sweet mouth. My knees grow weak, and I almost fall, seeing this he lies back and pulls me over him once again stealing my breath with his own. I lay completely atop him. Having never known true pleasure from the hands of my tortuous husband, I crave everything now offered. Every touch, every sensation seems magnified one hundred foe. My breasts crushed against the silk and steel of his chest, burn and ache, the swollen ridged peaks burn into him, his shaft so hard pushing into my stomach sends molten lava rushing through my veins. That glorious tongue plunging in and out of my mouth has me moaning and trying to catch it with my lips. I feel his hips start to buck up against me, and I grind into him as hard as I can, his hardness between us starts to twitch with every beat of his heart. I can feel every tiny spasm against the sensitive folds of my tummy. I need him in me, must have him, my inner muscles clench and unclench seeking that which it's never craved before. I weep deep inside sending out my needy tears to dampen the inside of my thighs. I can stand it no longer. I tear my mouth from his and in a sobbing voice utter one word. "Please…" His need seems to match mine, helping me sit up he takes my hips in his hands, and moves me forward, I lift up carefully and in one smooth swoop impale myself upon him. "Ahhh… Goddddd…" I can't stop the litany from passing my lips. He fills me so completely, stretches me to almost a painful point. His mouth opens, and a hiss explodes deep from inside his throat as I lift up again to just let myself drop with all my weight back onto him. His hands still clutching my hips tighten. He moans, and lifts his shoulders up a bit pushing up. I need more, must somehow touch his beautiful body, feel his heat. Turning slightly I reach behind me, with my left hand, and seek out our joining with the tips of my fingers. He is slick and hot, we both moan as he begins pushing up, then dropping his hips back down on the hard stone. I keep my fingers there behind me, caressing his shaft as it fills then leaves me. Straining, reaching down further I find his sacs, they are pulled tight against the base of him. I trail my fingers lightly over them, he moans pushing up into me harder. My need spirals, my body is an oven of desire, primed by all these years of watching, loving my sweet prince from afar. I give up my quest and bring my hand back around to rest them both on his chest. Catching me by surprise he sits completely up, swings his feet to the ground and stands. He slides inside me deeper; I cry out, his hands support my hips as he carefully walks to the small mound of grass and white wildflowers extending out from the base of the cliff. Going to his knees he gently lays me back upon the grass, the perfume is wrested from the flowers as the weight of my body crushes them, the smell drifts out to welcome me as he comes down over me resting on his palms on either side of my head. He looks deeply into my eyes, and begins to make love to me, for that is what I see shining in their depths. Is it impossible to love someone you've just met? I think not, no, I know not. His lips covering mine tenderly tell me that. His appendage sliding so lovingly in and out of my buttery channel proves that as I cling to him, my body singing, and my heart soaring. Sweat gathers between us, trickling down in rivets, soft groans and moans sail upon the gentle breezes that caress our bodies. A roaring in my ears and a red-hot coil of heat in my lower belly warns me that the first climax of my existence is about to occur. I tense, my hands upon my lovers' shoulders tighten, and my short nails dig into his flesh. Time stops, standing completely still as pleasure as I've never imagined it finds me and takes me hostage, holding me in it's grip until the ransom of my juices flow freely from where we're joined. His thrusts become harder, longer, his mouth still joined to mine lifts, our eyes meet, and he shudders from head to toe, throws back his head, and shouts his pleasure to the cliff top. I can feel his hot seed coating me, as he rolls to his side, staying within me. We just lie there for the longest time, he with his leg thrown over my hips, I with my arms around his neck. He removes his eye covering, and we look deeply into each other's soul. Finally with an angelic smile on his face my prince pulls his body from inside mine and stands offering his hand. I take it. He brings me to my feet. I can feel our combined juices flowing down the inside of my thighs. I shiver, and his smiles widens in understanding, as his cock is still half mast and shiny with still slightly leaking drops of cum looking for purchase. Pausing, looking back up at the cliff, he sighs almost dramatically. "Can I ask your name?" He whispers, looking disturbed as he continues