Bertrice Small - Lara

“Aye, I do, my lord.” He seemed thicker and longer than he had earlier.

“Tell me,” he murmured hotly in her ear.

“You are hard,” she whispered. “Harder and bigger than before. I feel the heat from you. I am almost afire.”

“You are beginning to experience passion,” he told her, “and you could not have a better teacher, my little faerie girl, for I am a master of passion. Tonight I shall begin teaching you all you must know to please me, and thereby any man you take between your legs. But now I must release my lust for you for it but weakens me.” He began to move on her, and shortly she felt him filling her with his seed again. And when he had finished he arose from the bed they had shared, gathering his garments. “Remain in bed to rest,” he told her. “I will send a woman to you with food and water.”

“I want to bathe again,” she said.

“Will you do this every day?” he asked her, amused.

She nodded. “I like being clean, and I can smell both you and your brother on my flesh. Besides, I am more pleasant for you when I smell fresh.” She gave him a small smile.

“I will tell the woman she may escort you to the bathhouse,” he agreed, and then was gone out the door.

Lara slept, awakening when Belda entered the bedchamber calling her name.

“I have brought you something to eat. Gracious! That bed looks well used.”

Lara slid from beneath the coverlet. “I am well used, and the prize of my virginity gone in the night,” Lara told her, stepping from the bed.

“You bled heavily,” Belda said, pointing. “Was he pleased?”

“Well satisfied, and his brother as well,” Lara replied.

“Both of them?” Belda’s eyes grew wide. “You poor girl!”

“First the lord Enda, and then his brother who came, conquered and departed. Lord Enda is not a bad sort I suppose. He was not unkind last night when he breeched me, or this morning when he took his fill again.” Lara pulled on her chemise. “He says I may go to the bathhouse.”

“Aye, so I was instructed by the lady Sita. Do you want to eat first?” Belda inquired. “I’ve brought a meal.”

“First I need to get the stink of those two men off me,” Lara told her. She picked up her cloak and started for the door. “Have you see the giant, Og, who lives in the bathhouse? Lord Enda says it is the only place other than the out-of-doors where he may stand up.” She followed Belda down the stairs through the hall and outside.

“They say the Forest giants were servants of the Forest Lords until some plague wiped them out. Og was an infant, and the only survivor,” Belda said. “Imagine an entire race being extinguished like that. Poor fellow must be lonely.”

They hurried through the village which was busy this morning. Lara noticed that some of the women pointed toward her, and others made signs as if to ward off a hex. Reaching the bathhouse they went inside where Og greeted them, bowing low.

“The lord Enda sent ahead to say you would be coming, lady,” he said.

“I am Lara,” she told him. “A Pleasure Woman, and nothing more, Og. Please call me by my name. And this is Belda, a slave woman.”

“The water is hot, Lara,” Og said to her, and he smiled a sweet smile. He had very light blue eyes, and short cropped red hair. “Go in, go in.”

“I’ll come back for you,” Belda said. “Do you know how long you will be? The lady Sita doesn’t approve of idleness, and so I must return to the hall now or be punished.”

“Perhaps a half an hour,” Lara said. “I washed my hair last night.”

“I’ll tell my lady, and someone will return to escort you back,” Belda said, and then she hurried out.

Og ushered Lara into the bathing room, and then withdrew, closing the great oaken door behind him. Alone now, the girl shed her enveloping cloak, slipped out of her chemise and stepped down into the water, pinning her hair up as she did. It was hotter than last night, and perfect to take the soreness from her body. With a sigh she closed her eyes. The worst, she hoped, was over, although she still didn’t understand what it was they wanted of her. After a few minutes Lara stepped onto the lower step of the tub and, taking up the washing cloth, dipped it into the stone jar of soft soap. She washed herself thoroughly, removing the soap with the rinsing shell by the bathing tub’s edge, and then returning to soak for a few more minutes.

Finally remembering that someone would be coming to escort her back to Durga’s hall, she stepped from the water and wrapped herself in a large drying cloth. A long dull day stretched ahead of her, but at least there was more mending to do. She had not finished repairing Enda’s garments yesterday, but she probably would today. And what would she do tomorrow, penned in those two rooms? She would ask him tonight for a little more freedom. Even in the City she had been permitted to roam. Pulling her chemise back on and covering herself with her cloak, Lara came from the bathing room. But no one was waiting for her. She sat down on a bench within the waiting room where they had waited last night for Og to stoke the fires heating the water.

The giant shuffled into the chamber, ducking his length beneath a stone arch in order to do so. “I would take you back myself, but they are very bound that things be done a certain way. Your desire for a bath has discommoded them. They will make you wait here to punish you.”

“If they would permit me to speak with the lady Sita I could schedule my visits here to coincide with their tasks,” Lara said.

“Yes,” he agreed, “that would be the sensible thing to do, but the Forest folk don’t always do things in a sensible manner. They have their traditions, their ways, and will change nothing. You are part faerie?”

“Aye, I am. And you are the first to understand that half faerie is not all faerie,” Lara told him with a smile.

He chuckled. “If any of them had ever seen a real faerie they would know the difference,” he told her.

“You have seen them?” Lara was intrigued.

“You must not tell,” he said, and was suddenly frightened. “I should not have said it, Lara.”

“I will keep your secret,” she promised, reaching out to pat his huge hand with her tiny one. “I am good at keeping secrets. I thought the Forest Faeries were the allies of the Forest Lords.”

