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Sticks & Stones Ch. 01

By: Black Tulip



A word of thanks for HawaiiBill and A7inchPhildo for their comments and support.

Warning: this story features a priest who errs from the straight and narrow. If you find this offensive, do not read further.

For nearly 250 years the Witches' Hammer (the Malleus Maleficarum was published in 1487) was the guidebook for the witch hunters. Open hunting season was declared on women, especially herb gatherers, midwives, widows and spinsters. Women who had no man to supervise them were of course highly suspicious. 

It has been estimated that between 100.000 and 200.000 people, overwhelmingly women, were burned or hanged during the witch-craze.

Deirdre nearly stumbled as she hastened along. The path was barely visible and wound in steep curves around the mountainside. She wore sturdy boots, but the loose gravel made the going tricky. Even though she knew this mountain like the back of her hand, she still had to be careful.

The wind whipped her long skirts around her legs, at times lifting them up and getting them snagged on the thorn bushes that grew everywhere. It was cold on the mountainside. Although it was almost spring, this high up there was still snow to be found and right now, the sky was a bleached grey. Deirdre was sure it would be snowing again.

With a puff she climbed over a big square piece of rock and dropped the haversack inside the cave. Turning around she knelt on top of the rock and peered down. The cave was just below the top of the mountain and from her threshold she could oversee most of the path, the part that wound through the low brush. Lower down, where the trees grew, the path was obscured from her view, but that was okay. She could see enough to get early warning of visitors. There were none, she saw with relief.

Satisfied that she was safe for now, Deirdre jumped down. She picked up the haversack and entered the real entrance, a narrow tunnel that lead to a huge cavern. Once inside she sighed in pleasure. The fire in the back was still glowing a soft red and the small flow of water provided a murmur that always made her happy.

The big cavern looked more like the hall of a mansion than a cave dwelling, and Deirdre often felt a sense of wonderment. She had found the cave by accident when she had been running from the priests for the first time. Scared and cold she had crawled inside the tunnel, only venturing deeper inside the mountain after she had come back from the village the next week. 

Since then, many years had passed - she guessed close to ten - but she had never seen any evidence of another human being visiting the place, apart from ... him. Right now she had been living here permanently for almost five years. The priests of the Inquisition had been getting more and more fanatical, so it was no longer safe for her to remain in the village.

She had lived on the outskirts of the little hamlet, but it had been too close anyway. Although most people made use of her extensive knowledge about the healing powers of plants and herbs, most of them shunned her in public. It had been only a matter of time before the black-robed, hooded men of the church picked up the rumors about a 'witch'. Deirdre shivered with the thought of those ruthless bigots. She knew very well what would happen to her if she were ever caught. 

It had been painful to leave her house behind. Her mother had died there, not long after teaching Deirdre everything she knew herself. She had warned her daughter to be careful, to be discrete with her knowledge as if she had known how bad things would get in only a matter of years. Deirdre had to leave everything behind, so nobody would guess she had disappeared on purpose. The only things she took with her were the old herbarium and the clothes on her back.

Deirdre had often thought how odd it was, to have a fully furnished place to live in at the moment you were forced to flee your own home. He had lived there, but had left without a trace. The place didn't feel evil or haunted, however. In fact it felt more welcoming than anything else. It got dirty like a normal house; it got cold in the winter, and stayed nice and cool in the summer. There was a storage place for food, but she had to replenish that herself. No magic there to fill the sacks and jars. 

While she had been remembering all that had led up to her being here right now, she had unpacked the haversack. She stored the potatoes, onions and carrots that had been left at the foot of the old oak. There had even been half a side of pork. She smiled, no doubt a gift from that farmer who had called her to help his wife with a difficult delivery. They would not risk their necks for her, but most villagers relied on her skills rather than the prayers of the black robes, and up till now, the village had kept quiet about her.

Further down the trail, near the edge of the timberline, she had created a kind of calling post for her services. The ancient oak tree, with its massive trunk and gnarled limbs was the perfect place to leave messages and gifts for the herb wench. Sometimes her help was needed urgently and some farmer came searching for her up in the mountains. That's why she had spun a thin thread in a dodgy corner of the path, so the tiny bells attached to them could warn her in time. Nobody knew there was this cave and she liked to keep it that way. To those who came seeking her knowledge, it always seemed as if she popped into vision around the next corner.

Deirdre poked the small fire at the back of the cave and settled in the big chair next to it. The chair was so big; she could easily draw up her legs and tuck her skirts around her bare feet. She had left her boots at the end of the tunnel, so the soft furs and carpets that covered the rock floor stayed clean. Before she came back up the mountain, she had already looked through the messages left for her but there had been nothing really urgent. The miller's wife wanted new ointment for her baby's rash, the old man living with his daughter on the other side of the village was suffering from painful joints again, a young woman asked her for something to relieve her monthly cramps, nothing that couldn't wait. She'd fix the ointments and the potion and take them down in the morning.

The flames from the little fire danced and painted red and orange patterns across the walls. Deirdre stared into them and felt her mind drifting towards her favorite fantasy. One day, one day she would find someone who would not be afraid of her. A man who would understand there was nothing mysterious about her knowledge. The big violet eyes had a dreamy look and her hands twisted the deep black curls that framed her face. 

A deep sigh escaped her as she tried to imagine who would be idiot enough to fall for her. One hand trailed down the front of the purple shirtwaist and then the second as well. They caressed the skin that was left bare by the heart-shaped neckline. Her full breasts strained against the tight fabric as she lightly passed her palms over the stiffening nipples and she arched her back. Deirdre closed her eyes as her hands teased her breasts, then unbuttoned the shirtwaist and freed her breasts from their confinement. The heat traveled through her body in waves, sending tingling sensations from her nipples to her clit and back up again. Her legs slipped to the ground. Her left hand was still caressing her pink nipples, but the other had traveled down to hitch up the black and white stripped skirt with the purple underskirt. Her fingers lightly danced across the soft skin of her thighs, tantalizing herself by not quite touching her pussy. 

Deirdre moaned as her fingers excited her nipples into hard, swollen peaks. God, how she wished she could find someone. Her legs were spread and as she felt her own hand touching her pussy, she ached to be filled by a living cock. Instead she left the big chair and went to the corner that held her mattress. She looked at the beautiful cock of buxus wood that rested on a small ledge, while she slipped out of the skirts. 

Again she sighed as she lay down on her back, with her knees drawn high so she could drive the wooden cock inside. One hand circled her clit as the other started fucking her in slow strokes and soon the murmuring of the little brook got company from the tiny sounds Deirdre made in the back of her throat. The image she had of herself, spreading her legs in full view, her breasts exposed, was a tremendous turn on. A flush spread over her body and her face. Suddenly she pressed down on her clit while her hips bucked as she pushed the wooden cock as deep as it would go. She climaxed but deep down she felt something missing. It never fulfilled her completely, it never had.

The wooden cock she had carved herself was still in her hand as she drifted slowly off to sleep. The striped skirts lay in a heap at the foot of the mattress and the shirtwaist hung loosely on her tall frame. Somewhere during the night she woke up enough to get rid of the rest of her clothes. After that she slipped under the thick furs lined with cotton that served her as blankets. 

Next morning Deirdre shivered as she crawled out of bed. The fire had died and it felt as if the temperature had dropped considerably. After she had rekindled the fire, she heated enough water for a bath. The tub she used was just big enough to sit in with her knees drawn up, but it was better than nothing and it warmed her back to humanity. She grinned at her own silly thoughts.

Humming softly, Deirdre prepared the requested ointments. The potion was easily seen to as it was often in demand and she still had some left. With the different cures in the haversack, she walked over to the entrance tunnel. One sniff was enough to tell her she had been right the other day. There was snow in the air. She pulled on the sturdy fur lined boots, donned the heavy woolen cloak and picked up the haversack. 

The violet eyes sparkled when she stepped out of the tunnel. The world was transformed into a quiet and pristine place by the thin layer of snow that covered already most of the rocks. Deirdre lifted her face to the oddly luminous sky to feel the snowflakes caressing her skin. She knew the path would be more treacherous than ever, but she couldn't help herself. She just loved the snow. 

Deirdre made a mental note to replenish her stock of firewood when she came back. It looked like the snow would last for at least a day. Glad that she had enough food to last her a couple of days, she climbed down to the timberline, left her medicines in the hollow beneath the old oak tree, and checked for messages. There was nothing there so she had time enough to roam the mountainside for firewood.

Careful to stay out of sight of the trail that lead to the village, Deirdre circled the mountain till she reached the eastern slopes. The trees there were almost all evergreens, keeping the light snow from the ground for now so the fir cones were still dry. She filled the haversack with cones as she steadily climbed higher. Finally she stopped, her path blocked by a deep ravine with the river at the bottom. The small trickle from her cavern ended up in this river and all she had to do, was follow the ravine up to reach the cavern from the other side.

With a respectable bundle of twigs on her back, Deirdre climbed up the steep slope, the bottom of her skirts wet from the snow. It was no longer fun by now, since the wind had started up and the flakes were getting bigger and bigger. "It's a good thing I know my way", she thought. She wiped the snow from her face and stood for a minute to catch her breath. 

As she started to climb the last stretch, she thought she heard something. Frowning in concentration she cocked her head. Was it the wind, her imagination, or did she really hear moaning? She looked around but there was nothing unusual. Tired from carrying the pile of firewood all the way up, she scrambled over the flat rock, glad to slip inside the tunnel.

The stack of wood near the fireplace was sufficient, more so with the supply of twigs she had brought with her. Rubbing her hands, Deirdre emptied the haversack in a box and threw a few cones in the fire. Within seconds the smell of burning fir filled the cavern. It made the space almost cozy. With her back to the fire she tried to dispel the feeling of unease. It had been the wind, that was all. Nobody ever climbed that side of the mountain; there was no real path there. 

Nuts, absolutely nuts. She had to be, to go out again. Deirdre was muttering under her breath as she tugged on the heavy boots and wrapped the still damp cloak around her. Not sure whether she had heard a sound, she found she could not let it go. She had to find out. With a sigh she slithered down to the top of the ravine to take a closer look. 

The wind had picked up even more, so she could hear nothing over the howling through the outcrops of rock. Deirdre squinted against the snowflakes. There, what was that? She wiped her face and looked again. A piece of black that was too black in this world of white and grey and pale blue, together with a touch of red.

Careful not to slip, she climbed down to have a closer look. Near the bottom of the ravine she halted in shock. No! It couldn't be. Not here! The violet eyes were wide in disbelief and her face had lost all color. The young man at her feet had obviously been caught unawares by the snow and had slipped on the icy gravel higher up. His face was pale against the red of his hair, but that was not what had her so upset. She had seen worse than the cut on his forehead. It was the black that had attracted her attention in the first place.

A priest. A goddamn, bloody priest. On her doorstep. She studied his face, but she had never seen him before. He must be new to these parts. The freckles on his cheekbones made him look young, maybe twenty, twenty-five at the most. God, what should she do? Leaving him out in the snow could easily kill him. Taking him in was probably signing her own death warrant. Deirdre stood staring down at the young priest, biting her lip and clenching her fists. 

Finally the cold made her move again. Her feet were getting numb from standing still and that more or less decided for her. With a big sigh and uttering some very elaborate descriptions of her own intellect, she started hauling the limp body towards the cave. Maybe her good deed would earn her a lapse in memory on his part. Yea, right. When hell freezes over. The thought made her laugh derisively. 

* * * 

What had happened to him? Where was he? The young priest felt confused, his head hurt terribly and his body ached all over. His body, he could feel his body. Oh Lord, have mercy. Somehow he had lost his clothes. He could feel his body touching cotton and fur. He opened his eyes cautiously, expecting to find himself in the clutches of devils, at least lewd old women. 

Surprise made him open his eyes wide and he bolted upright, forgetting his state of undress for the moment. He was lying on a straw mattress under a couple of furs, in front of a small fire. The real surprise however, was the woman sitting by the fire, watching him with a stolid expression. She had beautiful violet eyes and deep black curly hair. 

The low sound of her voice gave him goose bumps. "You should not get up yet. You hit your head rather hard." She moved over to his side, knelt and pushed him softly onto his back. "Can you see this?" She held up a few fingers, but he noticed the outlines were a bit blurry. 

"Yea..." He croaked and tried again. "I can see you, but not well. What happened? Who are you?"

The woman ignored his questions and offered him a mug. "Drink. It helps the headache. What is your name?" 

"Rory. Who are you?" He was thirsty and swallowed half the contents in one go, making a face when he tasted how bitter it was. 

"Well, Rory. You took a nasty fall down a ravine." She accepted the mug back. "You'll heal, but you have to lie down for a few days or you'll keep getting headaches and blurry eyesight." The woman stood up and looked down at him. "I'll leave you to rest now. Best to keep your eyes closed."

Rory followed her with his eyes as she walked through the, what was it? He finally looked around but he had trouble focusing. It looked almost like a cave of some sorts. Odd, because there was furniture, furs and carpets on the floor. And the woman... He felt his head throbbing and closed his eyes.

Rory drifted in and out of a light slumber, always aware of the woman. He had been ten when his parents had sent him to the church. From then on he had spent his days in the company of men. The monastery where he received his tuition was remote, self reliant and very strict. His bright intellect had provided him with a place in the retinue of one of the inquisitors. It had made it possible for him to travel, visiting all kinds of towns and villages. Women however, were terra incognita.

The woman made him nervous. He could smell her scent and it made him uneasy. She took care of him in an odd kind of detachment. She had taken him in, but it was as if she wanted nothing to do with him. Rory frowned as he tried to think of an explanation. He couldn't come up with one. As a priest he was used to people treating him with respect, with awe, but not with... It almost felt like distaste.

For the first time in days his head was clear and his eyesight was unclouded again. He had been on his back for almost a week now and he felt a lot better. In fact he wanted to get up, but he thought he had to ask her first. Her, he thought, he had not been able to get her name. She always managed to avoid giving him answers. 

Rory kept his blue eyes half-closed as he searched the cavern. The woman was busy on the other side, where she spent the nights. His attention always came back to that corner of the cave. Sometimes he could see a faint outline of her behind the screen of woven fabric. And yesterday, yesterday. Maybe his eyes had betrayed him. It had looked as if the woman had taken of her clothes. But that couldn't be, could it? He had heard water splashing, but surely she would not do that in the same room with a priest? 

His eyes roamed through the cavern, but they always came back to the screen. Would she take off her clothes again? No, don't think like that. It's the Devil, trying to get you. The priest shut his eyes tight and almost feverishly started passing the beads of his rosary through his fingers. Nonetheless, his thoughts circled around the woman washing his body. She must have done that, because he felt reasonably clean, but he could not remember. 

The cavern was suddenly very hot and stuffy. Rory felt sweat breaking out all over his body and an uncomfortable tension between his legs. He swallowed and pushed the reddish blond fringe from his forehead. From the corner of his eye he saw a splash of color. The peacock blue bodice seemed to vibrate on the firm breasts, showing a creamy cleavage. The priest averted his eyes, only to find he was looking at the black skirts that hugged a pair of nice round hips. In agony he closed his eyes again and started praying for strength and endurance. His cock was not that easily distracted though.

Deirdre glanced at the priest. The past week had been a nuisance. She knew she could not have let him die out in the snow, but often enough she had been sorry she had taken him in. He was not very tall, but sturdy and heavy to handle. What was more, his presence had prevented her from taking care of business. She hadn't been down the mountain in days, afraid to leave him on his own.

Despite him being a priest, his body had reacted sufficiently male to her ministrations. She smiled with a bit of glee, when she saw him with his eyes clenched shut and the covers showing an interesting bulge. Praying for his salvation, no doubt. Question was which one? She knew she was being bitchy, but his presence was getting to her. Priest or not, he was still a man and his body was nice enough. 


Sticks & Stones Ch. 01



With a sigh she went to fetch him some tea. She had to check the oak for messages. After a whole night of thinking and planning she had decided to give him some mild poppy juice. That way he would be floating in his private paradise while she could take care of business. Deirdre knelt by the priest and offered him a mug of tea. 

"I have to go out for a bit. Will you be all right?" 

"How, how long will you be...will you be out long?" 

"Maybe, but I'll be back. The tea will make you a bit sleepy. Perhaps even lets you dream." Deirdre thought she could see a swift flash of panic at the mention of dreams. 

