Other Fan Fiction ❯ Brianna, The Fair ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Brianna, The Fair
by AladdinAbu
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Mostly I thought of the plot for this one because I figured Violante deserved a tiny shred of happiness. Also, she always seemed to be very VERY close to Dustfinger's daughter... and canonically it mentions Brianna sleeps in her chambers sometimes...
Set early in Inkspell and riddled with spoilers, but little-to-no spoilers for Inkdeath.
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"CURSE that Balbulus!"

"What's wrong?" Brianna asked her mistress. "What's he done, now?"

"Only asked for my wedding ring!" Violante swore in a low voice as they trapsed through the castle. "My RING! As if I could part with anything my fair prince had given me!"

Brianna nodded. Her Ugliness was the acting ruler over the castle of Ombra and its village in the absence of either her late husband, or his father's will to actually see to his own townspeople's affairs. It bothered her that there were still things barred to her, such as being allowed to read. Imagine! Here she was, all but queen of Lombrica in its entirity, and she was officially refused entrance to her own library! Only because the illuminator Balbulus was a greedy monster, one who knew he could coax the gold for art supplies from his most devoted fan, was she able to enter at all... but one might think their long-standing friendship would be enough to let them forego payment. Of course not, and it pained Brianna equally, even though she had no real interest in books herself. It seemed to her such a simple pleasure to allow for the poor beleaguered monarch; why not let her in there? Typical of the males: oppressing females whenever possible.

"What did you tell him?"

"Tell him? I told him NO!" She paused in the hallway to sigh, and Brianna stopped beside her, ever the faithful servant. "Told him I shall find something else of value for him to pawn. I'll probably steal it from the day's take in taxes. Oh, why oh why should I suffer in this way..."

"Mistress Violante-"

"Don't you start," she said as they resumed walking, shaking a would-be chiding finger at her, though she had begun to smile again. "They have no real need of that gold, and I do. Simple as that."

"Yes, Mistress."

Then they were within her bedchambers. This was one of two places Violante could truly be herself, the other being that library. The rich tapestries and elegant silk linens made it seem almost too delicate to be intruded upon, but Brianna knew how her mistress became within that room; joyful and carefree as a widow could be once left alone. A young girl again.

"Barricade the door, Brianna."

Brianna tried to suppress an involuntary shudder - one of THOSE days. "Yes, Mistress." Not that she truly detested this part, not truly, but it certainly wasn't her favorite duty. She obeyed, hefting the heavy board and dropping it into the brackets. By the time she had made sure it was secure and in place, Violante was on her bed with one of her favorite books. She took a few sips of wine from the goblet on her bedside table and replaced it before turning the page. Her dress was pushed up around her hips, and the hilt of a sword that had long ago misplaced its blade rested beside her. A sleek, highly-polished hilt made of brass.

"Come, Brianna."

Violante wasn't truly paying attention to her; she was entirely absorbed within her book. It was about Cosimo, of course; Cosimo the Fair, the one she had called "husband" for all too brief a time. Though normally the words enticed her (words that required a beryl for her to be able to view them with her feeble eyes), it was the pictures that particularly interested her in this instance. Only when she was seated beside her on the bed did Violante look up, a slight rouge in her cheeks, and whisper, "Thanks again."

"Of course, Your Grace." Violante liked to be called that... though next to no one did.

She could still remember the day this arrangement had come about, almost as if it had just happened rather than months prior. Brianna had barged in without knocking - hence the newer custom of barricading the door - and caught Violante in such an uncouth act that she had cried out, covering her mouth with her hands. After much awkward conversation, she had come to be convinced that the poor widow, unable to bear the loss of her husband, had begun to yearn for his touch so greatly that she could no longer ignore the feelings. At regular intervals, perhaps once or twice per week, she disappeared into her chambers and permitted herself this indiscretion. At first, she used nothing but her own hands, but in her words, "That was more depressing than doing nothing at all." Which was when the hilt came into play. It became quite clear early on that she despised herself for it, but that between this and the thought of taking another man, this was the lesser evil.

As Brianna picked up the hilt, she felt its reassuring weight, unchanged from the first time she'd encountered it and learned of its true, hidden purpose. Violante had had tears of shame in her eyes when her devoted servant, unable to bear watching her mistress suffer, hefted it of her own accord, whispering words of comfort and soothing as she used it for its unorthodox application within those four walls. It was no worse than milking the cow on her mother's farm, really, once she blocked out the thought of what her actions were responsible for. Except for the sounds - the unholy sounds that ripped from Violante's throat! Those were almost harder to suffer than the act itself. After she'd been asked by Tullio what manner of torture she was under within her chambers, she began rolling up the length of cloth and placing it between her teeth. Much as she was doing now.

It was stuffy in her chambers this day, and Brianna loosened the neck of her own dress as she angled her arm farther downward, sweat rolling down her own neck. Her mistress's cries were becoming more heated and strained from behind the cloth as she leaned back into her pillow, breath streaming in and out of her nostrils. Brianna's stomach churned; it seemed to be one of the wetter occasions. It pooled in her palm. She was just wondering how she was going to be able to cope with the scent on the air and the horrible boiling heat when the cries reached a pointed pitch, a sharpness carrying even though the cloth. Up until this point in their ritual, it was as if Violante were alone with her memories, Brianna a mere shadow, assisting without acknowledgement. But this time, Brianna felt a hand shoot out and latch onto her upper arm, gripping tightly as its owner reached the heights of her passions.

Brianna didn't know what to think. Normally, she had no thought in her head during this routine other than the service she was rendering was of some help to her mistress, the woman who took her under her wing, cared for her so; possibly the list of other chores she still needed to perform before the day was out. Afterward, she sometimes reflected on how unusual and onerous the task was, and how unlikely it was that any other chambermaids were required to such things for their mistresses (masters, perhaps, but not mistresses) but mostly she didn't mind. Now, however, with her mistress's fingers around her bicep, the contact became two-way rather than one. Even through her garment, it made everything different somehow, as if Brianna was actually there rather than an invisible aide. It caused her... discomfort.

