Welcome, dear audience. This is just a lighthearted little story I threw together while taking a break from more substantial projects. It is a fully consensual story with a little bit of a public sex theme. Hopefully you all enjoy.
'And waves shall e'er crash against
the far shores of fair Velgrave.
But ne'er again my heart will sing
for the sea it stole my love.'
A thunderous chorus of applause rose up from every corner of the resplendent, marble-columned ballroom as the soft tones of Vivaene's voice drew silent. So nervous was the young courtier that she felt like jolts of lightning were coursing through her body. There was no mistaking, though, the fact that her audience had loved her song, no matter how out of place it's melancholy weight might have seemed. In every direction she looked the familiar faces of King Carrick's court beamed up at her, as did a fair few unfamiliar ones. Rarely had she seen the palace's vast ballroom so full, but that was only to be expected. Every year, like birds flying south, foreign dignitaries, local recluses, and distant relations of this or that courtier would flock to the King's midwinter ball. Like the ducks Vivaene often fed in the palace gardens swarming their crumbs of stale bread, the assorted nobility of the realm seemed unable to resist the prospect of sharing some small portion of their sovereign's bounty and competing for his attention and favour. This year, as the court also celebrated a prince's coming of age, so many immaculately groomed noblemen and highborn ladies clad in dazzling dresses had answered the call that it seemed one could scarcely take three steps without tripping over a fellow attendee.
Being asked to sing for such a grand occasion, to preform for hundreds of the most prominent lords and ladies in the nation, had been every bit as much a great honour for Vivaene as it had been a cause for sheer terror. Since she was a little girl the young courtier had known she had a lovely voice, everyone always told her so when they heard her sing, but she was no more accustomed to putting on such a display of her talent than she was to flying or going off to war. For weeks she had lived in a state of near-constant dread of everything that could possibly go wrong, spending each and every moment she could steal away from her duties on practice and waking up nearly every night from nightmares of the humiliation and disgrace that would follow should she falter up on stage.
At last, though, the time had come and somehow she hadn't messed up. By some miracle of miracles she had delivered the most flawless performance even a professional minstrel could have hoped for. As she basked in the praise rising up from cheery folk all around it was as if the invisible hand that she had felt pressing down on her shoulders since the day she was first asked to sing was suddenly lifting her up instead. When, from his seat up on the royal dais, Vivaene's liege lifted his ornate goblet her way in salute, she could have sworn she was about to fly. Never in all the years she had spent at court had the monarch's eyes lingered on her for more than a moment at a time. And why should they have? King Carrick was well past the age at which men made sport of chasing the ladies of the court, and she was a maiden of no particular noteworthiness. A minor courtier with more wealth than noble blood, she had been lucky to be granted the honour of serving as a handmaiden to one of his daughters. In the wake of her song, though, he seemed to notice the unassuming girl for the first time, granting her a kind, fatherly smile that made her heart soar. Beside him his queen beamed on as well, radiant in a gem-studded gown of silvery satin. Unlike her husband, Vivaene was known to the matriarch already, having carried messages between her and her daughter on several occasions.
Breathless, from relief as much as the exertion of singing, the flushed maiden gave a deep formal curtsy towards the royal couple before turning and making her way towards the edge of the ballroom's raised stage. By the time she reached a waiting servant and accepted his assistance in stepping down to the main floor, the minstrels who had accompanied her were already striking up a new, more festive tune. In the time it took her to reach the ground a small crowd had already gathered, lords and ladies alike expressing their approval of her performance. Never in all her life had Vivaene felt so popular as she did in that moment. She was well enough liked around the palace, able to count more friends than rivals with no true enemies to speak of, but seldom found herself at the center of attention. As neither the prettiest of maidens nor the best connected she tended to fade into the background, especially on such lively occasions. For one night, though, it seemed she might well be the belle of the ball.