Thank you for reading my story. Please vote and give me feedback by e-mail or public comments.



Sticks & Stones Ch. 02



She had said that he could have dreams. Rory was not sure he wanted that. Ever since he had first opened his eyes in this cave, his dreams frightened him. Not used to the proximity of women, his dreams had been filled with images of her, the turn of her hips, the way a black lock of hair caressed her neck, the dark shadow at the neckline of her bodice, her smell. God, he was surely being tested.

His face flushing from the sinful thoughts, the bed coverings tenting over his erection, the priest clasped his hands and started another round of fervent praying. 

Rory was sure his head was drifting towards the ceiling high overhead. He could so clearly see his own body, resting on the furs below. He saw his broad chest, covered with a dusting of pale red curls and he was mildly interested to see his hips and his legs. He actually looked quite all right to himself. His legs were strong like his arms. What interested him most though, was to see his own erection. His cock stood fully erect with a modest bush of red hair at the base. 

Still floating overhead, he watched his hands starting to glide down his chest to his groin. Would he touch his cock? He knew he was not supposed to spill his seed, but who would know? He giggled suddenly. Touching was naughty, but naughty touching was nice. He was not sure about all the inquisitors but he was certain the one connected to the tribunal nearby was sampling the witches. He had heard enough whispers. 

Frowning a little he watched his hands nearing his cock. Would he sample witches if he had the chance? His body down there certainly would like it. He could almost see the twitching between his legs as the thought reached his body. His hands touching the firm, warm shaft called his mind back inside.

Ahhh, yes. That felt so good. Rory let his hand circle his penis and take a firm hold of it. He lay on his back, savoring the feel of his fingers caressing the soft skin as his mind supplied him with a picture of the woman with her bodice unbuttoned. His cock jumped at the image of firm naked breasts. He licked his lips and his fist starting moving. Slowly up to the tip of his shaft and then down again, taking the foreskin along. 

Rory woke up from the sound of his own voice. He was holding a throbbing erection in his fist and his own groaning was giving him goose bumps. As if his cock were a poisonous snake, he snatched his hand back. God, what should he do? He wanted to spill his seed so badly. Would it really be such a sin? 

He had no idea how long he lay there, drifting in and out of mostly erotic dreams. He never forgot himself completely, but he never realized he was only prolonging his agony. His determination to not pleasure his own flesh only served in keeping him horny as hell. Whenever he was lucid, he started praying fervently, but after a time he would stray from the straight and narrow again. 

Finally exhausted from the battle against his flesh, he fell asleep. The poppy juice was long gone from his system, but his own fevered thoughts were enough to make him dream of her in a most vivid way. In his imagination he was no longer a priest. He was just Rory, touching the creamy skin as his fingers unbuttoned the vivid blue bodice. Slowly he pushed the fabric over her shoulders, revealing a pair of firm breasts with pink nipples. The soft flesh called to him, to touch, to kiss, to lick. Her face was not very clear in his dreams, but he could hear her encouraging him. He grabbed her breasts with both hands, luxuriating in the feel of the soft skin, the warmth and the scent of her. 

The sudden eruption of his seed woke him up. With a look of dismay he watched his fluid drip from his belly onto the furs. Looking around, he tried to find something to clean up this mess. His fair skin blushed furiously at the thought of her coming in right then. That thought spurred him on to get up and for the first time in more than a week he stood on his legs again. 

The thought of her coming in before he had had a chance to clean up, made him so nervous he never realized he was naked. He felt a little dizzy at first, but after he had spent a few minutes standing with his head down, he could go exploring the cave. 

First, he directed his steps towards the corner where he had heard her splashing with water, and sure enough. He found a little trickle of water coming from higher up the wall and disappearing again through a hole in the floor. It was a matter of minutes to clean himself up and drink form the cold, sparkling water. 

On his way back to his sleeping place in front of the fire, he couldn't resist looking around. After a few minutes, he wished he hadn't. Apart from her sleeping quarter, the cavern was filled with bundles of fragrant herbs, jars of sweet smelling salves, dried flowers and seeds. He could no longer deny it; he was in the home of a healing woman. He had known that, at the back of his thoughts, because of the way she had been taking care of him. It was just, that he had preferred to ignore it. 

After he had cleaned up the mess he had made, he slipped back under the covers. His robe was nowhere in sight so he had little choice. He refused to go to sleep again though. It was time for him to do some serious thinking. The presence of the woman was obviously tempting him. All he had to do was resist temptation and keep his faith. Kneeling on the furs he bowed his head and started praying again. 

He had no idea how long he remained on his knees. He only knew he got cold and stiff and hungry, and she was still not back. Despite his earlier thoughts about her being temptation, he started to worry for her. He assumed this place was somewhere remote. What if she had had an accident? Should he find something to wear and try to find her? 

It finally came to him to add wood to the dying fire and when he stood poking the embers he noticed a bowl of stew she had left near the hearth. She had said it could be a long time before she returned. For a few moments he stood staring in the rising flames. With a shake of his head he dismissed the idea of going to the rescue, not without clothes. Besides, he didn't even have something to protect his feet. His boots were gone too. 

Wrapped in one of the furs, Rory settled in the big chair near the fire with the heated bowl of stew between his hands. His freckled face wore a look of concentration as he sat there, trying to decide what to do. She had probably saved his life. Judging by the cold draft that wafted through the cave now and then, it was freezing outside, maybe even snowing. He took a careful sip and sighed with contentment at the savory taste. On the other hand, she was clearly into healing and herb lore. He had even seen a very old, very extensive herbarium. 

Rory felt a bit silly as he sat there, waiting for a woman without a name to come home. Well, at least it was her home. Not his though. Why was he even bothering? He shrugged at his own question. It just didn't feel right to go back to sleeping, nice and snug under the furs while she was still out. His belly was full with food however and slowly his head dropped unto his chest. After a while his snores accompanied the soft sounds of the fire.

Again he dreamt of her. Just as before, in his imagination he was no longer a priest. He was just Rory, touching the creamy skin as his fingers grabbed her breasts with both hands, luxuriating in the feel of the soft skin, the warmth and the scent of her. Her soft flesh called to him, to touch, to kiss, to lick. Again her face was not very clear in his dreams, but he knew she wanted him. 

* * * 

Deirdre struggled up the mountain after hours of dodging and hiding. First she had checked the old oak for messages and she was dismayed to find news about a search being conducted for a missing priest. It seemed the visiting inspector general for the Inquisition sorely missed him. That was bad enough, but to make things worse, there was also a message already three days old, asking her to go over to old Duncan's place. Apparently Duncan had axed his leg instead of a tree. 

Worrying that she would be too late, she had hurried over to the small farmstead on the other side of the village. She was glad she had been warned about the search, but it meant she had to travel through the woods. Using the roads would be sheer stupidity at a time like this. 

It took ages to get there and when she did, she was too late. They were glad she came, but one look at his leg was all she needed. The wound was high up on his thigh and the flesh was already swollen. She could see the telltale stripes of the poisoning going to his groin. She looked him over to be sure and saw the small red pinpoints all over his body. His daughter was taking care of him, but he was running a fever and he didn't recognize her anymore. 

Deirdre did her best to make him as comfortable as possible, but the poison was too widespread. Her simple herbs could not stop that. Looking at the haggard face of the old man, she was feeling anger. Anger at herself for not coming sooner, anger at that stupid priest who kept her inside so long, and finally anger because her knowledge had been called wicked. She stayed till he was dead, and then helped the daughter to prepare him for his grave. Deirdre was sad for a death that could have been avoided, maybe. When she finally took her leave, she was glad that is was not yet dark. She slipped out of the house to return to her mountain, but outside waited two nasty surprises.

Her attention had been focused on the dying old man and his grieving daughter. After that she had been busy chastising herself for letting the villagers down in favor of a pampered black robe. When she stepped out, she was stunned to see how much snow had fallen since she came down. Going back would be a giant effort.

The second surprise came when she had skirted the village and was about to head up the mountain again. As it was still snowing, sounds carried in the still air, giving her enough warning about a group of soldiers coming up the road. She had been just in time to sneak behind the smithy.

She couldn't understand their loud sounds, but that was not necessary. The fact she couldn't understand was in itself telling enough. They were hired troops, probably Swiss or Germanic by the looks of them. Big blond brutes with loud voices, acting as if they owned the village. Cursing silently she watched them split up. With that lot around, it was out of the question to use one of the roads. Not as a female on her own. She was not that stupid.

Still cursing Deirdre had to make her way through the woods, following the ravine where she had found Rory. At some places the snow was already knee deep. By the time she was back to the cave, she was tired, cold and wet to her skin. In addition, she hadn't eaten all day. 

With a sigh she rested her back against the wall of the entrance tunnel. She was sure nobody had seen her, and she could finally relax. Her cloak and boots were too wet to leave behind. They had to be dried near the fire, just as the rest of her clothes.

Deirdre stepped inside the cave and vaguely smelled the stew, some fir cones and the man. One look at the priest showed him to be huddled under his fur coverings, his eyes closed and his breathing deep. Thank God, he was asleep. She was far too tired, too cold and too wet to take care of him right now. She had to take care of herself first.

She draped the sodden cloak on a rack and placed it near the fire, along with her boots. Next she fetched a large piece of cloth to dry herself. In front of the warm fire she stripped off the heavy skirt and the damp bodice. Shivering she arranged them near the warmth and slipped out of her thin blue underskirt.

* * * 

He saw her coming back. Her cloak was soaked, just as the clothes beneath it. Her dark hair was covered in snow and her face looked tired and pinched. The sounds of her stamping off the snow had alerted him and he had quickly slipped under the furs on his mattress, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. He was scared she would read his face and know his thoughts and dreams.

The rustling sounds he heard made him curious enough to peek from beneath his eyelids. He immediately wished he hadn't, but he could not find the strength to look away. It was clear she was cold and wet so getting rid of her clothes was a wise course. 

Struggling to keep his breathing even, Rory watched through slit eyelids how the woman undid the hooks on the heavy black skirt. She pushed the garment down and draped it near the fire, on the rack with the cloak. Moving in front of the flames made the thin blue underskirt transparent, showing him the outline of long legs and firm hips. He licked his lips and closed his eyes in distress. He should not be looking like this. It was wicked, sinful.

The silence was even worse on his nerves than the soft rustling sounds of before. He peeked again and almost gasped aloud. She was in the midst of unbuttoning the blue bodice. The blue lace shawl in the neckline had fluttered to the floor and as she bent to retrieve it, he got a glimpse of the top of her breasts. Rory swallowed and slid one hand under the covers to keep the monster between his legs down. 

He thought he would be relieved if she turned back to the fire. He wasn't. All he could see were her arms moving and then the bodice slid of her shoulders, baring a long, beautifully curved expanse of creamy skin. She moved to place the bodice on the rack as well, giving him a side view of an enticing globe topped with pink. In shock he closed his eyes again, trying very hard to press his cock down.

A renewed rustling caused his eyes to fly open again. No longer concerned with hiding the fact that he was looking, Rory watched wide-eyed as she unhooked the underskirt. It dropped to the floor in a pool of vivid blue streaked with orange from the flames. Her legs rose up like pink marbled columns, flaring to hips that practically called to his hands. His breathing was no longer even and he could no longer keep his erection down. 

The woman bent to pick up the last of her clothing and he glimpsed the ultimate secret. That place between her legs were a man was supposed to bury his manhood. The sight of the dark curls surrounding pink folds caused him to gasp audibly. 

She whirled around and looked at him with a shocked expression on her face. The blue underskirt clutched in her hands, trying to shield her body from his gaze. The shock turned into something else as her eyes took in his whole form. His hands beneath the covers, clearly holding on to what made the coverings look like a tent. 

"You've been watching." The low sound of her voice sent a shiver through his body. Suddenly she smiled a bit mischievously. "And enjoying it?" She made a gesture towards his obvious erection. She eyed him curiously. 

"Have you never seen a naked woman before? A mother? Or a sister?" 

Rory shook his head and tried to answer her. "I uh..." He wet his lips and tried again. "No, I had no sisters." He couldn't stop staring at her. The skirt she kept in front of her only served to tease his imagination. He could see a lot of her full breasts and most of her hips. 

For a few moments she looked at him in silence. He was not sure what went through her head, but he saw a faint pink creeping into her cheeks as she focused those big violet eyes on his cock. When she looked back at his face, he saw a new spark in her eyes.

He felt his mouth drop almost simultaneously with the lowering of the skirt. Very slowly she let her hands drop to her middle, baring her breasts to his gaze. It even looked as if she pushed them out to him. Again he licked his lips, staring at the pink nipples and imagining what they would feel like. 

Her voice shook him out of his trance. "It's your turn now." Seeing his blank look, she added: "To show a bit more of your body. Go on, show me." 

Not sure what came over him, Rory felt a wave of heat travel his body up and down. The thought of showing himself to her was strangely exciting. It caused his cock to ache even more and it started an itching deep inside. He wavered for no more than a few moments. With a mental shrug he threw back the covers and watched her face. What would she think of his cock? Did women like to look at things like that? 

The look on her face answered his question without a doubt. She licked her lips and even took a few steps in his direction. "It's gorgeous." She raised her eyes to his. "And you have never...?"

He shook his head, fascinated by her reaction.

"Have you thought about it?" She held her head to one side, the skirt in her hands still shielding that place between her legs. 

Still speechless he lifted his shoulders and felt himself blushing. The few steps she had taken in his direction enabled him to have a closer look at her. The pearly skin showed a faint pattern of blue veins and the tips of her breasts had turned into dark pink peaks. 

For a fleeting moment, he tried to suppress the feelings roiling inside him. The dusty, overly familiar prayers had no chance at all to lure him away from temptation. Without conscious thought, he raised himself on his knees, inching forward towards the soft curves and the sweet smell of her.

His hands reached out and his fingers touched the soft warm skin of her hips. As if he was examining a piece of art his fingers trailed the outline of her hipbone, curved around her waist and glided upwards to cup her breasts. The twin globes rested in his hands, their warm weight seemingly connected to his erection, making it twitch anew. 

To his surprise she closed her eyes and a soft sigh escaped her lips. "You know you shouldn't, don't you?"

His hands appeared to have a will of their own. Softly kneading the flesh of her breasts while his thumbs stroked the hardening nipples. Where the idea came from he never knew, but all of a sudden he leaned forward and licked one of the pink buds, closed his lips around it and sucked. The effect was stunning.

The woman moaned and threw her head back, causing the black curls that had escaped her braid to dance around her face. Her hands grasped his shoulders and she thrust her breasts to his mouth. "Umm, that feels good. Don't stop." 

Rory had no intention of stopping this new and exciting exploring of a woman's body. Hell, he was only just beginning. It was incredible, the soft flesh, warm to his touch and slightly yielding in his grasp. The sounds she was making because of what he was doing to her body. He felt almost drunk with the power in that. 

The blue skirt had long since dropped to the floor and he suddenly realized he had an unobstructed view of her whole body. The beauty of it nearly overwhelmed him. As if she could break, so careful was he when he laid her down on the furs and started exploring the strong, clear lines of her sides, her back and her legs. Every now and then dipping his head to taste her skin.

"Are you sure?" Her voice penetrated the fog in his mind with difficulty. His entire being focused on the exciting body in front of him. "Do you really want this?"

He raised his head and turned questioning blue eyes to her flushed face. To his surprise she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him up to her. Her lips came up to meet his and for the first time in his life he felt the power of a kiss. He gasped and felt her tongue touching his. It was as if suddenly a dam burst inside him. His tongue took possession of her mouth and he pressed his body against hers.

"Yes, I want to know you, feel you." 

He brushed the faint voice in the back of his head aside; nothing would keep him from knowing what all men knew. The feeling of male power exhilarated him, the knowledge that he could make her moan and gasp spurred him on even more. Almost feverishly he started rubbing and kneading her breasts and the sensitive pink peaks again. 




Sticks & Stones Ch. 02



His cock jumped and ached with the tiny sounds she made. Then she opened her legs and he felt his body slide in between her soft thighs, the tip of his cock touching something hot and moist. She slid one of her hands down his back, circled to the front and took hold of his cock. Her touch made him groan, but he was able to bite back a cry as she proceeded to push him inside her body. 

