Four’s The Charm

tagFirst TimeFour's The Charm This could have been billed as a sci-fi or fantasy tale, for it has solid elements of such. It would perhaps have worked as a horror story. After some reflection though, it's here in First Time. That's appropriate, but be aware it's not your average Lover's-Lane-back-seat-of-dad's-car experience.
As a moral, do be careful of strangers at this time of year; sometimes the masks aren't masks and sometimes the others aren't playing make-believe.
+
"Tayne?"
The tall boy started at the sound of the girl's voice. He had thought himself alone on the forest trail.
"Tayne! Wait!"
Turning, he saw a familiar form hurrying towards him on a branching path.
"Lylia? What are you doing here?" he asked.
The slender figure began running towards him, a bright smile on her face. She had a woven basket in her hand, its contents covered with a cloth. Behind her was another woman, a stranger to the boy.
"Tayne! I'm so happy to run into you!" Lylia cried, leaning up to give him a chaste kiss on one cheek. "The weather was so nice that we decided to have a picnic."
Her smile sent his heart soaring.
"But whatever are you doing here?" she asked.
"Erm…" he stammered, somewhat embarrassed. "You said you needed ironweed for dyeing your yarn. The only ironweed I know of is here in the forest, by the cliffs."
The girl's eye grew wide.
"You mean you were going all the way to the cliffs, just to get me some ironweed?"
The boy nodded solemnly.
She turned to the other woman, beaming. "Didn't I tell you he was a sweetie?"
The other nodded, a friendly smile on her face. Her eyes moved over Tayne's form, assessing.
"Oh!" Lylia said, blushing a little. "I forgot. Tayne, this is my friend, Moira. Moira, this is my betrothed, Tayne."
Moira's smile broadened. "So, this is the handsome man you're always talking about, Lylia! I can see why you haven't introduced us before now."
The two women made a stunning contrast.
Lylia was a head shorter, with brown eyes and ash-blonde hair worn in a maiden's braids. Dressed in a traditional full-length, elaborately-embroidered overgown, little of her form could be seen, but Tayne's eyes had often lingered on the pert bottom hinted at when she bent over. He'd longed to explore further, but local custom forbade sexual contact until after marriage. Not that such rules would have stopped him, but Lylia was very aware of the weight reputation carried in the notoriously loose-tongued village and his fumbling tries had been gently but firmly rebuffed.
Moira stepped to Lylia's side. The woman was pretty, very pretty indeed, with grey eyes and a wide mouth. Curiously, she wore her dark hair loose, unplaited, black waves almost reaching her waist.
Who is this?  the boy wondered. She's not from the village – I've never seen her before. How does Lylia know her?
Her dress was also unusual. Unlike Lylia's gown, its light, unembroidered fabric concealed very little; Tayne had to work hard not to stare at the lush figure it plainly contained. He was startled to see the form of her nipples through the thin material.
Tayne's eyes left her breasts with a jerk, lifted to her face, only to realize that the woman had been watching his examination. There was an amused smile on her face, a calm acceptance of the effect her form had on men, of the power it gave her. The boy's attention was caught by the bold look in the woman's eyes. It spoke of a world of wanton abandon for any man fortunate enough to win her favours.
The befuddled Tayne might have have stood there forever had not Lylia's soft hand touched his arm.
"Will you join us?" she asked him. "For the picnic?"
Tayne flushed, embarrassed to have behaved so forwardly with a strange woman — and in front of his betrothed, to boot. Yet the smile on Lylia's face seemed genuine and her happy invitation unforced.
"Um, yes. Yes, of course. I'd love to!" He took her hand, squeezed gently and was thrilled to feel her squeeze back.
"So, it's just the two of you?" he asked. "You're not worried about wolves or a boar?"
Moira laughed. "No. I think they should be afraid of us, especially with you here now!"
"Really?"
"Really," affirmed Lylia.
He thought about that as they began walking.
"Where were you going to have the picnic?" he asked.
"I told Lylia of a place I know," Moira said. "It's kind of a secret, a place my uncle showed me years ago."
Tayne shrugged. Why not?
Moira led them onto a branch off the main path. Tayne had been on it before and knew it came to a dead end in a steep-walled gully.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Perfectly" she said, confidence in her voice, and stepped out into the lead. Puzzled but not overly concerned, Tayne was content to hold hands with Lylia on a nice day.
