A Marq's Woman - Cover

A Marq's Woman

Copyright© 2008 by Tentativeness

Chapter 5: Lillian

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 5: Lillian - This story takes place in an imaginary world that's almost nothing like ours. You can expect war between two planets, magic, fantasy animals and creatures, homosexual love and falling for the enemy. Follow young Sisters, Kistle and Ginny, as they break free from their Saintly sisterhood practices and experience life for the first time.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Paranormal   Interracial   Black Male   First  

Please, please, please leave a comment if you liked it!

She could hear herself screaming, her voice laced with despair.

Why, Goddess? Why? Why take me now when I've just learned about the pleasures of life? Why...

The breath was choked out from her lungs as she gulped in a mouthful of water, then another, then another. Water seeped into her nostrils and burned her throat. She hurt, she hurt so badly.

Then, all of a sudden, she felt herself rising, rising, high into the air and was dumped, quite unceremoniously, onto the grassy green bank of the lake.

She emptied the contents of her belly once she hit the ground, bout after bout of water spewing from her lips. Vaguely, she heard someone whining in the distance, but the ringing in her ears drowned everything out.

It was many moments later that she managed to sit up, and even then, she did so only weakly.

"Can't a body get some peace and quiet around here? Devil take you, child, I was just settling down for my nap!"

Kistle's eyes focused on a figure in the lake, her lashes working rapidly to clear the water from her eyes. When she was able to do so, what she saw made her eyes widen in apprehension.

The woman rose from the water, an apparition made of a large cluster of water droplets. Her body was still, but the sun glinted off her transparentness, making her look luminescent in the morning light. Kistle gaped, unable to believe her eyes. Perhaps she was dead after all.

"Wha-what are you?" she managed to choke out.

"I asked you a question, child. You will answer me first," the figure replied, and Kistle could finally see the irritation mirrored in the other woman's countenance. She wondered what sin she had committed to spark off such anger.

"I beg your pardon, lady —," Kistle began, only to be cut off rudely.

"You don't need to beg anything of me. Just keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut, you hear me?"

Kistle nodded mutely, then watched as the woman began to disappear.

"Wait! Wait!" she called out, rising to her knees, her apparent state of exhaustion forgotten.

"Always yapping. Children these days ... What is it, child?"

"M-my name is Kistle, Lady -um- Water. May I know what you are? I've never seen, or even h- heard of you before." Kistle's violet eyes were bright with fascination. She had no idea what an alluring creature she made, sitting on the bank with her clothes clinging to every curve and plane of her body.

She heard Lady Water sigh, then raise her hands to her hips.

"My name isn't Lady Water, Kistle. It's Bianca. Do not tell me that you have not heard of me, the ghost of Talem Lake?"

"No, I mean, yes, I have heard of you, but - but you are made of water!" Kistle pointed out.

"Yes, I know that, child. Have you not heard of the legend?"

"Nay, Lady Bianca, I haven't."

"Well, that is unfortunate. I haven't got to recite it to you now."

"No, wait, please!" Kistle beseeched her, but the woman vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but a cool breeze. Kistle let out a frustrated groan. Yes, she had heard about the ghost of Talem Lake, but she hadn't imagined that the ghost would actually be made of water. That was just absurd!

She picked herself up from the bank and started up the hill towards the manor, but stopped short when she heard the joyously familiar voice calling out to her.


Tyson strode through the Talem Manor, his lover at his side. His hand rested on her hip, caressing with a touch so light that it contradicted what his visage portrayed of him. He was a hard man, a man of war, yet it would only take a red-haired sprite to tame him and bring him to his knees. And he loathed to think that he would have to leave her very soon.

He had not wanted to report for duty yet - had hoped he had more time to spend with his beloved - but it could not be helped. Rade had sent him a message, one of urgency, to report for a meeting as soon as possible.

He knocked on the door to the library, flicking a glance at the curvaceous woman in his arms. She was nervous, nibbling on her kiss-swollen lips in anxiety of her friends' well-being. She looked so adorable in the new, ready-made pink dress that she'd purchased; perhaps he would be able to steal a kiss before...