“Once,” Og said, “but no more. They work hard to keep that fact unknown lest any think they have lost their powers as the oldest clans on Hetar.”

The door to the bathhouse opened, and Truda stepped inside. “I’m to escort you back to my lord Durga’s hall,” she said sourly.

“Goodbye, Og,” Lara said, rising and following after Truda.

“Goodbye, Lara,” he called after her.

“YOU TALK with that dirty giant?” Truda wanted to know.

“He is the bath keeper,” Lara said. She didn’t want to talk to Truda.

“My master, lord Durga, came right to my bed from yours,” Truda said. “You obviously didn’t give him much pleasure.”

“But you do,” Lara answered sweetly. “I am glad.”

Truda looked confused. She had just bragged on her allure, practically saying that hers was obviously greater than Lara’s, and yet the faerie girl had simply agreed, and she had even been pleasant.

Lara could see the puzzlement on Truda’s face. Good! She didn’t want to speak with the woman to begin with, and now she had rendered her speechless. They climbed the winding staircase up the tree and entered the hall. “Thank you!” Lara told Truda cheerfully, and ran into the corridor where Enda’s chambers were located. Safely back in those two rooms she opened the trunk, and took out the two garments that still needed mending.

Suddenly the door to the chamber opened, and a woman stepped through. “I am the lady Sita, Lord Durga’s wife,” she said. “I came to see if you were all right after your ordeal last night.” She was a tall woman with sad eyes, but an air of command.

Lara arose, and bowed from the waist. “Thank you, lady, I am well. Tired, perhaps, but well.”

“You are mending Enda’s garments?” There was surprise in Sita’s voice.

“I am not used to being idle,” Lara told her. “That is why I asked for needle and threads yesterday. Thank you for sending them.”

“I did not know Pleasure Women were able to sew,” Sita replied.

“I am not a Pleasure Woman, lady. I was supposed to be, but I wasn’t sold to a Pleasure House. I was sent to the coast. Virgins entering the pleasure houses have their first-night rights auctioned off, and not until after that night are they taught their craft. My father was a mercenary until he became a Crusader Knight at this last tournament just held in the City, and I helped my stepmother keep his house clean and his garments mended. I am just a girl, no more,” Lara told her quietly.

“Then why did they buy you from the trader?” Sita asked.

“I do not know, but I believe it had something to do with the fact that I am half faerie. They seemed quite interested in that,” Lara responded.

“Who told them that?” Sita said.

“The slave woman, Truda,” Lara answered.

Sita nodded, and then she said, “You will tell no one of this conversation between us, girl. Do you understand me? Sometimes it is better a wife know things that perhaps she should not for the protection of her family.”

“You are the mistress of this hall, lady, and I will obey you. In return I beg your permission to bathe at the bathhouse each day. It is my habit.”

“You dare to bargain with me, girl?” Sita did not know whether to be angry or amused by Lara’s simple request.

“Nay, lady, I but humbly ask your permission,” Lara quickly said.

“Displease me, and you will die of your own stink, girl,” Sita said by way of acquiescence. “You know that my younger sister will wed lord Enda in autumn?”

“Aye, lady, I do.”

“And that Forest folk do not mix their blood with those of outsiders?” Sita continued.

“Aye, lady, I have been told.”

“I will tell Enda you may come to the hall, then,” Sita said, and turned to go.

“Thank you, lady,” Lara responded to the retreating figure.

The summer came to an end, and all around her the Forest grew bright with color. The trees were dazzling in their brilliant display of hues. Lara had never seen such glorious shades of reds, purples, oranges, yellows, gold and russets. In the City, the vines on the walls of the Quarter had gone red or purple. The trees about the Great Square turned a pale yellow and their leaves were quickly gone, blown away in the winds that began to come from the north. Here, however, the display seemed to go on forever.

On the last night of the year Enda married his betrothed, Tira. The following morning their bloodied bedsheet was offered as proof of Tira’s perfection. After that Enda spent part of each night with Lara, and the remainder of the night with Tira. Lara did her best to stay in the background as much as possible. Having discovered her skills at sewing, Sita saw that all mending needed by the household was brought to Lara for repair, and she was grateful to be busy.

Enda and Tira had not yet moved into their own hall. It would not be ready until the spring. Lara caught Tira staring down at her several times from her place at the high board. The look was filled with venom. After it had happened for the third time, Lara began taking her meals from the hall and retreating to the two chambers, which were now hers. One evening Durga caught Lara by the arm as she attempted to make her escape with some bread and cheese.

“Why are you departing the hall, faerie girl?” he asked her roughly.

“My lord Enda’s wife does not like me, and I would not disturb her,” Lara said.

“She hates you,” Durga said with a grin. “She is young, foolish and jealous. She knows her husband gains more pleasure between your legs than hers. Go on, then.” And he released her arm, still grinning.

That night as Enda pushed himself eagerly into her he said to Lara, “Are you not with child yet, Lara? I have seeded you almost every night for the last four months.”

“Why would you want a child with me?” she asked him candidly. “You Forest folk do not mix your blood with outsiders. I have been told it often enough. Seed your wife as vigorously as you have me, and you will have a fine son.”

“But I want you to give me a child, my faerie lover,” he murmured low in her ear. “If you do not, Durga will take you into his bed and he will seed you vigorously until his child grows in your womb.” He held her hips firmly in his two hands, and pumped her until she was crying out with the pleasure they had come to share.

“I don’t understand,” Lara moaned, wrapping her legs about him. She had come to crave the pleasures their bodies could give one another.