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She laid her hand in his reluctantly and he helped her out of the cage. Her eyes darted to the door again, and she was breathing rapidly. He feared for a moment she would bolt and wondered what he would do, but the next moment she went to her knees and kissed his boots.
“I am to acknowledge that I am for you, Lord Cu’lugh,” she said in a voice at once articulate and timid.
“Yes,” he murmured, nodding.
She pressed her brow to the floor beside him and extended her arms so that her palms lay upturned against the wood. Her back was a smooth inverted arch and her shapely buttocks glowed with the slightest of blushes.
A vision of submission, he thought contentedly and for a time said nothing as he savored the sight of her.
But he wanted to see her eyes again and said, “Look at me.”
She looked straight at him. No guile whatsoever did he find in the emerald depths, no resentment, no corruption. Simply the rapt but nervous desire to please.
“You have haunted my every moment, little girl,” he said and flung her hair back gently over her shoulder. Kneeling, he surveyed her breasts. Full and fair they were, with nipples like two tiny, dusky gems. Her stomach was flat, her hips wide but not heavy. Then came those legs, those long and shapely legs. And between them, a thick triangle of soft brown hair. The hair appeared to have been brushed, and as he gazed Odette’s hips moved slightly and he heard her make an almost inaudible, frustrated little moan.
Cu’lugh stood up and, taking her hair in one hand, pulled her to her feet. He held her wrists to the small of her back, delighting in the shudder this sent through her.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered and pulled her against him and lowered his mouth to her exposed throat. He grazed her flesh with alternate lightness and harshness, until he could see goose bumps rise on her quivering limbs. Holding her wrists firmly he journeyed his mouth down her collarbone, her shoulder, back across her throat. He clasped her left breast suddenly and kissed the cresting fair mound and darted his tongue over the nipple. It swelled under his taunting tongue, and opening his mouth he nursed it gently. He moved on to the other breast, teasing the nipple first, then suckling it, too. When again he kissed her throat he looked down her back to see her pinned hands clenching and unclenching over her swaying buttocks.
Drawing slightly away Cu’lugh assessed her firm belly and made circles over it with his fingertips. Enchanting little goose bumps sprang up over her flesh, and releasing her wrists, he placed a hand at either side of her waist. How lithe she seemed cupped in his hands, and he slid them down her hips and over her thighs, relishing the firm suppleness of her. He knelt to massage her legs, kissing her delectable calves so lightly that she giggled.
He looked up at the thatch between her legs and parted the hair gently and then the lips so that she shuddered.
“Spread your legs,” Cu’lugh whispered.
She obeyed and he unfolded her vulva lips. Her little inner lips were scarlet, tightly folded, and when gingerly he unfolded them she gasped. Her font was tight, glistening wet, and he saw her tiny clitoris swelling beneath its hood.
His desire for her was urgent now. He rose to his feet and unpinned the garland from her head and threw it to the windowsill. Then, sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her to the bed and laid her down. Her hair spilled out beneath her in a fan of golden waves. She did not meet his eyes, but he minded not, for it added to his pleasure to know that it was he who caused her little hands to clench nervously at her sides. It seemed all she could do not to either raise her knees or clench her legs together.
Kneeling on the bed with his legs on either side of her he leaned over and hungrily kissed her mouth. His tongue parted her trembling lips, and as he explored the honeyed insides of her mouth she moaned and undulated. He withdrew and gazed down at her again, massaging her breasts with one hand, stroking her cheek with the other. Her eyes fluttered and met his a moment, just long enough for him to catch the torrent of emotions going through her mind.
“So fair,” he sighed and climbed off the bed so he could remove his boots and untie his breeches. Though neither disillusioned nor vain of his looks, Cu’lugh knew he was well endowed below the hips, and now as the great shaft of his manhood was exposed Odette’s eyes widened with much distress. He smiled and, returning to the bed, leaned over her with his elbows pressed to the mattress and gently kissed her mouth again. Then, he scooped her breasts into his hands to feed on them a time and flick his tongue harshly over and around her hardened nipples.
He raised one knee and carefully parted her legs. Her sex was hot and damp to his searching hand, and with a thumb he pressed her clitoris. Odette’s hips jerked and a gush of fluid spread out over her thighs, but when he glanced into her face again he was dismayed to see a tear roll down her cheekbone. He brushed it away with his lips and kissed her brow.
“I do not want you to be afraid of loving me, Odette,” he whispered. “No, never that.”
Taking a pillow from beside her head he lifted and propped her buttocks. He spread her legs a little further and lowered the tip of his hardened shaft against the virgin mouth. Like a tautly folded lily it felt to him, and when Odette moaned faintly a wild ache bloomed in the depths of his scrotum. He kissed her ear tenderly and tasted her lips again and his manhood invaded her untried font.
Odette cried out under his penetration. Cu’lugh gathered her to him and plunged onward with merciful care. Her muscles were heavenly tight and with each considered thrust her hands seized about his back a little more tightly. Quicker, deeper he thrust, feeling much like a pike splintering maiden timber, and it was not long before all thought fled and his senses swept into a vortex of pulsing, thoughtless pleasure, and when his jism burst forth his heart stopped and his soul soared to a rapture consummate.
When Cu’lugh’s heart began to beat again he felt Odette’s flesh burning against his own. Opening his eyes, he found her staring into his face. Her eyes were wide and her face wet and he kissed the tears away and, turning over onto his side, pulled her into his arms. She was shaking, but not hard, and between her thighs he saw the bloody fluid of her claimed maidenhood. He shuddered with an immense sense of contentment. Not only was Odette the first virgin he had deflowered, but he knew inexplicably he would never again have cause to see the mythic beauty of his visions. Odette had supplanted her, and the memory of this time with the woman of flesh would give far more solace than even the vision.
“You have pleased me wholly,” he whispered into her ear. Odette laid her head on his shoulder. He watched the flush recede a bit from her cheeks and shyly she wound her arms over his chest and timidly looked into his face.
Excerpted from The Story of Odette: the Swanmaiden’s Unveiling
©2017 by Anya Howard
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