Marian was extremely glad of her own lust sometimes. She knew it to be one of her worst sins (pride and lust – her deadliest vices twinning horrifically in these sorts of situations) but she couldn’t resent such a sin. It was her distraction, after all. Her cynical amusement and pleasure during these long, long isolated days.
And it was a cushion for her own guilt, drowning every other ethical quandary and shrinking all doubts, all fears into insignificance at the idea of what could be done here.
This, this was golden.
This was absolutely golden.
She pressed her lips to the back of Djaq’s neck and then laughed, softly, as the Saracen tensed.
“Relax,” she nipped her ear, “I wont hurt you like they did.”
“Then how will you hurt me?” Djaq’s voice was a little muffled but the sentiment was clear. Marian felt a thrill rush through her – and the urge to giggle, menacingly.
God, she hadn’t done this in far too long.
“I wont,” Marian lowered herself down on the bed next to Djaq, lying down on her front and gently sliding a hand down the Saracen’s side to her thigh, “not yet.”
She felt the Saracen shiver as she ran her other hand through her hair, leant over and pressed her nose to that dark mop of curls. It was still damp with the water that she had used to ease the mud and blood out of it barely an hour before. Marian kissed just beneath her hairline, her neck, her shoulder. She closed her mouth around the tip of Djaq’s ear and then ran her tongue over the edge of it, tasting sweat trickling down from her hair.
The Saracen gasped, softly, although Marian wasn’t sure if it was the tongue, or the hand she had just slid beneath Djaq’s abdomen and past the waistband of her breaches. Grinning wolfishly to herself, she withdrew her fingers, licked them quickly and then slid them back between her guest’s legs.
“Ah, now, there you are,” she murmured, feeling coarse hair and moist flesh, “I told you you’d enjoy this.”
Djaq yelped as Marian used her free hand to run one delicate finger right down her bandaged back, smirking mischievously.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” Djaq’s hiss came through clenched teeth as she fought off tears of pain.
“Ah, now, you see, unfortunately for you,” Marian gave the fingers inside Djaq’s breaches a little twitch, allowing them to flutter over the sensitive flesh with relish and watching as Djaq gasped and squirmed, “I tend to lie a lot. Makes things more interesting. Anyway,” she sighed, “don’t worry. That wasn’t pain. That wasn’t anything like pain.” And she laughed.
“Please,” Djaq blinked at her – her breathing was becoming erratic, and she was biting her lip – “please don’t hurt me. I can’t… I can’t take it…”
“Hush,” Marian pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to the Saracen’s temple, “don’t worry, sweet creature, I wont give you anything more than you can take.”
Djaq exhaled softly. Marian saw her fists clenching, and gently worked her fingers deeper into those soft folds of flesh between her thighs. She was surprised at how much moisture she could feel, already, gathering beneath her touch. Very, very few girls got so eager so early on in the proceedings, particularly when they were tired and hurt and frightened as Djaq clearly was. She had to work on them for hours before they finally settled and gave themselves over to her, gasping and moaning and fearful of how they felt but lost to it too, falling utterly under her spell.
“Mm,” Djaq flinched and gasped again, squirming.
“Ah, shh,” Marian gently withdrew her fingers and rolled onto her back, slipping one arm under Djaq’s abdomen and pulling her closer. She was beginning to sorely regret the fact that putting Djaq onto her back would be so impossible. It would be much, much easier (and more comfortable) simply to spread the woman open there on the bed and have her way with her without too much manoeuvring. But clearly, with Djaq so badly wounded, such a situation would be pointlessly painful.
She would just have to be a little more creative.
Djaq was trembling, her breathing increasingly erratic. She turned her head to look at Marian, and lifted her eyebrows. “Are you not afraid that… we will be – interrupted?”
Marian smiled, benignly, “no one would dare enter this room without knocking – unless they heard some kind of commotion.” She paused, tipping her head mischievously, “you weren’t thinking of making one, were you?”
Djaq bit her lip. “What now?” There was something almost… hopeful in that half-whispered statement. Something wanting.
Marian smiled, and absently put the fingers that were still damp with Djaq’s moisture to her lips. “Come here.”
The Saracen hesitated for only a moment, before pushing herself up on her hands and then repositioned herself, allowing Marian to tug her down on top of her. The noblewoman gently eased Djaq down until she was comfortable, nestled with her legs between Marian’s, her arms against the other woman’s sides.
Marian reached up, running a finger over her new (if temporary) possession’s chin, touching her lips, looking up at her with such an intense curiosity that Djaq would have blushed, had she not been so exhausted and over whelmed by the strangeness of the situation.
Without a word, Marian lifted her head and pressed her lips against the Saracen’s, kissing her as if she were sipping clean water after years drinking mud in a desert. She tasted pure. And, to her surprise, Djaq didn’t resist. Didn’t turn her head in shock or hesitate. Didn’t freeze, flinch or stiffen.
She kissed Marian back, lifting her hands and resting them on the noblewoman’s shoulders.
It was not the reaction of a girl who had never been kissed by another woman – who didn’t even contemplate such possibilities, let alone want for them in any way.
Djaq had done this before.
And even as that realisation shot through Marian like lightening straight through her veins, she lifted one hand to the other woman’s cheek, and slipped the other between her thighs. Djaq lifted her head and opened her mouth to gasp, pushing herself hard against the fingers now beginning to move with more purpose against her cunt. Marian was using her free hand to stroke the soft curls of dark hair that were now plastered to Djaq’s forehead. She found that warm, weeping opening with one finger and paused, waiting until the Saracen was forced to look at her. Then she smiled.
“Now, you beautiful little thing – don’t make a sound.”