Tales of Baremaidens

[ConnieCombs]

2006-05-24 - Nanda of Trommoca - Black Dress


Nanda enjoyed power. Though her mother did not call herself queen she ruled in Trommoca, and someday Nanda would inherit. Until then Nanda got whatever she wished. Whenever she wished. From whomever she wished. For her servants she took only the fairest of both sexes and these she used to minister to her every need and whim. Her day began with a languid bath and massage. Her eyes closed, her mind drifted as six hands kneaded and caressed her shapely limbs. She had forgotten whether she had chosen men or women this morning. She thought of the day ahead and smiled. She saw a new group of suitors today. She drifted back into sleep planning the games she would play with them. Later she faced them in the Great Hall. There were always many for her beauty was legendary, and soon she would have power to match. Most she dismissed out of hand. The rest she ordered to disrobe. Any who hesitated to obey were also dismissed. She examined her prospective lovers and sent away many more because of some blemish, defect, or want. Only a few remained for the final test. She drew aside her dress, exposing her naked quim. “Kneel before me,” she commanded, and only two obeyed quickly enough to please her. “Perhaps these two have potential,” she thought as the first began his ministrations. The rest could remain and look on...

[ConnieCombs]

2006-05-27 - Charlotte of Artar - Young Nymph


Charlotte raised the wand and spoke the incantation. The wand had come to her from her mother and her mother’s mother before her. A powerful heirloom of her house it had been wielded by the matriarch’s for centuries. Someday it would be her turn to take up the reins of power and order things for her clan. Charlotte did not wish for that day. It was more her want to lie naked in the grass feeling the warmth of the summer sun on her young body, or swim in the mountain streams and thrill to the feel of the icy waters about her thighs and breasts. It was only when the loremistress insisted, as now, that she would come in from her joyful play to learn the disciplines of magice. She had mastered the cantrips and minor spells of the apprentice but when she sought to unlock the deeper mysteries, when the blue fires of the magice flowed between the wand and her center of pleasure drawing power from the desire it created she was overwhelmed by the waves of ecstasy flowing from her nether regions and was overcome. She gave in to the exquisite sensations, and using the wand to heighten her pleasure, knew the greatest of raptures. Without her guiding will the magice was spent in a display of fireworks and thunder. Charlotte sank to her knees, giddy and weak. The wand, slick with her juices, fell to the floor. The loremistress would be disappointed, but Charlotte laughed. She cared not for ritual and power when such divine joys were possible.

[ConnieCombs]

2006-05-30 - Courtney of Neathis - Poet In Bed


The identity of the poet of Neathis remained unknown to the masses. Her verses found light in the highest literary journals, the penny pamphlets read by the farmers, and the erotic pages bought in secret by all. Always did her verses portray the most sensual of subjects, and it was said that but one stanza from her quill could bring statues to life with the desire for love. Both duchess and shop keeper’s wife read her latest sonnet with baited breath looking forward to the fires they would kindle that night. Courtney put no name to her work for she did not desire riches or renown. The poem was an end in itself. She would stroll the marketplace seeking inspiration in the finely chiseled limbs of street jugglers and acrobats, or the lithe bodies of the whirling dancing girls. Even the savage beauty of the pit fighters or the raw strength of the road workers fueled her vision and when she returned home in the evening her thighs were slick with her womanly honey. Sometimes she would return with a lover to while the night away, but on most nights she would lock herself in her chamber alone, shed her clothes and allow her hands to roam briefly over her supple body before she put quill to paper. And such beauty she would write, verses that could melt ice with heat of their passion. There was no more need for Courtney to touch herself. Her pleasure flowed from the ink on the page and as she scribed the last line her climax took her and the writing blurred as her hands shook. She would write many poems tonight, both on the page and with her flesh, and when the city read them the people high and low would know her pleasure and share her love.

