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persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in
the background, are figments of my imagination.  Any resemblance to persons
living or dead is strictly coincidental.

   Wright Uther Pendragon nogardnePrethU@gmail.com MF ScFi



   "Dania," I said, "I am Philip, one of the tests your sisters have set to
see if you have the skills of a mistress O-wright."

   "Welcome, Philip," she replied.  "I am pleased to serve you." The
members of the Guild always say that they are pleased, but Dania looked as
though she meant it.  I've had apprentices who did not really seem very
pleased, but -- of course -- Dania was already an experienced
journey-woman. Her fellow members considered that she might well become a
mistress.

   She had the physical requirements.  Well past the briefly-flowering
beauty that comes to many women with youth, she had a beauty which I would
expect to last.  Jet black hair fell straight to her waist.  Brows and
lashes matched the color and abundance.  Her eyes were brown and
expressive, her nose straight, her mouth generous.  Her breasts were high,
her hips broad.  Her torso between these attractions slender enough to set
them off.  Her legs were long so were her arms.  She moved with the grace
of a trained dancer.  Her alto voice had a breathy tone and a neutral
accent.

   She took my coat and hung it up before coming into my arms for a kiss.
Her mouth tasted sweet, and her tongue played with mine.  Her thigh pressed
between mine.  Probably that gave her a clue about my problem.  Drawing
back a bit without quite breaking the kiss, she began to open my shirt. 
When I was as bare on top as I could get in that embrace, she led me into
the area by the bed.  It was served by radiant heat, and my bare skin felt
warm.  She removed my shirt and undershirt and hung them on a convenient
clothes rack.

   She kissed me again before leaving my mouth to explore my throat and
chest.  She licked at each nipple on her way down.  Soon, she was kneeling
at my feet and loosening my belt and trousers.  While her hands were on my
clothes, her mouth didn't leave my body.  I wriggled when her tongue
invaded my navel.

   "Step, if it pleases you." These were her first words since the welcome.
I stepped out of my trousers.  She kissed up each thigh from the knee
before picking up the trousers and hanging them on the clothes rack "Would
you like to sit there?" I took the indicated chair by the bed.  She backed
out to the area by the door ( which was much more brightly lit).  She began
to unbutton her blouse.  It was old-fashioned with many small buttons down
the front.  Soft music arose, coming from several concealed speakers.  She
moved in time to that music, not quite dancing, as she disrobed.

   "This," she began, "is what you get.  This face is yours; this mouth is
yours.  This back is yours." As she removed her blouse, she turned to show
her back bare except for the coverage of her bra strap.  It was a lovely,
supple, back; and it swayed to the music for a moment or two.  Then she
opened the bra clasps.

   "These breasts are yours." She slowly turned, stopping with her right
side towards me.  Her arm hid her breast at first.  Then, as she swayed and
gestured in time to the music, parts of it were revealed.  First I saw the
beginning as her arm covered her nipple; then, I saw the tip peering out
beyond her arm which concealed the rest.  As the music reached a rapid
passage, she turned around two-and-a-half times.  I saw both breasts in two
brief glimpses Then her left side was towards me, and her left breast was
nearly concealed by her arm.

   Once, such a tease would have left me stiff as a post.  Now, with my
problem, there was barely a stir between my legs.  Desire, though, is also
mental.  My mind wanted to see those breasts clearly, wanted those breasts,
wanted Dania.

   Clearly dancing to the music now, she twirled back and forth.  She faced
away from me when she stopped, but I caught glimpses of her breasts in
every turn.  The turns were bringing her closer to me.  Finally, she
circled twice before coming to an abrupt halt facing me from inches away. I
got a clear look at her breasts.  They began high on her torso, but they
sagged a few centimeters.  They were neither extraordinarily large nor
youthfully firm.  Had she stripped immediately, I would have been
unimpressed.  The tease, though, had left me wanting these breasts.  I took
one in each hand.

   "They are yours," Dania said, "yours to hold, yours to kiss." I took
those permissions in order.  First I held them, feeling the coolness of her
skin; I lifted them to feel their weight, stroked my thumbs across the
nipples to judge their response.  They stiffened from even that contact,
although Dania may have found her own spinning dance arousing.  Then, I
tasted them.  I kissed the smoothness of the sides: finally I sucked on the
nipples.  While I did so, Dania held my face between her hands.  She swayed
slightly back and forth in time to the music.

