Despite their new understanding, Sophia saw little of Yunan over the following weeks. She fretted over her restrictions within the women’s quarters of the mountain stronghold, longing to walk outside in the fresh air and feel grass under her feet instead of dust or stone.
Each day Penelope massaged her skin with scented oils, hoping to soothe her disquiet with local gossip and intrigue.
“Why can’t I walk outside?” Sophia demanded. “This is your father’s land, his sworn people. I cannot spend my life inside this maze of tunnels.”
“Hush, now,” Penelope gently eased Sophia’s tunic over her head and helped her lie on warmed towels. A brazier burned in the corner, helping to ward off the chill of the rooms now winter approached.
“If it were truly safe, we would all be outside carrying out our daily duties, but these are difficult times. A runner came from the village last night with tales of bandits in the hills not twenty leagues away. A good harvest in the valleys often bring down the hill folk to raid those more fortunate than themselves before snow seals the passes.
“My father is gone to speak with the village chiefs to see what can be done and whether his riders must seek retribution from those who steal. He will be back tonight if everything goes well.”
With the oil warmed in her hands, she began to stroke Sophia’s hunched shoulders, working her fingers into tight muscles until the girl was forced to relax or suffer further discomfort from her companion.
“It’s not fair,” Sophia grumbled. “He tells you everything, yet I am to make do with snippets of conversation, as if this were none of my business.”
“He wishes you to rest, not to be troubled by such incidents. You have the baby to think about.”
“What if I tell you I do not wish to think about my child? Soon I will go into labour. We do not find childbirth easy in my family. Each time my mother was brought to bed with my brothers, her women despaired.
“My nurse was supposed to keep me away with my sisters, but they could not stop my ears from hearing her screams. Hour upon hour the silent house was rent with her cries of pain until all was done. Each time I never knew whether my mother lived or died for several days. Each birth left her weaker until she faded before our eyes.
“When I think of giving birth, I think of death.”
Penelope tutted behind her. “To have such thoughts in your mind helps neither you nor your child. Tell me your greatest fear about the birth and perhaps we can assuage it.”
“To lie down on a bed and be too exhausted to push the baby out.”
Penelope gently gripped her shoulders. “In this land, our women to not lie to give birth, they sit — on a stool. It is much more comfortable than lying down and easier for the baby too.”
“How do you know these things?”
“The woman who cared for me after my mother died was a midwife. I learned from her how to attend a woman in labour, how to make her time easier.” She clapped her hands and a serving woman was instantly in attendance.
“Marta will fetch the stool and you can try it out. Better to be at ease with it now, than wait until you need it.”
The woman returned with a low, wooden stool made from dark, polished wood. In the centre was a small backrest and the seat itself was in the shape of a horseshoe. At Penelope’s suggestion, Sophia tried to seat herself on the birthing stool, but the towels in which she was swathed made it uncomfortable. With a little encouragement, Penelope was able to unwrap the slender girl, exposing her beautiful swollen breasts and rounded belly.
Sophia porno izle sat back, resting herself against the serving woman’s ample body while Penelope arranged her legs so she could feel the support of the stool beneath her. She sat cross-legged on the floor, gently massaging Sophia’s toes, talking to her in a calm, relaxed manner.
“Many women are surprised by the noises they make whilst giving birth. They are so similar to those during the act of love. Maybe the Gods chose to make them similar to remind us how each child comes into the world.”
Penelope looked up, catching Sophia’s glance, noticing the blush on the young woman’s cheek before she looked away. After a long pause, Sophia confided, “I … do not cry out…when … when I… come to that point.”
Penelope smiled, “I can help you with that, if you wish.”
Sophia shifted her position on the seat, a hesitant expression playing on her face. “I have always been silent.”
Penelope’s strong fingers began to massage Sophia’s legs, moving upwards towards her knee.
“That is no longer necessary, these stone walls are thick. No-one would hear your joy.”
Sophia leaned forwards, placing her hands over Penelope’s as they stroked and kneaded her calves. “It frightens me – the thought of releasing myself, of being that free.”
“Hush, there is no need to fear now. We are here to hold your fear for you.”