In the process of extricating herself from her swarm of newfound admirers, Vivaene had to turn down requests for a dance from no fewer than three men of not insubstantial station. Being courted wasn't an entirely novel experience for her, a few suitors had sought her hand in the five years since she was first introduced to the court, but never had men competed over her attention. Were she a more ambitious girl, she would certainly have seized the moment and accepted one of the three offers. As things were, though, Vivaene had other plans and so demured, promising a few dances later in the evening which may or may not come to pass but insisting that for the moment she was much too drained for such excitement and required rest and refreshment.
The most persistent of the gentlemen, a handsome widower in his thirties whom Vivaene had crossed paths with on a few previous occasions, invited her to instead join him at his table then. Fortunately, she was spared having to concoct a suitable excuse for turning him down by the timely arrival of Lady Olaeve. A gracefully aging noblewoman clad in a magnificent outfit of white and silver that both perfectly suited her platinum blonde hair and nearly rivaled the queen's own outfit for intricate grandeur, Olaeve was a cousin of Vivaene's late mother and something of a mentor and sponsor to the young handmaiden. At her arrival the determined widower gracefully withdrew in deference to her claim upon her relative's attention, but only after promising to seek out his newfound quarry later in the evening.
Grateful for Olaeve's intervention, whether intentional or not, the younger lady curtsied low enough for the hem of her own emerald gown to momentarily brush across the gleaming tiles of the ballroom floor before rising up to give the taller woman an affectionate hug. The pair talked briefly while the crowd around them dissipated, about the song Vivaene had chosen and her mother's own talent for music, but it wasn't long before the younger lady again made her excuses and took her leave, gracing her mentor with a fond peck on the cheek before she departed.
Eager to escape before yet more admirers could appear, the modest handmaiden made swiftly for the opposite end of the ballroom where her exit awaited. She made but slow progress, however, due to the series of acquaintances who stopped her in order to tender their own congratulations as she passed. Their numbers included Adain, the most recent lordling to have briefly courted her before he instead elected to do the honourable thing and marry one of her friends who had caught child as result of a previous tryst, Count Roathe, an aging warrior and friend of her father's whose intricate, rose patterned tunic was weighed down by countless medals and ribbons honouring his various exploits, and of course Princess Lynnaie, the young lady upon whom Vivaene waited night and day. A handmaiden couldn't ask for a gentler, kinder mistress than the fourteen year old, though, and she loved the girl dearly.
Tall for her age and rather willowy, Lynnaie wore a long, ornate dress of deep cobalt blue trimmed in golden thread that perfectly matched the silky blonde locks Vivaene had brushed for her a thousand times or more. Ignoring their disparate stations for the moment, the young princess rose to her toes and enfolded her favourite servant in a lingering hug. “You were magnificent, Vi. Half these lords and ladies will want to steal you away from me now.”
“I would never abandon you, milady,” the older handmaiden assured her mistress, gently disentangling herself until they stood face to face, if more closely than proper protocol would dictate.
“Ah, but you must,” the teen smiled ruefully, as ever possessing the poise and gravitas of a woman twice her age. “Whether the day comes soon or late, eventually some lord will make an honest wife of you. And a lucky man he will be. I only pray that day comes after I have been wed myself. I would not face such a trial without you at my side.”
Vivaene blushed demurely at the princess's unfiltered thoughts. She may not be as a young as her mistress, but neither was she yet eager to trade the excitement and intrigue of court life for the tedious duties of managing a husband's household, let alone those of rearing his heirs. Lynnaie, though, seemed always to be thinking of the future and often discussed such matters with her cadre of attendants. “In that case, I expect I shall remain in your service some years yet, milady.”
“Let us hope so, dear Vivaene,” the princess answered, her faint smile suddenly growing as she leaned in even closer and lowered her voice. “Now that you've entertained us, are you off to the kitchens for your favourite treat?”
Her young mistress's inquiry set Vivaene's cheeks flushing full scarlet. Before she could open her mouth to answer though, the girl let out a tiny, lilting laugh that drove home just how young she really was. “I thought so. Well, I seem to have forgotten my lucky necklace. If anyone asks after you, I'll tell them you went upstairs to fetch it for me, shall I?”