"Ahh," Violante breathed, still rather excited as she removed the cloth from her lips. "Thank you, that's... ooh, you have the touch, you really do! It was just what I needed."

"Of course, Mistress," she panted, flashing her an uncertain smile. Uncertain because of how she was feeling. "Shall I... remove..."

"Not yet," she panted, spreading her legs yet farther apart. "Mmm..."

Brianna felt her eyes arch upward. "Another?!"

The lady laughed. "No, no! It's just... oh, it feels nice to have it there. Silly, I know."

"I see."

But the longer she held it inside Violante's body, her hand dripping from secretions, the more it began to twitch. Firstly, because it was wearying to hold anything in such a fashion for any length of time without moving. But secondly, because some part of her found she had come to enjoy moving the instrument for her mistress.

Could that be true? Did she derive some sick pleasure from assisting in this clandestine procedure? Not as such. But she enjoyed being of use in this matter. She'd never been with a man herself, and sometimes wondered if she would ever settle to one. She was quite beautiful, of course, everyone said so... which presented more of a problem in and of itself than if she had been somewhat homely as her mistress was. Most men were intimidated by her appearance, her fiery demeanor, her station as lady-in-waiting to the late prince's wife. That she could give Her Ugliness a release whereas she would otherwise be unable to find one gave her great satisfaction... even if she felt no physical pleasures herself. Until a suitor found the bravery to come calling - if indeed this ever occurred - this was as close to love-making as she would reach.

Regardless, on occasion, the odd thought would pass through her head, ones so unbecoming that she pushed them away immediately. What would it be like to do this for herself? To touch, to tease? She dared not. Once or twice, alone in her own chambers, she would begin to do so, to explore her own body, but always she talked herself out of the task. Too strange, too alien. Unladylike. As a widow, Violante should not be blamed for doing what her husband could no longer do - or for enlisting another's help. And, of course, far less disgraceful to ask a maiden for help rather than bring strange men to her chambers. It was laudable. Of course, no one else would view it that way if they knew - and decidedly not of a virgin who simply dabbled in these things out of curiosity rather than greatest need. It would simply make her a harlot; an impure, craven harlot.

The other near-repressed thoughts were yet harder to confront. She knew she felt stirrings every time she assisted Violante, stirrings within the same area. How could she not when it was the focus of the task? Then also, an odd deisre to touch what lay so close to her hand... another woman. Granted, she spent several minutes utilizing the makeshift proxy for her, pushing it in, holding it in. Many times her fingertips had brushed the area in question, and every time Violante shivered as if she'd sat on a tack. This was usually followed by a kind admonition: "Brianna, dear, please mind how you're holding that!" Never cruel, just startled and disapproving. Violante only wanted the metal, not flesh, which was fine. It was odious for her to react otherwise.

So why then did Brianna feel such a thrill when it happened? Why did her heart beat faster? Because she knew that it was not allowed? The old "want for what you cannot have" adage; simply the taboo itself made it more alluring, even if it would not be otherwise. She couldn't bring herself to even touch her own, let alone another's! Perish the thought to the dungeons of the White Women's bone castle! But when she did touch Violante there, however unintentionally...

"Brianna, wh-what- please, explain!"

"Hmm?" Then her finger twitched, and she felt what Violante had meant: silken, coated folds of vulerable flesh. "So sorry, Your Grace," she whispered as she removed the offending appendage, opting to withdraw the device and retreat from the area altogether. The woman's back whiplashed at the exit, and then she lay panting, mouth agape. Brianna hung her head, ashamed.

"That was..." She looked again over at her mistress to see her cheeks, even the area marred by the overlarge birthmark, were far more ruddy than they had been even during the ritual. "I hope you're not thinking of doing that again, I shan't abide that."

"Doing what?" she gasped innocently (she hoped). "It was a slip, I apologize, but you can't think I meant to do so!"

The woman smoothed out her dress, covering herself fully again, eyes averted. "Perish it. I... oh, you're right. What I'm asking from you is deplorable enough in the first place without me accusing you of things atop it. I am the one who must apologize."

"Forget about it," Brianna said pleasantly as she went to the basin in the corner and tipped some fresh water over the implement, wiping it down carefully. Then she caressed it with a single rose petal until she was satisfied any other scents would be well-masked, dried it well with a cloth and returned it to beneath her downy mattress.

"All forgiven between us, then?" Violant said, smiling again now as she rose from the bed, dabbing at her face with a handkercheif. "Good. I believe I shall take a bath, I am... a bit damp in many areas. The hazards of my indiscretion. Have it drawn for me?"

"Very well, Mistress."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week passed. Twice more during this, Brianna was called upon to perform her unthinkable service to her mistress, and twice more Brianna felt uncertain at the role she must play. Was she no more than an extention of the hilt? Its newfound blade? It exhilirated it as it shouldn't, being so intimate with a member of her own gender, and royalty at that! The Adderhead's daughter - what should that tyrant say if he found out what a lady-in-waiting dared to think and feel about such a thing? She would find her head on a pike within the hour.

Alas, the feelings would not be dismissed. They only flourished and grew in her dreams, as she lay in her own bath, as she tended washing and watched the gardens while her mistress read in the library. The harder she tried to drive out such nonsense from her mind, the harder it held on, poisoning every daydream, winding its way into her heart.

Late one evening, she had just begun to doze fitfully when she was roused from her sleep. Her drowsy eyes beheld Tullio. "Her Ugliness wishes your presence."

"At this hour?" She rubbed at her face. "Thank you, Tullio."

Once the hairy little man had retreated, Brianna dressed hastily and made her way toward the chambers she had come to dread rather than appreciate. She knocked, and was bade to enter. Once inside, she only had a brief moment to glimpse her mistress in her nightgown before the words "Barricade the door" were again uttered.

