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From: "Souvie" <souvien22@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {GALAGO} "A Knight to Remember" (Souvie) (Mf, rom, hist, magic)
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<1st attachment, "aknight.txt" begin>
˙ūThis story is my own work and creation so I am invoking all the usual
copyright mumbo-jumbo on it. Feedback is greatly appreciated and you can
mail me at: souvien22@yahoo.com WARNING: Part(s) of this story may squick
those of the male persuasion (and possibly a few females). I'm just letting
you know so you can exercise caution. "A Knight to Remember" by Souvie The
knight rode swiftly through the dark Scottish highlands. He didn't care
that he was gambling with fate; he would see his 'heartling' and not even
the fabled creature that dwelled in the loch could keep him from her. He
slowed the horse to a walk just inside the outer bailey. The castle loomed
dark and mysterious before him. Dismounting, he tethered the horse to a
nearby bush. From this point on, he would have to travel by foot. After a
few minutes, he found the hidden gate just where she'd said it would be.
Mercifully it swung inward with only the barest of creaks. He had no time
to stop and admire the profusion of flowers in the garden within; time was
of the essence. Feeling along the castle wall, he counted 19 stones up and
40 stones over. Pressing hard, he heard more than felt, a section give way.
Saints bless whichever old laird who'd constructed these secret
passageways! Coming to the door at the end, he swung it open, and stood
there staring across the room, his breath catching in his throat. She was
seated on a stool before the hearth, brushing her hair. Clad only in a
linen shift, the light illuminated her from behind, showing the curves
hidden beneath. She continued brushing, oblivious to his presence in her
chamber. She was as beautiful as the first time he'd seen her. It was
almost a month ago, and he had come with others of his rank, to swear
fealty to Lord Magnus. She was sitting at the high table, a vision in
white. One of seven girls who had been sent to Magnus' household to be
fostered, she was the youngest, and by far the prettiest. After the oaths
of fealty were given and the banquet had started, he'd managed to arrange
an introduction to her. From the slight blush on her cheeks to the demure
fluttering of her long lashes, he had known he would have to woo her
gently. But he was convinced it would be worth it. Over the next couple of
days, he'd pursued her with the same determination that had served him so
well on the battlefield. Flowers, poetry, bolts of cloth - he'd showered
her with gifts, but careful, always careful, to keep his intentions hidden
from the prying eyes of the others at court. She was English, he was Scots;
he had no illusions that her father, or even Lord Magnus, would welcome a
suit by him. They'd made love for the first time only three days after
their first introduction. She had stolen away from the solar and gone for a
swim in a secluded pond. She'd been shy and hesitant at first, as he'd
known she would be, but in no time at all, her moans had echoed through the
glade, mingling with his huskier grunts of satisfaction. They had managed
to steal time together, only once after that. She was too closely guarded
and he was kept busy with training the new squires. An errand to a
neighboring lord had kept him away for the past two weeks. His mission
complete, he'd hurried back to her, posthaste. Quitting his musings, he
crept forward on silent feet. He slipped up behind her and reaching around,
covered her mouth with his palm. Before she could call out or try to bite
him, he leaned down and breathed in her ear, "Do nae make a sound,
sweetling." As recognition took hold of her, she relaxed and spun around to
face him. A look of disbelief spread over her face. "But what are you doing
here? It's too dangerous..." He shook his head and pressed a finger against
her lips to quiet her. "Still do nae listen do ya? Ya should know that
there is nothing that would keep me away from ya." His heated gaze raked
her body and made her feel as if she were already naked. "Has it really
been a sennight since I last saw ya? It seems like forever." He drew her
close, pulling her fully against him, and lowered his lips to her. He loved
kissing. Was quite good at it, or so he'd been told. And Lenora was
receiving the full benefit of his years of practice. His tongue slipped
past her teeth and plunged gently in and out of her willing mouth. One
minute teasing and gentle, the next rough and fierce. She thought that
nothing could surpass this...this liquid heat that was seeping through her,
languidly, from head to feet. She had missed this; missed him with all her
being. Only he could make her body purr like cook's fat tabby cat,
Flourmill. Tearing his lips from hers, he seated himself on her stool and
bunched her shift in one hand. Raising it to her waist, he used his other
hand to pull her closer. He looked up at her, his mouth just inches from
the juncture of her thighs. At the erotic image, she closed her eyes. He
placed tiny kisses on the inside of her thighs; first one, then the other.