As he had remembered, the walls of the valley indeed grew higher around them as they walked, but Moira seemed certain and the path was still clear. Shortly before he knew it ended, she paused, pointed to the rockface to one side. There, barely perceptible, was a small ledge in the granite.
Moira motioned the other two to stop. "Watch," she said.
Tayne stared as she pulled her skirt high over one shapely leg and, reaching high above her, grasped another almost imperceptible protrusion with her hand. With a small grunt, she swung her foot up onto the ledge and lifted herself up out of sight into the vegetation. Her head reappeared a moment later.
"It's a big first step," she grinned, "but it's easy going from here. Hand me up the basket." Then, "Tayne, Lylia is the shortest — why don't you help her up first?"
Lylia, smiling, gave his cheek a quick kiss before stretching her hands up towards the handhold. Tayne put his hands around her waist; the feeling of his fingers on her body was exhilarating. The young woman weighed no more than the seed bags he was used to hefting on the farm and he lifted her with only modest effort.
No sooner had he released her however than her foot slipped. With a slight shriek, she started to fall. Automatically, the boy raised his hands to catch her. The girl's bottom landed squarely on his outstretched palms.
Embarrassed and delighted in equal measures, the boy heaved, pushing the girl upwards. In a second, her flailing foot again found the foothold. Moira's outstretched hand caught hers and Lylia was swiftly pulled up and out of sight. Tayne followed her a moment later, popping up onto a narrow but still clear trail. Looking down behind him, he could just see the main path through a small gap in the vegetation.
"Wow!" he said, panting just a little. "How did your uncle ever find this?"
Moira smiled, was about to answer when Lylia pushed her aside and stood in front of Tayne, a scowl on her face and her finger in his face.
"You!" she hissed. "You and your hands!" Tayne was momentarily set aback, but the petite girl couldn't hold the stern expression and broke out laughing.
"Thank you for catching me, Tayne," she said softly, then leaned against him, her arms round his waist.
Tayne was embarrassed, but thrilled. The smell of the girl's hair filled his nostrils and he found it hard to breath for a moment. Her bright eyes sparkled up at him.
"Come on, you two!" the other woman exclaimed.
Moira began to lead down the trail, her steps quick, confident. Especially with Lylia by his side, Tayne attempted not to watch the sway of her buttocks under her thin gown. It was hard to ignore the sight entirely and he tried to turn his attention from Moira's form to the slight, happy girl beside him. He succeeded, mostly, but couldn't entirely dismiss a lifting tautness in his loins. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the soft hand in his.
While the path was open and easy going, the forest on either side of the path was a dense and close mix of pines and oaks. It was very quiet; not even a bird-cry disturbed the shadows under the trees and it seemed as if the wind itself had left off teasing the upper branches of the trees. The leaves had begun to turn colour and a few drifted down as they walked.
Tayne tried to picture where they might be going, but failed absolutely. This part of the forest was utterly unknown to him. The silence grew more eerie the further they went.
Moira stopped at a bend in the path, turning to face the other two. "We're here," she announced, a bright smile on her face. "Come on — this place is amazing!"
Following her around the bend, Tayne was surprised to see the forest open up into a quiet glade some twenty paces across and twice as long. While the scent of pine was still present, the open space here was bounded entirely with oaks. A thin row of low bushes divided the near and far ends of the clearing; the grass in the clearing seemed short, even, and very soft.
The boy shrugged; it was accepted that such things happened in the forest. To him, it was enough that it was unseasonably warm, the sky cloudless and remarkably blue. It seemed a very good time, a very good place, for a picnic with two lovely women.
His curiosity was piqued however by a something else at the far end of the clearing. An unfinished horizontal slab as broad as his outstretched arms was supported by two others rising out of the ground. It looked solid and lichen on it suggested great age.
"We could use that as a table," he suggested, pointing.
The two woman glanced at each other.
"No," said Moira quickly. "I… No, let's sit over here. It's sunnier."
It was indeed sunnier where she indicated, somewhat. Still, the boy was about to wander over to inspect the thing when Lylia took his hand, pulled his arm in an invitation to to sit beside her on the grass.
"Later," she stated, "but let's eat first." The boy shrugged, sat. The touch of her hip against his put the platform out of his mind.
Lylia removed the cloth covering her basket and spread it out on the grass. She and Moira began unpacking grapes, an oval loaf of new-made bread, a small cheese and two corked flasks.