"Earnestly? B-but- it's quite late, the castle tends to be far more silent in the evening! What if someone should happen to-"

"I am able to keep quiet," Violante said crossly. "And... oh, I regret the late hour, also, but I am sorely unable to sleep. He will... not leave my dreams. I must or else I fear I'll be sitting on edge until the dawn. Please?"

That was very like Her Ugliness to ask, even though she meant it as an order; there was no sense being rude, especially not to her favorite chambermaid. "Very well, Mistress."

Once more, Brianna found herself seated beside Violante as her gown was drawn up to her hips, legs spreading, another book bearing images of her dearly departed Cosimo in the arm farthest from Brianna. The weight of the former weapon seemed cold and heavy, as if an obligation that may lead to the death of her. But when she began to move it toward Violante, something stayed her hand.

"What? What's the matter?" she asked.

"I don't... oh, Mistress. Would you... permit me to... to speak?" When she didn't respond, only furrowed her eyebrows, she rushed on, "Never you mind, it's truly nothing, I'm sorry I hesitated. I'll-"

"It's alright," she said softly, concerned. "You may speak; we are alone, do not fear your words."

Brianna had begun to feel warm, both behind her face and in another area. Glancing again at the hilt, she swallowed thickly and whispered, "This thing I do for you, this... ceremony. I'm sure it is of great help to you, and I do fully understand why it must be done, I do! However... when I do, I cannot help myself from feeling... a certain amount of..."

"I disgust you," Violante spat, looking away. "It's unsurprising when I disgust myself. Why should you feel differently?"

"That's not what I-"

"It's not necessary to go on." All at once, she had snatched the hilt away from Brianna, resting it between the pages of her book and clutching both to her slight chest. "Very well; you have done all you needed to do in this area. I shall continue alone."

Brianna felt her heart sinking, as a stone into a pond. "You're not hearing me correctly. It's not that you... but it's more a matter of how I..."

"Why, oh why did I ever think this was an acceptable thing to ask of a maid? To say, 'Please, perform the duties best left to menfolk, for I can't be bothered to find one!' Despicable. Not that anyone would ever think to touch my horrific body, anyway."

"That is untrue!"

"There is a reason I am called 'Ugliness'," she laughed, a hollow, vacant laugh. Her bare feet attempted to cover each other as she stared at them. "I'm hideous. It is a wonder Cosimo consented to this arranged marriage, bore a child with me. To think what he had to endure..."

Brianna's heart felt torn. On the one hand, if she simply agreed and stepped from the chamber, perhaps she would be spared the continual duty of tending her mistress's libido. This could very well disperse those lingering desires; if she was no longer required to touch another, perhaps she could peacefully forget all about such matters. It was possible, if unlikely. But on the other hand... there was the lonely woman who thought the whole world scorned her appearance, down to every last man. And also the burning need she had to sate herself, unable as she was to do so alone. Oh, what on earth to do?

"You may go," she said flatly. "I... am sorry, though. For waking you."

To Hell with it - she couldn't leave things this badly.

"You misunderstand me gravely, Your Grace. I think you to be a lovely woman, that is not what troubles me. You see... oh, but I feel foolish." She waited for Violante to cast her out again, but when she said nothing nor moved, she continued. "The problem is that each time I do this for you, I can't help but imagine... and I..."

"Yes?"

"When we're... engaged, thusly, I see how you flush, how you writhe and cry out with joy." Her own cheeks were full to bursting by now. "And I have never known touch in that way. Therefore... I feel I may want... but have I the right? Oh, I'm so very stupid, I'm sorry for wasting your time on my nonsense. Please, allow me to continue, if you'll return the hilt I can-"

"Wait, please." Violante's lip quivered slightly. "I... do you mean to say that you, perhaps... wish to for me to do for you..."

"Oh, no!" Brianna could not help but laugh. "No, I never once meant I wished for YOU to do so, heavens! Am I the mistress now? Gods, that was not what I intended, I'm just a humble servant, I- b-but... but seeing your desires met... does seem to awaken the same within me. Because I haven't yet..."

"You mustn't," Violante urged her suddenly, a hand on her forearm. "Please trust me! This may full well fall outside what is my right to advise you, but you would be better off waiting for the right man. This... it's a fleeting pleasure to console me over my loss, not a replacement for a true love - one that you can and shall find someday! To commit to memory your first time in the throes of passion, to have it be alone, or in the company of some wretched creature like me, is tantamount to sacriledge!"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, you are right, Mistress. I do know this."

"There is nothing like the feeling of a man," she gusted headily, eyes pointed off into the corner, though her hand stayed where it was. "To have hot, living flesh invade you, become one with you... it's... to exchange that for solitude and an uncaring device fashioned from metal, do not consider it. Wait, I implore you. Wait for one who can show you everything."

Brianna's head was swimming. It was such a humid eve, the air within the chambers filled with the aroma of two women and their breath, nowhere for it to escape. "You could show me," she said stupidly, knowing she shouldn't.

"I could," Violante whispered, soft as a mouse's tread. "But is that truly what you want? An ugly widow with ancient weaponry, rather than your knight in shining armor?"

"Ohh..." Brianna frowned at herself now, fully aware of how silly she had been feeling. "No, but I... how long must I wait? And every time I help you, I want more to share in your joy, to know what you know."

"Then you shall help me no more," she said kindly. "Just because it's easier when you are there to assist doesn't mean I am unable to tend it myself. You'll no longer have to suffer."

Again, that wasn't quite correct. "It's not suffering, I promise! I... I've come to enjoy being so close to you, Mistress. It's almost as if being allowed to do something like this for you, something no one else would dare fathom, that you and I have the strongest bond! That we are- we are more than mere servant and master, more even than companions!"

"Careful, now, or I'll begin to think you're trying to court me," she laughed nervously. "Perhaps I rather look more like a man than a woman, but don't let that muddle your thoughts any."

