Archive-name: Fantasy/aimee-i.txt
Archive-author: Elf Sternberg
Archive-title: Aimee - i - Chapter 7


AIMEE'                                                          Chapter VII
~~~~~                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~

     In the depths of a cold and still winter night, Bethsany stood by the 
window and committed an act rare and precious to her: she prayed.  It was 
Tuesday, and in keeping with their agreement Aimee' was supposed to come 
and study with one of her girls.  It had been three weeks since the last 
tale; on the two occassions since, Aimee's appearance had shown clear signs 
of abuse and struggle, and of the two occassions, she had looked worse the 
second time.

     Bethsany wondered if Teltirray was getting what he wanted out of 
Aimee', and if so, would it be enough.  She knew now of Teltirray and his 
hunger.  She understood him so clearly it terrified her.  She knew, ever 
since she had killed the Centaur who had enslaved her, what it felt to take 
the pain of an enemy, and eventually, to take the life.  She knew that an 
innocent could bring even stronger sensation.  She knew how to feed on 
that.  And she knew she could draw pleasure from it.

     It no longer made her wonder.  She knew what kind of person could draw 
that kind of pleasure, for she was that kind of person.  But she was also 
stronger than that.  She knew what it meant to be human and not  an animal.  
But few animals killed for pleasure.  Man was one of those few.  More than 
the pleasure of power, she understood the pleasures of love.  She 
understood the joy of sharing.  And she knew that life was for living and 
not taking.

     And so she prayed, quietly, to a name she had not invoked in many 
years.  Kasho, the goddess who gives women strength, had been her guiding 
name for many years when she had lived in Darachmod, and now she called on 
the name again.

     A knock came at the door.  She had been staring at the sky for some  
time, and now directed her attention at the ground.  Footsteps in the snow 
marked the passage of a lone walker, footsteps that were slowly being 
obliterated by the fall of white flakes.  She rose from where she knelt and 
walked to the door.  "Yes?" she asked the girl who stood there  when she 
opened.

     "Aimee' has arrived.  I have sent her to see Rissim."

     "Was it that bad, Brandy?"

     The girl nodded slowly.  Tears stood in her eyes.  Bethsany drew her 
breath and sighed.  Perhaps there would be no chance to tell Aimee' the 
final tale.  Perhaps it would be better if she crammed both stories into 
one day.  She debated.

     What she wanted, more than anything else, was to save Aimee's life.  
To preserve her from the horrors and pains that Teltirray inflicted upon 
her in his demands for more.  She knew that he must have been making 
demands of both her personal strength and the magickal strengths that 
Darryn was helping to build within her.  Although no mage can give another 
magical strength, when it exists in one, another can help give it meaning, 
focus, exercise, strength.  Like the muscles of the body and the mind, the 
strength of magic must be exercised.  Like the strength of love, and even 
that of compassion, doing leads to the strength to do more.  Bethsany had 
chosen her path, as Darryn had his.  She hoped Aimee' would have a worthy 
path to choose.

     "Take me," she finally said.  Brandy turned and walked down the 
stairs.  Down one flight, and then another, into the basement where Rissim, 
the chirugeon Beth kept in her employ, was applying alcohol to a wound over 
Aimee's left breast.  It looked like a burn.  Although she bore it 
stoically, the pain in the young girl's eyes was both apparent and 
undeniable.  There could be no surcease.

     "Forgive me, Miss Bethsany, I... The chirurgeon will not allow me to 
kneel."

     "Don't you dare, Aimee'," Bethsany said, reaching down to touch 
Aimee's face.  "You need not bow to me.  You know that better than I do.  
Do not bow to me."

     "Yes, Miss."

     "Aimee', he will kill you."

     "Probably, Miss.  This may even be our last talk."

     "I feared as much."  Bethsany closed her eyes.  "I had, at first, the 
wish to tell you two tales in as many visits, one of my day amongst the 
Braban, and of the day I lost Myr.  I shall, instead, tell both together, 
although they were separated by many years.  I want you to hear both of 
them, Aimee'."  In her sickened heart, Bethsany cursed Teltirray.  He at 
least had the "common decency" to allow his girls to hide themselves and 
then kill themselves when he reached this stage.  Aimee', though, continued 
to play out the role of student with her teachers.  Teltirray was as much 
as telling Darryn and Bethsany what he did to Aimee', and he did not care 
if they knew.

     Aimee stared, not saying a word.  "Do you want to hear them?"

     "Yes, Miss."

     Bethsany glanced back at the Chirurgeon and at Brandy.  Both had heard 
this tale once or twice before; another sit-through would hurt neither.


     It was in the early summer of the first year I lived in Darachmod that 
the Braban came to visit.  Six of them appeared at, or perhaps I should say 
over, the gates of the city, smiling and waving.  One has trouble imagining 
the Braban, but if the Darachmod have a living model, the Braban are it.  
Each woman of the Braban stood over twelve feet tall; each towered over any 
woman in Darachmod.  One does not fear women  like that, for one cannot; I 
merely stood in awe of their immensity.  Having known the love of both Myr 
and Cyl, together and separately, I felt free to admit that I immediately 
knew lust for the women of the Braban.

     They were led into the city amongst singing and waving and cheering.  
These were clearly friends, beloveds.  I had heard many stories about the 
Braban, of how they assisted their smaller sisters in many a battle, often 
appearing at the last minute.  Nobody knew if they were goddesses or 
mortals or giants; all we knew was that they were our allies and, 
sometimes, our final help.