Lylia's soft smile filled Tayne's soul as she worked; the boy knew their marriage would be a very good thing for him. Hardly for the first time, he reflected on his good luck.
The food was good, Tayne thought as he ate. There was a surprising amount of it, too, more than enough for the three of them. He mentally shrugged his shoulders — never question good fortune.
And the girls had given him his own flask of wine. It was good wine, too, heady, robust.
The three talked of this and that as they ate, of life in the village, of their hopes for the future, of the upcoming marriage. Tayne scarcely noticed that Moira never quite answered his questions her, always deflecting the conversation back to he and Lylia.
.
Tayne took another dip of wine, paused. The clearing seemed to shimmer for a moment. Puzzled, the boy stopped talking and shook his head at the sudden slight dizziness.
"What is it?" Lylia asked. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," he replied. "Just a bit dizzy for a second."
The two women glanced at each other.
"Is the sun is too hot for you?" Moira suggested.
"No," he said, puzzled. He tried to lift his hand to rub his eyes; found instead that the arm was refusing to obey, merely twitching in his lap.
The two girls stared at him, their eyes wide. Lylia's hand reached out, touched his forearm. With that, the boy fell across her lap, boneless as a skein of yarn.
Lylia gave a slight shriek. Moira jumped up, pulled the boy off her, rolled him over on his back.
"Tayne?" she said "Tayne?"
She waved a hand in front of his open eyes.
Tayne, his body frozen but his senses and mind functioning perfectly, felt his heart begin to pound with fear.
The scene in front of his eyes shifted as Lylia seized his head, turned it to face her.
"Tayne?" she whispered. Her blue eyes seemed to fill his world. He tried to whisper, but failed.
There was a sharp pain. Tayne found he could move his eyes; looking down, he saw Moira's hand pinching his inner thigh. She turned to Lylia.
"It worked," she whispered, "but I didn't know it would be that fast."
Moira closed her eyes for a second, nodded.
"Let's go," she said.
The two seized Tayne by the arms. half-lifted him and started to drag him into the inner glade, towards the stone altar. After a few steps, Moira stopped, let him his body slump to the ground.
"No iron," she said. "We can't take his knife into the precincts. No iron, no steel."
Lylia's eyes opened wide.
"Oh!" she said. "That's right."
She thought for a moment. "He might have iron nails in his shoes, too."
Moira looked at the boy lying on the ground.
"We'll have to undress him here," she pronounced.
The boy was mortified to feel himself being rapidly stripped. Tossing his clothes aside, the women looked down at his bare body between them on the grass.
Tayne watched Moira's eyes run up and down his nakedness. "Mmm," she said with an apreciative smile. "You're so lucky, Lylia."
She knelt beside Tayne and ran a fingertip over the stubble of his jaw before trailing it slowly down along his lean body. Giggling, she twirled his flaccid manhood around her forefinger, inspecting it, toying with it. Tayne felt his face flush with embarrassment as he felt himself growing erect. The boy was bewildered, more than a little afraid – and very, very aware of Moira's soft hand on his organ.
He turned his eyes and was amazed to see Lylia simply watching, a slight smile on her face.
Couldn't she see what Moira was doing? Didn't she even care?
The tall woman stretched his half-hard member before letting it fall back on his abdomen. "So lucky!" she repeated with a broad smile, leaning in to give Lylia a quick kiss.
"Moira!" Lylia giggled. "You're bad!" Laughing gently, her hand now reached out to stroke his length. It suddenly seemed to the young man as if he was no more than a toy for the two women's amusement.
It was also suddenly clear that this had been no chance meeting.
"I know," Moira said, smirking slightly. "But he is delicious, Lylia." Her hand returned to his groin, hefted his sac and its tender contents. Her eyes turned to the smaller girl. "You could have done far worse for your day, my girl."
Is this what women talk about when men aren't around?  Tayne wondered.
His head lolled back and forth as the two half-carried, half-dragged Tayne into the second half of the glade, propping him up against a low grass hummock.
After making sure that the young man wouldn't fall over, the two women fell into a deep hug.
"Today," Moira said.
"Today," Lylia echoed happily. "At last!"
The two turned their heads to the motionless boy, his eyes wide and fixed on them in his confusion. Lylia pushed away from Moira, approached and knelt by him. Her hand caressed his face gently.
"I'm sorry, Tayne," she whispered. "I know you don't understand, but this is my destiny, something I've waited for my entire life.