As if moving by themselves, Sophia hands slid over the backs of Penelope’s, onto Penelope’s forearms, stroking the soft skin she found beneath her fingertips before leaning backwards once again into the supporting fullness of the serving woman.
“Make yourself comfortable, Sophia, and we will oil your wonderful belly together.” Penelope held the bottle of massage oil so two trickling streams fell on to her breasts and from there down to her lower body. She watched as Sophia relaxed her arms, allowing them to fall by her sides, subtly shifting her feet so her knees swung outwards. A sensuous groan escaped her as she felt the slow, viscous trickle of oil on her skin.
Penelope stroked the oil into her breasts, her fingers firmly coating and pulling out the long, dark nipples. With practiced ease she held each breast in turn, smoothing downwards until clear drops gathered on the nipple tips, her thumb rubbing this new fluid back until she reached the areola.
She complimented Sophia on the shape of her breasts and the ease with which she released the very beginnings of her milk. Each time her finger touched a new area of skin, Sophia’s nipple hardened and soft moans of pleasure came from her throat.
With a glance at the serving woman, Penelope lifted Sophia’s hand and placed them on her belly, covering them with her own hands. Together they began the long, gentle, sweeping motions over the areas of swollen skin, following the ripples as the unborn child moved and kicked underneath them.
Sophia did not seem to notice as another pair of hands continued the loving massage of her breasts, squeezing and rolling in a continuing circle.Penelope’s voice was very soft and low as her hands continued underneath the mound, down towards the soft hair of her mons.
“Tell me how you like to be touched, my little dove.”
A small noise escaped from somewhere in Sophia’s throat as she struggled to reply. She opened her eyes wide, gazing directly at Penelope as she guided one hand down and down before sweeping their joined fingers up the inside of one thigh and down the other- fluttering strokes glancing at her cleft.
Penelope’s eyes followed their hands, brazzers her smile widening as she saw where they were leading. She leaned in to blow gently around her swollen lips, soft kisses soon replacing the warm air of her breath.
Sophia’s reaction was violent as she gasped, curling forwards, almost convulsing, before she laughed nervously.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t seek comfort from your fellow dancers,”
“They watched us – we stole a touch here and there when the tension became too much, but never openly, as you do.”
Penelope continued to intersperse her words with kisses, “Here we steal nothing. We give, we gift to each other as I gift to you.”
Sophia shuddered, pressing Penelope’s hand hard against her opening, squeezing her thighs together on their joined fingers as she rocked her body backwards and forwards on the stool. Penelope trailed a finger down Sophia’s cleft gathering moisture, then licking her finger.
“Has anyone told you how sweet you taste?”
Sophia shook her head slowly from side to side, watching Penelope with her lips parted. Her hand floated upwards to touch the fingers of the serving woman, slick with oil.
Penelope bent her head, her mouth seeking Sophia’s opening, tongue curling inwards, fingers following where her tongue’s lead.
Sophia’s hand seized the girl’s fingers, groaning as her knees parted, leaning back and tilting her pelvis towards Penelope, who hummed into her cleft as her tongue forged a sticky trail upwards while two fingers easing gently inside the heated cavern. As her fingers buried themselves, her tongue found the nub of Sophia’s clit, licking around and either side.
Her back arching, Sophia twisted on the stool, her feet brushing on the cool tiled floor, a gentle, high whine sighing from her. She swept her hands over her breasts, pressing them down, flattening them; her teeth set together as if striving to prevent her growing, passionate cries.
Deep inside her, Penelope’s fingers began an in and out motion, at one point almost leaving their soft, warm bed, then sliding deeper inside every time. Sophia felt Penelope’s mouth now close around her clit; licking and sucking as she lost herself in the overwhelming sensations she was offered.
She let her hands continue to sweep over her glossy stomach, pressing down into her groin either side of Penelope’s head. Palm against each thigh, she pulled herself open as wide as she could, her hands rubbing and pressing as she pushed herself at Penelope. Her whining grew to a constant groan as her hips urgently rose and fell. It had been so long since her body submitted to such glorious sensual abandon, she wanted more, she wanted it all, she craved completion.