Straightening up to her full height and slipping into her most imperious posture, Lynnaie spoke a little louder than was strictly necessary. “I believe it remains in my dresser, Vivaene. Do scurry along and fetch it now, will you not?”
“Of course, milady,” the handmaiden replied. As she curtsied, she mouthed a silent 'Thank you' to her mistress, who answered with a subtle wink. The young princess was a natural at court intrigue despite her tender age. Vivaene had no doubt that she would make a magnificent queen some day, subtly directing the tides and flows of some foreign court while her lord husband busied himself with hunting or warring or some such manly pursuit. For the moment, though, it was the present that held sway in her mind.
Armed with her lady's excuse, Vivaene resumed her flight from the grand ballroom, this time letting nothing get in her way. She swiftly swept past elegant ladies clad in satin and velvet of a hundred hues, around stately old marble columns which held up the ballroom's vaulted ceiling, and between the countless minor functionaries and hangers on who lurked at the perimeter of the crowd. Before long she finally slipped out into a side corridor, firmly closing the heavy oak door she had passed through behind her.
As she took in her new environs, Vivaene caught sight of herself in a nearby mirror and let her eyes linger. While she might never blossom into a legendary beauty blessed with the ageless elegance her mistress already possessed in abundance or the womanly allure that drew men's gaze to some of her peers, the courtier thought herself a fair enough maiden. Slight of build and moderate of height, she knew she looked younger than her years, if not so much so as to look like a child. In stubborn defiance of time's relentless march, her hips were yet slender and her budding breasts little more than a handful each. It must have been a hundred times or more Lady Olaeve had assured her that both would yet grow, that her mother had been a late bloomer herself. Another inheritance of her mother's line, and quite the novelty in her current surroundings, was the array of unruly coppery curls which fell just past her shoulderblades. They, like the vast host of freckles which dusted her delicate skin, were a relic of an ancestral homeland whose air she had never breathed. Bright green eyes, the very same shade as the simple gown and intricate corset she had chosen for the evening, completed the look. In the way of jewelry she wore very little, only a pair of tiny golden charms in the shape of songbirds that Lynnaie had gifted to her a few days prior and which hung from each ear on a short, slender chain combined with a choker of black velvet bearing one large emerald which accented her slender neck, pronounced collarbone, and modest cleavage.
After taking a few moments with the mirror to straighten out her dress and hair, Vivaene took off down the hallway with a newfound spring in her step. Still feeling as if she were about to rise up off the ground and begin floating at any moment, the cheery handmaiden wove her way easily through the twisted but familiar passages and cramped but luxurious chambers of King Carrick's palace. Having only rarely departed the complex and its neighbouring gardens over the past five years, there was little about the palace Vivaene hadn't learned. Naturally, the quickest path from any prominent room to the kitchens was absent from that rather short list. It didn't take long, then, before she found herself turning into the appropriate hallway.
“Halt. Who goes... Oh, g'evening, Lady Vivaene,” a familiar voice greeted her. Gregoire, a sergeant in the palace guard, leaned casually against the hard stone wall next to her destination. A rather plump man whose hair was just starting to go gray, Gregoire was among the least intimidating guardsmen who dutifully patrolled the palace around the clock.
“Good eve, sergeant,” the handmaiden answered with a sincere smile. Seeing the kindly old man who had been friendly since she first arrived at court was always pleasant enough on its own, but Vivaene was particularly glad to learn it was he who had been tasked with guarding the kitchens during the feast. In theory, only the palace staff was supposed to be granted access, a precaution against any attempts at poisoning, and there were certainly some members of the guard who would have been more inclined to deny her entry. Gregoire, however, was unlikely to prove much of an obstacle.
“And just what might you be doing back here again, milady?” The guard squinted at her and stroked his stately beard, his light tone making clear he was only playing. “I heard you were supposed to be singing up at the feast.”