When his tongue moved to her hidden lips, she gripped his shoulders as her
knees went weak. He licked up one side, then down the other. Oh so slow and
methodical. Maddeningly slow. She thought she'd burst into flames. His free
hand came around her waist to hold her to him, his breath hot on her slit;
his tongue like liquid silk on her skin. His tongue darted out and touched
her clit. She flinched at the sudden contact. He stroked it in small, slow
circles, increasing the pressure ever so slightly with each time around. He
could feel her muscles starting to quiver, and he grinned in satisfaction.
With his face, he nudged her legs farther apart. Holding her swollen nub
gently between his lips, he sucked tenderly and pressed his tongue against
it. Her soft mewling sounds of pleasure only increased his desire and made
him want her more, if that was humanly possible. Moving his arm from around
her waist, he took his hand and inserted two fingers into her warm, moist
slit. He established a steady rhythm in counterpoint to the motions of his
tongue. She gripped his shoulders so hard, she knew he'd have bruises in
the morning. She was past caring; that familiar fire was crawling
throughout her body, centering, swirling...preparing to sweep her away.
When he felt she was on the edge, and about ready to tumble over, he
stopped. Withdrawing his fingers he gave one last kiss to her swollen and
slick clit and looked lazily up at her. Her eyes were still closed and he
could tell she was trying hard not to show her disappointment. He was a
tease. She knew it and loved it. Her feign of displeasure was just for
show. Oh the power he had over her! Slowly rising and kissing his way
languorously up her body, past her navel and to her rosy-tipped breasts, he
suckled and kneaded first one, then the other. They were a bit on the small
size, but fit in his hands as if they were made just for him. He focused
his attention on the peaks, alternately licking the tip with his tongue and
sucking on the nipple with a fast rhythm. It was torture. And it was bliss.
When he felt he'd given her breasts enough attention, he slowly stood up
the rest of the way, drawing her shift up and over her head. Tossing it to
the floor he traced the outline of her lips with a finger. She bit him
playfully and he groaned. Dipping his head he kissed her again, letting her
taste herself on him. He knew that was another thing she loved. Truthfully
there wasn't much he didn't know about her - without her ever saying a
word. It was uncanny and one of the things that drew her to him in the
first place. His incredible good looks were another. He broke the kiss and
stood before her while he undressed. He'd left his armor with his horse so
as to make as little noise as possible, but brought his sword. A knight, a
good one, never went anywhere without it. Giving her just enough time to
run her eyes up and down his naked frame, he took her hand and led her to
the bed. When she would have climbed in, he stopped her. She looked at him
quizzically but he just grinned. Turning her to face the bed, he instructed
her in a low voice to place her hands on the bed. Just her hands.
Understanding dawned in her golden eyes and they clouded over with the
thought of what he was about to do. She bent over and placed her hands atop
the coverlet. Nudging her feet a bit further apart, he positioned himself
behind her. Placing his hands low on her hips, he angled his hips forward
and placed his cock at the opening of her lips. He rubbed it up and down
and in circles, teasing her again. She growled low in her throat and he
chuckled. He rubbed against her clit and the growl turned into a moan. She
was so slick and wet for him. Just for him. Without warning, he plunged
into her. She gasped. She always forgot how huge he was; how much he filled
her. Her body accustomed itself to the intrusion and stretched to
accommodate him. Tonight there was nothing slow or gentle about his
lovemaking. He pounded into her, over and over again, varying the rhythm,
but keeping up the intensity. He wanted to possess her; show her who was
master. After this night, there would be no more doubt in her mind. Her
breathing increased and her hips started moving backwards to meet his
thrusts. He leaned forward and one hand squeezed a breast while the other
one slipped around and found her clit. Without breaking stride, he rubbed
that swollen nub in fast circles. Counterclockwise for a little, then
clockwise. Building up the pleasure inside of her - and himself.
"Ohhhhhhhh...." she moaned again, and rotated her hips. Nudging her legs
even further apart, he drawled, "That's it, love. Yer mine, and I'll never
let ya forget it." Shuddering as his lips blazed a trail of kisses up her
spine, she could feel herself edging ever closer to that dark precipice.