     That night, Darachmod became engulfed in a celebration honoring the 
arrival of the women of Brabant.  A fire was cast in the center of the city 
on that hot summer night, pigs were slaughtered and spitted over cooking 
fires, and the wine flowed freely.

     I had a great surprise that night, although thinking back on it, I 
suppose it shouldn't have come so greatly.  As a well-known warrior amongst 
the Darachmod, Cyl clearly could hold the attention of even a jaded Braban.  
But I was still speechless when she stepped up behind me.  "I know that 
look in your eyes," she spoke to me slowly.  "I know lust when I see it in 
you."  She laughed gently then.  "I see it every day when you look at Myr."

     I swallowed.  "Cyl, do you feel upset that I feel that way for Myr, 
but not so strongly for you?"

     Cyl shook her head.  "No, Beth, for I do not question the natural 
order of things.  The moons, the seasons, and the snows come at their own 
times and sometimes not at all.  The moons are always on time, the seasons 
usually, the snows usually not.  Love... love is never on time.  You love 
me in a different way.  You warm me, Beth, and you make me cry."

     "Cry?" I asked, turning around.  "I... I do not want to make you cry!"

     "It is a good cry, Beth.  Do not be ashamed because I have tears of 
joy for you.  I cannot explain.  It comes from within.  Myr is another 
different thing.  She is your age, lithe of limb and strong of bone and 
lovelier than the summerest flowers to watch.  Do not be ashamed of your 
love and your lust for her.  It is nothing to be ashamed of.  Please.  Now, 
would you like me to introduce you to my friend?"

     "You have a friend amongst the giants?"  I asked.

     "Viselle!" Cyl called out, attracting the attention of a blonde 
Braban, one of the largest, sitting by the fire with a large mug of beer 
and a larger grin.  "Viselle, I would like you to meet Bethsany.  Bethsany, 
Viselle.  Both of you are amongst my most counted friends."

     Although she was sitting on the ground and I standing, her head and 
mine were at the same height.  "It gladdens my heart to know the friend of 
a true warrior like Cyl.  How did you come to know her?  Cyl, she was  not 
born here I take it?"

     Cyl shook her head.  "We rescued her from a band of brigand Centaurs, 
the leader of which was using her as a toy for his gross lusts.  After we 
attacked them, we found her standing over his dead body.  A few of our 
arrows had slowed him down, but his final death had come from the blood he 
lost after she cut off his privates in revenge."

     "Truly?" the Braban asked me, stunned.

     I nodded, ashamed.  I felt both pleasure and fear at the memory.  
Sometimes, the nightmares came back.

     "Well," Viselle said, "That is truly the kind of friend Cyl should 
know well, and take care of.  You are so young.  Myr's age?"

     "Yes, Miss."

     Viselle roared with laughter.  The sound echoed throughout the city 
streets and passed over me like a spell of stunning.  I'm afraid I pulled 
away slightly in fear.  Her monstrous hand reached out to touch my 
shoulder, and I shied away further.  "I will not hurt you, Beth.  I want to 
know you as Cyl and Myr know you."  I eased; her voice and manner were no 
longer threatening; with one simple sentence all my terror drained from me.  
Her hand gripped my shoulder gently, and I sensed the great strength held 
within it, many times that in my own hand.  It covered me from my collar 
down to elbow.  Try that, Aimee'.  Place your hand on your shoulder and see 
how much it covers.  Imagine that kind of touch over your entire body.  I 
think few people try this experiment and would be surprised if they knew 
just how big their hands truly are.  Perhaps artists, especially those who 
can get the hands right, know.  

     "Vis!  Vis!  Vis!" she said.  "Call me Vis!  I am nobody's 'Miss,' 
Beth.  I am a bloodied warrior and a true lover of women and nobody calls 
me anything but my name!"  She laughed again.  "I cannot imagine being a 
'Miss' anything."  She paused, thinking soberly, then said "Come, sit.  
Tell me your tales."

     I sat by her side and did as she asked, telling her my tales.  I had 
very few by that time, although I think I had more than Myr.  She had heard 
all of Myr's before, except for the ones about loving me.  Myr managed to 
make me blush strongly with her talk, embarassing me with her frank talks 
about my beauty and my enthusiasms.  I had a little revenge by replying 
back in kind, although it later in the conversation just how  much I had 
revealed about myself in the doing.

     I drank beer, too, and I'm afraid I became a little drunk.  
Eventually, as the night grew cool I found myself lying against Vis' body, 
my head on her thigh, when I felt her hand caress the top of my head.  That 
may not sound like much, but it was ecstacy to me.  "You are very 
beautiful, Beth'Sany."

     "Th... thank you, Vis."

     "Don't thank me, Beth'Sany.  If you have a deity, thank Her, for she 
gave you that beauty."  Her hand stroked my arm slowly.  I felt her massive 
body shift slightly, then felt her breath against the side of my face.  "It 
is hard for someone sized as I to be subtle, but truly, I would like you 
and Myr to join me for the night."

     I didn't quite know what to say.  I was frightened; would I even be 
noticed touching a body of her size?  Would even two of us matter to her?  
She weighed many stone more than we did.

     And yet, my curiosity and lust won out.  I wanted to know; I had to  
know.  Apparently Myr did as well because the first thing she said after 
Vis spoke was, "Do you really mean that?"

