This is the sequel to this first part, and as before this is a long one. (My very first Lit story was too short and I can’t seem to hit the needle between those two extremes when it comes to my writing) There may be more stories in the future for our two heroines, if I can just fit them in my schedule!
All characters are over 18.
Part 2
I awake, thinking that I am still asleep. My body feels a sensation that tells my mind this is a dream, and then my mind remembers the incredible thing that has happened. Reka, my mistress, is wrapped around me. Her long dark hair, loosed from its ponytail, is splayed across my arms. Her arms embrace me, while my arms embrace her. I can feel the warmth of her body curled into mine, I can feel her breasts pressed into my chest. I can still smell a trace of her essence on my lips.
All of these sensations race through me, my body coming to life as I lay in her luxurious bed. I want to remain in her arms, but I must get to work, I must go back to being regular Lida. Back to Reka’s servant. Yet, in that thought, I am still happy. No, more than happy, if that is possible. My heart is too full of joy to even complain of the labors of the day that await me, and in that labor is my favorite duty: to serve my mistress.
I carefully slide out from beneath Reka’s arm, and slip out of her bed, stepping down onto the step stool and onto the cold floor. I drag back the heavy curtain from the window, peaking out at the rising sun. The beams of orange and gold sparkle so beautifully, and for some reason, I am compelled to let in more light, to expose another thing of beauty. I slide the curtain open further, until the beam of gold divides the darkness in the room and lands on the bed of my mistress. She is illuminated like a statue, her alabaster skin glowing from where the sheet is askew, her hair rippling strands of ebony. My heart pounds just to look at her.
The sheer brightness has undoubtedly disturbed her, when my mistress stirs and furrows her brow. I step back to the bed, realizing I am still naked as her eyes open and find me there. A smile goes across her face, her eyes glittering with contented rest. She squirms with a stretch of her arms over her head, then extends an arm towards me, a hand beckoning to me. I know better than to join her, and she pouts.
“Lida…” she whispers, “it cannot be time to awake just yet.”
“I am afraid it is,” I whisper back.
“No, it is not,” she states childishly, laughing at herself as our eyes meet. And then it is that deeper smile that she gives me, a look so profound that I am almost brought back to tears again. That is the look that brings me back to her bedside, craning up over the high mattress to reach her.
“I must make ready for the morn, but I wish it was not so,” I tell her, leaning down to her lips as she raises up to meet me. She kisses me sweetly and tenderly, running a hand up through my hair.
“I do not want to share you with this castle,” she whispers into my lips, her eyes the deepest brown that I want to gaze into forever.
“I do not want to share you with the villagers, or the servants, or Josef, or… “
I trail off, unable to name the Count as the other person I would not share her with. Yet that choice is not mine, and I know this, but push it far away from my worries as she kisses me again. This time we keep kissing, our lips finding fresh vigor to treat each other, our hands taking hold of one another. She tastes so divine and sweet, undulating into me as I nibble along her neck, smelling the heavenly fragrance of her body. I know that I should stop, that my duties await, but her body needs me more. I continue to kiss my way down her neck, shifting the sheet away from her bosom, noticing the way she has arched her back so helpfully into this movement, and I take her breast in my mouth.
Reka giggles as I lap at her lightly, teasing her nipple, only to croon languidly when I begin to suckle her. I feel I could do this forever, caressing one ample bosom while my mouth is latched onto the other. Her breasts are so perfect and so sensitive to my touch, I can feel her whole body shuddering now. I am still leaning over the bed to do this, when I finally place one knee down so that I can steady myself, my hand conveniently placing itself on her thigh. Reka moans approvingly, her fingers ruffling my hair.
I glance up at her as I thread my fingers through her downy mound, seeing her eyes sparkle with pleasure. I return my lips to her breast, while my fingertips find her sex. I hear her breathless whimper when I stroke along this already moist paradise, and my body is filled with tingling excitement.
“Lida…” she croons as my thumb finds its place on her pearl of pleasure, lightly moving, taking her up to the place I want to bring her.
There is movement outside her room, the sounds of life stirring in the castle. I feel a prickle of anxiety, but I keep suckling her sumptuous teat, keeping her in my bahis siteleri mouth like a famished babe, tugging out the sounds that I want to keep hearing, while my fingers are wet with her juices, her legs spreading open to beckon me further.