How could this be wrong? Something that felt so good? He moved his hips to feel her body enclose him with hot, slick flesh. The friction from the movement made the itching in his body grow, so he moved faster to rub against her inner walls. Before long the priest was moving in the age-old rhythm of the intimate knowledge he had been seeking. It didn't last long though. To his dismay he soon felt his own eruption, his seed filling her insides and his penis diminishing again.

Rory rolled on his back, resting beside the woman with his eyes closed. He felt totally relaxed, at peace with the world, for maybe the first time in his adult life. The ragged breathing beside him made him open his eyes. He looked over and his eyes almost popped out. The woman was on her back, with her legs still spread wide but now she had her hands there. He was not sure but it looked as if she was pushing her fingers in and out of that place, rubbing herself as well. As he looked, her breathing grew even more uneven, her hips bucked and her whole body came up off the mattress and stayed for a few moments frozen into an arc. She moaned softly and he could see her belly moving, her legs shuddering.

"Are you all right?" He was scared he might have injured her. God knows what he could have damaged by penetrating her body like he had.

The smile on her face was reassuring as she patted him on the cheek. "You were just a bit too soon for me. Nothing serious. I took care of it, in fact I liked you watching me." 

Rory was a bit confused by her words. He was not sure what she meant, only that she had enjoyed that he had been looking at her. He had understood that well enough. He smiled back at her. "I like to watch you. I think you are beautiful."

"Thank you. I like looking at you too."

Thank you for reading my story. Please vote and share your opinion by email or public comment.



Sticks & Stones Ch. 03



How could I have been that stupid? How could I? Deirdre lay on her back, her eyes staring into the darkness of the cavern. The steady breathing of the priest telling her he had fallen asleep. Very softly she crept to the fire, added another log and slipped off to her own sleeping corner.

She had thought he was asleep when she first started undressing. There was nothing to blame herself for in that. When she had found he had been watching her though, the look of rapture on his face had touched something wicked inside. She had wanted to hurt him, make him pay for the death of old Duncan. She had wanted to punish the church that banished her knowledge and made people suffer because of ignorance and fear. 

All she had wanted to do was taunt him with his obvious reaction to her naked flesh. She had wanted to mock the priest, but instead his appreciation had ignited her own lust. She had been very aware of his body when she had been taking care of him. And it had been so long, so very long. Angry with herself she balled her fists. She should have known better. He was no more than a boy. Maybe not in years, but he hadn't even seen a naked woman before. 

Deirdre rolled over onto her stomach and rested her head on her arms. What in the world was she to do? There was no question of him staying here. But how could she get rid of him in a safe way? Merely kicking him out was impossible since he would then know where to find her. She had kept the cave hidden for ten years. There was no way she was going to give that up for one fuck. And a lousy fuck too. He had come almost instantly. Never giving her a chance to climax as well. Very likely he didn't even know a woman could climax. Dumb priest.

With a sigh she rolled on her back again. He would have to stay till the snow was gone; otherwise his tracks would be all over the place. That would be too foolish for words. Once the snow started melting however, she would have to get rid of him, bringing him out of the cave to a place where he could find his own way home. To make things easy, all of that had to be accomplished without him getting a chance to learn the location of her cave, her safe haven. Yes, well, that would be a piece of cake. She laughed mockingly at herself. 

She would at least have some time to figure out how to do all that. Given the amount of snow it would take a few days before it had all melted away. Better get some sleep now. Finally she drifted off, her sleep troubled with uneasy dreams, vague images of being hunting and hiding.

Hardly refreshed Deirdre got up again. She wished she could take a nice, warm bath. As long as the priest was there however, that was out of the question. Grumbling she made do with the icy cold water trickling down from the mountain. She dressed hurriedly to get warm again, buttoning the purple shirtwaist with stiff fingers and smoothing the black and white striped skirt down over her hips. Her other pair of clothes was probably still damp.

Emerging from her own secluded corner, she looked over at the mattress in front of the fire. Rory had his back turned to her, but she saw the tension in his shoulders. He was awake. "You can use the water now, if you want to."

Not waiting for his reaction, she went to put a log on the fire and checked on the clothes. Feeling them still damp she moved the rack a bit to the side and bent to retrieve the blue petticoat where it had fallen on the floor. Straightening up again she felt his eyes on her. She lifted her gaze and saw his blue eyes full of turmoil; longing, desire, anguish and uncertainty all rolled into one. 

"What?" 

She felt irritated by that look. As if she had all the answers. In honesty, she was angrier with herself for getting them into this mess. 

"Go freshen up. I'll get us something to eat." She did her best to sound a bit less harsh, but it was hard.

Turning to fetch bread and cheese, she saw him go from the corner of her eye. His shoulders and head bent down a bit, giving the impression of a kicked dog. 

God, this was awful but she had to push him away, she had to. He would want to sleep with her again, that was to be expected. He would start to feel remorse though. Perhaps not right away, the pleasures of the flesh had intoxicated him, but after a while. He would come to realize he had put his soul in jeopardy. Well, in his view any way. 

She sighed. He would probably blame it on her. They always did, didn't they? Those priests who knew nothing of love and warmth and sharing. Her face got a smoldering look. Scared of women, that's what they were. No real men at all. For the moment she forgot the old priest in the village, a caring and loving father to all his flock, even to her if she had been willing to abandon her healing.

Her movements were stiff and jerky from the anger still burning inside her. The platter of cheese and bread nearly bounced off the table when she plunked it down. Next she fetched a jug of beer. As she poured two tankards of the cooled liquid she watched the foam settle on top, refusing to look up when she heard his footsteps coming to the table.

She put the jug down and finally raised her eyes. A small smile appeared on her face, she could not help it. He looked so sweet with his wet hair, the drying cloth draped around his hips and a furious blush on his freckled face. No doubt because the cloth was totally unable to disguise his erection. She quickly dropped her gaze again and turned, not wanting him to feel laughed at. 

"I'll fetch your clothes."

She walked to a chest and lifted his black robe out. She started closing the lid...

"Can't you take off yours?"

The sound of his voice stopped her dead in her tracks. Surely, she had not heard correctly? Slowly she turned back to look at him, her expression a study in bewilderment. 

"You don't mean that. You're a priest. We shouldn't have... " 

She faltered as she saw the look on his face: hurt, anger and desire.

"Am I not ... adequate? You don't want me?" 

Oh God, he sounded so hurt, so small. ''Rory, this has nothing to do with wanting you. Think for a moment. You're a priest."

"That didn't stop you last night." He sounded a little petulant now. "I liked it, I really did. And I want to do it again." He looked at her. "Don't you?"

Deirdre laughed a bit shaky. "Yes, I liked it. And yes, I'd want to again. But not with you. Rory, you are a priest. You're not supposed to." 

A peculiar expression flitted across his face and then he took a few steps forward. He shrugged and touched her hair. "I have sinned already. So why not sin again?"

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but she never got the chance. His hand took hold of her braid and his lips captured hers. He pressed his body against hers and his erection burned through her skirts. His kiss was inexperienced but his zeal compensated for the lack more than enough. It didn't take her long to realize they were only heading to more disaster so she started pushing him away with her hands on his shoulders.

He lifted his head and grabbed her arms, pinning her wrists behind her back. He was not big; they stood eye-to-eye, but sturdy and muscled enough to subdue her. 

"You like it too. Don't say you don't."

His breathing was getting a bit ragged as he moved his free hand to the front of the shirtwaist. Slowly he undid one button after the other. With every button revealing more of the pearly skin till he came to the last one. Almost reverently he pulled the cloth aside and stroked the silky soft flesh. He ignored her protests and touched a soft pink nipple with his fingertip. 

The barely audible intake of breath told him he was doing something right, so he kept doing it. Rubbing his fingertip over the peak till it was dark and standing erect, begging him to take it into his mouth. His hand switched to her other breast, repeating the rubbing and pinching till that nipple was hard as well. He feasted his lips on the dark pink buds and felt a sense of achievement when he heard her moan softly. 

She no longer struggled so he used both hands to fondle her breasts, kissing and licking down her neck. The feel of her hands on his shoulders, stroking his back spurred him on. The cloth around his hips fell to the ground and her fingers kneading his buttocks made him think of the secrets hidden by her skirts. 

Suddenly impatient he lifted her onto the table, making her squeal in surprise. He flung her skirts to the side and licked his lips at the sight of the black curls between her legs. Curiosity made him spread her legs and he inhaled her scent as he touched the glistening folds. 

She liked that; he could tell by the way she moved her hips, trying to keep her flesh in contact with his fingers. His hands explored her in wonder; so soft, so wet and so hot. He found her entrance and slipped a finger inside. Her moans and encouragements told him she enjoyed what he was doing to her. He slipped his finger in and out a few times, simulating what he wanted to do with his cock. 

His eyes grew wide with surprise as he felt her clench around his finger. The woman was moving the inside of her body! He pulled his finger out and got hold of his cock. The shaft was hot and heavy, the head throbbing and itching to get inside that wet, tight place again. Placing the tip to her entrance he grunted as he shoved his cock inside with one push. 

From far away he heard her hiss something, but his attention was centered on his cock. Surrounded by hot, wet flesh that grabbed him almost with a life of its own. He vaguely felt her wrap her legs around him, her heels trying to push him closer to her body, but he resisted. The look of his cock entering her body and coming back out again, glistening with her juices, was stimulating him beyond belief. 

The itching in his cock prompted him to move faster again, just like last night. Now, however, he knew better what to expect and he savored the feeling of his cock moving in and out, his balls slapping against her buttocks. He remembered her saying he had been too quick, so he tried to hold out but all too soon he climaxed. His balls seemed to shrink to his body and he felt his seed erupting, spurting into her body.

He wanted to rest his head on her belly, inhaling the mingled scents of his come and her arousal, but her hands pushed him aside. Again she touched her own flesh, but now he could see what she was doing. His cock was still inside her and he felt her muscles still working. Her fingers rubbed a spot at the top of her folds and after a while he heard her uttering those tiny sounds like last night. His cock slid out with the force of her orgasm and her body arched up from the table. 

Amazing, could all women do that? His hands stroked her body, enjoying the softness of her skin. He looked at her face, flushed from their pleasure, with a few damp curls that had escaped her braid clinging to her neck. At that moment she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was certain he loved her. Bending down he kissed her softly on the lips.

The soft kiss called her back to reality again. Dammit, she had done it again. But his hands had felt so good. She knew she had not really wanted him to take her again, but she could not deny the pleasure he had given her, a bit inexperienced maybe, but vigorous enough. 

With a sigh Deirdre sat up straight and flipped her skirts back down, pushing Rory out of the way in doing so. She avoided his gaze as she pulled the shirtwaist back over her shoulders and started buttoning up. Jumping off the table, she straightened the skirts with her hands, patted her braid and cleared her throat.

"That was nice. But..." She had to clear her throat again. "It won't happen again. It can't happen again."

She glanced at his stricken face and sat down, took a long drink of the still foaming beer and placed the tankard back again. 

"Get dressed, Rory. We have to talk." 

She felt like a monster, robbing a child of his favorite toy. But she had to use her brain; she had to be the wiser one here. There was no future for him with her. She didn't want a man, well, not him any way. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. Almost panicking that the memory of him would come back. Not now, she had enough on her plate. 

Her fingers tore a piece from the bread Duncan's daughter had given her. Munching on it she watched the shadows from the fire dance on the mattress where Rory had been sleeping this last week. She could move that further from the warmth now that he was up again. His footsteps, halting beside the table, called her back from her musings.

She waited for him to sit down, then pushed a tankard towards him. A gesture of her hand indicated that the bread and cheese were for the taking. She took a deep breath before looking over to him. He wore a sullen expression on his face. Exactly like a boy not wanting to be deprived of his new plaything.

"How long have you been a priest, Rory?" 

He shrugged, unwilling to make conversation. "Fourteen years, nearly fifteen."

"Was it your own choice? Or did your parents sent you?"

"My parents sent me. When I was ten. I was the eldest, of nine." 

"Do you like it? What is it like? Being a priest?" 

He shrugged again. "It's okay, I guess. I don't know anything else, now do I?" He looked at her with troubled eyes. "I don't know much of anything. Surely you noticed."

She almost reached out to him, but checked the impulse to touch him. That would not be very smart right now. It was more important to instill some common sense in him. She tried to tell him as gently as possible. There could be no future for them, ever. She told him he would start to hate her, he would start to miss the companionship of his brother priests. 

He listened politely, but she never believed for one minute that he really heard what she said. He had his mind closed to everything not fitting his desires of the moment. She sighed. It did not really surprise her. It fitted her image of priests in general, but it made her sad as well. Their parting would be more difficult this way. 

Finally, she gave up. In silence she finished the simple meal, cleared the remnants away and turned to inspect her boots and cloak.

"Are you going out?"

"Yes, I have to. You can leave once the snow has melted, but till then we need food."

"I can help. I'm not sick any more."

"No." She glared at him with angry eyes. "No, you cannot. Don't pretend Rory. You know exactly what I am." 

She placed her hands on the table and thrust her face forward. Suddenly she was mad as hell. He came into her life, upsetting the careful balance and not thinking about the consequences at all. 

"The inspector general has soldiers out there, looking for you. What will you tell them? Maybe show them the den of the witch?" 

Dry or not, she forced her feet in the boots, grabbed the heavy woolen cloak and left the cave with angry movements. She never looked back at the priest. His shocked face when she had called herself a witch had said enough.

Because of her anger he sat motionless at the table. Long after the sound of her footsteps had died down, he remained seated. Almost without thought he ate some bread, broke off a piece of cheese, emptied his tankard and refilled it again. With a sigh he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

She had made it clear, she didn't want him. He had been too quick again. Maybe if he could hold out longer next time? He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his feet stretched towards the small fire. The images that played through his mind made his cock all hard again. He wondered that he could have lived to be 25 without ever tasting that pleasure before. No wonder the inquisitor liked to taste witches. The word 'witches' finally penetrated his sex-induced euphoria and he sat bolt upright. 

What had he done? All of a sudden he realized what he had been doing, what she had tried to tell him. God? He tried to pray, but the words stuck in his throat. He fell on his knees, searching for his prayer beads, clenching the small silver cross in his fist, but still the words would not come. How? How was he ever going to repent? He knew there was no atonement for his sin. Double sin, really. Not only had he broken his vow of celibacy, he had broken it with the carnal knowledge of a witch. 

But it had felt so good. How could it be sinful? He knelt in agony, knowing he had succumbed to the tricks of Satan, but at the same time reluctant to let go of the wonderful feelings. It took a while, before the enormity of what he had done sank in. How could he go back to Father Edward? Or to the monastery for that matter? Could he call himself a priest anymore? Would God want to know him any longer?

Maybe hours went by with him sitting there, trying to find some piece of mind. He cried, he prayed and he shouted till he was exhausted. Finally he fell asleep on top of the furs in front of the little fire. In his anguish he had not thought to put fresh wood on it, so he woke up because of the cold. With stiff limbs from the uncomfortable heap he had been laying in, he stumbled through the cavern looking for something to get the fire going again. At last he found a flint in the most obvious place, on the shelf above the fireplace.

Angry with himself for letting the fire die, he sweated till he had some small flames licking at a fresh pile of twigs and cones. He liked the smell of burning fir cones and the modest warmth was more than welcome. Slowly building up the fire again took all his concentration, kept him busy and distracted for a while. 

After a while, he was done however. The fire was going again and he was back to lamenting his loss. He had not chosen to be a priest, but he realized it had become all he wanted to be. The thought of losing the respect it brought, the company of learned men, the special place it ensured him in the hereafter, he just couldn't bear it. There had to be a way. Surely he could make amends?

He felt better once he had decided to tell Father Edward. Confess his sins and do penance. He nodded. Yes, he would also bring a gift to the church. The most precious gift he could think of. The emotional storm had passed and Rory felt almost peaceful. His decision felt so right, he knew he was on the right path again. 

He settled in the big chair near the fire with a fresh tankard of beer between his hands, waiting for her to come back. He felt almost expectant, wanting her to hurry home. Sure in his faith again.

Thank you for reading my story. Please vote and let me know your opinion, by email or in a public comment.



