Cynara 03: The Second Telling

That night I was restless. Rowan's kind heart and sense of love and care had meant that we could not meet as she had other responsibilities. I had expected to feel the void. Instead, I felt her with me. Once more, dream and reality seemed to blur; it was as though the veil had become translucent. Was what I saw and committed to paper at four that morning a dream or a memory? With Rowan, was that even a sensible distinction to make?

I could feel Rowan with me, except as I looked, she was Makeda, and I was not Cynara, but Sara; and yet was there a difference? There was not one I could sense or feel.

The intense afterglow of their, no, our, lovemaking had created in me a desire to know what it was Makeda had meant when she had said that she knew who I was before even setting eyes on me.

Her eyes soft with sated passion, she kissed my lips, damp as they were with the taste of her sex, she gave a satisfied moan, licked my cheeks, and then told me that what she was going to say would seem strange.

"No stranger than this my Mistress - that you should desire me."

"It was so framed, little one. Here in Sheba, a crossroads of trade, we know of many gods, but from our Egyptian sisters we have a special devotion to Isis, though she goes by many names - she is the Sophia in your Hebrew books. She came to me in a vision and asked if I would devote myself to her."

"How was that my love?" I asked, hardly noticing the slide from calling her "Mistress" to "my love," as the spectrum of my emotions shifted with hers.

"We were in the temple, paying tribute to the goddess, where a virgin leads the ceremony and in her opening our eyes are also opened. It was my turn to perform the act, as I have just with you."

"But I had been told that it would hurt, and yet, my love, with you there was but a moment's discomfort."

"If you know how to, and you have the goddess with you, then the opening can be like that my precious Sara."

It was my turn to kiss her lips. I loved the way the smell of us had mingled; only the keenest bloodhound could have told where one of us began and the other ended.

"My eyes clouded for a moment, and the goddess asked what I wished for. I said that she must surely know, testing her."

"You test me, my child," she replied, sounding almost amused, before replying in a way that put my doubts to rest.

"You desire to know who your mate will be, with whom your mother and father will wed you, but that, my child, is not your true mate - she is this woman!"

"I looked into the glass she showed me, and I saw the sweetest face - your face. I asked her why you had been chosen and this is what she said."

"The children of the Stars mate once only, and that mate is predestined from time before time existed. You have the choice to reject her now, and live the usual incarnations where your soul will be shaped and tested, or you can accept the testimony of this vision."

"I asked the Goddess how I could make such a choice with so little information. She answered:"

"You either have faith or you do not. What is your choice?"

I asked the Goddess in the vision why my mate was not a man, assuming that it was the norm as it is here. She replied:

"The love of woman can surpass that of men, and this is what the Stars see as your destiny.'

"For a moment, Sara, my eyes met those of the Goddess, and then I assented."

"She is to be found in Judea. Seek Moses the merchant."

"And then, when I woke, Sara, I sent my woman to the market, and she found Moses and said that we were looking for a Hebrew woman to serve me. It was he who suggested his niece - and that is why you are here."

I looked at my Princess in awe. She had faith. In that faith she had found me. I kissed her tenderly.

"That is the strangest story my darling, and yet I feel it in my bones. From the moment I set eyes on you, I knew I was yours."

"And, my Sara, I am equally yours."

"But my princess, there is a gulf between us. I am but your handmaid and you are a daughter of the royal blood."

"That," she smiled, "is true, and I have a sense that the disparity is meant for a purpose we shall learn, but I say to you, Sara, that I love you and will serve you as you serve me. Between us in our love, there are only forms of pleasure we both seek. As you have witnessed, I loved serving my woman and helping her to her orgasm."

As though to perform what she had said, she gently turned me over. I felt her wet sex open on the small of my back as she straddled me. I felt her hands stroking my hair. She ran her fingers though my locks as though she was dressing my hair; I felt the slight tugs as her fingers combed out my knots, and the soft smoothness as she ran her fingers through; I was already on fire for her.

Makeda slid down, I felt her wetness on my calf before she parted my legs and put a bolster under my tummy, raising my haunches for her easier access.

As her index finger teased my wet lips apart, I felt such shivers shoot through every part of my body; my nipples hardened and ached so much that I touched them, teasing them with my fingers and thumbs. Then my world began to spin. Her tongue slid along my wetness, lapping at me, until of a sudden, I felt it on my pearl; that touch sent me into another realm - one of pure pleasure.