“I just finished,” Vivaene answered with an innocent smile. “Now the Princess has asked me to fetch something from her chambers. But she said I could grab something sweet on the way.”
“Ha. I bet she did,” Gregoire chuckled, abandoning his faux scrutiny. Vivaene may have been well liked around the court, but her own popularity was nothing next to that of Lynnaie. The mere mention of a request from her mistress was typically enough to open any door or approve any favour. Less scrupulous handmaidens at times abused that fact, but Vivaene would never disrespect the Princess in such a fashion. “I've no notion how you stay so small, little lady, the amount of time you spent down here.”
“Just lucky, I suppose,” the handmaiden demured, biting her lip. She had long since earned a reputation for having a sweet tooth, but that reputation had ballooned to towering heights in recent months as her trips to the palace's underbelly grew ever more frequent. As long as a few jokes like Gregoire's were the worst she heard of the matter, though, she would remain a happy woman.
“Ha. Mark my words, Viv, your day will come too.” As he spoke, the portly guardsman patted his own gut affectionately. “Be it from babes or sweets, sooner or later you'll wind up as round as I am.”
“Well then, I had best enjoy being young while I can, hadn't I?” the handmaiden retorted, fluttering her eyelashes playfully.
“Aye, you're not wrong on that count. Go on then, you brat, you know the way.” With that, the kindly old sergeant jerked his head towards the door beside him.
“Thank you, Gregoire,” Vivaene curtsied, flashing the guardsman one last coquettish grin before she tugged open the entrance to the kitchens and disappeared inside.
The very moment she did so a hundred savory aromas assaulted the young handmaiden's nostrils all at once. It was the telltale sign of succulent roasting meats, hearty fresh breads, rich sugary sweets, and countless more delicacies besides all churned out en masse for the horde of nobles upstairs. Everywhere she looked servants scurried to and fro carting with them dishes piled high with food. Not for the first time Vivaene was awestruck by their skill. Producing such magnificent fare was impressive on its own, but the skill required simply to navigate the vast and overstuffed kitchens without constantly tripping over one another seemed to her nearly an artform.
When Vivaene stepped into the frenzy, the workers seemed to part around her like she was a boulder fallen in a river. Most payed her no mind, but a few of the veterans greeted her by name and she answered in kind, always with a friendly smile. For the most part lords and ladies of her station looked down on the servants who made possible every aspect of their lives, treating them like pets at the best and often much worse. Vivaene, though, had always found their kind to be at least as pleasant as her peers, if often rather coarse around the edges. During her early days at court, back when she was not yet much more than a little girl suddenly cut off from nearly everyone she had ever known, she had found herself adrift amongst a sea of strangers and more than once sought solace in the eternal attentiveness of the palace's servants. Lady Olaeve and a few others had quickly discouraged the newcomer from her instinct to fraternize with those below her station and in time she had made friends among the other young ladies of the court, but she still remembered fondly some of the older servants who had once helped ease her homesickness.
Navigating the crowded kitchens took some effort, but eventually Vivaene's search bore fruit. In a back corner she found a handsome young man, one more or less her own age, crafting a collection of pies. The servant was tall and broad shouldered, with choppy dark hair and, though she couldn't see it while he remained facing away from her, more than a little scruff growing on his cheeks and chin. Lael was his name, and over the past four months he had been her very first lover as she was his.
Stepping up beside the handsome kitchen hand, Vivaene made as if to look at the pies he was in the midst of preparing. So absorbed was Lael in his work, though, that he didn't seem to notice her arrival. After a few too many moments of being ignored, the handmaiden rolled her eyes and cleared her throat dramatically. “Those look quite delightful, servant. Might there be a pie I could be given?”
At the sound of his lover's voice Lael jumped so sharply he punched a hole clear through the delicate crust he had been working. It didn't take him long to recover, though, smoothing the dough out once more before looking up at Vivaene. “My lady?” He asked, stealing a quick glance over her shoulder to determine how far off the nearest servants were.