Sticks & Stones Ch. 04



Still fuming with her own stupidity, Deirdre stomped out of the cave, nearly forgetting to check the surroundings before crawling over the big shielding rock in front of it. It had stopped snowing, but there was enough there to make sure it would take at least another day or two to melt - if it would start to thaw. The temperature was still below freezing. 

She was already halfway down the path to the timberline and she never realized what a beautiful day it was. The sky was an endless stretch of blue over the sparkling, snow-covered rocks and boulders that dotted the mountainside. The air fresh and crisp, giving her cheeks a rosy blush. None of it penetrated her anger and her worry. Her feet carried her robot like to her message box, the old oak with the hollow at its foot. 

The few messages were not urgent and she tucked the jug of ale in her haversack, together with the small bag of flour and a piece of cloth. Gifts in return for the last batch of medicines she had left there. With a sigh she brushed the snow of a fallen tree in the vicinity and sat down. Suddenly sad she looked around her. She would miss this all terribly. 

The thought shocked her. She had not even consciously contemplated leaving the area, but it could easily come to that. The idea to stick it out in the cave till the snow was gone, was no longer a good one. She would never be able to get Rory down the mountain without him noticing where the cave was. So there was no point in keeping him hidden any longer. He could walk back on his own two legs. That meant she had to abandon her safe haven. 

Leaving the cave would hurt, maybe even more than leaving the house had. She had found the cave by accident when running from the priests for the first time. Scared and cold she had crawled inside the tunnel, only venturing deeper inside the mountain after she had come back from the village the next week.

She smiled as she thought back. Following the tunnel inside the mountain, she had come upon a big cavern. The funny part had been, that is was a furnished place. Carpets on the floor, there was a fireplace and it looked very much inhabited. She had no idea who could be living there, but it had scared her to know there lived someone on the mountain without the people in the village knowing it.

Next time she needed a safe place, she had hesitated for only a moment before creeping into the tunnel again. The memories made her shiver, even after so many years. The cave had not been empty then. He had been there. He had been living there and it almost looked as if he had been waiting for her. 

Johan, I still miss you. He never told her how he came to be living there, only that he had needed a hideout after deserting his unit. He had been sick of being a mercenary. At first it had been exiting, leaving his own corner of the world, seeing other cities, other countries even. After a few years he had been less eager and with every new contract he had felt more reluctance, till the last one. They had hired out to a man of the church and before they knew it, they were hunting down so called heretics and witches. 

Johan had confided in her, told her he was not even catholic. He came from across the sea, where a lot of people were rebelling against the Mother Church. They called themselves Lutherans after a priest who had openly criticized the clergy. He had fled his contract, not wanting to fulfill it. 

Johan had been good to her. She had fallen in love with him almost right from the start. He had been so different with his blond hair and the startling blue eyes, the funny accent he had and the way he had treated her. No fear there, not Johan. They had been so happy, even though they had to hide it. She had managed to sneak to the cave for close to every night since she lived alone in the cottage by then. 

She sighed. It had not lasted very long, no more than a few months. One night she had found the cave empty and the nights after that as well. Finally she had heard a rumor about a deserter that was caught on the other side of the mountain. He had been hanged as an example to others. Careful questioning had confirmed her fears that it was Johan. Not long after she had fled to the cave to live permanently in his hideout. And now, now she was forced to leave again.

Think, Deirdre, where can you go? It was no use, thinking back to better times. She had to find a solution for the mess she was in. She thought it highly unlikely that Rory would back off. Now that he had finally tasted the pleasures of a woman's body, she suspected he would want more. She had no intention of going along, however, no matter how long it had been, she would not be sleeping with him again. Therefore, she had to get out. He would not leave her be and she could not rely on him to keep her secret. 

Without realizing it she had been sitting there for a long time. Her feet were getting cold and her bottom was a little damp. She fished the messages out again and had a second look. Tugging on a loose curl she studied them. The butcher's wife wanted her help for one of her daughters; the girl was coughing again. That should be no problem. Next was a tiny slip of paper telling her the merchant was leaving town for a few weeks. Since he was the one who wrote the messages for most of the village, she frowned. In the past it had never been a problem as old Duncan had been able to write as well, but Duncan was dead. Damn that priest! If he had not been there, maybe she could have been on time for the old man. 

Deirdre got up and brushed her skirts. She had calmed down now and for a moment she considered descending all the way to visit the village. Just in time however, she remembered the troops she had seen the night before. If they were still searching for Rory, she had better stay out of sight. Shit, that meant she would not be able to have a word with the merchant either. Leaving a return message was no use. He would not come back because he would not expect something and there was no one else who could read. 

Pursing her lips in frustration, Deirdre started climbing up again. Her footsteps left a clear trail but she could only hope no soldiers would be coming up this high. The path was nearly invisible and with snow covering the track it was non-existent if you didn't know it was there. She hoped they had no reason to start a thorough search of the mountainside. To be on the safe side, she took the same route back however, climbing along the edge of the ravine, hiding her tracks as best as she could.

Back at the cave, she stood for a moment inside the entrance tunnel. Looking out over the mountains, she tried to visualize her next home. Where could she go to find a safe place? She sighed and, not for the first time, wished she could have returned with Johan to his country. She took off her boots and placed them side-by-side near the entrance to the big cavern. Her coat went to its place on the hook-like protuberance of stone above the boots. She smiled at the sight, so much like a normal hallway and yet so different. 

Although she knew Rory would be waiting for her, his reaction startled her nonetheless. The minute she stepped inside the cavern, he jumped out of the big chair in front of the fire and approached her almost eagerly. Not sure what she could expect, Deirdre eyed him a bit warily. She had promised herself not to give in to him again and she was determined to stick to that resolve.

His face did not look like he had more plays of the flesh in mind. She studied him in more detail and noticed the red rims of his eyes, the tired slant to his shoulders. His hands grasped each other in a nervous gesture and he kept twisting his fingers. 

"I'm glad you're back. We need to talk." He realized he still did not know her name. For a moment he thought about what was said about names in theWitches' Hammer. "Demons could be controlled if you knew their real name." Could the same be true of witches? She had refused to give her name this past week.

"Will you give me your name? You know mine and after we, ... uh, ...well, you know..." 

Deirdre sighed a bit wearied. "I thought it safer for you not to know." She shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the bench in front of the fire. "Deirdre."

Rory felt the tension leaving his body. Not that he had believed her to be a witch of course. He watched her sit down and stood with his back to the flames, an intense look on his face.

"About what we did... last night I mean..." 

Despite his resolve to withstand further temptation, he had a vivid image of her without her clothes and he felt the heat creep up to his face. He shook his head to get rid of the picture. 

"I have been thinking..." He found it hard to go on and had to take a deep breath. "You warned me." 

Deirdre flicked a gaze to his face. He looked utterly serious. In addition, he looked troubled. It was obvious he was trying to tell her something he found extremely important, but equally as difficult.

"You were right." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I am a priest. And I want to stay one." He nodded as if to confirm his resolve. "I know we sinned, but I also know we can be forgiven if we show true remorse." 

He looked at the woman, expecting some sign she understood at least, if not in agreement with him. However, all he saw was bewilderment. She watched him with those beautiful violet eyes, but nothing in her face showed him she had grasped the importance of his words.

"You have to show remorse, ask for mercy so your soul will not be lost. I will help you. That will be part of my penance." 

Now that he had started, the words came tumbling out of his mouth like a torrent. 

"I have to show remorse too. But I feel sure it is not too late. We will leave this cave tomorrow. I thought it best to go and see Father Edward. I am his assistant, you know. I'm sure he'll help us save our spirits."

"Really? Save our spirits, huh?" 

Deirdre's face turned almost ugly with the rage she felt welling up inside her. 

"Will he put you to the stake too? To save your spirit?"

Her voice got ever louder. With her fists on her hips she stood yelling at him.

"You'll help me all right! Don't play dummy with me. You know what your Father Edward is doing to women like me! He burns us, as witches. Not to save us, but to make sure we will be beyond salvation. He won't help me and I doubt he will help you either. Not if he hears what we have been doing, he won't."

The stricken look on Rory's face only served to add fuel to her rage. 

"You are a fool if you think you'll be forgiven. And if you think for one minute, he will lift so much as a finger to save my soul, you're an idiot. You can't be that ignorant!"

Rory looked hurt and bewildered like a little boy. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she should have more faith. He opened his mouth but she cut him off.

"You know he is working for the Inquisition. You must have seen dozens, maybe hundreds of executions. Maybe even witnessed the interrogations. You know I deal with sickness, give out potions and ointments. You probably even wondered if I maybe am a witch. Didn't you?"

She didn't give him a chance to reply to that. In her fury she went on to mock him.

"Who knows, maybe I put a spell on you. Made you a victim of your lowly lust. Maybe the devil put me up to it. Would that make you feel better? It wasn't you, it was me, making you do it?" 

Deirdre was so furious; she hardly knew what she was yelling at him. If she had, she would have been a lot less sarcastic. She would have considered the fact that he might not grasp her true meaning. As it was, she never gave it a thought. Mad as hell she stalked back out, yanking on her boots and still busy wrapping her cloak around her when she stepped out. Not even the fact that it was near sundown could stop her from leaving right then. 

Without conscious thought she roamed the mountainside, not wanting to go down to the village and not wanting to go back inside either. Jesus, she was so fucking mad. That blubbering imbecile. Did he really believe his own sanctimonious claptrap? Deirdre shivered violently at the thought of going to see that Father Edward of her own free will. He had a reputation as a fanatic. Nothing or nobody could make her do something that self-destructive.

Deirdre climbed over rocks and boulders, slipped on icy patches, stumbled across drifts of snow till it was too dark to go on. She stood with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, trembling with fear, nerves and cold all at once. She felt like screaming to get rid of the tension that had been building inside her. The fact that she was outside was the only thing that kept her from doing it. 

Although the sun was already down, there was still some light reflecting from the snow and she had a careful look around. Her anger had taken her to the other side of the mountain. Right now she stood facing toward the town where the feared Father Edward resided. That was definitely not a direction she would be taking. She could go back to the cave, but it would be a bit tricky in the darkness. Besides, she was not sure she could stand more of that God-fearing raving. 

A heavy sigh escaped her, as she came to the only possible conclusion. She would have to use the main road and take the branch that looped back to the village. Duncan's daughter was maybe willing to give her shelter for the night and she had at least no small children that could be endangered. Deirdre nodded to herself and headed down the mountainside, carefully picking her way to reach to path that curved between the huge outcrops, trying to be as silent as possible. She had no desire to encounter those soldiers she had spotted earlier.

* * * 

Rory watched her go with a sense of loss, hurt and anger. Why wouldn't she listen to him? Didn't she know he could save her soul? Didn't she care he needed her? How could he repent without bringing her back from her erring ways? The longer he stood there, the more the anger took over. He had tried, hadn't he? 

Finally he understood she would not be coming back soon and he let himself down into the big chair again. After a while his stomach started to rumble and he remembered the bread and cheese she had cleared away. How long ago had that been? Had that been only this morning? He found the food, filled his empty belly, and drank from the trickle of cool mountain-water. He rubbed his face and looked at his surroundings. The bundles of herbs dangled everywhere, the rows of bottles held God-knows-what. Her last words came back to him. 'Who knows, maybe I put a spell on you. Made you a victim of your lowly lust. Maybe the devil put me up to it.' 

Tired to the bone he crawled under the furs and tried to sleep. In the morning he would go find Father Edward. He would know what Rory should do. He would give him guidance. Rory felt comforted by the thought of getting counsel. He never had learned to take responsibility for himself and this small taste of it had brought nothing but disaster.

The woman had said it herself and now he heard her saying it again. Your lowly lust is called forth by the devil, your lowly lust... your lowly lust. She came into the cave with swaying hips, her long, slender fingers trailing the buttons of her shirtwaist. He swallowed and his eyes became glued to her hands as she started unbuttoning the purple garment. Halfway through she stopped however, leaving him with a tantalizing view of cleavage and no more than a hint of nipples. By now she was standing in front of him and she licked her lips provocatively. Her hands slid down to her waist, slipped behind her back and within moments her black and white striped skirt fell away, leaving her standing in a white see-through petticoat.

His cock came to attention as he watched her with her arms behind her head, loosening her braid so the black hair fell like a cloak around her shoulders. He reached out and his fingers stroked her skin from the hollow at the base of her throat to just beneath her breasts, stopped by the last three buttons still in place. She wriggled a little and his hands took hold of her hips, scared she might walk away again. To his delight she proceeded to unbutton the rest of her shirtwaist and with a sensual movement of her shoulders it slipped down to the ground.

His mouth was drawn to the lush flesh in front of him, the pink nipples calling to him like a magnet to iron. He closed his eyes in bliss as he licked her flesh, touched her soft skin and felt the weight of her breast on his palm. His cock stood to full attention and he felt the tension building in his balls. Still licking and sucking on the hardening nipples, he used both hands to push the petticoat down her hips. 

With his hands on her hips he forced her to take a step back so he could gaze at her naked form. He felt his cock jump at the sight of the dark triangle between her thighs. That's where he wanted to be, between her legs, his erection buried in her hot wet flesh. He wanted to feel her move around his cock, the friction adding to the itching, making him shoot his fluids ... Ahhh. 

His groan and the simultaneous wetness woke him up. Startled Rory shot bold upright, but then he realized what had happened. The woman had visited him in a dream and had lured him to spilling his seed again. With a look of distaste he threw the soiled fur to the side. Unclean, that's what she made him. He never experienced this kind of thing before he had met her. It was definitely her doing. She had said so herself: "I put a spell on you."

Shivering in the cold he noticed the fire was almost dead. Again he had forgotten to add fuel to it before going to sleep. He poked at the fire to coax it back to life, put on a big log and stood for a while watching the flames leap higher and higher. The first time something like this had happened to him, she had warned him. She had given him something to drink to make him dream. She had said so. This dream must have come from her as well then. She must have told him the truth in her anger. This Deirdre was a witch.

Trembling with fear, he searched for his cross and his beads, needing the support of those familiar objects. He knew beyond doubt that he was in big trouble. Surely the Prince of Darkness was after his soul, tempting him with the pleasures of the flesh, sending his witch to seduce him. Rory spent the rest of the night in prayer, kneeling on the hard stone floor where he had pushed the carpets aside. He deserved to suffer, he was well aware of that.

Relieved that it was finally morning, the priest climbed to his feet. His knees felt stiff from kneeling so long, but his mind was glad his body suffered. It meant he was already doing penance. His body needed to be punished, so he took nothing of the bread or the cheese. He allowed himself only a few sips of water before he left the place of his downfall. 

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Sticks & Stones Ch. 05



Careful to avoid the loose gravel, Deirdre descended the slope and finally reached the path that crossed the mountain pass higher up. For a long moment she just stood there, listening, her eyes straining in the darkness. She didn't hear anything and by now it was really dark - she could see no more than a few feet ahead. With a sigh she started walking again. She had to take her chances, as it was far too cold to stay out on the mountain. 

She didn't know how long it took her to reach the branch that lead back to the village, but she was glad she could stand still for a minute. It was dead quiet. Maybe her luck was coming back and those soldiers had moved on. Deirdre was still cautious as she slipped into the village, creeping from shadow to shadow till she reached the other side. Duncan's place was dark and to her dismay she found it empty. Apparently the daughter had already left for her own place in the next village.

Gnawing on her knuckles Deirdre stood in the dark house. She could stay here. Nobody would come looking here and it was dry and sheltered from the wind. She would not be able to warm herself with fire, but she would survive that. Something felt not right about this idea however, she could not exactly say why, but it made her feel uneasy, as if she took advantage of the death of the old man. 

"Damn", she muttered under her breath as she made her way back to the center of the village. Most houses were already dark for the night, but not all and she had to be careful. The only other safe place she had been able to come up with, was the merchant's house. That was also the house that received a lot of attention from the rest of the village, which made it also very unsafe. Even so, the merchant was the only one possibly willing to give her shelter for the night. 

She had already decided to go back in the morning to collect the bare necessities from the cave. She didn't know yet where she would go, but she had come to the conclusion that she had to leave the area. It was too much of a risk to stay now that the cave was no longer a secret. She snorted at her own thoughts. Hell, the priest would want to find her, if it was only to save her soul if not his own. 