   When I looked up from her breasts, Dania kissed me on the cheek and then
spun away back to the brighter lights of the other end of the room.  As the
music slowed, so did she.  Her last turn was less a twirl than a stately
rotation.  During it, she unwrapped her skirt.  She stood still, facing
away from me.  I could appreciate the view.  From shoulders to heels, she
was all one hue.  She'd not taken much sun clothed.  The back was
femininely smooth, the muscles present but not apparent.  Her waist was
cinched by a narrow belt which held up her last covering.  This split her
buttocks with a thin red band tied on the belt with a bow.  The bow was an
obvious invitation.  The buttocks were full but tight, leading to smooth,
wide-apart, thighs.  Her calves were as smooth and nearly as attractive.

   "This, too, is yours," she said.

   I could never tell how she controlled the music, although programming it
before my arrival would have required prescience.  As it swelled louder and
became more rapid, Dania danced towards me.  This afforded me a view of her
front, quite as attractive as the back.  The breasts swung tantalizingly in
counterrhythm to her movements on her feet.  Her navel and entire delta was
covered by a red cloth, tight enough to reveal the shape of the labia. 
This cloth seemed to be folded over the belt.  When she had danced to half
a meter in front of me, she stopped with her feet together and reached out
her arms.  I gladly took the invitation to rise into those arms.

   "Mm," she murmured as she enfolded me.  This time, my tongue invaded her
mouth.

   She held my face as my hands traveled down her back to her buttocks.  I
squeezed these.  I resisted the invitation of the bow, but brought my hands
up to hold her breasts.  I stroked her nipples with my thumbs.

   After minutes of this kiss, she drew back.  Her hands went to my shorts.
She knelt as she lowered them.  Directed by her hands, I spread my legs as
I stepped out of the shorts.  She kissed the inside of each thigh,
finishing off with kisses on the top of my phallus.  By this time, despite
my problem, it was firm enough to qualify as half erect.  She kissed my
belly above the pubic hair.  While doing this, she grasped my buttocks and
turned us so my back was to the bed.  When she gave a gentle push to my
hipbones, I sat on the bed.

   She stood and pulled my hands to the strings of the bow.  When I tugged
them, the bow parted and the last covering fell from her.  I could see her
the neatly-trimmed hair on her mound.  Exciting as that view was, it did
not compare with the arousing odor which now escaped from her vulva.  She
pulled my head between her breasts.

   "Kiss them," she said.  "Sloppily.  Get both sides wet." I did as I was
directed, Kissing them was a great pleasure, and I did not stop until she
pushed me gently back.  As I lay back, she knelt again.  She took my
phallus, by then almost firm, and rubbed it between her breasts.  Soon, she
was pushing her breasts together and moving back and forth so that they
rubbed the sides of my firm phallus.  The sensation was exquisite.

   "Don't you wish to lie down entirely on the bed?" she asked.  She was
back in the Guild mode of asking rather than directing.  When I moved to
lie on the side of the bed -- wilting a little in the process -- she moved
my left leg so she could kneel between my legs.  She cupped my testes in
one hand while kissing up the left thigh.  By the time she reached my
phallus, I was firm again.  She kissed the base, and then slid her lips
down the length of the phallus.  Her tongue circled the bulb while a hand
gripped the base.  She drew her mouth up the phallus.  When she released
the tip, she suddenly rolled over onto her back beside me.  She was no
longer holding my testes, but she tugged gently on my phallus.

   "Come," she said.  I rolled until I was kneeling between her legs.  She
raised her knees as she guided me into her.  Even then I felt my erection
fading.  My old panic, which accelerates the process, began.  Before I
could grow limp, I felt the base my phallus gripped.  The grasp moved
smoothly up to the tip, then started at the base again.  Her vagina was
clasping my (now firming again) phallus with a rolling grip.  One of her
hands cupped my testes again.  As I raised myself to begin stroking in and
out, her other hand began tweaking my nipples.  More excited than I had
been in years, I moved strongly over her and within that rolling clasp.

   Just before my climax, her hand left my nipples to grasp my left
buttock. As she pressed firmly on the base of my scrotum, I erupted.

   When I was again conscious of my surroundings, I was lying on her
softness while she gripped my buttocks with both hands.

   "Stay here," she murmured, "as long as you wish.  This is your place of
rest.  Relax and enjoy the glow." And enjoy it I did.  The glow remained
after I rose.  I dressed without showering.  I wanted to retain what
remnant of her aroma I had.  I already knew the substance of my report to
the Guild.  This had been, not only my finest climax since the onset of my
problem, but one of the finest of my entire life.  Dania was already a
mistress of her art.  The election by the Guild of Orgasm-wrights would
only be acknowledging the fact.

   The end Wright Uther Pendragon nogardnePrethU@gmail.com 2010/01/28

   for another story involving another sex-worker in another century, <a
href="/~Uther_Pendragon/med/apprenti.htm"> The
Apprentice </a>

   All of my available work: <a
href="/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm"> Index to Uther's
ASSTR site.</a>