“Lida,” she whimpers again, pleading as I keep stroking her, taking her higher.
The sounds of footsteps walking down the corridor come and go, and I know I am pressing my luck, but I cannot let her go until I have given her another spectacular burst of pleasure. I unlatch from her bosom, glancing up as we both hear a louder thump outside in the hall. My mistress glances down at me, her grin apparent.
“Do not stop,” she orders me, sending a ripple of pleasure through my loins.
Her brown eyes fix on me as I keep my fingers at work, her breath catching as I gently probe to sample wonders. I cannot tear my eyes away from her face, even as my lips want to kiss her and please her, I also want to watch her and covet her. To keep seeing the unbelievable become real, to see how I have affected her. To see how I please her.
Reka is writhing under my hand, her breasts jutting out as I manipulate her, the red lips open and mewing. The beam of gold has lightened to a pale amber, illuminating my mistress in the most gorgeous position. There are more sounds all around her room, but I do not stop. I keep working at this crucial task, stoking the fire I am building within her, until her face pinches up and then cries out in ecstasy.
She does not mean to be so loud, but I almost do not care. I keep going until I am sure she has been pleasured to the fullest extent of my fingers’ capabilities. Reka pulls me into her lips when I withdraw my hand, panting as we kiss. I’m leaning down further, nearly on top of her, and I know I must pull away and it is nearly the hardest thing I have ever done.
“I shall exhaust you before the day has even begun,” she mutters with the most delicious chuckle.
“It shall be the most wonderful exhaustion,” I mutter back, nuzzling her one last time before I separate.
The look on her face as I pull away is excruciating, but I succeed. It is almost ridiculous that we should act this way when I will see her nearly minutes later, once I have cleansed and dressed myself, only to then dress her. I wonder how I shall manage to clothe her after discovering the paradise of her naked body, and I see that she also has this thought when she grins as I step away.
There is not enough water in the basin in her dressing room to clean us both, it barely cleanses me of the sweat of my nocturnal efforts. I can still smell her on my hands, the spicy fragrance of her essence lingering as I dry my fingers on a rag. Normally I would make the chambermaid fetch more water, but I find out from Tomas that she is still unwell and in her room. He makes haste to bring me another pail of water, and had it not been the expression of fatigue on his face as he climbed the steps to my mistress’s room, I would have asked for more water.
Once I have dressed, pinned up my hair, and managed to calm myself with the mundane duties of the castle, I go fetch my mistress. I bring along her dressing robe, garnering a little smirk from Reka. She slips into it, yet even then the fabric is too yielding, her shape still a seductive outline that I can see.
“I apologize for the wait, my lady. I asked for more water for your bathing,” I tell her as I open the door to her dressing chamber.
Her eyes dart to mine, surprised. I am addressing her formally again, I am trying to be her servant, instead of her lover.
“Do I require bathing?” she asks with an innocent bat of her eyelashes, despite the simmering look in her eyes.
I do not answer, but lead her over to the basin of water on her dressing table. Beside the basin, there is a stack of clean cloth squares, and a folded white sheet. Typically, I would leave her to cleanse herself, or turn my back to her while she briefly wipes only the areas of perspiration.
“Then, I believe I shall need your assistance,” she states, untying the unsubstantial robe and letting it fall from her shoulders. I barely catch the robe before it falls to the floor, and she barely hides her grin.
I go behind her and gather her hair into a twist, secure the end with a loose ribbon before tossing it over her shoulder so that it hangs over her breasts. Then I grab a cloth, dampen it with water, wring it out, and begin to cleanse my mistress. I have done this before only a few times, once when she was ill with fever, and once after some indigestion that left her weak with vomitus. Otherwise, she always bathes herself. I ponder that this may have been more of an effort to keep us separate, to reduce temptation, than her own need for privacy.