The merchant's house showed a faint light through a crack in the blinds, but Deirdre circled to the back of the house. She felt safer in the shadows and tapped lightly at the backdoor. She hoped Conn would come to the door himself; his wife was not as broadminded and would have liked her husband to cease all dealings with Deirdre. 

With a sigh of relief Deirdre saw the door open a crack to show the grey eyes of Conn. The stout merchant raised his eyebrows in surprise and opened the door wide to let her in. A quick look outside convinced him no one saw the herb lady enter his home and he quietly closed the door again, bolted it and only then turned to have a look at his unusual visitor.

"What's wrong?"

He gestured towards the bench near the big hearth; the fire already banked for the night. He waited for her to sit down, then lifted a jug of ale from the table and held it up with a questioning look on his face. When she nodded he poured two mugs and settled himself at the table. He observed her taking a sip of the cool liquid and noticed the shiver that went through her. 

"Come on, out with it. What happened? You look exhausted."

Deirdre took another sip and tried to come up with a simple explanation. She failed and looked a bit helpless at the grey-eyed, grey-haired man opposite. He had always treated her with respect; she shouldn't be involving him. It could be dangerous. She almost stood up to leave again but it seemed as if Conn had read her mind.

"No." He reached out and took hold of her wrist. "Stay, talk."

"I need a place to stay, only for tonight. I'll leave again in the morning." She took a deep breath to steady herself. Scared to see a denial she bent her head and studied the grains of the tabletop. 

"You know I will help you if I can. You have served the people of this village more times than they will ever say out loud." He let go of her wrist and took a swallow of his drink. "Care to tell me why?"

He watched the woman in front of him with something of alarm. He could not remember ever having seen her this upset, so uncertain. She was a tall woman with an aura of competence but right now she looked more like a girl that wanted to cry or twist her hands.

"Conn, it could be dangerous to help me." She laughed a little, as that was nothing new. "I mean, more than normal. I did something real stupid." She sighed before she continued. "I found a wounded man about a week ago, near the ravine on the east slope. I was soft-headed enough to take care of him." 

Conn said nothing; he merely raised his eyebrows. 

"He is a priest, the one they are searching. They are still searching aren't they?"

"I see." Conn whistled softly between his teeth. "Yes, they want to find him real bad. Seems he's sorely missed by that fanatic inspector general. For the Inquisition. Father Edward I believe." 

The moment the words left his mouth, the merchant looked sharply towards his visitor. "I seeee..." This time he almost sighed the words.

"But he won't turn you in, will he? Not after...saving his life?" For a minute his voice rose to something more than a whisper. 

Deirdre felt the color rise in her cheeks, but she did not intend to tell Conn the whole sordid story. 

"He wants to take me with him to save my soul. He's convinced this Father Edward will help." She shrugged her shoulders as if in apology. "I lost my temper at that, but I can't go back to... to where I used to live. He is still there and I can't take the risk. You know what will happen if I go with him." 

Conn nodded, guessing from her face there had been more to it than she was telling. Hell, he wouldn't blame any man for wanting her. "Yes. No need to explain further girl. You can stay the night. But what will you do next? He knows your place now, doesn't he? Can he lead them to it?"

Deirdre lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. I'm not taking the chance though. I thought to go back in the morning, take the essentials and leave."

The grey-haired merchant eyed her thoughtfully, his brain obviously doing overtime as his hand rubbed his chin. With his eyes squinted, he took another sip of ale, swallowed it and placed the mug back on the table. He nodded a few times and a small smile crept over his face. 

"You got my message? About me leaving the village for a few weeks?" He saw her nod once and patted her hand in answer to her curious look. "How about, if you went with me?"

She opened her mouth, but he stalled her questions by putting his finger against her lips. Conn knew he was old enough to be her father. Nevertheless, he grabbed every chance he got in touching her. As always the sight of her made his cock twitch in his pants. He let his fingers trace her lips. "Don't say no yet. Listen first." 

"Ok, I will." The words were barely more than a whisper.

"I have planned a visit to a big city, not Kilkenny, another one, near the sea. Lots of stuff for me to trade there. I have a few connections to put me in touch with traders there. Now, here's the important part. There's a seaport nearby. Maybe folks there are less superstitious."

Deirdre looked at Conn with eyes wide from wonder. The sea, he wanted her to go live by the sea?  Her throat was suddenly dry and she grabbed the mug of ale, downed nearly half of it in one gulp and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Have you ever been to this city? Or the seaport?" 

"The city, yes. The seaport, no." Conn smiled reassuringly. "I have been to Wexford once before. It is big, but it has a cathedral. That's why I think you should go on to the smaller town by the sea." 

She saw the look on his face, satisfied with his plan, expecting her to agree, and she could almost believe it was possible. Almost. Then reality kicked in again. How would she explain herself? How could she provide for herself? She shook her head and smiled a bit sadly as she put her questions to him.

Conn nodded as he took hold of her hand. He turned it palm upwards and caressed the sensitive skin on her wrist, trailing his fingers up to her elbow. When he felt her trying to get her hand back, he made his hold a bit firmer as he smiled at her frowning face.

"I agree. We have to come up with something. Let me think on it a bit. A good night's sleep does wonders sometimes." 

He didn't wait for an answer but stood up and stretched, still holding her hand. He realized this would be the last time she ever visited his house. With a swift movement he brought her other hand up as well, holding both of them above her head. 

"Conn, what are you doing? Conn?" She sounded more bewildered than scared. 

"Guess I want what that priest got. At least I will not turn you in. You know that, don't you?"

He stretched her a little backwards and one hand stroked her neck, caressed the soft skin of her cleavage and slid inside the shirtwaist, cupping the firm breast. She tried to stop him, but he had her hands firmly secured. Next she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but that only resulted in him touching her all the more. He quickly undid the buttons and her breasts sprang free, showing him her nipples were starting to harden despite her protests. 

"I have been wanting you for ages. Didn't you know that?" 

He smiled down at her, taking in the angry eyes, the flushed face and the luscious breasts with the pink tips. His cock stirred anew, starting to rise. He ignored her as she tried to reason with him, reminding him of his wife upstairs. His wife was nice enough but the body right in front of him was much more enticing. He bent his head and kissed a path from her neck to her nipples, touching the peaks only lightly with the tip of his tongue. 

The renewed squirming excited him. The feeling of power over her body turned him on more than he would have thought and he stretched her a little more, forcing her to thrust her breasts out. The movement made the creamy white globes quiver and he licked his lips. He decided to have her right then. 

Deirdre squirmed to get loose. She had never looked at him as a partner, but she was shocked at her own response. The way he held her hands and forced her to present her breasts, made her hot. She was getting a bit desperate to get away from him. So she tried to resist, reminded him of his wife upstairs, but he ignored her and kept teasing her nipples with the tip of his tongue. It was no good; soon she ached to feel his mouth on them, sucking on them. The risk of his wife coming down only added to her excitement, maybe to his as well. Without warning, Conn suddenly spun her around and pushed her on her back, down on the bench. He tied her wrists above her head, using a length of cloth he had been examining earlier.

He followed her efforts to get loose with a big grin on his broad face. "It's no use girl and right now I'm going to have a good look at you first." With that he flicked her skirts back and straddled the bench between her knees. Both hands were free to stroke the soft skin of her thighs, his thumbs touching the black curls between her legs. He kept his word and looked her over with burning eyes. His hands fondled her breasts till she closed her eyes. To her own horror she started moaning and she felt her pussy getting moist.

Conn slid forward on the bench, forcing her legs further apart as he lifted them over his own. With her pussy in his lap he could easily suck her nipples while at the same time caressing her hips. His fingers slid between her thighs, opening her to his touch and he felt the moisture starting to well up. 

He looked down at the black curls surrounding the now dark folds, unfolding under his fingers, glistening with her desire. He knew it was a bit perverse but the fact she still tried to resist him excited him tremendously. In an effort to make her acknowledge her body's response he bent further down and licked her pussy. It tasted rich, like cream with honey and he thrust his tongue in, spreading her wide with his hands. 

"Stop it. Conn, don't." 

He heard her getting more frantic in her denial and pinched her nipples in response. Her gasp was enough to spur him on and he freed his cock from their confines. Rubbing his tip over her slick folds and touching the small pearl at the top made her moan again. Finally silencing her protests he slowly entered her body, savoring the feel of her hot, wet flesh taking him in. 

Once inside, he kept perfectly still for a few moments, letting his hands roam the body laid out in front of him, making her realize he was wielding all the power. Still seated on the bench with her legs over his, he started playing her body. He fondled her breasts, stroked her clit and kneaded her thighs till she started whimpering at the back of her throat. 

All that was needed to send her over the edge then was a few thrusts of his cock. Her climax rippling through her body caused her inner muscles to massage his cock to its own release. His seed hitting her cervix made her buck her hips again, thrusting her clit against his fingers.

"Yes, oh God, Conn, oh God." 

Conn looked at the gorgeous body, sated by the efforts of his hands and his cock, and felt on top of the world. He vowed to make sure this enjoyable flesh would not be wasted on the stake. With a final touch to her clit he kissed her hard on the mouth, pleased that she was no longer resisting him. He watched her open her eyes again and smiled down at her. 

"That was very nice. I hope that priest at least enjoyed you as much as I have."

Deirdre made a face. "He hardly knew what he was doing. I didn't want you, but you at least know how to satisfy a woman." 

Conn raised an eyebrow. "Was he that bad?" 

He bent his head and kissed her nipples again, his fingers stroking her folds as his slackening cock slid out of her. A sound from upstairs stopped him from arousing her a second time. 

Deep down Deirdre felt a little disappointed that Conn stopped touching her. His thick fingers and sturdy cock made her horny like hell. Not to mention the fact how he had tied her to the bench and had her spread out before him. She had fantasized about being taken like that, but had never experienced something like it for real. She sighed. Now she had and it had felt great. 

He stood up, fixed his clothing and released her wrists. Next he ushered her to the storeroom, grinning that he didn't want to upset his wife so late at night. Deirdre understood perfectly well. He had no desire to risk a sour mood on the eve of his departure. She felt a little wicked as she squeezed his cock before sending him to his wife. With his promise to wake her early next morning and a last kiss, he closed the door softly behind him, leaving her to find a spot between the bales of cloth ready for trade.

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Sticks & Stones Ch. 06



Feeling nervous and unsettled, Deirdre hurried back up the mountain. Conn had convinced her to at least come with him to escape the area, but she refused to leave the herbarium behind. It was the only thing that her mother had left her and it was precious to her. It also held a lot of information and she hated to let that go to waste. Besides, she had persuaded him to pick her up near the mountain pass so nobody in the village would see her departure. 

She had left Conn's house before his wife was up. Deirdre grinned as she recalled Conn's face that morning. He had looked very smug when he told her his missus was still sleeping. No doubt he had buried his cock in her as well. For a moment she dwelled on the feel of his cock last night. Still convinced it had been unwise, she couldn't deny the fact he had fucked her good and thorough.

As she neared the entrance to the cave she felt her stomach tie into a knot. Would he still be there? On her way up she had seen nothing of search parties but that did not mean anything. There hadn't been any the previous night either. She was almost inside the entrance tunnel when she heard him. His muttering carried through the tunnel and she darted behind a fold in the rock to the left. 

With her back pressed against the cold stone surface she held her breath and prayed he would not come her way. She came close to thanking God when he turned the other way. She could hear his boots scraping along the rocks, his grumbling as he searched for a way down the mountain. After more than a week inside, the sun would probably hinder his eyes a bit so she dared a quick peek. 

There was nothing left of the lost and dreaming boy she had left the day before. The set of his shoulders shouted determination and the way he searched for footholds told her he had found a new confidence. She was glad she had been able to avoid him. She had no desire whatsoever to know this newfound purpose; as a matter of fact she was afraid she knew all too well. 

After she saw him disappear around an outcrop of rocks, she slipped inside the tunnel and heaved a sigh of relief. She never realized she had been holding her breath. A quick look around showed her nothing special, so she hurriedly stuffed her spare set of clothes in her haversack, together with the herbarium. It took her no more than a few moments to decide she would leave most herbs behind, they would do no more than advertise what she was. She only took the poppy juice and a healing salve. Those could have been bought from anyone. 

Deirdre looked one last time at her home for the past ten years, a sad expression on her face. "Goodbye haven, goodbye Johan." She didn't care if it was pathetic to whisper into the empty cavern; she just had to do something to make it an official farewell. Clenching her jaws she turned and left, refusing to cry. The sharp sunlight made her eyes water, that was all.

Not sure how long it had taken her to pack her things, she was very careful in going down to the main road. It would be really witless to stumble into the priest, as he was likely to make his way a lot less rapid. The moment she spotted a dark speck moving on the mountain below her, she froze in her tracks. Mindful of sending stones or gravel tumbling down, she settled herself and watched the tiny dark figure moving towards the small light ribbon of the road. 

For a few seconds she feared he would turn towards the village. If he did he would block her access to the fork in the road; the place she and Conn had thought would cause the least amount of questions for her to join his traveling set. A soft sigh of relief escaped her as she saw Rory turn towards the town. Next she frowned as she saw him bending down. It was way too far to see clearly, but he was definitely doing something. 

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Deirdre hurried down, for a moment hesitating what to do first. A glance at the sky convinced her it was still early so she had time enough to get to the fork. Once down to the road she looked around, curious to find out what Rory had been doing. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach when she saw. At the side of the road, marking the place where he had come down from the mountain was a large letter W laid out in stones. 

Deeply disturbed Deirdre sat at the side of the road. Waiting for Conn and his party to come up from the branch leading out of the village, she felt exposed, vulnerable. The fact that Rory had marked the route to the cave with a W was spelling it out for her. He would try to find her, no doubt because he wanted to save her, but the result would be the same as if he searched her to sent her to trial. She'd end up on the stake, after ... She shuddered, refused to think further as she wrapped her arms around her.

Conn frowned as he spotted her from afar. The splotch of indigo that was her cloak stood out against the greys and whites of the mountainside. She sat hunched over like she was aching and he felt a stab of worry. He knew she could take care of herself most of the time, but still felt responsible. He shook his head at his own nonsense. Ever since he came to live in this village he had lusted after the healer's daughter. Now that he finally had fucked her, he found her even more attractive.

He glanced aside to his apprentice, but the lad was too busy absorbing all the unfamiliar things nearby. It was his first time on the trail with Conn, his first time away from the village he was born in. At the moment the boy eyed the whole world as if it were a wonder. 

"Deirdre, glad you're on time girl. This is Kendrick, my apprentice. Kendrick, this is Deirdre, a cousin of my sister's husband. She'll be traveling with us." 

Conn had spun his wife the same tale. His sister had been dead for more than ten years, so there was no risk there. He hardly ever spoke with her husband and it was unlikely his wife would ever meet him. He was sure she would never betray Deirdre on purpose, but she could let something slip. He directed the lad to lead their mule for a while, giving him a chance to follow behind with Deirdre. The sound of the cartwheels would drown out their conversation.

"What happened? You look awful."

Deirdre gave a feeble grin. "The priest. He left as I was coming up. I watched him take the road to Wicklow." She swallowed and rubbed her arms through her cloak as if she was cold. "He...uh, he left a sign. I looked after he left." 

Conn frowned but waited for her to continue. He didn't have to wait too long.

"A 'W'. He made a 'W' with stones to mark where he came down from the mountain." 

"I hope you destroyed it?" Conn sounded almost savage. "The bloody idiot. Doesn't he know you saved his life?" 

Deirdre put her hand on his arm. "Let it go Conn. He knows, but he thinks he's doing me a favor. Saving my soul." 

She managed a sickly smile, not really believing that herself. Not when he marked the way to the cavern with the W for witch. She sighed, not sure what had convinced Rory she was a witch after all. Maybe she had been right in her anger. That it was easier to blame her and her 'witchcraft' than admitting he had had a moment of weakness.

Conn cleared his throat. "All right, but did you destroy it? Real good? Just point it out to me, will you? To make sure." 

When she nodded, he went on to tell her what route he had in mind. Follow the road to Kilpoole so they could skirt Wicklow. Then on to the coast road. He thought they could make it to Arklow and find shelter there for the night. They would need another day, maybe two to reach Wexford. After that, he had to see the lay of the land. Deirdre nodded again. She had never traveled beyond Wicklow or Kilpoole. Never even been that far as a matter of fact. Maybe in other circumstances she would have been excited to see new places. Right now, she was much to upset and scared to find joy in leaving her safe surroundings.