     "I do," Vis said.  "Your mistress, Cyl, and I had a few occassions 
between us many years ago.  Do you remember, Cyl?"

     "Well I do, Vis.  Take them, if they'll go."

     "I am going!" Myr replied.

     "Then I am too!" I insisted.

     Vis smiled and nodded.  As she stood up, I had a strong awareness of 
several things.  That she had drunk as much as Cyl, Myr, and I put 
together, that standing next to her she was even larger than I had imagined 
seeing her sitting on the ground, and that should she fall over anyone in 
the path of her dropping body.  So we were careful to stay with her and yet 
to also stay quite far out of her way.

     She led us to her tent.  The city had not rooms large enough for her 
or her friends anywhere, so they had set up tents in the center.  Not that 
tents were required; the weather was both at its warmest and certainly was 
also surprisingly dry.  Cyl had told me that it frequently rained at this 
time of year.

     Inside, all was as one would expect, with the one obvious difference: 
Everything was scaled to her size.  She sat down hard on her  sleeping cot.  
"Come here," she said, gesturing to us.  I was easily in range of her grasp 
and she was still steady enough to catch me almost without effort.  I 
giggled and as she gathered me up I grabbed ahold of her tunic and held on.  
"Vis?" I asked.

     "Yes, Beth?"

     "May I tell you you are beautiful?"

     "It's a lovely lie, Beth."

     Myr demurred.  "But it is not a lie, Vis!  You are beautiful."

     Vis smiled and held out her other hand.  Myr took it; it was like 
seeing a massive glove cover Myr's hand and part of her arm.  The delicacy 
of Vis' touch surprised me, as her hand stroked my back and dragged purrs 
from my lips.  

     It's hard to forget that night, so special and different.  I instantly 
fell into a wishful trance of wanting to help Vis, wanting to make her feel 
a pleasure that we all get so very rarely from the world around us.  As the 
three of us stripped off our clothing, Vis tossed her shirt carelessly 
away, and it landed on me instead.  I realized just how large she was; the 
cloth of her tunic was a tent to me; I could sleep under it and feel 
protected from colder winds.

     Naked, we descended upon one another, we three.  My mouth found her 
chin first, as she pulled me up towards her.

     I cannot get across to you how large she was.  My feet rested 
literally in the tangle of her pubic hair even as I strained to reach up 
and kiss her cheek.  She was simply a giant.  Her fingers were as thick as 
sausages.

     Myr and I crawled down between her thighs and, with plenty of room, 
licked at the enormous expanse of her sex, pulling her lips into our mouth.  
Her clitoris was the size of my thumb, large even for a woman of her size, 
and it took both of us to suck on it with, in turns.  I filled her by 
placing my arm within her, halfway to my elbow before I reached the end of 
her vagina and touched her cervix.

     That, oh!  Aimee, it was like touching magic.  It was a doorway into 
that chamber that made her a woman.  Everything else about her was made to 
support that one purpose, and there was none other.  I'm sure others 
disagree with me and talk about the warrior spirit or the communal strength 
or whatever, but to bear children, that is the pleasure of a woman only.  
Men have warriors and men have communities, but they do not carry child.

     I feel... I feel so inadequate describing this night to you, Aimee', I 
want to tell you the joys of touching her, of feeling the wet slickness of 
her insides surrounding my arm, my wrist, my hand, of feeling the pulse of 
her blood against the skin.  

     And when she returned the pleasure, her massive tongue against my 
cunt, Aimee, how can I describe it?  There is no feeling like that in all 
the world, her broad pad, a little less accurate, a little more impressive.  
The slick wetness that invaded not just my cunt but covered my thights.  
And as she licked me, Myr covered my face with her own sex, doubling my 
pleasure until I was utterly lost to it.  I came in spasm and moans that 
only Myr's muff prevented from being heard 'round the city whole!

     And once my pleasure was sated and we sat down to sleep, I reflected 
that no pleasure like that would ever stream through my body ever again.  
And in a way, I was correct, for even though I saw Vis every year for the 
next five years, and though I was to love with her in  many a warm summer 
visit, nothing ever reached the joy and wonder of that first time.

     But the same, Aimee', was true of my loving of Myr.  Yet my pleasures 
with her grew greater, not less, at the turn of the seasons.  With her, I 
grew to treasure constancy and comfort, not adventure and change.  And she 
gave it in equal measure.  We were lovers and friends, stability in the 
changing sea of women.  And I did love her so.

     What changed?  Ah, that is the question.  For Myr asked for her 
freedom from Cyl because of my friendship.  And Cyl granted it without 
reservation.  I thought myself the happiest woman that ever lived.

     What changed, dearest Aimee', was a discovery that started with Vis 
and ended with a tragedy.  The tragedy was not something unusual or 
dramatic, except perhaps to my story.  Myr died.  In the most simple of 
ways, too.  We were picking apples in the city orchard, doing our duty to 
ourselves and our city, when she fell from a branch and broke her leg.  The 
leg never healed; indeed, it grew worse.  Something within her grew out, 
burst in pain.  Finally, she slipped into that merciful sleep where the 
embattled go to escape the pain, and she never returned.  She died within a 
month.


     Bethsany wiped a tear from her eyes as the girl named Brandy wrapped 
her arms around her.  "I am sorry, Momma," the young girl said, kissing 
Bethsany's face.

     Bethsany reached back and hugged her.  "I will be find, Brandy," she 
said softly.  "It is an ancient tragedy.  I know, that makes it no less 
tragic, but the wounds of it have healed and now I face a world with less 
fear.  But perhaps with less love."