"Please do not speak this way, Mistress! I... I think you're beautiful." Fully aware of how the words were beginning to sound, she was powerless to keep them from tumbling forth. "Perhaps I am the only one who thinks so, but damn all others and what they perceive as beauty and ugliness! Not only your soul, which is the whitest and purest... but... but also..."

"Stop that." The woman now had the beginnings of tears in her eyes as she looked away. "Your praise is... ill-placed. I am the hideous wife of the late heir to Castle Ombra, and haven't a single suitor. Can you understand that is the clearest sign? Anyone who were to marry me would have tremendous power, and STILL none approaches! I have to be as appealing as a horse to keep them away, so... I appreciate what you say, but it is clear I am completely undesirable."

"No, Mistress - I desire you!"

Not only did Violante gasp, but also Brianna once she'd realized what she had unconsciously spoken. She had meant to say that she cared for her mistress, and thought she was quite beautiful and enjoyed her company. The words had formed in a way that alluded to more. To darker needs.

"Brianna," Violante began delicately. "I... please, say you are joking. Say it quickly and earnestly."

"Maybe I cannot." Her voice was scarcely even a whisper; she herself had to strain to catch it. "Maybe, though we are friends, and I treasure this... a part of me... enjoys what transpires in here. Yearns for more to happen."

"That is impossible," she said flatly - or meant to. The tone of her voice betrayed that she could no longer dismiss the notion out of hand. "It is a disgusting idea for two women to behave in such a manner. And you my servant, what if- no. This is because I woke you in the night, you haven't had enough sleep; it's dulling your wits and clouding your judgment. I apologize."

"I have felt this way for quite some time," Brianna told her mistress, heart in her throat. The little tidbits in the back of her mind that caused her so much discomfort had broken free and immediately began wreaking havoc. Was she really expulsing all these thoughts at last, bearing her soul? "So perhaps it is because I am weary that I speak out, but... these strange feelings have been there for a while, now, lurking in the shadows. Part of me truly believes that... that you and I could..."

Violante's eyes were wide and fearful as she blustered, "Nonsense! The thoughts have only been there since I forced you t-to- to assist me in my dishonorable act! Which shall come to an end this night! It's inexcusable that I ever required a maid - a FRIEND to touch me!"

"But I want to touch you," she went on ashamedly, lip trembling. "I long for it; for the next time you request I do, so I may bring about the height of pleasure for you. Because it's of use, and you are so important to me. Besides... I have no hatred for the feel of your body, or your face, or anything. I can't imagine anyone would; you're quite lovely to my eyes, if only mine. There's no reason to desist, then, is there? And if a part of me is jealous, that it is you being touched and not I..."

Both ladies fell silent for a time, lost in dark thoughts. Violante's hand did not leave Brianna's arm, though whether this was conscious or not was unclear. Two sets of lungs began to draw in breath faster and faster, and stolen glances became more frequent, checking to see if the each person was blushing as scarlet as the other.

"A test," Violante breathed, voice shaking with uncertainty as she laid aside her book. "Draw up your dress, I... I'll be gentle, and quick. We shall see what comes of it."

Nodding fervently, amazed and frightened that this was about to happen, Brianna obeyed. She watched as the hand snaked down, passing over her creamy thigh, gazed at the ornate ring on the trim, delicate fingers. She shivered and moaned, and Violante paused. "But I haven't touched you yet."

"I know," she panted. "It's... no, go on."

Blazing intensity flared up, rippling into her body as she felt eyes and mouth fly open, every last drop of her awakened farther by the experience. An involuntary hand found Violante's and held it there, pushing herself out and into the other woman's skin, revelling-

Back shot the hands, both of them, and the room was filled with the sounds of labored breath.

"So much," Violante said as she looked at her own hand, dripping as it was. "And I hardly touched - you were already this wet, this soaked with need?"

"Oh, what is the matter with me?" she sobbed frantically, drawing her knees together and clutching at her heart. "These are the actions of an amoral person - an IMMORAL person! What a filthy whore I'm becoming!"

"No," Violante whispered, and reached out to touch her face - then drew back as she realized her hand was still dripping. Frowning awkwardly, she reached for one of the kercheifs laid on her bedtable and wiped it clear. "Do not say such things; I count you as a good friend, and I won't hear such talk about one of my friends... even from their own lips."

"But how can I have allowed you to sully your hands with such a common body? And a lady's... it's as if I were defecating on your head in return for all the kindness you've bestowed upon me."

"Dear Brianna..." Violante sighed, her own eyes shimmering with unleaked tears. She cleared her throat nervously and whispered, "I... perhaps there is something that can be done."

"What? What is it?"

"You have two hands, do you not?" she went on warmly, though still in a shaky timbre. "Perhaps... let us say you do your usual duty to me. And, while you do so... your other hand could be..."

Brianna followed her glance down. "Oh... oh, no no no, I could not - in your presence? I have never done such a thing at all! You can endure it with such grace and joy, but I might behave so much more foolishly, how am I to know? How I would lament my existence if I were to present such a sight to you!"

"Twaddle," she scoffed. "Could that be your only worry? Surely not; all mankind makes fools of themselves in such matters."

Fidgeting with the hem of her dress, she lowered her voice until barely a sound came out. "But I have never done it. And I... am too frightened. To put my own hand to myself, it makes me... oh, I can't. I've tried to force myself, but while the heart is willing..."

"The flesh will not obey?" Violante guessed, and Brianna nodded. "Or perhaps it is actually vice versa. Yes... I can understand, being unsure how it will feel gives fuel to your doubts, grants them power over you. Oh, this is difficult." A long pause. "Can you make me a promise?"

"What promise would you have me-" But when she looked over at her mistress, such an expression of uncertainty and disgrace lingered there that she looked away hastily.

"If... you'll promise me that not a soul shall find out... about this entire night, or the nights that have gone before... or may come in the future... that you won't bring condemnation down upon my head for what a putrid thing I've become..."

"I do promise," Brianna said immediately, before hearing the rest. And it was the truth; even if a time should come that she hated Violante and everything about her, this was not news for the ears of outsiders. Not even her own mother would ever know.