As the day passed she started to feel more and more tense. Conn had taken a good look at the stones Rory had used for his sign and with a wicked grin he had taken half of them with him. During the rest of the morning he had been throwing them away one by one, scattering them along the road. At noon they had rested for a while, giving the mule a pause as well as their own feet and when they got up again Conn had told her they would soon pass Kilpoole. Kilpoole, once they passed that place, she would feel a lot safer. Until then she felt the shadow of the inspector general breathing down her neck. 

Conn pointed ahead and she looked, following the road with her eyes, seeing the slow descent towards a crossroads of sorts. A few houses had sprung up around a small guesthouse. Conn had said he didn't want to use the guesthouses because they would cost him too much. She knew it was a tale for the benefit of Kendrick. He didn't want her to show her face more than absolutely necessary.

They neared the crossroads and Deirdre felt like a coiled spring. The tension inside her was building to the point where she felt like screaming and she had no idea why. Then they were close enough to see people and she knew. In front of the guesthouse she saw a small band of soldiers, loitering in the weak sun. The crimson of their tunics proclaimed them as hired by the church. The inspector general of the Inquisition to be more precise. Her knees nearly gave out and she had to use every ounce of willpower to keep walking.

"Keep going girl. You're doing just fine." Conn's voice was no more than a breath of air.

"Hey, old man. Want to sell your daughter?" 

The soldiers roared with laughter at the look that Deirdre was unable to hold back. One of them even lifted his tankard as if to salute her. She bit her lip and clenched her fists to keep from running. 

"Not a chance, lads." Conn grinned back at them as he made sure Deirdre and Kendrick kept going, the mule between them. "No offense, but I'll find her a decent husband in town." 

They kept going as the laughter of the soldiers slowly faded behind their backs. Deirdre thought the sweat on her back would be visible through her clothes. She had balled her fists so tight her nails were digging into her palms and her eyes stared ahead, refusing to see anything but the road leading to safety.

Once around a bend in the road Conn patted her on the shoulder. "Relax, you did fine." His hand was on its way to stroke her bottom, but more was impossible as Kendrick looked back with a question on his face.

"Will you really do that, master? Find her a husband?" 

Conn snatched his hand back but laughed at the boy's naiveté. "We were all joking, Kendrick. You better keep your thoughts on the mule, boy."

After another hour or so, they finally crested the last hill and saw the blue-grey waters of the Irish Sea in the distance. Both Deirdre and Kendrick were speechless at the sight of so much water, as they had never been out of the Wicklow Mountains. Conn smiled, enjoying their amazement at things he took for granted. 

The rest of the day the road followed more or less the coast so they had an almost permanent view of the water, blending with the sky in the distance. As the sun started to go down, Conn pointed ahead. They saw a cluster of houses and he explained it was Arklow. At the outskirts he sent Kendrick and Deirdre with the cart into the stables of a guesthouse, claiming the mule needed to be fed and rubbed down by the boy. And Deirdre needed to watch the cart with his trading goods while he went in to ask for lodgings in the hayloft, again to save some coin. Deirdre knew he was still being careful of showing her face to strangers and she felt grateful. After all, he was hardly more than a stranger, well maybe a bit more but still not obliged to guard her safety.

Later on, Deirdre lay on her side in the hay, eyes wide awake, listening to the breathing of Kendrick and the soft snoring of Conn. They had filled their bellies with a leg of roast and slices of fresh bread, washed down with cool ale. Conn had tried to feel her up a bit, but the presence of the boy prevented any serious touching. Both men had dropped off soon afterwards, but she couldn't sleep. Not yet. The events of the day replayed themselves in her head and although she was tired to the bone, her thoughts kept her awake. 

With a start, Deirdre woke up. Her eyes flew open and she felt her body go rigid as she strained to hear what had disturbed her sleep. Oh God, were they coming for her? Nearly scared out of her wits, she lay in the hay, listening to the sound of boots coming into the stable. It took her a few moments to realize she heard only one pair of boots. A late guest? She tried to stay awake, but all she heard were the sounds of someone settling down in the hay and finally deep breathing, indicating sleep.

"No... please..." The touch to her arm blended into her dreams of getting arrested. They had been tormenting her all night.

"Shush girl, it's all right. Time to wake up."

Ashamed to have cried out like that, Deirdre pushed the heavy black locks out of her face as she sat up. Rubbing her eyes she turned to Conn but halfway she froze. Her gaze touched the guest she now remembered she had heard coming in during the night. Her face went from pink to deathly white and her violet eyes turned almost black with fear. 

She tried to speak but no sound came out. She tried again and her hands gripped each other so tight the knuckles turned white. 

"Good morning to you, folks." 

The deep voice sent her shivering into the bales of hay at her back. Almost desperate she tried to push the fear down, fighting to keep the panic from taking over as she looked at the source of that voice. After a few moments she was able to look beyond the scaring crimson of his tunic, proclaiming him a soldier for the Inquisition. 

When he stood up she saw he was a big man, topping Conn by at least a foot, which meant he was even taller than she was. The broad muscled frame was to be expected in a fighting man. His blond hair was tied back with a piece of leather and ... With a start she realized the unusual green eyes were studying her about as intent as she had been looking at him. 

"I guessed right, didn't I? You are the one."

Deirdre felt the blood drain further from her face. It would be useless to pretend not knowing what he meant. She couldn't understand how he knew so fast, but he knew. Rory must have been very convincing to have soldiers after her already. 

"Care to explain that?" 

Conn had stepped up and stood at her side, as if he would have a chance defending her against the big man. With a flick of his hand he had sent the boy out to take care of the mule. 

The soldier's face split in a grin as he looked down at the older man.

"Sure, but I think it's best to do that on the road. I may have been the first to catch on, but I won't be the last." He suddenly offered his hand to Conn. "Andreas, I'm called Andreas." 

Conn automatically took the hand and shook it, telling his name in return. To his surprise the soldier nodded to his companion. 

"I know your name, you're Deirdre, right?" He smiled in an effort to reassure her. "Let's get moving, I have some food we can share on the go."

Without waiting for their agreement, he stepped outside, ducked his head into the rain barrel and came sputtering back up again. After a moment's hesitation Conn and Deirdre followed him out of the hayloft, both using some of the water to wash the sleep from their eyes. As Kendrick had taken care of the mule, all that was left was harnessing the beast.

Their little band was on their way in a matter of seconds, and Conn directed the boy to lead the mule down the road that followed the coast further east. Deirdre walked behind the cart and Conn and Andreas made up the rear. True to his word, Andreas provided all of them with a big slice of juicy rye bread and a slab of cheese. Savoring the tasty breakfast, Deirdre listened to his voice, explaining his presence.

"I saw you coming by yesterday. Remember? Near Kilpoole. You looked scared to me woman, but I thought it was the prospect of your father going to find you a husband." He chuckled at the look she gave him. "Maybe an hour after you were gone, we got word from Wicklow. Seems one of the pets of that Father Edward had been lost." He almost spat the name out. "The fool priest claims to have been the victim of a witch, who held him captive this last week. Said the witch was sent by Satan to seduce him. Black-haired with violet eyes and a lush body. I wasn't sure about the eyes of course, but the rest fitted."

In the silence that followed his words, Deirdre could hear the sound of the sea in the distance, the wind sighing softly nearby and a few birds singing, confident that spring was upon them. She looked at the side of the road where the first green buds were poking their heads up. Finally she looked up at the sky, an unending stretch of pale blue blending with the grey waves to her left.

"Why?" She licked her lips, but refused to look at him, still afraid to read his eyes. "Why not turn me in right away?" 

The loud laugh made her jump out of her skin and she glanced back to see he really was only immensely amused. No fear lurked in his sparkling green eyes. She looked at him with a questioning face. Finally he stopped laughing and still shaking his head he started talking again.

"First, I don't believe in witches. I guess you're a healer?" He lifted his shoulders. "My mother was one too. I know she wasn't a witch", he grinned. "Second, I hate men who can't take responsibility for their own actions. The priest forgot his celibacy I guess?"

Deirdre surprised herself by blushing rather furiously. Hell, it wasn't as if she were supposed to be a virgin still. Not at her age! But to be honest, it was more the way this Andreas looked her over that made her face turn pink. His eyes turned a bit darker at the sight of her flushed face and he nodded.

"I thought so. Can't say I blame him. Nevertheless, he shouldn't make you the scapegoat for his own failing." His face got an angry set as he continued. "That is what I hate about those priests. It's all about them and their place in heaven." He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to look at one of the others.

Deirdre frowned as she thought his words over. They kind of reawakened long buried memories, memories of what Johan had told her about his home, his country, and his faith. This Andreas had an odd sound to him; he could very well be from another country. 


"Are you a Lutheran?" Deirdre surprised all of them, including herself by blurting the question out.

"And what would a woman like you know about that?" His face carried a guarded look, all of a sudden not sure of his own safety.

Conn was walking along with his eyebrows almost up in his hair. He had been following the conversation as it turned ever more interesting. He had heard about those heretics on his travels, but he never knew Deirdre had heard about them as well. A quick look assured him Kendrick was oblivious to their talking. The boy stepped alongside the mule, whistling softly and kicking little stones every now and then. Conn felt relieved, as he would feel definitely uncomfortable if he corrupted the lad's faith.

As their feet carried them ever further along the coast, Deirdre hesitantly at first told them about Johan and what he had shared with her. Andreas confirmed her suspicions. He was from the same country as Johan had been. His decision to follow them was no more than an excuse to finally give in to his wish to quit being a mercenary, servicing a faith he no longer adhered to.

They followed Andreas' suggestion and left the road for the beach, walking along the waterline for a bit, the cold water refreshing their tired feet. Once they rounded an outcrop of rock Andreas allowed them to sit down. At long last letting them take a break. He had been setting a fast pace, knowing his former comrades could figure out the same as he had. It was not very likely they would pursue them, not without a reward, but he was rather safe than sorry. However, after hours of walking Conn needed a rest badly. He was, after all, not a young man any more and a bit overweight as well. 




Sticks & Stones Ch. 06



Deirdre wriggled her toes in the soft sand, reluctant to put her boots back on. The water had been cold, but it had felt deliciously refreshing, reminding her how badly she wanted to take a bath. She watched Andreas roll up his trouser legs and step out into the tiny waves. She inhaled the salt air and for the first time that day, felt something like hope. Maybe she could escape, just maybe.

Within the hour Andreas had them on the move again. He and Conn agreed that it would be harder to find them once they reached Wexford. While Deirdre had been dozing in the sand the two men had decided to walk along the hard-packed sand near the water, following the coastline instead of the road would make it harder to find them. Besides, it saved them the trouble of hauling the cart back on the road; the shifting sands of the beach making that a nasty task. 

The sun was already shining on their backs when Conn pointed ahead. He had told them to watch out for a place where the land jutted out in the sea, marking the end of the secluded bay they had been rounding. Right after, the coast stretched in a clear line to the spot where the river Slarney joined the sea. To reach Wexford they had to cross the river, but they could not possibly do that tonight. 

Again it was Andreas who provided guidance. The mercenary was used to making do with whatever came at hand and he made them stop just before the sun went down. He picked an isolated hollow in the dunes so they could build a small fire; there was driftwood enough after all. 

Tired to the bone, Deirdre wrapped herself in her cloak, grateful for the warmth of the tiny fire and the comfort of the blanket Conn had pulled from the cart. As she lay down, she cast a look at the men. Conn and Andreas were still talking quietly as they shared the whiskey Andreas had with him. The boy had bedded down under the cart, seeking the company of the mule.

Feeling hot Deirdre squirmed on her blanket, waking up with the sensation of being sandwiched. She opened her eyes to find that she actually was. To her left Conn pressed into her and to her right she felt the hard body of Andreas. Loosening her cloak she turned on her stomach, trying to get back to sleep, feeling safe with the way they guarded her.

It didn't take her sleepy mind too long to realize they were not exactly intent on guarding her. First she felt a hand taking the cloak away, next a hand started caressing her ankle, slowly traveling up to her calf, her knee and the back of her thigh. She tried to roll over to get up, but a firm hand in the small of her back held her down.

"No." The single word in Andreas' deep voice sent a shiver along her spine. "Conn said he doesn't mind sharing you. Says there's enough of you to go around. I agree." 

Next he flipped her unto her back, holding her down with ease. She started to protest, but he silenced her with his mouth, kissing her hard and possessive. His fingers in the meanwhile busied themselves with the buttons on her shirtwaist. At the same time she felt cool night air touch her legs as Conn had succeeded in loosening her skirts. Both men grinned at each other, showing the white of their teeth in the half-light of the small fire, then Andreas flicked her bodice open and Conn tugged her skirts off, leaving her bare to their hungry eyes. 

"Stop it! You have no right." 

Deirdre tried to get a hold of her garments, but they both had one arm pinned to the ground. All she could do was try to kick them, but that was a mistake. Within seconds they had her legs trapped as well, grinning even more broadly as they had her spread-eagled now. 

"You can't do this to me. Let me go!" Deirdre hissed in anger, not wanting to waken the boy as well. "Conn, you're not a rapist." She tried to appeal to Conn's better instincts, not knowing if Andreas had any.

Conn chuckled in response. "It won't be rape honey. You like being forced, I noticed that real good." 

"She does, huh?" Andreas sounded amused as well. 

To her consternation she felt herself getting wet. Conn was right, she did like it. The thought of two men using her body made the heat travel her body in waves and she squirmed on the blanket. On the one hand angry that they would so easily take advantage of her, on the other hand getting turned on by the whole situation. Still busy sorting out those conflicting emotions she gasped at their touch.

Andreas started sucking and licking her nipples, every now and then pinching them with his fingers while his tongue plunged deep into her mouth. Conn enjoyed the moistening folds between her legs, licking her, sucking on her clit and finally inserting one, than two of his stubby fingers. Deirdre felt her juices leaking out of her pussy as the tension started to build. The little currents running from her nipples to her clit and back made her moan in the back of her throat. Conn tickled her pearl with his tongue and crooked his fingers to stroke the walls of her vagina. 

Deirdre had stopped protesting by now, but the teasing was driving her nearly insane. She licked her lips and looked up at Andreas, her violet eyes nearly black with lust. Holding her eyes with his, Andreas got rid of his pants and grinned as he saw her eyes widen at the sight of his cock. Massive with thick veins it stood proud, pre-cum already wetting the tip. Her mouth opened at the touch of its head against her lips and he slipped inside the hot, wet cavity, closing his eyes a moment to savor the feeling. 

The big cock filled her mouth and as her tongue swirled around it she ached to get her pussy filled as well. She started moving her hips and Conn sucked hard on her clit. His fingers now pumping in and out of her pussy, taking the rhythm from her bobbing head as she sucked Andreas. 

As soon as he felt her muscles start to ripple, Conn rammed his fingers in as far as he could and pressed his thumb down on her clit. He saw her hips rise up and her legs quivered as she climaxed, moaning around the cock filling her mouth. The vibrations in her throat sent Andreas over the edge as well; his cum leaking out of her mouth, as she could not swallow it all. 

Conn pulled his fingers out of the still rippling pussy and sat back a little to free his painfully throbbing cock from his pants. Vigorously rubbing his shaft, he moved the head of his cock through her slick folds, lubricating and teasing at the same time. The sight of the dark-pink folds glistening with her juices was incredibly arousing and seeing Andreas fuck her mouth had only added to his excitement. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensations coursing through his body. The hot wet opening beckoning his cock to enter, the itching in his balls, the heat traveling his body, the knowledge that Andreas was watching him. Yes, the fact that another man was about to watch him fuck a woman was stimulating beyond belief. He opened his eyes and grinned at the mercenary. 

Suddenly unable to hold back any longer, he plunged his cock in. Very slowly he moved back out till only the tip was inside, then thrust back in with full force. After only a few times Deirdre was mewling at him to fuck her harder but he took his time. He knew she would build up to an orgasm that would blow her away if he continued a bit longer. Besides, he loved the slow sucking of her pussy lips, reluctant to let his cock go. 