“Come now, boy,” she insisted with an exaggerated pout. “I am in desperate need of something to fill me.” The handmaiden's tone was all business, but she gave her lover a flutter of her eyelashes to ensure he couldn't possibly mistake her intentions.
“I, I see,” Lael answered, again scanning their vicinity. Far too many of his fellow servants were around for the couple to speak freely, though. “In that case, I believe there to be something set aside which might interest you. If you would follow me, milady.” Without another word, the handsome servant turned and, after just a moment's hesitation, made for one of the nearest doors. Vivaene followed, struggling to keep up with her lover's pace without causing a collision. Once they reached the door Lael hesitated for several seconds, looking for all the world as if he were searching for something on the nearest counter. The moment he was satisfied no one was watching he burst into a flurry of motion, hauling the door open, jerking his head for Vivaene to pass through, and swiftly shutting it again behind her a moment later.
All of a sudden the handmaiden found herself at the top of a few stone steps leading down into a vast and dimly lit chamber. The air within was heavy and damp, even in winter, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the limited light. Once they had, she realized Lael had directed her into a large wine cellar, one stocked with massive barrels nearly as tall as she was. Some were resting on their sides and lined against this wall or that, others were held in some kind of large wheeled frame that could be rolled from place to place without damaging the barrel inside. Stone tiles lined the floor, cracked in places and uneven in others. Tentatively, Vivaene made her way down the steps and entered the chamber below.
Scarcely a minute had passed before she heard the door to the cellar open once more and turned to see Lael follow her in. The boy was grinning ear to ear and wasted no time in bounding down the steps and making straight for her. The moment they were within reach he wrapped his strong arms around her body and pulled her into a kiss. The young lovers' lips locked for a few moments until at last the servant pulled away to look at his panting partner.
“What are you doing down here, Viv? Won't you be missed at the feast?” He asked, excitement and confusion alike obvious in his voice.
The handmaiden just shook her head and smiled at him. “I won't be expected back for a little while yet. The Princess asked me to fetch something from her chambers. And I just finished singing.”
“I know, I was there,” Lael grinned, his hands having come to rest on the girl's shoulders and hers on his. “Sounds like I should steer clear of ships for awhile.”
“What? You were there?” Vivaene asked, the surprise unmistakable in her voice.
“Uh huh. We're short a few hands tonight so the boss has needed extra help bringing dishes up to the feast,” he explained. “I kept volunteering, hoping I would catch your song. When I saw you going up on stage I spilled one of the trays so I had an excuse to hang around and listen while I cleaned up.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Vivaene's eyes went wide with concern. “That was you who spilled all that? Won't you get in trouble?” she asked.
“Oh, don't fret about me,” Lael reassured the handmaiden, flashing that cocky grin of his that never failed to moisten her thighs. “Old Dex gave me a smack or two when I got back, but we have far too much work that needs doing for him to waste time on anything worse than that. A week's pay says he won't even remember by tomorrow. And even if not, it was entirely worth it.”
“Oh, Lael, I wish you would stop getting yourself in trouble for me,” Vivaene pouted, her eyes brimming over with concern. A lady like her who became involved with a servant inevitably faced a great many obstacles in the course of her relationship, not least of which was the near-impossibility that such a pairing would endure. For Vivaene, though, the worst part was the constant fear of seeing her lover brutally punished as only a servant could be whenever he had to cover for them. It was nearly more than her heart could bear. Yet Lael simply laughed her concerns off, always seeming as if he had not a care in the world.
“You worry too much, my little wren,” the kitchen hand told her, shaking his head gently. “And you never answered my question. What are you doing in the kitchens during a feast?”
“I already told you, Lael, I am in desperate need of filling,” Vivaene reminded him, biting her lip seductively and fluttering her eyelashes. “Preferably some cream filling.”