"You have to swear it to me," she whispered again, hands now clutching Brianna's shoulders. Why did she seem so angry, so sad? "On your father's grave - on your mother's! I must know you mean it!"

"I swear," she replied, knowing both her parents remained alive... as far as she knew. Therefore, she added, "On my life."

For one mad moment, she knew what was coming next, the way a body just knows things: a tender kiss. But no! How could that be - from another woman? It was unthinkable, unimaginable! But then Violante's lips, having come so close to hers, moved instead to her ear and whispered, "Disrobe."

Disrobe? Fully?! Her heart leapt into her throat as she contemplated this: being so naked in front of her mistress, head full of the thoughts she couldn't be rid of! How could they? "I... oh..."

"It's alright," the woman said, mouth still where it was as her hands moved, pressed into her back. The hot breath in her ear sent such a chill down her spine that she almost cried out. "I'll do it for you."

Brianna felt tears in her eyes as the woman crawled along the bed and began removing her shoes. "N-no, Mistress, please - that's the work of a servant, don't touch-"

"Such a balmy night, how can we be expected to do anything fully clothed?" she said lightly as her hands skimmed the entire length of both legs, one on each, causing every inch of flesh Brianna owned to tingle. When they reached her hips, she sucked in a breath, but the hands kept moving until they were resting in the tender wells beneath her arms. "Help me?"

They soon had the dress on the floor, and Brianna searched the room for a place to hide herself, to escape. How vulnerable she felt now! Violante suddenly asked, "What's this? A corset? Brianna!"

"Don't look at me," she was muttering, overwhelmed.

"Your figure is beautiful," the woman insisted as she began unlacing it from the bottom, loosening as she went. "Why would you seek to change it? Come on, that's insanity, all the men would gladly take you as you are!"

"But I'm getting heaver around the waist." It was extremely difficult for her to keep talking, because with every passing second she grew more and more exposed. Once it had been opened to her chest, she continued, "See how thick it is?"

"Nonsense," she said forcefully. "You make the blue fairies appear rotund. Anyway, I'm glad you're eating; it wouldn't do for you to 'waist' away."

They both smiled at such a poor joke, but then the corset was fully peeled away and Brianna lay there, completely unfettered. "Mistress... perhaps this is a mistake, for you to have t-to- I'm nothing to cause you to stoop to using-"

"Shhh." The finger along her lips was gentle, and lingered, tracing the outline. She gazed up at the example of royalty hovering over her, flushed with excitement and anxiety, and gulped. "One moment, I'm still wearing this awful thing."

In one fell movement, they were both nude; Violante had not relished taking off her own clothing the way she had Brianna's stripping. But then again, once free of the gown, she swayed for a moment above her, balanced up on her knees as she was, and then covered her chest with one arm, her fur-bearen valley with the other. She was a deeper crimson than Brianna's own hair.

"What is it?" Brianna managed to squeak out. Such gorgeous, slight curves... how could anyone in their right mind think her ugly?

"I..." Violante laughed. "Isn't it silly? I mean, I've felt so bold up to now, and here I am poised over you like a... man..."

"Lay; lay by me, then." Brianna blushed herself when she realized how close she had come to saying "lay WITH me" instead, almost without a thought given to it. Even as far as they had come, that was too brazen an invitation. "I... would you like me to do as I normally do?"

"Perhaps," Violante said thoughtfully, so uncharacteristically shy and reserved now. "But first... I know this will sound vulgar, perhaps, but I should like to feel... your hand, this time."

"But you always tell me to be careful it DOESN'T touch you," Brianna hissed, afraid of a later backlash.

"And that stands as the usual policy," she said with a slight smile. "But for tonight, will you? If you can even stomach to touch my slimy, hairy organ, it's... being how it is, I'll not hold you responsible for refusing to carry out the- OOH!"

It was just as she remembered from the all-too-brief contact she'd had with it on previous occasions: soft, pliable, giving... dripping with anticipation in a scandalously literal sense. To add to her excitement, Brianna found it next to impossible to reach it from this angle without touching more of Violante's exposed body than she meant to, and she felt as if aflame along her elbow where it gently pressed into silky skin. What was running through her mind? How could she be entertaining such dangerous thoughts? Violante's cries were wetter and less controlled than before, even while her volume was so much lower than she expected; she really could temper it when she wanted to. However, it seemed her other reactions were beyond her control.

"Nnnah," Violante moaned, back arching and sending her erect peaks searching through the air, swaying to and fro as if seeking something. Brianna helped her find it. "OOAH - NO, Brianna, don't use your mouth on that!"

"Mmhhh!" she told her, unable to stop, unable to be clearer than that with her lips wrapped around the succulent teet. Passion overtook her. When she found an arm snaking under her neck and around her far shoulder, the hand at the end gripping tightly, she gave herself over to her ministrations fully, suckling harder as her hand picked up speed. After a moment, she rolled slightly and switched hands as she curled her body around her mistress's, using every finger, moving them faster and faster. Every second that passed made her want more, want all of it more! How excuisite! How divine!

"Brianna!" Violante blurted, then caught her breath; she hadn't meant to speak the name aloud in such a manner. But when the named paused and looked up at her, mouth hanging open as she struggled to breathe, one of Violante's free fingers reached forth and drifted down her cheek lightly, traced the quivering lip again. "My Brianna..."

Only now did their mouths meet, when Brianna lunged forward, mangling her lips with the force of an earthquake. It was so sweet to taste her, such a delight - like the finest fairy nuts toasted in honey. Violante held her close, deepening their embrace, their kiss, and Brianna's hand dropped away from within her thighs to slide upward along her hip and waist. There was too much to feel. So often had Brianna dreamed of this moment, when she would find love in another's arms, when she would be transformed from girl to woman... but she had not expected to be shepherded via sorority. Now it was an insignificant detail; she found it no less grand than if it had been a male in her arms, no less magical. This was like a dream.