Like he knew would happen, he felt her starting to contract again. I'll fuck your brains out, he thought and picked up the pace. Grabbing her hips with both hands he thrust into her with all his force till she started to buck and clench his cock. He placed his fingers on her clit and pressed hard, making her cum even more violently, milking his cock like mad. With a loud groan he came as well, feeling his seed leave his body in three, four squirts. 

Conn heaved a big sigh, feeling satisfied and happy with the entire world. He smiled down at Deirdre, stroking her flushed face and kissing her softly. "A pity we didn't do this earlier girl. You're one hell of a fuck." 

"I think I want to find that out for myself." Andreas grinned amicable as he gently pushed Conn out of the way.

He had obviously enjoyed watching Conn because his massive cock was already halfway erect again. This time however, Deirdre was determined to have a say in the proceedings as well. She raised herself up on her knees, shed the purple shirtwaist and started to unlace the crimson tunic that still covered Andreas' broad chest. 

As she put her hands on the muscled shoulders, let her fingers explore his flesh, trail through the blond curls covering his chest, she made small appreciative sounds. She kissed his throat and licked his nipples while he let his fingers slide through the heavy black tresses, undoing the braid so her hair came down to her waist. She let her hands roam his back, cupped his buttocks and pressed her body against his, feeling his hardening cock against her belly. 

He buried one hand in the masses of hair and pulled her head back, giving him access to the tender skin of her throat, licking his way down to her breasts, flicking the hard nipples with his tongue. Her hands grabbed his head, trying to guide him lower still, but he grinned and resisted.

Gently biting the hard peaks his hands cupped her butt, kneading the soft flesh. His fingers slid between her legs, feeling the moisture and cum leaking out of her pussy, rubbing the silky folds till she opened her legs further. With his hand in her neck he pushed her head down to his cock, bending her over so she presented Conn with an excellent view. 

Deirdre sighed in pleasure as she felt Andreas reach between her legs. Licking his cock from the base to just below the tip, she could feel him stiffening and she started tickling his balls, cupping them, feeling their weight in her hands. She knew she was acting like an utter slut, but she couldn't help it. It felt so good to have them watch her, touch her, making her cum again and again. She slid her lips over the tip, her tongue swirling over and around the sensitive head. 

His fingers pinching her clit made her suck in her breath, taking his cock deeper into her mouth. He grunted in approval and moved his hips. Deirdre closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on pleasuring the massive erection. Andreas gave her only moments however, before he pinched her clit again. Her hips moved of their own accord and she opened her mouth wide in reflex. He shoved his cock in as far as it would go, then slowly withdrew again. Turning her around he pushed her on all fours, spread her lips and entered her from behind, one arm around her middle to support her and hold her against him, his other hand fondling her breasts. 

Conn watched in amazement how the mercenary thrust into the glistening cunt in this for him exciting and new position, the powerful strokes nearly sending the woman flat on her face. Judging from the sounds she was making though, she was enjoying every minute of it. For a moment he wished he still had the same stamina as Andreas, but then he was just content to watch the younger man bringing Deirdre to another climax. The hand around her middle had traveled down and he was rubbing her clit while at the same time pounding his cock into her. She shuddered and wailed as Andreas stiffened, plunged his cock deep into her and spilled his cum with a loud groan. 

They both collapsed on the blanket, Andreas behind Deirdre, his cock still buried inside her as he stroked her body and kissed her neck. He chuckled suddenly and nipped her shoulder.

"The old man was right, you know. You are one hell of a fuck."

Deirdre smiled, too sated to react with her usual fire. All she managed was a mumble before her eyes closed. She wriggled her bottom close to the body behind her and drifted off to sleep, leaving Andreas and Conn grinning at one another. Conn picked up her cloak and draped it over the pair of them before moving up to Deirdre on the other side. He planted a last kiss on her still smiling mouth and closed his eyes as well. Andreas uttered a sound of total contentment and snuggled into the lush body in his arms. 

Thank you for reading my story. Please vote and share your opinion through email or public comment. 



Sticks & Stones Ch. 07



Feeling sticky and sweaty Deirdre opened her eyes to the new dawn, Andreas still at her back with his arms around her. For a moment she lay reminiscing, a small smile on her face. A look in the direction of the mule and cart showed the boy to be sound asleep as was Conn who had rolled away. Very softly she got up to get her clothes. It was chilly, but she really needed to dip into fresh water. Even if it were salty, it would still clean her body. 

Andreas stirred, but she put her fingers to his lips and whispered in his ear. No sense in waking the others just yet. He nodded as his eyes traveled over her body. She could tell by the darkening color that he wanted her again. With a shake of her head and a grin she escaped to the beach.

The mercenary turned on his back and put his hands behind his head. His body felt relaxed and as he gazed at the slowly coloring sky a big grin split his face. He had packed up and left on the spur of the moment yesterday, already bored out of his skull with his life at the moment. He had grabbed this opportunity to leave his unit, intrigued by the woman he had remembered vividly and impelled by his aversion of witch hunting. It seemed he had taken a rewarding decision.

His body cooled without hers, so he dressed in a hurry and stirred up the little fire again. He took a careful measured sip of ale, noting the small amount left and wondered if the merchant was right. He had said they would reach their destination by midday today. And then what? He had no plans, no goals, nothing to do really, beyond warning the woman and he had done that. Munching on a piece of cheese he stared into the flames that licked the driftwood, following the blue and green sparks from the salt with his eyes.

The merchant woke up and kicked against the side of the cart, alerting the boy and the mule alike. Andreas passed the ale and cheese and watched the woman walk back from the water's edge. Her long black hair flowed down her back and her face had a healthy pink blush from the cold water. His mouth curved as his eyes wandered over the tight purple shirtwaist and the black and white striped skirt. Now that he knew what she looked like beneath those clothes he found her twice as alluring. 

Deirdre felt his eyes on her the moment she came back from the sea. The water had been awfully cold and she felt clean and invigorated. She seated herself near the fire and braided her hair as best she could, using her fingers for a comb. Conn and Kendrick were awake by now as well and she felt a bit odd. Both Conn and Andreas eyed her with intimate knowledge of her body and the memory of last night made her suddenly blush vividly. Taking a deep breath she turned towards Conn.

"Have you come up with answers yet?" She didn't really expect him to, but she didn't know what else to say right then.

To her surprise Conn smiled and nodded. "Yes, I think I have. Maybe even the perfect solution."

He raked his fingers through his grey hair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Not sure yet, I have to see the town first. Remember I said there would be a lot of trade for me? I have been thinking...that broadcloth from across, a fine cambric, our own flannels and wool." He nodded his head. "I could make a nice profit on trading those but I do not see the missus packing up to go live in Wexford." 

Deirdre looked bewildered. A glance at Andreas showed him to be just as much at a loss. "Conn? What are you saying?"

"You can write and read, right? You know your numbers. Could you run a shop? For me I mean." 

Deirdre frowned, the thought so alien she had no immediate response. "Are you asking me to run a shop in cloth for you?" 

Conn practically beamed as he nodded vigorously. "Exactly. You have a reason to live near the harbor, you could earn a living and we can always say you are my brother's widow." 

He quickly looked over at Kendrick as he whispered the last words, but the boy was daydreaming with his eyes wide open. His face had a faraway look on it and he didn't even blink his eyes. He hadn't heard a word of what they had been discussing.

"Don't you see? I would make a profit and you would have a safe existence. It's perfect, absolutely perfect."

"He's right. It sounds like a good plan." Andreas looked at her with a serious look on his face. "They'll be looking for a woman on her own, not a widow with a shop. If they ever come this far."

Deirdre felt weird. All she had ever known was herbs and healing. Should she leave all that behind? How could she do that? The knowledge her mother had left her had been handed down from mother to daughter forever. Without realizing it, she had been thinking out loud and Andreas answered her.

"Nobody said you should stop healing. Just that you should do something else to earn your keep."

He watched her face as she turned his words over in her mind. Her lips curved in a tiny smile as she obviously found merit in the idea. She had finished braiding the beautiful black hair and had folded her hands around her knees, resting her chin on top of them as she gazed into the fire. 

"I think I like that, running your shop for you." She nodded in confirmation.

"Good." Conn grinned as he climbed to his feet. "See to the mule, boy." He nudged the daydreaming Kendrick.

Together they quickly packed their belongings while Andreas doused the fire and started to kick sand over their camping place. Once they were ready to walk, he took up the rear and erased their tracks as best he could, till they were back on the solid wet sand near the sea. Conn told them it would be two or three hours before they reached the river and he was right. Nothing disturbed their journey and by midday they could see the coast veering sharply to the right, cutting off their way to the east.

Andreas frowned as he looked at the cluster of houses in the distance. "I thought you said there was a harbor on the other side of Wexford?" He turned to Conn with raised eyebrows.

"Well, it was a few years ago when last I came this way." Conn sounded a bit apologetic. "Must be new, this place." 

It didn't take them long to decide that Conn should go on with Kendrick, both having an excellent reason to have a look around. If Conn found a place he would send the boy back to fetch them. Conn came up with yet another tale for his apprentice; Deirdre needed to rest so she would stay behind and Andreas would stay with her for safety's sake. It was a lame story, but the boy seemed to swallow it.

Deirdre watched them go till they disappeared behind a bend in the road. They had cut across country, away from the coast to pick up the road to Wexford again. She turned around to look at her companion. The big soldier made her a bit uncomfortable. Sure, he said he wanted to help. But he had most of all helped himself, as far as she could see. Not that she hadn't appreciated his efforts. She grinned a bit at herself. To be honest he had been ...effective. 

A small frown creased her forehead as she followed Andreas. He went in the direction of the trees he had pointed out to Kendrick, a place away from the road where they could wait in safety. It really was a suitable spot, a fold in the hills, hidden by some low growing trees and bushes. She saw him stretch his body into the bracken and hesitated. What was he really after?

The bracken-covered floor was dry and they were out of sight from anyone traveling the road to Wexford. At peace with the world and life in general Andreas stretched his big frame. He turned on his back to look at the woman. She had been very quiet after that merchant had come up with his plan, which he thought was excellent. The man must have a real soft spot for her. 

Seeing the frown on her face he kept silent, waiting for her to speak her mind. The way she looked at him was not what he wished for. Upon waking that morning she had smiled into his eyes, giving him the impression she had enjoyed their games as much as he had. Looking at her right now, he wondered if he had misunderstood. She definitely looked distrustful, eyeing him with caution in her face.

He sat up again, held out his hand and patted the ground beside him. "Come, I won't bite." He cocked his head and smiled in an effort to make her more at ease. 

To his surprise she ignored his hand and settled opposite him, at what she obviously considered a safe distance. She carefully lowered herself, concentrating on tucking her skirts around her legs. After she really had nothing else left to keep her occupied she looked at him, not saying anything, just studying him. He mentally shrugged his shoulders and gazed back. As far as he was concerned, he could watch her for hours.

The sun was doing its best to make this a bright spring day and her hair was shining with hints of blue in the thick braid. Some wisps of black had escaped to fringe her face and his eyes were drawn to her slender neck. He dropped his gaze to her breasts, noting the way the purple shirtwaist hugged her figure till he looked up again to marvel again at the unusual color of her eyes. He never saw such violet eyes before. 

The look in her eyes changed as he watched her. The caution gave way to determination and he saw her straighten her spine before she opened her mouth, drawing his attention to the full rose-colored lips. For a minute he didn't even take in what she was saying, lost in the memory of those lips engulfing his cock.

"...really after?" 

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"What are you really after? I know what you told us yesterday. I just don't believe it is all." She clasped her knees. "What do you want, for you I mean."

Andreas frowned at her tone, almost accusing him of something. He raised an eyebrow. "Really? You don't believe what I said, so I have to tell you. What? Something you do believe? Or something you want to believe?" He felt himself getting angry. "Can I make you believe me? Do you know that? What would convince you?"

Her face was shocked; the beautiful eyes wide open. "Why...?" She swallowed, tried again. "Why are you so angry? Is it so strange to question you?" She took a deep breath. "I don't know you, do I?"

He shook his head. "No, you don't. But you could have looked at my actions. That should have told you something!" He balled a fist and shoved it in her face. "I could have done exactly as I pleased, couldn't I? Or do you think Conn would stand a chance against me? Or the boy, for that matter?" He stood up and looked down at her. "You interested me and I thought it was mutual, I really did. Guess it's only me. Sorry for being so stupid." 

Deirdre watched him stomp off, her eyes still wide with shock. She had never expected him to be insulted. Insulted? Lord, she hadn't given it a moment's thought. Shame colored her cheeks a flaming red. She bit her lip as she acknowledged he had been right about her being interested in him. So what had made her change her mind about him? 

Andreas found a boulder to sit on, not far from the dell where he had left Deirdre. He had been angry, yes, but if he was honest to himself, he had to admit it had been more disappointment than anger. She really got to him by surprise. He shook his head as he tried to understand her reaction. How could she even think he would do something to her? His eyes got a faraway look, not really seeing the heather that stretched away to the hills at the horizon or the road in the distance. 

The sound of footsteps made him turn around. Deirdre stood a few paces behind him. She held her head high, but her eyes were cast down, and her hands gripped each other a bit nervously. He looked with interest waiting for her first move.

"Andreas, I uh... I want to apologize. You were right to get mad at me. I'm sorry." She shuffled a bit with her feet before she continued. "I didn't mean to insult you. It's just... I don't know." She finally looked up at him, clearly uncomfortable. 

She made to walk back again, but he jumped to his feet and halted her with a hand on her arm. 

"Wait"

He sighed as his fingers stroked her arm without being aware of it.

"It's all right." He laughed a bit self-conscious. "It's just..." He shrugged. "I was disappointed." 

The hesitant smile on her face made him catch his breath. God, she looked so beautiful. His hand reached her shoulder and he took a step forward, embracing her tenderly, stroking the glossy hair as she rested her head against his chest. He smiled when she wrapped her arms around his back.

The snap of a twig jerked Andreas back to reality. He lifted his head, his green eyes narrowing while he shoved Deirdre behind him. A sigh of relief escaped the both of them when they saw it was the boy, Kendrick, who had come back for them. 

Conn had found a place to stay and the boy led the way into the settlement at the mouth of the river. It took only one glance to see why it had grown there. The place was excellently suited for a ferry, thus being the natural gateway towards Wexford. A big inn stood near the roadside, it's front facing the dock. Kendrick led them around it though, following a path along the waterfront. The houses here were small, with tiny patches of vegetables, herbs or an occasional fruit tree behind it. To the end of the row the boy gestured them into the last house, which was a bit bigger than its neighbors.

As they entered Conn came to meet them with a big smile on his face. "Isn't it great? Just what we need." He beamed with satisfaction.

Deirdre had to agree with him after she had a good look around. The front door opened into a big space with windows to either side, very suitable for use as a shop. The space behind it was divided into two rooms that could be used as storage and a bedroom, and at the back of the house was a large kitchen running the entire breadth. From the kitchen windows Deirdre looked out over the tiny garden, gazing at the grey waters of the river blending with the green-blue of the sea. Yes, this could be a new home. With a sigh she turned her back on the restless waves, walking into the front room again where the two men had found themselves a place to sit down. 

* * * 

Spring had passed into high summer and Deirdre walked back home with a smile on her face. "Home", she thought. "I would not have believed it three months ago." It was a warm summer day and she had walked a good distance in search of plants. She lifted her chin to let the summer sun warm her cheeks. Conn's plan worked great. She really liked running his shop for him and this little village saw lots of travelers on their way to Wexford, enough to make a nice living. 

As she opened the door of the shop she heard the tinkle of the tiny bells she had put up to warn her if she was in the back of the house. There was nobody there so she walked through the storage room into the big kitchen. She put her basket on the sturdy table and poured herself a mug of cool ale. A few chestnut trees to the side shaded the house, so it was nice inside, even now in the heat of summer. Deirdre plucked the thin linen blouse from her damp skin and pushed a few wisps of hair behind her ear. 

A glance to the backyard showed her Andreas, chopping wood near the bottom of the garden. His muscled body never failed to arouse her and once again she thought how lucky she was that he stayed with her. She watched his powerful arms swing the axe and she could see his spine bending and stretching as he worked bare-chested, splitting logs for the stove.