"I was consecrated to the god as a baby. I promise you that this will be a good time for you, something you will enjoy." Her voice grew very serious. "I promise."
She leaned close to him, clasped his face in her hands and, for the first time, kissed him on the lips.
"I promise," she repeated.
With that, she stood back up and returned to where Moira stood, her arms crossed.
"Ready?" the latter asked. "We don't have much time."
"I know," Lylia said. "I know." She took a deep breath.
Tayne stared as Lylia reached down, grasped the hem of her overgown and pulled it up over her head. Clad now only in her undergown, she folded the embroidered dress carefully and laid it on the ground to one side. The lighter undergarment followed and, for the very first time, Tayne saw her as she had been born.
Hers was a slender figure, but exquisite in its daintiness. Lylia caught him looking and, her lifelong modesty apparently gone, smiled openly at his awe-struck gaze. Seemingly unashamed at her nakedness, her eyes locked on his as she slowly ran her hands over her body, caressing her skin. Tayne's mind whirled as her hands rose to her breasts, lifting and mounding their soft weight. Such open sensuality on the part of his heretofore shy and virginal fiancée was unprecedented, almost incomprehensible to the boy. Her fingers played with her warm pink nipples, rolling, pulling. Entranced, the boy watched as they became hard and prominent.
"Soon," she whispered softly. "Soon."
He had no idea what she meant, nor even if she was talking to him or to herself.
Beside her, Moira was also undressing and, in a few seconds, both women stood nude before the befuddled boy. Moira was not only taller than Lylia, but had a much fuller figure. Her breasts and hips were larger, even in proportion. Her lips were full and her areolae soft brown. Despite the situation, Tayne longed to have his lips on either – or both.
The two women now seemed to the boy without inhibition, without shame, as if nudity in this place was as normal as breathing. Wearing her own nudity like a costly dress, Moira helped Lylia unbraid her hair, leaving it loose over her back, shoulders and breasts — another breech of village modesty norms.
Reaching into the basket, Moira produced a small jar. She dipped a finger into it, drew out a fingertip coated in a dull red paste. The dark-haired woman drew a thick streak on both of Lylia's cheekbones, adding a third running down from the lower lip to her chin.
She stepped back, a look of satisfaction on her face, then nodded and leaned her head forward.
Lylia took the jar and repeated the pattern on Moira's face, adding a row of three small dots on her forehead.
She too was smiling now, in anticipation, Tayne thought. Anticipation of what?
Now clad only in sunshine and paint, the two girls moved to what Tayne now realized was not a table, but an altar. Producing a plain white linen cloth, the two quickly draped it over the slab. Spreading the fabric smooth with their hands, the girls placed on it a small copper pot, a polished egg-sized rock and an apple. These were carefully arranged in a half-circle; one was moved, then, minutely, the second. A bronze incense burner was added and, after a moment's contemplation, shifted a hairsbreadth. Removing the top, Moira lit its contents with flint and pyrites, replaced it. A thin stream of smoke began to emerge into the clear air.
Lastly, a knife was produced and carefully placed on the altar among the rest. Moira examined the arrangement, adjusted it slightly before stepping back. From where he was positioned, the boy had a clear view.
The knife seemed ancient. The patina of age graced all but the cutting edge; that gleamed in the sunlight. It looked wickedly sharp. A thin haft ended in a ring big enough to push a big man's thumb through. Guardless, the blade curved down, then rose again, like a wave on a beach or the horn of a plains bull. The bronze blade was deeply engraved with some pattern Tayne could not make out.
Apparently satisfied, the two women fell into step, began to circle the altar, each slow pace taking several seconds. Again and again, their hands swept through the thin column of smoke rising from the censor, paddling the incense across the still glade.
After completing three turns, the two knelt gracefully beside each other in front of the altar and waited, hands on their bare thighs.
The incense drifted over to Tayne — woody, primitive, utterly like the spicy, flowery ones used in the village temple.
He found he could speak, softly.
"Why?" he croaked. The two women turned to him.
Moira looked at Lylia, squeezed her shoulder. "You get your mind ready," she said. "I'll explain it to him."
The tall girl rose, knelt beside Tayne, stroked his face with a soft palm.

Report Story

byTarnishedPenny© 0 comments/ 0 views/ 0 favoritesSubmit bug reportNext3 Pages:123