A tongue was working its way into her mouth. What on earth was she thinking?! But this new sensation was as beautiful and terrible as the others, her mouth being invaded by outside forces, coaxing more from her. She responded in kind, pushing the tip of her tongue along the alien one, moving it up to find teeth, and lips...

"It's like kissing him," Violante breathed when she pulled back, eyes squeezed shut, clear liquid running down from the corners. "I... Brianna, why am I alone now? What have I done to deserve such loneliness?"

"You are not alone," she replied simply as she slithered atop her, feeling their legs slide against each other... feeling her wet shame pressing into the hip of her mistress. Her full bosoms swayed above Violante's modest ones, and as nipple grazed nipple both ladies giggled, disbelieving at what was happening. How ever had they come to this unlikely moment? Another feverish kiss, during which Brianna was scarcely able to stay upright due to the sensation of that bony hip against her. It was more than she had ever dared feel! Her thighs began to drift to either side, one knee moving Violante's farther away...

"Wait," her mistress half-laughed, half-panted, cupping Brianna's face with both hands and smiling up at her, a smile full of love and lust and trepidation. "I want you to have more of me than just my hip, you know."

"I'm sorry," Brianna said with a shaky sigh. "I'm humping your leg like some accursed dog! B-but I can't help it, I n-need-"

"Brianna."

All at once, she was being rolled over and onto her own back, gazing up at the ornate chandelier. Violante's black hair swayed slightly as she smiled down, eyes glittering. "You spend all of your time waiting on me, fetching things, tending small details. Worshipping me. What do you say to a little turnabout?"

"Huh? I... I don't-"

"Shh," she hissed again, silencing her with a light kiss, one that started on her lips and ended between her rosy peaks. "I wish to worship you for a short time. To be your servant. Let me wait on you."

"NO!" she gasped, horrified. Of course, it sounded wonderful, but she couldn't live with herself if she accepted such an offer! Especially not from this goddess who already treated her far better than a maidservant to royalty was normally treated. "Mistress, please, do not speak such ignoble proposals, it- you can't think I'll let you!"

"You must," Violante whispered, face so flushed it might have been possible to fry an egg on it. "It is my duty, Queen Brianna."

QUEEN?

The lips were moving along down her knee by now, and Brianna's heart fluttered. What was to happen next? Not that she didn't know, but her mind adamantly refused to believe. Only once Violante's nose was buried in the orange fur above her most vulnerable area did she gasp out, "Wait, wait, y-you can't mean to- don't put your mouth on that, Mistress!"

"YOU are the mistress," Violante insisted feverishly. "I live to serve you."

The insides of Brianna's mind felt like they were melting away into nothing. Could people all over the world really be feeling sensations this excuisite, this intense? Or could she be the first to reach the absolute heights of joy? Almost involuntarily, she stuck the fingers in her mouth that had most recently touched her mistress, tasted the clear, slick fluid there, and she was amazed to find it was to her liking. Perhaps this wasn't such a disgusting task for Violante to perform... if indeed Brianna tasted the same.

"How... how do I... taste?" she managed to gasp out, amazed at how high and trembling her voice had become.

"See for yourself." And with speed she'd have thought impossible, Violante had pounced upon her, lips pushing into her own, tongue already inside of her mouth. A taste quite similar to the one from her fingers exploded against her mouth organ, and she knew the flavor of her own quivering flesh. Not so disgusting a task at all.

Violante had left the bed. Royal lips were kissing her ankles, her soles... she was determined to debase herself, to elevate her servant to a higher position for the night. When Brianna let out an exasperated cry, Violante determinedly slid her coated tongue along the arch of her foot, eyes finding Brianna's disbelieving pair and defying her to speak out again, to stop the one normally in power from giving her power away. She was speechless. A devious smile played at the corners of Violante's mouth as she pulled two toes inside it, tongue whirling around them, drawing at them as if a fine delicacy from the farthest reaches of the sea. She could not admit that it felt good; it was so wrong that it was happening in the first place, for a monarch to give such coveted attentions to such a lowly part of her. Even if she was enjoying the sensation, which she certainly was in triplicate... she could not admit it.

"N-no," Brianna stuttered, biting the tips of her own fingers to divert some of her body's sensitivity away from Violante's tongue. "It's too much, Your Grace..."

"I'm too royal to worship my servant?" she moaned, hands gripping Brianna's knees with such heady desire that she was swaying visibly. "But I am the servant. I will do whatever I must for my mistress."

"No... you are too beautiful to defile yourself. I won't have it. Come up here to me."

"Yes, Mistress Brianna." With each passing moment, the jestful mirth and playfulness disappeared from her intonation of the servile word. She began to mean it - heartily and with great relish. "For you."

When Violante curled around her on the mattress, they both seemed to be feeling more nervous, more aware of their actions. They had done a great many unforgivable acts in the past few minutes. Now they had been brought back to the beginning, the blossoming of desire, and they both saw it in each other's eyes: the hunger. But how to sate it with two bodies that did not fit together in the natural fashion?

"What now, Mistress?" Violante asked.

"Please," she whispered, unable to meet her eyes suddenly. What now, indeed. "Just... help me. M-make love to me."

"As you command."

Violante pushed up to her knees, head dipping down and crushing into Brianna's mouth as she did so. Now there was a new taste there, and shame flooded through her when she recognized what it could only be. As soon as that thought could burden upon her heart, the lips were moving down, enveloping one of her peaks - and she felt a thrill run through her chest she never had. One hand sought the other peak, tugging at it, and she was unable to protest, to even make a sound other than a frightened squeak. Why had no one informed her such bliss was possible?

"They're so soft," Violante cooed, nestling her face against one. "I... I wish I could sleep upon them every night... to wrap myself up inside them and drift away..."

"They're all yours." Brianna was too busy combing her hand through Violante's silky hair, rubbing her own thighs together. The friction seemed to lessen the desire, but somehow when she stopped it had grown stronger in the meantime. "Every night."