As Sophia leaned back against her soft resting place, the serving woman’s hands resumed their task, cupping each of Sophia’s breasts and pulling firmly on each turgid, purple nipple. Down below, Penelope did not falter in her double actions – the gentle in and out strokes of her fingers while her mouth suctioned the engorged clit. She waited to feel the tension in Sophia’s thighs – a sign to increase the speed of her thrusts and move her teeth onto the clit.
A wailing cry rose from Sophia’s open mouth, just as Penelope moved her thumb over Sophia’s tiny rosebud, pressing lightly against the crinkled skin. She was rewarded with a rasping scream followed by low panting grunts.
Penelope pressed further, fingers now curling inside the sopping cavern to find the familiar sponge-like spot which grew under her touch. Sophia’s wail rose in pitch once fake taxi porno more as her thighs gripped Penelope’s head. At the loudest scream, her whole body began to convulse and it was as much as the two women could do to hold her in place atop the birthing stool.
Like a single wolf baying his freedom to the moon, Sophia screamed her release to her Master’s stronghold. The sound echoed off the ancient stones, rising into the rafters until finally dispersing amongst the painted clouds of the stone ceiling.
The spasm eased for a few moments as Penelope’s tongue now licked and soothed the tender features, but it soon returned as shuddering aftershocks, each one accompanied by whimpers until gradually the vicelike grip eased and she subsided into a languid heap of limbs, trembling and jerking as she softly wept.
Penelope moved towards her, easing her forwards to rest her head on her shoulder, her arms around Sophia as she rocked her, until her sobbing eased.
“Hush now, it is always worse after a long absence.”
Sophia’s voice was little more than a whisper, “I cried out – did I cry out?”
“Yes, little dove, we heard you,” Penelope smiled, “You are a woman now.”
Sophia returned her smiles weakly then began to laugh. “A woman among women.”
Penelope’s kiss was soft against her lips, “A lover amongst friends. Thank you for your gift. Next time it will not be so hard for you.”
“Thank you,” Sophia blushed, “and soon – if you will allow me – I will offer you a gift in return.”
Penelope’s brown eyes twinkled at her, “Gifts are always welcome,” she said, wrapping Sophia in a soft silk robe as she and Marta helped her back to the relative comfort of the couch.
High up above the bath chamber, Yunan lay back on his own couch and allowed Sarak to finish his massage. The journey to the small village hidden in the mountain folds had gone well, allowing him to return much earlier than expected, but his muscles were weary after many hours in the saddle. He had almost forgotten the small viewing window down into the women’s quarters, until he heard the growing sounds of Sophia’s arousal.
The sight which met his eyes was so arresting, he could not move, almost forgetting to breath as he watched his daughter languorously make love to the woman who bore his child.
Hardly aware of Sarak’s strong hands kneading and pulling, his eyes drank in the sweeping movements of the women’s fingers upon each other. As Sophia’s arousal grew, so did his own. Although his daughter was actively moving to bring her to climax, through her Yunan could feel his own hands and mouth worshipping at the altar of fecundity.
Yunan could almost taste Sophia’s juices and feel her pulses throb under his own tongue. He wanted the young woman so much his manhood strained and wept before him. He did not know why he had been so captivated by her when she came to his stronghold with the troupe of dancers. There was something about her which spoke to his soul.
Now, since her rescue and safe return to his stronghold and despite their earlier conversation, something held him back from claiming her as his own. He told himself it was the child, but he knew deep in his heart he was afraid of her ultimate rejection. She was so young, so fragile, so beautiful — even more so now he could feast his eyes on her naked glory without the swathes of silk she always wore in his presence.
His glistening shaft ached. Without thinking, he closed his hand around the bulbous head and stroked. Slowly, sensuously, he followed the thrusts of Penelope’s hand and when Sophia screamed, he watched rope after rope of his seed splatter against the limewashed wall as he grunted helplessly in release.
Gasping, he lay down while Sarak cleaned him with a soft cloth, then began once more to ease his Master into a peaceful sleep.