Margarete at the Window

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Scotland: 1557.

Margarete stood by the window, folding and unfolding a square of linen between nervous fingers. Her young body was taught with anxiety beneath her rich gown. Abruptly, she spun around to face the somewhat older woman who sat calmly stitching at an intricate piece of embroidery.

“I must know more of him,” she snapped, her large eyes flashing with impatience. “In five days’ time I’m to become his bride. By application of my woman’s wiles, I’m to soften his heart and loosen the strings of his purse. In short, I must prevail upon him to save my family from penury and dishonor.” Her voice rose in frustration. “How am I to wind him about my finger like yarn, if I know not the fiber from which he is made?”

Lise gave a half smile as she replied tranquilly: “All men are of much the same fiber when the lamp is extinguished. You are young and shapely, a virgin of noble birth. Such a woman has little difficulty in satisfying a man in the bed chamber.”

“I must do more than simply satisfy him!” Margarete exclaimed. She began to pace around the guest accommodation which had been provided by the convent. The marriage procession was resting for a few days before proceeding to the estate of Lord Colin MacLean.

“My uncle’s gambling debts are beyond reason and, before very long, within weeks perhaps, my bridegroom will be entreated to rescue my family’s name. If the Lord Colin is to be persuaded out of so much gold, without even time for a son by his young wife, I must do more than my simple wifely duty.

You say that men are of the same fiber when it comes to desires of the bed, and yet,” her pale cheeks flushed slightly, “I’ve listened to women’s talk, and not only among serving women. Why you yourself were once a…” She broke off, ashamed of her indiscretion.

“A whore?” Lise finished. “Indeed, though few remember it.” Her countenance was unperturbed, and her stitching went on, even as before.

“Well,” Margarete continued somewhat more diffidently, “I have heard that men… men may differ in what they demand from a woman. Can you not tell me, or can we not learn? You know I am convent trained, I know little of men other than my father and brothers. I have been set the task of giving myself to this unrefined Scots barbarian, and influencing him to part with a great deal of wealth on my behalf. When my father and brothers set off for battle, they have been trained in combat. They have scouts to tell them what lies ahead of them. Must I then, a woman, walk unarmoured into my fate?”

Lise continued her stitching, but Margarete could tell by the set of her lips that she had at last caught the older woman’s attention. Lise could see some sense in her mistress’s words, but remained silent, waiting to see how much cunning Margarete would bring to bear on her own situation. Lise reflected that such exercise would serve her mistress well, and couldn’t be begun too soon.

Margarete stopped at the window again, her back to it, hands gripping the ledge. Lise admired the lively curves of Margarete’s body set against the contemplative gray of the sky. Instead of the thread beneath her fingers, Lise felt again the symmetry of those curves under her hands as she tended the younger woman, the soft texture escort bursa of Margarete’s young flesh.

“Of a certainty,” Margarete continued excitedly, “This Lord Colin is no monk! If he is to be married soon, surely even now he roisters and disports himself with women of easy virtue. Could we not bribe one such to tell me what I need to know?”

Lise threw down her embroidery and laughed aloud.

“Ah My Lady, you have the mind of a Medici, and the sophistication of one of your cloistered convent sisters. You cannot simply begin making inquiries of such women regarding the bed habits of the Lord MacLean! Such women too often have loose tongues and little discretion.”

She rose and came to where Margarete stood.

“My poor little flower.” She said lovingly, taking the younger woman into her arms. “You are truly distressed, and perhaps you are right to be. For all you are young and inexperienced, much responsibility has been placed on you.”

Lise caressed the soft faire hair, so treasured by noble women such as Margarete. Every night she, as Margarete’s favored attendant, brushed out that feathery cloud and braded it for sleep.

Now, she ran her fingers tenderly through it and spoke soft words. Margarete pressed herself against the other woman in an embrace of gratitude and affection. She turned her face up to smile fondly into Lise’s eyes. Lise bent and pressed her mouth to Margarete’s parted lips. The younger woman’s body was still thrumming with anxiety and excitement. Lise felt stirred by her nearness, and by the growth of an idea of her own, a possible means to obtain the information her mistress required.

She ran her hand from Margarete’s hip up the curve of her waist to her breast.

“Any man would be helpless to deny anything to one so fare as My Lady,” she said in a low, intimate tone. “Nevertheless, I begin to see a way to provide you the knowledge you desire. Give me but an hour or two to think on it, and I will tell you.”

Without waiting for a response, she again pressed her lips to Margarete’s. After the turbulent circumstances of their meeting, and four years together, Lise could take such liberties when they were utterly alone.

Margarete sighed and opened her lips, feeling her anxiety transforming into the irresistible longings that Lise could awaken in her.

Lise had indeed been a whore at one time, as Margarete well knew. She had also been a member of an itinerant group of players and musicians. Such versatility allowed her to dawn the mantle of respectability necessary in an attendant to a noble woman. Still, her wide experience in pleasures of the body showed itself sometimes in the sensuous way she moved, the allure of her mature face and form, her self-possession, and the uninhibited way she could give and receive pleasure with her mistress. Lise loved Margarete and was devoted to her. She reveled in Margarete’s fresh beauty, and delighted in how gladly the younger woman shared herself.

After along kiss, Margarete leaned back in Lise’s arms. “Tell me your plan?” she begged in the tone of a mischievous little sister.

Lise placed a gentle finger across the other woman’s lips.

“Wait,” she said firmly. When it is bursa merkez escort fully formed I will share it. “Till then, you must trust me.” Margarete kept her lips obediently closed but her eyes were merry.