"Come in," Rade called. Tyson cussed inwardly.

"Tyson," Rade said in lieu of a greeting. Almost immediately, his gaze skitted to the woman next to his first-in-command. She was a small woman, with reddish-brown locks that fell to her waist, and an air of serenity about her. Looking at her, Rade was reminded of the few women he had seen his friend take to bed; they had all been red-haired wenches, too, and looking at the besotted glaze in Ty's eyes, he now knew why.

"Ginny, isn't it?" Rade asked, and motioned for both of them to sit. Ginny declined, choosing to stand beside Ty. Rade noticed that she was gnawing on her lips nervously, her brows drawn together in a slightly worried pucker.

"Yes, it is, sir," she said shyly. Rade also noticed that Ty kept the woman's hand tightly clutched between his bigger palm.

"Rade, if you wouldn't mind, Ginny would like to see Kistle. She's been really worried, thinking that you might abuse her soft-hearted friend," Tyson joked and got a playful swat from Ginny, whose cheeks became slightly heated.

"Well, yes, I suppose you could see her. Last I checked, she was frolicking in the gardens. You might find her there," Rade told her and Ginny curtsied hurriedly before taking her leave.

Rade observed Tyson watching the woman's retreating back with a look of longing. He deliberately cleared his throat so that his friend would turn his attention to the matter at hand.

"The Kieranians have begun to amass their troops."

The news did not come as a shock to Tyson, but he had to make a colossal attempt to clear his head of distracting thoughts before replying.

"How long will it be till they're mobilized, then?"

"I'm not too certain. I had a vision about it, but it wasn't very clear..." He didn't mention the reason as to why it hadn't been clear.

"Thus, you need our army to get back to training immediately," Tyson finished, already feeling dread seep into his heart. If he was involved with the training of the soldiers, he'd have little time for Ginny, and he did not want it to be so. He wanted to devote all his time to her.

"Yes, immediately. This," he said as he passed a slip of paper to Ty, "will be the plan for the next few days. It might change once Scar returns from her expeditions, but generally, this is it."

Ty read it, then nodded. It was a tactic that the army had used many a time and it would not be difficult for them to put into practice any longer.

"I doubt the Kieranians would put up a tough fight, Rade," Ty said after a moment of contemplation.

Rade snorted at that comment. "Never underestimate the enemy, Ty. What I saw in the vision ... there were many more soldiers than we could ever expect."

Ty's brows rose and he silently cursed all Kieranian men, briefly forgetting that he had been one once — a long, long time ago.

"All right, Rade. I'll take charge of training the men and let you worry about more of the technical fripperies." Ty flashed a smile, knowing that being the one to do the reports of their battles frequently irritated Rade. He was rewarded with a scathing glare.

"Don't be too happy, Ty. We both know that our men won't be overjoyed to report for duty so soon. And," he added with an evil smile of his own, "they won't be in their best moods after wenching and drinking. Especially when they're made to practice tactics."

Ty groaned, calling their verbal match a draw. He rose from the chair, intent on riding back to the main town square and rounding up the men. But Rade stopped his retreat.

"Ty?"

"Yes?" Why, Ty thought, is that a blush I see creeping up Rade's neck?

"Is there a place you know in town where I could order some — uh - feminine articles?" The question came out in a quick breath of words.

Ty stared at his friend for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Lace shopping now, are we?"

"Nay, it's not like that. It's just that Kistle needs some clothes."

"And here I thought you'd be keeping her naked and locked up for a week," Ty replied through a guffaw, remembering the way his friend had carried Kistle out of the Chapel. Rade didn't think the comment was worthy of a response.

Ty turned to leave the room, shouting over his shoulder: "I'll see what I can do."

"And Ty?" Rade called out.

"What?"

"The manor has many rooms."

Ty looked back and acknowledged the invitation. He would move his things to the manor after he'd seen to the collection of his drunken men.


"Sister Kistle!"

Kistle whipped around, her chemise swirling about her, to find Sister Ginny standing across the gardens from her. A beautiful smile brightened her face and she picked her skirts up and ran towards her friend. Sister Ginny met her halfway.

