Guilty Pleasures (16 page)

As Maureen sat in the warm sun among the daisies she thought she heard a scream, and at first she put it down to the screeching raven hovering above her. But then the raven swooped down to perch upon her shoulder. Startled, she made to shoo it away, but she stopped when the raven spoke to her. The bird was magic, and magic was to be respected.

Run!
the bird’s creaky voice hissed in her ear.
Warriors have invaded your village. They mean to enslave your people!
Then the bird flew off.

Maureen jumped up, and as she did, she heard the screaming from the village.

She saw several of her friends running into the meadow pursued by tall Celtic warriors. One by one the girls were caught and brought to the ground. Shocked, she watched, unable to move, as the men pulled their manparts from their leather leggings and fell upon the captive maidens. She heard their shrieks of outrage, which gradually turned to moans of distinct pleasure.

“Here’s one little bird not yet caught,” a deep male voice next to her said.

Maureen jumped, startled, then turned to run, but it was too late. A large hand reached out, grasping the neck of her gown to prevent her flight. She squirmed, trying to free herself. “Let me go! Let me go!”

His laughter rumbled like thunder across the meadow. “Oh, no, little bird,” he said. “You are my possession now and belong to me.” He turned her about so he might look more closely at her, smiling because he obviously liked what he saw.

“I am not little!” Maureen told him, still struggling to escape that iron grip. “I am the tallest girl in the village.” And at six feet in height, she was.

“You’re little to me,” the warrior replied. As he was six feet six inches tall, she did appear little to him. “Now stop wiggling, lass. You’re caught and you’ll stay caught. My men and I have come to Ennis with a purpose, and we’ll not relinquish it.”

“What purpose?” Maureen stopped writhing. She was curious, and the man didn’t seem to have murderous intentions.

“We’re warriors, but it is time for us to find a home, defend it, and sire children so our names and our blood may be perpetuated,” he replied as, pulling her close, he fondled her big breasts. “Ahh, you have fine tits,” he said and sighed. But catching himself, he said, “Ennis is known for its dearth of men but for the elderly. We’ve come for wives, and a permanent place to lay our heads.”

He was very handsome, Maureen thought, looking up into his face. Blue eyes that rivaled the sky itself, and long black hair pulled back into a horse tail. “Do you have a name?” she asked him tartly. She was no longer afraid. His explanation of why he and his companions had come was reasonable, and frankly, she was tired of waiting to be chosen to go to the Great Gathering at Beltane. It was unlikely she ever would be taken because of her great height, but the warrior didn’t seem to mind that she was tall.

“I am called Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures,” he responded. Then, kicking her legs from beneath her, he brought her to the ground.

Maureen gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, rendering her helpless. She realized she was about to suffer the same fate as her friends and be claimed by this stranger. Her eyes grew wide as he drew his manpart out and massaged it to its full potential. She supposed she should at least attempt to escape him one more time, but she was mesmerized by the sight of his penis as he swelled and lengthened. Too late! He fell to his knees, holding the great beast.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked.

“Why?” Maureen wanted to know.

“It makes a difference in how I will take you this first time,” Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures said. “I am not a barbarian to ravage you unthinking.”

“I’ve never known a man,” Maureen told him, “but our maidenheads are removed by the village healer when we reach our twelfth year so our husbands may enjoy us from the beginning. You’re huge! You’ll split me in half with that big manpart of yours.”

“Nay, little bird,” he assured her. “Now that I know you can’t flee me, I’ll play a bit with you, and you’ll enjoy what follows.” He pushed her gown up to her waist. “We’ll sleep naked together in our bed, but since you’ll have to walk with me back to the village, I won’t rip your gown from you.” Sitting back on his heels, he reached out to cup her mons. Then he pressed down on it with his palm.

A dart of pleasure raced through Maureen, lighting up her eyes.

“Ahh,” he said, smiling, “you liked that.”

“I did,” Maureen admitted, unable to help herself. She reached up and slid her hands past his leather vest, caressing his smooth bronzed chest.

