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Authors: Kayleen Knight
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offended. She patted his head as he might a child's, kissed him on the forehead and then told him to continue his flattering – because she quite liked the way that he flattered her.
He washed her hair, working in a soap that smelled of apples and peaches squeezed together into the sweetest juice. He soaped her up with another lather that reminded her of the roses her mother took such delicacy to grow and tend in the gardens, and then he removed sharper things from his belongings and began clipping her nails, cleaning underneath them, manicuring her and beautifying her with a skill that struck her with the same contrast that the man who knew the art of seduction had struck her with.
Here was another male who seemed to know a woman's art, and instead of wooing her away from thoughts of the rogue, it only made her return to them; the only man among these suitors who seemed to be a man at all. She was not offended by these feminine exploits. Crystal found them rather charming, but in the same playful way that she found some of her servants charming on the occasions when she would ask them to her room and bed them to kill time on another endless night when she was instructed twelve hours of beauty sleep followed by three hours of morning preparation.
The maids would do her hair like this man was do ing her hair, but they would not luxuriate in it so, even though the males often became hard and hungry. This man seemed positively overtaken with her, polishing her body with more and more vigor, as though he was the kneeling devotee exhaling the alter of a goddess whose only mortal representation was a statue that he tirelessly washed, cleaned, perfected, honored. This man, she knew, would be a splendid husband exactly because he did not seem to want to take anything from her, only give, and receive in the light of that giving.
By the time he finally finished his beautifying rituals and turned off the water, lifting the softest towel of fur from the bottom of his belongings and draping it over her like a ceremonial award for some competition she did not even know she had partaken in, they exchanged some pleasantries.
‘Whose family are you from?’ Crystal asked with the soft and throaty voice of one whose body was still rushed in its own experiences.
He considered this carefully. There was a chance that her father had instructed them to withhold their naming, but the previous suitor had not been shy, and she waited impatiently until he found his tongue. ‘I am the youngest son of the Dilmuth family from the cold coastal lands of the northern lands. Do you know them?’
‘ I know of them,’ Crystal said.
Personally speaking, she knew none of these places. She was a prisoner, after all.
The cold coastal lands of the north held a kingdom whose warriors were known for their bloodshed and whose kingdom was famed for his iron fist and not the delicate touches this man so clearly exhibited.
‘ I could not pleasure you the way other men may pleasure you, lady,’ he told her hesitantly, ‘but that is not always a bad thing.’
‘ Indeed it's not,’ she replied.
She asked him what he had done to deserve such a punishment, but he declined to answer her and simply continued to towel off her body. It seemed that although this man did not have a man's hunger, he still had a man's sense of stature over a woman, and see med perfectly comfortable dismissing her question and returning his attentions to honoring the female form standing in front of him like the first woman stepped out of the very Garden of Eden.
****
The next suitor surprised Crystal in more ways than one, and that was a fairly shocking thing in itself considering the two non-traditional suitors who had come to her with feminine tricks and charms. This would be a day for womanish arousals: first of all, the next suitor was a she, as if symbolically completing the feminine trail that had begun with the man of seduction and looped with this powerful monarch from
He washed her hair, working in a soap that smelled of apples and peaches squeezed together into the sweetest juice. He soaped her up with another lather that reminded her of the roses her mother took such delicacy to grow and tend in the gardens, and then he removed sharper things from his belongings and began clipping her nails, cleaning underneath them, manicuring her and beautifying her with a skill that struck her with the same contrast that the man who knew the art of seduction had struck her with.
Here was another male who seemed to know a woman's art, and instead of wooing her away from thoughts of the rogue, it only made her return to them; the only man among these suitors who seemed to be a man at all. She was not offended by these feminine exploits. Crystal found them rather charming, but in the same playful way that she found some of her servants charming on the occasions when she would ask them to her room and bed them to kill time on another endless night when she was instructed twelve hours of beauty sleep followed by three hours of morning preparation.
The maids would do her hair like this man was do ing her hair, but they would not luxuriate in it so, even though the males often became hard and hungry. This man seemed positively overtaken with her, polishing her body with more and more vigor, as though he was the kneeling devotee exhaling the alter of a goddess whose only mortal representation was a statue that he tirelessly washed, cleaned, perfected, honored. This man, she knew, would be a splendid husband exactly because he did not seem to want to take anything from her, only give, and receive in the light of that giving.
By the time he finally finished his beautifying rituals and turned off the water, lifting the softest towel of fur from the bottom of his belongings and draping it over her like a ceremonial award for some competition she did not even know she had partaken in, they exchanged some pleasantries.
‘Whose family are you from?’ Crystal asked with the soft and throaty voice of one whose body was still rushed in its own experiences.
He considered this carefully. There was a chance that her father had instructed them to withhold their naming, but the previous suitor had not been shy, and she waited impatiently until he found his tongue. ‘I am the youngest son of the Dilmuth family from the cold coastal lands of the northern lands. Do you know them?’
‘ I know of them,’ Crystal said.
Personally speaking, she knew none of these places. She was a prisoner, after all.
The cold coastal lands of the north held a kingdom whose warriors were known for their bloodshed and whose kingdom was famed for his iron fist and not the delicate touches this man so clearly exhibited.
‘ I could not pleasure you the way other men may pleasure you, lady,’ he told her hesitantly, ‘but that is not always a bad thing.’
‘ Indeed it's not,’ she replied.
She asked him what he had done to deserve such a punishment, but he declined to answer her and simply continued to towel off her body. It seemed that although this man did not have a man's hunger, he still had a man's sense of stature over a woman, and see med perfectly comfortable dismissing her question and returning his attentions to honoring the female form standing in front of him like the first woman stepped out of the very Garden of Eden.
****
The next suitor surprised Crystal in more ways than one, and that was a fairly shocking thing in itself considering the two non-traditional suitors who had come to her with feminine tricks and charms. This would be a day for womanish arousals: first of all, the next suitor was a she, as if symbolically completing the feminine trail that had begun with the man of seduction and looped with this powerful monarch from
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