     "Bethsany?" Aimee's face was stained with slight tears, like the old 
matron's.  "How did you come to leave Darachmod?  That was the second half 
of your tale."

     "Aye," Bethsany replied.  "So it was.  And we have not much time to 
tell it.  But I shall endeavor to do my best."


     In the spring of the following year, as in every year, the women of  
Darachmod prepared to travel down to the city of Melefar to trade the 
products of the past winter's efforts.  Darachmod was poor in metals but 
rich in growing things, and frequently the lower cities coveted the fruits 
of our fields.  We used this to our advantage, dressing our travellers in 
great baubles of steel and copper, outfitting our warriors with the 
brightest of armors.  Lost in all that and as badly in grip of their 
testicles as ever, the metalsmiths of Melefar were easy prey for the deals 
of our best merchants.  

     I asked to go with them.  It was a trade I wished to learn and, truth 
be known, I could no longer stand to live in the house that Myr had built.  
Perhaps not the outside shell, but every trace of the indoors looked of her 
and smelt of her.  Her herbs I still found in the pantry; one whiff of her 
favorite cilantro and melancholy swept me.  I needed to get away from my 
memories, and alcohol did not answer my needs.

     Dyn readily agreed, as did Cyl.  Both knew that I might not return, 
that the men of Melefar would easily treasure a beauty of Darachmod for 
themselves, and although I no longer presented myself easy prey to their 
crude wishes I knew I could easily summon the desire of any of their lesser 
minds.

     We headed out on a rainy morning in early spring.  Although the 
weather was wet, it was also lovingly warm.  I had come to view all the 
blessings of nature as gifts, and this was truly one of them.  Better, 
perhaps, was that by afternoon the rain cleared, the road never so badly 
mudded as to foul the asses.  The company was twelve strong, eight warriors 
lightly armored astride the beautiful chargers, and my three merchanting 
companions, who were named Tann, Fahr, and Fela.  Tann was by far the 
loveliest of the three, a raven-haired women with eyes the palest blue the 
clearest sea had ever seen.  Soft and round, she quickly chose me as her 
bedmate and I joyfully agreed.  Although the beautiful strength of Myr and 
Cyl and Vis and Dyn had their attractions, I recognized that I was destined 
to be a big woman, as I am now, and I found such a body as Tann's beautiful 
to behold.

     At first, I was concerned that I had become attracted to a woman who 
had no interest in lovemaking, but I found a few days later that I was 
wrong.  She was simply slower than most.  I found that reassuring.  She 
wanted my pleasures, but only if we were both sure of our willingness to 
share.

     On the fourth night we camped in the forest at the foot of the 
mountains, six days from Melefar, when she finally turned to me.  "Beth, do 
you think me beautiful?"

     "Tann?" I whispered, surprised.  "How can you ask?  You are the most 
beautiful woman in this entire dozen!"

     "Don't let Fahr here you say that," Tann whispered back in the dark, 
"She's not known for her lack of jealousy."  I nodded, smiling, as she 
closed the distance between us and her lips found mine, kissing earnestly.  
I knew by then how not to keep my hands off a woman and reached out to 
stroke her belly through the rough texture of the lace she wore underneath 
her heavier dayclothes.

     We tumbled to the bedding as her breasts tumbled out of her outfit.  
Hers were very large and lovely, with a touch of droop that accentuated her 
completely.  I could bury myself in them and inhale forever.

     On the other hand, although I was destined to be a big woman I was 
forever doomed to have small hills for teats, firm but not very impressive.  
I was to forever envy women who had large breasts, but I was also to find 
great pleasure in them, too.

     She giggled as I played with hers, caressing them back and forth.  
"Now, Beth," she chided playfully, "Let me have my fair share, too."

     She pushed me back onto the bed and undressed both of us, tossing 
aside her clothing.  She smelled of lilacs and light, and her hair had the 
scent of honey as it fell in straight lines down about her face.  She 
kissed me as her fingers sought out my privates and stroked my lips.  We 
kissed with our tongues.  She slowly pushed my legs apart as her fingers 
sought deeper.  I coated them with my wetness.  She gasped at my enthusiam, 
I think, because she told me later her nipples were not all that sensitive, 
and in a city of women large breasts were common.  But I had gone for so 
long without the attention of anyone that the caresses of one woman were 
more than enough to inflame me.

     Her fingers went deeper within me.  I was completely entranced by the 
feeling of her within me; Myr, for some reason, had not liked have fingers 
inside her and avoided putting her fingers into me.  What Tann was doing 
was something of a treat.

     She slid down between my thighs and pressed her sweet mouth to my 
lips, licking the insides of my thighs.  She told me to look at her, and 
I did just in time to watch her pull her fingers from my cunny and place 
them in her mouth, her lips pursed around them to catch every last droplet 
of moisture.  Then she slid them back into me, her warm breath sweeping 
over my mound, and then the touch of her tongue to my mound.  I grew light-
headed with the pleasure she gave me.

     She licked as well as any woman knew how, her mouth absolutely 
talented with its pressures and pleasures.  Her tongue flickered over my 
clit and her fingers stroked the walls of my cunt, finding all the secret 
places here and there within me, making my chest heave with gasps 
and moans.