[ConnieCombs]

2006-06-03 - Ezca of Traveene - The Eyes Of Ezca


From the first Ezca had a natural talent with the power of magice. She needed no training to summon its power, but as soon she reached the threshold of womanhood and began to touch herself in response to her new desires, the fires of power had flowed from her nether lips and blue faery lights had danced along her fingers. Ezca had laughed, not understanding the portent of what she was seeing. As she flowered to full womanhood her power was evident and her parents urged her to follow the path of magice. But Ezca would have none of it. To her it was all just a part of the joys of sexual congress and release, and as her desires matured, the displays of blue fire she set forth as she shuddered through one climax after another, whether alone or with a lover, were an awesome thing to behold. Her parents became stern and tried to force her to seek out a master of magice, but she always found ways of thwarting their will and would sport with shepherd boys and set the woods alight with her love. Then one night she saw a woman naked but for a dark cloak, her body lined with blue fire. “Ezca” her voice was like a silver stream in an elven woods “You squander your gift in fruitless pleasure, spending to no purpose that which could be yours to guide. The power and the pleasure are one. Take my hand and I will show you what you could be.” Ezca took her offered hand and instantly knew an ecstasy unlike any she had ever known before. She knew wave after wave of bliss and her vision exploded in blue light. And as her climax took hold the blue light resolved itself into the towers and minarets of a grand city, the base of which was lost in a haze of clouds, and the whole infused with a blue radiance. The light fell at Ezca’s feet like a bridge but now was not the time to ascend. “Soon” said a voice like a stream in the woods. Ezca awoke in her bed, the sheets drenched in sweat, her thighs wet as with a night of love. Tomorrow she would start her journey to seek a master.

[ConnieCombs]

2006-06-06 - Calia of Blungor - Lounge


Calia accepted payment from the last of the day’s clients and locked her door. The day had been light with only a few youths seeking love potions and an old woman seeking herbs to ease the stiffness in her weary bones. Calia’s knowledge of magice was that of a scholar rather than an adept. She knew the ancient writings and the secret herb lore. She could heal many ailments and cast out troublesome household imps. But the awesome power of the greater magice, the secrets that would allow her to reshape the very world with the power that was within would be forever out of her reach. She reflected as she disrobed and prepared for her evening meditations. She had power enough for her wants. She breathed deeply as her hands wandered over her body. These sessions gave her clarity of mind, and focused the power she had allowing her to speed healing or infuse her herbs with properties they would not otherwise have. Her arousal grew and her roaming hands found her center. She had no need of the great magice. The minor spells brought in coin enough. Already her list of clients included several of the city’s nobles. Her pleasure overcame her as her meditations were completed and she smiled as she lay back on her divan, spent. A well timed prophecy whispered in the right ear could bring her power of another sort. And as more nobles came under her sway she could have a city for her plaything…

[ConnieCombs]

2006-06-09 - Autumn of Mir Lille - Shiftess


Months of discipline and solitude had driven the evil of Hedonism from Autumn’s heart. She’d been caught and severely punished, then returned to the Mother’s grace. But now… the velvet robes of the priestess… so sensual! The fabric of the prayer bed… gorgeous! Even the walls… the power of their solidity! The tingles returned and she found herself writhing in ecstasy, glowing with magîce. She’d been right all along: Geis was not the only path to feminine power! Now she had the courage to flee the temple.

[ConnieCombs]