The handmaiden's request drew a chuckle from Lael. For a supposedly proper lady, she could be very direct indeed when she wanted to. “You are insatiable, milady,” he grinned, dragging his hands along her soft arms as he stepped back. “But I remain your faithful servant, as always. If you will allow me to arrange some privacy for us, I shall endeavor to satisfy your every craving.”
Without another word, Lael guided his lover deep into the far reaches of the wine cellar. Once they were tucked away in a back corner, he adjusted a few of the barrels in rolling frames until he had crafted a little cubby that would take some effort to get in or out of. “There, that should do the trick,” He finally announced once they were safely ensconced within his handiwork. “Now we can hear anyone who comes in with more than enough time for me to head them off.”
“Do servants come down here often?” Vivaene asked nervously, a hint of doubt starting to blossom in her voice. Perhaps it would be better for the couple to find somewhere else, somewhere without dozens of other kitchen workers just a room away. Could she tell the head chef she needed a servant's help for a few minutes? To move something perhaps? But then, Lael had said the kitchens were already short on staff. And how was she to ensure it was her lover who was dispatched to her aid without arousing suspicion?
“Don't worry yourself, love, no one is coming,” the kitchen hand assured her, lifting one hand to cup her ear. “We just carted a fresh barrel upstairs a quarter hour ago. If they need another tonight, it won't be for a long while yet.”
Vivaene nodded at that news, willing her concerns to ebb away. The illicit nature of her relationship with Lael was thrilling, that much was undeniable, but she had to admit it also brought more than its fair share of stress. Still, they had yet to be caught together, and there was no reason to believe their current tryst would be any different. “Well, I certainly must return to the feast before that long...”
“And I to the pies,” Lael grinned widely. “It wouldn't do for my betters to be left with a mere seven desserts on such a festive occasion.”
“Oh, stop it, Lael,” the handmaiden pouted. Her lover often made light of the vast chasm between their respective stations, peppering her with lighthearted barbs about her highborn peers. She, on the other hand, wanted only to forget such things during their rare moments together.
“As you command, milady.” Vivaene couldn't help but smile at the theatrical bow which accompanied her lover's declaration. “And just what, if I might ask, would you have of me in those few moments we can spare this fine evening?”
“You know exactly what it is that I desire, servant,” she answered, putting just enough sting on the last word to discourage Lael from any further teasing in the same vein. Without waiting for her lover's reply the handmaiden leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his lips, turned and braced herself against the nearest barrel, then peered back over her shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes once more. It took no more than a few seconds for Vivaene to get into position, time her lover spent simply enjoying the view of her arched back and proffered rear.
Lady and kitchen hand alike knew they would have not nearly enough time to manage the extensive process of removing and replacing even the handmaiden's corset, let alone the rest of her outfit, so when the grinning Lael eventually approached he did nothing more than grab at the tail end of her dress and begin to lift it upwards. Several tugs were required before the servant had raised Vivaene's lengthy gown high enough for her nubile rump to come into view. As it did, she knew her lover would be savouring the sight of her slender legs encased in a pair of thick black stockings followed by that of the pale, creamy flesh of her thighs which lay exposed between stocking and garter belt. Lael apparently felt no need to waste time undoing the straps which connected those two undergarments, instead merely tugging to one side the woolen knickers which lay beneath that belt.
As she felt the kiss of damp air against her privates the young courtier's breath caught ever so slightly, but within moments she was distracted by far more significant developments. With her watching over one shoulder, Lael reached down to undo his own trousers, the simple cord which held them in place coming undone with infinitely less effort than the trappings of her own outfit required. All too easily, they fell away to reveal his manhood beneath. Her lover's was the only cock Vivaene had ever witnessed in the flesh, unless one counted those of a few babes in their cradles or at their nursemaid's breast, of course, but from a few whispered conversations she had held with trusted friends the handmaiden believed him to be on the smaller side of the scale. Not that his lack of size was something she was wont to complain about, quite the contrary. It was hardly a secret that men felt better about themselves the larger their members were and had a tendency to mock one another for any perceived shortcomings in that department, but given the nature of her and Lael's trysts Vivaene was rather relieved that her lover was no more richly endowed than he was.