     She was a merchant, but like me she was also a farmer, and one of the 
many things we carried to market were early summer squash, shaped like a 
man's sex.  Although I don't think any healthy man has had a sex that was 
dark, textured green, nor have I ever seen one that really had the rounded 
corners this one did to make it look round.  She reached into the basket by 
her bed and pulled one out; I watched, a little scared, as she pulled it up 
under her chin between my thighs.  "Easy," she said gently as the cold tip 
of the vegetable touched the insides of my thighs.  It slid along my leg 
until it pressed against the skin between them.  Her fingers pulled me a 
little more open and the tip of the squash slid into me.

     I gasped from the cold.  That was one chilly vegetable.  At first.  
But as Tann licked my sensitive flesh and coaxed two explosions from me, 
she began to slide the squash back and forth.  I was fuller than I had been 
since killing Styur, and suddenly I knew what I wanted.  I wanted the 
attention of man.

     None of these thoughts, however, distracted me from what Tann was 
doing.  At least, not much.  I gasped and twisted under her expert mouth, 
until finally I found myself gently hitting her shoulders to get her to 
stop; I could take no more.

     She told me, "You are beautiful, Beth."  But I didn't hesitate, 
getting up as the squash slid out of me and pushing her to the bedding.  I 
wanted to feast on her.

     One of the reasons I love bigger girls is that they have such soft 
bellies, and a belly is what defines a woman.  Surely, we have teats and 
cunts, but it is in there that I find the definition of woman.  I kissed 
and licked hers, punishing it with peppered kisses, licking at her belly 
button and her breasts, sliding down between her legs and kissing her large 
thighs, looking forward to the taste of her cunny.

     She had no hair down there.  I found that a mystery in the extreme, 
but she later explained that she shaved it off at her home-love's request.  
"It gets in the teeth," she said.  Her cunny was baby smooth and soft, and 
as I kissed the lips I realized that the fat of her body caused even those 
to swell.

     Perhaps I make Tann sound to be the world's largest woman.  Not at all 
true; she was actually smaller than I am now.  But for her, the softness 
was distributed to perfection, in her teats, her softened belly, her legs 
and her cunt.  I licked at her as she parted her legs; her fluids were the 
sweet droplets of a woman who rarely, if ever, ate meat, clear and, I swear 
Aimee', as pure water-blue as her eyes.  She oozed sweetness and I licked 
at every little drop that coursed from her hole down the line of her 
buttocks.

     I pressed my face between her thighs, getting myself thoroughly wet as 
I licked at her sweetness, slopping as a happy pig against her fluids, 
tasting the reddening pinkness of her vagina and suckling, literally, on 
her clitoris.

     Apparently I did a good job, too.  As I seized the squash and pressed 
it inwards, she moaned and twisted and came, her fists striking the floor 
of the tent.  Her legs trembled and threatened to squeeze me between them, 
but she knew better than that; I would have stopped if I lost air, after 
all.  

     When we were done, we cleaned each other up as well as we could 
without leaving to find a stream and bedded down for the night.

     As was the custom, we took over an Inn, two women to a room.  The best 
Inn for our purposes was a place called the Tired Dog, a name fitting with 
the feeling we women had as we fell into the place.  Tired and dogged.

     Although I was well and easily familiar with life in cities when I was 
13, I was now nineteen years old and found my memories and my vision 
disagreeing on a few points.  None of them were any great deals by 
themselves, but added up they made me wonder if perhaps I had been away 
from cities too long.

     The next day we made our deals and sold our wares.  I was surprised at 
how easily we wangled deals out of men who, to other men, looked to be the 
stingiest and most unfair dealers in all the world.  It was more fun then 
was fair, I guess. But at night, as we headed back towards the Tired Dog, I 
realized that I wanted this life again.  I wanted to stay in the city, 
return to city life and enjoy the hustle and bustle of the city.  And, 
worst of all, I found myself staring at men with an eache in my loins that 
would not go away.  I didn't know what to do with it at all, and I was 
afraid to ask Tann about it.

     That night, Tann turned in early.  Although I probably could have 
interested her in play, she didn't seem all that lively that night, as if 
the day's contact with men had drained her of the energy to spend on women.  
I, on the other hand, decided to spend at least some of my evening 
downstairs.  Three of the warriors from Darachmod were also down there, so 
I didn't think I would have any trouble.

     As I made my way back downstairs into the darkened tavern, the sounds 
of uproarious laughter reached my ears.  I wondered what they were doing 
down there that could be so entertaining.

     My eyes looked across the room, where they were all pointed, and I 
could see the target of their laughter... a stage had been erected and a 
puppet show was in progress.  There were two characters on the stage, one a 
man and the other a woman, and through the artistry of such control as 
puppets take the woman was beating the man with a skillet.  The audience 
seemed to think it was uproariously hilarious.

     "No, m'lady!" the man's voice came from behind the curtained puppet 
stage, "I meant the fat on the meat!  The meat!"

     "That's not what you were staring at!"  The audience roared again.  I 
guess I missed the starting part of the joke since I didn't see anything 
funny in the punch line.  Oh, well.  The play ended shortly, to be followed 
by another, again a sort of comedy, this time about a cruel husband who 
loses his manhood in the end.  The women in the audience all loved it, but 
the men were grabbing their crotches to protect themselves by the time the 
play ended.  As I was watching, though, I felt very strange.  Because the 
voice of the young man playing all the males parts was entrancing.  I don't 
know if it was the fact that, for the first time, there were men all around 
me, or what, but I knew that that young man, in particular, was holding my 
fancy without a doubt.  His voice entranced me.

