I reached down for the rod and touched, lightly, before wrapping my fingers, just so, around its gloriously shiny girth. I settled my grip, and pulled, ever so slightly, just a test, and felt a wonderful sense of pliability and responsiveness I truly had not expected. This was a marvelous thing, warm and almost eager for my every touch, vibrating with each tug as I tightened the proper bonds on it. I gripped the shaft, and inserted it, ever so softly, into the sweet spot, and then I pulled, oh, how I pulled! The rod drew taut, the tension rose, and at the end of a long slow breath out, the perfect explosive release!
Bullseye at 40 yards.
Submitted by kuandari.
Against my silk dress he thrust his bare rod again and again, panting with the effort. “Harder!” I begged him. “Harder!” Finally, exhausted, he whispered, “Congratulations, my lady. Your rapier armor passes the punch test.”
Submitted by Tibbe
I had seen his room of pain, and fled from it only weeks ago. Yet, it seemed that part of me longed for it, and desperately wanted to return. It was a new year, after all, and I thought that I might be ready now.
I opened the door and went it. My inner Boadicea squealed with joy. “Calm down,” I told her, “We haven’t committed to this yet.”
I carefully touched the implements one by one. Some were heavy, some lighter. Some squishy, others hard. I fingered the thick rope hanging from the ceiling in wonder.
Was I ready? Was it time for me to begin my training? Could I handle it?
“Sure,” I decided. “I am ready. Let’s start my training, Boadicea.”
I breathed hard, and looked around, carefully deciding where I would begin…
“War camp is coming, and really, it’s not every day you date a guy with a private gym.”
He looked at me with exasperation, “I have corrected you on this matter at least four times. Do you even listen to what I say when we talk?” His voice was rough, his anger barely contained beneath a forced calm.
“Um, of course,” I muttered, “but…” I hesitated, breathing deeply. “But for you this is all normal, and for me it’s very new, so cut me some slack, ok?”
He inhaled sharply. His voice softened. “Ah, mon ami, yes, you are new to this. It is easy for me to forget.”
He paused for a moment and gathered his composure, “Let me explain once again to you the difference between the music of the troubadours and the trouveres…”
She had corrected my position again. I shifted to what was expected, feeling the burn in my shoulders and arms. I didn’t know how much longer I could do this.
“You are beautiful,” she said. ”Remember that you are beautiful.”
I didn’t feel beautiful or graceful. But I tried to fake it even as I wondered “When will this harp lesson end?”“
I’d been kneeling for what seemed like forever. I longed for a glass of iced water, but I dared not move or speak. Sweat poured down my body, and I felt a bit faint. Yet my inner goddess was filled with joyful anticipation of entwining with her.
Finally, I was allowed to rise. When I took her into my arms I held her close and whispered, “You are my Peer, and I am so happy for you.” Then I let the next person greet her, as I walked away happy … and grateful that Pennsic Court was nearly over.
I tie the knots and check the tension, she moans a bit as I move around checking each one. She is becoming ever more impatient. I’m glad she bought me the knot tying book last Christmas it has helped me all year with our monthly ritual. It was written for sailors but works for this situation as well. Preparing for what is next requires that they remain taught.
Estrella is 925 miles away and we don’t want anything falling off the roof of the SUV…..
Submitted by Lord Duncan McVryce CML
He woke up, disoriented, laying on the cold hard ground, stiff, unable to move. He closed his eyes hoping the spinning would stop. What on earth had he agreed to last night? With great effort he slowly sat up and looked around. His air mattress was flat. Dash it All! He had fallen asleep with his chain mail shirt….again. No more Pirate Rum for him!
Submitted by Roselinda Inaninnagain
I touched the top of it lightly. It felt, papery, almost, which surprised me. It was also cool, which seemed at odds with its texture, though I hadn’t really known what to expect. I had thought it would be more … sticky.
Growing confident, I grasped it firmly between two fingers, keep the rest of my hand out of the way as I brought it to my mouth.
As my lips closed around it, the stickiness I had been anticipating began down my fingers and I moaned with astonished delight at its sweetness…
My god, home-made baklava WAS as good as I was told it would be!
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” I gasped and tried to move out from under his hands.
“Shut up, you knew exactly what you were signing up for when you agreed to this. And you better hold still, or it’ll hurt even more,” he replied, his hands moving along my sides and waist as he pricked me again, and again.
And to think…this was only first of three scheduled fitting sessions for my new gown.
Submitted by Roisin (firstname.lastname@example.org)
All other thoughts fell away. I felt the power in every pounding beat as skin struck taut, smooth skin. Together, bonded in a rhythm echoed by our very heartbeats, every movement evoked an immediate response be it a deep firm stroke, a stinging tap, a series of rapid slaps, even the merest flick of a finger. The intensity built and I gloried in it, sparks of light and swirls of bright color flying before me… and then it was over, the crest reached, subsided, gone…
Sweat pored off me and I cradled the object that had the ability to torture me with hours of painful frustration only to later reward me with these trances of ecstatic pleasure. I watched the dancers take their bows as I rested my stinging palm on the goatskin head of my instrument and wondered as I always did how on earth I’d ever gotten started playing the doumbek.
submitted by Jocetta (email@example.com)
He deftly tied firm knots and buckled myriad leather buckles with strong, rough hands.
His eyes begged, silently saying, “I just want to play.”
“Maybe later,” I said curtly, “when you’ve had some more experience and have the right equipment of your own.”
And the very next day, he started to collect his armor supplies.
Inspired by a submission by margaux mcgartland
My breath quickened as my anticipation grew; I was so eager to begin, but remained still as she put us into the proper positions. “Remember,” she said softly, “the lady is always on top.”
I put my hand on my partner’s as the music started. Those Italian dances were always harder to remember than English country.
contributed by gogoaubergine
I shivered, more naked than I wanted to be in open air in Autumn. ”This was a terrible idea,” I thought I moved rhythmically, methodically, continuing onward despite my discomfort. ”Surely, surely the end will be worth it,” I muttered, feeling the sticky liquid running down my legs. “Those A&S judges will be amazed that I chose to follow the pigeage method. I just hope the wine is drinkable at the end.”