She closed her eyes and ran her tongue over parched lips. He could feel her
muscles start to contract. She threw her head back and he whispered in her
ear, "Give it to me. Let yerself go 'mo cridhe'. Now!" His balls were
tightening and drawing up. He was breathing like he'd just run from
Edinburgh to London. He intertwined his hands in the fine, burnished-brown
hair cascading over her shoulders. She gripped the covers in her fists and
her head fell forward as she felt the first of cascading orgasms overtake
her. Back bowed and her knees locked, she bit her lip to keep from
screaming out with the force of her release. With a groan through gritted
teeth, he pushed himself faster in and out of her tight passage. Her spasms
became more fierce and the clenching and unclenching of her powerful
muscles was his undoing. His erection grew and throbbed and he came with
such force he wanted to throw his head back and howl with the sheer elation
of the feelings that bombarded him. His seed shot into her over and over as
his strokes grew shorter and calmer and his breathing finally slowed. Sweat
coated them both and Lenora didn't think she could form a coherent sentence
even if she wanted to. Glancing over her shoulder, Iain looked as spent as
she did. His dark brown hair was plastered to his head and was so wet, it
gleamed pure black in the firelight. Her eyes caught his and he leaned
forward to kiss her tenderly. Slipping reluctantly out of her, he pulled
the covers back and climbed in the bed with her. Tucking her close beside
him he kissed the top of her head and stroked the hair back from her
flushed face. The fire had long died out by the time her breathing grew
even and steady, and he knew she was asleep. *** Rising the next morning,
she knew he was gone before she even opened her eyes. Sitting up lazily (By
Jove's holy rood she was sore!), she surveyed the room. Not a trace was
left that anyone other than her, or her maid Enrica, had been
there...except for a single red rose lying on the pillow beside her. She
picked it up and rubbed the downy soft petals against her cheek. Humming a
sprightly tune, she bounded from the bed, certain that nothing could mar
her happiness. *** "M'lady, I must needs speak with you." Lenora looked
quizzically at her maid, but motioned her inside the chamber and shut the
door soundly behind her. "What is it, Enrica?" The woman had been with her
for 10 years and she'd never known her to be so nervous or speak so
forthrightly. "The knight, m'lady, the one ye've been seeing on the sly. I
know ye think ye've been cautious but well...I notice things. I'm yer maid
so I'm supposed to." Now Lenora really was uneasy. "Hurry on with it!"
"He...he's betrothed to another!" She flinched as if the words had caused
her physical pain. "He loves me! He promised to marry me!" Her hand flew to
her mouth and she shook her head in denial. "You lie!" "Nay, lady! I was
fetching linens and overheard Lord Magnus talking to him. Iain is betrothed
to Lady Fiona. 'E has been for some time now, from wot I heard." She tried
to keep the pitying look out of her eyes. She'd been a lady's-maid for
twenty years and she had seen just about everything, so she liked to think.
She could tell her mistress that she wasn't the first young lady to be
taken in by a handsome face and kind words, but from the tears welling up
in Lenora's eyes, she knew now was not the time for a lecture. She wrapped
the young woman in her arms and rocked her as her tears flowed freely. Once
her tears were spent, she sat up and wiped a hand across her face. She
spoke to herself, outloud. "I've seen Lady Fiona. A bit horsey-faced I
always thought, but she's an only child and her dowry is twice as large as
mine. Plus, she's not 'English'." She said the last with a slight bite in
her voice. She resented her father sending her to a Scottish household to
be fostered, but he was a border Lord and in the interest of peace, he'd
deemed it necessary. She had tried to get along with the other ladies in
Lord Magnus and Lady Shea's household, but some had never thawed in their
hatred of her; the young Fiona was one. She got up and started pacing now.
Her hurt had subsided and anger had replaced it. "He can't do this to me!
No, he can't! He knows I cannot go to my father or Lord Magnus and confess
that he has ruined me and insist on marriage. My father would sooner lock
me away in some convent than see me wed to a Scotsman, even if he did
compromise me." She stomped her foot in vexation. "But I can't just let him
get away free! It's not fair that he marry that trollop after dallying with
me; making promises to me; declarations of love!" Enrica watched her
mistress pace and mutter to herself. She was glad to see the girl had
spirit. Got that from her mum. "Umm, m'lady?" Lenora turned and looked at.