My mistress stands patiently, turning her head slightly to watch me take her arm, holding her elbow as I wipe the damp cloth over her wrist and up her forearm. She does not flinch from the cool temperature of the water, instead a deep canlı bahis siteleri contented breath as I work. I keep going up, wiping over her shoulder, and then recede. I gently lower her arm, then lift the other arm, wiping up and down with the same brisk stroke. I work silently and steadily, my movements are firm and platonic. I repeat the procedure with each leg, finishing with her feet. She giggles when I wipe the sole of each dainty foot, and the sound sends a flutter through my chest. I have been admiring the slender curves of her body, enjoying the supple feel of her skin beneath my hands, protected by the separation of my cloth, but the sound of her pleasure is like no other aphrodisiac.
I discard the cloth I used on her feet and grab a fresh cloth to be dampened. I wipe along the back of her neck, across the pale skin that I have kissed for most of the night, then proceed to walk around to face her as I wipe over her ears and along her forehead, pushing away the strands of hair that cling to her face. I briefly look at her to see her restrained smile, the way she is breathing with anticipation. There is an almost look of daring, a curious challenge to see how long I can resist the temptation of her tender and ripe body. I conceal the smile that wants to spread across my face, and focus on my duty.
Going back around to stand behind her, I lift my mistress’s arm and roughly wipe the hollow under each shoulder, turning my cloth over when I wipe the other hollow. The smell of her body is lifted into the air and drawn away on my cloth, a scent that fills my head, unhinging things that are trying to stay together, trying to contain themselves. She notices how I hesitate when I lower her arm, discarding the cloth with some regret. I go to grasp the folded sheet to dry her off, when my mistress speaks.
“I believe I am in need of more cleansing,” she states in a low voice, glancing down at herself.
“Yes, my lady.”
I grab the last clean cloth that she has undoubtedly spied, knowing that there is one section that I surely should cleanse, when I most certainly cleansed the same part of myself. The most sensitive property of her being, the one that we have enjoyed for a better part of the night.
I dunk the cloth in the water and wring it out just till it is no longer dripping. For a moment, I debate how to approach the area, debating the reach of my arm and the position of standing. My mistress takes a breath as I step behind her, trying to resume the modesty of my duty, and bend down just slightly. I slowly extend my arm, lowering it beneath her sumptuous bottom, then snaking my hand between the smooth hollow of her thighs. The terrain is so familiar to me now, so much so that I feel a bizarre silliness to hold this cloth as if it were ready to ignite in flame, chiding my overwrought emotions. But I cannot help it. Lida the servant has cleansed her mistress before, but not the intimate landscape of Reka. And I know that once I start this, I will want to do it again, and again.
I bring my hand forward and touch the wet cloth to her womanly mound, then slowly bring my hand back towards her bottom. Despite the cloth barrier, my hand can feel the subtle rise around her womanhood, the way it tapers down to the curve of her bottom. I lower my hand to pull the cloth away, but stay poised near her thighs. There is a shift in her legs, her body turning slightly. She is looking down at me. I keep holding the cloth, trying to keep it in my fingers, wanting to do other things with it.
I can see and smell the fragrant essences I have wiped away. There are more, I’m sure, and my mistress knows this. I clear my throat, and move my hand between her lithe and supple thighs once more. My mistress corrects her posture, standing a little straighter so that it tips her bottom out. It is a move that aids my reach, but also perches her up like a little bird. The decadent bird catching the attention of the hungry cat on the floor below. But now the hungry cat has her in its clutches, and the bird has put itself within her grasp, wanting the game to be finished.
My mistress gasps, a quiet little sound as I touch her. I pause, testing our collective resolve, feeling the way she shudders when my fingertips apply more pressure. When I move again, it is ever so slowly, a long caress across her luscious terrain, the damp cloth taking in her juices. A languid sigh comes free from my mistress, my stroke concluding with an exhale. I retract my hand, and bring the cloth up to my face. The smell of her is intoxicating, the fragrance rolling over my tongue, wetting my lips.
For a moment I am trapped within this desire, to take the cloth and bring it to my mouth, to drink her in. The hunger is maddening, the taste I am sure beyond delicious. I forget that this may offend her, or perhaps repulse her, and only resist because if I drink from that cloth, I will want more, and then we shall never leave the sanctuary of this room.