     "We're going to take some air," I heard him say.  "It gets a bit 
stifling under here.  Misha, if you will?"

     A young woman's head poked up from behind the stage, her hands full of 
puppet strings and the wooden slats to hold them.  She smiled as she put 
them aside and brushed her full, black hair back out of the way.  My heart 
felt heavy; and I found myself hoping that she and the man back there with 
her did not have something between them.  I was confused, Aimee, so 
confused.

     It got no better when he finally stuck his hea out from behind the 
curtain as well.  He, too, had a full head of long, black hair.  His eyes 
were large and bright and he had a smile on his sweaty face that would 
charm the viriginity out of even the most innocent of maidens.  I had to 
get to know him.

     And then he stepped out from behind the curtain.  Aimee', you don't 
know what confusion is until the lust and desires I was feeling are blended 
with the fear and loathing that accompanied that motion, for he was a 
centaur.  Not a monstrous large one like Stuyr and his band.  No, this 
young man'taur was only a few inches taller than I was, and yet I wanted 
him.  And I feared him.  Yet he seemed so likeable, so approachable.  But, 
he was an actor.  I did know if his look was as much facade as the voiced 
he took on when he played behind the curtain.

     And yet, I did not want to fear him.  I wanted to approach him.  And 
so I did.  As he grabbed a mug of beer and stepped outside into the cool 
spring night air, I followed him.  He was standig there, just outside the 
door, staring up a the stars.  "Sir?" I asked.

     "Hello," he said, turning to me with a smile.  "Are you enjoying the 
show?  Say, you're not one of those women from Darachmod, are you?"

     I nodded, fearfully.  "Yes, I am."

     "I understand you had a little trouble with the Atrimadt last year.  
They are a brutal people, the Atrimadt."

     "I do not know the word."

     "The barbarian Centaurs from the north who were flushed out in the 
last great war up there.  They took refuge in your mountains, I 
understand."  I knew instantly he was talking about Stuyr's tribe.  "I want 
to assure you that not all Centaurs are like that, just as I'm sure you 
know not all humans are wont to be kind and loving, either.  I'm glad your 
people wiped them out in the end.  They deserved it.  And their bloodline 
has been preserved elsewhere.  We'll keep the breed alive, but hopefully 
not the attitude."  He grinned and sipped his beer.  "What's your name?"

     "Bethsany," I replied, nervously.  

     "Adam," he said, reaching out a hand.  I took it, and he shook gently.  
"Glad to meet you, Bethsany.  I'm always pleased to meet someone who 
actually comes out and thanks me for my work.  It doesn't happen nearly as 
often as I'd like."

     "Adam," a voice came from the door.  "Time to get started again."

     "I haven't even finished one mug!" 

     "That's because you're slow.  Come on!"  The female centaur, Misha he 
had called her, stood there, waiting for him, tapping her front hoof. 

     "In a second," he said.  She tossed her hair in annoyance and walked 
back inside.  "You see what I have to live with?"

     "Are you and she... ?"

     He laughed.  "A long time ago.  Misha and I work together very well, 
but we've no bent to be lovers anymore."  He gave me a curious look.  "Why 
do you ask?"

     "I... I..."

     He smiled.  "It's just a body and a voice, Bethsany.  I do this for a 
living."  With that, he walked back into the Inn.  I watched the whole 
show, enraptured by him.  I don't think there was anything to it other than 
my curiousity, my lust, and an instinct that said he was right.  He would 
be safe.  And I wanted him to be, at least for one night, mine.

     As the show was breaking down, he waved to me.  "Did you really watch 
me all night long?"

     "Uh-huh," I said to him.  "I... "  I looked away.  I couldn't look him 
in the eyes and say what I wanted to say.  "I haven't ever been with a 
gentle man."

     "Do you suspsecty me of being gentle?"  I nodded, looking up into his 
eyes.  He laughed.  "You may be right.  But I am a Centaur, Bethsany."

     I looked away again.  "I know.  I could handle that."

     "How do you know?  You're a woman of Darachmod.  Have you ever slept 
with a man, much less a Centaur?"

     I found the courage Darachmod had given me and looked into his face.  
"Adam, I know I could handle you.  I was not origianlly a woman of 
Darachmod.  I was a slave of the... the... whatever you called them."

     His eyes went wide.  "And you're alive?  Oh Gods, that's...  I'm 
sorry.  I didn't know... What are you doing coming to me?"

     "I... I don't know!" I whispered.  "I wish I understood myself, but I 
don't."  I reached out and touched him on the arm.  "All I know is that I 
want you... to... "

     "Take you to bed?"  He sounded surprised.  I wonder why.

     I nodded.  "Please?"

     "What if..."  He glanced across the room, where one of the warriors 
from Darachmod sat, watching us with guarded eyes while we talked.  

     "I will talk to her."  He gave me a strange look, then nodded.  I 
walked over to where she stood.  "Selam?  I am... spending tonight in 
Adam's company."

     She nodded.  "The time was coming."  She smiled, rested her hand on my 
arm.  "Never forget, Beth'Sany, that we all love you much.  One day, you 
will understand."  She rose and left, leaving me alone.  Alone but for 
Adam.

     Like a guilty child, I followed him up the stairs to his room.  