“I liked that,” he told her. Then he ran a finger down the pouting slit dividing her nether lips. He was a little surprised but also pleased to find she was slightly moist. She had a fine full bush of reddish brown curls. Her nether lips were very plump. Toryn pushed himself back; then, leaning forward, he used his two thumbs to part those succulent lips. His eyes widened with approval. Her lover’s bud was large, in keeping with her size. As he touched it with the very tip of his tongue, he saw it quiver.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Maureen’s voice shook just a little.

“Giving you the first of a thousand pleasures,” he answered her. Then his mouth closed over her clit, and he sucked hard on it several times. Her squeal told him that she was not unhappy with his actions. Indeed, she seemed to press herself against his lips. Releasing the sensitive little morsel of tasty flesh, his thumbs still holding her open, he licked around the sweet pinkish walls of her cunt. In very short order her juices were flowing copiously.
“Now,”
he said as he raised himself up, then fit the head of his manpart into the entry to her body.

She felt it there and trembled. “Now what?” she wanted to know.

He pushed himself slowly, slowly, slowly into her body, allowing her time to adjust to the mass now probing her. “Now you are to be fucked, little bird,” Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures told her.

Oh, the gods!
She felt his manpart filling her tightly, stretching the walls of her cunt, yet not hurting her at all. Indeed, it felt good to be filled. It was as if she had been waiting all her life for this. He began to piston her, slowly at first, then with a quicker rhythm that made her head spin.

“I want to go deeper,” he groaned into her ear.

Maureen knew what was expected, for the old wisewoman who had removed her virgin shield had taught each girl what was expected of her. She wrapped her legs about her warrior.
Ahh, the gods! It was sweet. Almost unbearably sweet.

Faster and faster and faster, but it was still not enough for Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures, which surprised him. This girl was unique, unlike any other he had ever fucked.
“Deeper! Deeper! I must go deeper!”
And when she unlocked her legs from about his torso, he raised them up, resting them on his shoulders as he fucked her harder and deeper, harder and deeper, harder and deeper.

Her head was spinning. Her need for his passion escalated with each stroke of his mighty penis.
The gods! The gods!
“Don’t stop!” she pleaded with him, eyes closed.

“I can’t,” he groaned as he continued the rhythm.

The sun beat down on them. She could smell the grasses upon which they lay. The oxeye daisies were blowing in the light breeze about them, wafting that peculiar daisy scent. And then something incredible happened. Maureen felt as if she were being lifted up and up and up. She was flying, and then she found herself hurtling down into a dark abyss of warm and overwhelming sweetness.
The gods! The gods!
It was all too wonderful. Maureen felt exhilarated, yet she wanted to weep. His cry brought her back to their reality.

With a groan of shameless satisfaction, Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures rolled off of the girl who had been beneath him. “The gods!” he exclaimed. “Thanks be to the gods, for they have brought me the perfect woman! And you gained pleasure from our coupling.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I did!” Maureen told him honestly as she drew her gown down and sat up.

He tucked his manpart away beneath the leather of his leggings as he arose from the meadow floor. He reached out and pulled her up. “Come along now, little bird,” he said to her. “I believe that my men and I have introduced ourselves properly now to our new wives. ’Tis time to return to the village and reassure the elders that all is well.”

“Do you have an old wife?” she wanted to know.

Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures laughed. “Nay, little bird. You are the first.”

In the village only the head elder protested Toryn’s band of warriors taking over the village. “The women of Ennis are greatly valued,” he said.

“And how much of that value goes into your purse?” Toryn wanted to know.

The head elder blustered, offended, but he did not answer the query.

“There are sixteen of us,” Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures replied in measured tones. “It is unnatural to live as you do. A village needs strong young men to help it survive, headman.”

“We have managed well so far,” came the reply.

“Until today, when we came and took your women for our wives,” Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures countered. “You are fortunate in us, headman. We want homes and wives. We could have burned your village to the ground, slaughtered the elders and children, and carried your young women off. Instead we have taken sixteen of them for wives and will become part of this community. And you yet have a group of pretty lasses for the next Great Gathering.”

“He’s right!” the village healer woman said. “Do you think you could defend us, old man, in times of strife? Ha! Nay, you could not. I welcome Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures and his men to Ennis.”