The kitchen hand was already hard by the time his trousers hit the floor, and his lover watched eagerly as he quietly spat into his hand and smeared the resulting moisture along his shaft, paying special attention to its head. A few moments later he was lined up with her butt, still holding her gown up with his other hand. As was the custom for any young lady of meaningful birth who took a lover before being wed, Vivaene had only ever taken Lael's rod up her ass. There had been a few occasions on which she had, in the heat of the moment, foolishly offered the handsome boy her innocence as well, but saint that he was he had always refused her offers. Where a less caring partner would almost certainly have seized upon her naivety, roguish but responsible Lael had always kept her own best interests in mind. While a new wife had a good chance of explaining away the absence of her maidenhead come her wedding night, it was, after all, hardly unheard of for that barrier to be breached in some accident or childhood pursuit, the risk of catching child from a lover she could never marry was another matter entirely.
Had she been born a man, Vivaene would naturally have been free to do whatever she wanted with any lowborn maiden who caught her eye. A nobleman could sample as many peasant girls as he wished without causing a fuss. Even were he to sire a child within one the risk of a scandal was slight. No, he was free to either abandon the mother to her fate or lay claim to the resulting bastard as the whim took him. Vivaene, though, was no man. Instead she was a lady, and as such the act of laying with a man to whom she was not at the least betrothed, and especially one of a lower station than her own, was one that carried tremendous risk. Should she be caught her honour would be stained forever, her prospects for marriage decimated. Should a child result from such a relationship... the consequences for all three parties involved did not bear thinking on. Many a maiden had shed many a tear over the cruelty of such a disparity, but a maiden's tears too often meant precious little against the ways of a harsh world. Like so many before her, then, and yet more still to come as like as not, Vivaene had been forced to resort to secrecy and sodomy, those wicked twins who were the sole recourse of young maids in love. Fortunately, while hesitant at first the handmaiden had grown quite fond of being taken in such a manner.
On the rare occasions where the young couple had managed to sneak away together for more than a few minutes at a time, Lael had also proven himself adept at pleasuring his lover by way of his fingers or tongue, but that was as far as their explorations were fated to go. And while those forms of attention were blissful indeed, her pleasure had proven far too slow in building for them to be employed on occasions like that Vivaene and her lover were currently engaged in. As such, the young courtier had learned to take what enjoyment she could from satisfying her lover and content herself with the knowledge that he would make up the difference and more when next the opportunity arose. Thus, the sensation of her lover's spit-slick manhood sliding steadily up her ass was an all too familiar one.
There was no mistaking the excitement in her handsome servant's grunting as he gained a foothold in her passage, but Vivaene had already let her head turn forward once more by the time he was inside her. She shuddered and closed her eyes as his fingers found their way to her secret button a few moments later, their efforts making her body clench like a vice around his shaft. Even when she stood little chance of reaching her peak in the time they had, Lael always took care to ensure his lover got as much out of their encounters as possible, and she loved him for that. Too many of her fellow ladies around the court had complained of husbands or lovers who simply bent them over and callously plundered their holes for her to ever take such an attentive partner for granted.
The young couple's latest tryst played out over just a few minutes, Lael grunting and groaning while he put every ounce of strength he had into pounding the most desirable girl he would ever lay with while Vivaene trembled and writhed on his dexterous fingers and relentless manhood. Soon enough, the kitchen hand announced he was on the verge of climax and, displaying the practiced fluidity of an increasingly experienced woman, Vivaene pulled herself up and off her lover's cock, spun in place, and fell on her knees before him.
The first few times she and Lael had shared their bodies, Vivaene had been more than a little hesitant about tasting her partner's cock after it had been inside her butt. It wasn't that she was against using her mouth to pleasure him in general, that was actually rather pleasant, but doing so while he was befouled simply felt too dirty. After a few awkward experiences dealing with the cum he deposited in her ass and a few whispered reassurances from more experienced girls that it wouldn't be so bad, though, she had eventually decided that the convenience of swallowing Lael's seed was worth overcoming her squeamishness. The taste had really gotten to her the first few times she tried, but as she knelt before her lover in the back of a wine cellar and took him into her mouth she no longer gave the slightest indication that what she was doing was at all unpleasant.