Inside, he turned around (no mean feat for someone built the way he was!) 
and pulled me into his grasp.  I was surprised, but the smell of his skin 
so close to my nostrils inflamed my desire.  I did not understand it, but 
it was somewhat akin to the shame I felt when I had climaxed beneath Styur 
all those times.  Only, for this time, I was allowed to feel pleasure.  To 
enjoy the touch of my centaur lover, whom I had chosen for my bedmate 
tonight.  Whom I wanted.  "Oh, Bethsany, what are you doing in my room?"  
He looked me in the eyes.  "Don't you know I'm going to leave tomorrow?  Is 
that fair?"

     "Yes," I breathed.  "For there is no danger in loving you except what 
you choose to do, Adam.  I just need to be treated right tonight."

     "Very well," he smiled, touching the sides of my face with his hands 
and lifting my gaze to meet his.  He pulled me close, and I waited.  But 
instead of my lips, his mouth first touched my nose, then my cheek.  And 
then he kissed my mouth.  I moaned, Aimee', with a lust I knew was pure and 
honest.  This was what I wanted, truthfully, and I could not give it up.  I 
missed the attentions of men.  Although I loved women, and indeed, once I'd 
saturated myself of men for a while had returned to the loving arms of 
women again for many years afterwards, now, right now I needed the arms of 
a man.  And Adam was it.

     My hands roamed his chest, touching his body through the simple shirt 
he wore.  I looked up at him.  "Take this off," I implored him.  He did, 
dropping to the floor at our feet.  I am not a tall woman, but he was 
barely taller than I was.  I wondered at the size of his cock.  I wanted to 
find out.  And I craved the idea of it being within me.

     I touched his naked chest.  His skin was light-olive and creamy soft; 
my hands glided over it as if they were oiled, even though I knew his skin 
was dry.  I looked down and touched his nipples, caressing them.  He gasped 
and shivered.  "Strong!"

     "Sorry," I said.

     "No, no, I like that.  It's just that it is a strong sensation.  
Please, be more careful when you do that."

     "I shall," I replied.  I grabbed him by the bicep and pulled him 
towards the bed.  We fell into it together, and I laughed gently.  "We're 
being so serious!  This is pleasure!"

     "I don't want to hurt you."

     "If you hurt me, I will tell you.  Just like you told me."  I kissed 
him again, trying to treat him with the same strength I apply towards a 
woman.  He responded eagerly, and finally his hands found the courage to 
caress my breasts.  I gasped and moaned as his hands found the skin and 
caressed the flesh of my breasts.  Any of my girls will tell you I love to 
have my breasts touched, caressed, grabbed and stroked.  And he did.  
"Harder," I moaned, telling him what I wanted, and feeling him give it to 
me.  He pulled at my nipples, and oh, Aimee', when he closed his lips about 
my nipples I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  I wanted him, I wanted 
all of him.  I felt his hands caressing my thighs, his fingers plying 
between them, seeking my insides, and when he found them his fingers made 
liquid, squishing sounds.  I was wet.  My hair was sodden with wants, and I 
admit that.  I wanted him so bad.  

     He pushed me back on the bed and dove between my legs with his head, 
licking and kissing me.  I was pulling up the bedsheets in mad, passionate 
lust, Aimee'.  There was no telling what I would do next, I was so crazed 
at the stroking, kissing, pleasing touching he was doing to me.  I couldn't 
go on forever like that, or could I?  His tongue was probing my secrets, 
and I knew one rumor was dead.  The women of Darachmod beleived that no man 
could or would lick a woman properly.  Oh, but he knew!  He did!

     I climaxed under his tongue, Aimee, and I could not believe it when it 
happened.  I was delerious with pleasure even as I came, struggling 
underneath his strong grip.  He was holding me down, stopping my thrashing 
body from going anywhere.  Yet I knew if I has said "Let me go!" he would 
have.

     Finally, he did stop, and I think it was mostly because he knew I was 
tiring.  I could barely move by the fifth or sixth climax.  Oh, yes, I lost 
count.  I looked up from him, brushing the hair from my eyes, and then dove 
upon him, kissing him and biting his lips before sliding down to his torso.  
And then onto the horse of him, desperate for more of  him.  I found his 
cock hidden between his rear legs.  It was large, but after Styur nothing 
would ever be quite so dangerous.  I kissed and licked at it, and he needed 
no encouragement.  It dropped out and slid forward.  And still, I was a 
madwoman, because I tried to get all of it into my mouth.  I went crazy.  I 
wanted him.

     He tasted heady, like warm flesh should, with the sent of horse and 
man and sweat and even a little piss as I tasted his cock and felt the 
slick skin against my tongue.  I slid down until it was at the back of my 
mouth and I was gagging.  I wanted more of him. 

     I took him out, though, and stroked his cock with my hands while I 
buried my nose in the musky heft of his balls, tasting the furred sac that 
carried them and licking up the sweat that had collected there while he had 
labored under the hot flap that formed part of his curtain.  His fingers 
were still touching my cunt, still urging me onwards.  I was soaking.  He 
was hard and gasping.  "Bethsany," he sighed.

     "Adam," I replied, looking up at him.  I slid off and away from him.  
"Fuck me."

     "Now?"

     "Now," I gasped.  I slid off the edge of the bed and dropped my feet 
to the floor, spreading my legs wide.  I wanted my ass to be high in the 
air, an unmistakable target for him.  He grinned and slid off the bed as 
well.  "Very beautiful.  You are a wildcat, Bethsany."

     "I want to be your mare, not your cat!"