Ping. Ping. Ping. The Channel is now closed.

Maureen yawned, turned over in her bed, and went to sleep. Her fantasy village of Ennis had become more home for her than the little town in which she had been raised. She felt safe there. That was the best thing about the Channel, other than the delicious sex. Sometimes Toryn of the Thousand Pleasures and his men arrived for the first time. On other days, they had been there for months, and she and Toryn had unbridled sex in her small single-room hut with its straw roof.

As the weeks went by, Maureen settled into the Devlin household. She liked her employers very much, and the children were delightful. Her friend Brigid, however, was not having as easy a time of it. The old nanny in Lord O’Brian’s household resented the younger, more efficient woman. The children, poisoned by their old nursemaid, were rude and dismissive of her. Lady O’Brian, in an effort to maintain some kind of order and peace, was forever assigning her unpleasant tasks. Brigid wrote she wasn’t certain she would remain even until Christmas. Maureen felt guilty briefly, but shook it off. Brigid could have taken a position out of Ireland and done quite well for herself.

With the holidays coming, Maureen felt a moment of homesickness. It faded as quickly as it had come as the village of Egret Pointe was decorated and the shop windows bloomed with a singular theme, which this year was a 1776 Christmas. It was very new to Maureen, yet very comforting at the same time. Along Main Street the black iron lampposts with their clear glass shades were twined with greenery, apples, and nuts. A large red bow was tied at the top of each post beneath the glass.

Maureen took both Sean and Emlyn to the library for story hour. It was there she met the elderly Nanny Violet, who worked for the Marshalls, whose youngest son was not fully grown. Nanny Violet was not coming to story hour, however. She had come for a book to read. Nanny Violet had introduced Maureen to Nanny Jane, a young Englishwoman of Maureen’s own generation.

“Who do you look after?” Maureen asked Jane.

“The holy terror who is Miss Kathy’s little one,” Jane said with a chuckle. “Just walking, and I can hardly keep up with her. It will be lovely to have a friend my own age here. Do you go to church?”

“St. Anne’s,” Maureen replied.

“St. Luke’s,” Jane responded, naming the town’s Episcopal church. “When do you have off?”

“Half Saturday and all Sunday,” Maureen said.

“Oh, good,” Jane said and smiled. “Me too. Maybe we can go to the films together.”

The friendship was born.

One morning as it grew near to Christmas, Essie, the Devlins’ housekeeper, asked Maureen if she would run to the butcher counter at the local grocery store for her. “You could drop Sean off at nursery school,” Essie said, “and then go for me. Emlyn and the twins will be napping then. I know you use that time to get things done for the children that you can’t do when they’re about, but it would be a great help to me, dear.”

“No biggie,” Maureen said. “Should I get some money from the missus?”

“No,” Essie said. “We have a house account and pay monthly. I just need you to pick it up. It’s a big order.”

“Santa’s going to bring me a dump truck that really can dump,” Sean Michael informed Maureen as she drove him to nursery school.

“He’ll only be bringing that truck if you are a good boy,” Maureen reminded her little charge, looking at him in her rearview mirror. When they arrived at the school, Maureen unbuckled Sean Michael and brought him inside to his teacher, Mrs. Gundersen. “Santa’s bringing him a dump truck,” she said, grinning at the teacher.

“So I’ve heard every day since December first,” Mrs. Gundersen replied with a smile and a chuckle. “Do they have it yet?”

Maureen nodded, and then with a wave, she was off to the butcher counter at the grocery store to pick up the meat order for Essie. There was no one at the counter when she arrived, but there was a bell with a little card that read
Ring Me for Service
. Maureen smacked her palm down on the bell twice. She waited but no one came. She smacked the bell again, this time more loudly.

Suddenly the door behind the counter swung open. “Keep your drawers on now,” she heard a distinctly Irish voice say as a man came out into view.

“That’s hardly a proper way to greet a customer,” Maureen said sharply.

“Glory be!” the man said with a chuckle. “It’s a wee Irish lassie.” He was very tall, with blue eyes and black hair that was cropped short and neat.