Helpless - and happily so, I let Makeda have her way, though to talk of it so if misleading, as it was MY way also. To my surprise she pressed a thumb against my star; I felt it wet with her saliva and my own juices; that must have been why it pushed in so easily. Instinctively I pushed back. As she clenched her hand, her fingers slide into my sex; I felt them touch her thumb through me. That sense of being totally possessed, entirely and completely hers was, I realised after, what actually sent me over the edge into a shuddering orgasm of such intensity that the bed was soaked with my gushing.

Shaking, I could hear myself shouting her name:

"Makeda!"

Over and over again, but the voice was that of some feral woman, so aroused in body and mind that she was still pushing herself onto Makeda's questing hand.

"I love you, Makeda!"

As my sight cleared for a moment, I saw her smiling at me.

"And I love you."

Saying that, hearing that, feeling that, sent my body once more into spasms of erotic ecstasy. For a moment I did not know where I was. My entire body was consumed in pleasure, by pleasure; I felt her pleasure too. The sensations gradually ebbed, and I felt her hand move away. That was my cue.

I twisted away, suddenly free, and pulled her to me, kissing her as though that was all there was in the world; indeed at the moment, that was the case. I could taste myself on her. I tasted sweet, a little tangy. That made me long for her.

Forgetting entirely the disparity in out status, one woman wanting her woman, I kissed her: her lips; her jawline; the shoulder blades; her beautiful small breasts; her nipples, pulling them with my lips; and then I devoured her wetness.

Gone, quite gone, was any restraint. Makeda was mine; I was hers. I wished, no something in me craved, to give her what she had given me.

Inexperienced as I was, I was clumsy, and when she shifted her hips just as I was going to press my tongue between her lips, I ended instead by pushing it against her star. I felt her grab my hair, and she adjusted herself so that she was pressing my head down there.

My nose prised apart her long, broad lips, entering the source of her wetness, but my tongue found herself lapping and pressing an earthier taste. Her response lit the fire to my actions. I had not thought to do this again so soon, but could feel by osmosis the pleasure it was giving her. As I pressed, she pushed, and I could feel her pulsing.

By instinct, my fingers found her entrance and I wriggled them in, my tongue working against her star whilst my thumb circled near her pearl. Aflame with desire for her, I could feel the flame of hers mount high. I devoured her. I wanted, needed, had to have her; she was mine; I was her woman too.

Even as those thoughts drove me into a frenzy, I could feel her tense, her juices thicken, her star grip me. Then my face was wet, her warm juices squirting into me. I was soaked and loved it.

We lay like that for a moment. I could not move, and she did not care to break the spell, either. I felt her juices drip from my face. Automatically my tongue lapped up her wetness, slow, languorous licks which seemed to make her whimper with pleasure. The moment was all.

As though in a dream, I felt her pull me up to her lips and kiss me.

"This," she said, "is what I meant by saying we are one."

We slept until morning, and on waking I did not know where I was; but I knew wherever that was, it was the right place. As I felt Makeda's body spoon into mine, I knew it was the place I was meant to be.

The handmaids came in to tidy Makeda's chamber, and, putting on my tunic as bidden, I joined her as we breakfasted on the terrace which overlooked the great river. I noticed glances in my direction, which made me shy. The gauzy tunic veiled, but did not hide my breasts and sex; that others could catch a glimpse of me ran counter to all I had been taught; but here in Sheba it was, I was to discover, the norm in the women's quarters.

That, then, was how it came to me when Rowan could not come to me - she came in the form of the second telling.

There was, I knew more to be told, but would not she think there was a fey madness about me? And yet the moment that notion entered my consciousness, it was dismissed. The connection between us was so strong that she would understand.

When Rowan came to see me that evening, we dined and held hands, and then, in the way only she could, she coaxed me out of myself.

"What is it my darling Cynara?"

Her emerald eyes seemed to see into my very soul. I did not shy away from the self-revelation, and I showed her what I had written of the second telling. Though my heart knew I had no need to fear, my mind could not help but scratch old itches. My Mama had always said to Papa that "she makes things up. You know what an odd little thing she is. Lives in a world of her own." Such things leave scars.

It was with two senses of relief that I saw my Rowan grin broadly: the first because it scattered the memories of Mama's dismissive attitude; the second because it meant she did not think I was mad.

"You see deep, my love. What you say here stirs me, and I should, if you are willing, like you to see with me what my spells can do for us."

Breathless with excitement, my hand trembled as it touched hers.

"Can you, my Rowan?"

"Conjure spirits from the vasty deep?" She joked. "Perhaps, my love. But with the aid of my incense and spells I can, at least, show us more. But what amazes me is that you have this access unaided."

I smiled and kissed her.

"Unaided? No, never, my love, YOU break through the fogs of time and memory, though all comes to me in dreams. Perhaps you are a dream?"