"When we sleep together," the mistress said softly as she traced a finger around her servant's navel, "I feel so safe, so comforted. From now on, I shall feel... truly at peace in all ways."

"Mistress..."

"Mistress," Violante echoed, putting herself back into the role as she kissed downward. "Just... call me 'wench,' just once."

"You go too far! That's- AAH!"

This time, when Violante's tongue entered her folds, she was far less prepared, and the advance was twice as forward and vigorous. Perhaps that was why Brianna's fingernails dug into the vulnerable flesh of the exposed thigh hovering near her. But once she had done that, the trembling widow lifted the knee... and placed it on her other side. Leaving quite a lot exposed directly to Brianna's line of sight.

"Your Grace!" she snapped as she tried not to gawk openly - but where else was she to look? Everything was directly above her face. "What on earth-"

"Taste me," she urged. "I beg you, Mistress! If it is pleasing to you, if you do not detest everything you see... then partake of all your wench has to offer you!"

The trim, lean countours, whisps of silky black fur... glistening maw of pink ecstasy. Even the tiny dark seal above these was enticing to her eye. Never before had she examined even her own body in such detail, and now here was someone far above her station literally baring all. Her breath came faster and faster as a hesitant hand drifted upward, brushing the patch of hair and illiciting a shiver from her make-believe servant. So much to explore, so many experiments to carry out together... but all in good time. Smiling to herself, she reached over with one hand, grabbed hold of a shin, and...

"AHH!" Violante gasped, pitching forward slightly. "That's... I didn't mean m-my-!"

"Ohh," Brianna moaned around the three toes she'd managed to engulf. "I was expecting... but this isn't so... it's kind of..."

"My feet are far too dirty," Violante was blathering, trying to pull her leg away, but Brianna held fast as she devoured hungrily, horrified at herself for enjoying such an action. "Yours, I know you're always clean and fresh as morning dew; it shows in your beauty, but I... and how angular they are from too many years of stuffing them into high-heeled footwear, I can't condone you-"

"Just be quiet and make love to me, wench!"

The phrase had stumbled out, far more brash than intended, but the next moment Violante's spine spasmed as if she'd been invaded with the hilt. "Yes, Mistress! Right away, Mistress!"

"I was only joking, you don't ha-HAAH! OOOH!"

Both of her hands released the trim ankle and shot up to clutch the firm backside of her lover as Brianna endured the ministrations going on between her own thighs. Such firm, decisive strokes along her - even touching the tiny protrusion at the top that she'd never been able to attribute a use for. Well, now she knew its function with intimate detail! Was she permitted to follow suit? Or would that be sorely overstepping her bounds? A servant she was, playacting or no. Couldn't she be hanged for this?

And then Violante's legs began to drift apart. Whether or not this was a conscious action, Brianna could never know, but the fact remained that her time to debate court standings and what was allowed and-or proper was running out. The heady scent of her, sickening and enticing all at once, was filling up her head, rolling along her sweat-soaked skin, and she made herself become prepared to greet it when it met her face. Which it did in the following instant.

"BRIANNA!" Violante crowed before stifling her voice within the servant's folds again, tongue lapping, lips pulling at other "lips". Brianna's legs shot up and wrapped themselves around her lover's neck of their own accord as she grasped the behind in front of her, holding the sodden opening to her mouth, drinking deeply and hungrily. It was like tasting a nectarine for the first time: the rich syrup, the pliable, fragile flesh that bowed to your whim, gave itself over to your desires. You became coated in its juices with the very first bite, filled to the brim with flavor and scent, but all you could think of was the next taste, and the one after that...

Reminding herself to breathe, Brianna drew back and allowed one of her hands to caress everything, smearing slick, viscous fluid on inner thighs and soft cheeks. When a finger fleetingly passed over the darkened opening above, Violante jerked wildly, then hissed, "Mistress, you dare touch my forbidden oriface!"

"I'm sorry!" Brianna whispered, shrinking in upon herself. "I d-didn't- that wasn't my intentAAAH!"

Of course, Violante had taken her revenge by doing the self-same action... with her tongue. Her stomach felt as if it were sinking through the floor as her back arched, causing Violante to do the reverse. Brianna bit down on the thigh next to her head to steady herself, and the resulting moan from her companion told her this action hadn't been displeasing.

"I do apologize," Brianna repeated shakily, afraid that the sensation would return - one far more distressing that any of the others. "I am not a reprobate, I did not believe-"

"What an unusual taste," Violante was commenting in nervous tones, panting with great exertion. "I... to be honest, that action was unplanned. But I had expected it to be far less palatable..." Almost as if to erase her previous actions, her tongue resumed its assault of Brianna's fragile organ, fingers tugging at the hair above it.

"Mmhh," Brianna intoned as she reciprocated, dropping her legs back to the mattress with relief. But now she couldn't feel completely at ease with their actions at all - regardless of whether or not that had ever been possible. Violante had dared put her lips to something so vile! Where was the limit? WAS there a limit to what she would attempt?

And now a tingling was building at the base of her spine. Something was about to happen; something that worried her. It was a building urge, the likes of which she'd never felt in all her days, few as they were. No one had ever explained such matters to her; these things simply weren't discussed in polite conversation. Now she wished this wasn't the case.

"Haah," Violante gusted. "I... I am already... I reach the peak of our time together too soon, why so soon?"

"I, too... I think," Brianna agreed uncomfortably. "Does it feel as if one must relieve one's self, except that when one does fire and lightning will come out rather than waste?"

"That's a close enough description," Violante giggled wetly.

"Then yes! Yes, yes, YES!"

The extra set of "yeses" were beyond her ability to control. As both women renewed their assault on the vulnerable areas that brought about such sounds, Brianna felt Violante's toes accidentally yanking her hair as they curled on either side of her head. Head swimming, Brianna took two of her fingers and shoved them deep into the waiting cavern of her friend, who gasped with delight.