2006-06-12 - Lacie of Endillia - Chosen


Lacie remained still and tried not to breathe. The hunters of Queen Inarzia knew that she was near and it would not go well for her should she be discovered. The oak trees aided her in her efforts to stay hidden and she offered up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Once Lacie had been one of the queen’s most trusted advisors, counseling her on the best uses of the land and helping to maintain the realm in proper balance. But Inarzia forgot her role as ruler and protector and lusted after power. She began building and army and felling the woodlands to fire the forges of her blacksmiths. Lacie wept for the land and the people and, spurning the queen’s advances, left her service. Inarzia’s support was not universal, and Lacie was able to unite many discontented nobles and force the queen to focus her attention within her borders thus forestalling her plans for conquest. Inarzia, enraged more by her rejection than her political defeat, declared Lacie an outlaw and put a price on her head. Lacie fled, and the queen sent her hunters in pursuit. And she had been fleeing ever since, eating when she could, sleeping where she might, always on the move because the hunters were ever on her heels. She dared not seek the aid of good people for fear she would put them in danger. Inarzia would stop at nothing to have her revenge. The snap of a twig brought her back to the present. She could hear the hunter’s breath hiss between his teeth. “Please Father Oak” she thought, “shelter me just a while longer.”

[ConnieCombs]

2006-06-16 - Maranne of Elionar - White


Maranne walked beneath the trees on her family’s country estate. The scents of spring were on the breeze, and the mating song of birds filled the air. Maranne inhaled the perfume of new blossoms but she did not smell it. Nor did she feel the sun on her skin, nor the wind in her hair. Her thought and her gaze strayed ever back to the city. She longed to be in that secret chamber beneath the ancient museum. A chamber forgotten by all but the wisest of lore masters filled with moldering relics of half-forgotten times. How the throne had come there she could not say. She had found it as a girl playing beneath the museum as her father worked among the artifacts on the floors above. She had played her childish games among the treasures of the past taking joy in her secret world, and as she grew she wished for a different kind of joy. She took ever more pleasure from the throne, not fully understanding its purpose or desires. But a part of her grew uneasy and she left the city seeking to put it from her mind. And for a time she walked among her people and eased their pains where she could. She dreamed of perhaps joining the noble order of the druids, or taking up the sword and thereby doing great deeds throughout the land. Indeed she did much good in a small way. But always the throne lay in the corners of her mind. The longer she was away the more did her thoughts dwell upon it. She lay with farmhands and shepherds in a vain effort to reclaim the passion the throne brought her, but lovers grew tired while the throne was never spent and took her to new heights of rapture with each climax. In but a short time her desire became so strong it overshadowed all other thought. Half mad with lust Maranne galloped back to the museum upon her fastest stallion. Entering the secret room she tore her clothes from her sweating body and threw herself upon the throne. She cried out as bliss overwhelmed her and her body shook with delight. She smiled and relaxed, riding the waves of pleasure towards another peak. She could never wish for more than this.

[ConnieCombs]

2006-06-19 - Ezca of Traveene - Ezca's Rock


It had been many years since Ezca had seen her home. She had journeyed far, and learned much of the ways of magice. Her teachers had been both other practitioners of the mystic arts, and the elements themselves. She had spent hours locked in her lover’s embrace, the blue fires of magice burning around them taking them to new heights of pleasure and so feeding its own power. She had travelled long in the wilds alone, speaking to no creature, but learning the language of rock, water, wind, and fire. And when her training was complete Gadriella the mistress of her order had summoned her to council and given her a task. She was to confront the witch Krizza and take from her the talisman Gwydion and then to guard it until such a time as Gadriella called for it. She had succeeded in her quest at great risk to both body and soul for Krizza was both evil and lustful. Then Ezca had returned home. She did not enter the city of her birth but instead dwelt in a cave in the rocky hills near the coast. She aided many with her power and wisdom, but few knew that she had returned for she revealed herself only in times of great need and always remained in the shadows allowing others to shield her actions. Most of her time she spent walking among the rocks alone learning the ways of the talisman. It was ancient and possessed great power and through it her mastery of the elements grew greater than ever before. She stood in a circle of stones, naked, gazing over the western sea into the setting sun. It was here that wind and stone would bring her tidings of the wide world. It was here that the power of magice flowed most easily. She had barely to touch herself, taking pleasure from the caresses of the air and the roar of the waves and her climax would come bringing the blue fire. And so she wove about herself and her land spells of protection and concealment. And she waited.