It had occurred to me, only for me to dismiss it. That would be a clumsy plot device in a bad story, and whatever this, with Rowan was, it was not that.

"You, my dearest, are my dream-girl. We shall perform the magic at the next full moon when the omens are propitious. But now, now my Cyn, I am going to take you."

My breath grew ragged at the very thought. The look in her eyes sent shivers to my core.

"Stand, little one, and slowly take your clothes off so I might admire your perfect form."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, falling immediately into the place I could sense she wanted me.

I stood, walking to the middle of the room and then, looking at my love, I lowered the straps on my dress, exposing my shoulders. I turned, and pulled my dress up so that she could see my panties, then, pulling my dress up and discarding it, I bent forward, parting my legs and gripped my ankles.

I heard her footsteps; I felt her hands on my cheeks; then I felt her yank my panties up so they wedged into my sex and ass; and then came the first spank. I seemed to dissolve into a wet mess. I could feel my thighs were wet. I blushed. I had never been so aroused.

"I knew it!" Rowan's voice was thick with desire. "You always liked being spanked."

With that she delivered five more spanks in quick succession, each one of which turned swiftly from a sharp pain to a lasting pleasure as the warmth spread between my thighs. She stopped. I breathed heavily. Then I felt her fingers dip into my sex, just enough to skim off my juices to lubricate my star. Was she really going there? I gasped as her finger answered the question by rimming me; I felt her finger wetting me. Instinctively I pushed back.

I heard her laugh.

"I see, does my naughty little one like her bottom being played with?"

I had a fairly good idea what shade of red my bottom was; my face was now a similar colour. But despite not wanting to admit it, or perhaps precisely because I did not want to admit it, but would only to her, I stuttered out a "y - yes, yes, please."

"You want me to finger your asshole, darling?"

The teasing was driving me mad with cravings for her, as she knew; she knew that I knew. The whole connection between the two of us was driving up the pressure in us both. I felt her trembling, even as I was.

"Fuck, fuck yes!" I screamed, forgetting my manners entirely. "But I want you to fuck me more."

Her hand patted my bottom.

"I thought my Cynara did not find penetration easy? I thought you did not like it?"

The tone of her voice, the position of her finger, my position across her lap, the state of my backside and my sex, all were combining to create a tension in me that made me feel as though I would soon explode.

Then with a yank, she pulled my panties down and off and pulled me to the bed.

I watched, entranced, as she pulled her dress off and discarded her panties; like me she had no need of a bra.

She pulled me to her, raising my right leg so that she could slide herself against me, our wet sexes meeting.

"I am going to fuck you as you have never been fucked in this life, my Sara, my Cynara."

The tone of her voice, dripping with lust, laden with love, almost sent me over the edge. I felt her down there, parting her drooping lips so they covered mine. I felt her juices mingle with mine, her pearl touch mine. Then as though from some long-buried memory, my body adjusted to hers. Her pearl touched mine, she was bigger there than me, and I felt her pearl push under mine until she touched my wetness.

As she did, I leant in and sucking on her left nipple, wanting her so badly; I tasted the salt on her skin where her sweat was pouring. Then she began.

Though barely bigger than a thumb nail, her pearl seemed to fill my entrance, and like a wanton slut, I adjust myself and pressed hard against her; she pressed herself against me. The feelings that shot through to my core were barely ones I could control, but somehow, I did, I needed to control them.

We rocked to and fro and she clit-fucked me, her hand gripping my backside and teasing me there too.

My teeth scratched her extended nipple, and I bit her softly.

"Harder!" She gasped.

I did.

"Cyn, Cyn, I want you, you are MINE!"

"Rowan!" I screamed her name. "Yes, I am yours, always was..."

"And will be," she completed the sentence as she pulled my face up to kiss me, her tongue pressing in. Then she pushed into my star we well, and of a sudden in t was as though all my holes belonged to her.

I felt her begin to shake.

She broke the kiss for a moment.

"CUM!"

At that word the long-delayed explosion came. I felt myself shake as she held me; her shake as I held her; our mutual wetness soak us both, as my head spun with the sheer pressure of the release. Then it was as though we both passed out of mind and time. I saw Makeda and Sarah, they were lying as we lay, feeling as we felt: One; united; together.

How long I shook I could not tell. I just held on to Rowan for dear life; knowing this was life, she was my life.

As we stopped shaking too much to talk, her emerald eyes looked at mine.

"You saw us too, didn't you? When we were up there, you saw Makeda and Sara."

If I was mad, I was in the best of company.

"Yes, darling, yes I did."

"I love you Cynara."

"I love you Rowan."

"It is not the first time, you know that?"

I nodded because I did indeed. That was the second telling.