Deirdre stood for a long time as if mesmerized by the movements of the tall, bronzed man. He hadn't even asked her, just taken it for granted he would move in with her and Conn had been only slightly taken aback. She wondered if the merchant had hoped to make her his woman on the side. She grinned, that was very likely what had been on his mind. Not that it had mattered much. He had been down to Wexford once since they set up the shop and he and Andreas had shared the moment just as they had when they first met. 

The memories of those nights made her blush a bit and she fanned herself with her hand. Biting her lip she stepped outside and went to the pump, drew up a bucket of cool water and splashed her face. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she dabbed some of the wetness to her neck and cleavage. 

With her eyes still closed she smiled with satisfaction, since she had collected a nice supply of sea lettuce, some brown algae and she had even found a spot with belladonna. She knew she had to be very careful, but the habit of collecting herbs for potions and poultices was hard to break. Up till now there had not been cause for her to use her knowledge and she knew it would be wise to keep it that way. She liked her life, as it was right now, the shop and the man taking all of her attention, filling her days and her nights. 

As if summoned by her thoughts, she felt two strong arms circle her waist and a warm breath as Andreas nuzzled her neck. He had snuck up on her from behind, and soon he started licking from her jaw line to her collarbone, while his hands moved up to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, the linen blouse only a thin separation between his hands and her skin. Deirdre stretched her arms over her head and pushed her chest out, enjoying the feel of his hands on her body. 

At first she had thought it was the length of time she had gone without a man, which made her respond to him the way she did. But after three months of living together, that was no longer a plausible explanation. Whatever it was, his hands never failed to excite her and this time was no exception. The minute he touched her breasts she felt a jolt of electricity race through her body, making her tingle all over. 

"What shall I do with you? Tie you to the tree and let the neighbors have a go at you?"

She heard him chuckle as he knew that kind of talk turned her on and she almost instantly proved him right. The thought made her moan softly and she clenched her thighs in response. For a fleeting moment she wished women were not required to wear such long and cumbersome skirts. 

"Ting, ting, ting."

"Damn, not now." Andreas groaned at the sound of the tiny bells announcing a customer. 

Equally disappointed Deirdre sighed as she adjusted her clothes before hastening to the front of the house. Her hands were still busy patting her hair when she entered the shop and she was already halfway to the counter as she looked at the man. 

"No... it can't be." 

Shock turned her voice into a whisper and her eyes grew wide with disbelief. In front of her stood that stupid priest, that Rory. Her eyes took him in and she mentally adjusted her first impression. He was a shadow of his former self, his face haggard with sunken eyes that had a feverish cast to them. And his clothes! No wonder he had come to their shop, he looked like a scarecrow in the threadbare tunic and the pants that ended well above his ankles. It took a few moments before the truth sank in: he was no longer wearing the black robes of a priest. 

"What...what are you doing here?"

"You!" His voice rose in outrage. "I knew you had bewitched me. And this proves it." Rory's face contorted as he hissed at her. "They threw me out, but you wanted that, didn't you? You made them do it. Why? Did you want me for yourself?"

Deirdre backed away as the clearly disturbed man advanced on her. The thoughts raced through her mind as she eyed him warily. They had kicked him out? Didn't they believe him? She saw his hands curl into claws as he came nearer and she looked around for something to defend herself.

"You bewitched me. You made me forget my vows and then you made it so they would not believe me." He laughed with a scaring pitch to it. "I could not even show them the place you had been hiding." 

He suddenly lunged across the counter and grabbed her arm. "But now that I found you, I can take you back with me. They'll believe me if they see you." 




Sticks & Stones Ch. 07



"No!" Deirdre hissed in fury. "You convinced yourself I'm a witch so you could keep a clear conscience, didn't you? Has it ever occurred to you that your naming me a witch will cost me my life? Well? Has it?"

Rory shrugged as if he brushed her questions aside. "Calling names won't hurt you. When you're not a witch, your soul will dwell in glory till the day of the resurrection."

"I'm not worried about my soul. I don't want to die, not yet and not like that. You're crazy." 

Deirdre wanted to circle back to the door that gave access to the rest of the house, but his strength surprised her. She could not get loose and she searched the shop anew for something to defend herself.

"I'm not surprised your soul does not concern you." Rory's face held a rabid expression. "That just proves you are a witch. You have very likely been fucking with the devil. Have you?" His eyes scanned her body with an unholy glow to them. 

Before she knew what he was after he hooked his fingers in the neckline of the thin white blouse, tearing the linen and exposing her full breasts. "Has Satan been touching you like this?" His free hand clawed at her breasts, intent on hurting her instead of pleasing or just curious like before. 

"Stop it! You're hurting me."

Deirdre tried to get away but he still had her arm in a firm grip and he jerked her around, twisting her arm to her back in a painful way. Finally understanding he was dangerous, she doubled her efforts to get free. 

Andreas shot out of his current fantasies at the sounds coming from the shop. With three leaps he was through the storage room. What the hell was going on in there? He was surprised to see Deirdre struggling with a scarecrow of a man. The sight of her blouse, ripped apart, triggered his anger.

"Take your hands of her. Now!" The mere softness of his voice underscored the threat in it.

"I see you have already found another victim." Rory turned what he thought a comforting smile to Andreas. "Don't be afraid. I'll save you. I'll take her with me to Wicklow."

"Will you? Really?"

"Do not torment yourself. The church will deal with her."

"Is that so? And why is that?"

The look of surprise on Rory's face was quickly replaced with one of pity. "I see she has bewitched you as well. Don't you worry, the spell will be lifted once she is burning."

At those words Deirdre started struggling again. "No, you won't get me." 

"Shut up, witch!" Rory slapped her in the face and turned to give that tall blond man a reassuring smile.

The sight he met left him wide-eyed and slack-mouthed. The man was furious and Rory could see the nasty poniard in his hand. He realized he was in danger and let go of the woman as he tried to back away.

"You shouldn't have done that." With his eyes fixed on the former priest, Andreas added: "Get away from him, go to the kitchen and stay there." 

"No." Deirdre backed away, but she refused to seek safety and leave the trouble for Andreas to clean up. "It's my problem." 

"Not any more. Nobody threatens my woman. Not even a boy like that." Andreas gestured with the slender blade in his hand. "Turn around with your hands to the wall." 

"No, you don't understand. You're not responsible for what you're doing. She has put a spell on you. She's a witch. God will forgive you, if you stop right now." Rory put his hands up as if he wanted to pray. "Let's ask for forgiveness now, together, I'll help you."

Deirdre couldn't stand the sound of the zealous voice any longer. The self-righteous drivel that condemned her to a horrible death and tried to take Andreas away from her was too much. A quick movement brought her to the counter where she grabbed the yardstick. The stick hit Rory's back with a sharp crack as she swung it with all her might. He stumbled forward at a second blow and fell against Andreas. The dagger penetrated him with remarkable ease and his body slid to the floor in a pathetic heap of crumpled clothes and thin bones.

"Did I...is he...dead?" Deirdre looked at Andreas with fear in her eyes.

Andreas knelt next to the body, examined it briefly and nodded as he expelled a weary breath. "Yes. He's dead." He tried a smile but it came out a little awkward. Next, he used the nasty blade to slice a length of fabric from the nearest bolt on the counter. "Close the shop." Without looking to see if she obeyed, he proceeded to roll the body in the cloth. After that he hefted the limp body to his shoulder and carried it into the storage room where he dumped it on a bale of broadcloth.

He stood aside as he held the door open, waiting for Deirdre to precede him into the kitchen. He poured them both a shot of whiskey from the half bottle stored in the back of a cupboard. "Drink." He pulled her into his lap and watched till she had downed the fiery liquid.

"Now what?" She looked at him with frightened eyes. "He wanted to take me back, to... to..." He saw her swallow, unable to say the words out loud.

Andreas put his arms around her, trying to comfort her. "I know, I know. You had every reason. He would never have stopped. He would have turned you in without another thought." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "And it was an accident. I am only sorry I didn't do it by myself. I meant what I said. Nobody threatens my woman."

To his relief Deirdre tried a small smile as she turned her head to look at him. "Your woman, huh?" She brought her hand to his cheek for a moment. "I think I like the sound of that, at least right now." She shivered violently in reaction to what had happened. Andreas stroked her shoulders, then poured her another shot of whiskey. He took another one as well, this time actually tasting what he poured down his throat. 

He was not surprised at her reaction. Although he had killed countless times as a mercenary, not even for him the act of taking a life was something to be dismissed. It had been inevitable however; he was convinced of that. Drumming his fingers on the tabletop he took another sip of whiskey as he pondered a wise course of action.

* * *

Deirdre sighed as they slipped out the backdoor, leaving the shop for an unknown destiny. They could not even say goodbye to the people they had gotten to know here. The only one they could tell was Conn, so Deirdre had left him a letter with a few careful phrases she hoped he would understand. 

They had waited till dark before Andreas had dumped the body of the ex-priest in the water, at the bottom of the garden. He had weighted down the corpse with some stones, so there was a good chance it would never be found. In the meantime Deirdre had packed their sparse belongings. Her cherished herbarium, their clothes and all the food they could take with them. 

Andreas carried his possessions on his body. He never went anywhere without the poniard and right now he was wearing his mercenary sword again. The weapon and his muscled body together proclaimed his profession loud and clear. He hoped it would prevent most if not all trouble on their way. "Our long way", he thought as he closed the door behind Deirdre and squinted up at the star-studded sky.

Together they crossed the garden that was just beginning to take shape, rounded the corner and, with a last look for the place that had sheltered them for the past three months, melted into the shadows. They took care to walk as noiselessly as possible till they reached the big inn at the head of the docks. There was nobody around at this late hour, so they crossed to the waterfront unseen and disappeared in the darkness to the edge of the river. 

Just as Andreas had hoped, there were loads of small fishing boats tied down for the night. Since not everybody wanted to pay for the ferry there were even a few rowing boats and he was more than happy to use one. With only a few soft splashes they were out in the bay formed by the wide mouth of the river, on their way to the other side, to Wexford and beyond. They would try to reach their original destination, the port Conn had mentioned, Roslare or something like that. 

Whistling softly Andreas came back to the headland where he had left Deirdre. He was sure she would be more than glad to hear the news that had greeted him in Rosslare Harbour. No need now for a ship that would take them on a journey into the unknown. 

He clambered over the small knoll, anxious to tell Deirdre the good news. He was sure she could use some after yesterday's dreadful events. For the hundredth time he wished he had been the one to kill the priest. After all, it was his profession to end lives. Nevertheless he felt an odd sort of pride for Deirdre, his woman all right. Still smiling he gazed at the beach where he had left her, nearly overcome with fatigue.

Andreas frowned, as he didn't see her right away. It took him a few moments to realize he was looking at the wrong place. A few yards towards the sea he spotted her clothes, left in a heap as she had waded in. The only thing visible now that he looked, was her head emerging from the waves. He grinned as he made his way over. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

He didn't wait for an answer but pulled off his boots, dropped his pants and flung his tunic on top of his sword and dagger. A few quick strides brought him to the edge, the small waves lapping at his feet. He waded in, aware how her eyes moved all over his body, making him feel very welcome. 

Before joining her he submerged himself in the cool waves and coming up again he pushed his wet hair back, licking the salt from his lips. 

"You look happy. Found a ship?" Deirdre looked up at him with an anxious look on her face. 

"No. There was no need." He grinned as he saw her frown. He let himself down next to her, settling his bottom on the sandy seafloor. "There was a lot of talk at the harbor." He snaked one arm around her shoulders. "There was this...Father Edward?" He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Seems he is arrested by the bishop's soldiers." 

Deirdre shot upright, scrabbling to her knees as she gripped his arms and tried to shake him. "What are you saying?"

"Talk has it, he was a bit too fond of women, so he called them witches to get rid of evidence so to speak."

"Don't joke. I'm scared." Again she tried to shake him, but he didn't budge an inch so she punched him on his biceps. 

"I'm not joking. It's true. He's arrested. He'll never condemn another living soul. Never. What's more, there won't be a replacement for him either."

"There won't? Why?" Still on her knees Deirdre focussed large questioning eyes on his face. 

Andreas grinned. "Some monk or nun or something explained that healing was a gift from God." He gripped her waist. "Just like you."

He surprised her with a fierce kiss, pulling her between his raised knees. Only the feel of her silent tears made him finally stop. "Come." He scrambled to his feet and pulled her after him, leading her out on the beach. 

The sun had warmed the sand by now and he sat down with the crying woman in his lap. Gently rocking her back and forth he comforted her, giving her time to come to grips with this change in her world. His hands stroked her back, enjoying the feel of the soft skin and counting the tiny bumps of her spine.

As she calmed down his hands lifted her face up and he wiped the tears from her cheeks before he planted a soft kiss on her lips. "You do realize we can go back to the shop now, don't you? There's no reason to run away." She opened her mouth but he silenced her with his fingers. "They'll never find the priest. He'll be washed out to sea with the next tide. And you've nothing to feel guilty about. He was going to get you killed. You had every right to defend yourself."

He kissed her again, this time a lot less gentle. It was like he was forcing her to go on living. The way he started fondling her breasts left no room for backing out. His strong fingers gripped her nipples, pinching them till they were hard like pebbles, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. 

Deirdre moaned as she tilted her head back, inviting Andreas to kiss her throat. He was quick to take her up on her offer and her hands clutched at his shoulders as he kissed his way down, licking a trail from the hollow of her throat to her breasts, sucking and licking at her nipples till she was writhing in his lap.

He pushed her on her back with a possessive grin, pinning her hands above her head, trailing his free hand from her mouth to her knees and back up again. At the sight of her sudden blush, he threw his head back and laughed almost victorious. Losing not another moment he inserted his hand between her thighs, ordering her to spread her legs.

"I want to look at you. See how much you want me. You do want me, don't you?" 

He knew she did from the way her body moved and her breathing had speeded up. Not to mention the fact she had obeyed him without hesitation, opening her legs for him so he could see the swollen folds. He sighed in appreciation, stroked the insides of her thighs and as his hand found her breasts again he dipped his head down to taste her.

His tongue found its way among the soft fleshy treasures, separating the moist lips, teasing her wet pussy and finally reaching her clit. He touched it with little licks, circling around it till she started mewling and bucking her hips. His hand came down and he inserted one, than two fingers. He sucked vigorously on her clit and fingerfucked her almost savagely, forcing her to climax with a loud wail.

Without giving her a chance to come down, he placed himself between her legs, raised her knees and moved his cock up and down her dripping cunt till he was lubricated enough. He entered her in one swift movement, burying himself to the hilt, grunting with the impact of his balls against her bottom. 

Deirdre opened her eyes after the intense climax and gazed at Andreas, almost drowning in the fierce stare. She felt like she was nearly liquid inside, all soft and wet and open, welcoming the hard cock deep inside her that filled her to her limit. Welcoming the near brutal fucking, she recognized their mutual need to celebrate life. She grasped his face with both hands, pulled it down and kissed him passionately, opening herself to him on all levels.

Andreas saw the change in her eyes before he felt her body surrendering to him completely. It felt as if she sucked his cock inside her, working her inner muscles in time with his thrusts. Instead of tight, she felt hot, wet and soft, so soft he could almost cry with the ecstasy of it. He almost regretted it when he noticed the familiar tingling up his spine and down to his balls, heralding his own climax. 

"Fuck me, please, fuck me hard." 

Her words spurred him on and he drove his cock in as deep as he could, doing as she had asked; fucking her hard till he spurted his cum deep inside her, feeling her body convulse in an answering orgasm. He crushed her mouth with his, needing to fill her with himself, drenching her with himself.

Rolling on the sand next to her, he gazed lovingly at the beautiful body, splayed on the beach, glowing with life in the summer sun. Nothing would keep him from making her happy and he was sure she loved him too. He smiled as she showed him her satiated face. As she rose on one elbow, he cocked an eyebrow, curious what she was up to.

"I love you" she breathed and kissed him softly. "I really do."

One of his muscled arms came up and pulled her against his chest. "I love you too." His soft laugh rumbled through his chest, reverberating against her body. "We'll be so happy. I just know we will." 

He couldn't see it, but he did feel her smile as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, determined to make the most of this day on the beach before they would head back home, back to the good life they had started to build. 

I hope you enjoyed this story. Please vote and let me know what you think. Feedback and/or public comments are very welcome.