to look up at what's left of the tower, he seems quite sad at its loss. I decide to tell him my true name. It feels strange after all this time to say it. "Emily Wallace." His head swings around, his face goes pale. "What did you say?" His voice is hoarse, disbelieving. I stammer, afraid I've said something wrong. "Em…Emily Wallace." His eyes drill into mine. Searching, I know not for what. Whatever it is, he must find it for his legs seem to lose strength and he sits down hard on the sand. He looks up the cliff again, then around at the newest rubble, back to me, then to the spot where he first found me. I feel a chill go down my spine at his all-knowing expression as he looks back at me once again. Standing up, he leads me back to the stone we'd started making love on, turning to pin me with his green-eyed stare, he begins to speak to me in an almost too quiet tone. "When I was just four years old, my parents brought me here for the first time. I'm from New York, a city boy, so this was a real treat for me. From the moment I saw this old castle I felt drawn to it, I played here a lot. Then one-day right before we were going to go back home, I looked up and saw a beautiful lady standing on the edge of a ledge in one of the holes in the tower wall. Funny thing was, I could see right through her. I told my parents, and they looked but couldn't see her. She always looked so sad, I felt sorry for her. We came every year on vacation, and I always saw her, watching, always watching me. As I got older I heard the rumors about the ghost witch, and I was convinced that was she. I never mentioned her to anyone after that first time, but I always looked for her when we came back, and she'd always be there in her spot looking at me.” As he spoke his eyes grew sadder and sadder, I watched his expression, not even blinking, for I knew what he was going to tell me. “When I was nineteen my parents and my sister were killed in a car accident, I was devastated, but when it came time to go on vacation I couldn't stay away. But for the first time, I didn’t see her in the tower. I think I cried more those two weeks, than I have in my entire life. I felt I'd lost everything, for you see, I'd fallen in love with her. I'd done my research of course, and had even foolishly thought of trying to get to her. I'd learned of the young English woman accused of witchery sealed up behind a wall in the tower and left to die. I had grand plans of saving her soul somehow, and rescuing her from her curse. But then she disappeared, and I come here every year, hoping to see her again. I never do, but sometimes, as I lay looking up at the tower I swear I can feel her. Do you know what her name was Emily?" I can't look away from him, nor can I lie. The hope in his inquiring stare binds me to him as surely as Keenan's curse bound me to the tower. I nod yes, he gasps, pulling me to his chest. I hear tears in his voice as he continues to speak. "This morning when I found you, and rolled you over to see if you were alive, the first sight of your face made my heart stop. I put the resemblance down to wishful thinking on my part, but in the back of my mind I was praying that by some miracle that it was you. Now I know it is… isn't it?" I nod… words still elude me. All I can do is let him see the emotion in my eyes. I want to speak so badly, but I can't. He grasps my face in the palms of his hands studying me. "Emily… do you believe me when I say I love you, that I've loved you every since I can remember?" The truth shines from his eyes, how can I not believe him. I smile and finally get words pass my elusive tongue. "Yes, and I love you too, have loved you for so long." A lone tear escapes and rolls unheeded down his cheek. "Then will you let me take you home with me Emily, let me rescue you like I've always dreamed of doing?" I can feel my heart almost stop. I don't know how we'll do this, or how he'll explain me, but I feel in my soul that somehow he will be my hero, and that god has finally answered my prayers. I nod and look up at the sky, closing my eyes, I say a heart felt Thank You to the powers that be, then whisper the only three words I can get past my emotion filled throat. "Take me home." Without another word he gathers his green cloth and stuffs it in his bag, the oil, water, and eye covering follows. On the other side he unravels another metal enclosure and pulls a pair of pants and shirt from its open jaws. Slipping the long shirt over my head he drops the ends, they dangle down to decently cover mid thigh, he slips into the pants. In silence he takes my hand and pulls me along beside him up the beach, after a short way I turn and take one last look at the castle high upon the cliff. Saying goodbye is a pleasure; the past is finally over. Now is the time for my future.