With Margarete leaning back against the window, Lise kept one arm about her waist while her other hand slid slowly down across Margarete’s breasts. She continued to graze each nipple in turn until Margarete’s knees began to tremble.

“I must be free of these garments!” Margarete exclaimed, struggling with ties and facining. With the deftness of long habit, Lise divested her mistress of layer after layer of fabric until Margarete’s pale flesh was exposed and she ran to lie on the bed.

Lise unbound her own flowing black hair and began sweeping it in long caresses across Margarete’s breasts and belly. Placing her hand over top of the flowing mass, she moved her head and hand together so that the soft hair slid across Margarete’s vulva with the gentle pressure of Lise’s hand behind it. Margarete gasped, digging her fingers into Lise’s shoulder. Her hips pushed up into Lise’s hand and her back arched.

“Lise,” Margarete said breathlessly, “You must tell me. Is this how it shall be with my husband?”

Lise gave a soft, almost mournful laugh. “Alas,” she said, running delicate fingers across Margarete’s hard nippled breasts, “Men are not as we are. You have seen how a man takes food when he is hungry? Such is the way most take a woman, and they are always hungry.”

Margarete’s face clouded with apprehension. Lise leaned forward and embraced her tenderly.

“Be calm little flower. Perhaps he will be kind and patient with you. They say he is no longer a youth: and you know I will never leave your side.”

She began kissing Margarete until the worry dissolved and desire replaced it. She did not want to frighten her mistress, but neither did she want her proud Margarete to be overwhelmed by the rigors of her wedding night.

Lise began moving her lips down Margarete’s body, kissing her throat, her breasts, pausing to suck with gentle insistence on each nipple. She pressed her cheek briefly against Margarete’s warm belly, then continued kissing, moving slowly between the other woman’s thighs.

Margarete strained upward, pushing her sex eagerly toward Lise, but Lise merely gave soft, grazing kisses to Margarete’s gliscinning labia. Finally, it was Lise who could bear no more. Opening her mouth, she placed it overtop the quivering flesh, entirely engulfing Margarete’s clitoris and labia in a gentle but persistent sucking.

Margarete was letting out soft cries of wonder and bliss. Lise reveled in pleasing the younger woman thus. Margarete was almost ten years her junior, and had led a far more sheltered existence than Lise had ever known. Everything was new to Margarete, every sensation was experienced with the matchless vitality of first youth. With the flick of her tongue, Lise could transport her into realms of pleasure that were all-consuming. For all Lise’s continued enthusiasm for such matters, she recognized that such novelty and awe were many years behind her.

Her own body vibrated with pleasure as she skillfully brought Margarete to shuddering bursa escort orgasm.

When Margarete could again focus her eyes on Lise, the older woman spoke, her own voice slightly breathless and her eyes dilated and dark.

“You have seen the horses and dogs, you know what is done. Your husband’s organ will penetrate you here.” Lise’s finger slid part way into Margarete’s tight opening. Lise was careful not to push hard lest she damage the girl’s precious maiden head. Instead, she moved her fingertip in small circles, stimulating and graceful.

“You know it will hurt the first time or two. If he is gentle, it will not be unendurable, however men are seldom gentle at such times.”

Margarete was enjoying the sensation of the fingertip inside her and looked into Lise’s eyes.

“And yet; you, who speaks so, I’ve have known that you sometimes lie with a knight or guardsman at Beltane.”

“In truth,” Lise replied, “Now that I may give myself to a man of my own choosing and at my own will, I find great pleasure in it, but I am a woman grown, and not gently reared. You are young, with much to learn.”

Lise was straddling Margarete now and as she began to kiss the other woman, Margarete flung her arms about her and returned the kiss eagerly.

“Oh Lise!” she said between kisses, “How I love you!”

Lise was grinding her pelvis against Margarete’s, moving her hips in powerful thrusts. She pushed her tongue into Margarete’s open mouth and grasped her breast as she felt her release overtake her.

Afterward, she shed the rest of her clothing so that she and Margarete could press together and share their warmth.

“You’ve thought of something, what is it?” Margarete demanded. Lise was silent for a moment then said bluntly, “I shall go to the Lord Colin.”

Margarete’s hand stilled it’s toying with Lise’s hair.

“You?” she asked, obviously perplexed. “And what shall you do there?”

“Why, my naive little flower,” Lise smiled and touched the tip of Margarete’s nose. “I shall do with him what you shall do with him five days hence. Riding alone and quickly, unencumbered by your procession, I can reach the Lord’s estates in a day. Once I have obtained the information you require, I’ll rejoin you in time for your arrival.”

Margarete sat up, a look of confusion on her face.

“You? Alone? Go there to… I cannot ask that of you! How could you accomplish such a thing?”

Lise chuckled. “My lady, my years have made me very resourceful in such matters; and it will not be the first time I’ve bedded a man for a price. Do not distress yourself.”

Margarete felt deep foreboding, but she was young, and her fear for herself won out. She felt overwhelmed by the strength of Lise’s loyalty to her.

“Oh Lise! Surely no woman ever had a servant so devoted and true. Thank you!” She flung her arms around the other woman and squeezed.

Lise returned the embrace. Though she felt some apprehension at the journey ahead of her, she felt excitement rising also. She was infinitely grateful for her safe, tranquil life as servant to Margarete, but so much dignity could be wearying to one such as Lise. A night of roistering would not be unwelcome.

She looked fondly on Margarete’s delicate, guileless features. She knew the girl to be well educated, but what she needed now could be found in no dry, monkish scroll. Lise could not shield her mistress from the demands of her bridegroom, but she would ensure that Margarete did not confront them ignorant, inept and terrified.

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