She'd probably forgotten the maid was even there. "If ye are serious 'bout
wantin to see Sir Iain get wots his, well...I may know a lady can help."
"Go on." "The widow Cameron, she's the old lady wot lives in the woods at
the edge of Lord Magnus's property. 'Tis rumored in the village that she
consorts with the devil and that she can make things 'appen. Bad things."
Lenora's eyes glinted with determination. "Fetch my cloak, Enrica." *** The
Widow Cameron's house wasn't so much a house, as a shack. She motioned
Lenora inside with a wave of a gnarled hand and bade her sit in a chair in
front of the fire. The old woman, who looked as if she'd seen 90 winters,
leaned on a cane and listened while Lenora spilled out the whole story.
"So, lassie, yer wantin revenge on yer handsome buck, eh?" She moved as she
spoke and drew a circle in the dirt floor with her cane. "Yes, ma'am." She
nodded her head, firm in her resolve. She reached into the folds of her
cloak and drew out a cloth. When she unfolded it, a necklace of gold and
emeralds winked back at her. She held out her hand; the woman took the
payment and pocketed it. "Verrah well." She picked up a knife off a nearby
shelf and in a move that caused Lenora's heart to skip a beat, chopped off
a lock of the girl's hair. She dropped it in the center of the circle and
spat on it. She instructed Lenora to spit on it as well. Next she took a
bag that was hanging around her waist, pulled a white powder from it and
sprinkled it in the circle, also. She slowly knelt beside the circle and
used a bony finger to mix the spittle, hair and powder together. Lenora
could hear her muttering under her breath but the words were so low and
spoken so quickly there was no hope of understanding her. Lenora watched in
fascination as the white powder gradually began to sparkle and turn a dusky
gold color. The old woman scooped up some of the gold powder, deposited it
into a different pouch and closed the drawstring. She placed in it in her
hand. "Now, listen closely lassie cause ye get no second chance...." ***
She arranged to meet him in the glade that night, beside the pool, the
scene of their first coupling. She smiled at the irony of it. She pulled
the pouch out of the top of her garter and dipping a finger into the
powder, rubbed her finger around her lips, coating them with the gold
color. She secured the pouch back and refrained from licking her lips. It
felt tingly, but the old woman had said that might happen. Remembering the
rest of the woman's instructions, she allowed herself a small chuckle which
she quickly smothered as she saw Iain entering the clearing. He was as
handsome and virile as she remembered and she fought to remind herself of
his perfidy. "I've missed ya, my sweetling," he said. He dropped his cloak
on the ground and moved as if to gather her for a kiss. She danced out of
his reach and shook her head playfully. "I have a treat for you tonight, my
love." "Oh?" He raised his eyebrows and leered at her. "What did ya have in
mind?" She took measured steps up to him, until her breasts barely touched
his chest. She smiled up at him and he only had a moment to wonder about
the gold glittering on her lips before she was kneeling in front of him,
her head disappearing under his kilt. Minutes later, his legs tensed and
his cry refrained through the woods. *** "They say he was afflicted with
the pox..." "I heard that she rejected him..." "Nay, he was the one that
rejected her. Struck with grief and sent home, she was..." "Either way, he
certainly disappeared quick enough, didn't he?" Lenora smiled smugly as she
caught snippets of the conversation, centered around the abrupt departure
of Sir Iain. When she reached the stairs, she ran up to her room and shut
and barred the door behind her. She collapsed against it in a fit of
giggles. Let them think whatever they wanted to. *She* knew the real reason
Sir Iain had left so suddenly during the night. Without waiting for Enrica,
she struggled out of her clothing, keeping up a running monologue. "Oh yes,
my darling, Iain. You had to run, didn't you? Your darling Fiona wouldn't
have you after I finished with you. I made sure no woman will ever again
reap the rewards of your viperous tongue." She crossed to the bed and slid
her hand under the pillow. She pulled out a golden colored phallus and
stroked it lovingly. "As a matter of fact, I will be only woman that will
enjoy your 'endowments' ever again." Moonlight streamed through the high
window and sparkled off the lustrous member as she blew out the candle and
slid between the crisp sheets. THE END...

<1st attachment end>

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