"Mistress, you grow bold!" she laughed, pulling at Brianna's scalp with her feet as she wriggled, attempting to open herself up yet more to Brianna's invasion. "Yes, I crave that - more, harder!"

"You want harder, wench? Then here!"

Both cried out when Brianna began thrusting part her own hand in and out of Violante, doing the job of the hilt that lay forgotten. Was there any need for it now? Though Violante did not dare use this technique on the redhead beneath her, she did slide her fingers all around the outer rim, tongue savoring the juices this produced... and then, to create further havoc, began to suckle the ludicrously-sensitive tidbit at the apex of her opening. This, more than anything else, convinced Brianna that she was about to experience her first orgasm.

"AYE!" she gasped out, hand flashing in and out of her as she tried to position herself for a better angle of thrust. "More, wench, more - give me all you've got!"

"Yes, Mistress!" Violante said in such obscene tones that, flushed though she already was, Brianna turned a deeper shade. Now, impossibly, she wanted to be kissing her friend, to find those delectable lips, to force her tongue between them. Alas, their positioning made this a vain hope.

But there was something else.

"OHHH!" Violante screamed when she felt the coated tentacle splitting her puckered back door apart. "N-not both at once! I ca- I can't- I c-can't believe this is happening! I feel so filled! More, more!"

Her mistress-turned-servant did not lie; the taste was apart from "lovely" but certainly not so offensive as she'd expected. More than anything, the tightness around her tongue was so oddly comforting that all of her reservations about this night evaporated as if they'd never existed. All there was and all there needed to be was Violante and Brianna.

"Harder, Mistress!" Violante yelped as her tongue battered the little thimble-sized source of pleasure, fingers tugging and sliding around on its adjoining skin, dipping in ever-so-slightly without truly entering. "Open me to you!"

It was getting to be too much now, and Brianna added another finger to the three that had been widening her mistress for the past several minutes. "Hmnh!" she moaned around the dark skin pressing into her tongue.

"AAAAGH! Too much! Or just enough, I... oh! Oh, OH, OH!!! BRIANNNAAAAA!"

Just as she felt the walls within Violante contracting around her hand, felt the culmination of her enjoyment, Brianna's escalated to catch up. In the very last instant before she spilled over, she pressed her mouth right between both holes and screamed, "VIOLANTE! AAAAAAAAAAAIGH!"

It felt as if a blacksmith had taken a red-hot poker and branded her private areas with it, there was so much heat; the ecstasy was strong enough to approach pain. Both bodies seized, pressing flush with each other. Then, it was over, and they lay gasping for sweet oxygen, striving to calm their racing hearts.

"That," Violante mumbled, "was better than any hilt."

"Mistress," Brianna half-laughed, caressing a pale thigh. At this word, the widow turned and dragged herself up, falling aside her, sliding an arm over her abdomen as she collapsed into the bed.

"Thank you, dear Brianna," she said as she kissed her on the cheek. All was well and good. They both drifted, Brianna wishing to stave off fatigue for a few more moments, struggling in vain against the onslaught of sleep...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Brianna woke in the morning, Violante had already bathed and dressed. It took great effort for her to follow suit; every muscle ached and cried out to her that more rest was needed. But there were duties to tend.

The smile Violante flashed her was fleeting and mysterious. Then she had swept from her chambers without waiting for the maid to accompany her. Presumably, her first stop would be the Laughing Prince's chambers to check on his condition, then on to breakfast, followed by Balbulus's costly admittance to the library...

As Brianna washed, her mind flashed back to all the events of the previous evening. How could they have done the things they had? It was odious, detestible. They would be turned out into the wild countryside if anyone caught wind of such late-night revelry between two women. Whereas she had previously only enjoyed the company of the widowed royalty - and the fringe benefits of elevated status and comfortable living - now the very thought of the woman ignited a spark within her breast, sent her skin tingling. This was not acceptable!

And what would her mother say?

The day passed as any other would have, save for the fact that Brianna felt her face flushing when she drew near her mistress. But Violante took it all in stride, going about her routine, doing the usual this and that. Brianna began to entertain the forlorn hope that it had all been a very disturbing dream of hers. After all, even a blueblood such as the Adderhead's daughter would be slightly ruffled after such a night... wouldn't she?

It was in the evening, when she had just brought a goblet of wine to the bedchambers before she took to her own, that Violante spoke. "Brianna."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"You seem upset today," she said distractedly as she chewed thoughtfully on an apple. "What's the matter?"

"N-nothing at all," she said bravely, smiling a polite smile. "If there's nothing else...?"

"There is. There's a lot more, and I think we both know it." Violante laid the half-eaten fruit aside and raised an eyebrow. "Or didn't you derive the same level of pleasure from our unforseen encounter as I?"

Brianna bravely attempted to laugh this off, but as her mistress merely sat there staring her down, she found her laughter dying. "I... well, that was... whatever it was, it's not m-my place to-"

"It is your place," she said as she swept from the bed, thin fingers reaching out and finding Brianna's cheeks, drawing her face in closer. "Do not presume that because of our social classes that I will use you up and dispose of your husk. I promised you that I would not let you make a fool of yourself, and you did not: we both made fools of ourselves, and never before have I felt so liberated! This... this is something I never in all my wildest hallucinations thought I might find again. Another prince."

"B-but there isnMHH!"

The lips that locked with hers, thrasing and wild, were anything but hesitant or aloof. Brianna knew there had been no dreaming, and that this was no game or casual distraction. The slight wimper in the back of her own throat belied her own feelings, as well; there wasn't a part of her that contained the strength to spurn the attentions. Perhaps that made it all the easier on both of them.

"Brianna, my love?"

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and her voice cracked as she whispered, "What is it, Mistr... V-Violante?"

Both of them smiled at the boldness she had mustered to speak the given name of the one she served. Brianna felt the instinct to brace for reprimand, but ignored it; none would come. Not from the one in her arms.

"Barricade the door."

"Yes, Your Grace."

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THE END
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