     "In either event, you're definitely a pussy worth taking."  He walked 
forward, taking care not to step on my feet with his forelegs.  I felt his 
body cover mine, felt his hands in my hair.  "Beth... How gentle do you 
want me to be?"

     "Not at all," I moaned.  "I've had enough gentleness."

     "Then if I do this, it's okay?"  He reached down and gathered up my 
hair in his hands, pulling it hard.

     I moaned.  "Yes, yes, that's more than okay!"

     He took that as a cue.  He slid his hard cock up against my cunt and 
began to push, the head slowly finding its way inside me, and the rest of 
it following.  He pulled my hair harder, forcing my head down to the bed by 
the bend of my neck even as his huge cock found its way into my cunt.  I 
felt him enter me as his cock filled my belly.  I swooned, passionately 
wishing for more.  I knew I could take him forever.

     He thrust me down to the bed, pressing me against it.  I was 
sandwiched between the thrusting of his heavy belly and the mattress, and I 
was filled with the passion of his huge and lovely cock.  I came as he 
fucked me, Aimee', over and over.  Madly, screamingly.  I'm afraid I may 
have woken up some of the other guests of the Inn.  His back haunches 
thrust into me over and over, the lips of my cunt spread open for him and I 
felt the heat of his balls more than their impact with every push.  I 
gasped and groaned, twisted and whispered his name.

     "Oh, Beth!" he cried as his climax grew closer, and finally he came 
with a shout, his thrusts fast and hard as he finished his act, pushing me 
down to the bed even harder.  I feared being crushed, and I found that idea 
thrilling.  I climaxed again!  He was so wonderful.

     Afterwards, he stood up and slid off of me.  I didn't move for several 
minutes, but lay there quivering as he sweetly grabbed a soft towel and 
cleaned the centaur fluids that dripped down my legs.  "Beth, are you 
alright?"

     "Uh-huh," I replied  He reached under my shoulders and slowly turned 
me over.  I was completely deranged by then, unable to move from the 
pleasure he had given me.  And then he said, "I'd like you to stay until 
Misha awakens us."

     "Adam, I would love to."  He smiled and pulled back the covers for 
both of  us.  We cuddled together for a while, and then I fell asleep in 
his arms.

     When I awoke the next morning, he had one arm tossed over me and one 
rearleg dangling over the side of the bed.  And I can't tell you how good 
it felt to have a male's arms wrapped around me.  I wanted it to never end.  
But one thing the women of Darachmod taught me, and that was to keep my 
promises.  When Misha woke us, I kissed him gently, thanked him, and 
returned to Tann.  And I let Adam go without a word.

     I spent another year with the Darachmod before...


     A knock sounded at the door of the brothel.  "Bethsany!  You have my 
student in there!  Open up, you've had her for far too long!"

     Aimee' whimpered, and Bethsany recognized the voice too.  Teltirray 
had come to claim his possession.  Brandy and Rissim both turned to look at 
the door, and then both turned to give Bethsany the same look.  Bethsany 
returned the glance, equally angry.  "I can't.  I can't fight him."

     "He'll kill her!" Rissim whispered.

     "He'll kill us all if we don't," Bethsany replied.  She stood up, 
suprisingly fast for her bulk.  "Rissim, tell him we're downstairs.  
Aimee', come with me."

     Aimee' joined Bethsany as they fled down the stairs.  "Rissim is 
right.  He will kill you."

     "No.  You're right.  He's not going to kill us.  Aimee', I may end up 
hating myself for the rest of my life, because I've come to like you very 
much.  But I won't see my household suffer pointless."  She began rummaging 
through a large, wooden chest, coming up with a small necklass of silvery 
links.  "Here, take this.  It was... It was Myr's.  It has no magic.  It 
just has my memories.  Take it."  Aimee' stared.  "It's all I can do!" 
Bethsany whispered.  "Please."

     Aimee took the necklass and put it on, just as the two women heard the 
door upstairs rack open.  "Bethsany!  Where do you have my student?"

     "Down here, Master Teltirray," Bethsany replied, trying to be calm.  
"I was just finishing up.  I'm sorry it took so long."

     "Damn too long."  The tall and imposing Teltirray walked down the 
stairs.  His bald head glinted in the lantern light, but he looked like he 
meant Bethsany no harm... at least not right now.  "I came to collect her.  
I realized it was late, and I was walking by.  I had assumed she would be 
home, but when I called my servant he said she had not arrived."  He 
reached out for Aimee's arm.  "I see you have helped her recover from this 
mornings... exercises."  His smile was so foul Bethsany had to repress an 
urge to reach up and choke the life out of him.  "Good.  Come, Aimee', we 
have some learning to do this night."  He started to haul her out of 
Bethsany's establishment.

     "Master Teltirray?" Bethsany asked.  "When will we be seeing Aimee' 
again?"

     "Next week, as usual."  He paused.  "If she makes it through her 
lessons.  Good night."  Even before she had her cloak about her shoulders, 
he tossed her out into the snow, walked out the door, and slammed it shut 
behind him.

     "What do we do now, Miss Beth?" Brandy asked.

     Bethsany was stunned at the Teltirray's brazenness.  He had as much as 
admitted that he was eventually going to kill Aimee'.  She looked from 
Brandy to Rissim, then back to Brandy.  "We call Mabel and Riza.  And we 
pray."

--
"Aimee', Chapter 7"
Aimee' is copyright (c) 1993 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  This story may be 
freely distributed by electronic media; hardcopies are limited to single 
printings for personal use.