It pains me to discard the canlı bahis cloth, a little sting in my heart when I fold it up and let it fall to the floor. I may have even whimpered quietly, my mistress looking at me when I come out from behind her to grab the sheet to dry her with. I brusquely wipe her arms and legs dry, avoiding her eyes, feeling her satisfaction as I ignore all the tempting surfaces beneath my hands.
Eventually I am able to clothe her in the white underdress, my mistress taking pity on me and settling down into our usual routine. I fix her hair into the staid bun, briefly tempted again when I sift my fingers through the lustrous strands, but relent to contain her crowning beauty. I dress her in the overlaying petticoat, and then her court gown. It is only when I have finished lacing her up and go to lift her long court robe over her shoulders that we feel the divide begin. Reka is now contained in the layers of propriety that keep her withheld to her position, the layers that keep us separated. Each of us takes a heavy breath, and we depart her dressing room.
******
Downstairs, we are formal and polite to each other and to each member of the household. My mistress settles down in the dining room, seated at the long empty table while Tomas brings her breakfast. I take my leave to go check in with Josef, and to eat my breakfast. I find I am famished, eating all my porridge and a slice of bread, only to go back and retrieve another slice. Josef catches me as I gobble up the last crumb of crust.
“It is good that you have an appetite,” he greets me with a wary smile. “Ester is still unwell.”
“Tomas told me this morn,” I say with a swallow. “Did she explain what she is ill with?”
He shakes his head. “She did not, and being a young woman, it may be a… womanly ailment.”
I try not to chuckle at his discomfort at this sensitive subject. “I shall check on her later. She may need a poultice or liniment.”
“That would be helpful, thank you. I will have Tomas feed the horses this morning, and then I shall check on them this evening.”
“Should we need another guard, perhaps recruit one of the older boys from the village?” I ask.
“No, I am afraid that if they are old enough to be any good, they will leave once they are confident they can hold a weapon to fight, and if they are too young, that will do us no good,” he states with a glum look of resignation.
I nod. “I shall go check on the Countess and see to her needs before I clean her room since Ester is still unwell.”
“Thank you, Lida. It will not go unmentioned to the Count how generous you have worked to keep our castle in good state,” Josef lauds me.
“Thank you, Josef,” I reply with a bow of my head, and curtsy before I take my leave.
As I walk down to the dining room, I wonder if it will ever be mentioned to the Count what other services I have performed for his household, how I filled the needs that he had left vacant for so long.
When I enter the dining room, my mistress looks up as she blots her mouth tastefully with a napkin. I notice she has eaten all her food, and there is an extra plate of what appears to be another serving. Tomas goes to take her now empty plates, giving me a raise of his eyebrows, equally surprised to see her hearty appetite.
“I thought she might ask for thirds!” he whispers under his breath as he goes to leave the room with the tray of dirty dishes.
“My lady was hungry,” I comment, trying to sound ordinary.
My mistress goes to stand, a pause before she comes out from her chair. “I still have an appetite, but it shall wait.”
Her eyes dance with suggestive amusement, while my own face tries to remain unsmiling. She walks past me with a sweep of her robe, and my chest is filled with a giddy turbulence. In our brief separation I had managed to tuck new Lida back inside my gray dress, containing my heart within my dowdy exterior, but I see how it takes so little to bring her back out. How easily my mistress would break her free and let her soar with her decadent bird, to dance on the wind of her embrace. But for now we must stay on the earth, rooted in this castle and its duties. Shackled by responsibility.
I escort my mistress to the great hall, my footsteps staying just behind the train of her long robe. I assist her when she is seated on her modest throne, sweeping her train off to the side of the dais so she will not trip on it when she goes to stand, smoothing out the hem of her skirt in a tidy arch across her feet. Just as I have brushed my hands across her shoed right foot, I accidentally tilt her leather slipper askew by just a hair’s width. Carefully I tug the slipper back down, and then I hear, nay I feel, the tiniest chuckle from my mistress. I glance up at her from my kneeling position at her feet, seeing her smile at me. Everything inside me aches in a tortuously wonderful way, and I want to touch her again- even if just the dainty slipper on her delicate foot.
Our eyes lock, but we freeze the minute we hear footsteps coming down the corridor. Josef has come in to discuss the matters of the day, per usual, and we all acknowledge each other with the customary bowing and nods and curtsies.