"Oh, Sister Kistle! I've been terribly worried about you!" Ginny said as she enveloped her dear friend in a hug. Kistle stood, shocked, when her friend's arms went around her, for the Goddess's chapel forbade Sisters from any form of communion, except for the touching of hands. But slowly, the warmth of the hug began to seep into her, and Kistle hugged Ginny back with as much affection as the other woman had shown.

When Ginny pulled back, she had tears in her eyes. "Are you all right, Sister Kistle?" she asked worriedly.

"I am fine, Sister Ginny, though I suppose we should stop addressing each other as 'Sister' now," Kistle said with awkward forwardness. She leaned forward and grasped her friend's hands in hers, which somehow made her feel ... loved.

"Yes, of course. How foolish of me! Are you sure you're all right, Kistle? Sir Rade did not hurt you?"

A blush crept into Kistle's tanned cheeks. "Of course not, Ginny. He was very ... gentle with me. Oh, enough about me; what about you? I was so worried when that giant carried you off!"

Ginny laughed, a joyous sound that made Kistle laugh along with her. "That 'giant' is my brother. Well, my step-brother, actually."

Ginny noticed that the laughter faded from Kistle's eyes. She sighed.

"Yes, yes, I know what a sinner I am. But you should see the love in his eyes, Kistle. I couldn't resist him. I — we couldn't help what happened." Ginny begged her friend to understand her.

"Nay, Ginny. You do not have to explain yourself to me. If you love him ... it should be all right, shouldn't it?" Both women faced each other with insecurity in their eyes. Neither knew the answer to that question.

"But ... I think it should be all right," Kistle concluded finally and they shared a wavering smile.

"At least you know your giant loves you, Ginny. I know nothing at all about Rade. What we did gave my body pleasure, but nothing else. Do you think me a harlot? Perhaps I am, like my mother ... Mother Agnetta always told me that I would slip into wanton ways sooner or later — just like my mother did. Do you think she was right?"

"Don't be foolish, Kistle. Mother Agnetta was just being her old prudish self." Ginny blushed at her disloyal words, but she had always felt that Mother Agnetta had been too strict on the girls in the Chapel.

"I suppose so. But what would you acquit my behavior to?" Kistle asked. "I know nothing of Rade, but I shiver when he touches me and I feel this funny swirling in my belly when I think of him. Oh, it's all so confusing!"

"Come now, Kistle. You don't have to worry. I say, isn't this the first time that you've been out of the Chapel gates since you were twelve?" Kistle nodded briskly.

"Then perhaps it is the excitement of it that makes you act this way. What say you to that?"

Kistle thought about it, then nodded. Perhaps it could be that. And right now, she only needed a reason to explain her unusual behavior.

"See? We've solved your problem. All will be well. Do not worry," Ginny repeated, patting her friend's hand comfortingly. Then, she drew back in an almost-abrupt motion.

"Why in the Goddess' name are you drenched?"


Soldiers filed into the manor at a steady rate. Ginny and Kistle stood behind a stone wall, looking at the bedraggled soldiers with open curiosity.

"Why do you think they're here?" Kistle whispered to her friend.

"I don't know," came the hushed reply. Suddenly, Ginny's breath caught and she pointed to a warrior in the distance, his dark skin glinting off the late afternoon light. "Do you see him?" There was an odd note in her voice.

"Yes. Is he your giant?"

Ginny laughed. "Yes, he is. His name is Tyson. He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Kistle found herself nodding, wondering about the peculiar way Ginny's eyes softened as she gazed upon the giant. She was just about to lean over and get a better look at the warrior, when twin strong arms wrapped around her waist.

She was pulled back against a brick wall, the breath leaving her lungs in a quick 'whoosh'. She didn't have to glance up to know who had manhandled her; she recognized his touch.

"So, you think Tyson's beautiful, do you?" Rade's voice slithered over her body, making her shiver. Kistle knew Ginny was looking at them, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the intensity of Rade's dark eyes. Why, did he sound jealous?

"Release me, Rade. You're hurting me," she squirmed, for in truth, his hands were bruising her waist. At her words, she immediately felt him relax his hold, but he didn't let go of her.

