She Dishonors Her House - Part 6
Content Warning: Seduction
This unambiguous invitation, mingled with his desperation, persuaded him. He half-ran, half-fell into the tent and collapsed on the floor. “Water. Please give me a little water,” he said after a moment, trying unsuccessfully to sit up.
“Of course, my lord,” she said. “But first let me warm you.” For he had begun to shiver in the cool air of the tent.
She folded over the edge of the rug on which he lay, so it covered him like a blanket. Then she retreated to the adjacent tent, where the stores and supplies were housed. Collecting a skin of milk and small bowl full of cheese curds, she returned to the exhausted commander and pulled the rug away from his body. He lay on the ground, breathing heavily. Despite the mingled blood and sweat congealing on his skin, her eyes slid along his legs of their own accord. Long years of warfare and training in arms had strengthened and shaped them, and his short leather skirt, split on either side, had fallen away from the right thigh. She followed the thick sinews all the way up to his hips before reminding herself of the task at hand.
Kneeling beside him, she raised his shoulders to fall on her lap and cradled his head against her chest. She opened the skin and pressed it to his lips. “Take this milk from your maidservant, my lord.”
He swallowed the milk greedily, spilling it over his beard, and she wiped it away with her hand. When he had drunk his fill, she dipped her hand into the cheese curds and said, “My lord, eat a little food from your maidservant’s hand.”
He looked up into her face then, and desire illuminated his once-dull eyes. Seeming for the first time to realize that she was holding his face against her breast, he pressed into her, and she responded with a soft moan. Then she held her hand to his mouth, and he opened it to receive the curds. Not content with merely feeding him, she pushed her fingers between his lips, and he sucked them dry. She murmured again, as if pleased, and repeated the process. Once again, he took her hand into his mouth, and once again she uttered a satisfied sound as his tongue passed over her skin. After the third mouthful, though, his eyes seemed to grow heavy, and his head dropped a little.
Caressing his face with her hand, she whispered, “Let my lord sleep a little before he satisfies himself any further.”
He nodded, and almost at once seemed to fall asleep. She was just preparing to rise and cover him again, when he roused himself suddenly. With an urgency surprising from one so exhausted, he said, “Stand at the door and keep watch! Tell… tell anyone who asks that no man is here.”
“But of course, my lord,” she said, honey on her voice. She rose, laying his head down on the ground, and covered him with a blanket from her own bed.
Then she strode to the door of the tent and looked out. “There is no one outside, my lord.”
He made no response, and when she looked down she saw that he slept.