From the first moment she dropped to her knees and wrapped her soft lips around his manhood the young handmaiden locked her bright green eyes directly on Lael's own, a trick she had devised early on which never failed to please him. By that point the boy's cock was already throbbing, barely giving her a chance to start sucking before he erupted, let alone to put her tongue to work on the underside of his shaft. Her gaze was still locked on her lover's dark brown eyes when they suddenly clamped shut and he let out a mighty groan. No sooner had he done so than the first jet of his seed was splashing against the roof of Vivaene's mouth. A second shot came in short order, then a third, a fourth, and she had to fight against the instinct to swallow down some of Lael's seed in order to make room for more.
By the time the kitchen hand's manhood finally stilled, his dutiful lover's cheeks were inflated like those of some tiny forest critter hauling nuts back to its winter stores. Once his eyes eventually opened, Vivaene slowly pulled her mouth up and off his shaft, careful to maintain eye contact all the while. With a quiet pop Lael's crown finally slid past her lips leaving her free to tilt her head back, open her mouth, and show off the hefty load of seed pooled within. While the boy watched she closed her mouth and gave a single, exaggerated swallow, then opened her lips once more to show off the freshly emptied cavern beyond. That particular trick had been suggested to her by the friend who wound up marrying Adain and it had proven wildly successful, thrilling her lover each and every time she preformed it.
“Oh, Vi, you are absolutely perfect,” Lael declared, reaching one hand down to ruffle the handmaiden's hair a little before helping her to her feet.
“Aren't I just?” she answered, flashing him a coquettish smile as she promptly began to straighten out her ruffled gown. “Good thing you are such a treat yourself.”
Lael just chuckled in response, letting his eyes wander over the pretty girl standing before him as she fussed with her coppery curls, trying to force them back into their proper place. Eventually he sighed, prompting her to glance up. “If only we could stay here forever... but if I don't have those pies ready before much longer someone will come looking for me.”
“Yes, and I really should get back to the feast as well,” Vivaene agreed, deciding it best she neglect to mention the handful of lords who might already be seeking her out for the dances she had promised them. More or less satisfied with her efforts to readjust her appearance, she looked up at Lael and struck a dainty pose, spine straight and half turned with her hands clutched together behind her back. “How do I look?”
“Like a dream,” the lowly kitchen hand replied, planting a single kiss on the back of his lover's hand like the truest of gentlemen when she held it out to him a moment later. “Shall we go?”
“If we must,” Vivaene sighed, already feeling herself slip into that same bittersweet melancholy which so often overtook her in the wake of her encounters with Lael. Patiently she waited while he shifted the barrels around them to open up a path, then followed quietly when he made for the cellar's exit. The kitchen hand was first to leave, his lover waiting for nearly a minute behind the door until he gave a quiet knock to signal it was safe for her to follow. By the time she had slipped through into the kitchens and gently sealed the passage behind her, though, Lael was already halfway back to his post leaving her standing alone.
As she made her way towards the exit, the handmaiden stopped momentarily to grab herself a pastry that had been delicately iced with the intricate shape of a snowflake. It wouldn't do for her to emerge from the kitchens without some sweet treat to show for her visit, after all, and she was feeling a mite peckish. Greeting Gregoire once more as she passed him in the hall, Vivaene turned her path towards her lady's bedchambers. She had a necklace to collect now, even if in her mind she was already plotting when next she might be able to steal a few more moments' escape with her beloved Lael.
The End
A heartfelt thank you to you all for reading. If you enjoyed the story and are interested in reading more before they release to the public, getting access to some exclusive side stories, influenceing what I write in the future, and/or supporting my work I invite you to check out my patreon.