"Perhaps I should be helping with supper," Kistle heard Ginny say, but when she tore her eyes away from Rade, she found that her friend had already scrambled off.

She felt herself being gradually backed against the wall, and one look at the change in Rade's eyes told her exactly what he intended to do.

"Answer me, wench," he growled into her ear.

"Wha-what is it?" she stuttered, for he had taken to nibbling on her earlobe. Dear Goddess, she thought, the coiling was starting again.

"You think Tyson is beautiful, do you?" He nicked the underside of her jaw, almost painfully, then ran his tongue over it to soothe the spot.

"Yes, I suppose so," Kistle replied truthfully, only to find that that was the wrong answer. Rade's wide palm found the roundness of her bottom and gave it a thwack. She drew a shaky breath from the pain.

"You are not to find other men beautiful, do you understand me? You belong to me; you will only think me beautiful." And before she could protest against that outrageous statement, his mouth covered hers hotly, boldly, almost cruelly. He intended to brand her as his alone and she knew it. But that knowledge didn't stop the shimmery sensation that unfurled within her belly.

His body pressed hers into the stone blocks, his hips grinding forcefully against her. Unknowingly, Kistle's fingers rose to his hair, delving into the locks to anchor his mouth to hers. A need spread through her body, making her want, making her need more from him.

She shuddered when his fingers caressed the sides of her breasts through the cotton chemise. A moan tore from her mouth as his hot fingers traced the outline of her areolas, flicking at the hard bud of her nipples erotically. Unable to bear the consuming sensations, she arched into his touch, losing herself in his embrace.

She vaguely heard the rip and tear of her chemise before she felt the slick slide of his palm against the fevered flesh of her small breasts. He caught her strangled sounds of pleasure with his mouth as he massaged the pouting globes, intent on showing her just who her body belonged to, just who her body responded to. But slowly, as her fingers threaded through the dark curls on his head, tugging, pulling, he felt a need grow within him.

He ducked his head and feathered his lips over one dark nipple, his tongue darting out to taste the forbidden sweetness of it. A shudder wracked his tall frame when he felt the nub harder further beneath the coaxing of his tongue. She bucked against him, nearly demanding him to suckle her aching, tender breasts into the hot cavity of his mouth, and nearly cried out when he did.

She writhed beneath him, watching with breathless pants as his mouth worked on her needy body. The familiar knot was coiling unbearably inside her and she felt a wetness run down her inner thigh. Goddess, how she wanted him to put his hands where she needed him the most.

A sob of half-pain, half-ecstasy tore from her throat as Rade bit the underside of one succulent breast, leaving tiny indentations of his exploits. Then, his tongue snaked lower and lower, his fingers impatiently tearing the cumbersome cloth out of the way until she was totally bared to his gaze.

"Beautiful," he murmured as his knees hit the ground in front of her, his fingers already tracing the surreal-smooth flesh of her exposed sex. He still could not believe how pure she looked — caramel-colored skin embellished with a tiny crop of golden hair. He felt juices pool in his mouth at the mere thought of suckling her jewel.

A chaste kiss he placed at the hollow between her hipbones as his fingers traced a pathway from her knees and over her inner thigh. He held one hand over her belly to hold her upright, and the other, her used to trace the length of her swollen lips. He felt her jerk under his touch, a mewling moan spewing from her lips, and he put his mouth on her, lightly tracing the downy hair on her pussy.

"Oh Goddess. Please... ," Kistle heard herself saying, rendered powerless by the intoxicating mastery of Rade's tongue, Rade's fingers. She longed for him to slide himself into her, much as he'd done the night before, and bring her to heaven. But she was denied her wish for he moved his tongue to the bundle of nerves at her core, making her clutch his hand, where it rested on her belly, in desperation.

The word 'please' formed on her lips like a chant as his longest, thickest finger slid into her, working its way into her core. She could feel him inside her, his finger fighting to breach her tightness, and the intrusion struck a discordant cord within her heart. She clenched herself around him, feeling the knot of tension within her about to expand and rupture. His mouth and tongue tortured the pearl of flesh between her thighs, swirling it, nibbling on it, and finally, suckling it.

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